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holybibly · 8 months

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ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕞 | 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: smut, idol!Au, s2l, fragment of life

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 12,9k

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Seven times you've been lucky, on the eighth Song Mingi from Ateez shows you a side of himself that his fans will probably never get to know.

𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Pervert Idol! Mingi, Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, сreampie, sexual audio recording, rough sex, praise kink and more.

𝔸/ℕ: Wrote this overnight, it's really crazy. Gosh, I am so excited to show you the handsome Mingi who has become a favourite for an overnight train ride poll. I hope it lives up to your expectations. This is one of the 4 pieces I've been working on. It brings us closer to a tender and sensual smut with Seonghwa (I'm still suffering from the idea).

I'll make a masterlist this weekend.

Comments, reblogs and questions are always welcome. I'm completely open to communication, so don't be shy bunnies. We have a safe space here.

Lots of love to you all. Have fun on your night train ride with Mingi.

dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Take care, darling; you never know what may happen. Especially in the night." Asa's voice was soft, but with a note of insistence.

"Asa, you don't have to worry so much. It's just a night train; I've done it a thousand times." You sigh tiredly, knowing it was pointless to argue with Asa, and yet, in a way, she was right. You never know what might happen at any given moment in your life.

"There's always a first time, Y/N. Take care, and be sure to text me when you get on the train."

"Sure, I will see you soon." You pull the sleeves of your shortened jumper tighter as you press the call disconnect button.

The night air is cool and fresh, dancing on your skin like a light breeze, crawling under the hem of your short skirt, tickling the soft, milky skin of your bare thighs. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you begin to regret your choice of clothing. It's too open and too revealing, both for the time of day and for the situation.

But it doesn't matter; the train is warm and cosy in its own way, and soon you'll be relaxing on the soft seats of the dark compartment under the peaceful rhythmic rocking, but most importantly, you'll be alone without the noise and bustle. Travelling to Tokyo is great, and you enjoy every second, but the crowds get tiring and the incessant noise starts to stress you out.

That is why an overnight train journey is a nice and relaxing change of pace.

It's a spontaneous trip to another city, just for a few days—a place quieter and more secluded than the never-sleeping Tokyo. Asa is waiting for you to finally join her, having travelled there the day before yesterday. Rumour has it that this is also the town where you're most likely to find the most Korean idols, who have come to relax in the luxurious hot springs.

They always come here to spend their long-awaited holidays without the constant camera surveillance and screaming fans. You didn't care if you met any of the celebrities there. Seeing a pretty face here and there was a nice bonus, but the main purpose of your trip was the hot springs and a few gourmet restaurants with high user ratings.

It's not that you were totally ignorant of idols; you were aware of many groups thanks to Asa and her crush on pretty boys, but you were a realist, and it was just stupid to have rosy dreams for a guy who had never seen you in his life, and if he had, he probably wouldn't remember you. That's why it didn't matter to you at all whether or not you met any of the pretty idols along the way.

You always thought night trains were the best way to travel. Travelling during the day is too hectic, too noisy, and too impractical. Instead of sitting in a stuffy metal box on wheels and wasting precious time, you could be doing something useful. There's always the chance of a night's rest, even if it's just for a few hours, and the next morning you'll be somewhere else, full of energy and good humour.

This was the seventh time you'd travelled by overnight train, and so far you'd considered yourself lucky. You were so grateful that you'd never had to share the confined space of your compartment with anyone else. The prospect of sleeping next to a stranger wasn't the most appealing one, and it would no doubt make you very nervous.

You cross your fingers in the hope that your luck will hold this time around. As you walk down the aisle of the train, you shift your gaze from your ticket to the small numbers on the tightly closed compartment doors. You try to find your seat. When you finally find it, you exhale with relief and push open the heavy sliding door. You are glad to be able to sit down and stretch your legs, taking off the most uncomfortable shoes in the world. It's first-class. The door opens silently and smoothly, allowing a thin strip of light from the narrow corridor into the secluded compartment, illuminating it with a bright yellow glow.

You've never thought about sharing your space with anyone else because you're so used to being alone. Except for a few passengers who seem to share your point of view, most people prefer to travel during the day, so the night trains are usually almost empty. Once your eyes get used to the changing light, you can't help but gasp at what you see.

"Oh!"

You're not alone. There's someone else in the semi-darkness of your compartment.

Someone from whom it seems impossible to take your eyes off, no matter how rude it might be of you to do so. There's a man sitting on the seat directly in front of you, with his legs spread wide open and his mobile phone held loosely in one hand. He is an incredibly attractive guy. You quickly look away, embarrassed that you're openly checking him out, as your eyes slide down his body. He's dressed in a black suit that hugs his thick thighs. God, this is embarrassing. His jacket is folded beside him, leaving him wearing a single black shirt and a few buttons undone on his chest, contrasting beautifully with his smooth golden skin.

For the second time that night, your eyes met his, and you gasped. You somehow know who those eyes belong to, and who doesn't? Two puddles of melted milk chocolate, the soft, sugary look of puppy dog eyes—Song Mingi, a gorgeous, cheeky rapper from Ateez. Oh, boy.

You swallow loudly at the realisation that your eyes aren't the only ones analysing the stranger in front of you.

"Good evening." You bow and lower your head as you realise that you've clearly been staring at the idol all this time. Suddenly, you feel so ashamed that you can't even imagine meeting his gaze again. In return, you get a small hum of approval from him and a polite nod of the head from him.

You finally decide to go inside and close the door behind you after a few seconds of awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. The lights inside are rather dim, a bit of a nuisance despite the fact that they hardly illuminate your compartment at all, and you wonder if he would mind if you asked him to turn them off completely at some point. Eventually, it starts to make your sensitive eyes ache, but you don't want to make Mingi feel uncomfortable by asking for it.

The atmosphere was already awkward and strange, and you didn't want to make it worse. He must have decided to take the night train for the same reasons you did. And here you are, the two of you, strangers, although can you really call a guy the whole world knows a stranger? In the semi-darkness of a night compartment, without prying eyes or cameras.

The situation seemed to be stressful, and that's why you were so grateful that up until now you hadn't had to share your space with anyone else on overnight journeys. Even so, there was something strangely intoxicating and exhilarating about the whole thing.

Does it look like your luck has run out, or have you managed to grab it by the tail?

You take your bag off your shoulder and tiptoe up to put it on the luggage rack with your back to him. Unfortunately for you, you can't get to it. Right now you're cursing your short stature for looking utterly ridiculous in front of a good-looking guy, and not just any guy, but Song Mingi himself. You can feel the muscles in your legs tense up in pain as you try to stretch yourself up, and you have the feeling that the bag in your hands is getting heavier and heavier the more you try to put it on the shelf. It's so embarrassing that you let out a muffled, awkward laugh.

"I'll give you a hand with that." The unexpected touch of the palm of your hand against your lower back upsets your balance, and your body jerks.

Your head jumps up, goose bumps running up your arms and creeping down your back as you realise that Mingi is now standing next to you, too close to be considered decent. The scent of his woody, tart perfume fills the small space between you, and you long to bury your face in his broad, muscular chest and take a deep breath of him.

He easily takes the bag from you and sets it on top of the top compartment, the touch of his other hand still palpable—hot, confident, and somehow possessive—as it slides down, almost to the curve of your butt.

You look down and suddenly realise how far your skirt has been pulled up. It now exposes most of your milky thighs and barely covers your bottom. Trying to look as decent as possible, you pull down the hem of your skirt with a soft squeak to get your clothes back in place. Your cheeks are flushed with shame and embarrassment. Looking up again, you realise that Mingi is watching you intently, watching every move of yours.

"You're so tiny." He says this, tilting his head to one side and letting the corner of his soft, plump pink lips curve up in a smirk.

Your heart flutters at the thought, perhaps a little more than it should be doing. You would never have thought that you would feel a strange mixture of emotions—something between excitement and extreme embarrassment—over something so trivial, perhaps even offensive.

"Maybe you're the one that's too tall." You realise this and immediately feel sorry for yourself, desperately wanting to put your hand over your mouth. God, can't you just make yourself look even stupider in his eyes? You shouldn't have said that aloud.

In response to your words, Mingi hums and raises an eyebrow. There is a gleam of amusement in his beautiful brown eyes; your comment seems to amuse him. Your cheeks heat up from the blush that is spreading over them, but you're grateful for the playful reaction; it makes the situation a little less weird and awkward.

You really should sit back in your seat and shut up so you don't say too much, something along the lines of, "You look absolutely stunning in that suit; can I sit on your lap?".

Eventually, you turn your attention to the hand still on your hip, and the sight of his long fingers adorned with massive rings makes your knees tremble more than you'd like to admit.

When he pulls away, you find that the loss of his touch is making you feel as cold as ice. You quickly come to your senses and sit down on the opposite side of the idol, who follows your lead and settles down in his own seat.

You take out your phone and text Asa, as promised. God, you'll have so much to talk about when you meet. Awkwardly crumpling the hem of your skirt, you wait for the train to depart. For a long minute, there is silence in the compartment—an utterly awkward, embarrassing silence.

Every time you cast a quick glance towards Mingi, you notice that his eyes don't seem to leave you for a second. He presses the tip of his tongue lightly against the corner of his plump, beautiful lips, as if analysing your every move.

It makes you nervous to be in your own skin.

"I'm Mingi." Your ears perk up in an instant as soon as he starts to speak again.

When he says his name, his voice sounds so soft, soothing, and confident. You can't remember the last time you've been so attracted to another man's voice. It makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter, and maybe, just maybe, it makes you squeeze your thighs a little harder than you should.

This is messed up.

"I know." You answer quietly. This is a fucking embarrassment. You decide you've humiliated yourself enough in front of him, so after a moment, you add. "Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Ah, so you know, eh?" He smiles brightly, and you somehow melt. "And here I was thinking' we were just strangers to each other. That's not a problem for you, Y/N, is it?" The way he says your name takes your breath away from you. It's something in his nature—a hidden but imposing dominance, so deep with a quiet note of authority. There were darker layers lurking beneath that image of sweet charm.

You have no idea why he has such an effect on you, but it's safe to say the overwhelming feeling is not entirely unwelcome.

"No, no, it's fine." You wave your hands in an awkward manner. "It should have been my turn to ask if it was OK. At a time like this, I guess you didn't expect anyone else to be using the train." Your cheeks flushed, and you nervously bit your lower lip.

"How cute."

You bring your hand up to your face and press it against your hot cheeks, trying to cool them down a little. Cute! It's a real miracle that you manage to stop yourself from squealing enthusiastically.

"Are you going travelling, Y/N?" He tilts his head to the side in an interested way, like a curious puppy, and you can't help but smile in response to that.

"Yes, to the hot springs." Looking anywhere but at Mingi, you reply humbly.

"Ah, I see. Takayu Onsen?"

"Tamagawa Onsen, actually."

At your words, the idol nods understandingly, and a dazzling smile appears on his lips. God, can he get any more handsome?

"Of course it's Tamagawa. Somehow I can't imagine you anywhere else; this place is your kind of place. Then you're stuck with me. I'm going there too; the boys and I have to spend a few days there before the concerts." He says it in such an easy and casual way. As if you've known each other for a long time.

"Um, it's quite a long trip. Are you sure you'll be comfortable?" You ask Mingi, vaguely hoping that you'll be able to sneak away from him and find yourself comfortably alone again. For some reason, his presence makes you feel very uncomfortable and makes you tingle. There's something special about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"It's fine. Really, don't worry." Mingi settled himself more comfortably in his seat and spread his long legs a little further apart, causing the tight fabric of his suit trousers to stretch and outline the contours of his gorgeous, muscular thighs. His whole posture seemed to say, "You're not getting rid of me that easily." "Actually, I'm the one who should be asking if your boyfriend is upset that you will spent the night with another man." There is something about the way he says it that makes you tense up inside, but you ignore it completely and answer quietly instead, crossing your legs shyly.

"I've no boyfriend." And without knowing it, you give him exactly the answer that Mingi wanted. "I'm just on a road trip with a friend." Shying away from making full eye contact with him, his gaze so intense and focused, your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you speak.

When he speaks again, you can almost hear the smile in Mingi's deep voice.

"Then I hope you'll enjoy it fully."

Silence falls over you once more. You keep looking at your shoes, desperately wanting to take them off and curl up on the soft seat. But Mingi's presence prevents you from relaxing completely. As the train sets in motion, you give a slight jerk. Midnight, it's now. It will take about eight hours to get to Tamagawa, and you should arrive at the station in the morning.

You let your eyes slide down from your shoes to Mingi's legs in stealth. His thighs are so muscular and strong that he could probably squeeze you between them, and you wouldn't be able to move an inch, trapped as you were under his tall, strong body. You feel warm between your legs, and you bite your lower lip, hoping Mingi is too busy phoning to notice you're staring at his thighs. And you have to push away the thought of how nice it would be to ride one of those beautiful, thick thighs and rub your pussy against it.

"This is a beautiful pendant. It looks good on you." The sound of Mingi's voice makes you jerk, and you raise your eyes to him fearfully.

Instinctively, you press your fingers against the gleaming heart of crystal that sits on your chest. It's massive—heavy on your chest, glimmering cold, hard to miss.

"Thanks; it's my favourite too." The compliment takes you completely by surprise, but at the same time, it brings a slight, sweet pout to your lips.

Mingi can't help but think about what that pendant is going to look like between your naked tits while you're being scolded like there's no tomorrow. He can bet that it's going to be fucking amazing. His plump lips curl up in a smirk.

"Do you always wear it?" Contextual question: When you get fucked, do you take it off?

"Yes. It's my lucky charm." As if to warm it up, your fingers wrap around the large crystal, rubbing it a little. "It always brings me good luck."

"How appropriate." Mingi observes, chuckling grimly.

For an idol, Mingi seems inordinately interested in learning more about you, but you naively chalk it up to a trivial lack of social contact and a limited opportunity to see the world without the constant scrutiny of managers and the attention of cameras.

You're too enamoured with his sweet, playful personality, reminiscent of a big, soft puppy. You'll fancy yourself under his scrutiny and answer all his questions, even the ones that make you blink in confusion or blush hotly. Mingi is a real sweetheart, and you can totally agree with his fans: He's such a nice, nice guy. Little do you know about him...

He does it almost mechanically, moving his hands so you can't take your eyes off them, twirling the massive silver rings on his long phalanges, touching his plush, juicy lips with his fingertips, and noticing the beautiful gel on his nails. Your body reacts to his every move; your lower abdomen feels pleasantly tight, and you can feel a faint throbbing between your legs every time he smiles at you, making you squeeze your thighs together and squirm nervously in your seat.

"Sorry for asking so many questions. You know it's not always easy to talk to someone." He lowers his eyes shyly and bites his plump lip. You immediately try to put his concern at ease.

"I get it; being an idol must be hard, having to be in control all the time."

Damn, you were so right; you'd run away from him as soon as you opened the door to the compartment if you only knew what dirty, lustful thoughts he's having about you and how his sweet smile hides a passionate desire to push you into the padded seat and fuck you so hard you can't think or walk.

But Mingi was good at it. He could control his face and body very well, thanks to Seonghwa's great example. He had taught him only the best.

"You must be tired; if you want, we can turn off the light and you can go to bed." Mingi said, noticing that you were rubbing your eyes more and more, stumbling over your own words, and yawning all the time. "You can trust me; I'll take care of you, Y/N." The tone is so sweet, too sweet, to hide the true meaning of what he's saying: Sweetheart, I want to jerk off to your sleepy, pretty face as you relax in my presence—so seductive and vulnerable.

That deep, honeyed tone inevitably makes your thighs clench, but with it comes a flood of guilt as you feel your panties get wet, and dirty thoughts put you in such an uncomfortable position that you have to fidget awkwardly on the seat, praying by all that is holy that your embarrassing arousal goes unnoticed and you don't leave a wet spot on the seat.

"Are you sure?" You're terribly tired from the day. The offer is so tempting, and Mingi is so charming and respectful. A real gentleman.

Mingi smiles softly, but it is a smile that looks a little predatory at the edges as his big, hot palm comes down on your bare knee. It sends a shiver down the length of your skin.

"Sure, go to bed, doll."

You feel yourself blushing again, but you can't tell why—the heavy, hot touch of his hand against your skin or the caressing nickname. God, this guy is a threat. You give a slow nod and turn your gaze to the dimly lit wall sconce on the wall. Mingi follows your eyes and reaches up to turn it off, plunging the entire compartment into a pleasant darkness. The faint, diffused light of the moon through the window is the only source of light that allows you to see each other's faces. A smile of gratitude is on your face in response to his actions.

"Thanks, I had no idea how much my eyes were hurting."

"You're welcome, doll."

You try to ignore the way his voice seems to sink lower. It takes on such a velvety, dark tone that it makes you even wetter between your legs. You pull back. Mingi has been so sweet and polite to you all this time; you should be ashamed of these feelings.

As you lean back in the empty seat beside you and close your heavy eyelids, the touch of his hand fades. You feel a strange comfort in Mingi's company, despite your earlier apprehension at being so vulnerable in the company of a stranger. Despite being a world-famous star and just a damn gorgeous man, he really is so kind and attentive to you. You do not dare to doubt what he says. Mingi has promised to take care of you, and you are strangely comforted by the thought. In fact, he really is a very caring man. You begin to suspect that this is true for all of them.

Before you close your eyes again, you look at Mingi. His dark gaze is fixed on you, and there is something raw in the depths of those chocolate-coloured irises of his. The moonlight falling on him makes his chiselled face look sharper and sexier, and there is no longer the sweet smile and adorable puppy-dog expression on his handsome features. It makes you take a sharp breath before your fluttering eyelids stay closed, weighed down by sleep. Your whole body relaxes, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, lulled by the peaceful rocking of the train and the calm presence of Mingi.

Mingi just can't take his eyes off you. You look so tiny, so soft and juicy with your plump arse and the most delicious pair of tits he's ever seen. They're perfect to hold in his hands and his hands are just itching to squeeze them into his palms, feel their weight, pull on those pink nipples until you start wriggling and sobbing. Oh, how he wants to hear the sweet sounds you make as he fills you with his cock, or even better, as you moan out his name.

For tonight at least, he just wants to have you. Mingi isn't at all picky about where he wants to get laid; a night train isn't the worst option. He's been fucked in more uncomfortable places than this. But that wouldn't be very nice of him. Would it? He said he'd look after you while you slept so innocently in front of him in that seductive little skirt. He wonders if you're wearing lace or silk knickers. It's probably silk, because you look as if you're enjoying the light and soft touch of the silk fabric against your sweet pussy. You must also be very sensitive.

Y/N. He is absolutely mesmerised by you. Everything about you is so enticing. The way your round cheeks blush, the beautiful way you smile, and especially the way you squeeze your thighs together every time he turns to you. You are a little slut. Mingi is absolutely delighted with how he's making you feel. He makes you nervous. He wants nothing more than to get under your skin even more.

But if Mingi has learned anything by now, it's that despite your best efforts, you're not a very subtle person. In fact, you're easy to read. Your petite body gives you away all the time. Your teeth bite your plump lower lip until it's swollen and red. Your eyes never leave his hands as he deliberately plays with his rings, causing you to lose your train of thought. You're probably thinking about him using his fingers to stretch your tight hole or using his fingers to fuck your soft, wet mouth. Mingi's sure he'll have to spend enough time getting you to take three fingers in your cunt before lowering you on his cock, and maybe you'll even let him play with your virgin arse. Hell, he'll beg you if he must. Fuck his pride at the prospect of being the first to fuck your plump arse. He's going to have to make a video of himself fucking you so stupid and so deep. San is going to go mad when he sees your juicy arse blushing under the palms of his hands and and jiggling seductively every time he enters you up to your balls.

You are definitely something special.

That's what Mingi tells himself over and over and over again. He's just reaching out to you. Nothing more than that.

Just like he promised, he'll take care of you. You'll feel good, and getting his dick wet will be a nice bonus for him.

He takes another good look at your beautiful face as he leans forward in his seat. Your lips are wet, plump and parted, and he can't help but imagine how beautiful they would look stretched around his big cock. You're going to have to practise getting yourself to swallow his dick whole, you probably won't get more than a quarter of him the first time. The thought of it is the cause of the salivation in his mouth.

Your eyelashes are touching the top of your cheeks, your soft dark hair is beautifully curled up in ringlets, and Mingi wants to mess it up and pull it out. You look absolutely angelic. A real doll. Mingi has never seen an angel before. He can't be blamed for his desire to have a touch and to defile.

Idol or not, Mingi is just a man.

It all begins with a small movement of his fingers over the kneecap of his knee to the top of his thigh. He can feel how his touch raises the goose bumps on your skin. Mingi feels bolder and lowers his palm all the way down to your thigh, letting it rest gently on your body, and then gently reaches up to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. At the sight, Mingi licks his lips. It would be easier if he came closer. Would it?

As he kneels down, he places his other hand on your leg, now touching both of your thighs. Your skirt rises with each touch of Mingi's eager hands, lifting the fabric higher and higher each time. He glances over your voluptuous body, his gaze lingering on the spot where your sweater has risen, exposing the soft skin of your stomach and the peeking lower half of your bra. Fuck. He can't quite make out what it is in the dark, but he knows it must be the creamy silk that covers your full breasts. That makes him dig his fingertips harder into your skin.

You move in your sleep, shifting until you're on your back, giving Mingy full access without even wanting it. It's as if you want to make it even easier for his dirty hands to touch your chaste, tantalised body. When he sees an opportunity, Mingy never says no. Carefully, he slides one hand under your skirt while the other continues to massage your thigh in a soothing way. Confirming his earlier thought, his fingers are impatient and run briefly over your panties. They're silk, and they're wet as hell. You're soaked through, and he's already decided that he's definitely taking your panties with him. He'll be sure to jerk off in them when he has a bit of free time later.

"Oh, dolly, you're so damn wet." Mingi moans hoarsely as his fingers slowly slide over the wet material, rubbing it. The furrowed brow quickly disappeared, and the doll's lips parted in a perfect 'o', a short sob escaping from them. "Precious little one."

Your legs twitch in an attempt to squeeze Mingi's forearm, but he quickly calms you, spreading your thighs with his free hand and smiling carnivorously at the soft squeal that escapes your lips as you feel long fingers play with your plump clit through your underwear. If the fans knew what their adored idol was doing, they'd be going crazy. But they probably already knew. Considering the number of female fans they've fucked over the years, the information has leaked out somewhere in the tight circle of their fandom.

Mingi decides he doesn't like the silk barrier. He slides his hand under the silk of your panties and touches the wet warmth of your cunt, making his trousers suddenly feel too tight around his crotch.

