#also i’m very excited about this ofc :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kithtaehyung · 1 month ago

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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.

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

#FINALLY FINALLY #5000 words in two days just wanted to say i love y'all #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #ryenwrites #minted #minted3 #*ryenfictalk #*latest

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mdsbabygirl · 22 days ago

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Hello! I love your work, I just read “Being their fuckbuddy,” and I’m hooked. I was wondering if you would make a part 2 where the reader/you call things off and they realize that they’ve actually caught some feelings? It’s alright if you don’t want to! I’m a total sucker for angst lol.

Ofc my lovely anon!! I'll be more than glad to do that! Here's part two of "being their fuckbuddy". btw don't be shy to make requests, they make me really happy and I'm more than willing to write them!

Please baby.. don't let go of me yet...

PART TWO OF "Being their fuckbuddy"

Pairing: Otoya Eita/ Itoshi Sae/ Bachira Meguru/ Shidou Ryusei/ Chigiri Hyoma/ Barou Shoei x FEM! reader

Synopsis: when you end up walking out of your "relationship", these men feel empty inside, finally realizing that their lust has indeed turned into something much deeper.

Genre: smut, angst

Wc: 3,3k

Cw: dark themes, MDNI, mentions of makeup sex, very depressed men, semi-public sex(Otoya, Barou), crying messes(Bachira, Chigiri), nonchalant fuckers(Sae, Barou), black mail/threatening/ humiliation (Shidou), stalking(meguru), womanizer(otoya), these men are very much Inlove with you, etc..

Otoya Eita:

•"yeah, I'm fine with it" he said, his tone as casual as possible. He knew your relationship wasn't going to last long, and it was part of the thrill he felt when he was with you. But when the parting time finally came, he didn't feel right. He thought he could just move on, quickly forgetting you and your shared moments to focus on the next girl he was going to pull.. but no, not this time. Otoya was very confused, why was he suddenly getting emotional? Why was he starting to feel uneasy, a surging pain in his stomach made him feel awful, as if he got repeatedly punched in the abdomen, all while he was looking at you in the far distance. You, the one who made him feel like he could've reached heaven with how much pleasure he felt; you, the girl he always enjoyed spending time with because you were fun and interesting, you the one who got his heart.

•Eita was mad at first, why the fuck did it hurt so much? It's not like it was the first time he got a heartbreak, he'd usually just bury the pain with sex, fucking around with multiple women, until he forgot about everything, the pain eventually subsiding. And he tried, like, he tried really hard, going every night to nightclubs and having one nightstands with every woman he found somewhat hot.. the thing is, the sex was awful..it didn't feel right, it was dull and boring, as if all the feelings in his body were dead, making him unable to feel the slightest sparkle of excitement. He'd often ask himself, why was he like this? Why couldn't he just bounce back like before, going back to being the destrous ninja of seduction he once was.. even all the women he had picked were somewhat of a close replica to you, all sharing common attributes that you had.. I guess you are really unreplaceable..

•that, was his situation for a while, being the slave of a non ending vicious circle of sex, alcohol and depression. That was, until he finally saw you at one of the clubs he frequented. It's like his world lit up, transforming from a dark nightmare to the sweetest of dreams. His eyes widened in surprise, not expecting to meet you at all, but there you were, looking ever so stunning, wearing your prettiest dress, and hypnotizing everyone with your looks. At first he froze, not knowing what to do. But then he decided that it was time to put an end to his misery, deciding it would be best to just confess to you, and tell you how much he had been yearning for you for the past weeks. You were quite stunned too, not only not expecting this sudden encounter, but also not even imagining that this womanizer would be pouring his heart out to you.. you smiled subtly, thinking his actions were cute, yet you were still indecisive, you didn't trust him enough, thinking he'd break your heart if you let him in, which was indeed why you left him. You started catching feelings, all this intimacy between the two of you sparking a growing love for the man. Eita, ever so happy, was quick to hug you, pressing soft kisses on your lips until they became more and more heated, leading the both of you to make out heatedly in the middle of the club. Then.. well let's just say you were way too needy for each other to wait to go home so instead you fucked in one of the bathroom stalls... His hand was pushing you onto the door, your tube top pushed down to reveal your tits that were squished against the cold surface, as Eita was behind you, rumming his rock hard cock relentlessly, like he'd always do..

Itoshi Sae:

•he had that cold, expressionless face he always had when it happened. You had invited him to talk, insisting it was best if it happened in person. He looked so stunning, his teal eyes, an amalgamation of the most serene blue sky and most captivating green seas, were a pool of alluring coolness. No matter how hard the news might've been, he never budged.. he just nodded, agreeing with your request for ending things. And that's how, you both just walked away, forgetting all the moments of your shared passion, as if you finished the last chapter of a boring book. But.. did he really find your fling boring? Was he really willing to just move on, as if nothing had happened?

•Sae was used to the solitude, he was a reservated person, not allowing anyone in his circle, and the fact that you managed to get in that close to him, must've meant something right?.. it couldn't have been just purely a give and receive link, it must've been much more than that. He was human after all, meaning that he must've felt the smallest shred of something, anything really, even if it was lust, hate or love. Sae was confused, not knowing how to act or what to feel. He just went back to being to his usual self, an egoist who only cares about his sacred soccer.. but if that's what he thought he did, then why couldn't he sleep at night? Why was his bed so empty all of a sudden? Why was he flipping through the pics you post on your socials? Did you really manage to plague his mind? Turning him from a cold hearted egoista, to a yearning lover, a man that needed your presence as much as he needed oxygen to survive.

•The nights felt long, unending hours of long lasting boredom and solitude, weighted down on Sae's mind. He wanted it to stop, needing this feeling of hollowness to be over. He tossed and turned in bed, unable to rest.. he took his phone, 2 AM.. great you might be sleeping he thought.. he looked intensely at your contact info on his screen, contemplating if calling you would be the right choice.. it was his first time being indecisive, he was always a confident man, always sure of himself and his actions; but this time he wasn't.. his hands trembling as he held the phone. In the end he said fuck It, deciding that going to your house was the best option.. once he arrived, he ringed the bell, waiting for you. When you came out, wearing your comfy pj's, and asking why he was here while yawning, he just grabbed your face and kissed you, not even wasting time on words. He led you inside, huffing out how much he missed you and how he can't be apart from you.. you couldn't give him a straight answer yet, but you still didn't deny him, inviting him in, keeping him all close and cozy, so warm and feeling heavenly as his big cock is buried deep inside your hot cunny.

Bachira Meguru:

•things between the two of you started getting a bit rocky, his possessiveness was too overwhelming. He was always by your side, his presence so suffocating that it left you drained both emotionally and physically. It was after one of your encounters that you decided to call things off. Bachira was panting heavily, his chest heaving as he came down from his high. He still was on top of you, looking down at you with his lovestruck look.. you kinda felt bad about what you were about to do, knowing how sad he'll be once you leave him. Meguru, tiredly laid beside you, looking at you before wrapping an arm around your naked figure..you were kinda starting to rethink your actions, thinking that maybe you could get used to his.. well, quirkiness? But you didn't, once Bachira announced something about wanting you to be fully his, you finally snapped. You quickly got up, getting your scattered up clothes and putting them on without saying a word.. you didn't wanna get even more mad, nor upset him with the bullshit you knew you were about to say if u really snapped. The man behind you, looking ever so struck by your sudden change in behavior grabbed you by the forearm, asking what happened.. oh man, you did snap at that time.. you started throwing insults at him, telling him how suffocated you felt, before you gathered your stuff and left him alone in his apartment.

•To say that Bachira was shocked was an understatement. He couldn't believe what he heard.. he.. was suffocating? Was he really so frustrating and maddening like you just said? He didn't wanna believe this, thinking that maybe you just had a bad day, maybe you were mad at everyone and he just so happened to be the unlucky one to have to undergo such a shitty experience. But deep down he knew the truth. He knew that you entirely meant what you said, all those words hitting him like a poisonous dagger to the heart. He did everything for you, treated you like a princess, gave you constant attention, never once did he let you out of his sight.. he swore he was the best you could've ever had, the one and only who would worship you and treat you like the goddess you are.. yet, you left him. Like everybody else did. He should've been used to it by now, but fuck It hurt.. I guess that's why he felt hot globs of tears streaming down his face, his sobbing filling up the room. He really didn't deserve all this pain that you so hurtfully inflicted on him.

•after crying his heart out, he concluded that this wasn't the solution, deciding that if you weren't going to be willingly his , he was going to do it forcefully. Bachiras is known to have a dark side in him, a so-called monster that whispers the filthiest, most evil ideas in his mind. It was time to hear his alter-ego, using this demonic quirk of his to finally show you who you belong to, finally convincing you that he's your one and only. That's why, late at night he sneaked into your house..(he might've made a copy of your key without you noticing but Shhh) waiting for your arrival. As for you, you were getting home from work, unable to shake away the thought of how badly you treated Bachira. You wanted to apologize, but you were way too tired, so u decided that tomorrow you'll go to his place and make up with him. You unlocked your door, finally entering your home, when you saw Bachira laying all comfy on your sofa.. you were very much surprised, thinking that maybe it was because you were tired. Noticing you, meguru quickly went up to you, hugging you so tightly you could've swore you stopped breathing for a sec, before caressing your face, looking at you with a devilish gaze as he whispered in your ear, "you'll always be mine sweet thing!" Before pressing a wet kiss to your neck, "we're going to have so much fun tonight my love." He chuckled, his hands quickly finding your sides as he pressed his body flush against yours, the feeling of his hard-on on your lower abdomen.

Shidou Ryusei:

•ok..ummm, did I mention that this man is pure evil? Like he won't leave you so easily, never letting you slip from his grip without any consequences–this is if he ever let you go, because let's be honest, shidou would never ever let you dissapear from his life, letting your shared memories transforming into a mirage that would forever haunt him. He'd first laugh at you, thinking you weren't serious about calling things off. He'd wrap his arms around your frame, squeezing the plump skin of your butt, a nasty habit of his, telling you that it was a nice joke. But when you slapped him, telling him how much of a maniac he is and walking away, he was surprised. He didn't expect his ever obliging fwb, would have some personality.

•at first he'd let you go, still a bit startled from that whole ordeal, but then he'd start manically laughing, delving so deep down in his psychopathy that he might've become even more insane just from that.. He HAD to make you his, one way or another. He was totally convinced that you were just playing hard to get, or maybe into some kind of cat and mouse chasing thing.. maybe he could even use this dynamic for your next sexy sesh.. but that's for another time to discuss..

•shidou, just walked up to you, hugging you from behind, as if you were a lovey-dovey couple, just casually nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and pressing wet kisses on the skin. You were startled for sure, not wanting any sort of contact with this devilish monster; yet, you couldn't deny his effect on you, a small pool of wetness forming between your legs, but you'll never let him know of course. Somehow, managing to push him off of you, you told him to go away, refusing any form of link to him. Chuckling, Ryusei pulled his phone, his large hands scrolling through his gallery until he found them... All your sex tapes, ready to be sent to everyone who knew you. Grinning devilishly, shidou blackmailed you, you got two choices, you were either to be completely humiliated or to come back to that psycho ... He pressed you, forcing you to choose quickly, otherwise he'd do what you dreaded most. In either way you'd lose your dignity, since being with such a freak had its downsides.. I guess you had no choice, but to forcefully get back with him.

"Mm yeah, that's more like it, my little cockwhore!" He grinned, as he was spreading your ass cheek, looking down at how his big cock was sinking deeply in your soaked folds, all while you were a moaning mess under him.. he's so demonic fr..

Chigiri Hyoma:

•chigiri knew he loved you, he knew for a long time now, always thinking about how he could change your mind, how to make you his gf.. he could've done so much for you, treating you like the queen you are, showing you unyielding affection... anything, he would've done anything for you.. yet, you rejected him. It stung like hell, the loneliness was catching up to him, and that mixed up with the sickening sadness and sorrow he felt was the most potent of poisons.

•He was alone on his bed, looking up at the ceiling as he was sobbing, warm tears streaming down his pretty face. Handsome faces shouldn't cry, you told him before you left, caressing his face one last time before you disappeared from his life. The mere thought of that agonizing moment sent Hyoma into another hysterical crying.. he couldn't believe he got so hypnotized by you that was reduced to this state. He knew you wanted nothing more than sex, he knew that what you had was ephemeral; yet he still couldn't accept the fact that he had lost you. The worst being the way you rejected him, smiling so reassuringly, so softly and so prettily, your face was imprinted in his mind. No matter how much he exhausted himself in training or drowned himself in alcohol, he couldn't forget you. How dare you break his heart in such a nonchalant way, reassuring him he'll find the one for him, even if you knew he had eyes only for you? You were so cruel, he thought.

