#but this time i'm scared shitless For Real | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-turned-into-the-stone · 2 months

Text

[Commissioned] Wrong Place - Hanni NewJeans

Tag: Non-con, Mentioned Cheating, Messy Face Fucking, Throat Fuck, Cum Swallowing, Breeding, Creampie

Character: Hanni - NewJeans × M!Reader

Word Count: 5,405

Over the weekend, Hanni found herself stuck at home while her parents were off on a boring business trip. To top it off, her boyfriend was tied up with some lame part-time job crap.

But then, her friend, Danielle, who attended a different college from her, spilled the beans about a party she was planning to hit up. Hanni's ears perked up at the mention of a party, and she felt a sudden urge to join the scene.

Danielle wasn't exactly keen on bringing a, for the lack of a better word, studious girl like Hanni to this particular shindig. She made it clear that it wasn't your run-of-the-mill party and definitely not a place for someone who was not used to party like Hanni.

But Hanni wasn't about to take no for an answer. She put on her best puppy-dog face and cooked up some lame excuse about being scared shitless to be home alone. She even promised Danielle she'd be on her best behavior and all that jazz.

Thing is, Hanni had never been to any party before, so she kept hammering away at Danielle until she caved. "Fine, you can come, but don't come crying to me if shit hits the fan. You're on your own.”

The next day, the day of the party arrived. The moment Hanni stepped into the villa where the whole shebang was going down, her heart started doing somersaults in her chest. It was like it wanted to bail on her, right then and there.

This party was off the chain. People were half-naked all over the place, going at it like rabbits. Boys and girls were making out in full view, not giving a single fuck. Some girls were even getting gangbanged by the pool while everyone cheered them on like a bunch of horny spectators.

Sex was happening left and right, at every corner Hanni's eyes landed on. Booze and pills were scattered all over, like a goddamn buffet of debauchery. The whole scene was so in-your-face that it hit Hanni like a ton of bricks, making her gulp hard.

Danielle looked over at Hanni, smirking like she knew what was up. Well, she did warn Hanni, fair and square. She gave Hanni a pat on the shoulder. "Remember, I'm not taking any responsibility here. Take care of yourself and feel free to bail whenever you want~ Bye!”

And just like that, Danielle disappeared into the sea of bodies, leaving this uneasy girl to fend for herself at this godforsaken party. Anxiety tightened its grip on her with each passing moment, turning her into a shrunken shadow lurking in the background.

She couldn't escape the lewd scenes playing out before her eyes, pushing the limits of her endurance. Shit was getting real, and regret started gnawing at her heart. She knew deep down she shouldn't have insisted on coming to this place. This was totally not her kind of place.

Haunted by the indecency surrounding her, she desperately sought refuge from the madness. She made her way upstairs, slyly avoiding a bunch of girls having nasty sex under the staircase. Talk about a sight she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

Most of the rooms on the second floor were occupied, locked, but luck was on her side as she found herself at the last one down the hallway. She barged in, slamming the door shut behind her. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch.

Little did Hanni know, this room belonged to you, the unlucky bastard who had just been shot down by some arrogant junior on campus. "Fucking bitches," you grumbled as you locked the door behind you, seeking some semblance of privacy.

As you plopped down on the couch, you noticed an unfamiliar handbag lying there and curiosity got the best of you as you decided to snoop around a bit. Rifling through the girly items inside, you stumbled upon a wallet.

Opening it up, your eyes scanned the ID, it looked more like a student visa and a smirk tugged at your lips as you checked out the info. "Vietnamese? No shit?" you muttered, unable to believe what you saw.

Just as you were admiring the image on the ID, Hanni casually popped out of the bathroom, clueless about your presence in the room. You instantly gave Hanni a lustful once-over, checking her out from head to toe.

Her outfit, a simple sleeveless crop top and a low waist skirt, were hugging her frame in all the right places, accentuating her curves. It was like innocence and sexiness had a wild sex and birthed this tantalizing combo that got your libido rising.

You leaned back on the couch, flashing her a sly smile. "Well, hello there, Miss Hanni Pham," you drawled, your eyes hungrily feasting on her curvy figure, mainly her exposed belly.

Seeing her picture, you thought she'd look all young and innocent, but were you off the mark. She definitely had that cute factor going on, however, her body was something else. That sexy tummy and those hips, they looked like they were just begging to be held onto while she got pounded hard.

Hanni's eyes practically popped out of her head when she spotted you in the room. She nervously stammered, "W-Who are you?" Her sweet voice was trembling, her mind trying to make sense of the situation.

Caught off guard by Hanni's sudden question, you fired it right back at her. "And who might you be?" After all, this was your room, no doubt about it.

Hanni's face turned beet red as she realized her mistake. "Oh, I-I'm so sorry! I must have barged in without thinking," she blurted out, genuinely remorseful. She looked away, fidgeting with her hands.

Her timid response only made you find Hanni even more adorable. So you softened your expression, extending a reassuring hand her way. "No need to apologize. It's just a little mix-up, I'm pretty sure," you said, your voice soothing and gentle. "This happens to be my room, by the way."

Hanni met your gaze, visibly relieved that you did not seem to be a bad guy. "I-I see. I'm really sorry. I was just..." She paused, glancing toward the door. "I'll get out of here right away," she abruptly added.

Intrigued by Hanni's unexpected presence and captivated by her innocent charm, you felt your hormones raging, especially after your failed attempts to get down and dirty with your juniors.

"How about sticking around for a while? I just caught sight of a couple fucking their brains out in the hallway. I'm sure you don't want a front-row seat for that, right? That's why you ended up here, am I wrong?" you tossed out, trying to convince her to hang out a little longer.

You hit the nail. Hanni's surprise was written all over her face. She hesitated for a moment, torn between her original intentions and the undeniable curiosity that now gripped her. Eventually, her shy nature gave in, and she nodded hesitantly, deciding to stay in the room.

"Oh, right. My bad for messing up your stuff. I thought maybe someone had left their crap lying around or something," you said, stuffing all her belongings back into her handbag and placing it on the seat beside you, luring her to come closer.

"Th-thank you," Hanni stammered, her voice barely audible as her nervousness consumed her. She bit her lip, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Unable to resist the growing temptation, you gestured for Hanni to join you on the couch. "Come on, Hanni-ssi," you purred, patting the seat beside you. "Take a load off. Let's have a chat and sip on some drinks. Let's get to know each other."

Without waiting for her response, you casually flipped the unused upside down cups on the tray at the corner of the table in front of the couch, before grabbing some vodka from a bottle you had lying around on the cabinet nearby.

You weren't even sure what brand it was, but alcohol is alcohol. You poured the vodka into the cups and slid one over to the side where you expected Hanni to sit.

Hanni grabbed her bag from the couch and plopped down beside you, clutching it tightly. The air in the room crackled with an undeniable tension, and you had a mischievous plan up your sleeve to coax Hanni into some twisted fun.

Sporting a sly grin, you persuaded Hanni to take a sip of the vodka you had poured for her. But she hesitated as she politely declined, "No, it's okay. I'm, I'm not used to drink alcohol, Sunbae."

Hearing her confession that she was kind of a good girl type of fashion sent a rush of excitement through your veins. The thought of toying with her innocence made your pulse quicken. But you knew you had to tread carefully.

In a persuasive tone, you continued to nudge Hanni, tempting her. "Don't be so formal, Hanni," you coaxed. "Calling me oppa is fine. We all have our first times, right?"

Hanni's eyes flickered indecision, caught between her reservations and the pull of the forbidden. Sensing her internal struggle, you maintained a patient approach, fully aware that rushing things could lead to disaster.

Suppressing your primal urges, you focused on slowly seducing Hanni, leading her deeper into the realm of decoy. "Come on, Hanni," you whispered, your voice dripping with suspense. "Just a little sip won't hurt. It'll be our little secret.”

Hanni finally gave in and took a sip of the fiery liquid. She coughed, her delicate frame trembling as she set the cup down, pressing her chest in discomfort. The strong taste of the alcohol caught her off guard, but you weren't done with her.

Putting on a concerned face, you scooted closer to Hanni, your hand gently rubbing her back in a soothing gesture but your touch had ulterior motives. Your fingers traced the outline of her bra through her top, teasing and testing the game.

"You kinda drank it the wrong way," you whispered with faux sweetness. "Let me show you the right way." You picked up her drink and brought it to her lips, locking eyes with her. “Take it in one shot. It will taste way better," you fibbed, making your intentions crystal clear.

"N-no, wait–"

You didn't give her a chance to protest further, forcefully guided the liquid down her throat, your grip firm. The mingling taste of the alcohol and her resistance created a heady cocktail of dominance and submission, fuelling your lust.

