Pretty in pink pantyhose 🌸💕
sanzu doesn't mind taking you on dates.
haruchiyo sanzu x f!reader
18+ minors DNI | bonten sanzu, teasing, oral, rough sex, gunplay, creampie, dom sanzu, sanzu drugging reader, sanzu being sanzu
sanzu doesn't mind taking you on dates. when it's on his terms, of course.
you'd be leaving work with your colleagues and see his car parked by the sidewalk; a deep blue, gleaming under the street lights. he'd always have his car freshly washed and detailed whenever he came to pick you up. a stranger might mistake this as the man trying to impress you. but you knew the real reason was probably that there was a beaten and bloodied half dead body in the backseat or trunk not 8 hours ago.
he's in his pinstriped three-piece suit, lighting a cigarette, his rosy pink hair swaying in the wind. he doesn't belong here. to say he stood out amongst the sea of black and grey suits swarming the streets during the evening rush hour in the business district would be an understatement.
but he didn't stand out in the way that made people stare. he stood out in the way that made people whisper to each other, 'don't look him in the eye, just keep your head down and keep walking.'
sanzu, of course, doesn't notice this about himself.
doesn't notice the way your colleagues frantically scurry off as soon as they saw him waiting for you. you were the only one that knew what he was capable of, yet just the sight of him terrified them.
you can't keep showing up outside my work like this, you manage feebly. you don't know why you even try. you know he doesn't care what you say. you know he'll always just do what he wants. he'll show up when he wants. he'll toss you aside and ignore you when he wants.
he looks down at you with bloodshot eyes and the corners of his lips lift into that sinister but addicting smile of his. long day? my little kitten deserves a treat, he hums in a voice loud enough for passersby to hear.
your face flushes pink and you shoot him a look.
oh that's good..a low groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest seeing that momentary flash of defiance in your eyes. he loved to press your buttons like this. he loved to shame and embarrass you by vocalizing just how intimately he knows you. he hopes you'll keep this up all night. he loves when you try to fight back. it's completely futile. but he loves watching you try.
you think you should walk away. you think you should just head towards the bus stop and go home. you beg your legs to move. but when they did, they took you into the passenger seat of his car. because you couldn't help yourself. if it's him, you'll always get in the car.
sometimes a drive with him would end up in a five star restaurant downtown, where he'd have his hand up your skirt underneath the linen tablecloth in a private dining room in the back. go ahead and order, love, he'd coo. he loved watching you attempt to tell the waiter what you wanted, your voice small and shaky while his fingers dipped in and out of your sopping wet cunt.
sometimes he'd take you to a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop, a dirty little spot, in a tiny concrete building hidden in the corner of a long alley. he'd order for both of you, roll up his sleeves and down his food, occasionally glancing up to look at your flushed cheeks, the beads of sweat that built up along your hairline. what's the matter, love? don't you like your food? he loved watching you struggle to eat your food normally, while squeezing your legs together as tightly as you could to muffle the sound of the vibrator he'd slipped into your panties in the car earlier.
what fancied him on this particular night was having you splayed across the hood of his granturismo targa, parked by the water behind one of bonten's warehouses in the harbor district, your mascara running, eyes red, lips wrapped so prettily around his cock.
he'd rip the top of your blouse open, hike your skirt up to your hips and tear open your pantyhose. He'd hover over you, one hand massaging your swollen clit over your the soaked material of your panties, the other holding a little white pill up to his lips.
he'd bite off half of it and shove the other half into your mouth, cover your mouth with his and let a thick glob of his spit fall into your mouth.
swallow, he'd command. and you do.
he'd drag your panties to the side and slide himself into your slick opening, pushing himself into you, he'd make it slow and agonizing. you're impatient, just having him inside you was lighting all your nerves on fire, but you knew what he could do. you knew how good he could make you feel. and you wanted more.
you'd buck your hips helplessly against him and he'd just laugh.
patience, little kitten. wait for it to hit.
you had no idea what he gave you. you'd long since stopped asking. it's not like he would tell you anyway. you were clenched so tight and helplessly around him, so desperate for him when it hit. the lights on the shore beyond the river blended into a blue and purple halo around him. your extremities began to feel numb. you could no longer feel the cold surface of the car beneath your body. you felt like you had no control over yourself.
and that's when you felt him thrusting, hard and so deep into you. your whole body was numb but you could feel every ridge of his thick cock inside you, stretching you, hitting so deep your whole body trembled with pleasure, the sensation trickling across the surface of your skin like electricity. you were coming already, the waves rippled through your stomach and shot up your spine, and he didn't stop.
mmh, fuck you're loud tonight, he'd groan into your neck, sinking his teeth into you, probably hard enough to draw blood but it felt like a kiss against your numbed skin. were you being loud? you couldn't even tell. you couldn't hear anything. everything was muffled except the feeling of his cock rutting mercilessly into you.
the others will be here soon, and we can't have them hearing you like this can we? he'd push himself up, continuing to thrust into you while he pulled out his gun from its holster and with one hand clamped around your jaw, he shoved the end of the gun into your mouth, safety off because he loved that he had you completely at his mercy.
he loved the way you knew exactly what he wanted without him even saying it. the way your pretty lashes fluttered closed and you'd suck on the chrome barrel, saliva pooling around your swollen lips, squelching sounds from your mouth and cunt filling the air.
fuck, you're so perfect, he'd grunt, his cock twitching inside you at the sight of your legs spread wide for him, your sopping pussy taking him so well, your hand gripped helplessly around his wrist while your head bobbed up and down the end of his gun.
when he came, he continued pumping himself into you, pushing as much of his hot cum into you as he could and you came again with him. he'd pull out, a thick stream of white mixed with your own juices leaked down onto the hood of his car, and he'd pull the gun slowly from your lips, dragging a snail trail of saliva until it snapped.
you fell back, limp against the hood of his car, stars fizzing across your vision. you could hear him zipping his pants back up. he'd pick you up, and set you down into the passenger seat of his car.
gotta go, kitten. i have a meeting to get to. your head was still reeling, and his voice sounded like a far off echo. don't run off now, i'm not done with you yet.
your eyelids fell closed and you heard the muffled sound of the car door slam shut.
sanzu turned to head toward the entrance of the warehouse, pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket to clean up the barrel of his gun. he held the silver Beretta up and admired the glistening chrome. he held it up to his tongue, licking the entire length.
he groaned, eyes rolling back, savoring the taste of you. he felt his cock twitch under his pants. he couldn't wait to be alone with you again.
There isn't enough Nishinoya love. Could I perhaps have some Nsfw of him just being his usual self??? Pretty please???
And if you are not comfortable with him, could you do Sugawara? Nsfw as well 😄
No problemo! Nishinoya is super duper fun to write! I'll do a few good headcanons for both.
NSFW Below the cut!
A really nice pair of legs is definitely a kink for him, especially in knee high socks or thin pantyhose that he can grab onto and rip. He always promises that he'll buy you a new pair as he's sandwiching his cock between your now-exposed thighs, but he'll completely forget unless you remind him (you'd better, pantyhose are expensive.)
Eats you out like it's his fucking day job. He can be a bit fumbly and overeager sometimes, wanting to breeze past foreplay and get right to the good stuff. But he'd easily spend an hour sunk between your legs, bringing you to your peak with his mouth again, and again, and again. He gets off on the power high it gives him.
As expected, his stamina is absolutely insane. He can go for multiple rounds, each round lasting a while, even if he's holding you up, or absolutely jack-hammering into you. It can be hard to keep up with his pace sometimes.
Will try just about anything at least once, if you seem really excited about it. Waxplay? Why not. Sounding? Sure, sounds exciting! Pegging? Oho, alright, just go easy on him. He's an adventurous guy.
Can act like such a cheeky brat with the most innocent expression on his face. Will squeeze, pinch, and tease you in public places with the most nonchalant expression on his face. He's trying to get you to react or, even better, retaliate. He's trying to get you to put him in his place.
Biting kink. Not hard enough to draw blood or anything, just likes sinking his teeth into your neck, or thigh, or ass, and leaving a pink, toothy mark. Loves the way it looks, the way your breath hitches when he does it, the way it marks you as his, the whole package.
He can handle being edged pretty well, but overstimulation absolutely destroys him. He likes them both, but something about you refusing to take your hand off his cock after he cums, squeezing and rubbing and forcing another orgasm from him turns him into a teary, drooling, whimpering mess.
I feel like he didn't think he had a high sex drive until he actually started having sex. Once he started though he realized that even when he can keep a cool exterior on the outside, he's an absolute pervert on the inside. Hope you're ready for him to always want to be all over you!
— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.
pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader
warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence
word count: 8,550
a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them!
carefully read the warnings!!!!
kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink
“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”
You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.
Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?
You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.
The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller.
Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.
Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.
Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.
Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.
You were as ready as you could ever be.
With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment.
It was time to work.
The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?
All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters.
By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.
Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due.
Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.
White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving.
Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.
There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.
Name: Fuwa Mawata
Position: Greeter & Inspector.
“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”
“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.
“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”
“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”
“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.
“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”
You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”
“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”
It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”
“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”
With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.
The second floor is loud.
People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were.
Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.
This job had no downtime.
You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked.
Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of.
It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.
“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”
“Ah, I suppose so!” she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”
She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.
There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs.
It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor.
Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?
“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”
You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.
Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.
It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.
Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.
It was Ground Zero.
Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.
Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.
“Everybody get the fuck up.”
It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt.
You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence.
“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”
Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.
“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.
But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.
“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”
Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.
“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”
Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.
But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.
Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you.
The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.
“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”
Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.
A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.
“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”
“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.
“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”
The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead.
It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…
You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin.
But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.
Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce.
“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”
“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”
Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.
It’s over before you can blink.
You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know.
There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless.
“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”
You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.
“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.
Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet.
Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.
“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”
The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.
“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”
Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.
Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.
“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”
And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him.
His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.
Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.
Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.
You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.
“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”
You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.
“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”
You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs.
Too much, too much, too much!
His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely.
The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor.
Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.
But that was enough for Ground Zero.
It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.
“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”
With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.
You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.
But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient.
His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.
“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.
Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.
“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”
Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.
“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”
Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.
But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.
“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”
“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”
Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.
Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up.
The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands.
You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.
“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”
The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”
With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.
“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.
“How much fucking longer?”
“I-It’s at 63%!”
One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.
“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”
“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.
“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”
“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”
“Show her your cock.”
It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored.
“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.
Then the world picked back up.
The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.
“Cute fucking thong.”
You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.
Ass up, back curved, chest down.
“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.
The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.
“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”
Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb.
“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”
You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.
“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”
But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.
“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.
Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.
Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”
“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”
It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.
Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.
“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”
The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.
“Answer me, fucking whore.”
There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.
“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”
“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”
“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”
Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.
“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”
The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.
“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.
Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”
Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.
“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”
At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes.
“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.
“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.
Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.
“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.
The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.
Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.
“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.
“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”
“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”
Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.
His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.
“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.
You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.
“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”
You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.
You wake up in a car.
The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.
You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.
It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.
His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.
“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours.
“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.
“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.
“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”
It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.
You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.
“I love you.”
arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.
tags in comments, theres too many of you.
@dabitdabi Welcome to playmate life gorgeous! Hawks is one of my favourites to write so thank you so much for sending him my way, I hope this is worth the wait!!
This is part of my Playboy Mansion event, feel free to participate!!
Hawks x f!reader
Genre: smut, (idk if this might be a bit fluffy too??)
Warnings: 18+, virginity loss, consensual sex, mentions of alcohol, oral (female receiving), fingering, mentions of cum, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.
This wasn’t your first Playboy party, and you were sure it wouldn’t be your last. You’d been working as a bunny for around three months now, the first party was a little overwhelming, but the other girls were more than happy to hold your hand through the whole experience. The more parties you attended, the more comfortable you became. You never worried about guests being inappropriate, you weren’t just employees to your boss. You were bunnies, and you deserved to be treated with respect like everyone else attending the parties, you were the stars and made these extravagant events what they were.
You knew being a bunny came with the connotation of being hypersexualised, but becoming a bunny was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You weren’t one of the most popular bunnies since you were a little shy, but you were known by all of the guests who regularly attended these parties. You were often tagged in photos where you’d posed with guests. They’d always leave little comments that made you smile. You had the best job in the world.
Your first instance of trouble came at this particular party. You’d never experienced any guests acting unseemly, but this evening was different. You leaned over the bar to collect a tray of shots to walk around with, when you felt somebody tug on the tail attached to your corset. You ignored it at first, understanding that guests enjoyed playing with the bunnies. However when the assailant delivered a stinging spank to your ass cheek, your attention snapped in their direction. You recognised the man, he was a gruff looking entrepreneur who’s name you couldn’t place right now. It was apparent that he was drunk, you hoped it was just a little bit of teasing. He became a little more aggressive with you, begging you to kiss him and spend the night with him. There were no members of security nearby, but a few of your fellow bunnies did their best to help you get away from him, to no avail.
“Hey, get away from her.” You heard someone speak. You turned to face the soft voice, and struggled to see the man who had came to your defence through your bleary eyes. The drunk man tried to argue. Quickly you rubbed the droplets out of your vision so you could see who was helping you. Before the drunkard could state his case, your rescuer had grabbed him and pulled him towards a member of security to deal with. Some of your friends crowded you and coddled you, making sure you were okay after what happened. The blonde-haired hero came to check on you once he’d dealt with the situation. Before you could think, you rose to your feet with tears flowing from your eyes and ran to the nearest bathroom. You locked yourself in a stall while you broke down, feeling bad that your makeup would be ruined. You hoped that you wouldn’t get in too much trouble for taking the rest of the night off, but you’re sure that the other girls would defend you and explain the situation. You wouldn’t be surprised if the man who groped you got banned from attending these parties. There is a strict policy against any fornication at work, it was a fireable offence. But guests also had a one strike and you’re out rule, they mostly knew better than to try anything as brash as that man had, but he’d regret it now that he wouldn’t be invited to return ever again.
While you continued to cry, you heard the door squeak open, and footsteps approach your stall. You sniffed slightly, but mostly tried to calm yourself down. You couldn’t cry all evening after all, you didn’t want to give yourself a headache. You waited for the person to reveal themselves, assuming it was one of your friends. It would have been hard to tell who was who from the crack under the stall door. You were all in the same uniforms after all. But the shoes were nothing like your uniforms. It was a man, clearly, wearing a pair of bulky black boots and tan trousers.
“Um,” You sniffed, “Sir this is the ladies bathroom.” You alerted him, sure he already knew.
“Yeah, I know, I just wanted to check on you birdie.” He spoke back to you.
“I’m a bunny not a bird.” You corrected him, completely glossing over the pet name he’d decided to give you.
“Yeah I was just, never mind… You’re okay right? Can you come out here?” He queried. Obvious concern in his voice. You declined, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Your eyes were clouded with unshed tears. Your mascara had ran down your cheeks and you were sure your foundation underneath had probably ran too. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, he asked you again… and again… and again…
“Fine.” You responded.
You flushed your crumpled up pieces of tear-stained toilet roll away and unlocked the door. His expression flickered from concern to sympathy as he saw how upset you were. You walked by him so that you could wash your hands, and you noticed in the mirror that he walked into the cubicle you’d just left. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but he returned to your side with several layers of toilet roll. When you washed and dried your hands, he ran the toilet roll under the tap. He cupped your face in one of his hands and lightly dabbed the damp tissue into your cheeks and under eyes. He was trying to help you; he was trying to tidy up your appearance. Why was he being so sweet?
“I think that just might make it worse.” You announced, knowing you were right.
“Okay then. Show me what I need to do.” He requested, “Please let me help you, I don’t want to see you upset like this over that scumbag.” He explained. Your heart clenched a little he was so caring and considerate; you could almost feel your heart melting. You took him by the hand and led him out of the bathrooms. You knew there were a lot of areas off limits and you’d risk losing your job, but you wanted to spend more time with your saviour and give him the chance to help you out again.
☆ ☆ ☆
You brought him to the bunny dressing room. You barged in with him assuming your co-workers wouldn’t be here, but one of them was sitting in a dressing chair topping up her makeup.
“You know you can’t bring people in here to hook up!” She reminded you.
“We aren’t here for that!” You protested, feeling extremely embarrassed. You felt the heat rise to your face and you tried to change the subject, “He just saved me from some trouble, please don’t tell anyone, he’s just checking on me.” You stated, hoping she’d take pity on you.
“Oh I don’t care, you know I won’t tell. I’m just about finished here so I’ll let you love birds do what you need to do.” She teased as she exited the glamorous pink dressing room.
You tried to protest once again before she left but it was too late. The honey-haired man smiled but decided not to join in the teasing. He simply requested that you show him what he needed to do to help you fix your makeup. But instead, you gave him your removal kit. You were done for the evening, there was no way you could go back to work when you felt the way you did. You both smiled and giggled sweetly as he did his best to remove your makeup for you. You chatted a little and got to know each other better, you found out his name was Keigo and he was a friend of the hosts. Once your makeup was off, you gave him a grateful, “thanks” and stood to your feet. The least you could do was escort him back downstairs before you turned in for the night.
“You know angel, you look just as cute without makeup as you do with.” He told you. You were stopped in your tracks as you couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. “Don’t you wanna hang out a little while before I have to leave?” He wondered, hoping you’d stick around. You knew that you shouldn’t, but you were too drawn to the handsome stranger that you couldn’t resist. You sat back down on the comfortable carpet with him and couldn’t help but coyly shy as he stared deeply into your eyes.
“Thanks again for saving me Keigo.” You repeated, you were so grateful for his help. You were sure that security would have helped you sooner or later, but you were truly fortunate that Keigo had been there to rescue you from his clutches.
“It really shook you up, didn’t it baby?” He sweetly questioned, “Have you never had to deal with something like that before?” He added. You shook your head.
“It was scary, obviously, but it wasn’t just that.” You expressed, not sure why you felt so comfortable sharing your personal life with this man.
“What do you mean?” He asked you, placing a hand on your leg. He stroked over your pantyhose with his thumb as he held onto you.
“Oh… I’m not sure I should say,” You started, “It’s a little embarrassing.” You followed. He didn’t speak, instead he just stared intensely into your sweet eyes, willing you to continue if you felt like it. You kept stuttering, starting and stopping your sentence as you tried to get the confidence to confide in him.
“Birdie, I promise I won’t judge you if you want to tell me.” He soothed, hoping to help you get your words out.
“It’s just… I’ve never…” You began. You screwed your eyes shut as you couldn’t bare to look at him when you finished your sentence, “I’m a virgin.” You blurted out. Your eyes were already closed but you felt so exposed you decided to cover your face with your hands too. You were so embarrassed; you were sitting with a guy who seemed too cool for school and probably had a wild sex life. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you opened your eyes and he was gone. But instead, you felt him grab your wrists and remove your hands from your face. Instinctively you opened your eyes, and right at that moment Keigo planted a delicate kiss onto your lips.
“I’m sorry if that was a little forward, I just wanted to show you it doesn’t bother me.” He smiled as he parted from your lips slightly. It was your first kiss, you weren’t upset. If anyone had to steal your first kiss, you weren’t mad about it being this beautiful stranger.
“Can we, um, do that again?” You asked, the words left your mouth and you instantly began to cringe. You hated how awkward you were, but he just had this effect on you. But before you could overthink your graceless comment, his lips were on yours once again.
You got lost in the feeling of his soft lips on yours. He tasted so heavenly; you couldn’t get enough. He got more adventurous and slipped a tongue into your mouth. You weren’t sure what to do so he did his best to guide you. Once you eased into it a little more, your kissing became more frenzied. You couldn’t get enough of each other. What started off soft and sweet became hot and passionate, but you knew you had to hold back. You couldn’t risk getting caught with him or you’d risk losing your job. He lightly groped your breast as his kissing traversed from your lips down to your neck. You couldn’t stop the moan that huffed from your lips, and you bucked against his thigh trying to gain some friction against your clothed cunt.
“You look fucking hot in that outfit.” He mumbled between kisses.
“Stop!” You raised your voice as you pushed yourself away from him.
“Did I do something wrong?” He wondered, confused by your sudden outburst.
“No, you’re great I’m sorry. It’s against the rules for Playmates to hook up with guests, I will lose my job if we’re caught.” You explained. Keigo nodded as if he understood, giving you an innocent smile as he planted a kiss on your lips once more.
“I get it. Sorry I got carried away.” He told you, picking himself off the ground. He held a hand out to you to help you to your feet, “I think I’ll get going. I’ll see you at the next party though, right?” He explained. You didn’t want to see him at the next party. You didn’t want him to leave. But you didn’t want to risk losing your job for the sake of keeping Keigo around. And you really didn’t want to throw your virginity at him just to prevent him from leaving.
