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faebaex · 9 months

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Accidentally Courting an Eel Ⅰ

author note: oooops I was supposed to post this days ago but then it somehow ended up being almost 5k words?? And this is only part 1?? Sorry sorry, I hope you enjoy it! A lot of chaos here, the only one who shows any kind of sense is Ruggie, we love you king! also many character cameos as well! i hope i did them justice

warnings: Cursing, violence, reader is quite a feisty and angry person tbh

characters: Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Your world had been turned upside down when you had returned from summer break. Intent to start your second year, you instead went to your first day of the semester only to find out that your mage school was closing and being absorbed by another school. In a whirlwind, you found yourself in the prestigious Night Raven College opening ceremony, being placed in a dormitory posthaste (you found yourself sorted into Heartslabyul, your new housewarden seemed absolutely unhinged) and then expected to continue in as normal. You had no idea why your academy closed, or why such a prestigious college was so willing to absorb an indie mage academy with a small student cohort and an obscure reputation, and those questions were never answered. Life just kind of… Went on.

Whilst the arrival of new students at the start of a new academic year wasn’t strange, it was entirely unusual to receive sophomore and senior students with the incoming batch of freshmen, so there was a lot of excitement that followed the first couple of weeks that you and the rest of your previous cohort had at Night Raven College. Lots of eyes on you, sizing you up and trying to get an idea of what you were worth… And for you, that meant a few fights.

You were known in your previous academy as being quite fiery, not hesitating to throw hands if you needed to, despite being on the shorter side compared to your peers. You were a scrapper, and a dirty one at that, more than willing to bite, scratch and pull hair if it meant that you could get the upper hand. It had gotten to the point that you began wearing shorts underneath your skirt, so that you had more freedom of movement if you needed to kick someone where the sun didn’t shine. You had the most spats with the Savanaclaw dorm, growing sick of being shoulder bumped and generally harassed by the predominantly beastman dorm. After the first couple of fights and during your next, you’d found yourself thrown over the shoulder of the Savanaclaw housewarden, Kingscholar, and extracted from the situation. You received a rather stern lecture on how you needed to stop getting into fights with his boys (which you gave him a few choice words right back) but after that, you seemed to find yourself getting bothered a lot less by the Savanaclaw students. And to be honest, a lecture from Kingscholar was miles more bearable than a lecture from housewarden Rosehearts. There were only so many apology essays you could write, after all.

After a few weeks, the novelty of having new students wore off and you were able to carry on with your school life without much issue. Sure, you got into a few fights here and there occasionally, but nothing too major, enough for you to skate under the detection of housewarden Rosehearts. After all, nothing was worse than sitting through a Rosehearts lecture. Weeks blended into months, and soon you were far into your first semester, and had rather gotten used to life at Night Raven College. You’d even managed to build some sort of rapport with your housewarden, who was less on your back now that your constant fighting had calmed down.

You found yourself sighing as you made your way to the potions lab, leafing through your notes on the way. Professor Crewel had set up and assignment and paired everyone off and to be honest, the assignment had been a complete nightmare. Together, you and your partner were supposed to brew an energy boosting potion, but you had to figure out the ingredients and brewing method with only a few hints and clues along the way. Crewel refused to give further instruction apart from surveying the ingredients selected by students, to ensure no dangerous mishaps could occur, stating with a slap of his whip that the whole point of the assignment was for students to study the potion and ingredients available to them to create the potion. Unfortunately for you, your partner for this assignment didn’t have the best grade in potionology, and considering that this assignment was graded, anything short of a good pass would have housewarden Rosehearts chasing you around the dorm demanding an explanation. Thankfully, you seemed close to finishing the assignment, the ginger root you required as your last ingredient finally having finished distilling. You were on your way to the potion lab after classes now to meet with your partner to finish brewing the potion and finally be free of the assignment that had been weighing around your neck for the last few weeks.

Or so you thought.

When you entered the lab, your lab partner was waiting there as expected, but you knew at first glance that something was up. The closer you got to him, the paler you noticed his face was, and you couldn’t help raising your brow as you stopped beside him. “What’s up?” You queried, placing your notes on the desk and putting down your bag by your chair. A few other students were milling around the potions lab, trying to finish their own assignments, one of them being Ruggie, a Savanaclaw student you usually saw running around after Kingscholar. He looked rather sheepish, his ears twitching as he stared hard at his own assignment. Your eyes fell back to your lab partner, who still looked like he would rather sink through the floor than be in the lab at that moment. “Well? Are you ready to finish the assignment? The ginger root should have distilled now so all we need to do is brew—”

“Um… About the ginger root…” Your lab partner began in a small voice, and you could see sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, “I think we are going to have to distil it again…” You blinked and stared blankly at your lab partner, as if he had suddenly grown an extra limb. “Distil it again? It took us 2 days to distil the first vial! What happened to the one we distilled?” You asked, frustration clear in your tone and mounting fast. If your lab partner wanted to sink through the floor before, now he wanted the ground to just open and swallow him whole. His eyes darted around nervously and he leaned forwards, closing the gap between you so he could whisper to you, “someone… Took it.”

You stared incredulously at him, “do you know who?” Your partner nodded; his eyes glued to the floor. “Then just take it back!” You hissed, at a loss at why your lab partner didn’t just retrieve your ginger root and resolve the situation, but his eyes shot up at your words and he looked terrified at the suggestion. “N-no way!” He stuttered, his face somehow becoming paler, “look, lets just wait a few days. I’ll distil another vial, I’ll do all the work—”

“Who took it?” You demanded flatly.

“Just forget about it, we still have time—”

“Who. Took. It.” You repeated sharply, your eyes narrowing into a glare on your lab partner. He swallowed thickly, and he discreetly nodded his head in the direction of the culprit. Your eyes left your lab partner and settled on the culprit, and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Look,” your lab partner started, moving to put a hand on your arm, “Just leave it, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea—”

“Wait here.”

You brushed off your lab partner’s hand as you began walking over to the culprit, who had his back to you as he leafed through the ingredients in the potionology inventory. He was tall, towering over you even when you weren’t that close to him yet, with teal coloured hair and roughly put together uniform. You could spy what you assumed to be your vial of ginger root tucked into the crook of his hand as he thumbed through the rest of the jars and bottles on the shelf, clearly looking for ingredients to complete his own assignment. And apparently, he had decided that your ginger root was his for the taking.

“Oi. Give back my ginger root.” You demanded, glaring at the back of the culprit’s head.

“Ahh~? Get lost, guppy. I’m workin’ here.” The culprit drawled back, not even bothering to look back at you as he continued to flip through ingredients, not a care in the world.

“Yeah? Well, you’ll be working on your ass if you don’t give me back my ginger root.” You retorted, folding your arms across your chest as you continued to glare. That seemed to get his attention, as he turned around to face you. His eyes seemed to light up when he caught sight of you, a wild grin spreading across his lips, showcasing his freakishly sharp teeth. Yikes.

“Ahaa~ You’re real tiny, little guppy. Hey, why don’t you come get your ginger root back?” He challenged, a glint in his eyes that immediately told you that this guy was going to mess with you. You tried to reach for the vial, but he quickly snatched it away, dangling it high in the air over your head with a spiteful grin. “Ah, ah, ah guppy, you’ll have to try harder than that. C’mon, jump for it.”

You clicked your tongue, feeling your blood boiling at his attitude. You stood on the tips of your toes, and even then, you were barely closer to his face. “None of us will have ginger root when I shove that vial so far down your throat no one will have to hear your annoying voice again.” You hissed at him lowly, your lips twisted up in an annoyed snarl. All amusement and mocking sank out of his face as his own face darkened, his pupils shrinking as he now began to glare at you. “You got alotta nerve, guppy. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

The two of you glared at each other, and he leaned forward with menacing intent, “Maybe I should do you a favour and squeeze some sense into ya.” He said, all previous drawl lost from his tone as he threatened you now. You scoffed, having had more than enough of this guy. You quickly reached forward and yanked that stupid black lock of hair that hung down his face, catching him by surprise and using that opportunity to push him back, making him collide into the ingredients shelf, the jars and vials rattling precariously from the impact. You tried to reach for vial of ginger root, that now also balanced dangerously in his hand, but before you could reach it, his arms suddenly locked around your middle, lifting you off the ground and squeezing. You felt your ribs begin to protest as he crushed you, and you hissed in pain, your legs kicking violently at whatever you could in an attempt to get free. You could vaguely hear the sound of smashing glass, but you couldn’t focus on that. Now when he was staring down at you, a smug smile spreading across his lips as he watched you struggle. It made you seethe. You twisted and kicked, and somehow managed to free your left arm. Striking before he could restrain you again, you took your chance and seized hold of his earring and yanked. You heard him grunt as the earring came away in your hand, but it still wasn’t enough for him to let you go, so you turned your head and sank your teeth into his arm. He froze when you did that, his hands slackening enough that you slipped out of his grasp altogether, your feet hitting the floor quicker than you expected, almost making you fall backwards. You steadied yourself, readying a follow up attack when he was still stunned frozen after you bit him, only to feel yourself yanked backwards at the waist and thrown over someone’s shoulder, moving at such a nimble speed that the ginger root stealing culprit was soon leaving your sight as you were whisked out of the potions lab.

“Put me down!” You seethed, trying to lean up in your captor’s grasp, your hand pressing into their shoulder. “Ruggie?! What do you think you’re doing? Put me down right now!” Ruggie ignored your complaints, running through the corridor with surprising ease despite you being on his shoulder, zipping through winding corridors like this wasn’t his first time.

“No can do. If Leona found out you’d been fighting again and I was there and didn’t do anything, he’d have my tail.” Ruggie grumbled, his ears going flat at the thought, “and with Floyd Leech of all people! I mean this respectfully but, Y/N are you nuts? You gotta have a death wish.” Ruggie continued to spout off about how you had not perception of threat or danger, just throwing your hands left, right and centre without any care for who you were dealing with. You scrunched up your face, a lecture from Ruggie not on your bingo card for the year, that’s for sure.

“Who is Floyd Leech?” You grumbled sourly, starting to feel a little dizzy from a combination of the blood rushing to your head and how quickly Ruggie sped through the corridors. Ruggie shook his head, glancing up at you incredulously. “Floyd Leech is the guy you just rammed into the potions inventory, and probably in every student in this school’s top 10 guys not to mess with ranking. High up too, I imagine.” Ruggie commented dryly, his speed slowing to a slow jog as he seemed to near to the destination you had in mind. “Crewel is going to kill you by the way, if Floyd doesn’t first. You absolutely totalled his potionology inventory for that lab.”

You groaned at that, the consequences of your actions starting to rear their ugly head. Either way, housewarden Rosehearts would have your head, if there was anything left of it after Crewel was done with you. You didn’t get a chance to wallow, as Ruggie slowed to a stop and gently lowered you off of his shoulder. You looked around, only to notice you were standing outside of the infirmary. “Why did you bring me here? I’m fine.” You questioned, only for Ruggie to give you another stunned look, his tail flickering anxiously behind him.

“What? Y/N… Uh… Your legs are kinda…” Ruggie trailed off and you looked down, your eyes widening as you saw an array of cuts down your bare legs, dripping blood down to your socks. “Oh… Oops.” You muttered, looking a little sheepish. Ruggie scratched behind his ear, looking slightly awkward himself. “Yeah… You should probably get those checked out…”

You sighed as you turned to the infirmary door, a small grimace on your lips. “Thanks, Ruggie… Feel free to tell housewarden Kingscholar that you saved the day.” That seemed to brighten the mood a little bit, Ruggie’s characteristic smile starting to come back to his face. “You bet I will, shishishi…” With that, he scurried off, leaving you to enter the infirmary alone. As you were about to push the door open, you noticed the something in your hand, opening it to reveal a teal earring clutched in your fist. You sighed again, having completely forgotten in the heat of the moment that you’d torn that out of Floyd’s ear. Not knowing how to deal with it, you slid it into your skirt pocket and entered the infirmary.

You sighed as you trudged back to your dorm room, rubbing your head with a tired expression. You’d barely finished having the cuts on your legs checked for glass and cleaned when Professor Crewel had come marching into the infirmary to tear you a new one. You swear your ears were still ringing from the crack of his whip, knowing you’d be hearing it in your nightmares for the next couple of days at the least. You’d been instructed to attend the potionology lab after classes tomorrow to clean up the mess you’d made, and for whatever other punishment Crewel deemed necessary for however many days he deemed. You fully expected to get chewed out by Crewel even more tomorrow when you attended your detention, but that was something to dread tomorrow.

You’d survived your encounter with Floyd Leech largely unharmed, luckily the cuts on your legs not having any glass stuck in them and shallow enough that they’d likely heal in a couple of days, easily bandaged up to keep them clean. Your ribs, however, were bruised and hurt like a bitch, but again, it could have been worse. Surprisingly, another thing that could be worse was the reaction from Housewarden Riddle once you had gotten back to the dorm. He was waiting for you by the doors to be dorm, and you expected to lose your head immediately. Instead, you sat through a two-and-a-half-hour lecture about how unacceptable your behaviour was and how he expected you to apologise to Crewel sincerely posthaste, as well as demanding you write a 2000 word apology essay. But oddly enough, Riddle seemed more irked that it was Floyd Leech that you had gotten into a fight with, warning you to keep clear of him if you valued your education.

Floyd Leech this, Floyd leech that. All everyone talked about was Floyd damn Leech, like he was some sort of terror on campus. Although you had to admit, if he managed to even rile Riddle up to that extent, maybe there was something about him.

Either way, you didn’t really care. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off an hour ago, and you were beyond exhausted. You pushed open the door to your dorm room and flopped face down onto your bed, ready to pass out into oblivion, only to feel a stabbing pain in your thigh. You groaned dramatically and rolled onto your back, patting at the bed to try and find the source of your irritation. Finding nothing, you patted at your thigh, slipping your hand into your pocket and feeling something jingle. With a quizzical hum, you pulled out a set of teal jewels, squinting at it in confusion, before it finally clicked.

Floyd Leech’s earring.

You held it up to the light, watching the light shine off of the three jewels that dangled from the simple golden stud. It was quite pretty, actually. As you continue to gaze at the earring as it dangled between your fingers, you noticed that the chain that attached the teal jewels to the stud were slightly damaged. You sat up, bringing the earring closer to your face to inspect it. Huh, it must have gotten damaged when you had pulled it out of Floyd’s ear… You turned the earring around in your hand, giving it another look over whilst you mulled over what you should do. Standing, you made your way to your desk, turning on the desk lamp and laying the earring carefully on the desk, you got to work…

“I don’t want to see a single shard of glass on that floor. Do you understand, pup?”

“Yes sir.” You muttered dejectedly, beginning to sweep up the mounds of glass that littered the battered potions inventory. You had to admit, you and Floyd had done a number on it, the floor chaotic with smashed glass and spilt ingredients, plant leaves mushed together from being trodden underfoot and staining the tiles of the lab. You sighed quietly under your breath, knowing that it was going to take a long time to clean all of this up.

As you cleaned, your eyes kept flickering to the door. You weren’t the only one who was supposed to be cleaning up this mess. Floyd was supposed to be here too. However, he had yet to turn up, so the lion’s share of the work was currently left to you. Crewel sat at his desk, grading alchemy papers whilst keeping an eye on your progress, probably to heckle you if your progress slowed. Your ribs still throbbed dully, protesting every time you bent at the waist to retrieve a particularly hefty chunk of glass, Crewel peering over at you occasionally to make sure you didn’t cut yourself any more than you already were. You could only hope you could get this done quickly so you could leave.

After what felt like hours, you had finally cleaned all the glass and ingredients off the floor, the process taking longer than you anticipated after Crewel insisted that you disposed of the spoiled ingredients properly, and then scolding you for yipping and giving you an impromptu lecture on correct ingredient disposal methods. You were about to pull of your gloves when Crewel once again appeared in front of you, a large cardboard box in his arms that he placed on a nearby desk.

“You’re not finished yet, pup. I expect you to arrange the new ingredients onto the shelves in proper order.” Crewel instructed, and you felt yourself grimace before you could stop yourself.

“Do I have to? Can’t Floyd do it? I cleaned up the entire floor!” You complained, deciding to push your luck anyway. Crewel looked around the room, an eyebrow raised before his eyes fell back on you.

“Do you see Leech anywhere?” Crewel said, and you could tell by his tone that you’d already lost. Why did he have to be so sassy?!

“… No.” You mumbled, cringing as you heard the thwapping of Crewel’s whip against his gloved palm.

“Exactly, now get to work. You can go once I approve the finished inventory.” Crewel ordered, making his way back to his desk whilst you rummaged through the cardboard box of fresh ingredients, a hard done by pout on your face. “Yes sir…”

“Good girl.”

Your entire body felt stiff the next morning, your joints cracking as you stretched with a groan. Floyd had never turned up in the end, leaving you to clean up the entire inventory and restock it, which was no easy task with Crewel’s finicky tastes. It took numerous attempts and lectures on the importance of ingredient storage before Crewel was finally happy enough to grant you freedom, only to miserably crush your spirit by informing you that he expected you to attend to the regrowth of replacement ingredients in the botanical garden for the next 3 days. Lucky you.

The only saving grace was that your initial sentence in the botanical garden had been reduced as a result of Floyd not turning up at all when you were supposed to clean the potionology lab. By the sound of it, Crewel was going to be ensuring that he served his detention in the botanical garden.

You found yourself slightly irritated that Floyd hadn’t turned up to your joint detention. Not only because it meant you had to spend hours cleaning up a mess that arguably wasn’t entirely your fault, but also because you had planned to give him back his earring. You had stayed up late into the night fixing the earring, fairly satisfied with yourself for making it look as good as new. You planned to hunt him down today to give it back to him, no matter what, if only because walking around with it in your pocket made you feel like it was going to inevitably get broken again.

Your fight with Floyd had spread around campus like wildfire, and you had people you didn’t even know commenting on how hardcore you were for going up against Floyd Leech without batting an eyelid. You’d also heard that since the fight, Floyd had been in a foul mood, and it was fifty fifty between students complimenting you and blaming you for being the unfortunate victim of Floyd’s new vile mood.

Either way, Floyd’s mood was not enough to deter you from finding him to return his earring. However, you couldn’t find him in the morning on the way to classes, and you didn’t see him at lunch either. You were wondering if you were going to have to go all the way to the Octavinelle dorm after classes, not really looking forward to that thought and beginning to think about whether this was all really worth it. Maybe you should just flag down a random Octavinelle student and give them the earring and just hope it made its way back to Floyd.

As you were pondering as you walked to your club, you saw a flash of teal at the end of the corridor, looking up quickly to see the retreating figures of a light grey-haired student along with two taller, teal haired students, one with a pretty unmistakable slouch with his hands in his pockets. A-ha!

“Oi! Floyd Leech!” You called, starting to break out into a light jog in case he didn’t stop and turn around. Luck was somewhat on your side, as all three of the students stopped and turned their attention to you, and you vaguely recognised one as the housewarden for Octavinelle. He was currently eyeing you up, meanwhile the teal haired student who wasn’t Floyd was giving you a smile that, whilst coming off polite at face value, reeked of mocking. You ignored them both, slowing to a stop in front of Floyd and boy, the other students were right. He looked like he was in a terrible mood, his eyes narrowed on you like he was about to start another fight.

“What do you want, guppy? I’m busy.” He drawled; his eyebrows furrowed as he frowned down at you. You scoffed at that, shooting your own frown back at him reproachfully. “I was really busy yesterday when someone didn’t turn up to their detention and I had to clean and rearrange the entire potionology inventory by myself.” You shot back at him, narrowing your eyes at him and watching him just stare back at you disinterestedly.

“Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Here.” You fished into your pocket carefully and brought out the teal earring, dangling it carefully between your fingers. If you weren’t so distracted trying to get the earring out of your skirt pocket as gently as possible, you would have seen the flicker of surprise that went across Jade’s expression, or how Azul pushed up his glasses in an attempt to mask his own surprise. “I didn’t realise I still had it on me when I left the potions lab, to be honest. It got a little damaged during the fight, but I managed to fix it so good I bet you can’t even notice!” You weren’t even aware of the proud little beam that was on your face as you spoke of your repair job, or how all three of them stared at you in a veiled mix of surprise, confusion, and awe.

You held the earring out to Floyd for him to take, which he did, all previous traces of irritation washed from his face now as he held his earring in his palm. A silence had fell between you and considering that the situation was already awkward enough as it is, you decided to excuse yourself. “Well, that was all I wanted. I’ll be leaving.” You didn’t wait for any of them to respond, and none of them did as you walked past them and continued on your way to your club activities.

So happy you were to finally have that interaction over with and not have to worry about re-damaging the delicate earring that had made its home in your pocket over the last couple of days, you didn’t notice how Floyd Leech stared wistfully at your retreating back, said earring cradled carefully in his bare palm…

#twst #twisted wonderland #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x y/n

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noyasmashing · 1 month

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Between Lines

Sub!Kenma x Fem!reader

CW: caught jerking off, reader a lil mean, begging, kenma being a cry baby, phone smut

A/N: Kinda rushed this one tbh.. I don’t know if I’m a fan of it but I liked the idea

WC: 1,360

Kenma's quiet demeanor was a defining trait, one that set him apart from the crowd. He wasn't one to actively seek out friendships, nor did he make much effort to engage in conversations with girls.

However, you were the exception. The circumstances of how your nightly calls began was something Kenma could not recall; but it was evolved from your shared love of video games. But once the controllers were set aside for the night, the conversations continued.

Despite his reputation for silence, Kenma was an attentive listener. He found solace in the sound of your voice, absorbing every detail you shared – whether it was the latest gossip, your favorite TV shows, or the mundane details of your day. He was content with this, offering only occasional interjections or quiet chuckles in response.

When the topic inevitably turned to him, Kenma's responses were dry, stale. I mean, you tried to talk about him, but it’s like he was on a witness protection program. He always found a way to turn the conversations back to you.

You weren’t exactly sure why, as sometimes you would have to ask “Are you still there, Kozu?"

A soft "mhmm" would be his only response, a subtle reassurance that he was indeed still listening.

Tonight was no exception. The clock ticked past 10:00 pm, leaving Kenma’s room dark as he lay on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. Your voice filled the room, animated and excited as you recounted the latest episode from your favorite TV show.

"But can you believe that plot twist?" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable even through the phone.