•days passed since your splitting, and shit started weighing down on your consciousness.. I mean, you did realize that you broke his heart. With a sigh, you decided to stop thinking about him, recalling that all men were the same, all horny and unmannered, always making sexual jokes and treating you like some kind of fucktoy. That was the male treatment you were used to, so when you started frequenting Chigiri, it felt.. different. Sure he was still a man with his own needs and stupidity, yet he was the most caring and gentle one of them all. Slowly you started to realize the huge mistake you made. With tears threatening to fall on your face, you got out of your house, running as fast as you could to apologize to the sweetest, most handsome man you've ever met.. the man you loved. Ringing his bell repeatedly, he opened the door and saw you. Another surge of tears came out, making him sob uncontrollably. So you quickly hugged him, pressing kisses on his head, apologizing for the catastrophic mistake you've made.. in the end, let's just say that he accepted your apology, letting you ride all the sadness out of him, as you're tenderly making out.. make up sex with Chigiri was truly the best.

Barou Shoei :

•barou didn't need you anyway, you were such a nuisance to him, he thought. Not only were you so neglecting of his feelings, but you also had the guts to dump him, discarding him like a used toy that you didn't need anymore. Wasn't he your king? The only man that made you feel intense ecstasy? Well you were in the wrong, like you've always been, he thought once again. Barou could live perfectly without you, it's not like his existence depended on yours, and also it's not like he wanted the presence of someone who didn't want him back. Yet, why did he feel a tinge of sadness? Why was it that when he saw happy couples on the street, he felt like he had a hole in his chest that couldn't be filled no matter what? He didn't know why for sure, and he never even wanted to know.

•What a stubborn king, suppressing all his feelings until they burst like an atomic bomb. And indeed that's what happened, he denied the fact that he still loves you, he hates it. It makes him feel weak, transforming him from a glorious king to a heartbroken slave.. Barou wanted nothing more than his feelings for you to disappear, wanting to put his constant yearning for you to a halt, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, you wouldn't get out of his mind, for a moment he thought that you had cast a spell on him, one so potent that left him entrances, as if he was hypnotized by a siren's voice..

•Barou wanted so badly to come back to you, to just be in your arms, to be able to love you without any restrictions.. but you deprived him of this happiness, condemning him to a life of sorrow and desperation.. As for you, well, you weren't doing so good either. You tried everything to forget him too, but your king had already left his imprint on you, forever changing your life, making it so that he was the only man you'd ever think about. You did send him countless messages, apologizing to him, asking him to meet up to set things straight yet he never responded, he was such a proud mf. So that's why you just went up to him during one of his training, it was the only choice as he couldn't ignore you there. But since Barou didn't wanna cause a scene, he just dragged you to the locker room, opting that finishing your conversation there would provide some more privacy. Well.. let's just say that your conversation was cut short, and the locker room was now filled with both of your moans, as Shoei was kinda busy making sure you'll never leave him, thrusting in you from behind, marking you, biting sucking and kissing your neck and shoulders so that way next time you'll know better than to leave your king.

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angellic4l · 12 days ago

Text

ordinary things - s.r

in which; sunshine!reader and season2!spencer grab coffee on their way into work.

content: fluff!! idiots in love ofc, reader loveees autumn, no warnings, gn!reader i’m prettyyy sure, barely any dialogue because i’m far too scared of writing something cringy.

a/n: this is my first fic, i’m being BRAVE posting this ��cause i am SCARED. i hope whoever reads it enjoys it. i’m also aware it is WINTER, but i felt autumn was more fitting, idk. kisses 💋

Autumn, despite the cold, bitter air and dark mornings it brings to Virginia, is beautiful. In your opinion, anyway. That’s why your face lights up at the first pile of leaves you see outside of your usual coffee shop, the red and orange hues bringing a smile to your face. An even bigger smile than the one you so naturally sport, usually wearing it like a tattoo, almost permanent.

You lightly nudge Spencer’s coat clad arm with your own, pointing at the fiery coloured foliage on the floor, like a child who’s just seen snow for the very first time. Of course, it isn’t your first time seeing autumn leaves, but it excites you the same way nevertheless.

“Oh, Spence, look how pretty they are!” You gush about the leaves, your eyes never leaving the pile on the floor beside the coffee shop door. If they did, you’d have seen that Spencer was already looking at you, your light nudge rendered unnecessary to gain his attention. It was yours the whole time.

A faint chuckle sounds in your ears, soft and breathy, delivered to them by Spencer’s lips.

“Pretty, yeah,” he agrees, his eyes trained on you the whole time, never once dipping to the leaves that you’re so captivated by.

Finally turning your head, gaze diverting from the leaves, to look at Spencer, you see the soft smile adorning his face. With a soft nod of his head towards the door, you both finally enter the coffeehouse, Spencer holding the door for you.

The second you walk in, the warmth from the coffee shop envelops you, a nice contrast from the bitter weather outside, and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans fills your nostrils. Oak tables scatter the small shop, red brick walls complimenting them nicely, and small fairy lights hung to complete the warm atmosphere. It’s like walking into a hug; soothing, pleasant, and warm.

Side by side, you and Spencer stroll over to the counter to order your drinks, pleasantries being exchanged between you and the barista because you frequent the shop almost every morning. Once ordered, the two of you stroll over to the side of the counter to wait patiently for your drinks.

—

Coffee in hand, coat and scarf keeping you warm, and a pep in your step, the pair of you walk side by side over to the FBI building. Cars go past as morning commuters make their way to work, the noise a soothing backdrop to a walk to work with your friend while mid conversation.

“I think autumn’s just so beautiful; the leaves and flowers, how even when they’re dying, parting from their vessel of life, are still so beautiful, y’know?” You ramble, walking in step with Spencer to the BAU.

Another soft chuckle elicits from Spencer’s lip, a similar one to his last chuckle outside of the coffee shop. He doesn’t agree with you this time, though. Turning your head to look at him, a nervous giggle escapes your lips when you see him still laughing.

“What?“

“You have the ability to see beauty in the most ordinary things. It’s endearing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Warmth flushes your face, despite the bitter air outside and you quickly avert your gaze to the pavement in front of you instead. Spencer always has the ability to say the most profound things and every single time, they make you blush.

He blushes slightly too, when you look away. Maybe it’s the weight of his words setting in, or maybe it’s how pretty you look with your face tinted pink because of him.

Either way, the rest of the walk is continued in silence, save for the city’s background noise.

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vivmaek · 1 year ago

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LOVE & SEX: ASTRO OBSERVATIONS (18+)

Happy Scorpio season everyone!

Sagittarius Risings are the best at flirting. I may be biased considering that I’m a Gemini Rising, but I stand by my opinion. They know how to evade small talk and make people melt through their warmth and charm. Sagittarius Risings can be cocky, but this serves them well when trying to gain romantic attention. Confidence is sexy. They keep things light hearted and fun. Their commitment issues add a layer of excitement to their relationships, they’re often pursued by multiple people at once.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A Cancer Venus or Mars could spend the entire day in bed with their partner. They blend cuddles, foreplay, and sex into long sessions that seemingly have no end.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Those who have their Sun in the third house can carry out a long-distance relationship successfully. A strong sense of imagination keeps the relationship alive within their head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

People who have Mars in the sixth house need to find a partner who is spontaneous. Their sex life might start to feel like a routine and they’ll become bored. Sex is important to these individuals, it has to remain exciting if these types are going to settle down.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Someone with Mars opposite to their Ascendant might find that they give more than they receive within their sexual relationships. They might participate in sexual activities just to appease their partner.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A Scorpio Mars might have secret sex fantasies that make them feel ashamed. They also probe into the sex life of their partners through pointed questions. This does not come from a place of curiosity, if they start doing this it's because they feel possessive and jealous. They want to be the best their partner has ever had.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Individuals with Mars in the first house have the best stamina, hands down.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

An Aquarius Venus is always getting caught up within the most complicated romantic endeavors. They’re the first to claim that they’re easy-going and just want to fall in love with their best friend. When in reality, they’re avoidant and uncomfortable with conventional romantic affection. They’re delusional for thinking this isn’t going to cause issues.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

People with a Pisces Venus will toy around with multiple people at once and then they’ll have the audacity to become confused when one of their partners finds out and is upset. Their love and affection for others is innocent. They’re just following their heart, and if it leads them into the arms of multiple people, so be it. Unlike other water venus placements, a Pisces Venus is not possessive over their lovers, they’re just here for the vibe.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Capricorn Ascendants are incredibly classy. Dating them feels like a high-end experience. They know how to treat their partners right. They show up on time and are always appropriately dressed for the occasion.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

People who have a Libra Sun placed within the tenth house find it difficult to balance their love life and career. It seems that these two areas of life are always in conflict with one another.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Individuals who have their Sun placed within the first house are honest and straightforward, they don’t play around with people and they do everything they can to avoid hurt feelings.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Taurus Moons like to eat before sex. If they didn’t get a chance to do this, they’ll get up and make themselves a sandwich immediately afterwards. They’ll make one for their partner too ofc ;) They are very attentive when it comes to aftercare, they’ll help their partner get dressed and will make sure all their emotional needs are being met.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

People who have Venus conjuncting their Ascendant end up in relationships with ease, but these relationships also end just as quickly as they started.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sexual endeavors of someone with Mars in the tenth house are publicly known. Their nudes may get leaked, and their past partners like to brag about shared sexual experiences.

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toppersjeep · 9 months ago

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I’m Alright- Lando Norris X Reader

Summary: You are Landos wife and you went to watch the Vegas GP. Yours and Landos daughter is also with you. But you didn’t expect the crash to happen it leaves you to worry about everything.

___

y/n norris posted on instagram!

y/nnorris✔️: as you can see lily is very excited to watch her daddy race today. and ofc it’s just lan being lan in the second picture- tagged landonorris

Liked by 2.4 million

danielricciardo✔️: Little Norris is in the paddock everyone !!

alexalbon✔️: she’s gotten so big what heck

mclaren✔️: little lily norris our personal favorite of the family 🧡

charlesleclerc✔️: LILY I MISS U

landonorris✔️: got my lucky charms today :) my favorite girls

netflix✔️: mamma norris is back everyone

maxverstappen1✔️: she’s adorable

ln4✔️: Miss Lily 🥰🫶🏻

lewishamilton✔️: what a cutie

landonorris✔️: my baby girl 🥺

____

Your POV

“Daddy are you gonna win” Lily said. “I don’t know baby” Lando said picking lily up. “If you win can we get ice cream” she said I smiled. “With extra sprinkles” Lando said. “Yes.. because sprinkles are for winners” Lily said I laughed.

“We can get ice cream baby” I said. “Mommy with waffles” Lily said. “Waffles.. Lily” I asked. “Yeah like daddy’s favorite ones” Lily said. “I think I have some” Lando said looking around for his waffles. He then found his little bag of stroop waffles.

“Can I have one” she said. “Of course love” he said she took one out of the bag. He then set her down. “Mama here” she said giving me one. “Oh thank you baby” I said taking one. “Alright lily daddy’s gotta get in his race car” Lando said bending down to her. “Okay daddy good luck” she said he hugged her.

“I love you so very much” he said she kissed his cheek. “I love you too daddy” she said. “Alright baby let’s get our headsets” I said. “Excuse me Mommy you forgot about me” Lando said. I hugged him and kissed him. “I love you so much” I said.

“I love you more Y/N .. I’ll see you after the race” Lando said. We took our seats and looked at the monitors. Lily sat in my lap as we got ready to watch the race. Lily waved to Lando as he drove out of the garage. This was her second race she watched in person.

“You ready” I said. She pointed at the screen. “Daddy’s gonna win” she said I smiled. “I think so too” I said. “Lily are you excited” Zak asked. “Yes I like that car” she said pointing to the red Ferrari. “That’s uncle Charles” I said. “Cha” she said smiling. “Yes cha” I said.

We watched the race begin. Lando was moving up positions a little bit. He then came over the radio at one point.

“Hi lily baby I love you” Lando said over the radio. She smiled. “I love you” she said back. he laughed. We kept watching. But I saw Lando hit something and spin off. So I quickly covered Lily’s eyes. Zak tried to stand in front so she wouldn’t see.

“Lando are you okay” Dave said over the radio and he said nothing. I teared up. Please be okay. We need you. “Lando are you okay” Dave repeated. “.. ahh.. Yeah I’m .. okay” Lando said.

“Mommy what’s going on” Lily said. “Daddy spun off it’s okay” I said. “Daddy are you okay” Lily said. “I’m okay baby it’s alright” Lando said. We then waited for Lando to come back to the garage.