“I’ll have no reason to come to these things anymore if I don’t get to hang out with the prettiest bunny in the whole mansion.” He smiled, lightly brushing his thumb over your cheek.
You weren’t usually one for compliments. You knew guys would say anything to get in your pants. But there was something so sincere about Keigo. The way everything seemed so genuinely sweet and affectionate when he spoke to you. The way he made you feel like you were the only other person in the whole world with him. You loved being a bunny. You loved living with the girls and you loved all of the fun you had at the mansion. But you were in a role in which you were hypersexualised to everyone around you. How could they expect guests to not want to fuck you? How could you be expected to resist someone as sexy as Keigo? You didn’t think you’d lose your virginity like this, but who were you saving it for anyway?
☆ ☆ ☆
You pressed your lips against Keigo’s once again, and he was more than happy to respond. You began tugging at his clothes, indicating that you wanted them off. You didn’t break your kissing for more than a second. He took his jacket off while still deeply kissing you but removed himself quickly whilst he took off his t-shirt. You didn’t break the kiss either while you removed your high heels. You shrunk a few inches but Keigo didn’t mind leaning down a little further to keep smothering you in affection. He began to travel down to your neck once again but settled on the flesh of your breasts that were being hoisted up by your corset. You let out soft sighs as he continued. He crouched down slightly as he began fondling the bottom of your corset that resided between your thighs. He managed to unbutton it as he pulled down your sheer tights and panties. You were about to remove your corset when he asked you not to.
“You look too fucking good in that outfit to take it off.” He alerted you.
You felt slightly embarrassed by the praise, but it didn’t last long when he pulled you down to kiss him again, you were looming over him a little as you did. “Lie down.” He commanded. You did as you were told, eagerly awaiting whatever he had planned. He parted your legs a little, he repeatedly kissed your leg as he travelled up towards your pussy. He spread your legs wider when he reached your sopping sex, and instantly got to work licking your clit. You moaned almost instantly at the contact as your body softened into his touch. He slowly plunged a finger in, carefully working your innocent interior.
“Tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop, okay birdie?” He instructed.
“Y-yeah…” You moaned. You’d be crazy to want this feeling to end.
He latched back onto your clit. His licking started off slow, but he eventually picked up the pace. He alternated between licking and sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves all while still pumping his digit in and out of your tight cunt. The euphoric feeling caused you to writhe around on the ground. You were compelled to close your legs and clamp them around your lovers head, but he used his free hand to pin one of your legs to the ground while he continued working at your desperate cunt. He slipped another finger inside of you and continued his motions. He frantically began scissoring you open so he could prepare you for his cock. The sensations were too much, you hadn’t felt like this before. You felt a rising knot in your stomach and you were sure it was going to unfurl at any moment.
“P-please, Keigo I… I think I’m gonna.” You panted, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.
“No.” He spoke. Halting all actions. You were crushed. Why did he stop? You whimpered at the loss of contact and Keigo admired your little virgin hole clenching around nothing. You sat up a little, wondering what was going on. “Lie back down for me angel.” He commanded. You did as you were told, anticipating what he was doing. You knew instantly when you heard the unzipping of his pants. He was going to fuck you.
“Keigo… N-need it. Need it s’bad.” You whined. Your bratty voice earned a smirk from Keigo.
“Yeah? My mouth and fingers made you a little needy huh? I wanted to feel you cum around my cock.” He told you as he made contact with your dripping pussy. The feeling of him sliding his cock up and down your slit alone was heavenly. You were desperate for him to fill out your hole.
“Please, please fuck me now.” You requested.
He lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly sunk himself into you, making continuous eye contact with you as he did so. He was paying attention to every facial expression you made, he didn’t want to hurt you. He was impressed that you took him like champ, he completely bottomed out inside of you and he was more than ready to fuck your brains out.
He set a harsh pace almost instantly, he was aching with such a desperate need to cum. As soon as he saw you he knew that he had to have you tonight. He could see there was something untouched and innocent about you, but he didn’t expect you to be a fully fledged virgin. You were his now. No matter what you’d remember him as your first sexual encounter and no one would ever be able to compare.
He continued drilling into you, thoughts of owning you bringing him closer to his climax. Your arousal was rebuilding too. He began kissing you once again, although it was hard for each of you to focus. The building pleasure in the pair of you caused you both to occasionally moan into each other’s mouths. The sounds being devoured by each other arousing you more, bringing you closer and closer to your highs. He bent both of your legs up to your chest so he could continue pounding you at a deeper angle.
“K-Keigo,” You whimpered, “It hurts.” You expressed, not used to the feeling of him nudging your cervix.
“I’m sorry birdie, I’ll make it better I promise, I just-“ He stopped as he moaned through his speech. Making no attempt to change what he was doing to alleviate the pain you were feeling, “Cum for me baby you’ll feel better, I wanna feel you cum around me.” He huffed into your face. He reached down and began toying with your clit as he encouraged you to let yourself go. The contact was more than enough to send you over the edge. You were forced to keep constant eye contact with Keigo as he fucked you through your release. Your cunt clamped down on him, milking his cock for all it was worth. He rested his forehead on yours as you both came together, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes.
You’d always heard mixed reviews about losing your virginity. You would either hear that it was a beautiful and romantic moment you should give to someone meaningful, or that it’s a terrible time and it has no meaning on your life. You didn’t know Keigo very well at all, but you felt grateful that he was the one you got to share your first time with. For someone who was a stranger, he truly did care about your enjoyment and keeping you safe. He was still between your legs, letting you warm his cock as he laid on top of you. He gently peppered kisses on your forehead and cheeks while stroking your hair.
You were lucky you hadn’t been caught, you were lucky that for now you still had a job. But if he comes back to the next mansion party, you knew that you wanted to do this with him again.
© 2021 dabistiktokdance
Thank you so much again for participating, it was a pleasure to write this and have you be a bunny for the night! I hope you enjoyed your experience at the party!!
mango, m | jjk | 4
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; reader has knife scars on her legs (read 2 for explanation); smut (f-receiving oral, penetrative sex); there’s so much fluff you might die; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader; Jungkook likes his ears being played with hehe
You pulled away, breathless. Jungkook blinked rapidly, backing up a little.
“Do you, um… want to come in?”
You tilted your head curiously. Your eyes shifted down and Jungkook slid to the side, closing the door a little, glaring at you.
“Do not pay attention to him.”
You took a step in, clutching your bag tightly. “Why?”
He frowned and took a few steps back, letting you in the apartment. “He doesn’t know time and place.”
You shrugged. “Maybe he does and you don’t.”
Jungkook shot you a quizzical look but you dropped your bag, sliding out of your sneakers. He closed the door, watching you suspiciously as you inspected his furniture. He had a nice black fabric couch, black coffee table, a branded television. A dark blue and black rug.
“Aren’t you a virgin?”
You hummed. “Why would I be a virgin?”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes and stalked over to you. “What fool touched you and left you? I’ll beat him up myself.”
You looed away from his knickknacks and blinked slowly. “Left me? It was only some guy from high school. I wondered what the fuss was all about, but it wasn’t very interesting.”
A muscle in his eyebrow twitched. “Was he drunk?”
You shook your head. “No, but we did it with clothes on, because…” You trailed off. “Anyway, I think we weren’t that interested in each other. We wanted to be able to say we did it, that’s all.” You looked Jungkook up and down, nodding to yourself. “But I think it will be better with you.”
He placed his arms over his chest. “Excuse me, I am not some object. I have feelings.”
“Oh.” You looked away, back to the snow globe on his shelf. You shook it and watched the fake snow swirl around. The base of the globe read ‘Malta.’
You felt Jungkook’s long fingers encase your arm and pull you to him. “Ah, that doesn’t mean ignore me. I meant it as a joke,” he pouted ruefully as your body pressed against his.
You pursed your lips. “You are very confusing.”
Jungkook puffed his cheeks. “No, I’m not.” He sighed, smiling. “We could sit down, watch a movie or something. I have Netflix.”
You pressed your thigh against his crotch and Jungkook hissed at you, jerking his hips away. But you had already felt it.
“Wouldn’t it be reasonable to take advantage of the situation?”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you. “If I acted on every single hard-on I had, my life would be a lot more complicated.”
You pointed to your chest, jabbing it a little. “But what about me? I want it.”
His expression changed at your words. He chewed on his lower lip. You watched him, his long messy hair over his eyes. You reached up and tucked some behind his ear, clearing his face from the black curtain. He inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Dark brown orbs to yours.
“But you didn’t say I love you.”
You paused, hand lingering by his neck. He tried to hide his unease by smirking.
“Is that how it should be?” you inquired. “You can only have sex if you love them?”
“No, but I only want to have sex with you if you love me,” Jungkook replied, chuckling nervously.
His laughter died in his throat as your hand slid down. You stared at his pecs, pressing your palm against the left side of his chest. His heart beat fast against your skin, pulsating rapidly. You reached over with your other hand and took one of his, pressing it against your racing heart, beating in time with him. You lifted your head to his round, doe-like gaze.
“I confess, I don’t know what love is,” you murmured quietly. “But I think we’re on the same wavelength, so if you love me, then it must be love.”
You realized, with every smile Jungkook gave you, something inside you melted a little bit.
“You’re strangely romantic,” he remarked.
You let go of his hand and removed yours from his chest. “Should I just… yank off your pants or something?”
He laughed, richer this time, shaking his head. “You want me to be fully naked and you fully clothed?”
You shrugged. “No, I can get naked.”
You grabbed the bottom of your sweatshirt and pulled it over your head, chucking it aside. Jungkook gawked at you as you reached for the zipper of your leather skirt, unzipping it and stepping out, kicking it away. Now you were in your black bra and black opaque tights. You gripped the top of your pantyhose and pushed it down. His hands suddenly shot out and grabbed yours, stopping you.
“You don’t…” He groped for words. “If you’re uncomfortable or something.”
You blinked at him. “You already saw my scars. Do you not want to see them?”
Jungkook released your hands, swallowing. “I want you to feel okay with not showing me, if that’s what you want. But your battle scars are really cool. I would be happy if you were comfortable enough to show me them again.”
You stared at him for a full thirty seconds. “If you love me like you say you do, you will end up seeing them anyway.” You cleared your throat, packing your nerves away. “I want to… normalize them when I’m around you.”
His brown eyes became indescribable, something between gratitude, relief, and happiness.
You took a deep breath and pushed the stockings down your legs, taking your feet out of them. Staring down at your ugly knife scars, the memories that came with them, wondering when they would fade, wondering when you would look at them and see something else.
Jungkook knelt, fingertips extended to touch the lines. He traced each one with parted lips, sending sparks up your skin. Features racked with empathy. He pressed his fingers against his lips and then his fingers to your largest scars.
“I think they’re past being kissed better,” you muttered.
“My kisses are magic,” Jungkook answered. “They’ll make you feel beautiful.”
You laughed a little. “Are you sure?”
He stood up, arms slipping around your waist, smiling at you. “Never know unless you keep trying.”
You looked up at Jungkook, him and his mischievous smile, his tiny mole underneath his lower lip, his nose scrunch, his sparkling brown eyes, losing yourself in them and being okay with it, because this wasn’t anything like what you’ve known before. It was much nicer, much more heavenly as you got to your tiptoes and kissed him, arms around his neck. Pulling him close, whispering his name, relishing in the loveliness of his soft pink lips as he pulled you to him and walked you to his bedroom, sighing in satisfaction as you pressed your body against his harder, more muscular one.
“Damn, all that mango must be doing something right,” Jungkook murmured, running his hands down to your ass and squeezing it. “Eat more of it.”
You smiled against his lips. “Are you saying I’m fat?”
“I’m saying you’re juicy and I like it,” he teased, lowering you to the bed.
Your hand reached up and touched his wild hair. He stiffened a little as you ran your fingers through the long strands, dry now from your conversation.
“Why do you always slick your hair back at school?”
The side of his lips quirked upwards, somewhat regretfully. “It’s the hairstyle that gets me the most attention.”
You tilted your head. “It’s kind of nice like this, though.”
“I can’t see that well,” Jungkook laughed.
Your two hands collected his hair into a ponytail. “What about like this? With some in the front? I think I’ve seen this style before.”
How could someone have such a brilliant smile? “I trust you. You can do whatever you want with my hair.”
You brought his face down to yours, kissing Jungkook and that smile. Maybe one day you could smile like that. Maybe one day you could, but for now you settled for smiling into his kisses, fingers tangled in his hair, breathing into his mouth and making him moan. Your skin tingled at his noises, deepening the kisses, lacing your tongue with his. He nudged you up the bed and the two of you crawled back, laying against the sheets. You arched your back, brushing your chest against his and he groaned, teeth sinking into his lower lip.
“What do you want to do?” Jungkook murmured against your lips.
You kissed up his jaw, pushing his hair back. Your tongue traced his earlobe and he sucked in a tight breath, pushing you against him.
“I thought you liked it when I whispered in your ear?” you said softly, pressing your lips against his skin.
He swallowed, deep voice shaking. “Yeah, I do. A little too much.”
You nipped experimentally at his earlobe and he moaned, fingers pressing into your sides, clutching you tight.
You took it into your mouth and swirled your tongue around his earrings, tugging lightly. He shivered, gasping your name, hands sliding up your back, his breath against your neck. Turning his earlobe in your mouth, sucking softly. Jungkook rolled his hips into your thigh and you felt his hardness. He began to rut against you as you played with his ear, kissing all the way up before nipping your way back down. It made his body shake and moans tumble from his lips.
You were suddenly hit with an epiphany.
“Is this why you always stared at my mouth?” you breathed. “When I was eating dried mango?”
Jungkook let out a trembling chuckle. “You c-caught me.”
“I just thought you were a pervert.”
“Maybe a little bit.” You pulled your head back and raised your eyebrows. Jungkook grinned. “Maybe a lot.” He nudged your chin with his nose, kissing down your neck, dipping his tongue between your collarbones. You reached back and unclasped your bra, sighing softly as the straps fell. His hands came up and cupped your breasts, strong fingers kneading you. Every breath on your skin igniting the fire, whimpering as he pressed his thumbs against your nipples and rubbed them in circles, making out with your cleavage.
“I thought about these tits way too much,” he mumbled. “You never wear anything tight up top.”
You gasped as he kissed your nipples, licking them lightly. “I was trying to… be more okay with my legs. Even if it’s just the shape.”
Jungkook’s large hands slid down your sides and hips, gripping your thighs. “Everything about your legs is fucking fantastic,” he growled hotly. He licked a stripe down your chest, flicking his eyes up to you, forming his words against your skin as he slid down. You felt your chest tighten, seeing his hunger, his want, feeling his palms against your thighs and calves, calluses against your scars.
“Your legs make me so damn horny I have to come up with strategies to hide my erections when I’m around you.”
You laughed a little. “They’re always covered up.”
One of his sculpted eyebrows raised. “Except I remember what they look like,” Jungkook mused, lips travelling down your thighs, running his hands up and down your skin making you breathless. “And maybe I like all the different socks you wear.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled, ears turning pink. Jungkook kissed your legs all over and shivers danced up and down your spine as he paid attention to them, soft pecks and light touches. You reached down and gripped the sides of your black panties. His brown eyes shot up to you, squeezing your calf a little.
You smirked and he smirked back.
You pushed them down, gasping as cold air hit your wet warmth. Jungkook’s breathing stuttered, hands reaching down as you got to your thighs, taking them from you and pulling them down your legs, gasping as strings of your juices snapped against your skin.
“Can I eat you out?” he asked breathlessly as your panties were flung into the far side of his room.
You wondered if you would find them again. “I guess. Is it that nice for you?”
Jungkook gave you a surprised look. “Of course. You never had someone eat you out?”
You shrugged. “It wasn’t that special.”
He hummed, a slow smile forming on his lips. “Let me change your mind.”
His head dipped down between your legs. You tilted your head, breath cut short as he gripped your thighs, tipping them up, fingers pressed against your skin. And then your eyes widened as he placed his lips on your dripping slit, tongue licking you all over, moaning into your core. Your hands clutched the sheets, crying out as he thrust his tongue into you, curving it inside your pussy.
His brows furrowed, sliding his lips up a little. You moaned as he pressed the tip of his tongue to your clit. Sucking delicately, lapping at the sensitive bundle of nerves. It felt like pleasure was shooting up your body way too fast, like a time-lapsed video of a flower growing. You moaned, back arching and head tipping back as he worked you, one of your hands suddenly gripping his head, nail scratching his ear.
Jungkook whined, muffled by your pussy as he sucked harder, rougher, and somehow your hips were jutting into his face, unsure if it was just your involuntary shudders or your need to orgasm spurring you on, feeling your juices leak out from his lips and paint his cheeks, his intense dark eyes on yours.
You orgasm crashed into you, waves of pleasure torrenting through your chest. Your thighs threatened to snap shut, but Jungkook gripped them open, groaning as you filled his mouth with your taste, shifting down to you opening and sucking it all up. Your eyelids fluttered and your elbows slid out from under you, falling onto the bed with a flump.
You were panting hard, unsure how Jungkook gave you such a powerful orgasm with his mouth. He licked you lazily and your hips shivered. Satisfied, he got to his knees, licking his lips clean.
“You have to warn me next time,” Jungkook pouted.
“Sorry, I… I wasn’t expecting it…” you wheezed out, pressing your lips together and letting out a long breath. Jungkook suddenly threw himself down on you, mouth to yours, filling your nose with your scent, tasting yourself as he inhaled your breath, moaning in his throat.
“Fuck…” he breathed, nipping at your lips. “Your breath is so fucking wonderful.” He shuddered as you panted into his lips. “You taste so good too, so fucking sweet. I’ve never tasted anything so delicious in my life.”
You chuckled. “Maybe it’s the mango.”
Jungkook kissed you repeatedly in while speaking. “Then I can’t risk it; I have to keep buying it for you.”
You smiled, gently pushing him off you, switching your positions. He blinked up at you, but you pressed his hand against his cheek, moving his head to one side, brushing back his hair, exposing his ear.
You bit his ear and his words died in his throat, turning into a moan as you nibbled. You lowered your body onto his, your softness against his muscles. His strong arms wrapped around you, gasping as your hard nipples rubbed against his chest and your lips encircle his earlobe.
“S-suck on it…” he pleaded; hands splayed across your back.
You did, playing with his earrings and Jungkook whined, nails digging into your back. You hummed approvingly and he scratched down your skin, shuddering and crying out. You kissed his ear and his hips bucked into you with a moan. He pushed his sweatpants down impatiently, freeing his hard cock so it rubbed against your thigh. You felt the pre-cum smear onto your skin as you whispered his name into his ear, making his eyes roll back into his head. His hand pressed his cock against your thigh and he began to hump you as you sucked on his ear again, whimpering.
“Please, please, please,” he begged. “More…”
You were breathing hard too, shallow and tight as you felt him rut against your hot skin. “But I want you to fuck me, Jungkook…”
His moan so deep and erotic that you felt your pussy clench with need.
“Okay,” he panted and you freed him from your grasp so he could reach over to the nightstand, fumbling for a condom.
“You really like your ears being played with, huh?” you wondered out loud, noticing how hard he was, the head of his cock a dark red.
His flush on his cheeks deepened. “Yeah, but I don’t like telling people, because I sound pathetic…”
You tilted your head. “I think it’s sexy.”
You saw the blush turn from pink to red. “T-thanks.”
His fingers scrambled with the condom and you took it from him, opening it carefully. You tried not to laugh, but Jungkook puffed his cheeks at you, noticing your contained expression immediately.
“It was only a compliment.”
He frowned and pursed his lips as he put the condom on. “It’s a compliment from you, the one I love.”
Your stomach did that weird floppy thing again. Jungkook shuffled over to you, taking your thighs and positioning himself between you. He looked up at you, chewing on his lower lip.
“Are you prepped enough? I could–”
“Jungkook, just put your cock in me,” you cut him off, smile on your lips.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, gasping as the head rubbed against your wet opening.
“You’re not going to hurt me. I’m tougher than you think.”
He grinned. “That’s true. Okay.”
You snaked your hand between your bodies, putting him into the correct position and he slid in slowly, his eyelids fluttering. Oh. Jungkook was bigger than you thought. Or perhaps you hadn’t had that many dicks in you or something. You sucked in a breath, trying to relax your muscles as he filled you up, leaning back and spreading your legs, chest quivering as he pressed his hips into yours.
“Oh fuck, you feel so fucking good.” His voice was unsteady, gripping your knees hard.
You tensed and tightened your core.
Jungkook yelped, snapping his head down at you. “H-hey!”
Your eyes shifted up to his face, letting the mischief show. “I heard Kegel exercises have many benefits.”
He shot you a pained look. “You’re trying to murder me.”
