#I am just not sure how tatted I

[intramoon]

Finally, working on custom tattoos for Wednesday - 40% done?

[kithtaehyung]

minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍🔥 note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva @aaclariww and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far? 

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy? 

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand. 

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs. 

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table. 

This man, though... 

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams? 

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.” 

Fuck. 

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question, 

“Do you remember yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” 

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea. 

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone. 

He still remembers it, too. 

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room. 

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not? 

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.” 

Your eyes blink thrice. 

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know? 

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.” 

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair. 

“So tell me.” 

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—” 

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?” 

Damn it. 

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales. 

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch. 

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.” 

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice? 

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..” 

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question. 

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over. 

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.” 

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.” 

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in. 

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave— 

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.” 

Oh, shit. 

Oh, shit. 

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?” 

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space. 

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm. 

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?” 

It takes you a second to process. 

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior. 

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close? 

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were. 

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?” 

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal. 

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying, 

“You really wanna know?” 

Looking up, you nod. 

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.” 

“His.. What?” 

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this? 

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.” 

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to… 

How naive. 

“His plan could’ve been solid.” 

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone. 

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.” 

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself. 

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter. 

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.” 

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?” 

“Someone he royally pissed off.” 

“Mm.” 

“You’re not gonna punish him?” 

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.” 

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore. 

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

Great. 

So much for being… Safe up… here… 

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again. 

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave? 

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.” 

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed. 

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders, 

“Can’t believe you used me.” 

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.” 

Fucking hell, he’s right. 

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.” 

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.” 

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared. 

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall. 

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.” 

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.” 

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not. 

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back. 

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe. 

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time. 

“Tell me more. About grey zones.” 

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?” 

“Yes.” 

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react. 

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets. 

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh. 

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely— 

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth. 

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs, 

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.” 

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.” 

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.” 

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.  

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly. 

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing. 

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans. 

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze. 

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.” 

“Why only in certain ones?” 

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.” 

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.” 

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain. 

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.” 

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.” 

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.” 

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place. 

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you. 

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along. 

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things. 

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle. 

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis. 

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment. 

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.” 

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.” 

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.” 

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer. 

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him, 

“But it’s helping.” 

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold. 

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.” 

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.” 

“I might.” 

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.” 

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?” 

Yoongi turns to look at your lips. 

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say. 

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this. 

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.” 

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.” 

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.” 

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing. 

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?” 

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance. 

“You tell me.” 

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating. 

You’ve never felt quite like this. 

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be. 

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before. 

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying. 

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over. 

And yet. 

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch. 

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him. 

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.” 

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.” 

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness. 

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second? 

“Since you what.” 

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip. 

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.” 

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was. 

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes. 

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over. 

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute. 

There was something you never circled back to. 

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered, 

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?” 

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.” 

“Prove it.” 

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire. 

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets. 

But because the motherfucker was right on the money. 

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know? 

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want. 

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning? 

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.” 

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?” 

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.” 

“Keep it.” 

What? 

“It’s yours.” 

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence. 

Who even is this man? 

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.” 

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.” 

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”  

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?” 

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.” 

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.” 

“You expect me to believe you?” 

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.” 

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.” 

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.” 

“But I want to.” 

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.” 

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod. 

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds. 

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started. 

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over. 

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city. 

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?” 

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.” 

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.” 

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.” 

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.” 

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else. 

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.” 

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.” 

“You never bothered me.” 

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.” 

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?” 

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.” 

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.” 

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.” 

“Where’s he at now?” 

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor. 

“Yoongi?” 

He turns. 

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer. 

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest. 

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown. 

“Not much to tell.” 

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in. 

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises. 

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips. 

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours. 

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops. 

Sounds muffle. 

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side. 

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door. 

It’s a phone ringing. 

A fucking. Telephone. 

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him. 

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved. 

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room. 

Shit. 

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up. 

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off. 

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim. 

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt. 

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse? 

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.” 

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.” 

“Nothing.” 

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade. 

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.” 

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger? 

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up. 

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns. 

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause. 

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid. 

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole. 

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat. 

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Say it and it’s yours.” 

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.” 

“How.” 

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…” 

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking. 

Tell him. Four words. 

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter. 

“So sensitive..” 

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.” 

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?” 

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing? 

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss. 

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease. 

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”  

“But what if someone—” 

“They won’t.” 

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side. 

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick. 

Your very, very wet slick. 

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices. 

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.” 

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth. 

Sucking. 

Licking. 

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars. 

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles. 

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want. 

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two. 

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point. 

“You good?” 

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.” 

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?” 

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.” 

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.” 

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by. 

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now. 

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real? 

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?” 

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move. 

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!” 

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover. 

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck! 

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other. 

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.” 

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like. 

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him. 

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name. 

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze. 

“Move your fucking hand.” 

Your eyes fling wide. 

“I wanna hear you.” 

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest. 

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes. 

“You’re gonna scream for me.” 

“Or else what.” 

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder. 

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.” 

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes. 

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” 

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed. 

Like a normal person. 

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms. 

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half. 

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent. 

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper, 

“I wanna see you.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor. 

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid. 

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent. 

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.” 

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.” 

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.” 

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.” 

…Huh? 

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.” 

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense. 

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.” 

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course. 

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.” 

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling. 

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else. 

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint. 

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you. 

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin. 

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward. 

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip. 

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.” 

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts. 

Fucking hell, this feels good. 

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off. 

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your  lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right. 

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.” 

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next. 

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.” 

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning. 

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare. 

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton. 

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.” 

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat. 

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall. 

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.” 

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out. 

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”  

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?” 

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.” 

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with. 

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.” 

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.” 

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied. 

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.” 

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.” 

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?” 

“Yes.” 

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.” 

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.” 

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses. 

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.” 

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.” 

“Good girl.”  

Wait, did he say again? 

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move. 

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs. 

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.” 

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank. 

Your laugh only spurns him on. 

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes. 

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go. 

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed. 

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.” 

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged. 

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.” 

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat. 

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward. 

“Just felt like calling you that.” 

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.” 

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it. 

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.” 

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.” 

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!” 

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest. 

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.” 

He can’t say stuff like that. 

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest. 

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling. 

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock. 

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck. 

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.” 

“Show me more then.” 

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours. 

“Just like that. There you go.” 

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you? 

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad. 

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.” 

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home. 

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise. 

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears. 

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.” 

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell. 

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives. 

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good? 

Both of you may feel the same. 

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you. 

It’s done. 

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller. 

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom. 

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever. 

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder. 

Was it all worth it? 

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have? 

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for. 

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp. 

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum. 

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.” 

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.” 

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself? 

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion. 

“What?” 

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.” 

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?” 

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.” 

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt. 

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily. 

And both of you groan so full. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry. 

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again? 

Holy fuck, again? 

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside. 

Was it all worth it? 

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case. 

But it’s okay. 

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for. 

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling. 

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away. 

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper, 

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.” 

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer, 

“S’ok.” 

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin. 

“Just stay on your side.” 

Ah. 

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night. 

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals. 

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows. 

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference. 

Don’t think too much about it. Do not. 

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...” 

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts. 

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact. 

“You’ll always hate me.” 

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in. 

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs. 

Did last night really happen? 

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so. 

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is. 

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one. 

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home? 

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean. 

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over. 

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes. 

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..” 

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants. 

Yoongi isn’t here. 

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts. 

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door? 

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths. 

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds? 

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder. 

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do. 

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture. 

What the hell is going on? 

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall. 

And his hair is strikingly… 

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!” 

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question, 

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?” 

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?” 

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

-

-

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[lolitalovess]

thinking about loser vi with a mean reader. oh my god i am about to BUST (rec from anon, nsfw under cut)

loser vi who is absolutely unbelievably broke (maybe from the ridiculous amount of money she's spent on funko pops, sims 4 game passes, the expensive ass eye shadow pallets she has (and will also buy for her baby sis) because she will absolutely never leave the house without a smoky eye, her belt collection (that you'd tie her hands with WHAT WHO SAID THAT), the vintage comic books she likes to collect (basically just anything interesting to her WILL lead to bad financial decisions. especially you.)

loser vi who's love language is physical touch with a little bit of gift giving and words of affirmation. will buy you anything just because she wants to (but not flowers, she'd make a bouquet herself by picking flowers she sees on her walks). just out of pure love. she thinks with her heart (cannon), she appreciates you and loves you and she wants you know that.

you two go thrifting together. you see a mini skirt or a flannel you like. you go up to her and ask for it (the same way she asks you to buy some fuckass spiderman boxers from target), and she cannot say no. you're her collar.

loser vi who likes tea. black tea. and colouring those colouring in books with markers and art pencils she borrowed from pow. and shed a good cook. makes lethal spaghetti.

loser vi who thinks you're so alluring. your style. the way you think at different times during the day. the music you like. the way you respond to people during arguments. how many blankets and pillows you like to sleep with. the way you get ready for the day. the piercings and tats you already have, and the ones you want to get. the way you wake up. your interests (bonus points if you have the same ones as her).

loser vi who would try to tease you herself throughout the day by wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, her hips pushing up against your ass a little more than it normally would with a normal hug, being all confident and saying something like "you're gonna be a good girl for me later, right?"

and you are so incredibly unbothered. and she absolutely loses her shit when you do this to her first chance you get, biting down on her bottom lip and giving you those needy puppy eyes when you rut your foot in between her thighs.

loser vi who is naked, face down ass up later that day without you doing anything to her and you're still fully clothed sitting next to her. she's begging for you to touch her when she hides her pink dusted cheeks in her hands and pillows, her pussy so wet that she's sure she can feel it smeared on her thighs.

loser vi who loves 69, especially when she's ontop with her ass in the air for you to grope and slap, moaning with her tongue pressed flat against your cunt when you do.

loser vi who would bark like she wants it. pls tell me someone gets this.

loser vi who, when it gets to a certain point of teasing from you would start crying, hands cupping her face and wiping away her tears with your thumbs and leaning your head down a little bit to kiss her. you won't slow with your thrusts, of course you won't, because she's just so cute when you're fucking her with your strap and you won't let her cum, the whimpers and moans she lets out being one of your favourite things ever.

loser vi who will beg to eat you out. mentioned this in a past post, she likes hiding her whole head under your skirt when she eats you out (this is for more of a fem reader sorry), she just finds it so sexy when you finally let her after you make her wait for so long, licking at your pussy like it's her favourite sport. it is.

loser vi who gets so frustrated when you ride her in reverse cowgirl, the harness of the strap brushing against her clit in a way that makes her uselessly whine in protest. she knows she can't touch you in any way, knows she can't slap your ass or grab your waist and hips or thrust her hips up to meet you or whatever the fuck because she knows she'll get introuble by you. not that she already isn't.

loser vi who likes taking you to the 7/11 that's 5 minutes away from her (parents) house after sex (or whenever, really), lowk melting into your touch when you kiss her in the middle of buying slushies and rainbow sour strips♡!!

sorry this isn't a fic i couldn't find it in me to write one. i fear she has risen my standards to beyond heaven. this is so ass. loser vi who is such a loser. that's it. there's nothing else to put.

[sailorsoons]

Chat, is that Rizz? (j. ww)

PAIRING: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader 

SUMMARY: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

WC: 5,366

AU: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals 

GENRE: Smut, a hint of fluff

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

A/N: Originally written on sailorrhansol for @daechwitatamic I'm pretty sure this came out of us doing god awful puns and this was the result.

A/N 2: This is unedited sorry!

MASTERLIST | ASK | PERMANENT TAG LIST 

“You’re never going to hit Immortal with that strat, Wonwoo,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.” 

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.” 

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat. 

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird. 

There is a lot of weird. 

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?” 

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord. 

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?” 

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo. 

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding. 

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage  of quality time spent with me-” 

“Not a benefit.” 

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?” 

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.” 

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single. 

 “See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?” 

“Fine, it’s a date.” 

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting  your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.” 

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?” 

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.” 

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice. 

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.” 

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.” 

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace. 

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.” 

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items. 

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course. 

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.” 

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.” 

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.” 

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”  

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.” 

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands. 

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.” 

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false. 

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes.  “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting. 

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.” 

“What can you teach me, Angel?” 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match. 

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin. 

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.” 

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in. 

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.” 

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur. 

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.” 

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time. 

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on. 

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera. 

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.” 

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents. 

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?” 

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.” 

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts. 

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Huh?” 

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.” 

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts. 

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment. 

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?” 

“Not like yours.” 

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.” 

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you. 

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss. 

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you. 

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.” 

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up. 

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.” 

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you. 

Fuck you realize he might do this all night. 

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.” 

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.” 

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine. 

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him. 

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine. 

“Why should I?” 

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.” 

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.” 

“Closer…” 

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.” 

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.” 

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again. 

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm. 

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz. 

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?” 

You do. 

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can. 

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep. 

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass. 

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound. 

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.” 

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness. 

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest. 

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.” 

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious. 

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving. 

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace. 

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name. 

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts. 

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.” 

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth. 

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky. 

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half. 

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your overwarm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid. 

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him. 

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.” 

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?” 

-

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[666kuna]

Dilf! Sukuna would be one of those guys that defend women in danger+ would also be so bad at rizzing girls up that he just sounds desperate and pathetic[endearing]

“You’re the new teacher? I didn’t know they hired young girls these days. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d be the reason my son is getting his abc’s” he says as he looks at you up and down savoring every curve and line of your

You gave the parent a benefit of the doubt and took whatever he said as a compliment all while returning his “compliment” with an awkward chuckle.

