#he’s just some boring white rich guy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sungbeam · 8 months

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nonidol!eric sohn x f!reader

you won't think golf is a boring sport after he's done with you! (but it's not about golf, and it's not about swings. just a young heir with money, love, and a thing for you.)

▷ genre, warnings. technically s2l, country club au, summer break au, starts with him already into you, slight pining? idk, fluff, humor, rich people™, golf lol, swearing, drinking, kissing, it gets like actually romantic, Eric Sohn bc he's so attractive someone help me.

▷ word count. 11.4k

▷ inspired by swing my way (cha cha malone & phe r.e.d.s)

a/n: my submission for the deoboyznet summer on you event! and @mosviqu who implanted the idea of country club rich boy eric into my brain @@

It wasn't like Eric Sohn, heir to his parents' multi-million dollar investment firm, prized shortstop of the UCLA baseball team, planned to spend his entire summer charming his parents' clients and partners. A summer spent at the Beverly Hills Country Club wasn't something new for the young heir either. The rolling, emerald green hills for golf; the clean cement tennis courts; the dim and classy bars were all ingrained in him since childhood. They were environments Eric had learned to thrive in, and when one had the advantage, one was always taught to wield it like a blade.

At least, that was what he was taught. Over the years, he'd also learned that his extroverted personality and charming smile were disarming—and his pretty boy appearance often resulted in others underestimating him. That was their mistake.

"...that trip to Taiwan will be such a great opportunity to explore the relationship between our companies."

Eric clasped Mr. Thomas Tsaur's hand in a firm shake as the two men stood at the final hole of the golf course. Eric beamed. "Yes, of course! I know my mom would love to see the night markets around Taipei; my parents have been looking forward to the trip all year," he said, as easy as breathing air. Of course, he didn't really know if his parents were looking forward to it. If he was the one on his way to Taiwan instead, he knew that he himself would be ecstatic.

During business meetings—and meetings that weren't officially classified as business, but were definitely about business—Eric tried to stay as true to himself as possible. Once in a while, some of the persona he'd built up slipped through the cracks, but there was a reason he liked baseball more than business.

Mr. Tsaur made a pleasant reply back about promising a fun-filled tour of the city with his wife, and the two of them were splitting up. There were offhanded comments about seeing each other for dinner when Eric's parents finally arrived, but that was all that was left of the interaction.

Eric jogged down the hill toward the conventional path where a white-topped golf cart sat waiting for him. His driver and caddy companion for the day was Jacob Bae, a regular worker here at the country club whom Eric had known for at least a couple years now.

But instead of just Jacob and the cart, Eric found that someone else had joined the group.

You sat in the second row of the golf cart with a circular serving tray pressed over your lap. Like some of the other staff members at the club, you wore the standard black, collared shirt and black skort. He'd seen you around this place plenty of times this summer and even greeted you once or twice, but he knew you were new.

Oh, trust that he knew a new face when he saw one, especially when said face was as pretty as yours. The only shame was that you were often assigned to areas where Eric didn't exactly frequent, but he never took himself as the type to give up easily.

You and Jacob were sharing a laugh as Eric approached the golf cart with his golf putter in hand. "Hey guys," Eric chirped.

All the attention flickered over to Eric, but he couldn't stop staring at the way the slight breeze this afternoon was making your hair fall in your face all pretty. Even in a braid, the little strands fell out to frame your face.

"Oh, hi Eric! How was the last round?" Jacob asked as he twisted around in his driver's seat to watch Eric round the back to put his putter away. You had shifted in your seat slightly to follow him with your eyes, as well.

Eric slid the stick into his bag and caught your eyes. His smile widened. "It went well. Same old, same old," he chuckled, bracing a gloves hand on the roof of the cart. "When'd you get here, Yn?" He asked you with a nod of his chin.

You perked up at the sound of your name. Cute. "Ah, just a few minutes ago," you said. You sheepishly gestured to your empty tray. "Haknyeon dropped me off a few holes over to deliver drinks, and then I saw Jacob over here and walked over to catch a ride back to the clubhouse."

"I can't believe he just ditched you," Jacob chortled.

Eric circled around the cart to take the seat in the front beside Jacob. "He ditched you?" He frowned, leaning his arm over the back of the seat to look at you.

