#you have to imagine the snark

[bethanydelleman]

Okay, the title of the song Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas sounds SO condescending. It's the "little". Here are some Jane Austen characters to help me demonstrate:

Caroline Bingley to Elizabeth Bennet before supporting her brother in skipping town, "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas." *smirks*

Lucy Steele to Elinor Dashwood, whilst being engaged to Edward, "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I know you'll be so happy." *evil grin*

Mrs. Norris to Mrs Price, "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas, those who have little should appreciate what they have." *worst condescending tone know to man*

[detectiveneve]

see the thing about Astarion to me is I don't actually think he has a clue who he actually is beneath all of the everything he's got going on. he's got impulses, he's got drive, a will to live, he's got desires and amusements and cravings, but an actual selfhood?? no. there's a blue error screen where the person of him should be, the person -- whoever that was, I'm personally of the mind he likely wasn't good then either, but we'll see where the story takes us -- before Cazador. the man in front of us today is this mishmash of interior delight at freedom and sunlight but also capable of true unapologetic cruelty and willingness to be ugly in a multitude of ways. so he follows the impulse. he follows what intrigues and amuses, and nothing will take that freedom from him again. and he reflects back onto others the violence that was done unto him. a lack of power kept him down? now he wants to accumulate power, so it can never be turned on him again. but he also misses the sun while he's underground. he's mean and desperate and ruthless and it's interesting because he's unapologetic about it, he's unflinching about it. he's vindictive and mean and desperately floundering around throwing stuff at a wall to see what sticks in terms of personhood because who is he now. 200 years of horrific servitude and now he's just out and about and he's in the mud.

and he can be horrible. and yet when you take the routes of prying open the faaairly shallow veneer he has of smug and snark and snappiness, he'll give you pieces of the raw and the desperate -- "I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. what you see." is a line you only get if you're earnest with him. any other path in the dialogue will have him continue the shallow persona you've come to know. and in all of that I think nothing is "this is real, this is an act," set in stone because I just don't think he even knows, I don't think he has a CLUE what's his and what's the protective measures and what's the real delight and what's the cruel mockery of his surroundings and what he's willing to give vs what he needs to hide vs what he lets slip out on accident. the inconsistencies in his own ideas and what he says and what he does. I think most everything about him is in a weird place of deeply uncertain. is it a lie? is it a glimmer of truth? for me, I like to interpret him in this weird menagerie of half-truths and shallow lies and omissions, because we've only known him a short while and maybe also he doesn't even know the answer yet. who is he? fuck if HE knows. anyways. smash.

[kurokoros]

still mad that we didn't get Vecna possessing Steve. haha silly Steve who asks stupid questions and everyone dunks on as if he's not an athlete and one of the better combatants in the group. Steve, who knocked out a trained soldier at 19. Steve, who has been beaten to hell every season and gotten right back up afterwards. just goofy old Steve.

but what if Steve wasn't actually Steve anymore?

[marta-bee]

I've always thought the Valar were wrong to send Eonwe to explain the Gift of Men to the Numenoreans. It's only this weekend that I've decided the most fun and therefore narratively superior choice would be Osse. A very heavily supervised Osse of course, not that it would do any good.

[catsaysmlem]

the shippers love to hc rooster and hangman's history as "they're estranged because rooster screwed up somehow and that's why hangman's such a dick to him" to justify hangman's assholery (conveniently ignoring the fact that hangman is a dick to people who aren't rooster as well).

so this bit of the script was hilarious to me:

turns out their actual history is that hangman has ALWAYS been such a raging asshole, rooster felt compelled to bestow a permanent reigning champion of assholery award on him in the form of his call sign lmfao

EDIT- and BOY is he an absolutely malicious asshole:

[acesammy]

something I love about early seasons Sam - that could Honestly just be me projecting but whatever- is that he gets meaner when he’s under pressure

[self-spaghettification]

me looking at this

[darkwingsnark]

Why does Bowser have nipples in my art? Because I think it’s funny, that’s all.

[vagueiish]

fuck i wish i could write. oliver just signed the deal with raphael (because he constantly feels like he's doing nothing to help the party or anyone and putting his soul on the line is the very least he could do, even though he helps everyone and also is like.... at max approval with the whole party and has finished or done the majority of everyone's personal quests)(he's trusting the emperor less and less, for Reasons, which i guess would involve more writing because it involves personal backstory shit, and he's already burned the bridge with gortash by crashing the party at the iron throne and saving wyll's dad, so his options to deal with the tadpoles are becoming fewer and fewer)(so. raphael it is. for now...?)

and astarion's basically just like 'well that was stupid, but what do i care, it's not *my* name on the contract lol' (even though oliver's apparently the first person he's truly cared for, bb, what are you doing? is this a 'id rather you hadn't, and i'm actually kind of upset but don't know how to deal and also you're a fuckin adult and made your choice, so what's the point in saying anything' moment or what, i am having trouble deciphering this right now)(and i know the dude is an ass, i dont expect him to be Nice, but your honor, theyre in love. and he did sound kind of pissed about it! or irritated/sarcastic??? but! how did he mean it? my brain is not cooperating, i hate this, lmao, i wish there was a follow up convo or something so i could pin down this fuckin plot bunny)