They wanted to get him checked out just to be safe. So he got up in the ambulance.

“Mommy is daddy okay” Lily said. “Yeah come on Lily” Lando said. We got into the ambulance and went to the hospital. Lando held her hand the whole way there. She was a little bit nervous.

Later on..

Lando got checked out and everything was okay. We waited in the room at the hospital. Lily had fallen asleep with her head on my lap.

“She didn’t see that right” Lando said. “No.. I covered her eyes” I said. “I was just worried about her and you” he said. “I was so worried too” I said. “It was scary even more so knowing she was watching” Lando said. “Yeah” I said softly as Lily snored. Lando chuckled.

“She snores like you” Lando said. “Oh I know she had a busy day” I said. “She’s so precious how’d we make such a cutie” Lando said. “I know I came believe she’ll be five soon” I said. “I kinda miss the baby phase” Lando said.

“Oh you do” I said. “Yeah I do now she’s a little independent” Lando said. “Well good news is we’ll have another baby in like nine months so” I said. “Really” Lando said smiling. “Mmmh” I said. “Come here” Lando said.

Lily then woke up.

“Daddy” Lily said waking up and going over to Lando. “Hi lovey” Lando said holding her. “Lily guess what” I said sitting on the bed with them. “What” Lily said. “You are gonna be a big sister” Lando said. “Really I am” she said smiling. “Yes you might get a sister or a brother” I said.

“Yay… I want a baby brother” Lily said. “You do” I said. “Yeah or sister” she said smiling. “Are you excited then” I asked. “Yes but where do babies come from” Lily said. Lando and I looked at each other. “Uhhh well mommy carries the baby in here” Lando said pointing to my stomach.

“Did she eat it” Lily said I laughed. “No no honey” I said. “Oh so it’s magic” Lily asked. “Yes it’s magic lily” Lando said. “That’s cool” Lily said hugging me. “Yes it is” I said. “I can’t wait” Lily said super excited. “Do you think mommy will have a boy or girl” Lando said.