Hanni’s cough filled the room, her throat burning from the alcohol. It was like the perfect opportunity presented itself, and you took it immediately, firmly pressed your hand on her abdomen, rubbing in a way that was both comforting and sinister.

Hanni's eyes widened, and she realized your sick intentions. She judged you wrong. She knew exactly what you were up to. She wasn't going to let it happen as she pushed you away, trying to escape the situation, but you weren't about to let her slip away that easily.

You grabbed hold of Hanni, pulling her onto your lap and wrapping your arm around her waist. The alcohol in your cup was poured into your mouth but instead of swallowing, you smashed your lips against hers in a forceful and messy kiss.

She struggled against your advances, her protests muffled when your lips locked, and you passed the liquid from your mouth into hers, some of it dripping down her chin and staining her clothes. The taste of vodka mixed with the warmth of her mouth, creating an intoxicating blend that only fueled your hunger even more.

You slid your hand down her back, your fingers tracing the curve of her spine before gripping her slim waist, holding her in place. The taste of vodka lingered on your lips as you deepened the kiss, exploring the depths of her mouth with a thirst that bordered on obsession.

Hanni's struggles grew more desperate, fear dancing in her eyes. But you paid no mind to her resistance. Your free hand found its way to her thigh, fingers grazing the soft skin beneath her skirt. With a low growl, you broke the kiss. Hanni gasped for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to regain her composure.

“You're about to find out just how fucking good a party like this can be,” you said, your voice coated with authority.

“S-Stop! Please! Let me go! Ugh!” she said, trying to get up.

Just as you were about to lean in for another kiss, Hanni's phone suddenly rang from inside her handbag, shattering the spell that had enveloped you. You fished her phone out, quickly checking the nickname on the screen.

Turns out Hanni already had a boyfriend, but you didn't give a damn about that. With a smirk, you answered the call, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Sorry, dude, my baby is a bit tied up right now," you taunted, then promptly turned off her phone, cutting off any connection to the outside world.

Hanni's eyes widened in disbelief and horror at what you had done. "No!!!" she screamed, desperation filling her voice, as she reached out to grab the phone from your hand. Ignoring her pleas, you tossed the phone aside.

Pushing her back onto the couch, you positioned yourself between her legs, as you pinned her hands beside her head. The power you held over the girl depleted any concern for her well-being or personal relationships.

"You better calm down, babe," you threatened, a hostile glint in your eyes. "If you keep acting up, I'll bring my boys in here to have some fun with you. Ever thought about taking in more than one dick at a time?"

Hanni's whole body trembled with fear, her eyes welling up with tears. She pleaded desperately, "Please... Just let me go. I want to go home..."

"Going home?" you sneered, leaning in closer, your clothed erection pressing against her crotch. "Then why the fuck did you come here in the first place, huh?"

Tears streamed down Hanni's cheeks as she broke into sobs. "Dani..."

“Dani? Ah, Danielle.” You recalled you had hung out with that petite girl a few times before and were well aware of how Danielle handled herself in wild parties like this.

That girl might seem pure and delicate to the people who don't know her but she was probably off somewhere, getting high on a few cocks in this villa so no need to worry about her much as nothing was going to stand between you and this fresh prey.

Without further delay, you buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, savoring her sweet scent. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body tingling with goosebumps as you trailed kisses towards her flushed ear.

Yearning for more of her taste, you traced your tongue along her earlobe, eliciting a moan from the girl. "Mmm!"

Cupping her face, you made her meet your gaze. "I'll fuck you better than your boyfriend ever could," you whispered.

She struck your chest, screaming, "No! I don't want to! Argh!"

You effortlessly seized both of her hands and pulled her up, guiding her to lean against the backrest. Ensuring she stayed still, you cradled her in your lap before removing your jacket.

Grasping both sides of her face, you kissed her once more, your tongue delving into her open mouth. "Mmph!" She attempted to pull away, but you sucked her tender tongue into your mouth. After breaking the kiss, you took hold of her hands that had been clawing at your shoulders as you stood up, your bulge positioned right in front of her face.

Placing her hands on your belt, you smiled down at her. "Come on, Hanni. Don't be shy. Come get your milk since you don't like alcohol." She vigorously shook her head. There was no way she was going to suck a stranger's dick.

You harshly tugged at her hair, causing her to yelp. “Fucking do it before I completely lose my shit and rape the shit out of your cunt.”

"P-Please... I-I don't know how... I haven't..." She gasped for air, cut off by your action of pulling her messy hair and delivered a light slap.

"We'll do this the hard way then." You hopped off the couch, dragging her by her the arm toward the door. "No! Please!" She dropped to her knees, resisting your pull by putting more weight on her body.

Snapping her arm off, you undid your belt, a mocking tone in your voice. "I'll give you a hand this time," you taunted, unzipping your jeans while observing her sobbing-shaking on the floor.

Hanni knew she was about to be violated and and the realization that she couldn't do anything to prevent it shattered her spirit. Your threat hit her hard. She had no desire to be at the disposal of multiple strangers she didn't even know.

"Hold on, o-oppa... Can we just take things slow?" she pleaded, holding back a cry.

"Um... Yeah, sure, sorry." You took a step back but before she had a chance to catch her breath, you forcefully slammed her against the couch and delivered a harsh slap across her face. In a burst of anger, you erupted, "Don't be a damn prude. We both know you're here to have fun! So be a good little bitch and do as I fucking say."

You held the girl down on the couch by her throat and tore her top and flimsy white bra off until her firm breasts were exposed to hang freely. You squeezed her mound and tugged at her pink nipples, causing her to yelp. She felt her nipples throb under your cruel treatment.

"Shut the fuck up. You only make noise when I tell you to," you barked, delivering another hard slap across her cheek.

Hanni hugged her naked body, crying out for help, though her pleas fell on deaf ears. Tears streamed down her face, smudging the light makeup that would soon be further ruined.

"Now then..." Your boxer and jeans crumpled around your ankles as you presented your thick cock to her small round face. "Open your mouth, Hanni."

As expected, the innocent and fragile girl remained steadfast, continuing to cry as if it could save her. But you took matters into your own hands, gripping her head and positioning it towards your eager member.

You tightly grasped the hair at the top of her head and pulled back. "Ack— Ough!"

Half of your cock slipped into her warm, wet mouth. "Ah, fuck!" With force, you pressed her face onto your cock, thrusting forward. "Damn! I could cum already. Haa!"

"Bleurgh!" Hanni gagged, her nails digging into your thighs as she desperately tried to push you away. Your lengthy thickness gradually stretched her jaws, causing her eyes to roll up as your cockhead invaded her tight throat.

The sensation of her soft, spongy mouth ignited a craving for more. You began to move your hips, holding her head in place. Hanni's adorable red lips wrapped tightly around your shaft, gliding back and forth, leaving a trail of saliva behind.

As the pace quickened, a more sticky thicker drool dripped down her chin, eventually reaching the floor. Nonstop tears streamed down her cheeks as she blinked weakly, struggling with each gag as your cock slid past her uvula.

She choked on your cock, feeling the solidity of it going down her throat and back out again, causing her to retch but finding nothing to spit out. Out of breath, she coughed painfully, snorting out snot through her reddened nose. Groaning in despair, she lifted her ass in an attempt to retreat from your cock, but to no avail.

"Fuck yeah... Shit, shit, shit! Ohh!"

Your knees bent, your toes curling as you hit the peak, shooting excessive load inside her aching mouth. Hanni had no choice but to swallow and suffocate on the sticky substance filling her throat, threatening to overflow from her mouth, but your cock acted as a barrier.

As your senses slowly returned, you withdrew from her mouth. Hanni collapsed onto all fours, coughing and gasping for air while spitting out the remaining mixture of your semen and her own saliva. It continued to drip onto the floor since she couldn't close her mouth.

Meanwhile, you took a seat on the edge of the table a step behind you, slightly out of breath from the intense orgasm that had just subsided. A smile formed on your face as you looked at the whimpering girl.

"That was amazing. Are you sure you never sucked cocks before? First time?" you expressed, reaching forward to give her ass a firm smack, followed by a squeeze.

Hanni's will to speak was shattered, her gasps mingling with her sobs. She felt disgusted. How she would ever be able to tell anyone about this. Thoughts of her parents and her caring boyfriend crossed her mind, causing her to cry even harder.

Irritated by the lack of response from the girl, you yanked her hair, pulling her head between your spread legs. You lifted her face to meet your gaze.

“Why so sad? Don't tell me you're not a fan of swallowing cum. Do you prefer to get drunk on vodka instead?” you mocked, gently brushing aside the hair that clung to her tear-stained face before taking off your shirt.

