#the last conversation about sex that i had with this man with whom i had a lot of sex in the 2010s

[coquelicoq]

through a series of events that i believed to be harmless while they were happening, my ex is now the proud owner of a browser window exclusively containing maybe 10 tabs of ao3 i opened sometime last year. i have no memory of the specific fics, and probably most of them i had not yet read, but i am positive at least some percentage of them are E-rated. it's possible there's no kinky shit, but not impossible. to preserve both of our dignity i am pretending not to remember what is in the tabs at all, and he's not saying anything about it. but i remember enough. i remember enough.

[hanjsquokka]

Slow Down - [ Bang Chan ]

🎸 SYNOPSIS : There was something about the way he looked at you that made you squeeze your thighs together, your focus faltering as you did his eye makeup. However, your predicament might get a solution when you overhear a conversation you weren't supposed to.

GENRE : smut, strangers to potential lovers

PAIRING : bang chan × fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING : smut (warnings under the cut!), mature language, 3RACHA (yes that is a warning)

WORD COUNT : 2K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : (Part of my Stray Kids × Chase Atlantic series special for their 6th anniversary) Bang Chan!!! I still remember the first time I freaked out over his look in the Thunderous MV (my first one) and I was like holy shit 😭. He soon became one of my biases since I started with 3RACHA first before I learnt about the other members. Despite not watching his lives when they were live, Chan's room holds a special place in my heart. The best leader ♡.

☆ skz masterlist ; join my taglist

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

SMUT WARNING : no clear dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, piv, fingering, light oral (f receiving), big dick chan agenda, mirror sex, nicknames (baby girl, baby, good girl), reader calls chan as channie, semi public sex? (they're in a changing room but no one else is there), light hair pulling, orgasm denial

The bass was booming outside of the changing room you were currently in, doing makeup for your favorite band. People were so hyped up for the upcoming 3RACHA performance and you weren't any better.

“Y/n, that's purple — !” Han Jisung yelped, moving away from the cushion pad you were holding in your hand, now dabbed with purple powder.

“Oh my — I'm so sorry Jisung. I'm so out of it today.” You blushed out of embarrassment, fumbling with your things as you got the correct cosmetic product and applied it on him. Your jitters were most certainly caused by the other male in the room, who was currently watching you with a glinting his eyes. Changbin was busy on his phone so you knew to whom the gaze belonged to without even turning around.

Bang Chan.

Or Chris. That was how he introduced himself to you the very first time you met him almost a year ago. Hi, my name's Chris, are you our new makeup artist? Those words played in your head a lot. His voice was so melodic, and his accent only made the feelings inside you intensify. And that was all before you saw what he meant by Chris. He was a completely different man on stage. The first time you saw him perform, you had to excuse yourself to the restroom because your face instantly burned red.

Ever since then, your imagination only grew worse. You dreamed endless nights of him, of how wonderful it would be if he were with you, how he would be in bed. God, just thinking about how his hands could make you see more stars than in the night sky was enough to almost make you drop the brush in your hand.

For this particular performance, held in the elusive 5-STAR club, they were going all out. Which meant Chan dressed in a way that nearly made you faint when you walked into the room an hour ago. Ever since then, he had his sight locked on you as you tried to focus on Jisung, who wasn't making things any easier with how hyper he could get before a show. You swallowed as the man in front of you got up and left, allowing the last of their trio to take a seat in front of you.

“Excited?” You asked him as you started his makeup, trying to make small talk so you could make yourself believe that was the reason he was looking at you like that. Sometimes, you felt as if Chan could read your thoughts, as if a speech bubble hung over your head, dictating your most unholy secrets to him.

“Yeah.” He smiled, dimples on full display that nearly made you swoon. How could he be so charming and cute and then switch to hot and sexy the next minute? “There's so many people who came to see us. I never thought that it would happen.”

You smiled. Another thing about Chan. He was so humble, it had to be illegal. You cupped his jaw so would stay still. “You three are crazy good. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am.” He replied cheekily, making you chuckle. “Will you stay and watch the show?”

“As always.”

He cracked a wide grin again. “Great. I need my number one watching me.”

His words made your heart stutter, making you almost mess up (again). You avoided the fact that your face was as red as a tomato and continued your job, still talking with him although the intrusive thoughts inside you were screaming to kiss him. Your sane side, however, took over and made sure you didn't attack him and ruin the makeup you had just put on him. He continued to look at you, making you squeeze your thighs together as you tried to play placate the thought of him bending you over the vanity and fucking you.

You were done quicker than you hoped and excused yourself to wash your hands. After spending an abnormal amount of soap to get rid of the purple you accidently almost used, you walked back to their changing room, only to stop in your tracks at the door because of the ongoing conversation on the other side.

“It's driving me crazy!”

“Chan, you've been saying that for a year now.”

“Does she not realize what she's doing? —”

“Her job?”

“Shut up Han. The only thing I want to do to her is bend her over in front of that fucking mirror and —”

“Geez, you're hornier than me.”

You heard footsteps coming closer to the door, so you panicked and ran down the corridor and went into the main club. Your heart was racing along with your mind. Did he want the same thing as you? Goosebumps covered your skin when you thought of the possibility of Chan having the same thoughts as you. You were probably hallucinating (could you hallucinate hearing a person?) and way over your head but a ridiculous idea started to form in your head as the trio took the stage, eliciting roars of excitement through the audience that were awaiting their performance.

They played a few of their own songs as well as your personal favorites — Chase Atlantic covers. Their vibes suited well with the songs and you were addicted to the way Chan sang — you're buried in the pillow yeah you're so loud — from Slow Down. The way he held the mic, sweat glistening on his face and sometimes how it would seem like he looked around for someone and then settled his focus on you made you squirm in the place you were standing.

After the performance, you quickly ducked back into their changing rooms, under the pretense of packing away your stuff but in actuality, you were hoping for a small miracle. Said miracle walked into the room moments later, his presence created an aura you've never felt before.

“Nice work out there.” You said with a smile, putting the makeup brushes in your bag.

“You think so?” Chan came closer to you, you felt his warm breath hitting your shoulder, the heat emitting from his skin sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him through the mirror in front of you, his signature smile was on his face but there was something else you couldn't quite distinguish. Something akin to a blaze burning beneath the kindness of his words. “The crowd was amazing.”

“They were.” You smiled again, heart thudding in your chest when you felt him brush against you. “Where's Jisung and Changbin?”

“Them? Oh, they disappeared after the performance. Probably getting some drinks.”

“So why are you here?”

“I have something much more interesting to do than drinks.”

You chuckled. “Is that so?” You turned around, chest flush against his as you looked him in the eyes, “would that something have to do with me bent over the vanity?”

Your teasing worked perfectly, a red hue spreading across his cheeks, his smile dropped and morphed into surprise. “You —”

“I'm not opposed to it.”

He blinked. “You're… not?” He shifted, moving closer to you. His tone was in stark juxtaposition to the way his hands were clenched in a fist, like he was controlling himself. “Y/n… don't play with me.”

“I'm not playing.” He let out a shaky exhale. “I want this, Channie, please?”

The nickname was his breaking point. He brushed aside the hair falling into your jaws before he cupped your cheek and sealed your lips together in a searing kiss, full of passion and a need to be as close together as possible. Your hands gripped the edge of the vanity as he pushed you onto further, his tongue pushing against your mouth for entrance, which you gladly granted, allowing him to explore your mouth. His free hand moved up and down your back a couple times before stopping at the side of your breast. He had a moment of hesitation before he rolled his thumb over your hardening nipple, making you moan into his mouth. He seemed to have liked that response because he did it again, a little more harshly. He pulled away from your lips when you squeezed your thighs together.

He tutted. “Spread those legs for me, baby girl.” You swallowed and did as he said, parting your legs for his hand to dive between them and rub your core over the fabric of your jeans. You bit your lip, eyes fluttering close at the sensation.

“Touch me Channie, please.”

Moments later, your pants were on the floor and your head was thrown back as his fingers reached deep inside you. “Feel good baby?”

“S-So good, Channie, don't stop —” You moaned, back arching as another digit entered you, scissoring you open.

“Gotta stretch you properly. Such a tight little pussy. So wet.” He curled his fingers at that one spit that made you see stars. Your reaction only made him brush his fingers against that spot again and again, making the band in your belly tighten.

Hearing those filthy words come from his mouth turned you on even more. “All for you.”

“All for me?” He smirked, pumping his fingers a few more times before pulling them out and popping them into his mouth. “So sweet.” You whined at the emptiness and your ruined orgasm. He moved away slightly. “Turn over baby. Wanna see that ass.” You obliged, turning around so you were bent over the vanity, facing the mirror. You could see him in the reflection, pupils blown with lust. He dropped to his knees, his warm breath hitting your core. He licked a stripe along your folds before diving in with his tongue, pulling away yet again when you were close.

“Wanna cum.”

“You will cum baby girl.” He stood up again. “Around my cock.” You heard his pants drop, the buckle hitting the floor with a clank and the sound of a foil being torn open. You couldn't exactly see his dick as he slid the condom on, but you moaned loudly as he rubbed the tip against your folds.

“Don't tease.” You whined as he prodded his cock at your entrance.

“Whatever you say.” He laughed and pushed the tip in. Your mouth dropped open, sounds of pleasure freely spilling from your mouth as he kept inching in.

“You're so b-big.” You felt impossibly full as he bottomed out, a grunt coming from behind you as he waited for both of you to adjust to the feeling. His cock was kissing your cervix already, you felt like you could come just like that. “M-Move, please —”

He nodded and slowly pulled back and snapped his hips forward. “So tight.” He groaned as he repeated the motion again and again. You were long gone already, his dick brushing against all the sweet spots inside you that made your toes curl. “Eyes up. I want you to watch.” He pulled your head up by your hair, lightly tugging at it so you could see your reflection in the mirror. You clenched around him the moment he did that, making him groan and move faster.

“Chan — fuck, so big —” You whimpered, watching yourself get fucked in the changing room, where anyone could walk in and see yourself getting split open by Chan.

“You have — no idea, how long I've been waiting for this.” He pulled out completely before slamming back inside, making you scream out his name. “Fucking you over the the next surface. God, you've been driving me crazy. Swinging that ass around. It's mine, got it?”

“Y-Yours.”

“Good girl.” He let go of your hair and instead reached between your legs to find your clit, rubbing harsh circles over it.

“T-Too much. Channie — please, ‘m gonna cum —”

“Cum for me baby.” His harsh thrusts, the stimulation on your clit and you watching everything from the mirror — it all became too much. Fireworks lit up inside you as you came all over his cock, clenching hard as he still moved inside you. Overstimulation sent jolts throughout your body. “Like a fucking vice.” He grunted, before you felt his seed fill the condom. He pulled out and discarded the condom, helping you stand up properly and handed you a water bottle from a nearby table. “I hope that was okay.” Goddamn he really did have a switch inside him.

“Okay? Fuck, Chan that was amazing.”

“Amazing enough to let me fuck you after all my shows?”

“Definitely.”

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

[fairysluna]

the reward.

You come back home after two weeks, and with the victory in your shoulders. Cregan, who was still recovering from his wounds, is esger to thank you for what you've done.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader.

TAGS/TW — smut (clit play, praise, cunninglus, humping, public sex), cursing, mentions of murder, blood. If something is missing pls let me know!

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this is based on this ask (thx anon, ily). Just so you know, reader gave birth to Elion four weeks before this happened. I didn't proof read it, so if there's any mistakes I'm sorry.

WORD COUNT — 3.2k.

FEEDBACK, SHARES AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!!

When the big wooden doors were opened, all eyes fell on the two silhouettes that walked inside the main hall in the castle of Winterfell. Cregan stood up from his chair almost immediately, his eyes widening with surprise at the sight, and feeling the relief calming down his senses after he finally proved you were not dead.

Two weeks have passed since the last time he heard about you; two weeks in which he was losing his mind for not being able to get up from the bed and go to search for you. Your letters had ceased suddenly and unexpectedly, creating worry not only on your husband but also in the castle. And yet there you were; your hair was covered in ashes and dirt, your face having traces of dried blood and sweat. You were wearing armor which covered your chest, leather pants shaping your legs, the scabbard on your hips was dripping with blood coming from the blade of your sword. By your side, the stern and serious frame of your beloved brother Aemond was standing in the same conditions as you.

But everyone’s eyes were fixed on the giant’s head hanging from your hand. You walked inside the room with pride, your chin up as everyone bowed for you. Your husband was taken aback, for there was too much information in front of him at that moment, it was such a bizarre scene.

Cregan took a sharp breath as he stared at you once you stood in front of him, only a big, long table separating your bodies. The giant’s head was dropped by your hand on top of it, and the man looked down at you with a weird glance on his face. He analyzed your whole shape, from head to toe; from your messy battle braids to your ash-covered shoes. Cregan caught himself feeling some kind of unexplainable sensation of lust in his veins; and you were the only one who was capable of recognizing it.

“My dear husband,” you started, and all the whispers shut down almost immediately. “I’ve brought you a gift. I’m not certain whether this was the one who harmed you, but take it as a symbol… no one hurts those who I love.”

He looked to the head, then at your brother, and lastly at you. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to utter some words, but Lord Karstark opened his mouth.

“Princess,” he said, shock reflected in his voice, “what- how were you able to-?”

“My husband gifted me a fine Valyrian blade a few years ago,” you explained, looking right in the eye of the tall man to whom you call your lover. “Giants are above the size of a regular man, which is what makes them easy to behead from a dragon's back. I couldn't kill them all, but I killed enough to make them yield.”

“They yielded?” Cregan finally spoke, to which you nod.

“Yes, my lord, they did,” the mere pronunciation of those two words almost sent Cregan to outer space. Your voice sounded so deep and seductive without even trying. The man was almost drooling because of you. “They returned beyond the wall as they promised to never cross it again. Those who dared to defy our terms died by the flames of Aegarax, which worked as a warning to let them know what would happen if they disobeyed.”

“We had a few losses, my lord” Aemond interrupted in the conversation, and still Cregan was unable to take his eyes off of you. “They were brave men, killed in battle by those savages. Allow me to present them with honor with a feast in celebration for our victory. It is also well deserved for those who survive.”

“Let it be done, brother,” Cregan said. "We might as well celebrate your bravery, and your efforts for bringing my wife safely back to my arms."

“Ser Aron, please put the giant's head on display for the people to see. It is a sign of peace now,” you ordered.

“Of course, princess,” he bowed swiftly before getting close enough to the head to pick it up and walking with it out of the Hall.

“My lord, if I may, I would like to go and spend some time with my nephews and niece before tonight’s celebration,” Aemond asked, using that polite and courteous tone that was so typical of him.

Cregan nodded, “of course, brother,” he said.

Aemond walked to your way and left a soft kiss on your forehead before squeezing your shoulder and leaving the hall towards the nursery room where you children were. The silence ruled over the room as everyone was expecting for either you or Cregan to speak further into the matter, but all they received was the comfortable silence you and your husband shared as your hazes would refuse to look away. The lack of each other’s presence these last weeks had clearly made a big impact in your lives, for there was an invisible magnet that was pulling you both closer and closer to each other. Your bodies craved each other's touch in a way that would even make you look desperate.

“We won the war, my lord husband,” you said, a slight smirk crossing your lips as you noticed his jaw clenched. “Mayhaps we should celebrate, don’t you think?”

Your eyes gazed upon his face, begging and pleading for something you knew only him could provide you. The nights in the camp were cold and lonely, making you long for your husband’s warmth. Your breathing trembled at the mere thought of his big hands roaming around your body in order to touch those places that he knew so well.

“Everyone,” Cregan raised his voice in order to be heard by all the people present in the room. His low tone echoed around the room. “Leave, now.”

The lords, knights and soldiers were soon walking towards the exit doors as Cregan walked around the table and reached your side. Your smaller frame looked so fragile in front of him even when your body was covered with that hard material which had some scratches in it. Cregan looked up and down to your state, and he inevitably bit his lip as his hand reached for your hip and pulled you closer to him. A small gasp left you, starting to feel his breathing against your skin. Soon you find yourself being a prisoner of his arms, for they surrounded your body and held you tight against his broad chest.

“The children have been missing you terribly,” he whispered, so close to your lips that you were able to feel his breath against them.

You gave a quick peak to your surroundings just when the door was closed and the last man left the room. Your gaze fell upon your husband’s face once again and a little smile appeared on your face. Your hands went to his broad chest as his started to go down your body until reaching your arse.

You were dirty, sweaty, a complete mess, and yet Cregan thought that you had never looked more desirable.

“Only them?” You asked, teasingly playing with the laces of his coat until it fell down surrounding his shoes.

“No,” he shook his hand, pulling you closer and making you feel his hardness through the fabric of his pants. You sighed, eyes already getting blurry with the aching lust between your legs. “I was scared… frightened.” His lips brushing against your jaw. “I thought I had lost you, I forced myself to heal faster only to go and look for you, my love.”

“No need, I’m already here…” You replied. Your eyes would not dare to leave his as your hand reached his growing erection. “I’m here, and I will never leave you again-”

You were barely able to finish the sentence before his delicious lips trapped yours in a lustful kiss that took your breath away. The missed touch had your heart jumping in your chest with excitement, love and lust. His hands grabbed your checks in order to keep your face close enough to devour your mouth with hunger and desire. He was craving for you as much as you were for him.

"Seeing you like this," he murmurs between kisses, his fingers going to the laces that were holding your pants. "I'm so fucking lucky to call you mine. My wife, my love, my princess."

"I did it all for you," you confessed in a whine, pulling his hair strong enough to make him moan. You pulled away as your fist was holding his locks with a bit of roughness that he loved to see in you. "I would make this entire world burn just for you."

His eyes sparkled with devotion as he softened his grip around your face. His gray eyes staring at yours with a glow you were already used to seeing on him whenever he laid eyes on you. The shadow of a tender smile appeared on his face before he leaned to kiss you again. It was softer, more delicate, leaving part of the lust of your bodies behind just to have a more intimate moment. His tongue entered your mouth elegantly, twirling against yours while you sighed and closed your eyes. The warmth within your chest gave you a feeling of comfort that you had not felt since you left Winterfell; gods, you missed him so much.

When he pulled away, he stared down at you. His thumb caressing your cheeks, wiping the dried blood out of your beautiful face. He could not help but smile, all of this was for him. You did it all for him. His heart would only beat faster on the realization of you unleashing the dragon inside you just for his protection.

There was something about that wild and dangerous side of you that made Cregan drool like a hungry puppy.

"I love you," he said, and you smiled.

"I love you," you replied.

But then the lust in his eyes returned, and you knew the soft moment had vanished. His hands went to your hips as he turned you around and bent you over the table. You chuckled softly at his action, feeling how he would rub himself against you as if he was trying to find some relief. You closed your eyes, leaning your head against his chest.

"My little dragon," he murmured against your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. A soft moan was heard from you. "Fuck- I missed those pretty sounds so much."

You felt how he suddenly stepped back, and it was impossible for you to retain the loud gasp that escaped from your lips once Cregan pulled your pants down, dragging your small clothes with it. The coldness of the air caused shivers in your spine, especially after you noticed him kneeling behind you and his big hands spreading your arse cheeks. His thumbs exploring and touching your folds as he could only growl at the sight, your cunt was already dripping, glistening with your arousal.

Cregan leaned, close enough to brush his nose against your labia, teasing as he smelled your sweet scent and his mouth waters. That sweet, so delicious smell had been missed by him, and he could not wait to let himself drink from you until his lips felt sore. At that point, your legs were shaking with the anticipation of his mouth devouring as if you were his last meal.

"You've been such a good little wife, my princess," he whispered, his hot breath reaching your moist folds and making you whine. "Taking revenge for your husband, and bringing victory to our home."

His thumb started to tease your needy clit, proving small touches that were far from being enough to cause the much needed sensation of relief. You bit your lip, sighing with frustration. Your hips moving backwards as you desperately tried to reach a more intense touch, but Cregan would make you wait.

"So, so good…" he muttered, dropping light kisses in the flesh of your ass, "I'm gonna give my wife the reward she deserves, how about that?"

"Oh, fuck, please, my love," you breathed heavily, closing your eyes as the despair only grew within you. "I need you so much."

"Shh… I should be the one begging," Cregan replied.

You felt the fingertips of his thumbs spreading your labia before his tongue lapped at your sensitive folds. A moan, much louder than the ones before, was heard, and your eyes immediately went close at the delicious feeling of his tongue licking all your slick. He was eating you like a hungry man, after being deprived of you for so long he was despairingly trying to make it worth the wait. He had missed your taste, your smell, the way you would clench around his tongue, and how prettily your moans would sound.

The sound of his tongue against your wetness as he drank from you was beyond obscene. A mixture of his spit and your slick would slip down your thighs, making it messier and filthier that it already is. Your nails were digging on the wood of the ancient table beneath you, and your whimpers were getting louder.

His nose was teasing your entrance, causing the pleasure to become almost unbearable. With the birth of your third child and the weeks you spent apart, you had not been exposed to this kind of pleasure for a really long time, and you almost forgot how good it felt when your dutiful husband took care of you.

Once his tongue left your clit and started to go to your clenching hole, his fingers went to your swollen pearl, indulging the pleasure and making you see stars. You were a mumbling mess, not caring about keeping it quiet because you knew how much your husband loved to hear you, and you loved to make him know how good he was making you feel.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm getting so close, love," you rapidly said, breathy words leaving your throat as you moaned. "Your tongue feels so fucking good- oh, fuck! just like that…"

Your words seemed to only fuel his desire, for his eagerness only increased. He shook his head from side to side, his tongue never leaving your folds. You were able to feel the tightness in your lower belly as your legs started to shake. His whole face buried in you in order to give you the pleasure that you needed and deserved.

With a squeal, you felt your juices oozing out of you and falling into Cregan's tongue. You were able to hear him moan, his heavy breathing against your cunt as he was eagerly trying to get all your release inside his mouth.

Your body fell on top of the table, your eyes remaining closed as you tried to regularize your unsteady breathing. Cregan stood up, caressing the exposed flesh of your thighs as he leaned over your frame to kiss your cheek.

"We have the best cooks in the North, and yet their dishes will never be as delicious as your sweet cunt, my love," you both shared a breathy laugh after his words, your cheeks inevitably getting reddish and warm. "Come here."

His arms lift you up without issue, so effortlessly as always. He shifted your position until you were facing him, sitting on the table and with your legs surrounding his hips. His nose brushed against yours, and your hands went to his pants. He immediately stopped you.

"We can't," he said, "the Maester said we need to wait at least three fortnights."

"I can please you in other ways too, you know that," you reminded him.

"No, I just wanted to thank you-"

"And I want to thank you too," you interrupted him, removing his hand and keeping untying the laces of his pants until you removed them, freeing his shaft from the tightness of the fabric. "For all that you've done for us…"

"My love-"

"Be quiet," you silenced him. Your legs pushed him closer to you until his cock was pressed against your pearl. You both moaned at the feeling. "You know what to do now… please, don't make me beg."

"You little, needy thing…" he muttered before starting to move his hips. His mouth dropped open at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his length, it felt so warm and good. "Fuck, my love, I can't wait to be inside you once again." He confessed.

You smirked, "yeah?"

"Oh, Gods, yes…" his face was buried on the crook of your neck as your hand went to his cock to press it against your core. "As soon as you heal I'll fuck another babe inside you. Would you like that?"

"Y-yes," you nodded, your eyes looking directly at him as he sped his movements. "I can't- fuck… I

I can't wait to feel you inside me again. Filling me up so- oh, fuck, so good."

Cregan moaned at your words, getting harsher with his movements. His sack hitting against your slick, as he kept rubbing himself against you, growing desperate to spill himself on you. Your lips soon met on a needy kiss that silenced all the obscene sounds that were coming out of your mouths. It was messy, but none of you care, already drunk in the pleasure.

He pulled away at the same time that a whine left his lips. He grabbed his shaft and started to swiftly stroke it as he kept rubbing the tip on your clit. You came again, moaning his name before he coated your folds with thick drops of his pearly seed. His head fell backwards, his eyes rolling with pleasure as he hissed and groaned. You held your weight with your forearms as you looked at the mess he did on you.

Cregan soon held you tight, hiding his face on your neck once again. You chuckled softly, tiredly, caressing his hair and kissing whatever part of him you could reach.

"Don't ever leave me," he begged, "I can't do this without you."

"I won't, I promise," you replied in a whisper, smiling so bright.

He reached for your lips once again, kissing you gently and lovingly. It was brief, but as soon as he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours, enjoying the closeness of your bodies.

"But now I need to go and see my babies," you said, kissing his lips one last time before pulling back.

"Let me help you to clean you up," he quickly moved around, pulling his pants up to start looking for something that could work.

He found a clean cloak and went towards you. You let him help you, seeing how careful and delicate he always was with you. You smiled at him, and once he was ready, he made you stand up and lifted your pants. Next thing he did was throwing the cloak he used with you to the fire in the fireplace.

He grabbed your hand and walked with you towards the exit door, but before you were able to cross it, he stopped you to kiss you once more.

"I love you," he said again.

You bit your lip, hiding the enormous smile on yojr face.

"I love you."

BOLD MEANS I COULDN’T TAG YOU.

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @aemondsversion @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1

CREGAN TAG LIST — @satansdarlin @aelora-a @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @xfancyuu @megatardisbaby

[queenshelby]

Daddy Issues (Part One)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

Ever since school, Emma had been your best friend and now that you were both in your early twenties, and studied law at the prestigious Oxford university, nothing really changed. 

Your friendship had grown even stronger despite differences in personalities – you being introverted and reserved, she boldly exploring her newfound independence.

Emma was always full of surprises - from her unexpected move to New York City without telling anyone and then coming back six months later, to now referring to herself as Jamie Dornan's sugar baby when you were on your own while, otherwise, keeping it discreet. 

When alone with you, she would often talk about having "intimate encounters" with him and sometimes even others, keeping you amused while leaving you curious about what exactly happens behind closed doors. You were often thinking about 50 Shades of Gray, spiking your curiosity, although Emma assured you that it was nothing like that.

When talking to Emma and her sugar baby experience, it felt like one day she decided to break all boundaries – whether social or moral – as if embracing freedom beyond comprehension. Despite her brazen behavior, deep down inside, she still cared deeply about your opinion which made things interesting when discussing such topics together over coffee late into the night, sitting among the humming crowd of the cozy London Cafe.

