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#he can give them a warning and they will make sure nothing dangerous will come from it and just wait for him to come to

loriannbowman · 2 days

Text

Honkai Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader | Part Three

Sunday sits you down in a room that you can only compare to a conference space. You had walked through a long corridors littered with sparkling windows, golden statues. There was a room with a mini city in the centre. You didn't get a chance to look around though, Sunday was insistent that you follow close to him.

The room was round with an evenly round table, place eerily perfect in the center. Tall bookshelves that reach the ceiling cover the walls, some having library ladders next to them.

"Make yourself comfortable," Sunday says casually, running his finger tips across the top of the table as he makes his way to his seat, "We might be here for a while."

You uncomfortably shift within your seat, the cushion beneath you not as comfortable as you'd expect. Your poor ass.

"Now," Sunday interlaces his fingers, "Where should we begin, hmm? We already had polite introductions, what should we do next?"

You can't help but feel a bit uneasy; his casual demeaner is so off putting. You leg begins to bounce rapidly, a nervous tick you picked up.

You attempt to clear your throat.

"Well... let's go over what we already know," you say, trying to regain control over yourself.

You scoot a little in your chair, straightening your back and folding your hands.

"I am (Y/n), codename: Lamplight. I am a combat specialist and medical researcher in Oripathy. Uh... I'm from the region of Laterano, species: Sankta. I currently work under the association 'Rhodes Island' under the direction of Doctor Kal'tsit, Doctor Loriann, and Amiya. Uh... there's nothing really else that comes to mind... Oh! I am also highly dangerous as I am infected with Oripathy."

Sunday sits quietly, his lips lightly pursed, eyes closed as he takes in all this sudden information. All of these things... he's never heard of a single one of them. Sunday takes a deep breath before letting it go through his nose.

"Alright. Thank you for your introduction. Let us first go deeper into these statements. In return, I will explain as much and equally about me and the world around you. Does that seem fair, Lamplight?"

You nod your head, eyes slightly wide at him referring to you by your codename.

"Good. Then let's start with this 'Oripathy' you speak of. You say you're a researcher in this field while also being... infected?"

Your hands fiddle with one another, once again shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You clear your throat again.

"You just had to start there, huh...?" you say with a somber tone, "Alright, I'll tell you everything I know."

You begin to explain your home, how a powerful and dangerous material, 'Originium.' You explain the usages it has... and the horrible, deadly effects it has on the human body. You even roll up the pant sleeve to show a small collection of black crystals forming on the side of your shin. You even told him how you became infected.

"I was on a mission with Doctor Loriann when I got pierced by a Originium lump. Luckily, The Doctor was right there and was able to immediately slow and contain the growth of the Oripathy. I'm glad that I don't use Arts, or the growth would be a lot faster. You don't know just how lucky I am to have my Oripathy growth so slow. Other infected would kill to have theirs infection be so well maintained. I just hope it gives me enough time to live a somewhat fulfilling life."

Sunday's gaze during the whole time never left your form, and once you showed your leg, his eyes never stayed from the crystallin chunks that speckle your skin. He attempted at one point to touch, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

"I wouldn't, not unless you want to be infected too."

It was more of a warning than anything, of course, but you could never be too sure. You would never forgive yourself if you got an innocent person infected.

"I see... Well, let's continue our conversation, shall we?"

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senseichaos · 3 months

Note

hi hi! That one-shot you did with Alastor broadcasting his and reader's..."love-making" was rather delicious but I can't help but think of you know..aftercare. It was quite rough and I'd love to see Alastor being sweet and sorta guilty for going so roughly cause we both know...reader was bleeding after😭😭😭

Yess I love writing aftercare and when I saw this I was immediately wanting to write it ! Thank you

"Pathetic" But still a princess,

Summary: Alastor roughed you up quite badly in your last.. fornication session.. so as to make it a more happy evening he gives you some very much needed aftercare! (Part 2 to "Pathetic")

Genre: Fluff, romance, slight sexual undertones

Warnings: Swearing, blood, Alastor is kinda bipolar considering how much more soft he acts in this compared to the last part, love confessions, lmk if I missed any

NOT EDITED NOR PROOFREAD (YET)

______

Alastor carries you the entire way to his room, not wanting to rough up your brain by teleporting to his room. And oddly he sort of enjoyed the intimacy of it all. It's weird, Alastor is never really one to enjoy intimacy, but this odd time he feels nice giving you this comfort.

As he enters his room, he makes sure to lock the door behind him so no one comes in whilst he bathes you, and with a smile to you walks to his suite. The suite isn't the largest but it's big enough that when he places you on the side of the bath he can walk around you with ease.

"Alastor I think I'm bleeding," You say, looking at some scratches on your thigh as Alastor takes off his overcoat and folds it neatly. He gives you a soft look, placing his coat to the side.

"Well of course you are darling! My fawn had to learn her lesson somehow, hm?" Alastor says with a small chuckle, squatting down (his knees clicking as he does so) to turn on the water of the bath. You roll your eyes, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt as you contemplate taking it off.

"Take off your shirt, dear, it's nothing I haven't seen before," Alastor commands with a rather teasing tone, arranging the correct soap to put inside of your bath. You nod, pulling off your shirt and bra, discarding them onto the floor next to the bath. You almost cover yourself, but understand if you did Alastor would probably tell you off.

After the bath fills a bit Alastor taps the side of the bath, capturing your attention.

"You can get in now, fawn. It should be warm enough," He says, and you give him a small nod. Rather awkwardly with your pained thighs you manage to crawl yourself into the bath, Alastor does end up helping you a bit when you almost faceplant into the water, shifting you so you sit with a weirdly empathetic look for him.

"Now let's not fall on our face, shall we. I'd rather not have you more injured than you are already,"

You giggle, leaning up and squishing his cheek playfully.

"Awe you care about me, that's new," you say, and he takes your hand off of his face with a stern look.

"I wouldn't call it 'new', you just haven't seen it yet," He says, and you give him a confused look as he starts pouring some bubble soap into the bath.

"What haven't I seen?"

He laughs, shaking his head as he begins mixing in the soap with his hand.

"Me caring about you, silly doe," He chuckles, ruffling your hair with his wet hand. This causes you to shake the water off and give him an annoyed look.

"Give me an example,"

He looks up for a moment, thinking of an instance where he's shown care for you.

"Well, how about earlier today when I told you not to drink the tea because it was hot?" He asks, turning the water pressure on the hot water slightly higher. You roll your eyes, pulling your aching knees to your chest as the water around you rises.

"Oh so what, the bare minimum.. how caring of you Alastor,"

"Now don't get pissy with me, dear. I was only giving you an example of my caring for you," He chuckles, giving your nose a soft boop as he continues mixing the water. You notice his sleeve is dangerously close to the water, so you push his hand from the water slowly.

"Careful, you're gonna get your sleeves wet," You say, and Alastor smiles slightly wider.

"Don't worry about it, my dear. It's nothing I can't handle," He says, his green magic surrounding his sleeves and rolling them up to just above his elbows. "You shouldn't have to worry about something so small as my sleeves,"

Your eyes go glossy with tears at the odd affection in his voice. It's something you've never heard from him before. Sure there's the empty compliments, the empty pecks, but this is different. It's as if he loves you.

"Do you really care about me, Alastor?"

Alastor furrows his brows, turning off the hot water tap as the bath is full enough with water. He leans over, pushing his hand against your cheek as he leans there.

"Of course I do, my dear," he pauses, looking into the distance for a moment as if contemplating. "And I do apologize for being so rough with you today, you had to learn your lesson somehow,"

You giggle, pushing his hand away and leaning against the back of the bath.

"It's okay Alastor, I liked it more than I'd like to admit,"

Alastor rolls his eyes at this, grabbing a sponge from the corner of the bath.

"Charming, my fawn," He says, putting his sponge into the water and squeezing it so the soapy water fills it. He begins to scrub you with it, staring with your face as he pushes your hair from your face, holding you there by it.

"Fuck you, as if you didn't enjoy it either!"

He laughs, scrubbing your nose as you scrunch your eyes.

"Well of course I did dear, I wouldn't have initiated it if I hadn't, hm?" Alastor hums, moving to scrub your other cheek. You sputter on a cough, your eyes squinting at the way he scrubs you. He just chuckles, scrubbing your chin and jaw.

"Do you really have to clean the entirety of me?" You ask, biting your lower lip as he tilts your head back by your hair. Alastor continues to scrub your chin, moving to the other side of your jaw.

"Well of course I do, a clean fawn is a happy fawn." He says, pinching your cheek and cooing in a sort of cute fashion. Rolling your eyes you attempt to splash water at him, only for the water to be caught up in his green magic and placed back into the water.

"Now don't try anything silly, fawn,"

You moan in annoyance, hissing when his sponge begins to scrub the raw skin on your neck from the collar he had you in. The skin is bruised and even as a couple cuts from the force he used. You wonder what he thinks about when he looks at the damage. Does he find it funny? Does it feed a possessiveness in him? Does he feel guilty?

"What do you think about when you see the marks on me?" You ask out of the blue, against your better judgement.

Much to your surprise, Alastor just tilts his head in acknowledgement before speaking.

"Hm, well I feel a tad proud, and I feel a tad guilty. But, I also feel like I want to eat you up!" He answers, ending his sentence in a teasing manor. But you don't miss the slight hunger in his eyes at the thought. You narrow your eyes, speaking: "Please don't,"

"Oh I wouldn't, dear. It's just a tad fun to think about," He says with a humor in his voice, and you can't help but laugh. Alastor moves his hand from your hair, placing it on your neck as he pushes your head back with his thumb.

"Bet you'd get your rocks off to it," You chuckle, biting on your cheek uncomfortably as Alastor scrubs the back of your neck. His eyes darken slightly, tilting your head down to get better access to the back of your neck.

"Don't tempt me, fawn," He says softly, pressing the spong to your collarbone to clean the slightly bruised area. Hissing in pain you flinch away from Alastor as his sponge brushes onto a cut. He gives you a sort of stern yet understanding look, reaching out for your arm to pull you closer to him again as soft as possible.

"Sorry my dear, it's going to hurt," Alastor apologizes, setting his hand back onto your neck so he can scrub your shoulders. Once again you hiss when the sponge hits a sensitive area of raw skin, but this time you stay put.

"You know I don't think it's fair that you get to sit outside of the bath.. how are you gonna clean my legs!" You ask, Alastor just humors you with a chuckle.

"Like this,"

He spins you around gently so your legs are hanging off the edge of the bath, dripping water down to the tiled flooring below. He takes a hold of your left ankle and begins scrubbing your foot, causing you to begin giggling at the way he scrubs the ticklish area.

"Ah! That tickles..!" You laugh, clasping your damp hands over your mouth as he continues scrubbing your foot. Alastor doesn't acknowledge you, instead going to scrub down your calf.

"I still think this is unfair, what if I want to clean you!"

"I had a bath this morning, no point in bathing again," He says with an obvious tone. You roll your eyes, looking up at the roof as he continues to clean your left leg.

"Can I at least wash you another time?"

"Maybe If you continue to be steadfast in no longer entering my studio unprompted, fawn," He answers, leaning over you as he finishes your left leg, beginning to clean your stomach.

"I'm bored.." You groan, leaning your head back into the splashback of the bath. Alastor narrows his eyes, and suddenly a tentacle with another sponge appears behind you, pushing you before beginning to clean your back.

"What a needy thing you are,". He says, causing you to huff out in displeasure. To your surprise he leans over you even more, even slightly towering over you as he cleans your breasts. It makes you blush, really. Having him tower over you like this in almost a lascivious manor whilst doing the most domestic of things. He's just cleaning you, for Christ sake!

"Alastor,"

"Hm?"

You wonder. Does he love you? You want to ask it so badly. When he towers over you like this and cleans every crevice of your body does his heart clench? Does his body feel warm? Does he get those butterflies that you do? You wonder.

"Do you love me?"

He stops moving, both him and his tentacle which had started cleaning your lower back.

His eyes reflect a myriad of emotions, many of which you can't even begin to fathom. He seems almost on edge. As if your question had sent him into his brain completely.

"I.. I think I might in my own.." he pauses, placing his pointer finger against his chin in thought. "Immoral ways,"

"Immoral?"

He continues to wash you, along with the tentacle, seeming to have gotten his point across enough to continue what he was doing.

"I'm not a moral demon, dear. When I think of you I want to devour you, but, I also want to hold you,"

Devour you?

"Well, I love you Alastor.."

"I love you too, fawn. Now let's get to cleaning your hair, shall we?"

You groan, pouting in annoyance at the thought of spending another 30 minutes in this bath. Though Alastor just laughs to himself, squeezing your cheek.

"How cute you are when you're all mad at me, hm?"

You stick out your tongue at him.

Normal, well as normal as you can be, once again.

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #alastor x reader #alastor x reader fluff #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #lovely anon #anon req #part 2

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beautysamour · 8 months

Note

sub miguel begging to cum after edging him? or any kind of sub miguel tbh.. please please PLEASE i need it for my health 😭🙏

edging miguel o’hara and having him beg ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨

— a/n: i got a little carried away…

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: vulgar language, miguel has the time of his life, quite literally fucking him stupid, miguel likes when you make him feel stupid while he’s needy

“Please, amor, just put them back in…” Miguel lifts his hips up trying to entice you to put your skillful fingers back in his ass.

His hole clenches and unclenches as he bucks his hips and tugs against the handcuffs restraining him from reaching out to you. You raise a brow, his attempt is futile.

“Amor,” he pleads, “I was so close—“

You made an obnoxious sound as you stretch your arms, Miguel’ heartbeat drums loudly in his ears. You remain in front of him, back straight and eyes on his dick, “Having you cum would defeat the entire purpose, right hermoso?”

A throaty groan leaves his throat at the nickname. He hides his face in the bicep of his left arm and pathetically bucks his hips trying to give you an easy way to his ass.

You snicker, it was always so satisfying to watch Miguel break in the palm of your hands. People looked up to him, figuratively and literally. Some admired, and some feared. Most were just intimidated, but never you, no.

How could you when all it took to have him withering underneath you was a finger?

His entire body jerks as you circle the head of his cock, “Miguel,” you purr. He bites down on his lip, drawing blood, at the way your voice circled through his head like a sirens song—tempting and dangerous.

He gasps at the taste of his own blood.

“Wanna see you Miguel.” You draw small hearts on his tip as your other hands rubs his hole, “You’re so pretty baby, don’t hide yourself.” You press a kiss on the insides of his thighs and a feeling a pride surges through you when you hear another part of him crumble underneath your hands.

The tip of your finger easily makes it way inside of his hole, a heart wrenching moan is heard by the man who owns it.

Your panty gets stickier with each moan, and whine, and whimper your man makes.

He bucks his hips when you don’t go further than just the tip of your finger. He’s dizzy, so, so, dizzy. He’s not sure how long it’s been, he lost track after the fourth time you took your, to his demise, talented fingers out of his ass and off his dick. He wants to cry but he won’t—it’s the last thing keeping his dignity somewhat intact even though you’ve destroyed most of it.

It was the one thing he would not give you the satisfaction of having. He tries to keep that thought clear in his mind but it’s hard when you circle your tongue around his pretty, red tip.

“Y/N—“

He bucks his hips towards you as you shove your entire finger along with a second one into his ass. He loses the ability to breathe as your fingers find his prostate immediately, “Is it good?”

You smirk as the back of his head flops onto the pillows, his face exposed for you to watch.

Yes. Yes it was, it’s always good because it’s coming from you. But he couldn’t say it—your voice swirls through his head and it renders him helpless. All thoughts in his head are about you—all he sees is you, feels is you, and hears is you.

All he can say is your name, and he moans it out for you to hear.

Your heart skips a beat and it’s tempo matches the pulsing of your pussy. “That’s good to know, hermoso.”

If all his thoughts corrupting into you and his lack of breathing made him feel helpless—it was nothing compared to now.

You carefully watch his expression as he pretty cock stands up straight, the tip so beautifully red, and his hips sporadically bucking up as you abuse his prostate.

You rub, and poke, and thrust your fingers in and out of his ass—your eyes darken with lust as you watch his face, you shove your hand down your panty and start to finger yourself— fuck, Miguel knew what to do.

Miguel arches his back, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you play with his prostate. He felt stupid, he had no thoughts in his mind but you—only you and all that was coming out of his mouth was your name as his ass chased your fingers every time you nearly pulled them out.

Mierda, you were so good. So good, it feels so good, so good, so good, so good, so good. His eyes crossed as you quickened your pace and dragged him closer to the edge, his ab muscles start to contract and—fuck, just a little more, just a little—

You started to laugh. Laughed at the way his mouth hung open, at the way his eyes crossed and rolled to the back, and at the way tears welled in his eyes.

This was so fun.

And gods did he sound beautiful as he begun to wept.

Miguel couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be thinking about. Everything before this moment was gone from his mind—his own name foreign to him. It hurt, his body was burning and his dick was so painfully yearning for your touch that he might never be graced with, and he wanted to cry.

He felt a part of his soul shatter as his tears wet the pillow beneath him.

He chokes on his sobs. He tries to reach out to you as you start to pull your fingers out of his ass, but his handcuffs restrain him and more tears escape him, “No puedo más, no puedo más, no puedo más,” he cries, voice coarse.

He nearly full on sobs when all you do is hum. He looked wrecked, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and eyes unfocused as he deals with the damage of not being able to cum again.

He pants and rolls his hips as you hum a sweet tune to him, caressing him everywhere except the place he wanted you to touch.

“Yeah?”

He sobs, “M—mhm.”

His hips buck up when you wrap your hand around the base of his dick, you push his hips down with your other hand to stop him from being greedy but it doesn’t stop the twitching of his body.

He chokes on his saliva when you take his tip into your mouth, and suck. You run your tongue all over his tip, going back and forth between kitten licks and circling around it.

Every few seconds, you’d drag your teeth around his sensitive tip as your hands went to his balls—Miguel felt like he was going to pass out.

You take your hands and mouth off his dick in one sudden movement, he whimpers and sobs as you deny him of heaven once more.

He got to the edge a lot quicker than you thought he would’ve, and if you were a second too late, he would’ve came.

That sensitive, huh.

You thrust to fingers into his mouth as he opened them to complain, “Miguel,” you purr and he looks at you like a wounded puppy as he softly sucked your fingers. “Do you want to cum?”

You pretend to ignore that fact that you put him in the situation, that he desperately wanted to because of how much you played with him.

He nods, moaning your name softly around your fingers as proof.

You smile, enjoying how sweet he was being. It almost made you want to let him cum right at this moment, but he wasn’t desperate enough. You’ve successfully broken his pride, you’ve made him cry and give up all the power he could’ve had over you, but he hadn’t realized something you wanted him to know and accept.

Something that would really prove he is yours.

You move away from his body, enjoying the way his head follows you like a lost puppy, and sit down on the pillow next to his head. You spread your legs pulling your panty to one side, quietly gasping as the fresh air hits your warm, wet pussy.

You tap your pussy, “Come here.”

Miguel looks up at his handcuffed hands then back to you, his eyes stupidly asking you how he’ll be able to move. You raise a brow making him feel more stupid.

You take note of the way his dick twitches and his mouth slightly opens

He tries to use his pussy filled brain to figure out how to get up, he rolls to his side and tumbles onto his front. His eyes roll to the back of his head as the smell of your pussy reach his nose.

He lifts his ass in the air, allowing him to push himself onto his knees and he crawls. He crawls until he’s in front of you and drops himself right in front of your pussy—you grab onto his hair as his warm breath hits your pussy rendering the cold air useless.

“Good boy,” you whisper. You whimper as his mouth fully wraps around your clit—“Fuck, Miguel!”

You laugh as you moan with how good he was moving his tongue, “You’re doing so good,” you praise as you start petting his hair. Miguel chokes against your pussy but doesn’t pull away.

Your head hits the headboard as nudges his nose into your pussy. You tug on Miguel’ hair—pulling him closer—as you groan in unison with him, the vibrations making your mouth drop open.

“Ye—yeah, right there Miguel, right there—!”

He grinds the sheets hoping that he’ll be able to catch up with you— “Amor,” he mumbles into your pussy, “Can—can I—?”

“Yes,” you moan, “Yeah, you can. Good boy, my good—good boy.”

Miguel stops moving his tongue and opens his mouth a little more when you squeeze your thighs around his head, he wanted to swallow every last drip of your cum. You tug his hair and he closes his eyes as you reach your peak.

You let out a string of curses as your vision goes white, Miguel may have no coherent thoughts right now, but he definitely remembered how to fuck you.

You shakily grind against him as you finish cumming in his mouth. His tongue is stagnant and you ride it through your orgasm. The moment is almost perfect until you realize Miguel is crying against your pussy.

You immediately snap out of your pleasured daze, genuine worry taking over your lust. You tug on his hair, lifting his face away from your pussy, and you try to ignore that feeling in your stomach when you see his beautiful, fucked out face with tears running down the sides of it.

However your worry diminishes when you look past his face and see how he’s still grinding against your shared bed.

Oh.

“Miguel,” you say softly, filled with love and care, “How do you feel?”