(and i mean. this is deviating into headcanon/oliver as tav specific territory, and is me trying to figure out how it'd figure into the thing i'd wind up writing for this if i do, and again, astarion is an ass and all that, maybe not the most emotionally mature dude in the realms to put it mildly, but he'd know, right? eventually, at least??? that he fucked up saying that? that however he actually meant it, it's going to sound very much like 'i don't actually care about you' to the first person he professes to actually care about?)(and in terms of oliver's canon timeline, i think he signs well after his own 'personal quest' would have occurred. so astarion would know about oliver's mother and all that baggage. not that he'd necessarily know what do to with it, but he'd probably have heard her be all 'yeah, i never actually cared for or wanted you, soo....')(which is an oversimplification and the whole situation is quite complicated, but. that's the gist he gets, so anyway...)

and then karlach. my love. the bestest of girls, she's angry and insisting on going to avernus one last time to save oliver's fucking soul because she's awesome and also because he's her friend and, tangent, i wish there was an option at all times to hug her, whether as a friend or lover. she deserves all the hugs, romantical or platonic or whatever, fuck, i want to hug karlach so fucking bad

and there is something *there* with all of this because oliver, sweet and sad and self-loathing, wouldn't have any of her help. he'd want her to let it go. gently, at first, but of course she doesn't, so then he gets pissed. because this is his decision. because it's not her name or anyone else's on the dotted line, so why the fuck does she care? (hm. sounds familiar.......) let it go. let him help for once, not be a burden on the party for *once* (as if he hasn't spent the whole adventure bending over backwards not just for our merry band of adventurers, but everyone he's come across)(because it's not enough, never enough, it'll never be enough to make up for being him) he isn't worth the trip to avernus, isnt worth her forcing herself to face that place again. and he's rarely loud or angry but he's both now, the exhaustion and frustration and uncertainty and fear re: the future that he's been trying to ignore pouring our of him, horribly misdirected at probably his best friend in the whole group, so of course the rest of the party is going to hear it and it's just.... there is something here, i feel it in me bones

(also. tangentially related, but didn't raphael imply that fucking up the contract would fuck over the whole group and not just whomstever is signing it? said something about hanging you and your friends from meathooks while watching the world burn??? so either he's full of shit or the contract actually fucks over everyone if broken, which..... oliver as tav would not have signed if breaking it affected anyone else, so this might all be moot. i dunno. just rambling)

[hairstevington]

Drop your reasonings in comments or tags!!! There’s lots of good stuff to consider lol

(also plz forgive me for splitting up Stobin - the group would never split this way but I wanted to explore different dynamics that I personally wish to see more of lol)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

ring pop proposal ♡

fem reader, pure fluff, childhood friends to lovers lemme alone do not perceive me yk the drill by now, lil self indulgent fic cus i love childhood friends to lovers and puppy crushes, polar opposite’s trope, this reeks of my oc x canon katsu ship sooooo shh shh do not perceive.

the first person who realizes katsuki has a crush on you is his mom because when she comes to pick him up one day from kindergarten he suddenly mentions you. it’s an innocent little interaction he had with you that mitsuki doesn’t think much about at first, simply surprised her son managed to befriend someone outside of his little group of friends until he starts mentioning you more and more.

soon you’re the only thing he talks about and katsuki even starts begging her to have you come over to play. mitsuki is extremely curious to know what kind of person you are to have been able to enchant her son the way you have, she says it’s fine as long as your parents agree.

you’re a sweet little thing, almost the complete opposite of her little devil’s spawn. you’re polite and a little shy when you ask “ is it okay if i come to play at katsu’s house, please miss katsuki’s mom ?” and how could she say no to you ? she pulls at your cheek lovingly and her son almost snarls at her.

“no touchin’ !” he snarks, pulling you against him like you were his teddy bear.

mitsuki was the first to realize her son had a crush on you when you were always around. when he found something cool during a class trip you were there and whenever he was upset it was always because you had argued about something irrelevant that seemed so much bigger in the eyes of a child.

she realized because katsuki had, and in some ways, will always be rowdy. he’s rough and temperamental and moody—basically, he can be quite the brat. (she wonders where he gets that from a lot) but he’s different with you.

he’ll always be a little rough around the edges but it’s the thought that counts. he drags you around a little too hard but it's to show you something he knows you'd like and you repay him by being patient with him and letting him drag you around to his hearts content. he let’s you use the crayons he’d just denied another classmate seconds ago and when it’s really early in the morning and you’re still sleepy unlike your more energetic friend, he waits for you. sitting with you in the reading corner quietly commenting on a little bit of everything in the book you’re sharing until you’re awake enough to start the day because katsuki wanted you to be together through anything no matter what, starting the day without you was simply unimaginable.

you offer him your kindness and he repays you with his loyalty. acting like your guard dog, protecting you from everything and everyone he considers a threat to you. he goes a bit overboard but it’s the thought that counts and he’s definitely got the right intentions.