The coffee shop filled up quickly around lunchtime, making it harder for Emma to continue sharing stories confidentially.

You eventually moved outside underneath the shade of a large tree, sipping their drinks while enjoying the cool evening air. Again, your conversation turned towards the subject of sex which was something your life was lacking.

To you only, Emma often opened up about her time spent with Jamie, the man who had become what she calls her "sugar daddy".

Their relationship was nothing serious and it was that, just after his messy and rather public divorce, he sought solace in younger women whom he could provide financial stability for. In return, they agreed upon fulfilling his needs discreetly and you knew that Emma was not the only one. 

As she shared more explicit details of their sessions, which she only did with you, the way she spoke became increasingly sensuous. She had fun, it seemed, and it was just last week that she had engaged in her first ever threesome with Jamie and another man.

"A threesome, with two men?" you asked incredulously, gripped with curiosity as she mentioned it for the first time that day. You only ever had sex with one man, and it was nothing short of boring to say the least.

"Yes. Jamie had a friend over, and it just happened. It wasn't really planned. But we had lots of fun and probably too much to drink as well" she giggled seductively, leaning forward slightly as if divulging a juicy secret. The sunlight reflected off her soft skin causing her silhouette to waver rhythmically against the foliage behind her. 

"Uhm, okay..." you began. "So who was the guy? Was he an actor too?" You queried, genuinely intrigued.

"Yes, he is an actor too, but I really shouldn't talk about this." Her tone implied reluctance to share further details.

Curiosity peaked, you probed, "But come on, tell me! Who is he? You know I won't tell!"

 She hesitated before speaking again, seemingly caught between excitement and fear. "His name is Cillian," she finally revealed, and your chin dropped.

"It's not Cillian Murphy though, is it?" you clarified, thinking of the renowned Irish actor who portrayed one of your favourite TV characters, namely Thomas Shelby. 

"Jepp," she replied simply, confirming your suspicion.

"Oh my god...Cillian Murphy? Is he actually single enough to do that kind of thing? Like wow..." you couldn't help feeling shocked. Even considering you hadn't met him personally, there was undeniable respect and admiration attached to Cillian's image as he tried to stay out of the tabloids as much as possible. 

"Well yeah, apparently he filed for divorce two weeks ago. Weird timing, right?" Emma said, looking almost surprised herself before you took up the courage to probe her with more questions.

"So, you actually had full on sex with them both? At the same time? In the same room?" 

Your head swam with visions of those three intertwined bodies, imagining the erotic chaos taking place beneath the sheets. "Wasn't it weird?" you then asked. You had so many questions.

"Yes, we had sex at the same time and it was crazy," Emma admitted, smiling mischievously. "And no, it didn't feel weird at all. It was exciting, surprisingly so."

Her frankness startled you somewhat, used to living within societal norms, yet also fascinated by how freely Emma discussed these experiences. Perhaps it was because of your conservative background that she never judged your naïveté regarding intimacy.

"I mean, Cillian Murphy is pretty fucking hot, so I do not blame you," you said, catching yourself off guard with your sudden audacity.

Emma laughed lightheartedly. "You want details don't you?" Emma teased, already aware of your insatiable curiosity. Your cheeks flushed crimson in embarrassment, partly due to her keen observation, partly due to the explicit nature of our conversation.

"Yes, of course," you stammered nervously, clearing your throat. You could barely look at Emma straight in the eye anymore, instead fixating on the ground, afraid that your face might betray you completely.

"What do you want to know about?" Emma continued, unperturbed.

"Everything. All the dirty details," you confessed honestly, unable to suppress your voyeurism any longer. "I mean, did they both, you know, at the same time, you know..." you stammered, wondering whether they simply took turns or penetrated her at the same time.

"Put their dicks in me?" Emma laughed, seeing how shy and embarrassed you were, causing you to nod.

She proceeded, "Yes, eventually. They took turns first but then both of them wanted to be with me at once. At first, I thought it was a bit awkward, but after getting comfortable, it became thrilling and liberating." 

You chin dropped, speechless. How could someone like Cillian Murphy be entangled in such debauchery? 

"You look really shocked right now," observed Emma, watching your expression carefully. "Is it because I told you or because of who it was with?" 

Though you were tempted to ask about Jamie, your mind remained fixated on Cillian. As far as you were concerned, he was practically handsome. To think he was capable of participating in these types of wild escapades was surreal. 

"A bit of both," you responded, half questioning and half affirming, hoping she wouldn't sense your growing interest.

"You know, he is single and I could get Jamie to introduce you sometime, maybe. If you want to meet him," she added nonchalantly, as if suggesting dinner plans. 

This left you stunned momentarily. You considered the possibility, envisioning yourself engaging in similar carnal acts.

"I don't think so, no... I mean, I am not like you," you protested timidly, attempting to regain composure. 

"I think you are thinking too much about moral standards which are absurd concepts, developed by society to control people and maintain certain order," Emma chuckled, referring to your prudish nature.

"Cillian is single and he was clearly intrigued by what Jamie and I have going, because it is simple. There is no hassle. No feelings. Only pure physical satisfaction. That's the arrangement between us. No strings attached. And he takes care of me financially which is really helpful seeing that I am, just like you, a student with a huge student debt," Emma went on matter-of-factly.

"That sounds nice," you commented, trying to understand why Emma would agree to being part of such arrangements without seeking a deeper connection. "But, don't you find it degrading sometimes?"

Emma gave you a sidelong glance, understanding perfectly well where your concerns stemmed from. "No, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with having sex for personal gain, especially when consent is given mutually. Despite, I actually really enjoy the sex. It's different than anything else, more intense and raw - and I feel closer to myself afterwards. There's just something powerful about it, you know? Sometimes I wonder how long this will go on, but then I remember that as long as everyone gets what they need, nobody gets hurt. This keeps everything simple and fair game, which suits me fine.”

You listened quietly, struggling to process all the information. It was difficult to imagine Emma – sweet, innocent Emma – as someone who enjoyed these kinds of arrangements. Yet somehow, hearing her describe it made it sound logical, even reasonable.

After all, money was tight for students. If consensual adults found pleasure in such arrangements, why should anyone judge them? You understood why Jamie paid for expenses in return for sexual favors – he wanted to compensate Emma for services rendered, plain and simple. Still, you marveled at how easily she glossed over potential consequences associated with such liaisons.

She always had nice, expensive things nowadays, clothes and shoes alike and she spent most nights with him, having fun and enjoying her life.

Their lifestyle seemed enviably easy and carefree compared to yours, stuck with heavy books and a mountain of debts piled high. Maybe it was worth exploring, you mused fleetingly. Still, you knew deep down inside that this wasn't the path you wanted to take. The idea felt morally corrupt, and it terrified you.

Back in reality, however, the fact still remained that you lacked the confidence needed to approach someone like Cillian Murphy let alone sleep with him. You were too scared of rejection and failure.

It was hard to believe that someone like Cillian Murphy could ever give you the attention you desired. Besides, it wasn’t as if you would suddenly become desirable just because you slept with him. Deep down, you worried that you weren't good enough. Your insecurities consumed you. However, the more you talked to Emma, the more curious you grew. How would it feel to be with such a person? What would happen during the act itself? Would they dominate you entirely? Or perhaps be gentle? So many questions filled your mind as you tried to grasp onto reality.

"Maybe dinner would be alright. I mean, nothing bad can come from meeting new people, right?" You countered cautiously, your heart racing slightly. Meeting someone like Cillian Murphy was indeed exciting, yet nerve-wracking simultaneously.

"Right. I will organise it then!" Emma said excitedly and, to you, agreeing to meet Cillian Murphy felt monumental, almost surreal.

You couldn't help feeling excited, hopeful that he would notice you among others and throughout the night, you couldn't stop reflecting upon the encounter with Emma. Her stories sparked countless fantasies that tormented your imagination, leaving you eager to experience pleasures beyond conventional boundaries. Even though it meant facing risks and challenges outside your comfort zone, the prospect of indulging in passionate encounters captivated you.

After all, hadn't dreaming been harmless until it turned into reality? Confronting your fears allowed you to grow stronger. As you sipped on another cup of coffee, lost in thought, Emma noticed your contemplation.

"So, are you really really sure?" Emma asked, seeing how nervous you were already. 

"Yes. It's just dinner, right?" you said and Emma chuckled and agreed.

"Yes, but these things can lead to more. There is no pressure though," Emma reassured you as a mischievous grin spread across her lips.

"Exactly," you nodded vigorously, although doubts crept into your head when you looked up his soon to be ex-wife and the women he had dated before, all of whom were extremely attractive. 

How could anyone possibly compete against those women? Why would he bother with somebody like me? These negative thoughts flooded your brain but nevertheless, you decided to push through these anxieties. After all, life was full of surprises and opportunities. Who knows, you may end up liking each other!

"Alright, we're doing this, then. Let's see where it leads," you confirmed firmly, looking determined despite your lingering insecurities.

Emma grinned broadly, pleased with your decision as she picked up the phone and called Jamie. 

To be continued....

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[ohmyglobwhatthefrickamievendoing]

dj saying izzy was like a father figure to ed & then trying to connect that to ed killing his actual father is insane but specially, specially, when you remember that last episode stede & izzy had a pretty obvious moment where they came to an understanding about what it's like to be in love with the same man

that's not the kind of conversation and look you share with your ex's father figure. It's the one you share with your ex's ex while you're both still in love with him

Then the episode before that they kept cutting from stede&ed having sex to izzy singing a love song?

And the episode before that izzy stuttered and hesitantly asked stede what ed's been saying about him??

I know found families can have parental figures whom you may still feel a sexual and/or romantic attraction to, but at no point did either season ever show such a relationship between the two. I guess if you want to reach for it you could say that in early S1 there are times when izzy tries to look out for ed & guide him but even stede (fucking stede) clocks them as 'old married couple nearing the final stages of their divorce'

You could on a technicality apply the 'mentor dies at the end' trope to izzy but that's only if you assume that izzy's somewhat significantly older than ed and so probably looked out for ed at some point when they were working under hornigold together, which again is never shown in their dynamic (the only mention we get of it is through stede but I'm almost certain that most of what stede said was just him buttering up izzy to get him to train stede)

I feel like rather than 'father-figure/mentor dies at the end' it gives more 'even as we try to move on our existences are inseparably linked to each other and you're the last part of my old life that needs to die before I can finally be free to change and we both know that, even as it hurts' Yeah yeah izzy deserved to live a happy life away from blackbeard's influence the same way ed deserves to live a happy life away from izzy's (and I really wish he could have) but they've been unhealthily connected from the beginning (much more obvious in S2 seeing how neither of them could bare to get rid of the other's body) and it makes sense that eventually that's the trope & ending izzy fell into

point being:

david jenkins, sir, i respect your writing and love your show but that was absolutely NOT what was going on there

Izzy wanted to get fucked nasty but Ed's a bottom so it never worked out

[fredwkong]

Virgo Season: Blaine

Blaine just wanted this long nightmare of a conference over. There were still events on the schedule, but there were only a few of Pastor Blanco’s adherents left at the Astra Hotel. The incident in the conference hall had confirmed for the few remaining normal people that ordinary men were being transformed into depraved freaks.

Blaine had known for over a week now. That was why he hadn’t been attending any events. He had watched his friend, Spencer, become infected by whatever force was changing the men in the Astra.

Blaine and Spencer had been evangelists in Houston their whole lives, managers of adjoining branches in the movement. Friends since childhood, it had just made sense that they came to a conference as important as Pastor Blanco’s together and had rooms next to each other. They shared meals and compared notes on the proceedings after the events. It was a joke between them that Blaine and Spencer were closer to each other than either of them were to their wives.

The difference between them was that Spencer was much more aggressive about evangelising. From the instant that the freaks had first appeared in the Astra Hotel, Blaine had known they were beyond help, not worth the time and effort to save. But Spencer had doggedly persisted, striking up conversations with the youngest, most impressionable-looking queers whenever he could. It had seemed harmless, so Blaine hadn’t said anything.

But one morning, Spencer walked out of his room in leather pants. He had just said they were “comfortable,” but the Spencer Blaine knew would never have worn something like that. And he’d had what looked like a tattoo peeking out from his shirtsleeves.

That night, Spencer had begged off their usual debrief of the day’s events. Blaine had noticed he’d seemed uncomfortable during a bunch of the presentations, but didn’t want to ask about it. Instead, still in those tight leather pants, Spencer had strutted out of Blaine’s hotel room and gotten in the elevator, headed God knows where.

The next morning, an unrecognisable leatherman had stepped out of Spencer’s room, and Blaine had just known, with cold certainty, that this man had been Spencer before.

Since then, Blaine had barely left his room. He had tried to move up his flight, even considered driving back to Houston, but he couldn’t bring himself to commit. What if he could still do something to save Spencer? Blaine had never put much stock in exorcisms or purification rituals, but something dark and supernatural was clearly happening here.

Surfing the internet, Blaine had stumbled on some kind of strange ritual meant to purify someone who had lost themselves to false worship. After days of little sleep and intense anxiety, Blaine was willing to try anything.

Just as he collected the items he would need and began to steel himself to leave his room and knock on Spencer’s door, a note was pushed under Blaine’s door. He went and picked it up.

Miss u man. Can we talk? —Spence

Spencer—Spence—answered his door at Blaine’s first knock. It was midafternoon, and he seemed to be dressed down, compared to when Blaine had last seen him. Loose button-up shirt open to his toned belly, sleeves rolled up to show intricate forearm tattoos, looser leather pants. Blaine found himself cataloguing Spence as he followed the man into his hotel room. He had something of Spencer’s gait, his height and age, but Spence took up space. He was all angles and sex appeal, unlike Spencer, who women had always described as safe and cuddly. Unlike Blaine, for whom the compliment had always been that he was “conscientious.”

“What’s up?” said Spence in a deeper, louder voice than Blaine was used to, sitting down on the bed and spreading his legs. “I feel like it’s been ages since I saw you. Did getting a few days off from the convention help?”

It was now or never. Blaine flung a handful of salt in Spence’s face, opened his Bible to the marked passage, and started to read aloud. His hand shook so much that half the salt poured down his own clothes.

Spence looked down at himself, brushing salt grains off his shirt. “What the hell, dude? Is this, like, some roleplay thing?” He suddenly smirked. “Ooh, like an uptight evangelist getting seduced by a hot, hedonistic leatherman? That sounds pretty hot.”

Blaine tried to tune Spence out and keep reading. It was hard. Spence laid himself out on his mattress, as if he was bound spreadeagle. He seemed to know exactly how to pose himself to show off his thick, hairy chest through the gap in his shirt. He grinned up as Blaine kept reading.

“Father,” Spence said, “are you sure you wanna preach to me? I got a sermon you might like, too.” He thrust his hips a bit, showing off a thick bulge.

Why was Blaine’s mouth watering? He refocussed on reading. He knew these words off by heart, they were automatic. He’d missed Spence so much this last week. Instead of trying to exorcise him, he wanted to give the shorter man a hug. He wanted to let his hands run down Spence’s body, to that tight ass in his leather pants. Give that bulge a squeeze, maybe a lick…

It was so warm in this room. Still reading from his Bible, Blaine efficiently stripped off his dress shirt. He and Spence had seen each other like this back when they were roommates in college. Anyway, Spence seemed to appreciate the view, biting his lip as Blaine bared his body. It was normal, just a step in the process. Soon, Blaine would have Spence back to normal.

“Damn, Father, when’d you get those tattoos?” Spence asked. “Looking more like a Daddy than a Father.”

Confused, Blaine glanced away from the page, still speaking the words aloud. His arms holding up the Bible looked unfamiliar. Muscular, coated in hair, and covered in tattoos. As Blaine began to speak the next verse, he watched the transformation push further up his biceps. They rounded out with thick muscle, a layer of fine black hair, and an interlacing network of tattoos.

Spence was looking at Blaine like he wanted to eat him alive. Why was Blaine the one changing? Why was he still reading? Blaine tried to stop, but the words continued to flow. Horrified, he flung the Bible away, but still continued to recite the verses from memory.

The tattoos and muscle continued to spread, filling out Blaine’s shoulders as thick hair grew in his armpits, spreading a virile, masculine scent as Blaine sweat in the heat. His chest and belly bulked up with muscle and fat. His reciting voice deepened as the change rushed up his neck and over his head. His face became more masculine as piercings appeared in his brows, his hair receded, and wide gauges appeared in his ears.

His pants felt so tight. Blaine found himself unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down his growing legs, watching in horror as the tattoos followed the muscles and hair right down to his ankles. Hadn’t he been wearing underwear before? Why was he commando? Why was his thick cock getting hard?

Blaine rested a hand at the base of his cock as he kept on reciting. He wanted to run right out of the Astra Hotel, but found his feet rooted to the spot. He couldn’t even control his face enough to cry or grimace, just continued to blankly recite the Bible at Spence.

Spence flipped around on the bed, presenting his leather-clad ass to Blaine as he watched the transformation over his shoulder. “Yes, Daddy,” he said, giving his ass a slap to try and encourage Blaine. “No need for an annoying church controlling you when all you gotta worship is this ass.”

Had Blaine somehow turned his ritual on himself? He couldn’t help but agree with Spence that the church could be pretty controlling, plus Spence did have a pretty nice ass. Blaine found himself drooling at the sight. It wasn’t that weird. He and Spence had been so close all their lives, and Spence had always been such a showoff sex fiend. It was what had gotten Blaine out from under the thumb of the church back in college…

Something about that thought didn’t feel right, but it all seemed correct in Blaine’s memories. Being Spence’s roommate had unlocked thoughts and feelings for Blaine that he’d never known he had. His sexual life, spiritual independence, their shared love for leather, it had all come from college.

Blaine ground out the next verse, shifting his footing as he started to stroke his big cock at the sight of Spence’s hot ass presented just for him. He was almost done the recitation. Why had he decided to roleplay this again? He’d just wanted a break from the kink conference, and a chance to have his husband of twenty years all to himself.

Finally, Blaine finished reciting the Bible verses. All that time spent memorising the Bible back in his misspent youth definitely helped this kind of roleplay. Fully “corrupted” by Spence, transformed into Daddy instead of Father, Blaine threw himself onto the bed and yanked Spence’s pants down with a single motion of his strong, tattooed arms. Spence moaned as Blaine dove into his ass, eating him out with the passion of a demon.

After they’d both cum all over the sheets, Blaine and Spence lay next to each other. “You ready to head back down, babe?” Spence asked. “I think Dan’s hosting a dom/sub workshop in the conference hall.”

“That sounds fuckin’ awesome,” Blaine slurred, half asleep. “Go find our caps.”

His husband always had the best ideas. He loved Spence so much.

Click here to see all of Virgo Season.

If you feel inspired, write a story set at the Astra Hotel and post it @ me to join in. Help me celebrate my birthday by turning more conference attendees into geared up gay kinksters.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Soul Breaker

Dewdrop/Sodo x Transmasc!Reader

Months after your first encounter with Dewdrop's demonic form, you convinced your lover to let a second hunt begin. But, in the shadow of night, who is truly hunting whom?

Masterlist ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissioned by @dantesunbreaker

Words: 6.6k

Reading Time: 27 min.

Warnings: biting, bondage, degradation, dubcon, fingering, forced bondage, frottage, graphic descriptions of blood, graphic descriptions of injury, hand job, knotting, masturbation, marking, moderate violence, monster fucking, mutual masturbation, no aftercare, pain kink, PIV sex, power play, spit as lube, tsundere!Dew (kinda), unprotected sex (keep it cool, use a tool, you horny fuckers), vaginal sex

Taglist: @dantesunbreaker @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins from that night all those weeks ago - the way Dew instilled a fear in you that you’d never felt before, and how you were dying to feel it again. Your love life with Dew was never dull, even when he was in his human form, but there was something about the way he commanded your body, the control he had and the way he felt when he used your body for his own pleasure in his demonic form. Dew had fucked you since then, of course, the two of you could never leave it that long. But, and it pained you to admit it, it just wasn’t the same.

Human Dew was, for lack of a better term, an angel. He was the sweetest person in the Ministry - so kind and so thoughtful, and a stereotypical gentleman. He never overstepped any boundaries, never made you feel unsafe or unloved, and always put your pleasure first. But you’d seen the monster, the demon that had become unleashed and untamed in the light of the moon, who had pinned you down and made you take everything he wanted to give you. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, your hand moving down to play with yourself each and every time your mind decided to take you back to that night, when you were stuffed so full of demon dick and crying out for a mercy that never came. You couldn’t help yourself, needing to work yourself to completion at the thought of it happening again.

But nothing in the Ministry was stronger than Dew’s resolve. The man was more stubborn than a mule, and once he’d set his mind to something, that was it. There was almost no changing that. You’d tried to have these conversations with him, but they always ended the same way.

“I want to keep you safe, ___.” He told you, pleading with you to let this go. “Look at what happened last time.” He was making himself a coffee during this conversation, frustratedly slamming utensils down every time you refused to listen to him.

“Nothing happened last time.” You protested.

“You were scared!”

“That was half the fun!”

“You got caught.”

“Because I went to that cabin. If I’d have stayed in the Ministry, I probably would have gotten away from you.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t.”

“I… could have done worse.” His voice was quiet that time, eyes averting yours because he couldn’t bring himself to look at you, and expose his true feelings.

You put your hand on his, gently comforting him. You rested your back against your kitchen counter, accidentally half-pinning yourself between it and him. “But you didn’t. Believe me, there was nothing you could have possibly done that I wouldn’t have enjoyed.”

He finally looked at you. “You really enjoyed it that much?”

“Yes! It was different from what you usually do… more ferocious. Normally, you’re so kind and restrained. Still the best I’ve ever had, amazing and wonderful. But that night? You were so rough with me…” Your voice dropped lower as you recounted everything you felt and loved about that night. “You were feral for me, like you’d kill anyone who stopped you from getting to me, like you’d die if you didn’t fuck me. Being desired like that… it-”

Dew could hear the labour in your breath, how just remembering that night was turning you on again. He could practically smell your slick dripping from your slit, and he’d be lying if he said he couldn’t feel his resolve crushing. “Felt good?” He asked, eyes widened and pupils blown.

You lifted your monastic habit and guided his hand to your sex, letting him feel your wetness for himself. “It felt incredible.”

“Fuck.”

The truth was, Dew could remember everything. too. It was like being drunk on a night out and waking up the next morning. He wasn’t entirely in control, but he remembered everything. How your hole welcomed him easily, how your body gave no resistance when he finally took you on the floor of that cabin, fucking the most delicious noises out of you with each pounding you took. How his cock had fucked you so dumb, you could barely comprehend anything besides the way he plunged into you over and over again, and how incredible his ridges felt dragging against your insides. He remembered how your walls fluttered around his length with each filthy word that tumbled from his mouth. And he was getting harder and harder the more he remembered, and the wetter he felt you become.

His skin heated up when he heard a small whimper coming from your mouth, realising that his finger had begun rubbing over your sweet spot, drawing wanton breaths from your lungs. He was fully erect now, his Ghoul uniform tenting significantly at the pressure that was being put on it.

“Y-you want it again, huh?” Dew asked breathlessly, his fingers working you faster.

“Mhm. Want you t-to fuck me dumb again, use my - fuck - use my body to get yourself off.”

Dew captured you in a rough kiss, his tongue immediately sliding down your throat in pure desperation, his composure almost completely lost to the fantasy. You fiddled with his pants, freeing him completely. You spit onto your hand and rubbed it over his shaft before stroking him languidly, concentrating your hand on the head. He purred at the feeling, allowing his hips to buck into your fingers. But eventually, it became too much for him.

He pushed both of your hands out the way and lined himself up with your centre, rubbing against your folds. With each grind against your nerves, your mouth opened wider, head tipping back in pleasure and allowing Dew enough space to bury his head in the crook of your neck. His own moans were muffled by your flesh, more so once his tongue came out and laved at your skin, his moustache tickling you with each graze. Your hands moved to his back, pulling him closer and closer against your body, feeling your wetness slide all over him and only heightening the sensation.

“I t-touch my… self to the thought of it all the ti-ime.” You confessed, one hand tangling in his long hair. His rocking hips became more frantic as he heard your words, your own whimpers reaching directly into his ears and making him lose his mind. He pictured it, you in the shower going at yourself, thinking about his demonic cock railing you from behind.

You felt his teeth graze your skin, and begin to nibble at the flesh, your hole clenching around nothing so needily, you wanted to scream.

“Let me f-feel you again like that, Dew. Please.”

“Y-you wanna feel my fucking demon cock pound you into the floor again, hm? You’re th-that fucking desperate for it, you’re gonna beg… beg me?”

“W-wanna feel you again so fucking b-bad!”

His hips sputtered when he came, his seed spilling all over the bottom of your ass cheeks, folds and thighs. His teeth sunk into you, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark there for at least a few days. He cried out, his sounds quietened by your neck but still loud enough to travel straight down to your core. You came shortly after, the erratic thrusts providing you with just enough extra stimulation to tip you over the edge, your fingernails digging into Dew’s uniform and clutching on tightly as you came undone around him.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, kissing your red flesh and taking a step back.

You looked at him hopefully, wide eyed and wishing he’d give you the answer you wanted to hear.

“___.” He grumbled. “I love you, and that’s why I don’t think I can put you through that again.”

“Dew, you just came to the thought of it. You know it’s-”

“I know!” He sighed. “I know. Just… let me think on it, okay?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Although, you wished you never said that. By the time the next shift happened, Dew, as usual, stayed behind in the music room while the rest of the Ghouls changed and frolicked about in the forest. There were a further two changes before you’d grown tired of waiting.

Dew had been more forthcoming about talking his shift through, however, more often than not reminiscing on the last shift and detailing exactly how good you looked bouncing off his monster cock. You both fucked each other regularly to that memory, talking about it during sex and riling each other up. At one point, Dew even had you beg for his demonic form while you were riding him, feeling disappointed at the difference in girth between his human form and demonic form, remembering just how. Fucking. Good it felt. He was becoming more and more receptive to it, but every time you asked, he would just tell you he needed more time.

The Ghoulettes were the first to pick up on your frustration, and were the first to confront you about it. Cumulus, Cirrus and Aurora sitting you down in the cafeteria one break time and handing you a drink, practically pulling the information out of you. Although, to be fair to them, it wasn’t hard for you to share it. They listened carefully to every word, nodding and dropping the odd noise of understanding to show you that they were truly listening.