He looks up at you,“Can’t,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head to the side, “Come here.” You reach down to his upper body area and wrap your arms around his chest like a hug. You lightly pull him towards you and he crawls his way into your lap burying his face into the side of your neck, you reach for the keys for his handcuffs and unlock them. His hands and arms immediately go around your torso as he nuzzles his head against your neck.

“What do you mean “can’t” hermoso?”

He bucks his hips showing you the obvious problem, “Can’t cum.”

Oh.

You feigned ignorance, “What do you mean?”

He cries against your neck, he was too frustrated, too on edge.

He couldn’t cum. Not without you.

“I—I can’t cum. No—not without feeling you.”

There it is. The realization.

Your silence prompted him to continue, “It’s not the same, no—nothing feels as good as you—nothing can compare. Not ever since I met you, amor. Nothing is—!”

Miguel moans against your neck as he came in your hand. He twitches, and bucks his hips as his cock pumps out loads and loads of cum over your hand and lap. You look down, not that surprised at what happened.

All it took for him to cum was a simple pump from your hand. But you couldn’t care less about the mess.

What mattered was that he was really yours.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara atsv #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x you #atsv miguel

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emiliehornby · 3 months

Text

when you get me alone, it’s so simple

pairing luke castellan x fem! child of aphrodite! reader

synopsis while luke is known for making people’s heads turn at camp, you finally give them a reason to stare after learning how much everyone seems to want him

warnings implied sexual content, descriptions of a make out session

author’s notes happy valentine’s day everyone!! the voices in my head were louder than usual, so i figured we could all use a sweet treat today!! mwah!! i hope y’all enjoy these headcanons

On a particularly slow day, the Aphrodite, Athena, Apollo, and Hermes kids decide to spend their free time around the lake. In a glimpse, Luke can be seen laughing with Chris. A radiant smile is plastered upon his lips while he takes in the sight of you. In the distance, Annabeth sits with Grover on a towel, letting her toes wiggle into the warm earth. She watches the water intently, making sure none of her siblings are in any imminent danger when the giggles from Apollo kids, Sadie and Caroline, drown out her thoughts.

“Gods, what I’d give to be in his arms right now.” Annabeth’s ears can’t help but pick up on the conversation taking place beside her. “It’s no surprise he’s taken. But you’d think as a Hermes kid, he’d go for someone more like…us.” Sadie sighs.

Grover leans in closer to Annabeth, his interest piquing when she rolls her eyes. He fears that the daughter of Athena is going to give them a piece of her mind when she stands, but Annabeth merely picks up the frisbee that lands near her feet. She throws it back to where it came from and sits back down to hear Caroline encouraging Sadie, “Come on, it’s only a matter of time before you’ll get your chance. The Aphrodite charm has to wear off eventually. I mean, it always does.”

This time, Grover can’t stop her from turning to them. “Look, you don’t know how things seem to work around here, so I’m going to explain something to you.”

“What Annabeth means to say is that-” The satyr attempts to soothe the situation, but she cuts him off amidst her stubbornness.

“Now, I know not all the Aphrodite kids are palatable, but Y/N is easily the sweetest one I’ve ever known. And there’s a real reason as to why Luke is so in love with her. But I guess you’ll never find that reason for yourselves if you continue to act like this at camp.” This effectively humbles Sadie and Caroline, who mumble to each other while they make their leave.

As if on cue, you walk up to Grover and Annabeth. You’re laughing with a Hermes kid that soon leaves to join the game of frisbee, but it dies down when you notice Annabeth’s hardened stare. You place a hand on her shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Grover stands and hands over your towel while insisting it’s nothing. But Annabeth cuts Grover off again to explain, “Sadie and Caroline were saying things about you…and Luke.” You understand what she’s trying to imply and give her a squeeze.

It was no secret that Luke was well admired among his peers. Most of the time, it isn’t even an issue, but there were campers who thought they could change the course of your relationship every now and then.

Sadie and Caroline easily fall under that category, seeing as they completely ignored your existence when Luke decided to take you with him during their initial tour around camp…then there was the time Caroline pretended to lose her way at camp as an excuse to get Luke away from you and alone with her. And just two weeks ago, Sadie feigned hopelessness during a sword skills session. As the instructor, it was Luke’s job to adjust her form. However, it was glaringly obvious the Apollo girl had an ulterior motive, especially when she threw a snarky smile in your direction when she thought you weren’t looking.

“Oh…You don’t have to worry about that, Annie. I can handle myself just fine.” You reassure Annabeth to the best of your ability. She nods and stands to settle herself into your side.

In your peripheral vision, Luke is jogging over to you with his shirt in hand. You don’t miss the way Sadie and Caroline ogle at the thin layer of sheen coating his flexing muscles and the lines running down Luke’s back that aren’t actually sparring scars, despite what you tell the curious kids that help him out in the infirmary. You smile when he pats Annabeth’s arm and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, is it time to head back already?” He asks, putting his shirt on as Annabeth checks her watch.

She huffs, “Unfortunately. We should get going if we don’t want to be late. I still have to grab my dagger.”

It’s a comfortable walk back, and when you reach the Athena cabin, Annabeth bids you two goodbye and runs inside. Luke’s hand is loosely intertwined with yours as you lead him to the Aphrodite cabin. He raises his eyebrows, asking, “Did you need something from your cabin? I thought you were working on archery right now.”

You push the door open, sheepishly admitting, “I am, but I was actually thinking of skipping out on lessons today.”

Luke’s tone is suddenly laced with concern, “Are you okay? Did something happen at the lake?” He drops your hand to check you over, but his touch doesn’t stray far from your waist to prevent you from moving away. But the gesture is welcomed and you take a step forward, a shy smile peeking through the corners of your lips.

His worry for you falters, mirroring your love struck expression, “Oh,” Luke pinches your side. You shove his chest with a shriek. “You’re awful.” He tells you, but he’s already got a hand tracing lightly over your cheek.

Your gaze switches from his dark eyes down to his lips, “You love me.” and that’s all it takes for Luke to dip down his head and meet you halfway. Your hands reach down under his shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from his toned torso. You bite down on his lower lip, and you know you’ve sent Luke’s head spinning when he lets out a short whimper. He attempts to deepen the kiss, but you pull away before he gets the chance.

Your eyes flutter open, whispering, “Do you want to skip lessons with me?”

Luke’s lips are lingering above yours when he responds, “Did you even have to ask?” and pulls you onto your bed. He settles his back against the wall and hums in content when you begin to pepper pecks on his jawline.

After a moment, you pretend to move off of him, “I don’t know…you were pretty excited for combat training earlier. Maybe I should just let you go.”

In retaliation, Luke’s blunt nails dig into your waist, “Don’t you dare.”

A warmth flutters through your stomach when you hear the desperation in his voice. Your fingers itch to tangle themselves in Luke’s ravenous curls, lightly pulling so he can look up at you. A deceptively innocent smile paints your lips and you don’t skip a beat to get him back on you.

Heavy breaths. Discarded shirts. Whispered promises. This is how you spend the next hour in between your skipped lessons and the nightly bonfire. It’s nice, but you know it’s your cue to take a step back when the crowd of kids crawling outside the cabin becomes heavily audible.

You’re still on Luke’s lap when you say, “You look so pretty like this.” Your eyes flicker from his own to his kiss swollen lips and rowdy hair. There’s an urge to run your fingers through them, but you settle for lightly tracing over the fresh love bites that are scattered across his neck and collarbone.

Luke smiles dopily while you admire your work, “I think we should skip lessons more often.”

You finally get off of him, throwing his shirt to his chest while you smooth yours out, “Don’t be such a bad influence, you’re a camp counselor.” You can’t help but stare again when the marks heavily peek out near his collar, fading in between the orange fabric.

Luke notices your longing gaze and walks over to you, “You know, you’re not the only one with charm in this relationship. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go, lover boy.” You roll your eyes and take his hand. You stumble on your way out, but Luke is there to catch you. He chuckles and lets his arm rest over your shoulders while you reach up to hook your hand with his. He helps you find your footing until your legs wake up on the way to the amphitheater.

“Wait,” You halt just before you reach the steps. You grab Luke’s necklace, gently pulling him in. You let your hands rest on each side of his marked up neck and he hisses at the feeling of your fingers gently pressing on his sore skin. Luke bites down on your lip in response, savoring the hint of watermelon that seeps through until you pull away, “Just wanted one more.”

You’re satisfied once you see the hint of pink gloss smeared at the corners of his mouth. He takes your hand again, guiding you inside. You spot some of your sisters, greeting them with a wave. They giggle at you two in response, whispering frantically to each other while you find an empty space at the front of the bonfire.

“Hey, is anyone sitting here?” Luke asks Sadie, who happens to be standing to his left alongside Caroline. Chris, who’s sitting a step above them, unashamedly howls with laughter at the sight. He leans forward to clap Luke on the back, catching the attention of Grover, who sighs in embarrassment, and Annabeth, who’s trying her best not to giggle at the sight of a gobsmacked Sadie. She and Caroline shake their heads frantically, broken words bubbling from their throats as they take in Luke’s glossy, blissful smile that he throws at you.

They finally give you the time of day, noticing that the reason for his contentment comes from your own swollen lips. You look back at them with a smile and take your rightful seat next to Luke, who wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer, watching as they go back to their siblings to start tonight’s singalong.

If the fire glows a little greener as Sadie and Caroline lead the singalong, no one comments on it. They all know better than to mess with the insatiable charm you hold on Luke. After all, you are your mother’s daughter.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #luke castellan #annabeth chase #grover underwood #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #stevie writes!

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animeshotsh · 3 months

Text

Thats MY kid | Dad!Lucifer x Kid!Reader x "Uncle"Alastor |

Summary: Alastor wants to take you out for some time with him!

Alastor tried to convince himself he was doing this to piss Lucifer off. No, he did not have any type of attachment to you, he did not see you as his own kid (even if you totally ignored his half request to be called dad when not being around Lucifer). And no, he was not hurt by that.

Right?

Yeah well no. You had touched his heart somehow and now Alastor was down bad, he swears you must have some type of demonic magic (and not just you being you and being amazing) because no one (only his mother) made him feel so much love in his life or after life.

"Uncle?" Your voice called him making Alastor look at you with his signature simile. "Why was dad angry when you showed up?"

~☆~☆~☆~

Earlier that day.

"ABSOLUTLY NO. GET OUT FROM MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW" Lucifer screamed at the radio Demon who just stared back.

"My my, I never had you for the possesive type of dad, with how much freedom you have give Charlie"

"Dont bring my daugther into this" Lucifer said almost breaking a pen. "We both know you want to take (Y/N) out just to get to me. And im not letting you create fake hopes for that kid. That kid is mine Alastor, maybe not by blood but its mine. And I promised I would protect them, for anything and anyone. You can piss me off however you want but dont bring (Y/N) into this".

Well fuck, Lucifer did care for you.

Also, fuck you Lucifer. You did not know how he felt (hell, not even Alastor knew how he felt towards you). After meeting you at the hotel, seeing you interact with the others and also play with his shadows, something started to form inside the old killer. And it got worse when you ran to him asking him how the radio worked, his insides making flips as he explained you.

He also did almost break when you were saying goodbye and hugged his legs. If that was any other Demon they would have ended dead on the spot. But it was you, and it felt right.

"Listen" Alastor started smile still on his face but his tone serious "Im not that low to bring (Y/N) into our....fights. You May not believe me but I care for that kid, if I did not for sure I would not have give him one of my shadows to protect them"

"Wait-you did what-"

"The point is" Alastor interrumped static forming "I dont plan on giving they fake hope, and thats all I Will say"

Silence passed for seconds that felt like hours, finally Lucifer nodded.

"Alright, i will let you take them for today, BUT anything and I mean anything happens to them, you will no longer be here" Lucifer said his tone for once being truly the one from a king of hell.

Alastor just nodded, taking his cane being ready to be out with you for the day.

"Oh and Alastor, I dont trust you. But i want (Y/N) to get here what they missed in life, so dont fuck this up"

~☆~☆~☆~

"Nothing your silly head must worry about!" Alastor assured you. However your face did show you were not buying what he said.

"Smile my Dear!! You know you are never fully dressed without one!!" Alastor tried again, stopping to take your hand and make you spin. Your laught coming out quickly making him relax.

"There it is!" He exclaimed then continue to walk besides you. Right now you two were in the cannibals town. For other demons and sinners this part was even more dangerous than the regular hell. But for Alastor it was like his home, demos in here knew him and liked him, and that extended to you as well. A few had waved and smiled, fresh blood showing. But Alastor had made sure you did not see any dead body, or parts of one.

"Now I have a suprise for you!, I have a friend who owns a restaurant and she accepted to take us in"

"...as food or clients?" You asked joking making the radio Demon smirk, radio laughts in the background.

"Well, since she is my friend, we are clients of coruse" Alastor responded getting a nod from you. "Of course you wont be eating anything...special, regular food I promise"

~☆~☆~☆~

When you two entered the restaurant you found it to be empy....aside from some workers who came quickly to guide Alastor and you to a private room with a big table.

There, on one of the chairs a very pale Demon with deep black eyes stood. Noticing Alastor she got on her feet coming closer.

"Alastor, its so good to see you again" she beamed at the radio Demon stopping a few inches away.

"And who may this little creature be?"

Jokes, Rosie knew who you were. He had to listen to Alastor talk about how unfair it was that you had decided to call Lucifer dad and not him.

Being by Alastor side gave you confidence so you took some small steps closer to her.

"Im (Y/N), im Alastor newphew" You stated proudly making Rosie smile showing her sharp teet.

"Thats wonderfull, now please sit I have prepared the best for both of you" Rosie exclaimed calling over the workers who appear to help the three of you settle down.

"For you my friend, I got you the finist meat from this side of hell" A plate with fresh flesh was presented making Alastor almost growl at it. "And for you little one a bird told me you loved chocolate" a big space on the table was now occupied with the biggest and most extravagant chocolate cake you have ever seen.

"I-its that all for me?" You asked not believing it. Getting a nodd from Rosie "and I cant eat all of it?" Again a nodd.

You almost cried when the first slice was put in front of you. No one ever got you cake in the living world.

"Oh and to help you not chocke with that, Alastor I have some.." Rosie paused looking for the right words seeing how you were now devouring the cake "a very special drink" she finally said, a bottle with red liquid appear. And for you, I prepared a mix of appel juice and strawberry" she said getting the most pure look from you.

"Thank you Miss"

"Oh, just call me Rosie" she responded.

~☆~☆~☆~

Turns out you ate most of the cake and now the sugar had gave you too much energy. Rosie had asked her workers to play with you some game of tag, without biting.

And hell, you were fast. Outrunning the old demons and even letting chairs fall to prevent them from coming closer.

Rosie used this moment to dig as much information about you from Alastor as she could find.

"So, Lucifer just decided to take them in? What a strange guy" she said sipping her own drink. "And now you are taking care of them?"

Alastor nodded "yes, you must see Lucifer's face when I show up and (Y/N) calls me uncle, he its so angry"

"But you truly care for them" Rosie stated. "You would never have asked me to prepare something that does not come from sinners or demons knowing where you are. You also made me order the town to keep the body display low to protect them"

Rosie could read Alastor as an Open book.

"Uncleeeee" your call alerted the overlords, seeing you running towards them with the biggest smile on your face. "The other said they are too tired to keep running after me, does this mean I won?"

"Well centraly!! I knew no one would be able to catch you. You are my relative after all"

You nodded and smiled going back to your chair to drink more juice. "This is amazing. Thanks a lot Mi-Rosie!"

"Aww, arent you the cutest" Rosie beamed her hands squishing your cheecks.

~☆~☆~☆

After the food and some more talking Alastor decided it was time for you to go back with Lucifer (and no, it was not because he had got at least 666 messages from him).

Rosie had told you to come whenever you wanted that no one would hurt you in her town.

~☆~☆~☆

"I had a great time Uncle!" You told Alastor as the big castle started to show in the distance.

"Well im glad Dear! Dont forget to tune the radio for my program tonight" Alastor said petting your head.

"I wont! Dad hates it but I love it, specially that music you use...ummmm jazz?"

Alastor started to think that just kindapp you and made you his kid instead would be for the best.

"(y/n)!!" A very distinct voice screamed

"DAD!!"

But he would not want to hurt your feelings so, seeing you from time to time would have to do.

He waited for the exchange to end, Lucifer asking you what have you done and also making sure you were not hurt. After that he nodded to himself.

"Alright, now go inside, Xin has prepared you a bath"

You nodded but turned towards Alastor going for his legs again to hug him.

"Thank you uncle!! No one ever took me to a restaurant or got me cake. Lets meet again soon" you smiled up to him showing pointy teet.

Before he could respond you were running inside the castle with a very worried maid behind you.

~☆~☆~☆~

"Well..looks like you did not ruin this" Lucifer stated seeing you run off.

"I told you I would not" Alastor responded offended. "(Y/N) has potential to grow up to be a powerfull sinner (no you did not) of course im going to look over them"

Lucifer just shoot Alastor a knowing smile then turned around to enter his home.

"Thanks for not breaking his heart" he finally said then the doors closed behind him leaving Alastor alone.

Of course he could not bring himself to do that, even if he wanted to. You were his newphew. His. Not someone else.

And no one breaks the things he loves.

Not even himself.

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader

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stllmnstr · 4 months

Text

champagne problems: part one

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

part one word count: 15.6k

part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome

soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

PART ONE

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?

Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness.

Scratch that – thirty minutes.

Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives.

You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up.

Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing.

Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it.

Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness.

Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book.

If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing.

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second.

Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment.

With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date.

Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up.

Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her.

As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?

They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard.

Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure.

Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine.

And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it.

It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–

“Fuck.”

All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time.

…

Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm.

It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit.

And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course.

Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now.

“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”

And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated.

Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door.

Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance.

Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one.

The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID.

“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”

“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother.

“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”

At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”

Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you.

Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be.

Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs. And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.

Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home.

Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about.

One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line.

Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”

Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”

“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always.

Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.”

Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily.

“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out.

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again. “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap.

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly.

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent.

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.”

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around.

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully.

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit.

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly.

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.”

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is.

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan.

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text.

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files.

…

All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage.

Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack.

“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”

That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door.

“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”

And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number.

But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently.

So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan.

And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with.

Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest.

For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful.

Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding?

He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom.

In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger.

“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”

“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way.

Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long.

“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”

Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”

“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”

Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”

Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”

Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.”

Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out.

“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”

“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine.

Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute. And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away.

It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger.

“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips.

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”

Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”

It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”

And that clicks things into place.

“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.

“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms.

Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes.

“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”

“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”

Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it.

“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”

“That’s not–”

“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”

“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”

“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”

“It’s Jake, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, just Jake.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”

“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”

“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking? “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”

You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”

“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who did you make a deal with?”

Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.

So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”

“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”

God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along as you drag him with you. I am so fucked.

…

When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless.

“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.

“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before.

“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down.

Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone.

Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”

“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend. “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”

Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”

You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”

“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”

You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”

Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”

“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”

You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”

“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”

“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”

You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing.

“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”

Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”

“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”

You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”

“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”

A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”

“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”

You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous.

There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number.

Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”

And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all.

Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true.

…

On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library.

Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror.

“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder.

All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop.

It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him.

Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it.

“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you.

“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him.

“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”

He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare.

Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”

“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”

As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving.

Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.

Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.

You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”

And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”

“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”

“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”

You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace.

“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right.

And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”

But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”

Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”

You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”

He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall.

“I…”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks.

“Yes, okay?”

Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”

Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”

Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.

At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”

The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace.

He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”

A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”

Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”

…

Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.

Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake.

Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser.

Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment.

Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.

Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company.

Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.

Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house.

Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university.

If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system.

Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst.

And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.

With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be.

Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob.

Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.

Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all.

It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically.

In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom.

If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too.

And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.

Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants.

Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.

And then you set out for the university library.

When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter.

After all, the only reason you’re here is because–

“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence.

If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax.

“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”

You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”

Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”

“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice.

And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.”

You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.

When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”

Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute.

Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.

All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides.

He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–

Wait.

“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”

Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”

Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”

You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”

Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one.

“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”

That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”

The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”

If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”

Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now.

He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.

Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes.

“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”

Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer.

“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line.

For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”

And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.

And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it.

…

Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom.

Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.

But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.

It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight.

With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer.

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim.

You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.

For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be.

You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one.

An overwhelming sense of self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else.

Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment.

As you get closer, their words become more audible.

“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”

And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it.

But then you look at Jake. Really look at him.

Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire.

Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this.

Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease.

It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is.

No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good.

“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over.

Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”

“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable.

Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”

From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.

Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”

You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”

A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.”

You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it.

Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”

She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier.

Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.

Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.

Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?

You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine.

Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.

Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face.

“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”

And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant.

Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”

“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”

And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.

The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window.

It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace.

So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being.

Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself.

Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”

Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.

Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey.

Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.

Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”

Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough.

Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.

“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault.

Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”

Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.

Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production.

Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for.

There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation.

“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”

“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices.

He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you.

Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there.

You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.

Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do.

“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath.

Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely.

James Sim.

You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”

“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him.

Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker.

Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”

You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”

It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name.

Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed.

“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”

Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”

Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”

“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments.

Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs.

James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card.

Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced.

Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.

But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.

Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.

A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”

Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”

You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him.

Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”

“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well.

The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable.

The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles.

And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Girlfriend.

You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother.

Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.

“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”

When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read.

“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious.

“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles.

“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.”

“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes.

“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”

Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers.

“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother.

“Hopefully not, though,” you alter.

And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.

Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you.

The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations.

“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it.

“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”

“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”

Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions.

But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”

“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there.

Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout?

Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus.

After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance.

“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.”

Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”

“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.”

You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.

“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have.

After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being.

Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom.

As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else.

Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening.

When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut.

Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless.

…

The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror.

Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :)

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CONTINUED IN PART 2

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note: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. part two still needs some love, and I'm hoping to have it out around this same time next week. I'll announce for sure when I have a release date & time. as always, I love hearing any thoughts/comments/screaming you may have. happy reading!

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfic #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim x you #jake sim scenarios #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun x you

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Text

Christian Woman

König x Nun!Reader

Word count: 12.5 k Tags/warnings: 18+ pure FLUFF & SMUT & COMFORT

First time/loss of virginity, implied consent, teasing, corruption kink, fingering, cunnilingus, thighing/intercrural sex, protected p in v. Silly, sweet, kind of innocent, kind of naughty. Romance, forbidden love trope, love as a religion, happy ending.

Part 3/3

Everytime König enters your life, you start to lie.

You lie about where you’re going and where you’ve been, you lie about who you see and what you do. People think you’ve helped some foreign man to hospital, that you were away last night to make sure he got safely into treatment. You told them he was some poor fellow who got stabbed and robbed on the street and that you called the ambulance from his phone and that the police needed to see you today for further questioning.

You lie and lie and lie, and then slip out to see König, who’s hopefully alive and still in the same place you left him last night.

When you enter the old, half-demolished building now serving as a B&B, the same old man from last night looks up with wary eyes. He immediately relaxes back to reading his paper when he sees you’re only the harmless, grey nun from last night.

You sneak upstairs without exchanging a word with him and go straight to König’s door. Giving it a quick knock and uttering, “It’s me,” you half expect to get shot through the wooden entrance. But there only comes a happy “Come in” from behind the door, and you notice König hasn’t even locked the damn thing. Is he expecting you, or is he simply that confident with his gunslinger skills?

Turns out he’s probably both, because you freeze right there on the doorstep when you step in.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers this time, and your eyes fly straight back to his eyes after being glued to the prominent package between his legs for far too long. And good God, the man’s got some muscles on those legs...

“Hallo, Kätzchen,” he greets, giving you an obnoxiously flirty smile upon noticing how flustered you look.

“You… You shouldn’t be up yet,” you quickly turn to close the door.

“I have to use the bathroom, no?”

He looks at you from across the room, so innocent and sweet and, at the same time, so mischievous that you don’t know what to do or where to look. He’s gotten rid of the hood, but there are traces of black paint around his eyes, it still clings to his brows, making him look like someone who just came home from a carnival. You want to go to him and wipe it away and tell him that he missed a spot and that he’s clumsier than you thought, but you can’t... You can only fall deeper into your awkward shyness as he raises his brows.

He turns what appears to be the shreds of his old shirt in his hands, then dumps it into the bin, suddenly a little nervous too. There are moments when you have suspected that König might suffer from social anxiety or shyness around people, but he covers it very well. Around you, the man seems to be at ease, flirts and jokes with you often and is very straightforward with his intentions.

You wonder if he likes you so much simply because you are unattainable.

Maybe you represent some girl next door to him, perhaps you remind him of his first love. Perhaps you happen to be something so sweet, innocent, and unreachable that he feels strong and safe in your company. Perhaps holding hands and trading a few passionate kisses feels safer than going after a real relationship… Perhaps this Will they, won’t they situation is enough excitement for him, too.

Or perhaps König has been so wounded by women that he prefers to be around a frigid – or at least very virginal – nun rather than face the dangers of approaching a real, attainable woman.

But flaunting himself like this in front of you is yet another clear sign that he, at the very least, loves to tease you to death. He looks like he’s in far better condition than yesterday, and starts to peel off the bandage like it’s just a scratch he suffered.

“Let me help you with that,” you rush to him, silently relieved when he lets you clean the wound and change the bandage. He even lays himself down to be treated by you and smiles with his signature grin as you fuss around him.

“Not a word,” you risk a glance his way while gently cleaning the wound.

“Not a word,” he promises with a cheeky smile, and gets another erection.

It’s even worse when he’s wearing nothing but his underwear... You can see the bulge stretching the fabric, forming a tight, thick curve right next to you as you try to focus on your task.

“Perhaps you should put some clothes on,” you offer while trying to concentrate on examining the skin for any signs of irritation.

“Eh. They’re dirty.”

“I can go and ask if they have a laundry room here,” you propose. “I could wash them for you. Do you need a new shirt?”

Ugh, what a stupid question...

“Why not,” he shrugs. “If the view is unpleasant...”

“Behave yourself now,” you say with a soft smile. “XL…?”

“At least.”

He must be getting better if he’s behaving like this... The man’s insufferable enough when he’s uninjured, but now that he’s getting pampered, he’s somehow even worse. You bite your lip as he dares to moan on the bed, too. You’ve brought him food last night, and he’s being treated carefully and touched softly, he’s getting his clothes washed for him, he’s got his own personal nun worrying about him 24/7. Of course he’s moaning.

And you’re in danger because you just love to pamper him. It feels more meaningful to treat his wounds and run on errands than do the eternal dishes at the convent. You feel like you’re saving a life here... Like someone actually needs you, depends on you. You feel so wanted, and König seems to fully agree with you.

“I could live the rest of my life like this,” he purrs on the bed as you gently put a fresh bandage in place.

“I have no doubt about that.”

“Are you really going to get me a new shirt…?” He asks with bright puppy eyes – the faked innocence is so blatant you want to throw a pillow over that face.

“If you give me some money to buy one, then yes.”

“You can have as much as you want. Buy yourself something nice while you’re at it, hmm? As a reward.”

“I don’t do this for the sake of rewards.”

“I know... But you could buy yourself anything you want. A new dress, new jeans, lingerie… Give me a little fashion show when you get back?”

König knows you’re probably the last woman on earth who’s interested in shopping sprees, let alone new jeans or sexy lingerie. Your only summer dress resides at your parent’s house as a relic from the past, a token from your life before sisterhood. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want to see his face when you do a little twirl before his bed, wearing nothing but a laced bra and some matching strings…

“Give you a fashion show?” you laugh. “When did thanking me turn into you profiting from it?”

“I’m just saying... If you need new underwear, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

You snort and shake your head slowly. “You’re far too cheeky when you’re injured. I truly hope you get better soon.”

“I don’t,” he crosses his arms behind his head, looking perfectly pleased with himself while lying there in nothing but his underwear. “And neither do you.”

“Excuse me? Of course I do…!”

“No, I don’t think so. You like to take care of people, I can see it. You’d make a good field medic.”

“I doubt that.”

“You remain calm under pressure,” he says. “And you take good care of me.”

“That’s only because you were silly enough to get shot.”

“...And I would do it again if it leads to this,” he grins.

“Cheeky,” you shake your head reprimandingly. “Far too cheeky.”

“You are an angel,” he says gently. “And I mean that.”

You rise to put the trash in the bin, then look back at him. “No, I’m not. I’m just some woman you bumped into in the street.”

“That’s exactly what an angel would say.”

You sigh: it’s useless with König, hopeless, like trying to wrestle with God. No matter what you say or do, he always turns it against you in the sweetest possible way. It’s like he's stripping away pieces of your armour – you fear nothing will be left before this visit is done.

“Did you eat any of the food I brought you…? You need to eat something, and drink a lot of water–” You take a look at the side table, noticing he has already eaten everything you got him last night. “Gosh. You must be getting better if you have an appetite like this...”

König only laughs on the bed. “I’m sorry, Kätzchen, but that was just a snack.”

You brought him three sandwiches, at least a dozen apples and a bag of walnuts, but they’re all gone. Of course a soldier of his size eats like a horse, and he needs all the food he can get, having gone through the wringer last night.

“I’d kill for a Schnitzel and a tall beer,” he sighs dreamily on the bed, no doubt knowing you well enough to tell that you’ll get him anything he wants if he only plays this wounded soldier role right.

You begin to doubt if his injuries were ever that serious. It just looked bad last night because he was so tired, and there was blood everywhere... With a bleak blink, you realize most of the blood you cleaned off of him last night probably wasn’t his own.

He’s in a cheery mood now, looking at you hopefully from the bed, arms crossed behind him, legs out long, wearing nothing but those stupid black boxers and that goshdarned, sweet smile.

“Do you think you could get me one of those big Schnitzels somewhere…? You know, the really big ones.”

“Maybe,” you cross your arms over your chest, and furrow your brow when he visibly perks up on the bed a little. “I said maybe. We’ll see. And you’ll get water instead of beer.”

“Shame.”

“You don’t need alcohol right now. Plus I can’t just go and buy beer looking like this.”

He smiles. The man’s all smiles today… Probably because of all the blood loss. Or maybe because you’re the girl next door who’s going to bring him his favourite food.

“Of course not,” he says, with hazy love in his eyes. “I am already forever in your debt, Kätzchen.”

…

It’s not a sin to take a nap together.

That’s what you tell yourself as you curl next to König after you bring him his Schnitzel, shirt, and a few bottles of sparkling water.

“There’s plenty of room for both. Come on, I won’t bite,” he shifts on the bed and extends his hand to invite you in.

You lay yourself down next to him and tell yourself it’s just to please a recovering man. There’s nothing sexual about it, so why not?

Still, your body is singing by the time he takes your hand in his own, wrapping both your arms around your middle like you’re an established couple about to get some sleep together.

Raindrops are slowly tapping on the window, and you tell yourself you’re just resting your eyes a bit as your lids drift closed. König is already snoring behind you, with another erection pressed against your back. You’re not intimidated by it: it only feels natural to cuddle him like this. The rain turns into a languid rap, and you know you won’t be leaving this building in a while. With the contentment of a cat who’s finally warm and safe, you fall into a deep sleep.

You stir after an hour or two, waking up to such a pleasant, safe feeling you don’t quite remember when you’ve ever felt this good. König has buried his face in your neck, somewhere in the folds of your coif, probably in an attempt to reach some skin. He pulls you closer when you try to shift, rumbling contently behind you.

“Sleep well…?”

“Mm...”

The moment is so lazy and cosy you don’t want to get up. A large, warm hand flexes against your stomach as König buries his face deeper under the veil. He reaches the skin of your neck and inhales deeply, making all the tiny hairs across your body shoot up.

You let him kiss you there, and he does it with reverence, like he’s kissing a holy idol. It’s chaste enough but makes you go taut in his hold – in fact, you have to use all your willpower not to moan out loud.

“I think I need to go now,” you whisper, doing absolutely nothing to act on that threat.

“Mm–hm,” he agrees while keeping your body hugged tight against him.

“König… Really, I need to get back...”

“Ja... Ok,” he mutters, hand traveling up the thick black cotton of your habit. It meets your breast and cups it without shame. You feel the hot, hard length twitching against your back, making leaving this bed less and less tantalizing.

You whine when he starts to fully paw your breast, thrusting his hips up and against your butt. The kiss turns into a love bite right after as he starts to use teeth on your neck – your back arches on instinct, a broken sigh slipping through your lips. He can't be serious... A hickey-covered neck is the last souvenir you want to bring back from this nap.

“You said you wouldn’t bite,” you whimper, but he just laughs softly. The sound is thick and breathless, cinders and smoke so close to your ear that you’re shamefully wet even without his other… advances.

The afternoon is mellow, it has stopped raining, but you wish you could stay on this spun sugar bed with him forever. You know what you want already; in your heart, you’ve made a giant decision, but the overwhelming realisation is too much to bear.

And so you rip yourself away from his arms and flee once again. He’s the devil himself, smiling on the bed with another proud erection tenting his pants. Rushing back to the convent, adjusting your veil as you go, your mind is plagued with the image of König reaching a hand down those boxers and enjoying a long, drowsy masturbation session while you have to hurry home for Mass.

Christ…

It only took 24 hours to make you melt in his arms like snow.

And the “naps” become a habit as you haul him food or clothes, new from the store or clean and warm from the drier. You bring him a fresh pair of boxers, too, since he only had the clothes on his back when he was shot. He’s ever so grateful for his saving angel, who he gets to cuddle “as a reward”. You don’t quite know if it's a reward for you or him.

Sometimes, he’s cleaning his gun or doing wall pushups when you arrive, indicating that he’s still recovering but getting better every day – and more restless by the minute. At some point, you’re not even napping anymore; you only lay down with him to snuggle and make out, feeling like a shy teen when you only let him touch you over your clothes. His hands explore you literally everywhere except between your legs because that’s when you gently guide his eager paws away.

You wonder if this is what drugs feel like to some people. You’re fully in the present moment, swimming in a soft bliss, calm and whole and sweet and good. Everything in the world is just as it should be.

“If you ever come to Austria, I will take you to the mountains,” König mumbles nonsense into your hair, freed one day from the confines of your veil and coif. It’s a surrender in every meaning of the word – your clothes are the last literal protection you have against his attempts to worship you.

“Perhaps we’ll stay there... Forget all this,” he chatters lazily, clearly in the same sweet bubble as you. “Ja, that sounds good… I’ll keep you there until you come to your senses.”

“That sounds like a kidnapping scenario,” you comment with a soft smile on your lips.

“Ah. My plan is ruined.”

You crane your head to look at him. “No... Not ruined.”

“No?”

“Just exposed.”

You figure it was only a matter of time before this snuggle turned into another make out session. This time, the shared kiss is purposeful, full of presence and slow need. The anxiety is gone, the rights and wrongs of this world tucked somewhere far away.

“We need to stop doing this,” you whisper into his mouth, brain turning into mush from the way he holds you so gently.

“Why…? It feels nice…”

You can’t argue with that, and when his hands start to travel, you do nothing to stop them.

He slides a palm down your curves, pulls you closer by the waist, cups your butt when you don’t seem to protest. Usually, this sort of behaviour has been a little too much, you have treated it as a bridge that shouldn’t be crossed. Now, you let his hand travel down your thigh, you allow him to grab a handful of your skirt and slowly, slowly drag it up.

When you still don’t protest, his unhurried kiss turns into a delighted, hungry one.

He finds nothing but skin underneath your dress, and starts to explore your thigh with a trembling hand. He's warm and big, both gentle and calloused, and you can’t help but think how obscene you must look with your black robes dragged up like that, a man’s hand desperately searching for the treasure between your legs while your mouths devour each other in a slow, sloppy kiss.

His fingers slide up, up, up until they meet the fabric of your panties, then come to a halt right above the mound of your sex. In both horror and thrill, you find your thighs parting, inviting him in, heart racing in your chest as König finds your underwear not only wet but soaked through.

That’s when he groans – into your mouth, hot breaths hitting your face as he examines you through the panties like it’s business as usual that you’re so wet. You’re both ashamed and exhilarated – you haven’t even shaved. And he’s about to…

“Mh–”

You feel him probe the side of the fabric, then casually sliding your poor, soaked underwear aside. Your wet folds are exposed to cold air and warm fingers; the last of your armour, your pride and shame and vows, drift away like they were made of nothing but simple steam.

He drags his fingers across your folds, unhurried and pleased to meet you so ready. The fact that this man could crush your windpipe or break your spine, he could grab your thighs and force them apart like sticks, have his way with you if he wanted, doesn’t make you afraid of him like it probably should. You know he would never hurt you, but the intensity, the intimacy in his glare and touch, are enough to make the air around you feel electric.

“You’ve never been with anyone…?”

The question is breathless and thick, causing your core to tighten.

“No…”

Is it that obvious…?

“Hmm.”

“‘Hmm’ what…?”

“Nothing. You’re sweet.”

He doesn’t try to steal a peek at your glistening sex, all bared and slick for him. He only has eyes for you. Your rushed breaths, how they hitch in your throat when he brushes a thumb over your clit. Your lids, fluttering over defenceless eyes as you try to search for something to ground you. But there’s nothing to hold on to but him, so you anchor yourself in the dark hunger of his eyes.

“I tried to leave you alone. I truly tried, Kätzchen… But you’re so sweet it’s illegal.”

The words hit you, loaded with lust, but you’re too weak to answer him anymore. Pitch-black darkness stares back at you as the sounds of your drenched pussy fill the room. You want to touch him too, but you’re too shy, still trying to silence the buzzing beehive of your brain and come to terms with the fact that this is actually happening.

“I should’ve come back for you… I knew I should have, right away. I was too dumb, meine Liebling…”

Starved and dreamy, he looks down at you, whole body tight as you hold on to him and take in his confession. Only, you feel like you’re the one who’s confessing here… He seems to read you like a book, giving you just enough to keep that adoring look on your face.

He slips a finger in, and you stop breathing for a second, the room seems to go darken, even when it’s high noon. Time slows down while your heart thunders in your chest, giving you a sense of urgency where there is none. Pulling out and adding another finger straight away, he ushers a mewl out of you.

Your fingers curl around his shirt, pulling and tugging it as you try to keep intact. A deep rumble echoes in his chest when he sees you so pliant, clutching him like you’re drowning.

“I know you want this,” he says, voice so rough that you barely recognize it’s him. “Don’t hold back…”

You try to beg him for more but the words come out as a whimper without a voice, causing something dark to flash behind his eyes. That’s all the reply you get: a pleased, filthy stare of someone who’s about to wreck you up. He must like his victims like this, too: on their backs, begging for mercy before he finishes them…

Blinking in despair, you try to drive the intrusive thoughts away, but he’s already upon you. Crossing the last breath of air between you, he captures your mouth in his.

You can do nothing but take, take, take: his fingers and his mouth, greedy for the rapture that’s already blooming in the distance, rising like a tidal wave. He won’t stop kissing you even when you spread your legs further – to what end, you don’t even know, because he fucks you without effort, keeps you pressed against him in a way that says you’re his.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tasting him, your whole body going tense before you erupt with a miserable, pained moan.

You reach the peak and break, right into his mouth, around his fingers, the weight of it all almost unbearable. He groans on your tongue, kissing you while you milk his fingers, your inner walls hugging him in waves.

Nothing moves except you, the shudders and squirms gradually leaving your body while he draws circles on your clit, lazy and somewhat absent-minded, like you’re his favourite toy now.

The release brings with it a roaring wave of sadness, a deep grief, something that has been locked up inside you for months – no, years, now brought to the surface from the bottom of a stagnant sea.

He lets you go reluctantly, releasing your mouth so you can breathe more freely. Burying his face into your neck, you decide to do the same, escaping to the solace of his strength while trying to prevent tears from welling up.

König doesn’t yet understand that your release continues as a cleansing wave of relief; he only pulls out, slowly and carefully, gently sets your panties back where they were, straightens your dress, and hugs you as if nothing ever happened.

You start to cry in full, not even knowing why. You just know you’ve wanted this for ages. This connection, this ecstasy, this mutual presence and fulfilment, this sense of belonging to someone.

“Scheiße… Did I do something wrong?”

König finally realizes you’re crying, and grows taut from the middle like an iron cord. The pure concern in his voice only makes you bawl louder and grip him tighter, and the man starts to veritably panic.

“Kätzchen, I–”

“No, no,” your jaw is shaking as you try to explain. “I just… It’s…”

You’re hugging him so tight that you don’t know where you end and he begins, but as König caresses your back, swallowing as he does it, you eventually come back down to planet Earth and back to this bed.

“Did you like it…?” He asks, still with so much worry that you could announce your love for this man right away.

“Yes… Very much.”

“Gut.”

You think about returning the favour, but selfishly, you’d want nothing more than to stay here like this, in his arms, for just a few more minutes. Or an hour... Well, if you got to decide, you’d stay here for the rest of your life.

“Come here,” he says while you’re already locked in an inseparable embrace. He doesn’t make a single move to coax you into touching him in return, and after a few seconds, your voice comes out as a frail question.

“Should I… Do you want me to–?”

“Shh.”

…

Six months without him.

Six months, and now you couldn’t bear to be apart from him for six hours.

You’re glad you were sensible enough to shave before running to him that morning. Making up more excuses about how you’re seeing your friend because she just suffered a terrible loss and needs some spiritual and emotional support, you sneak a couple of blocks down the street to see König. If anyone suspects something, they say nothing, but you feel the lies as a grimy cloak upon your shoulders as you hurry up the stairs of the B&B.

The shadows dissipate when König catches you in his arms. You get smothered with kisses as he spins you around, making you chastise him for being so careless with the wound.

It’s, of course, difficult to scold a man who’s kissing you so profusely… You’re starting to feel like he wants it to open again so that he never has to leave this place. To be honest, you wouldn’t mind it either if you two stayed here forever.

“You’re crazy, and silly, and I like you,” you tell him while looking down at him – a strange thing to do, even if the man has picked you up like this once before.

“Is that so?”

His eyes always light up when he sees you, but now, he looks like a man in love.

“Yes... I like you a lot.”

“And I like you. Do you want to see how much?”

He gives you that slightly crooked grin that reminds you of feline predators, or fantasy creatures who are up to no good. He also moves quickly for a man of his size, and before you know it, you’re thrown on the bed like a sack of potatoes. As you laugh and try to adjust yourself on the bedding, he’s already on his knees, head quickly disappearing under your robe.