“ i’m g’nna marry yn when i grow up !” katsuki proclaims from the backseat of the car after mitsuki had come to pick him up. she looks at him through the rear view mirror only to see he’s not even looking at her, looking out the window somewhat longingly, watching as his school fades away from his sight, further and further and further away from you. she smiles to herself.

“yeah ?” she asks “yeah !” he responds proudly, crossing his arms “ i asked yn if she wanted to be my wife an’ she said yeah, so we’re gettin’ married !”

“huh. how’d you propose ? you don’t have a ring.” she jests.

katsuki responds immediately and exclaims he does have one, shuffling around to reach for something in his pocket. he pulls out a plastic ring pop holder, the candy on top is missing and mitsuki can imagine what happened to it.

“gave her one of these !”

“so that’s why you had me buy those from the store last time,” she hums. “ you ate it, though.”

katsuki tries to roll his eyes but just ends up looking up and to the side, mitsuki recognizes it as him trying to mimic what she does a lot and she snorts.

“well duh, we both did ! ‘f i kept it in my pocket it woulda gotten gross !” he defends. mitsuki simply responds with a hum, smile on her face growing larger as she hears her son happily chatting about the rest of his day with you.

she knows her katsuki is hard to handle. extremely so. but when she sees the way you both interact she can tell something is there. you don’t ‘handle’ him. you like being around him. you like playing and talking with him, she sees how happy you make him whenever you come over for playdates. he holds your hand when you get scared and you hug him tight and beam when you see him again after he’s gotten over a nasty cold.

she can tell you make her son happy and he does the same for you in the way children do with pinky promises and shy cheek kisses, kisses over tiny wounds and refusing to be separated whenever the rowdier one of you both gets his recess time taken away for being naughty.

mitsuki hopes this crush, this love you have for her son can grow along with you. she hopes you’ll stick around as katsuki grows up more and potentially more rowdy and rougher around the edges but even more enamored with you. and with the way her son is squirming around in his seat and tugging at his seatbelt, giddy about you accepting his ring pop proposal, she has a funny feeling you’ll be sticking around for a long time.

[cyberm4n]

alastor and lucifer sharing you

alastor x reader x lucifer headcanons

pt2

cw: 18+, semi explicit smut? dom! alastor, dom! lucifer, alastor basically pitches a hinge relationship

■ alastor and lucifer had known this was a long time coming.

■ between the gifts lucifer makes you and the little friendly affections alastor only gave you, it didn't take long for either of them to realize the predicament.

■ at first, neither want to share, and neither are entertaining the idea of the other having you.

■ however alastor gets an idea as lucifer is arguing he'd be the most likely to please me the most

■ alastor has never been a fan of touch, not that he would deny intimacy with you, but he definitely doesn't prefer it.

■ but standing infront of him is a man who prides himself on treating his partners well, both in and outside of the bedroom.

■ i imagine in this scenario alastor is less concerned about being your partner but more about making sure lucifer can't have you all to himself

■ alastor doesn't like to share, but if it means he gets to have possession of you without the intimacy, he's going to take it.

"maybe there's a simple compromise here after all" alastor says, looking down at the man standing before him, lucifer sighing in frustration.

"oh really? and what would you propose?" he says with snark, not expecting what alastor suggests even a little.

■ it's a simple arrangement, really.

■ lucifer gets to do whatever he wants, gets to have you, but alastor gets to watch and maybe occasionally participate

■ but of course, they have to convince you too.

"i— you guys want to what?" you'd say, they'd both approached you while you were in your room. you sat on the small couch while they sat across from you on the bed.

"darling," alastor would tut, giving you a look "it's a simple question. yes or no" he says, and it's getting harder to ignore the hand lucifer had placed on your thigh, slowly working it's way up.

they'd started out this conversation by explicitly stating if you were uncomfortable at all, everything stops no questions asked.

but they wanted to hear you say yes.

■ i think they'd be like "good cop, bad cop"

■ lucifer, who's been between your thighs for what feels like hours, cooing such sweet praises everytime he coaxed an orgasm out of you.

■ alastor, who's sitting behind you, leaning against the headboard as he cradles your head in his lap. giving condescending comments as you go numb in their arms.

■ they balance each other out and it works pretty well tbh

■ oh, it's going to be a long night.

this was kind of rushed and im not 100% happy with it but i had to stop the brainrot about those two

part two maybe??

[zvdvdlvr]

from the club

Derek’s wolf whistle made you roll your eyes and try to slip into your seat without drawing too much attention. “Damn, mama,” he sang teasingly, eyeing you up and down.

“Derek Morgan! I ought to-“

“Whoa!”

You glared at Spencer, trying to ifnore the way his eyes trailed over your cleavage. “It’s like you guys have never even been in the presence of a female before,” you snark sarcastically. Secretly, though, you feel complimented that such aesthetically pleasing people thought you looked good.

