#{karen}

[j5daigada]

karen

commission for Mystery Vee

[animentality]

[hongrutet]

📺 🔫 🤍

[mellosdrawings]

So pretty much, you’re telling me this 30+ customer guy was adopted by a dragonfae prince of darkness as his new bestie because he didn’t flinch from how the other looked (probably bc of all of the other weirdos he saw on a day-to-day basis from his job)? 😭😭😭

He's survived the Karen. Nothing can faze or scare him anymore.

[justsomepetermemes]

[wonixiv-draws]

the muffy redraw inspired me to redraw other hm charas!!!

ann, mary, and karen are redraws while elli and popuri are new (guess i never got around to drawing all 5 back then)

[trikalovski]

UNDER CONTROL; Part 2

PART TWO; 90's christmas corporate/office AU set in New York city.

Office-siren!Karen Wheeler x younger!reader

Warnings: Dom!KarenWheeler, Sub!Reader, Younger woman/older woman, power imbalance, alcohol abuse, cheating (Karen), power play, office sex, scissoring, slight mommy kink, dom-sub, secret "relationship", slapping, degradation. Mean!Karen wheeler

~

You thought it was over, that you’d had your moment. Every day since feels like walking on thin ice. When the New Year’s office party arrives, you see just how quickly everything you think you controlled can go up in flames.

(Sorry if it’s not as good as the first one, it was supposed to be a one-shot)

December 24th, 1996

Nothing changes.

You’re surprised. At yourself. For being surprised.

The building hums back to life like it always does. Those stupid office lights flicker on, coffee machines hiss, phones begin their endless ringing. Midtown moves on, Karen moves on.

What disturbs you most is the feeling like nothing ever happened at all.

Karen’s hair is swept back into its usual polished shape, not a strand out of place. She’s dressed in a dove-gray suit this time, sharp lines, clean tailoring. Pearl studs. High heels- the full package. You watch her speak to a senior partner near the elevators, smiling just enough to be pleasant.

Incredible.

You know that if anyone were to study her closely, they’d see only what she wants them to see. No one would ever guess she had you pressed into the edge of her desk, her voice low in your ear, words meant for you, and you alone.

And now? She doesn’t even look at you.

You’re coming undone in a hundred tiny, humiliating ways.

At first, it’s subtle. You let your gaze linger too long when she passes your floor, heart kicking painfully against your ribs. You miss half of what your coworker is saying because Karen’s voice carries down the corridor, calm and assured, and it still does something awful to you.

Then come the mistakes.

You spill coffee during a meeting, dark liquid blooming across beige carpet while people pause mid-sentence. Someone cracks a joke, tries to soften it, you laugh too but your hands shake as you mop it up.

It’s embarrassing- you want to die on the spot purely out of spite. Would they find it funny then? Exactly.

You also stutter when Karen addresses a group you’re standing in, your name mentioned only in passing, but your mouth betrays you anyway. The sound lodges in your throat, awkward and exposed.

People notice.

Karen notices too.

At first her irritation stays contained, but it soon becomes obvious. You’re mortified and yet It’s hard to blame her, because in karen’s eyes, you’re slowly shifting from a mild inconvenience to a major liability.

Even so, Karen seems to be cutting you some slack- she never comes after you. Seriously, not even to scold you.

Instead, she surrounds herself with her usual circle. Mostly senior staff, board members and women like her, who know how to smile without revealing anything real.

You try to mirror her. You really do.

The result is all but similar.

By the second week, she corners you when you least expect it. So much about her cutting you slack…

It’s your lunch break, but the food doesn’t matter. You just need peace. The narrow hallway near the archives is empty and calm. She steps into your path before you even have time to register it, her heels stopping just short of your shoes.

“Get it together.” she says quietly, fury compressed into every syllable. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

You’re shocked. Your fingers curl around the edge of the container you’re holding. “I’m… not doing anything?”

“Oh, come now-“ she scoffs, unimpressed.