“Ummmm.. I don’t know I hope a boy or a girl” Lily said. “We can decorate a room too what do you think” I said. “I wanna help” Lily said. “Of course you can mommy and daddy will need help” Lando said. “Okay” Lily said.

~~~~~

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star-girl69 · 1 year ago

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I Can See You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse work together to get revenge on a mutual enemy, but when that plan involves pretending to date clarisse, something better than revenge happens. requested by anonymous!

a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE HOLY FRICK. the beginning is so bad and just like worldbuilding but i PROMISE!!!!! keep reading!!!!!! pls ignore the fact im reusing jackie and tyla i’m attached to them anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

I Can See You - Taylor Swift

(also Dress by tay was the original title soooo…..)

warnings: not proofread, the beginning is so bad i swear it gets better, a little suggestive haha…., kissing ofc, fake dating!!!!!!!!!, JEALOUS CLARISSE JEALOUS CLARISSE I REPEAT JEALOUS CLARISSE!!!!!!!, swearing, violence, mentions of murder!, protective clarisse the loml, ALCOHOL!!!!! reader gets drunk, allusions to sex, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT please be VERY careful, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“What the hell are you all doing?”

You had waited until nighttime for a reason, for the light of the full moon and hopefully some peace. You and your siblings looked up at the voice.

Xavier Bones was possibly the rudest and most self-centered person you had ever had the displeasure of meeting. His father was Ares, which made sense, seeing as he had a wicked temper and was strong as shit. Most of the kids from the Ares cabin could probably snap you like a stick if they wanted, but what scares you about Xavier is that he might actually do it.

He’s rude to everyone he sees, but he particularly has it out for the Aphrodite cabin. Just because Aphrodite kids didn’t have skill in battle like Ares kids, or aren’t wicked smart like Athena kids doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Xavier just didn’t understand anything except brute force.

He didn’t understand any other kind of power.

The whole reason you’re out here tonight is to finally finish the potion you’ve been making. Amokinesis was strictly a spoken sort of magic, and it was hard to do it to more than one person. But, you and your siblings had decided that maybe you could try and follow in the steps of sorceresses like Medea and Circe, using spelled objects and potions to execute your power. You had been collaborating with a Hecate kid for weeks now, learning everything you could about potion making until you were finally ready to try and make a simple truth potion- love and desire also opened the door to truth.

Aster, the daughter of Hecate who had been helping you, said it was a relatively easy first timer potion and hopefully with your Amokinesis it would come together.

You look up at Xavier, watching as he smiles in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to make some sort of love potion, huh?” He sits down at the picnic table, curiously leaning in to look at it.

“Get back,” Jackie, your sibling, hisses waving her hand at him so he’ll back up.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, some glint in his eyes. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re wasting all this time, seeing as it probably won’t work.”

“Shut up, Xavier,” you sighed. You needed this bad. You needed to prove to everyone that love wasn’t a stupid power. You were so sick of Xavier, of everyone and their treatment of the Aphrodite cabin. Jackie wanted so desperately to learn how to use a spear, but no one would pay enough attention to her.

You need this.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be nice?”

You opt to ignore him.

“Hm, okay, definitely not nice. Good thing I’m not either.”

He spits his gum out and drops it straight into the cauldron.

“Fucking bitch!” Jackie screams, Tyla looks like she’s about to cry, and the wooden spoon you’re holding in your hands is about to crack under the pressure.

The potion changes an odd color, a murky brown.

“Oops,” he says.

He laughs and walks away, and you faintly wonder what happened to him to make him so cruel.

—-

The next morning you’re all stewing silently at breakfast. Jackie is glaring daggers at the Ares table, Tyla is ranting about how you need to get all the ingredients again, and you’re trying to listen and join Jackie at staring maliciously.

“I’m gonna murder him, I think.”

“I’ll help,” you murmur, favoring staring at your hands instead of being caught staring at him.

“Do you think Clarisse will let me borrow her spear? How much would that sting, getting killed by one of your Dad’s weapons, huh?”

“She probably would,” Tyla mumbles. “She hates him too, ever since he beat her sparring.”

You resist the urge to scoff. You were there that day, and Xavier had played dirty.

They were sparring, she was winning, when he suddenly pointed behind her and shouted that Ares was there. Of course, everyone had turned to look, and he had disarmed her and kicked her down while she was distracted.

Of course, the next day he was walking around sporting a black eye, but Clarisse had never lived that day down. Xavier had never lived that down, either, exactly why they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table now.

Jackie stares off into the distance. She lets out a small laugh.

“I have a horrible idea.”

“What if we make Xavier fall in love with one of us, right?”

You and Tyla both gag.

“Wait, wait! But then we just lead him on, and maybe Clarisse will do us a favor and pretend to date-”

Tyla snorts. “She would never do that.”

You remember seeing the anger on her face that day. The rage, really, the betrayal. But you remember seeing the sadness too. A part of her had really thought Ares was gonna be there. You remember feeling so, so bad for her.

No one should deserve to feel like that, but it comes with the territory of being a demigod.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Tyla and Jackie stare at you like you’ve just cursed out Hades.

“I’ll do it. Tyla, no offense, but I think you’d crack under the pressure. And Jacks, you would just start punching him.”

“Yeah,” Tyla murmurs.

“I would,” Jackie agrees.

“I mean, it might actually work.”

—-

You corner her the next day.

She’s outside her cabin, practicing some spear forms when you walk over to her. This is all moving so fast, but you can’t help the fact that revenge is so fun. Why wait when you can get it now?

Revenge is supposed to be served best cold, but you’ve always been a little too handsy, a little too greedy for your own good. You want revenge and you want it now.

“Clarisse, hi.” You smile, she spares you a glance and doesn’t say anything. “I’m Y/N, you don’t know me but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

The spear stops in mid air. She moves from a offensive position to a standing position, and she looks you up and down so painfully slow that you think your organs are gonna burst.

“What?”

“So, you know Xavier?” you sit down on the picnic bench behind you. “I’m sure you know him, and I’m sure you know that he’s an asshole. He ruined something me and my siblings were doing, and he’s been so rude to all Aphrodite kids for so long so, we just wanna get him back.

She squints at you. “How?”

“We’re gonna use our amokinesis to make him fall in love with me, then maybe, hopefully, we can fake date to make him lose his mind.”

She stares at you blankly for a second. Your heart drops, oh, Gods, you never should have done this.

You’re gonna be the laughingstock of camp.

“‘Cause, you know, you both hate each others guts. And if he’s in love with me, but then he sees you and me together- it was this whole thing about making him see the power of love, you know, ‘cause like-”

She grabs you by your cheeks, pinching your face together, your lips puffing out.

“You can stop rambling, now.” She smiles in a demeaning way, and you would feel insulted if the way she wasn’t gripping your face right now wasn’t addicting. “I actually think it’s a pretty great plan. Surprising, but, whatever.”

You ignore that.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“When are you gonna spell him?”

“As soon as possible, tonight, at the bonfire.”

“Okay,” she nods, thinking to herself. “Come meet me before you do it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Clarisse La Rue touched your face. Clarisse touched your face, and you really fucking liked it.

—-

The three of you sit by the edge of the bonfire. You locked eyes with Clarisse a few minutes ago, letting her know you’re here.

Tyla fusses with your hair, even though you all spent an hour making everything about you perfect. It would be nice to look hot if you were gonna make him fall in love with you.

You watch as she makes her way towards the bathrooms.

Her golden skin shines in the light of the fire, she adjusts her shirt, and you swear you see her abs just under the orange fabric-

“Clarisse is pretty, isn’t she?” Tyla says. “I mean, I almost wish I was the one fake dating her.”

And she is. She is so painfully pretty.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” you wink.

When you step into the bathroom, Clarisse locks the door behind you. You turn around and she’s there. She looks you up and down. You can’t make out the look on her face.

“You’re really trying to impress him, huh?” she smirks. You ignore that.

The ceiling is low in here, so you walk to the corner and reach up at the loose board. You slide it over, reaching inside and grabbing the small bag.

Aphrodite kid secret- makeup is hidden everywhere around camp.

She stares at you. “Has that always been up there?”

You go to the mirror, taking out the mascara and applying another layer.

“Uh… yeah.”

She leans against the wall next to the mirror, watching you with such an intensity it’s like you’re the one beautiful thing in some bloody war she can’t take her eyes away from.

“We should probably set some ground rules,” you say. She hums. “This will probably only be for a month or so.”

“That’s fine.”

You stare pointedly at yourself in the mirror. You, Jacks and Tyla had dumped almost all of your plates into the offerings fire at lunch, hoping for good luck from Aphrodite. With the way your skin seems to glow, your makeup flawless, it seems she’s pleased by your offerings.

Maybe her and Ares are having a fight up on Olympus, and she’s itching to see him knocked down a peg, however vicariously through someone else.

“Well, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“I- what?” you blink, staring at Clarisse like she just turned into a cyclops.

“You can kiss me, hug me, whatever. I mean, we should really do this if we’re gonna do it. Sell it, or whatever.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you can do whatever too.”

Clarisse can touch you wherever she wants.

You look up discreetly. Please, Mom, you think. Don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue.

It’s fine to admit to yourself that you’d like to jump on top of her, but she’s still an Ares kid. She’s a bully, if you’re being honest. But can you say that you’re not one too after this?

Love can burn down cities, love can start wars, love can end them. Love is always there from the beginning of your life to your beginning. The doctor who delivered you loves their career. The woman who makes flower arrangement for your funeral loves flowers, even if she hates making them for funerals.

Love is always there, and when it’s used as a weapon you know it is one of the deadliest things.

But you’re too deep in this now.

She walks around so she’s standing behind you, adjusting her hair in the mirror.

She puts her hand on your hip. You take a deep breath, you pretend. You pretend so hard it might become real.

She smiles brightly in the mirror. “See you out there, baby.”

—-

You pull your top down. That’s the easiest way to get a man to look at you. Pull your top down. You get a few looks as you move through the tree trunk benches, careful that you don’t accidentally trip, because that would completely fuck up the plan.

There’s a part of you that comes from your mother. The part that some may call vain, but how is it your fault to enjoy the attention that other people are giving you? It’s not your fault they’re looking. It’s not your fault you look like your mother’s daughter.

You walk a little longer, finally setting your eyes on Xavier, sitting across the fire from Clarisse and her group. You eyes meet hers. She pretends to itch her nose, but you can see the laugh she’s hiding. You take one more deep breath, say one more please to your mother.

“Xavier,” you say. “Can I sit?”

He already seems a little shocked that you’re talking to him on purpose, but he quickly recovers and pushes his friend down the trunk.

You sit, your thigh touching his, folding your hands over your legs.

“I just wanted to say, Xavier, that you were right. The other night… the potion would have failed anyways. Thank you so much for ruining it when you did. Who knows what could have happened? It could have exploded everywhere.”

You laugh, putting your hand on his arm. He looks up at you, mouth slightly parted.

You said his name twice and he’s already sucked in.

“Really, Xavier, thank you.” You smile softly, looking at his lips before back up to his eyes.

His hand lands on your knee.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You watch Jackie walk by. He doesn’t hear her whisper. But you see it in his eyes.

You pretend to blush, brushing your hand down his arm before it lands back in your own lap. He leans in closer, until his lips are brushing your ear.

“Why don’t I give you some more things to be thankful for?”

Tyla walks by. He doesn’t hear her whisper either.

“Oh, I should really get back to Clarisse. Sorry, Xavier,”

His hand tightens on your knee and he pulls back.

“C-Clarisse? What would you be doing with her?”

You feign innocence. “Well, she’s my girlfriend. I do a lot of things with her,” you giggle. “I just wanted to thank you, but I should get going. Bye, Xavier!”

You blow him a kiss as you stand up, and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes right along with the blazing rage. You can feel him stare as you walk away, hips swaying.

Clarisse is still trying to hide her laugh when you start walking over to her. The tree trunk around her is all full of people, and a few more are even on the ground.

You stand in front of her, smiling softly.

“Are you not gonna let your girlfriend sit down?”

“Of course I am.”

She leans back and pats her knee. She draws you forward by wrapping her big hand around your hip. When you sit down, she rests her hand flat against your stomach, pressing you right to her. Her other hand rests on your thigh.

Please, Mom, don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue. Don’t let me like her touching me like this.

Everyone is staring.

It’s exhilarating.

You twist your face into something serious, trying not to break out into a fit of embarrassing giggles.

Her breath tickles your neck.

“I gotta admit, you little witch, that was impressive.”

You smile and place your hand over hers.

“I know.”

—-

The day after the bonfire, everybody at camp is talking about you and Clarisse.

How long have they been dating? Why did they decide to become public now? I swear I saw Y/N and Xavier getting close, though, what happened?

You’ve been trying not to break out laughing all morning. During breakfast you blew Clarisse a kiss and heard one of your siblings gasp dramatically and mumble about how sweet young love is.

Jackie and Tyla made paper hearts for you during arts n’ crafts, talking loudly about how you were such a lovesick little thing. You know Xavier heard about all of those things, because he stares at you every chance he gets and glares at Clarisse at the same time.

You keep exchanging subtle glances with her, small smiles, secrets in between your gazes. It’s nice to have something like this.

After dinner, the two of you go to the woods to pretend like you’re having a secret date. Clarisse brings her spear and you bring a blanket.

You’ve been laying there comfortably for a while, arms under your head like a pillow.

“I wanna know how you did it,” she says, turning her spear in her hands. You open one eye to look at her.

“I say his name a bunch of times. With, like, a lot of intention. Then Jackie and Tyla came by and whispered “you’re in love with the girl in front of you” and other stuff like that. It’s hard to explain. It’s just, like, this power.”

“I was imagining, like, one of those mortal movies, you know? A potion, or something.”

“Oh, we’re trying that too. Medea used her amokinesis in the form of potions and spelled objects, so me, Jackie, and Tyla have been talking to Aster, who’s a child of Hecate, and we tried to make a truth potion.” You laugh, thinking of that night. “That’s why we’re doing this, actually. Xavier found us and stuck his gum in it, so… completely ruined. We have to wait for the next full moon and get all the ingredients. It sucks, whatever, I guess.”

She listened intently the entire time you were talking. Aphrodite kids are always jumping from one thing to another. Clarisse is so focused and single-minded. It feels good to be the center of just one person’s attention. Not having people look at you, but just one person look at you.

“Every time I see him I think about stabbing him 20 times. Now I’ll think about sticking gum in his ear, too.” She turns to you and smiles.

None of that stupid smirking shit she always does, or those over-exaggerated demeaning smiles, she really smiles at you.

Her smile is really pretty.