“Thank you…”

“Say…if you come by my house and give some private lessons for him I’m more than capable to pay you more than the school does” he says smirking hiding the perversed meaning behind his shit request.

It’s the first time some weird parent tries to pull this type of behaviour on you the whole interaction leaves you in shock as you smile awkwardly trying to find the right words to respond and the patience to not punch him in the face. Your heart beats rapidly with your fists turning clammy and white from anxiety of not knowing what or how to respond to the fool of a parent.

“MISS Y/N I MISSED YOUUUUU” a familiar pink haired kid comes running as he gives you a hug. Shocked was an understatement by you were more than grateful for Yuuji to intervene.

“you know me and your teacher were having a conversation don’t your parents tell you that it’s rude to interrupt adults” The random parent says giving Yuuji a fake smile.

“Yeah? I’m the parent.” Sukuna says curtly with the most unamused expression known to man.

The male turns around to take a look at whoever the parent of the funky insolent child only to be greeted by a 6’5 fully tatted male who looked like he was more than capable to break his bones with just a simple flick. It also didn’t help the fact that Sukuna’s aura(lol) was more than threatening enough on its own without having to say a single word.

“I guess kids these days don’t learn enough manners I’ll take my leave for now” the inferior male says gulping as he puts up a front before scrunching up his face as he walks away.

Sukuna glares daggers at the stupid fool making sure he leaves the vicinity.

A huge breath of relief was let out as you kneeled down onto Yuuji’s height thanking him and his scarily hot dad for saving you from whatever the situation was.

“You guys have no idea how thankful i am, Yuuji you and your dad literally saved me”

“WE KNOWWWW, Hiro’s dad is a bit creepy” Yuuji says happily as he brings out a couple of souvenirs from his summer trip with his family to you before running into the building excitedly leaving you and his dad alone.

“Did he ask you if you for private lessons?” Sukuna asks with a smug smile

“Yes- what how did you know?!”

“He’s a douche and a weirdo he says that to every new teacher even the volunteers. I hope you’re okay after that interaction” Sukuna scoffs annoyed at the male’s behaviour. Knowing that Sukuna at his prime would’ve beaten the hell out of the weirdo for making women uncomfortable.

“I’m fine honestly I wish I could return the favour i don’t even know what i would’ve done if you and Yuuji didn’t come by” you say in a appreciative tone

Sukuna upon hearing this immediately takes the opportunity to ask you on something that has been on the back of his mind from the moment he laid eyes on you.

“You can return the favour by coming by my place for dinner I’ll cook, I can even pick you up just let me know when you’re free” he says in the spur of the moment not noticing he sounds like a desperate, desperate man.

You were so shocked at Sukuna’s abrupt response to the point you could literally feel the heat rising onto your cheeks making you smile sheepishly before bursting out in laughter.

“I didn’t think you would ask me that, but im free anytime on Saturday is it fine with you?”

“Saturday? Perfect” he says grinning as he sees you walking away he came to his senses realising he forgot to ask for your number

“You didn’t give me your number” he says from afar

It was your turn to leave him into the flustering mess. You smirked looking back at the giant of a male waiting for your response.

“I have yours don’t worry i’ll text you later” you say playfully.

It was true you do have his number. You’ve saved it from the moment he sent Yuuji on the first day.

Sukuna was lucky enough he didn’t have whatever his dad had cause frankly Sukuna would’ve probably gone into cardiac arrest with that statement alone. With that it is settled Yuuji will be sent off to Toji’s house for a sleepover while his dad gets straight to business.

Edit:not proofread was done when im literally ten secons awya from asleep i appoliguse for shit writing

[littelovelunette]

hey, what about an angst/fluff ex lovers to lovers with vi, like it was a looong relationship, but circumstances made them break up, so when reader goes to vi's place to pick up her things, reader also return the promise ring vi gave to her, but vi ask for a second chance, and i mean, who can refuse? its vi

btw, love your work, hope ur okay! 🩷

Happenstance

"It's been nine months we've been together and now you just want to break things off!?" Your eyes were teary, you were angry but you were also sad.

The building emotions caused a storm inside you, you were breaking on the inside but you couldn't let that show. You couldn't let this breakup tear you apart.

"It's just not working, I'm sorry, I really am," Vi said, looking away as she tried to avert her gaze from you but the tears in her eyes told you a different story.

"I can't believe you," you walked out of the door, abandoning all your belongings in Vi's place, all the memories you shared with her. Dancing in the kitchen while you made waffles together. Sitting by the window while the rain splattered on the glass, sharing stories of the past.

All gone, all broken.

All snatched from you.

You didn't know how far you had gotten from Vi, but wherever you were you didn't recognise the neighbourhood. With a small groan, you reached for your phone in your back pocket, calling your sister.

"Hey, Amber... mind if I crash at yours for the night?" You asked, trying to steady your breathing so it didn't seem like you'd been sobbing your heart out.

"Yeah, sure... Have you been crying?" Amber asked, you could hear the car keys jingling on the other side.

"I-It's a long story," was all you could manage, wiping your tears on your sleeve.

"I guess I'll, yeah— I'll pick you up, send me your address and I'll come,"

"Thanks,"

The next day was a blur, you ringed Vi up with the generic "I'll pick my things up at 8," talk but you could've sworn her voice sounded hoarse like she'd been drowning herself in alcohol and her own tears.

But she couldn't have, right? You knew Vi, she was prideful to the point her ego shot right through the troposphere of the planet, she couldn't have.

Thanks to the terrible traffic, you were thirty minutes late to Vi's house. When you turned the doorknob, you realised that the door was already open.

Who leaves their door unlocked? It's like a silent beggery for robbery.

"Vi?" You called but there was no answer to your voice, only a small sniffle that schoed from the room you once shared with the tatted woman.

A small sigh escaped you and you walked to the room, opening the door with quite a loud creak, you peeked inside.

There she was.

Curled up on the floor, hugging a photo frame you both got for your third month anniversary, the carpet soaked with her tears and an empty bottle of God-knows-what brand of alcohol.

"Vi," you walked upto her, fidgeting with the ring she'd given you once promising the eternity of the relationship she had broken due to unavoidable circumstances yesterday.

"You don't get to do this to me," you said slowly slipping the ring off, "You don't get to break up with me and then play victim."

"Oh, sweet baby, I'm so- hic- sorry," Vi looked up, eyes bloodshot and droopy, her blue eyes dulled with the pain of something you couldn't quite register.

"Vi, we can't," you put the ring on the desk, leaning to pick the handle of your suitcase up, "You have to let me go," you attempted to pull at the suitcase but Vi latched onto it like a crazy ex-girlfriend.

Vi let out a broken laugh, one that cracked at the edges, her grip on the suitcase handle tightening as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality.

"No, no, no, please—" she slurred, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with so much raw desperation that it made your chest tighten. "I—hic—I didn't mean it, baby. I swear, I didn't."

She tried to push herself up but stumbled, landing back on her knees with a pathetic whimper. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks as she clutched at your sleeve instead, her fingers trembling.

"I love you," she mumbled, burying her face into your arm, her breath reeking of alcohol. "Please, don’t leave me. I—I'll fix it, I'll fix everything. Just—just don’t walk out that door."

"I can't—" her voice cracked, "I can't do this without you. I don't wanna do this without you. Please, please, please, baby, I—I'm sorry."

Her grip loosened just enough for you to step back, but the moment you did, she let out a strangled sob, reaching for you again, her nails digging into the carpet.

"I'll change," she gasped, forehead pressing against the floor. "I'll do anything, just—" a hiccup interrupted her words again, "Just say you’ll stay. Just say you still love me."

"I'm too sober for this," you mumbled before kneeling down to her, hugging her, "I still love you," you mumbled.

"I love you too, please, don't leave," Vi squeezed you tightly for a second.

You heaved a sigh, just when you were about to get your life together after the breakup, Vi wanted to get back together.

You didn't know what would happen after the alcohol wore off but you were tired too, shifting to get comfortable on the floor.

"Have any more of those?"

[reignpage]

I have no clue if this was asked or not but how would the “Like Father, Like Daughter” men react to their daughter getting tattoos or/and piercings.

Also! I am in love with all of your work 💚💚

Pro

Gojo - highkey jealous, man wants piercings and tattoos too but he also loves his perfect image but also he doesn’t and ugh, he just doesn’t have the balls to try something new and he’s very impressed, like you got your bravery from him of course

Geto - man is a very supportive and accepting father, who is he, after all, to say something against piercings? so yes do whatever you want as long as you’ve thought it through, would even go to the studio with you and make sure every thing’s in order

Sukuna - he’d think you were a pussy if you didn’t have any piercings or tattoos and he ain’t raised no bitch, he’d probably force you to get a tattoo or a piecing for birthdays or if you lost against him in a match of any kind

Anti

Choso - i think it’s not about the tattoos or piercings cause also not really in a position to be against it, it’s more the idea that his child got needled and hurt, he just wants to protect you from everything there is in the world and he’s like oh no now you have a hole in your ears or your face, and oh no that won’t rub off

Nanami - ultimately if that’s what you really want he won’t stop you, but he wouldn’t be very supportive. he’d frown and lecture you about the risks of infection and job security etc then you’d bring up his emo phase and he’d sigh and say you got him there. would cringe every time he looks at your appropriately visible piercings or tattoos but wouldn’t shame you for it

Does not give a flying fuck

Toji - ‘don’t gotta ask me if you can or can’t, you already know it’s up to y’r ma. no ‘course I don’t care, why the fuck would I? you could tat y’r entire face and you’d still be just as ugly as you were before lol oh come on, don’t cry, she’s gonna hear and get all pissy with me. ah fuck here take some money and go buy y’rself ice cream or something, y’r ruining the game for me’

[worldlxvlys]

teasing

(part four of the CRUSH series)

bsf! matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutt, no actual p in v, masturbation (male + female), cursing

a/n: read the previous part for context !

“god, you look so beautiful. and your voice? i could listen to you talk all day”

the camera was aimed at his face, but the wet squelching of him jerking himself off could be heard in the background. he was breathing heavily, the sounds of his low pants filling the room.

if he was trying to be discreet, he wasn’t doing a good job at it.

“just-just please keep talking to me, okay ? need to hear your voice so fucking badly”

the video cut off.

i quickly began to record my own video.

“so fucking needy matt, why don’t you show me what you’re doing baby? i can help you, but i gotta be able to see. wanna make sure i’m doing it right”

“you keep sending videos, i’ll keep talking to you pretty boy”

i ended the video and sent it to him, he opened it immediately.

“what am i doing? just enjoying the sound of your voice, sweetheart”

his shirt was off now, the movement of his tatted arm making it obvious that he was still pumping himself furiously.

“ imagining you’re in front of me, on your knees. that pretty face looking up at me while i make a mess all over it. but what i really want is to hear the way you say my name when you’re twitching and shaking under me”

my hand crept past the waistband of my skirt and panties, a moan slipping past my lips while i played with myself.

“ i’d play with you through your panties, watch you squirm while the lace catches on your clit. you just love to tease me, don’t you? let’s see how you like it when i do it back”

the video ended.

i pulled my panties down my legs, holding them in my hand while i hit record;

“you’re right about one thing baby” i spoke, moving the lacy panties into the view of the camera, “i love wearing lace”

i trailed my hand back down to my heat, rubbing the panties against it.

“god, it feels so good matt” i moaned out, eyes screwing shut. “i think about your hands all the time. such long fingers, and those veins? makes me wonder if that’s the only thing on you that’s so veiny”

my breathing began to pick up as i thought about all the times i’d seen his dick push against his pants, practically begging to be sucked.

“and don’t get me started on those grey sweats you love to wear. god, you’re such a slut, basically begging to be fucked dumb. bet you’d like that, huh?”

“you talk about wanting me under you, but what if i made you work for it? what if i made you get on your knees and beg for it?”

SENT.

he opened it immediately, once again. after a few minutes my phone began to ring.

INCOMING FACTIME CALL: MATTTTT 🤭

ACCEPT ? DECLINE?

when the call connected, the sound of matt’s heavy panting rang through my ears. “i’d do it, i would. i- fuck, i’d get on my knees and say whatever you want me to, do whatever you want me to. i’d be so good for you”

“yeah? tell me what you’d do, matt” i spoke as i propped my phone up, angling it so he could see my hand disappearing under my skirt without showing off what was underneath it.

“oh my god” he whispered to himself, mouth hung open slightly as his eyes were fixated on the screen. “i’d make you get on all fours, and finger you just like that” i let out a moan at his words, spreading my legs wider.

“i’d push a finger in slowly, teasing you a little” he spoke, watching while i followed his instructions and pushed in a finger. “like this?” i asked.

“hm, not sure. can’t really see, baby” he replied. “stop teasing me and i’ll stop teasing you” i countered, continuing to move my finger inside of me slowly.

“take it out” he spoke firmly, catching me off guard. “what?” i asked in surprise.

“take your finger out and move it up to your clit, slowly” i followed his instructions with a low huff.

“what, you have an attitude now? i thought you loved teasing?” he spoke in such a cocky tone, i could practically hear his smirk.

i rolled my eyes at that, letting out a quick “fuck you”. his jaw clenched at that, his eyes becoming darker.

“you think i’m playing with you? don’t move. i’m coming over” he spoke quickly, putting his phone down to pull up his pants.

“wait, what?” i asked, finding myself shocked again. when he came back to the phone he was fully dressed and walking out of his room.