You pulsed around him again and he hissed, placing your legs on your shoulders and pressing down.
“Stop it or I’ll blow my load in three seconds,” Jungkook warned.
He narrowed his eyes at you. “Let me enjoy your legs pressed against me as I pound your pussy, please.”
You sucked in part of your cheek. “Okay…”
Jungkook slid out a little and sank back in, making both of you moan. You clutched the sheets, breathing hard. He noticed your strained expression.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded. “Never had it this deep before. Keep going.”
He began a slow, deep pace, radiating pleasure all over you. You weren’t aware it was possible to feel this much, your skin prickling with lust, his hips slapping against yours, the feeling in your chest swelling so much that your almost couldn’t breathe. Your gaze locked with his and the way Jungkook was looking at you, like he couldn’t help himself, like he was becoming lost in you, like he wanted all your days and all your nights, taking your breath away because you wanted that too. His curly long hair hung down, pupils blown wide with lust, jaw clenched as he increased his pace, your moans deepening at the sensation.
“You’re so handsome,” you panted between gasps.
Jungkook grinned. “You’re prettier.”
You smiled and his expression softened. “I love it when you smile at me.”
You chuckled awkwardly, tapping his arm. “Faster and harder, please.”
He smacked his hips into yours, earning a pleased gasp and a clenching of your pussy. Jungkook gritted his teeth, fucking your hard and fast like you asked, feeling it build inside you, pushing you to the precipice. You bit your lip, whining, Jungkook so strong and gentle over you, but also giving you what you wanted, watching your face the entire time. You squeezed his cock and he groaned your name.
“Cum for me,” he whispered. “Cum for me and I’ll cum for you.”
Your fingers found his arms, clutching his tense muscles, his tattoos peeking out from your grasp. There was a sharp tautness inside you, so close, so close, and his piercing brown eyes drowning you and, soon enough, the words came, tumbling out of your mouth in wispy gasps.
“J-Jungkook… fuck, I love you so fucking much and I’m going to cum, fuck.”
You threw your head back, moaning his name again as you came, pussy spasming and throbbing around him. Jungkook hissed above you, slamming into your hips one last time, cock jerking against your walls as he followed suit, your orgasm massaging his out, spilling into the condom. You could feel his cock pulsate inside you. He whimpered your name softly, pushing his hips into you a little. You exhaled, legs slipping from his now sweat-covered shoulders.
Jungkook reached down and pulled out gingerly, holding the condom in place.
“Finally got to hear you say I love you,” he chuckled.
You laughed, pressing your head back into his pillows.
“Guess I just needed you to stuff me with your cock.”
Jungkook poked you, pouting. The mole underneath his lower lip winked at you. “I want to hear it normally too.”
You sat up, looking into his eyes. His dark chocolate eyes that stared at you the first time, the eyes that took in every detail about you, the eyes that slowly began to know you and would continue to know you because now you knew there was another feeling that wasn’t nothing, another emotion that wasn’t apathy.
You placed your hand on his cheek, pushing back his long, dark hair, smiling at him.
“I love you, Jeon Jungkook.”
“What do you think?”
Jeon Jungkook took the small compact mirror from your hand, inspecting your work.
“Looks kind of funny,” he chuckled. “But I like it.”
He had showed up to Chemistry lecture early, long dark hair brushed but undone. No gel this time. He had sat down in front of you, black leather jacket creaking, folding his jean-clad legs under him. You had arrived with a black hair tie and black nails with tiny pink flowers on them. Combed your fingers through his hair and collected it into a ponytail, revealing his clean undercut. A few strands framed his face, accenting his high cheekbones.
“You wanna be my barber?” he teased, looking up at you.
You shook your head. “I don’t know how to cut hair.”
Jungkook stood up. “That’s okay. You can learn. Then I can spend more time with you and remember you every time I look in the mirror.”
You looked at your nails, remembering Hoseok’s smile as he painted them.
“I guess I would have to look up some YouTube videos.”
2021.09.01 - birthday drabble
In my @xfilesfanficexchange Other Perspectives piece for @greekowl87 , Mulder left Scully a note that said “sorry about the duvet” and a few people asked for the story behind the note. This is it.
The original story is here.
The Whole Story (About the Duvet)
Rated E / read it here on AO3/ 1272 words
“Thank you,” Scully says as Mulder jumps down from the bed, tucking the bottom edge of the comforter under the mattress to hold it in place.
“No problem, it’s like putting on a giant pillow case,” he responds, aimlessly fluffing the pillows and putting them back as he’s seen her do. “You sure do wash this thing a lot, though. What’s it called again? A duvah?”
She throws him some serious side-eye.
“Duvet. And yes, I do wash it a lot,” she says with heavy sarcasm that he doesn’t pick up on.
He flops down on the freshly made bed, rolling to his side and propping his head up on a fist.
“What are you doing on here, Scully? Preparing blood slides? Cleaning your gun?”
“What am I doing on here?” she tosses back incredulously, sitting heavily near his hip. “It’s not what I do on here that’s the problem, Mulder. You can’t seem to remember to pull the covers back before you...get down to business, so to speak.”
He stares at her blankly.
“Semen, Mulder. Cum, spunk, jizz. Whatever you wish to call it, it always seems to end up on this duvet, and I have to wash it every time.”
A tiny smile teases the corners of his mouth.
“Say cum again,” he requests, and relishes in the pink that rises to her cheeks. In the throes of passion, she says all kinds of things that she can’t bring herself to take responsibility for when she’s fully clothed.
“Stop getting it all over my duvet and I’ll say whatever you want,” she returns, but her eyes are on the side table.
“It’s not really fair for you to pin that on me, Scully. While it does come from my body, you’re as culpable for it ending up on the duvet as I am,” he reasons, reaching out to tap his index finger against the back of her hand for emphasis.
She levels him with an unamused glare.
“Just try to remember to pull the comforter back, please,” she says with just a touch of condescension.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a serious expression, feigning apprehension about what will happen to him if he doesn’t. She rolls her eyes.
“A button fly? Seriously?” she laments breathlessly, fumbling to get his pants off.
They’ve just stumbled through the door after returning from Kentucky, her own rule about not having sex while they’re on the clock having been a source of frustration for her the entire time.
She finally gets his fly open, shoving the rough denim down his legs in a hurry as they stumble into the living room of her apartment. When the backs of her legs hit the arm of the couch, he puts his hands on her shoulders and turns her around, grabbing the hem of her skirt and dragging it up her thighs until it’s bunched around her waist. The sound of her pantyhose tearing makes her moan in anticipation before he tugs her panties to the side and she feels him hot and hard at her opening.
“Oh god, yes,” she keens as he pushes into her, such sweet relief after what turned into a four-day series of unproductive interviews and unhelpful local law enforcement.
Her hands go to the seat cushions for stability as he hammers into her, his fingers rough on her hips and an animalistic growl in his throat.
“Not here,” she gasps out, “the bed.”
He lets out a throaty whine, continuing to thrust into her for a moment before she starts to straighten up. He pulls out reluctantly, looping his arm around her waist while the other hitches under her knees, carrying her into the bedroom with their clothes in various states of removal. When they arrive at the bed, he tosses her unceremoniously onto it before he shucks off his shirt, then grabs the waist of her pantyhose and tugs them down along with the blue panties she was wearing underneath. She moves to undo the clasp on the side of her skirt, but he grabs the tops of her thighs and drags her to the edge of the bed. The look on his face is primal and vacant; there is only one thing he wants and he isn’t going to bother to remove any clothing unless it’s directly blocking his path. Aligning himself with her opening, he pushes back inside in one fluid motion and her eyes roll to the back of her head.
“This is what you want? What you’ve been waiting for?” he says in a gravely serious tone, and she realizes just how much her confession on their flight home had impacted him. I just want to get you home so I can fuck you senseless, she’d whispered in his ear in a moment of bravery fueled by the throbbing between her legs, and his eyes had gone big, but he’d said nothing.
“Yes, this is what I want,” she replies, bringing her hand between her legs to touch her clit as he drives into her.
Their pace is harried, messy, desperate. The words that tumble from their lips are obscene and depraved, things she won’t admit to later without a blush and an aversion of her eyes. As much as she likes to be fucked, when the dopamine fades and the moment has passed, she feels dirty and guilty. How many Our Fathers has she said to atone for her escapades with Mulder? Countless.
“I’m gonna come,” she cries out suddenly, and he somehow increases his pace, the slap of their skin fast enough to serve as a metronome. Prestissimo, he furiously fucks her until they melt into whimpers and throbs, and he rests the weight of his torso on hers, his feet still on the floor. Soft, apologetic kisses land on her face and neck, tenderness as a footnote to an exchange that was anything but tender. As his erection fades, he slips out of her, holding his pelvis against hers even if he is no longer inside, wanting to feel closeness.
“Mulder, the duvet,” she says suddenly, a bit of panic and irritation in her voice.
“Oh shit,” he says, standing and grabbing his discarded T-shirt from the floor before stuffing it under her.
It’s too late, the trickle of fluid has already made the journey down her ass crack and landed on the freshly laundered fabric yet again.
“Sorry,” he says with a chagrined expression, and she closes her eyes and shakes her head.
“It’s okay,” she says softly. “Let’s take a shower and order dinner.”
The next morning, he wakes early. After spending some time watching her sleep, enjoying the softness of her features and the flutter of her eyelashes, he decides to head to the Y to play basketball. Carefully, he extricates himself from the covers, mindful to preserve the cocoon of warmth they created together. Seeing the now crusted spot on the edge of the duvet he cringes, knowing she’ll end up laundering it later today. He decides that will be his reason to come back, to help her put it back on, and he smiles at his newfound excuse to visit her apartment.
Collecting his suitcase and stuffing his feet into his shoes, he pulls open the junk drawer in her kitchen and grabs the stack of post-its that seem to serve only as his messenger service these days.
Sorry about the duvet, he scrawls onto the pad, pulling it free of the stack and affixing it to the coffee pot where he knows she’ll find it.
Smirking to himself, he locks the door behind him and leaves.
morning routine - 1.4k words - ao3 - @today-in-fic
There’s almost no point in leaving to go to work today, because her motel room’s bathroom is a crime scene all on its own. Scully nearly blinds herself with her own eyeliner pencil while debating whether to waste time covering a rebellious zit on her cheek, probably put there by resting her chin on her hand throughout hours of interrogations last night. A glance at her watch tells her that such an option no longer exists and she mutters a string of words that would earn her a sharp Dana Katherine! from her mother.
Damn this motel in the middle of nowhere, with its dribbling showers and its unreliable alarm clocks. Damn her own body for having the audacity to desire sleep, of all things, for keeping her dozing through her second and third back-up alarms. Damn the surprisingly cozy sheets that had made it so easy to stay asleep.
The shitty blow dryer fights her every step of the way, first offering up less air than her own lungs and then only blowing cold. Goosebumps raise on her bare chest and shoulders, because she prefers to put her makeup on before her nice blouses. Her dry-cleaning bills are high enough with a job like this.
Scully’s eyes drift from the task at hand, her hair that may freeze solid before it dries, and down to the rest of her reflection.
Thanks to the chill of the blow dryer, her nipples harden and push against the sheer fabric and padding of her bra (it’s a good bra, too. One of the rare styles that she can almost forget about when she’s wearing it). Her navy skirt sits where the curves of her body turn inward and leave little about her frame to the imagination, not that it will be obvious when she’s wearing her blazer and coat. For now though, she admires her reflection, her toned muscles and the gentle curves of her breasts. Despite the fact that she’s exhausted and in a rush and will most likely spend the day digging around corpses, she feels sexy.
Maybe it’s the lack of coffee in her system, but she wonders what Mulder would think if she turned up to work looking like this.
(Then again, the last time she’d knocked on his door in scant more than her underwear, he’d been a perfect gentleman. Unfortunately.)
Maybe if she’d stayed up fifteen minutes later last night, she’d have had time to deal with her thoughts about Mulder in the regular way. Sadly, that will have to wait until this case is wrapped up.
(Focus, Dana, focus.)
By some miracle (undeserved, given her latest train of thought), Scully’s hair is nearly dry and she may be able to get away with foregoing the curling iron and wearing it up. The finish line is in sight.
Carefully, she rises onto her toes and leans closer to the mirror, careful not to let her pantyhose slip on the tiled floor. One hand holds the blow dryer in place while the other works a layer of lipstick onto her lips. She does her best to hold both hands steady, like a child coloring within the lines. Historically, she’s put less effort into Y-incisions, although they rarely involve this level of multitasking skill.
Such skill is thrown entirely out the window when a tall figure enters her peripheral vision and jumps nearly a foot in the air.
“Hey, are you almost ready? We need to-oh shit-”
Scully jumps, dropping the blow dryer into the sink and accidentally dragging the lipstick across her cheek. The blow dryer sparks, whirs angrily, and dies.
Scully takes a step back to look at Mulder, who is standing in the doorway of her bathroom and facing the opposite direction. She belatedly crosses her arms over her chest, although he’s probably already seen all there is to see from just walking into the room. Mulder bounces awkwardly on his toes and laces his fingers together, holding them very deliberately just below his belt. Even from behind, it is painfully obvious to Scully that he’s concealing himself.
“Just-what-” she shakes her head to clear it and catches a glimpse of her reflection, a thick red stripe of lipstick bisecting her cheek. “Give me ten minutes.” she instructs him, swallowing embarrassment and reaching for a washcloth. Mulder nods curtly and walks out of her room. The door swings shut loudly behind him.
When Scully finally walks outside, Mulder is sitting in their rental car, warming it up in the late winter frost. A to-go cup of coffee sits in the passenger cup holder. She ducks into the seat and sets her briefcase at her feet.
“Thanks.” The styrofoam cup is warm in her hands.
“Don’t mention it.” Mulder’s long fingers go tap tap tap at the top of the steering wheel, but the car stays still. “Speaking of which, sorry about-”
The coffee scalds the back of Scully’s throat as she forces it down to cut him off. “Don’t mention it.”
He nods immediately and leaves a significant amount of rubber on the pavement as the car screeches out of the parking lot.
He wakes her with a kiss between her shoulder blades, risking an elbow to the face. Instead, Scully hums sleepily into her pillow and half-heartedly tries to kick him away. He catches her ankle easily and plants a soft kiss there, too.
“C’mon, Scully. Marsh monsters wait for no g-man, or g-woman.”
She mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like can’t wait for anyone if you aren’t real into her pillow before lifting her head and stretching, back arched and chest pressed forward. Mulder’s eyes skim down her body and he barely resists the urge to suck her lovely nipples into tight buds, to taste the soft skin of her breast. One of them has to be responsible this morning.
Scully flops onto her back and then rises, nude, from the bed. She reaches toward the ceiling and sighs as she stretches out her lithe form.
“Someone slept well last night,” Mulder smirks.
“I was tired,” Scully shrugs as if she’s not wearing the evidence of their lovemaking in a necklace of little marks across her neck and chest. Mulder snorts and rifles through her overnight bag until he finds her turtleneck.
Scully plucks the shirt from his hand and sets it on the bed before walking into the bathroom. She doesn’t bother to close the door, so Mulder leans against the doorframe and watches her meticulously tie her hair back and pin up the flyaway strands before climbing into the shower. He knows he’d left her enough hot water because his own shower had been ice cold. Waking up to the sight of her, naked and sex-mussed next to him, had made that an absolute necessity.
She hums off-key while scrubbing the remnants of last night off her chest and belly and from in between her legs. The humidity follows her pinkened body out of the shower and the steam raises little curls in her hair. When she emerges from the bathroom in search of clothes, he presses a cup of lobby coffee into her hand and she thanks him with a kiss to his temple, standing on her tiptoes.
“So, are we still on track to visit the community college and talk to witnesses there?”
He nods and pulls the casefile out of his own bag, standing next to her in the bathroom and going over their most recent progress in this case. Scully interjects with a few objections to his theories while putting on eyeshadow. She holds her mouth open in a wide ‘o’ while putting on mascara, a move that baffles Mulder, but he uses the silence to respond.
They continue to bicker good-naturedly as she dresses, although Scully makes deliberately disarming eye contact with him as she pulls her thigh-highs up her legs. He’ll be thinking about nipping at the inside of her thigh and carefully dragging the fabric down with his teeth for the rest of the day. Here and now, he vows to himself to stretch out that inevitable moment as payback.
Scully uses him to balance herself as she steps into her heels and then smooths down the front of her blazer and skirt. They stand in the dim morning light of the motel room, silently appraising each other for a moment. She straightens his tie and brushes fluff off his shoulder while he tugs her turtleneck a tad bit higher to conceal a pink suck mark on her neck. Both pleased, they nod in agreement and step out into the parking lot.
Impersonal, Ch. 7
Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated E
The game had ended and he wasn’t surprised.
He expected this. He prepared himself all day Saturday by running six miles, jacking off twice, and mopping his entire apartment. He didn’t even own a mop; he actually went out and bought one. By the time Sunday morning rolled around he was ready for the inevitable collapse of their precarious sexual arrangement and greeted Scully with aplomb.
And then she paid for breakfast.
That was unexpected. When the FBI wasn’t footing the bill, they usually split the tab, or threw a “you can get the next one” down on the table alongside crumpled bills.
He had been joking about it being a date, but then she paid. And it meant something. Her big blue eyes pinned him to the booth, had him trapped and squirming like an insect on a card as she laid a hand over the check. “I’ve got it,” she said, and his senses were suddenly ignited. He could feel thick sunshine pouring over them, lighting up Scully’s hair like a smudge of cinnamon. Her lips looked so sweet and soft, and the very idea that he might never feel them again stole his breath. He felt dry and empty, a desiccated housefly body lying on a windowsill.
He thanked her for breakfast, and his throat was lined with dust.
Their parting was weird. Hinting that he was still available to her was an insane risk, and she turned it into a joke about Frohike. Unless she actually thought he was the one joking about Frohike, which he has to admit wouldn’t be out of character for him.
He’s tired of joking, tired of hiding, tired of dancing around his intentions. Tired of wanting and not asking, tired of being in his own damn way.
Scully has given him a graceful exit, a neatly drawn map back to their pre-sex starting point. And not for the first time, Mulder wads up the map and tosses it aside. Scully made her move; it was time for him do the same.
What that move would be, he has no idea.
It takes him eleven days. No wonder Scully took matters into her own hands the first time around. Inspiration strikes him during his drive from Alexandria to D.C. the next Thursday morning, when he crosses the Potomac and gets a glimpse of faraway blossoms.
He waits until 4:47 that afternoon to say anything.
“Hey Scully, you doing anything tonight?” he asks, rifling through a stack of papers as though he’s attending to FBI business and not trying to work up courage like a schoolboy.
Her glossy red head is bent over a file, pen at her lip. “Besides folding an obscenely large pile of laundry, my schedule seems fairly empty,” she replies. She looks up at him suspiciously. “Why, Mulder?”
“No reason, really. There’s just something I wanted to show you, get your opinion on.”
“Is it related to a case?”
He opens a desk drawer, pretending to look for something. “Well it could be a totally natural phenomenon, but who can say for certain without proper investigation?”
Scully sighs. “Fine, I’ll bite. And speaking of bites, I’m starving. If we’re going to work off the clock, can we at least eat?”
“Wanna stop for Chinese? We can take it with us. We’re not going far, the food should still be hot when we get to our secondary location.”
They take Mulder’s car, picking up several cartons of food from a restaurant in Chinatown a few blocks up from the Hoover building before making their way towards the National Mall. Mulder parks in the lot near the Washington Monument.
“You weren’t kidding when you said we weren’t going far,” Scully says, gathering up the bag of takeout. “What exactly are we looking for?”
“That,” he replies, pointing ahead.
Hundreds of cherry trees line the Tidal Basin, their leaves almost entirely obscured by tufts of blossoms. Scully steps onto the path, open-mouthed.
“Oh my god,” she murmurs.
Mulder shoves his hands in his pockets. “Pretty fantastic, huh?”
“Mulder,” she says in awe, looking sideways at him, “What are we doing here?”
He shrugs. “I just wanted to see them.”
“Daylight’s for tourists, Scully.”
They’re sitting on the damp grass, endeavoring to split the last egg roll using only their dueling pairs of chopsticks.
“This is impossible, Scully. I’m going to use my hands.”
“Then I definitely don’t want the other half,” she says.
“Are you implying something about my hygiene?”
“I’ve seen some of the places your hands have been, Mulder.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at her, and she rolls her eyes.
“Not what I meant,” she says softly. “But the point still stands.”
Mulder lays back on the lawn, his long coat fanning wide. Scully pulls an edge of it towards her, scoots closer so she can rest her pantyhose-clad calves on it instead of the grass.