You laugh along with her after a second.

“I would love to see that,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your forearms. “What really made you agree to do this? I mean, I know you guys surface level hate each other but, come on, I was just rambling and you were all ‘let’s do it’.”

“I hate him,” she shrugs. “Why do you care, anyways? You got what you wanted. Enjoy my beautiful self while it lasts.”

“Yeah, okay,” you chuckle.

You don’t leave until the stars come out.

—-

The second day after the bonfire, Clarisse invites you to sit with her at lunch. Usually, you’re supposed to stay at your cabin tables, but Chiron is busy all day and no one would snitch on Clarisse.

You walk over with your tray in hand, watching as she whispers something to her siblings. You smile at them before she pats the seat next to her.

“Hey,” the boy next to you greets. “I’m Matty.”

He points to the girl across from him. “That’s Marjorie,” he points to the other boy with dark skin across from Clarisse, “That’s Daniel,” and finally your eyes land on the blonde girl sitting across from you.

“I’m Sarah,” she smiles. She seems nice, at least. So does Matty. The rest just seem sort of standoffish. There’s a scuffle under the table, then Daniel glares at Clarisse.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Matty is sickly sweet nice, handsome too, and you almost wonder if he’s really a child of Ares. But he’s got that same focus like Clarisse.

He asks you questions and listens to your answers.

He had the bad stroke of fate in accidentally getting you going about your experiments in potions and amokinesis, and you find yourself shuffling closer to him.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I’ll stop torturing you now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I love a passionate person.”

You weren’t sure if he meant that to be flirting.

Usually you’re good at picking up these things, all Aphrodite kids have a knack for it, but you think he’s just really nice.

You stare at him, tilting your head to the side when Clarisse suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you closer to her. Her breath tickles your neck, just like the bonfire.

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, not his,” she whispers, her chin resting against your shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to have a conversation?”

“Not when he’s looking.” You spare a quick glance. Xavier is looking at you, a mix between glaring and starting longingly.

“He looks like a cross-eyed dog,” you giggle.

And to your surprise, Clarisse presses her face into your shoulder to muffle her laugh.

—-

All the time you spend with Clarisse is like some stupid board game you play with Tyla and Jackie when there’s nothing else to do. Jenga. That one where you crack the ice and try not to make the polar ball fall.

The games where you chip it away slowly, one by one, wondering if this time will be the time that it falls, if you’ll be the one to lose the game.

You push a little more each time with Clarisse. Each conversation, you learn a little more, you chip away a few of her walls.

It’s addicting to open her up slowly, to get to know her like this. And when it’s just you and her alone, when Xavier isn’t around to torture, you swear it doesn’t feel fake.

—-

The eighth day after the bonfire, you skip arts n’ crafts to follow Clarisse to the archery range.

While the Apollo kids have all that effortless, natural skill with archery, Ares kids are still deadly. You faintly remember seeing Clarisse shoot once. Even though it’s not her weapon of choice, her aim was deadly and she didn’t miss one shot.

You’re okay with a bow.

Clarisse sees the perfect opportunity to flaunt in front of Xavier.

As soon as you crest the hill, your eyes find his, and he beelines towards you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what can I do for you?”

It’s easy to switch on that stereotypical persona. You twist your fingers into your shirt.

“Yeah, can you help me?” you look up at him, trying to be as disgustingly sweet as you can,

“What’d you need?” he takes a step closer, about to cage you in between him and the cart full of bows and arrows.

“Can you help me pick out a bow? I don’t know what one would be right for me, I don’t know anything about archery. Please?”

He reaches past you, coming close so your back hits the wooden cart. You can’t help the way your eyes widen. He’s bold, you’ll give him that. Everyone reacts differently under the spell, but their true personalities still shine through.

He picks one up, running his hand up and down the curved wood. He plucks at the string, nodding to himself.

“This one’s fit for a lady.”

You take it, fingertips brushing his. “Oh, thank you so much, Xavier.” You give him a small side hug as you run past him, eager to get away from him.

You just need to find Clarisse.

“Hey, don’t you need some help shooting?” you glance over your shoulder, watching him advance.

Where the hell is Clarisse?

You’re about to say you’re fine when you suddenly slide into someone’s arms. You would have slammed into her, if not for the way Clarisse softly reached out to touch your arm, and Gods, you recognize the feel of her skin.

You knew she was there and you gratefully walked forward, your chests touching, her arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll take it from here, Xavier.”

You look up at her. She’s smiling in that same demeaning way.

You’ve grown to like it.

He doesn’t say anything else. You hear him stomp off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When you open your eyes after a moment, you realize how close you are.

You’re so close it’s just one move and that’s it. One move and you both know that’ll change it all.

You think she just worked out. You can feel the muscles of her arm against you, you can see the sweat on her hairline, you can see her breathing heavily.

You could just press your ear to her chest and feel everything.

The way her brown eyes reflect the sunshine is mesmerizing. You’ve been looking at her for so long, but it’s like you’re looking into the surface of a lake you swear you recognize, slightly green murky waters, but there was a whole world under the surface if you cared to look.

But you didn’t care to look for the Clarisse under the surface. You don’t care. You don’t want to.

She clears her throat and let’s go of you.

You back up.

“Put that thing down, he probably fucking poisoned it.”

You turn the bow in your hands, but when you look up, she’s already walking towards the far end of the field.

“Wait, wait, what am I gonna use then?”

“Mine, obviously.” You drop the bow.

—-

After taking a few deep breaths, and Clarisse going over the basics again, you filled your mind with images of a bow and arrow and not of her eyes. Not of her lips.

Clarisse La Rue hates Aphrodite kids too, just not as much as Xavier, and not enough to resist revenge.

You focus on that. That’s why you’re here. Revenge.

Revenge for every fucked up thing he’s said, revenge for every time he’s come too hard at you during capture the flag, revenge for all of your siblings and everyone he’s ever tortured.

“Ok, there, that’s a good stance.” She’s raking her eyes up and down your body. But you’re here for revenge. She glanced over her shoulder. “Except for…”

She presses her body to yours from behind, molding against you like she was made to protect you like this, her hand covering yours, her stance just a little wider. She glides her hand across your arm.

“Up, up, just a little.” She’s whispering right into your ear. You let her hands guide you. Your mouth feels dry. “Then let go.”

And how badly you want to let go. You want to let go of these feelings rolling around in your stomach like stones, you want to let go and let them become butterflies and fall into Clarisse.

You prayed to your mother not to fall in love with her, but maybe you should trust your mom. Maybe you should let go.

But you don’t.

You let go of the arrow instead, you keep your tumbling feelings inside, and to your shock you only hit a few inches from the bullseye.

The bow swings in your hand.

“Holy shit. Did I- did I just do that?”

Clarisse laughs. “You did, baby.”

You turn around and throw your arms around her neck, smiling wide and laughing hysterically. The bow was the one weapon you thought you could never master, and here you are after one lesson with Clarisse.

She wraps her arms around your waist, and even though you’ve hugged like this a million times, you both know it’s different this time. And you both ignore it.

But for one second, you’re pretending so hard it’s almost real. It’s almost a real date.

—-

On the ninth day, it all goes to shit.

Sword practice is held just after lunch, when the sun is still high in the sky. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins share the field first, and you, Jackie and Tyla take your time stretching to enjoy the show.

Tyla has to turn around to hide her laugh as you bend over slowly, making sure Xavier is watching, then when you face comes up flushed you smile at him. He smiles back.

You wave to Clarisse and he glares at her.

Jackie says it will take him 5 minutes to ask her to spar. Tyla says 5 too. You say it’ll take him maybe 3 minutes.

He spars with one person, a two minute match, then marched right up to Clarisse.

“How about we go, huh? Want another chance to try and beat me?”

Clarisse was smiling before he walked over, talking to her friends. Her smile fades and is replaced by the dark mask of pure focus.

“I’d love to beat you, Xavier.”

She walks past you to grab a sword from the rack.

Her eyes meet yours. You reach out and put your hand on her face, softly pressing her lips against yours. It’s a peck. It’s barely there. At least now you can check off a box and say you’ve kissed Clarisse La Rue.

She seems so shocked that you’ve actually kissed her you swear she loses her footing for a second. You swear her cheeks are a little flushed. By she stands up taller and ignores it, just like you’ve both been doing for so long.

“Good luck, baby!” you call as she walks off to the circle marked off for sparring.

Xavier looks like he’s about to light the grass on fire.

“She’s gonna beat his ass,” Jackie whispers.

“If he loses, do you think I should comfort him after?”

“Oh, Gods, yes,” Tyla smiles. “That’s so mean. We’re so mean.” It feels too good to stop.

Kissing Clarisse almost felt too good to stop. Even that second, one more longer and you would have been sucked in. You decide not to kiss her for however long this goes on.

Once you start kissing her, you’re scared you’ll never stop.

Revenge feels to good, and you need this.

As soon as they face each other Xavier springs out with a million offensive attacks, slightly sloppy- you can see his anger. Everyone knows you can’t let your emotion get in the way of battle.

Clarisse is calm and counters all his attacks. She even smiles, which makes your stomach flip in a way that isn’t fake.

Her sword flicks along his cheek. It’s a paper cut, barely.

“Oh no,” Clarisse fake frets. “You need me to walk you to the nurse?”

He grunts and launches an attack that’s just plain stupid. It’s messy. He swings too wide. She knocks his sword out of his hand.

He goes to dive for it but her sword is already at his neck.

He breathes heavily, staring at her, and it’s suddenly dead quiet. No more talking, no more swords clanging.

Your eyes are flicking in between them like a ball bouncing up and down. But they linger on Clarisse. Of course they linger on Clarisse.

It’s so quiet you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“Daddy’s behind you,” he whispers.

She whips around, taking her sword with her, but no one is there. Of course no one is there.

Xavier runs away laughing, and Clarisse turns around. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s gripping the hand of the sword so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t broken off.

Clarisse is not your girlfriend. Clarisse is not even your friend.

But she’s someone, she’s someone to you, and you can’t stand to see her like this.

You walk forward and put your hand on her wrist, taking the sword from her. You’re not even in control of your arms and legs.

She stares pointedly at the distance.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, giving her no choice and pulling her along. You throw the sword at the rack.

—-

You end up in Clarisse’s cabin, door clicking shut behind you as you press your back to it. She stays silent for a moment, until she screams and throws someone’s pillow at the wall. You don’t say anything.

You don’t say anything but you follow her to her bed.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, watching as she sits down, fists clenched so tight you hope she isn’t bleeding. “I’m so sorry, Clarisse.”

“You weren’t the one who fell for it. You weren’t the one who fell for that stupid, stupid, childish trick. I did.”

“You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us and our plan. If it wasn’t for me.”

You sit down on the bed next to hers.

“Why are you even here? We’re not actually dating, dummy. You can go.”

“I know,” you murmur. You know. You know you aren’t dating. You know you shouldn’t be here. “But you’re still something, Clarisse.”

She slips off her armor.

“I’m not something to you.”

She wants someone else to hurt like she does. She wants someone else to take the fall, to be embarrassed and the center of everyone’s attention so she doesn’t have to.

“I’ll never be something to you, Y/N, just- just go away. This is over, I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter. There’s something wet in your eyes and your throat tightens up. “That’s fine.”

You leave silently and you cry in the woods.

—-

When you finally make your way back to your cabin at nightfall, everyone is fussing around you. Your hair’s messy, mascara streams down your face, your shirt is wet with tears.

“Where have you been?” one of your brothers asks, and the rest of your siblings echo the sentiment.

Tyla doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She just wraps her arms around you. Jackie stands just behind her, eyes locking with yours. She knows. She doesn’t move. She can see it on your face, she can see it in your eyes.

Aphrodite children are predisposed to fall in love fast and hard. You’ve all gathered around your siblings time and time again when their hearts inevitably got broken.

No one wants to date an Aphrodite kid. Not really.

They all think you’re vain and self-centered. They all think you’re weak and useless.

When it comes down to it, that’s what you are.

How can you claim to wield the power of love when it brings you to your knees too?

You thought Clarisse was hot. You thought you could leave it at that. You thought you could pretend, you thought you could ignore it.

But the more you think about it, the more tears fall down your face, the more you realize you were ignoring the wrong thing. You spent so much time trying not to want Clarisse you forgot that she doesn’t even want you. It stings, like a knife in the chest, it hurts to know you’re making it all up.

But it was always pretend. It was always fake. That’s what fake dating is. The Aphrodite side of you just forgot that you couldn’t find comfort in her arms, you couldn’t memorize the feel of her skin, you couldn’t hear the sound of her heartbeat and pretended it beat for you.

You look up at the sky and you want to curse your mother. You want to know why she has abandoned you. But in your heart, you know she hasn’t abandoned you. The Goddess of Love is right next to you, and this is what it feels like.

Knives in your heart. Memories of heartbeats, memories of skin, memories of soft voices and secrets and the feeling that something was yours, something was quiet and shared.

“Y/N,” Jackie breathes.

The words hurt. You say them anyways.

“I fucked up,” you sob. “I fucked up, Jackie. She doesn’t- she won’t, she never will-”

“Y/N,” Tyla coos.

“I fell in love. I fell in love, and it’s over.”

—-

You give up on wearing makeup. The sadness still seeps through your face, and you end up crying most of it off anyways. A few of your hoodies are just permanently stained with mascara with how much you cried. The tears stream down your face and carry the little black specks with it.

You try to visualize everything you feel leaving with the black specks. The love, the anger, the sadness, the regret. But it doesn’t leave, and you’re too tired of trying to hide from it.

Everyone thinks you miserably broke up, and it’s mortifying to know that Clarisse knows you’re like this, she knows you’re absolutely ruined over this- and it was never even real.

You keep telling yourself that. It was fake. It was never real.

But it feels real, the memories feel real. You know they happened, you know Clarisse touched you so often it’s like you’re burned with it. You say she had to have felt it to, because the more you remember the more you remember the electricity, the charge in the air.

But you might just be making that up.

Lunch is the worst time. She’s always so happy at lunch, her and her table laughing loudly. She mentioned to you once, one of those fake star-studded dates in the woods, that she’s always to tired by dinner time because she trains so hard for most of the day.

You stare at her when no one’s looking, and everyone can see you better in the bright light of day- and you can’t look away.

Tyla mumbles that they’re gonna get up to make their offerings, she doesn’t ask if you’re gonna come. You’re probably not even going to eat more than a few bites again.

You’re alone at the stone table.

Xavier sees that as an opportunity.

Love spells are best to break on a full moon. You thought it would go on longer than this, and he’s only become more emboldened by what everyone sees as a breakup.