“you heard me, stay on the phone. i wanna make sure you don’t touch yourself” he spoke before yelling out to his brothers, “hey, i’m going over to y/n’s, i’ll probably just stay there tonight”

he shut his front door and made his way to the car. “you better have that attitude fixed by the time i get there” he spoke before pulling off.

well, shit.

main masterlist

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tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[xstarrgirllx]

his queen

- joker!rafe cameron x villain fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the joker and harley in suicide squad but a little less toxic (lowkey obsessed with it)

the dim light of the club bathed the room in a murky haze of reds and blues, the air electric with pounding bass and the clink of glasses. but none of that mattered to him. not the noise, not the bodies moving around the room, not even the wad of cash burning a hole in his pocket.

the joker’s bright blue eyes were locked on her.

she moved in the center of the floor like she owned it, and maybe she did. every sway of her hips, every arch of her back was deliberate, intoxicating. the way she laughed, sharp and wild, sent a jolt straight through his chest. his queen. his chaos.

sitting in his booth, a drink untouched in his strong hand, he leaned back, draping one arm over the edge of the velvet seat. his signature smirk curled across his face, beautiful yet dangerous, but his gaze softened in a way it only ever did for her.

she twirled, hair whipping around her face, and when her eyes caught his for just a second, he felt it like a punch. he gripped the edge of his glass, the tension in his chest mounting. how did she do that to him? bring him to his knees with just one look?

“boss, you good?” one of his henchmen muttered from nearby, his voice tentative.

rafe didn’t even bother looking at him. his focus was all hers. “good?” he echoed, his voice low and dripping with that dangerous charm. “oh, i’m more than good, barry. that—” he gestured lazily toward her, his rings catching the dim light. “that right there is a masterpiece.”

she laughed at something or someone too close to her, and his smirk twitched. one thing about him was that he didn’t share well, and she knew it. he could see the game she was playing, feel the tug of her invisible strings pulling him in. it wasn’t fair, but he loved it.

toxic? sure. obsessive? definitely. but he didn’t care.

when she finally found her way back to him, her breathless smile daring him to say something, she slid onto his lap as if she belonged there. cause she did.

“enjoying the show, rafey?” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief, knowing she’s the only person he’d ever let call him that.

his tatted hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, his grin sharp as ever. “you know i can’t look away, doll. you’re the fire, the spark and i’m just the poor fool who keeps getting burned.”

she laughed, throwing her head back, and he watched her like a man possessed. feeling a sense of pride as he watched her necklace with his initial glittering in the light. “is that what i am to you?” she asked, brushing a hand along his sharp jawline.

“you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl now, “are everything. and you’re mine. don’t you ever forget it.

and she wouldn’t, because even as twisted as they were, the joker’s love for her was the one thing that was undeniably real.

[hellsitegenetics]

My name is Yoshikage Kira. I’m 33 years old. My house is in the northeast section of Morioh, where all the villas are, and I am not married. I work as an employee for the Kame Yu department stores, and I get home every day by 8 PM at the latest. I don’t smoke, but I occasionally drink. I’m in bed by 11 PM, and make sure I get eight hours of sleep, no matter what. After having a glass of warm milk and doing about twenty minutes of stretches before going to bed, I usually have no problems sleeping until morning. Just like a baby, I wake up without any fatigue or stress in the morning.

I was told there were no issues at my last check-up. I’m trying to explain that I’m a person who wishes to live a very quiet life. I take care not to trouble myself with any enemies, like winning and losing, that would cause me to lose sleep at night. That is how I deal with society, and I know that is what brings me happiness. Although, if I were to fight I wouldn’t lose to anyone.

String identified:

a ag a. ’ 33 a . t tat ct , a t a a, a a t a. a a t a att t, a gt a 8 at t att. ’t , t ccaa . ’ 11 , a a gt gt , att at. At ag a ga a a g at tt t ttc gg t , a a g t g. t a a, a tt a atg t t g.

a t t at at cc-. ’ tg t a tat ’ a t a t . ta ca t t t t a , g a g, tat ca t at gt. Tat a t ct, a tat at g a. Atg, t gt ’t t a.

Closest match: Noctua janthe genome assembly, chromosome: 16 Common name: Lesser broad-bordered yellow underwing moth

[captainquake42]

> ♡ °. INKED UP

♡ part two

☆ kwon jae sung x fem!reader

> summery:

it’s the first round of the tournament and to no one's surprise miyagi do’s first opponents are cobra kai. unfortunately for kwon that meant trying not to get distracted by you fighting his teammates in what was basically a capture the flag game, only instead of a flag the goal was throwing the captains to the mat.

OR kwon should have no problem staying focused and yet here he was.

> notes + warnings:

anybody else a d1 yapper?

the middle pic is the tat she got ( at least that's what I had in mind) in part one // part three if you'd like :)

Google translate was used for the korean and likey wrong (sorry bout that)

also posted on my ao3

> 1.5k written by:

S A R A H

Kwon had a problem. A shooker to everyone but him.

It was just his luck to make captain of his team at the most feared karate tournament in the world and still fuck up as soon as he got there.

It didn’t seem to matter that he had only just barely had time to touch his toes to the mat before he was unable to keep a clear goal in his mind. He was supposed to be thinking of nothing but his goals and how to achieve it. But instead he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Your voice, how you said his name, your hair, your tattoo he went with you to get last night. It was embarrassing. No, scratch that—it was humiliating. He’d only meant you last night! The sheer audacity of you being this distracting was going to make him lose his mind. He was so spacey that Yoon, of all people, called him out on it.

All the weeks of training leading up to this, the grueling late nights, and the blood, sweat, and tears he'd put into this moment—gone. Wiped clean from his brain like it was never there because of you. Like you were playing a game with his head and hit reset instead of continue.

When he forced himself on your little trip, he honestly didn’t plan on doing anything but make sure you got there and back safe. He had no idea that you were a yapper. And he doesn’t mean that like you just make conversation, but more that you were allergic to silence. Kwon heard more words from you in two hours than he’d ever heard from his own siblings. You told him, unprompted(!), about how you were a 3x wrestling state champ going for a fourth this year, that you hated curling your hair but liked the end product, how you couldn’t braid your own hair but everyone else was easy, that you’d only done karate for two years, and so on hardly stopping to breathe. It was a wonder that had him half-wondering how on earth you hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen.

“ Ibwa! Byeongsin daejang, jibjung jom haebwa? (Hey, Captain asshole, maybe focus?)” Yoon snapped at him, dodging a flying kick from one of your teammates, the one with a mohawk, before kicking him off the mat.

“ Dagchyeo, Yoon. Na jibjunghago iss-eo. (Shut up, Yoon. I am focused.)” He grunted jumping into a flying kick, taking out one of your teammates with a satisfying thud.

“ Amado geunyeoege jibjunghaess-eul geoya, ( Focused on her, maybe),” Yoon shot back, and Kwon considered the pros and cons of “accidentally” taking down his own teammate.

Pro: Yoon wouldn't be able to talk to him for at least two minutes.

Con(s): he’d be mad when this was done and Kwon’s team would be down a number for the round.

Probably not worth it.

In the corner of his eye he watched you grab Hana’s, his teammate’s, foot before her kick could find it’s mark. You shoved her foot up above her head throwing her off balance and getting in close, you hooked her ankle with your own to rip it out from underneath of her forcing her to fall, and taking her out quickly. Which makes that 3 of his teammates out, and 2 of your’s.

Which left your twin brother the male captain to him, Yoon and your curly haired teammate, Tory and the female captain, with you trading opponents going back and forth between Yoon and Tory, opening weak spots for your mates to take advantage of.

Robby, if he remembered right, grabbed his leg, so Kwon twisted midair, using his pivot and jumping foot in a spin kick that forced him to let go so he didn’t take Kwon’s ankle to the jaw.

Kwon got two more hits in before Robby was able to knee him twice, Robbby had him in an arm lock but something must have grabbed his attention because he hesitated for a second too long and Kwon instantly took advantage. He punched him in the face, with that same arm he wrapped it over Robby’s chest and squeezed making his back bow. Robby elbowed him twice to get out of it, and threw a punch, unfortunately for him he swung too wide and left his waist open for a hip throw that Kwon took advantage of.

He looked over and saw you mid back handspring to avoid hitting the ground via Yoon’s foot. Yoon himself had been put in a headlock by a curly haired boy and was about to be thrown.

“ Miyagi do’s captain goes down.” Kwon heard the announcer say. “ Cobra kai beats Miyagi do. Last standing, cobra kai and the iron dragons.”

Sometime before their win the falchi della notte team got taken out, leaving shit all six of the iron dragons remaining.

He, Tory, and Yoon gathered in the middle of the mat.

“ Got any more ideas?” He grumbled.

Yoon made a face. “ Same as last?” He suggested halfheartedly.

“ Yep,” Tory said. “ Pierce the front line, go for the captains.”

Before the trio could take more than three steps, the iron dragons did something nobody saw coming, the entire front line took a knee, voluntarily taking themselves out. They all walked off the mat to line up behind their captains next to their sensei.

“ I’ll take the little girl, you two get the big guy.” Tory said switching places with Yoon on her right.

Kwon and Yoon exchanged a glance.

“ Geudeul-i ulileul gwasopyeong-gahaneun geolkka, animyeon uliga geudeul-eul gwasopyeong-gahaneun geolkka? (Are they underestimating us or are we underestimating them?)” He asked Yoon, rolling his shoulders back.

Yoon shrugged. “ Al-aboja (Let’s find out.)”

Find out they did.

Turns out iron dragon’s male captain is strong as fuck. Not good at fighting – all though that too, but physically. He got him and Yoon out in seconds, and Tory fell to the female captain at the same time, after getting put in a submission arm bar forcing her to tap out or break her arm. Kwon barely had time to process his opponent’s size before he was yanked off his feet and slammed to the mat. He blinked up at the ceiling, winded, as Yoon met a similar fate a second later right next to him.

Kwon groaned as he pushed himself up, wincing at the ache in his ribs. “ Naega WWE gyeong-gie deungloghago issdaneun sasil-eul mollassseubnida. Geuneun galadedo aneun geolkkayo, animyeon geunyang jaemisam-a salamdeul-eul ilijeoli deonjineun geolkkayo? (Didn’t realize I was signing up for a WWE match. Does he even know karate, or is he just throwing people around for fun?)”

“ Dangsin-i na-ege malhaneun. (Your telling me.)” Yoon wheezed, rolling onto his side. “ Maybe if someone had suggested watching more film on these guys, we wouldn’t be eating mat right now,” Yoon added pointedly switching to english so Tory could understand him, giving Kwon a side-eye as they got off the mat.

“ Oh, don’t start. We trained for fighters, not human bulldozers,” Kwon shot back with a wince after rolling his neck weird.

“ Save the excuse for later. As soon as this round is done, we’re going back to the locker room and watching every second of footage we can find on every team in this tournament.”

Kwon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was definitely in trouble. “ Hear that Tory? Don’t think you can skip out again.”

Yoon was still grumbling under his breath.

“ Yoon,” Kwon began, his voice heavy with frustration as he tightened his fist. “ I get it. You're salty. But maybe save the lecture for when we're not licking our wounds in front of every dajang here.”

Yoon shot him a glare, rubbing at his ribs. “ You think this is about being salty? This is about us getting our asses handed to us because someone,” he jabbed a finger in Kwon's direction. “ Didn't think we needed to study footage.”

Kwon scoffed, flexing his jaw as he brushed some imaginary dust off his shoulder. “ Oh, I'm sorry, Yoon. Did you want me to spend more time obsessing over grainy tournament clips of every match? Maybe you can build a time machine and tell me how that guy has forearms the size of my thighs!”

Tory groaned from where she leaned against the barricade. “ Both of you, shut up. My arm’s not broken, but I swear I can still feel her pulling on it. Did she dislocate my shoulder? Or just my dignity?”

Kwon glanced her way, smirking. “ Well, your dignity's definitely bruised. Not sure about your shoulder, though.”

She rolled her eyes. “ Keep talking, Captain. It’s not like you didn’t just get folded like a lawn chair.”

Before Kwon could retort, Yoon cleared his throat loudly. “ Alright enough. The point is, we’re screwed if we keep going into these matches blind.”

“ Round up the rest of the team and have them meet us in the locker room, Tory. I’m gonna see if one of our sensei’s bought their laptops.” Kwon said.

“ First good decision you’ve made all day.” Yoon said.

[gamblersdoll]

manipulation, work drama, coworker! sukuna

people hated and loathed working for him, he was a total brute and alot of times, an asshole.

he was known to piss employers or colleagues off, weather it be his smart ass mouth or it be he got into a fight with them. it worsens, as soon as he got into a management level.

he was also known to let people go for the smallest of things, (really, really small things). hes even let a man go for having bad breath, because what made that acceptable for work? especially for customers who came in— and he doesnt feel like dealing with that.

you somewhat feared him, this being your longest job and the only one thats kept you from being unemployed. in this economy? youd die. plain and simple— but yet, you have no qualms with the brute. they called him ‘the devil’s employee’ for anything he did, always running his mouth. yet, all you saw was a man who somehow got a job even with all the body modifications, yet back then youd be let go if your hair was ‘unkempt.’

who did he have to bargain to get this job?

your mind raced as your feet led to his office, he having the closed door policy— dont bother him unless he bother you, or emergency. even then, youd be fired if you came to him for an emergency.

three knocks on the door, and it swings open in a rage. “what?!” he looks for a bit, forgetting hes damn straight taller than everyone, and he finally sees you. “business?”

“uhh— you said you wanted me in yer office?” you remind, he nodding and beckoning his finger to his chairs. you only sneak inside, sitting immediately as he kicks the door shut. “whats this about?”

“you tell me.”

was he dumb, stupid, or slow? he cant be, he somehow got this job, so what the hell does he mean ‘you tell me?’

“uh, im not sure? you came to me with your demands.” you still have to remind this fine tatted fuck hes the one who called for you. it eats away at you, the nervous and tension bit at your skin for minutes.