You sighed once you’d completed your tale of woe, and took a sip of your drink. “And now we’re here.” You concluded.

“I mean, it’s understandable why he doesn’t want to do it.” Cirrus began. “You’re human, you can’t fight him off if things go wrong. I’m not even sure if we could.”

The Ghoulettes laughed at this, but they were right. Dew had spent centuries down in Hell, long before everyone else had even been thought of. Whenever any of the Ghouls used to rough and tumble with him, he’d beat them with ease - one arm tied behind his back kind of ease. It came as no surprise to Cirrus at least, when Dew stopped shifting into his demonic form. She may have been on his side for that, but she could at least agree with Aurora when she said that Dew was leading you on a bit.

“Do you think he’ll come round to the idea eventually?” You asked, feeling despair grapple at your bones.

“I wouldn’t like to say, kiddo.” Cumulus responded. “But, if he’s playing around with you like this, then I wouldn’t be surprised if he did come around sooner rather than later.”

“You’re just really going to have to convince him.” Aurora chimed in, before taking a sip of her own drink.

You sighed again. “And how could I convince an ancient demon to change his mind and fuck me within an inch of my life?”

The people around you stopped what they were doing and stared at you, a mixture of amusement and confusion etched on their faces. You smiled at them in response, but honestly, you were too frustrated with your demonic lover to care if anyone heard, or was offended by what you had to say.

Cirrus shook her head and rolled her eyes, especially when Aurora lost her mind with the hilarity of the situation. “Look,” she began, making an effort to quieten her voice and stop other people from overhearing her. “The way I see it, you have two choices: you either let him have his way and not go forward with the whole scenario again. Or you find a way to prove to him that you can take it and defend yourself against any attacks he may throw your way.”

“But how?” You asked, now becoming frustrated with your friends.

Cumulus raised her eyebrows. When she spoke, she did so slowly and carefully. “Well, now that we’re not on tour, some of us have some free time. What about we help build your strength up a little? Get you primed and ready to take that dick.”

Cirrus sighed, “We’re not getting one of the Ghouls to fuck him. Dew would have our heads.”

“No, no! Just ‘wrestling’ as the humans like to call it. Training. We throw ourselves at him, starting from worst to best, and then that way he’ll have a fighting chance against Dew if and when Dew finally comes around.”

Aurora nodded. “I like this plan.”

“This is a great plan.” You agreed.

“Yeah, until he gets hurt and Dew comes for our throats. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t have a death wish.” Cirrus commented.

You thought for a moment. “Dew doesn’t have to know.”

“___, you’re going to go back to him with bruises all over your body and he’s going to get really suspicious. Imagine what that’s going to look like if you don’t tell him - or even worse, you stop sleeping with him.”

“He respects my boundaries - if I tell him I don’t want to sleep with him then he’ll let me be.”

Cumulus clapped her hands together. “That’s settled then! Your first day will be with Aurora tomorrow!”

“Hey!” Aurora exclaimed. “Why me?”

“You’re the worst fighter, dummy.”

Cirrus nodded. “She has a point.”

Aurora hissed, bearing her fangs at her friends. “Fine.” She humphed. “I’ll see you tomorrow in the gym, pipsqueak!” She said to you, her voice petulant and childish, but bearing no ill-will. “Get ready for me to kick your human ass!”

“Bring it on, psycho.” You challenged, laughing at her when she threw a middle finger at you.

Training with the Ghouls went about exactly well as you thought it would to begin with. You were like a fish out of water, fucking up at every turn and ending up on your ass more times than you could count. It took you a while to get used to the ebb and flow of how each of them fought - each one going for a completely different style and throwing you off centre the moment you changed Ghoul, but eventually you got the hang of it. And while you didn’t win many of the fights, you were still learning and would one day be able to apply all of this to whenever Dew got sick and tired of you pestering him. But you were still by no means ready to face him yet.

You couldn’t say exactly how long it took you to get the hang of life with the Ghouls, learning everything you could from them in order to keep yourself as safe as possible the next time Dew hunted you for gratification. But it wasn’t just fighting techniques that they put in your arsenal. It was knowledge, valuable demon-hunting information that would come in handy and subdue Dew - not hurt him… much. But, as Cumulus said, after the length of time he led you on for, he deserved at least a little pain. And the pervert would probably appreciate it, too. Silver was the main vantage point for you. In demonic form, anything silver would sting the Ghoul like an electric shock would sting a human. Enough to stun him yet not powerful enough to do any permanent damage.

Your plan was simple: lure him back out to the cabin, tie him to a chair and wait until sunrise. This time, you’d win. You were sure of it.

You caught Dew just after practice one day while he was making his way to the cafeteria for some much needed nourishment. He was so pleased to see you, welcoming you into a warm embrace and kissing the top of your head. “Hello, my love.” He said, his voice chipper and comforting. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“No, I have about thirty minutes to kill so I thought I’d come and surprise you.” You announced through a beaming smile of your own, except yours was hiding something slightly more sinister than it should be.

Dew, however, wasn’t dumb. He knew something had to be up with you because you rarely, if ever, did this. “What do you want?”

You feigned offense. “Can a man not visit his boyfriend without a little suspicion? Honestly…” Dew remained silent but continued to stare at you. You sighed. “I was hoping you thought on the whole ‘demon shifting’ thing. It’s been so long now - I just want a definitive yes or no at this point.”

“___.” Dew groaned, his annoyance present with the tone he used. “I asked for time.”

“Dew, you’ve had time. Two shifts to be exact. It’s not fair for you to leave me hanging on like this. Just one more chance is all I ask for. It’s going to be fine, I promise you.”

“You can’t promise that - you don’t know.”

“I do know. I know that even last time, while you were in demon form, I wasn’t physically injured in any capacity, not even by you. If I fail this time, then I promise to never ask again. You won’t hear a peep out of me about it. But we both really enjoyed that night, and I want us to enjoy it again. Please?”

Dew hesitated, lost in his own head about his answer. You could see that he wanted to say yes - you knew he wanted to. All those late night fucks based solely around those few hours proved that he did. But he was still scared, still very unsure of himself when it came to his shifting and your safety. You could see the cogs in his head turning, figuring out any kind of contingencies that would help him not hurt you. But eventually, he groaned, “Fine.” Clearly apprehensive about giving his consent but did so anyway. “But, you have to promise me that you’ll call for backup this time if you need it. I want your phone on you at all times. I’ll ask them to come running when you call, okay?”

“Yes!” You celebrated. “I promise!” You leaned forward and gave him a kiss, “Thank you!”

A week later, after everything had been sorted out, the hunt was on.

You were given a minute head start just the same as last time, and so, you decided to waste none of it. This time, you were actively trying to lure him back to the cabin given that now you had items there to help you win, which now you had to. The stakes weren’t the same now - now they were much, much higher. This time, yes, it was done for some lewd reasons, but Dew’s mental health was also on the line - as was his relationship with his shifted self. Tonight had to go your way - or who knew what could happen.

This time, you remembered about his heightened sense of smell. You remembered that he could track you no matter what you did or how well you hid from him, because your clothes were exactly the same. So, hiding wasn’t much of an option - running and leaving your scent on random walls and doors was, while actively trying to avoid touching anything that could give you away completely.

You’d already made your way down to the kitchens by the time Dew had the faintest idea where you’d be. You’d kept the kitchen’s door unlocked before this all began so you could have an easy and fast escape, so you’d quickly but quietly crept downstairs and snuck into the room. Just as empty as you thought it would be. With confident steps, you wandered over to the door and pressed down on the handle.

Locked.

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t supposed to be locked. You specifically remember running in after the last member of staff and unlocking the door again. So how could this be possible? You turned to where the key would usually sit and found it missing. In a panic, you began to search through the drawer of keys and frantically (and noisily) began your search. Your heart raced with each key that you pushed to the side, fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the handle and trying other keys in the lock that looked vaguely similar. But to no avail. The kitchen door key was missing - and you were the last one to touch it. Never mind surviving tonight, you wouldn’t survive tomorrow if Sister Imperator found out about this.

“Looking for this?”

Sharp chills ran down your spine at the sound of Dew’s voice, deep and hoarse from all the gowling he’d been doing back upstairs in his frustration over losing you. You turned quickly to find him standing there, a smug grin on his dark face exposing his white fangs to you. In his right hand, he held the key you were searching for, jingling as he shook it to emphasise his point. “I have to hand it to you,” he said tauntingly, teasingly, “You seem to be a lot more organised than last time. Trying your best, but it just isn’t good enough, is it, little one?”

“Go to Hell.” You hissed, pressing yourself into the corner of the counter and the door as Dew began taking small steps towards you.

“Been there, done that. Got the burns to prove it. Maybe I can take you there tonight, hm?”

He was incredibly close to you now, the door key only within a lose grasp. You looked at it once, then trained your eyes on his face, trying to make your plan not seem obvious. If you were fast enough, you could snatch it out of his hand, stun him, and be out of the kitchen door before he was able to recover.

“Maybe,” he continued, “I can burn you with Hellfire, too. Play a little game while you’re singing so beautifully for me.”

You stole a glance at the opposite door where Dew and yourself entered the room. Then you stole another.

Dew chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated in your ears and made your heart beat faster in fear. “I wouldn’t even think about it, my love. Do you really think you can reach that door with me boxing you in?”

“I don’t need that door.”

Before Dew had the chance to ask what you meant, you grabbed the key from his hands and, with all the strength you had in you, pushed him back a few feet, knocking him into the island counter and hitting his side. That would bruise in the morning. Because you were trying so hard to be faster, you were fumbling with the lock which wasted so much of that precious time you were hoping to save. But, eventually, you managed to unlock the door and throw it open so you could launch yourself out of it. You felt Dew’s hand on your arm, stopping you from leaving and tripping you up in your struggle to get away from him, making you land on the soft and freshly fallen snow. He was able to clamber on top of you, pinning you into the ground again, a sadistic smile on his lips.

“Gonna fuck all that fight out of you, you little shit!” He exclaimed as he started pressing all his weight onto your body.

You kept fighting him, your brain momentarily forgetting everything you’d learned with the other Ghouls, but once you recalled what you needed, you bucked your hips up, pushing him upwards over your body, wrapped your arms around his middle and flipped him off you, using that moment of brief bewilderment to make your escape. This time, you were successful.

“You cunt!” You heard him shout as you made your way through the snow-covered grounds and into the forest, determination and adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m gonna fucking get you. You better hope I never catch your sorry ass!”

It wasn’t long until you heard his footsteps crunching in the snow behind you, catching up to you just as quickly as he did the first night. But he only gained a great deal of distance when the cabin was in reach. With Dew almost immediately behind you, you threw the cabin door wide open, but never had the chance to close it again. Dew’s hand came in between the door and the frame, pushing it open further and sending you back into the centre of the room.

“Bringing us here again, hm? I’m not entirely convinced you’re as smart as you make out to be. Trapping yourself here with me a second time. You didn’t forget what I did to you, did you? How I took your body exactly how I wanted it.”

“Please don’t hurt me.” You pleaded with him, backing yourself up to the middle of the room and luring him further inside. You slowly made your way towards the chair that you’d already set up, trying not to make your plan too obvious. If Dew had figured you out, he didn’t say anything.

“Hurt you?” He laughed. “Oh my sweet, naive little boy. I’m not gonna hurt you - but I will make you scream.”

As he moved closer to you, he backed you up to the chair and grabbed hold of your wrist. “I’ll claim my prize now.” He told you, sitting onto the chair and pulling you onto his lap. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, given your monastic habit was still in the way, but he’d unknowingly pout himself right where you wanted him anyway, so you didn’t make any fuss at all. Letting him think that he’d won was perfect. He didn’t suspect a thing.

As quickly as your body could muster, you reached blow the chair and pulled out the chunky, silver chain that you’d stowed underneath it, realizing that the window of opportunity was closing more rapidly than you’d initially anticipated. The one hand of his that had been wrapped around your wrist was the first to be bound in the chain. He tried to buck you off him at the pain and escape imminent confinement, but you’d been much faster than him, and as pushing all of your weight onto his body, making it almost impossible for him to actually escape. Then, you wrapped the chain around the back bars of the chair a few times before turning your attention to his other hand.

Tying the second hand was a lot trickier than the first, because this time he’d regained a little more of his strength and was fighting back against you. He clawed at your skin, trying to get you to back off him and give him the chance to escape, but despite it all, somehow, you managed to get his second hand tied and secured behind the chair, like a prisoner detained by the mafia. He was secured, and the silver ensured he’d not be able to escape you.

You got off him and stood back, surveying your work and making sure everything was tight enough to keep him restrained, but lose enough that he wouldn’t be in constant pain, before heading to the cabin door, closing it, and locking it. Victory had sunk in, and your confidence had skyrocketed. “Maybe you should think twice about following people into cabins so far away from any help.” You taunted. The look on his face was incredible - he was livid.

“Let me go right now, or I swear to the Dark Lord himself I’ll personally rearrange your insides.” The hissed through gritted teeth.

The shift in power dynamics was enough to make your body come alive with excitement, the tension coiling in your stomach and sending blood rushing to your core. In that moment, looking at him helpless, angry, and a little afraid - you understood it. You saw why his demonic form liked tormenting you during these games. The power was going straight to your head and fuelling your desire to have your way with him, tied to that chair, helpless and practically begging for your touch.

You smiled, “I think I’ll claim my prize now.” You echoed his words from before, watching as his eyes widened when he realized your intentions.

He had never been in that position before: he’d never had to sit or lie there and take it. Usually he was the one dishing it out and it made him feel powerful, it made him feel Satan’s affections were justified because his strength was valuable. But now, he was tied with a silver chain to a chair, watching a mortal remove his habit and reveal his naked body, a naked body Dew loved to ravish, but usually as the party in charge. Despite all of this, he couldn’t help his cock growing at the sight of you climbing back onto his lap, your bare sex rubbing over his clothed length, getting him harder and more prepared for you by the second - and the prospect of you using him this time, of course. He closed his eyes and bit back his moan as you rutted against his centre, trying not to let it show just how good you were starting to make him feel - but it was obvious by the way he went completely silent, purposefully biting his lip just to make his point.

“Poor thing,” you teased, your tone taking on a condescending tone, “can’t do anything about it, can you? Have to sit there and take the humiliation of being bested and fucked by a human.” You chuckled and leaned forward, taking his ear between your teeth and biting gently. This allowed your bare shoulder to reach his mouth, which he took advantage of and bit down upon. It was a soft bite, around the same force he’d usually use when he was in his human form. Though, the sharpness of his fangs made a small trail of blood slip from the would, causing you to jump back. You looked at the wound before turning back to him, grasping his chin in your hand so that his chin was resting on the curve of your thumb as it swooped up to join the rest of your hand. “Am I going to have to gag you as well, or can we keep our fangs to ourselves?”

The power really was going to your head. There you were, condescending an ancient demon who could rip you in half with the same effort as a human would snap a toothpick, and yet the whole time you had a confidence befitting a colonizing Englishman - you were, in that moment, invincible. So what harm could it do to poke the bear a little more?

“When I get out of this-“

“You’ll be a human.” You interrupted, grinding down a little more against his erection. He bucked his hips but it only added to both of your pleasure, making him groan from the back of his throat. “You’ll enjoy this more if you stop fighting me.”

His bulge was ever prominent against your heat, and it dragged deliciously against that sweet spot that had you crying out loud. You lifted your hips just enough to slide your hand in between you both, cupping his cock and messaging over the uniform. “I think we should free the beast, hm? Do you want that?”

Dew didn’t answer, looking at you with total petulance.

You reached round and pulled on his hair, tugging it back and lifting his face to look directly at you, forcing his obsidian eyes to look directly into your own. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes… what?”

You saw the moment where he swallowed his pride for the sake of his pleasure, manifesting in a literal gulp. “Yes, I want you to… release me.”

“From these chains? No can do.”

He sighed, frustrated. “Take my fucking cock out and fuck me already.”

You laughed at him. “Not if you have that attitude.”

He began to fight against you and the chains again, clearly wanting to bend you over and show you what real domination looked like - but you’d tied it too strong, and using pure silver, too. He didn’t stand a chance. “What more could you possibly want from me?”

“I want you to beg for it. I want you to whimper and moan like a pathetic little bitch to his human partner about how much his cock aches for me. I want you to cry, and whine, and moan, and curse me for how good I make you feel, putting you in your place for the first time in however many centuries it’s been. I’ll only ask you once more - do you want me to fuck you?”

His voice came out as a whimper, exactly as you’d asked, but it certainly wasn’t intentional. When the tiny, “please” fell from his mouth, you sprang into action, pulling out his monstrous girth with both of your hands and grinning at the sight of him. Fuck, you missed it. You’d been dreaming about those ridges for weeks - months maybe. You needed to feel like you were being split in two again. You needed to bounce on that cock and take him for all your own pleasure.

You were almost clinical with the way you moved. There was no romance, no seductive show, nothing short of demeaning and… ironically dehumanising the way you spat on his cock. Three globs of spit that were smeared up and down his shaft, coating him to get him sloppy enough to sink down upon. When you wrapped both of your hands around his length and rubbed, you watched his entire body tense as though he was struggling to keep it together under the most intense torture. With the leftover spit, you plunged three of those fingers deep inside your heat, stretching yourself out to take him all.

You set a slow pace, infuriatingly slow, as you sank down on him. Taking in his head, then stopping and waiting. You never told Dew what you were waiting for, and so he would get more and more agitated the longer you waited. He tried rutting his hips up to bury himself inside you, but you pulled completely off him and forced him to settle back down. Eventually, he realized you were waiting for him to react: a whimper, a whine, a groan. Some kind of verbal acknowledgment to get you to sink down just a little further, to take ridge after ridge after ridge until you had sunk down completely, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing left to offer - up until the knot at least.

Dew was trying his hardest to hold back his moans, but you were gripping him so tightly, so deliciously, he couldn’t help but let them out. Ragged breathing and whining as though he were a wounded animal, but whatever he sounded like then, it was nothing compared to when you started bouncing on him. When his tip was hitting the very back spots, bruising you in the most delightful way.

“Look at you,” you cooed, “taking it all like a good boy.” You let out a particularly loud moan when his head hit the back of your walls. “Does it feel good? Do you feel so good deep inside me, hm?”

“F-feels - fuck - feels good!” He finally admitted, teeth clenched and growls decorating his speech.

He hated submission, hated being dominated by someone who the Hells would consider unworthy. But that was also half of the reason his cock was hard in the first place. He longed to touch you. To rest his hands on your hips and guide your bouncing. To run his hands all over your body without restraint and restriction. Every now and then, when the dull ache in his wrists had been smothered by the overwhelming pleasure your tightness was bestowing upon him, he would forget that he was bound and chained to the chair and would move his hands to rest upon your body, but would feel the sting of the silver and cry out in a startling mix of pain and pleasure. Yet there he was, fully and completely submitting to a human, of all creatures, taking pleasure in the chains that were once designed to burn him.

“You’re so fucked up for liking this.” You mocked, as you lifted your hips and kept them there, hearing his choked sobs as he tried to rut upwards, chasing your warmth like an addict. “What an adorable little slut you’ve become.”

You moved your own hand down to your bundle of nerves, touching yourself frenziedly in your desperation to cum around his cock. Your movements had become shallower, taking only the first third of his cock this time instead of hitting the tip of his knot, which had now swollen ready to plug you up at a moment’s notice. You had half a mind to ruin his orgasm, but come sunrise you were already in a world of hurt, you decided better of it. Perhaps you could save that for next time.

The closer you got to your own climax, the further back down his shaft you slid, preparing yourself once again for the extra burn of his knot when it finally popped inside of you. You continued to chip way at yourself, allowing him to take the lead when it came to his own cock, feeling him use the opportunity to rut desperately into you and hurtle towards his end, which would end up coming sooner rather than later.

As you came around him, your body shuddered and tightened, squeezing his girth and choking his head. Your free hand clutched onto his body for purchase, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving dark welts in their wake. That, combined with the throbbing from the chains, caused Dew to empty himself inside you with a deep, demonic growl you’d never heard from any of the Ghouls before. He bucked into you so hard, his knot stretched you more than it had the first time you took it, causing you to cry out at the piercing feeling. At that moment, you looked at his face: his eyes were shut tight, his muscles were tense and spasming, his face was contorted in beautiful agony as he painted your walls white. His orgasm, miles more powerful than your own, lasted what felt like forever, until his body relaxed and shattered breaths escaped his lungs.

When his knot had finally deflated, and you were free to climb off him, you dressed yourself in your habit and curled up on his lap, waiting for the orange hues of dawn to spill through the cabin window and make it easier for Dew to shift back. He’d passed out, exhausted from the strain and the torment you’d put him through, but deeply and completely satisfied. And so, in the quiet waiting of the sun’s arrival, you cuddled into his chest and allowed sleep to overtake you, only to be awoken again by Dew’s stirring.

The next time you opened your eyes, he was back in his human form, arms wrapped around your body where they’d fallen out of the chain. You’d forgotten that his human self was much smaller than his demonic self. You looked up at him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and yawning, feeling a twinge of pain in your back from the hours of bad posture.

You smiled at him. “I think I won that round.” You gloated triumphantly.

“I think you did, too.” He agreed. His tone was playful, but you could still feel that something was off.

“Did I overdo it?”

“Fuck no!” He exclaimed a little too quickly. “No, absolutely not. Human form or not, we’re doing that again.” You both laughed.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed and kissed your forehead. “I have a lot of training to do to control myself when I’ve shifted - especially for the next time we do this.”

You nodded. “I’m here every step of the way, Dew. I can handle that - I proved that last night.”

He smiled. “You did. Come on, we’d better rest before we head back.”

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[loserboy-futterman]

Hey,hi! If possible could I request a Derek Danforth x bottom male reader (smut if it’s not a problem) story where Reader is a spy sent to gain Derek trust and obtain information about the last scandal that happened but ends up falling under Derek charm? Thanks <3

Derek Danforth x Male!Reader

A/N: thank you sm for giving me my first request on this account, there for christening it with smut. Enjoy! also this was so fun to write and i made reader like an fbi agent, i hope thats alright<3

-Wolf in Sheep's clothing-

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning!! 18+ content ahead!! Gay porn ahead!!

includes; rimming, degrading, praise, anal sex, skimpy outfits

This was already a nightmare.

You were a detective, a man of law and justice. Someone who took down the bad guys and saved the day! A man that could be trusted to keep you safe.

But today? Today you were a 'dancer' at a sleezy night club. How does that happen you may ask? All thanks to billionaire brat, Derek Danforth.

Your mission was to get close to Derek and get him vulnerable, get him to tell you his secrets and expose his company. Then, destroy him and throw him behind bars. Should be easy enough. If only.

You adjusted the entirely too small tube top you had on and tried to pull the tiny shorts down so your junk wasn't almost popping out. Huffing, you set your eyes on the night club, scanning the dark room as you tried to find Derek's famous blonde mullet. It was hard to see anything with all the people, so you began moving swiftly through the crowd, scanning tables and booths. Trying to get a glance at everyone without drawing too much attention. You make your way through most of the club until he's there. You spot Derek sitting at a booth in a far corner of the club, sprawled out to take up half the space. Surprisingly, he's more alone then you initially thought he'd be. Instead of being surrounded by beautiful men and women, he's only got his number two by his side. The two are talking in hushed whispers when you walk up to the booth and slide in, sitting right up against Derek.

"Lookin' awfully lonely over here gentlemen, care for some company?" You could vomit at how high and bubbly your voice sounded, completely foreign to how you usually talk.

Derek's assistant was the first one of the pair to look up at you, clearly uncomfortable with another person around during their sensitive conversation. "No, no- thanks." He muttered quickly, trying to wave you off as he shifted in his seat, trying not to look at your scandalous outfit.

"I wasn't really asking you." Your attention is on Derek, whom, has been looking at his phone until now. His head picks up when he starts to feel you scoot closer to him. His dark eyes trace down your form quickly, making you feel even more exposed.

Derek lean his body towards you before wrapping his arm around your hip, pulling you tight against him. "He can stay, gimme something to look at." Derek leans down to you, giving you a shark-like grin and looking deep in your eyes. He stayed there for a moment as you stiffened under his gaze. You could slap him, but instead you wrap your arms around his neck and smile. "Don't let me interrupt your conversation then."

This is working out perfectly! You knew Derek would be an easy target.

Derek gave you a lazy grin as he pulled away and hit his vape. He blew a few clouds that smelt awful before turning back to the other man, who was frankly, very upset by your presence. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he liked Derek.

"How much are we bringing in?" Derek broke the tense silence as he rolled his head to look at him. The man tensed and you focused your eyes on Derek's hair as you played with it, trying to convince them you weren't listening, only here to jump Derek's bones.

"48." He said stiffly, eyeing you suspiciously. This answer seemed to only upset Derek though as he took a harsh hit of his vape and barked at his employee.

"48 what? Thousand? Million?! Don't fuck with my money!"

Derek's aggressive behavior was a little surprising but not completely unexpected. You had read in his file he was prone to anger spouts, especially when he was high. You decided to use this to your advantage to drive Derek further into your arms.

You began by carding your fingers through his soft hair and whispering soft coos in his ear to calm him down. His chest rises and falls heavily and you seem to cut through his drug-addled mind.

"T-thousand Derek." He replied nervously, shifting uncomfortably as he watched you two.

If Derek was upset before, now he was full of rage. He clenched his jaw tight and his grip around you was almost bruising. Derek let out a deep sigh and glared at his business partner. Even you felt a little shudder run down your spine at the intimidation.

"Go." Derek growled and his partner was quick to scurry off and out of sight. You can't help but let out a laugh as he leaves but Derek's quick to turn his glare on you. "What's so funny?"

"Well, your friend is kind of pathetic." You reply simply with another laugh and it seems to actually lighten Derek up. He chuckles himself and puts on a casual mask even though you can tell he's still tense. His leg is bouncing and you're surprised his vape hasn't exploded yet from over use.

"He really is." Derek tilts his head back and you let your eyes trace down his neck. You can't deny he's handsome but you know what he does and he has no remorse. You clench your jaw and throw a bare leg over his lap. He's quick to run his calloused hand up and down your smooth calf.