He sits down next to you, smiling sadly. You prop your head up in your hand.

“Y/N, you sad angel.” His hand grazes your shoulder, you can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. He places a flower in front of you. “To cheer you up.”

“Thanks, Xavier,” you mutter. He stares at you for a moment longer. Jackie comes back, slamming her tray down onto the table.

“Go away, Xavier,” she says, the same thing she says every day. Jackie has this look in her eyes that lets you know she’s ready to jump on you if she has to.

You think he would stop trying, but he can’t. He can’t because of this stupid love spell that ruined everything. And you can’t even take it off of him, not until the full moon.

You wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t for that love spell.

—-

There is one a day a year that Chiron turns a blind eye to parties. The summer solstice all of the cabin leaders come together to throw a huge party, mostly centered around the bonfire, food and drinks and even music. It’s the one night a year where you’re allowed to be teenagers, and it’s not taken lightly.

It even makes you feel a little excited.

“So what if all that shit happened?” Tyla asked. “We’re gonna make sure you look as hell at this party, and then you’re gonna go find someone and make out with them in a dark corner. Don’t even look who it is. Just grab the first random person and kiss them.”

“Okay, well, I’m not doing that, but I will do something of the sort. There is definitively some making out on my list tonight.”

“Oh, as long as it’s not with Xavier,” Tyla frets.

Jackie kicks her. “If Y/N makes out with Xavier, I will personally pay Chiron a million dollars to feed both of them to some horrible monster.”

“Supportive,” you muse.

Jackie gasps. “I forgot about this dress.”

“For which one of us?” Tyla asks.

Jackie turns around, holding up the back dress. It’s sparkly, a slit up the side, going just to your knees. It’s ruffled at the chest, thin spaghetti straps for the top. You can’t wear it. It’s too much, too revealing.

You look around the room.

Most of your siblings are wearing worse.

And you need to get your mind off her.

“I’m wearing that.”

Tyla squeals and Jackie lays it out on your bed.

You’ll forget about her tonight, you promise yourself.

—-

The bonfire burns high and bright, and even 20 feet away from it the feeling is burning. It’s so hot you’re glad you wore this barely there grass, it frees up your skin to touch the cool summer air.

You, Tyla and Jackie had gratefully taken a few too many sips of the alcohol someone had managed to sneak in and was now passing around.

Everything is so funny in the firelight.

Tyla’s tall heels keep sinking into the grass, and you keep giggling when your own do the same. You’re all holding onto each other, barely able to stand.

There was more nail polish fumes in the cabin than usual, and you’ll swear on your life that it gets to your head.

“Noooooo,” Tyla moans, sinking yet again into the grass. She gasps, pointing at the logs currently abandoned. “I’ll just walk on those!”

Your heels sink into the dirt.

“Me too,” you say, smiling as you grab Tyla’s hand and begin your ascent. Jackie ran off with an Apollo boy a minute ago, the first of your group to leave.

You grab onto each other, laughing boisterously as you keep almost falling.

“I-I can bare-barely stand!” you shout, giggling as you throw your arms to the sides.

“Me either!” Tyla shouts back. She jumps off, walking between the end of that one to the beginning of the next log.

“Hey, do you think I can jump and make it?”

Tyla judges the maybe 4 foot jump.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m gonna try,” you giggle. “I’m gonna jump!”

“Whoooo!” Tyla shouts, laughing too. This entire night is just about you and your friends and laughter. She starts clapping. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,”

You jump, eyes screwed shut, slamming into something mid air and being brought to the ground.

“Wh-” you mumble, and Tyla let’s out a gasp.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Clarisse scolds, her hands quickly falling from your waist.

And, of course, the first instinct of your intoxicated brain is to start screaming.

Clarisse grabs your arm and drags you off, past the light of the fire and into a space between the cabins. She slaps her hand over your mouth and you shut up.

“Are you going to stop being such a baby now?”

She lets go of your face and you immediately stumble forward so she has to catch you, pressing your finger into her chest.

“You, demon, are not my mother! So, I don’t know what you’re doing.”

She laughs, holding you up.

“Oh, you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” you correct. “As I was saying, don’t you remember, Clarisse, we will never be something to each other.” You push her away from you, heels sinking into the ground and keeping you upright.

Her face falls.

It’s so dark in here but you’re so close to her you can tell.

“Y/N, I-”

You can’t listen to her talk so softly. Being away from the heat of the fire clears up your brain.

“Where’s Tyla?” her hands fall from your hips. “Tyla?!” you dig you heels out of the mud, finding her sitting on the log, talking animatedly to Matty about something. “Oh,” you mumble.

They’re both so absorbed in each other they don’t hear you. And suddenly, you’re the last one left.

You head to a nearby table and chug a bottle of water, shoving a cupcake into your mouth.

“I’m not gonna be alone tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You look up at the almost full moon. You eyes scan the crowd. Xavier isn’t exactly bad looking, and you just need someone tonight. You need anything.

You don’t know where Clarisse is. You tell yourself you don’t care.

You move through the crowd, adjusting your hair, breathing in and out. You won’t be alone tonight. You won’t.

You spot him sitting off to the side with his friends, the group of them sharing a bottle just like you did.

“Xavier!” you shout. His eyes turn to you immediately. He shoves the bottle into his friends hands, standing up and walking over to you like it was his entire purpose to.

“Y/N,” he eyes you up and down. “You look- you look fucking hot.”

“Thank you. Now, dance with me.”

He follows you, his arm gripped in your hand, you can feel him staring at your ass and you don’t care, dragging him towards the music, towards the dance floor.

His hand is all over your ass, your thigh, your hips, drawing you closer to him as you spin and his other winds it’s way around your face.

He’s not her. You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about imagining her hands on you.

You put your arms around his neck, dancing in a way that would probably make your mother blush.

When you open your eyes, they’re locked with hers.

She seems to have made her way back to her friends, sitting on a log, leaning against her arm and staring at you. Her hands are clenched the same way they were that day. You can see her, you can see her perfectly and she can see you perfectly. She can see you and him.

Good.

You smile at her, waving the way you would have done to Xavier, except now the roles are reversed. He gets to have you, and she has to watch.

His mouth finds your neck. You laugh, throwing your head back, you don’t imagine her lips there. You just sink into the moment.

When your lips crash against his, there’s nothing except hot, hot desire. Like a blue flame, you’re all teeth and tongue, clashing together in a way that is purely carnal.

His hands are everywhere and you love it. It’s like a game, trying to guess where he’ll go next, and it keeps you so wonderfully distracted.

He tugs at the slit of your dress. You pull away for air.

“N-not here. Not yet.”

His greedy hand remains where it is until you shove it down, laughing lightly.

“Maybe later,” you whisper.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your neck. “Just let me…” he spins you two around, his hand slips under your dress, against your bare ass.

“Xavier-” you push at his greedy hand again.

“So, so beautiful, like you’re a witch-”

He’s ripped away from you.

You watch in horror as Clarisse grabs him by the front of his shirt and punches him square in the face.

You start screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs.

Xavier only seems to find it funny.

“You fuckin’ jealous, Clarisse?” he laughs. “Fuckin’ jealous, wonder if he’d be proud of you now, beating up his own son for a daughter of Aphrodite?”

She punches him again. Again.

“Fuckin’ jealous?” he says again, laughing, spitting out blood. “Are you fucking jealous?”

One of her siblings finally grabs her and pulls her away. She shoves them off of her.

“I’ll kill you,” she whispers to him. He doesn’t seem scared at all. You stand there and watch, stupidly, feeling like a bird from the skies watching it all unfold, unable to do anything. “Stay away from her. Stay the fuck away from her.”

She looks at you, you faintly realize the music’s stopped.

“Clarisse-”

“She’s not yours!” Xavier laughs from the ground. “The weak Aphrodite girl doesn’t belong to you, that’s gotta sting, Clarisse-”

A love spell only change’s one’s emotions towards a person. Their personalities are the same. They way they behave under a love spell is the same way they’d behave in a regular relationship, except with a lasting relentlessness.

“Shut up, Xavier!” you shout. You’re so sick of him. Sick of his bullshit. He can’t even make out with you without thinking about the next step.

You see it fade from his eyes.

It shouldn’t be.

You watch in horror as the spell falls, you realize this all wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to actually kiss him.

“Witch,” he mumbles. He was just moaning that against your cheek a minute ago.

He holds his hands to his already red face.

“You’re a fucking witch.”

Everyone is looking at you, for once in your life, you hate it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whisper.

Your eyes meet Clarisse’s. You can’t tell what’s on her face. You walk away.

—-

She finds you under the stars. Of course she does. You didn’t know where else to go. Cabin too stuffy. The lake is too far. The only place left is the woods, the spots where you would go with her.

She stands behind you. You can hear her breathing.

“Do you need something?” you mutter.

“I was selfish,” she starts.

You snort. Clarisse La Rue is a lot of things, you’ll be here all night.

“And I was hurt. So I took it out on you, which I really, really regret. You didn’t deserve that and it wasn’t true.”

It wasn’t true.

“Um, I was scared. So I made a decision for the both of us. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You place your hand on the grass next to you.

She sits, you don’t look at each other.

“That was all I had planned, but more has happened, so… uh, I was watching you the entire night, I guess. Not in a creepy way. I mean, you look, that dress… I couldn’t take my eyes away. Then you almost killed yourself on the logs.”

You smile.

“And I touched you again and I just, it was so much. Then you were on the dance floor, and he was all over you and- I was jealous. I was so jealous, like, I was actually about to go insane. And I saw you push his hand away, I saw him do it again, and I…”

“Went insane, berserk, crazy? Lost all proprietary?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “All of that. I’m not gonna apologize for punching the shit out of him. But I am sorry for the things I said.”

“Did you mean it?”

She just seems grateful you’re talking to her.

“Mean what?”

“That it wasn’t true.”

“It wasn’t true.”

You finally look at her. It feels so good to let go. To finally look at her, finally see her.

“I-I was just angry, and I-”

You’re sick of hearing her talk.

It’s nothing like the kiss with Xavier.

Its slow and sweet, heady like syrup, and you feel like you’re sinking beneath the current of some river. Your hands are on her face, she rests hers on your neck.

The kiss was Xavier was pure passion, no love, just bodies and bodies and no thoughts between them. This is all care, this is all slowness, this is all appreciation. It’s faces and faces, singular focus, one intent.

You pull away.

“I was so jealous,” she breathes, like it’s an explanation for the way she grabs you closer, harder, more, kissing you like Xavier did except it’s all erased. You can’t even remember what it feels like for someone else to touch you, let alone kiss you.

It just feels like her. It all feels like her, before her and after her.

When she finally starts to kiss down your neck, it’s so slow again, it’s like she can’t believe you’re in her arms, it’s like she can’t believe she’s got your hands on you. You grab her shoulders, you have her.

You look up towards the sky. Sorry I ever doubted you. Thanks, Mom.

You could see her across from you, you could see her on the dance floor, but now you can see her.

—-

y/n, talking to matty: yes i’m like about to slay amokinesis in a way it has never been slayed before

clarisse, who is NOT catching feelings: what the hell is this bitch doing to my girl

clarisse: ykw… im just gonna…. take her back thank you oh wdym no he’s looking we gotta fake date obvi (clarisse does not care if he’s looking)

—-

y/n, about to fucking die: i’m a bird! i’m jumping!

clarisse: no the fuck you’re not!

—-

clarisse when y/n is dancing in THE DRESS: oh i’m bricked up

—-

clarisse: if this bitch doesn’t get OFF my girl i’m gonna KILL SOMEONE

literally everyone: YOUR girl????

clarisse: nvm i’m just gonna fight him

everyone: not a logical solution???

—-

shoutout to jackie, tyla, and matty the loves of my life COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT THEM

also the tyla and matty agenda WILL be pushed

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison

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

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waynes-multiverse · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, I first wanted to say that I’m a big fan of your work, I’m constantly rereading your fics and they have really helped me escape from my busy Uni schedule. I was hoping you could write some smutty head canons about dean, no pressure ofc. I hope you enjoy your day and thank you for taking the time to create and post fics for people like me who need a way to escape their hectic lives.💕

Aww, thank you so much, lovely! I gladly support the escapism 🥰

Sorry this took me so long! I was on a bit of a break there, but I was so excited to get into this. God knows I have so many headcanons 😆

Hope you’re doing well and hope you enjoy this 🤍

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18 for some smutty content (duh)

Main Masterlist || Tag List

Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean

Dean is very hands-on, which means he’ll touch you whenever he can, even if it’s just a hand on the small of your back while you’re pumping gas or walking into a bar.

This also means he takes PDA to a whole new level. He teases you under the table when you’re doing research in the library or eating in the kitchen. He weaves his arms around you when you’re doing dishes. He trails kisses down your neck while you’re cooking.

Especially while you’re cooking. Something about food just turns him on. So much so that every once in a while he stands in front of your door with some whipped cream, chocolate sauce, a cute wiggle of his eyebrows, and a giant grin, begging you to be his dessert.

Sam is mostly annoyed by his brother’s indiscretions, though. Too many times (almost every damn day) Dean has walked into the kitchen in nothing but his gray robe and announced his morning wood to you, not seeing Sam sitting in the corner. That’s when Sam usually folds his paper, takes his coffee, and hurries to the library before Dean’s hands find their way to your body once more.

Sam suffers the most, however, if there’s only one motel room available and the three of you have to share. Dean has zero self-control (and also doesn’t care what Sam sees or doesn’t see). While he cuddles you, he holds you so close to his body that it’s hard to breathe. And again, hands and lips – they wander. Constantly. The man doesn’t possess an off-switch.

It got so bad that Sam has established a rule that the two of you are not allowed to share a bed anymore and Dean has to take the couch for the night. But as soon as his little brother has dozed off, he crawls right back into the warm comfort of your bed.

Speaking of rules, Dean loves breaking them. If there’s a sign that says “Do not enter,” you can be sure as hell he’ll shove you in there and will enter you. For Dean, there’s no such thing as bad timing or an inappropriate place. He even breaks rules that don’t exist and are just common sense like, “Do not have sex in a museum while you’re breaking into said museum.”

And while he loves breaking rules, he also loves following them. Especially when it’s “sexy rules.” He loves when you playfully push him around, when you shove him backwards onto the mattress and tell him what to do. He will smirk at you giddily all the way through and be the best damn boy you’ve ever seen.

Overall, he’s curious about your fantasies and constantly asks you want you want to do. He enjoys it when you take the lead in the bedroom and loves to see what you come up with. He loves being underneath you and watch you ride him with his bottom lip tugged behind his teeth. It barely hides his huge grin. He loves to see your tits bounce from this angle. According to him, it’s the best goddamn view in the world – forget the Grand Canyon.

However, when he’s had a bad day or a rough hunt, he actually likes to be in charge. It all depends on his mood. But taking control of you helps him cope with the things he can’t control in this world. So whenever he comes home with tense shoulders and a tightly creased brow, you know you’re in for a treat.

