hidden treasures
Title: hidden treasures
Pairing: Sehun/Yixing, Sexing :D
Rating NC-17
Summary: Oh Sehee, is A Respectable, Independent Woman. The capitals are mandatory.
a/n: okay but this fic is heavily inspired by legendaryguitarman's style of writing.
warnings: swearwords and explicit descriptions in, like, every damn sentence. also, dumb plotline. also on aff and ao3
If Sehee had some fucking balls, she'd be the next E.L. James. She'd be selling millions of books to single adults who need jackoff material, to some curious and not-so-curious teens who don't engage in sex on a regular basis and to little kids who feel that reading a book without pictures will make them mama'a big boy and who thought that BDSM was a type of power rangers. She'd be doing press conferences where she passive-aggressively criticizes E.L. James for being a complete dickfuck and calls Mills&Boon a complete pussy for keeping it all strictly PG-13 and for being the best cumstain employer in the world. But unfortunately, she had no balls, because duh, she owns the notorious blood-spewing, baby-shooting flabs of hairy flesh that all apes[read: men] love to stick their dingdongs into. And she was proud of it, despite the creative vocabulary she throws at it for four days every month due to the dick-ripping pain of period cramps.
Sehee was a proud, independent, single, head-up-to-the-sky woman, who gave no shits to any man in the universe[I call bullshit], and who loved little kitty-cats and Pashmina shawls. She knew to make a grand entrance into any situation she graced and knew just the right words to cozy up and suck information from people. She could walk into any party and become the centre of attention in three seconds through her bodyrolls, and could make any man kneel and suck her pussy like there's no tomorrow.
But for all her wonderful talents, she didn't know what to do with the innocently blinking cursor in front of her on a blank document. Also considering how her recent six months old breakup with a dickbrain called Chanyeol, has left her completely bereft of all the fluttery butterflies and juicy dick-sucking thoughts: two elements crucial to the production of angsty PG-13 romances made to satisfy single-ready-to-mingle women like her, which also incidentally paid her bills[barely].
And there arose no question of thinking of her muse while writing these novels, because a roaming eye and twisted mind like hers, because her thoughts always went completely NC-17 while thinking of him, which means a novel full of rough animalistic roleplay sex. And then, she'd have to backspace all the way back to the third sentence of her draft, where holding hands was still a distant possibility, and it wasn't all lets-be-bunnies-and-fuck-me-for-eternity-daddy.
But deadlines smacked her in the face, and she pulls consecutive all-nighters for a week, surviving on cheap takeouts and instant coffee alone, so engrossed in her writing that she needs someone to remind her to take a piss once in a while. It was also rather ineffective when her boss-cum-newly-acquired-friend pulled her out of the house to lunch, just to give her pointers on how to keep to the deadlines and strictly keep the intensity of the fiction to a maximum of swapping saliva daily, and not go off on tangents where the lead pair goes off to a forest to wallow in the mud like hippoes and start fucking the shanoozles out of each other. These lunches were extremely ineffective, because her boss, Zhang Yixing was her muse, and if she was within a three-mile radius of this miracle of God's creation, she'd have to find a ladies' room and finger the fuck out of her pussy and scream his name thirty-six times to retain her sanity. Thank fuck that she knew to nod her head at the right time and keep a straight face when she was within three feet of him and could only think of getting publicly fucked on the restaurant table.
The fact that they didn't even allow her to use swearwords alleviated her frustration as she typed each sentence with the sanskaari-ness of a sage. Mills&Boon was a dickfuck employer and a shameful poopstain on the map of world publications, which encouraged single women to stay single by making them set unrealistic expectations of men, and who were fucking with Sehee's fingers on the keyboard, which were itching to drop the heavenly f-bomb. And each time she backspaces the sacred word, erasing it for her manuscript, she could only drop another f-bomb in physical pain, the kind that exits the fag end of your digestive system.
Zhang Yixing eagerly agreed with her about the cumstain-ish uselessness of her oh-so-benevolent employer, over bowls of popcorn and incomprehensible psych-thrillers. But in all these netflix-and-chill sessions, not once she had the guts to tell him that the only cumstain she wanted to see was his all over her face and lips. But it was not to be, since Zhang Yixing was a cute motherfucker with the mind of a six year old who still thought that Santa Claus is real.
But looks like fate itself loved being a complete asshole to Sehee.