"Yeah, it was unexpected," Kenma replied, his tone calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

As the conversation continued, Kenma found himself lying there, feeling embarrassingly aroused. Lately, he had been struggling to find release, but there was something about the sound of your voice that seemed to make him undeniably hard.

His hand started to wander lower, venturing into forbidden territory where his boxers were already dampened with precum.

"That reminds me, Kozu! What you pulled off during the last match was pretty impressive," you enthusiastically complimented him, completely unaware of the effect your words were having on him.

“o-oh really?” He asked shakily, shamelessly teasing his overly sensitive pink tip.

"Mhmm, good job, Kozu.” You chuckled, praising him once more for his gaming skills.

Now, of all times, was the worst moment to praise him like that. He was already so aroused! The tone of your voice, your affectionate words, and just your presence in general was too much for him. By now, he was shakily jerking himself off, beads of precum leaking out of his tip.

He attempted to stifle his sounds of pleasure, but his efforts were in vain as a loud moan escaped him, broadcasting through the mic. His moment of ecstasy was abruptly halted when the realization of his mistake hit him.

"Kozu?" you asked, surprised at his unexpected reaction. Kenma didn’t know what to do with himself. He could die right about now. The one time he decided to let into his urges and he gets caught!

Before he could gather his thoughts to respond, you continued with a mischievous tone, "Have you been getting off to my voice every night?" Kenma's cheeks flushed even deeper as he struggled to find words, caught off guard by your bold question.

"N-no... I just... I'm sorry," Kenma whimpered out, his embarrassment evident in his voice. Somehow, he found himself even more aroused than before. Being caught by you had an unexpected effect on his body.

He braced himself for your potential reaction—scolding, perhaps even the silent treatment, or worse. But instead, your voice cut through his panicked thoughts, softer than before, calm and understanding,

"Did you cum yet?" you asked curiously, your tone indicating a desire to help with his predicament.

"W-what?" Kenma asked, still expecting a reprimand from you, his confusion evident in his voice.

“Cum? Did you?” you asked, this time with a slightly firmer tone.

"N-n, no.. no I didn’t," Kenma told you anxiously, unable to believe you would ask him something so intimate.

“Do you want to?” you inquired, your tone still gentle, yet probing. Kenma couldn't decipher how you felt about the situation, but he responded with a shaky "yes," although it was an obvious answer.

Your light laughter filled the air, further fueling Kenma's embarrassment. "I won't stop you, Kozu. I was waiting for something like this to happen," you admitted seductively, your words sending a shiver down his spine.

Kenma let out a soft whine, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through him at your candid admission.

His hand slowly made its way back down to his aching cock, ready to relive himself of this burning feeling.

"What... what do you mean?" Kenma let out shakily, running his hand over the length of his throbbing erection. God, he was incredibly turned on right now, teetering on the edge of climax with every touch.

"Oh, come on," you teased, as if he should have known what you meant all along, though maybe he did, he wasn't sure. "Do you think I spend hours talking to you even when it’s late just for fun? I like you, Kozume. I really do," you confessed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

This time, Kenma let out a loud moan in response. You? You liked him? It was all too much for him to process.

"I want to see you," he whined, his voice filled with desperation, the sound of his frantic movements against his cock audible through the speaker, causing you to clench around nothing.

"You sound so pretty right now. I wish it was my hand doing the work for you," you remarked, ignoring his attempts at flattery.

He continued to diligently pleasure himself, while you comforted him with soft words, unwittingly encouraging his actions.

His breath became heavier, punctuated by moans and whimpers. "Please," he breathed out, nearing the edge of his climax.

"Please what, Kozu? Do you want to cum?" you asked warmly, causing him to nod his head rapidly, as if you could see him.

"Hmm?" you questioned at his silence. He let out a shy "can I?" seeking your permission for release.

"I don’t know…" you trailed off, feigning contemplation. "I’m kind of upset you touched yourself to my voice without me knowing. You're such a little pervert," you chided, and Kenma couldn't help but let out a mangled sob, his hand slowing its pace in response to your disapproval.

Hearing his slowed motions, you quickly scolded him,

"Don’t slow down if I didn’t tell you to.” This time you were much harsher than he expected. Tears began running down his burning cheeks, small apologies leaving his wet lips.

“If you wanna cum, beg," your demeanor shifted quickly, fueling his arousal even more.

He couldn’t believe you would make him do something so lewd, but he was too far gone to stop himself, "Please.. p-please [name], 'wanna cum so bad! I'm sorry.. mm sorry!" Kenma's voice came out in pitiful sobs, his desperation evident.

The sound of your tongue clicking, as if you weren’t satisfied with his pleas, only made him more desperate.

“I don’t know… maybe I should make you wait until I can touch you,” you remarked. But all Kenma could focus on was the “until I can touch you.”

The thought of you, looking at him with those pretty eyes as you made him cum on himself over and over again, was too much.

He let out more pleas and whimpers, his hips buckling pathetically into his own hand.

“I need to cum, it hurts. I haven’t in sooo long. Please, just this once.. one time,” he rambled, trying to convince you.

"Alright baby, let it out," you finally relented, and Kenma's moans grew louder as thick white ropes of cum flew out from his sensitive tip, coating his pale stomach. Small thank yous and pieces of your name left his lips as he hit his peak.

"Who knew someone so quiet would moan so loud," you remarked, a hint of amusement in your voice.

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kenlvry · 1 year

Note

LISTEN TO ME RN HEAT ME TF OUT STANS GANG + CRAIG DOIGN THE LIPSTICK TREND FROM TICTOK WITH READER

the lipstick trend with stan and craigs team

an, I AM LISTENLING ANON DONT WORRY. no idea what you mean by heat out though 🤨 , 17-18 and gn reader but use of her in tolkiens

kenny

he was the one who suggested it, it came across his fyp one day and he sent it to you "lets do this come over rn." "you asked, why dont you come to my house? 🤨" "why don't i cum in your mom" "HUH 😧" "im here."

you both definitely argue on what lipstick you should wear "okay but i don't even use pink lipstick" "well you should" "its light colour its not gonna appear" "well fuck 😒"

the process of kissing his face is wild, he would suggest to do his lips as the first place "KENNY HOW ARE WE GONNA DO THIS TREND IF YOU KEEP TRYING TO MAKE OUT WITH ME" "ITS NOT MY FAULT"

after like2 hours you finally get the lipstick on his face. now the tiktok was even harder he wouldn't stop laughing. you'd give up and he apologises while laughing

thank god you guys were able to finish it under 1 hour it turned out really good, at the end of the video he kissed you and you wanted to cut that part but he said keep it for like and its true the comments were all about the kiss on the last clip

kyle

okay he too wanted to ask you first but he was kinda shy and waited for you to ask and you did!! woohoo for kyle

"kyle wanna do this" "OKAY" he insists on picking your lipstick and picks the ugliest colour like what 😐

to him there was no such thing as an ugly colour buy it didn't suit your face so no way.

the process of it was calm, he at first wanted to put on the lipstick for you but you looked like a clown has mans never put on lipstick??

he watches you as you kiss him and reapply lipstick and then kiss him again, he feels like a princess fr 🤭🤭

he hasn't seen his face yet so when you record and he saw his face he laughs out loud, "LMAO WHY DO I LIKE THAT??" "WDYM"

you would tell him to take off his hat which he refuses but you looked too cute, when it posted cartman was first to comment and you can already tell what he commented "ew gay" your followers defended you two though 🤭

stan

stan blushes internally when you ask him. "sure im down" DEEP DOWN HE WANTS KIDNAP YOY AND KEEP YOU TO HIMSELF

"what lipstick do you think matches me best, pink or red?" "id say my tip colour" "WHAT 😧"

he has to hold in the very urge to puke every time you kiss him because like you look so cute omg.

he looks in the mirror and is js like "damn, i did it". HE LOVES IT SOOOO MUCH YOU CAN TELL HE'S BLUSHING ONGG ‼️

he even directs you like "do here next, okay now here" its so cute 🤭🤭

when you record and the camera pans to him, he smiles and covers his face blushing bc he can't contain it. it was such a cute video and got iver 2 mil likes. cartman definitely commented "i bet you had to change your clothes 10 times"

cartman

"cartman lets do this" "what." "wdym? cmon its cute" "y/n no offense but that is the most gayest shit i've ever seen" " NO ITS NOT UTS CUTE" "my reputation is at stake if i do that be so for real" "okay I'm asking kyle then" "lets do it."

he actually been wanting to ask you for weeks now but doesn't know how so winwin. you take your absolute time picking your lipstick and he couldn't be more done with "hurry up this doesn't even effect anything" "shut up cartman if i use the right one people will ask what lipstick it is and i get views"

picking a lipstick was already a big deal just imagine the process "ew gay not on my lips" "cartman 😐" tbh he wish he could just make out with you rn but yk how mans is

now recording is even more a hassle "JUST SMILE IS IT SO HARD TO CRACK A SMILE" "NOT WHILE IM LOOKING LIKE THIS" the most he does is wipes your lipstick off and then he just gives a 🙄 look until the end of the video

the comments are just him getting teased at clydes commenting "NAHHH CAN'T BELIEVE HE AGREED TO THIS" kyles is "i can tell that this took a long time" and then wendys is "is that cartman or a clone of him". cartman is pissed af at the comment, he told you his reputation is at stake 😒.

he actually has it saved downloaded and also is his live wallpaper sooo.

butters

butters is the one who asked you this " um y/n can we do this? 😣" while twiddling his fingers, "OKAY"

he's all giddy and smily during the process, after every kiss his blushes intensifies and by the end of it he is just.. 🔴

even though it is the most simplest video ever he has to have a tutorial, he is asking questions for everything man, how do i wipe the lipstick, what do i do, do i smile when its on me , do i laugh??

you tell him what he thinks he should he and he starts kissing you bc rn the sexual tension between you two is intense (to him atleast, he thinks thinks hand holding is already intense)

everyone comments on how cute he is and yk how tiktok is so people comment "does he whimper" "submissive who?" and hes likw WHATTTTT 🧍

clyde

when you suggested this he nodded so hard his head probably was about to fall off. "clyde you wanna do this" "DO I???" ..... "well.. do you?" "i mean yeah it's like a way of- yes i wanna do it"

he loves any lipstick you wear so he lets you pick. after every kiss he looks in the mirror and kicks his feet giggling and you just stand there 🤨

he also tries to make it a makeout session like kenny, when you kissed on his lips he holds your neck and literally makes out with like cnon we have 9 more

when you first hit record and yk how the guy has to wipe your lipstick off, nah he grabbed you by the chin and slams his lips with yours "WHY DIS YOU DO THAT??" "its called content,you wouldn't know with your 9 likes and 70 views"

well you kept the clip and everyone in the comments were talking about it "need a boyfriend like you y/n" "why can't my boyfriend be like this" clyde is obviously gloating bc he had the idea.

tolkien

most romantic man you know, is the first to ask you. "y/n can we do this?" "OKAY BOO 😝"

"hmm which lipstick do you think babe?" "i think every lipstick makes you pretty, it doesn't matter if it doesn't suit you because in my eyes you look beautiful in anything ☺️" "what if i wore kim kardashians 2013 met gala dress" "might have to rethink what i said"

he smiles while you kiss him here and there, every once a while he kisses you back, it was such a cute moment for you two😝🤞🤞

when recording he looks at you while smiling during the whole video and it blew up fast because of that

"the way he looks at her" "wishing he was like this" "you got the bag that man is inlove", it blew in seconds fr

craig

"craig lets do-" "okay" "i didnt even ask you yet" "I'll do anything if its with you" "what if i asked you to have a threesome" ".....if its makes you happy idk.."

idk about you but i think he acts like he doesn't care but inside he is so happy you asked he's been wanting to ask you this but doesn't know how to start up the convo

he doesn't care what lipstick or where you kiss him, its just the way you press your lips on him and look at it then quickly reapply to do it again because it wasn't pigmented enough.

when recorded, he doesn't just wipe he makes you turn to face him by grabbing your chin, and he doesn't let go and just looks at you with those yk siren eyes.

people are simping over him ong "damn girlie share for us" "you mean OUR boyfriend" "tryna find someone as hot as him" and you are pissed fr he laughs at you cursing out the people, like bae dw my eyes only fo you 😝🤞

tweek

"tweek, wanna do this?" "but what if I can't remove the lipstick stain" "tweek what dw i have makeup remover" "WHAT IF THAT DOESN'T WORK 🤯🤯" "TWEEK"

okay so the lipstick may turn out ugly bc of how shaky he is but ITS OKAY BC ITS TWEEK DUH, "a-are you sure you dont want to redo this?" "tweek its fine"

he insists on redoing it the 2nd try turns our worse because he's even more twitchy because of how close you are☺️☺️☺️

his face is just red because he keeps wiping it off with his hands so you can redo it and its obvious too

recording it was so funny because you can't stop laughing at the smudge lipsticks

when posted the comments were so cute but... uh questionable some were "the way the smudges are so obvious 😭😭❤️" or "wishing my future relationship will be like this 🤭" and some were just "tip colour when?? 😜"

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slytherinshua · 4 months

Text

A JERK. OR NOT?

genre. fluff. warnings. eunseok is a tiny bit jerk... he teases a lot. but he's actually whipped. pairing. eunseok x fem!reader. wc. 1.9k. request. requested by @eternalgyu: JDJSJS OK LISTEN EUNSEOK ACADEMIC E2L- HES ACTUALLY BULLYCORE TO HIS CLOSE FRIENDS BUT HES ALSO THE SWEETEST WHEN HES IN LOVE like he would make u miss ur bus after school and it would rain but then would walk u home w an umbrella HSJSJSJ IM SO DOWN BAD FOR HIM a/n. hehe i ate up this req TBH EUNSEOK IS SO HIGH SCHOOL BOYFRIEND THO??? i literally love him what

You had no idea how you had ended up in this position; somehow charming the school’s most popular guy. Most popular and biggest jerk. But God, who even cared if he was mean when he looked like an angel sent down from heaven to grace the school grounds?

Whenever someone new came to the school, there were several things that they were immediately made aware of. Most of them were given a list or told directly by one of the older students, while others learned naturally within a week of being at Chungdam High.

First? Eating outside was infinitely better than eating in the canteen.

Second? Being late was worse than being absent.

And third? Song Eunseok was the king of the school.

New students could probably just tell from the way he carried himself that he knew he could get anyone to do what he wanted. He was lazy, slept in class, cut in line at the snackbar, toyed with the younger students for his own amusement. He never truly bullied people, but he tread the line sometimes, and you didn’t like it.

You weren’t new to the school. You had been attending since you graduated middle school, and you were ever aware of all 3 of these things. It wasn’t until you were in your graduating year that the third thing became as apparent as ever. For some reason— whether it was a Summer glow-up that you weren’t aware of, or a dare from his friends, or whether he had truly always liked you— at the very beginning of the year, Eunseok had asked you out.

You thought that rejecting him the first time would discourage him from his… fixation. But, to your dismay, after coming back from the fall break, he seemed as determined as ever to win you over. He even somehow got the seating arrangement to change so he sat right behind you. You spent the fall months trying to ignore his constant pestering and note passing. He liked to kick your feet under the table as well.

You didn’t really mind the most handsome guy at school paying attention to you, but you were confused. You definitely weren’t going to blindly accept his offer to be your boyfriend without first getting to know him, which was your secret mission for now.

Given that you didn’t go out of your way to avoid him, and still engaged in conversations with him, Eunseok kept his hopes up despite your original rejection. He was more sensible than his reputation might have painted for him. Yes, he enjoyed teasing people just to see their annoyed face, but bullying was a step too far even for him.

Maybe it was his need for attention, but he thrived on anything he could get. Whether it was the girls all having crushes on him or the boys all being jealous of him— he tried to make sure that he was at the top of everyone’s mind. But he wasn’t a bully. Anyone with any sense would know that Chungdam High did not have a bullying problem, but if anyone were to fill in that spot, it would probably be Eunseok and his friends.

It was because of this ambiguity that you weren’t quite sure whether you should be wary of Eunseok or not. He had never shown an interest in you before, and you wanted to be positive that his affection was sincere before allowing your heart to be affected by his flirting tactics.

Flirting? Yeah, he was quite good at that, you realized after a week of his attention. Only because he had mastered flirting in a way that was not cliche or cheesy, but hanging in that sweet spot of summoning butterflies every time a word flew out of his mouth. Along with his stupidly attractive smirk that appeared whenever you blushed because of his words, you were quickly failing in your plan to be unaffected by him until you were sure you wanted to accept his offer.

It was a delicate balance of your brain’s hesitance and your heart’s curiosity. You had never been in love, and though sometimes you didn’t want to accept it, you craved experiencing that more than anything.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were sitting in the library during your free period. You had come in to get some work done, but instead you found yourself mulling over how Eunseok had acted around you for the last week. You still couldn’t tell whether he was being genuine or not, and that frustrated you. You decided you would just ask him the next time you saw him. Worst case scenario, you would discover that he really was just a jerk trying to play with your emotions.

It seemed as if he wanted that ‘next time’ to be right now, because he pulled out a chair across from you and sat down. He crossed his arms and propped up his feet on the table, blatantly ignoring library etiquette. You shook your head and scoffed, turning your attention back to your very blank notebook.

“You’ve been in here for an hour yet I haven’t seen you turn a single page.” Eunseok started, a smirk already playing on his lips. He had his secret hopes and suspicions that he might be the reason why you were so distracted today. He needed to test out the waters first, though. Your cheeks immediately coloured at being caught, and Eunseok was given a surge of confidence.

“If you’re not planning to study anyway, how about I buy you something at the snack bar? Hello Panda, right? Those are your favourite?” He was already standing up by the time you found yourself nodding your head. You had no choice but to pack up your books and follow him.

“Hey,” You started, taking the chance to ask him your question while he was buying the snacks for you. “Do you seriously like me? This isn’t some stupid dare that Sungchan made you do, right?”

He was silent for a few moments— maybe the first time you had ever heard him stop and think. He grabbed the packet of Hello Panda from the bottom of the vending machine and turned to you.

“Yes. I actually like you.” His face was almost completely stonelike. He was trying not to express anything that could give away just how much he was entirely whipped for you. You could see it in his eyes, though. They looked nervous awaiting your answer.

“Really?” You asked skeptically, needing one more confirmation before you would allow yourself to fully believe him. You wanted to believe him. It was hard trying to ignore his affections towards you every day when your brain kept telling you to take this chance and experience love for the first time.

“Yes. Really. How long are you going to keep asking that?” He said, a little on edge from the situation. It was uncomfortable to have to confess so openly. He could tease you all day without feeling nervous, but when you were staring at him so closely, he started to feel vulnerable.

“Okay. Just making sure…” You grabbed the Hello Panda from his hands and walked off, heart racing just a little faster than your mind. He really liked you? So then… should you ask him out? You shook off the thought as you walked outside. Your bus would be arriving any minute, and you wanted to get home to think in the comfort of your bedroom.

You frowned as you stepped outside. It was raining— a small sprinkle for now, but it looked like it would only get heavier. You didn’t bring an umbrella. You checked your phone for the time.

Shit.

It was already 4:08. Your bus was probably already close to the bus stop. You took off running, eyes widening as you rounded the corner. The bus was already leaving.

“No- No! Come back!” You shouted helplessly, slowing down as you caught up to the bus stop. You panted, scowling at your luck. You would’ve been on time if Eunseok hadn’t distracted you by buying you snacks. You supposed you shouldn’t blame him too much. It was a nice gesture. You were doubtful that the Hello Panda would stay nice if you had to walk home in the rain, though. There wasn’t another bus for over 30 minutes.

“Hey! How could you just leave like that!?” You heard a shout and turned. Eunseok was running towards you, his hand shielding his face from the rain that had gotten significantly heavier since you had reached the shelter of the bus stop. It looked like he didn’t have an umbrella either.

“What do you mean?” You muttered, looking away from him to stop your heart from racing further.

“You’re really not going to say anything?” He asked weakly.

“Get out of the rain.” You said, hoping to divert the conversation from the topic you still weren’t entirely sure about.

“Not until you give me an answer.” He said firmly and you sighed. “Please, I’ll stop if you say so… But I need you to say it. I’ve liked you for a year now. If you don’t tell me to stop then I’m seriously going to cross a line.” He warned, heart all choked up in his throat.

You weren’t sure what to say or do. Eunseok stood, getting soaked from the rain, waiting anxiously for your response. You would be lying if you said that his flirtation over the past months hadn’t had an effect on you. You felt the sparks fly— you had reason to think that it could work out.

“I’ve never… dated before.” You confessed nervously.

“That shouldn’t- No, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is if you want to.” He reassured you, his hopes rising every second that you didn’t say no.

“Then… I like you, Eunseok.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear it. Even though you said it softly, it rang around his head like an alarm.

You liked him?

You liked him.

He couldn’t contain his elation, and rushed forward, capturing you in his arms securely. Though he was soaking wet from the rain, having him hold you felt… pleasant. Much nicer than you had ever anticipated. His touch was cold against your skin but your heart felt warm. Droplets of water from his hair dripped onto your shoulder as you hesitantly reached around to reciprocate the hug.

You heard him giggle. It was adorable. You had rarely seen him smile unless it was a sarcastic smirk, but hearing that sound of pure joy coming from his mouth and knowing that it was because of you triggered your own happiness to spike. It felt nice. Really nice. You didn’t want to let go of the hug, so even when Eunseok started to move away and apologize for hugging you so suddenly, you pulled him back and buried your head further into his chest. He was taken aback by your sudden action.

“You’re so… cute.” He whispered. You smiled, colour rushing to your cheeks. You hid your face even more just in case he saw. His teasing was bad before, but now that you were sure you liked him, it wouldn’t be annoying, it would be embarrassing.

Unfortunately for you, he somehow did catch a glimpse of the blush and didn’t let it go for the entire walk home. Maybe he was still just a little bit of a jerk.

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr, @chiiyuuvv,, @evalevaeva

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doobea · 10 months

Text

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, explicit content (fingering, fondling, heavy petting, public indecency, and makeout sessions), suggestive themes, mainly written in rin's pov, characters are all in their mid/late-20s, his teammates are just trying to help (not really), romcom, he has a therapist!!, idk probably secondhand embarrassment, mutual pinning and they are both awk, mdni word count: 3K a/n: tbh i actually have no idea how to write smut scenes so apologies in advance ps due to popular demand... there IS a taglist below haha just comment on the fic if you want to be added to the next batch c:

二 : Baby, wanna spend it all on you -> prev. ->next.