When he orders you around with his deep voice and sharp tone, you melt into a puddle and only all too happily oblige to his every command. Your legs grow weak when he dominates you with just a look. God, he loves the way you whimper and squirm underneath him, loves how you moan his name when you’re on all fours in front of him, and loves how your lips feel around his cock when you suck him off.

You love to give him comfort in whatever form he pleases. And Dean loves that you trust him with all your heart – and he knows to never betray it. He will always respect your limits, even though he gently pokes them sometimes, testing how far he actually can go.

Sometimes he bends rules like he bends you.

And truth is, he can go pretty fucking far. There’s not much you won’t let this man do. His dirty mouth can convince you to do all kinds of things – things you would for sure refuse if anyone else was asking. But it’s Dean, and one look of his sparkling green eyes will have you on your knees for him.

But honestly, Dean is the same kind of whipped for you, too. He will do anything for you, short of moving actual mountains. Massages, hot baths, ice cream at midnight? He’s got you covered and doesn’t expect anything in return, except for your unconditional love. He’s got it either way, but you do have to reassure him sometimes.

Dean’s a giver, not a taker, so you do have to force him sometimes to ask for the things he wants. But boy, when he gives, he goddamn gives with both of his massive hands. After he’s done with you, there’s not a single inch of skin left on your body that hasn’t been worshipped. You always come first – literally.

Dean takes pride in making you cum, and it doesn’t matter with which body part of his he does it. They are all equally skilled – his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and his dick. He eats you out and fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, because you both know in a life full of monsters, there actually might not be one. He makes every night and every day count.

Then, there’s his mouth. It should be no surprise, but it’s goddamn filthy. He could make you come with words alone, and not rarely, he sure likes to try. A lot of times it’s stuff you haven’t even heard, dreamed, or thought about until Dean’s said it and put it in your goddamn head.

And yes, Dean’s very sexual and a great lover through and through. He enjoys sex, but most of all, he enjoys going to sleep and waking up next to you. He loves cuddling with you on the couch during a movie, he loves holding you close at night, and he loves that special moment when you’re both coming down from your highs and are still connected, bathing in the afterglow.

Dean has been so touch-starved all his life that he enjoys the little things. He loves when your fingernails caress his back and massage his scalp. He loves using you as his freaking pillow. At this point, you’ve learned not to drink too much water before bed, because you know you won’t be able to escape his prison of strong arms – not that you’d ever want to (unless you really do have to pee).

I honestly could've went on and on and on with this one... 😂

MORE HEADCANONS? 👉 Put 'em here.

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @snowayumi

#wayne answers #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

Text

𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 5.8k

cw: this is a piss fic, you have been warned - don't like don't read, established d/s dynamics in a relationship, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: your boyfriend has something he wants to try in bed. you didn't expect to like it so much.

a/n: like i said before this is a piss fic, if you don't like don't read! thank u to the sweet girl who commissioned this & thank u to my babies may and nessa for proofreading and also my ems <3 i was super nervous about this so i hope u like <3 smut warnings ofc under cut

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: PISS, established d/s dynamics, dom!minho, sub!reader, subspace, SERIOUSLY THERE’S PISS, face fucking, oral (m rec), very negotiated kink, minho calls reader a plethora of pet names, nipple play, one (1) face slap, minho’s condescending and MEAN, choking, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, squirting, reader calls minho sir briefly, brief aftercare but more offscreen!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s always daunting when Minho gets like this. You know exactly what’s going to go down tonight - you’ve discussed it extensively. You always have to discuss it extensively. Minho is nothing if not a good dom, and there’s rules and regulations that you have to adhere to, even if he is your boyfriend.

It still catches you off guard. He paces across the room to your shared wardrobe, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing his veiny forearms. You’re perched on the bed, the exact way he told you to be in your plain black underwear. The fresh sheets are a welcome coolness on your warm skin. You’re overheating in excitement. You can’t wait.

He’s going to piss on you tonight. He’s going to piss on you tonight, or maybe even in you, he’d said - he wanted to make you well and truly messy. Just the way he liked you. He told you he’d be mean, maybe even meaner than normal, and you’d agreed to it all before climbing into his lap and begging him to take you on the flimsy dining table chair in your kitchen in all of your excitement. He had chuckled, brushing a hand over your head with a teasing little “you want it that bad, huh?”. He still fucked you, so your plan went as hoped.

“I want to talk to you about something before we start, jagi,” His voice is smooth, low in volume, yet you hear every word loudly. You nod in response, and he turns and blinks at you, slow and cat-like. Oh, yeah. You were forgetting yourself already.

You blush in embarrassment of how far gone you are already, and he smiles, soft and barely noticeable. Fond. “Yeah, Min?”

The blush only continues to spread when he finally, finally climbs onto the bed next to you. He’s still in his work clothes, shirt tight on his broad pecs and his trousers tight on his thighs. You try not to stare. You fail, and he chuckles, using two fingers to prop your chin up to look directly at his eyes.

“This scene is a little harder than the other ones we’ve done,” He looks at you. It would feel scrutinising, the way he’s sizing you up, but his eyes are so full of fondness you can’t feel perceived at all - only admired. “I’m a little worried you may fall into subspace. Do you know what that is?”

He’s using his dominant voice on you, you swear. The tone of voice that’s level, not quite monotone but very, very straightforward and firm. Almost strict. It makes you rub your thighs together in need. Your boyfriend is so sexy when he’s like this.

A quick scratch to your chin has you blinking back into reality. Yes. “Yes, I do know what that is. I’ve never done that before though, have I? So I probably won’t now, and-”

“We don’t know that,” He’s firm when he cuts you off, but presses a kiss to your nose nonetheless. “I need to know if you’re okay with me continuing if I notice you getting all floaty, jagi. I won’t if you don’t want me to. This is all in your hands, yeah? You know you run this show.”

He chuckles, lightening the mood, but he’s right. When Minho first introduced you to this, you realised very quickly that despite the dominant being physically in charge, it was definitely the submissive that held the reins. It’s hard giving yourself over to someone so viscerally - it’s a vulnerable state to be in, letting someone decide your limits and decide what’s best for you.

Despite that, you’d let Minho fuck you outside in six foot snow, so you were definitely down for being fucked in subspace.

“Yes. Yeah, I want you to- I think it’d be hot, I think,” You’re babbling already, and Minho smiles again, his teeth glinting in the low light of your lamp. “I think it would be hot if you carried on, and I was like- all fuzzy, and stuff. You know?”

It’s silent for a beat, and then he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Cute. Remember I love you, jagi, okay?”

Oh. Oh, you were starting? He normally only said that before you started, and before you can question him, he’s pressing his mouth against yours firmer, harder. It’s messy, the way he dominates your mouth instantly and uses one hand to tangle in your hair, yanking your hair back. You whimper against his lips, and he bites your bottom lip in response, finally moving to press you down to the bed with him on top of you. He starts to trail kisses down your face and your neck, and you can't help but let out a small noise of excitement. Before you can beg him to leave his mark on you, he quickly moves back up to your lips and starts to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth in an act of possession. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer, feeling yourself getting a lot more than just worked up.

His chest is muscled, the slightly toned soft muscle that only makes sense on Minho. He’s not heavy on top of you, only a presence where he licks and sucks into your mouth until you’re leaking into your panties. He pulls away, his lips dropping to your neck, and you can’t be anything more than pliant the way you let him use your skin and mark you as his. You are his. Mentally, emotionally, physically - any way he wants you, you’ll let him.

“I love this body,” Minho groans, his voice low and gravelly. “Such a filthy fucking body. You’re gonna let me piss on it, aren’t you?”

You whine, loud and unabashed, and Minho chuckles. It’s a puff of air against the exposed column of your neck and your hips cant up, searching for friction.

“Oh, you are,” His hand moves down to your bra, searching through the lace for your pebbled nipple. The lace is thin, pitch black and almost sheer, and a grin forms on his face when he manages to pinch your nipple meanly. “Look at how excited you are for it. Your nipples are so hard, are you that excited for my piss?”

You try to nod in response, but a quick slap against your cheek using his spare hand has you reeling to try and form words. You’re babbling before you can even think. “Y-Yes! Yes, Minho, I’m excited. I can’t wait, I wanna- I wan’ taste it, will you let me? Please?”

He hums in consideration, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your tits to him. He was right - your nipples are hard and pebbled, dusky against your flesh, and he ducks down to engulf one in his mouth. His lips are full, plush like pillows, and his tongue darts around your nipple in small kitten licks. Soft, wet, warm. Pliant. His.

Minho’s bunny teeth are quick to bite at the peak, and you whine, back arching up to get more of the painful pleasure. He coos at this, finger running over your areola once when he pulls back from your chest. He sits back on his haunches, fingers deftly making quick use of his belt. The way he pulls the belt from the loops on his trousers have you remembering all the times he’s whipped you with it, and your eyes go blurry. You’re staring directly at the extremely prominent bulge in his trousers as if you somehow have x-ray vision and can see his cock in all its glory already.

“I’m going to fuck your face,” He explains, pushing down the expensive branded boxers to his thighs. His thighs are thick, muscled from years of dance, and you nod at his words despite having your vision solely trained on the bulging muscles. You can’t even keep your attention there for long - his cock springs out, hard and flushed and so big, so thick in the tight ring he forms around the base. The veins look as though they could be practically throbbing beneath the skin with arousal. “I’ll fuck your face, and I’ll piss down your throat. Do you want that? Tell me.”

He’s asking you, and you can’t believe it. Of course you want it, but you respond anyway. “I want it. I want it so bad, Minho. How do you want me? On the floor, on my knees? Or do you-”

“On the floor,” He looks towards the ground, pleased with himself when you heed his commands immediately. You’re quick to dive off of the bed and sink to your knees on the floor, and Minho lets out a fond chuckle before standing in front of you, ever the image of dominance. The hardwood floor doesn’t save your knees, still feeling hard and uncomfortable, and the way the pain bites into your legs has you shifting even more. It turns you on, being used and treated like an object, and being put on the floor to suck cock doesn’t help any. You’re positively ruining your panties by now.

His trousers are pushed down to his ankles, the perfect juxtaposition of black, thick material against his milky skin. His shirt is rolled up just enough for you to see the bottom of his tummy, hairy and soft above his cock. You expect him to keep it on, but you watch in awe as he unbuttons his shirt quickly and throws it to the side. His chest is exposed to you then, all broad muscle and dusky pink nipples against his skin.

He pumps his shaft in his hand a few times for good measure, just barely a few inches from your face, and then he’s tapping the cockhead on your lips. “Open wide. C’mon, kitty cat.”

His tone is condescending, almost patronising, and you hold back a whine. When your lips fall apart, he’s pushing into your mouth before you can even process it. A blistering, feverish pace immediately takes over his hips, and his cockhead is ramming down your throat with only a slight bit of pain beneath all of the pleasure. You try to run your tongue over the tip, to trace the veins with the tip of your tongue, but it’s impossible. He’s using your mouth like he’d use your pussy, unabashed and downright mean.

“Take it,” he grunts, looking ever the ethereal being above you. If you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was an angel - no, a fallen angel, debauched and with black, wiry wings sprouting from his back. Sweat covers the top of his chest, shiny and wet, and his cockhead presses firmly into the back of your throat. Your eyes water with the intense ministrations on your throat, hands aching to reach out and grab onto Minho’s thighs. They stay securely on your own limbs, and Minho groans, his eyes staring down into yours. “Fucking take it for me. Take my cock, dirty kitty. Don’t you dare fucking cry about it.”

You’d swear he was composed if it wasn’t for the way he was looking down at you. Minho’s mostly quiet in bed, only a few sparse noises, but the fire in his eyes is visible.

The sounds in the room are filthy. Your eyes are hazy already with the force that he’s rutting into your mouth, but when his hand goes into your hair, yanking with all of his might, you hear yourself whine between gags and you’re not even trying to. You’re floating, fuzzy where your boyfriend fucks his cockhead into your mouth - you can’t even consider what’s going on, not too out of it but out of it enough to question what’s actually happening around you. Is this what Minho was talking about before? Subspace?

“Oh, Jesus. Are you feeling fuzzy already, kitty?” He pulls his cock out, tapping the cockhead on your bottom lip. A string of drool attaches his cock back to your mouth and he groans in approval, feline eyes narrowing. “Went down so easy for me, huh? Do you think you can take a little more?”

You’re nodding then, subconsciously, but a slight smile on your face. You want more. You need more. You need his piss, wherever on your body that he deems acceptable - it’s like he’s marking you as his territory. It’s such a primitive act that gets you more than just hot under the collar. If he pisses on you, or in you, it’s as if he sees you as an object that’s beneath him, not worth anything more than his piss.

“Good,” He muses, and then his hand is forming a tight ring around his length. It’s throbbing, long and thick where it protrudes from his groin with drops of pearlescent precum, and he presses it past your lips again with a small sigh. “I’ve gotta take a piss, kitty cat. I want you to swallow it all for me, and then you can have some milk in that pussy for being good. How’s that?”

You can’t reply, because he’s already bouncing your head on his shaft. He’s resorted to pulling you up and down on his shaft by your hair this time, not grinding his hips rhythmically into the hot, wet cavern you’ve provided.

“You know, I really thought you’d say no to this,” How the fuck is his voice calm right now? “But then I realised that of course you’d be into it. My filthy little fucking urinal.”

You moan loudly around his shaft. Minho chuckles, and then he’s pulling back again, your throat abused and aching at the alleviation of pressure. His cockhead stays at the entrance of your mouth, and he drops a hand from your hair to pump it a few times, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It’s coming,” He warns. “Are you ready? Are you ready for my piss, filthy bitch?”

You moan, nodding, and when your tongue lolls out of your mouth, Minho lets out a loud groan. It’s primal, and you watch silently as he shakes his head and flutters his eyes closed to try and gain some control of himself. He runs his finger over the slit of his cockhead, and then he’s pushing the tip past your lips again and - oh.

His piss begins leaking out of his tip, a slow and steady stream that tastes surprisingly a lot like you expected. It’s purely Minho, raw and unfiltered, and you whine and whimper and let him fill your mouth up with his piss. It feels filthy, your pussy positively dripping through your panties and onto the floor by now. The stream floods down your throat even as you continue to gulp it down greedily, and you allow your hands to finally find purchase on his thighs, fingernails digging into the muscle. He allows it, his hands both moving back to your hair to bob you on his tip just a little to get the rest of his piss out.