God, he’s not going to–

“What are you doing…?”

“Giving you a kiss,” comes a muffled voice under your dress.

He’s headed straight between your legs, two days worth of coarse stubble scraping the insides of your thighs as he goes.

“But… But what about your injuries?” You try to scurry upwards on the bed, hands shooting instinctively to hold his head in place before he does something utterly shameless.

“König–”

“Sei ruhig.”

God – you’re not the most confident woman when it comes to these things to begin with. It’s one thing for a man to lay his fingers on you and look you in the eyes while you cum, and another thing entirely to place his mouth where you’re wet and aching.

What if he won’t like it...?

What if you’re not beautiful enough there?

...What if you taste odd?

You’re shy, as any woman would be on their first time getting head. You’re infinitely grateful to yourself for shaving because there’s a delighted, surprised sound under the robe when König strips you from your underwear.

“For me…?”

He’s smiling at your pussy, voice dampened by the thick cotton, and you thank God that he can’t see your mortified face right now.

You brace yourself for a delicate kiss, maybe a tentative lick or two. But the soft tenderness of yesterday is gone as König presses his whole face into your sex, giving it a good inhale followed by a good, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Wrenched awake from your semi-relaxed state, you jerk up on the bed as he does it again. Then come the flat-tongued, starved licks – your pussy wakes up after recovering from the initial shock, giving a full throb against his stubbled jaw. König breathes a short laugh against you, pleased with this response.

The noise of him “kissing” you is obscene and only gets worse when he drags his tongue up and down your slit. You truly hope the doors here are solid wood because you can’t stifle all the sounds that escape you. For some reason, it is vital for you not to let the old receptionist know that a humble sister of Christ is getting licked to ruin in his establishment.

You’re stunned, and a bit appalled – was this all it took to turn your nose up to your vows? A big man with big arms and a big gun? Some guy who wants to get under your dress after a few weeks of acquaintance…?

Because that’s what this is, a few weeks’ acquaintance currently under your robes, eating you out like you’re his last meal.

The things you’ve imagined him do to you are shameful; even now, you fantasize about König picking you up and taking you against a wall when he gets better. This man treats you right, he treats you sweet, but you want more, you need something earthly and raw, and him lapping you under your habit is precisely that. It’s ravenous and adorable at the same time, so conflicting that you don’t know who you are anymore.

You’re going through several stages of ego death and bliss; you’re going through a crisis of faith and multiple rebirths while König is having a field day with your pussy. It should concern you that he’s so eager to wreck you like this. It should arouse suspicion that the playful aura of this man changes whenever he gets between your legs... He becomes deliciously dark somehow, dark and base and addictive, and you wind into another plane of existence with him, to someplace only reserved for you two.

“König,” you whisper. “I’m– I’m about to cum…”

“Uh-huh. You have my permission.”

It’s dark, again, so smooth and rich that your inner walls clench, then flood with pleasure and pain. The inevitable orgasm is thigh-shaking and soul-ripping, your moans long and pitiful now. They’re not whimpers but cries, bare and pained as he continues to bully you with his tongue, grunting silky sin into your core.

You can feel yourself leak on his chin as you cum, violently, forgetting the whole existence of the man downstairs. He turns you into an overstimulated, limp, heady mess – your chest is heaving by the time König emerges from under your robes.

“Oh God…”

It simply escapes from your lips when you see how wet his jaw is. There’s a pussydrunk look in his eyes as he takes a look at his good work.

All thoughts of What if he doesn’t enjoy it evaporate when you see the demanding erection between his legs, pointing at you so viciously that you feel pity for the fabric of his pants.

“Ja... I made you see God?”

“Stop it… You’re so cheeky...”

“Eh. And you’re technically still a virgin. We need to fix that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t feel like a virgin.”

“Well… I can take the blame.” He gives you a naughty little wink. “Remember? I would go to hell for you.”

And as if you weren’t in over your head already, he starts to drag your robes up. Too limp to do anything about him unravelling you like that – not even wanting to prevent it – you continue to catch your breath as his eyes go wide.

“This is what you’ve been hiding under here all this time…?”

He tucks the thick fabric up until your breasts are exposed. You’re not wearing any bra; you stopped wearing them years ago as useless and immoral. Your nipples perk up from excitement under his stare, your panties wrenched down in a hurry, now crumpled and forgotten somewhere between your thighs – the look on his face is priceless as he takes in the view of your exposed body like you’re a Christmas present he just opened.

“You naughty girl…” he says thickly, and while you’ve received plenty of attention these last two days, it still makes you feel odd to be adored like this. His hawk eyes fly back to you, the corner of his mouth tugging up with some new, nasty idea.

“Want to see what I got?”

Oh God…

You don’t even get to express your consent – which would be enthusiastic – before König pulls the waistband of his boxers down.

The cock that springs free is long and thick, heavy and red-pink from the tip that’s pointing straight at you. Curving slightly to the side, it’s even bigger than you thought, somehow having been rendered harmless by his pants, making it seem hefty but never that tall.

Your friend was right about him – tall men have tall dicks… Big hands indicate a big dick, too, you remember as you watch how he wraps tall, lean fingers around himself, giving his shaft a slow half-stroke.

“You want to practice with me?”

You quickly rip your eyes up to his – you’re the world’s lousiest nun, caught staring at a cock like that. König only seems proud that you’re so intrigued by it, his eyes watching over you with dark amusement.

“Uh–huh,” you swallow and nod – Christ, your voice is breaking…

And whatever he means by “practising”, you can only hope that he’s not going to put it inside. There’s not even a condom for crying out loud.

It’s a sigh-inducing thing when he gets to it, rests the heavy head of him on your clit, then drags the fat tip down across your folds.

“F–uck…” his head falls back a bit, lids fluttering closed from the way your slickness feels against him. That’s the most sensitive spot in a man – more of your friend’s advice floods your brain as you watch how he does it again, rasping while guiding himself up and down your slit.

You’ve never seen him so serious: his brows furrow together as he explores your folds, spreading your wetness all over himself while stroking his length. Agonizingly slow, you can see his balls hang heavy and gradually pull tight as he continues to work his cock.

You know you should touch him, return the favour at last – but it’s hard to interrupt a moment like this. You’re mesmerized to see him already tensing from the chest up, the tendons on his neck becoming visible as he grits his teeth together.

“Kätzchen…” he rasps, “Would you mind if I…”

You fear that he’ll ask for permission to slip it inside, tempted and weak-willed. And to be honest, you’re not sure if you’d have the will to deny him.

But that’s not what he has in mind, apparently, as he begins to fist himself in a slack hurry, with half-lidded eyes and a slightly open mouth. He just wants to cum like this and ease the pain that must be terrible after days of sexual tension…

And seeing you laid out before him, naked and dreamy and bare, licked stupid just moments ago isn’t helping, that’s for sure.

“No,” you whisper, “No I won’t mind…”

You brave your heart to reach out and touch him: it’s just a shy hand gliding down his chest, but it makes him groan from pleasure. A brush of fingertips across his abs, and his muscles contract, and when you slide your palm over his hipbone and coax him to come closer, he finally leans forward and on top of you.

“Kätzchen…” he groans in whispers now. “You’re so wet…”

He could slip it in from this position, search for your opening and rough it inside. It’s tempting, so alluring that you almost say please – but that would be a catastrophe, and so you only look up at him, speechless when he supports himself on his hands and starts to glide up and down, fucking himself between your thighs.

The bulged tip caresses your clit each time he pulls back – you doubt you can cum another time like this, but he sure as hell tries his everything to get you off too.

“You want it…” he grunts above you. “You want me to fuck you. Right...?”

“Yes… But–”

“I’ll get a condom.”

“No, wait–”

Now it's your turn to panic. You were always taught that condoms are unacceptable, while simultaneously, you know you could never do it raw, not even with König.

This is a moral choice you've never had to face before, and your brain is no use to you now. It's riddled with chants of Put it in and Forget about the bloody plastic because even with your zero experience you know it wouldn't feel as good as skin.

"No? It's a sin or something?"

König pants above you, both tired and needy, and you nod with pleading eyes, not knowing what else to do.

"Ok… Ok," he adjusts to the new reality while hovering on the brink of eruption. "I'll talk you out of it later..."

You give him a small smile, and he answers it with his own, slowly, starts to move again. Just the feel of the smooth surface of his cock dragging up and down your slit is enough to bite your lip and moan. Sliding your hands over his waist and down his butt, you give him a good squeeze–

And were he inside you, the effects would have been disastrous.

He cums abruptly, with a stiff, broken groan as soon as your nails dig into his skin. Hot, heavy seed meets your folds; it’s thick, the spurts neverending as he continues to fuck himself between your thighs with little control. How you still have anything left to give, you cannot comprehend, but the sudden, messy orgasm of this indomitable man makes you cum as well.

Everything’s hot and sticky and dreamlike, almost pornographic, your thighs drenched in cum as he ruts through the orgasm with you. You roll your hips in sync with his, arriving at the end of your own mellow, beautiful peak, wondering how on earth it can only get better every time you have sex…

The afterwaves are magical; you basically came together, and it hasn’t even been in yet. If this is what sex is like, mind-blowing and relaxing, hot and sweet and fulfilling with the right person, then you feel both dumb and proud for saving yourself for König.

And you’re starting to realize that you might just have a boyfriend…

No – not a boyfriend.

You have a man.

…

König orders food – or goes downstairs in nothing but his shirt and boxers and makes the poor man order it – while you lie in bed, under covers, still high from all the lovemaking. The room must be smelling like a sex cave by now.

You take a quick shower while waiting for the delivery, mentally berating yourself for being so reckless. Having a man cum all over your folds is not exactly a safe way to practice sex… You’re doing everything wrong, asking König if he has any diseases when he comes back.

He just pulls you back into his arms with a gentle laugh and says: “What do you take me for, a jerk? Of course I’m clean, silly kitty.”

That calms your nerves a little. You’re feeling anything but virginal right now, and putting on the black, heavy robes of a nun doesn’t sit well with you. You leave them on the floor, making König a very happy man by deciding to sit on the bed completely naked.

You reach for the comforter when there’s a knock on the door, and clutch it against your chest like a paid woman while König pays the courier – still in his black boxers and t-shirt, like he’s just a guy who happens to live here.

“What...? Eat?”

The smell of Nepalese food fills the room: the rich, mouthwatering scents in stark contrast to what you’re used to at the convent’s kitchen. Butter chickens, lamb koftas and flatbreads are laid out steaming on the bed between you, and König attacks the food like someone who hasn’t seen a meal in weeks.

It makes you smile; him being so happy with simple things such as good food and some kinky sex, a nice cuddle and a nap to top it off. He munches on the food with his mouth open because it’s so hot – the man’s secretly so greedy that you can’t help but wonder if he had enough love, food and shelter as a child.

“Do you do this often?” You ask when he rips another handful of flatbread to dip in the sauce.

“Seduce women.”

“Seduce…?” He laughs. “Kätzchen, I couldn’t seduce a woman even if I tried.”

You’re unsure if he’s dodging the question or being humble – or worse yet, if it means you’ve been an easy conquest.

“You just did,” you point out, realizing you’re sulking when König tilts his head with curiosity.

“Oh. I’m sorry… Did it hurt?”

You grab a pillow to throw at him, but he dodges it and laughs.

“Careful with the food…!”

And of course he isn’t.

You decide it’s useless with him, and besides, jealousy is not a good look. But you just can’t help it... You’re so in love that it’s not even funny anymore.

To you, he’s a hero and a God in one man, he’s both Satan and the Saviour. But to König, you’re probably just a nice foreign friend... Some cute nun he met months ago, who he finally gets to grope and taste and, hopefully, soon fuck. He says he doesn’t have time for women, and yet he licks you like a professional – not like you know what a professional in this area feels like, but it’s pretty clear that König is not a virgin even if you are.

It must be nice to live a dangerous life and bump into women on the street... Woo them off their feet and leave them yearning, then get shot and cared for by some fussy, naive nun who’s head over heels for him. Perhaps it’s his favourite pastime hobby to torture ladies with flowers and letters and some cock and then leave like a cowboy. You wonder if he has a girl in every city – girls who aren’t nuns, girls who know how to show him a good time.

“Kitten... I’m not like that,” he says, a curry-drenched piece of bread dripping sauce over his fingers. “I only hold hands with you. Now that you finally let me.”

And you don’t know what’s more decadent: eating naked on the bed after making love, or being a Catholic nun who’s about to beg a man to fuck you, with or without a condom.

He finally notices he’s about to make a mess on the sheets, and gobbles the food as quickly as he can before there’s sauce all over the bed. Licking his fingers with dark, glimmering eyes set on you, you quickly focus your attention on the food.

The bastard is flirting with you every chance he gets, even when you two are trying to eat...

“Is this what you call holding hands?” You ask, reaching for a piece of bread he's offering you.

König looks at you a while longer, with an expression he sometimes wears when conversing about serious, deep subject, the issues of God and Heart.

“This is what I call liking someone so much it hurts.”

…

König learns your body language; he knows it like a native speaker by the end of the week.

You, on the other hand, learn that he’s ticklish on the sides of his stomach and behind the ears. You discover that he gets hard if you caress his abs or whisper in his ear that you like him... You learn everything about what kind of handjobs he likes; you find out that he almost rips the sheets apart when you take him in your mouth.

You lie on top of him, you lie under him, you let him hold you any way he likes. He moves you around like a doll, kisses you until you’re soaked, laughs into your neck when you tell him he’s being impossible again. He loves your breasts religiously, bites and nibs and licks them until you grab his head and tell him you can’t take it anymore. He has an oral fixation for your body and has to kiss every part of you: your inner thighs, your hip bones, the quivering place just below the navel; your neck and fingers and arms, even the arch of your foot.

You receive attention only reserved for saints, and fear that someone will notice the smell of cum on you, or the musk of a man, lingering in your hair. Your sisters could easily notice your flushed lips if they wanted to. They could see the dreamy smiles, eyes that have just seen God, but everyone is looking inward, and no one sees how you rebel against the Lord right under their nose.

You stay strong in your no condoms policy, but practice with König every day; you practice so much that his wound opens and starts to bleed.

“Oh my God…”

“Heh… It’s okay,” he says as your stare drifts down to the side of his stomach. The bandage is slowly blooming with red, and your crazy soldier would simply go on if you didn’t order him to lie down.

You’re both naked as you start to patch him up, convinced that this is some sort of a punishment for being so reckless. König only smiles on the bed while you treat him; it’s like his master plan finally worked.

“I like it when you take care of me,” he explains while you clean up the wound. You raise your stare, and in place of a horny, able-bodied man, there’s briefly a boy, a kid who used to make himself sick as a child to get at least some attention.

“Has no one ever taken care of you…?”

“Not really.”

He grunts when the antiseptic seeps inside the wound – you wince, sympathetic to his pain.

“Is that why you like me?” You try to chitchat and take his attention away from it, secretly nervous when fishing for details on why he would want to be with someone like you.

“There are many reasons why I like you.”

“Such as…?”

“Your smile, for starters... I like that. And then… I really like your ass.”

“König...”

“What, I’m not allowed to?”

You purse your lips to scold him, but really, your heart hurts so much it burns. There are a million doors to this man, but he only keeps one or two open at a time, to prevent an attack of some sort.

“I like your devotion,” he says, finally with some serious air about him. “Your kindness. You don’t hurt people.”

“...But you do,” you whisper. It’s not an accusation, only a comment.

“I would never hurt you.”

The playfulness is gone, and while you miss it, you also like it when König gets fragile like this, stripping himself of all the shields that make him a strong, confident merc.

“Sometimes we have to fight for the things we love,” he continues, probably explaining why he endorses violence.

“Killing is a sin,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“Kätzchen... You can’t tell me it’s a sin to kill the ones who would try to hurt you. You can’t tell me it’s not love to hurt them back.”

You look at him, calm and adoring on the bed. He’s so sure of his choices, like an archangel set on the borders of Eden with a flaming sword in his hand...

And the rose is starting to unfurl, the enigma finally unravelling itself. You’re the sacred Other, the opposite of him, you’re the great Mystery he’s infatuated with. You have peace and faith and hope and love: everything he lacks.

And he’s the opposite of you. Fierce, vengeful, violent… Hopeless, suffering, without peace. Ready to dive into the world and bathe in it, be it a pool filled with love or blood.

He’s searching for the answers, too, only in different ways.

“And no one ever will.”

“No one’s trying to kill or hurt me,” you whisper, trying to stand brave under that flaming stare. But he’s stronger than you, even when recovering. He pulls you back to the bed and in his arms because that’s where you simply belong now, and caresses your cheek, as gently as you caressed his withered flower in your cell.

…

You know your days at the convent are coming to an end, but when the abbess gives you a warning after the fifth day of you skipping half of your chores, appointments and prayers, you go to see her.

Without mentioning König or what you’ve been up to lately, you simply tell her you’ve decided to move on with your life. You say you’ve studied your soul for months now, coming to a conclusion that the life of a nun doesn’t suit you after all.

These things happen, and people have left before; it’s nothing new under the sun that a nun or a monk wishes to return to the world. This is not a prison, you remind yourself, knowing that your departure will send some waves through the place but that eventually, people will go on with their lives.

You will probably be forgotten in a year: someone else will take your place, and you will continue your adventures someplace far away from here… Or that’s what you hope.

But even if things didn’t work out with König, and you somehow ended up alone, it has become clear that you can’t stay here and continue this double life.

König’s offer doesn’t sound too bad: the Austrian Alps sound very enticing, actually. A simple life away from the buzz of the city is a golden opportunity for you; peace and faith can remain in your life without preventing you from participating in it. If only you knew whether he was kidding when he said that…

“Are you sure, sister? This seems like a rash decision.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I… I think I have found something,” you try to awkwardly explain.

“Something… Or someone?”

“I just know that I can’t stay here. It’s not right.”

“On that, I agree.”

You go through the procedures, ritualistic, almost. The abbess asks whether you understand that this cannot be undone: you can’t just leave and then come back if you change your mind. The doors of the Church will always remain open to you, but your vows cannot be renewed, not in this convent. If this acquaintance of yours turns out to be a disappointment, you cannot simply come back here, don your robes, and start over.

She’s only doing her duty, and you try to listen respectfully, nodding as she lists the things that will be out of your grasp after you walk out those doors. Thinking that everything’s settled, you inform her you’ll leave today, to which she puckers her brows.

“My dear. Don’t you owe it to this convent to meditate on this for one more day? Don’t you owe it to yourself, to the Lord...? I’m sure the world can wait a few more hours.”

You sigh, bow your head, and bend to her will.

She’s right; you can’t just leave as if all the years of joy and peace here meant nothing. You have people to say goodbye to, and you owe it to God to say your prayers, not your last, but last behind these walls. You haven’t even attended the evening mass these days; it’s like you stopped being a nun when a certain Austrian soldier asked if you wanted to take a nap with him.

You receive lots of well wishes, hugs, even tears when you tell others you’re leaving. Embarrassed that you almost got rid of your robes and sneaked out to another secret lover’s meeting without even saying farewell, you meet everyone with full presence until you find yourself crying too.

You catch very little envy in your sisters, but there are some who look at you with jealous disdain when you tell them that no, you don’t even have an apartment yet, nor a job, but that you’ll take your new life as a gift and face it like an exciting adventure.

Thinking about König all day long, you can’t wait for tomorrow so you can tell him the good news. You hope he understands that you can’t visit him every day, even if it has been your silent agreement that you knock on his door before noon. It’s a good thing that the poor man gets some rest: you can tickle and giggle and practice with him tomorrow to your heart’s content, it’s not like he’ll disappear in the next 24 hours.

He’s in König now; all that bliss resides with him and the moments when you two break bread together, or wash each other, tell each other silly secrets on the bed, fall asleep after a round of good sex.

Except that that’s exactly what you fear while you go about your day.

Sorrow and excitement mix in your heart with bittersweet torment, but what haunts you most is that you no longer find God in the great hall where your sisters sing. You don’t feel His presence during the Mass.

Sun sets behind the window, and you sigh while peeking out of your nunnery turned prison. Silence weighs upon you like a blanket, but you can’t get any sleep.

There’s a sudden “clack” on the window, followed by rap, small pebbles or something clattering against the glass. You rise to sit on the bed, instantly thinking of König and his stupid, silly threats.

The longing is awful, it’s even worse when König was away for half a year because now you actually have something to miss. You wonder if he’s watching the same sweet skies as you, if he’s worried or hurt when you didn’t visit him today.

You wonder if the man has only shrugged his shoulders and left…

It can’t be…

There’s another clack, then another, until you jump from under the covers and go to the window, opening it without even remembering to be quiet.

As soon as the windowpane glides open and you peek out, you meet König and his stare.

“What are you– You can’t be here...!”

“I was just about to sing,” he grins without even bothering to tone down his voice, letting the remaining gravel in his hand fall to the ground.

Bending his knees, he swiftly jumps up, pulling himself to the window sill like it’s easy parkour, probably opening that goshdarn wound again in the process. No wonder men die younger – you’d have to tie this specimen to a sturdy lamp post if you wanted him to stay put...