“I’ve always preferred the blossoms at night,” he says. “There’s something ghostly about them, all pink and white against the dark sky. Not an ominous kind of ghostly, however; if good spirits exist, I think they’d look like these trees. You know most early European religions feature some sort of reverence for trees or forests, whether as spiritual gathering places or deities themselves-“
“Are you going to eat that egg roll, or can I have it?”
He passes her the carton. “And-”
“Why did you bring me here, Mulder?”
He glances at her and is surprised to see a tenderness in her eyes. His gaze returns to the branches above.
“I just figured I owe you a nice trip to a forest, and this one won’t require any paperwork.”
Scully smiles. “That’s a very considerate choice, Mulder, especially since I’m always the one doing said paperwork.”
“You’re more succinct and readable than I am, apparently. And Skinner clearly likes you better.”
“Didn’t you punch him in the face once?”
“That’s beside the point. I think he has a bit of a crush on you, Scully.”
She rolls her eyes. “What?” Mulder asks.
“I just… it’s nothing, It’s been a long day. And it’s cold out here.”
Mulder sits up and withdraws his arms from the sleeves of his overcoat.
“No- Mulder, don’t, I’m fine.”
“Move your legs,” he instructs, pulling the edge of the coat out from under her. He stands and drapes it around her shoulders before plopping back down on the grass next to her.
“Thanks,” she says. “Still, it’s getting late.”
He glances at his watch. “It’s seven-thirty on a Thursday. You got somewhere to be?” His arm bumps her shoulder companionably. “Come on, just a little longer. Maybe we’ll see something unidentified in the sky.”
He grins at her and the corner of her mouth twitches in reply. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice,” she sighs. “You drove us here.”
He feels a slight increase of pressure against his arm and realizes that Scully is ever so slightly leaning into him. A gentle warmth glows in his belly, and he glances sidelong at her.
I’m a lucky son of a bitch, he thinks.
“How so?” Scully asks.
Oh. He said it out loud. He clears his throat, tries to steer his thoughts back into safer waters.
“Well, for one thing, I’m not dead,” he says. “Not for lack of trying.”
Scully nods solemnly.
“I’ve seen incredible things, things people spend their whole lives looking for, hoping for, believing in. I’ve tasted proof, held the truth in my hands. And in spite of everything, I’m still here. We’re still here. That’s pretty goddamn lucky.”
“I don’t feel very lucky,” Scully says softly. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve fucked up every good thing I’ve ever had a chance at. My father certainly thought so, at least for a long time.”
They sit silently for a moment. “Without you, I’d be long dead,” Mulder admits.
“I know,” Scully replies. “I’m always awed by your resilience, actually. I can’t take all the credit for your continued survival.”
“Yeah, you can,” he says, getting to his feet and dusting stray blades of grass off his slacks. He holds out a hand and helps her to her feet. Her fingers are cool against his palm, and he wonders if she’d notice if he didn’t let go. Probably.
He wants to pull her in by the lapels of his coat, gather her to his chest, hold her for no reason other than he can. Kiss her brow, smell her hair, feel her small hands sliding under his suit jacket. He wants her just as she is, for exactly who she is.
But he’s a chickenshit, so instead he just walks beside her along the Tidal Basin, under the cherry blossoms, and doesn’t hold her hand.
They spend the five minute drive back to the Bureau in comfortable silence. Scully leans her head against the car window, and Mulder briefly wonders if she’ll fall asleep. He loves when she nods off while he’s driving; it makes him feel safe. She makes him feel safe.
He parks a few spots away from her car in the Bureau parking garage, turns off the engine. Scully gathers up her briefcase, leaving Mulder’s coat draped open on the passenger seat.
“Why are you getting out?” she asks, seeing Mulder unbuckling his seatbelt.
“I need a file from the office,” he lies. He exits the car and goes around to her side. “I’ll walk you to your door, it’s on my way.”
It’s twenty feet from her car to his. “Thank you, Mulder,” Scully says sardonically, fishing her keys out of her coat pocket. “If I weren’t armed, that would have been very thoughtful of you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he replies. He takes a step forward.
“What are you doing?” Scully asks, one hand on her car door, keys in the other.
“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” God, she’s so small, this could so easily go wrong-
He pitches forward, bending down, and presses his lips to the fullness of her cheek. His nose brushes the soft skin under her eye and he inhales sharply, drawing back.
They blink at each other. “Bye,” Mulder offers.
Scully nods. “Yes. Goodnight.” She glances to the elevators. “Was there actually a file you needed?”
He just looks at her, and she presses her lips together in understanding. “Right. Well, I’m leaving, so… see you tomorrow then.”
Right. Despite recent events, the earth was still spinning.
Later, when he hangs his overcoat, he notices the faintest scent of her shampoo on the collar.
Tendou + devil horns + time stop watch
a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, but i got carried away... anyway, i hope you enjoyed anon chan! i’ll be writing more time stop for those of you thirst mfs so keep an eye out lol
back to: the dressing room
pairing: devil!tendou x reader
request: tendou + devil!au + timestop
genre/warnings: devil!au, TW!!DUBCON (seriously, i warned you), smut, penetration, literally stopping time just to fuck, angst if you squint??, unprotected sex, and jealousy
even when tendou was alive, he wasn’t a saint.
he’d done countless despicable things. his rice purity test score would be in the negative, people deep despised him for good reason— but he was human after all. there are acts that he had even blocked out to simply to save him the few shreds of sanity he had left.
but you knew him as a sweet guy who met a terrible fate. another young soul who perished too soon, and that tragedy struck him right as he was making his way to the top. it was so sad.
but when death decided to take a gamble with tendou, it was truly one he couldn’t refuse.
he handed him a timestop watch.
at first, all tendou had to do was some simple tasks. similar to an errand boy. he had to stop time, take notes, and resume the world’s order. easy, right?
no. not when he saw you on a date with a bimbo of a guy, who was clearly more interested in the waitress then you. he could feel himself seethe, because how could one ignore such a beauty like you? how could someone overlook you?
and before he could properly think- everything came to an abrupt stop.
it started with a look, and how he admired you. then it became touches, and strokes of your cheek, and how much he missed talking to you. how much he missed your laugh and how it made his heart beat tingle.
but tendou’s never been a saint.
as he bent your frozen form over the table, sliding his cock in between your folds, his eyes roll back into his head. even when absolutely unconscious, you were so responsive in drenching his dick in your arousal. you were a sight to see, as he popped your dress shirt open, your chest spilling out of the blouse, and your skirt bunched up at your waist. pantyhose ripped, and rear pink and rosy. the skin slapping echoed through the restraunt, as bystanders were a completely stationary audience. it shot pleasure into his gut, and he groaned into you, manhandling your body as he pleased.
tendou thought it was slightly funny. how everyone had been minding their own business, how the cars passing by had hit park, and how your date was still on his phone has he came inside you. pulling out and seeing his trail of white chase after him, sputtering out of your ruined hole.
and when the devil fixed you up a bit, he noticed the flush of your cheeks, and felt a bit remorseful. buttoning your shirt once more, pulling your skirt back up and fixing your hair a bit, before sitting a nearby table, and resuming time.
the rush of traffic, bustling of the streets, and hurried footsteps battered against the pavement. life continued.
but you were still so beautiful to tendou.
“oh the steak here is pretty good, i— mmmm-!?” you started your mundance sentence only to help; when suddenly your body quaked, and your hands scrambled to the sides of your chair. holding onto for dear life, clenching your eyes shut, and your legs shook.
he smiled a sick grin, knowing your date didn’t seem to pay any mind, and nonchalantly humming, tapping against the lit screen.
your heavy breathing came out in pants, feeling as if your body was on fire, and the thrum of pleasure burned through your veins like it was a tidal wave.
and you came.
“wha-what just-?” you stuttered in confusion, suddenly feeling cum pool out of your cunt, and you hurriedly run to the bathroom before it can trickle any further.
tendou chuckles, patting his pocket before walking out the restraunt, with only you on his mind.
you- who was the most confused on the rip of your stockings, milky white staining your skirt, and the lack of panties you swore you left the house with.
the ones tendou had in his left pocket.
FACE IT... YOU ARE A SISSY!!!!
Face it. You are a simpering sissy. You have been since childhood or adolescence. You like wearing feminine things and being femmy. You act like a passive little sissy; walk, talk, and think like the sissy girl that you are with nothing between your legs (imagined or in reality). Here are some ideas on how you can and should appear in public and how to groom and evolve into total sissiness.
We will use the following sissy categories:
ES -- Evolving Sissy, or beginning sissy. One who knows that he/she is a sissy and is just coming out of the closet into the world. Activities have been confined to dressing at home and fantasizing, often followed by masturbation. The ES may have elaborate sissy costumes, but only has worn them in the closet. He only dreams of being a sissy in public. Occasionally he dresses for Halloween. He wants to exhibit his sissiness in public, but is afraid of being "read". How can he evolve into further and more advanced sissiness without causing repercussions?
AS -- Advanced Sissy. This is a sissy who appears in public regularly as the person that he/she is. People that see him/her conclude that he/she is a femme or a sissy by the way that he/she dresses and acts. His/her clothing tends to be unisex with a leaning toward the feminine to outright femme. Very often, this sissy has begun hormone treatment and masturbation becomes unsuccessful and sexual activity is no longer of importance. He/she may desire to have sex with females (if he/she thinks of him/herself as hetero), but knows he/she can't physically perform, so he/she just lives the sexual lifestyle of the eunuch that he/she is - sometimes frustrated and ashamed, but so be it.'
FS -- Flagrant Sissy. In this category, we can only refer to this type of sissy as a SHE. She exhibits very few masculine traits and tastes both in dress or lifestyle. She dresses in feminine clothes and appears regularly (if not all the time) in public. She lives the life of an obvious femme. Her sexual activity no longer includes masturbation because her genitals are no longer functional. She is ashamed of any genital protuberances and tries to tuck them away and hide whatever is left of them. They just "get in the way" and spoil her desired flat front. She may wish that they were gone. She may have sex with women by performing oral sex on them only. She may worship women. She may have sex with men by assuming the role of the female by receiving the penis in her mouth or her "sissy hole", and much desires to please her man. She is content to receive the male semen and in doing so makes her even more of a femme. Her fantasies include living the lifestyle of a full time woman or being a wife.
With the above categories in mind, let us look at some scenarios and lifestyles
that are meant to both define and aid sissies in their total realization and transformation.
Evolving sissies may have some extravagant costumes but do not wear them
in public. Advanced sissies frequently wear ladies underwear under male clothing, and occasionally wear feminine or unisex clothing in public. Flagrant sissies are unabashed to wear anything that they want. They are sissies and proud of it.'
PANTS AND SHORTS
ES -- Buy yourself some unisex jeans, slacks, or shorts, the kind with no-fly front and elastic waist, or with feminine or mock fly front. Women's jeans may be fly-front, but the zipper is shorter and is higher up on the hips. The hips and rear are roomier. They may have back pockets or not and the front pockets are of the shallow slash type. Women, after all, carry very little in pockets. They carry their things in a purse.
Start out with jeans (the more feminine, the more preferable). Wear them to the store, or on errands, or to the carwash. Wear them over feminine undies with pantyhose or knee-highs, or with feminine socks and jogging shoes or even feminine canvas flats or loafers. Eventually, you should become used to wearing girl’s jeans and will prefer nothing else after you realize the public couldn’t care less what kind of jeans you go grocery shopping or car-washing in.
If someone should ask, "Are you wearing ladies jeans?", you can answer them
with something like "I have no idea. I bought them at a yard sale for two bucks and they're really comfortable. They fit me and do the job, so I wear them."
AS -- You should be wearing ladies jeans regularly for all but the dirtiest
of jobs. What is left of your men's jeans are old and in disrepair. You no
longer buy any new men's jeans.
You have graduated to the no-fly pull on jeans, or the fly front jeans with no back pockets, preferably with pleats on the front and/or rear. More kudos for you if you display a feminine logo on your jeans.
You are tightly gaffed and exhibit a feminine flat front, and you may show pantylines on your pocket-less rear. Pantylines are good for you. Let the lace hems of your panties be outlined. It shows the world that you are a sissy.
You may also own several pairs of ladies slacks in various unisex colors of navy, black, tan, gray, or even white. Your slacks have no back pockets and kudos for you if the zip is on the side or in the back. They are pleated and you wear them high on your femmy waistline. Also, more kudos for you for showing pantylines, and double kudos for wearing pink panties under white slacks.
Although shorts may be out of the question for the ES to wear in public because
of the display of shaved legs. The AS should be wearing ladies shorts regularly.
Lady's shorts like jeans and slacks fit higher on the waist and are roomier
in the hips and rear. They may be hemmed short or almost to the knees (as
in walking shorts) and border culottes in style.
Kudos for the AS if he/she wears pastel colored shorts, or with side or back
zip, or culottes. Double kudos for wearing a skort (like culottes, but with
a flap mock skirt front). Double kudos also for wearing a shorty jumpsuit.
If someone were to remark on your shaved legs, you can answer them: "Yeah,
I've been on chemotherapy or medication, which is thinning, out my body hair".
Or, "I have been undergoing therapy on both knees and they shave my legs
at the hospital", or "I never grow body hair. I've always been like that.
Must be something in my genes".
FS - Flagrant sissies do not even own any men's slacks, jeans, or shorts. They long ago gave them to the Goodwill, or their mistress took them away. FS wear all the colors in the rainbow and regularly wear pink. They are either tightly gaffed all of the time, or their genitals have shrunk to nothingness from hormone therapy. They proudly display their flat (nothing) feminine vee and their cute bouncing behinds. They may even have accentuated hips. Not only do they exhibit pantylines, but also they show bikini pantylines (as opposed to an ES or AS which may choose less obvious panty briefs). ES slacks all have side or back zippers, or are of the pull-on style. FS wear culottes and skorts with no qualms. They could care less if someone at the supermarket reads them as a sissy. They LIKE to be called SISSY, and welcome and relish the catcalls. Public acknowledgements make them even more sissyish. They may even wiggle their pantied behind in reply, and especially to the catcalls of men.
Women habitually call them "honey" or "dear". Kudos are earned when straight
men refer to them in the same way. More kudos when men make a pass at them.
ES - should graduate to unisex tops to go with their lady's or unisex jeans and slacks. This can be anything from a baggy sweatshirt or sweater that halfway can hide their feminine slacks, or to a unisex or plain ladies blouse or shirt.
AS - wear ladies tops almost all of the time. Blouses have feminine button fronts and may not have a hint of feminine, or even lace, trim. They are often tucked and pleated at the bodice. Even a sweatshirt may have a feminine logo or feminine silk screening or embroidery on the front. Sweatshirts that have masculine logos, such as "U.S. Marines" printed across the front are long a part of this sissy's past and on the racks at the Goodwill. This sissy wears logos with pictures of kittens or flowers across the front of his/her tops.
This sissy will also wear ladies polo type shirts regularly and may even wear ladies tank tops and sleeveless blouses with his/her shorts and slacks.
FS - think nothing of wearing a frilly blouse with a pair of her pastel ladies slacks. She often is seen in pastel tank tops. And her sweatshirts are emblazoned with logos from ladies shops or interests, or with sayings such as "Girl Power".
DRESSES AND SKIRTS
Although the ES dreams of wearing a dress or skirt in public, he/she is probably
not ready for it yet, and should give more time to clothing evolution. He should definitely keep his frilly sissy party dresses confined to his privacy unless he wants to get read. Maybe he can be "Little Bo Peep" on Halloween, though, but dressing as Shirley Temple to walk down at the mall will only bring trouble. After all, genetic women don't even dress like that.
The ES wants to be subtle and not stand out like a feminine Christmas tree.
The ES gets satisfaction in his only knowing that those are ladies jeans and underneath he is wearing panties. He should not want to flaunt it to the public.
The ES should, however, be encouraged to wear a dress or skirt in private as much as possible at home, to do housework or whatever. And simple excursions while wearing a dress (such as an evening walk in the park) are encouraged.
However, the biggest mistake for the ES is to let his/her dress be too gaudy
or hookerish. Stay away from the leather miniskirts and frilly Shirley Temple
looks. Wear a subtle dress or skirt. The ES may want to begin with a simple
knee length denim or wrap skirt, or a casual longer length skirt. Or maybe
try a denim or linen-look skort for the first time out. Then the ES can gradually
evolve into regular dresses and more extended outings. Observe genetic women, and see what they wear to the store, or to the mall, or for walks in the
park, and copy them. Try to blend in -- not stand out.
And by all means, do not walk alone in the city late at night. This not only
invites trouble from the creeps out there, but, you may be perceived (by
the police) as a hooker. Go to a 7:00 PM movie in your skirt, or to a quiet
restaurant. Gay owned restaurants are especially accommodating, and you won't get hassled.
The AS wears dresses frequently at home and in the yard, and sometimes will
wear a skirt to the mall or grocery store. The AS is encouraged to attend church where his/her prettiest dresses will not be out of place. God doesn't care if one wears a dress to worship. If you are afraid of church, try one of the pro-gay churches that can be found in every city.
The AS is encouraged to wear skirts to run errands, whether it be just a run down to the post office, or a quick excursion to Wal-Mart to buy some lipstick or deodorant. Kudos to the AS that buys tampons and Kotex pads for his/herself. And kudos for going to the department store and trying on dresses or purchasing
lingerie. The AS will wear a denim skirt to visit the garden center to buy flowers or plants, or maybe even to fill the car with gas (let the attendant pump).
The AS is used to wearing skirts and his/her gestures and motions are fairly
refined. He may go for many days or weeks without wearing slacks of any kind
except for the dirtiest of jobs. It is, after all, a little impractical and out of place to weed the garden or cut the lawn while wearing a skirt. Real women wear jeans or shorts for these jobs.
The feeling of the fluttering hems of a nice dress should be second nature to the AS and not even of concern. Where to the ES, the airiness of a flowing skirt is exhilarating, the AS hardly notices. Maybe this is also caused by his/her neutering as mentioned later.
The Flagrant Sissy or FS wears skirts or dresses anytime, anywhere, period. She thinks nothing of putting on a dress for any occasion she feels. She actually feels more comfortable in skirts in assuming her role. She may dress like a hooker for a date at the nightclub, but usually she still dresses to blend in with the rest of womanhood.
By now, the ES has already evolved into panties and probably wears them all
the time under male clothes. The ES is encouraged to trash all his/her male
underwear and wear strictly feminine things. Try brands such as "Jockey for
Her" to begin the transition. Such brands come in plain cotton with few frills,
but are still panties. There are even boxer type shorts for ladies (usually with a mock-fly front or sans the fly completely). Evolve, to nylon briefs in plain white, and evolve from there to nylon briefs in pastels with lace trim. Pretty soon you'll think nothing of donning a fresh pair of panties every morning. Your male underwear will be long gone to the rag basket. After all, you ARE a SISSY. And sissies SHOULD wear panties.
The ES should start wearing a bra as much as possible. Experiment until you
get bras that fit properly. Wear them at every chance and always to sleep.
There are sleep bras especially for this purpose. Wear a bra under your bulky
sweater or sweatshirt when you go on errands. The bulky top will hide any
evidence that you are wearing a bra. You need to get used to the feel of a bra and to the point where the back clasps are second nature to you.
Train yourself to properly put on a bra. First slip it on over your arms and shoulders. Then attach it at the back and smooth it out. Don' t cheat and attach it the lazy way by fastening it on the front of your bust and then turning it around. Get used to fastening and unfastening the back hooks. And don't cheat with front closures, either.
Start with a training bra and evolve into breast padding or breast forms (which can be expensive). Kudos to the ES who makes an appointment at a bra boutique and gets fitted for a bra or breast forms. Write a letter to all of the bra specialty stores in your area, and explain that you are a transsexual and want a fitting. Eighty percent of them will answer back positively and help you in a fitting. They just want your money, and could care less what gender you are, as long as everything is in good taste.
The Advanced Sissy, AS, wears a bra most all of the time, day and night.
A bra is part of her nature and she actually feels naked without one. Very often, she has budding hormone-induced breasts and her nipples are tender. The bra will relieve chafing of the nipples and irritation as the hormones do their thing. She may even actually need a bra for support of her budding breasts and to smooth out her bust line under her clothes.
The AS owns a drawer full of bras in all colors and shops for them unabashed
whenever needed. Kudos for the AS that has a private boutique that fits her for her bras.
And the AS could care less about bra straps outlined through her blouse. After all, 51% of the population wear bras, so what 's wrong with you wearing one? It’s really no big deal!
If you are more of an ES and one of your moronic secretaries notices that you are wearing a bra, because she noticed bra strap lines, tell her that you hurt your back and are actually wearing a back brace. Kudos to you if you just admit that you wear a bra. Let her chew on it and gossip to her heart's content. So WHAT!