Hanni shook her head slowly, her body jerking with each sob. You flashed a smile and used the shirt to wipe away the tears, snot, and cum from her face. Her makeup had completely vanished, but her natural cuteness radiated even more on her bare face.

"Did I push my baby girl too far? It's alright, let's take it easy this time," you said, tossing the crumpled shirt aside. Taking her hands, you placed them on your sticky, slippery cock. "Suck it clean, okay? Get it nice and hard again, or else someone else might get a turn with you."

Hanni didn't have much choice but to do as you said. She knew she was trapped, and trying to escape would only make things worse. With shaky hands, she started stroking your hardening shaft.

Her small, soft hands struggled to fully grasp your size, but they were more than enough to reignite your sex drive. You placed a hand on top of her head, leaning back slightly. Hanni held her breath, even closing her eyes for a moment, before she finally took your girth in her mouth.

You simply guided her head down, relishing the sensation of her soft lips enveloping your fully erect cock. "There you go," you hissed with pleasure. "Keep your eyes on me and suck it."

She opened her eyes and locked her gaze with yours, maintaining eye contact as she blew you to the max of her ability. Her head bobbed up and down without any need for further direction from you. You could feel her tongue trapped beneath, pulsating against the underside of your sensitive cock, adding an extra level of sensation.

As Hanni slobbered on your cock, you snatched the vodka bottle with your free hand and took a few big gulps. "Pwaaa!" you let out a satisfied huff, forcing her face even lower, making her gag harshly. "Fuck! I can never get enough of this."

Setting the bottle down, you started using her head like a fleshlight. Her neat blowjob quickly turned into a sloppy one as she gagged louder, coughing up spit all over your cock, her nails digging into your thighs, trying to prevent her nose from hitting your pelvis.

"I'm gonna fucking cum again at this rate... Ughhh!" you groaned, your eyes fixed on the ceiling. "But I know you're just gonna waste it all again, so–"

With a forceful push, you ejected her off your cock, sending her tumbling to the floor, heaving. The mixture of precum and her spit dripped excessively. You stood up and grabbed her under her arm, dragging her across the room to the bed.

Shoving her onto her back, you wasted no time and swiftly grabbed her legs, pulling her lower body to the edge of the mattress. Stepping forward between her spread legs, you lifted her mini skirt up to her waist, revealing her white panties.

Hanni tried to spring up, but you pushed her back down again. She quickly covered her crotch with her hands, but you swatted them away. "W-Wait... No, please–"

You slapped her breast and gave it a hard squeeze. "Shut up. Brace yourself, 'cause I'm gonna stretch your pussy real good."

Losing patience, you ripped her panties right in the middle, exposing her bald pussy completely. With your elbows keeping her thighs apart, you started rubbing her entrance, all wet and ready.

"Nngh!" Hanni bit her lip, trying to hold back unwilling moan as she clutched the sheets beside her head. She had reluctantly accepted that she couldn't avoid this, but the thought of you fucking her raw made her head spin.

Once you had sufficiently lubricated your middle finger, you slid it inside her folds, testing the waters. “No…!” Her body tensed up right away, tightness surrounding your finger. But there was no barrier to stop its full penetration as it disappeared completely inside her.

"You're such a slut but I know exactly how to handle naughty little sluts like you." You pushed your finger back into her cunt. She cried out, then gasped, gritting her teeth to stifle a moan.

Hanni let out a squeal as you suddenly replaced your finger with your full length inside her pussy. She felt her inner walls ripping, her eyes widening in shock. You were thick enough to cause some pain as you ground yourself into her, smashing her hips down onto the bed.

Words failed you, and you moved your body as if on autopilot. Uncontrolled cries of discomfort pain burst out of her as you started thrusting, fast, deep, and ruthless, relentlessly battering her inside. Her ass slammed against the bed with each savage stroke, your cock driving her down and across the mattress.

One hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head up to watch her swollen pussy as your cock slid in and out. Your arm snaked upward, giving her breast a squeeze. Your breath was hot on her face as you pumped rougher.

"You're mine now, you little– Fuck!" You couldn't even finish your sentence as her velvety canal overwhelmed your senses.

Both of your hands slid up and firmly encircled her throat. You weren't choking her, but she could feel your strength, aware that you had the power to do so all the while your cock slammed into her deeply, never stopping or pausing.

Your breath quickened, and your hands circled her waist, moving her onto you. Lifted up and down, you were using her like a fuck toy. You pounded a few more thrusts then your balls tightened, so you had to stop for a moment, your cock buried deep inside her, the tip hitting a barrier that you could not see.

You let out a breath, not ready to blow your load just yet, but even when you paused, her pussy clenched and sucked you in. One hand that had been groping her tit slid down to her sweaty stomach, pressing against the pillowy flesh. The other hand hooked under her knee, lifting her leg up to her chest, granting better access.

"I'm gonna fill this up," you muttered, not really talking to anyone specific, as you admired and massaged her belly. "I'm gonna cum so much inside you, Hanni baby. I'll fucking impregnate you."

The other girls you'd fucked were always worried about stupid shits like condoms and pulling out, but with this girl, nothing was going to stop you from satisfying your own cravings. You pulled back, leaving just the tip inside, before slamming your cock back into her wet pussy, making wetness around her entrance splatter.

She gasped, her stomach sunking, and her back arching. It was so easy to pound into her now; her body betrayed her, getting even wetter than ever before. All she could discern was the deliberate stretch of her inner walls as your thick cock filled her up completely. That's all you could feel too.

You fucked her slower, but each thrust was harder and sharper, probably hitting her cervix dead-on. Hanni fought her way back to reality as her body adjusted to the deep, thorough glide in and out of her slippery tunnel. It was a struggle, but with each impact, she managed to ease the ache.

"You feeling better now, huh?" you laughed, like you could read her mind. Didn't take a genius to figure it out; her pussy’s clenching walls and sloshing wetness spoke volumes.

Her resistance was crumbling with each passing second. Your actions had her mind all fuzzy and messed up. Her body was losing control, no match for your brutal, ripping thrusts.

She was panting, squirming, twisting, and bucking—nothing she did could escape the scorching heat in her core, the fullness of your cock sliding in and out, over and over, while you held on tight and dominated her writhing form. You picked up the pace, and she huffed and shuddered, and then a long, blissful moan marked the start of her shattered resistance.

"Hanni," you mumbled her name, driving as deep as you could reach into her and leaning forward to suck on her tits, one by one, as her pussy helplessly milked your swollen cock.

“So hot and tight. Ohh... Oh shit!”

A wet heat pooled deep in her belly as you pumped load after load of cum into her pussy. Hanni wailed, a sound that could've been pleasure or a protest against you cumming inside her fertile womb.

Nonetheless, she didn't care anymore, not at that moment. The fraction of your cock in her overstimulated tunnel set her brain off. Thick, creamy cum oozed between your bodies and dripped down her ass.

Instead of stopping right there, you kept going, your sensitive cock hungry for more. The mix of her sweaty floral scent, her blissful state, and her vulnerability only drove you harder, making your cock stand at full attention.

Your grip on her hips tightened as you pounded away with savage determination. You growled into her ear, "You're mine now. I won't quit. I'm gonna fill your pussy with my cum." Your hand found its way back to her throat, adding an extra edge to your thrusts. She was completely limp in your grasp, utterly powerless to resist.

You took a deep breath, one more push, and it happened. A scorching surge of heat flooded deep inside her, reaching depths unknown. You let go of her leg, and it weakly fell, trembling from the force of her own orgasm that pushed your seed out, coating your throbbing cock.

"Ahh... Mm..." Hanni whimpered, her words barely coherent.

You panted, hovering over her with your hands on either side of her head. With a satisfied grin, you slipped two fingers into her gaping mouth, playing with her tongue while your thumb caressed her lower lip.

“Fuck, how the hell am I hard again? Well, I guess we're not going anywhere anytime soon," you scoffed, well aware that she heard you, even though she avoided making eye contact. What she failed to ignore was the growing girth of your cock inside her pussy. The sensation made her legs instinctively close up.

"Yah, Hanni Pham, cheer up. How about I let you ride me next?" you suggested mockingly, not expecting a response.

You were about to switch positions when a double knock on the door interrupted your action. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, choosing to ignore it.

"Hanni? Are you in there? Are you doing okay?" a soft voice called out to the girl you were in the midst of fucking. It had to be Danielle, you thought, and abruptly pulled out of Hanni, causing her to wince.

Danielle's voice should have brought some reassurance to Hanni. However, at that moment, she felt nothing, just pure sadness. She turned her body sideways on the bed, curling up and silently letting her tears flow.

Nothing could change her situation now—it was too late to turn back.