She stared at the cursor for a few seconds, not knowing what to do with an inevitable deadline, and a stupid plot outline which has to be filled with flowery words and sloppy, overly long kisses, to compensate for the severe lack of dicksucking and other allied activities.
She retracted her unmoving fingers from the keyboard, and flashed a fuck you to Mills&Boon and the universe and to Zhang Yixing, and started typing....
ZYX x Reader
Come Stain My Face
There was only one objective Sehee had when she stormed into her boss' office. She would pull the fucker by his shiny red tie, kiss his lungs off and wank the fuck off his wang until he screamed her name and spilled white all over her face, lips and chest. And then she would ride his pony on the office desk until the drawers came loose and spilled confidential documents on the floor, blissfully ignored by the two humans above.....
......she continued writing her NC17 fiction about her real boss, to close the story after sufficient amounts of dicking and buttfucking were incorporated into the written fabric, to save the document and add it as the fuckillionth file in her "personal pleasure" folder. Ey, don't underestimate it, it's amazing wank material, certified by Zhang Yixing himself, who was standing behind her and reading the deliciously obscene material, despite himself.
He'd just used the spare key to enter her apartment and remind her about deadlines and taking bathroom breaks, but here he was, balls frozen but cock on fire, jaw dropped and breath rather heavy. He also found it rather unacceptably hot how Sehee was so cocooned in her writing that she couldn't sense that the hero of her tale was right behind her, breathing on her shoulder.
"Fuck, that's hot." The words inadvertently spilt out of his lips, because the way Sehee'd written that she'd pull his hair and ride his dick to the battlefield was really, really the cherry on top of his sexual fantasies.
It resulted in Sehee screaming and falling off her chair, eyes wide and cheeks coloured with the red of fear and shame.
"Dude, we really need to like, date, or something. I mean, that", he said, signalling to the computer screen, staring wide-eyed at Sehee on the floor. "was really, hot, and, thinking about it, I wouldn't really stop you." Zhang Yixing thus concluded, and Sehee lived happily ever after with the man of her [wet] dreams.
Well, maybe not. Because it took a painful thirty-six dates, to get him to consent to peel off the useless linen off his body, and to indulge in some juicy wangsucking and dickriding, which will hopefully continue for a really long time until they turn old and toothless with cute wrinkly faces.
fin.
Pairing: Sehun/Yixing, Sexing :D
Rating NC-17
Summary: Oh Sehee, is A Respectable, Independent Woman. The capitals are mandatory.
a/n: okay but this fic is heavily inspired by legendaryguitarman's style of writing.
warnings: swearwords and explicit descriptions in, like, every damn sentence. also, dumb plotline. also on aff and ao3
If Sehee had some fucking balls, she'd be the next E.L. James. She'd be selling millions of books to single adults who need jackoff material, to some curious and not-so-curious teens who don't engage in sex on a regular basis and to little kids who feel that reading a book without pictures will make them mama'a big boy and who thought that BDSM was a type of power rangers. She'd be doing press conferences where she passive-aggressively criticizes E.L. James for being a complete dickfuck and calls Mills&Boon a complete pussy for keeping it all strictly PG-13 and for being the best cumstain employer in the world. But unfortunately, she had no balls, because duh, she owns the notorious blood-spewing, baby-shooting flabs of hairy flesh that all apes[read: men] love to stick their dingdongs into. And she was proud of it, despite the creative vocabulary she throws at it for four days every month due to the dick-ripping pain of period cramps.
Sehee was a proud, independent, single, head-up-to-the-sky woman, who gave no shits to any man in the universe[I call bullshit], and who loved little kitty-cats and Pashmina shawls. She knew to make a grand entrance into any situation she graced and knew just the right words to cozy up and suck information from people. She could walk into any party and become the centre of attention in three seconds through her bodyrolls, and could make any man kneel and suck her pussy like there's no tomorrow.
But for all her wonderful talents, she didn't know what to do with the innocently blinking cursor in front of her on a blank document. Also considering how her recent six months old breakup with a dickbrain called Chanyeol, has left her completely bereft of all the fluttery butterflies and juicy dick-sucking thoughts: two elements crucial to the production of angsty PG-13 romances made to satisfy single-ready-to-mingle women like her, which also incidentally paid her bills[barely].
And there arose no question of thinking of her muse while writing these novels, because a roaming eye and twisted mind like hers, because her thoughts always went completely NC-17 while thinking of him, which means a novel full of rough animalistic roleplay sex. And then, she'd have to backspace all the way back to the third sentence of her draft, where holding hands was still a distant possibility, and it wasn't all lets-be-bunnies-and-fuck-me-for-eternity-daddy.