As if he'd just discovered a new toy that he wanted to touch and explore before playing with it, he let himself explore the wetness. You are soaking wet, and Mingi can feel that he is gradually losing all self-control and all control over himself. He wants to taste you; he wants to feel you on his tongue; he doesn't even mind rubbing his face against you like a dog. The pressure of his thumb against your throbbing clit finally seems to wake you up. You gasp and begin to open your sleepy eyes. You look around in confusion. Then you let out a startled cry as you noticed Mingi crouching beside you, one hand between your thighs.

"Shhhh." As your legs begin to convulse, Mingi quickly reassures you. "It's all right, doll; it's just me. You can go back to sleeping if you want to. I'll take care of the rest." He whispers it in a velvety, soothing voice, as if he were trying to lure a kitten into his arms.

You still seem to be very disoriented; your eyes are not quite open, and you are whimpering in despair and shame at finding yourself in a situation for which you were totally unprepared. Mingi kneels before you. Song Mingi is kneeling before you with his hand pressed against your pussy.

It is Mingi's wish that he could do away with all your worries and nerves. He knows he could, if only you would stop squeezing your legs so tightly around his hand.

"M-Mingi, what..." There's a sharp exhale from you at last, as if you're coming to terms with the situation. "What are you doing?"

The idol gives you a seductive smile.

"You looked like you needed help, doll. So needy and restless. Let me help you, huh? Let me take care of you, Y/N." Mingi leans down on your thigh to plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on it. When he lifts his eyes up to you, they're bright and languorous, but with that adorable puppy-dog expression that's so well known to his fans.

"I'm going to take good care of you."

You resist, still stunned by the sight and situation you woke up from, and bring your hands to your chest, unconsciously wrapping your arms around the heart-shaped pendant for reassurance. Mingi allows her fingers to continue doing what they were doing before, slowly circling over your clit, causing you to catch your breath. Your small hand reaches out for Mingi's palm, which is still gripping your thigh tightly, the nails digging into his skin. "Y-you shouldn't do that. You...you can't act that way; what if?"You sob in a convulsive manner, your glassy eyes meeting Mingi's. Sexy, gorgeous, and lecherous Mingi, the sweet image of him completely shattered, towers over you even in this position. Despite your words, your body has its own opinion: your lower lip is caught between your teeth, and your breasts are rising and falling rapidly. The way your thighs are still trying to squeeze together and the way more and more moisture is dripping onto Mingi's fingers is a clear sign of approval for his actions to continue.

You're so easy to read. Mingi loves it. He's always liked the more responsive and sensitive type better. For him, what a pleasure it is to fuck them, dumb and docile.

"And why shouldn't I be, huh?" Mingi says as he intertwines his fingers with yours and leans forward to run his nose along your thigh, too close to your pussy. He takes a deep breath. Fuck, you smell delicious and his drool starts to flow. "Because I'm an idol? Is it because I have to be good and obedient? Or is it because you don't want me to, because it seems like that's all you ever think about? Have you had a dirty dream about me? You used to moan so much in your sleep, Y/N."

You hesitate, closing your slanted cat eyes and letting the feel of Mingi's touch envelop you, your lips pressed together to hold back a loud moan. He can already feel you giving in, even though you haven't answered him.

He's good at cajoling. Again, thank Seonghwa for that.

"We shouldn't..." You whine as one of Mingi's long fingers teases at your wet entrance, and the thought of that finger plunging into you makes you shudder.

"We can do what we want to do, or don't you want to do that? Don't you want me?" He purses his lips, pretending to offend. "You like me. Don't you? I'm your favourite boy, right?"

You nod, feeling more depressed by the second, unable to form a coherent thought. How could that have been the case? You must be dreaming. Dreaming that Mingi of Ateez is kneeling before you.

Oh my God!

"Use your words, doll. Say, "I want you." Speak my name." The idol continues to coax you, and you give in, much to the delight of the Mingi.

"I want you, Mingi." You do your best to keep your eyes on Mingi as you speak, but his gaze is too intense and too strong, and you feel terribly embarrassed. He looks almost predatorily.

Mingi grins fiercely and slowly licks his lips. His finger slides lightly into your wet cunt. In response to this, he hears an intermittent sigh of pleasure from you.

"What a good girl."

You sound so precious as he bends his finger inside you, feeling your velvety walls. Wetness drips down his massive silver rings to the base of his fingers. Mingi wants to record your sweet sounds and include them in the next track so everyone can hear how well he pleases you. He should do it, damned. Hongjoong will be burning with envy when he hears about you. The captain has a weakness for sweet little girls who moan and groan. Fucking pervert.

Mingi lets go of your hand to pick up his forgotten phone from the floor, still finger-fucking you. He quickly opens the audio recording application, hits the 'record' button, and drops the phone on the floor next to him, giving his full attention back to you.

You are so in need of his touch. You can't deny your desire for him. Your body speaks for itself.

"Come on, baby, moan for me. Let everyone hear what a dirty girl you are. Come on. What do you say we put some of your beautiful moans and groans on our new track? Mmm, you're going to hear it all over the place; every time you will remember how good it felt when I fucked your little, tight cunt."

"Oh God, that's... You can't say that." You whimper.

"Don't be embarrassed, gorgeous. Let's get you out of those pretty little knickers so you can sing even more sweetly for me." You nod impatiently, breathing heavily as Mingi helps you to lift your hips and pull your knickers off, quickly slipping them into his pocket. He was quite serious when he said that he wanted to take them with him.

Now that your pussy is fully exposed, Mingi takes the liberty of spreading your legs wide open and stares intently at the clear liquid that oozes out of your hole, causing you to whimper and cover your face in shame. He leans down to leave a hot scarlet and purple hickey on the inside of your thigh.

"Look at how wet you are, fuck." Mingi moans in a guttural voice as his fingers push your folds apart so that they are completely covered in your slick, glistening juices. "You've had a dirty dream, haven't you, baby?"

Your eyes are closed, and your long lashes are fluttering. Your plump lower lip is trapped between your front teeth. You're such a spectacle; oh, how he wants to fuck your brains out. In response to his question, you nod your head shyly.

"Y-yes."

Your embarrassment excites Mingi even more as he slaps your pussy, finally giving in to his perverted desires and feeling the moisture splash against his palm. You let out a shrill squeal, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

"Must have been something fucking satisfying, getting your little cunt that wet, huh?" He grins lecherously as he looks at you. You look tasty enough to make him want to eat you alive.

He should really thank the manager for getting him a ticket on that special train.

Your legs twitched, trying to close, but Mingi's hand stiffly stopped them before letting them close around his forearm. You're so overwhelmed by all the sensations, but you're not at all ready for them to stop.

"I... I don't remember. Maybe I was thinking of you. Or maybe someone else." Having heard from Asa about the jealous nature of the group, you say this deliberately. All of the members were very possessive of their fans and very aggressive towards them. Why should they look to anyone else when they are right here, ready to make all their fans' dreams come true?

Mingi bristled. Sinking his teeth into your thigh and forcing his finger into you, making his ring stick to the sensitive rim of your used hole. Fuck. The pain and the pleasure mix together and turn your thoughts into mush.

"With my fingers fucking you like this, don't you fucking dare say that." He growls, the deep sound of it vibrating against your skin. Mingi slides a second finger inside of you, the two of them gliding through the wetness with ease and a loud slurping sound. "You will think only of me all the time. There is no one who can be better than me, doll."

You throw your head back, your chest rising and falling in a quick motion. The velvety walls of your pussy clench around Mingi's fingers. The sound of your moaning rises as the idol runs his fingers along the plush and tantalising walls of your vagina. They seem to just suck him in. You're so tiny all over, and he wonders if you can take all his cock.

"It's only you, Mingi." The way you howl out his name is all the answer that Mingi needs to hear.

The idol can't resist the temptation to lean forward and put his face between your thighs. His lust takes over; the sight is too exciting. All he had to do was find out if you tasted as sweet as you looked. The reaction is immediate: his tongue is licking a flat line from your slit to your clit, which he is circling greedily in between his plump lips. Your soft thighs tremble, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with a long moan, and your little hands cling to his shoulders.

"Oh, oh, God!" You let out a gasp, a barely audible whimper, your nails digging into the hard flesh beneath your tight-fitting shirt. Mingi is hoping that you are going to scratch him to a bloody pulp. Hell, he's in need of it.

You drive him crazy with your cuteness. Your juices are flowing in abundance all over his tongue. It tastes amazing, just the way he imagined it would, and Mingi thinks that he could get drunk on you. Fuck, he'll be bragging about you for days to come, rubbing it in the faces of the members. What a sweet thing he's managed to get his hands on. He could probably sit there and do that for hours, even days, licking that pretty little cunt of yours until his jaw hurts and his whole face is wet. He may have oral fixation, but that's not something he's going to want to put on his profile.

He sucks furiously on your swollen clit as his fingers begin to penetrate your tight hole, the wet, squelching sounds drowning out the sound of a train rumbling down the tracks. You're just perfect—too perfect for Mingi to ignore and not fuck. You literally taste heaven, and your voice sounds like sin—hot moans of uncontrollable pleasure.

"I...will...ahhh...M-Mingi..." You whimper, pressing your hand to your own mouth, and Mingi passionately wants to stop you and tell you that there's no better sound for his ears than your moaning. But the rational part of his brain, which sounds strangely like Seonghwa, tells him that it's for the best and that it's wise not to attract the attention of outsiders. "Please!"

You beg, and it's beautiful, your words muffled by the small palm of your hand but still clearly audible to him. Your back arched as you pushed your hips forward, forcing Mingi's fingers to dig deeper into you. You squeeze them so hard that the idol can barely move them inside of you at all. You squeeze them so hard that Mingi's chest vibrates with a rather low purr, which only drives you more wildly and adds to the pleasure, finally taking you to an unexpected peak as you cum profusely on Mingi's waiting tongue and fingers. You are flowing everywhere, and Mingi is greedily drinking it all in, insatiable in his quest to bring you to yet another orgasm, to make you so silly and submissive in his hands. He will take it all and more from you.

Mingi is so hungry for you, and you are so juicy and ripe, perfect for eating.

The second orgasm makes your whole body shake, and the stimulation is almost painful. Your hips jerk in Mingi's tight grip as he digs his fingertips into the plush, creamy skin. He simply can't get enough of you. He marvels at how dishevelled you look, lifting his dark gaze. Your head is thrown back, your eyes are closed, your skirt is pulled up high over your hips, and your cropped sweater almost completely exposes your bra. But it is your sweet mouth that beckons him to you completely. Beautiful, plump lips, slick with saliva and bite marks. They have been opened to let out gorgeous moans of his name and heavy, puffed-up sighs. He will crawl up your body like a predator until his face, soaked with your juices, is hanging over you.

Mingi is a big man—tall, strong, and nicely pumped up—his stunning figure completely covering you and trapping you underneath him.

You gasp for breath, still in a hazy post-orgasmic stupor, your glazed eyes meeting Mingi's, and you whimper as big, rough hands slide down your sides. He easily encompasses your boobs with ease, squeezing them with a force that causes them to fall out from under your bra.

"What big, juicy tits you have. Mmm, you can't be a better doll." Your embarrassed squeal is swallowed whole as Mingi kisses you passionately. Your tongues meet in an exchange of saliva and heavy breathing. On his lips, you can taste your own slime. It's rough, but you like it that way.

He slides his hands under your bra and massages your breasts, pinching your nipples with his fingers in a teasing way that makes you moan loudly into his mouth.

"The most beautiful and seductive pair of tits, so soft and heavy in my hands, I could just fuck them, couldn't I? Would you like that doll?" He whispers as he bites down on your lips and sinks his teeth into the soft, tender flesh. To be honest, he'd like to tear your lips into a bloody mess, but that's probably for another time.

Right now, he wants to use you. He wants to finally get his cock inside you and fuck you into a stupor. As if you could read his mind, your trembling hands reach out for his crotch.

"You want my cock, darling?" He moves his hips gently, and you feel his huge, hard cock pressing against you through the fabric of his trousers.

"Yes, yes, I want your cock so badly, Mingy." You're not as shy as you used to be; your desires are overpowering your modesty. And you don't have to ask twice as Mingi leans back and quickly unbuckles his belt, and you reach out for it, drawn to his sensual lips.

You would never admit it, but his lips were driving you crazy—those gorgeous, plump lips—moist and inviting, making you want to suck on them like a leech and never let go. You wanted to feel them all over your body.

Mingi quickly unbuttoned his trousers. Your tiny hands grabbed his shirt collar, trying to pull him as close as possible, and you licked his neck with your soft tongue. He's never met anyone so desperate to be touched. The way you whimper into his neck, kiss him randomly, and smear saliva over his lips and chin drives him wild. You're definitely his favourite—the best girl he's ever fucked in recent times, if maybe ever. He should tell the members about you; he should let them hear your beautiful, needy moans with the endless repetition of his name; he'll shove your wet panties right in their faces, damn it.

With one firm hand, Mingi holds you by the waist while the other pulls his boxers down until they are low enough for him to pull out his thick, aching cock. Running his thumb over the swollen, wet head, he squeezes the heavy length into his palm. You whimper and look up at him with your eyes wide open as his fingers grab your chin and pull you away from his neck. So perfect you look—dishevelled, tits bulging from your bra, skirt crumpled, and gathered around your hips as you desperately grab his shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible.

Mingi's desire is to destroy you completely.

"On your knees, dolly."

You are so relentless in your desire to please the man who is in front of you. As you obediently lower yourself to the carpeted floor—rough enough for your delicate knees—Mingi's hands run through your hair. You're too mesmerised by the sight in front of you—a gorgeous man, a world-famous idol, by the way—stroking his big cock lazily, looking too amazing to remain indifferent.

"Do you want to try it?" You drool. The only answer you can give is an impatient moan that tells Mingi all he needs to know. You're so desperate; you've never wanted to take someone's cock in the mouth so much. It would probably be so hard on your tongue because Mingi looks so big.

You're not quite sure if you can take the whole thing or just half of it. You know it'll bulge out of your throat if you do. You're so focused on thinking about it that you only come when the hot head of Mingi's cock begins to circle your smooth, swollen lips. He lets out a deep, low moan and the sound is pure porn. You can bet your bottom dollar that Mingi can make an entire concert hall cum at once just by moaning into the microphone. Fuck, their concerts must be wild.

Your mouth falls open in impatience as you look up at him with your eyes glazed over.

"You are such a good girl." Mingi whispers, holding back a moan as your tongue sticks out to lick the drop of pre-cum that is leaking from the head of his cock. He's sure that you've only been made for sucking his cock.

It's so easy to lead you; you're docile, submissive, eager for pleasure, and desperate for the praise that comes with it. The further your mouth descends onto his cock, the bigger and brighter your eyes become, full of pleading as you look up at Mingy, watching how he reacts, wanting to know if you're doing well. Mingi knows that if he were to send your picture to the members right now, it would cause a universal heart attack. They're absolute wimps for obedient little girls that they can scold and use at will.

"Look at you." He takes a sharp breath and runs his thumbs over your pouting cheeks. You look wickedly adorable, and perhaps Mingi is tempted to shove his cock even deeper down your throat, so that you choke on it and begin to sob. "You bruised your knees just so you could suck my cock. How did I get to be so lucky?"

The stifled moan that you let out is accompanied by a thrust of your hips that makes you feel like you are starting to choke. You try your best to relax your jaw as much as possible, holding back the coughing that starts to bubble up in your throat and forcing yourself to calm down. You look at Mingi through the protruding tears and blink your eyes slowly, waiting for the idol to start to fuck you down your throat. He takes no more than a second to realise what you're proposing.

"Want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" Your strangled moan stops momentarily as Mingi moves his hips again, pushing further into the enveloping wet heat, throwing your head back as you accept his heavy, massive length without complaining. "Damn beautiful, such a pretty cock slut."

Your lips tingle around the suggestive girth, and your cheeks are warm from the praise and effort you've put into his pleasure. You look so dishevelled right now, saliva dripping from your chin down your neck and between your heavy tits falling out of your bra. Your knees are red from rubbing against the rough carpet, your eyes are wet and red from unshed tears, and a small puddle of your secretions is also collecting underneath you, dripping freely from your quivering cunt. You haven't even been fucked yet, and you probably look as fucked as you feel. Even though you have every hope that you will be soon.

When Mingi suddenly yanks you by the hair and pulls you away from his cock, you make a half-squeaky sound and look at him with a crying, hurt look on your face, as if your favourite toy has just been taken away from you. Mingi leans down and pulls you to him for a dirty kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and licking it from the inside to the outside as he tastes himself.

It may be disgusting, but your moans are enthusiastic, and you enjoy every second of it.

"You're so beautiful, dolly. What am I going to do with you?" His words are breathed in through searing kisses, the lips sliding together at random, smearing saliva and mucus all over. Damn, this is unrealistically hot—all of his fantasies coming to life in a beautiful girl who just happens to be sharing a compartment with him on the night train. "Maybe I should have you with me for an introduction to the other members? How would you like it if I were to fuck that obliging mouth of yours off in front of the whole group?"

Enjoying his praise and such a tantalising prospect, you whimper again. Being their whore isn't such a bad option, to be honest; as long as you're fed and well fucked, it's enough to have fun.

"I can't seem to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart. You're literally a pollination." Mingi's deep, velvety whisper tickles your ears. He reaches out to take the palm of your hand and cradle it against his cock.

It's a heavy, hot length, resting perfectly in the palm of your hand, and you long to feel it inside of you. It's big, big enough to send you to heaven with every thrust, and the big head hits you right on the cervix with every thrust of those skilled hips. God bless his dancing skills, because, as you know, dancers can fuck like gods.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" You gasp as Mingi's big hand glides over yours, both of them sliding up and down his hard cock in a confident manner. "With your beautiful eyes and the beauty of your face, Perfect, sweet lips, perfect for the sucking of my cock." He bites down on the torn lower lip you have bitten and kissed and pulls it into his mouth, then pulls back to give you a chaste kiss on your swollen mouth. "All of this is just for me."

Leaning completely on Mingi in front of you, your weak legs have long since stopped supporting you. Your beautiful mouth is open a little, a small whimper escaping from the depths of your throat as you savour the praise that is pouring down upon you. It makes you feel so damn good.

"You are such a delicious girl." Mingi moans as he bites down hard on one of your lips. He turns you around and pushes you in front of him until you find yourself pressing your face first against the fogged-up window. You look out, eyes wide open. There is nothing on the road, just wide fields whizzing by in a fast, blurred image. But something about the thought of somehow seeing how Mingi is fucking you stupid in front of windows makes you wet. Your pussy clenches against nothing. You arch your back and your plump, soft arse, trying to rub against Mingi's cock.

His commanding hand pulls one of your buttocks back to reveal your wet cunt and virgin anal opening. Fuck, you look so delicious. He thinks about pushing his face into your pussy once more and licking you until the morning comes. Next time, he says to himself, shaking his head in the hope that the urge will go away. His hair is falling down over his eyes, giving him that same vicious look that makes their fans go crazy for them.

"I'm going to fuck you like this." Mingi whispers, clenching the lobe of your ear with his teeth. "You'll be a good girl, and you'll be quiet for me so that nobody else can hear how good and how deep I'm fucking you. Do you understand me?"

The rough, big palm slapping your mouth muffled the impatient moan you made as the head of Mingi's cock pushed your sticky folds apart from behind.

"What I told you, doll. If you want to feel me inside you, you need to hear it. I can tease you all night long and play with your lusty little pussy if you are naughty." His words are disapproving and you do a quick nod of understanding. You're going to be good for him. You know you can. You will do everything Mingi asks of you and fulfil his every wish.

Mingi continues to tease you, enjoying the stuttering moans that are muffled by his hand as his cock slides between your folds, rubbing against your clit but never penetrating you. The bulging head of his cock clings to the edge of your throbbing hole and you want to start begging for it. It's agonising, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration at how much you want to feel the thick, long Mingi's cock inside you.

"Have I upset you, doll?" Mingi cooed at the sound of your sobs. "You want my cock so badly. Don't you?" Confirming his words, you nodded mindlessly. "Baby, you know how much I love you; I can't upset my fans." One second you're empty, needy, and throbbing with anticipation, and the next Mingi's thick cock is shoved deep inside you, your oozing hole struggling to get used to his massive size.

A wheeze bursts from your lungs at the intensity of the thrust, your breasts pressed against the window. Your nipples are hardening from the cold of the glass and are becoming even more sensitive than they were before. It's so painful and so good that you're on the verge of tears.

"So perfect, if only you could see the way your beautiful cunt is taking my cock in. I thought you'd have to be stretched for that, but what a pleasant surprise; you don't need it." The sultry purr makes you roll your eyes. His voice is a damned aphrodisiac, making you dumber and wetter, your juices squirting around his cock with every sinful move he make of his hips. Mingi fucks like a god; you were right about him.

You whimper weakly as your nipples rub against the cold glass of the window. Rationality has left you completely. Drool flows freely into Mingi's palm, which is still clamped over your mouth. Your legs turn to jelly as Mingi holds you with a strong arm around your waist, sliding hard in and out of your wet cunt, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Somewhere far away, your mind is foggy. All it can think about is how good you feel and how much you want this to never end. It's like you're addicted to a drug and you need more Mingi—more, more, and more.

The narrow, velvety walls of your vagina close in over Mingi's dick, pulling him inside and holding him in what feels like a soft vice. Mingi's low, deep moans, the slapping against skin, and the loud, rhythmic squelching echo around you. It's so damned loud, even when he's holding back, and you can't help imagining what it would sound like elsewhere. This must be in their dorm; the rooms are soundproof because he's a terribly loud, whining, moaning mess.Two long fingers slide into your mouth and onto your tongue. You gurgle around them, sucking hard, the cold of the rings burning you, and it's so erotic.

"The best for me." That's all Mingi has to say to you before his thrusts get faster and faster, becoming almost aggressive as he presses you up against the window, his muscular thighs slapping against your plump arse.

All you can do is take what you're given and lick his fingers deep into your mouth as his massive cock fucks the life out of you. You throb and whip your juices around him. As your orgasm hits you, you rest your head on Mingi's shoulder. You arch up and shake with your whole body. Mingi's cock is still thrusting into you. He is having a hard time moving because you are squeezing him so hard. He doesn't stop hitting you, he moves his hips in a calculated way, hitting that special spot that makes you want to see the stars. It's almost mocking. The intense stimulation is searing, almost maddening, as if you're stuck somewhere between heaven and hell.

"That's it, doll. You look so beautiful when you cum so hard. Maybe I should fuck you on stage before all the fans, so they can see what a pretty face you make when my cock is so deep inside you." Teeth sink into your shoulder, and you give a weak whimper. "Or maybe you want me to film it so that I can jerk off any time I feel like it? Tonight I'm going to watch you cum over and over and over again."