“you look like a decently smart girl, yeah?” sukuna says, leaning back in his chair, almost manspreading and pressing his finger to his jaw to keep it up. “you know everyone of this company’s policies and procedures, huh?”

you nodded, giving a look as in ‘get to the fucking point.’

“so you should know there isnt a reason you should be intimate with coworkers.” he blurts, watching your face grow in confusion.

“you lost me.” you throw your hands up, sighing. “who am i supposed to be intimate with?” because how dare he— you hadnt been intimate with anyone in the workplace, not even outside (okay, not going too far.. just casually on dates!) so who were you dating in the workplace that he accused you of?”

“you know who im talking about.” he says monotone again, tapping his heavy foot on the floor.

“i truly dont.. sorry to tell.”

“saiko.” he says, as if you were supposed to know who that was. “says hes been seein’ you for the last couple of days.”

“saiko can kiss my ass.” you grit, he was known to find a pretty girl and just lie about statuses and relationships. “me and saiko dont even have each other’s phone numbers.” this had to be the most ridiculous thing you dealt with, thought sukuna was smart and maybe saiko would pick you next.

he raises an eyebrow , his vein slightly popping through his shirt. “watch yer mouth talkin’ to me, girl.” he reminds, could he write up for insubordination? no, hed just terminate you for it. “so if i were to investigate more, i wouldnt find anything you were hiding?”

“no, because again, i dont date inside my work.”

he nods, pressing his tongue against his cheek and he quickly stands. a couple small strides, and he folded his arms— standing over you. it looked lewd, like he was trying to shove his cock in your face. “you sure you wanna go with that, or am i going to find something else?”

he should be the one questioned about this, his literal groin was almost touching your face— dont even get yourself started on how big his thighs were. “no..?” you still say, because you were in the clear. he nods, backing away and he opens the door.

“beat it.” he beckons again, watching your hips as you walked out.

yet, there was a reason of his sudden questioning.

a sick, perverted, disgusting reason of why he asked, because hes had his sights on you for months, almost a year.

he could have just asked you on a date, a coffee run, or marybe just numbers. but your answers were known, he knew you didnt date inside the workplace. it angered him, he felt like he was indirectly rejected.

he knew he wasnt, but he also thinks you should know when its okay to let loose.

it was a simple crush he had— wouldnt even call it that to think of it, but it manifested itself into something else. he started having these lingering thoughts and looks, like he was longing. to hell with the ‘policies and practices’ bullshit, he had more power than anyone.

people who noticed that he was staring at you in meetings and gossiped were let go, with the reasons of insubordination, bad breath, improper behavior, many more.

he only grew more sick when he became a management level, having more authority over you— everyone he disliked. but that also ment he had authority over saiko, the man who wasnt as creepy as sukuna. he was known to find a nice looking woman and make up a scenario where you were dating.

and that angered the devils’ employee. because why the hell did he think he had a chance with you? how did he come up with this idea on his own? thats what sukuna wanted to know. and quite frankly, he didnt fuckin’ care.

saiko was then terminated and blacklisted, last you heard after your ‘meeting.’

[ivoryrebellionmess]

Spooky remorses II

Part I

Summary: You dated Jax for a year and a half, it was great. You fought sure, but that's a given if you´re both stubborn (and he's constantly in danger). Gemma didn't like the relationship, and she made sure that it ended. Now, months after the breakup, your friend takes you to a Halloween party that just happens to be SAMCRO´s.

warnings: 18+, mdni

A/N: hiii omg i cant believe so many people liked the first snippet. thank you so much, honestly, i am beyond excited. so here´s a follow up, hope youu like it <3

tw: foul language, kinda hooking up with your ex, jealous jax, smoking,a little bit of spice, alcohol, gemma being mean

Word count: 4096

As you got to the middle of the dancefloor you saw Juice and Hazel and went over. Juice and you had gotten close while you dated Jax. He was easygoing, funny and nerdy, and the first of the boys to warm up to you. 

He lifted you from the floor when you hugged, ¨How are you Juicy??¨. 

He seemed genuinely happy to see you, and he gestured to Hazel when he answered, ¨I´m great. You look awesome, the fangs are hot¨.

Finally someone complimented you on the fangs, you personally considered they made you look way hotter, but whatever. 

Your relationship with Juice had always been the find of friendship where it feels like you´ve known each other forever, so flirty jokes had always been present. Hazel seemed surprised at the closeness you had with him, but it made sense that you had friends there if you had dated Jax for a year and a half. 

¨While you two catch up¨, she interrupted smiling, ¨I´m going to the bathroom and to get another drink¨

Juice and you danced for a little while when his shirt sleeve rolled up and his bicep was visible. Before you could help yourself, your hand was on it.

¨What the fuck happened to you since I´m not around? You on steroids or something?¨ Juice laughed at that and shook his head. 

He flexed his muscles while he talked about the new work out he´d been doing, ¨You like it?¨

He kept flexing his arm, and you kept laughing and touching him. Both of you oblivious to Jax´s stare, a mix of annoyance and jealousy. Chibs wasn't obvious though, and he did what he was there for. ¨You don't look too happy there, Jackie-boy¨.

Ever since he'd seen you go in, he was on edge, he didn't know why. Okay, he did, you looked awesome and it wasn't for him. He regretted what had happened between you, and he felt guilty, he should've stood up for you to his mom. And now you were there, all gorgeous. But it wasn't for him, and you weren't with him. You were with Juice, admiring his muscles. And it pissed him off. You thought you could just walk in? Not even say hello? Prance around looking that good? Flirt with one of his brothers? All of that in front of him?

Juice and you were still joking around about how girls just swooned when they saw his ¨guns¨, as he liked to call them. If Jax thought that was as bad as it got, he was wrong when a song you loved came on and you seemed determined to have Juice dance it with you. He eventually accepted and pulled you close to him by your waist,  your arms around his neck. Jax was burning holes between his brother's tats when Chibs decided to continue his quest.

¨They´re getting cozy, aren't they?¨. He could feel the scot staring, but his eyes were glued to you.

To Juice´s hands on your waist, to the space separating your bodies that seemed to be getting smaller by the second. And your face, you were laughing at something, you lit up when you laughed. The way your right hand traveled from Juice´s neck to his arm again, squeezing it teasingly. He could feel the tension in his jaw, how tight he was gripping the beer, his knuckles white. And so could his brothers. 

Then, you turned your head to look at him, your gaze uninterested and bored, and said something in Juice´s ear. That was it, you had crossed a line. Ignoring him was one thing, but that look of pure disinterest, you could not ignore what you meant to each other. So he started walking before he could think about it, not knowing what he was going to say when he got to you. 

While you danced and joked, you suddenly felt Juice´s demeanor change, but you didn't need to ask what was going on.

¨Shit, I don't think Jax is loving this¨. He didn't stop dancing, but you could tell he was being careful. 

You decided you were not going to take it seriously so you retorted, ¨Why wouldn't he like us dancing?¨

Juice chuckled, but his tone was serious, ¨Don't play innocent, you know he's jealous¨

You just couldn't resist a peek, was he really?, so you turned your head, very focused on keeping a neutral face, and looked at him. He did look jealous, and annoyed. You tried not to let it get to you, trying to have a good time. 

So you made a joke, you had to get close to Juice´s ear so he could hear it, ¨Is he scared you´re gonna make a move on me or somethin´?¨

Instead of an actual answer, you saw Juice´s look of terror. Turning around, you understood why. Jax was walking towards you, an angry look on his face.

Juice´s whisper got mixed with yours, ¨Oh, hell¨ and ¨For the love of god-¨

Jax stopped in front of you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you two. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw before speaking in the coldest tone you'd ever heard from him. 

¨What the hell is going on?¨ It was an easy question, with an easy answer, but you weren't feeling like taking the easy and safe route. 

Did you know he probably thought you were flirting? Yes. Did you care? No.

So, before you could think, or Juice could answer, the snarky remark was out your dark red lips. ¨What's it look like, genius?¨

It didn't seem possible, but his jaw clenched harder, he wasn't even looking at you. ¨It looks like you're flirtin´with Juice, gettin´all up on him right in front of me¨ There was something bitter about the way he answered. 

¨You think I care that you´re here? ¨ Of course you did ¨You think I did this for your attention?¨ You hadn't, you actually hadn't. You were just trying to have some fun and ignore the hottest guy in the room. 

Jax knew you were just trying to provoke him, and it was working, but he refused to give you the satisfaction. He just hated seeing you two together, laughing and having fun while he was miserable. And maybe he also hated how damn close you had been dancing. The way you were looking at him, a challenge in your eyes. Go ahead, make a scene. He absolutely hated that he was about to.

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. ¨I don't think you did it for my attention, but now you have it. So cut it out¨ 

What did he think was going to happen? You'd just agree? No, he just wasn't thinking straight anymore. 

You, of course, only challenged him further. All that was needed for that were a scoff and two words. ¨Or. What.¨

Another step closer, you could touch him if you wanted to. ¨Or you´ll find out, that's what¨ He just growled an empty threat, you both knew it. He also knew he was out of patience and you were not going to keep pushing his buttons. 

You realized something then, he had growled, and you heard him. How had you been able to hear him with all of the noise…everyone was staring at you. Well, fuck. 

¨Okay people this isn't a show, go back to the party¨. With that, you left the clubhouse, only stopping against one of the picnic tables to lay against it and breathe deeply. 

Jax´s eyes followed you, as they had through the night. He could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on him, this had turned into a bit of a spectacle. He let out a frustrated sigh as he followed you to the picnic table, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. 

You heard him before you saw him, and as usual around him, you spoke before you thought. ¨You did always like to be the center of attention¨. 

The snarky comment had Jax gritting his teeth, his anger flaring up again. He did not speak, however until he was standing in front of you, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

¨I don't know what the hell your deal is tonight, but you´re really pushing my buttons, you know that?¨ 

To that, you only shrugged, looking at him coldly. ¨My deal is I just wanted to have some fun¨

Maybe looking at him had been a mistake, if he had looked good from afar, he looked even better right in front of you, illuminated only by the streetlamps. He was wearing what he always wore, and still he had never looked better in jeans and an oversized white t-shirt. Your face did not show any of that obviously, it was neutral. He could tell you were angry though. But you could tell that so was he, so you were in a tie. 

Fun, that was what you were calling it? He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. ¨Yeah, real fun. Gettin´all cozy with Juice, practically making´out with him in front of me. That your idea of fun?¨

You bit your lip, trying not to lose it on him, the fake fangs drawing his attention. ¨So let's see if I got this right¨ You put all the poison you could in your words, hoping they stung as much as seeing him again did. ¨You´re mad that I danced with Juice, whose attention was on me, as opposed to dancing with you¨ You poked his chest before continuing ¨who didn't even say hi when I walked in?¨ 

He felt a pang in his chest at that, you were right, he´d been so caught up in his anger and jealousy that he hadn't even considered how he had ignored you up until that point. Jax looked away for a moment, a flash of guilt in his eyes. 

¨I didn´t-¨ He started to defend himself, but cut himself off, you were right. Instead he let out a frustrated huff.

¨Yeah, that's what I thought¨ You let a beat of silence pass, then looked at him again. Fuck he looked good . ¨Got a smoke?¨ You needed something to do with your hands.

Jax looked confused for a second, his eyes scanning your face, staying on your lips for a second too long. He was still mad at you, but he obliged. ¨Yeah¨

He patted down his pockets until he found a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He took one out and handed it to you with his lighter. You only took the first, bringing your hand up as you asked , ¨Light me?¨

His pulse quickened at the simple request, something about the way you said it. A bolt of desire went down his spine. Something in him wanted to challenge you, so instead of just lighting it, he took the cigarette from your fingers and placed it between your lips, lightly brushing them. You made an effort to not show the way he affected you. Jax then leaned in closer, shielding the flame from the wind with his hand, not touching you. Your eyes were locked on his, the intensity of the moment almost unbearable. The fire made his eyes sparkle, you got lost in them. 

His gaze was still fixed on yours as you took the first drag, his face so close to yours he could almost feel your breath on his lips. The intimacy made his heart race, his anger slowly fading into the background. Your anger also became less and less prominent, upstaged by a complexity of feelings. 

Jax grabbed the cigarette from you and took a drag of his own, never breaking eye contact. The air between you was electric, crackling with tension. It was hard to breathe, having him so close. He blew the smoke, you felt it on the tip of your nose before it was blown away by the wind. His blue eyes were relentless, never breaking from you, not as he took another drag, and not as your hand searched for his to grab the cigarette. It felt like the tension was growing thicker by the second. Jax was very aware of how close he was to you, how easily he could just touch you. 

He watched you smoke, and you watched him. Until your eyes focused on the cigarette instead of his blue ones. You followed the lipstick stained cig, and then your eyes stayed locked onto his lips. They wrapped around the end of the cigarette, then closed while he held the smoke in, and finally parted to let the smoke out. Jax could feel your gaze on his lips, it made his stomach clench with desire. 

He took another drag, slowly and deliberately, his lips closing around the cigarette in a way that was almost sinful. To top it off, he let out a low hum, eyes never leaving yours even if you were not looking him back, mesmerized by his lips. He was fully aware of the effect he had on you. And you both knew it. You cursed him mentally when you realized he was doing it on purpose.

When he hummed though, that was straight up mean, and this time the curse came muttered under your breath, ¨fuck-¨

Jax smirked at your cursed response, his ego inflating. He could tell he was riling you up, and he was loving every second of it. 

¨What was that, baby?¨ His voice was low and dripping with false innocence. And using baby so casually, like he would while you were together. None of it was accidental.

He took another drag, this time he watched you with a wolfish smile playing on his lips. You couldn't let him win.

Your hand went up to his face, sneaking the cigarette from him and taking it to your own lips. You exhaled the smoke in his face, lips almost brushing his. 