The FS, of course wears bras just like any Woman should, and could care less what other people think. She may even NEED a bra because her breasts are fully developed or she may have had implants to augment her breasts. And she truly loves to tease the men with her cleavage, and loves it when men fondle her breasts.
The ES is encouraged to wear girdles, if for nothing else to serve as a cache sex to hide his/her genitals. Kudos for him/her if he/she is already wearing a gaff under her panties. And foundation garments also serve to slim the waist and proportion the hips and rear, not to mention to hold up one's stockings if one wears gartered stockings.
The ES is encouraged to wear either a girdle with stockings or a garter belt with stockings as much as possible. (Your Mistress may demand this) This gives the ES the feeling of feminine vulnerability and encourages one's sitting properly with knees together to hide and protect one's sissy pussy. This will help develop your deportment when you graduate to the regular wearing of skirts. But be warned, once you get used to wearing a girdle, you cannot be without one. Your body may demand the support.
The AS is used to girdles and garter belts. She usually wears garter belts only on special occasions (such as dates, or to church when dressed up). But sometimes she even wears garters under her slacks. She derives fun from having the women notice her garter bumps under her linen slacks. Very often, she may wear an old fashioned open girdle under a dress, and is apt to wear a panty girdle, especially during her periods (as will be discussed below).
The FS (being the minx that she is) will wear any kind of girdle that she wants. Very often she will wear what her husband or boyfriend wants. Men commonly prefer garterbelts, because it not only is erotic (as in girlie mags), but also gives them easier access to one's sissy pussy. With a girdle, the man has to peel it off, where with a garter belt, the man only has to whisk off your panties if he wants to give you his penis, and he doesn't have to unclasp (and tear) garter tabs to gain his access.
And a garterbelt-panty-stockings combination is also more light and silky to wear. The sissy can feel her slip and silky dress sliding over her silky panties with every move, and her hormone-induced behind will jiggle when she walks without the confines of a girdled rear. The FS derives pleasure from knowing that the men are watching her ass cheeks jiggle and are thinking about putting something stiff between them for her.
Slips and petticoats are sometimes considered the ultimate badge of femininity.
Throughout history "Petticoat Punishment" has been administered by mothers
and governesses to unruly boys as a way of discipline by humiliating them with feminine accoutrements. Professional drag queens most often don't wear slips under their extravagant gowns (because they are still men mentally and physically and are only acting). It is when a woman notices that you are wearing a slip, that she decides that you are a serious sissy. You may wear a dress on Halloween and the women will think it funny, but if they see the lace hem of a slip, then they know that you are not wearing gym shorts underneath, but are most likely wearing panties also and are a sissy through and through. She will KNOW.... The ES, although wearing dresses in private, will not be wearing slips or petticoats in public, although we encourage the ES to do so as much as possible.
He/she can try wearing a slip under her slacks, but slips are not made to be worn with slacks. She should try petti-pants instead. For the ES, in his/her
first evolutionary stages, we suggest that he/she wear panties or petti-pants
and a camisole or sleeveless feminine undershirt. These can be plain cotton
to nylon and lace, as much as she dares and feels confident.
And please, leave her voluminous Shirley Temple taffeta and net petticoats
in the closet for now. Unfortunately, the petticoats of the 50's are out of style for street wear in the 90's. Confine them to Halloween costumes, square dancing, and occasional stints at parties serving as a French maid. Voluminous petticoats will make an ES stand out from other women (he/she wants to blend in, remember) and the ES will be read immediately. We all like petticoats, but unfortunately, they are out of style for street wear.
For most women, their slip style is an expression of their attitude. Plain women tend to wear plain slips with no lace trim, while sultry women wear extravagant styles at the other end of the scale. 99% of the women on earth are somewhere in between. We suggest that the ES start with conservative slips, if he/she feels uptight, but by all means, they should have a lace hem. She needs the practice of hiding her slip lace when she sits or stoops or bends in a lady-like and sissified manner.
The AS owns a drawer full of slips and half-slips and always wears one with her dresses and skirts. Very often, she may be seen with a little slit at the back hem of her skirt (for walking ease) through which an inch or two of her slip lace peeks when she walks. And the lace hems, bodice, and slip straps can usually be seen through the thin material of a nice dress. On seeing this, there is no doubt that she is a femme.
Kudos for any sissy that joins a square dance club and dances in her petticoated
square dance outfits. And kudos for any sissy that is in service as a French maid and gets to wear her petticoats in public.
Slips, generally though, (from a proper ladylike manner) should always be worn with a dress or skirt, but never, never seen. It is like a personal secret. On the outside, she may be wearing her conservative navy power-suit, but underneath, only known by the wearer, she is wearing a lacy nylon slip with her pink lace panties.
Slips should only be displayed to public view in accidental ways. When the
sissy is walking through the parking lot at the supermarket or loading bags
into her car, the wind may blow up her skirts and expose her pretty slip.
Or a passing truck may cause a draft to billow her skirts as she waits at
a street curb. Or her skirts may flail out when she is spun on the dance
floor, displaying her pretty hems. Or the men below her on the escalator
or stairs may stare up her legs, under her skirts and see that she is wearing
a pretty lace-hemmed slip.
The FS, may choose to flaunt her slip hems if she is in the mood to do so,
and may wear skirts with slits to purposely exhibit. She may even wear her
Shirley Temple petticoats in public, and thrive on getting "read".
But most likely, she will appear as the common suburban housewife or secretary
at the supermarket, in a pretty, but conservative dress. She may wear extravagant lingerie for her husband at bedtime or for special dates with men, to please them.
The FS receives a certain pleasure from having men see her pretty slippies.
Of course, her husband has carte blanche rights to raise her dress anytime,
and the sissy gets extreme stimulation from being bent forward over the sofa
and feeling her lover raise the back of her dress over her back (knowing that he now sees her pretty slip) and then feels her slip being whooshed up her legs to follow her raised dress, as a preliminary to sliding down her panties and giving her the penis that she loves to get.
Or the pleasure that she feels from having him get on top of her on the bed,
spread her legs and raise her dress and slip up to her neck before giving
her the bone in her sissy hole. She feels like such a sissy afterward. Her
little rosebud has been stretched and his semen is inside of her. She's more
conscious than ever of her pantied vee and the lace of her pretty slip tickling
her stockinged knees. Receiving the semen is absolutely the most feminizing
thing that a sissy can experience.
When the sissy hears the girls at work giggling about the dress the sissy is wearing, the sissy vows to wear even more of a feminine dress the next day.
The ES should have her ears pierced or do it herself if she can. Kudos to the ES who gets them pierced at the beauty salon. She should wear a ladies wristwatch, dainty chain necklace and pretty rings, for sure. Get rid of, sell, or trade off the men's jewelry.
It's socially acceptable now for men to wear earrings, so the ES should do so also. He/she can keep them simple to studs or little loops, and the public will not think anything of it. Who cares what the asshole macho construction workers think! Just walk away from them. Kudos for the ES that enjoys the catcalls from them.
The AS wears feminine jewelry at all times, and her earrings tend to be more
pronounced and feminine. She may even have several ear piercings and wear
two earrings in each ear.
The FS of course may go a step farther. She may wear dangling earrings, pearl
necklaces and any other feminine jewelry. Hopefully, she will have a husband
that bought her a diamond ring. She may be the suburban housewife with conservative jewelry, or wear gaudy jewelry for the nightclub scene.
The ES should get herself some unisex shoes, be it jogging shoes, canvas
casuals, penny loafers, or oxfords with a higher heel, or sandals. We all
love our patent leather Mary Janes, but restrict their use to home. This
sissy should ditch all of his/her male boots and shoes and go for femmy or unisex, evolving into heels as time goes by.
The ES should start getting used to heels and walking in them over all kinds
of terrain and footing. She/he should practice also on stairs. Study what
shoes the women wear to the mall, store, car wash, etc. and copy them.
The Advanced Sissy doesn't own ANY male shoes. All his/hers are either femme or unisex. She has everything from casual flats to dressy heels, but mostly just wears her casuals for everyday wear. Her heels are reserved for when she decides to wear a dress.
The Flagrant Sissy will wear anything, even her Mary Janes. After all, she's
a sissy and proud of it. Who cares if she wears her back zip shorts, lacy
anklets and a pair of black patent Mary Janes to the mall. She just wiggles
her rear at any catcalls. Let the macho boneheads whistle at her shaven
legs. She loves it. She's proud to be a sissy.
She will wear nice heels with dress slacks and heeled sandals with jeans
on occasion. Her best heels are reserved for her dresses, and will match
her purse if at all possible.
STOCKINGS AND SHOES
The ES should by now choose only feminine socks, whether they be sweat socks with her jeans, nylon pull ups with her slacks, or anklets with her jogging shoes. Kudos to the ES who braves wearing no socks with her sandals, showing off her painted toenails, or wears pantyhose and no socks. Double kudos if he/she wears knee socks with his/her femmy shorts or culottes.
The AS will wear pantyhose sans socks with her jeans and slacks. She may
even wear pantyhose with shorts or culottes or a skort. Sometimes her shaven
legs get cold, and she needs hose. With her dresses, she will wear pantyhose
or garter stockings, depending on her mood and whether she is having her
period. Advanced sissies are encouraged to wear stockings and garterbelt
to get them used to the vulnerability and openness of womanhood. She has
learned to keep her knees together when sitting so the men can't see her
garters and stocking tops. This feminine trait comes from many months of
The FS wears stockings and garterbelt because her man likes her to. Or she may do so for a dressy date. Often her husband will want a “quickie” and stockings allow easier access for him to her sissy hole, where pantyhose or a girdle are a hassle for him to get off, and more of a hassle for her to straighten out afterwards. She also will wear garter-belts to work at the office. One never knows when a demanding boss may want a quickie from his accommodating sissy secretary. If she is in service as a maid, she will wear whatever her uniform or her Mistress requires.
The ES should get used to no longer having enough pockets in his/her girl's
jeans and start by wearing a fanny-pack or belt-pack, as women at the mall
often do. He/she can then graduate to a unisex shoulder bag.
The AS has been purse broken. She carries a purse wherever she goes, whether it is a canvas bag or a leather hand or shoulder bag.
The purse of the FS is her survival kit. Along with ID's and credit cards, she carries necessary makeup for touch-ups, a hairbrush, bobby-pins, safety pins, run-stop for her stockings, her sanitary napkins, and perfume, amongst
The FS, having been purse broken long ago, uses all styles of handbags, and
in all shades of color, including pastels to match her shoes. If she is employed
as a maid or personal assistant, she often is required to carry her Mistress's
purse as well.
The ES should begin using light make-up in public appearances. He/she should
always be clean shaven to the tops of the ears and have plucked her eyebrows.
If the snoopy women at work notice the plucked brows, tell them "the barber
trimmed them and got carried away", or "the hot oven singed them off".
This sissy should be wearing light mascara and eyeliner to his/her excursions
to the store, and maybe even a light blush and colorless lipstick.
The AS will wear make-up more often and more complete. He/she will be wearing colored lipstick to go with eye make-up and foundation and powder.
The FS would die without her make-up. She puts on her 'face' every morning just like millions of women do. Her evening make-up will be more glamorous. She is seen at the department store make-up counters, and gets made-up at the
beauty parlor for special dates. She has had some, or complete, electrolysis
and takes care of her skin with lotions and creams. Her eyebrows are plucked
wispy thin. Her lipstick always matches her nail polish.
All sissies should polish their toenails with colored polish. It 's part of being a sissy. The ES should start taking care of her fingernails, by keeping them clean, trimmed to a feminine oval and use of clear polish
Advanced and Flagrant Sissies use colored fingernail polish to match their outfits or their moods. They may opt for clear polish for work or during their periods, and more sultry polish for the nightclub scene. Their nails are trimmed in an obvious feminine fashion and are often done at the nail salon. If they use artificial nails, they are kept immaculate. No quick glue-on’s for these sissies. They prefer and take pride in their natural manicures. Besides, it 's fun to go to the salon and get ones nails done and gossip with the women. ISN'T IT, GIRL!
The ES should be always completely free of body hair. Even if it means body shaving or depilating EVERY day. His/her legs should be smooth as well as his/her arms. Be real! Nothing looks grosser than someone wearing nice stockings with hairy legs or a cocktail dress with hairy arms. YUK!
If the snoops at work quiz you about it, tell them you do it for medical reasons, which is none of their business.
Advanced Sissies are usually taking hormones, so body hair thins and may disappear in some cases. She may also remove her pubic hair or just leave a little feminine tuft in the vee of her panties.
FS girls are hairless by habit and love it. They also could care less what other people think.
Evolving Sissies should also learn to douche regularly and use feminine deodorant powders and sprays in their underarms and in their panties. Hygienic sprays are recommended and so are the use of hygienic creams such as Vagisil. Learn to take care of yourself. Cleanliness is second only to Godliness.
All sissies should keep their bodies clean and hair free and sweet sissy
smelling. Throw out the men's colognes and deodorants and use feminine products and perfumes and lotions. Wash your hair every day, or wear a shower bonnet if you don't want to spoil your 'permanent'. Pamper yourself with bubble-baths and scented oils and lotions. Your health will prosper from it. And, for sure, take extra care of your teeth. Get them cleaned by the dentist and keep them clean.
Advanced and Flagrant Sissies douche religiously for the benefit of their
partners who may want a quickie at any time.
The ES should also begin training for periods. Get a calendar and mark off periods of four to six days, every twenty-eight days on the calendar. These will be your periods. Or you may choose to have your periods when your Mistress has hers. It's quite common for women living together to have periods at the same time.
Use tampons and pantiliners or sanitary napkins. During the first days of your period, insert an extra-large tampon and wear the most absorbent pads, then graduate down to smaller tampons and thinner pantiliners as the days go by. Carry extra tampons and napkins with you and change your tampon and pad every time you sit down to pee. Wrap the used tampon and napkin in tissue and throw it in the bathroom wastebasket. Never flush them or throw them on the floor.
For the AS and the FS, periods are a way of life. Their hormone treatment
may also cause the associated mood swings. Some sissies actually claim to
have some cramping during their periods, too. During their periods, they
are more inclined to choose plain panties with pantyhose and a panty-girdle
to secure their napkins. They don 't feel sexy so they do not wear their
sexy lingerie. The sexy lingerie is reserved for the days immediately after
the period when the sissy in her most receptive mood and pampers herself
with a nice bath in lotions and scents.
Most sissies are basically neuters. They are either dysfunctional as a male to begin with, or will soon be after undergoing a regimen of female hormones.
They wear a gaff constantly under their panties. This constriction of the genitals, along with hormones, and the sissy 's genetic makeup make him/her a failure in bed with women. The girls laugh at their little "weenie peenie". The sissy becomes embarrassed to the point of not pursuing women at all, except maybe in his/her fantasies. Eventually the sissy gives up any pursuit of genetic females for the purpose of having intercourse. I mean, REALLY! What woman in her right mind would want to have sex with a sissy who wears panties, has budding breasts, sits when he/she pees, and even wears dresses! Besides, his/her limp little peanut is totally useless for sex save for a few dribbles during his wet dreams. The sissy is resigned to just play with himself or have sex with men (on the receiving end, of course).
If a sissy is lucky, he/she has an understanding Mistress and may be taught to worship her vagina by giving her oral stimulation. Not only will this please the Mistress, but also serves the sissy as an anatomical lesson. He/she wishes he/she had a vagina between his legs like his Mistress.
Advanced Sissies may experiment with men. Sissies are not gay or fags. They surely cannot have sex with women, so that leaves only abstinence (which many choose) or sex with men. It's a natural thing to do.
There are lots of men who will "do" a sissy. Some even prefer sissies over genetic women, but more common is a man that is so horny all the time, that he will use either as a form of release. It's common for a straight man that has been deprived of sexual activity by a shrewish wife to use a sissy as a means of relief.
Most men just desire to receive oral stimulation from the sissy and that's as far as it will go. So the sissy, beginning in the evolutionary stages must think about learning to become an expert felatrix (or cocksucker). It is much to his/her benefit to be able to give a man a good suck whenever he wants it.
We recommend a sissy, in the earliest stages of evolution or coming out, study videos and books on the subject of cocksucking. It will be much to his/her benefit and is really quite harmless and socially accepted. We cannot discuss various techniques in this short report, but will leave it to the sissy to learn on his/her own. If the sissy is lucky, she will receive instructions and tutelage from a patient man or a Mistress with experience. But it is really hard to give a bad blowjob, so the chances of success on the sissy's first attempt are in his/her favor.
Given the precautions of safe sex, cocksucking is really quite harmless. The sissy may suffer a bit from an aching jaw, if the man's penis is really thick. And she may muss up her make-up and clothes and hair from spritzes of semen (ask Monica). But the semen is harmless and washes off easily. Eventually, the sissy may develop a warm feeling inside from his/her ability to receive the man's seed and pleasure him. It most likely makes him/her even more of a devoted sissy.
So if the boss wants a blowjob, or the Mistress's boyfriend or husband (with her permission of course), or the sissy's own husband or boyfriend -- kudos to the sissy who gives him a good cocksuck and takes his semen in the mouth and swallows it.
Often, the sissy and her partner progress to anal sex, with the sissy on the receiving end. This takes more patience and training. It can be painful for the sissy, at first, but after time will soon become very pleasurable both physically and mentally. Again, we stress the rules of safe sex, and patience and practice. There are training methods that the sissy can use to prepare her for receiving the penis, which we will discuss below, to minimize any discomfort.
There is nothing more feminizing to a sissy than receipt of the male seed. It's as if the sissy now has meaning. She feels the pleasure of her pretty dress and slip hems tickling her knees. Her breasts become a source of arousal. She feels flat in front, like there is nothing between her legs but her feminine vee. She may even become more giddy, and lispy and swishy. Her life has a new meaning, it seems. And she becomes more of a sissy than ever before. Some sissies claim that their little rosebuds actually seem to flitter at the thought of receipt of a nice penis, much as a woman's vagina will lubricate and prepare itself in anticipation. The sissy soon learns what a genetic woman goes through when she falls in love with a cock. She dreams of it, dresses for it, and yearns for it on a regular basis. Many kudos to the sissy who has a gentle and understanding man that gives her the weenie regularly.
DIET AND EXERCISE
Enough has been said about a good diet and its importance to general health.
So, sissies: eat your fruits and veggies and lay off the fat.
As for exercise, there are several regimens that are especially beneficial to a budding through to advanced sissy. The exercise program should be one that
stresses endurance as opposed to strength, with most work on the legs and
hips and waist. It is desirable for the sissy to have a slim waistline and pretty legs and rear, with thin, weak arms, wrists, and shoulders. So exercise
should be confined to those muscles from the waist down.
Exercise should also be to stretch and smooth out the muscles and not to
compact them for short bursts of strength. We don't want sissies to have
legs like a linebacker after all, do we?
So confine the exercise program to stretchy movements, walking, and swimming, to lengthen and smooth the muscles from the waist down. The sissy might also consider purchasing a girl's bicycle and peddling around the neighborhood in her new cycling outfit or her new shorts and sneakers.
Sit-ups are the best for whittling the waist, especially in conjunction with
a good corset. Leg lifts are good and all forms of stretching exercises.
Also very good for the sissy is to lay on her back and try to raise her knees
to her ears and spread her legs wide. Besides stretching the hamstrings,
this exercise also prepares the sissy for receiving the penis in a wifely
position. Another beneficial exercise on the same idea is to stretch to the
head down -- rear up position, both from a kneeling and standing position.
Practice clasping your ankles with legs spread while raising your derriere
in the air.
Dildo training goes well with the sissy 's exercise regimen. The sissy is encouraged to purchase a set of vibrators in gradually increasing sizes. Start training with the smallest and graduate to the largest, as they become more comfortable.
First, (for obvious reasons) start with a nice douche, and then lubricate with water based lubricant (don't use oil based, such as Vaseline). Insert the vibrator and do your leg lifts. After a period of time, not only will the sissy be able to lift and spread her legs to max, but will also be able to take the thickest vibrator. This exercise will stimulate confidence and ability to receive the penis when necessary and desired.
But by all means, sissies, don't torture yourself. If you feel pain or discomfort,
quit and rest until you feel able to do the exercise again. Do not damage
yourself. Patience and persistence are the keywords. The vibrator should
be comforting and not a source of pain.
The ES should start to develop feminine hobbies, such as sewing, quilting,
embroidery, knitting, indoor plants, and the like. Along with this goes reading.
Sissies are encouraged to read lady's and women's magazines and romance novels. Fashion and hairdo magazines are a plus, to keep up to date on femininity.