Emily, Jennifer, Penelope, and Rossi were later than Hotch surprisingly. Aaron strode in next, laying a stack of files on the table. He sat down at his regular spot and turned to make conversation until the other arrived when he turned and saw you. His lips drew thinly over his face as he watched you reach over the table to grab a file. He swallowed and averted his eyes from you when you sat back in your seat. Hotch felt like a pervert and averted his mind to the more pressing matter. Dead bodies, knives, murder, he repeated to himself- trying to draw blood away from his crotch.

J.J., Penelope, and Emily arrived next. “Coffee for you all, my precious gems!” Penny sang, placing the team’s favorite brews in front of them. After she placed yours down her eyes gleamed and she raised her eyebrows. “Did you call-“

“Penelope!” You hollered, turning away from the red-head with a laugh. 

She just giggled and wiggled her eyebrows. As Emily took her place beside you, she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’m no better than the men here, y/n. You look hot.” 

You swatted her away and waited for J.J. to start the briefing. Emily snickered beside you.

There was really nothing professional about being called into work wearing low-rise jeans and a lacey tank top. But it wasn’t your fault- some of your college friends had stopped in the city and wanted to go to the club and wouldn’t take no as an answer.

Rossi showed up right before Hotch said his favorite phrase (read: “wheels up in 30”). You collected your file and started out of the room.

“Good lo- y/n!”

You whipped around to see Penelope rushinf towards you. “Wh-What?”

“You’ve surprised me more times today than I thought possible, darling girl. Turn around! I didn’t know you had ink!” 

You breathed out a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the feeling of her cold fingers tracing over the black ink just above your jeans. “I have some on the mid back too,” you said quietly.

“Impressive,” Rossi- of all people- hummed. “One of my ex wives roped me into getting a matching tattoo with her. The pain was somethinf else and the aftercare was hell. Rookie, here has a high pain tolerance.” He patted your practically bare shoulder and walked by without another word.

Emily purred lowly as she walked by, laughing at the way you flipped her off in return.

“You know, Jeffery Dahmer didn’t consume people that had tattoos… He said that the ‘tattoos made the meat taste like… shit’,” Reid spouted.

The way Spencer paused before saying shit was endearing. Maybe it was your attraction to nerds, but you felt particularly flattered at the weight of his gaze on you. “That’s interesting, Spencer,” you replied quietly. “Did you know the oldest recorded tattoo ink recipe required insect eggs?”

Spencer just hummed.

“I- uh,” Aaron cleared his throat. You stepped back from Penelope’s hands. “I imagine you have more professional attire?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yes, Hotch. I’m really sorry, my friends convinced me to go out with them, you know, and I-“

Hotch chuckled and held his hands up. “It’s okay, y/n. What you do on your own time is your business,” he said.

You wrung your hands. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“No problem, y/n.” Hotch started to walk away and you felt Derek’s arm wrap around your shoulder. “Nice ink,” he called back to you. 

“I’ll see you on the plane, y/n,” Spencer told you with a wave. You smiled back at him and watched him run a hand through his hair as he walked away.

“Lover boy’s gotta thing for you, y/n,” Derek told you, a shit eating grin on his face. “And Hotch too, if I took a guess. I think you made the old man pop a bo-“

“Derek Morgan!”

You shoved him off of you and tried to ignore his gleeful laughter.

[lovegasmic]

⋆ SHARING IS CARING (CUCKOLDING)

ft. Sukuna x reader x husband Satoru

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. f!reader, voyeurism, modern au, company rivals, Satoru has a degradation kink lmaooo, doggy, mentions of oral sx, mentions of creampiė

request from @alainatranquility ‹3

this request got so long I decided to format it as a fic.

NAVI ⁞ EVENT MASTERLIST

Sukuna’s attraction to you was not a secret.

having to find him at every high end party concerning your husband and the pink haired man’s companies, the latter didn’t wait any second to grab a glass of champagne, put on his characteristic smirk and blatantly flirt with you in front of Satoru.

and although as jealous as your husband was, it also made his cock hard, solely from imagining how beautiful you’d look moaning and whining under the other man, he loves you, he knows you’re his, but can you blame a man for having fantasies?

the party is the usual, boring and snobbish people kissing each other’s asses in an attempt to make their own business grow, being the little corner next to the bar where you, Satoru and Sukuna stand a small escape to everyone else.

“have you finally decided to ditch your husband and marry me instead, gorgeous?” is what Sukuna says, a smile on his face while his and Satoru’s chests caged you in.

Satoru shouldn’t be getting hard, but he does and you’re well aware, the bulge in his pants pressing on your lower back is much larger than usual and the usual sexual tension much stronger.

you have spoken about it, about the lingering and very palpable tension between the three of you, but your husband would never admit it in front of his eternal rival, opting to squeeze your hip and push you closer to the —most likely, warmth of his twitching cock.

now it’s in your hands to subtly slide a single piece of paper into Sukuna’s suit jacket pocket, one with your hotel room number before Satoru is dragging you away.

a threesome was what Sukuna expected upon entering the fancy suite, having found you pinned against a wall with Satoru’s hand under your dress and tongue deep down your throat, and you a flustered mess with saliva coated lips and a single strand of it connecting yours and Satoru’s lips.