Minho pulls out of your mouth with a soft noise, his eyes staring down at you almost menacingly. You dip your tongue into his piss-slit once more, moaning at the remnants of the taste, and then you’re whining, loud and un-muffled.

“Minho,” You say, voice high and needy. You feel as though you want to say so much, you want to beg so much, but nothing is coming out of your mouth. You’re so fucking turned on you feel like you could die. “P-Please. Please, please. I can’t, I can’t, please, please-”

He positively growls. You’re pulled up by two hands underneath your armpits and thrown onto the bed less than unceremoniously, his body sidling up next to you. He’s kicked his trousers off, you notice, body warm and firm next to you.

“Was it that good? Dirty little thing,” He hums, tongue licking one fat stripe up your neck. “C’mere. Let me taste it on you.”

Minho’s lips are firm against yours, and his hands are anything but gentle as he slides them down your body. It’s like he’s igniting you with electricity, every area of skin that he touches feeling warm and too sensitive. His lips trail down your neck, leaving another trail of fire behind them. You’re pliant, letting him pull you by your hair and your throat into his dominating, overwhelming kisses.

His fingers reach your panties, and his finger dips underneath the waistband. You gasp, holding your breath and wishing, praying that he’ll push his whole hand into your underwear, but he simply pulls his finger back with a small amused puff of air.

“Hnnfg, Minho, Minho, please, I don’t, I can’t-“

Minho leans over you more then, his eyes dark and half-lidded when he stares into yours. His gaze is all-consuming, but there’s a slight hint of a teasing smile on his lips. “Jesus, kitty. Be quiet,” His voice is low, amused, until all signs of a smile drop from his face upon his fingers finally delving into your underwear. His forearm obscures your vision, muscled and veiny, but you can feel the way your wetness immediately drenches his fingertips. His eyes flicker from your face to your core in awe, lips slightly parted. “Fuckin- shit. Jagi, tell me this is a joke. You’re fucking drenched.”

You are. His fingers smear around in your wetness, spreading it all around your folds. He drags his middle and ring finger down to your hole, wet and sloppy, and you look at him with pleading eyes. You’re not sure you could talk even if you wanted to.

Minho simply smiles that toothy smile that you love, eyes crinkling. You’re confused - he’s being nice - until he’s shoving both fingers into you at once. It was a stretch you hadn't been prepared for, and you jolt with a squeal, hands going up to grip onto his forearm.

“Do you remember what I said before, jagi?” He muses, fingers curling up into that spot that makes you whine. You do whine, legs thrashing around and toes curling against the sheets. “If you have any in there, I’m fucking having it. I want you to piss all over my cock before I fuck you with it, remember? I want you to treat you like the dirty little thing you are.”

You nod, brain still fuzzy and way too overwhelmed. Your pussy squelches loudly around his digits, and his spare hand wraps around your throat in a dangerous grip. It’s not too hard, but definitely there, and you whimper in approval.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the pace he sets against your g-spot, and after a brief, tight squeeze, Minho removes his hand from your throat in favour of using two fingers on your clit along with his harsh fingering. His arm is curled underneath your waist in a position that must be painful to him, but you ignore it in favour of your own pleasure.

You feel like you could scream, and you do let out some strangled noise that sounds nothing at all like you. Just when you think it can’t get any worse - or any better, actually - he slides another finger in, stretching you out with three of his digits. You’re dripping down onto his knuckles and you wail, starting to hump against his hand. You’re going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

“You better be fucking thinking of asking for permission, bitch,” Minho hisses in your ear. You moan in response, nodding. Of course you’ll ask. Something about your boyfriend just makes you want to be good. You want to obey him so he continues to give you such nice things. “You don’t make the decisions. I'm the one fucking that hole with my fingers right now, I'll be the one who says you can cum.”

His fingers thrust into you faster, if it was possible, and you thrash around. The movement brings Minho’s cock against your thigh, and you gasp at the realisation that he’s next to you, naked, in all his glory. Your fingernails still dig painfully into his forearm, but he doesn’t seem phased. “Minho, Minho- I’m gon’- please, please, please, I wanna cum, let me come, it hurts, I-“

“Oh, I know, I know. It just feels too good, doesn’t it? You can’t even fucking control yourself, writhing around like that,” He groans, eyes fixated on your face. You know your expression is screwed up in pleasure, eyes watering from the feeling of his fingers inside of you. His fingers begin to slide around on your clit rather than provide any direct pressure due to how wet you’re getting, but you still hump against the sensation with gratitude. You’d never have anything other than gratitude when Minho’s being so nice like this. “You’re behaving like a fucking whore. Beg me for it. Beg me to let a fucking whore like you cum all over my fingers, tell me how good it feels.”

He starts kissing up your neck again with the open-mouthed, wet movements, and you feel like you’re about to burst. Just a little more. Just a little more, and you can, you just have to will your brain to speak. “I-I love sir's fingers, fuck, I love when sir fingers me like this- fuck, sir I'm gonna- can't hold it- I, hnng, I can’t, I don’t- pleasepleaseplease-”

Minho pulls away from your neck with an alarmed little snort. “Sir? God, you are far gone,” He points out, but then he’s pinching your clit meanly with his fingers. It makes you hump his hand a little faster and whine a little louder. It’s quiet for a beat, and then he’s sighing as if he’s annoyed. You swear you catch him rolling his eyes through your blurry vision. “Okay, fine. Go on then, if you want to cum so badly. Cum.”

With one word, you feel like your whole world is falling apart. A gush of wetness bursts from you and all over the bed, probably soaking Minho too. Your ears are ringing and you can feel the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall, fat streaks of wetness painting your skin. His fingers don’t slow, but he’s groaning in your ear now, coaching you along. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing over your clit with a wet hand that only made you let out another gush everywhere. You were sure you'd screamed.

You wail and thrash through your orgasm, and then you’re panting, body dropping back onto the bed. You don’t register Minho groaning, licking his fingers clean - you only realise he’s moved when he’s on top of you, yanking your soaking wet underwear down your legs and finally unclasping your bra. Your hands go above your head, pliant and willing, letting him take control. You’re fucked dumb by now, anyway. You’d be no use.

“If you had all that in there for me, you have some piss in there,” He muses, and you whine, shaking your head.

“D’nt need to pee, Min,” You insist, head lolling back on the sheets. You’re pliant, and Minho grabs your chin with his hand, making you face him. His ears are burning a shade of delectable pink, the flush travelling over his chest and making him look almost embarrassed. You know this state of Minho all too well, though. He’s so horny he feels like he’s about to explode.

“You do,” He responds, quick as a flash. You whimper as he presses his cockhead into your folds, just barely teasing the ruddy, flushed tip at your hole. Your hands move to grip onto the sheets next to your head, and just when you’re sure he’s going to put it in, Minho leans down, and then his hand is pressing on the bottom of your stomach. You wail, shaking your head. Minho chuckles knowingly. “You need to piss, don’t you?”

You do. Embarrassingly quickly, just from him pressing on your bladder. “I- it’ll make a mess, Min, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I want it to make a fucking mess,” He scoffs, pressing harder. He continues to drag his cock through your sopping wet folds with his other hand, his feline eyes staring at you with a renewed fire burning behind them. He’s daring you to disobey. You would never disobey him. “I want everything you have to give me. Piss all over my cock. Do it.”

You clench your thighs, stomach tensing. It doesn’t take much, only a slight rubbing of Minho’s hand on your tummy and you’re pissing. The stream erupts from you in a messy spurt, and Minho groans, pumping his cock to coat it in your mess. You whine, trying to shift your hips to catch his cock inside of you, but the mess you’re making ensures that it’s too slippery to do so.

“Stay still, you’ll get it in a second,” Minho mumbles, hand tightening around the head of his cock. It’s substantially lubed now, but he still continues to pump it, hand easing up on your stomach. Something about it has your mouth watering, staring at his cock and wondering how it tastes. Maybe he’ll let you suck it clean next time, let you taste his cock mixed with your own piss. “That’s it, kitty. Get sir’s cock nice and wet with your piss. Dirty little thing.”

When the stream finally finishes, you shift against the sheets, soaking wet and definitely a lot more aroused than you were previously. There’s still only one thing on your mind. “Can- can I have it now, please, please?”

Minho nods, his cheeks blazing red. He’s losing his composure. “Yeah. God, yeah, kitty. You can have it, c’mere,” He sighs, finally pushing the head of his cock inside of you. It slides inside easily with the wetness of your pussy and the mess you’d made on him, his thick shaft stretching you out and making you moan out for him. You catch sight of Minho’s eyes rolling back into his head, a long, drawn out noise leaving his lips. “Fuck, this is so fucking dirty. You’re filthy, letting me do this.”

No. You’re not, are you? Are you dirty? “Filthy?” You question, completely in bliss at the feeling of him finally inside you. You’ll be filthy if it means he’ll fuck you. Minho chuckles, and then his hips start to move, a sinuous grind against yours. The noises your pussy is making are beyond debauched, wet, slapping sounds from how soaking wet you are. You whine, bucking your hips up, and Minho lets you, gripping your hips to pull you off of the mattress.

“I’m gonna go harder, okay? I want you to take it for me, all of it,” His voice is close, leaning down to whisper it against the skin of your neck. You nod eagerly, and he pulls your thighs up to rest your ankles on his shoulders. The change in position has his cock hitting you deeper and you gasp, fingers moving to grip on his biceps. He sits back slightly, pulling you closer to him, and then he’s pounding into you. With little to no buildup, you can’t help but squeal, your pussy gushing around his fat length. “You love this, don’t you? My cock, covered in your piss, stretching your little cunt out. You love being filthy for me.”

“Hhnnfg, hhng, Min, Min, Min, you made me pee, you-”

Minho scoffs, hand threading into your hair. He wraps your hair around his fist and pulls, bent half over you while he pounds your pussy into oblivion. “Don’t make stupid fucking excuses for yourself. I can see it in your eyes, you love being like this for me.”

You whine, tears brimming in your eyes again uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but just lay there, pliant and gripping onto his biceps for him to stretch your pussy out with his veiny fucking cock. It feels almost too good, too overwhelming. The ridges of his shaft are pressing against your walls, causing a delectable friction that has you clenching down on every outwards motion from him. It’s as if your pussy doesn’t want him to leave, and you don’t want him to leave, pulling him close by his arms every time he thrusts inside of you.

Minho pushes your thighs apart, and then he’s bending you into a sort of mating press. Your legs rest on his upper biceps and his body folds you in half for him, making you whine at the stretch on your muscles. You’re loud, embarrassingly so, little “ah, ah, ah”’s leaving your mouth with every thrust. The change in position allows him to hit your cervix with his length, long and throbbing inside of you, and you’re only louder and more pathetic for him.

“Can you hear that, kitty cat?” He whispers, and you hold your breath. Once you’ve stopped making so much noise, you can hear it - the sound of your pussy is even louder, wet and messy and when you look down, his cock is soaking with you. With your piss or your slick, you’re not sure, but it has you clenching down deliciously anyway. “I’m fucking your own piss into you, and you’re whining like a little bitch.”

You can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. Your previous slight fuzziness has morphed into full blown floating, and you think you’re crying, but you’re not sure. All you can hear is your own noises, loud and desperate while he ensures your pussy never forgets the shape of his cock. “Ah, ah, I don’t- sir, I don’t, I can’t, I don’t know- ah, oh, I can’t-”

“Ah, fucking hell,” Minho hisses, gritting his teeth. You watch in disappointment as he pulls his cock out of you, forming a tight ring around the base with his fingers. “I need to cum inside you. I need to give you your milk, kitty cat, c’mon. Flip over for me.”

He tells you to do it, but helps you anyway. You feel his hands go to your hips to flip you over, and then you’re face down, and some part of you finds the strength to push your hips up to present your pussy for him. But, milk? You’ve been good enough for that?

He sinks back inside you, his cock slick and fat and too much for your little pussy. “There you go, jagi. Biiig stretch, feel it,” He moans, and you push your hips back on him easily. In this position, your lips are parted and you can feel yourself drooling up a puddle on the sheets. It adds to the mess, filthy with piss and slick and sweat, and you want Minho to lick it all up and spit it in your mouth. He immediately resumes his punishing pace, hips slapping against your ass with every thrust and hitting that delicious spot inside you so well. “Fuckin’ tight pussy, ah, it’s so good.”

“H- haa, Minho, have I been good?” You question, eyes blurry and bottom lip slick with your own spit. Minho groans, deep and loud, reverberating through your whole body. He knows you need reassurance, and he nods, a little smile on his face despite his lust-filled, half-lidded eyes.

“You’ve been so good. So good I’m giving you my cum, yeah? Gonna breed that little pussy, filled it with your piss already, needs my cum now,” He’s babbling, which is a sure sign that he’s close - but you can’t even fathom it in your state. “Little girl, kitty cat, so good for me, c’mere.”

You don’t move, but Minho slinks one hand around your hip to rub at your clit. The added pleasure has you jolting with a whine, and Minho lets out an amused puff of air at your reaction. His fingers slide around your clit wet and imprecise, but it’s enough to have you hurtling towards your second orgasm. His cockhead slams against your g-spot, bordering on painful, but the sensation only adds to the throes of bliss he has you tumbling through.

“Min, Min, Min, it’s- ‘s so good, so good, so big, so- Min, Min, I g’ta-”

“You can cum whenever, jagi. Give it to me, I want it,” His voice is higher, more desperate, and you nod eagerly. He sidles over your back, his sweaty chest pressed to your skin, and then he’s pressing his lips against yours.

It’s less of a kiss and more of a messy exchange of spit and breathing into each other's mouths. Minho’s tongue slides against yours as he continues to rub messy circles around your clit, and before you know it, you’re cumming around his cock with a sharp gasp of pleasure against his lips. He swallows your noises, finally engulfing your mouth with his, and you moan and sigh freely through gushing all over his length, the electric feeling making your toes curl.

Minho envelops your hair tightly with his spare hand, thrusting harder and faster, his breathing becoming ragged as he approaches his climax. With a broken whine, you feel his cum fill you up, thick and hot and heavy.

He flops on top of you with a sigh, his body weight a welcome presence for you. You ignore the feeling of the sheets beneath you in favour of closing your eyes and humming contentedly. You’re still floating, but it’s calmer now, softer. It feels like you’re on a cloud. “So good, Min.”

“Yeah?” Minho grins, his hand now stroking softly through your hair in favour of yanking on it. “You did so good for me, jagi. You were so, so good, made me cum so hard.”

“You made me cum hard, too,” You respond, opening one eye to see his face over your shoulder. His cheeks are flushed, hair sweaty and floppy over his eyes, but he has a blissed out smile on his face. When he catches sight of you looking at him, he smiles, and the sight of his bunny teeth has your heart singing. How can he look so cute after fucking you like that? Before you can say anything else, you yawn, and Minho giggles. “‘M sleepy.”

“Bath first, jagi,” He coos, kissing your hairline. “My sweet girl. Let’s get you nice and clean and then we’ll nap.”

“Mm, okay,” Minho hops off of you and you stretch out leisurely like a cat, your body sticky and defiled. You hear him tinkering around the room behind you, humming a tune to himself, and you smile fondly. “Love you, Min.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

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