Doll collecting is also a good hobby for sissies. Be sure to display your doll collection very prominently, so that visitors to your home can easily see it.
omg i luv luv being a retard nympho just born slow like it’s just not me to think— im just that cunt in ripped up pantyhose taking Cock until orgasm as i stare stupid again into the mirror— in a cock cruising minidress seven-inch nails again fingering my bimbo hole with no say no— a bimbo dropout ditzy sex object the one in all charge is pushing into— a gump brained girly thong bitch even i try to play it uhh tough— tits shoved into the bar— face He’s cueball fucking with naked inches of gnarly trouser snake— beg Him for an ass up sex shot— my once tweaking fuck rush as i plead Him please in fucktube and matchy matchy same same it happens to me— glory pink suggestible shade of needing Him
Amy is a young attractive 26 year old red head. She recently moved cause of her job. So one night she gets a call from her uncle ted. "Hi uncle ted how are you?". Ted replies "I'm good Amy. The reason I called you is because I'm retiring and I want you to come to the party". She replies "I wouldn't miss it for anything. What day is it?". "This friday" he says "I'll be there I'll get a hotel to stay at " she replies. "You can stay at my place it's been lonely since the divorce" "ok" she replies.Amy hasn't seen her uncle in a few years cause of the pandemic so she was excited to see her. Friday comes along she puts on a sexy pink and black dress with pantyhose and heels. She goes to the party witch was at a bug banquet hall. She finds ted. "Oh you made it good" ted says as he hugs Amy. "Yeah It was actually a long drive". Amy replies "you look good" he replies. "Thanks" Amy says feeling uncomfortable with the way ted is starting at her. Amy goes and starts to talk to some of the people she knows. Hours pass and the party is over and it's time to leave. Amy tells ted "give me your address I gotta do something". After 20 mins later she arrives at Ted's house she walks in and says "uncle ted I'm here". When all of a sudden she feels someone cover her mouth with a rag soaked with clorophrom Amy soon passes out. She wakes up groggy looks down and sees she is tied up the ropes are tight so.she cant wiggle free. Then she sees her uncle come up to the room her eyes grow big with fear and betrayal. He grabs her by the hair and says "I'll take the gag out but don't fucking scream!". She nods. He takes the gag out "What the fuck uncle ted! Let me go now!" He back hands her "shut up cunt I did this cause I wanna fuck you!". "What no you're my uncle pervert!". "You're so sexy" he says as he grops her breasts. She wiggles away he pulls her back. He takes out his cock and tells her to suck it "ewww you're fucking sick no!". He grabs her by the hair pins her against the wall and shoves his dick in her mouth. He says "since you dont wanna suck it I'll throat fuck you". She reluctantly sucks it so she doesn't get throat fucked. Right before he cums he holds her head forcing his cock all the way down her throat till he cums. Her eyes water and she gags and chokes he finally pulls out. Then he rips her panteyhose pulls down her panties and begins to rape her. "Get off bastard you're my uncle". He strangles her while he rapes her saying "I'm taking my anger out on you from the divorce" as hr keeps thrusting her. Finally after 40 mins he stops. Then he rapes her agian but this time In the ass as hard as he can. She screams he says "scream no one can hear you". Amy never thought she would be raped by her uncle. After a while he takes the rest of her clothes off ties her up in a strappado and starts to punch her in the stomach she begs him to stop "please the let me go". She says he unties her ties her to the bed and rapes her agian and agian. This goes on for weeks. Finally ted says "you're my sex/rape slave". "Please let me go I'm your neice this is wrong". He just laughs. "Idc care you stupid slut". Amy's uncle keeps her as a sex slave. "Here I'll cut a deal ill let you live in your house. But anytime I wanna rape you I'll come over and rape you got it!". "Yes" as Amy nods. Then ted rapes her one more time. Then he says "I'm not letting you go!" He ties her up locks her in a room in his basement. She is her uncles sex slave..m
mango, m | jjk | 2
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of parental abuse and suicide; suggestive words/actions; alcohol consumption; mentions of nightmares plaguing the reader; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok and friendly!Namjoon
Your head leaned against the wall of the library. Too many books around you, research paper already outlined for you seminar class. That was good. You only needed a partial outline next week and you would finish tweaking the outline tomorrow. You phone was open beside your papers, screen blaring at you.
Jungkook’s text, asking where you were. Your reply.
No further information. A guy like that probably never stepped foot in a library his entire life.
You closed your eyes. Placed your arms over your papers, sighing softly. You were in one of the study rooms in the upper floors of the library, where all the scientific journals were.
Why had you given him your phone number like that?
You turned your head the other way, eyeballs shifting under your closed lids.
Guys like that only cause self-destruction.
Your thumb ran over your glossy nails. You wondered if he would be mad at you for associating yourself with someone who looked dangerous and wild. Maybe he would tell you it was a bad idea. Maybe he could make you see reason. All you had to do was call him and ask for his opinion.
I’m sorry, Hoseok.
You ran your other thumb over the nails on your other hand. The little stickers caused raised bumps, but none of them had peeled off yet. You pressed your thumb down on one of them. At least he was still there, with you in this way.
A soft blackness swallowed you up, taking you into deep slumber.
Then, a coated sweetness pressed against your lips. A familiar taste. You opened your mouth and the thin, flat piece of dried fruit slid partway in. Your teeth stopped it. Spun it slowly with your tongue. Then it went into your mouth. Chewed.
Opened your eyes.
Jeon Jungkook, standing over you.
Holding a pack of dried mango. Eating a piece, his straight white teeth gnawing at it. Pink lips closing around the orange fruit. The mole under his lip danced with movement. His brown eyes were darker due to the harsh fluorescent overhead light. Tan skin glowing, black hair slicked back with too much gel, revealing his clean undercut. Leather blazer over a low-cut black t-shirt. Black jeans. Black backpack far too deflated to be holding much.
“Don’t know how you eat this stuff,” Jungkook said absentmindedly. He sat down on the chair next to you. Scooted closer. You could smell his cologne. Something sharp, but clean. “It’s not bad, but I couldn’t eat packs and packs of it like you.”
You lifted your head. “Habit.”
He nodded. “I noticed you do it whenever I talk to you.”
You chewed slowly.
“I don’t talk to people.”
He looked you over. Black turtleneck. Maroon oversized hoodie. Black flared miniskirt. Black opaque tights. Black boots with a ten-centimeter platform.
“What do you do for fun?”
You reached over and stuck your hand into the pack of dried mango. Picked a piece and placed it in your mouth. Sat back in your chair as you chewed on it.
“I don’t have fun.”
Jungkook sucked his teeth. It seemed like he was trying to unstick some candied fruit from them. “You seem like the creative type though. Moody and artistic.”
You shifted your eyes, staring into the bookshelves. “Creation is meaningless without an audience.”
Jungkook scratched his nose. “Maybe you just don’t want anyone to know what you’re thinking.”
You stopped chewing.
You turned your head to face Jungkook. He frowned at the packet of dried mango and placed it on the desk, sliding it to you. Then he noticed you staring at him. His lips curved into a slow, sly smile.
“You doing anything tonight?”
You didn’t go to parties.
Never. In your entire life. Not even a birthday party. You didn’t have birthday parties yourself either.
You only remembered beatings on your birthday.
You stood at the edge of the lawn, looking up at the large house. Too many people. Too much drinking. Too much danger. You reached into the center pocket of your maroon hoodie, pulling out a piece of dried mango. Slowly placing it in between your teeth. Spinning it. A couple was making out on the porch, pressed against the wall. Sucking the dried mango in your mouth. On the other side of the porch, a girl was slapping another guy and tossing the contents of a red plastic cup at him.
You shouldn’t have come. This wasn’t where you belonged.
A strong hand gripped your upper left arm. Familiar fingers. Long, strong ones, with small tattoos.
“How long you been standing out here?”
Alcohol on his breath.
“How much mango you consumed in that time?”
You held out an empty cellophane bag.
You chewed. The fingers let you go. They danced up your shoulder.
“You don’t seem to be bothered when I touch you.”
“That’s because it’s obvious what you want.”
Jeon Jungkook chuckled. Deep and amused.
“But talking bothers you?”
You exhaled. Took out another piece.
“Words, intentional or not, leave everlasting scars far longer than a meaningless fuck.”
You placed it in between your teeth.
“Do you think it will be meaningless?” His voice was low, treacherous.
You paused. His fingertips balanced on the shoulder of your hoodie. A gust was wind made your black skirt flutter against your thighs. You felt nothing. Not cold, not hot. Nothing but those fingertips balanced on your shoulder. You sucked in the piece of mango and chewed. You could walk away. Not provoke him anymore and not try to walk through that fire.
You could back away and continue on your tightrope, high above.
But if you were already standing on this street, in front of this house, didn’t that mean your feet were already on the asphalt? Weren’t you already on the ground, wandering down that lost highway?
“There is no meaning in the arms of a stranger.”
You reached for your hoodie pocket again but his fingers wrapped around yours. Stopping you. Pulling you to him. Face shining in the moonlight, brows furrowed as he looked down at your face. Thick silver chain glinting at his throat. Dark hair slicked back but falling apart due to the events of the night. Eyes like the dark side of the moon.
He leaned down.
You could feel his breath against yours. Alcoholic, but somehow not unpleasant. It mixed with his sharp, clean cologne and the leather of his jacket. You saw his eyes flicker. He was really staring deeply into your eyes. He was as handsome as everyone said he was. You tilted your head at him.
Guys like him were always looking for a target. A puzzle to solve. The harder and more difficult it was, the better the thrill. That’s how it was and that’s how Jeon Jungkook was. So, you stood there. Waiting for him to do it.
Thing was, Jungkook wasn’t doing anything.
He finally backed off; expression unreadable. You pulled your hand out of his.
“Let’s go on a walk. I have to sober up.”
You looked from the house to him. He cocked his head. You two began to walk, stepping into the moonlight. Not touching each other, but walking side by side. The silence was deafening. He wasn’t speaking to you. Not even looking at you. You placed your earbuds into your ear and put on some violin music.
“What are you listening to?”
You jumped, surprised he noticed. Jungkook tilted his head at you. You handed him one of the Samsung buds. He placed it in his ear, tucking his hair back. Profile illuminated by the moon, nodded slowly at he listened.
And then you two walked, serenaded by violins.
Jungkook texted you and showed up in the library again. You were in the middle of writing your seminar research paper. To be honest, he was a welcome distraction. The scientific articles were giving you a headache.
He handed you a piece of dried mango before speaking.
You blinked at him. Jungkook grabbed a seat and sat down, taking out a slice himself. You placed the piece of dried mango in your mouth and chewed slowly. He watched you the entire time, chewing with you, staring at your lips. You swallowed, sighing.
"Jungkook, you don't want to date me."
He nibbled at another piece of dried mango. "Pretty sure I do."
You took in a deep breath, feeling the annoyance rise in your chest. "Your body is the literal reincarnation of Adonis himself and you radiate bad boy vibes like nobody's business. You would ruin your image by dating the strange girl with a dried mango obsession."
Jungkook chewed slowly. "That's the first time your tone has changed with me."
You froze, realizing that too. Realizing that, for once, you were actually irate instead of being objective or apathetic about it. You were not making an ambiguous comment or philosophizing humanity. You were just stating what you were thinking straight up.
"And, anyway, you're the literal reincarnation of sex goddess Aphrodite herself, so there should be no problem if you're worried about looks."
"That's not..." You cut yourself off, not bothering to correct him. "You can barely see my body."
Jungkook's eyes traveled down to your legs. Your black pantyhose-covered legs, with your short red skirt and black hoodie. He reached out and grabbed your hand. You tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron.
"True, your skin is always covered," he mumbled.
Then Jungkook pressed your hand into his crotch.
Your eyes widened, feeling his semi-hard length in his jeans. He let go of your hand and you recoiled as if burned. Did he really just–?
He gnawed thoughtfully. "And yet every time I hear your voice, that happens to me."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sexual attraction is not a solid foundation to a relationship."
"It's not," Jungkook agreed, grabbing another piece of dried mango. Then his eyes flickered to you, dark and serious. "I just didn't like how you dismissed my physical attraction to you so easily." He went back to nibbling.
You looked away; ears hot. "In the end, all you want is to boast that you fucked me."
"That was my original intent, yes." You snapped your head back, furrowing your brows. Jungkook inspected the dried fruit, licking some sugar off. Your stomach flipped a little as you watched his pink tongue. "But now I want to take you on dates, hold your hand, and make you eat real meals that aren't only composed of candied mango."
You looked down at your lap. "I'm not a hand-holding kind of girl."
"Then I'll hold your ass."
A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. You glared at him, but he was smiling, popping the mango in his mouth.
"One date. And then we'll see how it goes."
You closed your eyes. Inhaled deeply. You could say no. You could refuse and tell him to leave you alone and never speak to him again. You could and maybe you should. Because once he knew... he would know. You chewed on your lip. Fear was an understatement. And you were afraid because you knew the truth. If there was a flame between you two, the truth would likely snuff it out.
Was that better or worse than you smothering it yourself?
"Before we go on a date," you said quietly but firmly. "I need to show you something."
“Okay. What is it that you have to show me?”
You were standing in Jeon Jungkook’s apartment. Different day, different clothes. He was wearing a loose leather jacket, white shirt, and distressed acid-wash jeans. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Black hair slicked back as usual, sculpted dark brows framing intense brown eyes. Even though he was dressed like a delinquent, his apartment was well-kept and clean. It was one of the student apartment complexes, decently expensive, segregated for men and women. Not that it mattered, since you were obviously standing there right now.
You were wearing your black turtleneck and flared black miniskirt. But instead of your usual opaque pantyhose, you were wearing black thigh-high socks. They made you very uncomfortable and not because Jungkook was staring at the sliver of exposed flesh. To be honest, you couldn’t care less if he was staring or not.
You chewed on you lip, clutching your messenger bag.
You really wondered if you should show Jungkook. Your thumb ran over your nails. Painted royal blue with raindrop crystals. You asked Hoseok to do them for you this time. He was excited to pick a design and style for you. Asked you what it was for and you said you just felt like it.
Hoseok was very happy to hear that.
Jungkook seemed to sense your unease.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently. “Do you want a piece of man–”
You shook your head furiously. Just do it. Do it and maybe he’ll leave you alone. Do it and he’ll understand this is a bad, bad idea.
You took a deep breath and bent at the waist. Then you yanked down both your thigh-highs, all the way to your ankles.
Jungkook gasped sharply.
You stared down at your legs. At the knife scars, mostly on your calves. Some white and thin, but there were a few big dark ones, knotted and twisted from the skin trying to grow back evenly but failing. Your legs were quite pale too. They never saw the sun.
You hated looking at them. They reminded you of why you had nightmares.
You didn’t look at him. His normally smooth, suave voice was trembling. Confused.
You sucked in your lips and clicked your tongue.
“My father was not a nice man. I was an only daughter and he was not happy about it. Perhaps he was never happy about life to begin with. He reminded my mother and me about it constantly.” You straightened, still not looking at Jungkook, but no longer wanting to look at yourself either. “He beat us up a lot. At the time, I really thought that was how it was. Men lost their temper sometimes. Happens. What else am I supposed to think?” You shrugged. “But it was always slapping around, the occasional punch. Not that bad, perhaps.”
You had to remember to breathe. Breathe.
“But when I was twelve, thirteen, it got worse. I don’t know if it was because my mom was slowly fighting back or if work became more stressful and he acted out, but the reason doesn’t matter. He simply got worse. Things thrown at us. Years of insults made them cut deeper, harder. He pulled a knife on me, when I was home alone and my mom was at work.”
You had to swallow hard, trying not to go back there. Trying not to get too detailed, because the nightmares already did that for you. You pulled up your sleeves. There were a few unpleasant scars there too, but nowhere near as bad to your legs.
“Anyway,” you continued. “I think he thought I was bleeding out or dead. My mom, feeling that something was off, decided to come home early. I don’t think I would be alive if she hadn’t thought to do that.” You inhaled deeply, pausing for a moment before continuing. “My father took his car and drove to the other side of town. Drove to a deserted area and ended his own life with the knife he cut me up with. I don’t know if it was guilt or fear of being exposed. But it doesn’t matter. I went to the hospital and stayed there for a long, long time. Not because of the cuts or almost bleeding out, but because I had to talk to a lot of psychologists. A lot of counselors.”
You reached into your bag and pulled out the pack of dried mango. “My mom would buy me these. She couldn’t visit often. She had to sell the house and work overseas to pay all the medical bills. Maybe she has a hard time seeing me too.”
You chewed on your lip, shoving it back into your bag.
“I look more like my father, unfortunately. And, even though I understand what has happened to me, I can’t escape it. I see it every day in the mirror. I am reminded all the time. I can’t talk to people unless I’m eating dried mango. It’s a stupid tick, but my therapist told me once that it was better than cocaine, so, whatever, right?”
You chuckled darkly, feeling empty.
“And I have nightmares. They don’t go away. When I take medication, it gets worse, so I don’t try anymore.”
You kept your eyes on the wall, still not looking at him.
“You’re handsome, Jungkook. Handsome, decently smart, could clean up well,” you said, still gnawing on your lip. “I’m not pretty like the other girls you hang around with. I don’t get to wear what I want because I don’t want to be asked what is wrong with my skin. Sometimes, I wake up screaming, remembering everything that happened that night. I eat way too much dried mango and speak like a fucking robot.” You closed your eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath. “I spend a lot of time trying to not feel anything. I’m not okay. You shouldn’t date someone like me.”
Ten seconds past.
Then, the creak of leather. You suddenly felt his presence right in front of you. Strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. The sharp, clean scent of his cologne, the thinness of the white shirt revealing his toned torso. Well, the reaction wasn’t disgust. Maybe it was pity and that was worse. You did not want a pity fuck.
“At the risk of something insensitive,” Jungkook murmured quietly into your hair. “Your battle scars are really fucking cool.”
You laughed, because, what? That wasn’t a reaction you expected. Your laugh was raspy and kind of gross, considering you hadn’t laughed like that in years. But you laughed into Jungkook’s chest, laughed because it was ridiculous, laughed because it was a little insensitive, laughed because you didn’t care. No one who knew about your scars ever said anything like that. Everyone else was very serious and solemn, pity in their eyes as you explained.
Jungkook buried his face into your hair. You could feel his smile.
“Your laugh is cute.”
You wheezed, shaking your head a little. “It isn’t. I didn’t even know I could laugh,” you choked out weakly, breathless.
You felt him kiss the top of your head. You froze, a shiver running through you.
“You know,” Jungkook murmured. “I was really nervous in the library when I was asking you out.”
You didn’t reply. Couldn’t breathe, really.
“I found myself continuously eating that mango. I think you rubbed off on me.”
You remembered. And then you realized.
“You only ate one piece though,” he muttered. “It made me even more nervous, honestly. I just kept eating to keep my mind off it.”
Was this… was this the first time you had an entire conversation with Jeon Jungkook without eating mango at one point?
The only person you weren’t like that with was Hoseok, and that was because he was your oldest friend. The only friend who knew it all, who witnessed your bruises and tear-stained cheeks. The only friend who saw you in hospital gowns and did his best to cheer you up. Drawing pictures with you, making bracelets. Telling you that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be your daily dose of sunshine, your hope, never getting discouraged. There weren’t romantic feelings between you two, but there was love, and you were eternally grateful that Hoseok never gave up on you.
He was just the annoying kid who kept trying to copy your Chemistry homework.
“You’re… not that bad at Chemistry, are you?”
Jungkook chuckled. “Nah. I always do the homework. I just wanted to annoy you.”
“You are, indeed, very annoying.”
You two stood there, Jungkook hugging you, your thigh-highs at your ankles, clutching your bag. To be honest, you thought it would have been a lot weirder. But somehow, it was kind of nice. You were okay with it.
“Where do you want to go on our date?” Jungkook suddenly piped up.
You spoke into his chest. “We’re still going on a date?”
He hugged you tighter. “Yeah, of course.”
You were pressed against his body, held so close that your ribs felt like they were being crushed.
“Something is poking me.”
“… Please ignore him. He doesn’t know time and place.”
A few silent seconds passed.
“I mean, maybe you needed some reassurance that I still think you’re fine as hell.”
“He’s getting bigger.”
“I told you to ignore him.”
Julie bought this stunning $600 red outfit for her role as a bridesmaid at the wedding of her best friend Kristen and her fiancé, Trevor.
It was a big church wedding with 300 guests in attendance.