When Rin thought about his life after college, he'd imagine things a certain way. He'd expected to move abroad, a new city, a new life. He'd expected to play alongside his older brother and for a football team of a different caliber, offering different techniques and skill levels that would promote a challenge to him.

What he didn’t expect was staying in Japan, getting married by the age of 24, playing alongside his teammates from the Blue Lock academy, and representing his nation in the upcoming world cup. It wasn't bad by his standards, just not ideal - more so over the team rather than the location and marriage, surprisingly. He's currently stuck with the same teammates that love to tease him endlessly. But a voice in his head tells him that they're probably the only people who could mesh well with his play style; so he tolerates them.

Here's what Rin Itoshi's teammates know about him: he's married to a famous author, he's fluent in English, he's the most Virgo man out there, he always keeps his phone on 'Do Not Disturb', and his favorite movie is The Shining.

And here's what they don't know about him: he's in an arranged marriage, he's madly in love with you so much to the point where he has all your favorite food orders listed in his notes app, he carries around a physical signed copy of one of your novels at all times (you have no clue and he's never going to tell you), and he's a virgin.

Shocker!

Not many people could crack Rin and not many try. The football player had a reputation for being anti-social, rude, and extremely blunt. But Isagi Yoichi is not like many people. Being one of his long-time teammates (friend - Isagi would like to correct him from time to time), he would always find a way to make Rin slip up more details about his 'top-secret' life. It wouldn't always work and often times the conversation will end with Rin kicking a ball to his head - ouch.

But today felt different, Rin had noticed the shorter male peering at him with mischief laced in his eyes when he had walked onto the training grounds early morning. Rin was prepared to kick the ball extra hard this time around.

"What genre does your wife usually write?" Isagi asks nonchalantly as he begins routine stretches on the turf.

"Why does that matter to you?" Rin bites back while doing his own sets of warm-ups next to him.

Isagi is unfazed and continues, "I've been trying to find something new to read nowadays. It's hard to find good books!"

Sarcasm, Rin notices.

"Even if you did read her books, I highly doubt you'd understand the words."

"Pfft, what does she write physics textbooks or something?"

Before Rin could even insult back, he hears a loud bang from the locker room and one of his teammates running out. Karasu jogs to the field and Rin feels all the color wash off his face. In Karasu's hands held the physical copy of your best-selling novel, 'Pleasure Master Prejudice', the book that Rin always carries in his sports bag.

Suddenly, Rin wants to take back all the harsh insults he's said to his team's face. He starts praying, half expecting the football player to run towards him with flowers instead of your dirtiest erotica story known to man, he will repent all of his sins in this moment.

"Yo," Karasu smirks and waves the book around for everyone else to see, "check out what I found on the locker room floor!"

Rin makes a mental note that he is definitely going to schedule an emergency call with his therapist later.

Otoya is first to make a beeline toward the taller player, immediately snatching the book from his hands and flipping through the pages. "Holy shit, this is nasty!"

"Wait let me see–"

Rin blinks in disbelief as he watches his team of fully grown men scramble to the center of the field, all of them attempting to read out loud the pages and giggling like little schoolgirls. At this point, Rin thinks that the higher beings are out to get him.

"Gross! Gross!" Ranze chokes at the print.

"Guys, what the fuck is a vulva?" Igarashi screeches.

"Read this one, Reo." Nagi eagerly points to a paragraph on the bookmarked page and everyone laughs.

Reo suppresses his laughter and clears his throat, "He spreads my dripping cunt wide with his slender digits, eyes keeping in lock with mine as he hovers over my voluptuous ti–"

"Can you guys fucking stop?!"

All turn to face their redden-faced striker, surprised by the volume coming from his usual monotone voice. Rin is also surprised himself. A pregnant silence falls over the team followed by the sounds of the book cover closing.

"Was that yours?" Isagi finally says.

He can't find the energy or space to punt a dozen footballs in everyone's face so today, safe to say, Rin leaves practice early.

"What brings you in today?" Anri adjusts her glasses and steadies her clipboard in her lap before looking into the camera. "It must've been pretty serious for you to call me last minute."

The football player sinks into the living room couch and tilts the laptop screen back to avoid looking at his agitated expression. He usually schedules weekly therapy sessions every Monday to decompress from his work stress and improve his social anxiety, but today is Friday and he needed Anri to hear him out. He's thankful that her schedule turned out to be flexible last minute and equally as glad that you were currently out drafting another story at a nearby cafe.

"I think I need to move out of the country or just disappear for good." He groans into his hands.

"Rin," She says with a controlled tone, "what triggered this event? Tell me how you're feeling right now."

He bites his lips, "My team knows that I read erotica." Rin shyly admits.

Anri hums on the screen, scribbling her thoughts down on the notepad, "And how does that make you feel?" She repeats.

Embarrassed? Ashamed? He didn't know where to start. He can handle the flack from his teammates tomorrow as cringe as it was today but the main reason why he feels the way he does is–

"It reminds me how I'm being physically avoidant in my marriage."

"Ah," Anri beams as if she's found gold, and Rin hears her flipping through her notepad, "are you two still talking? How long has it been since that incident?"

"A week. I'm still not sure what inclined her to go into my room since we usually keep things separate. We both chose to not talk about it and things have more or less gone back to normal."

"But is that what you want?"

"No," He removes his hands and glances at a framed wedding portrait above the fireplace, "but I'm not sure how to initiate anything with my wife. She doesn't know that I read her stories and I'm not sure if she picks up that I'm inexperienced."

"Do you think reading her published works will help you gain confidence in how you approach her?"

Rin hums in deep thought. He only started reading your novels and short stories around eight months back out of curiosity on a slow practice day. When you guys initially got together, he never really asked about your background due to his ignorance of 'she's probably just another YA novelist'. So, when he typed in your alias into the search bar, he was absolutely taken aback by how lewd and explicit everything was. He felt a sense of insecurity knowing that you've probably had most of these acts done to you (how else were you able to write a detailed bondage scenario) and he couldn't live up to that nor see your evident disappointment if you ever find out that you're his first everything.

"Not sure." Rin answers.

Anri flashes the male a pondering look in her eyes before deciding to leave the lingering topic for their Monday session. They briefly exchange their goodbyes, ending the call with her advice of 'trying to approach things in her shoes', Rin isn't exactly sure what Anri meant by that.

A light buzz comes from the coffee table and he sees your contact flash in his notifications. He sometimes feels like you're taunting him with your comedic timings.

my love hey babe if you're free later do you wanna come shopping with me?

It's already been one hell of a day, why not relax in some retail therapy with your wife? Maybe he can try to attempt whatever Anri was suggesting.

When you told him to meet you at the new corner store located next to a ceramics store, Rin was half expecting it to be another bookstore or beauty outlet. Never in a million years would he have predicted that you brought him to a sex shop of all places.

The boutique is painted in blotches of purple and black circles with two towering rose bushes on either side. Grey mannequins are on display by the arched windows facing the street and they are covered from head to toe in a series of lace, leather, and chain underwear sets. And he spots you, already inside the store staring intensely at your phone with your tote bag in hand before locking eyes and sending over a coy smile.

Rin has been in many unpredictable and hard situations, in football of course, but he couldn't see where this outcome might lead. He finds the strength to wave back after gawking for who knows how long, unaware of his sweat-covered palms, and steps inside a world he's alarmingly unaware of.

"Did you wait long?" He manages to remain composed and refuses to look anywhere else but your face.

"Nope," You reach out to interlock your fingers with his, "I just got here a minute ago. How was practice?"

Rin can't help but roll his eyes, "Wasn't the best, let's talk about something else?" And you nod. "Did you need anything from here, hon?"

"Ah, well..." You scratch your flushed cheeks in thought before nudging him towards the floral pattern-laced body suits in the corner. "I want to incorporate something similar in my writings but I want a personal opinion of them first."

Suddenly, Anri's words pop up in his mind again. How could he see himself in your shoes and what should his response be? Was this strictly for your work or is there a hidden meaning behind it, he thinks to himself. Before he could provide you an answer, a male sales associate interrupts.

"That's a wonderful choice, miss!" The blond male's voice booms through the store’s walls as he struts his way over, wearing a pair of obnoxiously shiny brown loafers, tight black leather pants a size too small, and a white collared shirt with the first two buttons popped open, exposing just a bit of chest hair, "Our Forget-Me-Not Floral collection is seasonal right now and it's been a fan favorite since release!"

“Oh!” Your eyes sparkle at the fact, “May I try a few on?”

Rin feels oddly annoyed, and it's a different type of annoyance compared to Isagi and the rest of his team. He subconsciously tightens the grip around your hand but doesn’t say anything.

The male nods vigorously and shuffles through the drawers, quickly selecting the most revealing ones that the collection has to offer. There was hardly any coverage other than thin white straps and embroidered flowers barely covering where the breasts and vagina would be. Why is this boutique charging so much for something that covers so little? But for some reason, you didn’t seem to mind and happily took the associate’s suggestions.

“Plenty of people like to get the nightgown version, but these are my personal favorites.”

“Thank you so much um—”

The male winks, “Chris Prince.”

And Rin thinks to himself, what an obnoxious name for an obnoxious guy.

You swiftly march yourself to the dressing room with the items in hand, assuring Rin that it’ll only be a short while, and he takes a seat on their small ottoman right outside. He feels Chris’ gaze burn at the back of his head but he pays no mind to it - Rin didn't want to cause headlines tomorrow on top of the series of unfortunate events for today. So, to busy himself, he pulls out his phone and texts you instead.

Rin "Everything alright?" my love "Yes! Getting it on is a bit challenging, trying to figure that out rn haha" Rin "I’m sure it’ll look fine regardless how you wear it" my love "Thanks, Rin :) "

Another notification comes through making Rin frown immediately as he recognizes the name of the sender.

shithead "We’re still cool?" Rin "Fuck off, Isagi." shithead "Lol glad to hear that. See you at practice tomorrow then?" Rin "Sleep with one eye open tonight."

“Hey, honey?” Your voice calls out in the distance, “Could you help me with something real quick?”

He isn't sure what's more revealing - the fact that you're practically almost naked with just lines of sheer fabric barely covering anything up or the face he's making right now. You seem to catch on to his discomfort and quickly hug the front part of your body with your shirt, mumbling an apology afterward. He rushes to close the dressing room curtains, hoping the weird sales associate isn't listening in.

"I can't get the neck part to look right..." You turn around slowly, exposing your bare back and bottom. He thinks you should've worn a hospital gown because this might be too much for his little innocent heart to handle.

Rin feels a lump forming in his throat and knots churning in his stomach while trying to take everything in. He couldn't help his wandering eyes and stood there for a bit, simply admiring what was in front of him. "You look amazing." And it comes out breathier than what he wanted it to.

This is the first time he's seen you almost naked and, the fact it's in a lingerie store, makes him feel terrible as a partner. This brings him back to Anri's wise words from today's session and the past eight months of solid 'research' he's conducted.

Your body flinches at the touch of his slender fingers reaching for the two strands dangling around your neck that were failing to support your breasts. You feel your face reaching concerning levels of warmth as Rin moves closer, his chest practically pressing up from behind, whispering that he needed to get this knot just right. Your eyes go wide when you peer into the mirror, catching Rin's sudden sharp expression and you could've sworn his eyes went dark.

"Is this okay?" His hands rest on your shoulders and looks into the reflection with you, appreciating the finalized look. You gently drop the t-shirt to the floor, mouth agape. The sheer, embroidered cups now fit your breasts perfectly and the bottoms are snug against your lower half but still breathable. The lace hugged and accentuated your curves just right without it being too over the top.

Suddenly, you feel painfully small in his presence.

"Y-Yeah, thanks."

Rin hums in contentment before placing shyly his hands on either side of your hips, "Is this also okay?" He drawls, breath hitting against your ears.

You merely nod in response, having a loss for words at the sudden boldness, and melt into your husband's touch. You screw your eyes shut as his hands sweep lower, fingertips brushing the fabric of the bodysuit and barely skimming your exposed thighs. He stops over where your lower region resides and presses gently against it.

"Rin," It comes out as a whisper.

He kisses your temple and smiles against your skin, "Try and be quiet, my love."

Rin's fingers continue to press against your mound with increasing intensity and you struggle to hold back any form of reaction. His other hand travels from your hips to your breast, giving it a small squeeze.

"They're so soft." He continues to grope, playing with your nipple through the lace fabric, and you feel as if your head is filled to the brim with static.

You find yourself grinding against his fingers, trembling and panting out the quietest of moans you can. "Please." It sounds ragged and raw to Rin's ears.

He tilts your head back by the jaw and sloppily pushes his tongue down your throat. Your desperate hands immediately reach for his hair and the other down to feel for his aching length growing against his pants.

"Grind against it." Rin grits through his teeth, fluttering his eyes shut as you did what he's told and he feels like his body is burning alive.

Rin ravages your lips once more and, feeling a surge of confidence, he slides the bottom of the bodysuit to one side, allowing his digits to fully feel the extent of his work. You moan loudly into his mouth, tears of pleasure forming at the corners of your eyes. He takes that as permission to enter into your folds and the texture and scent emitting from it is addicting to his senses.

"You're so wet."

"It's because of you."

His lips find their way to your shoulders and his hand on your chest grip tight against your now trembling figure as he rapidly pumps in and out of your folds. Your hands clamp over your mouth as a burning sensation tightly builds up.

"It's okay," He murmurs, "you don't have to hold back."

And just at the right angle, you watch as fireworks explode right in front of you. Your mind rewires itself slowly and suddenly everything is over-stimulating. Everything is either too bright or not bright enough. You've become hyperaware of the mesh material against your hot, sweaty skin and the sounds of poorly curated indie music that played in the background. You couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror.

Rin groans at your mess and slips out his fingers with a loud pop before setting your fatigued body against his.

"I think your readers will like it."

TAGLIST

@wtfsaekyuny , @jukey , @broeagleblog , @freakingdinonuggies , @damutaaa , @idk-bro-gay , @saharei , @yesurmajesty , @vvi-site , @saeswifeeee , @marilover69 , @izayumi-chan , @whostakara , @talleythesimp , @short-black-diamond

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star-girl69 · 4 months

Text

Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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pupyuj · 9 months

Note

campus rebel! g!p wonyoung who fucks the shit out of the stuco president for getting her into trouble 😵‍💫😵‍💫 OH MY GOD I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS

bad girl wony... yeah.. yeah exactly. i giggle every time i get g!p ive asks esp annyeongz i just want them to double team me tbh—

LISTENNNN ... ever since 230423 wonyoung i have never been the same, that look is literally how i picture rebel wony 😭😭😭

wwhat if she has never gotten in trouble for all the bullshit she did when you weren't the stuco president :(( wony got away with everything scot-free bcs the previous presidents were scared of what might happen to them (like expulsion) bcs wony had a bit of a hold in the school 😟😟 but then you got elected, and things changed real fast 😁 teachers were actually scolding her?? giving her shit when she was late to class or wandered the halls during?? and she has never gotten detention before... until you personally put her in one 😭

the detention in question being held in the student council meeting room, it was just you and her. wony was pissed, she could be out partying and getting laid right now but instead, she had to stare at your pretty face while you did your work and babysat her at the same time! looking up from your desk briefly and seeing that the paper in front of wonyoung was still blank. "it's a simple apology, jang. i'm doing you a favor by saving you from a criminal charge. this won't hurt your reputation, you know." you said with a sigh.

"oh trust me, it's been hurt the moment you stepped up that stupid podium in the gym and did your campaign speech like you were the leader of the nation." wonyoung picked up her pen and started scribbling on her paper. well, at least you wouldn't have to deal with her eyes just burning holes into your head anymore! she doesn't even get why she has to apologize 🤨 spray-painting cock and balls to that creepy janitor's truck was funny! and he deserved it!

and then a few minutes later, here comes wony marching over to your desk and slamming her paper down in front of you. what you didn't see was a proper apology but rather a big drawing of a middle finger. this was useless.

"do you wanna go to jail, jang? don't forget that this isn't the first time you've broken a literal law!"

wonyoung merely shrugged, a cocky smile on her lips, "you're just afraid you'll miss me."

you grabbed a new piece of paper, stood up, and pushed it on her chest, "get your shit together. not even your daddy can pull you out of the mess you want to create." but wonyoung was not at all threatened! see, she has always thought that as much as you were a pain in her ass for always scolding her about what she wore, her attitude, and everything... you were still hot. and to you, even when wonyoung was the bane of your existence, you still wanted her badly deep down (pretty, charismatic, cute smile... who could ever resist?), so you didn't complain at all when she suddenly grabbed your waist and kissed you 😳😳

it was messy, what with wonyoung biting your lips and forcing her tongue in your mouth,,, and it wasn't until she lifted you on top of your desk that she finally pulled away, busying her hands with unbuttoning your shirt, her lips now on your neck,,, the way she wouldn't stop teasing you 😭😭 "d'you get me in trouble just so you can have me alone? you could have just told me that you wanted me, prez." shes so annoying 😩

shhdfdkffbf wony marking you all over and you complaining about it 😭😭 AND YOU'RE ARGUING EVEN WHEN SHE HAS HER DICK INSIDE YOU BCS SHE'S TOO FAST OR SOMETHING 💀 you really have no fucking idea why girls throw themselves on her all the time when all she's focused on is her pleasure 🙄 but wony doesn't give a fuck, she's still pissed at you for making her look weak and small now 🫠🫠 so she doesn't care that her pace is too fast, or that she practically forced her big cock inside your tight walls, or that she left too many bite marks on your neck and shoulders... people were gonna know what happened here, and people will know that it was all her doing 😈

wony forcing your legs open for her while she pounds your cunt 🤤🤤🤤 but she's baby so she was whining and groaning in your ear, head buried on your shoulder bcs you feel really good :(( and she gets addicted to the way you say her actual name, totally different from the usual spiteful way you say 'jang', so she makes you say it again and again :((( your voice becoming the thing that grounds her but god she literally can't help but just ruin you so after coming together for the first time, wony immediately puts your legs on the ground and bends you over :((((

her saying mean things to you while she's destrying your cunt from behindddd 🫠🫠

"you're a f-fucking bitch, prez... i hate you.."

"be thankful that you're so pretty, and that this pussy is fucking sweet c-cuz.. ahh, fuck...! i would have gotten you expelled a long time ago... mhmm.. feels so good... so good..."

"from now on, i'm gonna make you my slut... i'm sure you'd like that, unnie.. j-jang wonyoung's cute little cocksleeve sounds more of a better title than student council president..."

needless to say, she fucks you stupid until detention was over! but since you still had stuco prez things to do until sundown, you had to stay in school and ofc wony did too 😁 tho you didn't complain this time bcs cockwarming her while you did your work and kissing her from time to time made everything a little less boring! 🤤

#ive smut #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive imagines #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung imagines #wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group smut

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moni-logues · 26 days

Text

What the cat dragged in

Pairing: Lee Know x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: smut, angst, strangers-to-lovers (kinda); 5+1

Summary: You followed Minho home because you had nowhere else to go. Then you kept following... all the way into his heart, but not his bed.

aka five times you and Minho don't fuck and one time you do.

Content: reader is 16yo in the first section (nothing sexual or romantic happens but there are suggestions of it), couple of references to human/sex trafficking; the gang are useless crime idiots but this is only barely relevant; interrupted foreplay; attempted car sex; unprotected piv sex; fingering; a lot of kissing tbh

Word count: 13.5k

A/N: SO this whole thing actually started HERE in JUNE (jfc, I thought I'd been thinking about this since like, October or something but, no no, a full ten months!!!!). It has drifted from that somewhat but that was its beginning and, honestly, I'm kind of stoked about this fic. I really like how it came out and it's my FIRST MINHO. It's taken me SO long to get around to my bestest evil catdad.

Huge thanks to @violetsiren90 for beta-ing! and also for reading it half-finished when I really needed some encouragment. AND for the title

*~*~*

FIRST

“Why don’t you fuck off?”

The voice came from behind you. It was low and cold and threatening. It was directed at Shindong, the man in front of you, whom you were sure was this close to offering to take you home. You whipped around to see who had uttered it.

Your immediate thought was that he was too short and too slight to be walking up with that level of aggression. Your second thought was interrupted by the spark that shot up your arm when he grabbed your hand. You’d have pulled it back, but his grip was solid and your arm didn’t budge.

“What the fuck do you want, Minho?” your companion replied, all the charm sliding off his face, replaced with a loathing, arrogant sneer.

“I want you to fuck off.”

“She yours? Might want to keep a closer eye on her; she was just about to come home with me.”

The stranger’s hand squeezed yours, so hard it started to hurt. He offered nothing in response.

Both men continued to stare at each other. Shindong had inches on Minho – both height and breadth – and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw him hesitating. He flicked his eyes between you and Minho.

“What if I want to fight you for her?”

“What if I told you she’s not legal?”

Shindong hesitated, moved just a fraction backwards, no longer leaning in, looming over the two of you. He rolled his eyes and gave a heartless chuckle.

“Not worth the fucking bother,” he muttered as he walked away.

Minho, still a stranger to you, still holding your hand, who hadn’t even looked your way, pulled you sharply by said hand, storming off and taking you with him. You followed him into one of the warehouse’s many dark corners. He kicked out the couple who were two clothing items shy of a citation for public indecency, and only then did he let you go. Only then did he turn his dark, flaming eyes on you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.

Shindong had been your lifeline. What did this guy think he was playing at?

Your vehemence took him off-guard, surprise flashing across his face, until his scowl returned, worse than before. You understood now why he made Shindong hesitate. His gaze was fierce, penetrating, his jaw set, his mouth a taut, grim line. You would never show your hand to anyone, but a cold droplet of fear slithered down your spine. You straightened it, rolled your shoulders back, lifted your head. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you.

“Do you know him?” he asked, voice still low, still threatening.

Not personally. Not until that evening. But people like him came with a reputation that preceded them. A reputation that you were relying upon being based in fact. A reputation that had spread all around your school and beyond, but that you had heard from a source close to the truth. It was close enough that you were able to find him here, in a part of town you’d never been to. It was close enough that you were able to pick Shindong out from this crowd. Close enough that when you approached him and he laughed at you – young, naïve, foolish, all of those things you were sure he thought – you were able to drop his cousin’s name and he suddenly took you seriously. That was what you had been hoping for. A connection was all you needed to keep you covered for a night, at least. Just one would be something.