¨Didn't say anything¨, you played along with his innocence, replicating it.

Jax´s heart skipped a beat when your hand snatched the cigarette from his mouth. He could feel your breath on his skin when your lips came so enticingly close to his. The innocent facade only making it harder not to close the space between you. But he knew it was only an act, one he wasn't buying.

He chuckled lowly, ¨Yeah, sure you didn´t¨. His eyes fell to your lips again. Your gaze was fixed on his eyes, the hungry look in them making it harder to think of a comeback. 

You did what you could, taking a drag, hoping it would distract you, it didn't. ¨Yeah, sure I didn´t¨

Had it been the smartest thing to say? No, but it was the best you could come up with, so it would have to do. You had to up your game, he couldn't  win. Jax  found your teasing infuriating, it was also hot, yes, but infuriating. He was on edge, trying to keep his thoughts in check each time your lips wrapped around the cig. The need inside him to kiss you senseless was overwhelming, clouding his brain. 

¨You're such a damn tease¨, he growled, ¨you know that?¨

To say that the growl had made your knees weak would be an understanding, so you decided to bring it up a notch too. It was only fair. 

You replied in what could be considered a purr, rather than actual talking. ¨Don´t know what you´re talking about¨

His body ached to touch you, he gritted his teeth, wanting to kiss you until you couldn't breathe. Hell he wanted to kiss you until you couldn't remember your own damn name. The next time he talked you could hear the desire dripping in his rough voice, ¨God damnit, darlin´¨

You liked the effect that had had on him, so you purred again, this time closer to his ear. ¨What is it baby?¨ 

You hadn't meant to call him baby,  it slipped, you got too lost in the heat of the moment. If you weren't so distracted, you'd realize the importance of what you had just said, the major step back you'd taken in getting over him. And his beautiful blue eyes. And his perfect lips. But he didn't give you time to think about all of that because his eyes darkened, his body stiffened by the tension. The sultry purr, calling him baby, you made him want to show you how much he'd missed you. 

¨You know damn well what you're doing to me¨, the desire was mixed with a bit of a warning. It did nothing to scare you off.

Using the hand that wasn't holding the cigarette, you pulled him closer by his belt loop, all caution thrown to the wind. 

¨Remember when we used to smoke together? Blowing the smoke into each others mouths?¨. You sensed him nod, watching him clench his jaw.

The reminder of those memories felt like a punch to his gut, your mouths touching, feeling your breath against him, the way your kisses would taste,...Jax felt like he was drowning.

His hands came to rest on your hips and his voice was barely  rough whisper, ¨Yeah, I remember¨

You hummed, enjoying the feel of his hands on you, yours now resting on his abs, ,¨Havent done it in a long time, have you?¨

You could feel him tensing under your hand, fingers caressing his skin over the white cloth. His mind was spiraling, it had been so long since he felt your touch, and he wanted more. Jax tried to pull himself together, shaking his head and looking at your eyes. 

His husky voice broke the silence, ¨No¨, and hesitantly, he added, ¨Not since you¨.

The hold on your hips got harsher, holding steady against his body. It made you press your legs together, and even worse, it pulled a groan from your throat. The fact that he hadn't done it with anyone else held significance, it felt like it was yours, it was something you did whenever your screaming matches reached a dead end. You´d share a cigarette, and it always led to this, which always led to bed. Or a couch. Or wherever. Even the pool table once.

Your legs pressing together did not go unnoticed, igniting in him the urge to pin you against the picnic table and take care of it himself. But he needed to keep some semblance of control, even if it was slipping further and further away. He did lean in closer, pressing himself against your body, his mouth so close to your ear you felt his beard scratch it. 

But you couldn´r let him have this, so taking control over your body. Okay, maybe taking control was an exaggeration. Regaining an inch of self control, you whispered in his ear, ¨Wanna do it again? for old times sake?¨

Jax´x breath hitched as your breath ghosted over his ear, it took him a few seconds to understand what you said. And when he did, a shiver ghosted down his spine. His eyes fell closed as he fought the desire inside him, the want to do very ungentlemanly things to you against that table. But when had he even been a gentleman? He opened his eyes and looked at you, sending sparks though your whole body. 

When he spoke and you looked up to him again his eyes were practically burning with desire. ¨Fuck yeah, I do.¨ His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to resonate through your whole body.

You did not have the strength to do anything, scared that your hands would tremble or your voice would shake. It wasn't a problem, because Jax took the cigarette from your hand, letting his knuckles graze your fingers. Your touch against his abs was driving him crazy. So did your smell. And so did your eyes, which were locked on his lips. The heat of your body, even if it was a chilly october night, made his mind travel to dark places. He took a slow drag. 

¨Open up¨, his voice was raspier, holding the smoke in his lungs. 

Your lips parted on their own accord, your head moving closer.That made Jax hum, itching to close the space between your mouths. His next command came right before he exhaled, not giving you time to react or answer, ¨Inhale¨. So you just obeyed, lips barely touching his. 

That graze sent a wave of heat through his body. Every little detail, from the way the smoke curled around your nose to your hand tracing patterns on his abs, was more overwhelming than the last. It was a hard fight against himself, against the crippling desire to fuck you right then and there. The anticipation though, was making the moment hotter and hotter.

Your self awareness, the little voice screaming don´t do this, seemed to have disappeared with your self-esteem when he next ordered: ¨Hold it in¨. You almost moaned at that, his dominant side had always had that effect on you. Your hand moved to his waist, needing somewhere to hold on to before your knees gave out. 

Your hand clutching his waist, that brought back memories. way more naked memories. Your body pressed against his, he was sure you could feel how hard he was against your thigh. And you could. It was distracting. You felt his arm move up again, but your eyes were locked on his. 

Jax got closer as he spoke, his lips now millimeters from yours, ¨Ready?¨ You could taste the smoke as you exhaled. 

Then your mind managed to work for a short second, what did he mean by ready?. ¨Another one?¨

Jax seemed to be a second away from tearing your dress off  as he answered, ¨Yeah…another one¨. It was a challenge, he was challenging you, the stubborn bastard. But you were definitely not losing this fight. 

So as the cigarette came closer to his lips again, you snatched it, ¨My turn. ¨

He could hear it in your voice, you were fighting a losing battle, so was he. The idea of losing control with you in this moment, though, seemed appealing and terrifying at the same time. What you got instead of an answer was a groan and a rub,  his impossibly hard dick against your soft thigh. You didn't realize you had moaned until he mocked you for it, ¨You need to keep it together baby¨, then his head moved lower as he bit your earlobe, ¨We haven't even started yet¨. 

His sass, as much as it bothered you, was hardly enough to keep you from clashing your lips with his. But he pulled away, his voice dripping sex and cockiness, ¨Show me what you got¨, nodding to the cig in your hand. And you had no voice but to obey. 

So you took a long drag, hoping it would distract you from the ache between your legs. It didn't. Moving the hand from his waist to his face, you caressed his lower lip and decided to throw his words back at him. 

¨Open up¨. You sounded way more confident than you were expecting, or felt for that matter. You could tell it had bothered him, good . That's not all it did, it caused him to hum. And as he parted his lips, his tongue darted out and licked your thumb. You shakingly exhaled the smoke, not knowing how much more you could take. 

Jax did not need your instructions, closing the gap between you and inhaling the smoke, not pulling away even after he let the smoke out, you were breathing the same air. Jax somehow got closer, one of his hands steady on your hips as the other moved up, finally setting on the back of your head. His fingers traced patterns on your nape, sending shivers down your spine. Your mind was no longer yours as you slowly licked his lower lip. His lips parted a second later, but he didnt give in. Lucky for him, you didnt give a fuck anymore. Using the hand on his cheek, you pulled him closer and kissed him, your tongue in his mouth, battling for dominance. Fuck. It was somehow better than you remembered. And you couldn't get enough, his lips tasted like smoke and addiction. 

Life never made it easy for you as the clubhouse door flew open, breaking the moment, shedding light and noise on you. On your compromising position. 

[jayybugg]

dreams come true

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.

Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.

Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.

“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.

“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”

Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”

“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.

“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”

Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.

“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”

He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.

“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”

Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”

You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.

“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”

Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”

You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”

Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.

The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.

To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.

You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.

“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”

Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.

“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.

It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.

“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”

You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.

With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.

“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”

You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.

“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”

Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”

He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”

“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”

Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”

You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.

“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”

He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.

Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”

“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”

Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”

Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”

He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.

Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”

“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”

“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”

“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”

“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.

“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”

Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”

Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”

You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.

“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”

“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.

“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.

“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”

Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”

“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.

“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”

You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.

Today was truly a dream come true.

[sillylittlespam]

ISN’T IT DELICATE?

Delicate masterlist

Chapter One : New Captain Alert!

riordanverse characters x brooklyn 99 au!

detective!percy jackson x detective!y/n

Summary : (y/n) (l/n) wasn’t quite used to being a member of a precinct that actually cared about each other. She had been at the 99th precinct for almost a year, yet she still found herself keeping her co-workers at arms-length. She wanted to feel comfortable and open up, she just wasn’t sure how.

For someone who made a lot of embarrassing decisions, Percy Jackson hated the feeling of humiliation. But him and his big mouth somehow managed to get into a very public argument with his new coworker-slash-secret-crush, which ended in a very intense bet. If (y/n) made more felony arrests than he did, then she got his car. But if he made more felony arrests than her, he got to take (y/n) out on a date. And while he was glad to finally have a reason to talk to this absolutely gorgeous social recluse, it also meant that he finally had to go above and beyond at his job.

. : 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

“This job is eating me alive. I can’t breathe anymore. I spent all these years trying to be the good guy, the man in the white hat. I’m not becoming like them, I am them.”

“Jackson, what the hell are you doing?”

The dark haired man looked up to find his detective partner, (y/n) (l/n), watching him with a mixture of annoyance and confusion on her face. In her hands, she held a small notebook and a pen.

“I’m doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco,” Percy informed her, before turning to look at the camera that projected his face onto the many televisions behind him, “Or, actually… Ten of me are doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco.”

“Can you get it together?” (y/n) asked. Out of everyone in the whole precinct, she was one of the few people who didn’t at least somewhat enjoy his shenanigans. Turning back to the store owner, she continued reading from her notebook, “So the store was robbed about two hours ago. They took mostly tablets, laptops, and cameras-“

She stopped talking when the sound of ‘80s hip-hop music began blaring from behind her, and she turned around to give Percy a blank stare.

“Sorry,” he said, and quickly pressed the power button of the electric keyboard to turn off the music.

(y/n) let out a deep sigh before turning back to the store owner, “I’d like a list of all your employees. Whoever had access to the store. I’d also like to apologize for my partner, his parents didn’t give him enough attention growing up.”

“Excuse me, Detective,” despite the dig at him, Percy had a smile on his face as he addressed (y/n), “I’ve already solved the case.”

(y/n)’s arms dropped to her side, and her impatient expression encouraged Percy to continue.

“We’re looking for three white males, one of whom has sleeve tats on both arms.”

“And how do you know that?” (y/n)’s voice was more tired than anything as she made her way over to her partner.

“I had an informant on the inside,” Percy’s voice was dead serious, “He’s been here for years. Watching, learning, waiting.”

A moment of silence hung in the air as (y/n) waited for the punchline.

“His code name?” Percy took a few steps backward before reaching over one of the shelves to reveal a stuffed animal, “Fuzzy cuddle bear. He’s a nanny cam!” 

Percy flipped the bear over quickly before his partner could say anything.

“You got lucky,” (y/n) scoffed, shaking her head.

“No, I got here five minutes before you and figured that in this gigantic electronics store, there had to be at least one working camera,” Percy shot back, taking the chip out of the nanny cam and inserting it into the projector. The televisions behind them showed the robbers, one of them perfectly fitting Percy’s previous description, “Hi, bad guys!”

He picked up the teddy bear again, looking into it’s eyes, “You did it, Fuzzy. You busted ‘em. It’s time to come home.”

“I’m not sure if I can,” Percy lifted the teddy higher, pretending to voice it, and (y/n) rolled her eyes, “I’ve been undercover so long, I’ve forgotten who I am. I have seen terrible things. I haven’t known the touch of a woman in many moons.”

As Percy voices the teddy bear, it got increasingly closer to (y/n)’s face.

“All right,” she said, turning and walking away.

“Detective (l/n)!” the bear, aka Percy, cried, “Don’t walk away from me!”

If there was one thing (y/n) hated, it was losing. And at this very moment, as she sat in the briefing room and looked upon the whiteboard in front of her, she could feel the taste of defeat beginning to seep in.

“Yes, I did crack the case,” Percy Jackson announced from his seat across from her. For once he sat upright in his chair, his body turned to face her as he smirked, “(l/n). would you care to do the honors?”

Feeling the entire room turned to look at her, (y/n) sighed and pushed herself out of her chair. Once at the whiteboard, she erased the number 23 below Percy’s name.

“Yeah, and you’re just gonna wanna add one,” Percy called, as she wrote down the number 24 in very small handwriting.

“I hate this,” (y/n) muttered, mostly to herself as the rest of the room let out whoops, claps, and various cheers. The number under her name was stuck at 22, meaning that Percy remained in the lead.

“And I’m winning!” he exclaimed, “It’s a good feeling.”

As (y/n) turned to go back to her seat, the rest of the room burst out into applause. Her eyes fell on Percy’s green one’s. The large grin on his face provoked the smallest smile from (y/n), and she quickly rolled her eyes to cover it up.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she said.

“Oh, I will,” he shot back, moving to rest his legs on the table in front of him before she turned around to the front where one of their sergeants, Jason Grace, was taking the stand.

“Alright,” the tall, blond man cleared his throat before addressing the precinct, “PJ, any update on the Morgenthau murder?”

