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wheresarizona · 1 month

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but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #wheresarizona writes #joel miller x you #Joel miller/yo

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stylesharrys · 2 months

Text

Hot Distraction [Bisexual!Y/N]

Y/N breaks up with her girlfriend and Harry helps take her mind off things.

A/N: had this idea in my drafts for months and months but I never really got round to writing it. Anyway, here you go darlings, enjoy <3

Warnings: dom/sub relationships, unprotected sex, kissing, teasing, swearing, spanking, dirty talk, anal (fingering)

WC: 2.8k

Harry has no idea what to do. He’s never seen her cry before and he doesn’t know if he should give her a hug or try to make light of the situation.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Harry’s even more confused than he was before. He’ll never ever understand women’s emotions. And by the sight before him, he doesn’t think he ever wants to.

“S’okay, petal. It hurts now but it’ll be a distant memory in a few weeks time.”

She scoffs at him, at his sorry attempt to cheer her up. Y/N doesn’t need or want pity. She wants to warn off all women and whore it up for a little bit.

If she’s honest, the breakup has been a long time coming. They’d only been together six months but things weren’t the same as when they first met.

Alora was a beautiful woman, funny and kind. But the first few times of fooling around were a lot more exciting than six months in, where her sex drive seemed to just vanish.

Y/N has thought that perhaps she was the problem. Maybe she craves sex too much and too often and that’s the issue. She also thought that maybe she secretly had a fear of commitment and that’s what made her more than okay with Alora calling things off.

She knows now that’s not the case. Alora was seeing other people behind Y/N’s back. Given, they never really spoke about being exclusive, but Y/N had just assumed that if Alora was seeing other people, she’d have the decency to let Y/N know.

And now, she’s about ready to swear off all women.

She stands from the sofa, wiping the tears from her face and taking a shaky breath. There’s no way in hell she’s going to ruin her Friday night sobbing over another woman. No fucking chance.

“Do you have plans tonight?” she asks Harry, chin raised as she acts unbothered by her situation.

Harry shakes his head. “No, why? You wanna go out?”

Her lip is taut between her teeth as she considers the proposition. A night out could be perfect – sex with a hot, random stranger will most definitely take her mind off things.

She nods, once. But it’s like Harry can smell the hesitation. He squints at her, leaning forward in his spot on the sofa.

“You’re not just wanting to go out so you can have a one night stand, are you?”

“No!” her voice is high-pitched, a dead giveaway that that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

Harry huffs, closing his eyes for a moment. It’s no secret that he’s got the hots for Y/N. He’s always found her incredibly attractive. But in the two years he’s known her, she’s only ever dated women.

He doesn’t think there’s ever even been an instance where she’s acknowledged another man. Harry notices her sheepish expression and his tummy knots and twists.

“If you were into guys…” he mumbles out, more to himself but it still reaches Y/N’s ears and she frowns.

“I am.”

Harry’s head snaps up, staring at her in bewilderment. “You are? I thought you were gay.”

Y/N laughs softly. “I am… slightly. I prefer men usually, but women are just softer and more attentive I find.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, a cocky smirk on his lips. Bingo.

“That just means you’ve never been with the right guys.”

His voice has grown deeper, sultry. And the entire mood of the room has changed. There’s a tension in the atmosphere, one they’re both awfully familiar with but never with one another.

“Is that so?”

They’re dancing on a tight rope between friends and something more, neither too sure who’s going to fall first. It feels naughty, wrong. So wrong to allow this tension, these thoughts.

But there’s nothing inappropriate about it. They’re both single, consenting adults. What would it matter if he kissed her? If she kissed him back? If he spent an hour between her legs and had her creaming all over his cock?

“And from what you’ve been telling me, wasn’t you getting frustrated that Alora was too vanilla?”

Heat rises to her cheeks at his words. Harry moves closer, tips of his fingers ghosting are her bare thighs, the hem of her baggy t-shirt barely covering her knickers underneath.

“Something tells me, you don’t want something soft. You’ve just never been manhandled the way you want, so you’re taking the easier route.”

Y/N has never felt so seen in her life. “Isn’t that right, pet?”

She grows shy under his words, feeling small and vulnerable and her little panties are fucking soaked.

“Maybe,” she squeaks.

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold, eyes dark and lustful. His gaze never leaves her face as he stands in front of her. His tall build towering over Y/N’s.

“Personally, I think you just want to be a good girl…”

His hand finds her face, gently caressing her jaw as he speaks. When her eyes flutter closed absentmindedly, she hears Harry tut before her.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, puppy.”

Her eyes open, wide. All doe-like and fluttery. It awakens that hunger deep in Harry’s stomach – one full of need and desire.

“Y/N… d’you like it when I call you puppy?”

She nods, so innocent and sheepish. It has Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. God, she’s going to be the death of him.

Y/N’s nuzzling her face into his hand, eyes heavy but open, like she doesn't want to be scolded by Harry. He pouts down at her, a look of sympathy in his eyes and Y/N’s never felt so warm and safe.

“My poor petal, all touch starved and needy.”

It’s like a flip has been switched within her. She’s no longer that bubbly and bratty girl he’s always known. She’s soft and quiet, desperate and eager to please and Harry is stretching out his boxers.

“Go in your bedroom for me, puppy. Want you naked with your legs spread.”

He places a gentle kiss to her lips, barely offering a taste of what’s to come. The act has her heart leaping before she rushes to her bedroom to rid herself of any clothes.

She’s never allowed herself to look at Harry in the way she is now. She always told herself that friends are only friends and never to indulge in anything else with them.

Y/N can admit that she’s always found him attractive, always enjoyed his company and mayb often stared a little too long whenever he was topless or when the veins in his arms and hands were that little bit more visible than usual.

She supposes he’s always had some sort of chokehold on her, something she’s never thought too deep about. But now, she can’t get out of her head. Laying naked on her bed, legs spread as he approaches her bedroom door.

She’s pulsing, cunt hot and leaking. God, she doesn't remember the last time she felt this turned on, this excited, this ready to submit completely.

Whatever he wants, she’ll give him. Whatever he offers, she’ll take.

Harry eyes her as he enters her bedroom, gaze focused on that weeping little cunt. He’s holding his breath, fighting back a wanton cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so sexy in his life.

Y/N watches with glossy eyes as he tugs his t-shirt over his head, the ripples of his golden skin exciting her more. If he’ll let her, she’ll happily lick the expanse of every single tattoo adoring his body.

She’ll do anything. Anything.

Her hips begin to squirm as his thumbs loop into the waistband of his shorts and boxers, anticipation getting the better of her. Harry notices, pulls his hands away and raises a brow.

“I don’t remember saying you could move.”

Y/N’s body stills, blood running cold. Her lips are pursed into a thin line – “I’m sorry.” Her words come out shyly, like she’s embarrassed to be told off.

Harry tuts, no longer interested in pulling himself free. Instead he moves toward the foot of the bed and climbs up on his knees, sitting between her shaking thighs.

Y/N’s chest is heaving in excitement, bottom lip gnawed between her teeth. Harry reaches for her left thigh, gently massaging the soft and supple skin before raising his hand and dropping it again in a harsh smack.

She shrieks at the unexpected impact, brows knitted as she bites back a moan.

Oh, he wasn’t fucking around.

“If you’re sorry then you’ll lay on your tummy and take your punishment.” He flips her over before she has chance to register his words. Flat on her stomach, hands held behind her back, Harry takes her in.

He lets his hand caress her hips for a moment, trailing down to her bum and he smoothes over the skin. “And I don’t want to hear a fucking sound.”

He spanks her once, her entire body jolting. Y/N buries her face into her pillows, suffocating any desperate moans that beg to be cried. She keeps quiet, eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Harry spanks her again, harder this time. His hand print is left on her supple skin and he groans to himself. He spreads her cheeks apart for a moment, allows himself the sight of her dripping cunt, eagerly trying to clench around something.

“Look at you, puppy. So wet and good for me.”

Smack.

Smack!

Her bottom is sore, stinging as he finally relents. There’s tears in her eyes as she struggles to compose her breathing. She’s not brave enough to admit she almost came from her punishment.

Harry takes a moment to admire his work, how raw her pretty bum is. Her skin is beginning to rise in the form of his handprint, sore and tender. He holds her hips, thumbs rubbing along the stripey lines of silvering stretch marks on the sides of her bum.

“Pretty puppy, did so well for me.”

She coos at his praise, fingers wiggling in an attempt to feel him. Harry chuckles, leaning down to pepper kisses to her bum and up her spine. He fools her with his kindness for a moment, allowing her body to relax under his touch.

But when his lips reach her neck, he grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her head up, teeth nipping at her jaw and nosing at her ear.

“Now you’re going to be a good puppy and let Daddy fuck your pretty little hole, okay?”

Y/N’s cunt throbs at his words. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck, she can’t get it out of her head. Harry releases his hold on her hair, her face dropping back into her pillows as he clambers off her.

He strips from his boxers and shorts, thick length smacking at his lower tummy as he clambers back onto the bed again. Harry’s hard, painfully so and Y/N wants nothing more than to lay on her back and watch him work his way around her body.

But he doesn’t allow that. Instead, his hands find her hips and he’s hoisting her bum in the air, back arched and chest to the mattress with her face buried in the pillows.

The sight is mesmerising and Harry can’t look away. Pretty pussy all wet and plump. The tip of his cock slides through her slit and Harry lets out a shaky whimper. A noise that does not go unheard by Y/N, who’s jaw slacks at the sound of it.

She’s eager for more, gagging for his cock. She’s never felt so submissive in her life, so willing to be used as a fuck toy. And she never would’ve pegged Harry for the type.

Y/N supposes he does possess a lot of dominant qualities. Whenever he speaks, all eyes are on him. Whatever he says, it’s always respected. And when Harry doesn’t like something, nobody challenges him.

It’s been right in front of her the whole time. They’ve both been so blind.

“So pretty, baby. Look at you.”

The praise goes straight to her head. She’s woozy and needy and thinks she might fucking cry if he doesn’t fill her with his cook soon.

“Daddy’s good little puppy. Want me to fill your little hole, baby? Want Daddy to fuck you so hard you can’t even remember your name?”

Y/N’s too deep into subspace to respond, but that’s not a good enough excuse for Harry. He strikes down on her sore bum again and she shrieks, nodding feverishly.

“Yes, Daddy! Please, I’ve been so good.”

The sound of her begging is something Harry will never let himself forget. Her body responds to every tiny touch he offers, she keens for him. For more.

Lining himself at her hole, Harry pushes forward just enough to allow her half of his length. A wanton cry escapes her lips, muffled by her pillow as her body tenses.

Harry gives her little time to adjust to his length, sheathing himself further into her tight hole until he bottoms out.

Y/N struggles to stay quiet, struggles to not reach for him, to touch him. Harry reaches for her hands again, pulling them behind her back and holding her in place by her wrists.

“You’re fucking soaked, puppy.” He praises, breathless at the sight of himself tucked deep inside her.

Harry begins to rock his hips, slowly at first until he finds a comfortable pace and her ass jiggles with every thrust he gives. Y/N’s cunt grips him like a vice, obscene noises filling their ears and Harry decides he wants to hear more.

“Wanna hear you, puppy. Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

Y/N is wailing the second she’s given permission, wild and desperate and begging for more and more and more.

Harry’s thumbing at her puckering asshole, softly smoothing over the taut skin as Y/N begins to buck her hips back into him. He’s seething through gritted teeth, struggling to keep himself together as he gently pushes his thumb into her tight hole.

“Yes, Daddy! Please… please….”

She’s incoherent as she tries to speak, words still muffled and gurgled. She can feel him in her stomach, filling every inch of her body and subconscious mind. As if she exists solely for him, for his pleasure.

“My sweet girl, taking me so well. Look at you, puppy. All dumb for my cock.”

Harry’s thrusts get harder and faster, his thumb lodged deep in her ass as he fucks into her. Y/N’s arousal soaks his pubic bone, skin slapping and gruff moans echoing through.

She can’t stay quiet, not even if she tried. Moans are tearing throug her throat with no sense of hesitancy, her entire body being rocked as Harry pummels into her.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, jaw slack, she’s close. Her cunt begins to tighten around him, desperate to mild him dry for everything he has to offer. And Harry can feel it – he feels every little squeeze she gives him, every spasm of her slick pussy.

His spare hand smacks down on her bum in quick, constant successions, his pace impossibly faster and the breath is knocked from her lungs.

She can’t see, can’t think, can’t hear. It’s like her soul has left; experiencing eternal bliss for the first time in her life. But she feels Harry’s fat cock twitch between her walls, she feels the stinging bite of every spank, she feels her coil begin to tighten and pull.

“You gonna cum, puppy? You gonna cum all over my cock?” Harry pants.

She’s nodding, unable to find her words. It takes her a moment to catch a breath. “Please,” is all she can manage to whimper out, her entire body on fire.

Harry spanks her again, eager and hot moans bubbling from his chest. “Cum, puppy. Make a mess on Daddy’s cock.”

Y/N’s entire body begins to tremble relentlessly, a high pitched whine falling off her tongue as she explodes around him.

Her arousal coates his cock and stomach, squirting out the best it can with Harry’s length still shoved in her cunt. The sight of her squirting all over him has him seeing stars, and he’s quick to pull out, coating her back and bum in thick ribbons of arousal.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

He’s a panting mess as Y/N’s hips fall onto the mattress with a soft thud. He watches her body move gently as she catches her breath, listens to the soft pants that escape her plump lips.

Only now does he realise, he’s yet to kiss her the way he’s been dreaming. Harry crawls beside her, brushing the hair from her face and she’s quick to nuzzle into his touch.

He moves closer, his lips encapsulating hers in a soft and tender kiss. Both their eyes flutter closed and their mouths work in unison, gently. Y/N never knew she’d crave the taste of someones lips until Harry pulls away and rests his forehead against hers.

“Have a nap, puppy. You’ll need your energy for later.”

thank you for reading, i'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on this one 🥺

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic

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leclercvsx · 6 months

Text

DILF | SMAU

sebastian vettel

pairings: sebastian vettel x reader

summary: y/n is dating Seb who is 15 years older than her but despite the age gap theyre just like any other couple

warnings: age gap (?)

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, landonorris and 47,628 others

yourusername: in my lover era 🫶

TAGGED: sebastianvettel

sebastianvettel: i love you❤️

yourusername: ugh i love you too😭❤️

user: girlie isn’t he old enough to be your dad😨

landonorris: i took the last photo btw

yourusername: we know🙄

user: am i the only one that find this weird ???

user: definitely not the only one

friendusername: my fav couple😔

yourusername: love you😘😘

user: he’s literally almost DOUBLE her age wtf

—

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 815k others

sebastianvettel: great time seeing everyone again 🙏🏼

TAGGED: lewishamilton, yourusername

lewishamilton: loved seeing you mate, your girlfriends lovely by the way💙

sebastianvettel: she’s the best❤️

yourusername: making me blush and shi☺️

user: he’s basically dating a child

user: nah cos this is still so weird

user: im actually so grossed out rn

user: girl me too

user: he should be with someone his own age, not someone that’s just hit puberty

user: a bit predatory if u ask me

—

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, lewishamilton and 25,184 others

yourusername: in a world of boys he’s a gentlemen ❤️

TAGGED: sebastianvettel

user: “gentlemen” it’s because he’s almost double your age babe

sebastianvettel: the love of my life❤️

yourusername: i will cry

sebastianvettel: please don’t, love

user: she’s probably with him for his money and fame tbh

friendusername: i don’t think she’d tolerate all this nasty ass behaviour if she was with him for his money or fame. leave them alone.🙄

liked by sebastianvettel and yourusername

user: i actually think they’re super cute😭

user: no cos me too like i want what they have

lewishamilton: you guys really are the cutest

yourusername: 😛

—

y/n

sebastian

seb❤️

what’s wrong? you never call me by my full name

y/n

i think we should break up:/

seb❤️

what the hell are you on about? i don’t think we should break up.

where’s all this coming from?

y/n

everyone’s calling you a freak for being with a “child” and saying that you’re too old for me or that you’re old enough to be my dad and i don’t want anyone to continue hating on you. so as much as i love you and hate myself for doing this, i think it’s for the best.

seb❤️

no.

i won’t let you break up with me due to jealous children on the internet, Y/n. i love you and i do not care about anyone else’s opinions.

So what if we have an age gap? we’re both legal, mature adults who can decide who we want to date.

i’ll sort this all out, my love. don’t worry❤️

—

sebastianvettel

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 1,628,273 others

sebastianvettel: Y/n and i have been dating for the past year and a half, yes we started dating when she was 19 (4 days before she was 20) and i had just turned 34 but we both discussed this for a while. We’re both legal, consenting, mature adults and choose to date each-other because we love eachother. There is nothing wrong with our relationship. If you find out relationship weird, then YOU are the problem (y/n taught me how to say that.)

Y/n is the love of my life and i don’t ever want that to change. Thanks to some people online, you have made my lovely, wonderful and beautiful girlfriend try to break up with me because she doesn’t want me getting hated on. We’re still very much together and will be for the foreseeable future.

I love you, Y/n. Ignore the jealous, immature children❤️

TAGGED: yourusername

yourusername: sobbing on my floor right now. i love you so so much😭❤️

sebastianvettel: don’t cry, my love.

lewishamilton: ignore the immature people, they don’t know what they’re talking about.

liked by yourusername

user: i actually feel really bad now

user: proud to say i’ve always been a y/nseb shipper btw

landonorris: i would say mother and father but y/n is younger than me so😔

yourusername: you aren’t helping this situation, Lando.

landonorris: it was a JOKE. you know i love you both really🙏🏼🙏🏼

liked by sebastianvettel

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this is quite a short one cos i ran out of ideas lol, but anyway i hope you all enjoy!

this was either gonna be for carlos, daniel or seb but i chose seb cos he’s my fav person ever😛

AND YES I KNOW THE AGE GAP IS A LITTLE EXTREME BUT THIS IS ALL FICTION !!!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN 🫶

masterlist | request

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leog4u · 2 months

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Game Design and Porn Pt. 1

or, How To Fuck Up The Best Intrinsic Reward Ever

Hi, I'm Leo G, veteran pervert. One time while chatting in a server exclusively made of porn artists, I brought up the game design of a porn game I enjoyed. One of them laughed, saying "Who cares, it's just a porn game?" Being unwell, I never let this go. Since then, I have played many adult games and took each one as serious products made by professionals. Fast forward to today, and the demo for my porn game, Joker's Trip, is nearing completion. I also have some sci-fi erotica you should check out.

So you wanna make a porn game. You heard they make money, and hey what’s more fun than making a video game AND porn? But you don’t know where to begin! Well don’t worry, Leo’s got you covered. We’re gonna walk through the line of thinking you should have when designing your porn game. There's gonna be at least three parts to this, with part 1 focusing on how to reward your player.

Define "porn game" for me, Leo.

There are porn games, and then games with porn in them. A porn game is a game where you won’t last 5 minutes, where everything exists solely to meet and, subsequently, fuck. A game with porn in it is a game where everything exists for the purpose of the game, and also, you fuck. Fate Stay Night, for example, is a VN with a story that just so happens to have some CGs where the protagonist rails Saber, but is mainly about Shirou and the Holy Grail War. Much like how I would call Castlevania a game with horror in it, but not a horror game.

Porn games are a lot like horror games. They both get a bad rap for being cheap to make, appealing to base instincts, and generally being low quality. They're also both not actual genres of games, but genres of content. Think about it, if I asked you what a horror game is, you'd say a game that's scary. But what's the actual game part? The unfortunate answer would most likely be "walking sim," but there are a lot of examples that are FPSes, puzzles, driving sims, platformers, deck builders, the list goes on.