"So what do you do, hm? Making millions?" You ask with fake innocence and curiosity. Derek keeps his eyes on the hand stroking your leg like he's mesmerized. Drugs, you think.

Finally he shrugs and looks at you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen them. "I run a software company." He smirks and leans in closer to you, nuzzling his nose and face close into your neck. The sudden closer contact makes you flush and you want to push him away but it's for your job. And maybe, it felt kind of nice to feel Derek's warm breath fan over your neck. "I wanna know about you. You charge?"

You simple shrug and shake your head at him. "No. I'm just here for a good time. Although, a quieter place would be nice." You need to get more information, you need to get him alone and you can snoop around his house.

Derek pulls back from your neck and eyes you for a long moment, trying to decipher your intentions. After a moment, he slowly nods and smiles. "Let's go baby boy." Derek stands (stumbles) up and you follow him up and out of the club. His driver is waiting outside and you both crawl into the back of his limo.

The quiet feels like a breath of fresh air until you remember you're now alone with Derek Danforth, your target. You're both sitting close in the limo but Derek's mind seems to be elsewhere entirely. He's chewing his nails and glaring out the window, clearly stuck in his own head.

"Are you.. okay?" You ask sweetly, causing Derek to look at you and snap back to the present. He shakes his head and grabs your hand.

"Fine sugar. Just worried about my Bitcoin stock is all." Derek grunted out, shifting closer to you, clearly needing more physical touch.

You needed to get him to open up and stop giving these vague answers, even giving plain lies. "You can tell me anything Derek. I won't tell. My trade is in secrets." You cup his cheeks and make him look deep into your eyes.

Derek seems to think about his answer for a long moment before finally the dam breaks. "My stupid company isn't making enough money, even though I trained those stupid fucks myself." He suddenly growls, clenching his fists tight.

Finally, he was cracking. "How come they're not making enough?" You tilt your head and watch him go to reply but the limo comes to a stop and it seems you've arrived at his apartment.

Derek's quick to pull you upstairs to his penthouse apartment and it's absolutely stunning. He pulls you in and makes his way towards the dry bar in the living room. You watch as he pours a shot of expensive whiskey and shoots it. He immediately makes a face and you snicker at him behind your hand.

He glares at you but it doesn't hold much malice. Derek rounds the bar and stands in front of you. He wraps his arm around your waist and leans down close. You can smell the whiskey on his breath but it's almost enticing, instead of gross like usual. "Okay Mr. Chuckles. Tell me your secrets then." He smirks down at you, making your cheeks heat up.

"Well Derek... My secret is..." You lean in closer to him, almost closing the gap but stopping an inch away. "... I think your kinda cute." You admit and it really was true.

Derek is quick to quirk his eyebrow and give you his usual sarcasm. "Just cute? Are you sure?" His voice is filled with confidence and before you know it, he closes the gap between you, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. It seemed Derek didn't know how to go slow or be gentle because he immediately kissed you hard and bit down on your bottom lip.

You know you shouldn't be making out with Derek Danforth but it was all for the mission, to get closer and get more information out of him. It definitely didn't have to do with the growing erection in your tiny shorts. Derek bruised and bit at your lips, sliding his hands down until they rested on the waistline of the small shorts.

Derek was the first to pull away but he still kept his mouth busy as he trailed kissed down your jaw and to your neck. "Jump." Its a simple command but it takes your brain a moment to register through the haze. You jumped up, wrapping your legs around Derek's hips and tangling your arms around his neck. The new position let Derek control the situation as he started to bite harder on your neck, leaving distinct marks. Not that you minded in this moment.

"So fuckin' pretty baby. Cute little outfit too, you okay if i ruin it?" Derek rasped in your ear and bit your earlobe softly. The deep rumble of his voice made you shiver and you chewed on your lip, contemplating if letting Derek fuck you was a good idea. What would you put in your official report? It was getting harder to think as Derek kept working on your neck and moved to push you against the wall, grinding his hips against yours. His green silk pants left nothing to the imagination when he got hard. You groaned softly and dropped your head back against the wall as Derek ground his hips harder. "Well baby? Wont do anything without a yes. Not that you need to say yes."

Derek was now looking at you with those big puppy dog eyes and you could tell he was being genuine. You decide you need more information and this is how to do it. You lean in and capture his lips again, bucking against his own hips and savoring the whine he lets out.

"Ruin it Derek." You mumble against his lips, making him moan loudly. He pushed you harder into the wall, supporting you with his hips and legs so his hands were free to literally rip off the thin tube top you had on. Your nipples pebbled at the cold air and you hissed softly but it trailed into a moan when Derek's warm mouth was on you. He sucked and licked at one pec, fondling the other as he moaned almost more than you were.

You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair and tugged him closer, earning you a high pitched whimper. Derek's hand trailed down your chest and to your stomach, groping it softly before sliding down to grab your cock that's straining the tiny shorts.

"Maybe if i tease you a little more, you'll break these sorry excuse for shorts." He chuckled cruelly and grabbed your cock tight making you whine and squirm in his grip.

"Derek, please." It felt so good but it wasn't enough, far from it and it was driving you insane and he knew it.

"What? What do you want baby? Want me to fuck you until you cry huh? Fuckin slut." Derek hissed the name at you but it made you shiver. You hated how he was talking to you but you fucking loved it, you hated that fact too. His words dripped with cruelty and lust.

You felt so tense and you needed him so much. "Yes!" You surprised yourself with that scream and you shifted your hips against him hard. Derek smirked and grabbed your hips tight to still your movements. He took you to his bed and dropped you on the plush mattress as he stood before you. He quickly tore off his shirt and whipped off his pants, clearly just as desperate as you.

Derek quickly crawled back over you and kissed your chest, leaving hickeys and bruises as his hands hold your hips tight against his. The new skin on skin contact makes fire run through your veins and everywhere Derek touched seemed to be more sensitive than ever.

In a flash, Derek had flipped you on to your stomach and hiked up your ass to meet his cock that was leaking through his Calvin Klein boxers. He growled low in his throat and slid his hips against yours before finally pulling your shorts off and freeing your painfully hard cock. You hissed at how sensitive it was but didn't have time to focus on that as Derek's finger tips prodded gently at your hole. He leaned over your back to whisper in your ear.

"You look so good baby... Mind if I have a taste?" His voice dripped with pure lust.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice and not exactly understanding what he meant until you felt something warm and wet against your hole. You gasped and looked back to meet Derek's dark eyes as he licked and lathered your hole.

"D-Derek!" You shuddered again as Derek winked before plunging his tongue as deep into your hole as he can, rapidly fucking you with his mouth. You cry out and your cock drips pre-cum on the bed like a fountain, showing you were close.

He grabs your ass tight in both hands, pulling away with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. He looked like a hungry predator as he wiped his face with his hand and stood up behind you. Derek grabs your hips tight and leans his sweaty chest against your back, pushing you further into the bed.

"You're perfect baby boy. Might just have to keep you." He mumbled into your neck, wrapping one arm around your chest as he angled his cock and began sliding into your wet hole. You panted and whined at the stretch as his head slides in. Derek's hips stop but its clear he's struggling to hold back in a failing attempt to keep teasing you.

"Fuck! I-I cant- i need to fucking ruin you now."

That's all the warning you got before Derek's hips are slamming into yours, shoving his cock all the way inside you and punching the air out of your lungs. Derek cant stop himself from rutting and bucking his hips against you already but every movement feels too good. You moan out and grab the sheets tight in your fists as Derek works his cock in and out of you faster and harder.

He wasn't kidding about ruining you as his hand on your chest wrapped softly around your throat, not applying pressure but it still made your eyes roll back. Especially as he desperately pistoned his hips inside of you, grazing your prostate every so often, making you see spots. Derek panted and moaned in your ear, a mix of praise and degrading words falling from his lips.

"That's it. Fuck yeah, so tight baby."

"Such a hungry fuckin whore f'me."

"Fuuuck, baby, yes, god fuck-!"

You felt your end approaching fast as Derek kept moving and his moans turned to high whines and whimpers, showing he was close too. His pace grew sloppy and your cock rubbed against the bed, making you finally see white and arch your back in the most toe-curling orgasm you've had in a long time.

Derek's let out the sweetest moan when you tightened around him and it was impossible for him not to spill his load inside of you. He gave a few more hard thrusts until he was collapsing against you and panting hard. You grunted under his weight but you didn't attempt to move after that.

"Stay with me?" Derek's gruff voice broke the silence as he nuzzled his nose into your neck again.

You nodded and shifted slightly under him. It seemed this mission would take longer than expected but you don't mind so much.

Derek kissed your shoulder lightly. "Sounds good... Officer."

Shit.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Two

Playdate, back by popular demand babyyyyy! 😘😘😘. Thank you, my thirsty little mutuals for your love and support <3 Now let's go straight back to hell, shall we?

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

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Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 7k

Chapter Summary: Three weeks after your initial meeting with Dave York you meet again. This time however, without your husband (at his own insistence). Marcus wants you to feel free and unencumbered by his presence to explore your wants, needs and fantasies with Dave and you reluctantly agree to it - just this once.

Notes: OK Marcus does take a bit of a back seat in this chapter but not to worry, he'll be back full force in the next!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Cuckolding. Wife sharing. Dave York's mouth needs its own warning (and to be washed out with soap). Dirty Talk. Degradation. Daddy Kink. Praise Kink. Soft!Dave York (enjoy it while it lasts, it won't be long). Dom!Dave York. Oral sex (m and f receiving). Rough oral sex. Biting (just one lil bite). Frottage. Dave is spitting in your mouth again because it's Dave and that's his M.O.. Spanking (just a couple swats). Mention/brief discussion of anal sex. Breathplay. Unprotected P in V sex. Naked female/clothed male. Cockwarming. 'Cozy Boyfriend Vibes' Marcus also gets a warning because he'll make your heart grow three sizes. If I missed anything lmk!

Nervous anticipation thrums through your veins as Saturday evening is finally upon you. Marcus had texted Dave about a week ago regarding another “session” for the three of you and tonight was the settled upon date you’d all agreed on. It’s been three weeks since you last saw - and first met - Dave York. Your husband's business colleague turned… well, you weren’t sure what to call him now. Threesome partner, sort of? The man who, regardless of anything else, was surely responsible for the dramatic upturn yours and Marcus’ sex life had taken the last three weeks, that’s for certain. Ever since your single time with Dave, you and Marcus have been insatiable for each other. Not that you ever had much of a problem in that department to begin with, but recently you’ve dialed it up to eleven, not being able to keep off of each other.

You fucked in the shower, on the couch, the kitchen floor, and even one memorable Sunday morning with you sitting on top of the lid of the washing machine while it was running with Marcus standing between your legs drilling into you as your whole lower half shook and vibrated to the unrelenting rhythm of the spin cycle.

Still, as much as Marcus was keeping you satisfied (and he was) the thought of being with Dave again thrilled you. He was such a polar opposite to Marcus, whom you absolutely loved and adored, and you’re not saying that different is better. Different is just… different. Different excites you and opens up both yours and Marcus’ world to things that weren’t in it before and really, that was the goal of this whole thing to begin with.

You were so nervous at first while being with Dave with Marcus watching. As much as it excited you, you couldn’t help the little gnawing feeling in your gut that you could be hurting Marcus somehow or making him feel inadequate. He’d assured you enough that night that that wasn’t the case, but it was always playing at the back of your mind. The absolute last thing you want is to cause any kind of rift between you and Marcus. So when he had suggested a week later that you try it again you made sure to have several long discussions about it first to ensure that he really wanted this as much as you did because if he didn’t, you would be fine with cutting the whole thing off. Finally after a week of discussions you both agreed you wanted to involve Dave again and Marcus had started up a group text conversation between the three of you. So far it had just been Marcus and Dave texting back and forth a couple times, deciding on a date and that was it. You were nervous about sending any messages to Dave yourself, at least for now, so you let everything go through Marcus, though you were glad he tried to include you by inviting you to the conversation.

Tonight would be different though. So different from last time and as if you weren’t already nervous, now your anxiety is ten-fold after what Marcus had recently suggested to you. He told you that he thinks you should have one night just with Dave by yourselves. He could tell how into it you were last time but he felt that you were constantly holding back and feeling nervous about how he was feeling and he didn’t want that. He wanted you to be free to explore what you wanted to explore and then next time Marcus would be back in the mix and hopefully not only learn first hand what you liked, but get some tips and tricks from Dave along the way. You argued a bit with Marcus at first, telling him that wasn’t the deal and you wanted him part of it but he explained his side and assured you he would be okay with it and told you to take a couple days and really think it over and so this afternoon you had finally made your decision and decided to take him up on it. Just this once, you had insisted.

He hadn’t even told Dave about it yet because he wasn’t sure if you were going to agree to it or not until a couple of hours ago and now he was worried Dave might not even show up if Marcus changed the rules on him last minute so he decided to talk to Dave when he came over. If he wasn’t okay with it, then they’d go back to the original plan and Marcus would stay.

You drain your second glass of wine as your fingernails tap nervously on the counter until finally the doorbell rings and you and Marcus both turn to each other and share a glance.

“Right on time” Marcus shrugs, pushing back from his chair and heading to the front door. You decide to head straight upstairs and let them talk, because you don’t want to hear the conversation if it turns bad and Dave has no interest in you if Marcus isn’t directly benefiting from it, since that was the original arrangement.

A couple of minutes tick by and you sit nervously at the end of the bed until finally you hear footsteps approach and the door swings open, revealing both Marcus and Dave. You assume this means Marcus is staying and you’re not sure how to feel about it. Part of you is glad, you want him here, he makes you feel safe and comfortable (whereas Dave makes you feel literally the exact opposite) but part of you wonders how interested Dave really is in you and if this is all just a fun game to him that doesn’t really get him off unless he’s got Marcus here to cuckold.

“Honey I told him what we talked about… he’s okay with it” Marcus explains as he crosses the room to you and your shoulders settle as a breath escapes your lips. Suddenly you’re even more nervous then you thought you’d be.

“Sure you don’t wanna stay Pike? I’m having fun watching her squirm already” Dave muses, winking at you and you feel your cheeks flush. Maybe Marcus should stay.

“Hey,” Marcus gets your attention and he’s staring at you with a soft smile to calm your nerves. “I love you, ok? I’ll be down the street at the bar, gonna catch the game. Just… promise me you’ll have a good time” he says and you nod your head before you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. You hold on, continuing to kiss him because you need him to know before he leaves how much you love him, appreciate him, and how part of you doesn’t want him to go.

Eventually he slows your kisses down and lets out a little laugh as he pulls back. “Have fun, I want you to” he says before he leans in and places a kiss to your forehead and then turns to walk out the door, closing it behind him and sealing you and Dave inside alone.

You stand next to the bed and wring your hands together in nervous anticipation as Dave slinks forward, sly grin on his lips.

“Hey Baby” he greets casually as he steps in front of you, places his hands on your waist and gives you a good look up and down. You feel much less exposed this time at least. You’re wearing a knee length silk robe that’s tied around your waist, protecting some of your modesty.

Which was all for nothing, apparently, because seconds later before he even utters another word or allows you to greet him back, his one hand comes up and tugs one end of the sash holding your robe closed and it falls right open, revealing your skimpy little black laced bra and matching panties.

“H-Hi” you stammer out, arms instinctively coming up to wrap around yourself.

“Don’t” Dave says, surprisingly softly, his gaze locked on to your chest. You drop your hands to your side, still nervous as hell but it's an exciting kind of nervous as Dave brings a single finger up to trace the top edge of your bra over your left breast.

“Pretty” he murmurs before he gently pushes the robe from your shoulders and it pools on the floor at your feet. His hands go back to your waist and he leans down and captures your lips. The kiss is heated as he reacquaints himself with your mouth, your tongue, exploring every inch like he needs to commit it to memory and your body leans into his instinctively, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck as he moans into your mouth.

Whatever you were expecting tonight, it wasn’t this. He’s being… soft. His hands lightly smooth up and down your sides and across your back and before long his mouth leaves yours to kiss down your jaw and to your throat. You tilt your head to give him better access and whimper when he hits a particular spot on your throat and sucks before laving over it with his tongue and then moving on to kiss and lick and nip at every inch of exposed flesh until you’re practically trembling in his arms. Your hands clutch the short hairs at the back of his head as he anchors you in place, your knees feeling weak already as his mouth transcends a little lower to your collarbone and then the tops of your breasts.

“Ohhhh” you gasp softly when he mouths at your left nipple over top of the lace garment and his hand comes up to lightly pinch at the other and then he switches sides and repeats. “Fuck”

It feels strangely intimate, what’s happening right now. It's reminiscent of how you are with Marcus and that wasn’t supposed to be the point for being with Dave. You’re finding it really tough to complain, however, when his mouth is making every coherent thought escape your brain entirely. Finally he unclasps your bra and lets it fall to the floor and then he spends minutes on your breasts, paying each one equal attention with his mouth or his hands and all you can do is push your hands through his hair and whimper and moan with your head occasionally lolling backwards when it gets to be too much effort to hold it upright.

Dave is silent, which is odd enough in and of itself. The only sounds from his mouth are the soft licks and kisses and hums as he devours your tits and it's night and day to the Dave that was here a few weeks ago who was calling you names and barking orders at you.

Finally he begins descending lower still, trailing kisses down the middle of your stomach and lowering himself to his knees as he goes. Your hands go to hold onto his shoulders just as his mouth reaches the waistband of your panties and he looks up at you; those soft brown eyes that are jarringly familiar and yet so different from the man you are married to. Keeping his gaze locked on yours, his hands come to your hips and he slowly drags your panties down your legs until you’re left completely bare before him and your heart is hammering in your chest. The eye contact alone that he’s giving you is sending little ripples of pleasure down your spine and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Dave” his name leaves your lips in a whisper and suddenly his face is in your cunt. He spreads your lower lips with his fingers and his tongue licks a slow broad stripe straight up the center and your knees nearly buckle with the pleasure that shoots through you.

“Lay down” he instructs and you shuffle back the few inches to the side of the mattress and sit on the edge and lower yourself down on your back and Dave is back on you, lifting both your legs and draping one on either of his shoulders and his hands rest on your hips to hold you down as he’s kneeled on the floor in front of you.

“Oh fuck” you cry out when his mouth is back on you. His tongue circles your clit a few times until he sucks it into his mouth and your hips chase the pressure of his mouth, desperate for more. He releases your clit and then his tongue trails down the center again and begins prodding at your entrance with the tip of his wet muscle.

“Oh my god” you whine, hands flying down to clutch in his hair again and he moans loudly into you, sending little shockwaves through your pulsing cunt. One of his hands leaves your hip and his thumb comes down to put pressure on your clit, rubbing it in tight small circles while he continues fucking into you with his tongue and soon enough, you’re gone. You shoot up onto your elbows as you feel the dam burst and let out a choked sob as you cum hard and fast, hips bucking wildly into Dave’s face as he continues his assault, working you through it and not slowing down.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck” you chant until you literally can’t take it anymore and your hands go to his head in an attempt to push him away and thankfully he takes the hint and his thumb lifts from your throbbing clit and his tongue switches to long slow licks through your folds, lapping up the sticky residue of your release.

“Mmmmm” he hums into you, seemingly content on licking up every last drop from you before he starts planting little kisses all over your sex, your mound, your thighs and finally he pushes up from his knees and leans over you to trail kisses up body until he reaches your mouth and kisses you soundly, just once. Just long enough for you to get a taste of yourself on his tongue and then he releases you and rests his forehead against yours.

“Hi” he smirks - he fucking smirks - at you.

“Hi… fuck!” you breathe out and Dave huffs out a little laugh before he pushes himself back up to a standing position and holds a hand out for you. You take his offered hand and he helps you up until you’re back in the position from earlier and his hands go to your hips again.

“What was that for?” You ask, genuinely curious and Dave shrugs.

“I knew you’d be nervous without Pike here, figured I’d help settle the nerves first. Feel nice and loose now, don’t ya baby?” He grins, jostling your hips back and forth slightly and you let out a little laugh.

“And now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way,” he begins, that menacing tone from the first night you met him suddenly back and you try to ignore the pleasant little tingle it sends down your spine. His mouth reaches your ear and he gently pulls the lobe between his teeth before releasing it and finishing his thought with a whisper into your ear “you can show your Daddy just how much you missed him, hmmm?”

You pull your lip between your teeth again as a small groan escapes your lips. Dave is tonguing at your ear canal and sucking the lobe into his mouth and your eyes close as a little whimper escapes you.

“Answer me” he growls, his hands gripping tightly at your hips, yanking you forward a couple of inches so your pelvis presses into his and you feel the unmistakable press of his desire against your hip from underneath his clothes.

“Yes Daddy” you nod enthusiastically and let your hand snake down between your bodies to cup him over his pants. “I’ll be so good for you” you add and he groans.

“On your fucking knees baby” he orders, a little breathless and you instantly comply, dropping to your knees in front of him and pressing your face into his crotch to kiss his length over his pants and he hums in approval, bringing a hand down to run through your hair. You kiss over his shaft a few more times before your hands come up to his belt buckle and you stop, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Please can I have your cock in my mouth? Want it so bad” you tell him, putting on your best pout and his eyes close momentarily and he tosses his head back before finally refocusing on you.

“Yeah baby, take me out” he instructs and you waste no time opening his belt, yanking down the zipper and pulling his pants and boxers down to his thighs so his cock bobs out right in front of your face. You’re about to press forward before you stop yourself and settle back to sit on your heels, tilt your head up to Dave and open your mouth wide and wait.

“Oh fuck” Dave curses, eyes closing again and you have to fight back the grin that wants to emerge at how damn proud of yourself you are.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl” Dave growls before he grips your jaw tightly in his hand and angles his head down to spit into your mouth. You give him a coy smile when the saliva hits your tongue and then lean forward and wrap your mouth around his cock and suck.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby” he praises you, hands gathering up your hair until he can hold it all back in one hand so he has a better view of you swallowing him down.

“You take my cock so fucking good baby girl” he continues and you hum around him, bobbing up and down and taking as much of him as you can into your mouth. He lets you go at your own pace for a good couple of minutes and then he begins pushing back with his hips until he’s fucking into your throat and you’re forced to just stay still and take what he gives you. He forces deeper and deeper with each thrust and every so often he’ll push all the way down your throat and hold you there until you gag and choke on him until he releases you and starts all over again.

“Goddamn fucking whore how you take this cock baby, hmmm? Fucking cockslut aren’t you?” He continues uttering pure filth and you simply hum affirmatively and nod your head into his groin as he continues to feed you his dick until your eyes water and your throat is raw.

Now this is the Dave York you remember. Your cunt clenches around nothing and you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs as he towers over you, degrading you and taking exactly what he wants.

“Come here” he grunts suddenly and grabs you under your arms and hauls you back to your feet, his leaking dick sliding out from your mouth as you're dragged away from it.

He kisses you harshly and his hands come down to grope your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands and squeezing roughly before his grip loosens slightly into a massage instead and you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck, turn around” he orders. His hands leave your ass to grab your shoulders and turn you so you’re facing the side of the bed and he pushes you down so you’re bent over lying on your stomach on the mattress with your feet still planted on the floor behind you and your turn your head to look back and watch Dave sink to his knees.

Your body jolts on the bed when a sharp slap from Dave’s right hand lands on your ass and then he’s soothing over the surely red mark.

“Look at this perfect fucking ass” Dave growls, both hands grabbing at your cheeks and spreading them before he lets go and swats at the left cheek and his mouth comes down to gently bite at the meat of your right.

“Oh!” you can’t help but moan, hips rocking into the edge of the mattress.

Dave gets back up again but bends over your body so his cock is at your ass and his mouth at your ear. “God I want to fuck this tight little asshole so bad” he confesses and drags his dick between your cheeks for emphasis.

“Oh fuck” you whimper and you don’t know if it’s fear or excitement. Maybe both. “Dave I…” you trail off. You’re not ready for that, in every possible way.

“I know baby” he hums into your ear. “Don’t worry I won’t” he promises and you release the breath you’d been holding, your muscles instantly relaxing from underneath him.

“I think… m-maybe I might want to, some time…” you stammer helplessly. You’re definitely interested, but you want to be prepared first.

“I know baby” Dave soothes, one hand sliding between you and the bed to massage a breast in his hand and the other goes around your front between your legs and begins to play with your clit and you begin whimpering again. “Daddy will buy you a toy next time, hmm? We’ll work on getting you ready until one day you’ll be begging me to fuck your tight little hole hmm?”

“Oh fuck, yes” you whine as the pads of his first two fingers draw agonizing little circles around your throbbing clit.

“You need me to play with this little pussy baby?” he taunts, gently pinching and rolling the taught little bundle of nerves between his fingertips.

“Mmmhmm” you nod frantically against the mattress but then he instantly stills his moments.

“What’s that now?”

“Yes, yes, please play with my pussy” you appease him immediately, knowing just what he was waiting for and you can feel him smirking against the side of your face.

“Turn over” he instructs and you do, then he climbs onto the bed and hauls you up further so you’re no longer half hanging off it. He’s propped up on his elbow on his side right next to and you watch as he sucks two fingers into his mouth and then brings that hand between your legs and starts rubbing in slow circles.

“Ohhhhhh fuck” you mewl, gently writhing and letting your legs fall open wider for him.

“Yeah that’s better, hmmm? That’s what you needed baby” Dave coos, his forehead resting against the side of your head. “Play with your pretty tits baby, let me see” he tells you and you don’t need to be told twice, both your hands coming to grab the soft flesh and alternating between massaging the mounds and pinching and pulling at your pebbled nipples.

“Oh fuck” Dave moans and then leans over you to take the closest one into his mouth, sucking and licking over the sensitive bud. He pulls back again after a moment and refocuses his attention on his hand between your legs, his digits sliding down to prod at your entrance until he slips two inside and buries them to his knuckles.

“Jesus, this tight little fucking pussy” Dave growls, working his fingers in and out. “So fucking wet for me”

“Yes, oh feels so good” you whine, eyes closed as you slide slightly up and down against the mattress, rocking yourself into his hand.

“Look at you” Dave clicks his tongue. “Fucking yourself on my fingers, just can’t help yourself can you, little minx” he huffs. “You wanna cum on my fingers?”

“Please” you let out in a breathy whisper.

“Please what, baby?” He asks, just as he curls his fingers at the perfect spot and you cry out as your next orgasm rapidly approaches.