Throwing a pair of long legs over the sill, he makes himself at home, forcing you to take a good few steps back as he simply waltzes inside your room.

“You didn’t come to see me today,” he says like it’s some kind of an explanation for this silliness.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. “Something came up, and I had to stay here.”

If you tell him that you’ve just renounced your vows, there’s no way you’ll get him out. He’d just say you must celebrate the good news by making love all night.

“That’s alright,” he says amiably. “I’ll just visit you.”

Trying to argue with whispers doesn’t really help your cause. König only smiles down on you like a cheerful, jovial sun.

“But... It’s... You can’t be here…!”

“I promise I’ll behave.”

“You and your promises… We both know how well you keep those. Go back before you get me into trouble, silly. We can see each other tomorrow.”

“But I want to see you today.”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you extend your hands to your sides, knowing you’ve already lost. “You can go back now.”

“I don’t think so.”

He takes another step, forcing you to back away until you bump into your bed. Crossing the final breath between you, he pulls you into a kiss.

So much for contemplating your choices and dedicating your last night as a nun to God…

And it’s laughable how fast he rids you of your clothes these days. It’s stupid how fast you’re able to help him get undressed… You all but tear the clothes off each other; actually, you can hear a seam rip when you both yank the shirt over his head, the new black t-shirt you just bought him a few days ago.

Does he even know what he’s doing to you…?

Muscles rippling in the fading sunlight, he’s a god mortalized. Body built as a weapon to rip or ram his way through enemies, to you, he’s only ever been the source of joy and pleasure.

You could pray on the altar of his pecs, sing songs and chants to his lips, worship the bunching muscles of his thighs, kneel before the thing that rests thick between them. The sheer width of him is enough to make you drunk: desire pools, brims, until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore.

You lay yourself on the bed, and he follows, like a big panther or a prowling titan. The bed sags as he sets his knee on it, it wails when crawls on top of you. Heavy cock swinging between his thighs, it seems like a cruel joke that you chose this man to be your first.

And you didn’t expect that you’d lose your virginity this way: in your old room at the holy convent you swore yourself to a few years ago. You didn’t expect you’d lose it to a giant soldier who starts to frantically search for a condom after you whisper to him you’re done with practising.

While theoretically a sin, you’re more sullen with the prospect that you won’t be able to feel the silken hardness of him now that he rolls the plastic on. A little too enthusiastically – as if he hadn’t seen a woman in weeks, let alone cummed all over one two times yesterday.

Still, you find heat pooling down your stomach as he approaches you, keen and eager and as hard as a man can get when he sees something that he likes.

He doesn’t need to part your legs: you do it for him, and when he sees your pussy all puffed up, leaking a thin stream down on the bed, his brows knit together, the expression reminding you of approaching thunder in summer.

His gaze is heavy like midnight when he guides it back to you – always back to you and your eyes, even if there’s a whole feast down there, prepared just for him. The backs of your thighs meet his as he slowly crawls forward, spreading your legs further apart before the battering ram.

“Kitten...” he rumbles. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

The springs continue to wail beneath you: it’s like the whole world is against you today, even the stupid bed making it far too likely to get caught. And if you get caught, it won’t be just by some shocked sisters screaming when they find a man inside your room… It will be by them screaming when they find him inside you.

And he doesn’t seem to even care.

“Ach so my little nun… I hope we don’t break the bed,” he smirks.

“I hope you don’t break the bed…”

“You want me to take you down there instead?”

He nods in the direction of the floor, and you can only blink – your soldier boyfriend is offering to fuck you on the cold cement as if it’s some kind of an option.

“I’m not having my first time on a floor,” you grump.

“Heh. Thought so, princess.”

The possibility of getting caught makes him visibly excited. Hell, it makes you excited... You wonder if he’s an adrenaline junkie, leading a dangerous life and having a life-threatening job, now choosing to try his luck at fucking a nun at a cloister.

You don’t want to be a challenging conquest or a kinky story told to some fellow soldiers at a bar… You want to be a commitment; you want to mean something to him. But you can’t escape the fact that this setting is turning you on. You’re even worse than him, spreading your legs and hoping he’d touch you with that cock; just drag it down your lips and glide it in already.

His gaze is heavy, blue steel, blazing in the darkness as he looks at you so wanton on the bed, a simple crucifix on the wall as the only witness to your deeds. This must be one of the craziest things you’ve done in your life…

Replacing his hand with the head of his cock, he finally lets you have what you need. The tip of him is hot, even when covered in thin plastic, and the sight of him, large and powerful and dark, looming godlike above you, makes you think of pagan heroes and kings. To you, he’s all men in one, the sheer mass of him making your thighs tremble from want.

With a curious finger sliding down the wet, heavy seam of you, he swears when meeting you so pliant and wet. Thanks to your constant “practising”, you’re always slightly aroused, getting in the mood the instant you see him.

Contrary to your belief, having sex multiple times a day doesn’t, in fact, stifle sexual desire but adds to it… It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box together, only the box contained all the pleasure in the world instead.

“Are you ready, kitten…?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just… We need to be quiet…”

His smile is a flash of a grin in the falling darkness. “I’ll try my best.”

The sound that leaves the back of his throat is a deprived, hoarse moan. He seems to be enjoying it more than anything while you’re trying to remember how to breathe, but when he settles fully in and stays there, you start to actually feel something… Something thick, and heady.

Settling to your entrance, he tells you to relax, and you try your best with that; you truly do.

But nothing can prepare you for it, the fat head of him sliding in, smoothly and with a spread that leaves you gasping. The fulfilment is phenomenal – you try to remind yourself to relax your muscles as he pushes a few inches in, and then some more, and then some more. More, more, more, until you start to feel your inner walls wake up with alarm.

Seated so deep that his balls arrive to touch your flesh, your body starts to accept him, squeeze him, hug him.

And it feels good. In a way, it’s the best feeling in the world.

He groans, slightly high-pitched and surprised; perhaps you’re tighter than he expected, or perhaps he can feel the hugging thing…

Your cheeks are panging with heat – the whole building is silent except for the broken breaths of you two, and the lewd sounds of fucking on your chaste bed not made to take this sort of abuse. Growing only wetter and wetter, you try to keep your moans lodged inside your throat as he starts to fuck you with determination, seeing that you’re enjoying yourself.

Pulling out the slightest bit, he chooses to head straight back, apparently not wanting to be deprived of your heat even for a second. Thrust by thrust, he pulls out more, allowing you to get used to what it feels like. The bed is absolutely horrid, creaking every time he buries himself back in.

It’s a punishing of sorts, his cock knocking the air out of you every now and then. The slap of his balls against you is sinful – your room has seen nothing like this, nothing but some shy solo action every few months. Now you’re spread wide open for a good pounding, his hips reaching a pace that makes the rest of the world slowly dissolve.

Realizing he might be a bit too enthusiastic with a woman who’s a first-timer, he swallows and slows down his pace, causing you to almost scream with frustration.

“Am I being too rough…?” He asks, panting like he just ran ten miles. Plugged deep inside you, you can feel his cock throbbing and pulling near the point of cumming – perhaps another reason why he stopped.

“No… No.”

You sound puny under him, fingers flexing over his skin, the great ribs flaring in reply under your touch.

“You want more?”

“Mm. Needy little thing...”

“...Yes.”

Huffing in the hollow of your neck, he breaks into a smile and licks his lips.

You barely catch the hint of degrading tone in his voice, a mocking, something about the way you’re so wet and needy for him stroking his ego just the right way.

Knowing that he’s here for reasons other than just sex doesn’t change the fact that you enjoy getting sweaty with him, spiralling into a state of total surrender. Ten times more powerful than the most blissful experiences with your God, you want to come here for worship again and again, to have his body entangled with yours.

Ecstatic that you just came, König no longer holds back; he doesn’t even let you gather the remaining pieces of your sanity before he starts to chase his own peak. Taking what he needs from you, the trusts turn into short, quick pumps, some foul German curse hissed between his teeth just before he cums.

When the tide swells, it’s a bit different: not just external stimuli and shallow friction, but areas never explored now getting nudged as well. The delicious drag of his length in and out of you, the thickness making you feel overstuffed, does make the pleasure well like never before.

You’re not accustomed to this, being forced so dumb by a cock. Cheekily anticipating the swelling wave, it breaks upon you almost without warning. There’s nowhere to escape, and the climax is blinding, the euphoria leaving you without air for a moment.

You can feel every thick pulse of his cock, and fear for the condom that looked far too tight to manage to take both him and his load. You whimper and cling to him as he ruts through his heavy bliss, entire body throbbing with heat from the joy of spilling inside you.

When done, he sinks half his weight on you, thoroughly spent, and you feel fulfilled, some deep-seated joy taking hold of everything that once was hollow. Curiously, all shame is absent. The man on top of you is sweaty and catching his breath, but you’re only glad to swim in the messy, sweaty newness of you two.

“You ok...?”

You want his weight on you… You want him to stay inside you until he grows soft, you need him to be as drowsy and complete as you.

Hugging him tight in the middle of your post-coital bliss, you feel König rumble into your neck.

“Better than ever,” you breathe a smile. “How about you…?”

“...In heaven,” he replies, and you have to stifle a giggle pushing up your throat. He has never sounded so spent. So tired, happy and fragile…

“I just want to be with you like this,” he continues to mutter on your skin. “Can I be with you like this…?”

“Yes.”

He slowly rises to lean on his elbows, propping himself on them one by one. Weary, pleased eyes slowly focus on you, and the back of his palm comes to caress you, knuckles gently brushing your temple, thumb swiping away an escapee hair.

“Kitten… I’m serious. I don’t want to live without you.”

“We have a tradition in Austria where men sometimes steal the bride.”

“How convenient,” you smile.

“I know you belong to someone else, but I’m going to steal you.”

Your eyes are full of stars, you just know they are. If this is another one of his jokes, you can’t bring yourself to care, not as long as he looks at you like that, eyes so set and determined.

“I’m sure He won’t mind,” you mirror his gesture, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

“I’ll fight Him if he does.”

“...You can’t fight God,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You open your mouth, then close it, shaking your head on the pillow. In a way, you can imagine him taking up arms against God if it came to that. If there was someone foolish enough – or brave enough – to rise against God, that someone would be him.

“König… I renounced my vows today.”

“...You did?”

The happiness, the pure joy in his eyes, is heartbreaking. At that moment, you know that all his silly jokes, follies, and babbles about taking you to the mountains and whisking you away have been real. They have been true, honest wishes... There is no lie in him, no jest, no fakeness. Just pure, simple joy from hearing that you finally chose him, too.

“I tried to leave in the morning but the abbess made me stay for one more day.”

“Ah... So you’re being held a prisoner here?”

“Kind of.”

The familiar twinkle in his eyes tells you that he already has another plan coming right up. That grin means mischief; but with you, only the sweetest kind.

“Well. You’re in luck, then, because I’m here to save you.”

“You just said you’re going to steal me,” you laugh.

“Call it what you want, kitten,” he winks. “But I’m not leaving without you.”

…

The sun has set, but the evening is bright, the sky filled with stars visible even through city lights. It’s dark in the courtyard as you sneak out of the window with König, trying not to giggle as you escape. You call it a prison break; he calls it Einsatz Rapunzel. Whatever it is, it feels like freedom.

The old man doesn’t even care to look surprised when he sees you clothed in jeans and a simple shirt this time, smiling as you rush upstairs, hand in hand with König.

He whispers promises on your skin, saying that you won’t stay here for long; his contacts will get you to the heart of Europe, tomorrow if you want. You can’t wait to sleep with him tonight: simply sleep with him, finally, curl up together in safety, do the most basic thing all lovers do. You can’t wait to wake up to a fresh dawn together, lovely, curious, and new.

Night covers you with beauty and grace, his pulse against your palm both a promise and a blessing. You take new vows: promising to yourself to live each day fully and bravely, and never again shut your heart.

The only thing left of you on your old bed is your black and white robe, and on it, a crucifix and a rose, and a note that says:

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love… But the greatest of these is love.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fluff #könig x female reader #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig fanfiction #cod smut #könig x nun!reader #könig x virgin!reader

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sluttywonwoo · 8 months

Text

collision || h.js

pairing: virgin!fratboy!han jisung x best friend!reader

summary: jisung's fraternity brothers decide to pool their money and surprise him with a stripper for his birthday! nice gesture and all, but that stripper just so happens to be his best friend...

warnings: swearing, a little bit of mention of stigma towards sex workers at the end, smut (18+ ; minors dni)

additional warnings: lap dancing, dry humping

word count: 3k

Jisung’s blood ran cold as he stared at you from the opposite side of the room. A similar look of shock graced your features for a moment but it was quickly replaced by a smile, a fake one if Jisung had ever seen one.

To be fair he had imagined this exact scenario- you in lingerie, standing in the middle of his living room- hundreds of times. But in those fantasies, the room wasn’t also full of a dozen or so of his friends.

When Jisung’s fraternity brothers told him they had a “surprise” for his birthday he knew it couldn’t be anything good but he certainly hadn’t been expecting his best friend to be the hired... entertainment for the party he hadn’t even wanted.

“Should we leave them alone?” Minho, one of the older boys, teases.

“We don’t get to watch?” Jeongin whines.

“Nah, Hannie’s too shy for that.”

“That, and we only bought a private dance because it was the cheapest option,” Chris mutters under his breath, hopefully not loud enough for you to hear.

“Let’s go into the other room, then,” Hyunjin says, finally drawing all of the attention away from you. “The others are waiting for us and we haven’t finished mixing all the drinks yet. The birthday boy can join us later.”

There’s some grumbling as the boys shuffle out of the room but they do make their exit, leaving you alone with Jisung.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Happy birthday?” you offer with an awkward chuckle.

“This is why you couldn’t come tonight?”

“I was going to join later!” you correct him. “But yes, this is why I was going to be late.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you I had to work! I didn’t know it was you!”

“They didn’t... give you my name or anything?” Jisung realizes as he’s speaking that he doesn’t really know how your client intake works. Is there a form they fill out? Or do they just Venmo you and give you an address? Surely not, right? That would be dangerous. There had to be more to it than that.

“They called you ‘Late Bloomer’,” you mutter, staring at the floor. “Said I’d know you when I saw you.”

Jisung’s cheeks burned and he scoffs. “Ironic. Yeah, that’s what the guys call me because they know, um, about...”

“You don’t have to say it!” you blurt. “I already know. That’s a really mean nickname.”

“All the pledges get nicknames like that,” he sighs. “Sometimes they don’t wear off after initiation.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You had taken a couple of steps closer to where he was sitting while you talked but you were still several feet apart.

“Uh, well did you still want me to-”

“No!” Jisung shouts, cringing when he hears himself. “No, oh my god. You don’t have to do that.”

“I mean, it’s what I’m getting paid to do,” you point out. “Do you want your brothers’ money to go to waste?”

“I don’t give a fuck about their money.”

“So you don’t want me to?”

He’s sweating now. He feels it on his brow. “No, no. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

And I don’t want to cum my pants the minute you sit on my lap.

You laugh. “Nothing can be more uncomfortable than what just happened in front of your, uh, friends.”

You had a point. “You don’t think it’ll make things... weird?” Jisung asks.

You shrug. “Things are already weird, aren’t they? But if you don’t want me to, I'll go get dressed and we can join the rest of them at the party.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to!” Jisung clarifies. “I mean, I’ve always been curious about... how your sessions go, like what happens and stuff, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to or that I want you to if that makes sense. Like I don’t want you to think I’m a creep-”

“Jisung.”

“Huh?”

“Instead of a real dance, why don’t I just demonstrate for you? Show you what I do, like you said?”

That didn’t sound too dangerous.

“O-ok. You don’t have to do it on me, though. You can just, like, use a chair?”

You give him a small smile and nod. “Sure.”

There are lots of chairs to choose from but you pick the closest and drag it in front of where Jisung is sitting. You spin it so that the back is facing him and then run to get something from the bag that you’d dropped by the door when you came in.

Jisung tries not to look at your ass as you bend down and rifle through the tote, training his eyes on the ceiling instead. He’d already been struggling not to get hard this whole time and it was about to get a whole lot harder, metaphorically and literally.

You come back with a speaker and set it up on the floor under the chair.

“Usually I put on some music,” you explain. “I’ll sit on the guy’s lap and ask him what he likes to listen to.” You sit sideways on the chair and cross your legs, pretending like there’s a man underneath you. “Whatever he says doesn’t matter to me, though. I just pick whatever I want to dance to and pretend his answer influenced my decision so he feels like he gets to have a say in the matter. Men like to feel special like that.”

Jisung nods along. You look up to check that he’s following before moving on.

“Then I’ll stand back up, like this, and start dancing. Most girls dance in front of them first, to make them want it more. I used to get really self-conscious about that part because it feels silly to me but it really pays off in the end.”

Jisung gulps and nods again. He watches you sink to your knees and arch backward, spreading your thighs wider as your back touches the floor. He had no idea you were so flexible, no idea you could move like that, though he supposes he should have assumed considering you literally do this for a living.

“And then right before I get back on his lap I’ll take off my top. Usually, it’s like a bra or something but sometimes I’m wearing a bodysuit and I’ll just pull it down.”

He doesn’t expect you to actually do it but you do. You reach behind yourself and pull on the ribbon holding the corset you were wearing together until it unravels and you can take it off.

Jisung immediately averts his eyes, going as far as shielding his vision with a hand.

“Oh my god!”

He hears you laughing. “They’re just boobs.”

Yeah, your boobs.

“I thought you wanted me to show you how I usually do it,” you chide.

Jisung hesitantly turns his head to face you again. He stares you right in the eyes, pointedly ignoring everything below your neck. “I didn’t think you would actually, um, strip.”

Your teasing smile falters. “Do you want me to put it back on? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! You don’t have to. I’m not uncomfortable.” You look like you don’t believe him so he adds, “I just wanted to be respectful and stuff, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re sweet. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t seen me topless before. We’ve known each other for so long.”

Jisung is in so much pain. “Haha, yeah me too.”

You approach the chair and straddle it like you would if someone was actually sitting there. Since there isn’t, you fold your arms on the back of it and rest your chin on your wrists.

“I always lay some ground rules before I start, even if they’re a regular.”

“Ground rules?” Jisung asks.

You nod. “They’re not allowed to touch me whatsoever. I’ll touch them unless they request otherwise, but only on the face and the shoulders, sometimes the chest. I’m not going to grope them or anything like that, even though I am grinding on them.” You demonstrate with the air, pretending to cup someone’s face and bring it closer to yours before pushing them away. “The whole thing is essentially just teasing someone for however long they booked me for.”

“Are there any other rules?” Jisung asks, trying to seem engaged and eager to learn more about your profession instead of focusing on how you’re riding that chair.

“Yeah, one of my biggest rules is that the client has to stay fully clothed the whole time. There are exceptions like if they’re wearing a tie, I might loosen it or undo it. I’ve worn their ties myself once or twice.”

“Has anyone ever, um,” he pauses.

You cock your head to the side in intrigue. “Has anyone ever what?”

“Has anyone ever like, cum? While you’re doing that?”

“It’s happened before. But they usually try not to because they’d have to pay me more. It’s in my contract. It’s also really embarrassing for them and it’s unsanitary- I won’t get into the details but it’s not very common.”

It definitely would have happened to Jisung if he had gone through with it. Honestly, it would probably happen if anyone were to give him a lap dance, but if it was you? He wouldn’t stand a chance.

“But it’s normal for guys to get, like, hard, right?”

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty much guaranteed. Anyone would get turned on if someone was grinding on them. Sometimes it happens before I’m even on their lap, like you’re hard right now and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Wha-” Jisung’s neck snaps as he looks to confirm what he already knows to be true. He rushes to cover the bulge in his pants with his hands even though it’s way too late for that. “Fuck, I didn’t- it doesn’t-”

You brush it off. “Don’t worry, Ji. It’s a perfectly normal reaction to seeing something arousing. It means I’m good at my job.”

“No, but I’m your best friend! God, you must feel so objectified and weird...”

“Jisung, I promise I don’t feel weird or objectified. Is this too weird for you? Do you want to stop?”

“I- uh, I don’t know,” he admits. Obviously he likes what he sees, his hard dick pressing against the zipper of his jeans is proof enough of that. But he’s also never felt so embarrassed in his life. It feels so... wrong of him to be taking advantage of the situation like this. He should have taken up your offer to go join the rest of his brothers at the party because now he’s fucked. He’s a weak, weak man. “Are you sure you’re okay with... it?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “That’s the point of this birthday present anyway.”

Maybe, but it wasn’t supposed to be a present from you. Jisung is so overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions that he can’t even focus on what you’re doing anymore. He zones out, willing his erection to go down until he remembers that he’s supposed to be paying attention. He’s supposed to be learning.

“So I go back and forth between grinding on the guy and dancing in front of him so it doesn’t get too intimate, and then towards the end I usually- fuck, it’s kind of hard to do when there isn’t someone actually here.” He watches you stand up and approach him. “Do you mind if I just....” you trail off expectantly.

Are you asking what Jisung thinks you’re asking? Is whatever it is you’re trying to show him so important that you need to torture him further?

“If you just what?”

“If I sit on your lap for this part? It’ll be quick, I swear.”