You stand now. The heels she’s wearing make her slightly taller then you, just enough that you have to tilt your chin up. The gesture makes your stomach churn. “Come again?”

“You’re being messy.” she spits, plain and simple. “People are starting to talk, do you genuinely think this is acceptable?”

“Christ- calm down, I’m trying.” you push back, throat tight.

“That’s not good enough!” she snaps. “Really- are you trying to ruin me? Snap out of this and get over it.”

Something fractures.

“You don’t get to talk to me like this!” you snarl, but it comes out uneven, voice betraying you.

Karen exhales through her nose. “I absolutely do. This is my reputation you’re messing with.”

“I can’t just forget getting fucked by my superior!” you hiss, the words escaping before you can stop them.

Her jaw tightens, eyes flicking around the hallway before she leans in, looming. “Lower your voice-“

“No! You came onto me!” You shoot back, hurt turning your voice sharp and ugly. “You don’t get to act like I threw myself at you.”

Her mouth hardens. “You little-” She catches herself, breath controlled, composure snapping back into place. “That is not how I remember it.”

“Wow, how convenient.” you scoff.

She tilts her head, cool and appraising. “You’re young.” she says flatly. “You read into things. You confuse attention with intention.”

Her cruelty is uncalled for, and it stings more than you expect.

Your mouth opens and closes. Shocked. You swallow hard, nodding once like you’ve been struck into silence.

“Okay then.” you murmur. “Karen Wheeler always gets what she wants, doesn’t she? You’ll have your distance.”

Karen goes quiet, caught off guard. “Forgive me.”you mutter as you shoulder past her “For being such a nuisance.”

You stay true to your words.

You stop looking at her entirely. Stop reacting. You become polite, professional, distant. You don’t smile when she passes. You don’t stumble when she speaks to you. You force yourself to breathe evenly, to remember your place in this hell of a hole.

Whether Karen cares or not, you don’t know. You stop worrying.

December 30th, 1996

December deepens and with that, the New Year’s office party rolls around, a yearly tradition so employees can toast the season before heading home to family.

You call it torture.

The event space glows: Soft lights, muted jazz, glasses clinking. You sigh as you watch strings of yellow lights twinkle over folding tables laden with punch bowls, cheese platters and so on. Snow dusts the parking lot outside, the air crisp and biting as guests arrive in furry coats and scarves.

What. A. Circus.

You get there early- around, what, eight? Part of you still wants to go home, curl under blankets with your pets and fall asleep. Sadly masochism, or whatever sounds less harsh, drives you forward.

“Silly girl.” she’d called you once. Ding, Ding, Ding. Correct.

You mingle with your small, semi-circle of friends. Seriously, one is worse than the next: the graphic designer with the bad perm, the receptionist with kleptomanic tendencies, and your favorite- the closeted gay guy thrown in for diversity. Mark.

Jezus take the wheel,

At nine sharp, Karen finally decides to bless everyone with her presence, Ted glued to her side- not that you’ve been keeping tabs on her or anything. Not at all.

She looks flawless. Emerald-green dress hugging her, pearls at her throat, hair swept back. And Ted… Ted is whatever.

The higher-ups have the plus one privilege, always sticking close to the ‘important’ crowd: executives in suits, laughter tinkling over clinking glasses. You roll your eyes to the back of your skull. Seriously? It’s like you’re in high school again but with better wine.

Karen keeps her distance effortlessly, like she’s being paid to. It almost makes you want to laugh. Her smiles are polished, her posture perfect. No dramatic slips- unlike you.

She’s leaning into Ted’s side, his hand on her waist like he fucking owns her. It twists a knife deep inside you.

Thing is- you know it. Their marriage is a disaster; God, it has to be. She never admitted to it, but you saw the slip in her expression. That night. Free. Vulnerable. With you, not him.

You’re not okay, and it shows- yet you can’t bring yourself to do something about it. Your forced smiles visibly falter and you stumble as you walk.