As the cart began making its smooth return down the path and over a small bridge, you smoothed your braid over your shoulder. "No, no! He didn't ditch me; we were just headed in the same direction until we… weren't," you mused. "I mean, if Cobie wasn't here, a walk back wouldn't have been the worst thing anyways."

"I guess," Eric agreed, biting his lip. "So, uh… ever played golf before?"

"Golf? It's been a while, but yeah, I've driven the occasional golf ball across a green."

From the driver's seat, Jacob slapped his right hand down on Eric's shoulder. "Yn-ie! This guy's one of the best casual golf players you'll probably ever meet. His swing? So clean."

Eric chuckled, clasping a hand on the back of his neck, when he felt your attention flicker back to him again. "I'm no pro…"

"I'll have to see that for myself then," you said with a smile.

The golf cart slowed to a stop in front of the doors into the main kitchens of the clubhouse proper. Because this main kitchen was so large, they were given their own set of doors directly to the outdoor courts and beyond for easy access. While Jacob would drop you off here, he would have to continue onward for Eric's proper spot.

You clambered out of the golf cart, poking Jacob in the shoulder as you went. "Bye, guys! Thanks for the ride, Cobie."

"Bye, Yn!" Both boys chimed together. When you disappeared behind the swinging kitchen doors, Jacob pulled the cart back onto the main road to carry onward.

Eric settled into his seat to face forward once again. He lifted the cap off his head and carded a hand through his hair to let the strands, dampened with sweat, dry a bit. "I didn't know Yn was allowed to work the golf range," he commented as innocently as possible.

Jacob made a small humming noise. "Yeah, we're short a couple people out here because of the Ferndale event going on down by the gazebo."

"She wasn't sent there?"

"Did you want her to be sent there?" Jacob grinned slyly at the young heir, who turned his gaze elsewhere.

Eric coughed. "I didn't say that."

His companion still would not wipe that knowing smile off his face, even as he slowed the golf cart to a stop and Eric hopped out to collect his equipment from the back. "I didn't say you did," he snickered as Eric walked away.

He didn't give Jacob the satisfaction of an answer, instead, saying a "thank you" for driving him over his shoulder, before ducking inside the clubhouse locker room.

Jacob shook his head in amusement and began making his way further down the path to return the cart. Silly, silly kids.

You didn't realize country clubs were real until you were sitting in the office of the Beverly Hills Country Club's hiring manager and being hired. That was about a month ago, and no, you still didn't believe it was real. The entire training experience, in fact, had swept through like a fever dream.

The summer season had just begun, though, and they had taken you on in a rush of desperation. You hadn't failed to notice how relieved the hiring manager looked when you told him you'd worked as a waitress at an upscale wedding venue before you moved cross-country, and knew how to carry a drink platter and dirty dishes. That was part of the reason you'd been hired on the spot. You'd also mentioned your extensive knowledge of how to fold cloth napkins into swans, and you liked to think that was your true selling point. (Don't ask, the last part was because you had been very bored while waiting in the backroom during a wedding.)

And while you cared little about cleaning pools or catering to rich prick egos, you did care about the crisp green bills that graced your eyes with more frequency than a Superman actor on Hollywood Boulevard. There was also the possibility to gain some more experience in the dining and catering world; if you were lucky, you could butter up your manager to let you help out in the kitchen some.

After all, that was why you were here so far from home.

"Yn, you've got company at table five," Haknyeon said as he passed by you on his way into the kitchen.

You gave a nod out of instinct. You brushed your hands against your black waist apron, absentmindedly reaching up to also smooth out the black vest on your upper half. Usually when you worked at the club's restaurants and bars as wait staff, your uniform consisted of a white button down under a black vest, followed by a black skirt and apron. It was classy and chic, and definitely added to the expensive atmosphere.

You could see table five in your section up ahead. It was a little early into dinner service, but there were still people who came in. To your surprise, the company at table five was none other than Eric Sohn himself, along with two others you recognized as his parents. They were dressed casually—meaning semiformal. It was something out of a dinner cruise, with Eric's dark brunette waves styled effortlessly messy and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone to reveal the slightly bronzed, toned skin beneath—

You cleared your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you approached the table. "Evening, everyone. Mr. and Mrs. Sohn," you gave a small greeting bow to his parents, then swiftly doled out little napkins for their drinks. "It's nice to see you on the grounds again today."

"Oh, Yn! It's very nice to see you this evening," said Mrs. Sohn with a delicate flourish of her wrist.