“you look stunning like that, darling, I like that expression on you” Sukuna offers you one of his characteristic smirks, stepping deeper into the dark room, being the city lights your only form of illumination where you stand. mind reeling with the possibilities, perhaps you’ll suck him off while Satoru fucks you, or you’ll rub that pretty pussy of yours all over his face while your soft lips wrap around your husband’s cock, all scenarios sexier than the last.

yet Satoru remains awkwardly silent, long legs moving in a backwards motion until he’s sitting on a plush couch, eyes locked on you and the way Sukuna is palming his erection.

“don’t hurt her” is all the white haired says, and enough for the other man to understand your real intentions.

the squelch of Satoru’s hand moving up and down his own cock is disgustingly loud, dripping like never before down his wrist and staining the dark fabric of his way too expensive trousers, head back against the wall and eyes locked on your rolled out ones.

a pervert is what he is, twitching whenever Sukuna forces a specially hard thrust into your cunt, drooling whenever Sukuna mutters a praising to you and a mocking snark comment to you.

“beautiful, beautiful girl” each word accentuated by a heavy smack of his full balls against your clit, “that stupid you have as husband doesn’t deserve you” and you sob, back arched and nipples rubbing against the sheets, “i can treat you better, fuck you better...”

merciless is what he is, years of pent up frustration, of having to watch your stunning self being so close yet so far of his reach, now transmitted to his cock pounding your sloppy hole, greedily squeezing the flesh of your ass to spread you wider, to pull you closer and repeatedly smack into the deepest point of your pussy.

although Sukuna’s focus was on you, he couldn’t help but steal a few glances at Satoru with a cocky smirk, especially when you creamed his cock, and this time addressing him as well, “hey, is she always this wet when you fuck her?” and Satoru groans, squeezing the base of his cock, refusing to reply to a question he knows is solely to rile him up.

“that’s what I thought” he murmurs, leaning to press his whole body weight on your back with his hips loudly slamming into your ass with slow but deep thrusts, making you squeak and drool all over the sheets, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, darling, creaming my cock, tightening so much, fuck...”

“—Kuna...!”

and that’s all Sukuna needs, having you whimper your husband’s name through the whole night, but somehow your brain fried forgot about that detail, too stimulated, too fucked stupid to remember, now squeaking and whining Sukuna’s name, like you fuckin’ need him.

“that’s a good fucking girl, oh yeah, suck my cock, baby, i’ll fill you up nice and good” he won’t of course, having a condom wrapped around his throbbing erection ruined the whole fun, but he could dream right? dream of giving you a nice and sloppy creampie that would drip down your thighs, that filled you to the brim enough to ooze and make red faced Satoru cum embarrassingly hard

[chaussetteblanche]

AHH i lived ur luke one do u think u can do another maybe like an enemies to lovers trope (sorry im a sucker for enemies to lovers)☺️

hi babe !! thanks for requesting ! don't apologise we're all on our knees and begging for enemies to lovers <3

I hate you

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : you and luke have been mortal enemies for months, will things change because of a quest? word count: 2.3k warnings : swear words, description of a wound

Luke had hated you since your first day at camp. To this day, you had no idea why. But after months of letting snark comments and aggressive capture the flags slide, you’d decided you had had enough. That had been the moment you'd officially become enemies. 

When he'd jeer at you, you'd bite back with even more venom. If you made him drop his sword at capture the flag, he’d come after you with his bare hands. When one hit, the other hit back harder. It was constant war. 

The rest of camp never understood this hatred you both harboured for one another. Singularly, you were both kind, generous and intelligent people. The kind of people you’d expect to get along fine and even become good friends. But no, it was always one thing after the next. 

So imagine your horror when a relatively new camper was chosen for a quest and found nothing better to do than pick you and your mortal enemy to accompany him. It was your worst nightmare come true. You froze when both your names resounded in the agora. 

You choked, coughed and held back from spluttering, refusing to embarrass yourself. You smoothed down your camp shirt and nodded. You did not look at Luke, even though you could feel his heated glower on your skin. He would probably find a way to blame you for this. Chiron looked between you and Luke with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. You could almost hear what he was thinking. Nonetheless, he abided. 

Walking back to your cabin to prepare your things, you could hear the word actively spreading behind you.  "Did you hear that-" "Yeah, he’s chosen Luke and-" "They’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other." Rolling your eyes, you shut yourself in your cabin and leaned back on the closed door. You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, groaning. This was going to be nightmare.

And it really was. By hour 12 of the quest, you’d managed to get yourself thrown out of a train, fought off two harpies and had lost Luke.  "Where the hell did he go?" you asked loudly as you and Alan, the young camper, walked in direction of your next task. "He couldn’t have just disappeared!" "I don’t know, maybe he’ll join us later on." Alan shrugged. You frowned.  "Do you know anything about this?" You slowly turned to to him and he took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, I-" "I’d suggest you think twice before lying to me, Alan," you growled. Alan sighed. "Yes, he told me he wanted to see how badly you did on your own so he could report it to camp." "Right." Of course. Of course he would find a way to make the dangerous quest even harder than it needed to be. You inhaled deeply, trying to remind yourself not to take your anger out on this thirteen year-old child. Your blood boiling, you turned back around and continued to walk. If Luke wanted to stay behind, that was fine with you. Better that than have him be in your way. 