Mingi seems to really mean what he says, because it's pretty clear from the way he keeps moving inside of you that he won't be satisfied until he's gotten a few more out of you. His endurance is something rabbits would envy. Mingi fucks like an animal, but it's fucking splendidly.

You squeal in overexcitement and run your hands over the window in front of you, leaving a trail of fingerprints all over the glass. You moan loudly as Mingi comes out of you, your used-up, reddened hole shrinking in the emptiness as you instinctively try to close around the hot, massive length. He has literally broken all the men in your life. How the hell are you going to be able to have sex with anyone else after this?

You'll be in need of rehab for the rest of your life.

He pulls you by your waist like a real doll. You find yourself on the lap of a cheeky idol. Your hips are shaking, and you are trying to hold on to him, clutching at Mingi's broad, muscular shoulders with your hands. He stares at you with a lustful, wet gaze, his eyes gliding over every curve and every mark he's left on you. And Mingi isn't finished with you yet.

"Now let's plant you properly, baby." As he pushes you onto his cock, his hands grab your arse and spread your cheeks. The squelching sound is loud and sickening as you sink down onto him completely. Mingi presses his hand on your belly as the head of his cock protrudes from under the thin skin of yours. "That's right, you take me so well. Your cunt is the perfect place for the warmth of my cock to be. Don't you think so, dolly?" He's almost purring like a fucking cat, and you're not thinking anything; you're just mindlessly nodding along to everything he says. You moan longingly as he circles your hips, and you settle comfortably on his cock. You're so full that he presses against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp for air. With Mingi's help, you begin to rise and fall, slapping your arse against his muscular thighs, your mouth ajar, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chubby cheeks wet and hot. You're pure sin. Your legs are too weak to ride Mingi properly, but the idol doesn't care; he's doing fine on his own, guiding your hips as he pleases and driving his cock into you with powerful, deep thrusts.

As he hits you in all the right places, making your toes curl, you see stars behind your closed eyes. You sob openly, your slippery lips pressing against Mingi's neck in an attempt to muffle your moans. You whimper about how good it feels, how deep it goes, and how he never wants to stop. With each thrust, the round, wet head comes to rest against your cervix.

You shudder and squirm in his hands as Mingi presses his fingers against your swollen clit. You can feel it; you're so damn wet. You're flowing like a waterfall, all the way down the length of Mingi and probably all the way down to your balls, forming a puddle on the seat beneath you. You don't want this moment to end; you feel so full and satisfied.

He can collar you and drag you all over the world if he wants to, just so you can keep feeling that gorgeous cock inside you.

"Now! I'm going to cum now, Mingi!" You squeal, pressing your hand to your mouth and bouncing up and down in spite of the tension in your thighs, your tits jiggling with every move you make. Aydol leans forward and catches one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his hot, silky tongue around it as he licks it. Are all rappers that good with their tongues, or is it just something that Mingi does? So you come for the third time that night, your head thrown back and your muscles burning as you continue to be fucked mercilessly. You contract and throb relentlessly all over the thick length that has been pushed deep inside you.

It's a lot, so damn much, but Mingi is still insatiable. To be honest, you wonder where all this sexual appetite comes from with such a constant workload. He could probably go at it with you the whole night through, changing position after position until you pass out. Mingi isn't enough; he isn't full enough to be finished with you.

He turns you over on your back, and you slam your back into the uncomfortable seat. Mingi is still so hard; the head of his cock is a fierce shade of red; his balls are throbbing; one more orgasm from you, and maybe he'll finally let himself come and make a real mess of you. The prospect of flooding you with his cum would be heavenly for him; you would look so beautiful with thick white jets of cum flowing all over your face. It was definitely an unforgettable sight.

Your walls are on fire as Mingi's cock struggles to get back into the nice velvety warmth, and you shake your head underneath it, visibly shaking your whole body and letting out the most beautiful wet sobs.

"It's too much; I can't! God, Mingi, I can't." Mingi kisses you lovingly to calm you down, and you breathe heavily, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"That's OK, baby; you're OK. You can give me another one, right? I know you can, beautiful doll. Come on, make me cum."

"Just one more time." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"Yes, just one. And you can get some rest. I promise." It's something between a promise and an assurance; the words are little more than reassurance, but you're in agreement.

If you had another member with you, you can't even imagine what it would have been like. You wouldn't have survived. And you wonder how fans keep referring to the idols as cute prince charmers with big innocent eyes. Never again.

Mingi squeezes your plump breasts in her hands and bends her head down so that she can take one of your nipples in her mouth. You're too sensitive right now, and even this action makes your hips tremble slightly. Her tongue swirls around the hard bud until Mingi begins to suck tangibly. You tangle your fingers in the surprisingly soft hair, your breasts rising and falling rapidly as you slowly recover from the hypersensitivity of your last orgasm. Mingi's cock is still warm deep inside you.

His hips begin to move gently, in a slow, erotic rhythm, as his teeth graze your nipple, making you whimper. It is this kind of change that almost gives you whiplash. You wrap your legs around Mingi's slender waist and scratch his back with your nails; it hurts, but in a good way. Deep down, you always knew you were a bit of a masochist.

"Look, baby, you're doing so well. You look amazing." The deep, gentle movements of his hips hit the right spot in you. You jump, and you see white spots in front of your eyes. "You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked until you can't take it any more, you little slut."

You nod desperately. It's exactly what you've always needed. A fuck on the edge of your life is exactly what you need after a string of unsatisfying, disappointing partners, after work and endless errands, after the weariness of the day and the noise of the crowd. And it seems that Mingi does too.

You never expected to intentionally meet an idol, and you certainly didn't expect him to remember your face, let alone your name, but here you are with Mingi's cock from Ateez deep inside you, and to be honest, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you in your whole life.

You're so lucky.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open in a silent moan, and your breasts are shaking with every thrust. And just as Mingi expected, the crystal pendant looks amazing between your bare tits.

You are being fucked so well that you can't find the right words to describe it. The contrast between you and Mingi is striking: you're completely dishevelled, shattered in every sense of the word, shivering, your clothes half hanging off your body, while Mingi has only drops of sweat on his forehead with long strands of fringes clinging to them, his trousers still on his hips, unbuttoned just so his cock can slip out, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his hair slightly dishevelled.

In a selfish desire to cum, you are pressed mercilessly into the seat, fucking the rest of your life out of you.

"Cum inside." You whisper, barely coherent. "Please, Mingi."

Mingi growls at this request, losing all self-control at the thought of him filling you with his cum, forcing you to keep it inside you so that all you can think about is him. Feeling him inside you with every step you take. He rubs your swollen clit hard with his thumb, making sure he squeezes the last orgasm out of you. His hips set a frantic, jagged rhythm as he enters your pussy that still flows around him, wet squelches and slaps echoing between you. It's the final orgasm that finally brings Mingi to his own release. He lets his head drop low as he bites the back of your neck to stifle a loud, prolonged moan, both of you lost in their own pleasure. Mingi's orgasm is so intense that you can feel his cum running down the sides of your cunt, filling you to the brim. The intensity causes him to go blind for a few seconds, and it takes him a while to come to.

This is new. Even for him.

Mingi finally pulls back to look at you. He coos softly as he notices how broken and completely fucked you look.

"That's my girl. You did great, doll." He whispers in a low voice and leaves soft kisses on your bitten skin. His lips are like soft, fluffy clouds—very soft and delicate.

Your vision is blurred and your mind is a mess, and you don't seem to be able to function properly anytime soon, but the only thing you're sure of is how content and satisfied you feel right now. You whimper pitifully as Mingi comes out of you, trying to squeeze your hole to keep the cum from leaking out. But it's inevitable; a small amount leaks out of you anyway in a thick, creamy mass.

"Let's get you cleaned up, doll, so you can get some rest afterwards."

Despite the sperm leaking out of you, your head tilts helplessly to the side as Mingi helps you put your clothes back on. He seems to be enjoying the sight, making no effort to wipe it off. Disgusting, yes. He doesn't give a fuck. Nobody ever said he was a nice boy.

You cringe at the sensation. But the knowledge that it's Mingi's cum gives you endless perverse pleasure. You're tired, too exhausted to want anything more than to sleep. You still have hours of travel ahead of you; you must rest before Asa meets you at the train station.

Mingi notices your condition. He has already straightened your clothes and picked up your mobile phone from the floor. The recording is safely stored in a private folder. It is protected by a complex, multi-digit password.

"Y/N, you can sleep now. I'll keep an eye on you." He laughs as he says that, because that's exactly what he said before he started fingering you. But this time, he really means what he says.

"Whatever you want to say." You reply with a smile and finally take off your shoes, which are uncomfortable as hell, and curl up into a ball. "I think, thank you, Mingi. You know, for the sex."

"Don't thank me; I'm kind of totally into you."

"Good night, then."

"Dream about me, Y/N."

By the time you wake up, the train has already arrived at Tamagawa Station. As you would expect, Mingi is nowhere in sight, but your duffel bag is on his seat opposite you. He's not a complete bastard, after all. You pack quickly and fly off the train, straight into Asa's warm embrace.

"Hey girl, you're finally here. God, you look tired and exhausted." If she only had a clue...

"Long night," you reply simply with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, let's go. The hot springs are waiting for us, and I hear there's a famous group staying at this resort right now. Maybe we'll meet some of the idols." Asa is terribly excited and is dragging you by the hand in the direction of her car.

You vaguely remember what Mingi had said about him and the boys coming here to relax before their concerts. But you don't even know if they stay here or not, and this is a big resort. What are the chances?

When you get into the car, the only thing you can think about is Mingi's dried semen on your thighs and where the hell your knickers have gone.

On the next day.

"This is it; I can't stand it any longer. How can you stand it??"Asa whined as she climbed out of the big hot tub with the bubbling hot water. She was all flushed, the pretty pink bathing suit clinging to her body like a second skin, until she changed into a fluffy white dressing gown.

"It's hot springs, Asa. That's the point.."You rest your head on the padded side and laugh at her pained expression. It's a beautiful resort, after all. "Go on. I'm going to be here for a while."

"Yes, don't get boiled alive; there's no one to save you. We're the last ones here tonight; you can sit here alone all night." You realise that Asa has already left, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

The hot water relaxes you, and you feel so good, warm, and comfortable. While enjoying your own moment, you close your eyes.

The next time you open your eyes, there will be a piece of fabric dangling in front of your face, or rather, is it a pair of panties? Cream-coloured silk with a delicate ruffle around the edge—it's definitely a pair of panties. It's your panties! Oh, shit. You turn sharply around and sail away from the edge to look into a face full of a seductive grin and the most gorgeous cat-like features.

"These are yours, aren't they?" The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. Shocked by the situation, you nod your head stupidly, not knowing how to choose your words. "Oh, I finally found you. You know, Mingi has told us a lot about you, y/n." The man slips easily into the hot tub, unfastening his white dressing gown, revealing a chiselled, gorgeous body. For your taste, too close. He corners you unceremoniously, putting his hands on either side of your face, his wide shouders completely blocking you from seeing. "I'm San. But you already know that, don't you, baby?" He literally whispers the last word in your ear, sending a shiver down your entire body and hardening your nipples, even though the water is warm. "You know, we're resting here before the concerts start. It would be really nice to have a pretty kitty like you to keep us company."

Belatedly, especially when San's lips begin to trace a light path down your neck, you understand the meaning of his words.

"Us? I don't understand." You give him a slight push away from you, but he doesn't move an inch.

"To us, of course, you silly kitty - Ateez. You see, our leader is very interested in making a personal record of all your cute little sounds." He leans over to you and whispers in your ear in a conspiratorial manner. "We had a lot of fun listening to how you cum, kitty."

This is a big resort. You remind yourself. What a possibility, you say. You see a satisfied, anticipatory smile on Yunho's lips as he waves sweetly at you from the other side of the hot tub. He is such a sweet boy. Yeah sure, you absolutely believe it.

Looks like you got lucky. After all, what are the chances of getting to meet not just Mingi, but the whole of his group?

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goopsploob · 7 months

Text

peanut butter love | jake sim

tw: food porn? jake Violates some peanut butter

pairing: shut-in!jake & female dog hybrid!reader

wc: 2.9k

-------

when jake agreed to adopt a hybrid from an old friend who couldn't keep it anymore, he was ecstatic. being the shut-in he was, he had little to no human contact on a regular basis. he envisioned all of the adventures his new companion would go on with him and the amazing bond he would make with his slighty-furry soon-to-be friend!

he heard you were nice, loyal, and obedient! all great qualities. when you arrived, though, he was surprised. he hadn't expected you to be a girl. a really pretty one, at that.

jake was horrible with girls. he had limited human contact, but even stricter limits on girls. it started when he confessed to his high-school crush, lia park. she laughed in his face and humiliated him in front of practically the entire school.

other than to work on projects or due to them being his teacher, his only interactions with women took place online through paid cam sites, and his interactions with these women wouldn't even be considered as real interactions to some. he'd been living like this for years.

even though you were a girl, jake trusted in himself to be better than this. maybe this could even help him get better with talking to women in a real life platonic way! a surge of confidence shot through him at this thought. he had this in the bag.

-------

until he didn't.

it started off as expected. jake promised himself not to overstep boundaries, and at least for the first 2 months of living together, he'd been doing a pretty fine job of just that!

you guys gradually got close and closer as the days passed. awkwardly eating together at the kitchen island evolved into eating while huddled up in a blanket and binging series after series; buying takeout more often than not turned into fun nights where messes were left, memories were made, and bonds strengthened.

as your guys' bond strengthened, your attachment to him did too, though. you find yourself trying to get as close to him wherever, whenever.

whenever he had to do work on his computer, you don't hesitate to pull up a chair and just chill there. you don't necessarily know what his job is, but you don't care. you just want to be near him.

one time when he was getting out of the shower, he was startled to find you right behind the door when he opened it. your ears perked up and you shot up to hug him. this was a regular occurrence now.

jake couldn't stop himself from getting attached, too. once he got used to you, he mentally noted down all of your cute behaviors and traits.

he noticed the way your head snapped to him whenever he entered the room you were in, the way you constantly had energy, how excited you get when dogs are depicted in whatever series you guys were binging that night, and your special love for peanut butter.

peanut butter, your favorite snack. not fancy in the slightest, but 5 star michelin gourmet to you. you would go crazy at the slightest whiff of loose peanut butter in a 20 meter radius. jake recalls that one time he accidentally left the jar of peanut butter a crack open before going to shower. he was worried when you weren't standing outside the door, only to go in the kitchen and find a ravished peanut butter jar and a very guilty-looking hybrid.

there was a problem arising within jake, though. you were too cute.

when jake first got you, he was undeniably attracted to you. he was determined to get those thoughts about you out of his head though, to maybe prove to himself that he doesn't see all women as objects of affection. over these months, though, he hasn't found it in himself to let go of these feelings. in fact, they've arguably grown.

at first, he was visually attracted to you. your beautiful proportions were a sight to see. your face was stunning, you looked healthy, and your body especially was hard to look away from. that hourglass figure shape was exactly what he'd been lusting after, his incognito tabs full of exactly these types of things.

overtime this grew into loving your personality. you were adorable, to say the least. playful, funny, and devoted. he remembers the time you two went out to a local cafe and the (very attractive) male waiter kept on making subtle advances on you. you were, of course, oblivious to these advances. he noted how you were curt and straight-faced when talking to the waiter, but starry-eyed and smiley when talking to jake. he felt himself turning into jelly at his seat.

this sweet attraction stayed, but eventually the sexual attraction was starting to take over again. before he got you, he was blasting through onlyfans and twitch subscriptions, jerking off almost every day for as long as he'd moved out from his parent's place and got his own credit card.

when he got you, though, things changed. his initial sexual attraction to you made you his source of horniness for awhile, but that wore off when transitioning into his genuinely sweet love for you era. he felt guilty getting off to other girls, not to mention they just didn't interest him anymore. he found himself not really wanting to masturbate for awhile.

until now. it started off simple, you often wear shorts and tanktops around him now that you guys are close. one night while watching a movie, he caught a glimpse of your cleavage and felt a tingle by his cock. he brushed it off. every once in a while these thoughts were unavoidable when you had a crush on somebody, obviously.

his thoughts got more intense as time passed. he watched with a gulp as you wrapped your sweet lips around the popsicle, going down it with innocence in your eyes. the juice dripped down your chin, and you simply swipe it up with your finger and suck it off with a pop. he could feel a wave of arousal in his dick, choking and sputtering on his own popsicle. you only shot him a concerned look before continuing with your own popsicle.

at some point, he reached his limit. as he got hornier, he found everything to be tormenting. you simply bending over to pick something up, sticking your body into the laundry machine to get a sock stuck in the back, or even just resting your head on his shoulder, would send his body into overdrive. he seriously needed to jerk off, or else he would go insane.

when you were sleeping one night, jake tip-toed into his bathroom and turned on the fan, just in case you could hear from your room. this was simple enough, right? he would jerk off in peace to some classic porn or something. whatever. he just needed this.

he tugged his sweatpants down and sat on the cold toilet seat, his half-hard cock lazily springing out of its confines. turning on his headphones and turning on a random porn video he found appealing. he started tugging on his cock, staring at the motions of the actors. he tried to imagine him fucking you in place of the people in the video. the thought got him going, but no matter how much he stroked, he just couldn't get that ecstasy that he used to get. he groaned internally.

eventually his cock had a dull sting to it from the fruitless jerking, and at that point he concluded he wasn't going to cum. he needed something better, more realistic, more pleasurable..

a fleshlight!

yes, of course! why didnt he-

wait, no. this would be a bad idea.

jake reluctantly thought back on the first time you barged into his room just 3 weeks after he got you. you searched the room like someone searching for contraband, digging through every single drawer, crevice, and space. he was in the living room at the time, unaware of your uninvited presence in his quarters. he only found out when you called out his name with your sweet voice and walked into the living room to ask what this object was. upon turning around, to his terror he found that you naively grasped his prized fleshlight, using your other hand to spread open its plastic lips to see what was inside.

he shot up to take it from your hands and hid it behind his back. you were confused, but jake was glad you shrugged and let it go. later that day he disposed of all his fleshlights and incriminating posessions, deciding his hand did a fine job for now.

back to the present, jake was conflicted. if he really tried hard enough, he could probably orgasm from his hand. it wouldn't be a very exciting orgasm, though. jake sought after the old days of rushes of pleasure when he used those now discarded toys.

so what would he do now? subconsciously he found himself pacing around the house, just letting himself get lost in his thoughts. he leaned against the island and scanned his eyes across his eyes across the kitchen, thinking about what he would have to buy the following day.

what should i make for breakfast? let's see, i have toast, bacon, eggs, peanut butter...

peanut butter.

a plethora of thoughts crossed his mind.

smooth.

creamy.

thick.

fuckable.

he caught himself. what the hell was he just thinking about?

as much as he tried to push these filthy thoughts out of his mind, his body betrayed him and he could feel it. his cock hardened in his sweats, just begging to be inside something. anything.

he wouldn't actually.. fuck a literal jar of peanut butter though, right? how stupid.

how stupid, he thought.

-----

unbelievably stupid, he thought, as he peeled the covering off of the peanut butter and stumbled into the bathroom, turning on the fan once more. his endless thoughts of shame couldn't prevent what he was about to do, pulling his erect penis out of its confines for the second time tonight.

there's no way, right? no way.

no way, he repeated, as he slowly inserted his leaking cock into the fresh jar of pb. it felt so good, too good. he couldn't stop himself from letting out a choked moan.

at this point, he's lost himself and he hasn't even completed a full thrust. the way the smooth and thick peanut butter encased and almost squeezed around his throbbing cock sent ripples of pleasure throughout his body, and he honestly isn't sure if he was going to last long at all.

after stilling in for a few more moments, he pulled out with a swift squelch from the peanut butter. his cock was covered in that brown-orange goodness and he couldn't get enough. he thrusted another time, then again, then again, moaning and automatically speeding up on each thrust.

fuck, yes, he thought. he could only imagine the look on your pure face when you open your favorite peanut butter only to find a giant hole down the middle. he envisioned himself acting surprised and telling you it was a common manufacturing mistake and that it was alright, you probably believing him like you always do.

he wasn't even concealing his moans at this point, forgetting his surroundings and getting lost in the feeling of his dick being sucked in and out by the peanut butter. this must be heaven, truly.

holy shit, he chanted to himself as his thrusts sped up. he felt himself gradually getting close to his high. he tossed his head in the air, beads of sweat falling from his brow while he caught his lip in his teeth.

he was getting closer, he could feel it coming on. yes, he was about to cum.

f-fuck, fuck, getting lost and high in the immense satisfaction, he failed to notice the light turning on under the bathroom door. you had woken up from the noise. and also, the unmistakable fragrance of peanut butter. what was your owner doing hogging all the peanut butter in there?! and why was he being so noisy about it?

pressing your ear against the door, you heard wet noises and jake, making noises in.. pain? was your owner in trouble?! oh no! you know jake told you not to barge into rooms anymore but this seemed like an emergency! you opened the door only to find a shocking sight! your owner got stuck in the peanut butter and was in pain!

meanwhile, jake, on the brink of orgasm, heard the creak of the door. opening his eyes in dread, only to find what he was fearing most. he immediately stopped his motions to turn away from you, mind racing with excuses as to why exactly he was fucking your prized peanut butter. it seems he didn't have to, though.

"jake, did you get stuck in the peanut butter? i'll help you!" uh oh. jake couldn't escape this now. a few dirty thoughts were in the back of his mind but he pushed them away. not the time.