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xhoneygirlxx · 8 months

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Watermelon Sugar

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

summary: Eddie shows you the eight wonder of the world. his mouth.

warnings: reader and eddie are 18+, established relationship, fluff, Eddie being a munch. nicknames/pet names used (baby, honey, sweetheart, etc.) MINORS DNI 18+ smut: fem oral receiving, blowjobs mentioned, talks of past sexual experiences, praise/body worship, swearing. *Skin Color/Ethnicity not mentioned! not proofread, spelling errors and horrible writing.

if I miss anything plz lmk!

a/n: hello my loves! thank you all for the kind words and reactions on my last couple of posts! as you all know smut is not my forte but I felt the need to write this. am I projecting??? maybe but we’re gonna pretend that i'm not :)

The low hum of Steve Nicks’ voice plays through Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of your makeout session with your boyfriend. Orange glow from the late afternoon sun comes through the window, an angelic glow casting around the frizz of the mentalhead’s hair.

It started as an innocent day, hanging out together in a comfortable silence in his room. Him doodling in his notebook and you flipping through one of his old comic books. Somewhere along the way a featherlight touch turned into shared giggles, sitting in his lap turned into a chaste kiss, and it ended up with him in between your parted knees, kissing like his life depended on it.

A curtain of curls block out the skylight, tender lips on yours like melted honey, and big hands roaming down the expanse of your body. When Eddie moves away from your mouth, he takes the oxygen from your lungs with him and you whimper at the loss.

"Gonna let me have a taste of you, pretty girl?" Big doe eyes shine down to you, way too eager and excited. Your stomach twists into knots, the training you put yourself through in case of this moment, has all been for nothing. What do you say to the man that hovers over you with so much love in his eyes?

"How about I suck you off instead, hmm?" You try to come off as sensual but instead you sound scared.

It's an offer that you've made so many times over the short course of your relationship with Eddie. This was your first real relationship besides the eight grade love affair you had with Simon Willard. That only lasted a week.

You weren't anywhere near a virgin, that so called sacred part of yourself is now in the possession of a random boy you met on vacation before your senior year. Hookups weren't uncommon to you but what was uncommon to you was the affection you received during the sex.

People you've hooked up with never really cared to get you nice and ready the way Eddie does, prepping you with two or more fingers, working you open so that it doesn't hurt going in. Guys didn't care if you got off or not, they were just looking for a hole to fill and someone who wouldn't get clingy.

You had guy friends, including Eddie before you started dating, and you heard the horror stories they had of going down on a girl. It was never in mean spirit, although the discussion should've stayed in the bedroom, but it still scared you shitless. How one girl didn't properly take care of herself, causing the smell to be rancid. This girl didn't wipe the right way, leaving scraps of toilet paper down there. And the one that really settled itself into your brain, was how good or bad a girl tasted.

Of course you, and all of your guy friends, knew that girls didn't taste like ice cream, or strawberries, or candy. It was made up, another bullshit beauty standard for woman to worry about.

You had paid attention to the way guys would ask you if you wanted it done. The way they would sigh and roll their eyes like it was the biggest task of their lives. You would end up telling them that you're more of a giver than receiver, and that you just weren't interested in that whole thing. When they would release a breath of relief you would fill with shame, almost like you were the one who requested it to be done and had been turned down. The embarrassment of rejection you didn't even ask for.

So when you and Eddie first had sex as boyfriend and girlfriend, you made it your mission to never let that horrid question come from his mouth. You always made sure to offer him head first, and if it looked like he was about to ask, you'd simply tell him you couldn't wait anymore.

Now here you are, under him, ready and willing to take him in your mouth, and he's gotten the question out before you could beat him to the punch.

"Ya know I will never say no to that, sweetheart. But-"

Uh oh. That's the word that comes before a life or death sentence. It's hanging heavy over you, the once comfortable silence is now killing you. Squeezing all of the air out of your body, limbs going numb with the loss of circulation, all the while your ears ring like an explosion has gone off.

"I want to return the favor." It's so sincere when he says it and it makes you want to cry. A boyish smile taking over his mouth, deep dimples appearing on the fat of his cheeks.

You must look like you've seen a ghost because the pretty smile that was written on his face is now taken over by worry.

"I mean, I don't have to. It's just- I feel like," Eddie's a panicked mess, backing his face further away from your own. The small bubble of love that the two of you created has now been popped with your own doubts and fears.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I just thought I could make you feel good s'all." The confident man that you know all too well is now reduced to a fumbling and anxious person. His fingers work at the chunky silver ring on his finger, twisting and twisting and twisting it around.

"You just always, I don't know. It just always seems like you never ask for head and I just wanted to offer it to you, I guess."

The whiskey eyes that never left your gaze won't even look at you anymore. Focusing on that damn ring that goes faster and faster the longer you wait to respond. You want to run and hide. Dig a deep hole and never come out. Your lovely boyfriend who's done nothing but treat you like the queen of the goddamn universe, now thinks he's made you uncomfortable.

Embarrassment rushes through your veins, throat closing with the grip of shame making it harder to breathe. Tears prick your eyes, hot and heavy, ready to fall at the drop of a dime. You feel so guilty for not just telling him the truth, for not saying all the concerns that you had. Even before you started dating Eddie always confided in you, telling you the deepest secrets that kept him up at night and you couldn't even tell him this one thing.

"I'm embarrassed." It comes out in a sniffle, lip wobbling beneath the teeth that hold it down, trying to make it go away.

"I'm just embarrassed I won't be good. That I'll be another conversation for you and the boys to drink to. Will I taste good? Do I smell weird? Does it look pretty? All of these questions circle my brain and I'm so fucking scared that you won't like me anymore." It comes out like word vomit, so fast and uneven in tone that you're not sure if it even made sense.

You don't have time to think it over anyway, Eddie's too quick putting his hands on your cheeks, gently making you look up at him. The same kind eyes that you always see meet yours. Thumbs gentle swipe the fat tears off of your face, his cold hands extinguish the flames of your skin.

"Honey, I promise you I would never, ever do some dumb shit like that. What the guys and I talk about is irrelevant, half the time they don't even know what they're talking about. I felt the same way when you wanted to suck me off the first time, every single question you ask yourself is what I ask myself." Eddie's eyes are searching yours, looking and waiting to see the dread leave your head.

"Like I said before, I would never want you to be uncomfortable but if you're okay with it, I'd really," He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, "really," he continues to place more delicate kisses around your face, "really love to make you feel so fucking good."

When he's done, he looks back down to you with a dopey smile, he's low and hazy drunk off of you. A smile tugs on your own lips, so warm and fuzzy off of him. You know he means it and you feel sad that you even questioned him. Childish laughter rings out between the two of you when he pinches your sides, tickling out the stiffness in your body.

When the laughter dies down, he asks you again by cocking his eyebrow up in question. Nodding your head, you give him a confident yes, something you didn't feel the first time he asked.

Moving down your body, trails of kisses are left on your skin, mapping out his journey to your center. When he reaches the hem of your pants, he looks up to you once more waiting for a reply. Encouraging him to go further, his chilled fingers douses the warmth radiating off of you.

Leaving you only in your polka dot designed panties, Eddie teases you by running his fingers up and down your thighs.

"I gotta say bub, I love the pink dots. Top notch fashion if I don't say so myself." Eddie jokes and it makes you giggle. Swatting lightly at him, he returns the laughter.

"I'm not lying, I swear! If only you know what you do to me." As much of a joker Eddie is, he was never one to joke about your beauty. He found everything you did, said, and wore so fucking breathtaking and flawless, he'd probably get hard from the sight of you in a Tin Man costume.

"If you, at any time, want me to stop just tell me. I won't get mad, just let me know, okay?" Eyebrows scrunched with seriousness, Eddie makes sure to be loud and clear with his instructions.

"I promise, Eds." You say and he takes that as the green light.

Eddie's index finger teases your cloth slit, running up and down so slowly it feels like torture. When you lift your hips looking for more friction he snorts lightly.

"Patience, my love." His fingers continue to dance over your panties, running back to the top of the band and pulling them down in a swift motion.

When the cool air hits your wet seat, you whimper slightly at the feeling. Eddie has seen your pussy multiple times, but when he spreads it with his fingers, you can't help but feel shy, closing your legs around his arm.

"Don't go shy on me, baby. I just wanna see the prettiest picture I've ever seen." His eyes are still trained on the glistening of your sex, glimmering like bright pools of water.

It feels like an hour of no movement from Eddie before he goes to change his position between your legs. Shuffling back on his knees, he picks your thighs up to place on his shoulders as he lays on his stomach.