"Oi!" Called a voice about an hour later. Ugh, Luke. You ignored him, keeping a steady pace. He called your name again. You didn’t react until his hand came down on your shoulder.  Before he could say another word, you spun around and pushed him up against the nearest tree, your forearm pressing down on the column of his throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are," you snarled, close to his face, "to leave Alan and I alone? The quest comes before everything! It comes before your hatred for me and your stupid pettiness! So pull yourself together and stop fucking around! » You shoved yourself off him, glaring into his eyes. He looked at you darkly before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. "Yell at me again, princess, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream," he warned in a low voice. You scoffed, ripping your wrist out of his grip.  "Shut up and start walking, Castellan."

The quest went smoothly -as smoothly as it could go considering the tension between Luke and you- after that. You found that the three of you made a pretty good team. Everything was going fine and you had been on your way back to camp when you crossed a griffin. You pushed Alan behind you immediately, taking out your sword at the same time Luke did. "Distract him, I'll go around the side!" Luke ordered, running off. Despite not wanting to follow his orders, you set your jaw and instructed Alan to hide. You twisted your ring, a gift from your mother which turned into a shield when twisted the right way, and waited for the shield to form before banging your sword against it.

"Over here, you stinking pile of feathers! Or should I say fur?" You yelled as you ran backwards, away from Alan. You continued banging your sword against your shield and watched as Luke charged forward from the griffin's unguarded side. The beast shrieked as it was struck and batted Luke away with its large wing. Luke flew to the side with an 'oomph' sound. Despite your despise for him, you felt surprisingly concerned.

You darted forward as the griffin raised one of its clawed feet, ready to strike down Luke, who was slowly getting to his feet. The loud clang of claws meeting the metal of your shield made him look up quickly. You were straining underneath the power of the monster, pushing back against your shield with all of your strength. "Fucking. Move." You managed to speak through clenched teeth. Luke finally snapped out of his daze and bolted to the side. You readied yourself before jumping to the side, out of the griffin's reach -or so you thought. He swapped at you with his other clawed foot and despite you trying to run out of the way, managed to cut a gash in your side. You cried out. You heard Luke and Alan scream your name, but they felt far away.

You spun around, livid, and cut off the beast's hand as it came down towards you once more. Luke took his chance and stabbed the monster in the chest. The three of you watched as the creature turned to dust. You fell to your knees. Luke was next to you in a second, breathing heavily. He laid you down in the grass, muttering to himself. "Show me," he ordered, lifting your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You squirmed both from the strange feeling of having his eyes on your revealed body and from the stinging pain of the cut. "Gods- how bad it is?" you asked. The sound of Alan vomiting was indication enough. Luke bit his bottom lip, brows furrowed. "It's fixable. You just need ambrosia and a healer." "Really?" You hated the way your voice sounded so weak. Luke nodded strongly. "Trust me." And for some reason, you found that you did. He stood up and sheathed his sword before gesturing for Alan to take your bag.

"Can you walk?" he asked, though it sounded like more of a formality than a real question. You lifted yourself up on your elbows and groaned in pain. You shook your head, hating the fact that you had to rely on him of all people for help. "Okay, then." Luke bent forward, going to pick you up. "Wait." He stopped immediately. His eyes snapped up to your face, which had gone frighteningly white. You were staring at the gash across your stomach. It went from the top of ribs to the side of your belly button. And it did not look good. The cut was jagged and blood poured out all over your clothes. Luke watched, helpless, as your fingers reached out to touch the cut. You hissed in pain before looking up into his eyes.

"I'm going to die." Your voice shook dangerously. He hated the way your eyes watered and the way you looked so scared. He'd never seen you look that way before and he wanted to wipe the sight from his memory. You did not have a face that was meant to look frightened. You had a face which was meant for pride and victory. "Look at me." He grabbed your chin and kneeled next to you. "You are not going to die." He pulled a spare T-shirt out of his bag, balled it up and pressed down on your wound with it. "I know, it hurts," he cooed as you whimpered with pain. "Hold it here."

Ignoring your groans of pain, he pulled you into his arms and stood up. Your vision was becoming blurry, but you did all you could to keep pressing down on your wound with his T-shirt. You heard him bark out orders to Alan in the distance. "Luke," you spoke softly as black dots danced in your vision. "No, no, no, don't close your eyes, princess. Keep looking at me." "I don't wanna die," you whispered before passing out. Luke clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, ordering Alan to keep up with him. "Idiot. You're not gonna die. I won't let you."