“Yeah!” Percy stood from his seat, running a hand through his dark hair, “Good news for all you murder fans.”

He brought out a few laughs as he made his way to the front to show off a presentation.

“Earlier this morning, someone decided to shoot and kill luxury food importer Henry Morgenthau. Body was found by the cleaning lady. During her interview, I deduced using expert detective work that she had something super gross on her chin.”

The room groaned at the photo he provided.

“I think it was flan,” Percy’s best friend, Grover Underwood, said after sipping his coffee.

“Grover thinks it’s flan, I think it was butterscotch pudding.”

“It could just be old person gunk,” Clarisse La Rue spoke up, her feet still propped up on the table in front of her despite the numerous requests to remove them, “You know how old people always have that gunk on them?”

“Oldie gunk,” Percy pointed at her, “Could be, yeah. Anyone else?”

“How about we focus on the murder, Jackson? And not the old person gunk?” Jason suggested, patiently.

“Crime techs are at the scene now,” (y/n) spoke up, “We’re heading back when they’re done.”

“Okay, I want you two on this,” Jason emphasized, “This is gonna be priority one for the new C.O.”

“Wait, tell us about the new captain,” Clarisse said.

“Captain Ramírez will be here soon. She’ll want to introduce herself,” he told them, “Dismissed.”

“I think it’s so cool that we’re going to have a female captain,” Hazel Levesque spoke up.

“You know what’s even cooler?” Leo Valdez asked her, “That she’s hispanic.”

That sparked a debate about whether being a woman or being Hispanic made their new Captain more of a minority. The rest of the precinct decided to mind their own business, and tend to their other tasks.

The arrival of the new captain was rather inconvenient, as Percy and Leo, the only two detectives who were not allowed to be left together due to their lack of rational thinking, had been left together and somehow managed to catch an almost full garbage can on fire. In a poor attempt to put the fire out, they had knocked it over and sent burning garbage all over the floor.

“Where the hell is the fire extinguisher?” Frank Zhang, the precinct’s other sergeant, asked frantically. A silent woman handed it to him, “Thank you!”

After the fire had been successfully put out, it took Frank a minute or so to notice that the entire precinct was silently staring behind him. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with a rather tall, stern looking woman with a very official police badge.

“Captain Ramírez!” Frank exclaimed, and Jason quickly made his way over, taking care not to step on the charred mess on the floor.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, Captain Ramírez,” the blond man stuck out his hand, “I can assure you that this sort of thing does not usually happen at the 99!”

“Why’s he lying?” Leo whispered, earning a smile from Percy and a shushing noise from (y/n).

“Captain Ramírez-Arellano,” was all the olive skinned woman said.

“I’m sorry?” Grace asked, lowering his hand.

“That is my name. Captain Ramírez-Arellano. I have two last names, I would appreciate for them to be used.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I wasn’t aware of that,” Jason reacted much quicker than Zhang, “Thank you for correcting us.”

She nodded once in acknowledgment, before turning her attention to the silent detectives.

“Everyone,” she began, poise and elegant like a copper statue, “I am your new commanding officer, Captain Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. I trust that you adults can handle yourselves for a few minutes while I have a word with your sergeants?”

She received a few nods, while the rest of the precinct remained too nervous to move.

“Gentlemen,” she gestured for them to follow her as she walked to her office.

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison, quickly following behind.

The detectives waited until the door closed to begin speaking.

“I think I’m in love,” Piper McLean spoke up, earning a few nods.

“I love her attitude,” Annabeth Chase, Percy’s other best friend, agreed.

“Is anyone else picking up a gay vibe?” Nico di Angelo, the precinct’s civilian administrator, asked. The room fell silent as everyone gave him a weird look.

“How the hell did you idiots manage to light a whole trash can on fire?” (y/n) asked, turning to Percy and Leo.

The pair shot each other grins, before shaking their heads.

“It was an experiment,” was all Leo said. They refused to explain any further.

In the Captain’s office, Reyna placed her name tag on the desk.

“Sergeant Grace, it’s nice to meet you. Sergeant Zhang, you were with me in the 1-8. Though… you were significantly…..” The captain chose her words carefully.

“Fatter, ma’am,” Frank said, “Yes, I go to a gym now.”

“Good for you,” Reyna’s tone was not at all sarcastic as she stood and walked towards the window, “Sergeants, tell me about your detective squad.”

A moment of silence hung in the air as the two men tried to figure out what to say.

“Hazel Levesque is my fiancée,” Frank spoke up, and the trio’s eyes fell to the dark skinned woman, who was diligently typing away at her computer, “We’ve been cleared and everything, so there’s nothing to worry about. She works hard, she does things by the book, overall she’s very good at her job. But we try to keep her out of the interrogation room.”

“Can she not handle it?” Reyna’s tone was almost surprised.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Jason held back a smile.

“You know I’m not mad at you, I just want to hear the truth,” Hazel leaned back in her chair almost too casually as her eyes scanned the face of the man in front of her.

Leo Valdez sat, confused as to why he had been dragged to the interrogation room, “Yeah, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that idiot act works on everyone else, but it’s not going to work on me,” the dark skinned woman sat up, her golden eyes burning holes into Leo’s brown ones, “You ate my pie. Admit it.”

“What? Hazel, no I didn’t-“

“You’re lying!” the Latino flinched at the volume increase as Hazel shouted and jumped up, slamming her hands on the metal table between them , “I know you did!”

“Hazel, sweetie, what the hell is going on?” the detectives turned to find Piper McLean had entered the room, “Also, beat it. I need to interrogate my perp.”

“Nico di Angelo, our civilian administrator,” Grace began, nodding to the desk outside the captain’s office. The young man he was referring to, however, remained in the huddled group of off-task detectives, no doubt whispering about what was currently happening behind closed doors, “He’s…scary. But he’s the guy you want sending awkward emails or confronting a lawyer. He is a college student, so this is kind of a part-time job for him, but he does it well. He only really got the job because he grew up with Percy, Annabeth, and Grover.”

“Nico, you managed to get eight at-risk kids to sign up for the Junior Police Program,” Jason said as he and Clarisse approached the young man lounging behind his desk, “How the hell did you do it?”

Nico looked up from his phone, “Oh, I just told them some crap about how they need to have passion for something in their lives. And when that didn’t work I told them about how much cops get paid, how they never have to stop at a red light, and get to carry a gun.”

“How did you know that would work?” Jason asked.

“That’s what made me sign up,” Nico shrugged.

“You did this program?” For once, Clarisse sounded surprised as she looked upon Nico’s shaggy black hair, silver skull rings, dark baggy clothing, and various chains.

“Yeah. It does not work.”

“While Nico is scary in the ‘caffeine withdrawal slash emo teenager’ kind of way, Clarisse La Rue is scary in the ‘I’m gonna pull you into a dark alley and beat you up’ kind of way,” Frank continued, his eyes falling on the curly haired woman, who was currently staring daggers into someone across the room, “She’s not the best at managing her anger, or doing her paperwork. She’s tough, smart, and very athletic.”

Clarisse had just arrived back at the precinct after a trial where she testified against a perp she had arrested. Hazel and Frank applauded almost genuinely as Clarisse spread her arms and did a mock bow.

“La Rue, you did it,” Frank congratulated, “They found him guilty on all charges.”

“Huh,” Clarisse smiled for once, “Hazel’s advice worked.”

She threw a light punch at the woman’s shoulder, who laughed in return.

“So where was your happy place?” Hazel asked, referring to the trick she suggested to keep her temper in check.

“I’m in a cabin in the middle of nowhere,” Clarisse began, “Inside it’s just me and that stupid, slimy defense attorney. And I’m beating the hell out of him. I break a dining room table over his head. Then I rip off his arm and shove it where the sun don't shine. Then I reach down his throat and shake his hand.”

Frank and Hazel looked at each other, speechless.

“Yeah, okay!” Frank finally said after he collected his thoughts, “I’m going to go ahead and schedule you for a psych eval!”

“Piper McLean can either be your best friend, or your worst enemy,” Grace continued, and the attention turned to the almond skinned woman wearing a snowboarding jacket who was whispering with Nico, “she grew up really well off, but once she turned 18 she decided to make her own money. She’s a very hard worker, but she can be a little…uneducated in certain aspects of life.”

It was around noon when the entire precinct was startled by the sound of an explosion.

A startled scream directed everyone’s attention over to the microwave, which had caught on fire. Piper McLean stood a few feet away, frozen in shock.

“Piper, use the fire extinguisher!” Annabeth called from the other side of the room.

“I don’t know how to!”

Grover, who was in close proximity, grabbed the extinguisher and successfully put out the fire.

“What the hell happened?” Clarisse asked, and everyone else began muttering their own questions.

“I don’t know, I-“

Grover opened the charred microwave to reveal a fork. At the sight of it, everyone let out an annoyed sigh.

“Did you put this in there?” he asked.

“Was I not supposed to? I’m sorry, I can replace it-“

Sergeant Grace and Sergeant Zhang exchanged looks.

“We need to schedule a ‘precinct safety’ meeting,” Jason muttered, and Frank nodded.

“Leo Valdez is going to be the reason I have a heart attack,” Frank Zhang sighed and nodded to the curly-haired Latino who stood in the center of the Off-Task unit, “I love the kid, but he’s insane. Somehow he manages to light everything on fire. But work-wise, he’s surprisingly efficient. He had a really rough childhood. His mom died and he was homeless for a while. Obviously that kind of stuff is still going to effect you later in life, so we try to cut him some slack if he’s having a hard time.”

“Hey, are you doing okay?” (y/n) quietly asked as she approached Leo at his desk. She had been watching him for a while, and his unexplained shift in personality was beginning to worry her. The precinct was having one of its rare quiet days, where all the extroverts were out chasing leads.

“Hm?” Leo looked up from his computer monitor, which had turned off ten minutes ago, “What? Oh, yeah, no, I’m fine.”

“Something about saying “yeah, no,” makes me think you’re not fine,” (y/n) said, a small smile on her face, “Do you want to talk about anything?”

Leo was silent for a moment, before he sighed.

“Ah,” he began picking at the zipper of his open jacket, “Today’s kind of the anniversary of my mom dying.”

“Oh,” (y/n) didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t sound good enough.

“And I just-“ Leo stopped himself, pausing to look out the window. (y/n) was pretty sure he was blinking back tears, so she awkwardly turned her head for a moment to give him some privacy, “I’m just having a hard time focusing. Literally all I have to do is finish this stupid report. I was supposed to be done an hour ago, I’m not even halfway done.”

“I can do it,” (y/n) said after a moment of silence.

Leo turned to look at her, almost confused, “What? No, (l/n), you don’t have to do my report, I-“

“No, I can do it. I fly through reports. And this way you can get started on something else,” she nodded to the sticky notes tapped to the bottom of his monitor with an overwhelming to-do list.

Leo’s eyes scanned (y/n)’s face for a moment. She stuck her hand out, and Leo eventually handed her the file.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, and she gave him a small nod.

“Grover Underwood is a member of what we higher-ups call the trio. It’s composed of him, Annabeth, and Percy, since they grew up together. Out of the three of them, Grover is the only one I would trust with my car keys,” Grace said, and the attention went towards the brown skinned man whispering to a blonde woman, “He’s a sweet kid, he loves animals, and bless the Lord, he has a sense of reason.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Grover Underwood made a show of announcing as he walked into the precinct, earning everyone’s attention, “Six banks robbed in three weeks, $250,000 stolen, citizens trembling in fear. Well, no more.”

“You got your bank robber!” Jason exclaimed.

“Went home last night, no overtime, just me and some brie. And I cracked it. So, here he is. The thug that’s been terrorizing the city. Say hello, Marvin.”

“Hello,” everyone’s smiles faded as they turned their attention to an eighty year old man with a blue scarf.

“Oh my Gods, he’s so old,” Hazel exclaimed, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

“He’s not that old!” Grover insisted, his own attitude dropping at the unexpected reaction, “his nurse isn’t even full time!”

“Annabeth Chase is scary in the ‘I know a hundred ways to kill you and even more ways to hide your body’ kind of way,” Frank continued, nodding to the blonde who was nodding to whatever Grover was whispering, “She’s the smartest person you know, until she’s around Percy and Grover. She can either be the biggest overachiever, or the biggest slacker. It really depends on the week.”

When Annabeth Chase sat down at her desk with a large cup of coffee, Grover, her desk partner, paused his conversation with Clarisse. The two detectives silently watched the blonde woman as she impatiently waited for her computer to turn on.

“What?” Annabeth asked as she finally noticed their eyes, her voice containing a slight rasp to it.

“Nothing,” the glance shared between Grover and Clarisse revealed the lie.

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, expectantly.

“You just look a little…tired, Annabeth,” Grover made sure to keep his voice light as he referred to the dark circles under her eyes, “Did you sleep alright?”

“I didn’t sleep at all, actually,” Annabeth blinked, her focus off in the distance, “I got off work late and went home. I started playing Minecraft, and got distracted with building the city of New York. Before I knew it, it was time for me to come back and I still hadn’t finished my work.”

“Did you finish the city?” Grover’s casual tone let Clarisse know this wasn’t an uncommon occurance.

“Almost,” she rubbed her eyes, “I just need to put in the sidewalks and figure out how to make cars.”

The other two detectives watched silently as the blonde chugged her coffee.

“I’m still behind on my paperwork,” she muttered.

Reyna’s attention fell to one of the desks outside the group of people, where (y/n) sat, halfheartedly attempting to type up a report. ‘Attempting’ being the key word, because Percy was making things difficult as he leaned on her desk while he went on about something in the hopes of earning her attention. 

“Tell me about them,” Reyna nodded in their direction, and the sergeants exchanged knowing  looks.