And then this guy showed up.

“I was about to.”

Minho’s top lip curled, just a fraction, his nose barely wrinkling with the movement, but you got his meaning. Disgust. He could be as disgusted as he liked; that wasn’t your problem. Your problem was that his disgust had led him to chase away your only lead.

Or was he? Was Shindong your only option?

You changed tack. Realised that maybe you had another now. Minho, whoever the fuck he was, had approached you as if he knew you and scared off the competition. That must have been it. Despite the way he glowered at you, absolutely no interest or desire lurking behind his dark eyes, you figured you had nothing left to lose.

You relaxed a little, pouted your lips, played up to the damsel in distress he might have thought you were.

“But if he’s so awful, I guess I can only thank you,” you said, making your voice soft, your eyes a little wider. You lifted your lips in a tiny, shy smile and then put a hand to them, your thumb and index finger tugging a little on your bottom lip, hoping it made you look small, nervous, sweet.

He gave you no reaction. He continued to glare, his stance unchanged, unmoving. So you moved. You stepped towards him: shy, little bird steps, until you were so close that he moved backwards.

“Thanks for looking out for me. Your name’s Minho, right?”

His eyes tightened minutely. He didn’t reply.

“I’d like to thank you properly,” you said, sliding your body into his, pressing just one finger against his chest. You fluttered your lashes up at him.

His face changed immediately. Eyes wide, mouth dropping, and he was stumbling backwards, pressing himself against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing? What are you, fifteen?”

Embarrassment licked your cheeks like flames and your scowl returned.

“I’m sixteen!”

“Wow, big age. My mistake. By all means, let’s fuck, Sixteen.”

His sarcasm was biting but you hadn’t given yourself up yet.

“Don’t you want to?” you asked, innocently. “You must have sent Shindong away for a reason. If not this, then what?”

He let out a sigh so aggrieved it was almost a shout. He rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, where are your parents?” he asked, but it was muttered, almost under his breath and you didn’t know if you were supposed to answer. You did anyway.

“Dead.”

His lack of reaction grated. He didn’t flinch. There was no surprise, no guilt on his face. He had robbed you of Shindong and now he had robbed you of your fun: getting a reaction out of people as a poor, orphaned, little Annie was as close as you got these days. Then again, he wasn’t a well-meaning aunt or nosy teacher. He knew what this place was; he knew, or at least knew of, Shindong. Maybe your hand-grenade was, here, little more than a snap.

“And this is your great life plan? Offering sexual favours to predators?”

He gestured widely to the room behind you, and you could only assume he did not mean to include himself in that group.

Actually, it was your plan. Kind of… Insofar as you had any sort of plan at all. You would not be telling him that. You kept your mouth shut tight and jaw clenched, refusing to look down, to be the one to break the eye contact.

“You know he’s a fucking bad guy,” he said, more softly than he had said anything so far but the hard edge remained.

“And what are you, my hero?”

“Absolutely fucking not. I do not want to have anything to do with whatever mess you are making of your life, but I’m not about to let that cunt take off with a child.”

“I am not a child!” you shouted, right in his face.

He took it, impassive, unimpressed even.

“That’s exactly what a child would say.”

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to smash him in his beautifully sharp jaw, or break that perfect, delicate nose of his. You were just about not stupid enough to try. How did he even know you were young? You knew you didn’t look it; you were always getting told you looked older than you were. How did he know? Why did he care?

“Go on then,” you said, darkly. “Leave. If I’m not your fucking problem, why don’t you fuck off?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move.

“Worried I’ll get murdered?”

You lifted your hands to your open mouth, eyes widened, a mockery of fear.

His face and tone were flat when he responded.

“There are things worse than death.”

Then he pushed past you and out of the door.

You took one shaky breath and walked after him before you could talk yourself out of it. You decided that, one way or another, this guy owed you and it was time to collect.

You followed him, not too closely, but not exactly hiding it, for over a mile. You wondered, at one point, if he was trying to lose you, if he was actually heading to his destination or just trying to outlast you. You’d show him. You were a long-distance runner at school; you were extremely confident you could keep up.

So confident, in fact, so determined were you not to lose him, that you were too slow to notice him slowing, to notice him stopping, to very nearly not stop yourself walking into him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, not turning to look at you.

“I’m walking here.”

“Stop following me.”

“I’m not following you.”

He raised his eyes skyward. He stood for a moment and you stood, too, waiting for him to continue – walking or talking, you didn’t know which. He finally turned around and looked at you, everything about him a little softer than before. Not soft, but softer.

“You can’t follow me,” he told you slowly, emphatically. “I am not looking after you. I am not your fath-“

“I don’t have a fucking father.”

He scoffed.

“Yeah, that much is very clear, Sixteen.”

“I’m not sixteen!”

He frowned.

“That’s what you told me.”

“That’s not my fucking name! Stop saying it like I’m a child. How old are you anyway?”

“Old enough to know better.”

“What does that mean?”

“Go home, Sixteen.”

“I don’t have a home.”

“Well you can’t have mine.”

He turned on his heel and continued walking, a little faster this time, increasing his pace to a jog as he crossed the road. You knew he hoped you wouldn’t be able to follow, that the flashing green man would disappear before you could make it, but you’d been underestimated before.

After another mile or so, you saw him take his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. You couldn’t quite hear what he was saying but you thought it sounded like Japanese. Was he Japanese?

It hadn’t missed you, the knowledge that you had no knowledge of this man. You understood that you were, as far as you knew, in as much danger following him home as you had been going with Shindong. But you literally had no other options. It was follow this guy somewhere or wander around on the street all night; it was too cold to stay out. You hadn’t thought beyond that when you’d left your house earlier that day. Hadn’t thought much at all, except about getting out.

Now you were out. Mission accomplished. And you had no idea what to do next.

You almost missed him ducking into a narrow side street, but you caught the door he rushed through just before it shut. He disappeared from view through another door, off to the left of the dingy, dimly lit corridor you found yourself in. You stalked up to it – it wasn’t even fully closed – but something made you hesitate.

Suddenly the fear that you had been suppressing all night raised its head. Was this a lion’s den? A serpents’ nest? Was Minho playing some kind of long game, saving you from Shindong so you would trust him, so you would follow him here, so he could…?

“Are you going to fucking stand out there all night?” you heard a voice call from inside. It had to be Minho’s but you wouldn’t have bet on it.

You fixed your face, your scowl reappearing, and kicked the door open with excessive force.

It was just a bar. Just him, sitting on a stool with a beer in his hand, and one other guy, standing opposite, looking at you with his eyebrows raised in the way a parent does when they catch their child doing something naughty.

“You break that door, I’m going to make you pay for it,” he said, in an accent that you knew wasn’t local.

And, just like a defiant child, you slammed it shut without breaking eye contact. He turned to Minho.

“Thanks, man. You had to bring home a fucking streetrat.”

“I am not a streetrat,” you spat.

“No?” Minho chimed in. “Then where’s your home?”

“Fuck off.”

“I really wish you would.”

You sat down in a booth just off to your left and stared him down.

“She can’t stay here,” the stranger said to Minho, as if you were no longer there.

“I didn’t bring her; she just came.”

He, the newest stranger, looked between you and Minho for several seconds. He was looking at Minho when he spoke again.

“One night. That’s it. And she’s your responsibility.”

He heaved a box full of empty glass bottles into his arms and wandered away, through a different door, mumbling something about ‘strays’.

“Who was that?” you demanded as Minho continued to sip at his beer.

You realised that you hadn’t actually been introduced to him either. And he hadn’t asked for your name. You wondered if he would now.

“None of your fucking business,” he answered, finally moving from the stool to walk behind the bar.

He opened the cash register and took bags from a cubby just below it. He produced a tiny pencil from his pocket and tore off a strip of the receipt roll. He took out the cash and started to count. You watched his lips move silently as he flicked quickly through the notes, pausing to drop a stack onto the bar and write a number down. He picked up the next stack and repeated.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, not looking up, not even, apparently, pausing in his counting. “Even if you got your urchin mitts on it, you wouldn’t make it to the door.”

You believed him, but you weren’t planning some kind of move. You didn’t need his money. You were just watching.

You watched until all the notes and all the coins were accounted for, until they had been put into bags and those bags into a box and Minho turned to follow his friend. You stood from your seat and went after him.

There were two doors, you realised. Minho took the left. It led to an office. The other guy must’ve taken the right because the room was empty except for furniture and, in the corner, a safe. Minho dumped the box before it and turned to you.

“Turn around.”

“Worried I’ll crack the code?” you asked with your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Just turn around.”

You did as you were told without a fight because, at that point, there was nowhere else to go. You couldn’t admit defeat and walk out of there; you weren’t sure that Minho wouldn’t make you do just that. It was a knife-edge, being the obnoxious, vile brat that you were. You’d stormed past boundaries before but, well, look where it got you. You were tired and worried enough now to decide you would stop pushing your luck. It had been stretched far enough already.

There was a second of silence before you heard the beeping of the buttons pressed and the shuffling of bags, the clink of coins, the thunk of a bigger, metallic something against the walls of the safe. He didn’t tell you when he was finished, didn’t say you could turn back around. He just walked past you, out of the office, turning the light off as he went. As soon as you were out of the door, he shut and locked it.

You followed him back to the bar and he did the same thing: turned off the lights and held a door for you (not politely, not because he was being nice), following you through it and locking this one behind him, too. You walked to the end of the corridor and he gestured you down some wooden stairs that creaked as if they would break under your weight. He turned the corridor light off, too, and locked the door at the top of the steps.

This was it. You were locked in. There were at least two locks between you and escape. When Minho shoved past you to the left and opened yet another door, your stomach sank a little further. Three locked doors. He didn’t hold this one for you but he didn’t slam it in your face either, so you rolled your shoulders back, put on your game face and walked through.

You almost regretted it when you saw where it led. It was possibly the worst place you had ever seen. It wasn’t messy, but there was something dirty about the room anyway. Outdoor furniture inside; everything vaguely brown in a way that you didn’t think it had been fresh out of the box; everything tired and worn and sagging; the naked lightbulb dim and humming as it shone; the fridge, scratched and dented and shoved into a corner, also hummed, managing to sound as well as look tired. It was bleak. It was grey. It made you feel like things were crawling on you and you’d only just stepped foot in it.

You half expected your feet to stick to the floor when you took a few steps forward. They didn’t but the carpet was so old and worn that you had no idea what colour it was originally; in places, you could see the floorboards clearly through the threads.

Minho pointed to the sofa.

“There,” was all he said.

Then he disappeared out of the room. You gingerly sat on the edge, wondering if you should be more concerned about your health or your safety. Maybe you were sheltered here, but you pictured a thousand and one diseases squirming on the cushions. It wasn’t fair to, because you could see that it was cleaned. The room wasn’t filthy; there were no crumbs or water rings on the coffee table; there was no rubbish littering the floor; the sink was empty and a stack of plates and bowls stood beside it, washed if not yet dried. Minho was clearly diligent.

Minho and whoever else lived here. There were too many doors leading off this room for him to be here alone.

Your curiosity was stopped in its tracks when he reappeared with a pillow and a towel. He threw the pillow wordlessly at one end of the sofa and then he raised the towel a little.

“I don’t have any blankets. Don’t get cold.”

You scoffed a laugh and were grateful that he ignored it. You weren’t indignant; you weren’t being a brat this time. You were dismayed. You couldn’t believe it. A house with no spare blankets. You were going to sleep under a towel. You glanced around you for a final time, tears pricking in your eyes, fingers at your lips, picking nervously. You weren’t going to die here, you told yourself. Probably. You were probably not going to die here and that was all you needed.

You stood up, turned off the light, tested the door handle (not sure if you wanted it to be locked or unlocked), then returned to the sofa. You took off your shoes, took your bag from your back and hugged it tightly to your chest. You lay in the dark, in a stranger’s horrible house, alone, tired, more vulnerable than you would ever admit. You cried silently, reluctantly grateful for the towel, until you fell asleep.

SECOND

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to everyone! Happy birthday to you!”

You only got one birthday a year. The whole group of you. There wasn’t enough to stretch to everyone getting an individual birthday, an individual cake, a day off. So the middle day of the year, 2nd July, was chosen and you all had a birthday together.

One cake, one candle each, six people blowing them out. Most unsanitary, but, by now, there wasn’t much you hadn’t shared so a little spit didn’t even register.

You were too drunk by far, which was stupid really. It wasn’t even your first time drinking legally (because your real birthday wasn’t until later in the year), so there was no reason for you to behave as if you had never had a drink before. You should have learnt a little self-control.

But it was your birthdays. So you kept having one more and one more and one more. As did everyone else.

“Nineteen!” Minho called as he fell into the booth next to you.

“I thought I was Sixteen?”

He shrugged.

“You do still act like it.”

You shoved him, almost hard enough to push him off his seat completely. He shoved you back.

“Shut up, Minnie.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, plotting death for using the nickname he loathed above all others, and you sent a simpering smile back at him.

“You’re a little squirt, anyone ever tell you that?”

You rolled your eyes.

“You, literally all the time, because you are for some reason desperate to sound like the oldest grandpa in the room.”

He let out a growling sort of cry, dramatic because he’d also had too much to drink. Then he stood.

“BYE, Sixteen!”

If someone didn’t know the two of you, it would seem as if nothing had changed in the time since you met: both antagonistic, unlikable, as hard as you could make yourselves, forced together and barely tolerating it.

Those who did know you, however, knew that things were very different now. Minho had, reluctantly, taken responsibility for you and, when you had grown up just enough to realise what that had meant, you felt all your hard resolve melt.

They had very little, this ragtag bunch of kids (barely older than you) but they shared everything between them. Never quite enough to go around, money from legitimate enterprises never stretching far enough and having to be supported by money from less than legitimate means. You were a liability. In every sense. The only girl, a stranger, certainly not (at that time) a criminal. But Minho took responsibility and the others let you in.

When you had learnt to see past your own nose, you saw the myriad ways in which they took care of each other. The silent, invisible way Minho cared for his friends. For you. You hadn’t forgotten the sting of electricity you’d felt when he held your hand way back when. Before you’d even seen him, before you knew his name, before any of this. You felt it all the time now. You were a live wire for him.

No one in the group was stupid enough to refer to you as siblings or even joke that you acted like them. Your feelings for Minho were your most closely guarded secret but that didn’t mean everyone didn’t know. You were pretty sure even Minho himself knew. Not that he would ever act on it. He pretended not to notice, you thought. You had pushed close to the edge of being kicked out enough times to know that some things were still precarious. To know that he would never risk his weird family by acknowledging there was anything more than friendship between you. If it even was between you. He had given you very little reason to believe your feelings were reciprocated. So you did your best to ignore them.

They became a fact of life. Like the fact that Minho was the only one Chan trusted to count the cash (not because the others weren’t trustworthy; they just weren’t accurate). Like the fact that Chan had the final say on everything. Like the fact that he would never abuse that authority and act for anything other than the wellbeing of the entire group. It just was.

And it wasn’t like you were stupid enough to pine. You had some pride. Plenty, in fact.

You stood from the booth and sauntered to the bar where your sometime-boyfriend, Johnny, was getting another drink.

“Babe,” you whined, draping yourself over his back, hooking your chin over his shoulder.

“Babe,” he whined back, copying, mocking.

“Entertain me, I’m bored.”

“It’s your party.”

You pouted and forced him to join you on the makeshift dancefloor. You refused to notice that Minho left it as soon as you joined, his face dropping, looking only at Johnny and never once pleased about it.

Chan had cut off the booze supply hours ago and the sun was thinking about raising its head above the horizon, which meant that, far from being wasted and happy and giddy and passing out in your bed, your hangover was already crawling in and you were tired and irritable. Johnny had pissed you off sometime before the booze dried up and then pissed off entirely before you’d begun to sober up, so you’d spent the smallest hours of the morning making your bad mood everyone else’s problem.

Everyone except Minho. Because whilst you were always determined, at these moments, to needle him, to want to get under his skin, to want to scrape it back and spit on it, he was never there. He managed to avoid your venom and, even when he didn’t, seemed immune. He would just slow-blink at you as if he were looking through you and turn away. It boiled your blood and he knew it.

You stomped downstairs to the same shithole basement you’d walked into two years ago. Everyone else had either left or gone to bed already, you thought. You expected it to be empty. It wasn’t.

“Fuck sake, Mouse,” you spat, using your usual nickname, his preferred one (… preferred being too strong a term; it was the one he allowed you to use without retaliation). “Why are you sitting on your own like a fucking loser?”

“You know he treats you like a fucking loser?”

He turned to lean over the back of the sofa, looking tired under his eyes but energetic within them.

“Fuck off,” you returned. “As if you give a shit who I date.”

“Date? That’s what you call it?” He scoffed, deliberately, exaggeratedly, as if you wouldn’t otherwise have recognised his scorn. “He treats you like dirt.”

“You would know.”

He was on his feet and in front of you before you could blink.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You’d had about enough of it, you decided at that moment. Not enough sleep, too much alcohol, and just enough of this bullshit. You grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled him with force towards you. You took him by the back of the neck and kissed him, hard and like you meant it. Because you did. It only took him a second to push you back, hands firm on your shoulders, holding you away from him. His face had lost his usual mask – the blank, passive, flat-eyed one that he used to stare people out with unnatural stillness – but he was still keeping you out; it was guarded, flashes in his eyes being stamped out with every blink, his jaw held tight and his mouth shut.

“That’s what I fucking mean, Minho,” you hissed.

“How dare you?” he hissed back, voice so low in his throat you almost couldn’t hear it. “You have no fucking idea.”

His blinks weren’t quick enough this time to hide all the anger burning in his eyes.

“No idea of what? What?!”

His lip curled and he let you go. He let his guard down around you more than he should have: shrugged you off and turned his back on you. You took both palms and pushed him. He tumbled forward, catching his foot on a side table, pulling it down with him as he hit the floor. Cat-like in his reflexes, he was on his feet before the table had stopped rocking. He charged straight at you and continued until you were pressed up against the door, until he was pressed up against you.

“You want a kiss?” he asked and every part of you should have been screaming yes, because you did.

You did want a kiss, but nothing about this was how you wanted it. It was a threat, not an offer. You’d been threatened with worse. You jutted your chin out a little, always standing up, never backing down.

“You going to give me one?”

His eyes flicked towards your lips, hovered there a second, like he was really thinking about it. They stayed there a little longer and doubt was picking up speed on its race to your consciousness. You thought he wouldn’t. You thought he would. You still couldn’t predict his behaviour. You thought you had him pinned and then he flipped you. You always thought you had him on the ropes, but you never really did.

You were impatient, tiring of this, doubt and insecurity and embarrassment swelling up inside you and you opened your mouth to tell him to go away, to fuck off and die, to do something vile to himself. It was at that moment that his eyes met yours again, for a split second that sent a streak of ice through your blood, and then his mouth was on yours.

You had never once looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even if you had wanted to, even if you had decided before he did it that you would push him off, return his rejection, you couldn’t possibly have done it now. His lips were soft, his hands still tight around your arms. He crowded you further against the door, your bodies pressing together as he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave it to him. Your hands snaked up his chest and into his hair; it was softer than you’d expected, silky. For a moment, you were disarmed by it. Soft. He never let his softness show if he could help it. Only rarely. Only when he felt safe enough to let his guard down did it ever come creeping out from its hiding place. But here it was, sprouting from the top of his head. Here it was, pressed against your lips, brushing your tongue. You felt weak at the knees.

As far as kisses go, it was the best you’d had. Fire and ice fighting: goosebumps erupting on your skin as it flushed hot, making you shiver. His mouth was warm and wet and sweet and you were desperate for more, knowing that he was kissing you just right and that you weren’t doing the same. You were too eager, too greedy, too needy. This wouldn’t be enough. Couldn’t be enough. Just his lips on yours, his tongue rolling with yours, his hands still pinning your sides. You couldn’t stop here. You had to have him. All.

You whined when he pulled back, when his grip on you loosened, and you opened your eyes expecting his to be soft and liquid, to be those sweet, round boba eyes he didn’t show enough of.

They were hard and flat. He moved away from you in one, long step and back was that impassive blankness he loved so much.

“Happy fucking birthday,” he said.

He stalked off to his bedroom and shut the door.

You stayed, glued to the front door, shaking. With anger, probably. With embarrassment, maybe. With something akin to heartbreak, but you would never admit it. The roaring in your ears, the screaming of invective at both yourself and Minho in your head so loud that you didn’t hear the sound of a key in the lock, weren’t aware that someone was trying to get in until they were shoving at the door, pushing you with it.

“What the fuck?” came a quiet whine from the other side of it as he slowly pushed you away and got the door open. “Why were you trying to keep me out?”

Jisung’s hamster cheeks were full of kimbap, the other half of the roll still in his hand, and his eyes were wide with that cute, pitiful look he carried off so perfectly.

You ignored him. You stomped into your bedroom and slammed the door as hard as you could.

THIRD

Despite having your own bedroom (graciously offered up by Changbin and very ungraciously accepted by you), privacy in the small basement flat was an issue. Which is why you were huddled in the farthest corner of it, fists stuffed in your mouth, crying as quietly as you could in the dead of night.

You lived with five men, but you had not yet found someone to date who would take the threat of them seriously. They did make threats, on occasion, when they had to. Because you had not yet found a man who could treat you as anything more than shit but you had, apparently, found the least bothered and most unfazed men in the city. The one before last had barely flinched when all five of them had battered down his door to come for you, when you had finally managed to get a message out that he was keeping you there.

You never found out what happened to him. You didn’t ask and no one told you.

This one hadn’t been that bad. That was the problem. You had thought he was nice. You had thought (as you had so many times before) that he might actually be the first to treat you right.

You were wrong. So, you were crying in the corner of your room. You didn’t always cry. In fact, you didn’t often cry. Rarely, even. It meant that, when you did, the floodgates opened and you found it hard to stop. You found it almost impossible to breathe, desperately snatching air between sobs. Your head was already pounding, your face aching. It was total and complete the way it overtook you. So much so that you didn’t notice the presence of another person until they sat down beside you.

You gasped, as much as you could amongst your shaking, shallow breaths, and were only slightly comforted that it was him. He said nothing. He pulled you towards him and held you like that until the storm had passed.