You awoke to a soft yellow light surrounding you. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked around to find yourself in the camp infirmary. Luke was on a chair beside your bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Hey." "Hi," you croaked, trying to sit up. Wobbly, you managed to sit somewhat straight against the pillows. "How're you feeling?" Luke asked, looking over your face. He was relieved it to find it less white that it had been two days before. "Like shit, really." You let out a hoarse chuckle. He laughed shortly, looking down at his hands. You were surprised to find it was a really nice sound. That had been the first time you'd ever heard him laugh, and it felt really good to be the cause of it. "How long have I been out?" "Two days and a half." You were quiet for a moment as you thought back to the last things you remembered. "I guess I should thank you for saving my life, Castellan."

Luke let out something close to a scoff and leaned back in his chair. "You saved mine first. Thank you." "Well, yeah." You coughed. "I couldn't just let you die like-" "I don't hate you, you know," he interrupted you. You stopped talking. "Not really."

"What do you mean you don't hate me? Of course you do. You can't stand me. You think everything I do is stupid and bound to failure." "No, I- I don't hate you. I'm envious of you. Of what you have." "Of what I have? I have a fucking hole in my stomach right now, Caste-" "Of your mom. Mostly."

Your lips made an 'O' shape as you understood. Suddenly, everything made sense. That was why he'd disliked you from the start. You had the one thing he never would. Your mother was a minor goddess and did not have many children. This permitted her to be frequently in contact with you and therefore play the role of a present mother. Your father always kept in touch with you. You knew that with each of them you would always have someone to turn to. Unlike Luke.

"Mostly?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "I'm envious of how whenever you walk into a room, it immediately lights up. Of how everyone likes you. Of how you always look good, even if you've just been torn to pieces by a griffin. Of how you always seem to see the good in people, except for me, I guess. Of how you get along with everyone except for me." Luke didn't meet your eye as he spoke. "Maybe if you hadn't been such an ass when we first met, we'd have gotten along fine. And I do see the good in you, I just like to ignore it for my own benefit." Luke's eyes shot up to yours.

"What do you mean 'your own benefit'?" "Well, if I didn't ignore the way you're so kind to the new kids, the way you're so protective of your friends and Annabeth, the way you stand up for what you think is right, the way your eyes look when they catch the light just right and the way your laugh seems to draw everybody in, then maybe... Maybe I wouldn't dislike you at all. Quite the contrary, actually." You could feel your heart hammering inside your chest as you spoke. The way Luke was staring into your soul was not helping either.

"Say something, Luke," you pleaded. His first name felt soft and foreign on your tongue. You had never said it before.

Luke did not answer. Wordlessly, he stood up and was by your side in two steps. He cupped your cheek, leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. Your heart raced and when he pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips. He looked deeply into your eyes and smiled before kissing you properly. Eruptions exploded in your stomach as you kissed him back. You pulled him closer by the shirt as his warm lips pressed against yours. Finally, you couldn't help but think. All those feelings you'd ignored and pushed to the back of your mind finally broke free and you almost cried from relief.

His free hand found the back of your neck and you shivered as his fingers caressed the skin there. You leaned into his touch and cupped his jaw before slowly sliding a hand into his hair. He let out a soft moan but before you could get too into it, a cough resounded throughout the room.

"I'm glad to see that you and Luke have managed to work through your differences, Y/N." Chiron spoke, amusement dripping from his words, as he trudged into the room. "Now tell me about your quest."

[skzdarlings]

birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader

requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock.  He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do.  You were already jittery before the jump-scare.   

“Seungmin! Sorry!”  You put a hand over your heart.  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.”  He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile. 

Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood.  You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well.  He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness.  He is reliable whenever you need a hand.    

He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy.  His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag. 

“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says. 

“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered.  “Seungmin!  You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips.   While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out?  You’re all dressed up.” 

“Oh, um, yes.”  You feel shy as he looks at you.

“You look good,” he says.

It makes you even more flustered.  You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual.  Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun.  You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night. 

You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush. 

Because, yes, you like Seungmin.  A lot.  Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working.  You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it.  You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything.  His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination.  Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought.  You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all. 

A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months.  You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction.  Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all. 

“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet.  You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling. 

He brushes some hair out of his eyes.  They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels. 

“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles.  “I like it.” 

“Oh gosh,” you say. 

It makes him laugh.  Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.” 

“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say.  “I don’t even know where we’re going.  Probably just some food and stuff.  You know me.  I’m very simple.” 

“I do,” he says.  “I’d like to know you better, though.  Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time.  I like the one on page fifteen.”

You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too.  His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.    

“I will,” you say, smiling so big.  “Page fifteen.  Noted.” 

“It’s a date,” he says.  “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction.  You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide. 

“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling.  “See you around, neighbour.”

“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly. 

He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling. 

-

The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment.  You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity. 

Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers. 

You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you.  You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed. 

You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything.  It makes your sister and friends laugh.  It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused.  Your shy character is the opposite of… this. 

“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles. 

“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing.  “Or, hm, an act of feminism!  It’s about equality.  We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”   

“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles.  You shake your head, smiling with amusement too.  You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.  