As soon as the ceremony was complete, Kristen began posing for the photographer. Julie took Trevor aside and told him he needed to come with her, because she and Kristen had special plans for him. While Kristen proceeded to the reception, Julie brought Trevor to the Christian Feminization Academy clinic. “Julie wants you castrated immediately, to show you who is the boss in your marriage.” Trevor had no chance to object, as the doctor came in and the deed was done quickly. After, while Julie was driving him to the reception, she said, “Now, of course, you are incapable of penetrating your new bride. Your sex life will consist only of providing oral sex to Kristen’s cute little penis.” Trevor was shocked. “Penis? Kristen has a PENIS?” “Yes, dear, don’t you know she graduated from Christian Feminization Academy? She used to be “Kevin”.
They arrived at the reception where Trevor joined a mischievously-smiling Kristen and enjoyed a deep loving kiss. Trevor couldn’t stop thinking that his only sex would be sucking his bride’s little penis! He would have gotten erect at the thought, but erections were a thing of the past now.
Later, Julie drew him aside to the coat room. “Getting used the idea?” “I guess so… it will be different than I expected,” Trevor replied. “Well, I think you should practice a little first, don’t you?” Julie asked as she lifted her red skirt and nylon slip, and lowered her pantyhose and panties to reveal a short little 1 inch penis with a pink bow around it. As Trevor fell to his knees to begin sucking, she held his head and said, “and there’s even more to come. Kristen has enrolled you in Christian Feminization Academy. You will begin right after the honeymoon. And next year when I get married, I want YOU to be one of MY bridesmaids!”
Musical Beetlejuice xfemreader
After you caught beetlejuice with your vibrator, you were mad at him, he trys to win you over with a replacement.
WARNING nsft content, voyeurism, possessed vibrator, yeah with a clueless reader
You couldnt help but laugh at the contents of the gift, a few days ago you caught your pal beetlejuice with your vibrator in his mouth, you were so upset at this breach of privacy, you decided to just ignore him, there was no point in being upset or angry with him, he never took anything seriously anyway, let alone your feelings. The rest of that day was so weird, it was like he wasnt even there, he avoided you, and you him, when Lydia summoned him back, there were no 'good byes' or warnings, just a cloud of smoke and silence, you thought nothing of this, eventually you'll forgive him, and things will be fine, but right now, you wanted to be upset.
But this, an apology gift? You honestly never would have guessed beetlejuice was capable of apologizing, let alone with a gift. You couldnt help but laugh through your nose when you saw the contents, a bright green vibrator, a little bottle of lube, and a note. As embarrassing as it is to have the ghoul pick out a sex toy for you, his heart was in the right place at least, maybe the Maitlands suggested this, the apology gift part at least, probably not the whole sex toy part.
The note though, his hand writing was a mess, but you've had professors with worse.
"Sorry I put your vibrator in my mouth, here is a brand new, NEVER BEEN OPENED one, and some lube to get the party started, PS this one is a tad bigger ;)"
'Never been opened' you inspect the package, factory seal still intact, you sigh, glancing back at the note, you blush rereading the part saying 'this one is a tad bigger' the idea of the demon remembering your old toy's size and deciding you needed a bigger one made a shiver run up your spine.
As awful and chaotic as he could be, there was a part of him that honestly ment well, despite all of his glaring flaws you honestly really liked him, he was so much fun to have around, he was funny, creative, attractive, and charming in his own gross way.
You bite your bottom lip, today was a shitty day at work, maybe you could try it out, let off some steam, but first, is the demon is question around? How did this box even get here? I mean he's magic, so, either way you do a sweep of your apartment just in case.
With the coast being clear you decide its safe. You take the toy out of its box, Beej wasnt kidding it was bigger, you sigh and take it to the bathroom to clean it.
As you busied yourself, you shiver, shrugged it off as nerves, unknown to you Beetlejuice was standing right beside you, giddy as can be, of course he made himself invisible to you. Earlier that day he begged Lydia to take him to your apartment so he could apologize to you, the teen couldnt take his whining, and caved. A few months back you gave the kid a key to your place so she could feed your cat when you were out of town for a weekend, and never really asked for it back. You didnt live too far from the Deetz, give or take a 10 minute bus ride, or a 20 minute walk, so having the goth drop by wasnt uncommon or have her drop by summon beetlejuice and leave wasnt uncommon either.
"Gonna give me a show sweetheart? You're gonna love this thing doll, I promise~" beetlejuice was buzzing with excitement, he honestly didnt think youd try it out right away, he WAS gonna jump out and surprise you and see if you accept his apology, but kinda got caught up in watching you he forgot to become visible again.
Beetlejuice watches you dry off the vibrator, he couldnt help but drool, he loved watching you work with your hands, would love to have them work on him.
Walking back into your room, you close the door behind you, you live alone, but old habits die hard. You slip out of your pantyhose and skirt, oblivious to the wolf whistles and lecherous eyes.
Sliding off your panties, you slingshot them at the laundry pile and miss, Beej couldnt help but laugh "nice try babes, you ever need a hand with aiming, I dont mind being a target~" pointing to his face.
You plop down on the bed, propping up some pillows to get more comfortable, you were kinda nervous, this thing WAS bigger then the old one, and you've been meaning to get an upgrade, but still, taking a deep breath you reach for the little bottle of lube that was included to the apology gift.
Beetlejuice was sitting on the edge of you bed watching like a hawk, he nearly screamed when he saw you pick up the tiny bottle, the vibrator was untouched, but the bottle, he couldnt help himself, he spat in the lube before boxing it up, call it a more personal touch, or an indirect kiss.
Taking another deep breath you squirt a bit of the lube onto you hand, gently apply it to your vagina, you gasp at the cold contact. The demon was drooling at this, hair an electric pink, you were using his spit, sorta, to get yourself ready for a toy HE got you, he had no idea what he did to get such a stroke of luck but he wasnt complaining.
As you lube up the toy, beetlejuice began palming himself through his pants "come on sugar, you're gonna love this, there is no way you wont forgive me after this" he purred, not that you could hear him.
You mumble a soft 'okay' as you carefully slide the toy in, you've done this multiple times before, but the fact that this was a new toy, a new size, made you a tad nervous, being stretched a little further then usual, did feel good.
"That's it Sugar, that's it, you're doing so well, you like that? Nice and thick, just like yours truly~"
you sigh, toy fully inside.
"Take your time sweets, make sure you're well adjust" the demon coos, freeing his cock from its prison.
You turn the toy on, buzzing to life, you jump and curse, even on the lowest setting it had power. After you regain your composure, you begin pumping the vibe in and out, already panting, and moaning, beetlejuice begins matching you pace for bit before picking it up.
"Alright sweetheart, its showtime"
With a snap of his fingers the vibrator begins pumping itself, matching the ghouls pace, buzzing harder then orginally set.
"What the fuck?!" You shriek, gasping and squirming, you let go of the vibe, watching it move on it's own, a weird mix of horror and arousal, what the fuck what going on?! Maybe you should have read the box, or instructions, your train of thought was interrupted by the vibrator picking up its pace, you roll your head back shouting curses and praise on how good it feels.
"You like that sugar?" The demon purrs leaning over you, as hot as it would be to fuck you proper, possessing a toy to fuck you was still incredibly sexy, and the fact that you were openly enjoying it was the icing on the cake.
"PLEASE Beetlejuice, thank you!" You scream, hips bucking hard.
The ghoul flinches, yes it was hot to hear you scream his name, but you didnt put two and two together did ya? You can be clueless at times, but...
"FUCK" you shout cumming hard.
"Already? Sweets? I'm still working on my own" he demon sighs, "I know you're a one and done type sweetheart, but today, how bout we change that?~" his voice drops to that low seductive tone that would make a shiver run up your spine, not that you could hear him.
The buzzing has stopped, the movement has stop, you lay there basking in the aftermath slowly regaining your breath, sighing, it hasnt been that good in a long while, you reach for the box the toy came in to see what was up with that setting, before you could reach the box the buzzing started again, you flinched still being sensitive from your first orgasm. Your old toy used to do that, turn on and off for no reason, so you didnt find it odd, you go to turn off and pull out the vibe, when the intensity ramps up and the pumping starts up again.
"Round 2 sugar" the ghoul coos "nice and sensitive, and soaking wet for me~" beetlejuice begins pumping his cock again, starting off slow, then gradually picking up speed, the vibrator matched his pace, Beej drooled at the sight of you, an absolute mess, because of him, hair a mess, legs shaking, flushed, on the brink of tears, he loved it, he wanted you so bad, to pound you into the mattress for real, but you were so clueless to his advances.
You were so nice to him all the time, you laugh at his jokes, let him scare whoever is dumb enough to knock on your door, yeah you two fought, but you always came around, but this time he thought he owed you a proper apology.
"Come on sugar, you look so good for me, you like that? Yeah you do, come for me sweetheart, give me all that you got" the ghoul whispers in your ear, bucking hard into his hand, the shout as the vibrator mimicked his actions, beetlejuice couldnt help but chuckle at the beautiful sounds he was getting from you.
Beetlejuice begins a punishing pace stocking his cock, he was close, could you blame him? The sight of his breather an absolute hot mess plus the noises you were making? He's surprised he lasted this long. But he needed you to come first since he was possessing the toy.
With the pace beetlejuice has set, had you shaking, "Fuck, I can't, I'm gonna-please, Beej!" You babbled
Beetlejuice has spied on you during your private time more then once, it was always music to his ears when he herd you say his name during that special time.
"BEETLEJUICE!" And with that you came for the second time, bucking your hips hard, beetlejuice came shortly after, helping you ride out the orgasm with the vibe, he slowly turned down the buzzing till it stopped completely. Once you came back down, you were quick to remove the toy, and good as it was, you were too exhausted for anymore, and feeling a tad dizzy.
"Have fun sweets?" Do you forgive me?~" Bj coos, not that you could hear, he straightens himself up, wiping his cum covered hand on his pants.
Once you're back together you finally pick up the box the vibrator came in, you sigh when you see the word 'Netherworld', that explains alot, he got this from the netherworld.
"A vibrator for the dead, dead or not, that was amazing" you sigh
Beetlejuice couldnt help but mimic your sigh, not that he needed to breath, thank god slash satan for oblivious nature.
"I guess I can forgive that dumbass" you mumble as you redress yourself, the demon still sitting on the edge of your bed does a little fist pump, mission accomplished, he'll probably reveal himself to you in an hour or so.
Staring at the freshly used vibrator while he waited for you to leave the room, hoping he'd get the chance to 'clean it for you' this time, but of course you were the tidy type, and snatched it right from under him.
Well at least you forgive him now.
Later on that evening, You were in the kitchen making fried rice, simple but yummy, as you stirred around the contents of the pan you start to zone out.
"what's cooking good looking?" a familiar gravely voice whispers in your ear.
You nearly jump out of your skin
"BEETLEJUICE!" You shout, the demon couldnt help but laugh.
"Love that loud voice of yours sweetheart, bet it sounds great in the bedroom~" he laughs
You sigh, trying to collect any dignity you had left "when did you get here?"
"Lyd's and I were messing with your neighbors and she ditched me here, kid's today" he shrugs.
That wasnt the first time that has happened so you believe him.
"SO, did you get my gift? Did you like it? Did you take It for a spin?~" he purrs that last part wiggling his eyebrows.
Blushing hard at what he was implying, you look at your feet and mumble a quick yes.
"Do you forgive me?~" beetlejuice's face was inches from yours, eager for the awnser he already knew. You nodded, and the demon pulls you into a tight hug and spins you around like a rag doll.
"PERFECT! So did you enjoy it?~ on a scale from 1 to me, how hot was the ride?~" he cooed finally coming to a halt.
He laughed at your embarrased expression, he was thrilled to have his breather on his side again.
Maid in Hollywood (Yoonmin Hybrid AU)
⭒ AO3 Link Here!
⭒ Relationships: Jimin x Yoongi (YoonMin)
⭒ Genre: smut, hybrid AU
⭒ Final Rating: Explicit
⭒ Word Count: ~31.1k
⭒ Tags: smut, hybrids, snow leopard hybrid!Yoongi, human!Jimin, dirty talk, maid outfit, rough sex, tail pulling, panties, heels, makeshift anal plugs, coming untouched, oral sex, feline penis, switch!Jimin, switch!Yoongi, idolverse
⭒ Summary: It’s 2014 K-Con and Yoongi has a surprise for his boyfriend.
⭒ A/N: This fic was written for an anon - requested during my 2k followers request event! The prompt was “You need to stop pulling my tail right now.” Thank you so much for requesting!!
There was something in the air in California that made nearly every member of Bangtan horny. Though the adrenaline of a performance often left those that were intimate with one another scrambling for kisses and touches while changing, but it was an entirely different situation after their performance at K-Con this year. It was their first time performing at the event, and what was more – their first actual performance really in the United States, aside from the small thing they had done when they were filming for American Hustle Life. It was invigorating.
So Jimin shouldn’t have been surprised when he caught Taehyung grinding against Hoseok’s hip in the shower, Hoseok’s tail wagging a mile a minute. He wanted to be a in a similar position with Yoongi, if he was being honest with himself. Except for the fact that he couldn’t find his boyfriend anywhere.
Jimin tapped Jin’s shoulder. He glanced back, tugging a clean shirt on.
“What’s up? Why aren’t you showered? We’re leaving soon.”
“Where’s Yoongi?” Jimin asked.
Jin frowned, glancing around the changing space. “I—I’m not sure. I assumed he was with you.”
“He left already,” Namjoon said, peeking around a pillar as he fiddled with the towel he’d somehow gotten wrapped around his antlers. “Said he was tired and took off early to the hotel room.”
“Without me?” Jimin asked, his face drooping. His bottom lip pushed out in an involuntary pout.
“Are you two fighting?” Jin worried.
“I didn’t think so… Did I make him mad?”
“He seemed fine. I’m sure he was just tired, Jimin,” Namjoon said. “Tonight was big.”
“I know. That’s why I wanted to celebrate with him.” Jimin’s shoulders slumped to match his face. “I’ll hurry and shower if Taehyung isn’t getting fucked in it.”
Jin chuckled. “Tell them to put their dicks away until we get to the hotel room.”
Jimin tried to smile at the joke, but it fell flat. He had begun to mentally retrace everything he’d done with Yoongi for the past few days, trying to find something that might make him angry. This continued as he slipped into the shower and washed, dressed, and piled into the car with the rest of the members.
Hoseok and Taehyung’s previously endearing attachment was grating now, and Jimin did his best to block it out as he stared out the window on the way to the hotel.
Jungkook, ever the pressing, worrying, maknae, poked Jimin’s side. “You okay?” He asked when Jimin pulled an earbud from his ears.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Do you know if Yoongi is mad at me?”
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
Jimin’s mouth twisted to the side, his lips pursing with displeasure. “Why’d he leave?” He asked no one in particular. When Jungkook didn’t answer, Jimin sighed, jamming his earbud back into his ear.
They had been lucky enough to get three hotel rooms this time around, giving the two couples privacy from the rest of the group. Jimin entered the room he shared with Yoongi, eager to talk with him and make sure there was nothing wrong.
His heart sunk when he found the room empty. So he had done something to piss Yoongi off. Jimin flopped face down on the bed, tears of frustration burning the back of his nose. He messed up everything, didn’t he? How did he even manage to debut with how big of a fuck up he was? Jimin curled up in a ball on the bed, glaring at the wall. Which members’ room was he in? Probably Jin and Namjoon’s. They were sharing with Jungkook – enough room. And didn’t have to see Taehyung and Hoseok fucking like bunnies. His stomach gave a little twinge of jealousy, and he immediately regretted it. Just because he couldn’t keep himself in a happy relationship didn’t mean he should hate his friends for theirs. And he didn’t; he loved seeing Taehyung so happy with Hoseok. He was just so bitter. How would he face Yoongi in the morning?
These thoughts and more swirled in Jimin’s mind, dragging him deeper into a dark place as he laid on the bed. He was so up in his head that he barely heard the soft knock on the door. He glared at it.
“Who is it?” He finally asked. He hesitated when there was no answer. “Yes?” He called out in English, wondering if it might be one of the staff of the hotel.
“Housekeeping.” The voice on the other side sounded strange. Strained and rough for a woman – as if she had a bad cold. She had a familiar accent as well. But this was the US – people had all sorts of accents here, he supposed.
He hesitated, unsure how to respond. “No,” he finally stuttered. “Uh… Go away, sleeping.”
“Housekeeping,” the voice said again.
Jimin scowled deeper. “No.”
Instead of departing footsteps, the door clicked, and pushed open. Jimin scrambled into a sitting position, panic squeezing his throat. Was it someone that would hurt him? A stalker?
Instead of that – or even a persistent staff member – the person that entered had Jimin’s jaw on his lap.
Yoongi stood in the entrance to the room, his hands holding a neatly folded bath towel. Instead of his normal t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, this was a new look. Yoongi was balancing delicately on a pair of tall black stilettos, shining in the lamplight of the room. His legs were covered with sheer pantyhose, which Jimin’s eyes followed up and up, right to where they stopped just below mid-thigh and were topped with a little black lace bow. A thin strip of black fabric secured them somewhere underneath the black and white maid’s dress that Yoongi also wore. It was the whole package, complete with white frills underneath the bottom, and a cute button up front. A feather duster with a sleek, smooth handle was slipped into the belt on the side of his hip. His dark red hair was framed with a little white frilled headband, sitting just in front of his round, white ears. Jimin could see his lips had been glossed, and there was the lightest dusting of blush on his cheeks. Or maybe he was just blushing. His fluffy white and black spotted tail flicked nervously back and forth as he stood still for Jimin’s examination.
“Yoongi—” Jimin breathed.
“Housekeeping,” Yoongi said again, this time in their language.
“Back last year… Filming for Rookie Kings. When we were still flirting and not… Quite ready to start anything intimate… I saw the way you looked at me while I wore that maid outfit. I know that look.”
Jimin chuckled a little, looking away. Yoongi wasn’t wrong. Even though they hadn’t been dating at that time, he’d been unbearably interested in that outfit. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“Well, I did. And I figured… Since we’re here… And there’s housekeeping, I—Would surprise you.”
Jimin swallowed hard. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“No. Never… Just knew… Wanted…” Yoongi shifted uncomfortably. “It’s stupid.”
“The towels in the bathroom need changing,” Jimin said instead. Yoongi’s cheeks pinked up a little more, his mouth opening in surprise as his whiskers flicked.
“Oh—Of course, sir.” He bowed a little and turned, walking into the bathroom.
Jimin shifted, watching as Yoongi carefully placed the towel in the rack. He bent over the tub, fiddling with the small toiletries. The skirt went up, and Jimin could see the bulge of his cock, tucked into a pair of panties. He palmed himself through his own jeans, staring openly.
Yoongi straightened up and emerged, doing a polite curtsey. “It’s been fixed up for you, sir. Anything else I can help with.”
“Some other stuff needs straightening up out here,” Jimin said, shifting so he was sitting back, resting against the headboard of the bed. He continued to palm himself casually. Yoongi nodded and went around the room, straightening things and lining up items. He bent over once more, tail curling into a playful little question mark shape. Jimin took the opportunity. He went forward and grabbed Yoongi’s tail, giving it a tug.
Yoongi yelped in surprise, straightening up and turning around, yanking his tail back and wrapping it around himself.
“You aren’t supposed to touch the staff, sir,” he scolded.
“Sorry,” Jimin said through a grin. “It looked so soft.”
“It is. And I’d appreciate it staying that way.” Yoongi huffed and turned back to the coffee pot and finished fixing it. He pulled the feather duster out and began going around the room slowly, taking his time to make sure everything was neat.
Jimin’s eyes narrowed as he watched Yoongi work. Yoongi circled around the bed, fixing the curtains. The movement caused his dress to lift once more, teasing Jimin with what was just a few inches higher up. He rose and pushed Yoongi against the window before grabbing his tail once more and yanking it.
Yoongi hissed, his ears flattening. He looked back at Jimin, upper lip raised in annoyance. “You need to stop pulling my tail, right now.”
Jimin smirked and tugged again. “Or what? You’ll meow at me?”
He pressed the bulge of his erection against Yoongi’s thigh. “Or maybe you’ll go ass up for me like a pretty kitty in heat.”
The shiver that ran through Yoongi’s body was strong enough that Jimin felt it. Yoongi huffed. “You’re not supposed to touch the help, sir.”
“But the help is so fucking sexy. You were teasing me.” He tugged Yoongi’s tail again and reached around, sliding his hand under the dress and palming his cock. “Aw… Kitty is getting hard.”
Yoongi growled low in his throat, the rumble vibrating through to Jimin’s chest.
“Don’t get catty with me,” Jimin teased. Yoongi groaned.
“You’re hanging around Jin too much.”
Jimin laughed brightly. He wrapped his arm around Yoongi’s waist and tugged him away from the window, pushing him onto the bed. Yoongi landed with an oomph, and glared up at him.
“I thought cats always landed on their feet.”