"uh, yeah, but i got it. it's okay. just, uh, leave, alright? go back to sleep now."

you wanted to listen to your owner, but you knew he was in trouble! you grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, to his utter panic and terror, and tugged the jar off of him as fast as you could.

jake was in shock, to say the least. at the sensation of the peanut butter against his cock, though, he moaned. he covered his mouth, still frozen in confusion.

you were on the case, genuinely wanting to help your owner out. frowning at the sight of his body part being dirtied in peanut butter, you had a great idea! you were incredibly hungry so you could just lick it off! you've licked peanut butter and crumbs off of his hands before, and to you this was no different.

thinking you were the smartest girl in the world, you plopped down on your knees and smiled at him before starting to lick at the peanut butter on his tip.

everything was still catching up to jake, all of it hitting him at once as he felt the insanely arousing sensation of your tongue on him. he let out a stuttered groan before choking out, n-no, you, fuck, you can't- he got cut off when you took his whole tip in, suckling on it like a popsicle.

he thought he was dreaming at this point, seeing stars due to the crazy pleasure he was feeling.

yes, just like that, fuck. all rationality has left his brain now, his dream girl who had been the subject of his affection for over half a year now was sucking his dick. thinking about it for more than 3 seconds would make him blow his load, for sure. it wasn't like he could think much now, anyways. still oblivious to your actions, you took him in your mouth deeper, savoring the nutty taste of your favorite treat.

your sucking made an intense slurping noise, only serving to turn jake on more than he already was. trying to get his thoughts together, he knows this is wrong. you don't know what you're doing, and he was about to cum in your mouth. jake musters up his little amount of strength left and pulls himself out of you with a sigh and a pop from your mouth. you, frowning, notice not all of the peanut butter was gone. maybe he needed to take a break because of all of the pain. hearing the noises he was making, your heart cracked. he understood why you were doing this though, right?

determined to get this over with, you swiftly lunged your mouth back onto his pb-covered cock, effectively letting yourself choke on it. jake could only let out a very choppy moan as his eyes rolled back into his head, all strength leaving his body. he couldn't hold back anymore. he gripped your hair and pushing you down, not letting you up for air after at least 7 seconds. he releases you with a growl and barely lets you take a breath before pushing you back down, on the very brink of cumming down your unsuspecting throat.

using your head as his new personal fleshlight, his pace is ruthless. tears are racing down your cheeks as you try to persevere through the pain just for your dear owner.

he's so close, he's seeing white. his eyes roll back into his head, his entire body covered in a thin layer of sweat from the efforts.

he's ready to cum now, to cum down your little throat and confuse you. he tried not to imagine what would happen between you two after this, not wanting to think about any consequences. he just needed to cum in your cute little windpipe and choke you with his babies.

he lets out a loud sob, feeling mass amounts of his semen blasting from his pulsing cock to your tiny oral entry. he holds your head down, your nose pressing into a patch of hairs while he's coming down from his high.

pulling you off with a hum, he loosely grasps his softening cock and pants, you on the floor confused but happy. you helped your owner! you stood up and hugged him, making your merry way out back into your room.

left in the bathroom was the shell of what once was a man and a ruined jar of peanut butter.

what a waste.

#enhypen smut #enhypen jake #jake enhypen #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake smut #jake enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen jake fanfic #enhypen jake smut

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the-fluff-piece · 1 year

Text

Tropetember 11

Modern day restaurant - enemy colleagues to lovers

You work at baratie - for some reason, Sanji hates you.

But when you meet outside of the restaurant, things change

Sanji looked like a literal popstar: handsome face, great physique. But he was your worst nightmare. He was the collegue that hated your guts.

You salted too much or too little, you weren't fast enough, he even nagged you about how you cut tomatoes for a simple salad. A real ass. He had adored you for a full two minutes before learning that Zeff had hired you to bring innovation to Baratie, pushing Sanji from his throne as the restaurants golden boy.

Every day was a fight against him. Zeff hired you because you graduated top of your class in one of the best schools for gastronomy. Learning from the best had made you confident that you could survive in this kitchen. Both regarding the work and the tough tone, but Sanji got to you.

You were just preparing fish as the hair on you neck raised - Sanji alarm.

As you cut the Filet, you heard a "tssk", already setting you off.

"This is a gourmet restaurant, not a butcher shop" He hissed.

"Oh really? Than why do you act like this was a cheap speed dating event every night, you pervert?" Your little burn earned you a chuckle from the other cooks.

In a second, Sanji was behind you, his hand on yours, grabbing the knife with your hand. In seconds, he had perfectly prepared the filet, the movements of his hands were precise and practiced.

"That's how you do it" He said and swaggered away again.

"I could have done it by myself, you stuck up jerk" you shouted behind him, gesturing with the knife.

"It's a long time until you can dance with the big boys, little girl" He answered as he vanished into the dining area, doubtlessly planning to chat up some poor woman.

Your heart was pounding hard. You would show him. Somehow.

Sanji

When he first saw her, she looked like any other girl. Cute, pretty. But now, she made his skin crawl. New shooting star at the restaurant? From some fancy school? And Zeff loved her every idea. But Sanji knew her kind - only a great career in mind but no respect for food, no character. No heart. He couldn't respect her as a cook.

But she was good, if he didn't watch out, he'd stay behind. He couldn't deny that she brought exciting ideas and techniques to the table, but he didn't have to openly admit it, either. He had learned his trade the hard way, from Zeff. He would take over the restaurant one day, not her.

He had sworn to himself to never treat a lady badly, but she got to him. Little miss perfect. She was a great cook, she had a quick mouth and a drive that was hard to ignore. He loved their little shit talking duels more than he would want to admit. It was exciting him more than a new lady guest these days.

Zeff tried to keep them separate, to minimise fighting, and for a few busy hours he forgot she was there. Almost. He more than once turned around, having heard adorable little sighs - only to see that they belonged to her.

When it got late and the restaurant emptied, he went outside for a smoke. Enjoying the cool air, having a moment of silence.

"Psspss!" He heard.

Carefully, he peered into the dark alley behind the restaurant. Was that y/n? Did she feed...stray cats?

You

What a shift. It was a hard job, but it made you proud. Time for a break.

The night before you had seen a group of stray cats in the streets. You took the cuts from the fish and chicken, that would be thrown away, and waited in the alley.

Soon, a big, burly red tabby cat, one eyed and dirty, approached you.

"Psspss!" You held your hand out. The stray came cautiously nearer and sniffed your hand. You put a plate with the leftovers on the pavement in front of him, and after a short inspection he began to eat the scraps.

"Good little tigger!" You scratched his ear carefully. You have decided to call him tigger, like the one from winnie the pooh!

"What's that?" A harsh voice asked. It was Sanji, his chef's attire was unbuttoned and a cigarette smouldered in the corner of his mouth.

Fuck, not that guy!

He took the scene in with scrutiny, no doubt thinking how to report to Zeff that you were feeding vermin behind the restaurant.

"It's not what it looks like!" You tried to defend the situation. "It's...uhm" But you couldn't think of anything.

"You're wrong, lady!" He looked angry, intense.

"His name is Garfield!" Sanji passionately petted the cat.

"What?"

"Garfield. He likes lasagna." Sanji smiled now, a relaxed, happy smile. To Die for.

"Didn't know you were into stray cats" He said, still running his hand through the cats thick fur.

"They're poor things, I can't ignore them" you said, still unsure what to think.

For a while, you Two just watch the little feline devour his dinner. He snorted and spewed like a little pig,.it made you giggle.

You hadn't expected that a posh guy like Sanji would even touch a dirty stray.

"You know, I've been feeding him, too. He has a few friends as well, but they're shy." He said, looking at you with an new softness in his eyes.

"I gotta say, didn't think you liked animals." He muttered more to himself than you.

"Of course. They need help, so I help them" it was a simple fact. You watched as garfield/ tigger finished his meal and vanished into the night again.

"Well, break is over." You collected the plate and turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Stay a little" Sanji said, his voice sounded genuinely charming, promising that he would make it worth your while.

So you stayed while he smoked.

"You know, when I was small I would cook for the Rats in my parents house" He said, making you chuckle.

"Rats?" You asked, unbelieving.

"Yeah, it's true" He winked at you, suddenly a full gentleman, "vermin in our house."

"Did they like it?" You asked, imagining him cooking little meals.

"They didn't complain" he looked sheepishly at you.

"That sounds so sweet" you said. He laughed.

"Normally, people call it disgusting" he sounded a bit sad.

"Well, I think it's cute. Rats are cute" you stated.

"They are!" He agreed.

A conversation about rat paws ensued, about their little button eyes and how intelligent they where.

When Zeff called you inside from your break, you both returned to the kitchen for cleaning the place up.

When everything was done and it was time to go home, he waited for you.

"Need a lift home?" He asked, standing in front of his car. It was old, used and bruised.

"Why not" you rounded the vehicle and sat in the passenger seat. After cleaning out a bag, empty bottles and some perfume.

"Yeah, sorry about that, didn't think I'd drive a lady home" He said, looking embarrassed.

"I'm used to it. You should see my dad's car - it's full of straw and smells like dog." You said.

"Good man!" He laughed.

The drive home was a bit awkward, you were still getting used to him being nice.

"Sanji, why are you so nice all of a sudden?" You asked.

"There we are" you said as the car pulled into youe road.

"If garfield likes you, you must be OK." He said, as if a cat could explain his sudden change in demeanor. Leaving out the part that his anger had partly been because of the sheer need to kiss her that he couldn't explain. Or his need, right now, to reach over and grab her thigh.

"That's my house" you pointed to a grey apartment building.

"I'll bring you to your door."

_____

And that's it for today because life has a way of happening and I have no time to continue at this point, I am so sorry.

My own little cat needs to go to the vet and I hope it turns out OK 😔

Taglist

@yeeeeezly @waitingmydemons @stariski @livwritesfics @violetmatcha

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #x you #tropetember #modern day au #one piece

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isabirdie · 2 months

Text

The choices we make define us

The sugar baby/daddy relationship is based on the role of the much older, richer man, sometimes famous, as provider and source of income and the young woman as a product that this provider pays for and whose only value is her body and physical appearance.

It is sexist and reinforces toxic gender roles. It is a form of gourmet prostitution, in some cases disguised as “she’s my assistant”, “we’re friends”, “she’s my personal something”.

It is not uncommon for the sugar baby, if the daddy is not married, to eventually come out of the shadows and rise to the position of official girlfriend and even wife – it is a good deal for the daddy: maintenance, since it is habitual, is low, the libido has decreased with age, he has become accustomed to someone always on his knees (literally), without an opinion of his own, docile, willing to obey any wish or order… it is simply cheaper and more convenient to keep the chickadee who by this time has already passed the scandalous age – she is still young compared to the daddy, but at a more defensible age.

This new phase makes the man's conscience clear, instead of being the pervert who likes to pay for poor and uneducated little girls, he is the superman provider, the irresistible hottie who took a young girl, after all, love has no age, right? Or they are consenting adults. The empowering phrases vary and some are quite creative.

At this point in the relationship, the daddy starts showing up at events with the sugar baby, trying to legitimize the relationship and clear his name. If he is famous, he gets all irritated with the hilarious comments that reveal the ridiculous role he is playing. Questions about the relationship are also not allowed in interviews and appearances. If the guy is very, very famous and relevant, his PR team easily provides a career to boost the girl's biography and remove the gross stigma of direct buying and selling - nothing like medicine, engineering, law or any other real career - which by the way the daddy could have financed - but something vague like influencer, designer of something…

The “acceptance” of a sugar baby who is almost the same age by the children from a previous marriage is imposed subtly - the force exerted by those who hold the financial power applies to both cases, even more so if the children still depend on the father. This “acceptance” is often offered with some advantages to make it more palatable, mainly the promise - not always fulfilled - that the new relationship will not produce children.

In any case, for the children, it is better to see their father making a fool of himself and spending money on just one woman than to be free and at the mercy of scandals that could squander his inheritance, especially in times of instant cancellation and MeToo.

On a personal level, among the close circle of friends who are the same age and who do not depend financially (or use connections) on daddy, oh, those have already run for the hills – they don't hang around much and avoid socializing.

In the specific case of someone famous, what can loyal fans do? "Is it possible to separate the work from the artist?" "Is it unethical to consume art produced by people with reprehensible behavior?

"Monsters: a Fan’s Dilemma"/Claire Dederer : The truth is that there is no grand general theory, applying a universal and absolute metric, with which one can find a perfect balance between morality and aesthetic appreciation.

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mrsvnk · 3 months

Text

I don't understand when people write about how good the understanding is between Ciel and Sebastian.

It's a terrible emotional swing.

And it's even worse when something good is seen in such a sick relationship between Sebastian and Ciel.

Please excuse me, but Humbert and Lolita come to mind.

Sebastian and Humbert are the only adults who share dark secrets with poor, traumatized children, and at the same time they are both a secret and a person who does not allow them to forget about it and move forward.

They are always there, as proof of the horror that is happening to them. They are the cause of this suffering (the cult was engaged in defilement innocent souls to summon a demon; Humbert was hurting Lolita).

They are adults who invade the personal space of children (I want to believe that all those strange, disgusting poses were not just a fanservice on Yana's part, but showed that Sebastian always did this intentionally, knowing how Ciel hates touching; just look at some strange, inappropriate movements while reading it's like a mockery of the trauma of a boy who is confused, angry and hurt). They justify themselves (in Humbert's mind, Lolita is to blame; Sebastian is a diabolical good butler, of course).

They make children think that they are adults (but Lolita and Ciel are children, teenagers, and if through Humbert's perverted mind we can only snatch something real about Lolita; then in the manga we see that despite all the difficulties shouldered by Ciel, in many moments he remains a boy who have to be an adult in order not to be completely broken).

Humbert was the cause of Lolita's mental instability, but he helped her; Sebastian helped Ciel during PTSD, saved him from various situations, but... Was there any help at all? (Don't forget about the contract, about the boy's soul, about revenge, that if it weren't for all those feelings that have already been embalmed in Ciel and which Sebastian mentions, periodically mockingly suggesting that Ciel become kinder, then a healthy soul would hardly have pleased the gourmet demon, on this terrible fateful night he would did not come).

And the worst thing is that someone finds this relationship romantic at all, sees something sweetly sad in it and looks for evidence and justification.

Neither Lolita nor Ciel are to blame for who they have become and who they trust. They were children who usually divide the world into black and white. And kind adults who selflessly help them could never have been villains.

But here we are.

#kuroshitsuji #our ciel #ciel phantomhive #black butler #lolita book #anti sebaciel

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senselessviolets · 4 days

Text

“dream a little dream of me”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

EXTREMELY dubious consent, somnophilia (reader is in and out of sleep), sleep/drunk sex (both Roman and Reader are drunk but Roman is more active/the one initiating during encounter), smut, alcohol, language, implied Roman eating disorder, erectile dysfunction mention, pervert!Roman, needy Roman, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

A oneshot by @cum-a-calla opened my eyes recently and I realized “Roman + somno” might be my peanut butter & jelly. Like wow. What a concept. Jokes aside, this fic is dark so PLEASE be wary of the warnings above. <3

Summary:

Post-S4, Roman and Reader begin to date after working at Waystar Studios together. While they bond and flirt more and more, he continues to keep her at bay. One night, the two get extremely drunk at his apartment and suffice it to say—they both wind up getting what they want.

This was maybe your third or fourth time sleeping over. You honest to god never thought you’d make it this far. For all of his gross jokes and sexual provocations, Roman reviled intimacy.

It’s why when he first started to court you; you were so taken aback. You’d been around; you knew what the mumblings were about his ‘eccentricities’. You were the Director of Creative Affairs at the Waystar Studios L.A headquarters. A position you were remarkably young to have; your famous two-time Oscar-award-winning actress mother and prominent movie producer father having nothing to do with it at all.

Following the Gojo acquisition, Roman withdrew from executive operations, accepting the fact he no longer had a place there. That and he outright refused to be in the same room with Lukas Mattsson.

As such, he returned to the entertainment side of things (this time with no Frank to boss him around) and went back to living in L.A around the clock. Things hadn’t changed much in the three-year hiatus he had from working at Studios.

Well, except for you.

It was only in his absence that you got your job. You wondered had he been around during that time, if he would’ve made a stink over your dad pulling the strings and landing you the job. A practice that was completely foreign to him, no doubt. Of course with it being Roman, you knew with full certainty the answer—yes. Because who was he if not the world’s biggest hypocrite/walking contradiction?

You found this to be even more apparent after your first date. Roman made a point of booking the two of you a reservation for the most high-end, gourmet French restaurant in the city. Even though when the waiter came around to your secluded table with the 16 oz beef ribeye he’d ordered, Roman did no more than fidget with the garnish on the plate.

While on that same date, though he’d surprised you at the beginning of the evening with an ornate bouquet of red roses and white orchids—he didn’t deign to even so much as hold your hand the rest of that night.

Three months later, you and Rome had exchanged a myriad of kisses and flirtatious squeezes around the office. The suggestive texts the two of you exchanged, making tempting offers and filthy propositions. All of that build-up only to result in chaste nights in at his flat, eating takeout and bitching about the latest tentpole flop your studio was in the midst of developing. It could be worse, you thought. To say your needs were being met, though, would be a lie.

Tonight was different. Tonight was heavy.

The two of you had spent a good portion of the night sprawled out on the wooden floors of his living room, talking about nothing and downing a Japanese whisky neither of you could pronounce. The taste hadn’t left your mouths. You wondered if his would taste the same.

After deciding to turn in for the night, you gradually make your way toward the master bedroom, stumbling over yourself. He stops you from colliding into the wall several times. You and Roman make the most obnoxious-sounding cackles as the both of you hap-heartedly flop onto his Hastens Superia bed. You let yourself fall deep into the cotton wool mattress, landing somewhere between sleep and a drunken haze.

You feel yourself be pried out of this state as a force slowly turns you so you’re on your back. You can tell by the faint outline of his fluffy hair that it’s him. In this lighting or lack thereof, you don’t really know for sure. You give a weak smile, maybe even whisper a small “hi”. He waits to proceed until the expression has fully faded from your face and the heaviness in your eyelids takes over. His lips made rough with the scratch from his beard, are forcefully pressed onto yours. Once again, you are ripped out of the peaceful purgatory between awareness and slumber you’d just been slipping into. It’s hard to not liven up at the wet sensation of his tongue slipping past your lips.

Roman hadn’t ever kissed you like this.

Using your chin, he pries your mouth with his index finger so it's more open to him. Briefly, you consider gliding your tongue along his own, to reciprocate the motions, to achieve the taste you yourself so desperately craved. But you didn’t want him to stop.

To get in his head like he had a tendency to. To sever himself from you yet again.

So you remain still. Pliant. His.

Meanwhile, his one free hand has wandered elsewhere. Roman’s fully straddling you at this point so you can feel a firmness in between his thighs that hadn’t been present before. The hand alternates from palming himself to cupping your bare mound. The chill of his fingers causes you to flinch. You suppose in the arduous journey to get to his bedroom, you must have lost your bottoms. You don’t entirely remember having ever taken them off yourself.

It would remain a mystery.

The oversized white button-up blouse of yours has opened itself to Roman and his gaze. He moves the opposing sides of the fabric so they’re no longer covering your chest. Roman dives face first, smushing his face against the warm pillowy flesh of your breasts, inhaling deeply. He kneads them with his fingers and takes them into his mouth, sucking more gently than he wishes to. It’s clear Roman wishes not to disturb your ‘slumber’.

He shows you a devotion other men had hardly shown you when you were fully awake. It was all a jumbled mess in your head. Due to the surrealness of the whole situation but also the liquor as well.

Instead of working his way downwards like most guys naturally would, Roman instead makes his way up to your neck, burrowing his head in the crook near your shoulder. He takes a deeper inhale of the tender flesh there. Eventually his nose prods into your hair which was strewn all over the pillow your head rests on. There were times at the office when you could’ve sworn he took a brief inhale of your hair when sneaking past you. You didn’t say anything. Even after you two had begun ‘dating’, you still didn’t question it.

While Roman halts his movements and lies on top of you, your mind drifts, thinking something to the effect of, ‘if he’s this much of a pervert when I’m asleep at night, what kind of disgusting shit does he get up to in the daytime behind my back’?

You have no time to dwell on the thought because something cold and slender traces your opening. Due to its tensility, you’re able to make out that its his finger that now fumbles around your entrance. There’s no foreplay, no crescendo because in an instant, Roman is inside of you. You can’t help but mumble a whimper at the sudden intrusion. He freezes, keeping the tip of his finger in you. When he sees you don’t stir and go back to sleep, he plunges what feels like his index finger deeper into you. So deep, you fear he’ll run out of space to fill. He stops just before it becomes too uncomfortable. Not that the interaction was all that pleasant.

Mentally, you were aroused but physically, your body had yet to catch up.

“...not wet,” he says to himself.

He withdraws his hand quickly, spitting multiple times on his now two fingers, and wedges them both inside of you. The lube of his saliva provides some slick but it’s still making you sore.

“That better…? Hm…? Yeah…?” he coos, watching your emotionless face, “That what you need..?”

He smirks briefly when he sees your eyes flutter.

“Oh…you dreamin’, baby? Hm, you dreaming about me?” Roman taunts, in a shrill soft voice, “You better be. You better fuckin’ be.”

You clench reflexively as he says it. Roman drags his lower teeth against the smooth skin of your arm as he continues to pump his fingers into you rapidly. Fast enough that your increasing wetness is audible in the still silence of his bedroom. Roman ceases all of his movements at once, letting out a sharp exhale. Gradually, he removes his fingers from your pussy and a moment passes before you begin to feel something warm and moist being smeared across your lips. You realize it's your own fluids. The notion makes your stomach flip.

Roman proceeds to lick it off your lips. His tongue becomes more and more greedy and taking the opportunity to drag along the sides of your full cheeks. You get the impression this is something he’d thought about doing before, if not entirely because of how slowly he does it.

He’s fucking savoring it.

‘This’ll be it. He’ll just continue to fuck around a little more and use it as spank bait later,’ you predict.

The thought of Roman penetrating you with anything more than his fingers was truly unfathomable. There’d always been the rumor at work about him having ED (though the type of ED varied depending on who you were talking to) and needing the little blue pill to so much as jerk off. You never knew what to make of those claims. You disregarded them. But the stiffness that has been rutting against your hips and waist and thigh for the past half hour had you now wondering; ‘was he gonna go all the way?’.

A few more moments of nothingness pass. Then the metallic sound of a zipper being undone overwhelms your senses—the sonority soon replaced with dread. Even if he did position himself between your legs and bury himself fully inside of your unaroused cunt; ‘what would it really change?’

It wouldn’t suddenly make it ‘rape’.

That ship had sailed several digits ago.

You were on the pill if he decided to be lazy. You were clean and he had assured you many times he was as well—and you chose to believe him. The answer to your self-questioning was that it would simultaneously change ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’.

So you brace yourself for his full weight on top of you once more along with the new sensation of being stretched open on his cock.

But it doesn’t come.

Roman rolls off of you completely, laying adjacent to you on the mattress. There’s the rustling of fabric as he shimmies his slacks down his thighs. Roman’s hand flies to your wrist as he slides his dick into your relaxed grasp. Spitting into his palm and gliding the wet over the head of his cock, he begins to fuck your own fist in earnest.

The most pitiful, squeaky boyish moans leave his lips and he pants them into your shoulder, hot from the heat of his breath.

“F-f-fuck…oh f-ff…I…I fuckin’ need this, need this,” Roman whines into your hair, “Oh…oh…ohhh…needed this, need this, fuckin’ need this,”

His hips continue ramming into your hand at the same relentless pace. He’s clearly pent-up. Probably from the months of emotional anguish, familial turmoil, betrayal—with a dollop of grief on top. Small dabs of wetness is felt on your skin. At first, you think he’s drooling from arousal but you later realize those were tears.