“Go ahead,” Jisung says before he can argue with himself.

He had already dug his grave, he might as well bury himself too.

You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders for balance and lowering yourself onto his lap. His legs are spread a bit so they’re kind of awkward to straddle but you’re used to it so it’s easy to adjust.

“Wow, you are hard,” you breathe out, laughing a little.

Jisung wants to die. He takes a deep breath of his own and steels himself before asking, “what was it that you wanted to show me?”

Your eyes light up like you had forgotten why you were sitting on him in the first place. “Oh, right. I put the music on a timer to fade out at the end of the session so when that happens I’ll grab the guy’s face like this,” you take Jisung by the cheeks and squeeze so that he’s forced to open his mouth.

He wonders briefly if you’re about to spit in his mouth but to his disappointment you make him bite down on a piece of paper instead. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion and reaches up to pluck whatever it is from between his lips.

“What is this?”

“My business card!” you exclaim. “Smart right? I wanted to do something memorable and so far it’s gotten over fifty percent of my clients to become repeat customers.”

Jisung snorts. “Yeah, it’s definitely that and not the fact that you’re hot and have your tits out.”

“It’s all part of the sell,” you joke.

“Well, I can see why you’re working all the time,” Jisung quips. “You’re very good at what you do.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m just sorry I ruined your birthday present,” you sigh.

Jisung frowns. “What do you mean? You didn’t ruin it.”

“Yeah, I did! If your friends had hired someone else you would have gotten a real lap dance, not... an instructional.”

“I didn’t even know that’s what I was supposed to be getting! I didn’t know they had hired anyone!”

“Still, it could have been fun.”

“No, this was fun. I’m glad it was you.”

The worry line between your eyebrows softens and you smile fondly at him, making Jisung’s stomach do a somersault. Out of everything that had happened tonight, that was what affected him the most.

He doesn’t know how much time passes but suddenly your expression changes. Your gaze shifts from relaxed to focused as you sit up and lean in, closer and closer until your nose is pressed to his. Jisung doesn’t want to speak. He doesn’t want to break the spell. His fists clench and unclench repeatedly at his sides. He’s desperate to touch you, to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him, but he won’t break your rule unless you give him permission.

You break it for him, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips.

“Is this okay?” you whisper.

He nods, his forehead knocking against yours. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You swallow hard, eyes searching his for something he isn’t sure he has. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Jisung has fantasized about this moment countless times and not a single one compares to it. Your lips are soft and warm and you taste like that chapstick you always keep in your pocket. Jisung recognizes it immediately because he’s borrowed it more than a few times.

You moan and run a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. It’s gotten a lot longer recently but you seem to like it. In fact, part of the reason he hasn’t cut it yet is because you keep complimenting the way he’s been styling it. He wonders if you like how it feels between your fingers.

To his own surprise, Jisung is the first to use tongue. He feels your lips part and uses the opportunity to slide his tongue between them like you had with your business card. You moan again and this time you grind down on his lap for real.

It catches you both off guard. Jisung’s hips follow the movement of yours, chasing your heat even when you lift yourself off of him in a panic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, trying to hide a smug grin, “it’s a perfectly normal reaction.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Mhm- mph!” You kiss him before he can get another word out, this time shoving your tongue in his mouth.

Now that you know it’s okay to grind on him, you don’t hold back. You seem so eager. If Jisung didn’t know better he’d think this had been your plan all along.

“God, baby,” he whimpers, shocked at how shattered his own voice sounds. “This feels so good but if you don’t stop I’m gonna-” he can’t bring himself to say it. “I’m not going to last.”

You slow down and lift your head from the crook of his shoulder. “Do you want to stop?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know how far you’re okay with going but...”

“We can go as far as you want, Ji. You’re the one...” you don’t finish the sentence but Jisung knows what you’re implying. It isn’t hard to guess. It’s why he’d been given that stupid nickname freshman year.

“You’d... you’d want me in that way?” he asks. He’s almost afraid of the answer because he doesn’t think you feel the same way about him. Even if you are down to fuck, he doesn’t think it’s because you have a big giant crush on him like he does you. Maybe you’re just horny or maybe you’d be doing it as a favor.

“Of course.” It’s not an answer that quells the burning questions he’s been holding onto since he met you but it does enough to temper the flames a bit. You want him. It’s enough. “But... you don’t care that your first time would be with a stripper?”

He knows that’s not what you mean. He knows you’re worried that he feels like it’s inorganic. That it’s part of the job you had been hired to do. But he knows the truth. That isn’t what it is at all.

He shakes his head. “My first time would be with my best friend. There’s no one else I’d rather it be with.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#happy birthday sungie <3 #still 18 min left where i am #lmk if you want to read the actual sex part #i wanted to include it in this but ran out of time #collision #stray kids smut #skz smut #han smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han x reader #han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #stray kids x female reader #han x female reader

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welcometomyoasis · 2 months

Text

Seventeen's reaction to their 14th member being female

Synopsis: when it is announced that seventeen will have a 14th member who is female, what would the seventeen members’ reactions be like. Svt x platonic fem! reader | idol au, fluff, angst | 2.2k words| warnings: hate comments, periods, mention of physical attacks, food, unconsented photographs | requested by anon A/n: I had a great time writing this request so thank you anon! I hope you like it!

✧₊⁺ Seungcheol

Leader mode activated. His first thought is “what is the company thinking? Are they crazy?” As the leader, he will try to make sure you are as comfortable in the group as possible but there are always going to be things out of his control. He’s worried about what the fans would think, how well you will fit into the group as the sole female member, whether the group dynamics would change, whether you would need extra security, etc. Yea, to say he is worried and hesitant, that would be an understatement. He works himself up to the point where you feel bad and offer to leave the company if your addition is going to be a burden. But Seungcheol insists that it’s okay, and that he’s just taking his responsibilities as leader very seriously to ensure that everyone is adjusting well. He’s apologetic that he can’t spend as much time with you because of his duties, though he reassures you that the rest of the members will take good care of you. He raised them well. So don’t worry okay? He’s not called the alpha leader for nothing.

✧₊⁺ Jeonghan

Vice leader mode activated. While Seungcheol begins to fret over having to keep the peace between the members, the company, and the fans, Jeonghan takes on the responsibility of getting you settled into the group. Afterall, he’s the group’s pillar of emotional support. He’s giving you tours of the practice room, introducing you to the staff members they work with, talking you through their quirks, and schedules. He knows that it’s a losing battle to try and fight against your addition to the group. So, why not make the best of the situation? He’s going to tell you to come to him for anything regardless of the time. He will do everything in his power to make sure you feel welcomed. He might not be the member who is the most visibly protective of you, but you can bet that behind the scenes, he’s keeping a close eye on the situation. Everyone better treat you well. They will have hell to pay if they don’t.

✧₊⁺ Joshua

Protective gentleman mode activated. Joshua already is the perfect gentleman with the rest of the members (especially when they are on camera). But when the news comes that you’re going to be added to the group, his gentleman-like nature multiples 10 fold. He welcomes you readily, while he might not be physically with you all the time, you know that he’s keeping one eye out for you. He’s always handing you blankets or his jacket to cover your legs/ shoulders. He passes you the water bottle first before opening another one for himself. He’s protecting you from door handles even if there’s no danger there. He walks behind you so no one can take weird photographs of your behind. During that time of the month, he’s especially attentive to you, making sure you don’t overstrain yourself and that you’re eating well. No one questions him when he whips out medication or extra feminine products for you in the situation where you run out.

✧₊⁺ Junhui

Inquisitive cat mode activated. A new member is interesting. The dynamics of the group will change, especially in this case because you’re a female. Junhui is generally more shy with new people at first, but once he warms up to you and gets used to having you around, he’s going to be asking you a ton of questions. He wants to get to know you, as a member, a fellow performer, and as a friend. What are your hobbies? Yes he knows your position in the group but do you like rapping, singing or dancing more? Are you an actor? He really really wants to know all the details like how did you get yourself into this mess that is joining seventeen? He’s interested in all of your performance outfits too. He probably tries it on at some point and accidentally ruins the seams and stitches. You’re going to laugh at him getting scolded while your outfit is getting mended.

✧₊⁺ Soonyoung

Excited tiger mode activated. Besides being mildly worried about needing to alter all the formations for choreography, Soonyoung wouldn’t really care about having a female member added to seventeen. To him, it’s a refreshing change in the world of kpop where male female friendships are usually treated as a taboo subject. He’ll be extremely proud that seventeen would be the pioneers in adding a female member to the group and one of the only co-ed groups in the industry. He’s also so creative when it comes to the choreography that he will be interested to blend more feminine moves into the dances. It’s not only so that you will have time to shine, but also to switch up the dances a little. Dance is art. Who cares about whether the dance is supposed to be more masculine or feminine. He’s going to shake what he has been blessed with as much as he wants. You are going to be the insufferable duo doing all the dance challenges together.

✧₊⁺ Wonwoo

Shy black cat mode activated. Out of all the members, I would say that Wonwoo has the hardest time adjusting to you joining the group. It’s mostly due to his own introverted nature. He just takes a while to really warm up to new people, and what’s more, as a member, you will now spend a significant amount of time with them. He’ll feel a little awkward at the change in dynamic because it’s like a destabilising force to a place he felt so safe and comfortable in. He’ll keep his distance at first until he’s ready to approach you. Once he does, it’s like there was never that barrier between you in the first place. Wonwoo is such a thoughtful, observant person that although he wasn’t interacting with you, he was still picking up on all your habits and quirks. He’ll blend into your routine pretty quickly, offering you water and snacks whenever he thinks you’re getting tired or hungry. His intellect is also admirable and his way of dealing with issues or articulating things helps you a lot when you’re feeling stressed but aren’t able to verbalise it properly. In the end, he’s one of your comfort people.

✧₊⁺ Woozi

Creative mode activated. As seventeen’s producer, and also as a leader of seventeen, he does share some of the worries that Seungcheol has. It’s a big change and there will have to be a long period of adjustment. Still, the creative part of him is just buzzing to get going. A female member changes a lot of things when it comes to the songs he can produce. He’ll volunteer to be your vocal trainer, helping you to get used to seventeen’s previous songs and also just to get a feel of your strengths and weaknesses. It turns out that he loves the contrast between your voice and the deeper voices of the rest of the members. Your voice adds more colour and flavour into the songs. He likes experimenting to see which members’ voices complement yours the best, and he absolutely loves the fact that you can help him record more demos so he can see the differences in the vibes of the same song. He ends up hogging you for help so much that the rest of the members have to forcefully drag you away from his studio.

✧₊⁺ Dokyeom

Shadow mode activated. He’s a ball of sunshine but Dokyeom practically becomes your shadow once you are introduced. He’s following you everywhere like a lost puppy. He can’t help it, he’s just so excited and happy to have a new member in seventeen. Not going to lie, you were a little weirded out at how he was sticking to you in the beginning, but his enthusiasm is contagious. You’re soon running around together like two gremlins screaming and making jokes in between practice as the rest of the members shake their heads and watch you both adoringly. Both of you might end up as your own comedy duo. The Dokyeom-Y/n pair soon becomes the most popular grouping during gose. For some reason, you two crackheads make everything seem more fun which helps to lighten the spirits of the whole group.

✧₊⁺ Minghao

Protective, no nonsense mode activated. When you first join the group, Minghao is probably one of the members that you feel intimidated by, though you’re able to warm up to each other soon enough. He’s stern but patient with you during dance practice. You appreciate his honesty and how he approaches teaching you the dances. Of course, Minghao is known for his no nonsense attitude when it comes to the line between idols and their fans. If there is one thing Minghao can’t stand, it’s how ridiculous some fans are when it comes to their delusions. Idols are humans too. Words can hurt. They can physically get hurt. Minghao holds that line firmly when he encounters anyone who throws hate or threatens physical harm at you for being the only female member. He won’t hesitate to lecture them and put them in their place. He’ll actually be even more blunt than before. You’re his friend and his fellow seventeen member. He’s not going to sit idly and let you get insulted.

✧₊⁺ Mingyu

Overprotective brother mode activated. You can bet that this hyper puppy is just bouncing on his feet in excitement when you’re introduced to the group. As soon as introductions are out of the way, he appoints himself as your overprotective brother (regardless of your age). He’s soon sticking by your side during dance practice, vocal practice, and especially during the times when you’re both out in public. His happy-go-lucky nature makes it easy to get close to him. He’s also so protective over you that the guards don’t even have a job anymore. He’s not the most observant person but he’s so physically large that he’s become your personal bodyguard. He’s ready to step in as soon as he sees anything remotely dangerous come your way (even if it’s just Soonyoung running towards you). Besides that, he because you’re so close to him, he becomes your shoulder to cry on when you’re feeling down, overwhelmed by idol life and all the hate that comes with it. At some point, be prepared to be adopted by the entire 97’ line and all their extended friends.

✧₊⁺ Seungkwan

Jeju hospitality mode activated. Boy is born to be a host and a tv star. Add that to his welcoming, warm, open personality, and he becomes a perfect guide for you. He takes it upon himself to try to explain every little detail about settling in with seventeen to you (though he just sulks when you smile sheepishly at him because Jeonghan already told you what he was trying to say). Still, you’re thankful for his efforts. Of course the rest of the members will never make fun of you for asking too many questions or wanting to reconfirm anything, but Seungkwan doesn’t hesitate to take the first step to ask you if you need any help. He senses when you’re struggling and will offer you help even before you need to open your mouth to ask. He’s probably one of the reasons why you were able to adjust to the group as quickly as you did.

✧₊⁺ Vernon

Nonchalant mode activated. Honestly? He has his reservations, but that is to be expected with any big changes that happen to an idol group. There’s no reason to freak out over it especially since it’s been mandated by the company. He knows he can’t change anything so his way of dealing with it is simply just to accept the change, and you into the group. He takes the changes within his stride, making an effort to get to know you well. The more things he knows about you, the easier it is to work with you. It will be like back during the trainee days when male and female trainees sometimes worked together. His accepting attitude is welcoming and you’ll find yourself becoming fast friends with Vernon, with him becoming a close confidant for you because he never freaks out excessively in any situation.

✧₊⁺ Dino

Partner in crime mode activated. Dino is well loved although he is often the target of the rest of the members’ mischief. He always swears he is going to get back at the rest of the members for teasing him one day. But with you around? The only female member? He just knows that you’re going to be the best partner in crime. He will probably take on the responsibility of getting you acquainted with all their dances and the dance formations. While you’re at it, there’s nothing to say you can’t have a little fun. You’re both definitely going to be able to bond over the rest of the members’ insufferable teasings. Plus, when you both prank the rest of the members, you can use each other as an alibi. No one is ever going to blame the innocent maknae and the innocent female member. Right?

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2 @nonononranghaee

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luvyeni · 1 year

Note

hey i saw your request status is as open, and I really like your writing so I was hoping you could fufill my request.. so, you are aware of the soggy biscuit/cookie game right? I was thinking about one OT8 one shot where either Han or the reader takes the place of the biscuit and the loser has to have a steamy make out session with them to "share the cum". thank you

LOSER HAS TO SHARE; OT8 STRAYKIDS

pairings. bestfriend!ot8 x fem!reader

wc. 1.9k

warnings. filth idk even know what to tag, cumeating, jerking off, making out, guys watching each other jerk off, reader is fucking bold and lowkey has some sexual tension with lee know , chan and hyunjin.

no anon i didn't know what it was , so i looked it up and... i have written some unhinged ass shit but this def takes the cake , i fucking love this😭...

one conversation leads to something bigger with all your friends.

—

"making out with other dudes cum in your mouth is not hot." you heard seungmin say as you walked into the livingroom of the dorm. "what did i just walk into?" they all turned to you. "nothing , just random stuff , guys wrap it up." chan said. "you guys talking about making out with cum in your mouths on the daily?" your eyebrows quirked up , the older boys face flushed in embarrassment.

"＿ , listen to this." han started. "you know the soggy cookie game right?" you hummed , you weren't dumb. "yeah , when you jerk off on a cookie and the loser eats it." han nodded. "so me and felix were talking what if it was a person instead of a cookie , and the last person has to make out with the person." your silence was justified. "guys you might make her uncomfortable." hyunjin said , his face red.

"wait no , that's kinda hot." you said , all their eyes went wide. "see ! she gets it." felix said. "you'd let a bunch of guys cum into your mouth , and then make out with one of them?" lee knows eyebrow quirked up. "well not a random group a guys , that's a std waiting to happen , but if the opportunity came up with a group of guys i know , sure."

"would you let us do it?" jeongin said , your eyes widen at the sudden question. "jeongin." chan tried to get the boy to stop. "wait hyung i want to hear her answer." changbin said. "would you let us use your mouth as the cookie , and make out with the loser?" he smirked , waiting for your answer. "why are you asking , would you purposely loose , just to make out with me." you teased.

"answer the question." lee know said , you could definitely tell the atmosphere had shifted , the way they all looked at you , you felt like you were on display. you thought about it for a second , shrugging. "sure , if the opportunity came up i would." you said.

"y..you don't have to answer these questions ＿." chans face was red , it made you want to tease him even more. "why channie? does making out with your members cum in my mouth turn you on?" he sunk down farther into the chair. "it does!" you laughed.

"prove it then." lee know said , everyone turned to him now. "get on your knees and lets us do it." he challenged , the atmosphere now entering a very dangerous territory. "fine." you challenged right back. "you don't have to." hyunjin said , face the same color as chans.

"no let's do it , i promise it's fine."

—

was it the best idea to let them do this , probably not , but that didn't stop you from getting on your knees , after telling them all to strip, which some of them waisting no time in doing , some slowly coming around, but hyunjin and chan were more standoffish , even though they'd been hard , since you were brought into the conversation. "are you two not participating , i won't force you to , but you can join whenever you want." you reassured.

"take your top off , give us something to look at." jeongin said , palming his cock over his underwear. "okay." you reached for the hem of your shirt , pulling it over your head , taking your bra off , letting your tits bounce freely. "o..oh fuck that was hot." han bit his lip , trying to conceal his moan.

"i knew you'd be noisy." you said smirking at the boy , who was the first one to take his cock fully out of his pants , stroking it while he drooled over your boobs. "felix , i told you her boobs were perfect." you turned to boy , who's face was red , as he bucked up into his hand. "you guys talk about my boobs on a regular?" you toyed with your nipples , putting on a little show , for the blonde haired boy.

"h..how can we not when you're always flaunting them." seungmins stroked his hard on , his eyes dark. "i thought making out with other dudes cum in your mouth was gross." you teased. "yeah that's why im gonna be the first one to cum inside your mouth." fuck that turned you , you squeezed your thighs together.

"of course that turns you on." lee know spoke up. "sluts like you always get turned on when being talked to like that." he fisted his cock in his hand. "take your skirt off." changbin spoke up , he was one of the ones who was slowly getting into it , rubbing his cock through his gym shorts.

their eyes followed you as you stood up , unzipping the skirt , pulling it down , throwing it somewhere revealing your black underwear, smirking when you seen jeongin out the corner of your eye, finally taking his cock out , stroking it , that was five out of eight of them of them , you then reached for your underwear , slowly pulling them down your leg.

"fuck." changbin lowly groaned , fishing his cock out his shorts , fucking his fist. "sit on the couch , spreading your legs." seungmin said his pace speeding up , you complied, your wet cunt on display for all eight of them. "o..oh fuck , look how wet she is." jeongin groaned.

you made eye with chan , who was now palming his cock after probably mentally fighting with himself , smiling at the man , his face flushed once he realized you saw him.

"o..oh fuck im gonna cum." han stood up , making his way over to your naked self. "minnie seems like he beat you to it." you mocked the boy , who looked like he wasn't that far along either since he had been doing it the longest. "fuck , open your mouth." he put his tip flat against your tongue , tugging at his cock for a few times , before cum shot from his red tip , onto your waiting tongue. "oh shit." he breathed , "your tongue feels good." he pulled his pants back up sitting back down.

"finally , someone filled that bratty mouth." lee know said , making you rolled your eyes. "fuck , come here im about to fill it up some more." you walked over to him , sinking down to your knees , right in front of his cock , he grabbed your jaw , forcing it open. "had we been alone , i would've fucked your throat raw for talking like that." he growled , "shit." he slid his tip into your mouth, cum flooding your mouth.

next was seungmin , who didn't even let you get up before he was grabbing your arm , pulling you over to his side , his cock leaking with pre-cum as he roughly fucked his fist , tapping his tip against your lips your mouth opening , the sight of the others cum in your mouth sitting in your mouth setting him off, "oh fuck." he pushed his tip into your mouth , cumming , some of it getting on your lips. "shit." his head was thrown back as he came down from his high.

you sat back on the couch , just as jeongin felt his orgasm approaching , running his thumb along the tip of his cock , "shit im gonna cum." he was sitting next to you , so all he had to do was stand up , he was a messy when he came , his cum spurting not only in your mouth , but some on your cheek. 'm'sorry." you shook your head , taking your finger , wiping it off your cheek , putting your finger into your mouth.

the lewd action must've set changbins orgasm off , because he was making his way over to you , stroking his cock. "mouth so full you can barely open it." he groaned , pushing the tip of his cock past your lips , he let out a string of curse words as his cum filled up your mouth , your already puffed cheeks puffing up more.