“(y/n) (l/n) is our newest detective. She’s been here almost a year, and, well…” Frank trailed off, “All we really know is that she’s reserved, smart, and very hard to read.”

“She’s brilliant, but she has a hard time letting people in. Stubborn too,” Jason added, “she and Jackson have some big bet over who gets more arrests this year. Ever since the bet, their numbers have gone way up.”

“Hey, how did you know that woman?” Percy asked his partner as he drove the police car back to the precinct.

“Hm?” (y/n) looked up from the case file she was studying. Percy glanced over to find her watching him, “Keep your eyes on the road, Jackson.”

“They are!” he insisted, “And I asked how you knew the woman we spoke to.”

“Oh,” (y/n) seemed to hold back a smile, “I made her wedding cakes back when I had a baking business.”

“I didn’t know you owned a business!” Percy’s eyes were wide, and his tone was full of surprise, “Or that you could bake.”

“I only did it to put myself through college. It was fun, but I don’t really have time for it anymore,” (y/n) shrugged, “I was really good at it, though.”

“You know, my birthday’s in a few months,” Percy shot her a quick smile. Then his expression faltered, and he was silent for a moment, “Wait a minute, did you say wedding cakes, plural?”

“Percy, watch the fucking road!”

“Tell me about Jackson,” Reyna said.

Jason let out a long sigh, “Percy Jackson may just be our best detective. He loves putting away bad guys and solving puzzles. The only puzzle he hasn’t solved is how to grow up.”

“That was very well put,” Reyna noted.

“We’ve both spoken a lot about Percy in our departmentally mandated therapy sessions,” Frank muttered.

“You busted through a window for no reason?” Jason Grace asked, his hands massaging his temple.

“Basic police tactic, Sarge,” Percy said, as if it should’ve been obvious, “Cover every exit.”

“It was a sealed window on the fifth floor,” Jason lifted his head to squint at the dark haired detective, “You could’ve just gone through the door with Grover.”

“Yeah, but then what would my catchphrase have been? “Knock knock, who’s there? Justice?”” Percy stopped talking, taking a moment to think, “Wait, that's actually amazing.”

Jason walked away, shaking his head as he muttered something about paperwork.

“We’ve also noticed he seems to have a strange fixation on trying to get (y/n) to open up,” Jason commented, “So if they’re not working on a case together, they need to be as far away from each other as possible, otherwise no work will get done.”

“Aren’t their desks right next to each other?” Reyna asked.

“That’s the problem we’ve run into as well,” Frank nodded, “And these detectives are weirdly attached with their desks.”

Reyna was silent for a moment, “Thank you, sergeants, you may be dismissed. Please send di Angelo in.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A few moments later there was a knock at the door, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Nico, have a seat,” Reyna gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

She waited until the young adult was comfortable before she spoke again, her eyes trained beyond her window, “Tell me about the bet between (l/n) and Jackson.”

Nico blinked, almost surprised at the question.

“Oh. Well, it started a few months ago. I’m not really sure what they were arguing about, but it ended in Percy insisting he could do his job better than her. So the deal is if (l/n) gets more felony arrests, Percy has to give her his car. It’s an old Mustang, it’s pretty sick. But if he gets more arrests, she has to go on a date with him,” Reyna’s lips twitched up at Nico’s words, “He guarantees it will end in sex, but honestly the rest of the precinct seems to think (y/n)’s got this in the bag.”

“And what do you think?” the captain asked, shifting her gaze to the young man in front of her as she leaned back in her chair ever so slightly.

Nico glanced towards the door to ensure it was closed before answering, “Honestly? It depends on how much he wants that date. He has a tremendous amount of potential, he just needs something to put it towards. On the other hand, I don’t know shit about (y/n). She gets her work done, and kind of keeps to herself. That girl could be a secret undercover crime lord or something, and none of us would know until it’s too late.”

“I get your point,” Reyna nodded, “Thank you, you may go.”

When the new captain was finally left alone in her office, she allowed herself to recline in her chair, her eyes still on the pair of detectives.

At this point, (y/n) had given up on writing her report. Her arms crossed in front of her, yet she had the slightest smile on her face as she looked up at Percy. He was still talking about God-knows-what, and anyone watching could tell it was a one-sided conversation. The way that he slowly inched closer to her, and the way that she nodded along with his words let Reyna know that while she may be in for more than she signed up for, this was going to be hella interesting.

authors note

the first chapter is done! if you can’t tell, y/n is still warming up to her precinct, and I’m excited to see where this goes because we all know the characters I write kinda do their own thing

thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this!

taglist!

@itzmeme @simpingmyassoff @sukimiya

please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list :))

[captainlondonman]

STUDENT TO WORKIE

‘Dave, can you deliver this present to my father when you are back in town.’

Tony asked.

Dave had been spending the weekend with his friend in his university town. and was on his way home.

‘Sure thing mate,’ Dave replied. ‘I haven’t seen your father for years’

‘Neither have I much as he and Mum rarely speak.’

‘What does he do?’

‘Something in the building sector. He should be around in the evening. I’ll give you the address. Just hand it over on the doorstep and anyway I’m sure he won’t even ask you in. He is a bit rough but to be honest he buggered off soon after I was born. Never remarried, probably because he is so difficult.’

The day after getting home, Dave took his bike and went round to the address given by his friend. Ringing the doorbell he heard a deep voice shouting from the other side.

‘No need to push so fucking hard I heard you.’

The door flew open and standing in front of Dave taking up most of the doorway was a man with full HiViz kit. This was not what Dave was expecting.

Something in the building sector, Dave thought he would be a bit like himself a Surveyor. But standing in front of him was a well built hunk of a man wearing only a HIViz waistcoat his large hairy chest from neck down showing, with a slight beer belly pushing out over his workgear trousers. The waistcoat was back enough to show a pair of nipples that looked unreal as if they had been pulled out to be large and juicy. Both arms were hairy and covered in tats all the way down to is wrists which then a fat hands with nails ingrained with dirt. The man had a thick moustache and unshaven around the chin, his hair cut to a No 1.

‘Christ’ thought Dave h’ow can this be Tony’s father. No wonder they hardly talk. Who’d want this guy as a father?’

‘Who the fuck are you,’ the man said staring at Dave

‘Er, I’m a mate of Tony and he asked if I would drop by and give you a present. I suppose it’s your birthday.’

‘I get a present once a year from that little shit and he never bothers to contact me. Mind you I ain’t any better. He’s a right little ponce thinking he is much better than me. I suppose you are also a little mister big shot eh?’.

‘I don’t think Tony is at all like that and a bit unfair of you to say that.’

‘Oh a right little mouthy are you?’

‘Well I suppose if you have cycled across town you might as well come in and have a beer. I have just opened a bottle for myself.’

As Dave walked into the kitchen he could smell the man, unwashed and a smell of stale ciggies. The guy handed Dave a bottle and said

‘Want a ciggie?’

‘No I don’t smoke.

‘Well all workies like a good smoke so if you don’t mind I will.’ he said lighting up.

‘So tell me a bit about yourself.’

Dave explained how he knew Tony and how he was studying surveying.

‘So you are the posh guys that come on site and tell me what to do eh.’ The man said laughing. ‘Anyway I am Pete which you probably know from my son. Not like me is he. Probably like his ma all slim and pretty, a bit like you eh?’

‘I wouldn’t describe myself as pretty.’

‘Well you’re hardly man mountain are you?’

The two guys continued to talk and had another beer and then another till Dave said ‘I think I need to get back but after all these beers can I go for a pee please.’

‘Just before you do let me get you a HiViz waistcoat as its now dark and you are on a bicycle. Hold on.’

A minute later Pete returned with a dirty Hi Viz waistcoat.

‘There you are, the bathroom is just next door.’

Dave went in and could smell pee and saw piss marks around the rim of WC. It all looked pretty untidy and then his eye caught sight of a jockstrap hanging out of a dirty laundry basket.

Normally Dave would have turned his nose up in disgust but there was something so manly and uncouth about Pete that he could not resist touching the jockstrap. It was covered in piss marks and as he handled it he could almost feel it slightly crusty as though it was died cum.

Before he knew what he was doing he stuffed the jockstrap into his pocket feeling his cock start to stir in his chinos. 

‘Shit I’d better get out before my cock is stiff.’

With the jockstrap in his pocket he walked back into the kitchen and thanked Pete for the HIViz.

‘Not a prob mate, bring it back any time I’m sure I’ll see you again’. he smirked.

Once home Dave for some reason kept his HiViz on, he wanted to keep it on but most of all when he took the stained jockstrap out of his pocket he wanted so much to smell it. He instinctively put it over his head and brought the deep yellow stained pouch down over his face rubbing it all over  as he took deep breaths. The odour of dried piss was overwhelming as he pressed the material tight against his nose. He could feel the dried cum brush against his face. The smell was intoxicating, it was almost making him dizzy but it so excited him knowing that this jockstrap belonged to his friend’s father, the uncouth workie, the beer swilling cigarette smoker with the hairy body and his HiViz gear. As he breathed deeper and deeper so the blood rush moved down to his cock. It was ramrod hard and he had got so excited the precum was oozing out of the tip. He smothered his face with the jockstrap feeling the stench become part of his face. He wanted to smell, he wanted to be dirty like Tony’s father. Shit the man was so fucking sexy even with his large belly but all that hair and unsahevn look was such a turn on. Knowing it was his best friends’ father made it even better. As he sucked the jockstrap so he could feel the piss and dried cum soften he let the taste run down his throat..His hand was now wrapped around his dick. The more he sucked at the jockstrap the more his hand slid up and down the shaft.

‘Shit I want Tony’s dad .I want to suck and fuck with the bloody workie.’

As the throbbing came to a climax he shouted

‘I only want fucking workies.’ And with that he shot his load over the floor whilst almost gagging with the jockstrap down his throat taking in every bit of piss and cum.

Without cleaning his dick he put on the jockstrap so the last few drops of his cum mixed with Tony’s father’s piss and cum. His cock immediately got hard again but Dave wanted his cock encased in the dirty jockstrap and he could feel his shaft rubbing against hardened piss and cum. It felt good to be wearing it and he put the Hiviz waistcoat back on and went to bed feeling almost as if he was part of Tony’ father workie body. He woke up the next day and stretched but as he did so he thought his body felt slightly different. Looking at himself there was a change but he could not quite understand what the difference was. He looked as if he had been working out a bit, there was more definition to his muscle arms and even the beginning of a 6 pack. His shoulders had widened a bit and the bulge within his jockstrap seemed a bit larger. He decided not to shower but kept the jockstrap on. He liked feeling dirty and having the older man’s piss make its smell . When he put his T shirt on he put the waistcoat back on.

There was something about Tony’s father that was drawing him to go back. The main was uncouth, a dirty workie with a high body smell.. Someone that Dave would quickly walk by, but it seemed odd but he found the man had a sexual power and thinking of him standing there with his bare hairy chest had his cock rigid. It was like a magnet but how could he go back. He decided he could make the excuse of returning the HiViz waistcoat and by going back a few hours later he reckoned he was being polite. Shit what would Tony think if he knew that Dave was getting off thinking about his father and wearing the filthy jockstrap.

He knocked on the door at the same time as the previous day and when the door opened Pete just smiled. He was wearing the same HiViz jacket with his hairy chest protruding but this time he was wearing a dirty very stained pair of joggers  which his belly fell over as well as a mud stained pair of rubber boots up to his knees. When the door opened Dave almost had to step back with the smell.

‘I thought you might be back sometime. Sorry about the turn out mate but it’ been a busy day down in sewers. Stinks a bit eh, but you quickly get used to it. Better than any aftershave’ he smirked. He waved Dave it and Dave could see that Pete’s hands were still filthy and probably covered in sewer shit.

‘I just wanted to return your HIViz.’

‘You can keep it. You can always try to wash it and get rid of all the stains. Anyway come in and have a beer.  The kitchen stunk of sewage But to Dave’s surprise the more he smelt it and was repulsed the more he started to take deeper breaths and found his crotch was responding and stiffening under his chinos. ‘Christ how could I like this bloody awful smell ‘he thought ‘but its turning me on.’

‘You told me you don’t smoke but if you have a beer with me you really should have a puff. It helps the stink in here. What say you eh?’

Dave didn’t even consider saying no, he almost instinctively took a ciggie out of Pete’s pack.

‘That’s better, let me light it for you.’

Having never smoked before Dave found he knew exactly what to do and he held the ciggie just like Pete drawing deeply and exhaling a large cloud of smoke.

‘See I told you . All real men smoke mate. Talking about real men, you seemed to have bulked up a bit. I thought you and Tony looked a pair of wimps but today you look better. Perhaps it’s the HiViz waistcoat, ha ha.’

Pete came forward to give Dave a can of beer and standing in front of him at eye level Dave could make out a long line of cock stretching down one side of the joggers. He was clearly commando.

As Dave took his first gulp, with Pete still standing in front of him staring down.

‘So you stole my jockstrap did you?’

Dave almost spat out his mouthful of beer

‘Don’t give me a fucking excuse boy. I left it out knowing full well what you would do. You couldn’t resist it could you, all nice a crusty and yellow stained with my piss. Bet when you got home the first thing you did was have a massive wank eh. Thinking of me wearing it no doubt. You liked the idea of Tony’s dirty workie of a dad wearing it The problem is mate that I ain’t got anything under me joggers so me cock has been bouncing around all day and the more it moves around inside the more horny I become.

As he said this he put one hand down inside his joggers and stroked the full length of his cock moving forward to stand right in front of Dave. As he took his hand out the cock was like a rigid pole tenting outwards and a small stain of precum showed itself through the cotton.

‘Bet you got my jockstrap on now. Admit it.’

‘Er yes.’

‘And bet you love it and don’t want to take it off.’

Dave was silent.

‘Well if you steal something then you have to pay back.’