It doesn’t deter from his sheer desperation, his uninhibited need, all on display.

You had been the one submitting yourself to him but somewhere along the way, the roles seemingly had become inverted. You hold back from biting your own lip. You had made it this far. You couldn’t fuck it up now. Not for him. If he stopped, you felt like you’d die a small death then and there.

“Oh, please, my sweet. Sweet little thing, please be sweet. Please be good. Please take what you need. What you’ve earned,” you’d chant, if you were even capable of speech, “Please cum. Please cum now.”

There’s no humanly possible way he could’ve heard your inner dialogue but his hips buck wildly and he unloads into your palm like he did.

“Thank you, thank you, I needed it, I needed it, baby…oh, I fuckin’...I fuckin’ needed …,” he trails off.

His vibrating body eventually after a long while goes still. You’re able to unravel your hand off of his softening cock. The stickiness between your fingers is still lukewarm. If you had the strength or the agency, you might wipe it off with a Kleenex or onto the sheets or the perv in you may try to sneak a sniff or a lick. But you like him are beyond spent. He stays facing you, laying on his side, now sound asleep with a gentle snore. You remain on your back, shirt ripped open, naked from the lower half, face staring deep, deep into the void of the ceiling.

It was this empty blackness—this dark—that you slowly felt yourself being compelled to. It’s where your darkest urges liked to dwell. The desires you never felt the courage to voice, even to those you trusted the most. It felt cliche to say you often saw Roman on the other side of this void. You got the impression it’s an island he’d marooned himself on for a long time. Every partner that tried to swim out to him sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor. And there they stayed in the depths of his subconscious. Submerged, sodden, drowned memory of a person that for years would continue to be buried by guilt. By shame. Fear. You refused to succumb to that same fate.

As you let the sleep overtake your tired limbs and melt into oblivion, you swear you see him in that void. Expressionless. He’s numb, like you. He’s scared, like you. He doesn’t know what he wants, much less what he needs. And neither do you. So in the meantime, you silently agree to meet him there in that void. In that black. Again and again.

As long as you found each other in the end.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

#roman roy x reader #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #roman roy smut #roman roy x you #roman roy imagine #roman roy succession #succession fanfic #succession x reader #succession hbo #succession #roman roy

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decadentpostnacho · 9 months

Text

Oh, so this wasn't just about sex? Do tell Cassian, what was the deeper meaning of the perverted remark about his tongue in front of other people, followed by the sultry look and finished with the laugh full of sensual promise?

I'd go out on a limb and say that this situation wasn't about Rhysand's gourmet palate and they weren't discussing what they wanted to eat for dinner with facial expressions and noises.

Assuming that we're defining "casual intimacy" as non-sexual here, which would work with the context.

Just to make sure my definition of casual intimacy wasn't off, i googled.

So...who's gonna tell him that what he and Nesta have is casual intimacy? At least the internet says so.

I'm tagging this anti because I refuse to deal with stans rn.

#anti acosf #anti rhysand #anti feysand

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glittery-ishfish · 2 years

Text

So, what are the Male Nyotalia counterparts supposed to be like?

I'm aware that canonically, the Nyotalia counterparts are pretty much irrelevant to the series and were probably made for fun, but this has been bugging me for a while.

So, canonically, the female Nyos have personalities that are separate from their male counterparts. For example, Nyo!England is a "Kuudere" instead of a "Tsundere", Nyo!Russia is "emotionally unstable" instead of "childishly cruel", Nyo!France is more argumentative and protective of Canada, and Nyo!China is supposedly more difficult to read emotionally than China.

Female Nyos are also "stronger than their male counterparts." Nyo!Italy, Nyo!Romano, Nyo!America and Nyo!Germany are all total badasses and, according to Hima, "Hetalia with female Italy would not exist because she would keep beating everyone up."

We have all this info about the girls, but...what about the guys?

All we have are the canon designs, but no info on their personalities.

So I've been theorizing a bit. Let's say that the Nyos, regardless of gender, are meant to be stronger than their counterparts. With that in mind, would that make Nyo!Wy less of a Tsundere, or make Nyo!Belgium less insecure about his looks? With the way Hima writes his female characters, who are generally meant to be stronger than his male characters, this wouldn't make much sense.

I think a more likely theory is that the male Nyos are actually weaker and/or more soft-spoken in comparison to their female counterparts. I like to imagine that their personalities are like that of the first drafts of the original female characters (which would make sense in Nyo!Hungary's case since Hungary was originally going to be male and a pervert). But outside of that, perhaps Nyo!Belgium is all happy-go-lucky to compensate for low self-esteem? Is Nyo!Wy is a bit more aggressive and headstrong but secretly lonely (kinda like Ladonia)? Maybe Nyo!Belarus is more of a shy, mild-mannered Tsundere who mutters under his breath like how Belarus was originally meant to.

With that idea in mind, what do you guys think the Nyo!Guys' personalities would be like? I'm more than happy to hear your ideas, so please feel free to share(＾-＾)

Update: I forgot to include Nyo!Monaco, turns out he actually has a personality (against all odds😅).

"He's said to be strong, a gourmet, and enjoy driving, but he's rather bad at gambling despite the prevalence of casinos in Monaco. He owns a Japanese-style garden and has a weird, but good relationship with France, despite the one fight that they had (two days after the fight he said "It’s no good without big brother France" and they seem to have made up.) Oddly enough, the France he was depicted with, and as having an odd relationship with, was male France.

He was originally under Spain's protection, eventually wound up with France, then Italy, and then finally gained his independence with France's help, though he leans toward France nowadays." -Hetalia Archives

We can see here that Nyo!Monaco, while being considered "pretty strong", is still a lot more meek and soft-spoken compared to his female counterpart. Versus Monaco herself, who makes it abundantly clear from the moment you meet her that she bends backward for no one.

Thanks for further supporting my theory, HetaArchives.

This is also proof that the Nyos canonically coexist with their counterparts (other than Hima not specifying whether it was Canada or his Nyo that Nyo!France is protective of).

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shmilestprower · 17 days

Text

Warning: The headcanons described have heavily detailed torture, graphic content, blood and abuse, including drug usage and mentions of murder/suicide are in here. So turn away if you're uncomfortable.

Final Boss Engaged.

Secret History Tails (The Final Boss/The High Chief)

The Final Boss Has Arrived.

"The Final Boss" Miles 'Tails' Prower (Secret History Tails)

Headcanons:

- Tails is the current ruler and heir to a eldritch, primordial, unhinged and nightmarish royal family and dynasty. The Prower royal family has it's name drenched in sadism, manipulation, perfection, conquest, murder, winning, succeeding, omnicide, sin, cover-ups, elitism, superiority, money, power, control, empires, corporations, businesses, abuse, fear, mutilation, genocide, blood, inciting wars, torture, being the alpha, tyranny, sacrifice, evil and indoctrination, alongside a totalitarian regime, wrath, envy and mass omnicide. Every atrocity possible.

- He became the current heir and ruler to the Prower royal family, after his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather Maximilian Von Prower, who was a self-centered misanthropic, eccentric and twisted warlord and murderer. Someone so depraved, cruel, power-absorbed and vicious, he was shot repeatedly, cut his hands off, mutilated to where he was still alive. And then, slightly burnt alive. Then, they lobotomized Maximilian and pulled his brain out, for a pack of rabid dogs to eat his corpse. Something Tails loathed entirely.

- Enjoys country, bluesy and Elvis Presley music. And will insult and mock people through concerts, some of these concerts are decorated with hanging heads from chains, literal intestines and hearts. And will use macabre jokes.

- As punishments for not listening, he'll chug a whole water bottle and spit in Amy's face.

- Whilst he was bullied, he began using their tactics against him. And repeatedly stalked them, along with having literally almost crushed one's head in, another bully believed he was the Devil Incarnate. After Tails justified himself.

- Amy is constantly emotionally mentally, domestically and psychologically abused. He also had cut out her flesh, hence her look in TSAA Part 4. And has physically abused her as well, for punishments.

- Knuckles, after POST-TSAK is his pet. And his enforcer, which works well. As he is a mass-murdering eldritch mechanical beast.

- Used a chainsaw to rip Blaze apart, as she watched her house be burned by Amy and Knuckles.

- Mildly autistic with somewhat epilepsy, and has mild ADHD. Along with a learning disability and a unique case of lupus. But he often harasses people, like repeated calling their phone.

- He has spies, mangled beyond comprehension but still alive. And yet in pain and suffering watching Mario's regime, and reporting everything back. And he was the real mastermind behind Harry Potter becoming a egomaniacal, perverted bully with a taste of hookers. The Wizards are slaves to him.

- Owns a entire slaughterhouse, where he sometimes uses for humans, alternate universe versions of himself, Sonic or other characters. He emotionally, physically, mentally, psychologically abuses them. Having driven one version of Sonic to commit suicide by hanging. As he constantly swears, cusses and was trash talking with profanity. Sells blood off as wine and the meat as extra-special.

- Can freely move between different levels and planes of reality and existence.

- He is a gourmet chef, and will cook humans. Feeding Knuckles, and reluctantly Amy.

- Is never seen around without Cosmo. Ever, at all. And if he is, he's stalking her or observing her from one of his, or his family's enterprises.

- He loves to spoil Cosmo, gifting her mamy gifts. Sometimes in really grim ways, like a bloody and somehow, still beating heart. He constantly spam texts her, constantly asking whether she is ok, where she is, what's she doing or if she's thinking about him.

- Is quadrupedal, sometimes and will cannibalize other foxes. Tearing flesh apart, or cutting it up, sometimes he will put foxes on meat hooks to prolong their suffering.

- Very indeterminate and knowledgable, as it is almost impossible to describe Tails, or his bloodline in a knowledgeable and comprehensible way.

- Supersedes everything above him including narratives and himself. Can warp reality, and is immune to anti-metaphysical fields. He also can alter events through time, Cream's neck was crushed by his boot and he skinned half of her face. Eating the flesh and muscle, saving her body and flesh for "special occasions". Being a immensely powerful entity.

- Has a highly aggressive, very active, strong and deadly local reality, specifically in the form of temporal and spatial distortions surrounding him. These distortions are occasionally accompanied by random, violent outbursts that may dramatically shift or damage local space and time. Spatial and temporal distortions are irreversibly fatal.

- Stole all of Sega's profits, to further expand and build his regime. Just because he's greedy and envious.

- He wraps one of his tails around Cosmo, like a snake. He's also masochistic.

- His bullies are currently in a pocket dimension, being tortured the same way he was. And how he manipulated Amy to kill Sonic.

- Smokes weed and drinks Tequila, pre-SHOSAT. Before inheriting Maximilian Von Prower's estate, he was at 4 mental asylums. And psychiatric wards.

- Gamer, able to bigger his empire and enterprises. Along with his mother company Miles 'Tails' Prower Enterprises whilst playing video games.

- Japanese-German, American and possibly European. Along with being fluent in every language, a master spy and master in espionage.

- His mother was The Isdal Woman, and his father was a BND agent who had been in and out of jail, and security prisons. He died in a gunfight with the National Guard and FBI agents.

- Cracked Eggman's head open,exposing his brain and torched him alive, Eggman is paralyzed. Having his spinal cord cut, Tails currently has him strung up by wire and cable by two fences. Whilst his flesh falls apart and blood leaks, some of which Tails drinks. Keeping Eggman alive.

- PURE EVIL. A cruel, vile, cold-blooded and ruthless monster.

- His chain around his neck came from his mother, so he cherishes it very deeply.

- Due to his unique nature, he is highly egotistical and has a superiority complex. Calling himself The Final Boss, as he sees himself as the ultimate ruler to his bloodline. Tails gloats about his family legacy, and himself. Being narcissistic, and megalomaniacal. Sometimes, he will literally enforce Amy to listen to his family's history, if she threatens his life.

- He is so extremely abusive, controlling, cruel and sadistic that he is naturally, genuinely actually and more evil than Dr. Eggman, being completely devoid of the sympathetic element. He believes sacrifices must be made to achieve power. Nothing is off limits for The Final Boss, from expelling his own family. To asserting himself as a fox who believes he has surpassed Sonic. He keeps a meat grinder where he often will chop his victims up, and will use the kitchen to process the meat. He also has made Sonic bleed. He knows he's a horrible person, but he doesn't give a shit.

- Amy has repeatedly seen hanging corpses in a meat locker, most victims are still alive. Tails often laughs. Even worse so, he has a cruel, sick, morbid and dark, twisted sense of humor. If it could be called that, such as him asking Amy if she liked what she saw about his victims. And he claims he's been meaning to "check back in' with Silver, implying he's ready to murder the psychokinetic hedgehog.

- He also treats Sonic and Amy less than friends and more of test subjects, as he calls them a series of fine specimens. As if they're just a line of cattle, he's been grooming and ready to slaughter at the right moment.

- With Cosmo, he is OBSESSIVE. She is a divine entity in his eyes, he will be outside her door. Or window, no matter the sun or the moon. Stalking her. He is just grateful to have her in his world, as he gives her all the affection. And doesn't treat her like she's cattle. He also likes to think he sees things, and himself in her.

- Uses lingo and idioms like "boy" and "riding off into the sunset".

- His tongue is a bioluminescent long tongue, and his saliva is constantly changing shape and coloration.

- Very flirtatious and alert, sometimes making out with Cosmo. Bisexual as fuck, he will make suggestive remarks sometimes. As he slowly tortures them, using different weapons.

- Easily irritated by Amy, seeing her only as that whiny daughter. Tails also has taken over his primordial and eldritch bloodline's estate, wealth and businesses. Creating his own, some businesses have mutilated corpses in boxes.

- He will kill anyone who has flirted or touched Cosmo, and sometimes he will rip their organs out. As he is extremely homicidal (he has over 300 charges right now)

- He takes great sadistic enjoyment in beating others. Viciously bearing others and being gruesome, bloody even, with a belt like a dog and beating "the piss" out of them savoring the moment and prolonging the torment, claiming this is what happens when they "fuck with The Final Boss". Tearing the skin, tearing the flesh, even demanding those who like Sonic more than him look at their so-called hero. He also demands no one touches his women. Being criminally insane. He is a power-hungry, money-hungry Corporate villainous overlord who uses his authority and influence over Amy to ensure she listens to him.

- Runs a illegal honey badger fighting ring, much to PETA and animal rights activist groups' disliking. The badgers are in a constant state of a berserk mode, insane and angry, because Tails feeds them drugs, from his drug empire. And cut-up honey badger.

- His relationship with Amy is more of a friend and friend or daughter and father relationship, he finds her easily annoying. But could listen to Cosmo all day.

- Knows every single aspect of Trevor Henderson's lore, Hello Neighbor lore, FNAF lore and Bendy lore. Will explain it to Amy every fucking time he gets.

- Amy is like his sadistic assistant.

- Has no fear, and will disrespect the dead. Because he doesn't believe in ghosts.

- His beach resort has a section where the "water" is actually just the melted and liquified remains of the family that used to live there and everyone who stood in his area. His guards there, are fucking Wendigos and Skinwalkers.

- Engages in deals and bets with dark web fanatics and black market individuals.

- Agent of Chaos, sometimes he will imprison a victim. Adding to their suffering, and toying with them. Sometimes peeling the skin away, or licking their sweat.

- Calls Sonic fans who think he's a coward or worse than Sonic "so entitled, obnoxious and brash." Remarking how some of them have sex, but they gotta pay cash. He is obsessed with making Sonic bleed, saying how there's some lines you just don't cross, and they all can kiss the ass of The Final Boss.

- Makes chili dogs and sandwiches out of his own kind, and victims. Condiments are blood. Mustard is included as well, Tails' favorite drink is Cabernet Sauvignon 2018 or '2017.

- Can shapeshift into literally anything he wants, like a squid-like Lovecraftian monster, a mass of energy and matter to a amorphous multi pointed star of a bright white material.

- He celebrates holidays way too fucking early, it could be only the 29th or 30th of November, and he's gonna have a fucking Christmas tree and the whole house set up. Ready for Christmas, it could be June 18th, and he's gonna be ready for Fourth of July.

- HUGE mama's boy, he calls his mother the protector of their family, the guiding force even when his father died. And a trail blazer, his immense respect and deep love for his mother goes so far where he visits her grave at Møllendal, Bergen. And he sees her, in his eyes and his heart. She was the real Final Boss.

- Has been to Hollywood, and is best friends with The Rock. As Tails looks up to, and idolizes him, seeing him as the brother Sonic never could be. To him, Sonic is deadbeat. And he is finally number one.

After all, if you smell what The Final Boss..

Is Cookin'.

#secret history tails #sh tails #mashed tails #mashed #headcanons #secret history tails headcanons #final boss #Overhaul #alternate au #alternate universe

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abybweisse · 1 year

Note

What makes a soul more delicious for a demon?

⚠️ I end up going off on a tangent! ⚠️

Tasty souls for perverted gourmets

It might differ from demon to demon, but Sebastian seems to like putting his master through painful experiences. Not so much the physically painful kind but the emotionally painful kind. But he's seeking out flavors he's never tasted before -- or are at least still considered somewhat novel to him -- so perhaps his previous masters, who were all much older, lacked such experiences in their lives. Or perhaps they were just more superficial and didn't let things get to them, while our earl has very deep emotions. Judging by what the demon cultists asked for, like money and fame, those might be the more typical wishes people make. Not revenge for the sacrifice of his brother, the torture they endured, and the deaths of their parents and household.

Generally speaking, I'd say that demons who have given up on "messily sampling" souls have developed a palette of sorts and start to seek out the flavors they love best. And, like Sebastian, they might pick up the idea to manipulate the experiences of their masters, so that they can create flavor combinations that are new to them.

Young masters are best for this, because they are still learning about themselves and the world. Demons can therefore manipulate the souls of masters, especially younger masters, and create the souls they find particularly tasty.

Tangential information under the cut, including Undertaker's goals, as well as references to Jujutsu Kaisen and The Promised Neverland.

It reminds me of Mahito from Jujutsu Kaisen because that Curse can manipulate souls, changing the actual shapes of those souls and the bodies they inhabit.

Which is why I wonder if Undertaker got the idea of "aptitudes" for F. O. L. Orphanage from his dealings with demons like Sebastian. Perhaps specifically from watching Sebastian and our earl... and then taking real Ciel along to witness as much of his twin's doings as possible. This makes the twins' souls as alike as they can be. Similarly, forcing all these orphans to fall strictly into four categories that match their star lords -- Pomeranians to real Ciel, Corgis to Doll, Mastiffs to Polaris, and Collies to Layla/Al -- and seeing how well they match their "aptitudes", Undertaker will see which kid from each class ends up matching their respective star lord best. The top student from each class is likely to be used in experiments to see if their souls are the right shapes to be transplanted into their respective star lords. All the "failures" in each class are likely just the blood supplies... until each top student is deemed ready for harvest... when they will likely be bled out just before their soul is harvested.

Even Undertaker has vaguely hinted that his approach might be similar to Sebastian's -- that only their goals are different. At Weston, in ch84, Undertaker says:

And in ch141, Undertaker explains that he's been taking real Ciel to see what our earl has been doing. Real Ciel had a blank stare at Kelvin's Manor, was a bit mindless on the ship, and seems to have been a quiet viewer at Weston, but you can see how he was being "improved" over time. Real Ciel could only take in a limited view of the activities, but he retained them and committed them to memory. And it makes him claim to have been by his brother's side the whole time.

In ch155, Jane talks about the shapes of souls, but she apparently doesn't really understand it and thinks that Heathfield is talking nonsense. Unless she's lying about it not making sense to her....

In Jujutsu Kaisen, Mahito explains that souls are tangible to him, as if they are any other body part. And when he changes a soul's shape, the body changes to match it. We get this scene:

In s2 of the anime, Claude uses various techniques to deepen and emphasize the similarities between "Ciel" and Alois/Jim before putting Alois' soul into "Ciel's" body, despite the fact that "Ciel" still had his own soul. And I'm half expecting Yana-san to eventually let Undertaker give us a scene where he explains how he's been manipulating those children's souls to prepare them for transplant. Maybe she'll even let us have an in-story explanation for why Sebastian looks a bit like Vincent (or more like grown-up Ciel?). Though I'd be happy if she even just got down to the truth of it in a tweet or a future Artworks book.... I figure it's much as Mahito says: the body conforms to the shape of the soul. This could also be used to explain why reapers look the same as when they were human... if they are reborn, as I theorize.

Ch200 has The Promised Neverland vibes all over it, as does the entire F. O. L. Orphanage assignment. In TPN, some children are kept in orphanages until they are fed to demons. In Black Butler, these kids are possibly being kept in an orphanage until their souls are ready for a reaper to transplant them (instead of getting eaten by demons). But the concept is very similar. Sebastian would possibly applaud the basic idea in TPN, as if the orphanage could be used as a demonic culinary institution... or something. (I've also just realized the kids in TPN have tattooed or branded numbers on the fronts of their necks, much like Finny's "S-012" on the back of his.)

In ch200, Theo even says that some "pervert" is "manipulating" the children.

He might actually be talking about Undertaker and not even know it. It's quite possible that none of the kids have met him or even seen him, since orders are being sent by telegram. But they have to assume the person running the place is a pervert of some kind.

And we know that Sebastian and Undertaker are being depicted as foils for each other. Ch111 vs ch200:

So, if Sebastian is a "perverted gourmet", as Yana-san calls him, perhaps Undertaker is a perverted... physician? Perverted surgeon? It takes me right back to the parallels to Dr. Andonuts in the Mother game series... and Josef Mengele, the Nazi "Angel of Death" who had a particular interest in (obsession with) studying transplant technology on twins.

Though Undertaker might actually leave the medical side of it all to the Viscount of Druitt -- and we know how big a perv he is! -- or to someone else, now that Stoker is dead, the transplantation of souls would have to be attempted by a reaper.

Yeah, I definitely think Undertaker is using oddly similar methods to shape young souls -- by the experiences they are allowed/forced to have -- but just with different goals in mind.

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misschimotosuwa-blog · 2 years

Text

Reasons Obi would be the BEST bf

Obi is ALWAYS there when you're in trouble!!

He's so unbelievably strong! He can just pick you up and spin you around like a princess without a second thought 😍

He notices any slight change to you, whether it be a new hairstyle or change of mood, he notices!! Which I think would be perfect for understanding and communication!!! And also just frickin' adorable, and helps you know that he truly cares!!

He wants to make sure that the people he truly cares for are always SAFE and HAPPY and he'll do ANYTHING to make that happen!!