“Oh fuck, please let me cum. Please Daddy”

“Good girl” Dave rewards before he shifts his position so he’s up on his knees between your legs and starts driving his fingers in and out of you at a relentless pace. The wet slaps reverberate off the walls as his hand pounds into you, fingers sinking in and out of your sopping core and your hips chase the pressure of his thrusts.

“Oh my god!” you squeal as he hits a particular spot and your vision begins to blur.

“Oh we found it did we?” he grins, doubling his efforts to push harder and faster into you as his free hand comes up to press his thumb down on your clit and you instantly cum in a silent scream, your orgasm racking over your entire body until you collapse back into the mattress with a blissed out smile spread on your lips.

“God damnit, I need to fuck you” Dave growls suddenly and he’s all but manhandling you into a new position. He grabs you around the waist and flips you over until you're on your hands and knees and he pushes down between your shoulder blades so your head is down and your ass is up in the air. You turn your head the best you can and watch as he fists his cock a few times and then brings it between your folds to coat himself in your arousal. He’s sliding in and out of your slick lips, the tip of his cock bumping deliciously into your clit with every thrust and you slide forward slightly on the bed as the threat of another orgasm chases straight on the heels of the last one.

“Oh god, fuck” you whimper into the pillow.

“Fuck, feels good doesn’t it baby? You wanna fucking cum again don’t you?” He asks and you nod frantically.

“Please, I’m so close”

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you upright so your back is to his chest, both of you on your knees and he continues bucking his hips, sliding through your folds and you look down to see just the tip of his head occasionally peek through from between your legs as he rubs against your pussy with his hard length. His hands come to your hips next and he helps you drag yourself up and down and your own hands reach up and behind you to wrap around his neck and just hang on for dear life as he slams into your throbbing little bundle of nerves over and over again.

“Cum all over this cock baby, fucking soak me” he growls at your ear and it does you in. You tip over that edge again and your body falls forward down onto your elbows as a choked out sob escapes you.

“Oh my god” you huff, chest heaving and body shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. Dave is still rocking into you and it’s way too fucking much on your oversensitive clit. You need him inside you or ten feet away from you, one or the other, you’re not sure, you just know you can’t take this particular brand of torture any longer.

“Dave, I - oh fuck”

“Beg for me” he seethes between clenched teeth as he tries desperately to hold himself together. “Beg for this fucking cock Sweetheart”

“Please!” You cry out instantly, not wasting a moment. “Need your fucking cock inside me, please. Please fuck me”

“Goddamn slut” he snarls before he thrusts forward and sheathes himself in your wet heat and you let out a guttural moan at the delicious stretch. One of his hands goes to your shoulder and the other has a bruising grip on your hip as he fucks into you fast and hard and you’re practically convulsing underneath him.

“Fuck baby, taking this cock so good, Jesus” he pants as he pounds into you from behind so hard that the headboard is slamming into the wall and if you had any functioning brain cells left you’d be worried you were about to break the bed.

“Oh fuck you're gonna make me cum” he huffs, head tossed back and eyes squeezed shut as he drives into you so hard and fast you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head, your mouth open in a silent scream you're pretty sure only dogs can hear.

"God damn baby" he growls, his pace still relentless and you need him to finish. You know he's waiting for you to give him one more but as good as he's making you feel you don't think there's any possible way you have one more in you so you do your best to coax it out of him whatever way you can.

“Oh god, please cum for me Daddy, I want it so bad” you whine pathetically, hoping it will do him in, but then your moans turn into a loud gasp when you feel the hand that was at your shoulder wrap around your throat and squeeze the sides. It’s harder and longer than last time and before long there are dark spots at the corners of your vision the longer he holds. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore and you’re about to grab for him to tap out he releases you and blood rushes to your head and you lose focus on everything except the way your cunt clenches down on Dave’s cock as wave after wave of euphoria hits you.

“Oh fuck. That's my good girl. Fuck fuck fuck” Dave grunts and pulls out of you, fisting his cock over and over again until ropes of his warm seed begin to coat over your ass and lower back until he has nothing left to give and he turns over and collapses on his back in exhaustion.

You lower your hips back down to the bed so you’re flat on your stomach, still coming down from your own orgasm and both of you are heaving on the bed next to each other, trying to catch your breaths.

You finally start coming back to yourself and you turn your head over to the other side to look at Dave and a laugh suddenly escapes you.

“What?” Dave questions, clearly not in on whatever’s got you in stitches.

“You just fucked my brains out and didn’t even remove a stitch of clothing. You still have your fucking shoes on!”

Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss, but the whole notion is wildly amusing to you for some reason.

Dave looks down at himself as if he’s now just noticing you’re not wrong. His pants and underwear are around his thighs but other than that he’s fully clothed from head to toe and now he lets out a laugh before rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Fuck me” he groans, exasperated.

“Not again, give a girl a break” you joke and he rolls his eyes playfully before he swats at your ass.

“Smartass” he grumbles before he lifts his hips and pulls his pants up and then rolls off the bed and heads to the bathroom. You hear the faucet running for a minute and know you need to get up yourself and clean off but you literally don’t know if you can move after whatever the hell that was that Dave just put you through. You lost count of the orgasms.

To your surprise however, Dave comes back (fully dressed again with his appendage back inside his now refastened pants) with a washcloth in his hand and walks up to your side of the bed and holds it out to you.

You thank him shyly and are glad when he turns away from you to give you some privacy. You’re not sure how on earth you can possibly still get embarrassed in front of this man after the things he’s said and done to you and you to him, but you do. If Marcus were here he’d clean you up himself, soft strokes of the warm cloth between your legs and you’d watch him with a dopey smile on your face at how sweet he is to you and pull him in for a kiss when he was done.

And speaking of Marcus you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand next to you and you reach for it to read the incoming text. You see that it’s actually from Dave in your group chat and you glance up to see him with his back to you, phone clutched in his hand.

“What’s the score? I had the 9’ers to cover” it reads and you roll your eyes and huff a little laugh. You guess that’s a better way of saying ‘hey, all done here fucking your wife into another dimension if you wanna come home now’

Three little bubbles appear as Marcus is typing a reply and you feel a little flutter in your tummy, a smile involuntarily crossing your lips.

“Sorry buddy, hope your kids college funds weren’t riding on that game”

Kids? Interesting. You’re suddenly realizing you don’t actually know anything about this man. No wedding ring though so you assume he’s divorced at least.

You click back to your messages page and pull up your direct line to Marcus without Dave in it and type a simple message.

“Come home ❤️”

He replies instantly.

“On my way”

You get up from the bed and grab for your discarded robe from the floor from earlier, tying it around yourself and head off to the bathroom to pee. When you come back out Dave is still standing there and you realize now you have no idea how you’re supposed to say goodbye to him. The nerves and awkwardness suddenly flooding you again.

“Well, um… thanks, for tonight” you say, wringing your hands together and he offers you a comforting smile.

“My pleasure baby, c’mere” he says and reaches a hand out to grab yours and tug you towards him. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. He doesn’t linger, doesn’t turn it into more, just wants to put you at ease and it does.

“Don’t be a stranger now” he winks at you and you reward him with a soft smile.

“I won’t” you promise, giving his hand a small squeeze.

“I can see myself out” he tells you before releasing your hand and he walks off out the bedroom door as you call out a soft ‘goodnight’ to the back of his retreating head.

As you hear his heavy footsteps down the stairs a flash comes across your bedroom window and you realize it’s Marcus’ headlights as he pulls up the drive and you wander over to the window and glance outside. Just as Marcus is getting out of the car Dave is walking down towards his own sleek black sedan that’s parked at the curb and the two men stop when they meet. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you watch as Dave reaches a hand out and Marcus grabs it and they shake while Dave’s other hand lands on Marcus’ shoulder and gives it a firm pat and they release each other. They stand there for another minute or so chatting, about what, you have no idea, until finally Dave lifts a hand in a goodbye and turns down the driveway and continues towards his car.

You turn back and flip off the lamp that was lighting the room and crawl into the bed, ridding yourself of your robe again and tossing it over a nearby chair before pulling the covers over you.

“Hey Baby” you hear Marcus call out softly a minute later when he enters the bedroom.

“Hi” you sigh dreamily, happy to hear his voice, happy to have him home.

He wastes no time stripping down and crawling into his own side of the bed and shuffling over to you. The moment he’s next to you you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, burying your face in his neck and wrapping your limbs around him like a spider monkey with separation anxiety.

“Hey, you ok?” Marcus asks, hugging you tightly to his chest for a moment before pulling his head back to get a look at you. His hand comes to rest on your cheek and forces your gaze to his.

“Yeah I’m ok” you promise. “Just missed you”

“I missed you too” he sighs before leaning in and kissing your forehead. He pulls back after a second and stifles a laugh.

“What?” You ask, brow furrowed.

“You smell like Dave” he laughs, wrinkling his nose and you roll your eyes but are laughing as well.

“I’m not surprised, he literally left his clothes on the whole time” you tell him, shaking your head at the memory. You’re so used to Marcus who would probably never have either of you wearing clothes when you were alone inside the house if it were up to him.

“Really?” Marcus asks, features scrunched up in disbelief and you nod your head.

“What a weirdo” he teases and you laugh.

“He’s your friend” you counter.

“Our friend” Marcus corrects you and you hum.

You suppose he’s right.

“So… what was it like?” Marcus inquires further and you contemplate for probably a moment too long on how you should answer.

Mind blowing.

Incredible.

But not the same because it wasn’t you.

“It’s ok baby, I want this too, remember?” He prods further, waiting for your answer.

“It was um… a lot?” You laugh. “Like literally I’m going to need a break for a day or two”

“God damnit York” Marcus huffs but there’s no real anger there, you can hear the playfulness in his tone. “Put my wife’s vagina on a timeout” he grumbles under his breath and suddenly you’re erupting with laughter just as Marcus breaks out into a huge grin and joins you.

“Baby I love you so fucking much” you confess after the giggling finally subsides.

“I love you too. So much” Marcus replies easily, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling back to smile sweetly at you.

“Do you… wanna take a bath with me?” You ask. You know you have the smell of sex and Dave York literally all over you and you assume Marcus doesn’t love that but to your surprise he just snuggles you a little tighter and hums into your hair.

“I don’t mind. I uh… kinda like you like this” he admits and despite the darkened state of the room you know he’s blushing. You also know he’s not lying either when he pushes his hips just slightly and you feel exactly how much he likes it pressing against your thigh. Marcus is kinkier than you give him credit for. And the secureness he has in your relationship and his own masculinity is so incredibly sexy you wish you had even an ounce of the energy you'd need to let him know how good he makes you feel as well.

“Baby” you let out a little whine. You want so badly to be with him but you physically don’t think you can do it. You don’t have another orgasm in you, you just don’t. And it’s not fair to Marcus for you to just lie there like a cold fish either when he wants to make love to you.

“I know” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But I’m, I thought, maybe…” he trails off, like he’s embarrassed and that has your attention.

“What? Tell me baby”

“Well do you um, remember last time with Dave? What he said about like… keeping it warm?” He begins and your tummy flutters at the memory. You absolutely remember.

“Yeah, the cockwarming thing?”

“Yeah” Marcus shrugs. “M-maybe we could try that? Only if you want to!” He adds hurriedly and you smile.

“Baby, if you’d let me fall asleep with your cock inside me, I’d literally marry you all over again” you tell him and his face lights up like a kid on Christmas just given their first puppy.

“Fuck, really?”

“Mmm hmmm” you nod, placing a hand on his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. “I wanna feel close to you” you confess.

And you do want to. You’d never even thought of doing this before because typically if he was inside you it was because you both wanted or needed to get off but now seems like the perfect time. For you at least. You hope it’s going to be enjoyable for Marcus and not pure torture if he’s too worked up and can’t do anything about it.

“Are you sure though? That’s going to be ok for you?”

“Turn around on your side” Marcus tells you rather than answering and you do so he can spoon up behind you like your usual sleeping position together. He sits up and reaches over you and pulls open the bedside drawer and grabs the small bottle of lube that you keep in there. He squeezes a few droplets into his hand and tosses the bottle back before you feel him behind you getting himself ready and then he’s sliding between your thighs, warm and hard. You’re grateful at how considerate he’s being, your sweet Marcus.

“I’ve got you honey” he whispers into your cheek as he slowly drags himself between your folds a couple of times to coat you in the slick from the lube so you’re more comfortable and then gently pushes inside, both of you groaning when he’s buried to the hilt. He reaches just a touch deeper than Dave and feels so good inside you like your bodies were simply meant to fit together.

“God I fucking missed you” he breathes into your shoulder before planting a kiss to it.

“Missed you too Marcus, so much”. There’s tears at the corners of your eyes threatening to spill. You love this man more than anything and all he wants is to make you happy and it makes your heart soar. You feel so close to him with him nestled inside you, you feel like you could stay like this forever and you’d die happy.

“Go to sleep baby” he hums and then wraps his arm around you to hold you tighter against him.

The slow and steady throb of his cock inside you is like a heartbeat and lulls you to sleep in minutes, pulling you into a dreamless and restful slumber for the rest of the night until morning comes and you make sure to show Marcus exactly how much you appreciate him.

Chapter three

Taglist (if you want to be added, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads

[weird-an]

"You're having a crisis," Robin tells him when Steve comes to work way too late on Saturday, hair a mess and hoping that his shirt hides all the hickies Billy left... everywhere.

Great. He hoped she wouldn't notice, but she needed one coffee and three minutes to find out.

"What gives you that idea?" Steve tries to feign nonchalance and sorts the tapes that have been given back yesterday.

"Is that a hickey?" Robin tugs at his shirt.

"Robin!" Steve swats her hand away. "That's none of your business."

"I had to man the counter alone for half an hour. Because you were late." She gestures at the very deserted store. "Did you fuck someone and regret it?"

Steve can't help but to think about Billy's flushed skin and gasps.

"I don't really regret it," he admits. Just whom, maybe. Or maybe he regrets not kissing Billy sooner.

Okay okay, that's the real crisis. Steve likes Billy. Billy Hargrove of all people. Robin always tells him that his taste sucks and she might be onto something. Steve wants to kiss Billy all the time. It's just... Billy asked Steve to fuck him in a fucking bathroom stall at a dirty gas station yesterday and Steve would rather take him out for dinner.

He knows he can't, but he knows there are better places than gas stations and the back of their cars. Billy just always laughs it off when Steve tries to talk about it. Or distracts him with a sloppy blowjob, because that always works.

"But?" Robin raises a brow.

"I want more than sex," Steve groans. "That's the problem."

"I mean… why don't you just say that?" Robin sighs like she is his English teacher who is despairing of his spelling for years now.

That sounds way too easy. Nothing is easy with Billy except orgasming.

"It's complicated." Steve groans and turns around to get the last tapes from the counter.

Steve freezes.

Billy is staring at him, eyes wide, clutching a VHS to his chest. Of course their first fucking costumer on a Saturday morning had to be him.

"Uhm." Steve wants to hide behind the counter.

Robin sucks in a sharp breath. "Steve Harrington."

Steve is never going to survive this.

"That's my name," Steve grits out. He tries to ignore his sweaty hands. "Maybe we... should talk, Billy?"

Billy tilts his head. "Maybe," he says slowly.

"Great." Steve grabs his arm and drags him towards the adults section. No way he's having this conversation in front of Robin.

Billy grins at a copy of Cruising. "Can I blow you here?"

"This isn't what I want to talk about." Steve's cheeks burn. "I... want more than blowjobs."

"We can have more than blowjobs," Billy says. "Just lemme grab a condom."

His ears are pink. It's a distraction. He tries to get Steve's dick on his side so that they don't have to talk about it. But Steve's staying strong.

"I was thinking about a date." Steve's throat turns dry.

"You don't have to wine and dine me to get some action," Billy grumbles, staring at his feet.

"But I want to," Steve nearly yells.

Billy squints his eyes. "Okay."

Relief floods through Steve. "For real?"

"Yes, Steve Harrington." Billy grins.

"Good." Steve steps forward and presses a quick kiss on his lips.

"Can I blow you now?" Billy sinks on his knees. "Just listen if anybody comes in."

Well, Steve won't say no to that. What a great way to solve a crisis. He just hopes Robin isn't eavesdropping.

[ntonlvr]

Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly 3-4?

synopsis: sohee decides to throw a party. anton and y/n continue to sneak around..

what could possibly happen next..stay tuned

word count: 7.5k>

status: 4/? (this 2 chapters in one)

content warning: explicit sexual content, oral (fem and male receiving), drunk sex, slight mutual masturbation (?), idk what else to tag lmaoo

please leave feedback :)

The morning sun filtered through your curtains, casting a gentle glow over your room as you stretched, thoughts of last night with Anton lingering in your mind. His kiss, the way his hands felt on you, replayed vividly. You reach for your phone and settle back into bed, the cool sheets enveloping you. With a giddy excitement, you prepare to spill everything to your online besties, Taro and Sung. 

You’d been friends with them for years, bonding over shared interests and countless late-night conversations. They were all well aware of your history with Anton–a childhood friend with whom you’d recently felt a growing connection beyond mere friendship. Whenever you needed advice or just a sympathetic ear, they were always there. 

Just as you were about to text them, Sohee’s voice echoed from downstairs. “Hey, Y/N,  are you up? I need your help please!” Rolling your eyes, you chose to ignore him for the moment, fingers quickly tapping across the screen.

TEXTING CYBER BULLIES:

y/n: good morning :) guess whos filling my mind this morning …

taro: hmm anton 👀

sung: yeah, i second that. it has to be anton 

You grinned at their responses, fingers flying over the keyboard as you recounted last night's movie night. The way you were both snuggled up sharing light touches before the moment turned into something more. 

y/n: you won’t believe what happened last night 

taro: ooh ?? pls tell

sung: spill right now

y/n: well last night anton came over for a movie night, right. well we had a few shots of soju and we ended up kissing,, but like more heated …

taro: WAIT what!? i thought you guys were just friends!! did i miss a chapter 

sung: no stupid. that’s the news. BUT Y/N WE NEED MORE INFO NEOW.

sung: we know you had a fat crush on this man, but never expected you to actually do anything about it..

y/n: hey- i would’ve done something about it

y/n: i would like the jury to know that i did in fact make the first move

taro: and when you say the kissing got heated? what do you mean by that

y/n: um we might’ve felt each other up. and he definitely kissed me elsewhere.. you get the picture

sung: oh we will be facetiming later to discuss more details. you aren’t getting out of that

taro: yeah for sure. but how are you feeling? what are you gonna do??

y/n: well we agreed to keep it a secret for now, just so we can figure out our feelings for real. and how to break it to sohee if we progress further.

sung: SOHEE DOESN’T KNOW ?? DUDE 

y/n: hey remember when i said “we agreed to keep it a secret” OF COURSE SOHEE DOESN’T KNOW STUPID.

sung: well was it just heated kissing? if so i don’t think there’s any harm in that.

y/n: about that heheh…

taro: y/n i swear to god,, what else are you hiding from us .

y/n: after he left last night, we were texting- actually let me send a screenshot of our texts

y/n: *screenshot*

sung: .. no freaking way .. Y/N HE SNUCK OVER AFTER HE LEFT FOR THE NIGHT ..oh he’s got it bad for you

taro: oh 0.0 “i would love to feel you right now” you’re actually insane for that (i love it)

y/n: um so he did in fact sneak over. let’s just say a man can please and ya girl can please.

taro: and sohee had no idea anton came back over last night? girl you are so in the clear right now

sung: this is some next-level drama. i am living for this BUT how are you keeping this a secret?

y/n: idk 😭 that’s the hard part. we don’t really get a lot of 1:1 time because of sohee

taro: hmm maybe you can both sneak away tn since sohee’s throwing a party

y/n: how do you know he- stalker

sung: taro quit stalking sohee’s socials

taro: i like to know things, okay 

y/n: but taro does have a point. there will be enough people around so anton and i can have some alone time

taro: im living for the secret rendezvous with you and anton. so what’s the next move?

y/n:  i want to look good tonight. idk the thought of looking so good in front of anton when he has to act normal is making me go crazy

taro: you already know i support. pls send outfit ideas

As you laughed at their playful encouragement, Sohee called again, louder this time, “Y/N! Seriously, come help me. I know you’re up, I can hear you laughing.” You smirked and typed one last message.

y/n: i will!! i gotta go before sohee loses it -.-

You head downstairs and grab a cup of coffee to kickstart your day. Sohee enters, carrying a box of lights and other decorations. 

“Finally! I thought you were trying to skip out on helping me,” Sohee says, placing the box next to you. 

“I don’t get why we need all these lights. We already have lights in the backyard,” you reply, eyeing the tangled mess.

“Yeah, but these are way better. Anyway, I did have something I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he begins, leaning against the counter with a more serious expression.

Your heart skips a beat, and a wave of anxiety washes over you. “What about it?”

Sohee sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I noticed something weird when I joined you both for that movie last night. Like something with Anton,” he says, his tone filled with curiosity. “Anton seemed kind of off, like he was distracted.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you struggle to maintain a calm facade. “Distracted? What do you mean?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but the slight tremor in your voice betrays you.

Sohee pours himself some coffee, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know, just a feeling. He was quieter than usual. Maybe he’s got something on his mind.”

You force a laugh, relieved that Sohee hasn’t pieced anything together. “Yeah, he’s been stressed about work lately. Probably just that.”

Sohee shrugs, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. “Makes sense. Anyway, let’s get these decorations up. The party won’t set itself up.”

You nod, the tension easing as you both start untangling the lights. The relief washes over you, knowing that your secret is still safe for now.

The morning flew by in a whirlwind of party preparations with Sohee. As you helped him hang lights and arrange decorations, your mind kept drifting back to Anton and what the evening might bring. Around midday, while you were putting the final touches in place, Sohee’s phone began buzzing loudly. 

“Sohee, could you please pass me another hook so these lights stop falling?” you called out.

“Sorry, I’m actually going to head out and grab drinks for tonight,” Sohee replied, already reaching for his keys. “Do you mind holding the fort down while I’m gone?”

“Can’t you grab me a hook before you leave?” you retorted, frustration evident in your voice. 

“Well, I’m already out the door, Sorry, I’ll be back in a little while,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“What an ass,” you mutter to yourself. Did he really just leave you to finish setting up for a party he wanted to throw? “Whatever,” you thought. “I’ll wrap this up and then get ready for tonight.”

In your room, you laid out your chosen outfit on your bed and took a shower to refresh yourself. The warm water helped relax your nerves, and you spent extra time carefully styling your hair into loose waves that frame your face effortlessly. 

Unlocking your phone, you started a FaceTime call with Taro and Sung to get their opinion on your fit for the night. 

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” Taro greeted you enthusiastically as his face appeared on the screen. 

“I need your fashion advice,” you said with a grin, “I already chose this dress, but I have another option in case the jury doesn’t like it.”

Sung leaned forward, curious. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You set your phone up, and backed away from the camera, displaying the dress you had on. A skimpy sundress in a pastel floral print that hugged your curves in all the right places. “Okay, this is the first option. A personal favorite,” you explained, giving a playful twirl to show it off. 

Taro’s eyes widened with approval. “Wow, Y/N you look hot in that dress. It really compliments you so well.”

Sung nods in agreement. “Definitely. It’s perfect for tonight. Anton won’t be able to take his eyes, and maybe even his hands off you.”

Before you could grab the second outfit, Taro exclaimed, “We don’t even need to see the other one. This is perfect!

Sung nodded in agreement. “Yeah, seriously. Anton won’t be able to resist you in that.”

You laughed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” Taro said confidently.

“Totally,” Sung added with a grin.

The thrill of teasing Anton added an extra layer of excitement to the night. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he sees you. Taro and Sung could sense your anticipation and share in your excitement. 

“We can’t wait to hear how this plays out for you,” Taro said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Yeah, keep us updated,” Sung added. “This is going to be so much fun.”

You smiled, feeling more confident than ever. “Thanks, guys. I’ll let you know how it goes. Tonight is going to be good.”

“Sorry guys, hold on a sec,” you apologize, tapping the screen to switch over to Sohee’s call. The image shifts to a chaotic scene in Sohee’s car, packed with shopping bags brimming with bottles of various liquors.

“Sohee, what’s all this?” you laugh, eyeing the assortment of drinks.

Sohee grins mischievously. “I figured we needed a little something extra for tonight. And look who I found on the way back,” he gestures towards Anton, who waves from the passenger seat, a shy smile on his face. 

Anton leans into the camera view, his voice tinged with humor. “Hey, Y/N. Sohee decided to kidnap me for the cause.”

You chuckle at them, feeling a surge of excitement for the night ahead. “Well, looks like we’re all set then. Thanks, Sohee. See you both soon.” With a wave goodbye, you switch back to Taro and Sung, who are grinning at the unexpected interruption. “Okay, I gotta go, babes. I’m pretty sure Sohee is close to being back and is gonna need help with everything.”

Taro laughed. “Good luck! And remember, we need all the juicy details later.”

“Yeah, and don’t leave anything out!” Sung added.

You smiled, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the full scoop. Talk to you later.”

The evening air was thick with anticipation as Sohee’s car pulled up to the front of the house. Anton stepped out first, followed closely by Sohee, who was balancing the bags of goodies with practiced ease. They exchanged knowing glances, both fully aware of the surprise that was about to unfold.

You descended the stairs, your presence catching Anton’s attention almost immediately. Anton’s breath caught in his throat as he beheld you in the sundress, the soft pastels playing against your skin like a delicate watercolor. His gaze traced the curve of your waist, the gentle flow of the fabric over your figure, and the way the dress seemed to illuminate you with a subtle radiance.

At that moment, time seemed to slow for Anton. He couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you wore confidence like a second skin, how every movement you made seemed to carry a quiet grace that captivated him anew. Thoughts raced through his mind, a whirlwind of admiration and desire intertwined. 

“Wow,” Anton managed to whisper, the word escaping his lips almost involuntarily. His heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of awe and a deeper, more profound feeling stirring within him. He found himself unable to look away, wanting to etch this moment into his memory. 

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, your smile brightened at the sight of Anton. You could sense his reaction, the unspoken admiration that hung in the air like a delicate thread. It was a moment suspended in time, where words seemed unnecessary amidst the unspoken language of glances and smiles. 