The most common genres of game I see for porn games these days are by far RPG Maker RPGs and VNs. I won’t be talking about VNs because they’re closer to writing than game design, which isn’t a flaw but a feature. What used to be everywhere, in days of old, were breakout games, where the more bricks and levels were cleared, the more of the sexy image would be revealed in the background. Other arcadey type deals like shoot ‘em ups and mahjong were also around, and had a similar “strip ‘em down until you have sex” gameplay loop.

Okay, so what’s an intrinsic reward?

There’s intrinsic rewards, and there're extrinsic rewards. Extrinsic rewards, generally, are the number go up rewards. Things that make your character stronger, or give you more resources to buy new gear or whatever. Intrinsic rewards in games can cover a large swathe of things. It can be the feeling of satisfaction of completing a puzzle, a piece of lore or world building, or a new dialogue option with a character you want to fuck.

I like fucking characters, are we talking about porn now?

Yes! I’m of the opinion that you literally can’t make a better intrinsic reward than pornography. On top of setting the tone for the entirety of the game., at its best it can add to a story, add to someone’s character development, or be a beautiful piece of art to look at. AND you can jack off to it! Unfortunately, that’s at its best. Let’s talk about how porn is delivered in a theoretical RPG porn game. (As a head’s up, there will be talk of “bad end” scenes, but this is under the assumption that the player is the one consenting.)

So you’re playing an RPG and get into a fight. Maybe you were underleveled or too cumbrained to remember to buy healing potions. Then your HP goes to zero, and instead of going back to the title screen, you’re getting fucked by orcs. That’s right, let’s talk about Game Over CGs.

You get to watch porn when you lose?

To someone making a porn game with a battle system, this delivery method makes sense. The characters in this world are driven primarily by lust, this is just the obvious conclusion. And it doesn’t even have to be non-consensual! Games like Future Fragments show that it can be presented as a sexy inconvenience rather than anything uncomfortable for the player or our hero. Game Over CGs even have the benefit of softening the blow of defeat, by giving the player a chance to reflect on their defeat and jerk off. Even better if losing a fight isn’t lost progress, but rather a bump in the road. However, there’s a problem here. The player is a dog, and we’re rewarding bad behavior.

The porn is an intrinsic reward, so why are we giving it to the player for losing? Incentivizing losing on purpose isn’t just bad game design, but a waste of time. And to that end, a lot of porn games try to give solutions to this. One being a kill button on the keyboard or a skill that instantly KOs our hero to get to the lose screen faster. What might seem like a convenience is really just expediting failure.

What it says is that the gameplay doesn’t actually matter. You’re just here for the porn, right? In that case there’s plenty of places I can go to see a chick with huge knockers get railed by an orc, with the added bonus of not having to play forgettable and mid turn based combat!

Another solution I’ve seen is the game outright telling you, “hey don’t bother killing yourself to see the porn. Once you beat the game all of the scenes you missed will be unlocked!” At first this seems like a reasonable way to go about it, but it comes with another problem: your game better be fucking good to make me play through the entire thing before getting to see cock. Like I said earlier, porn at its best can reveal things about the world and drive character development. I uh. Just beat the game. I don’t care anymore. Showing me a scene that’s taken out of context by a factor of 5 hours or more isn’t what I’d call great game design or story telling. It’s also too little, too late.

What if we made the porn actual rewards?

Now we’re getting somewhere! Let’s make the reward…a reward! What if, every time the player beats a level, we get some porn? If we tie the CG to beating the boss, we’ll be tying the reward to game progression. That’s good right? So now, on top of the extrinsic rewards you’d normally get for beating a boss (a lot of EXP, better gear, opened areas) we also get that sweet dopamine rush of pornography! So we’re good, right?

There’s 1142 words left in this post, so I’m assuming no.

Well. It’s a start. It has the problem of predictability. If not handled properly, it comes off as lazy. As a game designer, one of your goals is to not constantly remind your player that they’re playing a video game. Get through the level, get porn. It feels a little too “mouse in a maze looking for cheese” for my taste. And much like the game over method, if the actual game itself is mid, the player will start to question if the reward is worth it, and might be afflicted with the worst condition a player could receive: boredom.

Of course there are exceptions. In puzzle or arcade type games where you don’t get extrinsic rewards, giving the player porn as another form of reward per level or whatever is perfectly reasonable (though it does have the issue of being predictable.) This is a perfectly good way of doing it if your game is short, or if the game is, y’know, good and fun to play. Bad Color’s game, Heroine Conquest, is a level based puzzle game with porn as the reward, but only when you do good. Combining the actual challenge of mastering the game, with a genuinely unique game loop makes for a feeling of accomplishment when beating a level. Pair that up with a sex cutscene, and the dopamine rush will hit.

So! Let’s combine giving the player a power trip, with a less rigid structure for giving the player porn. Instead of tying the porn to purely progression gates, let’s tie it to the progression.

Plot milestones

In Third Crisis, sex scenes are peppered throughout the regular game’s plot, starting with some lesbian bondage before introducing the protagonist, who goes through a tutorial before having their own horny encounters. It’s not just given when you win or lose, but is a natural part of the game. Beating bosses, losing to enemies, and exploring dialogue options in sidequests all lead to unlocking new CGs.

Now what’s nice about that, is that the sex isn’t placed somewhere extremely predictable. It isn’t just a reward for beating The Boss Of Forest Zone, Now Go To Ice Zone And Beat The Ice Boss For More Cock. Because that’s the biggest issue of predictable rewards, you know you’re not getting anything until that checkpoint, which will make the player weigh whether or not it’s even worth continuing. This is fine, again, for an arcade type game, not an RPG or adventure game. By sprinkling sex throughout the plot itself, the player will not only want to progress, but their curiosity will have them wondering “what else is out there?”

Rewarding exploration

By putting sex scenes behind optional side quests or encounters, the dog that is the player will scour every single corner of the map, and leave no pixel unturned. Personally, that’s more exciting to me than what you’ll get in the main progression route. In Future Fragments the player can find their rival Faye in sexual situations if they explore the map enough. These are completely optional, and don’t give any direct rewards like more HP or an item, but they’re by far what motivates me to explore the maps as thoroughly as possible, more so than the plot macguffins the game is named after!

So now the player is excited. Sex can happen anywhere. Maybe that daunting off road path with stronger monsters isn’t just hiding a secret, but a sexy secret! They’ll be more likely to venture down those optional paths you painstakingly made.

If we’re using sex in game overs, boss fights, and just randos, why not put it everywhere?

So now I want to talk about the concept of a “sex stat”. It’s not a bad idea! Say, the higher the player’s sex stat is, the more opportunities you unlock for fucking. It could even be tied to the player character’s personality, and affect the story! Instead of using a sword and shield, they’ll end any conflict with sass and sex. They open their eyes to the horny world around them and stop being a hero, and instead become a succubus, and the ending is a massive cum filled orgy.

That sounds excessive

Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.

I’m not a fan of “corruption” systems in porn games. Corruption as a kink is totally fine, and having it be a part of the story lets you incorporate more sexuality into the plot. But as I alluded to, it snowballs pretty fast (and I’m not talking about spitting in someone’s mouth). It ends up being like a cheat code, where you’re bypassing parts of the game for no cost. It stops being a reward, it stops being unexpected, and it stops it from being sexy.

Wait, what? Stops being sexy? What’s not sexy about a succubus orgy?

Alright, listen, we gotta rein it in for a minute. This isn’t so much about game design as it is about writing erotica, but if you have a world where everyone’s fucking and sucking 24/7, there’s no contrast to make what would normally be a hot taboo a hot taboo. If everybody’s naked, nobody’s naked. The aforementioned snowball effect of a corruption system can be seen if you play literally any game that has one. It won’t take long to not have to engage with any combat or adventuring system if you can just press the “Submit to the big dick warlock” button and watch porn to progress.

Which, now that I said that, is exactly the problem. Imagine any other rpg you’ve ever played. Now imagine if every encounter and dialogue option had an option to just watch a short cutscene to skip the encounter. That would suck ass, right? Literally no difference here.

It would. Hey, I’m sort of lost now.

Don’t worry, we’re wrapping this up.

So what did we learn? We learned game over CGs have a critical design flaw that shouldn’t be relied on. We learned that predictable rewards can lead to boredom. We learned to keep sex as a reward and not devalue it.

To summarize, here’s a neat trick to know where to put your porn scenes.

”Would I put an Xbox Live achievement here?”

It’s that easy. “Lose to Goblins for the first time,” that’s an achievement. “Beat orc commander,” that’s an achievement. “Find Hubert the Magical Dickhead,” that’s an achievement. Using that as a guideline is foolproof. Almost.

This sounds like it’d take a lot of resources

It sure does! But don’t worry. I’ll cover that in the next post talking all about how to deal with the resource management of a porn game.

(Shoutout to Taylor, my guy for editing!)

#Leo Gab #game design #game dev

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f10werfae · 2 years

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My wife is fine, thanks

pairing: Husband!Henry x Wife!Reader

summary: I LOVE YOUR HENRY CAVILL POSTS!So can I request an Instagram blurb for wife!reader (obv for Henry Cavill), where fans react to wife!reader and henry having an age gap (10+). (requested by @chaotictwig)

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Full M.List, Henry M.List, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@/hellostarsky: Can everyone stop hating on Henry, so what if he’s 39 and she’s 28?? They’re both legal consenting adults, he did not groom her and treats her with the utmost respect. She does not need the stress of you guys while she’s pregnant with their baby.

@/caviilll: I don’t care what anyone says, Y/n and Henry are so mf cute. The way he spoils the hell out of her and just always holds her close♥️♥️ If only

@/relatimefr: Ok but their age gap is so weird, she was being born when he was like 11 wtf

>> @/Prettyprincess: They lit started dating at 24 and 35, you can calm yourself honey, they did nothing but fall in love☠️

@/Henry Cavill: Happy 29th birthday to my lovely beautiful wife, the future mother to our baby(ies) and my best friend in life. Glad to be doing life with you and no one else, can’t wait to see you when I get home tonight, both you and baby Cavill ♥️

@/Holymacsncheese: But their age gap suits them sm, Y/n makes sure Henry keeps up to date with all the new things today, and he grounds her to a sense of comfort and love. They compliment each other so much, match made in heaven I say

@/Polypockets: yall acting as if he groomed her straight out of highschool, they literally met on set where she had to play his wife, yall just jealous cause it ain’t you 💋

@/Y/nCavill: 35 Weeks today! Baby Cavill is now officially nearly here, unfortunately i’ll be taking a break from future projects for some time, I want to finally settle down and accept my new role. The role of motherhood. Hope you all understand, Y/n xx

>> @/HenryCavill: I’d like to follow this by saying that, after this new movie I will also be taking a break for the next year or so, who knows. Just would like you all to know that I appreciate those who support us wholeheartedly, and I can’t wait to start this new journey!

@/User19204726: That picture of Henry showing Y/n new dresses in the maternity shop while she’s sitting watching him, is the cutest thing. She was too tired to walk about the shop, so he literally went around and got everything to have a mini fashion show for her

@/pumpituplease: God bless Y/n for posting pictures of Henry painting the nursery, that man is giving real dilf material now, and we can’t forget about the milf Y/n. Sexiest Power couple for realsies

@/geraltlovers: Omg I thought we were over the whole age gap thing?! Why the hell are papers still calling him all these names and calling Y/n naïve?? They lit have a child together, get a grip

>> @/petalsforpeps: omg ikr, like get over yourselves because they don’t care about what you have to say

@/Y/nCavill: Henry and I would like to welcome baby Penelope into the world, she arrived on September 25th and is currently rocking it! No pictures will be shared, hope you all understand that ♥️

@/cpatainsy: HENRY IS A DAD GUYS OMG, HIM AND Y/N’S BABY IS GONNA ACTUALLY SLAY THE REAL WORLD. WE BETTER PREPARE OURSELVES!!

@/rainbowsncakes: Omg that photo Y/n posted with Henry’s back to the camera, you can just see the tiniest bit of baby Penelope’s hair out of the corner of his arm, AND ITS DARK HAIR, SHE GOT HIS CURLY HAIR I BET

>> @/lotsoocks: YOO ACCORDING TO HENRY’S MUM’S POST, BABY PENELOPE CAME OUT ROUGHLY THE SAME SIZE HENRY WAS WHEN HE WAS BORN. POOR Y/N

>>> @Y/nCavill: NO BECAUSE THIS IS TRUE, 38 HOURS OF PURE HARD LABOUR. Thankful for all the nurses, doctors, midwives and especially my bear of a husband who didn’t leave me alone once♥️

@/user823783: Fuck this family bullshit, when is Henry gonna back to our screens?!

>> @/HenryCavill: i’m sorry but I don’t tolerate anyone speaking about my family like that, a fan of mine wouldn’t speak of people I love like that. We want to live a peaceful life full of love, if you can’t respect that then i’m glad i’m not back to work yet. Family comes first.

@/HenryCavill: I love my wife @Y/nCavill and my gorgeous daughter Penelope, the exact double of me I must say (sorry babe) I also love the people who support me, and it hurts me to say that it’s a minority of you that seem to keep harassing my family. Please respect our lives, not only has our relationship been through enough, but our privacy has been violated more than enough times. Enough is enough.

>> @/jellyjumpbean: What sorta losers are still hating on them?! Can we please grow up and stop being delusional, the man is happy with his own family now. None of then deserve this abuse and especially not little Penelope who hasn’t even been here 5 minutes

@/Dcornarvel: Y/n is absolutely growing post pregnancy, you would never guess that she’s edging 30, Henry is one lucky man for real

>> @/HenryCavill: That I am. Thank you very much my friend ♥️

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @fdl305 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @aerangi @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @sparklemarysunshine @oliviah-25 @mischiefhasbeenmanaged @nikkitc0703 @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mansaaay @princess-paramour @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @athena-roy @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @beck07990 @kimhtoo17 @thereisa8ella @pandaxnienke @marvelstarker-mha98

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fandom

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 6 months

Text

The Experiment Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary| Jonathan Crane assigns his students a new experimental project: choose a phobia and research methods for coping with or completely overcoming those fears in test subjects. A student approaches Dr. Crane with an interesting project proposition... can he help her overcome her fear?

Warnings| Teacher x student relationship (both are consenting adults), Borderline sexual assault between a bf and gf, Erotophobia, Smutty stuff yk , Masturbation, P in V penetration, Teasing, Semi-public, Unprotected sex, Begging, Experiments. Extensive discussions of sex and intimacy.

"Oh My God"- Ida Maria 🎵

"Lazy Eye"- Silversun Pickups 🎶

"Romantic Lover" Eyedress 🎵

Word count: 2840k

Minors do not interact!!

......................................................................................................................

He spent the day in his lab focused on the development of his new “no-fear” serum. Crane had been working on this serum for months. It could be injected directly into the bloodstream and alter the course of the human brain’s capacity for fear. He’d been testing it on himself and he’d been surprised how well it worked. His life was no longer diluted with the absolving fear of everyday life. He felt free.

Before the student arrived, Crane injected himself with the serum for the additional courage he would need to fuck this particular student who inspired feelings he had never felt before. He’d been with plenty of people, mostly one night stands and experimental subjects who found him attractive and wouldn’t bother him the day after. He’d even fucked students, those few who liked it just as rough as he did and found in him desirable unresolved traumas. With Faye, he found it more difficult. She was a virgin, pitiful, and fearful. He’d have to be careful and kind, two things he didn’t have much experience in when it came to others. He realized that he was afraid of this girl in her thin turtleneck sweaters and small breasts. Her innocence frightened him, a man who had never understood the basic components of human fear. He rolled down his shirt sleeve and buttoned the cuff. He put on his dark gray suit jacket and dabbed his neck with cologne.

The doorbell rang. He combed gel through his dark brown hair and adjusted his glasses as he walked to the door slowly. Faye greeted him at the door in an outfit that peaked his interest, her eyes bright and nervous.

“Miss Greyson.” Crane hummed and raised his eyebrow. She looked down at her outfit and smiled.

“Do you like it?” She smoothed down the folds of fabric at her waist. He waved her inside his apartment, locking the door behind them and turned to look her up and down. She was wearing a black cotton mini dress with long sleeves, ending just at the very end of her wrists. The neckline was square and framed her strong collarbones. She was wearing dark brown tights like the color of espresso and cream leg warmers that covered her black buckle flats. She wore her hair down and it feathered out around her face, casting her ears in shadow.

“I see you tried to rectify what you did last time… with your clothes. They’re less accessible. The girl clasped her hands behind her small back, walking casually through the entryway with a hidden smile. The professor could see her entire back down to her tailbone because of the backless dress. He stifled a raspy exhale by clearing his throat. He followed her as she found her way into the dining room which was already set and waiting. He had already sent away the cook for the night, promising her that he would let the plates soak in the sink for her tomorrow. The student placed her bag on the dining room table and removed a stack of paper, held together by a large paperclip.

“I’ve compiled all of my research so far, from the past few experiments.” Crane took the paper and gestured to her seat.

“Sit.” He went to his own on the other side of the table to flip through the pages of her research paper. She sat, crossing her ankles and leaned lightly on the dark tabletop. The ornate bowl beside them glistened with fresh oysters. She licked her lips, watching her professor turn each page with eager interest.

“Good work, Miss Greyson. I can see you’ve been taking your research seriously…” He couldn’t help but smirk as he said this, finding it too funny to ignore. “And what, do you think, is one method of confrontation that you have found helpful for overcoming your phobia?” He put the paper aside, keeping it open on one of the last pages.

“Maybe you should finish reading.” She pointed to the paper and shrugged innocently. He furrowed his brow and sighed, taking up the paper again. He read on, refreshing his memory of Faye’s fantasies and imaginations when masturbating. He taped his foot against the oriental rug beneath the table as he read, pausing to look up at the girl who sat patiently, trailing a finger over the small gold watch on her wrist. He turned the page and found the draft of the conclusion she had put down for the sake of guiding the last phases of the experiment.

“The use of masturbation and imagination produced a desirable reaction in the subject who was able to approach a state of comfort needed to consider seriously, the act of sex. The second method of confrontation lies in the prompting of sexual intercourse from an older, more experienced, and comforting person who can guide a person suffering from Erotophobia into a state of sexual desire and vulnerability. From there, sexual intercourse becomes more desirable and understandable to the subject, removing themselves from the position of sexual prowess to one of reception and celebration from their partner. These two methods can build a foundation for further confrontation and anxiety management in those suffering from Erotophobia.”

He removed his glasses, holding the paper loosely in one hand. He watched her, his eyes falling across her chest, hidden by course black fabric. He imagined the warmth of her full body, the weight of a torso in his arms, the girl's curves rocking against his stocky chest. Her legs were covered in tights like she had just come from ballet class… His cock pulsed uncomfortably against his trousers.

“Are you hungry?” Crane asked finally. He sniffed loudly and nodded his head at the oysters between them.

Without looking at the bowl, she nodded, “yes.”