You continued to sit in silence as your tears dried on your face, as your heartrate settled and your breathing became even. He didn’t make a move to let you go and you didn’t make one either. You were tired. You were sad. You were, though you wouldn’t admit it, a little bit heartbroken. This bit of comfort was exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t want him to say anything. You didn’t want to hear it. That you’d done it again. That you’d never learn. That, somehow, you were gullible and easy to fool despite the fact that you had been hardening yourself against vulnerability of every kind since you were a child. That men just found a way to get beyond your defences—that bad men found a way. The good ones didn’t find you at all.

“His loss,” was what he said.

You lifted your head, tears still clinging to your lashes, drying on your cheeks. He had that look on his face that he saved for you: the soft, sweet one he gave you when you’d earnt it or when you needed it. The one that made your insides curdle, that even now made your heart skip a beat, that you wanted to fall into forever, that had sealed your fate so many years ago now. He blinked slowly at you, cat-like as always, and brushed your hair from your face.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came. Your voice was trapped in your throat because he was still looking at you like that but his eyes kept flicking down, then back up, then down again at longer and longer intervals until he closed them completely and brought his lips to yours.

You didn’t have to think twice. Didn’t have to think at all. Your body did the thinking for you. Your hands pushed into his hair and your legs pushed you up so you could slot them down either side of his hips. His hands found your waist and then the soft skin on the other side of your t-shirt.

This was nothing like the first time. You remembered it all too well: the electricity, the anger, the volcano of feelings you’d tried to suppress rumbling and threatening to erupt, to blow the lid off the equilibrium you’d found. The hunger, the desperation, your own neediness spoiling it all.

You weren’t desperate anymore, for his approval, for his love, for whatever he would give you. You wanted it all, would lay yourself on the floor and kiss his feet if he asked, with no hesitation, but you always knew he wouldn’t ask. You’d got used to that.

Except now he was kissing you – he had kissed you – and his hands were squeezing at your waist and it was slow. Controlled. Deliberate. There was nothing accidental about the way his tongue rolled over yours, the way his teeth bit at your bottom lip, the way his hands pulled you lower on his lap, pulled you closer to him until there wasn’t so much as a breath of air between you.

“Mouse,” you murmured, quietly into his mouth.

He shook his head minutely, a tiny hum swallowed by you when he pressed your lips together again. No talking. Fine. You didn’t need to talk. If he kept kissing you, kept touching you, you wouldn’t need to utter another word again. But you couldn’t stop the little gasp when he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck, the moan rising in your throat when he ran his tongue over the same spot, hurting then soothing. Like always.

It made your brain turn fuzzy, static wavering in your mind, as all your conscious thoughts turned to liquid, melting into Minho’s mouth, swallowed down by him, eaten whole.

Then the front door slammed hard.

“Guys!” Chan shouted, in a way that he never did.

You heard him pounding on doors, opening them, starting with Changbin and Hyunjin’s on the right.

You sprang apart like two north magnets, instinctively repelled by one another, just in time for Chan to burst through the door and scan the room for you, too wired, too stressed to register that it might have been weird for you to be sitting on the floor like you were, certainly not noticing your kiss-bitten lips or heavy breathing or the way Minho’s hair was ruffled like it had just had a fist in it.

“We’ve got to go,” Chan announced. “Like, right fucking now.”

FOURTH

No one wanted to up the ante. No one wanted to start getting involved with the organised crime lot. Your crime was… disorganised. It was local. It was just you doing the things you needed to, skirting around the law to survive. It wasn’t really crime, not if you squinted hard enough. Then the police raided the bar (which was illegal in pretty much every way that mattered) and you had nowhere left to go.

There was just enough of the trust your parents left you (which you got access to at 21) to secure a new apartment (one that was not underground) and a small buy-in with a group of much larger, older, more experienced criminals. There was very little else you could’ve done at that point. Or so you all told yourselves.

The apartment was an upgrade in every way but size. It was newer and above-ground which meant it stayed warm and didn’t get damp. It had windows which let the sun in. It had enough room for two sofas so everyone could sit comfortably. It had a gas hob which really only Chan and Minho cared about, but they cared a lot. It had two bathrooms with reliably hot water and good pressure. It did not get power cuts. It did not always smell musty. It was not brown and beige and grey. But it did have fewer rooms to be parcelled out between you all.

The last one had four rooms that served as bedrooms. This had three. Between six. There had been furious arguments and endless straw-pulling and no one was happy with the results. It took a few weeks but eventually things shook out as they always should have.

You shared with Minho because he was the only one who was willing. You both had reputations for being scary (in totally opposite ways: you the raging bull to his still, fathomless water); you loved to take your bad moods out on one another; he was the only one you ever willingly let see you when you were sad and small and vulnerable. Besides which, no one else would dare try to take the space at your side from him. So you shared a bedroom: two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, because Minho refused to sleep in a bunk bed and you refused to sleep together in a double. There was little room for anything else.

You complained about the sleeping arrangements almost daily. You loved the hot water and the sunlight and the not-mouldiness of the apartment, but some days, you couldn’t bear the way you couldn’t get away from Minho.

You’d thought you had it bad. This was even worse.

Four days. Four days, so far, staying (squatting) in a vile, empty, dilapidated villa apartment, staring out of a window, waiting for something to happen. Just you and Minho and one room. For four days and counting.

It was Minho’s turn to watch and he sat at the monitor, diligent, hard-working, as always, whilst you were supposed to be catching up on sleep. Instead, you were lying on what passed for a bed, tossing an apple into the air and catching it, over and over and-

“You going to stop that?” Minho asked, with his trademark tone: both light and threatening.

“Nope!”

“Want me to make you?”

You flicked your eyes over to him: he was studying the monitor seriously, but you were sure he had been looking at you.

You hadn’t spoken about that night. Partly because you hadn’t had the time. You’d jumped up from the floor of your bedroom, grabbed as much stuff as you could fit in the first bag you could find and the six of you had legged it, making it out just in time to watch the police cars roll up and trash the place.

“There was so much fucking money in that safe,” Chan had said, plaintively, staring at the sky. That was when you’d offered up yours.

You had had to find somewhere to live, and fast. You’d all had to find jobs, something to do, some way to make money that wasn’t connected to the bar. You had been passing like ships in the night, meeting only to argue about shower time and sleeping arrangements. Then Changbin had come home with a suggestion. You’d argued about that, too, but in the end, it was unanimous. Go in with the bigger boys or – well, there was no ‘or’. That was the point.

So you and Minho were working recon. You’d pulled the short straw in more ways than one. It was the longest you had spent together. Ever. Confined for days in this space.

On the first day, he refused to talk to you at all.

On the second, you made everything into an argument because at least you could get a rise out of him.

On the third, he had seemed to thaw. Something had softened and you talked, like friends, like you used to. You laughed and joked and it wasn’t so bad.

Now it was the fourth day and that ice had returned. He had frozen over, doubled-down on silence. No sooner had you had warmed up than he was giving you frostbite, chilblains. Whiplash. Those ten words were the first he’d spoken to you all day.

“No,” you answered. “I don’t want you to make me.”

You paused, wondering if the words you were considering were a sign that you were going mad, that being cooped up in this space had sent you a little doolally. The unbearable nothingness of your days passing like sludge forcing all those hidden thoughts forward, with nothing to distract you from them. The words were certainly risky, but Minho had shown his hand. He had kissed you. Like he meant it. And you knew he would’ve continued to kiss you had Chan not interrupted. He’d have continued to do a whole lot more than just kiss you.

And you were bored.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said plainly, catching the apple in front of your face and turning to look at him.

He was still studying the monitor. Nothing on his face gave anything away: surprise, disgust, lust, laughter. Nothing. You were used to that.

“We’re on a job.”

“Yeah, and it’s boring and nothing is happening and who fucking cares? I would rather have sex.”

He sighed and rolled his head to look at you.

“Really, Sixteen? Now is the time you want to bring this up?”

“Stop calling me Sixteen.”

“I always call you Sixteen.”

“You always call me Sixteen when you want to put me in my place or make me feel like a child. I’m not a fucking child anymore.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“Then why won’t you fuck me?”

He laughed and your blood began to simmer.

“There’s more that I look for than just ‘is not a child’.”

“Don’t try to act like you don’t want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

“Well then, shall we?”

He smirked and the glint in his eye was new to you.

“We’re on a job.”

“Stop saying that!” you cried, stalking the three steps from your side of the room to his.

You manoeuvred yourself into his lap, blocking the monitor from his view, and took his face in your hands.

“We’re on a job and nothing is happening and nothing will continue to happen for ages yet, so why don’t we make it a little less fucking boring?”

You knew he wanted to. Could see his pupils dilate. Watched his eyes flick to your lips and your chest and back up. This might have been all he wanted: sex and nothing more. You didn’t know. Weren’t interested in having that conversation. Were convinced that it didn’t matter either way. If he only wanted sex, you would give it. Give it until it was too late and he was in too deep to come back out. Hadn’t worked before but there was a first time for everything.

But even that was beside the point. You were desperately bored and bored of being desperate for him and there was one stone that would kill both those birds.

“Mouse,” you said quietly, keeping your voice low, as you placed a kiss on his jaw, as you spread your knees a little wider, sinking lower into his lap. “Come on.”

His hands were on your thighs, neither encouraging nor discouraging, just holding tight. He didn’t respond as you continued to press kisses to his face, to his neck, grinding your hips over him slowly. You could feel his pulse beat fast, noticed the way his breathing was getting heavier, his fingers dipping deeper into your skin, until it hurt. Until he stopped pretending he was going to continue to work, stopped pretending that he could resist you.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice hoarse.

He gripped the hair at the back of your head and pulled you from his neck, tumbling you both to the floor. You didn’t want it to be fast, but you’d take it any way he’d give it. So when his hands pulled at your t-shirt, you let him take it off as you unclasped your bra. He didn’t give you time to fumble with the hem of his top, to discard it for him; he dipped his head straight down, swirling your nipple with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth; he rested his weight on one elbow and his other hand descended. You were grateful you had no buttons, no zips to contend with, just the loose, elasticated band of a pair of leggings that had seen better days. Minho’s fingers slipped beneath it and he circled his fingers around your clit, the fabric of your underwear dulling the sensation only slightly.

This was moving even faster than you’d expected but you’d been waiting so long already. Blood rushed to the surface of your skin and your breath began to shudder. Underwear now pushed to the side, you gasped when Minho ran a finger through your folds, shivered when he moaned at what he found there. He brought his lips back to yours but you turned away to let his name drop from your open mouth.

“Mouse...”

“Shut up,” he said firmly as he sank two fingers into your slick cunt and stole your breath with another kiss.

You couldn’t talk but you could moan. Could whine. Could whimper as his fingers moved inside you, as he ground his palm against your clit, as he made your thighs twitch and walls spasm. You tried not to lose your mind completely, to stay grounded, to stay present now that this was finally, really, actually happening. You reached your own hands down to Minho’s trousers; he hadn’t got the no-buttons, no-zips memo and your fingers fumbled with both. They shook with adrenalin as you popped the button through the hole and dragged the metal zip down. You pushed them away from you, off his hips, and had one hand in his boxers when the crackle of the walkie-talkie cut through Minho’s moan.

You both froze.

“Minho? What’s happening? Chan said they’re on the move?”

You glanced at each other, for one more frozen second, and then the world lurched into overdrive. Minho clambered to the monitor with his trousers around his ankles and, as soon as he saw the screen, started swearing viciously, tugging at his clothes and throwing your t-shirt back at you.

“What’s happening?” you asked, breathless for all the wrong reasons now.

“They’re clearing out,” Minho reported into the walkie-talkie, ignoring you but answering your question anyway. “Two loads have left, a third on its way.”

“Shit! How did you miss it? What the fuck were you doing?”

“Nothing! We lost the feed for a minute but it came back quickly and then they were already moving.”

He shot you a glance, something between panicked plea and angry admonishment. It wasn’t often he was caught on the hop, wasn’t ever. You, however, were used to being on the wrong side of things, so you re-dressed quickly and had already started packing your shit up. No matter how sideways this went, you could take two positives from it. One, you wouldn’t have to stay locked up here with Minho any longer. Two, he definitely, definitely wanted to fuck you.

FIFTH

You still hadn’t talked about it. You continued to share a bedroom, sleep there every night, wake there every morning but you had not once discussed the twice now that you had almost had sex. You were waiting for him to bring it up, even though you knew he never would. He wasn’t a coward, not ever, but if there was one word to describe him it was loyal and you knew he would protect your group with his life. And that also meant not pursuing whatever it was that was between you. Because it was a risk. It could jeopardise the stability of what you had established—what Chan had established long before you ever came into the picture.

But you were digging your heels in this time. You’d already come on too strong. Your pride was being wounded with each day that passed, with each day that he continued to pass you up. You’d crack first. You knew you would. You always did. Minho was unbreakable. You weren’t. But you wanted to pretend, for at least a little while, that you could be. That you could be impenetrable, too.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Junho repeated as he slammed into the car, instructing Minho to drive before the door was even shut.

Minho didn’t need telling twice.

“Where to?”

“Safe house,” he gasped, ragged breathing setting your teeth on edge.

You didn’t ask what had happened. What had gone wrong. That didn’t matter as much as getting out. Getting Junho out. You were disposable, still. You knew that. Even Minho. You were runts; you also still had something to make up for given what happened on your last assignment. So you travelled in silence. Junho in the back, breathing heavily; you didn’t turn around to see if he was ok. You didn’t want to know. You assumed he wasn’t but as long as you could hear him breathing, you knew he was alive.

Minho was facing forward, eyes scanning the roads ahead, reflexes allowing him to run red lights without accident – in this part of the city, no one would stop a flashy car like this for speeding, for driving recklessly. That was what they all did. His jaw was tense, eyes tight. He looked calm but you could see his little legs kicking under the water. You knew him well enough by now.

You didn’t keep your eyes on the road. You kept them on him. Felt like someone needed to be watching out for him, too – not that there was anything you could have done to be helpful anyway. There were always two in the getaway car. That was the rule and you didn’t ask why because you didn’t want to know the answer.

As a teen, you had thought you knew everything. You were old enough now to know not only that you knew nothing but also that you preferred it that way. Need to know basis. For everything. All the time.

Minho slowed, driving more carefully as the car left the city, winding across hills, negotiating turns that you’d have driven straight over, plummeting you all to a miserable death. He turned the headlights off at the mile marker he’d been told about, one that you’d already forgotten, and crawled, slower still, up to the house, blanketed in darkness, hidden by an overgrown and untended garden.

Junho grunted.

“Thanks. Wait until I give the signal then get the fuck out of here. Do not go anywhere you’ve ever met with us. Ditch the car when you can; destroy the plates.”

He didn’t wait for a response. You watched him stagger away and then waited until the light in the top right room flicked on and off and on and off again.

Minho put the car in reverse and slowly backed out. At a further mile marker, he turned the lights on. He continued to climb, driving away from the city still, until the car reached the top of the hill. The lights from the city were so bright you almost didn’t need the headlights at all. It didn’t feel a safe place to stop. Too visible.

Then Minho slowly and quietly backed the car into nook on the hillside. No doubt worn away from years of cars trying to pass each other on the narrow road, it barely contained the car, but it put it in some shadow and no one would hit you.

He turned the engine off and let his hands fall to his lap. His head tipped back against the headrest and he sighed.

“You ok?”

You asked him all the time and he never gave a serious answer because he always was. And if he wasn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it. But you asked all the same.

He nodded then turned to you.

“You?”

You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling the last twenty minutes as the adrenalin began to drain.

“Kind of feel like I could hurl.”

He laughed too and nodded again.

“I feel like I want to sleep for a thousand years but also like I could run a marathon,” you continued.

“I feel half-dead already but also fucking invincible.”

He held his hand out and it trembled. You clasped it between yours and held it tight. He smiled; from where you were sitting, it looked like a smirk, but then he turned more fully towards you and it wasn’t. It was sweet. His eyes were gleaming. Your mouth dried.

“Half-dead, huh?” And you knew you were going to say it. You always knew you would be the one with which it would raise its head. “How about a little dead? A little death, even?”

“Sixteen…”

His voice had that warning tone to it but the gleam in his eyes remained and you’d broken the seal now. Were going to push this as far as he’d let you.

“Mouse…”

You saw him waver. Absolutely, definitely, were certain that he was considering it. Until a car came over the crest of the hill and its headlights flashed in at you; at the same moment, Minho’s phone buzzed from the cup holder it had been thrown in. You jumped. He jumped. Whatever moment there had been was gone now.

Minho took his hand from your grasp and checked his phone. Then he put the car in gear.

“We’ve got to get out of here.”

You expected it to be quick. Expected it to be simple. It turned out to be neither. You had managed to destroy the plates and were very near clear of the car you’d now abandoned when you, once again, found trouble (‘why did it always have to be you?’ you had asked yourself fleetingly as Minho shoved you towards your own piece of shit car that had been waiting for your getaway; he had not waited for you to be fully seated or your door to be closed before he slammed a foot on the accelerator and squealed off). The two of you were screaming around corners, tearing out of the city in whichever direction provided the easiest escape. With the headlights off and the city lights streaming into the distance, you could barely see the road in front of you, had no idea how Minho was still driving straight. You trusted him with your life and it was just as well, because it was in his hands. His, yours, and potentially everyone else’s, too.

The summer sun was minutes away from popping its head above the horizon when you were finally able to return home.

You sat in silence for a few moments. You had moved beyond exhaustion into this kind of frayed, wired alertness. You felt your eyelids dropping even as your heart still hammered. Minho’s hand found yours.

“Mouse,” you said, letting the rest of it fall away unspoken.

“Yeah,” he replied but you didn’t know if that was his answer. “Just give me a minute.”

You were too tired to argue so you let silence fall again. You were almost dropping off, head just beginning to nod, when he tugged on your hand.

“Come here.”

You turned. You leant. His other hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer. He kissed you. Electricity crackled and a surge of energy rushed through you. It was happening again. He was kissing you. You couldn’t let this time pass by.

You scrambled in your chair, forgetting to undo your seatbelt, being pulled back by it and swearing coarsely when your lips broke from his. You clambered over the gearstick and the handbrake and fell with one foot heavily in the footwell as Minho slid his seat all the way back. You didn’t have time to care about the jarring in your knee or the bump on your head as it hit the roof. Could barely feel it. Didn’t matter.

Well, it didn’t matter until it did. Until there wasn’t really room enough for you to straddle him. Until you were pressing yourself up against the roof so there would be room for him to get his hands to his belt. Until you lost your balance and fell backwards, landing with bump on the steering wheel, which blared out into the dark dawn street.

“Fucking hell,” Minho muttered. “Get in the back.”

More willingly than you ever had, you did as you were told. He moved his seat forward again, all the way, and you watched him climb through to you, hands reaching for him. It was no less awkward. Not enough room to lie down. Still not enough height to sit. Not space enough between the back and front to kneel. It was messy and uncoordinated, grabbing for anything, taking what you could get, knocking into the window and falling off the seat, kicking and elbowing each other in a tangle.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Minho roared, in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. “No use. Not happening.”

He sat back and sighed, trousers undone but still around his hips. He pushed his hands through his hair and you tried to settle demurely next to him, smoothing your own hair, zipping up your jeans, swallowing hard as you fought to accept that he was right. It was not happening. Not here. Not now.

You stared through the car window and were sure you could’ve punched straight through it. You wanted to. It was the window, Minho, or yourself. Couldn’t effectively punch yourself. Knew you wouldn’t dare hit your mouse. Your fingernails pressed sharply into your palm as you squeezed your fists tightly.

A hand covered yours. Gentle. You looked at Minho and there he was: your secret, soft guy. You unfurled your fingers and he linked them with his own.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s just go home.”

FIRST

You tramped into the apartment, bringing your bad mood with you. Everyone was sick of it by now – you were sick of it, but you couldn’t shake it.

Minho was avoiding you. That much was clear. He had been avoiding you since you tried and failed to fuck in the car. You didn’t know why because you didn’t care. You had reached the end of your tether with the universe. Three times now. But still no cigar. You wondered – asked yourself a hundred times a day – what it was going to take to make this happen.

Frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. You could go out and hook up with whoever you liked. You could get yourself off just fine. But it ran so much deeper than that. If you pulled at the thread, it tugged on your heartstrings, all tangled up in knots. It hurt. It pulled at something so deeply interwoven with your very being; all anyone had to do was follow it to its source and they could destroy you. All anyone had to do was cut it and they’d cut you, too.

You didn’t like that. Hated it, in fact. Hated that all this tugging and wiggling had opened up a hole and you could feel your vulnerability exposed. You could feel weakness leaking out of you, seeping from your pores, visible to the naked eye, for anyone to see.

It made you bitter. Made you angry. Made you lash out even when you shouldn’t have. Because you were always on the defensive. Even now. Especially now.

You knew the others were talking about you. About Minho. About the two of you. Knew it from the awkward silences when you walked in a room and the furtive glances and the group chat that had grown curiously quiet, leaving you to assume that there was a separate one you weren’t a part of.

You were beginning to lose your patience and you were not starting with a plentiful supply.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm your rage. You had woken with it, just like every other day this week, and it would not leave you. You breathed slowly and carefully and tried to think of difficult and boring things.

You thought only of Minho.

Then he opened the door. He hesitated – you could feel him standing there, assessing – and then shut it, leaving you alone. As the door clicked, you felt that tug. You felt the knots tighten, so impossibly tight now that the joins weren’t even visible. You jumped up and threw yourself through the door.

“Stop fucking ignoring me!”

You hadn’t meant to shout.

Minho turned and looked at you. His stillness enraged you further. He didn’t say anything.

“Are you going to fucking say anything?!”

“What do you want me to say?”

“ANYTHING! You haven’t spoken to me for weeks! You literally walk out of rooms if I’m in them! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You think this is easy?”

His voice was cold and sharp as steel. His head cocked lightly to the side and his eyes narrowed, peering at you, looking inside you.

“You think I want it to be like this?-”

“I don’t know what you fucking want!”

His nostrils flared. This delighted you. He was annoyed and you loved it.

“Not once,” you continued, still shouting because you couldn’t rein it in, “have you ever fucking told me. Not once have you ever actually said what you want! That you want me. Do you? Fucking do you? Because I don’t fucking know anymore! Every time we get close, you get further away from me! I’m not a fucking yo-yo, Minho. You can’t play with me-”

“Play with you? You think I’m playing? What part of this is a game?”