But deadlines smacked her in the face, and she pulls consecutive all-nighters for a week, surviving on cheap takeouts and instant coffee alone, so engrossed in her writing that she needs someone to remind her to take a piss once in a while. It was also rather ineffective when her boss-cum-newly-acquired-friend pulled her out of the house to lunch, just to give her pointers on how to keep to the deadlines and strictly keep the intensity of the fiction to a maximum of swapping saliva daily, and not go off on tangents where the lead pair goes off to a forest to wallow in the mud like hippoes and start fucking the shanoozles out of each other. These lunches were extremely ineffective, because her boss, Zhang Yixing was her muse, and if she was within a three-mile radius of this miracle of God's creation, she'd have to find a ladies' room and finger the fuck out of her pussy and scream his name thirty-six times to retain her sanity. Thank fuck that she knew to nod her head at the right time and keep a straight face when she was within three feet of him and could only think of getting publicly fucked on the restaurant table.
The fact that they didn't even allow her to use swearwords alleviated her frustration as she typed each sentence with the sanskaari-ness of a sage. Mills&Boon was a dickfuck employer and a shameful poopstain on the map of world publications, which encouraged single women to stay single by making them set unrealistic expectations of men, and who were fucking with Sehee's fingers on the keyboard, which were itching to drop the heavenly f-bomb. And each time she backspaces the sacred word, erasing it for her manuscript, she could only drop another f-bomb in physical pain, the kind that exits the fag end of your digestive system.
Zhang Yixing eagerly agreed with her about the cumstain-ish uselessness of her oh-so-benevolent employer, over bowls of popcorn and incomprehensible psych-thrillers. But in all these netflix-and-chill sessions, not once she had the guts to tell him that the only cumstain she wanted to see was his all over her face and lips. But it was not to be, since Zhang Yixing was a cute motherfucker with the mind of a six year old who still thought that Santa Claus is real.
But looks like fate itself loved being a complete asshole to Sehee.
She stared at the cursor for a few seconds, not knowing what to do with an inevitable deadline, and a stupid plot outline which has to be filled with flowery words and sloppy, overly long kisses, to compensate for the severe lack of dicksucking and other allied activities.
She retracted her unmoving fingers from the keyboard, and flashed a fuck you to Mills&Boon and the universe and to Zhang Yixing, and started typing....
ZYX x Reader
Come Stain My Face
There was only one objective Sehee had when she stormed into her boss' office. She would pull the fucker by his shiny red tie, kiss his lungs off and wank the fuck off his wang until he screamed her name and spilled white all over her face, lips and chest. And then she would ride his pony on the office desk until the drawers came loose and spilled confidential documents on the floor, blissfully ignored by the two humans above.....
......she continued writing her NC17 fiction about her real boss, to close the story after sufficient amounts of dicking and buttfucking were incorporated into the written fabric, to save the document and add it as the fuckillionth file in her "personal pleasure" folder. Ey, don't underestimate it, it's amazing wank material, certified by Zhang Yixing himself, who was standing behind her and reading the deliciously obscene material, despite himself.
He'd just used the spare key to enter her apartment and remind her about deadlines and taking bathroom breaks, but here he was, balls frozen but cock on fire, jaw dropped and breath rather heavy. He also found it rather unacceptably hot how Sehee was so cocooned in her writing that she couldn't sense that the hero of her tale was right behind her, breathing on her shoulder.
"Fuck, that's hot." The words inadvertently spilt out of his lips, because the way Sehee'd written that she'd pull his hair and ride his dick to the battlefield was really, really the cherry on top of his sexual fantasies.
It resulted in Sehee screaming and falling off her chair, eyes wide and cheeks coloured with the red of fear and shame.
"Dude, we really need to like, date, or something. I mean, that", he said, signalling to the computer screen, staring wide-eyed at Sehee on the floor. "was really, hot, and, thinking about it, I wouldn't really stop you." Zhang Yixing thus concluded, and Sehee lived happily ever after with the man of her [wet] dreams.
Well, maybe not. Because it took a painful thirty-six dates, to get him to consent to peel off the useless linen off his body, and to indulge in some juicy wangsucking and dickriding, which will hopefully continue for a really long time until they turn old and toothless with cute wrinkly faces.
fin.