Their eyes connected at an invisible frequency for a brief second of understanding before Crane pushed his chair back and sprang up. The chair hit the dark red wall behind him as he swiped the bowl out of the way. It fell and scattered across the carpet. Without a moment of pause, Faye met him at the head of the table, her chair overturned on the ground. He picked her up and dropped her roughly on the dining table, kissing her fiercely. His hands gripped her face as he sucked her tongue and bit down her neck. She moaned, running her hands through his hair and beneath his collar where his neck was growing warmer beneath her touch. He threw off his suit jacket and held his hands tightly on her thighs, pulling them closer and closer to his crotch. His student fumbled with the top buttons of his shirt, breathing roughly against his kisses. He bit her lip and ran his thumb across her hard nipples. Together, they got his shirt off and threw it to the floor as well where it landed on the pile of oysters. He pulled away from her briefly to undo his belt but quickly slipped his hands beneath the hem of her dress, wanting to enter her in whatever way he could. The tights forced him back and he groaned meanly against his student’s neck. She shivered and licked his upper lip.

“You really wanted to make it hard for me this time, didn’t you?” He held her chin in his hand and furrowed his brow, almost whining.

“It's all part of the experiment, Professor.” She breathed heavily, smiling.

“Damn it! I want these fucking off.” He resisted the urge to yell and grabbed her around the waist again, picking her up. They struggled through the doorway, grappling with one another as they moved, wanting to taste, touch, tease each other. When he pulled her up to his lips, she struggled to stay on her feet, wrapping her arms around his bare neck and letting him drag her toes against the floor of his apartment to his bedroom. His room was dark red, like the dining room, and had a four poster bed, something Faye had not expected as he tossed her onto the edge of the bed and unbuckled her shoes. She could clearly see her professor’s erection through his pants, pushing against the fabric. He threw her shoes off and slipped off her leg warmers with an annoyed grumble.

“Miss Greyson….” He growled, taking the waistband of her tights and pulling them down. She raised her legs to his chest so that he could slip them down her knees. When one leg was free, she pressed her foot gently against his erection and bit her lip. “Don’t tease me.” He slowed down, removing the last of the fabric on her other leg and running a finger down the inside of her thigh to her underwear.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled and giggled as he hooked his finger around the top of her underwear and pulled them down slowly. She draped her other leg over his shoulder, propping herself up on her elbows to see what he was doing more clearly.

“Do you want to watch?” He raised his eyebrow and chuckled.

“Yes.” She whispered, watching him with wide, eager eyes. Crane nodded and took her underwear off completely. Getting on his knees, he put both of her legs over his bare shoulders and making eye contact, dipped his tongue against her. She gasped and gripped the sheets above her head, having never felt that before. He sucked her labia, pulling it gently with his mouth and breathing against it for stimulation.

“Good girl.” He hummed against her anatomy, the sound vibrating all the way to her stomach which quivered.

“Fuck…” She panted and jutted her hips. He twirled his tongue against her clit and pressed against the swollen organ, prompting a startled whine out of the girl. He smiled.

“Do you like this?” He asked with his mouth against her, teasing her.

“Uh huh.” The student whimpered and caught herself squeezing her thighs around his head. He threaded his arms through her legs and held her hips in place, sucking harshly on her exposed clit.

“Are you going to cum for me?” Crane asked seriously, training his bright eyes on his student squirming in his arms.

“Yesss, yes sir.” She moaned loudly and rubbed her clit, finishing herself off. He watched her as she shook with surmounting pleasure, the fear in her system slowly slipping away into desire. He slipped off his shoes and socks before she gasped loudly in her climax. He gripped a hand over her mouth and licked the salty lubricant from her as it coated her inner thighs. Faye had collapsed back on the bed, still panting from the stimulation.

“That’s it. That’s perfect, just like that. Cum for me.” He licked his lips and stood above her, studying her as she rode out the last of her orgasm. He smiled at the ruddy look of her face, the apple of her cheeks bright with heat and color.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Greyson.” He unzipped his pants and pulled them off each leg, exposing his bare erection. “Come here.” He ordered, pointing to the edge of the bed. His student rolled onto her knees and crawled over to face him. He slowly pulled the dress above her head, exposing her inch by inch as he pulled. He tossed the dress and looked down at her bare body.

“Kiss me.” He whispered against her lips, rubbing himself with his hand.

Faye kissed him softly, sucking gently on his wide lips like hard candy. She could taste herself on his lips, licking and humming against him as he had down against her clit. She took over, pushing his hand aside and running her hand up down the length of his erection. He was already wet and the discharge on her hands from her orgasm coated him more, letting her hand move faster and faster. Crane moaned deeply against her ear and pulled her hair gently. He kissed her hard, finding her mouth blindly in the daze of pleasure.

“I wanted you so bad, professor.” His student cooed when he pulled away. He chucked and pushed her back onto her butt.

“I know, Miss Greyson. I can tell.” He climbed on top of her, dragging his cock along the dip of her stomach as he kissed her wildly.

“I need you inside me, Dr. Crane.” She whined impatiently against his neck as he spread her legs with his knee. He guided his cock inside her, shaking with need. She grabbed his hips as he entered her slowly. She gasped loudly, mewing in pain.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight.” He panted, moving slowly in and out. “Fuck…” He thrusted his hips shallowly, working his way into the girl who gasped at every movement. Tears slide down the corners of her eyes as he fucked her.

“Good girl. You’re taking me so well.” He wiped the tears from her face and licked them off of his fingers. She pulled him closer with her thighs, wrapping her legs around his butt. He pushed in deeper and she yelled out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Hmmmm Dr. Crane, fuck me!” She moaned weakly and he sped up slightly, feeling the spasms of her muscles around him as she worked up to her climax. He started to move more easily inside her and pounded himself against her, gasping after each thrust.

“Fuck.” He growled and grabbed onto the headboard, pulling himself forward with each quivering thrust. She moaned incoherently and squeezed her thighs tighter around him. He moaned at the sudden tightness and went faster, the bed shook violently beneath them.

“I’m gonna cum.” He gasped into her ear, breathing against her temple. “Do you want me to come inside you?”

“Mmhmmm, yes sir.” She nodded quickly and licked her lips, her cheeks flushed. She held his face in her hand and he watched her eyes clear of any and all fear that had once clouded her life. He grunted with one final thrust and spilled into her, she moaned loudly one last time but tried to not look away as he slowed his movements, finishing. When he was done, Crane pulled out and sucked on the girl’s tits, trailing kisses up to her chin.

“You did so well.” He observed formally, switching back into her professor persona. The girl panted and laughed, turning onto her side as he laid down beside her. She trailed a shaky finger up his chest and turned his head to hers. His hair fell out of place and his pupils dilated.

“What do you fear, professor?” Faye asked curiously. Crane chuckled and sat up, holding himself over her with his arms. He bent his arms so that he was just above the girl and pressed his lips against the skin beside her ear.

“Nothing.” He smiled.

............................................

End of last part!

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #smut #hot scarecrow #dc scarecrow #dr crane

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maaarine · 1 month

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The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex (Peggy Orenstein, The New York Times, April 12 2024)

"For the past four years, Dr. Herbenick has been tracking the rapid rise of “rough sex” among college students, particularly sexual strangulation, or what is colloquially referred to as choking.

Nearly two-thirds of women in her most recent campus-representative survey of 5,000 students at an anonymized “major Midwestern university” said a partner had choked them during sex (one-third in their most recent encounter).

The rate of those women who said they were between the ages 12 and 17 the first time that happened had shot up to 40 percent from one in four. (…)

Twenty years ago, sexual asphyxiation appears to have been unusual among any demographic, let alone young people who were new to sex and iffy at communication.

That’s changed radically in a short time, with health consequences that parents, educators, medical professionals, sexual consent advocates and teens themselves urgently need to understand.

Sexual trends can spread quickly on campus and, to an extent, in every direction.

But, at least among straight kids, I’ve sometimes noticed a pattern: Those that involve basic physical gratification — like receiving oral sex in hookups — tend to favor men.

Those that might entail pain or submission, like choking, are generally more for women.

So, while undergrads of all genders and sexualities in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys report both choking and being choked, straight and bisexual young women are far more likely to have been the subjects of the behavior; the gap widens with greater occurrences.

(In a separate study, Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues found the behavior repeated across the United States, particularly for adults under 40, and not just among college students.)

Alcohol may well be involved, and while the act is often engaged in with a steady partner, a quarter of young women said partners they’d had sex with on the day they’d met also choked them.

Either way, most say that their partners never or only sometimes asked before grabbing their necks.

For many, there had been moments when they couldn’t breathe or speak, compromising the ability to withdraw consent, if they’d given it.

No wonder that, in a separate study by Dr. Herbenick, choking was among the most frequently listed sex acts young women said had scared them, reporting that it sometimes made them worry whether they’d survive.

Among girls and women I’ve spoken with, many did not want or like to be sexually strangled, though in an otherwise desired encounter they didn’t name it as assault.

Still, a sizable number were enthusiastic; they requested it. It is exciting to feel so vulnerable, a college junior explained.

The power dynamic turns her on; oxygen deprivation to the brain can trigger euphoria.

That same young woman, incidentally, had never climaxed with a partner: While the prevalence of choking has skyrocketed, rates of orgasm among young women have not increased, nor has the “orgasm gap” disappeared among heterosexual couples.

“It indicates they’re not doing other things to enhance female arousal or pleasure,” Dr. Herbenick said.

When, for instance, she asked one male student who said he choked his partner whether he’d ever tried using a vibrator instead, he recoiled. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

Perhaps, she responded, because it would be more likely to produce orgasm without risking, you know, death.

In my interviews, college students have seen male orgasm as a given; women’s is nice if it happens, but certainly not expected or necessarily prioritized (by either partner).

It makes sense, then, that fulfillment would be less the motivator for choking than appearing adventurous or kinky. Such performances don’t always feel good. (…)

Now consider that every year Dr. Herbenick has done her survey, the number of females reporting extreme effects from strangulation (neck swelling, loss of consciousness, losing control of urinary function) has crept up.

Among those who’ve been choked, the rate of becoming what students call “cloudy” — close to passing out, but not crossing the line — is now one in five, a huge proportion.

All of this indicates partners are pressing on necks longer and harder.

The physical, cognitive and psychological impacts of sexual choking are disturbing.

So is the idea that at a time when women’s social, economic, educational and political power are in ascent (even if some of those rights may be in jeopardy), when #MeToo has made progress against harassment and assault, there has been the popularization of a sex act that can damage our brains, impair intellectual functioning, undermine mental health, even kill us.

Nonfatal strangulation, one of the most significant indicators that a man will murder his female partner (strangulation is also one of the most common methods used for doing so), has somehow been eroticized and made consensual, at least consensual enough.

Yet, the outcomes are largely the same: Women’s brains and bodies don’t distinguish whether they are being harmed out of hate or out of love."

#article #weaker sex #tw abuse #peggy orenstein

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majorblinks · 2 years

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for all the right reasons ((g)i-dle miyeon)

(smut, former teacher/student, public sex, facefucking, breeding kink, brief mention of blood, age gap [both consenting adults though obviously], fluff? lmfao there are feelings involved, 12k words)

Oh, it’s probably morally reprehensible, or whatever. She’s too young. She’s your student - or she was, once, and that should be enough for you to never, ever lay a hand on her, for you to file away those Bambi eyes and all that blonde hair and every soft, delicate curve of her body in a folder labeled one-way ticket to hell - that’s what it should be, but-

“You want me,” Miyeon says, the first day you two ever start. She’s smiling like the princess everyone thinks she is. “I think you’re gonna, like, die if you don’t touch me.”

She’s evil for saying it, but you’re evil, too, because she just happens to be right.

It’s a fluke, or something of the sort. Fate hates you, or some other bullshit. You’re in a bar on a weekday, and you’re not looking for company - just a little reprieve. You’re a high school language teacher and you write, sometimes. You’re here for some inspiration.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to find it: twenty minutes, thirty. You’re sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, and like something choreographed from a movie scene, she walks right in.

You don’t realize who she is at first, obviously. You hear the footfalls of heels, see the swing of long hair - you’re not about to dwell on it, but she sits down right next to you, and - yep, you’re dwelling. You hear the sweet voice as she talks to the bartender, see the dainty, graceful way she moves. She’ll be your muse for the night, you decide. You tilt your head, and you drink her in instead of your whiskey.

See, she’s perfect, from the jump; that’s where it all goes wrong. She’s the kind of girl people write songs about - sonnets, scriptures - and it’s all downhill from there.

Your gaze starts at her shoes first, and that’s the first mistake - they’re ridiculous, black and patterned with butterflies, a thick, platform heel; oh, it’s a fairy, a manic pixie dream girl come to life, you can work with that - and you find the second mistake as your eyes trail up: white thigh-high stockings, lace at the top, delicate and pretty against slender, creamy thighs - a fairy and a wet dream walking, that’s a killer combination. The third’s as you reach the blue dress, patterned with white flowers: the tiny waist to go with it, the halter neckline and the sharp collarbone, and all this silky, wavy ash-blonde hair, and then-

That fourth mistake, the nail in the coffin. You look at her face and your voice gets promptly stuck in your throat.

Cho Miyeon’s been watching you watch her, and she must see the exact moment you recognize who she is, what you’ve done, because when you meet her eyes, horrified, she’s smiling.

“Oh, hey,” she says, all too casual.

“Hi,” you say, and she crosses one leg over the other in those fucking thigh-highs. You don’t look. You can’t. “Miyeon. Hi.”

Miyeon tilts her head, and that curtain of blonde hair tumbles with her - she’s blonde now, and it’s such a good look on her, and you shouldn’t be noticing how good she looks - and says, “You remember me.”

She doesn’t seem like she’s really surprised. “Of course,” you say, and immediately realize how it sounds. “I mean - it wasn’t that long ago, was it? And you were always an excellent student. A - a real joy to have in class. You know.”

You’re just saying it because you don’t know what else to say - but it’s not like it’s untrue. Every memory you have of Cho Miyeon in your class is her sitting off to the right, by the window, dark-haired and with this air of benevolent elegance, something of teenage royalty. All her classmates called her a princess - you remember that. An inside joke; here's Princess Miyeon, acing the test again, asking all the right questions, helping everyone with their assignments. It was fitting enough for you to let it slide.

Now here she is, in front of you, suiting the title more than ever. She’s so beautiful - and that’s where you stop yourself, because - really, it hasn’t been that long since she was that brunette girl in your classroom. Less than five years, certainly. Or more? Fuck, time, teaching; it all gets away from you, and she’s wearing those stockings-

Miyeon’s smile slants, turns to something more mischievous.

“I know,” she says, and it sort of feels like she’s making fun of you. Well, she’d have the right. You sound like an idiot. Just because you were her language teacher doesn’t mean you’re anywhere near eloquent. “Thanks. For the record, you were always my favorite teacher, sir.”

There’s a spin she puts on the last word - or maybe you’re imagining it. She blinks at you, sweet-faced, all doe-eyed innocence. You’re imagining it. You have to be.

“Oh,” you say, and your voice comes out odd, thick. “Well, you don’t have to call me sir anymore. It’s not like I’m still your teacher.”

“Right,” says Miyeon, eyes twinkling. “But you still are a teacher, aren’t you?”

You stare, puzzled, still thrown by her very presence. “What?”

She asks again, patiently, and you give her the answer - yes - and then out of nowhere she’s managed to coax you deeper into conversation - do you like it, what’s the best part, what’s the worst, what else are you up to - and it’s a foregone conclusion. Someone gets her a drink and she gets chattier when she’s tipsy, still sweet and friendly and gorgeous, cheeks flushing in the dim light. She talks about herself, a little - she’s in college, she’s thinking of taking a trip, she’s single. You don’t remember how you landed on that last one but once it’s out there it’s basically all over, from there.

It definitely crosses a line, between former teacher and student. It’s somewhere in there. She nudges your arm when you make her laugh, then grips it loosely when you add something that makes her laugh harder. Her hair falls in her face and you don’t push it back for her but she looks at you like she knows you want to. You forget things like she’s so much younger than you and you aren’t allowed to stare at her thighs in her stockings and wonder if her underwear matches.

She’s a perfect conversationalist like she might’ve been trained in the art form; that’s how she gets you, reels you in. She’s clever without being cutting, witty without being condescending. Princess, indeed - it’s the kindness, it’s the bright eyes and the lace. No - not the lace. You should really stop thinking about the lace-

“Hey,” Miyeon murmurs. Neither of you are fully drunk, but you’re playing into it, pretending like that’s the reason you’re crossing boundaries. Miyeon’s playing with the cuff of your sleeve. One of her ridiculous boots is balanced on the rung of your stool, brushing your ankle. “We should go to the bathroom, or something.”

She flicks her eyes up at you through her lashes, and there’s a curl to her mouth.

“Miyeon,” you say, acting like the room didn’t just get ten degrees hotter, your pants ten times more uncomfortable.

“You were wrong, before.” She leans in close, and you inhale her perfume - something sugary, intoxicating. Her lips are wet from where she’s been biting them. These are things you aren’t supposed to notice, but rules and regulations are long gone by now. “It’s been forever since you were my teacher.”

“Watch it,” you warn her, kind of sharply.

It’s a mistake, being firm with her - her eyebrows lift with clear interest. “Yes, sir,” she says, somehow self-satisfied, and leans back; it’s not far enough, and you can still smell her, can still see the pleased glint hidden in her irises.

“Miyeon.” Your throat dries up.

“Oh, come on,” she says mildly, and brushes her hands over the lace decorating her thighs. “We’re both adults now. You’re not even that much older than me. Ten years at most. Less than that, probably.” You’re staring at her stockings again and she notices. “Plus,” she continues, humor lilting her tone, “You want me.”

You can’t take her eyes off her thighs, can’t stop thinking about shoving up her dress and bending her right over the bar, can’t stop fantasizing about the faces she’d make as you fuck her, the noises, the slick sounds of her pussy. You can’t admit it, because it’d be fucked up. You can’t deny it, because you want her too bad to lie. You don’t know how you got here so fast, and-

Miyeon’s grinning like she can read your mind, and she’s close again, fingers skimming down your shirt.

“I think you’re gonna, like, die if you don’t touch me,” she says, conversationally.

She’s got it right on the money. You can’t say anything, and all of a sudden both of your hands have found the curve of her waist, and she’s out of her seat, standing between your legs. She’s an angel you’d give your whole life to worship, her blonde hair, her eyes, her body - she’s a dream, and she’s leaning in further, breath hot as she whispers in your ear.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Miyeon says, lowly, and the airiness in her voice goes straight to your dick. “The feeling’s very mutual.” You can almost hear the smirk in her words, something fanged and predatory. You might have to rethink her divinity. “You wouldn’t fucking believe how wet I am right now.”

Oh, that’s it. There are no angels in the room, here - the devil’s clever like that, hiding itself in pretty blonde princesses. You’d die to worship her, die to sin for her: it’s all the same.

“I’m right with you,” Miyeon says, steeped in suggestion, in implication - on her inflection alone you can hear how she’d sound moaning around your cock. “I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. If you don’t get that dick inside of me right now I think I’m gonna drop dead.”

It’s a threat, it’s a promise, it’s theatrics - and how could anyone refuse her, when she puts it like that?

“Well,” you say, and you stand, struck and burning. You’re giving in. You’re a man, you’re weak; you’re no match for the devil in a dress like that. “I’d hate for you to die so young.”

You’re playing into it, and it’s still fucked up. You’re ten years older than her, or something like that. She’s calling you sir and you’re seconds away from calling her a nickname you shouldn’t. You wanna pull her onto your lap, onto your cock, tangle your hands in her hair, get her screaming and squirting, make her yours and yours alone-

“Well,” says Miyeon, mimicking you. “Then we agree.”

She’s all of your filthiest fantasies wrapped up in one. You’re hopeless. That’s sort of how the story starts.

Miyeon drags you to the bathroom, and puts her money where her mouth is. Well, so to speak.