His voice was rising now, too, his perfectly blank mask slipping.

“It’s never been a game, Sixteen! Not once in the entire time since we met has it been a game! How are you still not getting it? Junho almost fucking died and if he had, it would have been our fault! We all almost ended up in prison because of the fucking bar. The night we met you almost got yourself trafficked! It’s not a game! You act like life is so fucking simple! It’s not!”

“IT IS! It can be that fucking simple! Stop overthinking! Stop taking everything so fucking seriously!-”

“It is serious! That’s what you don’t get!”

He was close now, had been inching closer and closer, and he was looking down at you, his eyes black as pitch, his jaw tight, his breath struggling through clenched teeth.

“You don’t get it and you never have.”

His voice was quiet, back to that steel that sent a chill down your spine.

“Everywhere you go, I look out for you. Everywhere you are, I am responsible for you. It’s been nine fucking years, Sixteen, and you are everywhere I go.”

Your vision tunnelled, stomach fell to your feet. You had to look away and hated yourself for it. You never flinched. You never backed down. You were never the first to retreat. Except for him. You couldn’t bear to look in his eyes, to see what loathing and disdain they held for you. Your embarrassment was on your cheeks already and pricking in your eyes.

Then his nose nudged yours and he took more steps forward. He pushed you slowly against the wall and you cursed yourself for retreating to it.

“You are in my life and in my bedroom and in my fucking head,” he whispered. “All the time. All the fucking time. And I haven’t been able to do shit about it because you are my job. You are mine to protect. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I would burn this place to the ground for you. I would scorch the earth. I would drain the sea. For you. Don’t you get it? When it comes to you, I’m a fucking liability.”

You risked it. A glance. Lifted your eyes for less than a second but you had to do it again. Had to stop there, be sure you were really seeing what you thought you were.

Soft, round, liquid eyes. An openness in his face that he hadn’t let you into before. His mouth was still a grim line, turned down at the corners so slightly, had it been anyone but you, it would have gone unnoticed.

“Mouse...”

You tried to whisper but could barely manage that, his name creeping out on a hoarse gasp.

He moved his face closer to yours, lips almost touching.

“Don’t you get it?” he repeated.

You got it. Because everything he said was true for you, too. You’d started out as a liability, for sure, but you had continued to be one because Minho was your north star. Not Chan. Not the group. Not whatever sense of purpose you might have derived from the life you had cobbled together. If he said jump, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You would jump. You’d been following him since day one and, then, it might have been desperation, a lack of options. Now... well, there was still desperation: a desperate need for him, a desperate desire to be wanted by him, kissed by him, touched by him. You had other options. Options you would never take, not as long as he existed. You would stop existing before you ever thought of leaving him.

You nodded, feeling more like a foolish, vulnerable 16-year-old than you had when you were foolish and vulnerable and 16.

He sighed, breath sweet with the pudding he could never resist, and you were closing your eyes, tilting your chin up, expecting him to give in.

He turned away. You watched him, mouth agape in disbelief, as he pushed his hands through his hair.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” you screamed, bringing your hands down on his back in something that was half-shove, half-slap.

He had whipped around before you could lower your arms and you found your wrists caught in his hands.

“You don’t fucking stop, do you?” he hissed.

“Why would I stop?! I don’t want to stop, Minho! And nor do you! You can’t say you don’t! Because I KNOW. I KNOW you want it. I know you want me. And I’m fucking throwing myself at you. Take me! TAKE ME!”

His eyes were hard and dark. His fingers pushed so tightly into your wrists that you could feel your pulse against them. He was breathing heavily, nostrils flaring but lips shut tight, pressed together in a thin line.

“Take. Me,” you repeated, level and firm, not sure if he would, but sure that, if he didn’t, things would never be the same again.

You couldn’t do this a fourth time. Couldn’t put yourself in his hands, have him take you, and then... Not. And then stop. And then act as if you didn’t exist. That thread between you, tied up in your heartstrings, was taut, stretched, at its limit. And so were you.

The pause was painful. Excruciatingly long. Adrenalin coursed through you, making you hot, making you shake, making your heart beat so hard against your ribs you thought they might break. Thought your heart might break. Hadn’t been willing to admit how fragile it was but it felt like venetian glass now. You could already feel the cracks forming, the web extending, the shards-

He kissed you. Pulled you roughly towards him by your wrists and kissed you. Put his hands on your hips, then slid them under your top, and still kissed you. He was kissing you. It took a few seconds to slip back into your body, to feel it, the soft petal of his lips against yours, the sharp bite of his teeth, the wet warmth of his tongue. You forgot your shattering heart and grabbed his T-shirt, using it to pull him closer, to drag him into your shared bedroom.

Not that he needed dragging. You stumbled over each other’s feet as you tried to kiss and walk and grope all at once. You tumbled backwards onto his bed and took the brief separation as an opportunity to lose your top, to unclasp your bra. Your hands were in the waistband of your joggers when Minho climbed over you, topless now too, breathless as he mirrored your actions, pushing his trousers and his boxers over his hips. He huffed a frustrated sigh as you giggled, as he stood back up to take them all the way off, to kick them off his ankles and take yours away, too.

He didn’t give you time for admiration, for appraisal. He lay his body over you and his lips pressed against yours, quickly, firmly, before trailing them across your jaw and down your neck. He was every bit as vicious as you thought he would be, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin, sinking into your soft flesh. You wanted him to mark you, wanted the proof of it to last. You scraped your nails down his back and he hissed when you broke the skin. Hissed but didn’t complain. Hissed and moved his mouth lower, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sinking his teeth into that, too.

When you tugged on his hair, he pulled off, looked at you, his face an open question. You shook your head.

“It’s fine,” you panted. “I like it. I just want to pull your hair.”

He laughed and clamped his teeth over your breast again, harder this time, so you keened and your back arched into him. You twisted his roots in your fist and he moaned, eyes flicking up to yours as he kissed across the valley of your chest.

“Do that again.”

“Fuck,” you gasped, tipping your head back, doing as he had asked and tugging hard.

The ache you felt for him had ballooned inside you, taken up all your hollow spaces. There was your flushed skin and your fluttering heart, your rushing blood and your deep, persistent ache for Minho. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Mouse,” you whispered, voice tight with desire. “Touch me, please.”

You never asked. You didn’t beg. If you liked a guy, you let them do what they wanted with you, and if you didn’t, you took what you wanted. It was always one-sided.

But this wasn’t. It was Minho. It was the fathomless depth in his eyes as he lay his mouth all over you. It was the slip of his fingers through your soaked folds as he sucked sweet bruises against your neck. It was the sound of a moan caught in his throat when you wrapped your fingers around his hard, leaking length. It was mutual. It was reciprocated.

It was burning you up, hotter and sweeter than you’d ever felt before. His fingers sinking into your core made you shudder with delight. The twitch in his cock as you brushed your thumb over his head made your mouth water. The sound of his mumbled sweet nothings pressed against your skin, whispered in your ear, licked straight into your mouth, made you dizzy.

“So soft,” he said. “So wet... Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful... I’ve wanted this for so long... Wanted you...”

He used your name, your real one, the one he didn’t learn (didn’t ask for) for months after you met. You returned the favour, ‘Minho’ tripping from your lips, until he shook his head.

“Mouse,” he murmured, mouth still pressed against yours. “‘Mouse’ is yours.”

“Mouse,” you echoed and he nodded before kissing you so that you could say nothing at all.

You barely spoke, couldn’t catch your breath enough to form the words, couldn’t engage your faculties to find any to say. Minho spoke, though, more than you had ever heard him speak: praise and exclamation and remembrance and, yes, even admonition, but it was all so sweet, syrupy, dripping from his tongue like honey. You’d never heard him speak like this before, never had him melt in your hands or in your mouth, never felt him as easy and pliable as this.

It wasn’t just his body. It wasn’t just the perfect smoothness of his warm, soft skin. It wasn’t just the stretch, the fullness, he made inside you, the insistent rhythm of his hips thrusting his cock tightly into your slick, waiting warmth. It wasn’t just his wet, sugary mouth, at your lips, at your jaw, at your clavicle. It wasn’t just all these things he was doing to you, all the things you were doing to him.

It was his open eyes, round and shining and fluttering closed as your walls clenched around him. It was the tenderness in them, the depth he was letting you see, for more than just seconds at a time. It was the gentle tracing of your face with his fingers, even as he fucked into you, even as his teeth drew blood beneath your skin. It was Minho, the entirety of him. Yours. Finally yours. Finally giving in to you, giving himself to you.

You got it. You had said you did and you had, but now, beneath him in his bed as he loved you, you actually understood the magnitude of it. His feelings for you. Yours for him. Held back behind a dam for so many years and now, the dam had broken. Now came the deluge that would flood the world, could drown everyone in it.

To hell with them, you thought. To hell with anyone else. You found what you needed almost a decade ago. He found you. You found each other, somehow, by some miracle.

When the pleasure swelled up in your core, toes curling, back breaking, you cried out with all the breath you had in your lungs, felt tears sting in your eyes, and the following inhale wobbled and shook. Minho paused, pressed his forehead against yours, kissed you lightly, didn’t have to ask the question out loud.

You nodded and kissed him again, then again, each time hungrier than the last. You didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to feel anything but this, but him. He moved slower now, though, hips rolling smoothly, lips not leaving yours, even when he spoke, even when he murmured how fucking good you felt, how much better than he’d imagined, how hard he was trying not to come, how he didn’t want this to end.

You couldn’t take it. Thought you really would cry, thought you would collapse entirely under his weight, under the weight of everything you’d been carrying around, all these feelings: all this love and fear and frustration. He pushed you to the edge again without even trying, your red thread thoroughly tangled, inseparable now, and pulling a greater ecstasy from you than you had ever known.

He couldn’t hold out either, his final, sharp thrusts filling you with his sticky release. You held him there, as close as he could be. He kissed you, so light it was barely there, his fingers grazing your face as he pushed the hair from your brow.

“Mouse,” you choked, tears threatening your waterline.

He kissed you again, that little butterfly kiss; you’d never seen him be this gentle.

“Sixteen,” he whispered and, for possibly the first time, it didn’t sound like disdain, didn’t come accompanied by a smirk or an eye-roll; it was hushed and secret and just for you.

As it had always been.

You lay on his chest, bodies pressed together in the small, single bed, as they would have been even if the bed were bigger.

“I want some water,” he said, lips against your forehead before he manoeuvred himself out from underneath you. “Want a drink?”

You nodded and he smiled down at you as he fetched clean underwear and pulled a T-shirt over his head.

You watched him go, watched him open the door, and then heard the sound of party poppers, whoops, and applause.

The apartment was empty. Had been empty when you entered your bedroom. In the midst of everything, you had failed to notice the gang return home. They had not failed to notice you and Minho.

“Fucking finally!”

“You mean, they finally fucked?”

Laughter resounded from the living room. Minho turned around, closed the door, and climbed back into bed without a word.

#skz fanfic #skz smut #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lino x reader #lino fic #lino smut #minho x reader #lee minho #minho fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #lee minho fanfic

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tiredfox64 · 20 days

Note

Part two of my kill for hire reader?!?!?! Like the brothers all court her? Different endings on who she chooses?!?!?!

Go for the Kill

Prior notes: @eemr1000 @livingdeadgirly @k3ythesapphic COME GET YOUR FOOD BEFORE THE MOLES GET IT. Tbh I struggled a little but i think I did okay.

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Just get inside!

You made quite a reputation for yourself. You have been most useful to Lord Liu Kang. Thanks to the help of the Lin Kuei your skills have grown substantially. And look at that, you made three new friends as well. Well, they want to be more than just friends.

It didn’t take long for the brothers to recognize that they all liked you for their own reasons. Bi-Han liked how deceitful you can be just to get the job done. Kuai Liang applauds your tactics and finds your intelligence to be quite attractive. Tomas saw your huge potential and finding out you are actually sweet drew him in.

Yes, yes, you certainly have a nice set of bachelors just waiting to nab you for themselves. But, uh, who are you gonna pick?

I mean they haven’t even asked you out yet. You’ve been busy with more killing assignments so they haven’t gotten the chance to have you alone. It’s fine, it gives them plenty of time to think and prepare a way to court you. They have their own ways, it just depends who gets to you first.

You get back to the Lin Kuei temple after another successful killing. You’re a bit tired and just want to settle down for the night but you can already hear all three of them making their way towards you. Well, now it’s just one since Bi-Han decided he gets to see you first. It wasn’t a mutual decision he just pushed his brothers out of the way.

“I see you are successful once again. I do not expect anything less from you.” He compliments you as if you haven’t been killing for who knows how long. You noticed he grabbed onto your hand, ready to drag you away from everyone else.

“It is incredible how perfect you still look. You look like you barely broke a sweat.” Now Kuai Liang was coming in. He grabbed your other hand with the same intent Bi-Han has.

“You must be tired after that assignment. Maybe you should relax for a little. I can help you.” Who do you think just snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist? That’s right, Tomas.

You could feel tension in the air building up as you looked at all three brothers. They weren’t looking at you but they were glaring at each other. Something’s off but you can’t tell.

“Come with me, I have something important to discuss with you.” Bi-Han spoke.

“Whatever you have to say, brother, can wait. I have something important to tell her as well.” Then Kuai Liang spoke.

“I have something just as important to say to her.” Tomas pitched in.

“Why don’t you all just tell me what you want to say.” You were snappy since you were tired.

There was silence. They were unsure about confessing right now. But if it has to be done, so be it. Bi-Han will go first obviously. He pulled you in close, glared at his brothers, then looked down at you with a less cold look.

“Ever since the first time I saw you kill that fool, I knew you were the perfect woman for me. Skilled, precise, vicious even. You belong next to a grandmaster like me. I would hate for some incompetent fool to have their hands on you and ruin a perfectly good woman like yourself.”

To be honest, you were shocked. Did Bi-Han really have his eyes on you this whole time? You would have never guessed.

I mean it’s not like he deliberately made time to train you every time you were at the temple. It’s not like you caught him giving you that devilish smirk whenever he watch you kill someone else in your own devious way. And when you asked everyone else if he has ever smiled at them that way they all thought you were mad. Cause when the fuck does Bi-Han ever smile. There was never even a twitch in his lips at anything enjoyable other than you. Alright so there were signs you just didn’t think too much into it.

Now it was Kuai Liang’s turn. He yanked you away from his brother and held you close. He looked at you more warmly and a less cold expression overall.

“Your beauty and intellect has awed me. I have never met a woman with your skills. You are a rare kind of person that I would hate to let go of. My desire for you burns brighter and hotter than the fire I produce.”

Kuai Liang’s words were sweet. You believed him since he was always such a gentleman to you. He always complimented and applaud you for your plans. Your ways of execution were unlike anything he has seen. You always appreciated that you felt equal to him. He never held back when you two would practice which helps make sure you were always at your best.

Don’t forget about Tomas. He pulled you in by your waist. His head rested on your shoulder, just appreciating your presence before confessing.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen someone with such skills that could rival a hunter. Not even in my homeland did I see many like you. I see so much potential in you and I want to be next to you as you develop your skills further. No one could rival you.”

You always heard Tomas cheer you on. He wanted to know your tricks and you would happily share them with him. You two had a closeness that came from your sneaky skills. He was great to practice with when preparing for your next assignments, except you wouldn’t actually kill him of course. You appreciated that he saw that you were actually sweet and never questioned if you were just putting up a persona or not. He wasn’t afraid of hearing that sweet voice of yours and think that you were about to poison him.

He let you go and now they were all looking at you. It’s your call. Whoever you will pick will have you for himself. Now pick. Who will you be with?

Bi-Han

(So…this is your choice)

You walked up to Bi-Han. You had your eyes on Bi-Han for some time. He is strong, he helped you better your skills, he’s got a handsome face, and a voice that sends shivers down your spine. Clearly, you’re digging him too.

That devilish smirk came back. In his mind you made the right decision. A woman like you is fit for a grandmaster. Your devious tactics combined with his high title is a great combo.

You didn’t even have to verbally say yes to him he took your approach to him as the answer. Unexpectedly, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

Well he can’t have you in front of his brothers since they wanted you just as badly. You didn’t know where he was taking you but you recognized soon that he took you to his office. Just for extra measures since the locks apparently aren’t good enough, he froze the door handle. Now no one could get in and no one can get out.

Bi-Han wiped all the papers off the desk before placing you down on it. He leaned his body against yours to the point he pushed you onto your back. You heard a little hum of desire before he spoke up.

“Finally, we are alone. I have you all to myself.”

Kuai Liang

(Is this correct, reader?)

You walked up to Kuai Liang. You need a gentleman like Kuai Liang. Not just that but his body drew you in. So warm and well built. All those times he would pin you down during practice made you fall for him hard. Even his serious expression was attractive to you.

You made Kuai Liang a happy man today. A lovely lady like you is something he has dreamed of. One that is just as tough and precise when plan making as he is.

“You have quite a way with words, Kuai Liang. I can tell it came deep from your heart.” You commented as you placed your hand on his chest.

He looked at you so lovingly. In your heart you felt like you made a good choice. He held your face as he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead. The kiss felt hot. His desire truly does burn hot.

You heard a groan come from Bi-Han. At least Tomas can act happy for his brother. Kuai Liang will surely get shit for this from his brother. But it doesn’t matter. He has you and he couldn’t be more happy.

“Do not worry about him. He is just upset that I have a beauty like you in my arms now.”

Tomas

(Your eyes see true)

You walked up to Tomas. You want someone who sees so much in you. To hear that you remind him of his homeland made your heart melt. You never heard something so sweet.

Tomas was ecstatic. Being picked is such a wonderful feeling. He picked you up in his strong arms and twirled you around as if you were a princess. Hey, I bet he would give you that princess treatment you deserve.

You giggled as he placed kisses all over your face. His beautiful huntress. All his.

Of course Bi-Han groaned and wanted to start a fight with Tomas. For once, Tomas would not let his brother get in the way of his happiness. He threw a smoke bomb in Bi-Han’s direction which made him go into a coughing fit. At least Kuai Liang was happy that his brother found love, and that he didn’t get hit with a smoke bomb. He turned his attention back to you again.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere more private, my dearest.”

Bonus: All of them

(I’m the writer I get to have a say!)

“Well, you clearly all like me. Why not I just date all of you.” You said it so casually.

You stumped them all. It wasn’t because they didn’t think of that it’s because it’s not something one would usually say in a situation like this. But you ain’t the usual kind of gal, are you.

“Can’t I love you all equally? Don’t brothers have to share anyways?” You keep bringing up these points which stump them further.

Ah yes, the tactic of confusion.

You can easily love them all. They will get their own special treatments. There is so much to love about each one of them. You were already debating on this before so you had this all set in your mind.

“Perhaps you can. I am unsure how this could work but it will not hurt to try.” Kuai Liang answered.

“Yeah, I think this could work out. You always find a way to make things happen. it will make everyone involved happy.” Tomas added on.

Kuai Liang agreed with Tomas which made them both on board with this. Bi-Han was more hesitant. He should have you all to himself. But it would make some things awkward around her. Oh fine! At least he still gets you.

“Fine. We will have it your way. But I get to have you first.”

Bi-Han picked you up and threw you over his shoulders. You get a sense of deja vu but you never experienced this, right?

All the brothers start to argue and insist he put you down. It was a no from him every time. You sigh as you realize this could get a little complicated.

Oh dear, looks like Bi-Han needs to learn that sharing is caring.

After notes: Alright yall I gotta go gamble and fight senior citizens for pickle rick, giants football, and a Japanese switch. I will throw hands. Sorry if this ain’t the best I did my best. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #bi han x you #bi han x reader #bi han mk #kuai liang x you #kuai liang x reader #mk1 kuai liang #tomas vrbada x you #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada smoke

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masshysteri4 · 8 months

Text

Twisted wonderland Overblot gang with a Goth S/O

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

X reader, reader is yuu, reader is goth, GN reader

♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧

Riddle Rosehearts

・Screamed when you first met

・not really but he DID stare a lot

・like 😟

・when you first met he got onto you a lot about the dress code, but as time went on he got more lenient

・when dating he learned to love it

・your nickname would go from sweetie to bat

・just keep up with your grades and he won't say much

・not even gonna TOUCH the music portion

"You look like you just got back from Dracula's Funeral"

♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡

Leona Kingscholar

・yeah he's one of them that say "I wanna goth gf" but ACTUALLY mean goth

・when you first met bro was starstruck

・his contempt went down a little, but not much he's still mean 😡

・don't even THINK about asking him to help with makeup or any of the sorts

・too lazy

・will definitely buy the supplies tho

・drag him shopping, hell get something for himself and make you show him everything

・listens to the bands you like, pretends he doesn't like them but he legit does

"This band sucks... No you didn't find this in my playlist WDYM"

♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧

Azul Ashengrotto

・How bout you sign right here and hell supply everything 🥰

・it was a contract you love him forever

・honestly depends on what type of goth you are hell either love it or not care as much

・for example loves victorian goth, but trad goth not worth much

・hell never insult your style tho

・he applauds you for having the confidence to dress like that

・the music he's not too fond of, but he doesn't care if you play it or listen to it, he'd probably favor mor popular bands like the cure

"No I don't want to listen to Scarey Bitches, get back to work"

♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡

Jamil Viper

・"same tbh"

・he would totally go all out goth if he could

・but alas he has a reputation to uphold with Kalim and all

・loves the music but it more of a fan of gothic lit

・specifically ghost stories

・knows how to do the makeup so you both could do eachothers

・any piercings? He's in love, I hc he has snake bites so if you have any, or get any, you could match

"Sup my acid bath princess of darkness"

♧♤♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧

Vil Schoenheit

・well at least you put effort into your appearance

・jk he would love you anyway

・but he would prefer you tone it down a little

・not to be mean but like everyone on this list he has a reputation to uphold, he just cares about it more

・wants to know how to do the makeup tho, so please teach him

・he loves the lit and surprisingly he likes the music

" I am fine with the white base, however did you HAVE to add that poofy hair"

♢♡♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♢♡♧♤♡♧♤♢♡♧♤

Idia Shroud

・you're the goth to his emo 🥰

・show him the music, he loves it, will show you emo music in turn

・dress eachother up as eachothets styles, it's a nice change of pace for him

・not a fan of goth lit, he doesn't read except for fanfics soooo

・helps you order your stuff online, won't go out in public even to a goth store

"Omg how much robux did that outfit cost"

♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♢♤♧♡♡♤♧♧♡♤

Malleus Draconia

・bro know what Gothic lit is but didn't know there was a style and music style behind it

・"wow we have similar ways of clothing ourselves"

・honestly not much to say abt him

・he knows were poor so hell supply us

・hell listen to anything you tell him abt

・listens to any goth music you give him RELIGIOUSLY

・he loves Gothic architecture and Gothic comes from that sooo

"Wow we both look like we crawled out of a tomb!"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

YAAAY 2nd post (^o^) how did I do this time?!