"oh my god , fuck!" felix's accent was strong as he felt the build up in his stomach , he lasted longer than he thought he would , he wouldn't mind making out with you in this condition , it was hot to him , but he couldn't help but stroke his cock at your body , your perky boobs , drool and little bits of cum fall on to them , your eyes glazed over , your went cunt on display. you looked a mess. "fuck im cumming." he was sitting on the side of you, standing up , stroking his cock faster as the knot in his stomach snapped , your mouth welcoming his cum. "fuck so messy." he wiped the drool from your lips.

it was between chan and hyunjin , chan had been slowly stroking his cock , finally giving in , his face was red as a tomato , the whole interaction was something straight out of a porno or a really good wet dream , the way you sat naked , waiting for the next guy to fill your mouth with their cum , his lip was tucked in between his teeth , he could feel you watching him and it made his cock 10x times harder.

hyunjin watched for a long time , fighting with himself internally, even though it had been way past the line , he still felt like it was wrong , but he slowly started to lose composure as you began to lose clothes , and he members began to cum , first palming his hard on over his jeans , finally pulling them down , fishing his cock out , allowing himself the release.

both of them were teetering on the edge of their orgasms , you were watching them with low eyes , your mind was fuzzy from the entire situation , you felt like you were about to cum untouched. "you've been rubbing your legs together since we started , poor baby must be so stressed." hyunjin got a boost of confidence , and it turned you on. "touch yourself a little."

seungmin held your legs open , you let your hand travel to your clit , rubbing figure eights on your clit , you moan , trying not to swallow anything. "look at the slut struggling to keep it all in." lee know said.

"sh..shit , shit im gonna cum." chan finally let himself go , you crawled over to him , looking at him through your lashes, slowly opening your mouth. his eyes rolled to the back of his head , his tip pushed into your mouth as he came with a low whine , "fu.fuck , fuck are you okay?" he caressed your cheek , you smiled nodding , he thought you looked cute regardless of the situation.

"hyunjin is the last one , he's the loser." han spoke up , the guys were watching the entire time , trying and failing not to get hard again. "how about you finish him off." felix said , you crawled over the him , looking up at him for permission to touch him. "shit, please touch me." he whined. "go on touch him before he explodes." lee know said , you grab the base of his cock , he groaned as , his head knocking back as you stroked him.

"put your mouth on him." jeongin said , your lips wrapped around his tip. "now suck like a good cumholder." you complied and that was all he needed , so pent up he came instantly, finally filling your mouth up. "shit."

"i need to record this." han pulled out his phone out , pressing record as you stood up sitting in his lap, grabbing his jaw , looking at him for any signs of not wanting to do it. "please kiss me." you pressed your lips against his , pushing your tongue and the cum of his bestfriends, into his mouth, you could here the curse words from everyone in room, it was lewd , even seungmin had to admit it was hot.

it was messy , both of your faces where covered in cum and spit , as you pulled away, you smiled when he chased your lips. "fuck." he breathed. "jesus i can't believe that just happened." changbin was the first one to come to terms with what just happened , you finally could be speak.

"fuck , it was just as hot as i thought it would be."

©️LUVYENI

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laenordeservedbetter · 3 months

Text

Thieves & Prophecies

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Poseidon)

Synopsis: When your friends accuse Clarisse of stealing the lightning bolt, you make a choice that dooms Olympus.

Warnings: PJO EPISODE VI SPOILERS, r has anger issues, r isn't too fond of the gods, ooc!clarisse, Luke. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: People say you should write to get over writer's block, so here's another Clarisse x reader. The new episode had me stressing out for Clarisse and she wasn't even there. At least we got good Percabeth scenes.

masterlist || previous work

---

You’re leaning against a wooden crate while Grover proceeds to explain why Clarisse is the lightning thief. The pounding of your heart was the only thing you made yourself hear, tuning out of the conversation. You couldn’t believe it. You refuse to believe it. Clarisse wouldn’t do something like that. Something’s wrong. They are wrong.

“Y/n?” Percy stands in front of you, looking apologetic. You meet his gaze, realizing that they must have finished talking. You don’t say anything, figuring that your conflicting emotions are visible to them. “I’m sorry about Clarisse. I know that you think she’s not capable of stealing the lightning bolt, but all signs lead to her.”

The glare that you send Percy makes him flinch. “She didn’t do it.” You claim. Percy opens his mouth to protest, but you weren’t done talking. “I know she didn’t. I’m sure of it.” You say the words with such conviction that Percy can’t help but feel bad for you. You scowl upon seeing his sympathetic look, shaking your head. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Y/n…” Grover interjects, moving to stand beside Percy. “I know that this is hard to hear since Clarisse is your—” Grover cut himself off, “But there’s no other half-blood Ares could possibly want to protect except his favorite daughter.” He says softly, trying to reason with you.

You were far past reason, however. Not when Clarisse is involved. You walk a few steps closer to them, your jaw clenching. They both take a step back, their backs hitting a combination of crates and cages. They weren’t used to seeing you like this. They’ve watched you protect them from monsters, but they haven’t experienced being on the receiving end of your wrath. It was not a good feeling.

“Say one more word about Clarisse being the lightning thief and I will make sure none of us get to the underworld in time for the solstice.”

Grover and Percy merely nodded, too afraid to argue.

You retreated to the corner furthest away from them; feeling more exhausted than you had been since the quest began. A part of you wanted to ensure that Percy completes his quest and that he clears his and your father’s name, another part wants nothing more than to protect Clarisse, but the emotion that overpowers both is your anger.

How could they all just sit there and come to that conclusion without thinking it through? Their accusation didn’t even have that much of a backbone to support it with. You were mad at yourself for not being able to convince them otherwise. You were mad at Ares for taking Grover’s bait and for not ratting out the real thief, which you probably shouldn’t say out loud. Though, at this point, you didn’t care because tomorrow morning, Percy and Annabeth were going to send an Iris Message to camp and there will be nothing you can do to stop Chiron, Mr. D, and the rest of the demigods from going after Clarisse. You needed to act and you needed to act fast.

---

As soon as Percy, Annabeth, and Grover fell asleep, you stood up and silently moved to the truck’s doors. Percy was leaning against one of the cages, his eyes peacefully shut. Sometimes, you forget that he’s still a kid. He should be enjoying his childhood, not going off fighting monsters. But unfortunately, that’s just the way life goes when you’re a half-blood, being in constant danger. Yet another reason to be mad at the gods. You shake your head, trying to ignore the pang of guilt when you think about leaving your brother. If there had been another way, you would have taken it.

You just hope Percy forgives you when all of this is over.

…Or if he survives the solstice.

You stop in your tracks, wondering if what you’re about to do is the right decision to make when Annabeth starts to stir.

It was now or never.

You continue making your way to the door, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

The bag that Ares gave.

There was something about it that drew you in. You know you shouldn’t, but you grab the bag, opening the top zipper. There was cash, clothes, and golden drachmas, exactly what the god of war said. You had no need for cash or clothes, so you take those out. You scoop a few drachmas and place the rest on the floor, putting the coins inside the bag since it would be handier than putting it in your pockets. You sling the bag over your shoulder and bolt for the doors, the metal making a loud bang the moment you force it open. Before either one of the trio could go after you, you were already a few miles ahead – or behind, depending on which direction you’re looking from – of them.

You don’t stop running until you reach a coast. You wanted to collapse in exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep going until your feet touch the water. Sighing in relief, you close your eyes, allowing the water to give you strength. The wind was chilly tonight, darkness looming above you. The possibility of war was getting closer yet here you were, having just abandoned your brother for Clarisse.

You didn’t know what you were going to do when you reached camp. Would you try convincing Chiron that Clarisse wasn’t the culprit? Would you run away with your girlfriend? Or would you take the blame despite not having the lightning bolt yourself?

You hear a whine before you, prompting you to open your eyes. A creature with the head and front legs of a horse but with the tail of a fish appeared in front of you, tilting its head a little. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “Did my dad send you?” You asked.

Yes, my lady.

Your brows scrunch even more (if that was possible) at the term. Your hand reaches out to pet the hippocampus, the creature leaning into your touch. You were still surprised that your father, Poseidon, decided to help you. He did listen to your prayers most of the time, but you thought that he wasn’t your biggest fan at the moment, seeing how you were about to go to camp and possibly ruin his reputation. You guess you were wrong. A small smile graced its way onto your face as you mumble, “Thank you, father.” You get on the hippocampus, the creature making sure you were properly seated before it started moving.

---

The sun had completely risen by the time you reached camp. Being on a hippocampus was by far the best mode of transportation, in your opinion. You got good sleep this time. You get off of Summer (you learned that that was her name when you were trying to make conversation), your feet landing on the shore.

“Thank you, Summer. I promise I’ll give you a snack when I see you again.” You promise, smiling softly.

Summer made a noise of approval before diving back into the water.

You look towards the woods, feeling like something was about to go wrong. “You can’t back down now.” You mumble to yourself. Clarisse needed your help. This is the reason why you came back to camp. You will your feet to move, one foot in front of the other.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

---

Sneaking into camp was easy. Getting past the campers was the hard part. If they saw you, they would bombard you with questions. You can already sense the kind of questions they’d ask, the things they would say. You grit your teeth in annoyance. Everyone seemed to be doing something. Though, the number of campers in the archery practice range and the dining pavilion were smaller compared to the last time you were here. Odd. You shake your head, trudging forward, trying to look for Clarisse.

“You stupid moron! I told you. I didn’t steal the lightning bolt!”

Ah, there she was.

Your heart flutters upon hearing her voice. There was no mistaking that that was her.

You see Luke get out of the armory. You could make out a figure behind him, a girl tied against one of the tables. Your expression hardens as you stare at the Hermes cabin councilor. Before he could meet your gaze, you hide behind one of the cabins.

Anger coursed through you again. Your fists clenched, leaning your head against the structure of the Zeus cabin. You wait for a minute, then another, then another, before you feel your anger subsiding. You use the back part of the cabins in order to get to the armory, rushing past groups of campers before they could spot you.

The armory was unguarded, which was a bad decision on Luke’s part. Like seriously? The armory is the best choice you can come up with to lock up the alleged thief in? There are dangerous weapons in there. If they had caught the real thief and locked them there, it would have been a bloody day. You scowl at their incompetence, but your expression morphs into one of worry when you open the door and see Clarisse.

She glances towards you, squinting her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” You march towards her and settle yourself in front of her. Her hands were tied. “Gods, what have they done to you?” You mutter, grabbing a dagger from the table above her and using it to cut the rope.

“They’re accusing me of stealing the lightning bolt, which is stupid because I didn’t do it. This must be Percy’s doing.” Clarisse grumbles, an apologetic look crossing her face after she says the last sentence. “Sorry. I know he’s your brother, but…”

“They’re wrong. I know.” You nod reassuringly. Not a second after you finish cutting the rope, Clarisse surges forward to pull you into an embrace. You laugh in surprise, pulling her closer, “Woah, there. Hi.” You close your eyes, inhaling her familiar scent. It was good to have her near you again. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your hand on her hair. “I missed you.” You say.

“I missed you too.” Clarisse replies before reluctantly pulling away. She places both of her hands on your face, as if memorizing it all over again. Her brows were scrunched as she looks at a scar that wasn’t there before you left and you found yourself wanting to ease her worries.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She scowls. “You got hurt.”

“I’m okay now.” You insist. Before she asks follow-up questions, you try to state why you were here in the first place. “I tried to convince Percy, Grover, and Annabeth that you didn’t steal the lightning bolt, but they wouldn’t listen. So, I jumped out of the truck when they were sleeping. I got a few drachmas in case of emergencies. Then, I went to a beach, where a hippocampus appeared and brought me here. And now I’m realizing I didn’t think too far ahead because I don’t know what to do now. If I can’t convince Mr. D or Chiron that you’re innocent, I… We can run away. Yes, that we can do.”

“You did all of that for me?” Clarisse had an unreadable expression on her face. She looked like she wanted to kiss you, yell at you, and cry all at once.

Your brows furrow. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t.”

“That was really stupid.” She says.

“I know.”

“You jeopardized the quest.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve experienced your father’s wrath.”

“I know.” A small laugh escapes you.

Clarisse shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes.

“Gods, I love you.” Clarisse mumbles.

You sport a teasing grin, “Aww, you do?”

“Shut up.” She punches your shoulder playfully.

“Ouch!”

“What are you doing?”

Your playful banter came to an end when you hear Luke enter the front door, two of the kids from the Athena cabin standing behind him. You turn, stepping forward to stand in front of Clarisse. You’ve been in similar positions in the past, except she was the one protecting you. Now, it was time to return the favor.

Both Athena kids step forward on Luke’s signal, dragging both you and Clarisse outside, where there was a cluster of campers watching you.

Great, a show. Just what you needed.

“What were you doing with the lightning thief?” Luke questions.

It took a shake of Clarisse’s head to stop you from attacking him. You settled for “accidentally” stepping on his toes instead. “Clarisse is not the lightning thief.” You state. Around you, there stood at least two dozen campers. You spot Chiron and Mr. D amidst the campers and your eyes light up. “You don’t even have proof that she stole the lightning bolt, so how can you be so sure that it’s her?”

Luke ignores your question entirely. “Just give up, Y/n. Stop protecting her. You know that she stole it. We all do.”

“She didn’t steal it!” You yell, meeting Luke’s eyes. It felt like having a staring contest with a statue.

“Yeah, well, how do you know?!” His voice raises to match yours, his cold gaze almost scaring you. Almost.

You fall silent, not having a proper answer to that. Truth was, you didn’t. You could just feel it. But making choices based on feelings isn’t a good enough reason for anyone in this camp. You turn towards Chiron for help, but he doesn’t say anything. The entirety of the Ares cabin is quiet as well. That’s when it occurs to you that if they don’t speak up, there is a zero percent chance that anyone else will.

Luke appears smug, as if he had proved his point. “Exa—”

“Because I did it.”

You shock even yourself at your words, but you do nothing to take them back. You weren’t able to see any other option left. You were surrounded. If you’d try to escape with Clarisse, you weren’t making it out of camp alive. This was your last resort.

“What?” Clarisse says beside you, her voice barely above a whisper. You force yourself not to look at her. You wouldn’t be able to stand the look of betrayal on her face. You’d rather have her hating you than have her punished for something she didn’t do.

Luke scoffs, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

You don’t break eye contact with Luke as you say the words, ignoring Clarisse’s screams of protest.

For once, Luke was taken aback. He keeps shaking his head, “No, you’re lying. Just give up already. You can’t protect her anymore.”

“I stole the lightning bolt.” You say, louder this time around.

“Miss L/n, that is a serious admission.” Chiron says, his tone grave. You could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Are you sure you stole the lightning bolt?”

“She’s bluffing.” Luke announces, but he sounds unsure.

Your bag grows heavier, as if someone placed a boulder inside it while you were talking to Luke. It was too much to carry. Naturally, you removed the bag from your shoulder, setting it down on the grass. You open the backpack’s zipper, your breath hitching when you see the thing that has been weighing it down. You pull it out of the bag, hearing gasps and words of alarm from the campers.

The bolt crackled in your hand, the color mesmerizing you. You tilt your head with a sly grin, your eyes fixed on Luke.

“Do you believe me now?”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson and the olympians

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hongjoongscafe · 7 months

Text

Skirt.

Drabble

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut

Summary: he was too eager to punish you.

Word count: 2.4k+

Warning: edging, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, smoking, spanking, oral, fingering, BDSM, name-calling, mean JK, Daddy kink, vibrator, cum eating, overstimulation, spitting kink, pain kink, face slapping, cream pie, unprotected sex (cover it up before Namjoon gives you an unpleasant lesson).

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist.

Masterpost.

“Oh my fucking God!” you moaned as a heavy hand landed on your naked ass, leaving a sweet sting behind.

“You are such a fucking slut, hm,” Jungkook growled. “Always acting like a whore in front of everyone,” he said as he left another hard blow on your ass. He had you bent over his legs with your skirt hiked up and your black lace thongs down your ankles. Your tits were hanging out of your skimpy tube top.

His fingers slipped between your dripping cunt, pinching your throbbing clit with his fingers. “This fucking skirt does nothing to hide this slutty cunt. Just asking to be fucked by anyone with a dick.”

“Only you,” you whined and gasped when he spanked your cunt, making a wet noise. “Please!”

“Please what?” he squeezed your cheeks and made you look at him. “What do you want you fucking whore?”

“Please, Daddy,” you cried. “Fuck me already!”

“That's all you can think about, hm? My big fat cock?” he spread your ass cheeks to see your pathetic holes clenching around nothing. Your cunt was dripping juiced down your thighs and begging attention. “Look at you being so fucking needy. I bet you will spread your legs open for my friends, too.”

“No, Daddy!” you felt frustrated, not being able to feel his fingers or cock inside your hot and wet cunt. “Please, fuck me like a whore that I am,” you pleaded.

Jungkook picked you up and threw you on the silky sheets. The mattress dipped around you as he climbed up and turned you around, on your knees and pushed your head down in the sheets. He pulled his belt out of his pants. Hastily, he pulled your hands behind your back and tied your wrists together.

“You wanna get treated like a slut? Okay then,” he harshly pulled your hair to bring your ear near his lush lips as he dangerously whispered, “Don't complain when you get bruises and a sore cunt tomorrow.”

“I wo— Ahh,” you screamed as he plunged his four fingers into your cunt, not letting you adjust but fucking them hard and fast. The tears rolled down your cheeks as your mouth moaned loudly, enjoying every single second of him.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “Your needy cunt is taking my fingers so well. So wet.” The wet squelching noises turned you on even more. “Gonna fuck you till you pass out and wake up to my dick pounding into you. Wanna make sure to remind you that you are my fucking whore. Gonna fuck this fact into you.”

He felt your walls clenching around his fingers making him know that you were close. “I'm close. Please, don't stop! Why?!” you screamed when suddenly you felt empty. You gasped when he landed a painfully hot spank on your pussy making it look pinkish-red.

“Don't raise your voice in front of Daddy,” he coldly said. “You are such a fucking brat. Need to put you in place.”

You knew you fucked up big time by showing up in this outfit at a Halloween party and talking to Taehyung a little too frankly as he checked you out. You knew you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow when Jungkook's eyes were red with rage and lust.

He got up, shuffled around and removed his clothes. And opened the drawer. You couldn't see what he took out of it but waited for him to come back.

After a few seconds, he got back behind you and raised your ass higher up. Your eyes widened when he shoved a vibrator deep into your cunt. He chuckled when your hole easily squeezed it in. He then crawled in front of you and pulled your hair to get it between his legs and make you sit a little, face to face with his throbbing big fat cock. Its head was angry red and shiny with precum. His cock was the prettiest with the perfect curve. “Now be a good whore and suck my cock.”

You didn't need to be told twice as you licked his head and took him into your mouth, trying to take the whole of his big length but miserably failing. “Is my cock too big?” you hummed around him. “Tsk tsk, thought you were trained after taking many dicks.” You both were well aware that that was not true. But you would be lying if that didn't make you want to beg him to fuck you senseless. “Guess nobody had a dick this big?” he said, taking a blunt between his lips and lighting it up before throwing the lighter away. He took a deep puff, rested his hand with the blunt over his head and looked at your form through hooded eyes.

You bobbed your head up and down. You wanted to take it all and tried harder. You closed your eyes and pushed your head down but gagged when his tip hit the back of your throat. He moaned when you swallowed around him. Your hands itched to hold his dick and play with his balls.

Jungkook could see his dick moving in your throat. “Fuck,” he grunted. “You are taking me so fucking well. Just like a perfect whore.” You moaned around his cock when he started the vibrator at a lower setting.

You looked up at him through your wet lashes to see him smirking and holding a tiny remote in his other hand. Your eyes rolled back as the mild vibrations were slowly pushing closer to your high. But soon you were disappointed when they stopped.

And then he turned them on stronger than before. His dick slipped out of your mouth as you moaned loudly and your eyes rolled back. Your nails dug into your palms and your legs shook. “Don’t fucking stop!” he hissed.

You opened your eyes and licked his balls and sucked them one by one. His eyes rolled back as his chest heaved up and down. Small moans and grunts were leaving his pink lips. He took another puff of smoke and blew it out. Your tongue was pressed hard against his underside. You could feel the vein throbbing against it.

He took the blunt between his lips and held your hair and forced his cock inside your mouth. He started fucking your mouth. “My pretty cumslut. Taking in daddy so good.” He turned off the vibrator completely when he saw you coming closer, yet again taking away an orgasm.

He felt closer to his high and quickly changed his position and got behind you. He slipped himself inside your hot cunt beside the vibrator and fucked your cunt. His thrusts were hard and fast making your body jolt. Your cheek was pressed against the silky sheets as you drooled all over them.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you back as he trusted. You both moaned at the pleasure it sent through your veins. His cock went deeper into your cunt, his tip brushing your spongy g-spot. “I’m gonna fucking mark this pussy with my cum in it. Will make you walk around in this fucking skirt without panties with my cum running down your thighs. Wouldn't that be good?”

“Daddy, please!” you whined. “Please let me cum! I'm so close.”