Amusing is the best word for it, though.  None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed.  Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining. 

“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you. 

“No, I don’t,” you say.  You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.   

“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.” 

They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head.  You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine.  There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage.  You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view. 

You promptly spit your drink everywhere.  Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you. 

Not just any dancer.  

Kim Seungmin.

You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him.  It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely. 

Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face.  Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face?   He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair.  The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck.  Necklace? Choker? Collar?

He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated.  He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door.  Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed.  Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets.  He does not stride.

He certainly does not… gyrate.  Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye.  There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.

Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine. 

You are not so practiced.  Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.  The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin.  Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.

He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite.  He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin.  He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room. 

You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you.  It does not slow the race of your heart.

He sits on a chair and opens his shirt.  Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action.  Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp.  Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans.  Heat fills the core of you. 

He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate.  He knows he has you. 

“Oh my god,” your friend says.  “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”

“What!”  You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe.  “I am not!”

“Well, he was eye-fucking you.” 

You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside.  Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch.  Seungmin is polite.  He does not eye-fuck. 

Except you glance over the rim of your cup.  He is still looking at you.  It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink.  It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone. 

Oh. Gosh.  He is eye-fucking you. 

“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.” 

-

And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light.  You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt.  You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone.  You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.

You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight.  Once on your doorstep.  Once on stage.  And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider.  He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again. 

He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats.  You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct.  You melt under the intensity of his stare. 

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says. 

You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence.  For some reason, it is just as tantalizing.  You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans.  But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses. 

“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that. 

He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.  He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent.  You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall. 

“Breathe,” he says.  “That’s not a request.”  He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them.  He does not touch you.  He does not need to.  Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks.  “Good.  All right.  So… neighbour… Should we talk?” 

You think a thousand thoughts.  Yes, a conversation.  No, your friends paid for this room.  They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly.  You want to ask when he is free for dinner.  You want to ask how long he has worked here.  You want to know him.  You really, really want to kiss him. 

You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” 

He looks at you for another moment, still studious.  You swallow again.  Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean. 

“And you want to?” he asks.  “Do this sort of thing?” 

“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment.  Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty. 

He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him.  You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn.  He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction.  You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking. 

“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks. 

“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little.  You look at him with wide, earnest eyes.  “Don’t we all?” 

He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling.  Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.

“Right,” he says.  “In that case, birthday girl…”

He stands and your eyes follow.  He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest. 

A professional, you think.  It gets you undeniably hot.  You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him.  He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.  

He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you.  He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him. 

You sit back, breathing harder already.  Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation.  You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body. 

He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room. 

“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”   

You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh.  Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you.  He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder.  Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered.  He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat. 

He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch.  It steals your breath like a real kiss would. 

“I’m going to touch you,” he says.  “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you.  Only if I like you.” 

You cannot find any witty quips to return.  He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else.  You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off.  Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning. 

Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees.  Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them.  Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt.  You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more.  He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if.  He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry. 

“Oh,” is the only sound you make.   Your breathing is very loud.  It says a lot on its own. 

He is breathing a little harder too.  He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans.  He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off.  You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle. 

“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says.  He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower.  His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it.  “But I think I like you, birthday girl.”  He opens another button.  “I think I can make an exception.”  He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.” 

Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs.  You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements. 

You feel dizzy, your arms shaking.  You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease.  You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips.   Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face. 

“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles.  You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you.  “What will you give me for it?” 

“Anything,” you say.  “You can do anything to me.  You can have all of me.” 

It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases.  “By fucking your way out of them?” 

“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout. 

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours.  “I am.  I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.”  He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.   

You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips.  This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling.  This is all new, but he is also familiar.  You are enjoying this, him, you together.  

You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders.  It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too.  He looks at you with more intensity. 

“You said I can anything?” he asks. 

A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees.  He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat.  You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you.  Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh. 

“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.

“Shh, shh,” he says.  “Our secret, remember?” 

Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion.  You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax.  He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching.  He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves. 

“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says.  “Don’t make me gag you.” 

“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake.  “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says.  “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me.  That’s pretty dirty.  What would everyone out there say?” 

Shocked.  They would be shocked if they even believed it.  You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago.  But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough.  You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance.  He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you.  “That just made you needier, didn’t it?  Tsk.” He sighs dramatically.  “I don’t usually offer that.  It’ll cost you.” 

“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again. 

“What a bargain,” he says.  He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket.  He even seems to make a show of that.  He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath.  When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up.  He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat. 

“You know the rules,” he says.  “Hands there or I tie them up.  That’s my girl.”

You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you.  He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again.  You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands.  He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt. 

“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting.  He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room.  You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked.  Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin. 

Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud.  He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that. 

“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after.  He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you.  It is a scrutinous stare again.  You undoubtedly have questions for each other.   For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high.   “Well,” you say.  “That might have been worth page seventeen too.” 

His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.  He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you.  It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago.  It leaves you as breathless as everything else. 

“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.”