Actually, you’re the one using your mouth - you lock yourselves in a stall and a beat later you’re sunk to your knees, pressing Miyeon against the door. Those fucking thigh-highs, driving you insane - you grip her thighs hard, force them apart, sink your teeth into the skin right above the lace. You’ll leave bruises and you already know it. You’ll leave more.

“Fuck,” Miyeon whines, and it’s like all her bravado has waned, all at once. You shove her dress up around her waist, and you had it dead-on: her panties are white and lacy like her thigh-highs, and you can’t believe she wears shit like this casually, can’t fathom how she walks out of the house without men throwing themselves at her feet. “Fuck, fuck-“

“Dirty mouth, huh?” you mutter, and sneak a glance up at her face. Oh, that’s a vision - the way all her delicate, angelic features contort as you drag a finger across the crotch of her panties, find her so wet she’s soaking through the fabric. She’s sensitive. It’s irresistible. “Shit,” you say, and you almost laugh, but you’re too worked up to get it out. “You weren’t lying - you’re soaked, baby.”

“Obviously,” bites out Miyeon, but the frustration both drains and builds to a point as you hook your fingers in the side of her panties and pull them down around her knees. “Oh - please, please, touch me-“

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. “Look at that,” you say, and slip your thumb across her clit - she’s so turned on that just the graze sends her shaky, knees wobbling. One of your hands slides to her hip, steadying her. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Miyeon, you know that?”

It’s the praise, it’s like it kills her: Miyeon makes a high, keening noise that can’t classify as a response, and her cheeks are so red. You’ve barely touched her and she’s debauched, falling apart - “You’re so needy,” you add, enjoying the way she blushes hot. “You want me to take care of you, huh? That’s all you wanted?”

“Yes, please,” she pants, and when you slip a finger inside of her she moans so loud you’d be surprised if you two got out of this unnoticed. “Please, I just want more, I need more-“

“Be patient, princess,” you murmur, and she stills completely.

Fuck. Fuck. Well, it’s one hell of a slip-up.

Immediately you stop your finger inside of her, but then you feel her cunt clench, and she’s so, so wet - and just like that, you know.

“Miyeon,” you say, and your voice comes out gravelly.

“No,” she says, breathy, petulant. You can’t come back from this - that’s where you’re at. Your students used to call her this in your classroom. It’s sort of fucked up. It’s so fucking hot. She bucks her hips, and you’re finger-fucking her again, and she whimpers, ducking her head.

“Princess,” you start, and the cry she makes is like music, like gospel.

“Yes,” she chokes out, and you can’t believe this was the same girl leveling you with a stalemate back at the bar, challenging you toe-to-toe, weapons locked and loaded - can’t believe she’s now leaking all over your fingers, whining and desperate, begging please, please, please. Maybe you should’ve known. The brattiest girls love to get the most submissive. “Please - I need more, I need your cock - please, sir, I’ll be really good, my pussy will be so good for you, I swear-“

It’s the sir that gets you, but also everything before and after. You haven’t asked her to and she’s already begging; it’s adorable, it’s got you so hard your self-control’s rapidly slipping out of your hands.

“Alright, alright.” You’re unable to deny her anything when she talks like that, looks at you with those eyes. You rise, slowly - and then before you turn her around, grant her every wish, you take her gorgeous face in both hands and ask, “You’ll be good? You promise?”

You’re teasing her, but she’s so far gone she doesn’t even seem to notice. Miyeon nods rapidly, opens her mouth to say something - it’s not an invitation you’re about to pass up; you have to kiss her - so you do.

There’s something sweet about it, something filthy - you’ve never had a kiss so consuming and hot and wet, not during any fuck, any hook-up - and Miyeon makes small, whining sounds as you lick into her mouth, and you’ve got her cheeks in your hands, gripping firm as you kiss her. She’s tiny against you, her body all slender and slight and soft, and maybe that’s what makes it so hot; you have her like putty in your hands, like you could mold her, break her. Like you could do anything at all to her - to her mouth, her hair, her throat, her tits, her hips, thighs, cunt, ass - and she’d just let you. You kiss her and it’s like she lets you own her.

“Good girl,” you say into her mouth, and you know you do by the way she melts. “So good. I’m gonna fuck your little pussy now, okay? I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. You’ve been so patient, princess.” It’s a lie - you’ve never seen anyone so desperate - but when you flip her around and get to work on your zipper, you doubt she’ll bother with technicalities.

You slide your dick inside of her, and she collapses.

Her pussy is like heaven, and it’s the only word for it - it’s tight, but she’s so wet that you slide in like her cunt was made for you, made to form-fit your cock - maybe it was some twisted hand of fate after all, that led you here. Maybe you were always going to end up fucking her in a filthy club bathroom, calling her princess, wrapping your hand around her neck - maybe even since the first time she walked into your classroom, this was the inevitability, the only way it could ever go.

It’s a thought that’s pretty and fucked up in the same instant. Well, that’s Miyeon - well, you think, at least it fits.

She looks like an angel and she submits like one, too: knees buckling, leaning into you like she wants you to eat her alive, sink straight into her skin. You’ve got one hand on her hip and the other carding through her silky blonde hair; where she ends, where you begin - ah, it’s all the same. It’s corruption, it’s damnation - this girl never could’ve been the devil, not with this perfect pussy, not with her moans ringing out like music - and you get the feeling you’re ruining her, wrecking her. She turns her head halfway and there are tears in her gorgeous eyes, decorating her lashes. She’s never been quite so stunning.

“Fuck-“ All Miyeon’s words are slurring, loosening around the edges - you tug on her hair and if you weren’t holding her up, around your cock, around your fist, you know she’d fall right to the ground. “Thank you, sir - fuck - your cock feels so good, thank you, thank you - my pussy really needed it-“ She’s babbling, drooling, her tears smudging her eyeliner, her mascara. Her eyes squeeze shut and she clutches at the door, hands pressed flat, and lets you sheath your dick inside of her, again and again, rougher than you should be, so raw it should be criminal - her pussy is holy, or you’ve got Satan wrapped around your cock. Duality of woman; Miyeon’s got many talents and getting fucked into oblivion must top the list.

She cums; she’s too incoherent to warn you, but you feel it. You yank her hair and keep going. She’s fully crying now, pleas slipping from her mouth like wine, like water, like the way her cunt’s leaking all over you like a faucet, and you bury yourself inside of her, turn up the tap - she cums again, again-

“You like me ruining your pussy, huh?” you growl right at her ear, biting at her neck. It’s animalistic, it’s leaving your mark - well, one of them, at least. There’s her thighs, there’s how it’s not likely she’ll even be able to walk after this - okay, you’re leaving several. “Slutty little princess. You’d take whatever I’d give you - you’d let me drag you out there and fuck you in front of everybody, wouldn’t you?”

Miyeon loves the idea so much it’s like she’d give up religion entirely; you can tell by the way her back arches, by the way her whines get even less comprehensible, her perfect face crumpling in pleasure. It’s a plan for another day.

“You want everyone to know,” you hiss, “that you’re just a perfect little cocksleeve for me. I know, baby. I know.”

Oh, a face like that - you should be worshipping her, should be soft and gentle, wary of bruises and breaking - and you’re sure every other guy treats her like a goddess, something to revere and please.

For what it’s worth, you do, too - it’s just that you’re pleasing her by fucking her so hard she’s a sloppy, sobbing mess, pleading yes, sir - more, harder, fuck, fuck - you’re paying her reverence by leaning in close and saying in her ear-

“I’m gonna cum inside you, princess.” It’s not a question, not a request. Miyeon’s already nodding her head wildly, tears streaming down her cheeks - she’ll give you an answer anyway. Facets of royalty; she knows her manners, her lessons. “I’m gonna fill up that tight cunt, make that pussy cream - tell me how much you want it, baby.”

Your voice comes out through gritted teeth; the demands release harsher than the way you’re fucking her, and you think you might be tearing her pussy up, might be destroying it. She’s crying and blubbering and moaning, tripping over that tongue in her mouth trying to respond - your thumb’s fast on her clit and it’s double the stimulation, and it’s pushing her over the edge again - she puts so much effort into being good, and-

“I need it.” Miyeon reaches a hand behind herself, scrabbling blindly for your back, your ass, like she actually thinks you’ll pull out if she doesn’t beg hard enough. You’ve never seen someone so openly needy with such little coaxing - oh, your little princess. No one’s ever been able to satisfy her. “Sir, please - I need your cum inside me, I need to feel it, I need to be filled up, need you to breed me - I was really good, I deserve it-“

Her words break off, shatter on the floor; you think she cums again but you can’t be sure. It’s the words breed me that do it - that’s another thing to revisit, to play into and taunt her with, but she’s right, too: she’s been so, so good. You’ve never had a better pussy, never had something more perfect enveloping your cock - she’s sopping wet, so much you can hear it every time you thrust into her, can hear how her cunt gushes as you rail her. She’s engulfed every one of your senses - the sound of her, the smell of her, the feel of her, all silky skin and hair and a vice grip on your dick - it’s an overload, it’s overwhelming-

You bury yourself inside of her, right to the hilt, and you cum.

It’s a flash flood, wave after wave - you cum, and then a split second later it’s as if Miyeon turns to liquid herself, all her muscles giving out - and you grab her firmly around the waist, let her sink to the floor. It’s probably disgusting, it’s no place for an angel like her - but there’s nothing else to do. She spills herself into your lap, breathing hard into your shoulder, trembling like an earthquake’s just swept through her, wrecked all her bones and nerve endings like it’d decimate a city.

“Princess,” you whisper, and move her off of your cock, gently. You feel just as exhausted as she looks - you can't remember the last time you came that hard.

She doesn’t say anything, and just clutches at you tighter, pressing herself to your chest. One of your hands skates to her back, rubbing smooth circles.

“Miyeon,” you murmur, and she hides her face in your neck. “You okay?”

“Shh,” she says, lips against your skin. “Yes. Perfect. Full. I - give me - a minute.”

You get the message: she’s too well-fucked to move, to speak, to stand. “Alright, baby. Take your time.”

She hums right under your ear, tired and pleased and spent, and you cradle her slight frame in your arms, mindful of oversensitivity. You don’t know how many times she came - you’ve never seen a girl do that before, snap and start cumming over and over, clenching tight like she couldn’t stop. You’ll ask, you will. But, first-

You don’t know exactly how long it is, with Miyeon attached to you like this, the smell of sex and the sugary-sweetness of her blonde hair drenching the air: could’ve been weeks, you think, half-delirious. Eons. The world could’ve ended and you wouldn’t have changed a thing: the girl in your lap’s gotta be an angel, like you said. She has connections with a higher power. She’d handle it.

(That, or she’s got the devil on the other line, willing to bow down and serve her. Well, you’d understand. You doubt any deity could ever resist her.)

Eventually, Miyeon extricates herself from your body, slumping back against the door of the bathroom stall. She pulls her knees up, parts them - her eyes are shut, but you can see her defiled pussy, lips swollen, thick white cum drooling from her slit to the floor.

“Fuck,” you exhale without thinking, and see a small smile flicker at Miyeon’s mouth.

“Hey,” she says, and parts her legs wider. More of your semen leaks out of her. “Can you-“ Her words are still shaky, unsteady, shot through with fuck-drunk slurring. “Give me it. Your cum.”

You cock an eyebrow at her, even though her eyes are still firmly shut, sleepy. “I think I already did that, princess.”

She pouts at you, peeks open one brown Bambi eye. “No,” she says, inching towards a whine, and taps her full bottom lip. “I wanna taste it.”

Oh, she’s gonna be the death of you - but you kind of figured that out, already.

“Cumslut,” you say, and she smiles prettily, and you’d never be able to deny her a damn thing.

You take two fingers and ease them just inside her pink, puffy cunt, scooping out your own cum. Miyeon hisses air out through her teeth, on edge and tender, at every part of her, but scoots closer anyway; parts her lips, sticks her tongue out like some rabid animal, desperately, greedily in heat.

“Christ,” you mutter, and you take her chin in one hand, and feed her your cum with the other.

The moment your fingers slip past her mouth it’s like she’s been starving all day: her slick little tongue laves over your skin, curling hot and wet as she licks and sucks your cum off your fingers - and there’s no way she’s not tasting herself, it’s straight out of her pussy - and she’s blushing again, aware of her own wantonness but powerless to stop herself. Still, Miyeon makes no apologies, no take-backs for her desperation. She eats your cum off of you, swallows it down so easily.

Her white panties are tangled around her ankles, and you pull her feet into your lap, beginning to work the lacy underwear from around her ridiculous shoes. “Good?” you ask, amused, horny - but you’re past that. You’ll let her wind down.

“I am kind of a cumslut,” Miyeon says dreamily, head lolling. She rubs her thighs together, dress still shucked up around her hips. “I love your cum inside of me, sir. Feels - feels really good. All warm and-“ She’s speaking in half-sentences, still thoroughly fucked out. “Nice. And perfect.” She passes the heel of her hand over her clit and winces, raw, sore, satisfied. “Like… fuck.”

“Fuck indeed,” you say, pleased at your handiwork. You finally wrestle the panties from the platform heels of her boots, stuff them in your back pocket. At first you think she doesn’t notice, but she peers up at you with those dark, irresistible eyes, and you realize she’s allowing it.

Ah, well. You’re all playing games, in the end. “Hey,” you say, switching tone to soft, wiping at her face with your knuckle. Her makeup’s a lost cause, her eyeliner smeared and lipstick a wreck from where you kissed the life out of her, from where she slobbered around your fingers, tasting your cum - her hair’s long gone, too, a disaster thanks to your tugging and pulling. She looks exactly like everything you’ve been doing to her. “You’re okay, right?”

Miyeon blinks, reaching up almost absentmindedly to place her hand on your arm, thumbing your wrist. So - maybe it’s not quite the game you thought it was. “What do you mean?” she asks, clarity returning with each flick of her fluttering lashes.

“You…” You swipe underneath her eyes. “You were crying. Like, really, really crying.”

Miyeon tilts her head, like she’s confused - but then a smile plays at the corners of her mouth, finding ground and spreading.

“Oh,” she says, startled, entertained. “You’re worried about me.”

She’s teasing you. She’s so adorable that you kind of allow it. “Old habits,” you say. “I mean - you were my student. It was in the job description.”

It’s a filthy point, and her nose scrunches, delighted. Miyeon scoots closer to you until her knees bump yours, and you’re still stroking your fingers across her high cheekbones.

“Hey,” she says, more serious. “I’m fine, I’m amazing. It’s sweet of you to worry. It’s just, like-“ You slip a hand into her hair and it’s gentle this time, caring; her chin tips, eyes closing slowly, like she’s a puppy and you’re hitting the exact right spot. “It was so intense - in the best way, obviously - and it was like… you were fucking my pussy, but I was feeling it everywhere.” Her palm drifts to her heart, rounds to a fist. She’s still smiling, nearing rueful, like she’s well aware of her own dramatics. “It was like - I think I’m in love with your cock, or something.”

“You’re cute,” you say, helpless.

“I know,” she says, and she’s looking at you again with those wide, doe-like eyes. “I think my pussy was made for you.”

It’s a dirty sentiment - and it’s one you agree with wholeheartedly, thinking of the impossibly tight, wet heat of her cunt, drinking you in, the perfect fit, the way she stretched and swore and took it - but there’s something in the sweetness in her eyes that makes you think of nuance, of hidden implications. You’ll get there, one day. You’ve barely begun.

“So,” you say, snapping the tension that’s gotten too affectionate for the moment. “You want me to breed you, huh.”

Miyeon gapes at you, then flushes pink, shifts forward so she’s almost in your lap again. “Shut up,” she says, tracing your jaw with a manicured nail. “I don’t - I don’t even know where that came from. I’m on birth control. And I’d fucking kill you if you actually got me pregnant. I just - I think the idea is hot, that’s all.”

“Alright.” You lift her hips, smoothing down her dress and placing her in your lap all in one motion. You’ve zipped up your pants, tucked away your cock - it’s like pillowtalk but you know you’ll have to wrap it up. “Just trying to see where I’m at, with you.” You settle a hand around her tiny waist, skimming her ribs. “You like being called princess, you like calling me sir, like pretending to be bred but would hate the real thing-“

“Right,” says Miyeon, suddenly sort of sleepy again, nudging her face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re a cumslut.” The words are nasty but the way you’re saying them, smoothing a hand over her hair - it’s all fondness, all feeling. Oh, you really dug yourself a hole here with this one. There’s no coming back from it. “And your pussy is incredible. And you sob like you’re dying when you get fucked good enough.”

“Yep.”

“Am I missing anything?”

Miyeon doesn’t emerge from your neck, just holds out her hand, curls it in a grabbing motion. “Phone,” she says, muffled by your collarbone.

You fish it out of your pocket, charmed. Miyeon adjusts herself in your lap, and you let your hand drop to her hip, balancing her; it’s worse, it’s all falling into place like puzzle pieces. You kiss her hair and she begins to enter her number into your phone. There’s something strangely domestic about it, and it’s such an awful idea, to think it - more damning than the sex, than the cum still dripping out of Miyeon’s pussy. It’s sweet. It’s comfortable. That’s the first - the second - the tenth problem, at least.

“There,” says Miyeon, and hands your phone back to you. “I gave you my number and texted myself.” Her eyes glitter as she tucks her knees up to your chest. “Now I’ve got your number. That means you can’t accidentally grow a guilty conscience and forget about me.”

“Thanks.” You can’t stop looking at her - she’s so gorgeous, so wrecked, your pristine little princess fucked and filled and wrapped up in your arms. “And there’s no way in hell I’d ever forget about you.”

You’re just bouncing back her own words at her, theoretically, but Miyeon beams like she knows you mean more than that. Hey, you did say she was always your best student: she knows how to read between the lines.

You’ve got a wet spot on your pants and Miyeon’s wobbling on unsteady legs, so badly that you basically have to hold her up around the waist - but your pants are black anyway, and you’ve cleaned most of the ruined makeup off of her face. There are efforts made to be presentable. Miyeon tilts her cheek into your shoulder and won’t make eye contact with anyone. The bar’s busy. You pretend not to notice, tug her closer. You grin at the bartender, who raises his eyebrows like he’s impressed - well, he should be.

It’s cold outside - you think Miyeon will freeze in her tiny dress, so you keep your arms around her, and kiss the top of her head. Miyeon smiles at you, all teeth, all tenderness. Her eyes are warm, radiant, softening every edge of the night; she stands on her tiptoes, slots her mouth to yours.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” you murmur, fingertips dancing down the curve of her back.

“Probably,” agrees Miyeon, and lets her nose brush yours. “Take me home.”

You do. She doesn’t let you into her apartment - my roommate’s a whore who will try to jump your bones, she tells you matter-of-factly, and doesn’t elaborate, so you let that one go - but you walk her to the door - you’re a gentleman - and then you pin her up against it and slip your hand up her dress, get your fingers on her clit, inside her, cover her mouth as she cums - okay, so maybe you’re not.

“I’m keeping your panties, princess,” you say, after. It’s a fair trade.

Miyeon’s cheeks are flushed pink, and you’ve never found the phrase post-orgasm glow quite so apt. “Okay,” she says, voice softer than her skin as you rub between her shoulder blades, tangling her blonde hair.

You laugh out loud. “There’s no way you’re being shy right now,” you say. “I just fucked you in public-“ You gesture out at the open night, at the occasionally passing cars- “for the second time in an hour.” Your cum from earlier is now dripping down her thighs, too, but that one’s almost too obvious to call attention to.

“A bathroom stall is not public.”

“It was a public bathroom, Miyeon. It’s in the name.”