He's so goofy and silly even during hard times -- he lightens the mood!! Which I think is very helpful in any kind of relationship to help ease people's minds, and have a good time!!

He can cook!! Gourmet -- I'd say at least 😩

He's a foodie!!! Constantly thinking about yummy food!! (This is mainly for me, I'm a foodie). So you'd get to eat yummy food often 😩

He says slightly perverted things, yet really cares about people who are close to him... So I'm thinking if he were a bf, he would be a very caring and respectful bf, but also like... Whisper certain things to you that'd make you blush so hard and make your heart pound!! Idk, it just sounds like the perfect combo to me 😩

It seems like touch might be important to him? Like when he looks at his hand that caught Shirayuki, and how he always picks up Ryu to help him, and how he picked up Shirayuki and spun her out of nowhere. So, I just feel like... You'd get meaningful and precious touch from him 😩💘

He grew up having to fend for himself -- so he won't be clingy/needy and he can definitely provide, you know? He has all the basic life skills + way way more, he can do most anything ahhh 😩😩😩 if you need a handy man, he gotchu, if you're hungry, he'll cook for you, if someone threatens you, he can beat 'em up in a flash!

For some reason he really knows how to speak romantically?? So he can say super duper precious things to you!!

He can be confident and sexy... But he can also turn into a blushing mess!!

He likes to sneak up on people he loves! I think that sounds fun and adorable!! Like when he frickin' wore those masks and snuck up on Zen, and then Shirayuki

Obi gives gifts.. like... Cute ones! Like Shirayuki's hair ornament and he just puts it in her hair 😩💘 see... Sexy/romantic right there!!

He makes it known when he thinks something is attractive or cute about you, he doesn't keep it to himself!!

Obi is a flipping Ninja... He's constantly in the trees... I can for sure picture him in a tree outside your window being super cute and silly to you... Or sexy too lolol 😩💘

He can see in the dark, you'll never need a flashlight when you're with him 😂

And honestly, you'll never really have to worry about anything when you're with him, if you trip, his cat-like reflexes will kick in and he'll catch you, if someone's stalking you guys, he'll notice and go mess 'em up, ANYTHING!!!

He'll support you in anything you do

He would dance like nobody's watching with you -- all silly like 😩💘

He can be a ninja, or a proper gentleman!!

If he loves you, he will be DEVOTED to you

He's good with kidddsss 😩💘 just look at how he treats Ryu and protects himmmm and acknowledges him even though he's super shy and antisocial

His smile is so precious... Imagine getting it all to yourself 😩

Once Obi trusts you, he'll always be upfront and honest so you'll almost never have to guess what he's thinking!!

He makes sure to say "good night" 😩

He insists on walking you home 😩🙏

He helps you walk when you're tired/drunk or he carries yooouuu

Obi is ALWAYS helping!!! (Especially who he loves) cleaning? He'll help. Yard work? He's there. Gonna pass out? He'll catch you and tuck you in bed 😩🙏💘

He LOVES naps!!! Imagine: naps with Obi 😩🙏💘

He ALWAYS makes time for the one he loves!!

You can be yourself around him 😫😩

He gives nicknames! Imagine which one he would give you 😯

There's a million more!! But I should probably get to sleep lololol!!

@hoshi-y I hope this gives you some reference 😉☺️

#snow white with the red hair #akagami no shirayukihime #swwtrh obi

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oneprompt · 3 years

Note

hi! i was wondering if you could write a sanji x female reader where sanji gets jealous because zoro has a soft spot for y/n ? love your writing btw! :) <3

authors note: of course i can , dearest ! thank you for the praise , im glad you can enjoy my work <3 please enjoy ! + now that i review how i wrote this... it seems more poly ;;; but !! i still hope it’s okay ;;

Jealous! Sanji x F! Reader

The sound of your laughter was a sound that usually lifted Sanji off of his feet in delight. But not today, no. Not that your laugh didn’t sound as pretty as it always did, Sanji just hated why you were laughing. That damn mosshead...! Who did he think he was, looking at you all weird?

Sanji had picked up Zoro’s change of behaviour around you rather quick, and so did the rest of the crew. Well, mostly. Zoro would act all... kind and mushy around you. Usually, Zoro would shout at his teammates for getting hurt but whenever you did, he’d wrap his arms around you as softly as possible to protect you, rushing to Chopper to help you. And even on the ship deck, Zoro acted such a way. He’d share drinks with you and constantly chat with you, his tanned cheeks painted red as he listened to you talk.

Most of the crew found that behaviour to be adorable, seeing Zoro act so different was odd but sweet. Sanji on the other hand? Sanji hated it!

Sanji was one to fawn over every and any woman that crossed paths with him but when the Straw Hats invited you to join the crew, Sanji was overwhelmed with a sense of love that he had never felt before. You were sincerely enchanting! From your form that would often linger in his thoughts within the late night or your personality, every word that oozed from your beautiful lips making Sanji squeal out loud.

But you’d never catch on, now would you? Everyone knew of Sanji’s chivalry, he’d even act romantically with the most wicked of girls, women who would end up tearing him apart. Seeing Zoro be affectionate and kind probably seemed more genuine in your eyes, holding more weight in a comparison of a man who would flirt with any woman he met.

“Y/n-kwun!” Sanji had no hesitation to approach you, even as you sat with Zoro. The way you looked at Sanji drove him crazy, your beautiful eyes full of the kindest emotions! Alas, if only you looked at Sanji that way and only him.

“Hi, Sanji,” You smiled, lifting a hand to wave at the blonde. You were currently sun bathing in the beaming sun, leaving you in a bikini and bikini only. Seeing women in such clothing was nothing new, that’s how Nami liked to dress and Robin would dress that way sometimes too. But you? You were a sight to behold! One that could a man in just one look... You were a killer.

Sanji turned his head away, eyes juggling into hearts as blood seeped from his nose. “Oh, Y/n-kwun~! What a bikini!” He cooed, turning back to you as he wiped the blood away quick. Zoro gave Sanji a repulsed glare while you giggled softly, crossing your legs. What beautiful legs...! Such succulent flesh!

“Is-is it really that nice looking? I got it while shopping with Robin.. I was worried it wouldn’t suit me,” You smiled shyly, cheeks tingling as they went red. Gah! What a beautiful maiden!

Sanji clasped his hands together tight, leaning on his toes. “Y/n-kwun! Such a fair maiden...i adore herrr!” He beamed loudly, nearly shouting.

Zoro huffed and interrupted Sanji’s beautiful ‘scenery’, taking a firm step infront of you. He blocked you away from Sanji, for better or for worse. Zoro was never a fan of Sanji’s behaviour and like hell would he let the cook eat you up like a gourmet dish!

“Oi, might want to calm down there.” Zoro said bluntly, raising an irritated brow at Sanji. You couldn’t help but sit there in confusion, puzzled from the sudden change of atmosphere. What were they going on about?

“Eh? Oh, right! Because Y/n belongs to the shitty marimo,” Sanji took a deep inhale of his cigarette, throwing Zoro a mocking grin. “I cant help but love a woman like her~!” He giggled joyfully, breaking back into his love struck self.

Zoro nearly growled. He didn’t like how Sanji acted around you. Zoro knew how things would play out if you and Sanji instigated a genuine relationship. It’d lead to your despair against his behaviour. Zoro was more so worried then jealous about you dating Sanji. What if he hurt you or cheated on you?

“Um- you two don’t have to fight...” You spoke up quietly, now standing beside Zoro. Sanji looked at you, eyes pooling upon the sight of your body. And the face you were making... How cute...!

“Of course we aren’t fighting, Y/n-kwun!” Zoro shot a glare at the other man, huffing in annoyance.

“Right, we totally weren’t.” The swordsman voice was sewed with sarcasm lip by lip. “That dumbass cook is just being perverted but what’s new?”

You pursed your lips together in a sudden frown. Why couldn’t you two get along? You loved both Zoro and Sanji, couldn’t they just be friends? Oh, how thrilled you would be if they could be friends, giving you time to hang out with both of them at once.

“Can’t you two just get along for once? I especially hate seeing you both fight because of me... I love you both a lot, can’t we just settle down?” You smiled at the two men just to be met with two different reactions.

Sanji’s was full of joy, hearts beating from his eyes, almost acting as his pupils. His cheeks were bitten red, infected by the love bug. Zoro was flushed beyond comprehension, eyes wide as he looked at you.

What was their problems?

“Oh, Y/n-kwun! I love you too, my sweets!” Sanji suddenly hugged you tight, feeling his pale hand come in contact with your bare stomach, making his body tremble from his own happiness.

Zoro just stared before shaking his head. “I— gotta got...!” He coughed out before turning his head away from you, leaving red in the faced.

You finally pin pointed the matter at hand and went red yourself, paralleling the expressions of the two men. Oh goodness, they took that declaration of love out of context, didn’t they? You had only meant platonically...! Well- part of you meant romantically, having small personal yearnings and feelings for the two men but you didn’t mean to say such a thing....!

Now things would be far more complicated, now wouldn’t they..?

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lutawolf · 2 years

Note

Since you mentioned demisexuals in your last ask answer along with how hard it's to find out then, now I'm itching to just ask point blank.

Are there any good resources, starting points etc. if you're coming from the aroace corner?

I'm aroace-spec myself and I also did try that BDSM test, but the first thing to note was that despite it offering its number of orientation choices, ace obviously wasn't one of them. Unsurprisingly most of the questions also were about bedroom action, what gets you arousals or other heavily sexual queries, and I was just "Err, no idea? Where is the skip this question button?" whilst defaulting to neutral/no opinion most of the time, that probably were what all got collected into vanilla. Which I probably can't possibly be, since aroace kinda contradicts vanilla by default. (I'm not even sure what vanilla truly exactly all entails. Trying to get it qualified is like traversing a circular loop. You try finding out about it, and it says "well the normal, the boring, the not deviant, weird stuff?" and then everything is weird to begin with for you, so you try to find out what exciting and deviant is supposed to be, and you get something like "the kinky stuff, the weird, exotic, uh, everything not vanilla?" and I'm just pulling on my hair.)

But I once did get this allegory as an illustration:

Sexy is running a feather over your lover’s body.

Kinky involves a piece of cooked chicken in your sexual play.

Fetish requires the raw chicken breast.

And perverted uses a whole live chicken.

Which had me in questions marks the longest time, but scrutinizing including KinnPorsche, all the explanations next to it and some titles that came before it; I think, what I'm looking for is… the herbal garnishments and veggie sides that are soaked in the unami savory meat sauce of that chicken?

Every venture into anything halfway mature, it'll always have a sheer compulsory slice out of the romance/spice department. And it's usually this awkward sorry ass wannabe failed pseudo-vegetarian servings of awkward blushy maiden/sex negative displays of relationship dynamics that tries so hard at wanting to serve up something meaty while not wanting to admit you'd need actual meat for it. (Obviously, the idea of simply just straight up establish vegetarian/vegan as a thing that has no need to replicate meat doesn't ever really occur, given anything actually aroace is so rare.) And if you manage to find something acknowledging real meat, usually in very fast food ways of not tasty at all. Even as you raise the gourmet tiers it still doesn't change, that the chicken is the main attraction, the entree. Now matter where you look, it's like always just getting recipes, info and instructions focusing on the chicken itself. About how to feed it, how to best slaughter it, beat its meat up into tenderness, soak it into your preferred flavors, focus on how to cook/dress your preferred parts of it up, how to position or temperature it in the oven to get it best done and even. How to adjust drinks, apperatifs and desserts best to it. Sometimes in that vein the herbs and veggies to get a little note, but they are usually very afterthought and coming as decorations to the chicken.

Everyone's having this obsession with the chicken that I don't quite get, but looks like I do prefer dishes something closely, but not too deeply related to it far more than the bog-standard option. It's not exactly pain for me to live as a vegetarian/vegan, but it does seem a little bit bland at times. I'm likely not a strict vegetarian, since I do appreciate that meat sauce flavor, and can also eat up that chicken if need be. If the chicken has to be there I would like that chicken to be skillfully cooked, tho, tender, well flavored with balanced seasoning, and more importantly can I also get some more servings of the garnishments? Also, please just stop the "vegetarian meat" obsession, it just about never works for anyone. And, please please stay the hell away with that feather, I'm too sensitive and ticklish to ever have fun with it. I'd much prefer a little pain to itchy hellscapes. D: (<- Is that already a masochistic tendency??)

So was kind of wondering, is there more out there? (If that made any sense.) Something else ready-made to guess its ingredients, or outright recipes of how to cook this specific sort of dish up yourself? Or maybe more feasibly, since mine wants comes as a side serving of a well done chicken dish, what are the best means to go finding some more of these chickens?

Or just any good stating points to systematically get actual vocabulary with example sentences? The food allegories I just barely manage to work around with always come off as rather bizarre. 💧 Is there any short way to just skip over the side dish flavor corner or do you really have to learn all the techniques around the chicken first?

Hey tsukiyadori,

I love and adore you but whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat. Not to brag but I have exceptional skills at reading comprehension and it took everything I have. I'm still not sure I got it. I think I got stuck at;

Sexy is running a feather over your lover’s body.

Kinky involves a piece of cooked chicken in your sexual play.

Fetish requires the raw chicken breast.

And perverted uses a whole live chicken.

So I'm going to change it to:

Sexy is running a feather over your lover’s body or ice.

Kinky involves a handcuffs or scarfs in your sexual play.

Fetish requires rope or commands.

And perverted full sadist/masochist or full servitude.

What I think you are indicating is that you are interested in more than just vanilla but not necessarily the sexual side of things. That's totally valid. You can absolutely do kink without sexuality. You can Dominate someone without there being sexuality. As I've mentioned, I let my submissive friends dictate to me how they want to be treated. Just because I'm the Dominate for them does not me there is anything past a friendship relationship. There is such a thing as non-sexual BDSM. Not Asexual or Demi sexual, that's actually insulting because they are not the only ones who want to non-sexual play. However, there is non-sexual.

I have absolutely dosed out pain without any sexual attachment. What I lean more towards being your thing, just from our communication mind you. Is rope binding or bondage. I would specifically look at Japanese rope bondage. They are more concerned with the artistry of the processes which includes the beauty on the outside as well as the feel. Whether you want it done to you or you want to do it to someone. There does not have to be sexuality involved, if you tighten the ropes enough (take a class because you can really fuck up someone's circulation) it can be about the pleasure of pain.

I've had a lot of new followers recently. Because I do not want to get sued 😎 Never do rope play without taking a class. While it is one of the more fun kink play, it can still be dangerous. Especially the more advanced knots and other advance moves that can come with this kink. This should not be done outside of a safe zone where you can access help if need. All beginners should start off with scarfs. Make sure to keep it Safe, Sane, And Consensual.

Because it's you and I know how you are, Books: The Beauty of Kinbaku, Rope Bondage: Precision and Persuasion with Rope by Scott Smith

#luta #luta opinions #luta question and answer #coconuts mafia

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 3 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, but when you’re being held hostage by Hugh Ransom Drysdale there’s really not a lot to be thankful for, is there?

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 2 to our submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 2

You could feel the chill of the outside seeping into your space, your bones, through the vented window following your shower. The way it crept in made you realize just how far along through fall you were, maybe it was even approaching the onset of the holiday weather. Either way, a storm seemed to be outside. At least it felt like it. Once dried, you found yourself wrapping up tighter in the thick cardigan you’d chosen before you dried your hair, and allowed yourself a quick squirt of perfume before settled into the reading chair in the corner of your room, your journal on your lap.

The little, leather bound book had been in your handbag which had been given back to you earlier that morning as the latest reward for behaving and as you ran your hand over the deep brown cover, you couldn’t help the air of excitement you felt at having been given your treasured little note book, despite the dreary sky you could see from the porthole above your chair.

It had actually surprised you that Drysdale had kept it and not disposed of it the same way he had your phone and your car. But for whatever reason, he’d held onto it, and for that you were grateful. Grateful that you had something of your own from before this imprisonment to anchor too. You’d expected him to want some kind of favour in return but he hadn’t demanded any sort of sexual gratification, simply informed you he would be out most of the morning and would be back mid to late afternoon. As soon as he had gone you had eagerly tipped the contents of your bag onto the bed, almost crying at the sight of your half empty bottle of Coco-Mademoiselle, the Mac Lip-gloss, NYX Eyebrow pencil, Mont Blanc fountain pen, a full tube of mints and your treasured journal. With teary eyes you’d put everything away in its new place, apart from the book and pen before padding into the bathroom for a shower, deliberately sorting yourself out for the day. All you could think of was taking the time so you could savour the moment when you could hopefully make some sense of the jumble in your head by spilling it onto a page.

You opened the cover and flicked to your last entry, the morning of Halloween. A rambling rant about Mick-The-Prick filled the page and you paused, tears in your eyes, as you’d give anything to be stood in his office thinking about ingenious ways to kill him and get away with it. Ironic, really considering that was exactly what your captor had done; committed murder and gotten away with it.

You went to jot the date down in the corner of the page and realised that actually, you didn’t have a clue what it was. Down here, night bled into day, day bled into night…and soon it all bled into weeks. However, given the fact your cycle had been and gone a week ago you figured that it was maybe four weeks since Halloween. Of course, you could ask Hugh, but the less you had to ask him the better as far as you were concerned. You hate the fact that he had this hold on you, that you had to ask for and ‘earn’ things by being ‘good’. And whilst it made you sick to your stomach, you’d fast learnt it was easier to comply than rebel. The night he had left you tangled in your sweater had hurt. It had taken you a good twenty minutes to muster the strength to work your way out and drag yourself into a bath, your body shaking with the trauma, sobs wracking your frame. Your body ached for days, your mind in a post-traumatic cloud of despair. And whilst it hadn’t broken you per-say, it had certainly made you realise exactly what the bastard was capable of, and you had no intention of finding out just how much further he was willing to go.

So, in summary, it had taken Ransom Drysdale two days to break you into compliance.

You’d become passive, so to speak. You gave into his whims, let him use you as he saw fit, did as he told… for the most part anyway. There had been a few other incidents post the sweater one where you’d forgotten yourself and protested, fought a little and he’d gone hard on you, but nothing like that second night. Your passive behaviour was mistaken by him for compliance, and as such you had earned a number of rewards. The bistro table where you took your meals, a book or two which just so happened to be by his grandfather, a gesture you weren't sure was him purging or pressing an agenda onto you. And more recently and most preciously, your bag. But, the strange thing was, that whilst he wanted you to give into him physically, he seemed to enjoy the fact that you were in no way, shape or form compliant to him in others. You openly sassed him, bit back, called him out and he actively encouraged it. He’d started spending a little more time with you in the mornings and afternoons, not just visiting you to toy with you or fuck, but to engage in these little tete-a-tete’s, and the sickest, most perverted thing about it was that you were almost glad. The loneliness was crippling, and you craved company. Even if it was his.

All things considered, you’d rather ask him for as little as possible so instead, you flicked to the front of the book and crossed off the days on the small calendar inside the cover. Deciding that the date it led you to was as accurate as it was going to get, you turned back, jotted it down in the top right of your page and stared at the blank lines, looking to sort your thoughts for your next entry.

The saying used to go, what's in a name, however as I sit here thinking back on the last few weeks I wonder now what's in a day. My days consist of imprisonment. Held by a captor I have met once before. He's smart, almost too smart. Displaying forms of abuse and aggressive behaviors any FBI analyst would love to dive deep into. But that's not my job, no, my job is to please and satisfy him. Answer to his whims of gratification at any call of the day. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. But if I behave, he lets few things get by. I miss home, my bed, my life. I miss Mick, which is saying a lot all things considered. I don't know still what he wants from me, other than the obvious sexual gratification with little to no room for anything else. I'm a toy, a means to an itch. I don't know how long exactly I've been here, I can only guess it's been about a month. Nor do I know how long I'll have to stay. The answers are blurred like my vision, marred by tears and the low light inside. I haven't seen outside since the day he took me. I haven't been anywhere outside this room. I can see from the small porthole window above this stupidly soft leather chair the season has changed. It feels like deep fall, and as a storm comes outside, what little sky I see is bleak and dark, clouds covering the bluest of skies, angry and ready to open up, raining down water to wash away the sins of the day. I wish I could do the same.

Before you realized, time had obviously passed, for the sound of the door bolts unlocking had you guessing it was late afternoon or early evening. A glance up at the porthole behind you confirmed as much. The sky was dark and rain had been beating on the window for a little while.

In came Drysdale, hair a bit wet, a strand slightly out of place, wool pants and maroon sweater. He carried a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He looked irked, like he'd wasted time on something, a look you were now able to decipher after weeks of seeing it.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he said, setting the plate down on the bistro table with its two accompanying chairs, waiting for you to join him.

Instead of biting back, you simply whispered, "it’s Thanksgiving?" You checked the inside cover of your journal and see the date again. You were a day off and it now dawned on you. It was the fourth Thursday of the month and indeed, Thanksgiving. You glanced back up at Ransom and a deep sadness washed over you. Closing your journal and setting it on the table by your chair, you stood, moving towards him and the plate of food. You took a seat and looked down at the plate, full of the holiday dish basics; turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, diced not candied yams and roasted green beans. It was gourmet and nothing near what he'd been serving you or managing to try. "Thank you," you said softly, rolling your fork through the potatoes. You take a bite but it's about as bland and tasteless as your despair.

"I brought it back from the country club, I met my father there," he looked under your gaze again, as if willing your eyes to his. "Do you not like it?"

Finally, your gaze met those cold cerulean orbs, setting your fork down and you took a drink of water, "No, it's fine." Then you picked up your fork again and took another bite, this time of the turkey and gravy. You didn't have it in you for an argument or it's physical ramifications.

"Are you not hungry?" Ransom pressed.

"I guess not as much as I thought," you repled further poking at your food, your voice cracking a little as you try to keep your composure. The sting of the holiday has you broken, far more than you'd expected. Normally, today you'd be helping your mother in the kitchen, settling the final touches on the side dishes and listening to your father tell your uncle about some a-typical dad joke he'd heard. Your sister would be giddy over the wine while her boyfriend of the month received death glares from said uncle and your father.

Ransom outwardly sighed and you wait for what you were trying to avoid. "Are you alright?"

The question threw you off guard completely and you struggled to hide the shock from your expression. He never cared about your feelings before. Maybe he thought you were coming down with something. You braced yourself to answer honestly. There was no point in lying, he'd see through it.

"I'm fine, I'm not sick if that's what you're thinking," you answered, a deep restraint on your tone to keep yourself in check. "I hadn't realized what day it was. I didn't know it was Thanksgiving." You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked hard. "My mom, my sister and I, we used to all help make dinner as a family. My dad and uncle would talk a bunch of shit around the fireplace while shooting death glares at my sister's flavor of the month."