You shuffle toward the buffet to poke at the shrimp cocktail with Mark and his ridiculous festive sweater vest, tasting nothing, re-thinking everything.

“Okay, spill.” he sighs, nudging you with an elbow. “Who’s got you hung up, you look miserable.”

You shrug. “Just… the holidays. You know how much i hate this shit.”

He arches a brow, shrugs, and goes back to chattering about office drama. You do your best to nod along, but your eyes keep finding Karen.

By ten-thirty, the organizers call for the annual speeches- cheers to the year, toasts to the new one.

All that cheesy crap.

The room hushes, glasses raised. You’re heavily hammered now, the world tilting. You spot Karen laughing at something Ted says, and something within you decides you can’t go on like this any longer.

You make a beeline for her, not really knowing what you’re going to say. Call her a bitch? Real mature.

To be fair, in your current condition- barf, perhaps. Right at their feet.

You end up doing neither.

What a waste of whatever fragile dignity you’ve managed to keep upright tonight.

You make for the exit instead, unaware that she’s been watching all along.

Her hand shoots out, stopping the elevator doors and pressing them closed before you can even react.

“Why the rush?” she asks, voice low, a hint of slur softening her usual crispness. Her eyes, usually stoic, hold a flicker of something warmer, alcohol-fueled.

You don’t even register her voice at first. But when you do-

God, she’s in for it now.

You explode, words tumbling out in a rush as you turn around to face her. “Now you decide to acknowledge me?” you slur aswell. “You’ve ignored me for weeks, Karen. I only exist to you when I’m a problem! So don’t suddenly act concerned about where I’m going, with Ted still stuck at your side.”

She scoffs. “That’s quite the speech, how about you take the stage next?” You’ve struck a nerve; the slight curl of her lip and the way her gaze sharpens give it away.

You stumble toward her, finger jabbed at her chest in accusation, a bitter laugh escapes you too. “Mhm, should I start by saying how a certain superior bangs girls in her office, then pretends they don’t exist?”

For a heartbeat, the air thickens. Then she chuckles- low and derisive. “Oh, please- show some decorum, won’t you?”

Her audacity never fails to stun you. “I’ll show you decorum- let’s see how Ted likes it-“ You flash her a look, sharp and devious, already moving past her, toward the hum of the crowd in the next room.

You don’t even see it coming. Karen sidesteps into your path, closes the distance in one smooth motion. Her lips crash against yours- firm, swallowing every scream, every accusation before it can claw its way out.

Your knees threaten to buckle. Her kiss is so sudden so unexpected- You freeze, breath hitching, every word trapped inside you as she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

“Just who the hell do you think you are?” You complain, chest still aching with all the days she left you to wonder, to burn. “Do you really think I don’t see what you’re doing-“

“You’re impossible-“ she sighs, irritated, then closes the gap again. You gasp into the kiss, your hands fisting her dress as she pushes you back, her body pinning you against the elevator behind you.

The kiss deepens- emotional, raw; her tongue sweeps in, tasting of merlot, while her fingers tangle in your hair. She doesn’t whisper confessions, but the hunger in her touch is obvious.

She always does this, karen’s composure cracks just enough to remind you that she is human- but only just. A soft moan slips out when you kiss back, emotions loose under the haze of the drink.

She always plays it safe.

Breaking away, eyes dark, she grabs your hand. “Sweetheart...” She murmurs, voice husky. You almost orgasm on the spot. “You’ve spent days tormenting yourself over this. Let me take care of you. Let me… help you understand your place in my life.”

You should leave. And yet, every instinct in your body betrays you. Every nerve in you wants her warmth, her guidance and she knows this, lets you squirm just enough, lets you fall for her without giving herself entirely.

You stay.

Karen drags you down the hall to a nearby empty office. The lights flick on as she fishes for the switch, then the door locks behind you. The warmth of the room is suffocating.

She backs you against the couch, easing you down onto it with a firm hand. “You think it was easy for me?” she breathes out, gets comfortable between your legs. “Having you here every day and not being able to do anything about it?” Her hands slip under your skirt. “Dressed like this-” she murmurs, lifting it.