You joined Sohee and Anton as they gathered the remaining supplies from the car. The back seat was filled with bags from different stores, and a variety of beverages. Anton began to unload them while you and Sohee carried them inside. 

“How was the store?” you asked, breaking the silence as they maneuvered through the hallway. 

Anton glanced at you, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand. “It was alright. Sohee managed to get all the best deals.”

Sohee nodded in agreement, setting down his load on the kitchen counter. “Definitely, I know what I’m doing. Thanks for helping us by the way.”

You smiled warmly, “Of course, I’m happy to help.”

As they continued unpacking, you reached to grab a big bowl from the top shelf, inadvertently lifting the hem of your dress just enough to expose the bottom of your ass. Anton’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected glimpse, his cheeks flushing as he looked away, trying to maintain composure. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile at his reaction before bending over to now retrieve something you didn’t even need, knowing full well you were testing Anton’s self-control at this point.

As they unpacked the bags, Y/N noticed Anton stealing glances at you from time to time. You couldn’t resist a playful tease. Setting down a bottle, you turned towards Anton. “Enjoying the view?” you ask in a low whisper.

Anton’s cheeks flushed slightly, caught off guard by your directness. He chuckled nervously, trying to play it cool. “Uh, maybe a little,” he admitted with a shy smile. 

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to ponder. “Well, I guess that’s a compliment,” she replied, her eyes sparking mischievously.

As they continued unpacking, you reached to grab a big bowl from the top shelf, inadvertently lifting the hem of your dress just enough to expose the bottom of your ass. Anton’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected glimpse, his cheeks flushing as he looked away, trying to maintain composure. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile at his reaction before bending over to now retrieve something you didn’t even need, knowing full well you were testing Anton’s self-control at this point.

Anton shifted his position, feeling the tension between them growing more palpable with each playful gesture. 

“So, Anton,” Sohee called from the other side of the kitchen, oblivious to the teasing. “Can you check if we have enough mixers?”

“Uh, sure,” Anton replied, his voice a bit strained. He moved to the pantry, grateful for the temporary distraction. As he rummaged through the shelves, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, who was now leaning over the counter, her movements slow and deliberate.

You straightened up, catching Anton’s eye once more. She walked over to him, your smile innocent but your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Need any help in there?” she asked sweetly, standing just a bit too close. 

Anton took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “I think I’ve got it, thanks,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

As you reached for a bottle on the shelf next to Anton, you subtly grazed his side, your touch light and seemingly accidental but enough to send a shiver through Anton. He tensed, trying to remain composed as the playful gesture heightened the already charged atmosphere between them, 

“Sohee,” you called over your shoulder, your tone light and playful, “do we have enough glasses for the drinks?”

Sohee nodded, still focused on his own task. “Yeah, they should be in the cabinet above the sink.”

You turned back to Anton, giving him a final teasing smile before moving away to fetch the glasses. Anton exhaled slowly, his mind racing with thoughts of you and your playful antics. He knew the evening was only just beginning, and he had a feeling your teasing was far from over.

With Sohee bustling in the kitchen, organizing the drinks and setting out other necessities, you seized the opportunity to steak a moment alone with Anton. You flashes him a smile, a silent invitation to join you in a corner of the living room away from Sohee.

Anton hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Sohee to ensure he wouldn’t notice their brief absence. Then, unable to resist your playful allure, he followed you to the secluded corner. 

You leaned against the wall, your eyes glinting with mischief as you watched Anton approach. “Finally, some peace and quiet,” you murmured, your voice soft and inviting. 

Anton nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Yeah, it’s been a little hectic in there,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you.

You took a step closer, your proximity sending a shiver down Anton’s spine. “I noticed you’ve been a bit distracted,”  you teased, your fingers lightly brushing his arm.

Anton swallowed hard, the touch of your fingers sending a wave of warmth through him. “It’s hard not to be,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your smile widened, pleased by his honesty. “Good to know I have that effect on you,” you said, your tone playful yet sincere. You leaned in, your lips just inches from his ear. “You know, you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything else.”

Anton’s heart raced, the intimacy of the moment almost overwhelming. “You’re not making it easy for me either,” he confessed, his breath hitching. 

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against his skin. “Maybe that’s the point,” she whispered, your lips brushing against his ear ever so slightly.

"Imagine what else I could do if we were alone... just the two of us."

Before you could pull back, Anton’s hands were on you, unable to resist any longer. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

You shivered at his touch, a pleased smile playing on your lips. “You can’t seem to take your hands off me, can you?” you teased, your tone light but your eyes dark with invitation. 

“Can you blame me?” Anton replied, his hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. I can’t resist touching you.”

“Good to know,” you whispered back, enjoying the way his touch sent waves of heat through you. “But we can’t stay hidden forever. Sohee will start wondering where we went.”

Anton was about to respond, to the close distance between you, when Sohee’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Hey, Anton! Can you give me a hand with these coolers? They're too heavy for me to lift alone."

Anton groaned inwardly, the moment shattered by the interruption. He pulled back reluctantly, glancing at you, who wore an amused expression. "Duty calls," you said with a wink, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Anton called back to Sohee, his voice tinged with frustration.

Moments later, you both joined Sohee in welcoming their friends, the atmosphere quickly filling with lively chatter and music. The front door swung open repeatedly as guests arrived, bringing with them bursts of laughter and clinking of bottles. Sohee, in his element, floated around the room and backyard, ensuring everyone had a drink and was having a good time. 

As the night progressed, you found yourself standing at the makeshift bard in the backyard. You leaned over to grab a pop from the lower shelf, your dress riding up slightly. Anton’s breath hitched instinctively reaching out to steady you, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin.

“You really can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” you whispered, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you straightened up, holding the can of pop.

Anton’s eyes darkened, his voice low as he replied, “You’re impossible to resist. I told you.”

Before you could respond, a group of friends approached them, breaking the intimate moment. You both plastered on friendly smiles, engaging in casual conversation, but the tension between you remained palpable.

As the party buzzed with energy, music thumped and laughter filled the air. Anton leaned in, whispering to you, “Wanna get out of here?”

You shared a smirk and began weaving your way through the crowd, aiming for upstairs. Just as you reached the stairs, Sohee, visibly tipsy, intercepted you, swaying slightly.

“Hey! Where are you two sneaking off to?” he asked, his words slurring a bit. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

You and Anton exchanged a look, their escape thwarted. “Uh, just going to get more drinks. Looks like we’re running low,” you replied, trying to act natural.

Sohee grinned. “Perfect! That’s what I was going to ask you both to do. It’s like you read my mind.”

“Yeah, of course, Sohee,” Anton replied, chuckling. “Anything for you.”

Sohee beamed. “You guys are the best!” I’ll make sure the party doesn’t die while you’re gone.”

As the car hummed down the road, the city lights flickering past, Anton’s hand found its way to your thigh, tracing soft patterns with his fingertips. His touch sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

“Can’t believe Sohee actually sent us on a beer run,” you chuckled, stealing a glance at Anton.

He smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.” His hand slid higher, a teasing warmth spreading through your body. 

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise within you. “You think you can keep your hands to yourself?” you teased.

Anton leaned closer, his voice low and filled with a playful challenge. “Why would I want to, when you look so good?” His warm breath brushed against your ear, sending tingles down your spine.

You laughed softly, but then gleamed at the road ahead. “Hey, pay attention to the road,” you teased, your voice mock-serious.

Anton chuckled, his hand still gently exploring. “Don’t worry,” he said confidently, his tone cocky and flirty. “I’ve got my hands–and eyes–right where they need to be.”

The car pulled up to the liquor store, and you both hopped out to grab the beers Sohee had requested, along with other beverages. The task was simple enough, but the tension between you both was high.

As he drove, the tension between you both grew undeniable. Anton glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know,” he said, his voice low and suggestive, “we have a bit of time before we head back.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” you asked, your voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

Without answering, Anton turned down a quiet, secluded road, pulling over in a spot hidden by trees. He killed the engine and looked at Y/N with a smirk. “Why don’t we take a little detour?” 

You grinned, heart pounding with anticipation. “Lead the way,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, already intoxicated by the daring excitement of what was to come.

Anton flashed a wicked smile and opened his door, stepping out of the driver's seat. He moved around the car, opening the back door and gesturing for you to join him. “Get in the backseat,” he suggested, his tone a mix of command and invitation.

As they settled into the backseat, Anton’s lips captured yours, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed eagerly. He traced up your sides, fingers brushing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, your breaths mingling in the confined space. Anton’s hands explored your curves, sliding beneath your dress, his touch warm and urgent.

He felt you shiver as his hand ventured higher, fingers tracing the soft fabric of your panties. “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

You gasped, your body responding to his touch, the sensation intoxicating. Anton’s fingers pressed lightly over you, feeling the heat radiating, his own desire intensifying.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, lips brushing against your ear. The thrill of their secret moment, hidden away from the world, only heightened their connection.

You whimpered softly, your breath hitching as Anton’s fingers continued their tantalizing exploration. Emboldened by your response, he kissed a trail down your neck, his lips trailing lower with each tender caress. He knelt between your legs, his gaze locked with yours, filled with hunger.

"Anton…" you breathed out as his palms found their way upwards. "We should go back," you said, feeling a mix of urgency and desire.

"We should," he agreed, though his hands showed no intention of stopping. His fingers teased your skin, drawing you closer.

"We need to get back," you insisted, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"Then let's stop," Anton suggested, his lips brushing against yours.

"You first," you challenged, a playful smile on your lips.

"I can't," he admitted, his voice low and filled with need.

"Then let's finish," you replied, surrendering to the heated moment. Your lips met his once more, lost in the intensity of your connection. The urgency of the world outside faded into oblivion as you both gave in to the passionate, stolen moments in the backseat of the car.

Anton’s mouth found your inner thigh, his tongue tracing a path of fire along your skin. Your fingers threaded through his hair, urging him closer as he teased you, building tension to an unbearable peak. When his lips finally met your core, it was like an electric shock, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His touch was expert, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. Your breath hitched with each flick of his tongue, the gentle sucking on your clit sending tremors of delight through your ent9ire being. He alternated between soft, teasing licks and firmer strokes, each one eliciting a gasp or maon from your lips. The sensations were almost too much, your body arching towards him, seeking more of that friction.

“Anton, please,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built inside you.

“Tell me what you want,” he hummed against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

Anton’s hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he continued his ministrations. His tongue moved with a rhythm that drove you wild. His mouth was warm and insistent, every movement designed just for you, to bring you over the edge. 

“You taste so good,” he growled softly, his voice sending another shiver down your spine.

His lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking and then releasing, only to repeat the motion. You felt your muscles tighten in anticipation, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter.

“Oh, god, Anton,” you moaned, your hips bucking against his mouth. “I’m so close…”

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your wet skin, before diving back down with renewed vigor. His tongue pressed firmly against your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles, causing your toes to curl.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the edge of release approaching, your body tensing as your high was nearing. Anton sensed this, his hands sliding up your thighs to hold you even closer, his tongue working you relentlessly. 

Anton flicked his tongue rapidly against your clit and then sucked your clit hard, the coil inside you snapped. You cry out Anton’s name with ecstasy, your body trembling with the intensity. Anton continued to work you through your high, his mouth never leaving your core. 

He didn't stop until he had drawn out every last shiver and moan from you, his tongue soothing and gentle now, easing you down from the heights of pleasure. When you finally collapsed back against the seat, spent and breathless, Anton kissed his way back up your body, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of satisfaction.

Anton’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as you pushed him gently against the seat. You kissed your way down his neck, your lips trailing along his collarbone and chest. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a husky growl. “What are you doing?”

You smiled against his skin, your hands moving to unbutton his jeans. ‘Giving you what you deserve,” you replied, your voice low and seductive.

“We should go back now,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction, his body already responding to your touch.

You slid his jeans down, your fingers tracing the hard outline of his arousal through his boxers. Anton’s breath quickened, his eyes never leaving yours. 

With a hunger that matched his own, you lowered yourself between his legs, your lips brushing against his inner thigh. Anton’s sharp intake of breath spurred you on, your mouth finding him eagerly. You started with soft, teasing kisses along his length, your tongue darting out to taste him,

“God, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands now tangling in your hair.

You looked up at him, eyes full of mischief. “That’s the idea,” you said, before taking him fully into your mouth. Your tongue danced along his member, teasing and tasting him as you worked him to the same completion he did to you moments before. 

Anton’s grip on the seat tightened as he surrendered to the pleasure you gave him. He whispered words of encouragement to you as you continued your attack. You increased your pace, your movements becoming more fervent as you felt him growing harder against your tongue. His hips bucked slightly, matching your rhythm, and you knew he was close.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice strained with need. “I’m so close, I’m about to come…”

You only redoubled your efforts, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before descending again. With a final stroke, you felt him reach his high, his release filling your mouth as he groaned your name. You swallowed, taking every last bit, your eyes locked. 

As you pulled back, you stuck your tongue out to show Anton you had swallowed every last bit. The sight alone made him lose it, his breath hitching as he stared at you with a dazed look. 

“God,” is all he managed to breathe out. 

Anton pulled you into a lingering kiss before leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “We should probably get back,” he said, his voice low. 

You smiled, your body still humming from the intensity of your shared moment. “Yeah, before Sohee starts wondering where we are.”

With a reluctant sigh, you both fixed your clothes and climbed back into the front seats. The car hummed to life, and as you drove back to the party, the tension between you and Anton was replaced with comfortable silence. The intimacy of your recent encounter still lingering in the air. 

As the car approached the party, the sound of music and laughter grew louder. You could see the house lit up, people milling about in the front yard, holding drinks and talking animatedly. Anton parked the car and turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Stepping out of the car, you both grabbed the bags of drinks and headed towards the house. The moment you walked in, you were greeted by a way more drunk Sohee, his eyes widening with relief and excitement.

"There you are!" he exclaimed, stumbling slightly as he approached you. "I was starting to think you guys got lost or something."

Anton chuckled, handing Sohee a bag of drinks. "Just had a little detour. But we got everything you asked for."

Sohee swayed a bit, peering into the bag with a grin. “Perfect! You guys are lifesavers.” He reached out to pat Anton on the shoulder but paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Hey, uh, Anton…your fly is down.”

Anton quickly looked down, his cheeks reddening slightly as he zipped up. “Oops, must’ve been in a hurry. We stopped to use the bathroom,” he said with a casual laugh.

Sohee then turned his attention to you, his gaze lingering on  your slightly tousled hair. “And Y/N, your hair is looking a mess.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you quickly tried to smooth your hair. “Yeah, the wind was crazy out there.”

Sohee laughed, giving you a playful shove. “Sure, sure. You might want to keep that under control unless you want to scare everyone away.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t smile at how even drunk Sohee still tries to bully you. “Thanks for the advice, dick.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his gaze, but he was too far gone to dwell on it. “Well, as long as you’re back with the drinks. Let’s keep this party going!”

He grabbed a beer from the bag and cracked it open, raising it in a toast. “ To the best beer runners ever!”

You and Anton exchanged a look of relief, clinking your bottles together before taking a sip. The party continued in full swing, the music thumping and laughter filling the air. Sohee, now distracted by other friends, quickly forgot his earlier suspicions, and you and Anton were able to blend back into the lively atmosphere, the thrill of your secret adding an extra spark to the night.

Anton found himself with his friends Wonbin and Eunseok, their group gathered in the kitchen with bottles in hand. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Anton glanced outside where you were sitting with your friends Karina and Ningning at a small table, a bit away from the main crowd. You looked radiant, your laughter infectious as you animatedly chatted with the girls. 

Karina nudged you playfully, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You and Anton seem awfully close tonight,” she remarked, her tone teasing. 

You shrugged nonchalantly, though your cheeks warmed at the comment. “He’s just my best friend, and you know that,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink to hide your smile.

Ningning leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “You two would make a cute couple, you know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not like that,” you insisted, but the words felt less convincing even to your own ears. Your gaze drifted back to Anton, who was now engrossed in a story Eunseok  was telling, his smile bright and genuine. 

You stumble upstairs, a little tipsy but still steady enough to navigate the familiar path to your room. Closing the door behind you, you kick off your shoes and collapse onto your bed, the soft fabric of your sundress bunching up around your thighs. Grinning to yourself, you pull out your phone and open a new message to Anton.

y/n: hey handsome ;)

You giggle to yourself, hitting send. It doesn’t take long for your phone to buzz with a response.

Anton: Hey, where’d you go?

y/n: upstairs. needed a break from the noise. u should come join meeee

You bite your lip, your fingers dancing over the keyboard as you continue

y/n: im all alone…in bed…and it’s kind of boring without u

You know Anton is still downstairs with his friends, and the thought of him trying to hide his phone to read your messages makes you giggle. Your phone buzzes again.

Anton: I’m with the guys, I can’t just leave like that

y/n: why not? im more fun than them

You can almost imagine him trying to keep a straight face while reading your texts. Deciding to take it up a notch, you reach for the hem of your dress, hiking it up just enough to reveal your bare skin. Angling the phone just right, you snap a photo and send it to him. 

y/n: see? im not even wearing panties…

A thrill runs through you as you hit send, and you wait, heart pounding, for his response. This time, it takes a bit longer for his reply to come through.

Anton: Holy shit, Y/N. You’re killing me

y/n: u know what would be even better? u… up here with me

You start again, feeling more bold.

y/n: yeah im just laying here, thinking about u…touching myself

Your phone buzzes almost immediately.

Anton: You are so hot, oh my god…

You grin, knowing you’ve got him right where you want him.

y/n: come on, anton. don’t you want to see what you’re missing ;)

You lie back, anticipation building as you wait for his next move. Downstairs, Anton is struggling to keep his composure, sneaking glances at his phone while his friends are oblivious to his distraction. You can almost feel his tension, his desire to be up there with you instead of stuck trying to act normal.

Finally, his next message comes through. 

Anton: Give me 5 minutes

You smile, your heart racing with excitement. You know that in a few minutes, Anton will be there, and the night is going to take another exhilarating turn. But you decide to push him a little further. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you adjust your dress, pulling it up higher to reveal more. With a sultry look, you take another photo, making sure it captures the curve of your body and the suggestive hint of your touch.

y/n: hurry up…i’m getting impatient

You hit send, your heart racing as you imagine Anton’s reaction. The seconds tick by slowly, each one heightening your excitement. You can almost picture him trying to discreetly look at his phone, his friends none the wiser. 

Your phone buzzes again.

Anton: Damn, Y/N…you’re making this really hard to stay down here.

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of satisfaction.

y/n: just imagine how good it will feel to be up here with me…

The thrill of knowing he’s about to sneak away just for you is intoxicating. You send one final message, wanting to make sure he can’t resist.

y/n: just think about me… laying her, so wet and ready for you…

Another photo follows, this one even more revealing, leaving little to the imagination.

Anton: I’m on my way. 

You hear the creak of the stairs, each step bringing Anton closer. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you quickly check your appearance one last time. The door handle turns, and Anton slips into the room, closing and locking the door quietly behind him.

He stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you sprawled on the bed, your dress hiked up, one hand resting on your inner thigh. His eyes darken with desire, and he walks over, his presence sending shivers down your spine. 

You start to pull your hand away, but he stops you with a firm but gentle command. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you nod shyly, resuming your slow, teasing strokes. His eyes never leave you, his intense gaze making your movements feel even more intimate. You feel your body reacting to his attention, every touch amplified by his look. 

Anton sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach out and touch you but holding back. His restraint only heightens your arousal, and you let out a soft moan, your fingers working urgently. 

“Anton..” you breathe, your voice trembling already with need. “Please…I want you.”

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. “I want to watch you a little longer.”

You whimper, your body aching for his touch, but you obey, for fingers continuing to play with your clit. His gaze is almost tangible, the heat in his eyes making you feel more exposed than ever. 

“Please, Anton,” you beg, your voice breaking with desperation. “I need you to touch me.”

His hand covers yours, guiding your movements. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you gasp, your body arching towards him. He watches you intently, his own arousal evident. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “But I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” you moan, your voice raw with desire. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me.”

He pulls back slightly, he eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “Not yet,” he says firmly. “I want you to make yourself cum first. Show me what you do when I’m not around to help you.” Your eyes widen, and a shiver runs through you. “But Anton,” you whisper,  your voice giving out on you. “I- I can’t… I need you…”

“You can,” he insists, his voice a low growl. “Show me how badly you want it.”

You hesitate for a moment, your body aching for him. But the command in his voice is undeniable. You slide your hand back down, resuming the slow, tortuous strokes, your eyes locked on his. His gaze never wavers, watching every movement, every reaction.

To increase the sensation, you move your free hand up to your breasts, fingers grazing over your nipples. You pinch and tease them, gasping at the added pleasure. The dual actions overwhelm you, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling.

The sensation builds quickly, your own touch suddenly feeling more intense under his watchful eyes. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your hips lifting off the bed as you chase your release. 

“Anton…please…” you moan, your body trembling.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet. “Show me how much you want it.”

The words push you over the edge, your body tensing as the orgasm crashes over you. You cry out, your entire body shuddering with the force of it. 

As you come down from the high, Anton finally moves, his hands replacing yours, his touch sending aftershocks through your oversensitive skin. You notice his hand moving more deliberately over himself, his arousal palpable. 

He stands up, unbuttoning his jeans, his movements slow and knowing. You watch, your eyes fill with a mix of satisfaction and renewed desire as he finally starts to touch himself openly. But even now, his focus still remains on you, his eyes locked on yours as he begins to stroke himself, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You like watching me, don’t you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. 

“Yes,” you whisper, your body still trembling from your release. “But I want to do more than just watch. Let me touch you.”

He shakes his head slowly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Not yet,” he says, his voice a tantalizing whisper. “You can look, but no touching.”

You whimper at his words, your core aching with renewed need as you watch him begin to pleasure himself. His movements are skilled and with purpose. His eyes locked onto yours as he slowly stroked himself, edging closer and closer to release. 

“Please, Anton,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

He groans, his breath hitching as he slows his strokes, teasing himself. “Not yet,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I want to see you beg for it.”

“Anton,” you moan, your body trembling with desire. “I can’t take it anymore. Please… I need you.”

His eyes darkened with lust, and he moved closer, his hand still working over himself. “Keep begging,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “I want to hear how much you want it.”

“Please, Anton,” you cry out, your body arching towards him. “I need you so badly. I can’t stand it. Please…”

His eyes flash with satisfaction, and he finally gives in, positioning himself over you. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue teasing yours. You can taste the desire on his lips, feel it in the way his hands roam your body.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your mouth, his voice thick with need. He pulls back just enough to align himself with you, the anticipation making you tremble. His eyes lock onto yours, holding your gaze as he slowly pushes inside, stretching and filling you in a way that makes you cry out.

Your nails dig into his back, your body arching against his. “Anton,” you gasp, your voice a mix of relief and overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god, yes!”

He moves with a deliberate, unhurried pace, each thrust deep and measured. His eyes never leave yours, the connection between you intensifying the sensations coursing through your body. You cling to him, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. 

“I want to feel you come again,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to feel you tighten around me.”

The command in his voice sends a thrill through you, and you can feel the pressure building once more. Your moans become more urgent, your body responding eagerly to his every touch. His pace quickens, his own restraint slipping as he nears his own release. 

“Anton,” you cry out, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. He groans, the sound vibrating through you as he finally lets go, his release triggering another wave of pleasure for you.

He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together. After a moment, he lifts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I don’t ever want to let you go,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

You smile, your heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t want you to,” you reply softly, running your fingers through his hair. “I want this. I want you.”

He holds you tighter, his lips finding yours once more in a tender, lingering kiss. “Then you have me,” he says, his eyes filled with promise. “Always.”

[trafalgarlogy]

☰ FAITH - POSEIDON !

→ TW ! possessiveness, gore, killing, lil bit of NSFW like a pinch of salt → Tags @aftongiulien, @posei-dont-mina, & comment if you want to be tagged!

"Why waste those precious tears over the cruel world, My Pearl the only one who can protect you & have faith is me..."

How Did You Meet !

→ Poseidon, the mighty god of the sea was certainly known to hate humans, he saw them as nothing but pests until he found an exception among those humans whom he never cared about and looked down on. He had found perfection. → It all started on that fateful day... when he was coast admiring the mesmerizing view of the sunset, and the sounds of waves crashing; it was all so peaceful and relaxing. → "What a beautiful view!" a soft voice interrupted him, turning around in annoyance he found himself meeting those gorgeous (e/c) eyes. He felt his heart soften in just the presence of this human. → Poseidon watched the human admire the sunset, as he examined at his/her/their features, the (h/c) hair blew in a matching rhythm with the wind, his/her/their rosy lips curled into a perfect smile. → the blonde god wanted to know about him/her/them but his pride held him back. the only courage he could hold was to ask, "What's your name, human?", the (h/c)-ette without any hesitation replied "I'm (Name) (Last Name), you can call me (Name)", he felt his heart beat rising at every word of the mortal, what was this strange feeling?. →"By the way, what's you-!" (Name) sentence was left incompleted when he/she/they saw Poseidon walk towards the sea and disappear in a blink of an eye.

Aftermath

→ Poseidon had a hard time accepting the fact he was in love, after having a "small conversation" with Aphrodite. the goddess was aware of Poseidon falling for a mortal like (Name) even after how Poseidon kept quiet about the human, and she knew it wasn't some normal love, it was far more chaotic and obsessive which is what she called "Mania". → The thought of (Name) drove him crazy, seeing him/her/them in the reflection of the clear water; even appearing in his dreams. → He would always admire him/her/them when they come by the coast from a corner smiling to himself. and sometimes send spies to gather every bit of information about (Name). → The obsession had got so tense that he got (Name)'s painting made, which he'd admire the entire day. → When he started interacting with (Name), he realized she was with another man/woman at the time. this enraged the god but not to be suspected by his beloved he couldn't get his hands dirty, and hired assassins do his work. When hearing the news of his/her/their lover's death made him/her/them depressed and during those hard times, Poseidon accompanied his beloved. → time passed by, and (Name) finally realized that he/she/they were now in love with Poseidon, but soon it became his/her/their biggest mistake.

How would he treat you !