"Yes!" Mr. Sohn chimed in, "What have you been up to? Eric says he saw you on the golf range today."

Your eyes darted to Eric's, then went back to his parents when you realized his eyes were on you. You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and bracing the end of your serving tray against your waist. "Oh, uhm, yeah! I was just summoned down there to get some drinks to the Santos family—you know them, right?"

Recognition lit up in Eric's mother's eyes. "Yes, yes! Marina and her kids! Ah, well that sounds nice; I'll have to see if I can bump into her at the spa or something. Eric gave you a ride back in his cart, didn't he? The walk back is awfully far."

You nodded. "Yeah, of course. He was with Jacob, so I just hopped in the back and rode back with them here."

"I still owe you that golf date," Eric cut in smoothly, the hand with his Rolex draped over the back of his chair. His smile was casual, innocent, the kind that so easily could make anyone do his bidding.

"Golf date?" His parents glanced curiously between the two of you, and you felt heat rush up to your cheeks.

"It was just an offhand comment," you said sheepishly. "Jacob was telling me about how great of a golfer Eric is and I said I wanted to see his swing some time." Before anything else could be said on the matter, you tucked your tray under your arm and replaced it with your notepad and pen. "Can I get you anything to drink? An appetizer to start?"

That drew away the conversation promptly. It wasn't like you were uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date with Eric Sohn, it just wasn't that simple. Though the club officially encouraged good relationships between staff and club members, they didn't exactly encourage the romantic kind of relationship. Obviously, it would be impossible to enforce a no-entanglement policy completely, but you wanted to stay on your manager's good side.

You nearly folded in half over the counter of the tiki bar at the pool. Sweat streamed down the side of your face, and you were pretty sure your baby hairs looked akin to a lion's mane under your white baseball cap. Thank god the club didn't force you to wear a black colored hat instead; the black polo and skort were death enough.

Jacob chuckled as he passed you a clean, damp towel that had been soaking in ice water. "Before you get heat stroke," he said, then returned to preparing a tray of drinks someone had ordered at the hot tub.

You thanked him profusely, dabbing your face and neck with the cool blessing. "Sheesh," you groaned. "I think I need to reapply my sunscreen soon. How are you out here all the time, Cobie?"

He grinned with a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I work with cold drinks and I'm under the shade. And—" he tapped the handy little fan clipped to one of the structure poles of the tiki bar, "—this beautiful work of engineering."

"I need one of those umbrella hats and squirt bottles kids bring to Disneyland," you grumbled and plucked yourself up from the bar. You returned the towel to Jacob so he could toss it into the soiled towel bin on the other side of him. You watched as he finished up filling the tray and whistled at the pool waiter who had ordered it for the group at the hot tub.

As the waiter walked away with the drinks, you thought aloud, "How could they stand to be in the hot tub in this heat?" From here, you could see the group of girls gathered in the bubbling jets of the hot tub at the far end of the pool in their bikini tops and Gucci shades.

"They're not standing—they're sitting."

You sent Jacob an unimpressed look, to which he simply smiled wider.

"Hey guys!" Ji Changmin huffed and puffed as he collapsed onto the barstool next to you. He had a towel hanging around his shoulders and a white sweatband holding up his dark bangs dripping with sweat. "Can I get an ice water, hyung?"

"Yeah, man," Jacob said, already dumping a scoop of ice in a cup.

"You alright there, Changmin?" You glanced over at the club's dance instructor with barely concealed amusement.

Changmin took the corner of his towel to dry the dribble of sweat making its way down his forehead. "Whoever thought it was a good idea to do hot Zumba in the height of summer needs a reality check. I think I'm dying."

As one of the country club's primary dance instructors, not only did Changmin lead all of the dance activities on the grounds, he was also supposed to take over any dance aerobics classes like said hot Zumba. You knew it wasn't his favorite, but it was still funny to make faces at him through the window as he did can-can kicks in leg warmers with all of the rich moms.

You leaned down to check if he had the leg warmers on. He did not. At least he finally had the good sense to break uniform.

Jacob slid over an ice-cold glass of water, and Changmin drained it like a man who trekked through the desert for seven days. You glanced at Jacob's digital clock on the counter behind him—he kept it so he could be on time for all of his breaks.

"Oh shit," you said, quickly fixing your cap and adjusting your hair, "time for me to get back to work."

Changmin straightened. "Where are you stationed today, Yn-ie? Chanhee and I wanted to come pick you up later for dinner before we have to come back."