“You know, for as much as you tease me, one would think you’re speciest.”
Jimin’s grin grew. “Not even a little. He straddled Yoongi’s waist and kissed him hard. “I love everything about you. Kitty DNA included.”
Yoongi’s smile softened a little, his ears perking up at the praise. The tip of his tail thunked the bed.
Jimin’s smile dropped then and he leaned down, nipping the swell of Yoongi’s bottom lip. “You weren’t very nice to me. Scaring me earlier. I thought you hated me.”
“Sorry,” Yoongi murmured. Jimin crawled off him and grabbed his thigh, pushing him until he flipped onto his stomach.
“You’re wearing it,” Jimin said simply. He hiked the skirt up, groaning deep in his chest. To fully complete the outfit, Yoongi was indeed wearing a pair of lacy black panties, his erect cock tucked neatly along his hip. His stockings were secured to the shirt portion of his outfit.
“Yoongi,” Jimin sighed. He cupped Yoongi’s ass in his hands and squeezed hard enough to make Yoongi moan, his hips pushing back. Jimin stripped his clothes all the way off, getting off the bed only long enough to fish their lube out of his bag. He returned, laying over Yoongi and pressing his cock against the swell of his ass. He scratched the sensitive skin right behind Yoongi’s ears as he kissed his neck.
“Gonna make you feel so good, Yoongi.”
Yoongi gave a soft rumble of approval, shifting to rub back against Jimin. Jimin pushed his panties to the side, exposing his ass. He poured some of the lube over his fingers sliding one into Yoongi. He opened him up steadily, ignoring Yoongi’s soft sighs and whimpers. He slicked his own cock up when he felt Yoongi was loose enough, pulling him back up onto his hands and knees. He lined his cock up and pushed the flared tip in slowly. Yoongi gasped when Jimin pushed in, stretching the sensitive rim wide.
Jimin dug his fingers into the soft fur at the base of Yoongi’s spine, scratching lightly. Yoongi howled, his tail and ass rising further at the attention. “Elevator butt,” He teased. He slid his hand lightly down the length of Yoongi’s tail, tugging once before flicking his wrist at the tip. He drove his cock the rest of the way in as he did.
Yoongi grumbled, dropping onto his chest on the bed. “Bully.”
Jimin slipped his cock free and pushed back in. “What was that?”
Yoongi only moaned.
Jimin pulled out then and flipped Yoongi onto his back, settling between his legs. Yoongi’s cheeks were delightfully flushed, his headband slightly askew. His cock was weeping a little circle of precome in his panties.
Jimin pushed them to the side in the back, sliding his cock home once more. The fabric tickled his sensitive shaft as he did, bringing a smile to his face. This was so dirty and he loved it. He lifted one of Yoongi’s legs, sliding his hands up the stocking to his heel.
“You look so good in heels, baby,” he cooed as he began to thrust into him. He shifted so Yoongi’s ankle was on his shoulder and lifted the other to his other shoulder, bending Yoongi at the waist.
“So hot,” he praised as Yoongi groaned under him. His ass was impossibly tight, and he clenched and released every few seconds as he scrambled to find purchase on the bed.
Jimin’s balls already ached for release, eager to fill his pretty boyfriend. But his ass ached for more. So he reached up and grabbed the top of Yoongi’s panties. He tugged them down just enough for Yoongi’s cock to slip free. It was fully erect, curved and thick, and Jimin knew from experience it was perfect to tease his sensitive hole. He grabbed Yoongi’s cock and squeezed lightly before sliding his thumb over the circle of dull penile spikes around the base of Yoongi’s cock. They were far sharper in true blooded cats, this much Jimin knew, but had dulled over the years in hybrids like Yoongi’s species. Now they just served to stimulate the hybrid’s partner. And that was exactly what Jimin wanted.
He grabbed lube, slicking Yoongi’s cock as he fucked his ass. He reached back to finger his own hole, glad Yoongi was too deep in his own throes of passion to notice.
Jimin pulled his cock free and grabbed the feather duster, discarded on the bed. He slicked the rounded tip and ridges, careful each was smooth before driving it into Yoongi’s hole.
Yoongi screamed, his eyes snapping open in surprise. Jimin smirked. He pushed the duster in until just the feather part was jutting from Yoongi’s ass.
As soon as they made eye contact, Jimin rolled off him and got on his knees. He dropped his chest to the bed and reached back, spreading his ass cheeks to present his slicked pucker.
As he’d expected, Yoongi was on top of him in a heartbeat. He slammed his cock in, dragging a bed muffled scream out of Jimin. The small bumps began stimulating him immediately as Yoongi humped his ass.
“He felt Yoongi puff a breath on the back of his neck before biting down hard, growling low in his throat.
Jimin shouted again, his eyes rolling back. He laid flat and Yoongi followed; pounding into him hard enough to hurt. He loved this. Jimin rarely was able to bottom; taking Yoongi’s cock was hard enough, with the instinctual rough rutting he tended to do. The nodules made it worse. Each one a centimeter or so, even curved and blunted, it added an extra sensation that bordered on painful for Jimin’s sensitive hole.
He screamed until his voice broke, a sob slipping from his lips. His cock dribbled freely against the mattress.
“Do— Don’t come in me,” he pleaded. He knew damn well if Yoongi wanted to, he’d not be able to fight him off. Not like this. And that was what made it so sexy.
Yoongi’s teeth unclamped, his breath hot in Jimin’s ear. “Why not? I was presented a fuckable hole... I should use it.”
“Do not come in me, maid,” Jimin growled, ignoring the hot little twitch his cock gave at Yoongi’s command. “You’re gonna ruin those sexy little panties while my cock’s up your ass.”
He reached back and grabbed Yoongi’s tail. He yanked it once more, chuckling when Yoongi moaned. His hips faltered and he pulled out, quickly shifting to his back. “Please—“ He panted.
“On your knees,” Jimin said instead. Yoongi blinked owlishly.
“On your knees. It’s your job to clean right?” Jimin asked.
Yoongi swallowed hard and nodded.
“Then you can clean. Knees. Now.”
Yoongi obeyed, looking absolutely obscene with the feather duster still buried inside him. He sank to his knees, looking up at Jimin.
Jimin slid his cock past Yoongi’s soft lips; moaning when Yoongi immediately began to suck. He stroked Yoongi’s ears gently as he began to thrust his hips, laughing breathlessly when one flicked against his fingers due to being tickled. He met Yoongi’s wife eyes.
“Good boy,” he cooed. Yoongi began to bob his head gently,his slightly rough sliding out to lap the part of Jimin’s shaft he couldn’t swallow. Jimin dropped his hand, tickling his whiskers. He slid his cock out and began to stroke quickly, his head falling back as he grunted.
He angled his cock up as he came, and the first few hot, thick ropes of come landed over Yoongi’s fluffy, perked ears. He let his cock drop a little, hitting Yoongi over the nose and cheeks with the majority of it, and a final weaker rope across his tongue. Jimin squeezed the last bit of come from his tip, swiping it across Yoongi’s tongue.
“Good Boy. Now go finish cleaning until I need to come again.”
Yoongi rose, his cheeks pinking further as he did. “Yes, Sir.”
“You look good covered in come, pretty kitty. You should wear it more often.”
Yoongi smiled shyly, biting his bottom lip. He adjusted his cock back into his panties and fixed the front before he walked toward the bathroom. The back of the skirt was still hiked up obscenely from the duster in his ass, and his gait was a little slower and wide due to it.
Jimin stretched out on the bed, playing with his soft cock as he watched Yoongi wander around, fixing and straightening things.
When Jimin was hard enough, he whistled. “Come here, maid.” He gave his cock a squeeze when Yoongi looked over.
Yoongi crawled onto the bed, hips swaying as his tail flicked playfully back and forth.
“Should I ride it, Sir?”
“Yeah. Just make sure you lift your skirt when you come. I wanna watch you wreck those panties.”
Yoongi nodded in understanding. He slicked Jimin’s cock before sliding the duster handle from his ass. He gripped Jimin’s cock and settled onto his lap, lips parting in a quiet gasp as Jimin slid home. The ruffles hid the penetration and tickled Jimin’s skin, making his cock throb inside Yoongi.
Without hesitation, Yoongi began to ride him, splaying his hands on Jimin’s chest. Jimin slid his hands up Yoongi’s thighs, tickling over the place where the stockings ended.
“You’re so beautiful like this, Yoongi,” Jimin whispered, his breath catching in his throat when Yoongi squeezed his cock.
“That’s it…” Jimin slid his hands further up and then around, grabbing Yoongi’s tail as it flicked back and forth. He stroked the fur lightly, gazing up at him.
“Pretty boy,” he cooed.
Yoongi’s cheeks pinked up delightfully at that, and he smiled shyly, his whiskers twitching as he bit his lip. Jimin began to pump his hips lazily up.
He dug his short nails into Jimin’s chest, eyes fluttering shut. Jimin’s name escaped his lips like a prayer, the muscles in his arms bulging as he began to tense. Jimin knew he was closed. He grabbed Yoongi’s hips tightly and began to fuck into him hard and fast, meeting Yoongi’s thrusts.
Yoongi shouted and lifted the front of his skirt, throwing his head back. Thick white come seeped through the lacy holes where the tip of his cock rested before finding an easier escape from the leg hole as he rode Jimin. His come slid down his smooth thigh in thick little globs, landing hotly on Jimin’s belly as Yoongi fucked himself onto his cock.
Jimin swore. He grabbed Yoongi and pushed him off, shoving him onto his back. Without giving Yoongi a chance to recover, Jimin yanked the panties to the side and slammed his cock back into him.
Yoongi screamed, grabbing Jimin’s shoulders. His short nails bit into Jimin’s skin as Jimin fucked him as hard as he could manage. Their flesh struck together, filling the room with obscene noises straight out of an adult film.
“Please—” Yoongi cried, his face pinched in pleasure-pain.
“Please what?” Jimin taunted, trying (and failing) to hide the strain in his own voice.
“C—” Yoongi moaned, his cock twitching in the panties once more. “Come,” he pleaded. “Please come in me, Jimin!”
Jimin leaned down kissing Yoongi hard. Their tongues met, Yoongi’s rough one sending shivers all the way down Jimin’s spine. He pumped his hips three more times, driving balls deep on each one, before stilling. His cock throbbed and his balls drew tight, coiling the pleasure in his stomach to the ultimate. He grunted rhythmically against Yoongi’s lips as he came, spilling his release deep inside.
They parted as Jimin’s muscles released, allowing him to drag in a much-needed breath. Yoongi looked up at him, his eyes heavy. “Wow,” he whispered.
Jimin laughed tiredly. He carefully pulled out of Yoongi and flopped next to him on the bed, wiping sweat from his brow. “Wow,” he copied.
Yoongi sat up, groaning and touching his lower stomach. “’M sore.”
“Sorry,” Jimin mumbled, an arm slung over his eyes.
He peeked out from under his arm when he felt the bed shift. Yoongi was sitting on the edge of it, carefully pulling the heels off his feet. He rose and stretched before padding to the bathroom.
Jimin rose, following after him. He leaned in the entrance of the bathroom, watching Yoongi carefully clean the mess from his face with a damp washcloth. Jimin entered and took it from him, placing a kiss on his cheek He set to cleaning Yoongi’s ears, and then dropped down to clean the streak of his come that had worked its way down his thigh.
“You were beautiful tonight,” Jimin whispered.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Jimin rose and carefully slid the skirt down, sliding his hands over the lace on Yoongi’s hips. “I really did. Did you have fun?”
Yoongi smiled softly, looking down rather than meeting Jimin’s gaze in the mirror. “I did.”
“Are you feeling shy now, baby?” Jimin teased with no venom. Yoongi’s cheeks pinked up and Jimin laughed. “Don’t be, I’ve got you. Do you want a shower?”
Yoongi nodded. Jimin went and turned on the water to let it get hot before going back to Yoongi. He carefully reached around and unbuttoned the top, pulling it off Yoongi’s shoulders. He kissed over the soft skin and slid his hands over Yoongi’s toned stomach before sliding them down. He unhooked the garter straps, crouching to slide the stockings down and off Yoongi’s legs. Finally, the panties, he slid them off slow and steady, wetting his lips.
“You should wear these more often, Yoongi,” he whispered.
“Is that so?” Yoongi’s tail flicked, swatting Jimin in the hip. “Maybe you should wear them sometimes.”
Jimin grinned broadly. “Oh yeah? Wanna fuck me in a pair of panties? Bend me over a bed?”
Yoongi’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Don’t tease me,” he warned.
Jimin scratched at the base of his tail, laughing brightly when Yoongi’s ass slid back, instinctively rising onto his toes. He ran his hand down his tail, flicking the tip. “I’ll stop teasing,” he promised. “Come on, water’s warm.”
The two entered the shower, and Jimin set to washing Yoongi head to toe, massaging his back and thighs as he did. Yoongi groaned and moaned softly, half of his happy noises sounding more like purrs. After Jimin finished, Yoongi grabbed the cloth, taking his time to clean Jimin as well.
By the time they’d finished, the water had begun running a little cold. The hurried to dry off and leap under the covers, shivering from the cool air on their bodies. They cuddled together, sharing gentle kisses and touches.
“I really thought you hated me,” Jimin whispered, wrapped in the cocoon of Yoongi’s arms. “I was so scared I’d done something wrong. I can be such a brat and I was afraid I misspoke or acted up and didn’t even realize it.”
“Never,” Yoongi said, tightening his grip on Jimin’s shoulders. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t ever just walk off. You’re my boyfriend. We talk things through. Even if it hurts and we don’t want to, we need to. Because I don’t want to lose what we have, okay?”
Jimin nodded, wrapping his arms tightly around Yoongi’s middle. “Me neither.”
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Yoongi said, kissing the top of Jimin’s head. “I will be more careful next time if I wanna surprise you. Come up with a story instead of just disappearing on you.”
Jimin nodded again. “Please do. I’ll try to keep in mind but…”
“I know.” Yoongi wrapped his tail lightly over Jimin’s thigh and nuzzled against him, a soft purring rumble vibrating against Jimin’s cheek where it was pressed to Yoongi’s chest. “Get some sleep, Minie.”
“G’night Yoongi,” Jimin whispered. “It was fun.”
“It really was.” Yoongi kissed the top of his head once more and rested his head on Jimin’s. The gentle rumble of his purrs was soothing to Jimin, relaxing him until he could no longer keep his eyes open. They may have an unorthodox relationship, but Jimin wouldn’t trade his kitty boy for the entire world.
a masterpost of the headcanons i had on my now-deleted blog / read more for length:
ren smokes menthol lucky strikes as his primary choice of cigarette, but when he’s drunk he’s not too particular.
ren tries to discourage his hosts from having sex with clients, though this isn’t a guarantee that it won’t happen. he himself does not abide by this rule, and while he is escorting on the side before leaving hosting to escort full-time, he will sleep with clients he is particularly fond of. he will mail, text, and call them (or they will text or call him), and he will go on dates with clients to ensure they continue coming to the club. shining! is supposed to emulate a classic experience and tends to cater to fantasy over actual sex, sex being the illusion of the “end goal” of being hosted, but never actually crossing the line. this generally keeps regulars coming back, on top of tourism. ren is not opposed to sleeping with foreigners. his “moonlighting” and his hosting can become muddled easily, and while he tries to keep his “hosted” clientele and his “personal” clientele separate, they can crossover – clients from shining! have begun to employee him privately for sex / intimacy, while some of his clients have come to be hosted to get the “full experience” of being romanced and bedded.
in high school ren (yori) was decently popular, seen as motivated, hard working, intelligent, and musically inclined. he was generally top of his class, was in the music club, ran track, and was well liked. he was a bit goofy, but seen as someone who was “going places” despite his “disadvantages” at home (single parent household). he was friends with fujita akira (on lifesliced) who he met in first year though had known of in middle school. they meet again later in life at age 26, rekindling an old friendship.
despite it being very cliché, ren is a firm believer that red roses are the most romantic flower and thus they are his favorite – to both give and receive. he’s very attracted to the color red in general, as well as pinks, and tries to have flowers available to give out to guests.
okay so here’s the thing … ren is also terrible at taking pictures, like he looks good if he doesn’t know he’s on film but the second he has to take a picture he makes this really strained expression as he tries to smile or just looks dead at the camera. it takes a while to get his shots ngl. he’s fine on moving film, much more natural. considering he’s done a few adult films, i would expect this of him. still imagery? not so much.
ren went through a few colors of hair before going back to dying it heavy black. he naturally has a brown-black hair color, though his son takes after hina’s naturally jet black hair. ren is insanely jealous of her for that honestly. he tried a few colors like a bleached out blond and a few brassy reds, but it never stuck or never fit.
ren wears pantyhose under his suit pants, he finds it keeps everything together and is a fun little surprise for his partner.
hosts will do shows and performances, skits etc. ren used to perform a lot in his earlier years, but now honestly is more apt to choreograph due to being busy as both the club manager and #1 host. but! he will sing and play piano. he did piano lessons from ages 6 to 15, and then began to pursue it further by himself. it definitely came in handy later into his career as a host. that being said, he also loves to sing in general and sings around the house often, and will croon to his lovers.
ren has had other nicknames and slides before settling on ren as his professional alias -> he has been “ren” / playing the character of ren for so long that the persona has bled over to his real life. he’s only “yori” for such a small amount of his days that it feels like another person entirely. in reality his mother is the only one that calls him yori, and he’s otherwise regarded as hatanaka-san. kyosuke’s mother calls him yori when she’s mad, which he’s noticed is more often now. being the confident, attractive and single ren is more comfortable than being the awkward, self-conscious young dad yori. he has gone by umi in the past, which means ocean. he had no particular attachment to this name other than it was cute, quick, and easy to remember. he was also younger then, and occasionally referenced as umi-chan, but grew out of that phase when he became a little older / becoming ren ( meaning love ) .
ren doesn’t actually know his father. he’s never been in ren’s life, and assumed gone before ren was born, or could remember him. he has bits and pieces, but nothing he can tangibly claim to the man's identity. his mom has never talked much about him, and he doesn’t even know his name. he has zero idea where his dad is, if his dad knows he even has a son, or what happened to lead up to his conception. he’s always had his mom, and his mom only, and he raises his son similarly to the way his mom raised him. his mom also had to work a lot, but being the ‘man’ of the house, he always took great responsibility on, even at a young age. there was, and still is, a lot of stigma being a single parent / being the child of a single parent in japan, and ren now faces that stigma both ways.
ren’s father is a chinese businessman that visited japan often, having an established and regular affair with ren’s mother. ren is half-chinese, half-japanese, but affiliates himself more to his japanese heritage due to his lack of affiliation with that half of his lineage.
ren is very picky eater, he hates like everything. he’ll eat plain chicken and rice everyday if he can. he hates most vegetables, most meats, he doesn’t like fish, he doesn’t like “complicated sushi” ( he hates “mixing” meats and/or fish and tends to like like a salmon roll or something ) . he’s always been like this, he just kind of hates food and “eats because he has to”. it’s not even that he hates food, but he hates desserts, he hates most snack foods, he hates most drinks, he only likes his tea and coffee without sweeteners, hates most textures. he finds soda too syrupy, everything too spicy or too salty or too sweet.
ren spends a lot of time and money on his clothes and looks because of his job, and he wears a lot of foundation and other concealer products. in reality he has terrible dark circles and is a little on the unhealthy complexion due to his inconsistent schedule / staying up all day and night combined with his drinking. he has to start the day hair-of-the-dog style or he’ll get sick. his hair is usually styled specifically, but loose it’s a bit silly and has a lot of cowlicks. it’s cut pretty regularly, so it doesn’t have a lot of dead ends, and is probably the healthiest thing about him.
ren speaks fluent japanese and english, and speaks almost fluent french. he finds the language rather nasally despite being the language of love and romance, and it was difficult to learn as french is a heavily gendered language, whereas japanese is not.
when shining! closes, ren and the boys typically clean and shut down shop together, but ren usually sends them off earlier than he ends up leaving. he'll sweep and mop, clean the bathrooms, and when everyone is gone, he tends to rush a bit of paperwork at the end of the night before locking up in a hurry to meet his client(s) for after hours into the morning.
ren excessively grooms himself, and his physical appearance is very important to him. he consistently makes sure he is very clean. he wears concealer and foundation, keeps his hair trimmed, and trims his pubic hair. he wears clear gloss on his lips to keep them looking smooth and sometimes wears clear mascara to lengthen his eye lashes.
ren treats his fellow hosts both as his employees but also like his kids -- makes sure they're on time, dressed proper, fed before their shifts, that they don't get sick, and that they get home safely. most of them have been with ren for a while now, so they aren't afraid to give him a hard time, but they never outright disrespect him.