→ Poseidon is the most obsessive and possessive yandere like this guy is just beautiful by just the looks but from the inside and why I say that? he would kill your entire family to cut down your bonds from the mortal realm just so you don't have a reason to go home. → Forget the word escape, there is no way you can get escape from him, cause he is one of the most powerful gods and it's easy for him to find you with his sources. → He would seriously gouge the eyes out of any man/woman who even mistakenly glances at you. → The man will take the word Friends out of your dictionary, he only wants you for himself, and himself only; no one else. → Ahem, just for your information, no matter how cold the god of seas maybe but he is 1000 times more lustful. So do expect yourself to end up in bed in a mess every morning. → But him having sex with you, always depends on his mood, he wants to do it with you he will; it doesn't matter whether it's against your will, cause my man is making the rules in the bed. → Well ahem, the sex you will be having is not gonna be gentle, *cough* more like hardcore and rough. So RIP, you won't be able to walk for an entire month (anyways enough with my crackhead NSFW, let's get into a few serious ones even though I can't make anything serious.) → there is a high possibility you'd have tried killing yourself because of your abusive and toxic relationship with him, but he would prevent that from happening by hiding all the sharp things, ropes, and poisons; and locking you up in a small cage and starving you till you beg for his forgiveness. → even asking for his brother's and other god's help is useless, cause they are not looking forward to the God of Seas wrath → your body would be full of bruises and marks, for how much he'd hit you for trying to escape or kill yourself. → He would always tell you for your best and to protect you from the cruel world that would always try to harm you, all you have to do is have faith in him. → The only cute thing he does is, he would plant kisses on bruises he gave you, and try making up with you by taking you outside to the mortal realm once in a while and showing wonderful places with famous architecture and aesthetics like take for eg. Paris, or any other place you dreamed to go. → If you want to survive with a yandere like him, its best for you to submit to him

About Mania !

→In Greek Mythology, There are 8 types of Love: Agape, Philia, Pragma, Ludus, Storge, Eros, Philautia and Mania →I won't be getting into details about other love types, but Mania Just like mentioned at the start Mania is Obsessive Love, where a person is so in love with someone that they don't realize that when it turns into obsession, in this type of love a person gets really jealous to an extreme level, →like taking the example of some toxic army fans, when they heard some rumors about BTS's Jungkook dating and they started a tag on Twitter "#cutforkookie" just to prove how much they "love" him, I will not get into the disturbing details of this case, case it can be disturbing for some. →this kind of behavior can lead to some unhealthy, toxic, and abusive relationships. →and so ladies and gentlemen prevent yourselves to get into this kind of love. If you think acting in this kind of love is cool, then I'd suggest you see a therapist cause it's not cool.

→THANK YOU FOR READING !

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: In the fall of 1939, You are an incoming freshman at Berkeley. Despite your love for literature and the pressure of your parents, you begrudgingly enroll in a Physics course. There you meet J. Robert Oppenheimer; your professor turned into your best friend and most importantly, your lover. Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Nothing major, minus the huge age gap. The reader is 18, and Oppenheimer is at least thirty. Everything is legal and consensual. If this bothers you, please do not read it; thank you! Notes: gonna be a long note, so strap in folks. so i have this tendency to get hyperfocused on a piece of media, get my little gremlin hands on any piece of media about it, devour said piece of media, and then poop out 5k+ words in under 24 hours due to my obsession. this happened two years ago with safin from no time to die, and let me just say that it goes to show that history is a sick cycle. not sick, I'm just literally insane. lol, anyways! here's some lore. last Sunday i saw oppenheimer and thought it was a masterpiece! i also love cillain murphy too, so that's a massive bonus. the next day, i bought american prometheus. i started reading it on tuesday, and finished it on Friday. if you haven't read it, please go read it. the book is impossible to put down, and a lot of characterization of robert and other characters come from the movie, but mainly the novel. this fic is heavily researched. this fic is also very dark too, and the content is...yeah. the age gap is very massive and while legal, very taboo, so please keep this in mind. there will be dark content in this story so be warned. trigger warnings will be in the beginning of every chapter. this is on my tumblr and ao3 as well. here is a playlist i made while writing this , if that does anything. my masterlist is also at work too; the new and updated version will be out next chapter. <a href="url">add yourself to the taglist if you are interested</a>. thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy.

There are people talking, and while they are close, their voices are nothing but mindless mutters.

Despite how much they had to drink, the buzz managed to slow their thoughts yet made them somewhat aware of their surroundings. If you tried, not like they really wanted to, you could point out every little detail around them–all small things, meaningless and unimportant, in the vast growing universe. 

The uneven vintage ski portrait on Hatomi’s side of the room, the dim light covered by the French literature nights on the window sill, the light of the moon in boxy shapes across the aged wooden door, your feet sticking out underneath the blanket and the cool air bringing goosebump to your toes, the heat of your flashlight against your cheek; it’s all so small. 

You’ve known Hatomi, your roommate at Berkeley, for the last week. A Japanese American from Davis, she’s a lover of literature like you, albeit you’re more into Russian and American literature than French. Both of you have concluded that you are different but are different enough to put those said differences aside to be friends. Hatomi, unlike you, is smiley and bright, the type to make a conversation not as awkward. She’s made many friends, some of whom are yours, and you’re thankful for her. In your orientation week at Berkeley, she’s helped you break out of your shell, and you’ve gone around campus and to parties to get out and meet people.

As thankful as you are for Haotmi, you are not very thankful about her bringing in some guy into the room without making it clear and having full-blow sex. Hatomi tries to keep her moans contained, but the slapping and grunts from the man beneath are not in any way contained or quiet. He’s as loud as possible, and you can identify him from one of the many parties you’ve been to, but all of them in your state become a gradual blur. 

There’s a visible outline of the two through your quilt. Hatomi’s on top, and said the man is on the bottom with messy hair. He’s got a hand on her hip, and she nudges forward, her body moving forward. It makes you feel even lonelier than you already feel, but it's not intentional, but it’s certainly a jab. Hatomi cries his name, an emphasis on the end of his name. 

You haphazardly try to catch his name, but end up forgetting it, the alcohol from earlier helping sing you to sleep. 

–

It soon became a cycle—the whole lot of it. 

You’d wake up at seven for your eight in the morning English class. Then you’d head to your philosophy class from nine-thirty to ten-thirty before heading to lunch at eleven. After that break, then comes your Greek class from twelve to one. Then it’s physics. 

It’s not that you don’t like physics. Actually, you love it—the concept is fascinating. The movement, gravity, and being a small thing in the grand scheme of the infinite universe is a topic you could dive into for hours on end. And not to mention, you have a burning hatred for the mathematics of it. You know you can do introductory algebra, but that’s where you draw the line. Calculus and all of that is too advanced. You can do it; at the bare minimum. 

Your class is not that big. It’s your smallest class with ten students, all intrigued by a fascinating professor. 

The first time you met him, he stood by the chalkboard with a huff of smoke following behind him. He wore a dark gray tweed suit and had thick, coarse hair which was wild, maintained with gel. He was tall but not towering and rather slender. With the bluest eyes you had ever seen, you knew that this man was a character; not to mention, he also looked intelligent. 

And that he was. 

Dr.Oppenheimer was the reason you started actually to love physics. Not like, love. He was not an easy teacher; he was complex but rewarding. He took the concept of physics and made it more interesting than it already was, adding another dimension to it that you didn’t think was possible. 

Instead of the class being a lecture, Oppenheimer discussed the fundamental forces and philosophy. He, like you, enjoyed how physics interacted with the classical world. With a cigarette in one hand and a piece of chalk in another, and in his velvety voice, Oppenheimer taught something along the lines of the cosmic universe or the quantum tunnel and would look to his students for their input, arguments, questions, or their voice to the topic. 

You know, or thought he knew, that you weren’t the best at physics, but could always add a philosophical or insight on how physics affects both in the modern and classical world. Sometimes in class, the two of you would dive into a conversation. Oppenheimer would give you a serious loo, staring directly at you with his bright blue eyes. You could have sworn they were the bluest eyes you had ever seen, in which you were. As you challenge you, Oppenehiemr would stare, blowing the occasional puff of smoke. You could see him smile, but maybe that was a part of your imagination. 

Physics was complicated, but not only did you enjoy the class for Oppenheimer, but you also look at Oppenheimer. You would not have said it initially, but he did come and was attractive to you. He looked serious, older, and cold; which all remained true, but he was also intelligent, and that was the most attractive thing to you. His intelligence made him overall even more handsome than he already was. With this new found elevation, you soon began to find everything he did attractive. It became a slight distraction, but it was enough to make you leave class with pink cheeks and smile to yourself all giddy. The fantastical thoughts of “what if” played in your mind, making going to sleep a little easier than it usually it. 

–

On Monday, Oppenheimer deemed that your class was heading into the “most brutal” and “nightmare-causing”  fundamental force of Physics; Quantum Mechanics. 

He also declared it was one of his favorite micro topics in Physics and, in his mind, “not too difficult if you truly look into it.”

 Everyone got a horrible gut feeling in their stomachs. 

Oppenheimer was blunt and did not sugarcoat, which was a fair warning to his class. Quantum Mechanics took everything that was horrible about Physics and made it increasingly worse. Wavefunctions, Eigenstates, Quantum Measurement, and all the new equations hit you like a frictional force. And it began to show on your assignments. 

Your normal average in the class was an A- (with Oppenheimer giving you an E for “exceptional effort”) hanging off the side of a cliff, but this new topic dragged your average down with massive magnetic force. Soon, your average became a B-. Homework assignments and reading responses leaned towards a B, while your test and quizzes averaged at failing or border failing. You felt relieved that one of your quizzes on Bra-Ket Notation came back as a C+. 

Oppenheimer was writing on the board, finishing a Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle equation on the board. He looked at the clock, knowing that class was going to end soon. Putting his chalk down and burning the small amount of his cigarette on the ashtray, he reached for a large stack of his papers. Most had red handwriting with circles, arrows, and question marks. A heavy wave of anxiety hit the class as a perpetual sigh raised. 

You could have sworn Oppenheimer stared directly at you. The vast blue eye started to haunt you, but you convinced yourself it was your mind playing tricks. You turned to one of your neighborhoods and sighed, shaking your head. 

“I understand you are all eager to receive back the recent test on the basic equations of Quantum Mechanics. I have taken my time grading each one and you will see why it looks like a long time,” Oppenheimer noted, with a tinge of dark comedy and sarcasm in his voice. He didn’t look up at the class as he walked around, gently putting each paper on the desk. Each paper he put down made a student who was having a good day a very not good day.

Between the heavy sighs and whispers between the students, you gulped as Oppenheimer passed your desk. He looked down for a split second and put your paper down. He pointed to the red writing right where you had written your name before moving on. Gathering yourself, you grabbed the test, and not your shock, was disappointed. 

Out of forty-five points, you had only gotten nine. It was a new low you had hit in the class. It seemed like it would keep getting lower. Everything was far from right, and he gave those points only because you tried by writing a passage by each equation explaining what you had tried to replicate, knowing it was very wrong. 

You skimmed the front, noticing the red writing on top. He wrote your name in cursive, and you would hear him say it, asking you to “please” meet him. 

And then the bell rang. People talked amongst themselves and gathered their things as they headed out of the classroom. You sat there and sighed, visibly upset. You weren’t going to cry, but you felt like it. You tried not to show it as you began to gather your books, covering the physics test, preparing to get up. 

“Y/n.”

You freeze and look up. Oppenheimer has been leaning on his desk, looking at you like a dashing Spectre. He puts his hands in his pockets and slowly begins to walk towards you. 

“Is this a good time to talk?”

Hearing the word talk made your stomach turn. You look up at him and clasp your hands together, nodding. You feel your left leg begin to shake. 

“Yes, Dr.Oppenheimer.”

Oppenheimer made his way over and stood beside you, leaning on the side of a desk, looking down at you. He took a quick glance at your shaking leg before looking back at you.

“You’re not in trouble.” 

You didn’t verbally acknowledge him, but you took a contained sigh and stopped shaking your thigh, paying full attention to the attractive older man. 

“I want to preface this conversation that you, Y/n, are one of this class’s most active and enjoyable students. Your participation and observation add onto the lesson, helping others around you, and even myself, learn more about Physics,” Oppenheimer said with high praise. He had a regalness to his soft voice. You felt your cheeks burn, containing your smile as you quietly thanked him. You watched his hands fidget inside of his pants pocket. 

“As talented and educated as you are in Academia, especially Physics, I notice you don’t do well on tests and exams. Everything else is excellent, and your effort is always there. However, with tests,” Oppenheimer moved his hand downwards, “It’s all negative. When I got your first test, I found it hard to believe it was your work. But then it all made sense.” 

“Now understand, Y/n, I am not mad or upset. I am worried. I can see there is an act of force, which is your anxiety. I do believe this is something we can work on–” Oppenheimer clearly explained. He saw your shoulders lower, relieve your tension had disappeared, “--Together, outside of the academic setting.”

“Like one-on-one?” You questioned. 

Oppenheimer nodded, “Yes, just the two of us. It would be an hour and a half to an hour, nothing more and nothing less.”

Hearing “just the two of us” made your mind go to wild places. You bit your tongue and squeezed your clasped hands together. You smiled, “Yes, of course. I think this would help a lot.”

“Now tell me, what is your availability? I understand you are busy.”

You shrugged your shoulders. You were busy but also could make time for a lot of spare time. 

“I can do any time work, preferably if you are okay with Friday afternoons,” You brainstormed, thinking about your schedule, “I know you teach a graduate class in the morning, and I have Greek at the same time.”

Oppenheimer furrowed his eyebrows, intensely studying your appearance.

“Friday afternoons?” He questioned, “Don’t you want to be with your friends and not have to worry about work? I understand your drive, Y/n, but I don’t want it to mix with your limited downtime. I hear you are an excellent student, and this is a very fixable grade. I rather you create a balance than an offset. 

While an average first-year would rather skip meeting with a Professor on Friday Afternoons, it didn’t bother you. Getting your grade up in Physis was very important. Education in your family was everything and meant a lot to you. Seeing a C with A’s and A-’s made you feel incomplete. You needed to feel complete. 

“Dr.Oppenheimer, thank you for your concern. I insist that Fridays work as well. Mondays through Tuesdays, I’m either studying or leading other study groups for my other classes. If you are worried about my social life, I can assure you that I do get out of the dorm and library with my friends,” You reassured the older man, “Besides, the whole party scene is really not my scene. I’ve seen enough parties at Berkeley to be okay with missing them. If Fridays don’t work, I will work with your time.”

“Fridays work well for me as they work well for you,” Dr.Oppenheimer concluded. He looked at the clock above his desk before looking at you, “How do Fridays at 5 pm sound?”

“Perfect timing, Dr.Oppenheimer. Shall we meet here?”

Oppenheimer rubbed his index and middle finger on the temple of his head, “Well if you are comfortable, I’d rather congregate at my house rather than the classroom since we will be out of the Academic Day.”

Taken aback by the bold move, your lips made a subtle “o” shape. You squeezed your hands together, contemplating. His house, where he slept, ate, and did other things that were not fit for the academic setting? This made your imagination run wild—the idea of being in his house, just you and him, fed into your fantasy. 

“My house is on Shasta Road. It’s right off the campus. It’s a short walk. However, if you are not comfortable, especially late at night walking home alone, then I can–” 

“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You insisted. He stopped speaking and looked at you, waiting for you to speak.

You stuttered, feeling the heat up your throat to your face, “It is okay. Friday at 5 pm at your house is perfect. The walk will help me clear my mind before tackling the equations.”

Oppenheimer studied your features for a second before coughing and putting his hands together, “So, it’s settled. We will meet tomorrow then. Thank you for your time, y/n.”

As Oppenheimer began to head back to his desk, you stood and gathered your books, ready to head to your Greek class. You could feel how hot your face was, but you couldn’t imagine how red and embarrassing you looked. 

“Thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer. 

Scurrying to leave the classroom in a flustered state, one of your books falls over. It makes a loud slamming noise into the ground. You’ve got a solid amount of books in your hand, varying in topic and weight. Turning around, you are about to awkwardly bend down to pick up the book, but Oppenheimer has beaten you to it. His presence scared you at first. He’s holding the ivory, aged book, examining the cover and back. You stand two inches away from him as you cradle your books, not wanting to say something to disrupt him. 

“Sentimental Education. Is this for class or pleasure?” Oppenheimer inquired. He looked back at you as he placed it on top of your books. He saw the one below, your Greek textbook, was sticking out and about to fall. He made sure to push it in to balance the books and make sure you didn't fall over. 

Not that you were complaining about falling over since he would have to catch you. You cursed at your wild imagination. 

You let out a long uhm before declaring it was for class. More specifically, your English class of The French Adventure: Word, Sound, and Image taught by Mr.Chevalier. But it was unimportant. It was a good book, albeit obscure. Oppenheimer probably thought you were some idiot for both failing a test and reading some silly book. He probably wondered why you were even in a physics class to begin with. 

“Do you like it?” He questioned. 

“Yes, a lot,” You expressed, “It’s the second book we’ve read, but so far my favorite. It was ahead of its time,” You go red, “And even for this time. I don’t know what I’m saying even, my parents made me read it in high school.”

Oppenheimer made a noise of approval, placing his hands on his hips, “Well, it shows that your parents wanted you to be well-rounded, and here you stand at one of the best public universities in the world. So I would say you do know what you are saying since I fully agree.” 

The compliment made you want to make some happy noise, but you bite your lip. You nodded your head and naked it, knowing it came out as a mumble. Everything you said felt super embarrassing. 

“Y/n, I understand you have class,” Oppenheimer cut to the point, “But if you ever want a book recommendation, come to me. I’ve been looking for someone who understands.”

“Understand?” You asked, dumbfounded. 

“Someone who both understands and enjoys art.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage to say. You smile and hold your books closer, “Well, I should-”

“You should-” Oppenheimer highlighted, hands on his hips, “I shouldn’t keep you.”

You wanted to protest that he should, but you didn’t. As you made your way to the door, you looked back. There he stood in his slender and regal form, hands on his hips. For a cold man who never looked happy, he did. You could have sworn his eyes had a spark to them that made them brighter. You felt brighter too. 

On your way out, he froze and looked at you again, and gave a small smile. 

You smiled back. 

–

It’s 4:50pm.

Your mother always said it was better to be very early than to be very late. Those words guided you through life, following you from home to high school to Berkeley. 

After class, you spent the hour getting ready. Taking a shower, you made sure to look your best with low effort. You didn’t want it to appear that you were trying to look good, even though you wore it. Putting on something very casual, you made sure to wear yourself nicely and even added a sweet touch of Chanel Coco perfume that your father had gotten for you in France for your high school Graduation. 

You walk up the hill and spot the house, recognizing the numbers on the mall box. The house is well sized and has the architecture of a craftsman. It’s hidden by numerous large plants and bushes, which you take a second to admire as you walk to the door. Eventually, you reach the door and hesitate to knock. Check your watch, it’s 5:52pm. If he’s busy, you can wait. 

There’s no point in knocking since you can hear the lock on the door unlock. As you put your hands behind your back, the door opens and it reveals Oppenheimer. He looks weirdly normal and this comforts you. He swaps his flannel suit jacket for a white oxford button up with dark slacks. The top button of the shirt is unbuttoned, and in one hand he has a cigarette, in which he is trying to successfully hide. 

“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You greeted with a small smile, squeezing your hands behind your back. 

You could swear you saw a small quirk at the side of Oppenheimer’s mouth. He stands to the side. 

“Y/n, welcome,” He greets. You quietly thank in as you walk in, standing to the side as you clutch onto your brown leather alligator bag with your textbook and notebook. 

“How was the walk?”

“Not bad. It’s nice outside. I’m sorry if I’m early, it’s a bad habit-”

“No need to apologize. It is a good habit. It will serve you well,” Oppenheimer praised once again as he led you into the kitchen. You hadn't been alone with him, let alone in his own house, but he was different. Around others, he was cold and calculated to a tee. But around you, something felt warm and strangely comforting. 

When walking to the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of his house. It feels rather empty, and in a way, very melancholic. 

The kitchen is simple and small. For a California one story however, the kitchen can fit more than two, maybe three. 

“Sit,” Oppenheimer subtly commands. It’s not an intentional command, but upon hearing this, you immediately sit down on the nearest chair. As you pull out your textbook and notebook with some pens and pencils, you can see Oppenheimer rummaging through the fridge and grabbing two glasses. 

“Do you drink?”

You're in the middle of opening your notebook. You look down and lick your lips. 

“Yes.”

He doesn’t respond and proceeds to make whatever drink he is making. You sit there and swing your legs back and forth, waiting in silence minus the shaking and pouring. 

“Speak to me,” Oppenheimer announces. You look at his back as he makes the drink. Once again, he’s slender, but yet strong and vibrant in his appearance, “Go to the first page of your test. Read the equation.” 

You feel lucky Oppenheimer’s turned since your cheeks, like yesterday, have gone to a light pink. 

Obeying his words that feel like a command that you are more than happy to accept, you grab your test and open to the first page to read the first question. 

“Consider a particle in a one-dimensional potential well of width of L and infinite potential barriers at its edges. The potential inside the well is given by V(x)=0 for 0<x<L0<x<L and V(x)=∞V(x)=∞ for x < 0 x<0 and x>Lx>L,” You read out, “The Hamiltonian operator for this system is H; where x is the mass of the particle. Find the allowed energy eigenvalues and corresponding eigenfunctions for this system.”

“A fundamental. Now, tell me your answer.” 

You get your pen and calculator out, placing it at your side. “I started with the Time-Independent Schrödinger Equation and substituted v(x) for the kinetic energy term. Then I tried to solve and it, uhm-”

Not only were the calculations for your test both difficult to answer and hard to process, but having Oppenheimer stand right behind you further proved to be a brain block. He was only an inch away from you as he had leaned to look at your paper, a hand on the back of your sheet which scraped your warm back. You had been so caught on the equation that you hadn't noticed he was an inch behind you, breathing down your neck. Thank god there had been a table since your legs began to shake; a combination of raw anxiety and pure adrenaline. 

You started to write the equation into your calculator, pressing down on each button. Scribbling away at your notebook, you felt his warm breath down your throat. Just as you wrote the solution, you felt him smell behind your ear and into your hair. You had sprayed some perfume there, which was a habit of yours. He leaned into, gentle and careful not to touch you, taking in the airy and smooth feminine scent. Not protesting, you finished your solution and let him bask, all while basking his cold yet comforting presence.

 “The corresponding eigenfunctions are: ∣ψn⟩= Asin⁡(nπxL)∣ψ n ⟩ =Asin( Lnπx ),” You gulped. You felt his warm presence move back, yet his hand remained on the chair. You pushed a piece of hair back, “I guess it’s not too different from my old answer. It’s right, it’s just-”

“The math piece of it,” Oppie pointed out, “Well, there was no issue here. With your calculator of course.”

“Yes,” You chuckled to yourself and looked at the big device. It really did help.

“Use it more,” Oppenheimer said, “Don’t be scared too. Math is not everyone’s strong suit; including mine.”

You smiled at him as he sat in the chair next to you. 

“I don’t know if you drank from our conversation earlier, but I made you a martini,” Oppenheimer said. You looked at it and picked up the drinking, examining the liquid. 

“Oh, thank you. I do, just the…better stuff,” You thanked with a small confession. You took a sip and let the strong liquid ooze down your throat. It was excellent, in which you proceeded to drink more. 

Oppenheimer leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. He wanted to make sure you didn’t see that, but you did. 

For the next hour, the two of you talked about your test. Each question you read out, and he helped you with the math, but overall you were able to solve most of it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. He seemed pleased, and you were as well.

Once you had finished going over the test, you sighed and leaned back leisurely from both Oppenheimer's presence Martini. 

“Well, thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer. This has been short, yet helpful.”

He crossed his arms as he also leaned back, “Of course, I’m pleased to hear.”

There was a silence before you looked at your watch and grabbed your books. 

“It’s 6pm. I’m sure you’ve got things to do, I should go-”

“I’ve only got dinner to make. Chicken, peas, and potatoes,” Oppenheimer said. He smoked another cigarette, which made you wonder how many he smoked a day. You focused on his chapped lips and the way they lightly held the cigarette, sucking in and dragging out ashen smoke. 

“Say, would you like to stay for dinner? There's plenty for two.”

The task made you blink a few times to make sure this wasn’t one of your fantastical thoughts late at night as a way to soothe you to bed. You opened your lips in an attempt to create a coherent response. 

“I can make you another Martini, even show you.”

You knew you were red, but it clearly to him did not matter. 

“Yes, I’d love-would be happy to stay for dinner, Dr.Oppenheimer.” You said, very flattered.

A slow exhale released a veil of smoky allure, as if the very air itself surrendered to Oppenheimer’s fiery elegance.

“If you are staying over for dinner from now on, please, call me Robert.” 

[cosmicjoke]

So I haven’t read chapter 52 of “Saezuru” yet, but I did read the summary of it on twitter, and after having a conversation with one of my mutuals, I have a few thoughts about what it is Yashiro wants, and why he’s having so much trouble communicating it to Doumeki. 

First of all, Doumeki himself still seems very hesitant to treat Yashiro with the gentility that they both want him to give, and obviously this stems from what happened the last time he did, with Yashiro pushing him away.  You would think, okay, well, this has an easy solution.  Doumeki wants to treat Yashiro with kindness, and Yashiro genuinely wants to be treated kindly, so all he has to do is tell Doumeki that, and problem solved.

But of course it’s not that simple, and after talking about it with others, and reading about how, during their sex scene, Yashiro was thinking about the Madam at the club, and how Doumeki treats her so gently, it got me thinking more about Yashiro’s difficult relationship with the idea of being treated as a woman. 

Yashiro wants to be treated with the same care and tenderness that he perceives Doumeki to be treating the Madam with, and the belief that Doumeki is deliberately treating him differently than that, because he’s a man, and because he is who he is specifically, (someone who’s always been treated with cruelty and told, indeed, that he deserves to be treated cruelly), is clearly very painful for Yashiro. 