Her touch is firm, fingers tracing along your thighs.

“You didn’t look troubled to me-“ you protest, breath hitching as her fingers slip your underwear aside, giving herself more access and beginning to stroke your cunt.

She answers with a rough kiss, indifferent to your little jab. Her stoic mask cracks as she strips your trembling body- blouse unbuttoned, bra discarded somewhere, exposing your breasts to her.

“Do try to mind your tone with me, [name].” she warns, her own dress unzips, revealing lace beneath. She pulls your underwear off fully, the leather cold against your skin. The wine makes her touches linger, sensual and unhurried.

“You- you’re not fair-“ you gasp, voice trembling as you glare up at her. “Three glasses down and suddenly you’ve got the balls to touch me?”

“Pretty girl, I’ll do much more than just touch you.” She sneers and clamps onto your neck, lips biting and sucking hard at the skin. You throw your head back, legs snapping around her waist as she drives herself down over you. One hand slams over your mouth, the other already pumping you full.

She’s rougher than the first time, you don’t mind though.

Karen’s fingers plunge deep, stroking that sensitive spot inside you, slick coating her hand as she works you open. Three digits stretch your walls while her thumb circles your clit in slow circles. You buck against her palm, muffled moans vibrating against the hand clamped over your mouth, but she pins you down harder, her body weight keeping you trapped on the worn couch.

"Sweetheart-” she murmurs, voice laced with that condescending edge, her breath hot against your ear. “I really haven’t been good to you lately have i?” Her words drip with slight degradation, the pet name twisting the humiliation even as it sends fresh heat pooling in your core. She bites down on your neck, sucking the tender skin before releasing it slowly.

her fingers never slow their punishing rhythm.

She’s got you now.

You gasp, legs tightening around her, fingers clawing at her dress. “Fuck- Ms.Wheeler please-“ your voice cracks, something between a moan and a plea.

She tilts her head, smirk curling like a blade.

You shiver, worried about every mark she leaves. “Ahh- No don’t, they’ll see-“

Her lips skim your ear, gentle but cruel. “I don’t care.” she murmurs. “It’s winter. Hide them.”

You moan again.

"All that attitude earlier, and now?” she taunts, her free hand trailing up to wrap around your throat, squeezing until you whimper. “You have no character-“ she sneers. “Make up your mind. Don’t pretend you don’t want this, then spread your legs so easily.”

You try to retort, but her kiss muffles it into a garbled plea. Her digits scissor inside you, spreading your walls wide as arousal drips down your thighs.

“Karen-“ you trash around, close now, so close.

She withdraws her fingers abruptly, leaving you clenching around nothing, a whine escaping despite her grip. She lifts her hand, glistening with your juices, and smears it across your mouth.

“Remember this the next time you accuse me, of throwing myself at you.”

(Okay, so- she didn’t forget about that.)

The degradation stings, makes your cheeks burn, but your hips twitch upward, begging for more. “I’m sorry- i’m so sorry please- more, don’t stop-“

“Quiet.” She snaps, you obey.

Karen shifts her weight, unzipping her dress further and letting it pool around her waist, revealing lace panties already soaked with her own wetness. She hooks your leg over her shoulders, positioning herself so her pussy hovers just above yours, sliding her underwear aside just enough that it’s out of the way.

“And for the record-“ she adds. “You came to me-” her tone sharpens, condescending as she finally grinds her clit against yours in quick, desperate circles.

You cry out when she slides down fully, aligning your cunts, and presses her folds flush against yours, the wet heat searing as she begins to rock her hips. You gasp, hands flying to her hips to pull her closer, she allows you this, throws her head back in pleasure.

“Yes, yes i did! Fuck- harder, I want you to ruin me! Please! ruin me-“ You whine like a madwoman; if anyone were to use the elevator, they’d hear you-

“God- the mouth on you.” she hisses, but you know she likes it by the way her pace quickens, hips snapping in a rhythm that has your breasts bouncing, the slick slide of your cunts creating truly obscene sounds that echo off the walls.