He looked at you like he was confused. You scoff, "Of course you wouldn't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He squint his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. His body language completely changed as he leaned forward on his forearms, popping one shoulder up higher than the other.

"Nothing," you backed down immediately.

"Tell me," he pressed.

God, he was relentless. You pushed your plate forward and leaned on your own elbows. You looked at him with a raised brow, "am I going to be in trouble if you don't like what I have to say?"

"Depends," he popped a shoulder smugly.

You matched his expression and his demeanour falters just a fraction. You saw it, but you didn't hold back. "Then I'd rather keep it to myself. That's what you want isnt it? Me to comply, be obedient? Frankly, I'm not in the mood."

He failed to hide his smirk and you noticed that too, "Sweetheart." It wasn't laced with teasing, rather his pet name for you on his tongue held a cautious venom.

"You hate your family. You know nothing about love and what it takes to give love. Hell, I don't doubt that for a minute you've ever felt loved. It's all an act. Self-preservation even. I don't know you or your family outside of the hours of research I did and the mere forty five minutes I listened to you drone on about your 'predicament'. But, the cold hearted truth of it is, you don't know how to love." You watched him run his tongue along his teeth as he continued to glare at you, but you weren't finished. "And that's what family is, it's what they do. They love, they are the embodiment of love at its deepest root. Maybe, just maybe somewhere along your life, your parents loved you, but judging by the Thrombey-Drysdale standards, none of you know what love is outside your selfish tithings and flashy cars. It got lost along the way, more than likely long before you ever were born."

"Wow," he raised his brows and clicked his tongue against his teeth, "That's good, that's really good."

You're fear receptors suddenly spiked as recognizable flash of anger in his eyes flashed through his irises. But there was something else there that you couldn't put your finger on it. Your breathing quickly up-ticked as you felt your palms begin to sweat.

He inhaled a deep, almost centering breath, "that perfume in your bag, I like it."

As if he'd grown a second head, you blinked hard refocusing on him. Had you heard him right? You'd just broken a rule, laid out an unspeakable truth for him and now in a blink he's, God forbid, complimenting your scent? Who the fuck was this guy? Was he on meds? Because he should be or he should at least probably share. It might make life here more bearable. "What?"

"The perfume from your bag, you're wearing it. It smells good," he lamented.

Alright, now the 'of sound mind' argument might be worth something because he sure as shit wasn't now. You swallowed and picked up your fork, taking a bite of the cold food just to buy yourself some time as you tried to process the scene before you. You had no remark to make. Confusing jumbled any thought of a coherent word you could utter.

"Maybe if I'm out, I can pick you up a new bottle. I noticed you were near empty," Ransom offered.

This was starting to make your stomach turn. If he'd gone through your bag, because why wouldn't he at this point, smelled your perfume, had he read your journal? You made a mental note to go back through and see if there was anything he'd read that he had used against you thus far or could use to corner you in the future. You looked around the room, waiting to see if you were being Punk'd. Just who the fuck is this guy? Without your expression giving too much of your confusion away, you nod at him in reply. "Thank you, I'd like that."

"Hmph," he paused, a dramatic effect he seemed to know that your heart rate up in anxiety. "Well, then why are you looking at me like I have two heads, Y/N?"

Tread lightly, you thought to yourself. He didn't call you by your first name often, in fact, the last time he had, you were very much smarting back and it resulted in a forceful situation that left you raw and sore for a few days. It was always 'Sweetheart'.

He baited you, you knew it, but you couldn't back out now. So you sighed, "I know I'm not supposed to ask questions, but, I don't even know who you are right now. Do you? One minute you're giving me food and being gentle, the next you're allowing my opinion, and now you're ready to flip this table. That's as close as two heads as it gets."

"Careful, Sweetheart," he now glared at you. There it was, you were in for it. The approach of choice, you weren't sure of, but he was done. You'd learned the different tones in his voice by now, the cues he gave. You were definitely in trouble. You dropped your eyes to your plate. The food stone cold and no longer even appealing in its slightest measure, a wave of nausea washing over you. You further pushed your plate away, "I don't think I'm hungry anymore."

His broad frame rose from the chair, "you weren't to begin with," his left hand reaching for the plate and holds it in his hand, "Third drawer down in the armoire. Pick something, I'll be back."

You watched him leave, the familiar click of the door shutting and snap of the lock sounded around the small apartment and you exhaled loudly, your head dropping into your hands. This wasn’t the first time he’d requested that you ‘dress for the occasion’ so to speak. With a deep breath you stood up and crossed the room, opening the drawer of requirements, seeking out a negligee for him to no doubt remove. Your fingers roamed over the fabrics and selection. La Perla, Agent Provocateur, Carine Gilson, Coco de Mer and Fleur of England were just a handful of the expensive, high-end brands that filled the space. Your fingers smoothed over a black macrame and tule underwired long line bra and the matching thong that was folded neatly under it. Plucking it from the drawer, you headed for the bathroom. You slipped out of your casual tee, duster cardigan and leggings, the bra and panties you'd had on. You sighed as you took a good look at yourself in your naked form.

While you hadn't lost a ton of weight over the last month, you could tell you'd grown thinner. You weren't gaunt but your lack of a daily Dunkin' Donuts macchiato had seemed to thin you out. Your captor made sure you were fed, but you didn't always eat. The plump of your cheeks had receded and your little pooch brought on by happy carbs was sucked into your frame. There were a few bruises still seen, near green, an indication of their final healing stage. The pock mark from a hickey he'd given you still a bit scaby as he'd broken the skin just barely. This was your life now and it made what few bites of Thanksgiving dinner in your stomach nearly lurch forward back up your throat.

You swallowed it down, pulling the long line bra straps up your arms and clasping it behind your back. Your legs slipped into the thong panties and you pulled the material up your freshly smooth legs. Your shaky fingers plucked at the hair tie that fastened the end of your brain closed, nails raking through your hair to loosen your tendrils. He always wanted your hair loose. You looked at yourself in the mirror, you were ready.

***** Ransom tossed the un-eaten food into the garbage and dumped the plate into the sink to be dealt with later. Turning so that his lower back was leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter he ran a hand over his clean shaven jaw, his mind ticking over the events of the day so far. A pain-in-the-ass Thanksgiving meal with his father had been made bearable by the fact he knew he was coming back to her, and because he hadn’t wanted to be a complete monster he’d made the effort of bringing her a nice dinner back too. But she’d hardly touched any of it.

And what disturbed him most about it, was the fact that instead of wanting to punish her for being an ungrateful bitch, he instead felt a deep rooted sense of concern. She’d lost weight, her face was pale, her hip bones more pronounced, and frankly the last thing he wanted was her passing out on him. Whilst he wanted her compliant, necrophilia really wasn’t his bag.

He had thought by giving her back the bag she’d had on her the night he took her he might have seen a lift in her spirits so to speak, a little gratitude, but instead she’d been meek and reserved until he’d coaxed that familiar sass out of her. And even then she’d been reticent.

It should have pleased him that she was learning her place and becoming more subservient. But if he was being honest with himself, he almost missed her fighting and arguing back. It had been exciting in a way, and he had thought it would have taken longer than it had to break her so to speak. Maybe he had overestimated exactly what a fighter she was, maybe she wasn’t the right muse for his writing after all. Because, let’s face it, writing a tale about a woman who was captured and broken into submission within two days, merely becoming a puppet for her captor’s whims was hardly going to win him any accolades was it? He needed more, needed something that he could spin a good story from. He knew now that when he went back down to her he had to try a different tact so to speak, he needed to coax her mind into reacting not merely her body.

Because if he couldn’t do that, there was no point in keeping her.

He allowed her half an hour or so before he headed back down the stairs and found her sat on the bed, dressed in one of the sets he’d purchased, her hair loose round her face and shoulders the way he liked. She jumped to her feet and he had to actively supress the groan that was rolling in his throat as his eyes scanned her up and down, and he didn’t miss the slight bruises that dotted her skin in various places where he’d marked her as his own. She’d long since stopped trying to cover herself up. Instead she stood stock still, her eyes focussed on the floor.

With long strides he walked into the room and stopped in front of her, tipping her chin up with his finger so she was looking at him, her eyes wide with trepidation and he gave a smirk as he reached up, brushing her hair off the side of her face and neck, dropping his head as he did so.

“You smell so good, Sweetheart.” He inhaled against her pulse point, lips pressing into her there. He felt the gasp of her breath, the way her skin pricked with chill bumps. He smirked to himself, he’s found her spot. And he filed that away, committing it to memory.

“I like this…” he practically purred as he toyed with the straps to the bra, a long, thick middle finger outlining the strap against her skin, lips following pursuit.

“You should, you chose it.”

He chuckled, ignoring the snark behind her words. “Like I chose you, huh?”

Like I chose you.

His words echoed around your head, reminding you exactly why you were in this fucking situation. Because he had decided you would be. He wanted you, and just like with everything else in his life that Hugh Ransom Drysdale wanted, he simply took. But what worried you the most about all this was whether or not you would be discarded the same way he no doubt discarded the other possessions he lost interest in.

You took a deep, steadying breath as his hands moved from the straps of your bra, long fingers moving to caress the back of your neck, but there was no grabbing, no force. He was being positively gentle.

And it scared the crap out of you.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked, his breath hot and wet in your ear as you trembled under the further graze of his fingers against the macramé of your set.

“You know I am," you swallowed nervously. You weren't new to this, this wasn't your first time, but the way he was being soft, a stark character change to his a-typical stance with you was what had you crawling in fear in the inside. Was it a game? Was it some sort of ploy? Was this his idea of foreplay now before he turned it up and went hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to make you cry?

A flat palm ran down your abdomen, already taught in fear. But not before a thumb grazed along the underside of your breast. Agonizingly slow, his hand, still splayed over you, dips into your matching macrame panties, dipping into your wet folds, thumb lightly pressing against your clit.

“You’re so wet, considering you’re scared.”

You didn't answer, just swallowed hard, the lump stuck in your throat as it fought against a little whimper.

His mouth once more latched onto your neck, the kisses gentle as opposed to the bruising ones you had become accustomed to. The fingers in your folds matched his slow nature, teasing you in such a way that when you closed your eyes and focussed your mind elsewhere, you could almost believe you were somewhere with a man you’d given permission to touch you in such away. But when his lips moved to your jawline and you took a deep breath, the heady scent of his cologne hit your senses and your eyes flew open as you were reminded just whose lips and hands were violating you in such away.

You swallowed as Ransom pulled away, his hand gently grasping your chin once more as he issued a simple instruction.

“Strip for me, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the bile that had once more risen up your throat as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his legs bent, hands resting on his knees as he watched you the way a lion watched its prey. You undid the clasp on your bra, your eyes remaining locked on his as you slid the straps down your shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor. Your captor took a deep breath, his eyes flicking down your body as you moved to shed the bottom half, wondering what on earth had been the point of wearing it in the first place. But even as you asked yourself that, you already knew the answer. It was a bout power, another way for him to remind you just who you belonged to now. How he could strip you bare in more way than one without even lifting a finger.

But lift a finger he did, curling it in mid-air as he beckoned you towards him. You took careful steps over the floor until you were stood in between his legs. His large hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs, before he pulled you towards him, his nose brushing the skin of your abdomen as he took a deep breath, fingers curling round your thighs.

And then, in a flash he stood, taking you with him, and before you could so much as utter a squeak or noise of surprise he had you naked, laying across the bed, the sheets cold against your skin, a contrast to the heat emanating from the body against yours. The look in his lust blown eyes was overwhelming. You didn't know what you were in for but as his body, still clothed in the frayed maroon sweater and wool slacks sunk into the mattress between your legs, you felt a chill course through your veins, your skin, again, pricking in bumps all over. His hands, with their thick fingers, trailed long lines up and down your thighs, Ransom's full lips kissing at your sensitive inner skin, a nip or two here and there as he went from your knee, upward.

He could smell your arousal, see it glistening as it dripped from your core. "Someone's ready," he quipped. He watched you swallow hard, a literal lump in your throat bobbing the skin. Your eyes never left him. "No cumming until I tell you. Do you understand?" When you didn't answer immediately, he swiped his tongue over your wet lips, tasting the honey your body gave him, your back arching away from sheets. "Do you understand?"

And there it was, your punishment finally arriving from your little moment before over dinner. As you still had your wits about you, you uttered a single word response, in the hope that the more submissive you were, the more accepting you were of your chastisement, the less hard on you he was going to be.

"Yes."

His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, the lavish holiday meal he'd partaken in not filling enough. His thumb pressed against your engorged nub, causing you to writhe but a firm arm over your abdomen kept you in place. The same thick fingers that traced lines up your thighs, two were now buried deep inside you, his tongue working away any juices that seeped out. As he gave you a third, stretching you more, you felt your walls start to tighten, that burning coil in your belly flare and your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Ransom could clearly feel you flutter against his fingers as he stopped his assault and looked up at you.

"What did I say?"

Your chest heaved, your stomach taught and you fought to obey. When you managed to calm yourself, he began again, almost from square one, slowly, tantalizingly slow.

The action was torture and you were desperately willing yourself to remain grounded as again your body fought to ride over the edge building inside you. When his mouth was over you completely, tongue deep, thumb pressing again into your clit, you felt the urge to cum. But he pulled away, slowly, his thumb stopping the pressure, his tongue slowly dragging out of you.

"I said no. This is your punishment for your smart mouth over dinner."

"Please, I need to, I'll... I'll make it worth your while, please just let me." Your voice sounded alien as you spoke, the words leaving your mouth in the desperate hope he’d take pity on you but to no avail. Your attempts at bartering served only to frustrate him, anger him even and he Ransom backed away, roughly pulling you to the edge of the bed before stripping out of his sweater and undershirt, the undeniable outline of his hard cock along his thigh strained against his wool slacks.

Harsh in his grip, he repositioned himself between your legs, your thighs across his shoulders, ass dangling above the floor as a heavy arm kept you still. His flat tongue, hot and full of your sex was eating away at you while his final throws of resolve ate away at him.

“I’m done playing fucking games.” he growled against your aching cunt “I should have gagged you, stuffed my cock deep into the back of your throat, something, anything to shut you up.”

You barely had time to register his words before once more you were flat out against the mattress, trying to regain your breath and calm yourself down when he backed away, tore open his flies and smirked down at you.

"Oh no, Sweetheart, we're not done yet." He kneeled beside you, his chest heaving, hair completely out of place, anger and wait, was that pain, flickering in his eyes as he stuffed you with a hard thrust of his length. "Now you’re gonna cum on this dick."

He thrusted hard and within a few slams of his hips against yours, he allowed you the release you were begging for, "that's right, Princess, cum on my cock."

You wept at the feeling finally freeing you, cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as you squeezed around him. Your chest heaving against his, skin to skin. The fabric of his wool pants hot and itchy against your inner thighs. He was still thrusting but now it had slowed to a roll, slow and calculated. Your muddled mind was buzzing and rapidly trying to sort out if he'd cum inside you or if he wasn't finished. His features were softer, but still filled with purpose and his lips latched onto a naked breast causing your body to react, tingles and flames licking at your core again. His eyes looked up at yours as he caged you in, still buried deep inside you, hips rolling.

"I said we weren't done," he rasped. His thrusts and rolls, the two very different tactics mixing now, made the swell of his cock inside you abhorrently pleasurable. Try as you might, it was impossible to feel otherwise.

And Ransom was finding it equally as hard to hold on. His weight was evenly distributed over her, his cock swelling inside her heat. It took all he had not to blow his load the first time he made her cum, hearing the sinful sounds of her orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption around his hard shaft. But now he could feel her again, tiny little pulses around his already overtly sensitive dick. He was sure his precum was leaking out, wanting to paint the way for the rest of him to follow. He rolled and thrust as his lips nipped at her neck. She moaned loudly, her body exuding lust. He could feel her shake beneath him and to his delight and surprise her eyes were no longer screwed shut and turned away. Instead they were locked on his. The moment those deep hued orbs met his, he felt a hitch in his breath and tightness in his chest that travelled through his belly and into his cock, causing the thick member to throb inside her. Tiny, soft hands gripped at his biceps, her touch a fiery scald against his skin, almost as if it were frost bite. Her touch equally shocking as her stare and he gave a roll of his hips to hide what he felt. A deep, satiated roll of his hips that sent her over the edge.

"Hugh!" She came around him, harder than her first, crying out his given name. It snapped him from his moment of revelation, driving him insanely frustrated at the word leaving her lips. He slammed into her as she rode out her orgasm, chasing his own.

You felt the dismissal of his body as he violently pulled free from your walls, spewing his hot seed over your abdomen, drops claiming your tits too. He nearly collapsed, his dick in hand, the other holding himself up against the mattress between your legs.

He left you there, dirty, degraded and shut the door with a barked instruction for you to clean yourself up. You no longer cried in front of him, either before, during or after. There was no point. He didn’t care about how you felt, but the thing he DID seem to care about was the fact that you still refused to call him Ransom.

It was the one thing you held on to, the only thing that gave you an inch of control in this entire fucked up situation. You hadn’t missed the look on his face when you’d cried out 'Hugh' in the throes of your last orgasm. Before that moment there had been a softness in his eyes, one that had unnerved you no end, along with something that had looked suspiciously like hope. But when his given name had tumbled involuntarily from your mouth and not the one he preferred that softness had turned to contempt and you didn't miss the undercurrent of disappointment either.

And seeing that, knowing that it pissed him off and dare you say it, upset him so much was your single, albeit feeble, act of rebellion that served as a desperate boost to your ever waning inner strength. *****

Ransom laid in his large, plush bed, hands behind his head as the silk sheets pooled at his waist as morning was in full swing outside. His thoughts strayed to his girl in the basement and he took a deep breath, shifting slightly as he remembered the way her fingers had felt as they’d curled around his biceps, her touch firey but cold. That had been the first time she’d touched him when she wasn’t trying to push him away, it had been involuntary, he knew that, a reaction to the way she’d been feeling, the way he had made her feel.

A twitch resounded deep in his belly....the way he made her feel.

He realised now that he’d been going about this the entirely wrong way. The force had been necessary to make her comply at first, but last night she hadn’t just complied she’d participated, just what he had wanted all along. And all after he’d shown her a little leeway, brought her dinner, entertained her talk. He understood now that he needed to play a different card from his hand. She responded better to conversation, talking. Ransom hated fucking talking, he was more cerebral, calculating. Conversation means connecting, and connecting was something he wasn’t particularly interested in normally. He needed to lead, to be in charge, but it was clearly what she knew and thrived on, so he had to swallow his apprehension down to play the long game, to get what he wanted.

Now he understood that, it was going to be so fucking easy. All he had to do was to seemingly show her compassion, a little give so he could take so to speak. He rolled his head, cracking his neck as he remembered what she said about cooking with her mom so he decided that after her stellar performance last night, today she’d earned a bigger reward than a book or some journal. He was going to show her what she could have if she just gave in and admitted what he knew she truly wanted. A large house, a garden, a pool, a hot tub, silk sheets, a large bed, and a man to fuck her every way to heaven and back. He could give her everything that any woman could possibly desire, and then some.

With a twitch of a smirk across his lips, Ransom pulled his naked frame out of bed and slipped into joggers, a soft waffle knit thermal long sleeve pulled over his tousled hair. He felt like company for breakfast and he knew exactly to invite up.

His bare feet padded with purpose over the plush carpet of his room, down the stairs and onto the first floor, over the hard wood and marble tile of the halls and entry, down the plush carpeted spiral staircase down to the basement.

He reached the door and gently turned the locks, quietly pushing the door open as he turned the knob. It opened quietly and his eyes fell upon the empty bed. He frowned slightly, wondering where she was. Then his eyes found her, sitting curled up with her eyes cast upward, that little tease of a porthole window in her focus. She'd turned her chair around so she could see it more clearly, the throw blanket he'd tossed at her the week before was wrapped around her body. He didn't know the time, but it wasn't early nor was it afternoon. Not that it mattered, neither had anywhere else to be.

"Good morning," he said lowly. He watched as her eyes slowly moved away from the only bit of outside world she'd seen for weeks now.

"Morning," she replied quietly, her eyes locking onto his. "I err, I was just..." she trailed off. "Actually, I don't know what I was doing to be honest."

He stalked up to the chair, kneeling in front her. His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her cheek bone. "You were such a good girl last night. Took me so well, teased me with that little number you had on. I've thought about you all morning."

Ransom watched her throat bob as she swallowed before licking her lips and biting the inside corner of her lip. Such an innocent gesture that had him half hard straight away.

"I want to give you something. But you have to be good, or it goes away," he started. "Can you be good, Sweetheart?"

She nodded, slightly. "Okay," he smirked. "Now, fix the chair and come up to make us breakfast."

Ransom stood back, allowing you some space to accommodate his request. You slipped the throw blanket from your shoulders and left it in the chair as you rearranged the piece back to its normal state. You met him at the doorway. You didn't miss the way his eyes moved over you, the way they lit up in a way at as he looked at the silken material covering your body. The dark teal silk and lace cami set was just one of a handful of options he'd provided for you. All the same, different colors, all in your size.

You hesitated for a second, not sure if this was another one of his little games but he simply met your eyes with his own and nodded up the stairs. With tentative, shaky steps you climbed them, sensing him close behind you as for the first time in weeks you left your prison. You felt anxious, highly on edge and nervous. What was awaiting you? There was the sickening feeling in your stomach of excitement too, you hadn’t seen the outside since Halloween. You paused at the top of the stairs in the hall. The kitchen was directly across from you, the entry to your right. The door to the basement clicked shut and you felt Ransom’s firm chest behind your back as his form invaded your space. He dragged a finger down your arm causing the strap of your top to fall away, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Straight ahead, Sweetheart."

“Okay,” you whispered before you slowly made your way through to the large, airy kitchen. You stood looking around, taking in the fancy appliances before you turned back to Ransom. "Did you have something in mind?”

"Well..." Ransom leaned in the doorway, watching you as you stood in the middle of the tiled floor "Yesterday wasn't the first time you said you enjoyed to cook so I thought you might like to." His eyes flicked once more down your frame and back up again before he nodded his head towards the rear of the room. “Anything you need is in the pantry and fridge.”

“And I can make anything I want?” You blinked, not quite able to believe what he was allowing you to do. It was fucked up that you were even considering this as a reward but, you’d take it. Boy would you take it, anything to grasp some sense of normality in this day-by-day hell you were living.