The thing we have to remember about Yashiro is that, during the years he was being sexually abused by his step-father, he was being told by his abuser that he was really a woman, that his being born male was a mistake, etc...  And we see how this later affects Yashiro.  Afterward, whenever he was treated like a woman, or how he perceived a woman should and would be treated, anyway, he got spooked and made an effort to get away from that treatment.  Like Hirata’s underling whom Yashiro got thrown out of the Yakuza after he started treating Yashiro like his girlfriend, or Yashiro’s dissmisiveness when Ryuuzaki asked him about whether he ever wished he’d been born as a woman, etc...  I think Yashiro associated being treated kindly and tenderly with the memories of his abuse, and therefor, that kind of treatment was very traumatic to him.  It’s why we see Yashiro, during his and Doumeki’s sex scene from chapter 26 (I think, lol), crying and seeing an image of himself being raped by his step-father.  It’s why he freaked out so badly afterward and ran away.  Yashiro realized that he LIKED being treated gently, but it reminded him of what his step-father said to him about him really being a woman.  I think, in that moment, when Yashiro realized he wanted and liked being treated kindly, it was like a confirmation for him of everything his step-father claimed about him, that he was really a woman, that him being born male was a mistake, etc...  In that way, it was like a confirmation of every negative, cruel, vicious thing his step-father ever said and did to him.  An affirmation of Yashiro’s own, negative view of himself. 

I think Yashiro’s experience in middle school with the girl he has sex with sort of reinforced Yashiro’s views about women too, and how they’re supposed to be treated, versus how he thinks men are supposed to be treated.  When he tried getting rough with that girl, she started crying, and Yashiro immediately stopped and lost interest in her.  He realized she didn’t want to be roughhoused.  Subsequently, I always point to this incident as proof that Yashiro isn’t, and never was, a sadist.  A true sadist would be turned on by another person’s pain and fear, but Yashiro had the opposite response.  He was turned off by it. 

Yashiro realizes, after his first, sexual experience with Doumeki, that he, like that girl, doesn’t actually enjoy being hurt during sex, doesn’t enjoy being roughhoused and mistreated.  That of course was a coping mechanism he clung to to deal with his trauma, convincing himself that he wanted to be mistreated and hurt to defend against the reality that he’d been horribly vicitmized.  He realized, in that moment with Doumeki, then, that he was more like a woman than a man (just like his step-father claimed), and so for Yashiro, admitting that he wants to be treated with tenderness is tantamount to his admitting that his step-father was right about him.  This is why, I think, he’s still having such a hard time admitting to Doumeki what he really wants.  I know certain people in this fandom are impatient with Yashiro and demanding that he just confess his feelings already, but they forget just how traumatized Yashiro really is, and what it is he’s dealing with. 

It’s obviously going to take a bit more, or a lot more time before either Yashiro or Doumeki can fully open up to one another, and for Yashiro specifically, it’s going to be a lifelong process, being able to accept himself and what he wants without also feeling ashamed or guilty or wrong. 

[she-is-ovarit]

Detransitioner news

I have been thinking about detransitioners lately and wanted to compile articles I have been seeing. This will be a longer post and reblogged for part II as I hope to copy and paste brief portions of the articles under each headline.

Law firm for detransitioners opens in Dallas

In all of the controversy around gender transition, there is one group that is persistently marginalized by both the right and left. They are known as detransitioners — people who decide that they want to return to their birth gender, often after receiving years of interventional care, including surgery, to treat their gender dysphoria. Now, the nation’s first law firm focused solely on representing these patients — many of whom feel abused by a medical system that encouraged their treatment — has opened its doors in Dallas. It could forever change how hospitals and doctors approach what’s known as gender-affirming care.

Archive link

Fenway Community Health Center in Boston, the largest provider of transgender medicine in New England and one of the leading institutions of its kind in the United States, was named a defendant in a lawsuit filed last month. The plaintiff, a gay man who goes by the alias Shape Shifter, argues that by approving him for hormones and surgeries, Fenway Health subjected him to “gay conversion” practices, in violation of his civil rights. Carlan v. Fenway Community Health Center is the first lawsuit in the United States to argue that “gender-affirming care” can be a form of anti-gay discrimination. The case underscores an important clinical reality: gender dysphoria has multiple developmental pathways, and many who experience it will turn out to be gay. Even the Endocrine Society concedes that many of the youth who outgrow their dysphoria by adolescence later identify as gay or bisexual. Decades of research confirm as much. Gender clinicians in the U.K. used to have a “dark joke . . . that there would be no gay people left at the rate [the Gender Identity Development Service] was going,” former BBC journalist Hannah Barnes reported. Rather than help young gay people to accept their bodies and their sexuality, what if “gender-affirming” clinicians are putting them on a pathway to irreversible harm?

Due partly to Shape’s lifelong difficulty in accepting himself as gay, his lawyers are not taking the usual approach to detransition litigation. Rather than state a straightforward claim of medical malpractice or fraud, they allege that Fenway Health has violated Section 1557 of the Affordable Care Act (ACA), which bans discrimination “on the basis of sex” in health care. In 2020, the Supreme Court ruled in Bostock v. Clayton County that “discrimination because of . . . sex” includes discrimination based on homosexuality. Citing this and other precedents, Shape’s lawyers argue that federal law affords distinct protections to gay men and lesbians—upon which clinics that operate with a transgender bias are trampling. Shape grew up in a Muslim country in Eastern Europe that he describes in an interview as “very traditional” and “homophobic.” His parents disapproved of his effeminate demeanor and interests as a child. They wouldn’t let him play with dolls, and his mother, he says, made him do stretches so that he would grow taller and appear more masculine. At 11, Shape had his first of several sexual encounters with older men. “I was definitely groomed,” he recounts. Shape proceeded to develop a pattern of risky sexual behavior, according to his legal complaint. He told his medical team at Fenway Health about his childhood sexual experiences, calling them “consensual.” The Fenway providers never challenged him on this interpretation, he alleges. They never suggested that he might have experienced sexual trauma or, say, explored how these events might have shaped his feelings of dissociation. (The irony is that Fenway Health describes its model of care as “trauma-informed.”)

Archive link

Ontario detransitioner who had breasts and womb removed sues doctors

An Ontario detransitioning woman who had her breasts and womb removed to change her gender to male is suing medical and health practitioners for failing to consider other treatments during her mental health crisis before ushering her on an irreversible journey she regrets. Michelle Zacchigna, 34, of Orillia, Ont., north of Toronto, names eight health professionals, including doctors, psychologists, a psychotherapist and a counsellor in a lawsuit filed in Ottawa. None of the defendants, who work or worked at various clinics and institutions in southern Ontario, responded to requests for comment on the lawsuit prior to deadline. Four of the defendants have filed notices of intent to defend against the suit in Ontario Superior Court, but no statements of defense have been filed. None of the claims have been tested in court. Zacchigna said she faces an uphill battle in her lawsuit. “I’ve been under the impression that all medical malpractice suits are challenging. Doctors win the majority of cases in Canada,” she told National Post. “It’s very much a David vs. Goliath undertaking.” In her statement of claim filed in court in November, Zacchigna says she had difficulty forming relationships with classmates in elementary school and was often bullied. By the time she was 11, she engaged in self-harming behaviour, including cutting her arm with a knife. This continued into early adulthood. When she was 20, she tried to kill herself and she was referred by her family doctor for psychotherapy, where she was treated for social anxiety and clinical depression. She remained unhappy and depressed, and her mental health decline led to her dropping out of university, according to her claim. About a year into therapy, she engaged with an online community around gender nonconformity. “Michelle came to believe that her biological sex of female did not match her true gender identity of male,” her claim says. “She further came to believe that this mismatch between her biological sex and gender identity was causing her feelings of depression, self-harming behaviour and unease in her body, a mental health condition commonly known as gender dysphoria,” her claim states. This was the first time Zacchigna felt she was born in the wrong body, and she had not previously identified as male, her claim says. “However, as a result of what she read on the internet, she became convinced that she was a transgender man, and that once she embraced this new identity, her depression would subside.” Zacchigna started attending a support group in Toronto for people considering gender transition. A counsellor there told her of opportunities to proceed through a medical transition, her claim says. Zacchigna was invited to apply for medical intervention in 2010. The counsellor wrote a recommendation letter outlining a medical history that didn’t fully match her real past, the claim says. The counsellor didn’t recommend any alternatives, or seek confirmation of Zacchigna’s own diagnosis of gender dysphoria. Her regular therapist also wrote a recommendation for transition treatment, saying Zacchigna was an “ideal candidate for hormone therapy,” even though the therapist had no previous transgender clients, according to the claim.

Part II incoming.

[noowayybroo]

Vampire Man Drabble (NSFW)

I've been rewatching Young Dracula, a BBC show from my "childhood".

I'm kinda obsessed with Count Dracula. I know it's a kid's show but he's so pathetic and whiny and throws so many tantrums, but being such an old man he's so sexy and posh and UGHAAGAH HE HAS MY HEART!!

Also , the guy who plays him (Keith-Lee Castle) Lowkey fits the role so well!!?!?! He looks like SUCH A VAMPIRE!! (I wouldnt look him up idk if hes the best guy)

SO I WANTED TO PROVIDE YOU WITH SOME IDEAS, and i know most of my following is admittedly looking for Leon content, so if you squint really hard, or maybe read this with one hand if you catch my drift (nyeh heh heh) maybe you can imagine it's about vampire Leon HEhehehehe

Warnings: Guy is vampire, reader may be human or vampire. NO SEX BUT VIOLENCE. GN!Reader, mentions of scenting, old age, violence, age difference, vampirism, blood, biting, seduction, mentions of death and killing and blood driking. Secretly soft vampire man etc basically all your vampirey shit, STOP READING THEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT BRO, I'll try keep it short k ily bye.

THIS IS A GUIDE:

Stuff about the vampire man

Stuff about the reader being a vampire

Stuff about the reader being a human

THIS IS A RARE TREAT FOR ANYONE READING THIS CUZ I USUALLY LIKE TO WEAR THE FANGS IN THE RELATIONSHIP!! JUST SAYING!! BUT THIS MF HAS MY HEART!

Vampire who was turned at a young age or born into vampirism and has lived with it for oh so long. He's just so old, alone in that castle of his. He's moved to live near humans, but they seldom get a chance to converse, not before his fangs wind up in their necks.

Vampire who watches them go about their short little lives, knowing with confidence that he has and will live many more. Aware that he'll be the end to many more, deadly prowess easily eliminating each hunter or slayer who dares come his way.

Vampire of whom nobody has seen the true colours - only the pristine white of his fangs before they are soiled with the blood of his victims. They only know his rage and strength, and the power and force at which his claws slash at their flesh, at which his fangs sink into their necks.

Vampire who prefers to seduce his victims before plunging them towards their inevitable demise. He will sing them such a sweet lullaby; allure them with gentle praise and affirmation as he draws close, weaving such a sticky web, leaving them entranced. And entranced he is too, as his victim perhaps gazes from a window, or into space itself, but his only captive is the soft melody of his victim's heartbeat. The gentle rhythm, the pulse of their neck drawing him to them like a moth to flame.

Vampire Who almost feels like the victim himself. He was not a monster. He was no villain. No, he was simply wired this way - a victim of his own nature. It was his prey, the cruel, heartless beast who tempted him so dearly with the promise of 8 pints of warm, thick red (accounting for clumsy, desperate spillage.) Oh how he delighted in the feel of it coating the expanse of his hungry throat.

Vampire Whose second favourite method of the hunt is to toy with his prey, for it is no fun if they are not fearful. His cold, undead heart remains unliving for the thrill of the chase. He'll stalk them through the night, he'll become one with the shadows, and only when he feels they are worthy of feeling true fear will he present himself. Springing from the darkness, his soul's only twin, he reveals himself at last like a god unto its disciples.

He will forever delight in the screams - in the sight of each harrowed soul in that moment.

Vampire who is humiliatingly theatrical and old fashioned. When he bears himself to his prey, he must give them a show. It's the least he could do, as it will be their last living moment. He'll either expand his cape, or brandish sharp claws, but either way, his eyes will be dark as night, and piercing fangs will ward off any hope of survival each sacrifice may have had.

Vampire who takes great excitement in tormenting his prey. He is old fashioned, cunning and sly. He'll chase you around an abandoned building and use his supernatural speed to appear right behind the door you thought would bring you victory. He'll mock you with a skeleton, only to refer to it as a future you. If you're fortunate, and he's not too hungry, he might even show you his vast collection of stored blood. Again, he promises that one day, you have this to look up to.

Vampire Surprisingly, he is not as violent or as cruel as it may seem. Sure he kills, and he kills for fun. For the mere thrill of it. But he will not let you die slowly, or painfully at all. He prides himself in how... happy, his victims really can be. His torture follows suit. Scratch you? Harm you? Him? Never. He could never. He wouldn't waste a drop, after all. (Intentionally, that is.) He'd much rather promise you a terrible demise, or chase you towards your doom, having you believe begging or running could really help. His many years have taught him that each effort you make is futile. He will always win. He will always consume. You are not special.

Vampire who sometimes, well after sunset, will stare out of his lonely, dusted window at the town below. He will wonder if it could be possible that there is a chance at love out there for him still. A chance at redemption. A chance to, perhaps, not be so devilish.

On rare occasions, too, say once every 20 years, he thinks this as he stares into the eyes of one of his captives. He'll wonder, sometimes as he hypnotises their free will and thought away, whether he really needs to kill them. But then it's that look on their face. One of fear, or one of braindead submission. It's again, the sound of their heart, of their breath, something he hadn't done in forever, something he yearned to be so close to, to be so near to, and before he knows it, they're limp in his arms, and cold, just as he.

Vampire who throws tantrums on the rare occasion that his prey, or more likely another undead creature or demon, is able to overpower or trick him. He'll slam his fist like a child and bare his fangs. Wailing and wallowing in his own pathetic defeat as black curtains obscure his face. Thunder and lightning will crackle outside, heeding his call, and otherwise, the world will resume. It was sad for him, really, to have so much power, and at the same time to be so insignificant.

Vampire who, despite being immortal, is getting old. He doesn't care for sports, nor for going outside and exercising as a human would. When he chases at a speed, he more floats rather than runs, and so, he's getting rusty, physically and mentally. Perhaps that explains the demise of his fearsome reputation and outlook. Perhaps it is why he is going soft. Laughlines rarely show, but small crowsfeet grace his pale skin as he smiles or bares his fangs. His joints begin to creak. He can no longer do some of the things he could when he was a younger biter without being heard, and he grumbles at simple tasks such as tidying or standing up. He ages with the walls around him.

Vampire Reader Insert:

Vampire who catches a fleeting glance of you at a traditional vampire ball. Really, the two of you are too old for these pathetic customs, him more so, but how else was he to catch up on all the latest fanged gossip, and perhaps find an evil someone to accompany him as he grew older?

Vampire who afterwards goes out of his way to make eye contact with you. When he thinks you're not looking, he combs his nimble fingers through his long hair, preening himself, cursed to never be able to see himself in the many mirrors that surround him. He curses himself, adjusting his over the top attire, wiping any blood from his face. He wants to catch your gaze, just as you have his.

Vampire who can (respectfully) smell it on you. He can tell that you're strong, and that you're dominant. He never thought he was looking for someone, really, especially with his strength and title. It had only really occurred to him that anybody interested would be there to use him. And then, he saw you. Something about you was so devilishly evil. So charming. So alluring and strange. He didn't care if you used him. He wanted you to, suddenly he wanted you to take all he had.

Vampire who anxiously makes conversation with you. He is respectful, despite being well above your status. He can't keep his eyes from your body and face, nor his tongue from his lips as it darts to keep them moist. Quietly, he hopes you're taking note. His hands fiddle and preen. He needs you to enjoy what you see, for it is so rare for him to do so.

Vampire who eventually you begin to court. He practically begs you to move in with him, forming his castle as a home for the two of you. No longer is he alone. Even if you were to betray him now and take all he had, he kept some satisfaction in knowing he wouldn't die alone. Perhaps one day, too, an heir would come from all of this.

Vampire who shares with you some of his powers and wisdom. Who accompanies you on hunts and who works with you to lure prey. You enjoy romantic, playful flights together (as bats, of course) and he, without admitting it, enjoys your dark humour and evil presence in his home. You bring a smile to his face, and a blush to his dead cheeks. You're oh so beautiful and precious in his life, and as more and more time passes, he can imagine giving everything to you.

But what if you're evil, and planned to take everything all along? Well, that would be a fitting demise for him, he thinks as he slowly closes the lid to his coffin beside yours just before the sun rises. And it'd make you all the more evil and devious of a sinner, and that's what he loved about you. Your company, even if not genuine, for love was so twisted and warped for creatures such as yourselves, meant more than words could ever express. If he were human. If he were pumping blood, you would warm him.

Human reader here!!

Vampire who'd never have thought any other humans would be foolish enough to simply let themselves into his castle, at least not this decade! You were the third one this century and it was really getting old. He'd think with all the rumours going around about people never returning alive, or the danger of the castle's crumbling structure that nobody would come back, at least not alone, but here you were.

Vampire who can hear you from rooms away as you walk in. You're human and you're alone. That's all he needs to know to identify that he's safe, and so, he creeps towards you. He balances with both hands and feet on ledges above your head, blending perfectly with the shadows as he stalks you like some huge, predatory cat. And he does this until he can see you. You look divine. You smell divine. And really, he questions the work of some divine intervention, as he was just craving fresh blood the moment you walked in: A lamb to the slaughter.

Vampire who identifies that the blatantly open castle door was how you got in. He didn't really feel the cold, and the wind howling was a permanent sound with how high in the castle he tended to reside, so silly him had left the door open. You must have really thought this place was abandoned. He almost pities you as you walk around, shining your phone's flashlight about. He just about ducks away in time to avoid being spotted as you point your phone at him, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked just above you, ready to pounce.

Vampire who held off, though. He was excited by your presence, and he was oh so hungry, but he was always one to play with his food. He continues to follow you through the shadows, practically salivating and his bustling ideas of how to torment and devour 'this one.' Because, initially, that's all you were to him, food.

Vampire who daydreamt (although it was night) about chasing you through his crypt, hearing your screams for mercy and salvation. He could sit there and munch dead carcasses in front of you just to watch you squirm in horror. He mused to himself about how warm your neck would feel to his lips, and how your blood might taste. He considered how your voice may sound, begging to be freed as he holds you there, firm hands on your shoulders, claws pricking at your soft flesh. He imagines you there, before him, ripe for the taking. The last moment, he opens his eyes and you're gone-

You're gone.

What?

Vampire who looks around desperately, realising that he'd so easily been swept away by his fantasies. And so, he follows your scent and the sound of your soft heartbeat to his room, where, he could swear he hears you murmur "I knew it."

Vampire who catches you gawking at his closed coffin, regal and fancy. You run your small hands over it in awe as if there isn't a blood thirsty creature of the night ready to pounce out and devour you. You seem.. in awe. You look fascinated. Of course, there's a twinge of terror in your face, but for some reason, you haven't run... yet.

Vampire who figures the game is up, and tries to salvage a dramatic entry. He can't appear in the coffin and reveal himself like that, incase you're a slayer and it leaves him vulnerable, and so, from behind you you hear:

"And what brings you to my humble abode?" The question is long, and drawn out, in a posh voice that almost makes you giddy. You can hear the bloodlust dripping from his fangs, and you don't need to turn to see the man who's so close he should be gracing you with his breath. None comes. you know what he is.

Vampire who grins sadistically as you turn on your heels, slowly. He is amused to see the fear finally registering in your features. Oh, and how soft and delicate those features were. He could just reach a hand out and brush his cold digits over them. But he won't. This isn't a time to console you. It's time to instil fear in your soon to be dead heart.

Vampire who gawks when you finally respond to his question. Something absurd about knowing there was a vampire living here. Something ludicrous about actually having visited a few times but never seeing him. Something utterly offensive about whether he lived alone or had a family. The man's jaw clenched. It seemed he had never encountered a victim as chatty or simply curious as you, and he didn't quite know how to feel.

Did you WANT to die or something?

Vampire who towers over you, with eyes wider than your own as he listens to you rattle off about something or other. He doesn't register what you're saying, though. Instead, his mind wonders off to somewhere it never has before. Perhaps, he'll hypnotise you to make you scared, and then he'll have his fun with you. Yes, that should work, because right now, he found you far too distracting.

Vampire who realises, once you've shut up, that actually, there's a more nagging matter:

"Are you here... to kill me?" he asks, looking down at you, shoulders slightly deflated as though you've sucked the prowl out of him.

"Like a slayer?"

"Exactly-" he raises a finger that could really do with a manicure, but you cut him off

"No, not at all, it's just when I heard people went missing... well I just thought this place would be perfect to see a vampire." In all honesty, you kept yapping away in hopes that tears would not prick your eyes and that somehow it'd save you from imminent collapse. You were terrified. He seemed very much real.

Whilst you were in admiration of the pale beast before you, you did not intend to die.

Vampire who fortunately for him isn't letting on just how well you crept under his skin and made a small home there. His senses were conflicted, as a result of your mixed signals, and he wasn't sure how to react. You were scared, he could smell it. He could hear it in the heavy fast thump of your heart. But something else had brought you here. You were curious. Intrigued. You wanted to learn about him, and in a way, he related. He wanted to learn about himself.

Vampire who, whilst he is still very much appealed by the idea of biting into your throat, is starting to enjoy how your hushed voice echoes off the walls of his home. You sounded sweet and pure, unlike any vampire he'd encountered recently. You had a passion. You had a reason to live, and it almost sickened him with jealousy.

Vampire who can no longer fight his newfound impatience as he lets out an animalistic growl, clenching his fist before you with means to silence you, and to his relief, it works. Your mouth slams shut and you stare up into his eyes. He recognises that this, if any, is his perfect time to hypnotise you, and to fix things. That's right. You'd forget everything you've seen and heard, because your words made you slippery, and he feared for his own existence if you escaped, and then, you'd be scared of him. He'd toy with you, kill you, and it'd be over with. Then, he'd be happy once more, and could return to his coffin, without any linger questions of "what if?".

Vampire who waves two fingers before your eyes, ensnaring them and guiding them up to fall onto his. You watch as his dark, brooding eyes become a more perplexing, strange and beautiful colour. A look of mischief tugs at his sharp, dark lips. He has won. Now, he'll hypnotise you, and it'll be over with. Why did he keep telling himself this? It was starting to become tiresome- just do it.

Vampire who freezes up when he hears you enquire about whether he know the science behind his eyes changing colour like that. You swear a vein in his forehead is about to pop. His mouth hangs ajar, defeated. "Look, you, just look into my eyes" he commands, almost pleading in that sultry, dark voice. "Just look and obey..."

Vampire who stares at you for a while, staring into those pretty, captivating eyes of yours. He finds himself lost in the possibility of what to command you, and once he's finally ready to will the words, they disobey him. His mouth moves, but no commands grace your ears. Eventually, you blink, the spell is broken and he clasps his fists shut, growling low in his throat.

Why can't he do it?

Vampire who gives in, providing you with a tour of the castle and all of his ancient belongings. The understanding is that once he's done, you leave, and never tell anybody anything. He wasn't sure if he trusted in you, but hypnosis was out of the question. And since his ordeal of failing to control you, he'd felt quite humiliated. His hunger had been somewhat satiated for now.

Vampire who hides his scarce smile each time you make certain remarks about how gothic, deadly or edgy everything looked. Your modern lingo was beyond him. "Cringe", "Edgy", "Rad", "Babygirl", what did it all mean? At one point, whilst you're analysing a particularly old suit of armour, he stands behind you, arms folded and lips pursed, trying to conclude the meaning behind the umbrella term "Daddy issues" and why you felt the need to mention it to him on now an astounding three separate occasions. When you turned to face him though, he'd stiffen his gate and fix you a menacing glare as if he despised of your company.

Vampire who walks alongside you with perfect posture, his arms are often crossed or still by his side. Occasionally he glances at your neck as he concludes a whole half hour of walking his dinner around his rather shameful home. And then, you both find yourselves at the door. You look up at him, he looks down at you, and then you do something neither of you'd expected.

"Can I stay?"

Vampire who freezes up yet again at your question, but after some stumbling and stuttering, and getting his tongue tied up in his fangs, he reluctantly spits out a 'yes.' All the while, his face contorts, unable to form the words. It's so peculiar speaking at all, let alone to a human. And, he can't say he's ever spoken to one willing to continue risking their lives. You weren't sure why you did it. You just did.

Vampire who stands with you, watching over the town beneath his window, for once, with someone beside him. He seems stiff, and tense, and he cannot ignore your scent, nor the sound of each gentle breath and pulse of your veins. It was only natural: He was your predator, you were his prey. He was meant to kill you now, merely driven by instinct, and yet, he felt content to wait. I mean, it wasn't as if you'd run off in a hurry, was it? For once, a breather like you actually wanted to stay and speak to him. He was almost enamoured.

Vampire who swore to himself in this moment to never admit to another soul, dead or alive, light or dark, how your warmth touched him. He refused to allow himself to snuggle right into you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around you and nestling his face into your neck, not to bite or mark this time, but to kiss, and indulge- softly, sweetly. He groaned at the thought, startling you. And then his face hardened, snapping you another glare as if you were the one who had been having such pathetic fantasies.

Vampire who understands that, as a human, you grow weary in the night. He'd forgotten all this time that putting you to sleep would be a great way to shut you up, but there was a reason for his forgetfulness. It was, of course, convenient, because he no longer wanted to silence you. He wanted to bask in your words and warmth; in your conversation and curiosity. You made him feel important, and interesting, and slightly more alive. But the sun would be up soon, and if it caught him, well. He'd be the furthest from alive he's ever been.

Vampire who quickly brushes off and tucks you into the softest bed he can find from memory, and taps you on the nose gently as he leans over you, casting ominous shadows which block out any hopeful rays. He laughs menacingly, brandishing his fangs as his deep gravelly voice reverberates through you "Goodnight, don't let the vampire bite, now, will you?" he teases as he slowly sinks into the shadows, leaving you alone. His low chuckle follows him into the dark.

Vampire who leaves you alone to rest peacefully, or not, depending on whether a) you COULD sleep, and b) he became hungry during the night.

Vampire who spends the rest of his waking moments wondering just what to do with you, until the sun rises, and he returns to his cold, depressing coffin.

Hi guys I really hope whoever of you saw that liked it. I had the idea at about midnight and it's now 2 27 am. I wish I were this productive with literally anything else but due to a series of unfortunate events I crave old, posh, dominant men with soft spots, and this fits the bill.

I'd also like to write more about vampy men, and about maybe teachers or just other older men heheh but also subby men!! and the reader being a vampire!! so please lmk what you think and don't be afraid to ask (just a warning your rq might take me 24747 years to address, it's not personal i just suck)

THANKS GUYS I LOVE U ALL