#twistedwonderlandxreader #twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #riddleroseheartsxreader #riddle rosehearts #leonakingscholarxreader #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #longblackbootsmadeofsatinandlace😍😟🥰#HALFATONOFMAKEUPONYOURFACE🥰🥰🥰🤢🤢🤮

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

little miss pressure • armin artlert

armin was notorious for his wild ways and sexscapades but ends up meeting his match in the form of a girl he’d never expect. And it leaves the notorious playboy stuck on his new fixation.

plus size black reader, (y/n) works in the adult entertainment industry, alcohol and weed use, armin and reader are some FREAKS, reader is very hyper sexual and tbh a bad bitch 😝 (this is nasty, I apologize in advance!)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ════

producer!armin has always been a man synonymous with a less than savory lifestyle. Sex, drugs, fame and glory..it was all he ever desired. To live each day as if it were his last and let the consequences happen as they may. His vices were those every other music industry maestro that got into it for all the wrong..and selfish reasons. Especially when it came to women, which may have been his greatest weakness.

Switching them out like his latest pair of Amiris or his brand new Audemars. Picking them up at every illustrious strip club or his infamous house parties..working his way through a ten mile long roster of girls. Comprised of every bachelorette (and sometimes others wives) this side of South Beach. He didn’t care about what followed or if he hurt their feelings. All he wanted was his one night and a good nut. After that, what they did was none of his concern. And hell, with his good looks, he could get away with just about anything. Until you came along…until (y/n) showed up at one of his little soirées. Invited by a friend of a friend, who had spoken all about the engineer and all his antics. About the hits he’s produced, his track record and extremely high body count. Something that didn’t particularly off put you, seeing as how promiscuity was your entire profession. You were an upcoming adult film star, taking the internet and nsfw spaces by storm. A brick house of a woman who didn’t mind flaunting that beautiful body and working it in ways that many wish they could. Sex with you had been described a ‘spiritual experience’ by many. From the incredible head game to the pussy that had gotten many of your bills paid. A month after working with a couple of creators and collaborating with a few porn production companies, it all took off. Your OnlyFans was jumping and everyone wanted a taste of the newest BBW on the scene. And tonight, you were out prowling for some trouble to get into. You had your fair share of good hookups but you needed the man that was going to give you the type of dick that would change your life. It came not a moment too soon when you got some alone time with Mr. Artlert. Trust, he was more than well aware of your reputation and he wanted to see if it preceded you. And the feeling was mutual..

seeing as how you had only ever spotted him with skinny model types and BBL bodies..not that anything was wrong with it but you were a bit skeptical. Not questioning if you could pull him or anything but if he could truly handle you! Would he truly be worth the hype. But after downing a few daiquiris; making subtle eye contact from the room, he’d approach you with that signature smug look on his face, flashing you a toothy grin and boldly greeting you with a hug. “Yeah, (friend name) told me all about you..it’s very, very nice to meet you, miss (y/n). So glad you made it out.” Sealing it with a classic peck to the back of your hand..by the look on his face, he was more than likely assuming that you’d be easy pickings. Insecure and lacking self esteem as a bigger woman. That you’d be happy that someone like him was even looking in your direction. But was he sorely mistaken! Especially when hours later, after chatting you up the whole night and once the rest of his guests had gone home..he got you up to his bedroom and out of that designer on your body. “Are the rumors true, sweetheart?” “Find out for yourself if you’re man enough.” All it took was a shared spliff and a little more liquor before you had him spread across his own bed, toes curling midair as he released loud screams. “Ohhhhh fuck! (Y/N)…goddamn.” Howling from the head he received..engulfing all eight and a half inches of that veiny girth as if you lacked a gag reflex of any sort. “Yeah, fuck this throat. Don’t play with me.” Emitting strings of spit and covering that cock in it. Flicking your tongue around his sack and momentarily over his asshole. All while jerking him off. Never in his life had he had a bitch so nasty and he loved it! God, he loved how you abandoned every bit of your morals in the bedroom. Making his nut from sucking his dick when no one woman had ever done so before. “They weren’t lying, huh?” “Told you..”

but he was no minute man himself. See, after getting slurped up like that, he had to a little something to prove..and he’d do so by devouring your pussy while he ushered you atop his mouth. “Don’t look at me like that, sit the fuck down, baby. I can take it.” Assured in his abilities and absolutely infatuated with your flavor…moaning as he inhaled your scent and flicked his tongue all over your clit. Kneading his hands into that thick ass and hips, even prompting you to bounce up and down on his face. Causing a collision with those heavy cheeks. “Yes! Right there…oh God..” drawing out high pitched wails from your sore throat and sweet juices from that tightness. Coating his entire chest in your squirt. And from there, he couldn’t let up off of you. At least not until he pinned those legs back and put that dick stomach deep. “Wet this dick up then since it’s like that.” With those substances coursing your systems, it brought forth an even nastier side for both of you..if that were even possible! “Ion think you’ll leave me alone if I do.” Your feet plastered to the headboard as he pounded you relentlessly. “This pussy so fucking good!…” cracking only a few minutes and strokes in because he had never felt it this wet and gushy before. It was like being encompassed and coddled in a warm blanket that nestled his dick as if were made especially for him. Folding you into a mating press and having to bare all of his body weight just to reign you in. His one hundred seventy pounds in comparison to your nearly three hundred. He had piped many women in his young life but you were the true definition of pressure. Making loud smacking noises from the slick dribbling from that plump cunt. The fatter the pussy, the wetter and he was learning first hand. Burrowed over your face and feeding you slow, sloppy kisses, along with tons of slaps and spit..another first for the philandering bachelor. He didn’t want to leave it if he were being frank.

“Yeah, beat that motherfucker up, daddy. Keep going!” Reaching down to massage your bud with those coffin shaped claws as you glared into his eyes and done something that would truly drive him insane. “F—fuck! Squeezing me like that..gonna make me nut all in your shit.” Throbbing and fully swollen inside of you. Posing the statement like a threat but that was exactly what you were hoping for! And when he couldn’t control himself another moment, you found yourself filled to the brim and with a heavy slap to your ass, he’d command you all fours where he all but shoved his face between your cheeks, eating you out once more because he loved drinking it in. Shortly after, stuffing your other hole with a thumb and your pussy full of his still erect cock. Placing a foot on your head, beating your shit in and making you arch your back. That ass moving like water nearly drove him insane. The best backshots he’s ever given. And after rounds and rounds of fucking each other senseless..all for footage for your page, the producer was all but unconsciousness from exhaustion. Housing his entire load into your womb without so much as a second thought. He was sure to be sleeping peacefully, even telling you that you could spend the night. Words he had never uttered prior. Knowing that you had gotten him hooked and it surely wouldn’t be the last you’d be seeing of Armin Artlert. But for now..you’d gotten what you came for..

and you’d be gone before the sun could rise.

@lusts1ck 🫶🏾

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kissitbttr · 4 months

Note

oh em gee do you think reader and miguel would be homecoming and queen?!?1!1 judging from their reputation from what i’ve read i feel like they’d defo win the titles tbh. imagine them winning it thoo 🥹🥹

“what do you mean i won?” you mutter to yourself as you look around, all eyes are now set on your frozen figure,

“oh my god this is actually crazy. homecoming queen has always been from sorority girls, never a cheerleader. babe you’re making a history!” gloria squeals, squeezing your hand,

this can’t be happening. you didn’t even know that you made it to the candidates list!

miguel, who’s already standing on stage with a big smile on his face and a crown perched on his head. hands clapping louder than the people in the room, mainly cheering for himself because now he doesn’t have to worry about dancing with a random girl.

gloria nudges you in the elbow to get you moving, making you glare at her but your legs finding themself to begin walking towards the stage. with a nervous yet awkward smile, you nod your head to some who congratulates you.

you even catch some of the sorority girls giving you a disgusting look while whispering to each other.

‘fuck. you’ you mouth before blowing a sarcastic kiss, catching them by surprise,

miguel chuckles at your attitude, internally patting himself in the back for having a sassy girlfriend. your gaze move to his, and in seconds your smile turn into a genuine one. big beautiful eyes smiling at him too,

it’s amazing how he can easily tell the difference between your fake and reals ones, isn’t it?

as you begin walking up to the stage, miguel goes breathless. raking his eyes up and down your body shamelessly. he thinks that you look gorgeous every day but tonight is different.

a very simple yet elegant, golden satin dress that hovers just a little bit above the ankles. a slit on the left of your thick thigh, giving him the perfect view of his favorite features from you. the v cut of the dress, giving him a perfect view of your plump breasts. long hair settles into its natural flow.

overall, you look like an angel. and he has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you.

“your homecoming queen and king, ladies and gentleman!” the host announces, making the crowd erupt in cheers,

you giggle at how gloria and beck cheering for you the loudest, giving them a wave. then you finally look over to the side only to see miguel is already entranced with you. his eyes taking you all in. if a gaze could speak, it would tell you that not enough words in dictionary could describe how perfect you look tonight, and how he still needs to wrap around the fact that he gets to call you his.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you smile when he reaches out to slides his hand between yours, pulling you to him,

he shrugs, guiding you down to the dance floor. “you just.. fuck… how is it possible, mi amor? para lucir así de perfecta”

your cheeks warms under his gaze. “i-i don’t know”

“speechless aren’t we?” he pulls a joke, making you roll your eyes,

“don’t make me even more nervous. this feels weird” you confess, his arms move down to your hips. “did you put my name on the ballot or something?”

“i didn’t i swear.” he shakes his head, “but that sounds like something i would do”

“i know” you rest your chin on his chest as you both slowly sway side to side. the song ‘one sweet day’ by mariah carey and boyz ii men playing in the background. both of your favorites.

something, somehow comes over miguel. the way your beautiful eyes glinting with love while looking up to him, soft smile perches on your pretty lips. the crowd circling around the two of you, watching the beautiful couple sharing a dance as a newly wed and—

wait. shit

newly wed?

“thinking quite hard there, baby” you drop a comment at the way his eyes seem to look.. gone. “care to elaborate?”

“just… this” he gestures,

“us dancing? why?” your hands on his chest now, head tilting to the side in curiosity,

“it’s like taking a glimpse of us getting married someday” he blurts out,

and there’s where you feel your heart fails to find a steady rhythm of its beat. his eyes wander across the room, mentioning a couple of things about how he would love it if ice sculptures didn’t make it at yours and his wedding. he thinks it’s useless,

you guess he can’t exactly spot the look on your face being both stunned and warmed by his confession. too busy taking notes on what you both should and should not have at the reception.

he.. thought of getting married ? to you ?

“would you like that, muñeca? white and pink flowers too. for the decorations. they would look so pretty”

all of these words jumping off his mouth seems like nothing to him, because maybe he thinks of it as one that he is so sure of and that you would probably agree with.

but little does he know, it’s everything to you. and you are trying your best to act your cool

“as long as i get to pick the flavor of the cake” you smile up at him

#frat!miguel #miguel o’hara blurbs

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lovezbrownies · 4 months

Text

Yandere!Chief of Police.

Character: Grim Ludenhart, 32, male, 199 cm/ 6'5 ft.

Pretty mild tbh, not too yandere but there is a future work containing your life with him after where it will be darker hopefully. also my ass did not read through this so whatever mistakes i made please ignore them thanks!

Minors DNI!!

Word count: 1725 words.

Content warning: Lying??, obsession, stalking, abuse of power, age gap (5 years- darling: 27, Grim: 32), implications of criminal activity.

Grim isn’t one for love, even the thought of it was unappealing for a while. Up until he met you. Grim was known to be a stoic man, however stoic he can be he was still extremely approachable. Ironically, Grim doesn’t care for anyone aside from his family. Grim would be less popular if these nobles knew what he actually thought of them, due to his job as Chief of Police, he and the rest of the Board of Chiefs of Xelera are required to attend every event and ball that Queen Nia hosts. Although Grim hates Queen Nia’s events he also likes to attend other events that nobles would host and invite him. He only ever goes there to make sure unnecessarily rich bastards keep up their support of the Police, as well as to maintain a good reputation among the nobles, he needs their support for whenever someone dares threaten his position.

All in all, Grim despises the nobles he’s constantly surrounded by, including the nobles he’d publicly called his friends. Which would be why he found himself here, in a tiny bar, sitting in a tiny booth, his real friends around him, all being middle class “peasants”. He liked it here, he can be the small town boy again with these people. ‘’So he cornered me, and mind you he’s doing all of this over a cake! He goes ‘Well, Grim, good to see you! Uh, you got that cake recipe written down yet?’ Blah blah, this man wouldn’t stop yappin’ i had half a mind to smack him right then and there and tell him my ma made it for me!” A roar of laughter goes off, as the laughing dies down Grim flags down a busser working at the bar. He couldn’t see them all that clearly but who cares, he’s just going to pay and leave after all.

Well, he did care, and so did his buddies as they witnessed Grim become awestruck as he talks with the server, an attractive young thing, possibly mid twenties. “Hello! My name is Y/n, is there anything I can help you with?” They greeted the table with a warm smile, a notepad in hand, waiting to be given orders to fulfill. Grim, awestruck, sat quite for a second before collecting himself when one of the guys he’s sitting next to nudged him. ‘’Ahem, yes, can I pay my bill please? Bill’s name under Greg Hart.” Grim cringed, wishing he hadn’t made up a fake name in this bar, if only he knew there was love around the corner. ‘Ah, giving your fake name to the gorgeous busser, how absolutely romantic!’ Grim chastised himself silently.

You nodded, smile as warm as the summer sun, ‘’Alrighty, I’ll get you your bill, does anyone need anything else however?” Your pretty eyes sadly cut contact with Grim to look at the rest of the table, while Grim had been completely fixated on you, even as you left he couldn’t get his eyes off you, the way your hips move, the way you swiftly move about the tables littered around the bar, the way you lean into the bar counter, the way your head tilts as you presumably ask for a Greg Hart’s check. Grim’s train of thought was caught off as the guy next to him threw their arm around Grim. “Well, looks like Grim isn’t interested in us anymore!” The group laughs heartily and Grim chuckles in embarrassment.

Grim’s been a regular at that particular downtown bar since he’s started Cadet School, which would be now be 14 years ago, as soon as he turned 18 he had applied and gotten accepted. And out of those 14 years, the bar only just started getting better when you started working there. Grim had studied your schedule as well as he could, what shifts you had, whether you were closing or opening on a particular day. He knows everything about you, seriously, when he went to work the next day he managed to find your information after skimming through numerous pictures of other Y/Ns who were not you. Grim isn’t a slacker, so he sent over all of your records to his personal laptop to look at when he gets back home. And oh boy did he look! Grim didn’t leave a single record unread, spending hours going through your school records, your medical records, every job you’ve had, he learnt your family’s history entirely, safe to say he unfortunately missed out on seeing you that day at the bar.

Grim doesn’t like going to the bar during the weekdays because his job has always been top priority, yet here he was, chatting you up on a tuesday, the bar mostly empty as you two talk about everything and anything that comes to mind. At some points you’d get interrupted by another patron requesting help, and when that happens Grim liked to glare at them as hard as he could, eventually most regulars learnt to ask for whatever drink they want at the bar itself. Your boss also tried to lecture you on how you’ve barely been doing your job but one look from Grim had them scurrying away.

He hates the fact you call him ‘’Greg’’, he has been chatting with you for 4 weeks now, although it really is his fault he couldn’t come up with a way to tell you that he gave you a fake name and he is actually a fearsome chief. Don’t get me wrong he has a spectacular reputation, he makes sure to have the people’s best interest at heart, but he doesn’t exactly look friendly, a tired set of lifeless eyes paired with lips that never smile has made people fear meeting him. But that’s okay! You know him now after all, you’ve seen him smile, his eyes still look tired but at least they have light in them now! Maybe you’d be open to him if he told you the truth, maybe you’d love him more if you knew about how much power he has! So, as charmingly as he could, asked if you’d like to come home with him after your shift, you know as friends obviously!

And you, charmed and ever so slowly falling for your favorite regular you agreed to his proposal, what you didn’t expect was finding out your regular was actually a chief, and the Chief of Police no less! You did freak out a little but Gre- Grim had calmed you down, told you he liked you and liked how you acted around him, “You are so cute, why would I keep coming to the bar and talk with you only if I found you disrespectful, hm?” Grim smirked at you, moving from the stove to you, standing to your left he leaned a closer to you, you were seated on his kitchen counter while he was cooking up something, you still weren’t sure what he was making but it was probably good.

You shrug, equally leaning closer to him, “Hm, dunno maybe you wanna eat me or something?” Grim chuckled lightly, a handsome grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, and by heavens was he gorgeous. His gray eyes twinkled under the ambient lights in his kitchen, his eyebags suit him so well it was almost unfair how much they made him even more attractive. “If I wanted to eat you, I would’ve already done so, dear.~” Grim’s voice was soft and smooth, masculine and deep, and oh so alluring. His head tilted slightly to the side, causing his hair to flop as well. You’ve always had this urge to touch his hair, to run your hands through it and put it in various different hairstyles, and so taking your chances you raised your hands up off of the kitchen counter and ran your fingers through his hair. Grim leaned into you, humming he closed his eyes, he seemed so serene like this, and his hair is so soft.

You sat there for a minute or so, just appreciating the man in front of you, still caressing his hair, his eyes closed, it seemed like he was so close to purring like a kitty, “I don’t think I’d mind it if you ate me, at least I’m being eaten by someone I like.” You hummed out quietly, yet this nice moment was cut short by him snapping his eyes open, grabbing the hand caressing his hair he brought it down, a little close to his face, which right now seemed a little pinkier than usual. “Y-you like me?” Your surprise was cut short, you laughed leaning into his shoulder.

“Of course I do! Haven’t you noticed yet? Thought you were smart sir, Chief of Police!” Still leaning into his shoulder you turned your head to have a better look at Grim, and quite frankly seeing him this flustered after watching so many interviews and speeches with Grim being completely expressionless was pure gold. Grim was staring at you, eyes wide but not meeting your own, eyebrows straight up, cheeks pink, and mouth slightly agape. You try to take your hand back so you can caress his hair again, but his grip tightens, seemingly getting out of his trance, Grim collects himself, he looks straight into your eyes, his eyes tender with love, he smiles gingerly, though his cheeks are still pink, it seems he’s gained enough courage to speak now.

Grim shrugged your head off his shoulder, cupping your face with his free hand Grim leaned into you, your foreheads now touching. Grim stares at you, looking deep into your eyes with such love it’s making you feel all types of flustered. “I hope you know I’ve never believed in love at first sight until I saw you, I- Can I kiss you?” Grim’s soft and honeyed words have you completely wrapped around his pinkie, he has now completely captivated your heart. You smile, nodding, mentally begging him to make the move, make you his. Little did you know that the moment he captured your lips onto his own you will forever be his, never being let go, and let’s just hope you don’t find out the things he has done and will do to make sure you stay his.

also bonus image :3

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amphitriteswife · 13 days

Note

Do more of ror school au hcs please 🙏🏻 💓 💕 💗

📝✂️Ror/ Snv characters as Students📝✂️

Also am I spotting a fellow Alien stage fan??? @miserable-homo-momo

Hades:

☠️He’s a top student. On top of most of his classes, and he’s a senior.

☠️ Mostly hangs out with Qin or his brothers. He doesn’t necessarily have friends but a lot of ppl want to be tho, only he focuses on being a big brother.

☠️ Listens to a lot of music tastes. Like his play list is full of mood swings. It contains: Classic music, Pop Music, HipHop, Heavy metal ect. It kinda depends on what he feels tbh. A few of his faves would be: Tupac, Beyonce, Megan Thee Stallion, Cardi B and Mozart.

☠️Drives a nice car which made him very popular. He used it to take his brothers everywhere but he ended up sharing it between his brothers and bought a motorbike of his own🤭

☠️ He had a lot of piercings: Ears, lip, Eyebrow…nipple…But he looks good and knows how to pull it off. Like just Imagine it. Gah dayum

☠️ He actually skipped class?? You wouldn’t expect it from him but he did skip class. It’s not often but once in a blue moon. Most of the times it’s cause he wants to hang out with his brothers.

☠️ goes to all the house parties. As good of a student he is, he also likes going out. So most of the time he gets invited to parties or hang outs.

☠️ most ppl thought he was a player but ended up being one of the ppl that married their high school sweetheart. He might have dated some ppl but they weren’t flings but actually legit relationships

☠️ probably the one person that brings snacks or drinks for the class if they have a field trip or just a hot school day y’know. Like just imagine it being a hot sunny day and you still have a lot of lessons to follow and boom, hades brings ice cream for the class?? Life safer fr🙏

☠️ He probably likes History, astronomy and psychology. He kind of has random subject but he just chose what he deems as interesting. He only likes the 🪐⭐️🌠🌌 and not the math in astronomy.

☠️ He cooks on field trips that last more days. Only if its’s necessary tho. Mainly because he’s rich enough to afford going to restaurants or the school handles it.

☠️ he’s the therapist friend fr. Genuinely knows when there’s something wrong and asks, not in public tho. He doesn’t judge but actually listens to you. He also offers comfort if you need it. What a goat

☠️ class president. Even though he didn’t want to be. Most ppl voted for him for the above stated reasons. And because he’s kind of a big brother type.

☠️ man could do anything and he wouldn’t get into trouble. Mostly because all the teachers love him as a student so shawty has a good reputation.

☠️ He’s bad at art yet has very nice cursive handwriting. Probably because he takes extra poetry lessons. Or he practiced it till he was satisfied.

☠️ Is in the chess club with Beelzebub and the birb. They often play and even have participate in Tournaments.