“Fuckfuckfuckyesyes-“ Your eyes water from pure pleasure. You slam them shut, tears spilling as your own hands clamp over your mouth.

You tremble beneath her as she fucks you silly.

Karen doesn’t allow you this luxury. She swats your hands away and grips your chin, holding you completely still. “Look at me when I fuck you. Be polite-” she groans, her voice low and rough, her own pleasure evident but of lesser importance to the control she wields over you.

She reaches down to spread your lips wider, exposing your clit fully to her assault, her own folds parting around it with each thrust. "Cry all you want, let them hear you.” she hisses, leaning in to suck a fresh hickey onto your collarbone. "Let everyone know you're being fucked senseless in here."

You arch into her, the words fueling the fire in your belly, your voice breaking as you rasp “Yeah?! Ah-Ted too?”

A clear provocation.

That sobers her up instantly. You don’t let her pull back- your fingers dig into her hair, dragging her down against you, rolling your hips mercilessly into hers. That earns you anothet moan.

Power-drunk, you spit in her ear, voice low, venomous: “You crave this, don’t you? Chasing his lips, acting like you’re so innocent… knowing mine were there just hours ago.”

Karen moans again, but it twists into a groan of frustration. She unlatches from you forcibly, and before you can protest, her hand snaps across your face with a sharp smack.

“Ah, fuck-” you startle. Hardly even notice the sting.

Her eyes darken as she seizes both your wrists, pinning them above your head, cutting you off. She drives into you with a faster, harsher rhythm, every movement precise and punishing. You cry out, hips bucking, but she doesn’t relent, each thrust is measured to make you ache, to force you to submit to her pace, her control.

“Cunning little thing, aren’t you?” she hisses, voice low and dangerous. “Thinking you did something there-“

“Didn’t i-“ she rewards you with another slap, then captures your lips in a bruising kiss.

The pressure builds, your body trembling as her relentless rhythm drives you closer to the edge.

Karen’s breath hitches, eyes locked on yours. “I’ll get you demoted-“ she sneers down at you “Make you fuck your way back to the top-" Her threat ruins you, orgasm crashing through in waves, pussy spasming against hers, slick flooding out to mix with her arousal. “Then i’ll demote you again-“

Karen holds her weight above you with one elbow, gripping your jaw with her free hand, faces inches apart. You both pant, gasping, but she doesn’t relent- driving into your climax with force until her own release hits, a sharp cry escaping as her juices coat your folds, warm and messy.

Karen collapses forward, her weight pressing into yours, forehead resting against yours. All you feel is the heat of two bodies tangled together, breaths ragged, energy spent.

For a bit, neither of you moves or speaks.

When Karen slowly begins to sit up, shoulders slumping, hair falling loose around her face, you can’t help but feel a flicker of relief. You follow suit. She begins to adjust her dress, straightening the fabric over her legs, while you do the same, tugging at your clothes and smoothing the creases.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask when the silence get’s too loud, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

She bites her lip, eyes flicking away for a moment before meeting yours again. “Was I… too rough? I- I don’t know what happened. I just-“ Her words trail off, vulnerable and unsure, a side of her you rarely see.

You swallow hard, heart still racing. “No… Karen, no- what? I was in the wrong here-“

“Sweetheart, don’t-“ she interrupts, soft, not rude- just done with the topic. Her eyes flick away for a moment, then back to yours, tired but still sharp. You nod, letting it drop, feeling the tension ease slightly as both of you adjust yourselves, clothes slowly settling into place.

The muffled laughter, clinking glasses, and music from the party outside float through the walls, a reminder that the world doesn’t stop for no one.

This time around, the two of you make no promises, set no deadlines, lie to no one, and leave with the bitter knowledge that whatever you’ve started will cost you both greatly.

Seriously: What. A. Circus.