Still having doubts, you lean up on your elbows, watching your boyfriend to see what his reaction is. To your surprise, he looks like a kid in a candy store, awe and wonder swimming around in the big brown pools of his eyes.

When an obscene sniff rings through the air, you can't help but cringe a little. Waiting for him to look repulsed, you're again astonished when all your met with is a feral look.

Very tentatively, he runs his flat tongue from your hole to the top of your clit. Moaning deeply, he moves his gave up to you. A smirk breaks out on his features, so devilishly and mischievously.

"Oh baby, you have no fucking clue how good you taste." There is no questioning in his cadence. It's smug and cocky and it makes you shiver with need.

Repeating his motions from before, you mewl at the feeling, lifting your hips again. The chuckle that comes from Eddie vibrates off of you, make you move you squirm. Reaching his strong hands around your thighs, he holds you in place with his firm grip.

When the wet muscle breaches your needy hole, you fall back onto the bed moaning out in pleasure. He works your open with it, flicking it in and out efficiently.

Pulling out of you, he moves up to your bundle of nerves. Starting slowly, he circles around once or twice, before working it in figure eights.

You melt into the bed like a popsicle on a hot summers day. There's not a single thought in your head other than the feeling of his mouth. You're a livewire come to life, so sensitive and lost in the haze of pleasure.

You think this is the precipice of ecstasy but then one of his thick fingers enter you and his mouth sucks hard on your pulsing clit.

It feels like fireworks on the fourth of July, bright and explosive, big loud bangs ringing out into the night sky. It's like the feeling of going down the big drop on a rollercoaster, tingling deep in your belly and a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins. It's like winning first place, heartwarming and shocking all at the same time.

You feel all these things at the same time, every single one of them caused by the actions of your boyfriends mouth. It's overwhelming and so fucking delicious but you can't say anything than cry out in bliss.

Letting go of your clit with a pop, Eddie's head pokes up at you like an excited puppy. "S'it feel good baby?" You want to answer, you really do but the way he sneaks a second finger into you and crooks them at the perfect angle makes you lose all motor skills.

"Awe, honey" he coos mockingly, "Is it that good?"

"S'good Eds, so good." You're a blubbering, crying mess. So hooked on the feeling of him, hooking on the feeling of how he made you feel.

He doesn't say anything else, too busy pushing his face back between your legs. His motions go faster, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside of you that he only managed to find, his mouth switching between motions, driving you closer to the edge as he does.

The string in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter, barley hanging together by a thread. You're a thrashing, sweaty mess on his bed, gripping the pillow underneath your head that your knuckles will probably be stuck in that position. You don't care, not when he's moving his head back and forth, slurping up your wetness like a handmade milkshake.

It's filthy, down right dirty the way it sounds. The noises that carry out into his room echo so loud the neighbors could probably hear. The squelch of your wetness being pounded into by his hand, the way he's drinking you up like a dehydrated plant, the moans that escape out of your parted lips.

"Eddie, please. FUCK, please." You're blathering at him, not even sure at what you're asking for.

Separating himself from you again, he continues working his fingers deep into you.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl? S'that it? Wanna cum all over my fingers?" You moan louder in response, clenching around him harder as you do.

"Go ahead, be a good good and cum for me. Come on, honey. Cum for me." That's all you need to hear before you're hurtling off the edge of your release.

You release with a silent cry, all the air being punched right out of you. Your body feels weightless, like you were thrown up into the clouds and not being able to come down.

Your whole body shakes, tears streaming down your face, all while your hole pulses and quivers around Eddie's fingers. A gush of wetness coats his fingers, a big puddle under your ass, leaving another stain on his bed seats.

He watches in awe as you hit your peak, how your back arches off of the bed and how you look so fucking perfect like this. The shy girl that never got experience this kind joy, now swims in the ocean of euphoria of the climax. He feels so lucky to witness this, to be the first and last person to ever see you this vulnerable.

Eddie wishes he could paint this moment, make a portrait of the way your kiss bitten lips form the perfect O, make the brushstrokes of your hair and some of it sticks to your sweaty face. You're so beautiful and he doesn't know how blessed to be yours.

When you float back down to earth, to the springy mattress of Eddie's, you take a moment to catch your breath. When he removes his fingers from you, you weakly hiss from movement and he offers a quiet sorry.

Moving back up to his knees, he hovers over you and smiles brightly down at you. Smiling weakly back at you, he uses the hand that's not supporting his weight to place it on your jaw. His thumb brushes back and forth and you melt right into it.

"How was that?" Pink tints his cheeks, grinning ear to ear.

You chuckle weakly, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I think I went to outer space for a second there."

A booming laugh leaves his chest and it makes you smile even harder. Your heart feels so full and so happy. You're so in love with him and it makes you delirious. You want to see him like this for the rest of your life, big smiles and even big laughter, so pretty and delicate only for you.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself there, space cadet." Leaning down to press his lips to yours, your soak in the feeling of it. When he moves away you pout at him, and he bops you on the nose with his finger.

"I was thinkin' I could return the favor, big boy." You whisper seductively.

"Oh baby, that sounds wonderful but-," He makes eye contact with you, "I need to be in you like yesterday because that, right there was the hottest thing I've ever witness."

"I happen to be a romantic. So I shall wait until my fair maiden is okay to resume our activities." Closing his eyes with pride, he places a hand on his heart.

Hiding your face with your hands, you bust out laughing at his little antics and when you peek between his fingers you see his teeth flashing back at you. Removing your hands from your face, you tuck a loose tendril behind his ear.

"You're a dork, but that sounds good to me."

Thank you all for reading! I loves you all and hope you enjoyed!!!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic

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lizzieisright · 1 month

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The happy end to this story! (childhood friends to lovers). Thank you for voting!

Palestine: what can you do

Morning comes way too early and your head is absolutely killing you. You sit on the bed slowly, scared you'll get dizzy, and try to remember how much you drank yesterday.

Instead you're hit with a brick to your face when you remember the end of the night.

Holy fuck.

You can't breathe for a second. Why the fuck did you confess to Abby? Did she kiss you as well? What the fuck? What the fuck happened?

You don't feel like you can even start to unpack all of that in your current state. You take a shower with a slight tremor in your body and keep your head empty: it's not hard when the headache is still pounding at your temples.

You brush your teeth and lazily slump to the kitchen, eager to drink something - dehydration is such a bitch. You make yourself tea and sit on a chair, staring at your table.

It's not true, is it? You had these dreams before when you'd wake up and swear something happened, but then details wouldn't add up and you'd come to a conclusion it was your drunk hallucination. This was probably one of them, right?

Should you text Abby and ask if anything happened?

Yeah, no. You'd rather die.

It eats you alive and if it's really happened, it'd be the end. No way Abby really kissed you yesterday - she probably left and your mind decided to sweeten the pill and played the same tape it plays every time you get too upset. It's pathetic and humiliating, but it makes you feel better. Usually.

It doesn't make you feel better now since your intuition is screaming at you, telling you yesterday was real, but you ignore it, because you can't afford hope.

And even if it was real, what's next? Hey Abby, do you want to break up wi-

The doorbell rings and startles you - and now you're terrified. You don't want to know who is there. (Because you know who it is.)

But you can't ignore the doorbell because it hurts your head way too much, so you go to open the door just to end this awful noise.

And Abby is there, smiling with a bag of a takeout next door she knows you crave on the hangover.

"Hi." She breathes out and there's her usual adoring look you can't handle. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm genuinely considering dying as an option." You joke, but you'd really prefer to be anywhere else than face Abby and yesterday's.. situation.

"Did you wake up not long ago?" Abby makes her way around your apartment to go to the kitchen and you're puzzled.

"Half an hour ago."

So did something happen yesterday or not? Is Abby being normal or is she pretending to be normal? Your dry ramen brain can't figure her out, so you decide to go with the flow and see what happens.

Abby serves the food and you sit down to eat. Your stomach growls and there is disgusting smell of alcohol when you breath out; you cringe and start eating, your mind is still half-empty. You feel like a zombie with no functioning brains and it's better than hearing your anxiety.

"Thank you." You say and take a large bite, because apparently you're very hungry.

"I broke up with Mia."

You choke on your food.

"What the fuck Abby!" You cough and it takes a few minutes to calm down. "You can't just say it when I'm chewing, come on. But also: What?"

"I went to her place just before I came here. We talked and I told her I can't keep dating her. She was upset, but she said she understood."

You blink. Your hands start shaking and it's not hangover. You press your lips together to not smile because Abby's words give you hope.

"So yesterday was real?" You ask, scared shitless.

"Yeah." Abby smiles and reaches out, tangling her fingers with yours. "You thought it was a dream?"