☠️ He’s the type that also chose languages as subjects, so like German, French, Italian, Chinese, Latin and ofc Greek. Probably because his ass has a photographic memory

☠️ doesn’t eat cafeteria food and actually goed off campus to buy food. If some of his lessons are canceled he just goes to restaurants or shopping streets to kill time

☠️ Actually doesn’t rly do his homework. He only does it in classes that check homework or give bonuses for it, otherwise he usually doesn’t do it. Besides he only studies like 2 weeks before the week where all the tests are. Unless he knows he needs more time for a certain subject. Then he catches up

☠️ Went to Spain, Germany and France because he choose those subjects and teased his younger brothers for it. He did buy them a requested item for each of em. Not Zeus cause he requested a Latina babe.

☠️ He has a place in school where he always sits when he aint off campus. So if ya eveer try to find him he’s probably there.

☠️ graduated w honors fr. Mosy of the teacher wrote nice things about them and held wonderful speeches for him since he was a good student. His quote in the year book was sum like ‘👍’.

☠️ He probably went on luxurious vacations and posted the pictures on his insta. He dont do snap or any other form of social media.

Buddha

🪷 the student that doesn’t really care about grades but does get good ones.

🪷 He’s usually eats in class. But for some reason the teachers allow it cause he ain’t causing a mess. Or because he’s actually a prince and could buy the school in a second.

🪷 Definitely choose a language as a subject and geography cause man knows a lot about different cultures. My goat

🪷 Definitely a music lover. You can always catch him with one AirPod in his ear. Probably has the latest phone too cause he richy rich.

🪷 Goes to on lot of vacations. Like every break he’s somewhere. Japan, Greece, Italy, Singapore, Canada, Brazil, he goes to many places. Brodie might start doing them travel vlogs atp

🪷 He has lots of Social Media’s. Tiktok, Tenten, insta, snap, Discord??🤨 , Be real ect. His tiktok is just goofy ahh videos while his insta is usually pics of his vacations. Like you know them influencers who have them nice ahh pics? He has that, but he just aint a influencer

🪷 Never takes notes in class. So you might wanne share em w him if you have em. In return he’ll let you munch on his snacks.

🪷 BIG supporter of Cultural day. Like he already sighed a petition and complained that every school should have one. He even offered to host them and buy stuff for it.

🪷 biggest class skipper together with Qin. He’s either off campus buying stuff, at home cause brodie didn’t wanne come or he just bailed mid way with the ‘can i use the restroom?’ Tactic. His ass almost got into trouble w the school cause of the many times he was absent.

🪷 If you have a presentation with him. Yall will score perfectly. Especially if it’s a subject he knows a lot about, brodie will carry you like how Eren carried that stone in Shiganshina (aot reference 🤨)

🪷 Deals candy in school. Like you know how some schools have the policy that their cafeteria doesn’t sell unhealthy stuff? And the stuff is overpriced asf. Yeah he broke that by buying a lot of different candies and letting ppl buy em for €1 no matter what the OG price was. He may or may not have gotten into trouble but man did not care

🪷 LOVESS LOVES LOVES school trips. He always buys snacks for em. He usually researches the place where yall is going so that he can divide the time and go see the whole place instead of just only doing the assignment.

🪷 He is friends w actually almost everyone. Almost. Except Loki. But it’s difficult. Loki HATES him. While Buddha is kinda like 😒. It got so bad that Loki had to switch classes fr. Now one may ask why? Buddha worked together Sigyn that’s why

🪷 house parties, pool parties, after school parties, just any party tbh. If he catches one he is going. And Believe me it makes it so much better. He has the music, the vibe, the photo’s everything. Man is so chill fr

🪷 lowkey good friends w Hades. Mainly because they both chose languages. They usually practice together if they have like a verbal test. They got each other’s back. And yeah Buddha’s a senior cause he skipped some grades

🪷 Ppl expected him to actually be single cause of how care free he is but they were wrong cause man was SMITTEN by Yasodharā. They were literally THE couple.

🪷 Got into a class fight with Loki. Imma leave room for yall to think how that went. Man CLEARED him. But he didn’t hit tho. He didn’t square up. He just dodged and threw chips in his face.

🪷 watched anime, reads manhwa and hd merch. But he the cool ones that keep it lowkey and dont rly act upon it

🪷 Man saved the ppl who graduated w him. He arranged that the ppl in the last year could have a week long vacation to Italy. Mainly to see art or just enjoy being free from school.

🪷 As much as he hated school. He’s the type that goes for a good time. He likes being w his friends or his glorious gf Yasodharā.

Shiva:

🧿 Laid back student that barely passes but doesn’t really mind.

🧿 member of the party club! He hosts all the dances, plays, school events, parties, gala’s. Anything to do with the sort!

🧿 Also a big fan of house parties. Good music, good vibe, lots of ppl, drinks n a good home? He’s all in.

🧿 He 100% had music, art and religion as a subject. Dancing is included with art and he gives extra lessons to the youngsters. He might even have his own dance club on campus.

🧿 He’s also a fan of p.e. He 100% has a one sided rivalry with Hercules and Ares. But if it’s Ares and Hercules against each other he’s on Hercules’ side.

🧿 He hosted a Gala for the seniors and it was so goated, he even had a department for ppl who didn’t want to dance and put on game consoles on the big ahh boards.

🧿 He and Poseidon were playing Mario Kart and SSBU against each other. Half of the ppl there spectated on how the two were so focused and at each other’s throat. But after that Shiva went back to dancing.

🧿 A lot of ppl think that he’s poly but he’d monogamous and has a girlfriend. Aka Parvati. Who was his partner to homecoming. Which he hosted ofcourse.

🧿 Skips school so much that he once had to have a conversation with the school therapist to make sure there was nothing going on at home. (There isn’t) but he played it off cause he a smooth talker and got away with it.

🧿 He’s besties w Rudra. They’re the duo that everyone knows cause they’ve been going to the same school and usually have most classes together. Even if they don’t like the subject. Like you can see Shiva in some classes they don’t have together cause he just asks the teacher it its cool and most of the time it’s cool. Most.

🧿 They the duo that they meet each other in the halls cause they both got sent out of the classroom. Or they both have detention and never do any work in it there.

🧿 you can usually spot them outside going for a run or at the gym. They also share a playlist for of they go to the gym and its very intense. Or they’re goofing around and end up doing something else.

🧿 He’s also in Hades class as a senior but they aint rly close, no bad blood but they just have their own friends. Though If they were to be paired up they’d make a very good duo.

🧿 Also a big fan of Culture day. But the best part is that Parvati is in a beautiful sari, her make up done, mehendi on her hands and feet, churias on her arms, a veil on her head. Hmm perfect.

🧿 He lowkey beefs with Loki but does it in a goofy way y’know. Like he seems very intimidating cause of his physique and height but he’s lowkey chill and doesn’t bother ppl.

🧿 is lowkey a model together with Poseidon. He posts a lot of pictures on his insta, Indian weddings (they’re the best) pics of himself or if he went somewhere. Some of them are lowkey so aestheticly pleasing.

Yuh that’s it. Might make a part 3 tho

Tagging: @mizz-sea-nymph @vilereign @tinyy-tea-cup @das-jaim3 @monstertreden @rukia-writes @snowmantita @brokensenseofhumor @itz-hel @nicasdreamer @imperfectbloodmoon @swallowtail-lotus @m3l-moony @riseofamoonycake @bumblebees-knees-threes @praisethesuuun @telvess @salmonpoki @aresarmyblog

#ror/snv characters as students #buddha snv #snv #ror #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #snv hades #ror hades #snv buddha #ror buddha #snv shiva #ror shiva #ror parvati #snv parvati #ror headcanons #snv headcanons

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drunk-on-dk · 1 year

Text

Track 1: Hotel | Choi Seungcheol (m)

Track 1 - Hotel // Montell Fish - playlist linked here

Pairing: Heir!Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader Genre: SMUT (minors DNI), angst? w/c: ~3.1k (some change, barely proofread tbh) Summary: Old Money/Heir!Seungcheol can't help but invite you to his hotel room no matter how dangerous you are for him and his reputation.

Explicit Content - Minors DNI, Listeners 18+, NSFW Warnings Below

content warning: unprotected sex (stay protected pls); oral (male receiving); no specific pronouns used, but reader has female anatomy & wears a dress; degrading name (brat); bratty reader; dom!cheol; big dick!cheol; rough?cheol (pussy slapping, choking, makes the reader crawl); a bit of commentary on shitty businesses for the sake of minimal plot; secret hooking up lmao

a/n: lol this is the beginning of my playlist series and I just got so excited I couldn't wait to post! I hope you all enjoy it! As always, all feedback is appreciated <3

“When I met you in that hotel room

I could tell that you were so bad news

But I keep messing with ya, messing with ya

And now you messing with me, messing with me”

Seungcheol knew you were bad news when he first met you in ECON 101 his first year of university. You had plucked his pen right out of his fingertips with a devilish smirk on your lips and continued to scribble your number down on his hand without a second thought after he had been assigned as your study partner for the semester.

Admittedly, you were very attractive to Seungcheol the moment he laid eyes on you in the lecture hall. However, he soon would find out you both lived very different lifestyles. Seungcheol was the son of a successful tech business tycoon; following in his father’s footsteps and only committing to majoring in business to please the demands of said father. You, on the other hand, were a stubborn, moral driven business major who scoffed upon finding out Seungcheol was next in line for a company that didn’t seem to care about their own employees. You sure gave Seungcheol an earful about his father’s company, in which Seungcheol was already aware of the scandals and fully agreed with all that you said, but he couldn’t admit that to anyone but himself.

Unfortunately for Seungcheol, you were painstakingly intelligent, and he swore he wouldn’t have made it through economics without your consistent help. Honestly, Seungcheol claimed he wouldn’t have made it to graduation without you being by his side for the next years to come.

Both of you resented each other in a way; Seungcheol wished to live a normal life and wished that he had half the wit you did, whilst you were envious Seungcheol blissfully lived his life with ease, not needing to lift a finger to get what he wanted. You turned a blind eye to it though, admitting that Seungcheol was smart and too kind in comparison to his hard exterior, and you believed he’d make a better CEO than his father one day. Maybe you could even keep his head on straight if you stayed by his side long enough.

Even though you were tons of help to Seungcheol in university, you had caused him plenty of problems outside of classes. You became an activist of sorts, using a platform that you had built online to speak out against companies that engaged in immoral acts. One of those companies being Seungcheol’s father’s company, quickly becoming a thorn in his father’s side upon your rapidly gaining popularity.

After university, Seungcheol found you at large business events, usually catching you conversing with important people in the industry, a pretty, stray hair framing your face as you’d scribble notes down in your journal. Later he’d spot you seated in the far corner of whatever gala it was you both were attending, a glass of champagne in hand as your sharp eyes observed the crowd, only softening when you’d spot Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s father demanded he kept a low profile at these events, and you were a controversial figure. However, it was hard to stay away from you, even when he knew his father hated the impact your words had on his business and would curse him out for ever knowing you. Seungcheol somehow always found a way to chat with you, basking in your snarky comments and rants that you’d sneak in by the bar. You were such a pain in the ass for Seungcheol in many aspects, but he was inevitably drawn to you from the beginning.

Seungcheol knew he was screwed when he started routinely fucking you after these events, typically inviting you up to whatever expensive hotel he was staying in for the night. You’d chuckle condescendingly at the ridiculous penthouse, but Seungcheol knew you didn’t care all that much when your dress would suddenly pool around your feet, stripping for him after just a blink of his eye.

To Seungcheol’s dismay, the first time you two snuck away had been caught by the paparazzi, and it had ended up in a business journal, calling Seungcheol out for flirting practically with the enemy.

Not even the scolding Seungcheol received that day could keep him away from you though; he just had to be smarter from now on. He couldn’t deny you when only you knew exactly how to ease his tension after these events.

Maybe the forbidden aspect is what drew him to you as well, but Seungcheol knew damn well that he loved how much of a brat you were for him. He couldn’t lie that you turned him on every time you tore his father’s business apart, shivers running down his spine as you’d run your mouth to him all the way home, and smirking at the fact you’d even dare to say such a thing in a limo funded by his father’s business. How ironic.

You’d keep going back to him as well, knowing that your relationship with Seungcheol was not practical in the slightest, even if part of you fantasized about a life with him outside of all this business bullshit, but damn, did he give you good dick. It sure did a good job at lessening whatever stress you felt at the end of the night.

It became routine, Seungcheol would invite you to his hotel, you’d scoff at the ritzy interior, and he’d stare you down expectantly from the opposite side of the ridiculously big room.

“Are you going to be a fucking brat tonight, Y/N?” Seungcheol asks, his husky voice sending chills down your spine as you try to keep your cool. “Or will you strip and crawl to me like how I asked?”

“Bite me, Seungcheol,” you spit out, but you can’t stop your fingers from playing with the straps and zipper of your dress.

“You better watch what you ask for.” God, you love the way his voice deepened in tone, coercing you to follow his orders as he watches you with a bushy eyebrow raised expectantly, and throwing his suit jacket on the floor like it was trash.

You refuse to break eye contact with him as you strip down, loving the way his gaze would falter when your dress finally drops to the ground and soaking in the groan that escapes his lips once he notices you have no undergarments on.

Dropping teasingly to the ground, you fall to your hands and knees, continuing to keep your eyes locked on his as you slowly crawl across the room to him. Seungcheol begins to strip himself, pulling his belt off once you’ve made it halfway to him, and finally unbuttoning his pristine white shirt, revealing the fiery skin you’ve touched so many times underneath it.

Ultimately making it to Seungcheol’s feet, his thumb grabs your chin, forcing your gaze back up to his after making eye contact with the obvious bulge in his trousers. Sitting on your knees, you pull his thumb into your mouth, running your tongue around the digit and gliding your hands up his solid thighs.

“Oh,” you coo condescendingly, “did your in-staff pleat these pants for you? I’d hate to ruin the perfect ironing job, Cheol.”

This is what Seungcheol adored about you; loved that you found a way to dig into his lifestyle and had enough courage to call out how he was fed with a silver spoon every day. It’s also what enraged him, unbelieving that you still thought so lowly of him after all these years.

“God,” Seungcheol ran his free hand through his hair, flustered by your boldness and the way you continued to suck at his thumb between your words. “I think this brat needs their mouth stuffed.”

“I didn’t crawl all the way here for nothing,” you pout, pulling away from Seungcheol with a ‘pop,’ and starting to work at his pants button. Finally pulling down both his trousers and underwear, you couldn’t hold back your chuckle after coming face to face with his brooding, leaky tip. “Looks like you need help, Cheol.”

The groan that bubbled from his chest was feral as he grabs at your hair, a large hand pulling it into his grip before he lines his length up to your mouth. “Open.”

You didn’t mess with Seungcheol when he got this demanding, your lack of words being enough to egg him on as your jaw drops slack for him, wet tongue falling out eagerly as you wait for him to stuff your mouth full.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N,” he pouts, cherry-red lips matching your puffy ones while awaiting your final consent before inserting the tip of his head into your expecting mouth.

“Fill me, Cheol, ‘m hungry for your cock,” you mewl, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes as you grant him your final blessing. As much as Seungcheol was a little shit, he sure was respectful as hell, and you couldn’t deny the flutter in your heart every time.

Finally giving in upon your permission, Seungcheol shoves his length past your lips, groaning out in pleasure when his head hits the back of your throat, only gagging around him as it still took you some time to get used to his size and how rough he likes to be.

“Such a fucking pro, Y/N, such a good little brat for me.” It becomes messy so fast, immediately acclimating to Seungcheol as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure. Seungcheol becomes entranced with the way drool pools outside of your lips, his pleasure intensifying as you moan around him, tongue working at the underside of his head.

The grip he has on you drives you wild, the heat at your core becoming more prominent as he bucks into your mouth and guides your head as you thoroughly suck him off. When he pulls you off, the only thing that connects you to him was the string of saliva hanging from your swollen lips and his hardened cock.

“Going to finish so soon, Cheol? Did it feel that good?” You pout up at him, a patronizing tone enraging him as he pulls you up to eye level, a strong hand wrapped around your throat before he pulls you into a bruising kiss.

“You need to learn when to shut up, Y/N,” he moans into the kiss, feeling even dizzier when you roll your body against his, the warmth of your skin on his reminding him of how real you are.

“Never,” you refute, smiling against his lips before he begins to nibble down the side of your neck. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I know it all too well,” he chuckles into your neck, sucking tenderly and pulling the delicate skin between his teeth, being sure to leave a mark on you. “Seems like you still need to learn a thing or two.”

You don’t even have a chance to mutter another word before Seungcheol is diving down to your chest, drawing a gasp from you when he pulls your nipple between his teeth, sucking and nibbling harshly at the peak. You almost collapse, but his hold on you is strong enough to keep you flush against his body, a reminder of the hard erection pressed against your lower abdomen.

Finally gaining enough sense to play into Seungcheol’s game, you egg him on even more, “how will you ever teach me anything?”

This is enough to rile Seungcheol up, turning you around and bending you over the armrest of the couch next to you. Falling face first into the plush cushions, you barely have time to process the harsh slap against your pussy, legs nearly giving out as the cool air and remnants of string burn at your core.

“Will this bratty pussy take me well?” It’s Seungcheol’s turn to be arrogant, knowing he has the upper hand as he runs his pointer and middle fingers between your folds, gathering up your slick on his fingers. You know he gets a taste of you, hearing his lips smacking as he hums in approval. “As much as I’d love to get another taste, I think you need to be stuffed full elsewhere to learn a lesson. You don’t deserve my tongue tonight, Y/N.”

“Please,” you’re giving in and begging for him at this point. “Please teach me a lesson, Cheol. I’ve been a bad all night.”

“My brat,” he’s teasing from behind you, your body and inner walls instantly reacting as you feel his tip prod at your core, collecting enough of your wetness before pushing between your folds. The guttural groan he lets out has you pushing back, allowing for him to fill you until his hips encounter your ass and you’re both crooning in satisfaction, “Always know how to take me so well, like the good little thing you are. Not sure there is much of a lesson other than shutting that mouth of yours, which I can do by filling you to the brim.”

Unfortunately, he is absolutely correct, the only words escaping you are incoherent pleas as he begins to drag his cock out of you before shallowly thrusting inside of you again.

Seungcheol’s nails are digging into your hips as he slowly tries to regain his senses, the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is already making him feel delirious. The only vice you have is the velvety fabric of the couch, your nails leaving trail lines in the luxurious fabric as you try to come to and adjust around him.

The pace he sets is immediately brutal, his hips crashing against yours as he begins to thrust in and out of you. The sound of your skin slapping against his is lewd, and a honeyed gasp is pulled from you with each snap of his hips.

You’re clenching so tightly around him he swears he could lose himself in you, a hand slapping against once your ass cheeks in frustration as your walls continue to suck him in so perfectly.

“Feel s’good, Y/N. This bratty pussy always proves to take me so well, how are you so damn tight all the time?”

You’re so breathless with your response that he barely even hears you, but he can’t hide the smirk that graces his features when you admit exactly what he wants to hear, “no one fucks me like you do, Cheol. Only you fill me so well, s’big and s’good.”

“You always know exactly what to say, huh?” He’s pulling you back up by the neck now, fingers wrapping around you like a necklace as he props one of your legs up on the armrest, allowing for better leverage to fuck up into you.

You’re moaning pathetically at this point as he bullies his cock up into you, the friction of his head dragging between your walls so delightful, just like he’s made for you, and his actions arousing you even more. Seungcheol’s lips are all over your skin, leaving trails of saliva down the back of your neck and shoulder, his hot lips sending blissful shivers through your body and coercing your head to fall back into him. His fingers run across your chest, rolling your nipples between the digits as he whispers dirty, sweet nothings into your ear.

Eventually, his fingers make their way down your torso, thick pads meeting your swollen clit and drawing an embarrassingly loud cry from you. Seungcheol continues to thrust up into you, his head contacting your cervix in the most pleasurable way and winding up the hot coil inside of you even more.

It’s devastating how familiar he is with your body at this point, knowing you’re way too fucked out to even refute any of his words, and recognizing the tell-tale sign that you’re close to finishing as your walls pulse uncontrollably around him, legs weakening but he holds your entire body weight up with ease.

“Does my brat deserve to finish?” It’s so annoying the way he bites at your ear when he edges you closer and closer to your release, thumb circling your clit in a tantalizing motion and intensifying the heat burning in your core.

“I don’t know,” you bite back a moan, sick of the games he’s playing at this point and rolling your hips back to meet each of his thrusts. Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle as you try your best to talk back, “you tell me, Cheol? Did I do well?”

“You did so well until now,” he lets out a breathy sigh, pulling his fingers away from your throbbing clit, but it becomes a strained groan as you clamp down even tighter around his length.

Pathetically, you fall back down onto the couch, your own hips chasing his motions, grinding back into him all before you’re just about slamming your ass against him with each buck of his hips.

“Fuck,” he’s moaning out, calloused hands palming your ass and meeting you with each thrust, watching where he connects with you as his cock disappears into your pussy with each desperate plunge back into you. “I take it back, you did so well. So, so, so well.”

With that final praise, you’re falling apart on his cock, walls clamping down on him like a vice and trembling and crying from beneath him, muscles shaking as you feel your arousal shatter within you. Seungcheol is following suit, unable to hold himself back when you feel this good around him, letting rope after rope of his cum fill you just how you like it.

Seungcheol falls against your body, pounding chest meeting your back while he shallowly thrusts his hips into yours, milking the rest of both your orgasms and memorizing the whimpers that come from you as you begin to feel overstimulated.

Seungcheol’s a gentleman of course, treating you to a nice, hot bath in the jacuzzi sized large enough to fit an entire group, and tucking you into the silk sheets of the pretentious hotel. Even after this luxury treatment, Seungcheol can’t avoid the snarky comments you mumble before you drift off to sleep, which is so damn endearing that he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Admittedly, it’s always disappointing when he wakes up the next morning and you aren’t there, even if Seungcheol knows it’s for the best. The note you leave with a water bottle and medication for his hangover is always enough to keep him hooked, your pretty handwriting reminding him to leave a good tip for the staff, a kiss mark of your lipstick as a signature and reminder of you.

God, you were bad news for him, but he’ll keep you around as long as he can. Even if that means just inviting you up to these damn hotel rooms for now.

#svthub #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #choi seungcheol smut

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