"That's right!" Jacob slapped his palm to his forehead. "We have to all be back here for the banquet. I almost forgot, damn it."

You cocked a brow at him. "Wow, you, Jacob Bae, almost forgot about the major event all of our jobs are riding on that's taking place tonight?"

A smile curled onto your face when Jacob narrowed his eyes at you. "Don't you have work to do?"

You let out a laugh and began backing away from the tiki bar and your friends. "Kim has me at the ice cream bar until the end of my shift, Changmin. I'll catch you boys later!"

Jacob and Changmin raised their hands in twin waves to you as you walked away. If you remembered the time on Jacob's clock correctly, you had about fifteen minutes to get up to the indoor ice cream bar for your shift.

Tonight, the country club was hosting a banquet for one of the business men here. It was supposedly one of the most important events for the club's reputation, so it was all hands on deck. Everyone from Chanhee at the spa to Haknyeon in the kitchen were called upon to clock into work once again tonight to help out. You were glad you weren't a part of the set-up and takedown committees, but you were expected to wait on the banquet. Jacob was supposed to be bartending tonight, as usual, and your other friends and coworkers would be waiting alongside you.

You glanced up on your walk out of the pool area and nearly tripped over the soles of your sneakers.

Coming in hot (literally) were none other than Eric Sohn, Lee Hyunjae, and Lee Juyeon—all of whom were very much shirtless. Swim trunks hung low on their waists, their stomachs carved like triplet Michaelangelos. Seeing shirtless guys at the pool wasn't new for you, but these guys were actually around your age.

Eric saw you first and waved. "Yn, hey!"

"Hi guys," you greeted back with a shallow nod of your head. "Nice day out for a swim."

"I know, right?" Hyunjae raised a hand to shield his eyes from the unforgiving summer sun. "You must be baking in that uniform, Yn." He raised his chin to gesture at the all black attire.

"I don't suppose you'd be able to join us?" Juyeon smiled. He knew you probably couldn't join them because you were clocked in, but he had always been pretty nice nonetheless. He and Hyunjae were cousins, and the Lee family was well-known around here for being big names in the legal sphere, as well as being one of the larger families. There was another cousin of theirs around their age running around here somewhere, too.

You gave a helpless shrug. "Duty calls, unfortunately."

"Yn, hey wait—" Eric caught your attention as you were about to continue walking up toward the main clubhouse. He flashed you that smile again, the one that made your stomach do flips and would convince you to do flips for him if only he asked. "You won't happen to be working at the banquet tonight, are you?"

"How'd you guess?" You replied good-naturedly. "Why do you ask?"

He began walking backwards toward the direction his friends had drifted off to, his smile tilting up slightly. "So I know which cologne I should wear."

And it definitely wasn't a trick of the summer sun that made you see him wink at you.

"He's into you."

"He is not—" you wrestled your sleeve up your forearm and made a frustrated noise when the button would not go through, "—into me."

Chanhee gave you a nice, slow eye roll just so you would see it, and he yanked the sleeve away from you so he could roll it up himself. "A lot of men around here like smelling nice, but no one pulls out the Acqua Di Gio just for the service girl or a business banquet," he hissed as a fellow waiter rushed past you two in the narrow corridor. "Jesus, why is this button such a bitch?"

"That's what I'm saying," you hissed back at him as the two of you both struggled to fix your sleeve. "Not the cologne thingy—I hate how you're able to just take a whiff and name the cologne. What kind of demon nose do you have?"

Chanhee sighed and collapsed against the wall opposite to you when he finally managed to get the sleeve right. The two of you were currently on break, not hiding, in this corridor. In T-minus two minutes, you would both have to be back out in the hustle and bustle of cleanup or after-party drinks in the lounge. Because the main course had finally been served, a lot of the waiters were allowed to go on break. The banquet thus far had gone relatively smoothly, other than the fact that when you had served Eric all of his courses, he'd made sure you practically melted on the smell of his cologne.

It wasn't your fault you had to bend down close to him to not spill the hot food. And it wasn't your fault that he chose to put his mouth right to your ear when he told you a joke, masking it as asking for more water.

You couldn't decide if you were going to giggle or let your knees buckle at that moment. Thank god you managed to laugh behind your hand and hustle away before anyone noticed.