“You’re lecturing me on semantics?” Miyeon asks, eyes narrowing, a playful slant to her lips. “What are you, my teacher?”

Oh, she loves this - and at this point, you’re too far gone to pretend you don’t kind of love it too. “Shut up,” you say, forgoing maturity, and kiss her one more time, because you have to.

It’s all such a disaster, and you already know this: because it’s too casual, too comfortable, too easy - to kiss her like you’ve got a claim to her, to cum inside her pussy like you own it. You think of framing her fluttering eyelashes and sated, tiny smile as you pull back, think of her in your bed, on your kitchen counter with her legs spread, in the passenger seat of your car with her hand wrapped around your cock. She’s got all the dirtiest parts of your imagination on lock with that face alone. It couldn’t be worse.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, suddenly breathless.

“See you,” Miyeon says, grinning at you - and you know right then that you’ll never be able to leave this alone.

You’re right. It’s a whirlwind. That same weekend, you call her, give her your address, ask her to come over - you accidentally end up on the phone for two hours before she even leaves her apartment, and nothing in the conversation ends up being about sex. You tell her about a new story you’re starting. She tells you about a class she’s taking that she hates, about a gig her friend Yuqi’s band is doing. It’s so easy to get caught up in conversation with her, to tell her about every thought that pops into your head, to listen as she tells you hers - there’s that word again. Easy. It’s bad.

Eventually, Miyeon says, “Oh, I was supposed to come over to fuck you, wasn’t I?”

It’s cute, it’s adorable, even when it shouldn’t be. “You forgot?” you ask, teasing. “I thought all this talk was just foreplay.”

“Yeah, I’m, like, dripping. Talking about how Yuqi’s gonna have to find a replacement for her notoriously flaky keyboardist really got me going.”

You never expect Miyeon to get sarcastic, to get snarky and dry, but it’s always so charming when she does. Even more charming when every time, without fail, she always follows it up with-

“Sorry.” Miyeon breathes out on a giggle, bordering bashful. She can rarely be sassy without apologizing for it immediately after. Oh, it’s her pedigree, it’s the nature of a monarch, all her humility, her politeness - she can never keep a bit running for long.

“You should be,” you say. “Get over here, princess.”

A smile seeps into her voice. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, my god.” There’s a loud, feminine voice on Miyeon’s end, somewhere in the background, crowing with open delight. “Cho Miyeon, are you having phone sex right now?”

“Nicha,” Miyeon says sharply, clearly scandalized.

“Oh my god.” The word’s a switch flipped: now the voice sounds equally scandalized. “You’re bringing out my government name? Is it that serious?”

Apparently, it is. “Ignore her,” Miyeon says, to you this time. “See you in fifteen minutes.”

You can’t back down from the opportunity to provoke her, especially when you’ve never quite seen her on edge, not the way she sounds right now. Whoever this Nicha person is - she knows exactly how to push Miyeon’s buttons. Well, you’ll take a page out of her book.

“Hey,” you say, grinning, “speaking of phone sex - you know, I wouldn’t be opposed-“

“Ugh!” You can practically hear Miyeon’s flustered expression through the phone, can see the pretty, flattering way she’d blush and pout and slump her shoulders. “You’re - you’re fucking impossible. Bye. Bye!”

“See you in fifteen minutes,” you echo, and laugh out loud when she huffs one more time, and hangs up the phone.

Look, your apartment’s nothing special - you’re on a teacher’s salary, for fuck’s sake. It’s serviceable, bland. You’ve got some plants, you’ve got well-kept bookshelves, you keep it clean and uncluttered. You’ve got some recessed lighting and a vintage sofa. Needless to say, your apartment’s never seen a lot of luxury. The walls, the furniture, the floors - they’re patently unused to pretty things. You don’t have the means, or the motive. It’s just you. There’s no one to impress.

Okay - until now, at least, because you’ve got-

“Oh, look at my girl.”

You’ve got your fists wrapped in blonde hair, got wet, vulgar gurgling sounds bouncing floor-to-ceiling, got the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen on her knees in front of you with your cock shoved down her throat. It’s all so new. If these walls could talk - but they can’t, so she’s all yours. You’ll live with it.

“You’re so good for me, princess. You love choking on that fucking cock, huh?”

You can’t believe Miyeon’s face: her fine eyebrows upturned, the tears streaking down her face, running dark with eyeliner, mascara - the way she’s slobbering around your cock, drooling. The way she tilts her chin back, breathes through her nose, relaxes her throat; the way she lets you grab her head and fuck her face like you’ve got the right to.

(Well, you do. She’s yours. She sure as hell feels it with your cock knocking right into her gag reflex.)

“You’re mine,” you say, and it’s so soon, so possessive. Miyeon, on her knees in front of you, a vision when she’s being fucked out and used. “This throat belongs to me, baby. I’m gonna fuck it whenever I want, okay?” You pause, give a particularly violent thrust, bite back a moan. “Don’t pretend like you don’t fucking love it.”

Miyeon’s not pretending at all, actually; she’s too far gone for that. Her top is already tugged up, her tits heaving with each wet, strangled breath, with each time you grab her skull and bury yourself into her throat - and then there’s the fact that her knees are parted, her underwear long gone, her own fingers deep inside her pussy.

No point in any pretense. It’s all out there on the table - oh, that’s an idea, bending her over every flat surface of your house; every piece of furniture can see this new, pretty thing you own - and she’s got nothing to hide. She’s so turned on just from letting you use her like your own personal fuckdoll. There’s no coming back from this, either.

It’s those Bambi eyes, wide and watery. She’s staring rapturously at you like she’d do anything for you - and only Cho Miyeon can turn a blowjob - well, a full facefuck, really - into something holy. She’s the one on her knees, sure, but there’s no other way to put it: she lets you ram your dick down her throat and you swear you’re seeing Jesus.

She’s got this expert mouth, the way she knows all the right things to do to take a cock like yours - she gags like it’s something purposeful, performative; even the way her spit dribbles down her chin seems choreographed.

“I’m gonna cum now,” you exhale, and it’s not a request, “down your fucking throat, and you’re gonna swallow it all because you’re just a hole for me to use, yeah?” You see Miyeon’s fingers moving faster in and out of her pussy, her rhythm turning sloppy, irregular - the way she gets off on being treated like your property is unbelievable, it’s godly. “Nasty fucking cumslut.” It’s a way to up the ante: she loves the praise, but she loves the degradation, too - she really will take whatever you give her and love it. “Gonna fill your throat with my cum, gonna make you fucking take it-“

You cum down her throat, buried completely, and feel her swallow over the head of your cock, gulping down all your cum. It’s a concerted effort, it’s somehow with all the focus in the world despite how she’s got her cunt stuffed with her own fingers, practically humping her own hand, leaking all over your floors - and when you slowly unsheathe yourself from Miyeon’s hot, wet mouth, her eyes fall shut, her jaw still half-open.

“Look at you,” you murmur, spent and a bit mesmerized - it wasn’t a small load, and you’re not an easy cock to take. You lower yourself to the ground next to her, stroking your thumb across the soft curve of her jaw. “Oh, princess.”

Miyeon opens her mouth, sticks out her pink tongue, shows it clean and cum-free.

You grin, a little wildly. “Good girl.”

“Thank you, sir.” You take her delicate wrist in your hand, bring her cum-slick fingers to your lips - you’ll have to get your mouth on that pussy eventually, but this’ll do for now. Miyeon doesn’t even make any effort to stand, just throws herself half in your lap, her bare thighs grazing your cock. She looks up at you with those glassy, hypnotizing eyes as you suck her own cum off of her fingers, trembling, oversensitive; you’re sure she made herself cum probably more than once. “You liked fucking my mouth?”

It’s the way she asks it, all this faux-innocence: she obviously knows you loved it and she’s just fishing for compliments. Well, you’ll indulge her.

“Of course,” you tell her, bemused by her transparency, and skim your thumb over one of her nipples, making her shiver. “You’re - you’re really good at that, you know.”

Miyeon tilts her head, tongues the corner of her red, well-fucked mouth. “At sucking cock?” Her expression shifts, takes a turn - there’s a wit hiding in the whole virtuous act she likes playing so well. “I’m just a natural, I guess. I’ve never sucked a cock before in my life.” She nods, all false humility. “That was my first time, actually.”

She’s fucking with you, but you’d probably never be able to catch it if you hadn’t picked up on at least a few of her tells by now. “Shut the fuck up,” you say, and all of a sudden you’re laughing, defenseless after your mildly world-shattering orgasm. “You’re so stupid.”

“No, you want the truth? I was a virgin before that night in the bar. You totally deflowered me.”

“Miyeon.”

“I’m being serious.” Miyeon’s smiling sweetly now, always ready to run a joke into the ground. She’s mostly naked on your lap, and she’s leaving a wet spot on your jeans from god knows how many times she came just from fingering herself, just from getting her throat fucked. It’s insane how she can still bring out this virginal angel just to mess with you. “I’m a good girl, like you said. You corrupted me. All of this sluttiness is entirely recent and completely your fault.”

“Shut up,” you complain, but you’re still laughing, and now Miyeon’s breaking character just to laugh at you, too.

“Sorry,” she says, and she’s burying her face into your neck, slightly delirious, her shoulders shaking with her giggles. “Sorry. You’re right. You caught me. I’ve been a whore this whole time.”

“I know, baby,” you tell her tolerantly, and kiss her temple, move some of the damp, unruly strands of hair off her cheeks. After a face-fuck that rough, it’s almost unfathomable that the energy between you two ends up getting too sentimental for the moment, but maybe it’s just the way things were always meant to go.

Like you said, there’s this new story you’re starting. It’s nothing long-term, nothing especially complicated. It’s about a girl, so it’s the oldest story ever told. It’s about longing, so you’re leaning into the melodrama. It’s all about the feeling, and where you’re at in your life, right now, you’ve never quite lived through the kind of love that’s in all the novels, so you’re mostly making it up, playing it by ear, pulling fiction from fantasy.

(That’s what you’ll tell yourself. It’s really too soon for it to be anything else.)

Things escalate, fast. Miyeon’s over at your place all the time. Sometimes you pick her up from some of her later classes, take her out, take her back to your apartment. They’re not dates, exactly. You both just have a love for cinema, for new bestsellers that you discuss like you’re middle-aged wine moms at a book club, getting too into it. Also, once you two get wrapped up in conversation, it’s almost impossible to just drop it there. You and Miyeon start talking and you never really stop.

It’s like you blink and suddenly you’re two months in - and it’s not like you’re in a relationship, but it’s pretty clear that you’re exclusively fooling around, and you also spend so much of your time together that you know what’d it look like to an outsider. You talk to Miyeon about pretty much everything, but you avoid any mention of making it official. You’re two months in, and she finally invites you over to her apartment.

“I know,” she says, the first time you come over. “It’s egregious. I get it.”

You haven’t even said anything, but she’s not wrong. Her apartment’s gorgeous once you see it on the inside, and way bigger than you thought it was - ridiculous, considering it’s just her and her roommate. Nothing like what you’d expect the average college student to be able to afford, but-

“My family,” Miyeon offers, by way of explanation. “They like to spoil me.” You’d kind of already known that, though. The high school you teach at is this swanky private one, and it wasn’t unusual to have the children of business tycoons, lawyers, doctors, the like - and she’d graduated from there, so it’s not quite out of left field. “And my roommate’s descended from Thai royalty, or something. She’s not exactly hurting for money, either.”

“Naturally,” you say.

So her apartment becomes fair game, too. She gives you her spare key like it’s nothing - easy access, she tells you, covers up the intimacy with innuendo. She forbids you from coming around when her roommate is home, but that ends up being a lost cause. You’re bound to have run-ins with her friends, you realize that - Miyeon’s always been exceedingly well-liked, notoriously popular - but it doesn’t fully hit you how seriously close you’ve gotten until it actually happens.

You’ve somehow managed to fuck her almost everywhere in her apartment without running into her roommate until it’s a Sunday, almost three months from that first day - and everything about you and Miyeon together is sacrilege, you know that; maybe it’s a sign - and you’re coming to take her out to this sale at your favorite bookstore, and probably fuck her in the bathroom of the coffee shop next door. It’s a toss-up, it’s all going according to plan-

That is, until you step into the kitchen, and there’s a girl standing at the counter who is decidedly not Miyeon.

“Uh,” you say. “Hello?”

The girl glances up at her phone, immediately gets this curl to her red-lipped mouth, and - oh.

This is the roommate. It’s clear, in an instant: you’ve heard how Miyeon talks about her roommate, you’ve heard her voice on the phone - you’re not a fan of using any derogatory language towards women you don’t know, so you’ll put it like this: she’s got a reputation already. She smiles at you coyly, puts her phone face-down on the counter; she’s living up to it.

“Hi,” she says, voice smooth, velvety. She’s got these unreasonably gorgeous eyes, accented with thick eyeliner, mascara: they’re a striking, arresting pale green, at odds with the fairness of her skin, the jet-black of her hair. “You’re Miyeon’s boyfriend, right?”

“Um,” you say, intelligently; so, that’s a label you two still haven’t discussed. You should get on that, maybe.

The girl’s smile widens, like she’s taking your hesitation as a go-ahead, a green light. Oh, this one’s trouble. You know it without even knowing her.

“Well,” she says, propping her elbows up on the kitchen counter. She’s wearing a tight, low-cut shirt - it’s insanely flattering, and, hey, you’re only human. You notice but you’ll pretend that you don’t. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Minnie.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, a little amused by the performance of it all.

Minnie tilts her head, looking you up and down. Her eyes fall half-lidded, in this sleepy, sexy way that seems unintentional, but you’re already getting the sense that nothing Minnie does is unintentional.

“Hey,” she purrs, and it already sounds like a proposition. “You’re kind of hot, you know.”

“Oh, am I?” you ask, humoring her. She’s just so obvious. It’s sort of fascinating.

“I’d say so.” Minnie rounds the counter, and she’s wearing this short skirt, legs bare and slender, all toned. Her hair brushes just past the high line of her collarbone. There's something about her that oozes sex appeal - it’s impossible to ignore.

“Just a heads-up,” she says, “if you ever get bored of Miyeon and her whole princess thing, my room’s right down the hall from hers.” Minnie smiles, devilish. There’s an irony about it that makes you wonder if it’s a genuine offer or some sort of private joke she’s making, something you’re not cool enough to be in on. “So - you know where I am.”

It’s more than slightly hilarious that you met thirty seconds ago, and she’s already offering up sex like it’s nothing - if she were less gorgeous, you’d laugh out loud, but Minnie wears her allure like jewelry, something to show off and brag about. This is definitely a girl who’s used to getting what she wants.

It doesn’t escape you that Minnie’s the polar opposite of Miyeon, who wields her beauty with all this innocence, all the false wide-eyed naïvete in the word - she’s a good girl, that’s her starring role. This girl - Minnie - nothing about her’s innocent, not in the least. Her tongue darts across her bottom lip; she looks like she’d eat you alive, if given the chance. She’s hot. She’s also not even remotely your type, because that’s obviously-

“Oh my god,” says Miyeon, rushing down the stairs, feet hitting the hardwood as she practically jumps off the last step. “Oh my god. Nicha, I swear to god, if you’re trying to fuck him right now-”

Minnie actually looks mildly pained. “Please chill with the government name.”

“You’re such a whore,” grumbles Miyeon, bounding towards you to clutch at your hand. It’s a side you’ve never seen of her: jealousy. It’s adorable, but everything she does is adorable. Miyeon glares pointedly at Minnie, tells you, “The eyes are fake. Don’t fall for it.”

“What?” you ask. Minnie blinks at you, grins.

“They’re colored contacts,” says Miyeon, scowling. “Fake. So fake. She’s not even that hot without them.”

“I’m very hot without them,” argues Minnie, but she leans back, brushing her hair over her shoulders - it’s a clear surrender, a white flag waving. She’s backing off.

“Sorry,” she says, and barely sounds like she means it, but her smile’s charming enough for her to pull it off. “Didn’t mean to be a homewrecker or whatever.”

You’re not really sure what it is, but it takes a second, and it’s like you’re looking at someone totally different. Minnie’s whole sensual persona slips away, vanishes entirely - now she’s just got her head tipped like a puppy, watching the two of you with curious eyes. Even her voice rises in pitch - so there’s the behind-the-scenes, the performance dropped. She’d probably make a killing as an actress. It’s actually almost impressive, how she can turn the seduction off and on like a switch.

“Liar,” says Miyeon, detaching herself from you, but the venom’s drained out of her voice. She goes to Minnie, winds her arms around her waist, kisses Minnie’s cheek affectionately. “She’s a natural slut,” she says to you, but now she’s smiling too. “She can’t help it.”

“It’s in my genes,” agrees Minnie, pressing her lips to the top of Miyeon’s head.

“Right,” you say. You’re getting the feeling the bickering is just a facet of Miyeon and Minnie’s friendship, because they very clearly adore each other. Oh, well. It’s cute. You won’t question it.

“And she likes to take things that belong to me,” adds Miyeon, a certain wickedness to it, a threat.

You raise your eyebrows at her; possessiveness looks great on her, but then again, so does everything. Minnie shrugs, doesn’t even bother to deny it. Clearly, it’s an old fight, a score they’ve far past settled.

“Good to know,” you say, and hardly lift a hand in Miyeon’s direction - she comes to you as easy as if you’d given her a verbal command. It’s not exactly subtle, how she slips under your arm like it’s an order she’s following.

“Oh,” says Minnie, and it sounds like oh, I get it - it’s like that. Like she’s got you two pegged instantly. Maybe she does. “You guys are dating.”

“We’re not,” says Miyeon, boredly. The disinterest’s entirely an act, but an excellent one.

“Baby, it wasn’t a question,” says Minnie, wry like she can read Miyeon’s mind. There’s something so intense about her eyes, no matter how false they might be - the way they flick from you to Miyeon, drawing lines, dynamics. You don’t know how much Miyeon has told her, but she observes the two of you like she knows everything and then some. She purses her lips, then packs it up. You’re not sure what she’s seeing when she looks at you and Miyeon but you think you’ve got an idea.

“Have a good night,” Minnie tells you, and the smile that follows is secretive, enigmatic. “And it was so great to finally meet you.”

“She seems nice,” you say.

“She’s a whore,” says Miyeon, rapid-fire, and then laughs a sudden, musical laugh. “She’s also, like, my favorite person in the world. I didn’t think you’d meet her like that - I swear I thought she wasn’t home.”

“So crazy that she thought we were dating,” you say, dryly.

“Yeah,” Miyeon replies, in your car, pretty in a pink dress as you’re taking her out. The sarcasm’s too thick to call out. You both know what game you’re playing, by now. “Who could’ve ever come to a stupid conclusion like that?”

You two are able to talk about anything, you settle on a handful of books to buy, you don’t even have to go next door because you get Miyeon’s panties off in the dark alleyway, sink to your knees and eat her out. She squeals and mewls and sucks at keeping quiet. Her pussy’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, but you’ve learned by now that Miyeon’s the kind of girl who’s impossible to compete with.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you,” she tells you, shamelessly, as you wipe her cum off of your chin.

“Right back at you,” you say, and kiss her until she’s gasping for air. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be but with her, and you don’t have to ask - she kneels to return the favor, and you know she feels the same.

Minnie actually ends up having a running commentary on your relationship - you’ve realized by now that she’s Miyeon’s best friend, which means she doesn’t believe in boundaries, or mincing words. Case in point - well, there’s several, but you’ll settle for this one:

“Jesus fucking Christ,” says Minnie, one evening, when she catches you and Miyeon on the couch in their apartment. “You two are disgusting.”