"Yeah." You admit and stare at your joined hands. "Are you being friendly right now?" You are cautious. You can't have any subtlety right now, you need Abby to be clear with you. After yesterday there's no space for blurred boundaries and friendly flirting.

"No, I'm not." Abby chuckles. "You want to hear it?"

"Yes." You sound like you're begging and Abby giggles.

"I'm in love with you."

You fold. Literally. Your body gives up and relaxes in the chair and you take a deep breath. It's real. It's all real, and Abby is here and she is in love with you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh my god." You squeak under your breath. "Yes. Yes. Fuck. Fuck, I will."

Abby smiles happily and raises your fingers to kiss them. You shudder and you feel like you're going to throw up.

Oh shit.

You run to the bathroom and empty your stomach. Abby runs after you, laughing, but keeping your hair out of the way.

"Really?"

"Shut the fuck up, Abby." You say and wipe your mouth. "I'm hangover."

Abby washes your face for you and kisses your forehead.

"Is it gross I still want to kiss you?" Abby murmurs and you feel your face heat up.

"Incredibly gross. I'll brush my teeth first."

Abby laughs and watches impatiently as you brush your teeth. The moment you finish she is turning you around and kisses you, wet and hungry, and your knees buckle. Abby is not shy and she is not trying to slow down, practically devouring you, pushing her tongue inside your mouth and squeezing your waist as if she is mapping you with her fingers. You're overwhelmed by all of this, but you respond eagerly and hug her shoulders. The kiss tastes like mint, but both of you don't mind.

"I guess your skills improved since we were 14." Abby teases you, but she is smiling happily. You are both panting, and you pinch her side enough for it to be painful.

"And you still drool all over my face."

"Well." Abby smirks at you. "You seem to like it."

"Maybe." You return the smirk and kiss her again, wondering if your God is a still a God if you can reach her?

You think she is.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou

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edgeray · 1 month

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“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer

Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?

Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!

---

Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt.

You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.

You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.

If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes.

‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them.

You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here.

Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.

Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be.

The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead.

Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.

Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage.

Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly.

You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it?

You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form.

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you.

"Someone wants you."

You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight."

He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight."

You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else."

"They're not someone you or I can refuse."

"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh.

"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."

Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?

Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.”

And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking.

“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting.

“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both.

Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.

You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.

“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you.

Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken?

“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself.

There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch.

Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end?

Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face.

It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them.

“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face.

Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily.

“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount.

“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh.

You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client.

The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers.

You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk.

They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation.

Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice.

“Sit.”

Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own.

Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin.

As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?

It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave.

You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly.

Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin.

The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson.

“Doll.”

Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you.

However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by:

"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds.

The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.

“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger.

They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring��you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge.

You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste:

They taste like sin.

The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them.

The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds.

“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody.

Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh.

Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact.

You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.

Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:

“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.

Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips.

“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you.

Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle.

Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?

The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf.

Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips.

“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting.

“Yes.”

The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear.

“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”

A short hum follows afterward.

“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.”

---

Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #guys I'm so tired it's 2AM rn #i have school tomorrow guys #i chose to finish this tonight despite the shit ton of homework I have to do #arlecchino brain rot does that to you #def worth it #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #genshin fics #arlecchino smut #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

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munivrse · 6 months

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cw: requested! smut. full on. cunnilingus. strap/harness. possessive bada hitting it from the back 🧎‍♀️

a/n: feedback is so greatly appreciated. i rarely write full smut fics so im shaking in my boots about this one. thank u for reading!!

The universe really had it out for you today. You tried to have a simple conversation with annold dance partner, but now you're in front of your girlfriend, sprawled out as she's knuckle deep in your cunt, leaving soft kisses on your lower stomach,

"Does that feel good, baby?"

You whine as a response, back arching into her touch. She's been edging you for an hour now.

You wouldn't have been in this predicament if you had just kept your mouth shut. You'd decided to talk up your old dance partner at a party you and Bada attended together. You didn't think much of it until you looked down at your phone. You knew you were in some deep shit, but you couldn't help but play into Bada's possessiveness. It wasn't often that she'd get into moods like this so you could not take this opportunity for granted.

Your old partner makes a subpar joke and to you, you act as if its the funniest thing in the world. You double over, giving them a very nice view into the low cut top you were wearing, grazing their arm, and giving them a cute giggle. It was all fun and games until you felt Bada's chest against your back, one arm snaking around your waist, the other grabbing the drink from your hand and taking a sip herself.

Bada's presence in a room never fails to make people gasp, especially in a room full of both seasoned and rookie choreographers/dancers. She was extremely popular and had the talent to back it up. On top of that, she stands quite tall at around 5'10 and happens to be one of the finest people in the world.

So imagine your previous partner's surprise (and fear) when the Bada Lee peering down at them with an intimidating stare, almost daring them to keep it up with her girlfriend. Bada sets your drink down on the counter and extends a hand out to your partner,

"Hi, I'm Bada, Y/n's partner." Purposely using "partner" to describe the ambiguity of your relationship. Your previous partner looks scared shitless, their hand shakes as they reach out to meet Bada's hand in a weak handshake,

"N-nice to meet you! I'm Y/n's old dance partner."

Bada drops her hand and smiles a smile that would seem kind to an innocent bystander, but you recognized the glint of anger her eyes, and in the way she grit her teeth in her response. Her arm tightening around your waist,

"Hm. I don't think I recognize that name. Would I know your work from anywhere?"

Your ex partner just blinks.

"Well, Y/n, its about time for us to go, huh?"

Your voice shakes as you say your next sentence, doing your best to stay strong,

"Actually, do you mind if I meet you at the car? I want to exchange numbers real quick."

Bada's jaw tightens her eyebrows raise to the sky and you're ready to bust out laughing at any point now. Her face quickly changes back to a sickeningly sweet smile,

"Of course baby. Don't be too long, we've got a long night ahead of us." And with that, she saunters away, not turning back once.

Once you've finished your conversation, you walk out of the party. You see Bada leaning against her car, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. You try to blubber out some excuse as to why your conversation lasted an additional ten minutes, but Bada is having none of it.

Bada grits her teeth, "Get in the fucking car."

No way you're saying no to that. You get into the car, Bada slamming your door shut. As you're driving home her hands are gripping the steering wheel hard.

"Baby you're gonna hurt-" You are quickly silenced with a stern side eye. The rest of the car ride is silent. It's silent as you get out of the car, into your apartment complex, in the elevator, the hallway of your floor, and silent as you shut the door behind you. As you turn around to walk further into the apartment, you bump into a sturdy figure, stumbling back just a bit. When you look up, Bada is wordlessly staring down at you.

She's thinking about ways to punish you. She wants to make you as frustrated as she is. She wants to see you whine and beg for her. She wants to watch as your body writhes under hers as she makes you feel so good. Because you're hers. And it seems like you've forgotten.

So, here we are. Earlier she'd taken her time unzipping your dress, kissing down your shoulders. Leaving hickeys on your chest, down until she reaches your lower stomach. She was being so honey sweet, you had no idea what was in store for you. You've been on edge for so long now. Your brain was fuzzy and the only thing you could think of was Bada's hands in your cunt, her mouth dipping down to circle around your clit and suck.

Bada coos at you, "I know baby. It hurts doesn't it."

You nod your head, a tear rolling down the side of your face. "Good God. Bada- oh fuck- i need to cum."

She chuckles and shakes her head, removing her fingers from your weeping cunt.

"Beg me."

You squeeze your eyes closed,

"You are such a dick."

Bada stands, making her way to the drawer located in the nightstand on her side of the bed. She pulls out one of the many toys you both use.

"Keep it up sweetheart. It's okay. I'll fuck it out of you."

Bada unzips her pants, a harness already present. She giggles when she sees your eyes widen. She leans down, face so close to you that when she talks, you feel her mouth against yours,

"I knew you were gonna be a fucking brat the minute we walked out of the house," She stands upright once more. She makes her way over to the edge of the bed,

"You wore that skimpy ass outfit and expected me to be okay with someone seeing you like this? hmm?" She grips your hips, forcefully flipping you over.

"So the minute I saw you make eye contact with me while-" Bada starts pushing her strap into you and groans, "While you gave that girl false hope. I realized just how fucking reckless you are."

You whine, the silicone cock strapped to your girlfriend reaches so deeply into you it nearly hurts. You pull the sheets above you but Bada tsks,

"Don't fuckin' run from it."

Her arm loops around you to wrap her large hand around your neck, pulling you flush against her still clothed chest. She kisses down the shell of your ear,

"You gonna be good for me, honey?"

You muster up all of the energy you have left in you,

"Fuck off."