Before you could cum, he pulled out. An evil chuckle left him. “You will only cum when I ask you to.” He pulled the vibrator out and replaced it with his fingers. He plunged them into your cunt making you scream out.

“Daddy!” you blabbed some incoherent words to him. He was satisfied to see you so dumb and senseless just because of him.

“So fucking dumb. You wanna cum?” you nodded your head but screamed when he spanked your ass, making it redder than it already was. “Words, you dumb whore.”

“Yes, Daddy! Wanna cum on your fingers!” you cried, tears staining the purple sheets.

Jungkook groaned, feeling your velvety walls throbbing and clenching around his fingers. “Cum, then. Fucking cum on my fingers like a slut you are.”

“Oh, Daddy,” you screamed.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull and moaned out his name loudly as your climax hit you harder and squirted violently. Jungkook removed his fingers but rubbed and spanked your pussy hastily as your squirt splashed around on his abs and cock. “Give me more,” he grunted as he plunged his fingers back into your cunt and fingered you hard. You weakly squirted some more before you felt overstimulated and whined.

Jungkook flipped you around and saw your fucked up face. Your makeup was ruined, mascara was running down your cheeks and lipstick was smeared all over your mouth. He loved it.

He took a puff of blunt and blew it out before putting it away. “Now you look even more of a slut. But we are not done just yet,” he said and got between your legs. “Look at my hand. Look what your needy cunt did to it.” You looked at his hand covered with your cum and squirt. “Clean it for me.” He said and shoved his fingers in your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and licked them clean. He pushed them further until you gagged around them. He enjoyed looking at you trying to suck his fingers. You were his perfect little slut, letting him do whatever he pleases without ever stopping or stepping away.

You moaned around his fingers when you felt the sweet stretch in your pussy as he trusted back inside. “You wanted to cum, yeah? Let's see how many times you can cum.”

He started plunging at an animalistic pace. He took his fingers out, wrapped them around your throat and tightened the grip just enough to leave harmless bruises and to make your head a little dizzy. His lips found yours and clashed messily. He slipped his tongue in your mouth as you moaned when his cock hit deeper into you. Your walls were feeling raw but the pleasure was too good to stop.

His free hand found your clit and rubbed circles over it. “Fuck, Daddy! So good. You fuck me so good! So fucking big and girth.” He let go of your neck and squeezed your right tit and pinched your nipple.

“You like that, bitch?” you let out a hoarse yes. He spat on your jiggly tits and wrapped his mouth around your nipple and sucked on it. His tongue was flat on your sensitive nub and then bit it before leaving it with a pop. “So fucking nasty. I smell your slutty cunt here. It's leaking so much. My balls are drenched.”

He stopped for a second and held your under thigh and bent you in half. He thrust back inside, much deeper this time. Your hands were still behind your back, holding the sheets as if your life depended on it.

Jungkook rubbed your left cheek with his hand before slapping it. Your eyes rolled back and pussy clenched around his dick suffocatingly. He chuckled seeing you like this. “Such a painslut.” he said and slapped your cheek again. This time you moaned loudly for him and took another hit on your cheek. You were indeed a pain slut just like him.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he moaned.

You obliged and opened your mouth and slid your tongue out. He collected the spit in his mouth and came closer to your mouth and spat it in your mouth harshly. The glob of spit slid down your tongue. He never spat in your mouth before. But it felt good and dirty. You moaned loudly and clenched around him.

“Swallow,” he commanded. You swallowed and showed him. “That's my good slut. Come on now, cum again. Cum on my cock.”

Your walls squeezed around him. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you felt your orgasm taking over your brain. You had no control over your body. It just screamed for Jungkook to destroy and use.

“Yeah, baby. Just like that,” he groaned when your walls squeezed him squirting all over his cock. “That's it. Let it all out,” he rubbed your clit to help you ride your high. You felt tired. But he didn't stop. Instead, he picked up his pace, “I still didn't cum. You gonna cum with me, too.”

“No more!” you cried as he kept hitting the spot. “Too sensitive!”

“Shut up!” he spanked your ass leaving a burning pleasurable pain behind. “You said you are a fucking whore so act like one and take what I give,” he gritted. “Be a good girl and cum with me, yeah? Fucking cream my cock,” he panted, coming closer to his climax. “Cream it good, baby.”

Your body shuddered and your back arched. Out of nowhere, the strongest orgasm slapped you across your face and you came on his cock again.

“Oh fuck,” his voice trembled and thrusts got sloppier as he came inside your burning walls, painting them white. He filled you up to the brim with his cum as thick ropes of cum didn't stop. His orgasm was more intense than ever. He never edged himself this much ever but he didn't regret it.

Finally, he was done coming. Slowly, he pulled out of your cunt and hissed at the overstimulation. Your cunt was red and swollen as his cum dripped down your folds and stained the sheets. The sight was too delicious to leave it alone.

Jungkook bent down and licked a thick strip from your asshole to your dripping cunt. You tried to get away but he held you in place. “Daddy,” you whine. “Too sensitive.”

He hummed on your cunt, sending shivers down your spine. “I know, baby,” he moaned. “But your cunt is so fucking delicious.” He kept on eating you out until your cunt was clean. But he didn't leave just yet. He wanted to pull one more orgasm out of you.

He nibbled your clit and sucked harshly on it. Your breath hitched and your mouth fell open. Your brain could not register anything anymore. He kept sucking and biting your pussy until you felt coming closer. “I'm, yeah, hmm,” you let out some slurred meaningless words but he understood.

With the last bite on your clit, you poorly squirted on his face and came. He lapped every single drop and finally, left your pussy alone before laying next to you and removing the belt from your bruised wrists and kissing them.

Jungkook looked at your fucked face and felt proud. You were barely awake when he pulled your trembling body closer in his arms. The last thing heard him say before he pecked your lips was—

“My little whore never disappoints her daddy in bed.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

Have a nice day/night💓

#bts #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic

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greg-montgomery · 21 days

Text

Mr. Scratch - Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

a little hurt/comfort inspired by ep. 10x21 - mr. scratch aaron's hallucination is you getting killed right in front of him. pre-relationship <3 words: 1.6k warnings: basically everything bad that happens in that episode: being drugged, hallucinations, blood, feeling paranoid

Aaron stayed unfazed by the sight of the gun pointed at him; his stare cold and unwavering.

“Oh, that was good. Oh, that was so good,” Peter whispered. “That was so impressive.”

His eyes almost sparkled with excitement as he went on, “The way you got into my head…It makes me want to know how I get into yours.”

A sound from right outside interrupted him and Aaron already knew where it was coming from. His team was there, you were there.

“You were right,” Peter said. “They did come calling for you.”

“They’ll kill you,” he threatened him with the same certainty he knew the sun would come up in the morning.

Peter’s next words though made his heart tremble with fear. “Are you sure about that?”

The dead silence in the house allowed him to focus on every little sound being made. His ears despite having been injured in the past could almost hear the door open. They could almost hear the sound of footsteps. He was certain, you were inside the house.

Peter had disappeared in the darkness and he could only pray you would get to him first. What if you weren’t fast enough? What if he drugged you too? What if-

A gunshot from the next room tore his heart in half.

He cursed himself for being unable to move, frozen in the same place as if he was stuck in the middle of a nightmare. Someone was being hurt and he was too weak to help; too slow to save them.

More gunshots followed, he thought he heard someone scream.

And then he heard you. “Hotch!”

Your voice was desperate, scared. But it meant you were alive, and that was more than enough to him.

“Here,” he said with every inch of power he had left in his body.

“Where?”

“Here,” he repeated. “In the study.”

First he saw the outline of your body, moving like a shadow towards him. Your eyes were wide with worry, like every time you saw him in danger. His sweet Y/N, who cared for him in a way he never knew he needed before.

“Where? Where is he?” he breathed as you knelt next to him.

“I shot him. He’s down,” you said.

Before he had the chance to feel relief, before he had the chance to look into your eyes for just a moment of comfort, a body hid the light behind you. He wasn’t dead.

“Y/N!” Aaron yelled, but the bullet had already left Peter’s gun.

You fell to the ground and your hand covering the wound in your neck did nothing to stop the blood from running.

“No,” he screamed with desperation. “No, no, no.”

Tears ran down his cheeks getting mixed with your blood that had been splashed on his face, but he was unable to move. He wanted to run to you, to take you in his arms, to steal you away, but he was stuck watching your terrified expression as you were bleeding to death.

“No,” he cried. “No, baby, not you. Help!” he screamed. “Somebody help!”

His body was shaking, but as if he was under a spell, he couldn’t even lift his arm. A feeling of helplessness took over his body that he had only experienced once before; the day he lost Haley.

“Not my Y/N,” he choked on his sobs.

“Now I know what scares you,” Peter said, towering over him.

The gun he pointed at Aaron turned towards your body again and you were met with a final shot.

“No!”

His eyes closed, his blood boiling with fury. “Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.”

When he opened them again, he had to blink a few times before he realized that your body was gone. His head was dizzy and his vision was blurred, but he was certain of one thing: you were no longer lifeless, laying right in front of him.

“It’s okay. You can move now.”

He had been fooled, just like all of his victims before. Aaron knew what he had to do now, the fact that you were still alive giving him some clarity.

“I’m about to come through that front door.”

He was lying, but still Aaron accepted the knife Peter gave him and turned to the door. You were about to come in, and this time for real; he had to play along. This time he had a second chance. A second chance to save the person he loved that was so brutally taken away from him the first time.

“My gun,” he asked. “I need my gun.”

“Look. Here I come,” Peter said. “Kill me.”

Aaron reached out for his gun and pointed at the spot he had shown him. As soon as he saw the door open, he turned around and shot Peter as fast as he could.

“Hotch!” you ran to him. “We need a medic in here!” you asked.

“Take it,” he said, terrified, giving you his gun. He didn’t trust himself with it; not when it was you right in front of him. “Take it.”

You did as he said, placing your hand on his arm, trying to figure out a way to comfort him.

“He made me see things,” he cried. And then in a breath he said again, “He made me see things...”

“It’s over,” you said softly. “You’re okay. Look at me.”

Aaron met your gaze and you didn’t seem to think twice before reaching out to him and taking him into your arms. He couldn’t help but melt into your embrace.

“It’s okay,” you kept repeating to him, and it wasn’t the words you used, but the sound of your voice that calmed his shaking body down. “I’m here, I got you.”

“He’s gone,” Spencer informed you.

“He looks traumatized,” JJ said, staring at her boss. Peter had just been arrested but it didn’t seem to have calmed him down. His attention was completely devoted to you, as you held his hand and talked to him at the back of the ambulance.

“His hallucinations were probably traumatic,” Rossi said.

“He needs to talk about it,” Derek added.

“I’m sure he will. He has Y/N to talk to.”

Their attention turned back to you. You were holding a piece of cotton now, patting it softly over his wound. He kept insisting to the medics he was fine, but seemed fine with you touching him.

Your free hand was still holding his.

“I didn’t know they were…” JJ said before David interrupted her.

“This isn’t the time or the place for a conversation like this. Let’s just be grateful he’s letting someone in.”

“You’re right,” Morgan said.

You insisted on driving Aaron home and if he was honest with himself he had no issues with it, since he had also no intention of ever leaving you out of his sight again.

He was thankful Jack wasn’t home. The last thing he wanted was for his son to see him in that state.

Closing the door behind you, you made your way around his couch and sat next to him. You seemed almost awkward in your moves.

The fact that you were a soft spot for him was not a piece of information he had ever shared with you before. But after that night it would be ridiculous for either of you to pretend you were just a unit chief and his subordinate. Your dynamic had shifted.

“Thank you,” he said. “For driving me home.”

“I would never let you drive in that state.”

Any other day your sweet words would have made him smile, but Aaron didn’t have it in him at that moment. He was exhausted and scared.

“Aaron,” you said, reaching out for his hand. The sweet gesture and the use of his first name made his heart flutter. “You can talk to me…about what you saw.”

Flashes of your bleeding body appeared right in front of him. He was back in that house, frozen to the ground, hearing your desperate chokes as you bled away.

“Hotch? Aaron?”

It all vanished the next second, as he blinked to send them away.

“I saw your death.”

His words visibly shook you, and you slightly opened your mouth but without making a sound.

Aaron’s voice broke. “He shot you right in front of my eyes. You were bleeding to death and I couldn’t move.”

His breaths were getting shorter as he sobbed and you moved closer to him, placing your palm right over his heart. “I was too late again. I didn’t save you.”

“You did. You shot him, remember? You saved me,” you smiled sweetly. “You saved all of us. He drugged you and you still managed to shoot him.”

He couldn’t help but let all the tears out. “I’m scared I never woke up from it. I’m scared you’re not real.”

“I’m real. I’m right here, I promise.”

“Y/N…”

Your movements were careful as you lifted your hand to cup his cheek, and the comforting motion of your thumb rubbing the side of his head brought him back to reality. You were real, his inner voice repeated.

“I am terrified of losing you,” he admitted.

“You won’t.”

He tried to speak again but his sobs wouldn’t allow him to.

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes were watery too, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss your tears away. But you put him back to his place, silently reminding him that he was the one who needed comfort this time, as you wiped his tears away with your hand. “I’m here.”

“Will you stay?”

“Do you think I would leave you here alone? I would stay even if you didn’t want me to,” you answered.

“I would never not want you here, Y/N.”

Aaron fell into your arms and you held him there with no intention of letting him go. “I know.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #hotch #hotch 🪐

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

Note

Plsplspls do Adam and Mammon with a reader who behaves like a lovesick puppy and is always battling her eyelashes at them and gets all flustered when they flirt plsss 🙏🏻

Adam and Mammon w/ S/O who is lovestruck with them.

Note: I LOVE RJIS IDEA!!! ALSO WITH MY TWO FAVORITE MEN BY VIVZIE LIKE HELLO??

Female!Reader

Warnings: Touching, not proofread, but other than that nothing rlly!

Mammon 🕷️:

He would use this to his advantage. If he wants something from you, he had you wrapped around his fingers.

"Hey babe, yeah, so I need something from ya. You'll do this for me right? Aw, your such'a good girl."

He is so aware that his speech and accent give such a feeling to you. He finds you adorable.

But other than the obvious exploitation, he thinks its cute. Obviously, millions of other girls in Hell feel the same way as you, but he chose you.

But other than that, he loathes in the attention and innocent looks you give him.

He will physically flirt with you. He likes to ruffle your hair, play with your cheeks (both ass and face), ,and his favorite, forcing you to look up at him. He knows his affect on you is dangerously crazy, so he uses that to his advantage.

You feel butterflies in your stomach whenever you're around him, and his loud, obnoxious self. You love how dainty and feminine he makes you feel. You are like his princess, and he is your king. (technically that is true lol)

Because he isn't a traditional man per say, but he has a traditional view on women.

He will mentally flirt with you. He gives you a certain look:

He only does this when he wants to get you weak in the knees for him. Because he knows it works.

He will always tease you. He gets into your head like no other. When you are with him, it feels like no other man matters, it always circles back to him.

He loves the fact that you are obedient and behaved. He loathes in it. He thinks of you like a cute little puppy (that makes him no money whatsoever, but oh well.).

Verbally flirts with you. Well not necessarily always flirting, but thats what it feels like to you. Here are some things he will say to you:

"Hey babe, c'mere and sit on my lap, hurry up, we dont got all day!"

"Well don't you just look sweet, yeah? Are you tryin' to impress me or somethin'?"

"Cutie, go fetch daddy his wallet, yeah? Good girl, you deserve a little treat later, huh? You'd like that, would'nt ya'?"

Adam 🕊️:

Always brags about it. When talking to Lute or something, he will be like:

"Oh yeah fore sure. but y'know, y/n can just do that for me or whatever. Shes just like that."

He likes that you are obedient, but sometimes it crept him out, at least in the beginning. You were willing to do almost anything for him. He liked the premise, but it make him weary how much control he had over you.

But now? He uses it against you. He will have you do things for him, like paperwork, helping him clean himself, dressing him, kissing him on the cheek, etc.

He cant get enough of how you pamper him.

Praises you. He will call you a good girl, say your his princess, etc. In a way, they way him and Mammon praise you is very similar. The only difference, is that Adam is more reserved when it comes to praise in public, while Mammon is shameless. This is because he cares about his image in Heaven, and cant do too much under watchful eye.

Also gives you a face:

This man has such a devious grin, especially when he gets his way with you.

He does this face when he wants to rile you up. He knows he will too, since you are very compliant towards him, since he basically treats you like you two are married.

Also verbally flirts.

"Hey wifey- you look different today... did you do your hair or something? Looks hot."

"Hey babe can you do a favor for me and fetch me some water? Your the best babe, god."

"Aww you get embarrassed when your hubby pokes fun at you? Your such a snowflake babe, a cute little snowflake."

Touches you. He likes to tease your shy, pandering nature. So he likes to blow on your ear, come up behind you and pick you up, or just the occasional slap on the ass.

He loves how shy and embarrassed you become, so he will definitely enjoy continuing his antics.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hb mammon x reader #mammon x reader #mammon x reader hb #adam x reader #adam x y/n #adam x you #mammon helluva #adam hazbin #hazbin x reader #helluva x reader #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader

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yoyokalicent · 8 months

Text

can't get you out of my veins.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

summary: jacaerys loves his wife, and will do everything he can to make sure his future queen is well satisfied.

warnings: smut, jace eats his queen out fr. that's it.

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you feel his eyes on you, the rush of adrenaline still radiating off of him from when he lunged at his uncle.

"did you see the way he was looking at you? and the way he spoke of my family?" when he saw the unimpressed look on your face he continued, "our family, our honor. how do you have nothing to say of this?"

"his words mean nothing to me, you are the true heir to the iron throne. your mother will be queen, and you will be king following her, aemond's words hold no significance to me when you are the one who will wear the crown and sit upon the iron throne." jacaerys stance straightens at your words, not expecting your words to have such an affect on him.

you hear his footsteps and watch as he stands in front of you, bending to reside in between your legs, his knees hitting the floor, "and you will be my queen."

you use your hand to smooth his hair out and cup his face, "would it bother you, jacaerys?"

"would what bother me, my love?"

"if i were to call you king?" his hands travel up your dress and land on your thighs, squeezing into the flesh he's indulged in so many times.

"i would want nothing more." his hands move up and down the length of your thighs and are beginning to run dangerously close to your core, "although i feel as if i haven't treated you as a future queen should be treated, as if i haven't satisfied you enough."

you almost want to laugh at him, he's never left you feeling anything but orgasmic satisfaction, "don't be ridiculous, jace."

"not jace."

oh, "my king." you correct moving your hands to his shoulders and then to grab onto his bicep. except, he doesn't stand up.

"i'm right where i want to be." his hands slide back down your legs to where he takes off your shoes, and moves to slide your tights down your legs, "never truly understood tights, keep what i want too far."

his eyes never leave yours, as lust clouds your mind no response leaves your lips. the only thing you can do is look at him, think of him.

"when i am king you will never wear tights, always be ready for me."

he bunches the skirt of your dress up and you lift your hips to allow him access, "what else will you do, my king?"

hearing you call him that spurs him on, giving him more confidence as the words spill out of his mouth, "i'll clear out the throne room and have you ride me on the iron throne, make our heir on the seat they will sit upon for years to come."

his middle finger runs up and down your cunt skimming over your opening, spreading your wetness over his finger before bringing it up to his mouth, "when i am king this is all i will do, all i will taste."

jacaerys picks your legs up to drape them over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of what he wants the most.

"please, my king." you beg, picking your hips up to bring yourself closer to his mouth.

"whatever my queen wishes, she will get." jacaerys does not let you respond before diving into you. his tongue going straight for your entrance, making your mind run wild with thoughts of him, where he is, and what he is doing to you.

his hands run up and down your thighs as his tongue thrusts in and out of your entrance, nose rubbing against your clit, eyes looking at you.

when jace sees you like this all he sees is heaven. his heaven is you, hooded eyes, looking down at him as he makes you feel good. your heels press into his back as your hips raise off of the chair once more.

when jacaerys realizes your eyes have closed and are no longer locked on him, he removes his tongue from you and looks up at you, saying nothing.

"what is it?" disappointment is evidently laced in your words, he ignores you and moves his attention to your clit.

your moans and heavy breathing fill the vacant space, echoing around the chambers you have been staying in. to your surprise his middle and ring finger enter you with no warning, bringing you closer to where you so desperately need.

"my king" you chant as if it is a prayer to the seven, his tongue continues to circle around your clit as his fingers pump in and out of you.

for the final time, jacaerys looks up at you and is met with your head thrown back and mouth open, waiting. waiting so patiently for your orgasm to overcome you.

he speeds up all of his movements, tongue flicking a little faster, and fingers at a rampant pace. jacaerys knows you are about to cum when your cunt clenches around him, and your moans are no longer audible, just shallow breaths.

he feels your orgasm puddle around his fingers, and he gives a few more pumps of his fingers before he removes them. bringing them to his mouth, cleaning them off as you catch your breath.

your legs are removed from his back as he stays on his knees, and you can see the prominence of his cock in his pants,

"and what can the queen do for her king?"

#hotd fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x reader #hotd #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fluff #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaron x you

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