It’s a big reaction, considering you and Miyeon aren’t anywhere near having sex - you’re hotly debating the quality of an Netflix miniseries you just finished binge-watching together, discussing themes and plot points and character arcs. Miyeon’s defending it to the death, calling it camp, pulling up comparisons to cinematic masterpieces on her phone. You hate it; you’re arguing that it’s trite garbage, clinical and passionless and dumb.

“What?” says Miyeon, confused. “We’re just talking.”

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re fully clothed and everything.”

“It’s disgusting that Miyeon somehow found someone just as pretentious as she is to argue about her dumbass TV shows with,” clarifies Minnie, her arms crossed. “It’s gross. You two are gross. Like - we get it, you’re made for each other because you both take media analysis way too seriously.”

Miyeon stares at her, mouth agape. Minnie turns on her heel and walks right out, apparently too nauseated by you both to tolerate your presence any longer.

“Um,” you say, a little lost for words.

Miyeon’s discarded her phone on her coffee table, and now she’s watching you, eyes suddenly soft. You raise your eyebrows at her, can’t fight the smile at how she scoots closer to you, tucks her thighs up to her knee. “Yes?” you ask, expectantly.

“Nothing,” Miyeon says, tapping her dainty fingers along your wrist, thumb skipping across your pulse point. “But you’ve thought about it before, haven’t you?”

You don’t pretend that you don’t know what she’s talking about - you respect her too much for that. You nod, watch her throat bobs when she swallows, looks up at you carefully, like she’s trying to memorize the look on your face.

“Alright,” says Miyeon, finally. “It’s just - we kind of work, in a weird way.”

It’s cute, her restraint. You slip a hand in her hair, bring her close so you can kiss her forehead. “We kind of do,” you tell her, and you have faith that you’ll get there. It’s only a matter of time.

You’re still not really dating, but - so, it’s complicated.

It’s a Tuesday when you’re both out getting coffee together, and it’s under the pretense of sex, because it always is. Miyeon likes getting fucked where she knows she can get caught, and it’s her thing, it’s a pattern: public bathrooms, parks, alleyways, dressing rooms. There’s something so filthy about it, the juxtaposition - your perfect, pristine girl, begging for your cock in the nastiest places, biting down on your fingers to keep from screaming, walking out with cum dripping from her cunt like it’s nothing. It’s worse because nothing about her’s inconspicuous, after this - she walks out of every round looking exactly like she just had the best sex of her life, and nothing less. Everyone who sees you two together knows what you’re up to. It’s just that much hotter.

So - that’s the thing. It’s easy for you guys to spend all your free time together - between the college classes she’s taking, between the high school ones you’re teaching. You call her on lunch breaks, after you’re done for the day, say all sorts of suggestive things; she responds in kind, all dirty texts and pictures. Her pussy takes up half your photo gallery. See, it’s not romantic, at its core; it can’t be. It’s too dirty. There’s nothing sweet about it.

Except-

You’re supposed to be having a hook-up, right now. You’re supposed to be fucking her in the bathroom of this coffee shop. That was the proposition when she texted you i need your dick now with absolutely zero shame, along with pictures of her outfit, her tiny white top pulled down to expose her creamy tits, her hard nipples. That was the entire idea.

“I love that book,” Miyeon’s telling you now, splitting a slice of coffee cake with you across the table. Best laid plans, or whatever. Somehow you two always get distracted by conversation first. “Well, that’s the thing about you and me. Nobody my own age appreciates classic literature.”

“That’s such a lie,” you say, endeared. “You’re flattering me.”

“None of my friends know them front to back like you do,” she points out, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her stunning eyes are bright, her words fast and passionate - she always gets like this when she’s excited, animated, dialed up to eleven. You shouldn’t find it as adorable as you do. “Because you’ve taught them. You’ve studied them - you get all the nuance. Also, you’re old.”

She’s making fun of you. “Cool it.”

“But it’s true,” Miyeon laments, pushing buttons on purpose. “Of course you know the classics - you’re, like, ancient enough to remember when they all first came out.”

“I’m seven years older than you.” It’s been established, by now. Miyeon still gets off on the gap between you two, even though it’s nowhere near as wide as she likes to pretend it is. “Calm down.”

You’re smiling, though. Miyeon grins, takes a bite of her cake. “You get me, is my point,” she says, dropping the dramatics. “That’s all I’m saying.”

You’re supposed to be fucking her half to death in a public bathroom by now, and you probably will, after all of this. It’s just - you’re blurring lines. You’re not dating, not really. It’s just that you can talk to her for hours on end without getting bored, and sometimes all you have to do is look at her to know exactly what she’s thinking, exactly what dumb joke she’s about to make, exactly what face she’ll pull at something you say. It’s just supposed to be sex, but she’s all you ever think about. It’s nothing serious, but you get the sense she feels the same way.

“I do,” you say, softer than intended.

There’s this way Miyeon smiles at you, sometimes. It’s the same look she gets on her face when you’re watching one of her favorite movies together, something woefully pretentious and deeply romantic, something that’s bound to get her teary-eyed and laughing at the same time, curled up in your lap. Like she’s looking at something she’d never want to look away from.

“Well,” she says decisively, and under the table, her hand finds your thigh. You’ll put a pin in all those feelings. They’ll come back around eventually. “I’m glad we agree. Wanna fuck me senseless in the bathroom now?”

Even now, you’ll never be able to refuse her, but you’ll play nonchalant. “Tempting.”

“I know,” Miyeon says, doe-eyed, and her mouth tips to a smirk. She’s so sentimental until she isn’t. “You can’t resist me.”

“Nope,” you comply, giving in like it’s nothing, and then you’re tugging her right out of her seat. Well, it’s par for the course. When it’s you and her together, neither of you can keep up an act for long.

You’re not dating, and it’s not sweet, it’s not romance. It actually gets kind of extreme, there in that one-person bathroom, where you’ve got her back against the counter and one of her thighs tucked to her chest, and you’re pounding her pussy so hard it’s bordering violent. She’s sniffling, tears dribbling down her cheeks, and that’s all her signs at once: she’s only this much of a mess when she’s loving it.

“Look at you, princess,” you murmur, and she gasps into the fingers you’ve got stuffed in her mouth, drooling all over you. “You’re just addicted to this cock in that tiny little pussy, aren’t you? You’d let me keep you like this for fucking days, just being my pretty fucking cockwarmer. You’d die for it.”

Miyeon grips your wrist, spits your fingers out from between her lips. Her eyes are mesmerizing, glassy and lined with newly mussed makeup from how she’s crying - she’s become such a disaster, so fast. This is always the best part: how you wreck her, how she lets you.

“Yes,” she pants. “It’s yours, it’s all yours - feels so good, sir, my pussy belongs to you-”

“I know, baby.” You grip your hand in her silky blonde hair, and the whimper she lets out is from the pain, from the pleasure - for her, it’s the thinnest line, it’s already overlapping. “Let me keep you on my cock for a weekend, cumming in all your holes…” You lean in close, nip at her ear, yank her head back. “Imagine it,” you hum. “Imagine just being my cumdump for days, just taking load after load in that little cunt. Keeping you on my lap, all that cum inside you, plugged up by my dick…”

Miyeon knows it’s coming. You can tell how her eyes fall shut, how her tiny body trembles, how she clenches around your cock - she’s trying so hard to keep quiet and only half-succeeding. Well, you’ll push her over the edge.

“How long do you think it’d take to get you knocked up?”

“Stop,” she whimpers, but she darts a glance up at you in the mirror, eyes glimmering. You’ve got your boundaries, your safewords - you know it’s not an actual rejection.

“Stop?” you ask, and there’s danger in the way you laugh, a warning. Miyeon catches it, whines and writhes and only gets wetter. “Please. Don’t act like you don’t love the idea of me breeding that slutty fucking pussy. Cumming all the way inside your womb, filling you up with my load - you’re young, Miyeon, you know what you are.” It’s two hits in one, and she bites so hard into her bottom lip you’re shocked she’s not drawing blood. “A tight little body like this is fucking made to be bred. You’d be so fucking lucky if I got you pregnant, wouldn’t you? If I used you as a fuckhole to breed and nothing else - if I fucking owned you, made you belong to me, used you like my fucking property-”

Miyeon’s breathing stutters so badly you think she might be on the verge of hyperventilating - but you’ve also never seen her so ruined, so consumed by your cock in her, by the fantasy you’re painting. “Oh my fucking god,” she chokes out, and she keeps it as quiet as she can - you’re still in public, and the pressure’s only getting to her more, getting her hot and riled and helpless - but she’s too far gone for composure. “Oh my god. Oh, fuck-”

“Say it,” you snarl, right at her ear. “Say it, princess. I know you want to. Tell me what you want me to fucking do to you.”

There’s no stopping, no stalling - you’ve pushed her right to the edge, and she’s past pretending like she doesn’t want exactly what you’re giving her.

“I want you to breed me.” Miyeon’s sobbing, lost in the euphoria, in the very thought of it - the way she lets you break her so completely, in public where anyone would catch her: it’s criminal, it’s tugging an angel out of the sky just to fuck her down to hell. “I - just need you to fuck me, breed me, use me - do whatever you want to me, I just need you, sir, I need it - you’re right, I’m just a fuckhole, you own me, I belong to you-”

“That’s my girl.” Your hand drops to her clit just as her elbows hit the hard surface of the counter.

When she cums, now you know she draws blood - she’s got her knuckles at all her pretty white teeth, and the way her body contorts as her orgasm overwhelms her is something animalistic, feral. You’re cumming with her, but you can’t take your eyes off of Miyeon’s reflection in the mirror, off of the straps of her top hanging off her slender shoulders, the mess you’ve made of her hair, the destroyed makeup dripping from her eyes - there’s something so aesthetically flawless about the crease between her eyebrows, the heavy rise and fall of her chest, the way she spits scarlet blood into the sink in one quick, debilitated move. It’s like she’s a masterpiece, fucked out, fucked up. She's a portrait made to be ogled, observed and fawned over. Every detail’s goddamn perfect.

You catch her around the waist, slide your cock out of her as she whimpers. Her pale knuckles are beading with blood, and she’s still got some between her teeth. Miyeon turns her head again, spits, but it comes out weaker, drool slipping from the corner of her mouth.

“Miyeon,” you mumble, and go for her purse on the counter instead of the paper towel dispenser - when you’ve got a girl who likes being fucked in public as much as Miyeon does, you’re a pro at damage control by now.

The sound Miyeon lets out isn’t even close to anything coherent, any full words or sentiments. You take the package of makeup wipes, pat Miyeon’s hip, turn her around. “You’re okay,” you tell her, gently getting to work at the eyeliner, the bloody spit at her lips. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I got you.”

Miyeon still can’t speak, but she leans her lithe body into you, lets you take her jaw in your hand. There’s something so careful about the way you clean her up, take care of her after - that’s the thing about fucking a masterpiece; there’s an upkeep to it, a science in the art.

You toss the used makeup wipes in the trash when you’re done, then spin her around, smooth your hands through her hair. “Alright,” you say, and you go for her panties, tugging them back up around her hips. Your cum will be leaking out of her the whole way home, but it’s par for the course. “How are we holding up?”

There’s always this disparity between the two of you - she can barely walk after cumming, you’re mostly functional. It’s how you work, you think. She’s your girl, your baby; it’s the point. She knows you’ve got her, no matter what you do to her.

Miyeon meets your eyes in the mirror, breathing evening out, completely spent. She curves into you, into your hand on her tiny waist, and presses her lips to your cheek.

“You already know this,” she says, voice hoarse. You flip the tap on to wash her blood out of the sink, go for a tissue in her purse. “But no one compares to you, ever.”

It shouldn’t get to you like it does, but it does.

You press the tissue to Miyeon’s bloody knuckles, kiss the high point of her wrist. “Well,” you tell her, unable to drag your gaze away from those gorgeous eyes, looking at you with all the open devotion in the world. “It’s a good thing the feeling’s mutual.”

You run into one of the employees outside the bathroom, but there’s not a line, thank god. Well, it could be worse.

The employee’s staring at the two of you like she’s suspicious but too grossly underpaid to call you on anything. “Um,” she says.

“Sorry,” you say, and pull Miyeon tight to your side, slipping the palm of your hand over her stomach. “My wife - she’s pregnant with her first. Morning sickness.” You kiss the top of Miyeon’s hair. “Takes a lot out of her.”

Miyeon’s gawking at you with wide, shocked eyes. You ignore it, smile beatifically.

It’s not a bad act, on your part. The employee says, “Oh, yeah, okay. You were just in there a while, so I was - well, congrats, on the baby.”

“Thanks,” you say politely, and slip past the employee, Miyeon tucked under your arm. “That’s kind of you, really.”

The performance comes unraveled the moment you leave the coffee shop, and Miyeon’s half-irate, slapping at your chest, wavering on unsteady legs as you step out on the sidewalk together. You grin down at her, play dumb. “What’s wrong?”

“You are so fucked in the head,” accuses Miyeon, but then she’s laughing so raucously that she almost tumbles to the concrete in her platform sandals. You steady her waist, rein her back in. “You’re so - your wife? Pregnant? You’re such a - I hate you, I seriously-”

“You seemed to like the idea when I was fucking you.”

Miyeon’s been railed a little stupid, still, so she’s sort of slow on the uptake, can’t find a good comeback. She flounders, then says, “Um, no,” and it’s the weakest lie you’ve ever heard.

“No?” You crack up, lead her towards your car. “Need me to refresh your memory?”

“Maybe,” says Miyeon slyly, not even hesitating, and you roll your eyes and open the car door for her. You’ll circle back to that plan another day.

“So,” says Miyeon, later, in the passenger seat of your car. The window’s rolled down and the wind is throwing her blonde hair into disarray, sending her cheeks pink and lips bitten from the cold. She’s a vision, but she always is. “Cockwarming weekend? Or are you just all talk?”

You risk a glance over at her, pretend like you wouldn’t stop traffic just to stare. “Don’t be a brat.”

“You love it when I’m a brat,” says Miyeon, correctly, shuffling in her seat. There are bruises on her thigh from how hard you gripped her when you fucked her, hickeys decorating the delicate rise of her collarbone. She’s filled with your cum, but that’s nothing new. “So? What do you think about next week?”

“Miyeon,” you say, unable to tell if she’s actually serious.

“I trust you’ll handle the logistics,” she says, her voice lilting, melodic, and her hand grazes your cheek, tangles into your hair. She says it like I trust you, like do whatever you want to me - I’ll let you.

It’s a dirty proposal, but she manages to sneak sweetness in there anyway. There’s sincerity, between the lines of all the filth. It’s a running theme.

“I’ll ruin you,” you warn, and it should send alarms blaring.

Miyeon smiles like they’re the best sound she’s ever heard. “Oh, no,” she says, thumbing the side of your mouth, and she’s laughing. “I think that ship has already sailed.”

You make a lot of progress, on that story of yours. There’s no real reason: it’s just that you’ve found a muse who’s always content to be right by your side, clothed or unclothed, cumming or laughing or talking, wrapped up in your sheets past all the orgasms and far into the night.

(Miyeon stays, against all odds, even when you both know she doesn’t have to. Maybe, for you, there’s just a lot of inspiration to be found in that.)

planning for a part 2... eventually... but we'll see lmao

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #idol x male reader #gidle smut #male reader #reader insert #miyeon smut

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drdemonprince · 2 years

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If we are true abolitionists, and do not believe that the declarations of the state are somehow innately moral and right, then we have to confront the fact that 18 is not in fact a magic age at which a person suddenly becomes both deserving of freedom and no longer worthy of social protection.

No age absolves us of our shared responsibility to look after a person’s life and honor their autonomy -- whether they’re 13, or 8, or 54, or 25. Control over one’s body, authority over one’s destiny, the ability to have a say in how one’s community is run and to actually be listened to some of the time, the ability to access food and shelter and the freedom to choose and follow one’s own religious practices -- these are all things that ought to belong to all people of all ages. And these are things that unjust systems of power (including the state, the education system, or a controlling and isolating family) currently have the ability to take away from people of all ages.

when we acknowledge this, conversations about how power can be leveraged against the young, and the old, and the disabled, and the otherwise vulnerable all get a lot more complex. conversations about consent, religious freedom, political representation, access to education, body autonomy, and the like all get way more complicated and dynamic too. There are just so many ways that we as a society trample all over others because they are too old or too young or too disabled or too poor and all kinds of ways that we coerce people into behaving the way society wants them to behave, often causing them great psychological suffering, and not only when they are a minor.

But it’s non considered socially appropriate to even have these conversations, or to even openly acknowledge that 18 is not in fact some objective standard of when conscious competent personhood begins -- even if you bring this up in the context of needing to extend more and greater protections to people of all ages, folks will call you a groomer. It’s annoying to me how many left-leaning people I see, people who oppose the authority of the state in nearly every other conceivable respect, talking about age and freedom using the frameworks the state laid out as if they represent some objective moral and psychological reality.

getting into the weeds on this topic is really really uncomfortable because people want to believe that children are both sacred and incompetent. they’re made into objects who both have no right to weigh in on how their bodies are treated, and are so precious that they need to be hidden away from the wider world and controlled by their families completely. and neither of those approaches actually make children safe -- that point of view endangers and dehumanizes them -- and it also does when we apply that kind of thinking to anybody else! (say, institutionalized people with intellectual disabilities, or persons with mental illness forced under a conservatorship).

IDK man I used to find conversations about the abolition of the family and the need to rethink the use of children as political tools to be very unsettling and creepy. it’s a conversation that upends everything we were raised to believe will keep us safe. and i think nearly all of us have been preyed upon as kids, were exposed to violence and adult sexuality and inappropriate adult emotional needs far too young.

and if you have that kind of traumatic upbringing in your history, a person questioning society’s entire framework and theory for keeping children ‘safe’ can feel absolutely terrifying. it destabilizes everything.

but i’ve been thinking about it and knocking my skull against these ideas for years and at some point i could not help but face how much merit these ideas have. the oppression of children is of a piece with the oppression of disabled people, women, Black people, undocumented people, everybody that the state has previously held (or currently still holds) to not be a full person and to only deserve a coercive, controlling kind of protection. that point of view has never helped any marginalized group and it doesn’t help minors either and instead of questioning it we see people arguing for the age of majority to keep getting pushed back later, claiming that no one should be able to determine the course of their future life (or start hormones, or make big financial decisions) until they’re 25 years old or later.

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anoverwhelmingannoyance · 9 months

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Let’s talk about the Infantilization/Over-Sexualization of the RTC characters for a moment, because frankly both sides of the issue piss me off:

Recently I’ve been seeing an influx of people who seem to think it’s okay to reduce the ride the cyclone characters to nothing but sex jokes and attraction symbols. On the other side of this, I have seen others act like a saviour of sorts, to save these “innocent children” from anything remotely adult being talked about in their presence… so I’m going to remind people of some facts as to why BOTH SIDES are bad…

- firstly, I should state that all of them except mischa (who is 18) and Jane are confirmed to be 17 and in their senior year. So, if you’re arguing to say “they’re anywhere from blank to blank” in age, that’s incorrect. And it takes like 5 seconds on google to figure that out.

-just because mischa is 18, doesn’t mean it’s okay to say downright disgusting things about him… although he is technically over the Canadian and American age of consent, he’s still only a teenager, and barely able to even buy his own alcohol (again, they’re in Canada).