“Sure.” Ransom popped a shoulder again and you took a deep breath before you turned and headed to the sink to wash your hands before sorting out your menu and you froze. The outside landscape had stopped you cold.��From what you could see of the back garden the property was secluded, not over looked. A lawn extended a fair distance back from the rear of the house, a neat decking area stood to the right which sported a hot tub and a little further down there looked to be a pool of some kind which was covered over for the season. Trees hung over the bottom of the garden lining the high wooden fence, what few leaves they still sported were shades of crimson, gold and brown and the river traced it’s banks as it curved around the side and back of the house, the sun shining off the surface, giving it the impression it was made of sapphires. It was breathtakingly beautiful and you felt your heart shatter, your eyes well and you couldn't help but hold back the urge to weep as your chest contracted painfully. You were so close to the outside, separated only by a pane of glass, yet it had never felt further away.

His voice broke you from your despair and you swallowed back the sob that choked your throat as you flicked your attention to the left, Ransom's reflection drawing closer towards you as he crossed the terracotta tiled floor.

"Everything alright?"

You cleared your throat and gave a quick shake of your head, "Fine."

Again you felt him in your space. His presence consuming. “You sure?”

Sure? No you weren’t sure. Because none of this was fine, in fact it was as far from fine as it could possibly get. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to spin round and hammer your fists into any part of his body you could hit but you knew that it wouldn't get you anywhere, bar back in the basement likely shackled naked to the bed so you instead turned slowly to find yourself caged in by his broad frame so close to yours. You cast your eyes downward, uncomfortable at his searching stare, "Yeah, I’m sure.”

Your tongue flicked nervously over your lips as you continued to avoid his gaze before you cleared your throat “How do you like your eggs? Or would you prefer an omelette? Pancakes even?" The urge to move away from him pulled you away from your idea of a menu. Brunch basics were flooding your brain and you rattled off a few nervously. He may have said you could make whatever you wanted, but right now, you had no clue. Seeing a different space, the outside world and breathing new air had rattled you.

“You choose.” Ransom spoke softly, his hand reaching up to brush your hair off your face before he tipped your chin up so your eyes met his. He looked at you, and you swallowed as for the first time there was something unreadable on his face. His eyes were looking at you in a way they’d never looked at you before, with a softness you’d never have anticipated he could possess.

"Waffles." You suddenly blurted out, desperate to escape his gaze "I err, do you have a waffle iron?”

“No.” He deadpanned.

"Oh," you swallowed "Erm, then in that case French toast...maybe? Is that ok?"

“Sounds delicious.” He said, his hand dropping from your face, “Sure it’ll taste almost as good as you.”

“Great. How about with fresh Chantilly cream and berries if you have them?” You asked, completely ignoring his blatant back handed compliment and you started familiarizing yourself with the space as you glanced around.

“Like I said, whatever you want, Sweetheart.” He shrugged, and with that he stepped back to allow you to move away.

Ransom watched her move around the luxurious kitchen, looking through the pantry and cabinet near the stove taking out cinnamon and vanilla, plucking items like bread, butter, eggs, berries and cream from the fridge. Searching drawers for utensils and measuring cups and spoons. Finding a pan and bowl from a bottom cabinet. Measuring sugar from the glass jar on the counter. He hoped the ingredients were still fresh, he wasn't exactly sure how long they'd been stored. She moved like she belonged there, he thought to himself. So sexy looking in her nightwear, bare feet on the tile, her ass and breasts moving underneath the silk as she stretched and worked.

"Coffee?" He offered, as he moved from one side to the other. He made sure his exquisite espresso machine was ready as it sat in all its glory on its own portion of the counter like a batista station inside Starbucks.

He didn't miss the way she watched him move around her, preparing the coffee and grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. He reached over her shoulder, his body brushing against hers as he opened the cupboard where he kept the glasses and mugs. He peered down at her, giving a twitch to the corner of his mouth. A smirk indeed. He noted the way her eyes followed him as he poured the juice, like he was going to poison her or something.

"It's just juice, Sweetheart," he said nonchalantly and put the juice back in the fridge. He set the breakfast table for them and took a seat in his place, a now hot cup of coffee in his hand, hers sitting on the counter next to her.

It wasn’t long before she had finished and brought the plates to the table, sitting down timidly in the seat to his right as he gestured to it, stopping her dead as she was about to make her way around to the opposite side.

It was quiet, the only sounds heard for a while were the click and scrape of forks and knives cutting away at the plates of food. Ransom wouldn't admit it out loud, but this was the best French toast he'd ever had in his life. Something about it, the way it was not soggy, but perfectly moist, the edges just crispy. The way the cream made for no syrup and the sweet berries added the final element. He watched her pick at the food for a moment or two as he glanced over at her and saw a small bit of Chantilly in the corner of her mouth.

A long arm reached across the table and automatically she flinched a little, as if she was going to pull away but one firm stare stopped her in her tracks. His thick thumb padded away the white, sweet cream and he brought the same thumb to his lips, sucking the cream away. He lifted his brows in a teasing manner and twitched up his lips, "Delicious. Like I said, almost as good as you, Sweetheart."

"Thanks, I think," she paused.

"Trust me, I know."

The comment seemingly threw her off her meal and it didn't get past Ransom. She had started picking at it, moving it around the plate like she had done with her dinner the night before. He, on the other hand, was near finished.

"Are you still not hungry?" He inquired.

She shook her head, "I just made my portion too big. I overestimated my appetite, I guess."

"Huh," he placated her reply. He knew she was lying but he let it slide, realizing that seeing a new space, the window to the outside was overwhelming. So, he thought he'd sweeten the deal. "I thought maybe you'd like to see the house," he offered, watching as her big eyes locked onto his and she took a deep breath.

"That sounds nice, thank you."

"Good, after breakfast then." He nodded affirmingly, as if it were drying ink in his mind. He picked up his coffee and finished it off, his plate already clear.

She stood from the table, collecting his plate with her own and headed for the sink. He turned in his chair, stalking her, watching her every move. The way she pitched over the sink, bending her frame over the dishwasher to load it as she cleaned up the kitchen.

With each bend and snap of her hips, he felt his mouth water more. Her little silk cami riding up as she moved, her breasts falling in and out of a fuller view. When she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, he was on her. He moved behind her, his hands grabbed her hips as she spun around completely startled giving a gasp and a quick yelp.

"Easy, Sweetheart," he chuckled as she looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Sorry... you, err...you startled me." She whispered as he moved his hands so they gripped at the side of the kitchen counter on either side of her, caging her in with his body.

"Some women would like that," he quipped, arching an eyebrow a little and watched as she swallowed hard and cast her eyes downward. Moving one hand slowly up her arm, over her shoulder and around her neck, he tipped her head back up so those large, Bambi eyes locked onto his.

His hand adjusted, gripping her chin softly as he moved closer still, dipping his head he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. He felt her go rigid, her chest spiking as she drew in a sharp breath, her body shaking slightly in his hold. "Stop fighting it..." he whispered against her mouth before he kissed her again. This time, his tongue traced the line of her upper lip, the feel of it soft and soothing.

You felt his tongue line your lip and you couldn't hold the whimper of fear that passed through you. He’d never kissed you before, not on the mouth anyway. You felt him deepen his kiss, his big hand cupping your face, pulling you into it more. Your mind went elsewhere, imagining anyone but him kissing you like this. You couldn't deny it, this intimate moment, completely lost on both of you for different reasons, felt good and he was good at it. He was damn good at it in fact, and that alone made you want to vomit your breakfast into his throat. At that, you jerked back, panting a little, feeling your lips swollen from the way he'd sucked your bottom one between his, pulling at it just the right way. You hated the feeling between your legs that it had evoked, your body betraying you just like it always did.

In an attempt to stave off the conflicting emotions spiking within you, you focussed on his face, the face you hated and to your surprise he looked dazed. The usual stoic expression that clouded his features had been replaced with something akin to surprise but no sooner had you noticed it, it was gone.

"Clean up and I'll meet you in the study." He told you, his voice a deep almost pained whisper.

"But I don't..." you started but were quickly cut off.

"You're a smart girl, figure it out," he smirked and slipped away.

You were tempted to follow, just so you'd see where he was going but you knew not to defy a command. The feeling of unease seemed to disappear as you slumped your shoulders and instead defeat filled your frame. A trembling hand came to your lips as jittery fingertips touched your swollen skin. Your bottom lip quivered like a ripple in a river and you quickly covered your mouth, turning on a dime as your French toast littered the sink. If the water hadn't been running already, Ransom would no doubt have heard you retching. You rinsed your mouth out to attempt at hiding that vomit taste from your tongue and quickly finished your task of cleaning up the kitchen, salty tears dripping from your chin, mixing with the soapy water.

When you could stall no longer, you sighed and headed out into the large hallway, taking a quick look around. It was light, airy, the grand staircase swept in and curved round to the next floor and your eyes lingered on the heavy wooden door just beyond it. You hesitated, and then with a dejected sigh realised there was no point even trying to escape. Even if it was unlocked, which you doubted, the threat to your family was just too much for you to risk. Instead, you decided to head down the corridor to your right and found yourself in a large open plan living room of sorts. It was decorated in clean whites and crisp greys with a huge feature stone open fireplace and sported a bar at the back. A brown leather sofa and two matching arm chairs were strategically placed around an expensive looking coffee table but you didn’t bother to look at the rest, this wasn’t the room you needed so you turned back on yourself, walked back into the hall and took the turning to your left.

This time you found yourself walking into what you could only assume was his study-come-den of sorts. It was huge, and once again sported a sofa pushed up against the wall, looking out over the spectacular view of not only the garden but the river too. But that wasn’t what caught your attention, nor was it the walnut desk and laptop that sat upon it. It was the floor to ceiling bookshelf behind it. Your mouth dropped open as you made your way towards it but then you stopped, biting your lip. Were you supposed to be looking at them? But, he had said to meet you in here. And left you to find your own way. Surely, if he didn’t want you looking around he wouldn’t have left you to it.

Throwing caution to the wind you strode forward, your pace hurried this time and your eyes quickly scanned across some of the books. You couldn’t help but feel shocked. Whilst there was a huge collection of his Grandfather’s books, and a number of other crime novels of types, it was the colourful spines to your right that made your chest heave in delight. The entire Harry Potter collection. With a shaky hand you reached for The Philosopher’s Stone, noting the British version of the title, and opened the front page giving another gasp as you read the publishing details.

This was a first edition. And from the date you also knew it would be one that contained the misprint errors. And as such, would be worth a small fortune.

“See something you like?” that familiar voice hit your ears and you gave a little shriek, jumping around, clutching the book to your chest to avoid dropping it.

“I’m sorry.” You hastily began to apologise “I was just…erm…”

“It’s ok.” He assured you, crossing towards you. Once more he encroached into your personal space and you felt the blades of your shoulders press into the shelf behind you. “Harry Potter fan?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Didn’t think they’d be your type of thing.

“They’re not really.” He shrugged “I’m a collector. Everything on the shelves, well they’re all first or limited editions, so worth a lot.”

“Figures.” You mumbled, turning round and slotting the book back into the space it had come from. As you did you felt him push up behind you, his hands on your hips, the unmistakable feel of his hard on dug into the lower part of your back and you fought to stop yourself shuddering. He was after pay-back for allowing you to leave your prison.

“Did you like the house?” he asked, brushing your hair off your neck.

“Yes.” You answered politely, your voice catching a little as he placed a kiss to the crook of your shoulder.

“You know, it could all be yours sweetheart if you just stopped fighting what you know you want” His kisses continued up your neck as his words whirled around your brain and you were back to where you had been in the kitchen. It felt good. And that disgusted you.

“Did you enjoy making breakfast?” he whispered, his lips by your ear.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your voice barely there.

“Show me how much.” His teeth nipped at your lobe, his hips grinding forward and you swallowed and closed your eyes. You knew what he wanted but as you turned to face him you had an idea. One which would save you being fucked no doubt over the desk or on the hard looking couch.

With a lick of your lips you looked at him and sank slowly to your knees, taking his sweats with you. His hard cock sprang free, slapping his lower abs and you reached out, grasping it in your hand.

“Fuck, yeah baby…” Ransom hissed as you moved your head forwards and took him in your mouth.

You pulled out all the moves, you took him as deep as you could, gagging a little as he wasn’t a small man. You kept your hand firmly on the base of his cock, you hollowed your lips, you swirled your tongue around his shaft and he let out a little groan his hand fisting in your hair as his hips bucked forwards.

“Jesus, I knew your mouth was smart but…” he panted, looking down at you. You raised your eyes to look at his as he bit his lip, his entire face contorted in pleasure…

Pleasure that was ruined by the sound of the doorbell.

“What the fuck…” Ransom growled out, un-fisting his hand from her hair. “Who the fuck is that?”

He glanced down at her and she looked up at him, wide eyed. She was a mess, swollen lips, wet chin and dressed in nothing but her skimpy tank and shorts. With a frustrated growl, Ransom pulled his dick out of her mouth and grabbed his phone from the table to check the doorbell camera. His face blanched as he saw who it was.

“I don’t fucking believe it…” he mumbled, as she looked up at him.

“Who is it?” She asked, wiping her face, “I’m not exactly dressed for visitors, Hugh.”

Ransom might have been pre-occupied with the familiar face staring at him from his phone, but he still picked up on that 'Hugh' and he glared down at her. “No shit, and because we have a visitor, I'm gonna let that one slide. Get up.” She rose to her feet, blinking a little as he pulled off the thermal he was wearing and tossed it to her. “Put that on. No one gets to see you in silk but me.”

She blinked as she caught it, confusion spreading across her face. “Don’t you just want me to go-“

In a flash, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and finger and she winced, “If I wanted you downstairs I’d have said. So put the damn shirt on, and when he starts asking questions just remember what I said I could do to your family and friends.”

In complete complacency, he watched her slip his thermal over her head, her fingers barely peeking through the sleeves to fix her dishevelled hair. The material hit her mid-thigh and his eyes brows gave a flicker of approval before he walked to the entry and opened the door. "What do you want?"

"Pleasure to see you too, Mr. Drysdale..." that infuriating Southern drawl hit Ransom's ears with all the finesse of a cheese-grater. Benoit Blanc, without so much as a gesture of request, pushed past Ransom as he strode inside, stopping in the tiled entry, looking around.

"Do you have a warrant?" The man of the house snipped in his usual spiteful tone.

Blanc still didn’t reply, and Ransom rolled his eyes following him as he wandered down the hallway, stopping at the open door to the study. "Well, if it isn't the lady of the hour."

Ransom stood behind Blanc, an infuriatingly warning glare sent his girl's way. He noted the way she was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, lips still swollen, cheeks flushed, hair tousled. She looked like a sex kitten, and maybe that was the idea. He warned her to sell it after all…

"Excuse me?” Y/N looked up at the two men in the doorway.

Blanc stepped inside the room, taking a seat on the edge of the same couch where she sat. "I've been looking for you, young lady. A lot of people are looking for you, you know Miss Y/L/N.”

“I errr…” she swallowed a little as she slowly got to her feet, her hands pulling the hem of the thermal down before she folded her arms across her chest, not in a defiant manner, but almost as if she was hugging herself “Did someone send you or…”

“No, nothing like that. You see, I heard you'd gone missing, and I knew you had a work connection to Mr. Drysdale, that, shall we say didn't go quite as planned. So when things started adding up, I thought to ask the man himself."

“Well, congratulations, this is one mystery you actually solved correctly, Sherlock. As you can see she’s here and she’s fine, and we were in the middle of something, so if you don’t mind….” Ransom folded his arms, his eyes moving from hers to Blanc, who was irritatingly completely ignoring him, his gaze focussed intently on the woman who stood in front of him.

Ransom could see him take her in fully, now seeing the situation he may have just walked in on. She looked dishevelled and was missing crucial parts of her clothing, but she had no tears in her eyes, no markings looking to be of abuse or out of the ordinary. None that were visible anyway. Blanc’s gaze then dragged over to Ransom who was bare foot in joggers and still half aroused, which he did nothing to hide as he folded his arms over his naked chest.

Ransom held Blanc’s gaze, his chin jutting out defiantly, the detective only looking away when the lady of the hour spoke, her voice quiet, as she gave a small nod. "He’s right, I’m fine."

"Then why not tell your family where you are?”

“I err…” Y/N’s right hand gripped he cuff of the sweater sleeve tightly, “I just, well, I…”

Ransom could see that she was losing it and he knew he had to intervene. He walked over to her and placed an arm around her, kissing the top of her head lightly, "It's alright, Sweetheart. I know how he can be frustrating. We're doing nothing wrong."

With that he turned his gaze to the man in front of him, not even trying to hide the sneer of contempt that was crossing his face “I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you Blanc.”

“Well, maybe Miss Y/L/N has some crayons hidden up her sleeve so to speak.” Blanc smiled innocently and Ransom felt the anger floor his system.

“You’re starting to really piss me off.” he snarled, “You barge into my home, without so much of an explanation…” his rant was stopped dead as Y/N placed her hand on his chest, palm splaying over his bare skin. Ransom swallowed at the touch of her fingers against his skin, firey hot just as they had been last night when they curled around his arms.

"Hey," she spoke and he looked down to see her giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes but one that should be enough to convince the dumbass detective who was watching them. "It's okay." She then turned to Blanc as he held his hand up, palm open, speaking to Ransom.

“I’m not trying to be frustrating Mr. Drysdale, I'm merely enquiring after Miss Y/L/N’s wellbeing."

"I'm not here under duress if that's what you're thinking.” She spoke, clearing her throat. “Hu… Ra, we have had to keep our relationship private,” she stumbled on the right identity, settling for 'we'. Clearing her throat again and settling her nerves, she continued, "Mr. Blanc, as you well know, I'm reporter and his background has been less than stellar as of late. It no doubt would not look good for either of us if it had come to light. My reputation as a journalist would have been in tatters.”

“Well, lies and deception certainly go hand in hand when it comes to Mr. Drysdale...”

Ransom rolled his eyes dramatically “Change the record, Blanc. The static is a little loud.”

Blanc completely ignored him, his attention still on her. “So you caused all this worry, because of some…” he waved his hand in front of him, gesturing between the pair of them.

Ransom’s arm curled round her even tighter, his fingers pressing into her hip and he felt her stiffen a little before she relaxed into his side and gave a small nod.

"Like I said, it wouldn’t have gone down well with my family, or my career.”

“Ahh, yes, your job, which you quit.” Blanc looked at her. “Yes, I spoke to your boss.” He answered her unasked question. “Why would you be so worried for your reputation as a journalist, if you’re not actually a journalist anymore?”

At that she took a deep breath “I quit the paper because my boss is an asshole. His antics on Halloween were a step too far. But that doesn’t mean I have no intentions of working ever again. I'm currently taking a long overdue sabbatical.”

Blanc studied her again, almost as if he was weighing something up and she once more began to fidget and Ransom decided he’d had enough.

"Okay, I’m done being polite,” Ransom moved his arm from around his girl and stepped towards Blanc, placing himself directly between the detective and the woman. “You've interrupted out little post brunch love affair and I’m horny, so…do you need help finding the door, or can your super sleuth skills figure the way back out of it on their own?”

“Miss Y/L/N?” Blanc spoke, his eyes locked onto Ransom’s. Ransom felt the nerve in his jaw twitch, the fact that Blanc wasn’t scared of him irritated him no end.

There was a pause and then her voice came clearly from behind him as she spoke, “If you'd be so kind as to not tell my family where I am, I'd appreciate it. I prefer this time without their unwanted opinion.” Her voice was steady, measured almost. “You can tell them that you've found me, alive and well."

Blanc knew he wasn't welcome, he had proof of life and no reason to suspect foul play. He stood, his long wool coat falling into place around him. "Well, then I guess my work is done." He brushed passed Ransom and gave a quick quip, "I'm warning you...."

"What was that?" His girl wondered. She'd heard him.

"Have a nice day," Blanc nodded curtly “I’ll see myself out.”

You watched the back of the detective as he left the large living room, Ransom following him to the doorway where he stood, arms folded, watching. The sound of Blanc’s feet on the tiles of the hallway grew fainter and fainter until eventually they stopped completely. The latch of the door sounded and you fell to the closest thing you could sit on. Your while body shook with a chill that crept into your bones but not from the cold. No, you were sick to your stomach in fear and worry. The bile of deceit rose to your throat and had you not already spewed up your breakfast it would have most likely decorated the carpet of the study. Instead, you swallowed down the sour bile as Drysdale approached you and you glanced up at him, blinking whilst he studied you for a second, his face passive. As you held his gaze, something akin to amusement flashed in his cold blue eyes and a twisted smirk spread across his face.

“Your acting skills certainly improved there along the way, at the end you were almost award worthy.” He drawled, his hands falling to his hips. “Even Meryl Streep would be jealous.”

"Fuck you," your voice quivered.

He arched an eyebrow, an amused expression on his features “Already played that game Sweetheart, and carry on back-chatting me and you’ll be back in the basement.”

"Wh... What?"

"You pulled through in the end there. It was a rough start, but you convinced Colonel Sanders that you were here on your own."

“Colonel Sanders?” You blinked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Blanc. CSI KFC.” He replied. You were none the wiser as to what he was going on about and it must have shown on your face as he simply rolled his eyes. "Never mind...the point is, sweetheart, I'm in a good mood. And seeing as you behaved...”

"What?" Your voice was quiet, meek.

"If you shut that pretty little mouth for longer than a second, I'll explain." His tone was measured but you didn’t miss the underlying threat.

“Sorry.” Your eyes fell to the floor, your left hand worrying at your right.

“Eyes on me.” He barked and your head whipped up automatically and he smirked at you as you took a deep breath. “As I was saying, seeing as you were such a good girl, I thought I’d reward you, let you stay up here with me for the day.”

The notion shocked you. Your mouth went dry and you couldn't make sense of it. But then, the more you thought about it, the more his audacity irked you. He’d imprisoned you, used you, abused you…and now he was implying that staying in his company was a fucking reward.

“Wow, thanks…” you blurted before you could stop yourself, sarcasm lacing your tone. As soon as the words had slipped from your mouth you felt panic flood your system as he stepped towards you and reached out, his right hand curling around your throat.

"Don’t push me sweetheart.” His voice was low as his fingers squeezed the column of your neck, a reminder of how easily he could simply end it all whenever he chose.

And just like that the softness that he had displayed with you earlier that morning was gone, and the shutters were back up. You swallowed hard, feeling the strain of your throat against his touch, his eyes now dark and full of that familiar angry lust and desire that chilled you from head to toe. Blanc had riled him, gotten underneath his skin, that was easy to see while your mouthy comments fuelled that ire. And as such, he needed an escape, an outlet.

And he was going to get it from you.

“Now on your knees and finish what you started."

**** Part 4

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 3 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, but when you’re being held hostage by Hugh Ransom Drysdale there’s really not a lot to be thankful for, is there?

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 2 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.