Bada chuckles, kissing your cheek. She grabs your hips and pulls you back towards her. You groan and immediately your body goes nearly limp. Bada snorts, "Just a cock-hungry whore, hmm? Looks like you remember exactly who you belong to," She grinds her hips into you, "Nobody could make you fall apart like me, isnt that right baby?"

Your whines coincide with her thrusts into you. She was right. You'd never been fucked like this before Bada. Everyone else was just too soft for you, but not Bada. She wasn't afraid of breaking you, which is exactly what you wanted. You need Bada to break you down and build you back up from nothing. Bada speeds up her thrusts, hips just slight of slamming into you.

"T-Thank you Bada."

She grins against your neck, "You are so very welcome, sweetheart." She lets go of your neck, leaving you to slump against the sheets, the only thing holding you together was Bada's hands gripping your waist, pulling you back against her to meet her in each thrust. She could tell how close you were by the way your hands gripped the sheets. She loved seeing you like this. Pliant. Ready to take whatever she gives you. She thinks about how much of a brat you were earlier and smacks your ass twice in succession.

"You gonna keep being a fucking brat? Or do you wanna go back to being my good girl? mmh? My angel?"

Your cries get louder as she grinds against your g-spot, "Wanna be your good girl- fuck. please let me cum-"

Bada laughs at you, "Say it again and I'll let you cum."

At this point, your brain is mush. Your body tingles and you can feel one of Bada's hands smooth down your back, pressing between your shoulder blades. She was fucking you into the mattress.

" 'M yours Bada. Your angel, please-"

Bada uses the hand pressing between your shoulder blades and runs it up to your hair, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you against her once more. She leaves feather light kisses on your neck, contrary to her forceful thrusts. She makes it back up to your ear, voice barely above a whisper,

"Cum."

You fall apart at this command, writhing against bada, moaning out so loud that she makes a mental note to apologize to your neighbors the next time she sees them. But she grins nonetheless, loving how you're unraveling against her. Your little fists reach for anything to grab on to, trying to anchor yourself back to reality and bada groans, she loved this. She loved you. And hopefully you remember just how much you love her too.

Once you stop convulsing against her, she gently lays you against the bed, pulling out and taking off her strap. Just as you start to regain clarity, wondering where your girlfriend went, Bada is by your side with a warm cloth, ready to wipe you down. She figures you'll both shower in the morning. You watch as she cleans you up, gentle as ever. Her cheeks have a faint flush to them. her bangs sticking to her forehead. You silently thanked the universe for blessing you with a Bada Lee. As you continue admiring her, you notice her avoiding your eyes altogether. Your brows furrow-

"Bada."

She hums without looking at you.

"Look at me."

She freezes for a second and then continues cleaning you up.

"Bada lee-"

"I can't look at you right now."

you look at her, dumbfounded.

"You just fucked me within an inch of my life and you want to act funny?"

Bada just lets out a dangerous chuckle,

"Unless you want me to pin you back down for round two, I suggest you stop asking me to look at you."

You sit up, hand grabbing her jaw, forcing her to look at you.

"Who said I didn't want to go for a second round?"

#smut #bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee req #bada lee smut #bada lee texts #bada x reader #swf 2 x reader #swf2

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rizsu · 7 months

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BOO! gotcha~ gojo satoru.

sum. he meticulously planned the night out, she was busy with her routine. ( basically gojo trying to be bold and manly but the bold and manly doesnt want to be him )

"BABE! COME QUICK — NOW!"

voice louder than ever, gojo's curled into a ball, on the couch, diverting his eyes everywhere but the tv screen. it was movie night — or so it was supposed to be. you left him alone in the creeping dark. left him all alone to tend to your nighttime routine.

you see, truth be told, he's absolutely terrified of horrors. the setting, the music, the jumpscares, the plot — everything. poor gojo wanted to be a romantic "i'm here for you," man for his girl but it seems like that plan is screwed! he does not have a plan b in mind. there was one sole plan and it didn't consider the possibility of him being scared shitless.

you both decided on having a horror marathon. as the month of halloween dawns closer, it's only fitting to watch horror-themed stuff, right? not quite. there's one person who's covering their eyes with the blanket every time it gets intense and it's no one other than gojo satoru.

the plan was picture-perfect:

a) get the scariest horror movie.

b) watch to see when you're scared.

c) put his arms around you, bring you into his body, and whisper, "it's okay, don't fear."

d) become your knight in shining armor.

clearly, this plan was not properly thought out. he's shivering in fear, waiting for his knight in shining armor to save him from the misery — and also from the thought of some demon waiting to jump at him from behind the tv.

the movie's soundtrack quiets, only the character's hesitating footsteps towards the locked room can be heard. as they walk closer, the door creaks open. nothing's in the room..? "that's... strange," they whispered, stepping into the room with their oil-based lamp. the camera pans to the left: nothing suspicious. it pans to the right: nothing out of the ordinary. it goes back to the center and—

"FUCK no," gojo turns the tv off. he knew what was about to come, and he wasn't going to sit through it.

suddenly, as if the saying of art mimics real life comes true, he hears the same hesitating footsteps. strange, the tv's off. absolutely not, he thinks, balling up the blanket ready to leave. fastening his steps to the front door, he grabs the keys off the counter. the keys have gone in the keyhole, and so did a hand on gojo's shoulder.

he freezes. body gone stiff. breathing halted. heartbeat intensifies. what the fuck.

"babe? where are you going?" you questioned, confused as to why gojo's ready to sneak out in pajamas and a blanket.

gojo doesn't respond. he's watched that movie for long enough to realize it doesn't have to be you who's talking.

however, it is you, and you're very confused. after finishing your routine, you came down to watch the movie with him only to be met with a mess of popcorn, tv off, and a missing gojo.

"babe? you alright?" you questioned again, this time grabbing him with both hands and turning him to face you.

"who are you?" it's his turn to question. you look like you, but are you really you? a question that only makes sense to the man himself.

"i'm y/n, duh."

"then prove it," he demands. if it's truly his beloved, he knows how she'd react.

hands on hip, your face twisted into a mix of confusion, deadpan, and slightly amused. "what are you on about, satoru?"

"oh my god you're an imposter," his conclusion makes him turn back to the door, frantically twisting the keys to unlock the barrier that keeps him from safety.

without looking back, he walked out the door, tripping on himself as he sought his safety. all you can do is shrug. he'll be back in two minutes maximum.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk 236 got me feeling like that homeless ant #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk drabbles

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cb97breathing · 11 months

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I NEVER MEANT TO HURT YOU

Pairing: Han Jisung x Afab! Reader

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You have been playing video games with a boy from Korea, over the course of a year you both have grown very close. You never knew his real name, but he told you he was in the idol industry. You both would flirt with each other playfully. But eventually he tells you he really likes you. He would try to hint to you who he was because he couldn't actually tell you. You would joke constantly about him being a member of your favorite group. But when he finally tells you the truth, you run away.

Warnings: Story is 18+ and will contain mature themes. MDNI.

A/N: Do not repost or translate my work. Thank you. This is for @hyunsungbased ❤️

When you had first met the boy under the username NightSkys you were just playing a game in the middle of the night, you found out he was from Korea and the two of you played will together. He even defended you against other guys who would yell at you during the game. Because of that gaming together became a regular thing for the both you.

You would stay up late, much to his protests cause he knew how big the time gap was. You grew close to the boy. You learned he was in the idol industry, you didn't ask what group, he didn't tell. You knew he wouldn't be allowed to say any way. Eventually you were inseparable, calling each other cute nicknames. He'd call you raindrop, or sugar cube and most of the time baby. Yours was always Boba for him. You didn't want to admit how much you had come to like the boy. You didn't even know who he truly was. You didn't even know what his real voice sounded like cause he had to hide it.

But there had been times, times where there was suspicion. You're best friend and you had thought that he was a member of your favorite kpop group and he would always tease you and make you feel like you were right. But you never confronted him on it because where was your actual proof.

But then one night, he finally asked you out. He said he wanted to be with you. That he loved you, and he didn't care how far away you were. You brushed it aside as him being a playful flirt, but he wouldn't give in. Sending you links for couple rings he wanted to buy for the both of you. Constantly making tweets asking if he could finally say that you were both dating.

Now here you were, nervously staring at your phone with an incoming facetime call. He had finally decided to tell you who he was and you were scared shitless. The amount of times you had openly simped for idols in front of him plagued your head. You hesitantly hit the answer button and are met with a familiar pair of big brown eyes. Eyes you knew very well. Eyes that belonged to your bias wrecker in Stray Kids. Eyes that belonged to Han Jisung.

You stared at the screen with wide eyes as he gave you a small and nervous smile. Your mind was reeling and you immediately ended the call in a panic. He tried calling again and again, but you refused to answer. You couldn't answer. The boy that you loved, the cute little gamer that would tease you constantly and flirt with you, was none other than Han Jisung of Stray Kids and you were not okay.