-they almost all canonically talk about sex. I know this should be obvious, but apparently some of you watched the show with your eyes closed and missed the point of just how infectious the idea of things of that nature can be to high schoolers, especially those in their senior year, who under other circumstances would have potentially experienced those things for the first time already.

-the difference between art and smut. This is specifically talking to fan art and fan fiction, but there’s a very fine line between what’s there for art purposes, and what’s just plain smut. Because yes, in many realistic portrayals of humans around their age, the idea of sex or related topics would come up. A lot. Especially in the form of jokes, and for those in relationships… HOWEVER, just because something is natural for that age doesn’t mean it needs to be talked about in detail, or highlighted to an uncomfortable extent.

-sexualizing the actors isn’t better. This should go with our saying, however when people are talking about the over sexualization that seems to be sweeping the fandom, they often say “couldn’t you at least say it about the actors?” Which is also very wrong. Why? Because even if the actors are much much more age appropriate than the characters, the other major difference between them is that the actors are living breathing people who can see what you say about them, and the characters stop existing the moment the slime tutorial is done, or the actors steps off stage. Obviously that doesn’t excuse saying horrid things about majority 17 year olds, but my point is that both of them are bad, and neither should be done.

-lastly I give you my rule of thumb when it comes to things like this— if it couldn’t be said about them in a PG-13 or 14A movie, it probably shouldn’t be said (unless it’s under very specific circumstances)

So in summary, although it’s crucial to remember that these characters are only teenagers who shouldn’t be treated like sexual objects as they painfully seem to be by some, it’s also important that the realistic portrayal of them doesn’t stop because some 12 year old online thinks they’re their sweet little babies that need protection from the world… it really shouldn’t be that hard to understand how it’s appropriate to treat a teenage character.

(Also ps, this is all coming from a Canadian high schooler, who knows how Canadian high schoolers behave)

(Also added 14-A to the last point, because it was pointed out to me how restrictive PG-13 can be depending on where you’re from)

#rtc #ride the cyclone #mischa bachinski #noel gruber #ricky potts #constance blackwood #jane doe #ocean o'connell rosenberg

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nashdoesstuff · 2 months

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here’s my other superhero for the au by @thelunarsystemwrites! [2/2]

Meet Time Kid, a young superhero who loves to help people.

His civilian identity is Sans [REDACTED], a 7th grade student that admires all superheroes and who is fortunate enough to be one. He’s quite the celebrity at his middle school for it.

LORE, STATS, AND MORE:

Sans [REDACTED] was raised a normal kid, but there was one thing that always stood with him, and that was the superheroes in the city. He saw them, flying high, protecting civilians, defeating the bad guys, and he knew that one day, he wanted to be one.

His dad, Gaster, is a scientist. He continuously begged him to make him some sort of superpower, but his pleas didn’t work, as his father insisted it was far too risky. Obviously, being a child, he didn’t take no for an answer. So, he snuck into his dad’s lab, dabbling with his equipment and previous projects. He stumbled across an older experiment, a blue serum on the inside of a fridge labeled in a language he couldn’t understand. He activated the serum with his magic, causing a reaction that broke the glass vial it was contained in and the contents mixing with his own magic. At first, it hurt, burning the inside of his bones, but after a few hours, the stinging sensation went away, and he found a new power— time manipulation.

He hadn’t heard of a real superhero with the ability to manipulate time before, so he was overjoyed when he accidentally made a paper airplane stop in mid air during class. He practiced his magic until he decided it would be safe enough to use in a real situation.

One day, when getting groceries with his dad, he noticed an attack. A supervillain attack, in real time. He didn’t recognize the villain, but he knew he had to help. He dropped the bag he was holding and quickly teleported into the scene, despite his father’s demands for him to stop.

After what seemed like an exhausting fight, he triumphed, though with a few cracked bones. The next thing he knew, he was swarmed with reporters and journalists, shocked that someone of his age defeated an adult villain. He gleamed with pride, incredibly excited until his father dragged him from the crowd, furious. He had a very long lecture for his son, and grounded him for a month. It took him a while to acknowledge Sans’ clear ambition for heroism, but when he did, he told him to be careful, and gave him the opportunity to try it out again.

With his father’s blessing, Sans became Time Kid, one of the youngest heroes in the city.

STATS:

ATK 20 DEF 30 HP 100

STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:

+ agility and speed + extremely smart— can use intel on the battlefield + time manipulation— can stop a moment in time for a certain amount of time. He can also fling time disks at people shaped like clocks, which sort of work like bones. + fusion— can fuse with other skeletons at will to help on the battlefield, as long as they consent. - low health - can only use his powers for a certain period of time before he gets tired - can get uncontrollably hyperactive, which is not good for stealthy situations. - fusion can only work when his magic level is full - he’s still developing, so magic may not work as intended at times

FUN FACTS:

- Some students at his school call him Time Kid or TK, even though his name is technically Sans. He’s in no position to complain, though. - TK is 4’6. - TK’s pronouns are he / him. - TK has ADHD! This works both for and against him in the battlefield. - He really wants to be apart of a superhero team. - He can be quite the annoyance to enemies, especially considering he defeats a lot of them. - His best friend is a kid named Frisk at their school. They’re super cool, and helped him make decisions for his superhero job!

and that’s about it! thanks for reading if you got this far <3

tk!sans is originally by @/perfectshadow06 utmv superhero au by @/thelunarsystemwrites this variation of the character is by me ^w^

#nash’s dibujos #nashdoesstuff #nash’s shenanigans #quantumtale #quantum!tale #time kid!sans #time kid #undertale superhero au #utmv superhero au #tk!sans #sans au #utmv #my art #utmv stuffs!!

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tmnt-tychou · 1 year

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Bayverse Polyship Head Canon

I know this isn't for everyone, but I do feel ending up dating more than one brother is not necessarily far-fetched. You will be one of the maybe two women they know. As such, chances are more than one turtle may catch feelings. And your two options are: either everyone gets really cool about a lot of stuff really fast, or expect a lot of heartbreak and broken brother relationships.

We're going to explore the “Everyone gets real cool about a lot of stuff” option. Though not every relationship is made the same as far as how low or how high maintenance your relationship will be.

Also, of all the head canons I write, I will say take this the least seriously. This is all for fun and entertainment. Though anyone is free to PM me to discuss this topic further. I'd love to hear all about your thoughts.

Soft mature warning. I don't get too graphic, but some people are weird about more than two adults in consenting relationships. 17+ rating?

For @thelaundrybitch who loves the Blurple. And for @turtle-babe83 since I feel like this is in your wheelhouse

Leo/Donnie (aka Blurple)

Maintenance Level: Low

This is the easiest relationship you'll ever be in. Both like to have their own quiet time to themselves and don't always need to have your attention every moment of the day. They'll come to you when they want some affection and it's very seldom at the same time since they have completely different schedules.

Leo will make Donnie go. To. Bed. It's part of his OCD. You're in this relationship, you go to bed when we go to bed. Sometimes Donnie is grateful for the reminder to sleep. Sometimes Leo is marching in a sour Donatello who was in the zone and didn't want to stop working. When that happens, Donnie will curl up around you, surrounding you with all limbs. He is sulking and he is NOT sharing now. That's what you get, Leo.

Sometimes in these cases, Donnie will just wait for Leo to fall asleep or only sleep for a few hours and go back to his workshop. When this happens, he leaves a teddy bear in his place for you to cuddle. Because he knows Leo gets up hella early so you will probably wake up alone. But now you get to at least wake up to Mr. Floofy.

Making him go to bed is the only time Donnie will allow Leo to pull rank in the relationship. He is an EQUAL partner. Any attempts from Leo to boss him around when it concerns you will get him The Sass from Donnie. Leo didn't even know what to do the first time Donnie sassed him. Donnie does not sass. But in this relationship, he will not be told by Leo what he can and can't do.

Leo weirdly gets more protective of Donnie. Not horribly so, but there is definitely some sort of protective instinct there after the relationship develops that wasn't there before.

These two are big cuddlers. If you leave them in the bed sleeping together, they will end up cuddling each other in their sleep. But when you're in the middle, prepare to have both of them practically sleeping on top of you. They purposefully like to keep you warm so you'll get so hot in the night you'll kick off all your sleep clothes. Cue all the happy churs when they get that nice skin on skin contact. That's what they're after. If you go to bed in the nude, even better.

In the bedroom, these two work like a well-oiled machine. They are in sync and navigate around each other quite easily. Though sometimes it seems a bit too robotic. They get in, get the job done, and call it a night. If you want to spice things up and get a little more quality emotional moments with your sexy times, you will want to engage with them one on one. And they would appreciate it. They can share, but they still like to have all of your attention all to themselves every now and then.

Mikey/Raph (aka Blood Orange)

Maintenance Level: Moderate

This relationship is very awkward. But it's also cute as hell because they are trying SO HARD not to screw this up.

Both are very needy and, while they will hang out with the three of you, they also need quality one-on-one time both casually and intimately. And they are just so sweet and loving when you give them your undivided attention. They each love you so much and they are trying their best.

They Rock, Paper, Scissors for everything: your time, which position in the bedroom, ect. Even then, there's still a lot of weird discussions between the brothers that veer off into the strangest of avenues. Especially because of Mikey. No topic goes undiscussed. The two can be found huddling in the corner, whispering aggressively at each other as they try to figure out their shit.

But they do a little too much conspiring without your feedback. They really need your help to confirm their efforts are moving the relationship in the right direction. Communication is key. If you don't continuously make sure you are also a part of the conversation, they are going to get their own ideas of what they THINK you want and steer this ship directly into a sand trap

Raphael actually looks to Mikey to take the lead, especially at the beginning. Mikey has all the confidence and Raph is very hesitant about any new direction in the relationship. When the three of you start to figure things out, his confidence will slowly return, but he will appreciate you confirming that he is making good decisions about the relationship—when he actually does. He will probably also make some mistakes along the way and you will need to discuss with each other so that you are both on the same page moving forward. But both your boys are willing listen, learn and grow.

Getting them both in the bedroom at the same time is not a problem. Mikey does not care who else is in the room as long as he gets to be with you. Raph gets over it pretty quickly. If you love some laughter during your sexy times, this is the relationship for you because they are an awkward comedy duo as they try to please you. It's kind of fun. And as long as you're having fun, they're having fun.

Donnie/Mikey

Maintenance Level: Moderate

You will definitely have to put way more effort into one side of the relationship over the other. Mikey is always going to be around taking up your time. Donnie, you will never see unless you go get him. You may have to actually schedule “Donnie Time” if you're ever going to get any quality time with him. Especially since Donatello doesn't have the energy to put up with Mikey's neediness. If he has to fight his brother for your attention, he would rather go do something else instead of make a fool of himself. If you want his time, you can come get it.

You get much of the same in the bedroom if both of them want to be intimate at the same time. It's a fifty-fifty chance Donatello will either just leave instead of putting up with Mikey's neediness to be near you, or he will shut Mikey down and take over. Donnie is the alpha of the two—when he feels like it. But Mikey never runs out of batteries and he can wear Donnie down to the point where the taller turtle just gives in and lets Mikey have what he wants: you.

If you do not put in the effort to make sure Donnie feels like an equal partner in this relationship, you will lose him. He loves you, but he's not going to be treated like the third wheel in his own relationship. He will try, but you have to meet him half way. And you will have to be the one to tell Mikey he cannot have all your attention all the time.

When you can get these two to find a nice, equal balance of your time and attention, cuddle time is going to be the best thing ever. All the churs. You are going to get deep turtle rumblings and lots of happy chirps. Neither one of these men care about schooling all their little happy turtle noises. You will hear them all and they will be all for you. You might actually get Donnie to come to bed more often because cuddle time is so great and lets all of you recharge your batteries if you've had a rough day.

Leo/Mikey

Maintenance Level: Low to Moderate

Leo pretty much does your job for you. If Mikey gets too controlling of your time or too needy, Leo will chase him off to give you a break. You'll get an hour or two of alone time, or some one-on-one time with Leo. Then Mikey will eventually come back around to see if he can steal back in for some cuddles.

Worse than if he's with Donnie, Leo gets SO protective of Mikey. His alpha instincts say to protect the “Nest” and Mikey sleeps there, therefore he is part of the nest. (Also, he is baby.) Raph will roast the hell out of Leo for this behavior which sends him into brooding mode, because he knows he's acting ridiculous, but he can't help it. But all of that is brother stuff and has nothing to do with you. Unless you don't like Leo being protective of his baby bro, you don't have to do anything about it.

You will need to check in with Leo every once in a while. Feeling responsible for both you and Mikey is going to kick his protective instincts into overdrive. This can manifest in two different ways. Either he's going to try to control every aspect of the relationship, or he's going to silently wind himself up tighter and tighter, stressed all to hell.

In either scenario, it's up to you to take over. You are the only one who can pull rank on him. It's up to you to tell him to back off or chill out—depending on the situation. You need to summon your own inner alpha and spend some time taking care of him so he doesn't feel like everything is on his shoulders. Some one on one time in the bedroom where you take control will also help him destress.

Unlike with his other brothers, Mikey actively involves Leo in the relationship. Leo's approval is very important to him, even here. He also doesn't want Leo to get too controlling or stressed out either. Mikey will plan date nights for the three of you, which was one of the few things Leo lets him be in charge of. Both boys really enjoy this is.

Having both in the bedroom at the same time is pretty common—either for sleep or other activities. Leo, of course, takes charge here, too. He will absolutely not give you any control of him with Mikey in the room. He will only let you be “on top” when it's just the two of you alone.

Leo/Raph

Maintenance Level: HIGH AS FUCK

This is an absolute trash fire, yet they are your trash fire and you love them. So I guess, go with God.

Hope you like being a referee. Because that's all you're going to be doing in this relationship. Sure, they said they could handle it when they first agreed that you would date both of them. But they are lying liars who lie. These two cannot keep their shit together. They are two alphas who absolutely refuse to give an inch to the other. Most of the time, it isn't even about wanting your attention. It's all about ego and being too stubborn to be the one to back down first.

Even on their best days, getting Leo and Raph to spend a lot of close time with each other, even with you as a buffer, eventually gets to them. Two hours at most and they start to get antsy and begin eyeballing each other as if daring the other to step out of line and start something. Date nights with both have to be something active with a lot of space. This way they can get their energy out—possibly with some healthy male rivalry in a race or a game—and they have room to take some time to decompress by themselves if they need it.

There is no such thing as cuddle time with both. Their alpha instincts kick in as soon as one starts getting possessive of you. You're going to be sleeping with shells facing you on both sides just so they don't have to look at each other. Some kind of “custody” schedule will have to be arranged because it cannot be all three of you all the time. And even when one turtle sees you having your one on one time with the other, he's going to be annoyed. Yes, they are terrible. You picked them.

All three of you are going to have to put in the work if you have any hope of staying together. And you can't make them do this. They have to decide for themselves if they're really going to put in the effort. If you can get any sort of couples counseling, you're going to need it. And you are always going to have to be the one to keep the communication going. If you can keep it together until their 30's, they'll start calming down. A little. If by some miracle you stay together into your 40's you've made it. By then, all their fight is gone and they don't care about scrapping with the other brother anymore. Hell, they might actually sit together without you and reminisce sometimes.

This relationship is one where you get out what you put in. If you're ready to work hard for a long time and if they are also ready to do the same, then this one's for you.

Raph/Donnie

Maintenance Level: ???

What even is this? They're like polite neighbors who happen to be banging the same chick and are cool with it. This is barely a poly relationship. More like you're dating two guys at the same time and neither of them really mind the other.

A lot like how Leo gets very protective of Mikey, Raph goes a little alpha protective of Donnie. Though while Mikey thinks protective alpha instincts are funny, Donnie HATES it. He does NOT need Raph to fight his battles for him. (Whether it's Leo or Raph, Donnie does not put up with alpha male bullshit.) He will put Raph in his place if he has to. Which surprises the hell out of Raph every time, because Donnie is usually so passive and quiet. Raph's not even mad. He's kind of a little impressed.

Raph really likes Donnie's company and Donnie doesn't mind Raph, so there is plenty of opportunity for the three of you to spend quality time together. It just won't be intimate time. They will hang out together with you, but they don't like calling it a date. And they won't get romantic with you in front of the other brother. Good luck ever trying to get the two of them in the bedroom at the same time. If you're being intimate with one, the other is just like “Nah, I'm out. I'll come back later.”

The exception to this rule is if you can get them both drunk. Then they will absolutely tag-team you into oblivion. Good luck trying to walk the next day—or even getting out of bed with two giant turtles passed out on top of you. The trick to this is Donnie's only a social drinker. So the times this can happen are like Christmas, New Years, your birthday...maaaaybe 4th of July?

The maintenance level of this relationship is a sliding scale because you can leave it as it is, letting the boys dictate this arrangement where you feel like you're in two different relationships at once. Or you can tell them this isn't what you want and some things need to change. If you want change, it's going to be a lot of you putting in the work and getting after them. Because if you let them, they'll slide right back into polite neighbors status the second you give them an inch. So it's all up to you how much you want to put into this relationship

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #tmnt headcanons #Talk to me about poly anytime #Blurple is the best #Tell me your OT3 #head canon

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ciaossu-imagines · 1 month

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Hi there ! Do you think anyone in Homra would mind a 3 years age gap ?

Hey there, anon! Thank you so much for sending something in! I really appreciate it.

Overall, I really don’t think most of them would ultimately care about such a very small age gap as adults. Now, when they were younger, that might be something that would bother most of them. For example, as 14-year-olds just going into high school, most of them couldn’t dream of dating a middle schooler. Fresh out of high school, most of them wouldn’t date someone who was still back in high school. It’s more that they’re really in two separate phases of life that it wouldn’t enter most of the boys minds.

Mikoto and Totsuka both don’t really date a lot but I don’t think age really matters much to either of them, unless it’s a really noticeable age gap – anything more than 5 years apart, or if the person was underage, for example.

I feel like Izumo mostly goes for people a little younger than him most times anyway. It’s going to be rare to see him go for anyone older than him, but of course, everything depends on the person.

Yata and Kamamoto both tend to date more around their own age group. There’s unlikely to be huge age gaps in relationships either has.

Shouhei, Bandou, and Chitose don’t really care about age. If the person is a consenting adult, they’re attracted physically, the person catches their interest, and in Shouhei and Bandou’s case, they can hold an intelligent conversation, that’s all that will really matter to these boys.

That being said, I do think Chitose goes through a phase where he’s really, really into ‘cougars’ but never takes them more seriously than just being a sexual plaything.

Dewa and Eric, meanwhile, are generally more attracted to people older than them and I could see at least one or more of their relationships having an age gap with them being the younger. Dewa has that attitude that older people are more mature and by dating them and being taken seriously by them as a person, of course that means he’s mature and put together and an ‘adult’ as well. That and, given how much time he’s spent with Chitose, Dewa might actually have that slight sexual fantasy of being a ‘boy toy’ for an older, more experienced, partner who will teach him the ropes and take charge of their own pleasure.

#replies #k project #project k #homra #mikoto suoh #totsuka tatara #izumo kusanagi #yata misaki #kamamoto rikio #shouhei akagi #bandou saburouta #chitose yo #dewa masaomi #eric solt #headcanons

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captainclickycat · 1 year

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No but there’s something genuinely troubling about the way internet culture around sex (and the general allergy to nuance that so many social media users seem to have) has eroded the distinction between actual sexual harassment and objectification and just plain old sexual desire and attraction and any kind of sexual expression, or between purity culture and any kind of sexual boundaries, in a way that cuts both ways and doesn’t actually benefit anyone.