Dave’s eyes were glued to the crotch with Pete’s erection forming a good 8inch tent. Pete put down his beer and with one hand slipped his hand down his belly and into the joggers, pulling out a massive erect prick. Dave could not believe it, the guy was wearing a thick steel cock ring, making every vein of his shaft stand out almost pulsating. As the cock sprang out so the foreskin was pushed back revealing a large glistening head. The slit of the cock was straight in front of Dave’s face and he could smell the unwashed cock.

‘So you take from me and now you pay back. You love the smell of my piss stained jockstrap so now you can suck the real thing, unwashed and smelling of several days of piss. Don’t think you are just going to lick my tool, you are taking the full length down that throat of yours.’

Dave could smell the rank cock in front of his face but the smell was like an aphrodisiac. It made him so horny and he knew the only thing he now wanted was to have the massive cock all the way down his throat

‘What are you fucking looking at. You don’t give blowjob just looking boy.’

Pete grabbed hold of Dave’s hair and pulled him in. For a moment Dave almost gagged at the smell but at the same time he wanted to savour the stench of the cock before swallowing it down his throat.

‘I want you to take the whole throbbing fucking length of my dick so your mouth is pressed up against my cock ring and you can taste the metal.’ With his free hand Pete wrapped his dirty hand around his shaft and pushed it to force Dave’s mouth open.

‘That’s it boy take my fucking stinking cock. Open yer mouth nice and wide.

As Dave opened his lips he felt the precum tip of cock force its way into his mouth and the smell of piss rode up through his nostrils. The more he smelt the piss the wider his mouth opened. 

Pete still held tight Dave’s hair pushing his head further and further up to take more and more of the throbbing shaft.

‘You love my cock don’t you. Wonder what Tony would think of you gagging to give his father a blow job. Not such a prissy boy now are you taking a workie’s dirty cock all the way down yer throat.’

Dave let his saliva work overtime to allow the cock to sink further and further into his throat.

The idea of sucking off Tony’s father was even more of a turn on. By now Dave’s cock was sore it was so hard in the jockstrap but he was so engaged in sucking he could not unzip himself.

‘Don’t even think of wanking yerself. I want all your concentration on my big cock.

‘That’s good boy I can feel my prick sliding down the back of your throat.. Nice and big for you. Not really a pay back though as you are loving it. Now I can see your lips touching my cockring. Feel the metal pushing against you and now you have the full length and can feel my precum slipping down inside you. It’s time to thrust this dick up and down inside that throat of yours.’

Dave did not need to be told what to do. With his mouth fully into Pete’s thick hairy bush, the piss smell ran through his body down to his own cock and the jockstrap was nearly ready to burst inside him. Pete took hold of Dave’s head with both hands and gripping him he started to move his prick back and forth at first slowly so he could savour Dave’s spit around his shaft.

‘You fucking know how to suck. Bet you have only ever sucked a boy off before but now you are giving a good workie blowjob. Keep your spit going boy as I love pumping you.’

Pete pushed in and out with greater speed taking his head almost to the edge of Dave’s lips so he could feel his helmet ridge on the point of coming out and then he rammed back in right up to his pubes. Faster and faster he pumped and the more he pumped the more Dave wanted.. 

‘Shit boy you are fucking great I am ready to fucking explode.’

With that Pete withdrew his cock grabbing his spit covered shaft and shed his thick white creamy cum over Dave’s face and down the front of his T shirt.

‘That’s it boy lick it all up around your face.’ 

Dave could feel the cum dripping down his chin onto his shirt. 

Having all the cum over him was too much for Dave’s cock and he exploded his load into Pete’s jockstrap the cum oozing out through the cotton and through his chinos forming a large stain in his groin.

‘Fucking great. That’s what I call a blowjob.’ Pete said and looking down at Dave and saw the large cum stain on his chinos.

‘Looks as if you enjoyed it too mate. You can’t go home looking like that all my cum on your shirt and now that nice big stain on your trousers.’

Strip off and I’ll get you something to go home in. But keep my jockstrap on as a minder as you obviously love it.’

Pete came back in with a Hi Viz short sleeved shirt and a pair of De Walt  grey workgear trousers , both covered in mud and grease marks.

They ain’t clean but at least better that all that cum. Go on and the get the fuck out of here and you can take a can of beer and this pack of ciggies with you.’

As Dave put on the gear thrown at him he could smell how much they had been used and it was as if they had been down the sewers with Pete. For a second Dave thought it would be better to wear his own gear but the smell of what he had been given was good and made him feel more like a man.

Pete looked at him. ‘They look for now as if they are a bit big but don’t worry about that. Keep the Hi viz waistcoat, tell you what, you are looking a bit more like a workie. So why don’t you come a see me at work and see that you think. It’s in Bank Street and you will see the portacabin. Come later tomorrow afternoon. OK?’

It seemed more of a command to Dave rather than something to consider. Besides, that had been the best blowjob ever and even now Dave could still smell the man’s cum as well as his piss and now the sewage smell of the borrowed clothes

‘I’ll bring this gear back to you.’

‘That’s up to you. So now get off I need a few beers after this.’

When Dave got home  the first thing he did was open the beer and slurp it down. There were 5 ciggies left in the packet Pete had given him. He was desperate to smoke them all just the way Pete had done. He hoped by smoking them all his hands would look covered in nicotine, just like Pete. He now loved puffing. Why the fuck had he never smoked before. In all the workie gear it seemed only natural to smoke, right down to the tip. He had decided to keep the clothes on when he went to bed. He wanted to feel  the Hiviz against his skin and he liked the smell of the gear he had been given. The clothes did seem a bit large but so what? The next morning he work up and the smell hit him. It felt great and when he got out of bed to look at himself he could not believe it, the clothes were no longer big but a snug fit, the yellow HiViz shirt was tight against his chest showing off a true 6 pack, the arms were bulging with muscles. He looked at the De Walt trousers. They were no longer too long but he seemed to have grown 4 inches and were now nice a tight around his crotch showing a decent bulge. He was almost looking like a workie but his hair was still that floppy fringe though he thought he seemed to have a darker heavier growth around his face. When he went to piss and opened up his flies to take his cock out from the jockstrap it seemed so tight in the jockstrap. The first thing to hit him was the rancid smell of piss and cum and then as he flipped his cock out to pee his cock was now thicker, really thick where it jutted out of his now dark really hairy pubes with a long foreskin sliding over his helmet.

‘Fuck’ he said ‘this looks a whopper. A real workie cock’

After breakfast we knew there was a place he needed to go to. The barbers. He chose a place he knew was frequented by the local workies having seen then sitting waiting for a cut with all their Hiviz gear on. There were a couple of guys being cut when he went in all in their HiViz They looked round and one said.

‘You’ve been down a fucking sewer mate. Doing a real dirty job eh.?’

Dave just smiled and sat down. One guy was then finished and left so Dave sat in the chair. The barber said

‘So what do you want?’

The other workie said “Get rid of that stupid long hair for a start’

Dave knew what to say. ‘I want you to take a razor to the sides and then cut the top to give me a full chav cut with a really short straight cut across the forehead.’

‘That’s it mate give him a real chav cut . Then he will start to look like a workie.’

The barber took the razor and gave a number one cut going on to give a real pudding bowl cut to his top.

Even the barber said, ‘That’s better mate I think we all agree this suits your clothing and as you are a workie then you need to look like one.’

The other workie got out the chair and leant over to whisper into Dave’s ear.

‘Great bod you go there mate Would like to see a bit more of that sometime. You could do with a few tats. I go to a place just right for a new boy. Gimme yer phone and I’ll give you my number. Us workies need to stick together.’

Dave handed his phone over as the guy typed in his number. As he did Dave looked at the guys crotch which had a good bulge showing in his Hi Viz.

As the guy handed back the phone he again whispered

‘I see what yer looking at. You won’t be disappointed. By the way I like yer smell a real turn on for us workies.’ And with that he paid and left the shop.

The barber smiled as he finished Dave off .’Think you have made a conquest there. That’s what a good chav haircut has done for you.’

Dave looked in the mirror, with his chav haircut and those muscles he really did look like a workie. Gone was the prissy student. He now wanted to go and show his friend’s father his new look so walked down to Bank Street and saw the portacabin door open.

Looking inside he saw Pete sitting at a desk who looked up and spluttered

‘Christ what a change in you boy. Thank fucking Christ you are now looking the part. A real little chavvy workie eh. See those rubber boots over there put them on. They are nice a dirty but that won’t matter when I take you down into the sewer. Also put the hard hat on, need to be safe. I’ll put a torch on mine so lets go. Dave caught sight of himself with the full kit on and with such a covering of mud on his clothes and the hard hat he could hardly believe the change.

Pete opened up the manhole and told Dave to climb down the ladder into the bottom tunnel. Once both were down Pete switched on the torch. The first thing Dave was aware off was the smell but it was only a stronger version of how he smelt. He breathed it in and found his cock starting to rise.

‘Like the smell now don’t you ‘Pete said. ‘Turns me on every time I am down here.’

Before Dave could reply Pete grabbed hold of Dave and spun him round pressing him up against the wall of the tunnel. Leaning in against Dave’s back Pete whispered in his ear. ‘You and I have some unfinished business. Its payback time again. First you steal my jockstrap but now you owe me for making you a man and Christ you now look fucking horny. And don’t tell me that having my dirty cock down yer throat you don’t want it up that nice bubble butt of yours. I know the idea of being fucked in a sewer by a real man turns you on.’

Pete took his big rough hands and let them ride over Dave’s cheeks and then placing his hands around Dave’s waist unbuttoned the workgear trousers pulling them down to his knees. Dave was now unable to move

‘I wanna fuck you with the jockstrap on, my jockstrap. Now stick that nice arse of your out to take my prick. ‘

As Dave did as commanded so Pete undid his flies and flipped his sweaty cock out letting a large godbof spit onto the shaft

‘I’m nice and sweaty after working down here today and you can feel that stick of my dick going right up to the hilt in yer arse.’

Dave now only wanted to be fucked Since giving Pete the blowjob he knew that he had to be fucked by this monster tool. Shit what could be better that being fucked in a sewer by his best friend’s father.

‘Go gentle will you please.’

‘That arse of yours could take a baseball bat so quit the pathetic tone with me. You had my cock rammed in your mouth so you managed that no prob. Then you can take my prick up inside you.’

Dave felt his cheeks being parted as Pete pressed against him. His cock searching for the hole

‘Nice big hole you got there mate. No probs taking my dick or perhaps you’d prefer the baseball bat?’

‘No just let me have your cock. Make me feel like a real workie being fucked.’

Dave could feel the spit on Pete’s head finding the hole and then the push. For a moment he winced as the head found its way into the hole. But once past he was ready for the full length of Pete’s shaft.  As Pete pushed his tool up the hole he put one hand to his mouth releasing a large gob of spit then put his arm around Dave’s head smearing the spit all over his face before wiping the dirt and muck off the wall in front of Dave and wiping that on top of the spit.

‘Now you look like a real dirty workie who has been down the sewer. Your vface all covered in sewer shit and spit. Bet you like the smell of my spit and the muck eh?’ 

‘Sure  it is making me feel like a real workie. Fuck any studies. This is what I want to be a real man always dirty with me beers and ciggies like you and have a good fuck with the lads.’

‘That’s what I knew you wanted as soon as I set eyes on you. Now take my cock right up to the hilt.’

‘Shove as far up as you want, I want to feel your spunk shooting right up my body and now your cock is so far up get my cock out of this jockstrap.’

Pete moved his hand down to Dave’s groin and peeled back the jockstrap to let Dave’s cock spring out. As it did so Pete grabbed hold of the shaft wrapping his hand around the throbbing cock.

‘Shit man you’ve got a good one there. Any workie would be glad to have that rammed up them. Now let me give you a good wank and have you shoot all over the sewer wall.’

As Pete slid his hand up and down the down the shaft so he pushed his own cock in and out with increasing ferocity his cock ring almost vanishing into Dave’s hole. Both men started groaning with pleasure and Pete leant forward to kiss the back of Dave’s neck. One hand was now round Dave’s waist so he could have full hold and the other was wanking faster and faster. He knew from the throbbing that Dave was on the point of orgasm and this made him so horny and ready to cum himself. Dave wiped some more sewer mucj off the wall to smear across his face. He wanted to feel fucking dirty

‘Let it go mate I’m about to shoot my load into that lovely arse of yours .’ Pete shouted

‘Fuck me man let me have every drop of your spunk.’ As Dave thrust his arse out to take in the full length of the cock so he came his spunk spurting out against the sewer wall. Pete unloaded his cum inside Dave making Dave feel as if it would come out his mouth such was the force of spunk.

Pete took his cock out giving a quick wipe before putting it back into his joggers.

‘No point is washing it mate. Smells better this way. As for you, cover that smeared cock of yours with the jockstrap and make it even more crusty

So Workie Dave, happy now?’

‘Too fucking right, this is the real me , a man and fucking workie. Give me all the dirty jobs. Who wants to wash when you can stink like this. Being fucked by my best mate’s father was awesome.’

‘Tell you what boy, why don’t you ask Tony to come home. You and I can have some fun and make a man out of him. That would be a turn on eh? Tony you and feel sucking and fucking.’

‘Fucking amazing’ Dave replied ‘ I’ve always wanted to get my cock up his arse.’

Dave then took his phone out of his pocket.

‘Being a workie sure gets the pick ups from the other guys. This real hot workie gave me his number and I reckon now my cock would love a good fuck and his bod looked just right. Plus he said he’d take me to his tattoo place. Can’t be a workie without a good few tats, just like you. Shit man give me a ciggie’ 

Handing over his packet Pete said

‘Well make sure we keep your workie gear on when you meet the guy’

‘Is there any other way to fuck?’