You had so many missed calls and texts from him, he was panicking. Begging for you to talk to him, but you couldn't bring yourself to. How could you? You never thought your suspicions about him being a Stray Kids member were actually going to be true. Now you didn't know what to do. Your heart was breaking at the information, because you knew there was no way in hell you could be with someone as famous as him. You were broken, scared and angry. You sent him one message on his account on twitter.

I promise that I will not let this get out. But this needs to end. I'm not worthy of you and you know this could never work. Goodbye Boba.

You press send and then block him on everything. You block the number he called you from. You didn't want to take a chance. Your best friend messages you that he had been blowing up her phone and crying, he had also admitted it to her as well. She said she convinced him to give you time. But you knew you weren't going to change your mind.

Almost a year had passed and you tried to avoid the topic of Jisung as much as you could. But you couldn't stop yourself from keeping up with everything the group had posted on social media and bubble. Jisung had grown very distant and quiet and you knew why. You knew your were the cause as to why he hadn't been his bright and bubbly self on the youtube episodes and lives. Your best friend tried her best to convince you to reach out to him but you wouldn't listen. Then one day she messaged you saying that they were going to be in Los Angeles and that she had tickets.

"You're going with me Y/N." She said sternly, she wouldn't take no for an answer. So here you were on line to get into early entry for their show at Los Angeles, you had no idea the tickets were vip until the day of because she didn't want you to panic and run away. You and her dressed up, wearing sexy outfits. You wanted to look your best, even though you were terrified of Han seeing you. Your best friend was hoping to have a moment to catch the eye of Chan, who she had the biggest crush on. When you walked in and saw where you were sitting, you stopped in your tracks.

"Please tell me this is a joke." You breathed out. "We are not front row center for the extended stage." Your friend smirked at you and nodded. Your heart was pounding as you took your seat. Your legs bounced as you waited for sound check to start. Then all the sudden you heard everyone scream. You looked up and saw the guys walk on stage. But your eyes immediately went to him. You forgot how to breathe as he looked at the crowd with a wide smile. Your friend took your hand and squeezed it. He was getting closer and closer, walking with Chan down the runway to the extended stage.

Soon his eyes locked with yours and widened. He stopped in his tracks for a moment. You could see so many emotions run through them as he froze at the back of the extended stage. Seconds later he looked away from you and then went back to smiling as if nothing happened. Your friend looked to you in concern, but you were frozen, your eyes never leaving him for a moment. You would catch him occasionally looking to you through out soundcheck. You tried so hard not to cry. Here he was, your Boba, in the flesh.

You eventually tore your eyes away from him and tried to focus on anything else. You tried your best to smile and sing along to the songs. Soon sound check as over and they headed off stage. But Han turned to take one last look at you before he left the stage.

The concert flew by, you tried your best to have fun with your friend, who actually did catch Chan's eye multiple times. But once again you would lock eyes with Jisung and the whole world would fade away. There were times when he stared at you and almost made a mistake, whether it was dancing or almost missing his part to sing. You couldn't help but giggle and smile at it. Then the show was over and both you and your friend had tears in your eyes. You saw him staring deep into your eyes, almost pleading with you as they took their final bow. You choked on a sob and looked away from him as they walked away and exited the stage.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep with your friend holding you. You regretted everything you did, you regretted blocking him, you regretted not giving him a chance to explain. But the damage had been done and you were too scared to talk to him.

The next day your friend told you that she had plans with someone she knew from the area and told you that you could stay and rest, you didn't decline that offer. You felt like crap and didn't want to leave the your bed. A few hours later you heard a knock at the hotel door. You got a text from your friend saying it was her and that she forgot her key, but when you opened it your heart stopped. It wasn't your friend, it was him. He didn't hesitate to walk in and shut the door behind him.

"H-How are you.. how are you here?" You choked out as tears flew down your cheeks.

"Your friend, she and I had this all planned out." He said quietly. "I had to see you. I couldn't let our relationship end like this." You wanted to hate your friend right now, but you couldn't bring yourself to. "I missed you so much sugar cube." He whispered softly as he reached out to caress your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed and you melted into his and he brushed the tears away with his thumb. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you who I was for so long." He pressed his forehead to yours and pulled you close. "But now that your here in my arms I don't ever plan to let you go."

"Jisung, w-we ca-" He pressed his lips to yours deeply, pouring out all he felt for you into the kiss. Your legs trembled and you clung to him, you wanted to fight but you couldn't. You loved him, you loved him with all your heart. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pressed you against the wall. You kissed each other desperately, with a need you both had been pushing away for so long. You whimpered softly into his lips as his fingers slipped under your top.

"I love you." He whispered as he pulled away. "Please, please don't push me away. We can make this work, there's no ban. I can be with whomever I choose, and I want you. I need you Y/n." You bit her lip and buried your face in his neck. "Can I make you mine?" He asked softly as he pulled you closer to him. You let out a shaky breath and kissed his neck.

"Y-Yes." You whimpered softly. He picked you up with ease and carried you to your bed. He kissed you as he laid you down gently. Soon you were both naked and entangled with each other. His lips kissing every inch of you, not wanting to miss a single spot while you whimpered and whined out his name. He spread your legs wide and buried his face in your core licking and sucking at your clit desperately. Your body shook as your arched off the bed.

"You taste even better than I imagine." He groaned out as he looked up at you, his eyes clouded with lust and longing. He slipped two fingers inside you and pumped them slowly at first. His mouth went back to assaulting your clit and you could feel yourself start to clench around him.

"J-Jisung!" You cried out softly. He grinned into your swollen lips and started to pump rapidly. His eyes never leaving you, wanting to watch your face as you came undone for him.

"That's it Raindrop, let go." He breathed out. You cried out and arched as you hit your high, the sight made him growl in need. He lined his cock up at your entrance and rubbed up and down your folds. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this baby." He whispered softly. "Tell me, tell me what you want." He brushed the tip of his cock over your clit and you whined.

"Y-You.. J-Jisung please! I need you inside me." You sobbed out. Without any hesitation he slipped into you, his long curved dick filling you to the brim. His eyes rolled back at the feeling and he groaned loudly. You moaned loudly and your body shook at the feeling. He laid down flush against you and held you close to him, kissing you feverishly as he made slow and passionate love to you.

The room filled with the sound of both of you moaning and panting for each other as skin clapped with skin. He buried his face in your neck, nipping and sucking, wanting to mark you. You tangled your fingers in your hair and whined loudly.

"You're perfect baby, so fucking perfect." He moaned out into your neck. His thrust becoming rougher and faster. "So fucking tight, taking me so well." He growled. He pulled his head away to look deep into your eyes. "Tell me who you belong to. Tell me." He growled softly. Your heart fluttered and your body shivered at his words.

"You." You choked out. "I belong to you. " You pressed your lips to his and moaned into his mouth. "I love you." You cried out softly as you felt yourself getting close to your orgasm again. You clenched around him and he groaned loudly.

"I'm going, to make love to you until there's so much cum it bursts out of you. You're mine, Y/n." He whimpered out as he pressed his head to yours. "You're only mine." He pounded into you and rubbed at your clit making your cries turn into screams of ecstasy. "That's it love, let this whole hotel know how good I can make you feel. Let them know you're mine." His cock began to throb and he whimpered. "Cum with me love, let go."

You both cried out as you finally reached your peaks, his seed spilled deep inside you as you shook violently beneath him. You whimpered loudly as he kissed you. But soon you were on your stomach and lined up from behind, already rock hard and ready to go again. He slammed deep into you and began pounding into you roughly, you cried out and buried your face into the pillow beneath you.

"God your pussy is so fucking warm and perfect." He groaned out. "Made just for me." He continued his ruthless and rough thrusts into you as his arm reached around so he could rub your clit. At this point you were a mess, you could only let out sobs as tears flew down your cheeks from how overwhelmed you felt.

"Is my baby cock drunk?" He cooed softly and smirked at you. Your eyes rolled back as he made a mess out of you, hitting spots inside you that made you see stars. Your toes start to curl as you feel yourself clench around him again, making him whimper and moan loudly. "That's it baby, cum for me again, I know you can." He whimpered as he thrusted at an insane speed. He pulled you close so your back was flush against his chest, turning your head so he could kiss you feverishly.

Soon you both came undone together once again and you fell limp on the bed, he collapsed next to you and pulled you close. He pressed his lips to your forehead and laid your head on his chest. You both laid there panting softy as he stroked his fingers through your hair.

"I love you so much y/n." He whispered softly. He pulled your face up to look deep into your eyes. "I'm never letting you go."