So you end up with people sincerely asking “isn’t this just purity culture talking?” when they’re being asked not to call strangers “daddy” or say things like “step on me” to their face. You end up with people advocating for actual sex pest behaviour in the name of avoiding nonexistent sex pest behaviour (asking people for their “consent” before you think about them while you’re wanking.) Either anything to do with sex is considered inherently good and sexualising other people to their faces is nbd, or anything to do with sex is inherently bad and nobody should so much as bring up the topic in a conversation with other adults, regardless of the tone and setting. There’s no distinction drawn between things that are actively said or done to someone or directed at them and things that a given person could just potentially come across or look for of their own accord.

And yeah, sometimes there is nuance and complication around these things and you have to use your brain in a debate around them. You can’t just say “if it could make someone uncomfortable, don’t do it” (plenty of people are “uncomfortable” seeing gay people kiss or hold hands in public, after all), or “you need everyone’s consent before doing anything that could potentially be construed as sexual” (same problem as before, and whilst this is absolutely true if it concerns things that are being done to them or actively involving them, phrasing it like that quickly devolves into the idea that you can “consent” to what another person is wearing.) So discussions of this kind end up getting sidetracked by the kind of people who think that “I don’t consent to not having everything my way” is a reasonable stance to take.

It’s just very frustrating that there are people on both sides of the debate who can’t see any meaningful difference between saying “I’d like Dennis Morennis to rail me” on their private tumblr account, or having some choice pleasant Dennis Morennis-related thoughts while getting off in their bedroom, and actively going up to Dennis himself and asking to be railed. And it’s tricky with the internet because these days you can never tell when people are trolling or not, but I think there genuinely are people who think like this. And that’s worrying.

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swampstew · 2 years

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Day 31 ~ Raven's Halloween Party

Title: Raven's Halloween Party CW: Spicy, orgy, multiple partners, one female, four males, edging, nipple play, humiliation, oral (male receiving), size kink, penetration, consent strongly established, breeding kink, bdsm, rough and soft sex, creampie, Eustass Kid, Rob Lucci, Killer, Charlotte Katakuri, Izou. M!n0rs DNI WC: 3.6 K

Congratulations to @xxmistressofflamexx for winning my Kinktober Halloween Bingo Board! Sorry for the late posting, nothing kills your spirit faster than an unsaved draft post that glitches and crashes at 2.3K words and having to start over on Word.

Special shoutout to @rowan-rites for the Hina Pot Brownie Queen HC, bow down to our edibles queen

Last DNI warning

“Y/N! I am so happy you came and you look so hot! Come inside,” Raven shrieked as she ushered you into the decorated mansion. You had felt a little anxious, coming separate from the rest of your friends. You had known Raven since childhood, the same group of school friends even as life drove you to vastly different places in your adult lives. She looked like royalty, dressed in a gorgeous gown and veiled cape; a crown on her head.

“What’s your costume?” you inquire as you both walk down the decorated hallway, three doors leading to different places stood in front of you and a table of three choices for you to consume.

“I’m Queen of the Pirates!” she exclaimed with a wide berth, pulling you to the table. You could see three inscriptions on each door: TRICK OR TREAT.

“On the left is TRICK – it’s a haunted house maze with pretty scary and gory animatronics. Once you complete it, the exit will lead you to the main party. To the right is TREAT - it’s where the food buffet is. Tons of scary, spoopy, and cute treats to eat only by the finest, Chef Zeff and his staff from the Baratie. You can eat to your hearts content and then follow the path to the party. OR – you can skip straight to the party. It’s getting filled up as we speak and I think I saw at least some of our friends in there. At least, they should be by now or they’re stuck in the maze still!” her head tilted back as she cackled.

“Wow this is amazing! How did you set up a haunted maze that’s so cool!” you had stars in your eyes, you LOVED being scared shitless.

“Have you heard of Eustass Kid?” you nod, stars still in your eyes and a flutter in your stomach. “He did it all himself. Absolutely refused help or input from anyone else,” Raven laughed again.

“Oh shit that’s really cool! How did you get him to agree?” you shyly inquired.

“Kid seems big and scary and he definitely is but even he can be bought, if the price is right.”

“Oh really? How big was the price tag for this project?”

Raven grabbed one of the table objects before turning back to you, a neutral smile on her face. “A hefty one but don’t worry about it, nothing I can’t handle!” she winked at you. “Never hurts to have a scary and hot ass acquaintance on your side if you’re in a pinch.”

“Haha no kidding! So what are those?” pointing to the wrapped objects.

“Pick your poison!” you present the three types. A liquid in a vial, a small brownie with pumpkin sprinkles, and what looked like a hardened gummy bear with a vampire costume. “A shot of our best house alcohol to get the buzz going thanks to Shanks; a very strong pot brownie to ease any horror jitters and anxieties thanks to Hina and an MDMA gummy thanks to someone who wishes to be anonymous.” She looked around for prying ears before leaning close to you, “it’s Queen and it’ll be fucking potent, just FYI,” winking at you.

Before you could even answer, Eustass FUCKING CAPTAIN Kid burst through OR with an annoyed scowl. He looked mouthwatering in person. In leather clad pants and shirtless, he really was a hulking monster of a man. Scarred and muscled body absolutely bursting in his tight barely an outfit. His biceps sported spiked cuffs and he wore a matching spiked collar. Standing even taller in his heeled and spiked boots, the outfit was complimented with a crown on his head.

“Raven your friends are fucking idiots!” he stomped up to the two of you, he looked you up and down multiple times before giving you a smirk. “Who are you?”

“One of Raven’s friends,” you squeak out.

“You’ll have to be more specific Kid. What happened?”

“Can’t handle a little horror or appreciation for art,” his scowl was back. “I don’t know you have a shitton friends. Anyways three are crying, deal with it.”

Raven glared at him, “gee thanks for killing the vibe King of the Pirates.” Looking apologetically at you, “sorry can I leave you in his hands and go calm down whatever he started?” she was already heading for the door as you nod shakily. “Thanks see you inside! Kid don’t be mean to her!” a gave him a final look before disappearing.

Smirk back on his face, “pick your poison,” he egged you on. “The brownies are pretty good, just saying,” he leered.

You eyed the three choices again, sweating. “I’ll take the shot,” you quickly say, reaching for it. He snatched it first, rolling it around in his hands for a moment before stepping in front of you.

“You didn’t tell me what your name is,” he glared.

“Y/N,” you peer up at him, he was a giant compared to you. That made you shiver, as you wondered if there would be other massive and handsome men like him inside.

“Y/N,” he hummed, smirk back on his face. He handed you the vial. “I’m not doing the stupid riddle, drink up.” As you licked your lips from the strong liquor, Kid held out his elbow for you and grabbed more vials. “C’mon let’s go. Lest another one of Raven’s friends piss their pants all lost and shit.”

You take his arm, not at all about to offer up that you would be completely fine. Knowing what to expect, you were able to truly appreciate the haunted maze for the vision Kid made. It was a mixture of classic horror monsters and truly visceral remains. A ton of jump scare, like way too many but that was ok because it let you jump into him and hold him tighter, and he liked it.

After you made it through the exit, all the shots had been drunk and you were no longer anxious, gushing praise at him for the brilliant mechanics and truly scary vibes. Chest puffed out, he led you to the drink bar where he introduced you to Thee Massacre Soldier. Who was dressed as a slutty cowboy, assless chaps showing off his toned ass, and his vest showed off everything else toned about him.

They led you to the dancefloor, Kid grabbed you and began grinding on your ass. Killer took you from the front and did the same. Dancing between the two muscled men, you were between a rock and a hard place. Your heat beating fast as a feeling gnawed inside you, a dampness spreading under your costume.

A feeling, like you were being hunted. You look to the wall and see the face of Rob Lucci. Raven didn’t tell you a lot about her adventures but you had heard one of him and he was…magnificent to look at. Still as a statue, dressed as a slutty Michael Jackson wearing the famous white suit and hat, shirtless underneath. He was watching you with sharp eyes, a small smirk on his lips when you made eye contact.

Kid growled in your ear as he turned and saw the heated look. Lucci looked at him and then kicked off the wall. Luffy danced in front of them, dressed as himself only wearing a crown on his head as he laughed loudly. Kid’s eyes narrowed and he snapped, “that’s so fucking played out!”

“He’s dressed like the other King of the Pirates. Go to Raven for some demon horns and a tail you brat,” Killer chuckled.

Darkly sputtering, Kid stalked off to find the hostess while Killer danced with you, switching to behind you and grinding your ass down on him. It was getting a little heated as Apoo played remixes and turned the lights down. You were practically dry humping Killer’s thigh in the dark lighting. You weren’t sure if the alcohol was finally getting to you, but you felt a light tingling. Maybe it was just your horniness, wetness spreading in your underwear. If you weren’t careful, it would run down your bare thighs and stain his chaps.

They heard Kid coming before he dragged Raven up to them. “The invite specifically said don’t dress up as King or Queen of the Pirates, the ONE thing,” he snarled at Killer as Raven secured the demon tail to his back belt loop. His crown slightly off kilter with the demon horn headband.

“Too many damn people, especially people we did not invite,” Kid growled as Lucci made a second appearance, leering at you from a wall.

“That’s not my fault,” Raven said through clenched teeth and a smile. “Fucking Shanks,” they both groaned. And as if summoned…

“HI GUYS!” Shanks, dressed as the Devil in a red tuxedo. “Are you having a good time? My name is Shanks, and who would this lovely lady be?” he literally snatched you from Killer and into a hug as you introduced yourself. “Let’s grab a drink and let me introduce you to some people. No one would have half the fun if I didn’t intervene randomly for no reason at all.”

Being whirled around by an Emperor sure meant you made a lot of cool connections and acquaintances that night, he made sure of it. You had made an impression on Charlotte Katakuri who was dressed as a very slutty fireman, a fuzzy “hose” scarf wrapped around his face while the firetruck box on his groin was the only other part of him covered. You heart fluttered after your introduction to Izou who was dressed so dashing in his prince charming costume, tight pants hugging his cute bubble butt, vest ripped open, in passion – he explained. Shanks got you close enough to finally have a conversation with Rob Lucci, and it had left you wanting for more. The way you felt so…inferior to him.

Kid shook you out of your trance, finally freeing you from Shank’s possession. He and Killer made quick work getting you back on the dancefloor, drinks in hand and enjoying the grinding once more when Izou decided to cut in. Then fucking Katakuri was taking a turn, gently twirling you around to the beat of the music, not at all doing it so your short dress would lift and expose the tight hugging panties on your delicious ass. At that point, Lucci decided he wanted to grab a drink with you.

Following him to the bar, he was straight to the point. “I think you’re a vision and if you’d like to go somewhere more private, I know a place.”

You gulp, you were not expecting to A) be around so many of your fantasy men, and B) actually sleep with anyone that night. You didn’t do one night stands often and maybe you were feeling braver than normal, but you found yourself nodding your head.

Killer was on your side in a second though, placing himself between you and Lucci. “Whatcha talking about Y/N?” he intruded, expression unreadable through his mask. Kid came up behind you, possessively grabbing your waist and pulling you into him.

“Private business,” Lucci hissed.

“This is a party, no business allowed,” Kid hissed back.

Katakuri came up just then, arms crossed. “Boys don’t start a fight on the dance floor. Y/N, let me take you somewhere else, they’re being so crude and immature.”

Izou popped up too, “Y/N are these guys bothering you? Do you need me to save you?”

Feeling dizzy and unsure, you rush through the throngs of people and out to the main entry hall. Taking deep breaths and trying to rationalize. The men were squabbling as they spilled out into the hall after you.

“STOP!” you hold out a hand, desperate for them to end their bickering. Then an idea formed in your perverted little brain. Looking them all up and down, you decided. “I want to fuck you all.”

That was how you found yourself on the ground surrounded by the pirates, completely naked and soaking underneath them, a blubbering mess of sweat and fluids thrashing around.

Lucci watched from the couch and every time your eyes met he would focus on the head of his cock, twisting his wrist and licking his lips at you. You moaned on Kid’s thick cock as he rutted into your throat, the vibrations of your moaning sending electricity down his back.

“Fuck Y/N your throat is…ngh…fucking great,” he grunted, sweat on his brow.

Panting behind you as Killer leaned his mask against your naked back, hips jutting against yours as he fucked your sopping core, both your legs spread open to accommodate Katakuri who was naked underneath you; slowly jerking his tip and fondling your body as Killer fucking into you pushed your core and clit against the giant man’s hardened length, you were gushing on him and he used your slick to lubricate his fisting.

You fondled Kid’s balls and he thrusted further into your throat, letting out another guttural growl. You squeal at the nearly suffocating gesture and he pulled out allowing you to breath. Gasping, you could finally voice your pleasure as Izou fondled your breasts with his skilled tongue. You’d never felt so edged out by having someone simply lick and stimulate your nipples but Izou had a unique touch, as kind as the man he turned out to be.

It was for that you decided to tighten your grip on his cock in your hand, jerking him up the curve of his length and thumbing the frenulum furiously. Izou’s breath hitched and he came undone in seconds, hot cum spurting out and landing on your boob and stomach, running down your body. He bent over, trying to catch his breath and the sudden orgasm you pulled from him, dizzy in fact.

Kid gave you a lecherous grin and before you could react, his cock was back in your mouth, muffling your cries and Killer picked up his pace. You bent over some more, applying more pressure to your clit on Katakuri’s cock and allowing Killer in deeper, hitting your g-spot and making you tremble. Thighs beginning to burn as you stayed in your position, allowing the pleasure to wash over you as you gagged on Kid’s length, praying you’d make it out of this mansion alive and in one piece.

“Fuck, ahhh,” Kid’s hips jerked and he grabbed the back of your head, shoving you roughly down his stiff cock, his hot seed spurting down your throat. You gasped at his salty flavor at the same time your clit, puffy and overstimulated gushed with your fluids, squirting once more on Katakuri’s cock, to his delight.

“Ahh what a good girl you are,” his giant hands rubbing and massaging your small thighs, fisting himself faster with your wetness. You squirmed on him, edged on by Killer’s sloppy thrusts as he also came. Coming deep inside you, his hips sharply rutting as he bent over your back again, burying himself deep in you.

“She’s a very good girl indeed,” Killer huffed out, keeping you plugged up with his cock.

“A good, beautiful girl who deserves a real man,” Lucci finally rose from the couch, angry red tip of his cock bobbing angrily. “I can’t wait to defile you in the way you deserve, hunched over like that, looking so good, like you’re meant to be bred,” his eyes zeroed in on you, hand back on his cock and fisting faster as his eyes widened with each word, slowly walking to you and between the other men.

“FUCK YOU LOSER!”

“Damn it Lucci you dick!”

“Oh fuck off Lucci!”

“Fuck you!”

The four pirates jeered at the assassin who scowled back, still jerking his cock. “Don’t listen to them, Y/N, they’re just pirate scum, Lucci sneered.

“FUCK THIS I’M OUT! Sorry Y/N but I ain’t crossing cocks with that dickwad. Kid gave you a final kiss as he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth with a pop. He zipped his pants and with a final middle finger to Lucci, slammed the door close.

“Rude ass,” Katakuri clicked his tongue. “But valid concern. I’m going to sit back on this one and watch from the couch, if you don’t mind Y/N. It’s the only safe space from Lucci’s ego.” He picked you up – disrupting the others – and set you back on the floor. You whined, you already missed having his humongous cock to grind on, grateful you had cum on it three times in a row and covered in your juices as he stroked himself. He licked your face and with a large kiss, he sat on the couch.

Killer and Izou glared at Lucci, who glared right back, before they turned to each other.

“I’m fine to keep going, if anything to not leave Y/N alone to be subjected to this asshole’s insanity. Y/N,” he leaned down, cock brushing against your face as he reached for you. “Do you mind if I cover your eyes?”

Trembling, “I don’t mind.” The thought of having your senses disrupted while being ravaged by two lethal pirates and one government ASSASSIN had you aching and soaked.

“Enough with the kink shaming, we’re all consenting adults here right?” Lucci scowled, all heads nodded. “That let me get off how I want without raining on my fucking parade.”

Killer came back and began to blindfold you. You whimpered, “try not take out your aggressions on me?”

Izou knelt down beside you and kissed you softly, trailing down your neck while he began tweaking your nipples again. Was it possible to cum from nipple stimulation? You hoped to find out. The tall presence of Lucci knelt down to your other side as he too began to suck and kiss your neck, leaving precise nips on your skin. You thought you might have felt him lick up a droplet of blood from one of the nastier bites he left you. Not even Kid had broken your skin like Lucci was doing.

“Stop trying to intimidate me,” Lucci hissed as he got behind you, without warning he inserted a thick finger inside you and began fingering you, while also scooping out the remains of Killer from inside you.

“Don’t need to try a damn thing,” Killer muttered darkly, the sound of his heavy mask falling to the floor made you gush. Lucci gasped at that, and without waiting any longer stuffed his cock inside you.

“Such a perfect pussy,” Lucci gasped, lips anchoring to your back as he continued nipping and licking your skin and you bucked your hips back against him. Killer kissed your lips before opening your mouth with his weeping tip. Licking his tip, you swallow him up, eagerly bobbing on him, and he wasn’t as rough as Kid had been, allowing you to be in control. Izou’s fingers began rubbing your clit and you choked out a sob, you couldn’t take much more of this!

“Don’t worry love, cum all you want, enjoy them all you want, but know that I’ll be the one finishing inside you from now on,” he mumbled in the shell of your ear.

“Stop covering her up, angle her towards me so I can see,” commanded Katakuri from the couch. “There, perfect. Look at her. Such an eager, tiny woman, amongst such titans,” he growled deeply.

“Killer, I can’t!” your eyes leaked tears caught in the cloth.

“You can Y/N. Can you give me one more delicious wail?” bobbing only his cockhead past your lips, his balls immediately raising to his shaft.

Izou increased his pace on your clit and you were done, scream bubbling from your throat as the orgasm was ripped from you. You heard Killer curse loudly as he came, holding you by the column of your throat as you choked down his thick cum.

You hadn’t heard Katakuri get up but he must have as suddenly his massive presence was next to you and you heard him give out a restrained moan, and then his seed landed on your body. It was very sticky and thick, you weakly raised a finger to the drops on your breast and dragged through it, it felt like icing on a pastry. Another hot spurt of seed landing on your body and Izou’s ragged breath was in your ear, his cock hitting your side as his cock gushed out the last of his cum.

Lucci pushed you down on all fours and began jackhammering into you, a hand on the back of your neck and the other holding your plush hip in a bruising hold. “Fuck your perfect cunt is milking me dry, I knew you wanted it,” Lucci hissed as he buried himself deep in you, hitting your cervix and spurting forth his cum. Angled just right, his seed swam directly to your womb and you began to feel a warmth, suddenly a little too full. His swollen cock stayed inside you as he undid your blindfold.

Exhausted and on the cusp of collapse, Katakuri gathered you in his arms and cradled you to his chest. Sweaty, covered in filth and cum, but looking so satisfied. The others picked themselves off the floor and dressed in silence.

“I’m going to wash her off and take her home, unless anyone else objects?”

Hearing none, Katakuri dropped his scarf over your body until he could get you clean. Washing you down and taking gentle care of you, as if you were a frail doll, he clutched your clean body to his chest.

“So little and cute. If you’d like I can stay with you and keep taking care of you. I can only imagine the hangover you’ll have,” he muttered to you.

Heavy lids opening, you could only nod at him and drag his massive hand to cover your body as you clung to him. His cock stirring again, he snuck you out of the mansion discreetly to take you home and take care of you, just like he wanted.

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