But that was besides the point. The point was that Chanhee had also passed by Eric, caught the faint trail of Aqua De Whatever, and connected some dots.

"If you want a demon, you talk to Changmin," he said. "I just know my shit. And I also know that you only break out the Acqua Di Gio when you want to attract someone, and based on the fact he's currently seated around about fifty other businesspeople…" Chanhee made a wild, desperate gesture with his hands, eyes widened. Are you getting this? He seemed to ask. Because I will smack you if you aren't.

You fanned yourself, justifying it by thinking about how hot the back hallway was and this outfit was, rather than admitting that it was because Eric was hot. "Okay, okay. Come on, we have to get back out there," you said, already turning your heel toward the door.

"I'm just saying that clearly he's been trying to tell you something," Chanhee added as you both broke out of the hallway and into the kitchen. He grabbed a circular serving tray from a stack on the counter next to him to hand over to you.

"Well, what do you suppose I should do with that?"

He pressed his lips into a thin smile, taking hold of a small, empty cart and pushing it ahead of him. "Just keep an open mind, darling."

You and Chanhee separated at the kitchen doors out into the banquet hall. While he would be a part of cleaning up, you needed to head over to the next-door parlor where the party had moved post-dinner. Business would continue as usual, just with a few more drinks and pool involved.

The parlor room was arguably one of your favorite rooms in the club with its cozier atmosphere created by the evergreen walls, tiffany-shaded lamps, and dark oak furnishings. It was also outfitted with a hearth (unused during the summer and spring) and a billiards table. Most of those who had chosen to stay had migrated with a certain crowd of people they planned to continue chatting with. Your job, as well as the few others recruited to the parlor, was to be a fly on the wall until somebody needed something. If tips were passed around, you were free to pocket them.

You were probably standing and waiting for only five minutes before you saw Eric stand up from where he was on the far side of the room. He shouldered his suit jacket off and draped it over the back of his armchair, exposing the white dress shirt and black vest beneath. Whew, he was wearing a full suit to this event? You wondered how he even survived, but all conscious thought flew out the window when he caught you staring and started smirking to himself. The smug, little expression stayed etched into the sharp planes of his face even as he strolled over to the pool table and lined up his shot.

You wondered—and it was just a thought—what it'd be like (possibly) for him to lean over you—

"Excuse me, miss?" You shook out of your daze and remembered why you were here. Unfortunately, it was not to admire the young heir watching you from the other side of the room, but to serve guests.

For the next couple of hours, your job was exactly what you did. You had been so focused on running back and forth from the bar in the other room and back that you always seemed to have missed Eric trying to catch your eye again. If he wanted drinks, he had to suck it up and ask someone else who just happened to be near him instead.

As the evening dwindled into a sweet, humid night, the amount of guests also began to trickle down. You had grabbed a rag on your way back to the parlor room and said goodbye to your coworkers on their way out. Some still lingered for last minute clean up, and though you were technically done for the night, you wanted to wipe down anything you had missed. It was something simple that you could do to help out a colleague, and it wasn't like you were in a rush to go home.

When you walked back into the parlor room, however, you blinked—surprised—at the sight of an individual left. He leaned against the billiards table, one hand holding the edge of the suit jacket draped over his shoulder and the other scrolling through his phone.

Eric glanced up from his device and pocketed it at the sight of you. "Hey."

"Hi," you said back. "Uhm, can I get you anything—"

"Oh, no no. I'm good." He shook his head, pushing off from the table. He shot you that signature boyish smile of his and your heart began doing cartwheels. "I just wanted to ask if I could give you a lift home."

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Truthfully, you were caught off guard, stunned. This wasn't what you were expecting from him.

He saw your hesitation and let out a sheepish laugh, cupping the back of his head. "Sorry, this is so out of the blue. I… it's a little late out right now, and I didn't know if you had a ride or not. I know you're not usually scheduled to work so late."

"You know my schedule?" You blurted. Though, the thought did warm you and amuse you.

His eyes widened. "I mean, uhm, definitely not in the creepy, stalkerish sort of way! I uh, I like to think I pay a lot more attention when it comes to you." His admission didn't do much to slow the racing organ in your chest cavity. You always saw Eric Sohn as one of those smooth and collected young men who were born to charm. But seeing him flustered and tripping over his words because of you?

You ducked your head slightly, flattered and most definitely charmed still. "I'd really appreciate a lift home, Eric."

You both shared a smile in the slightly dimmed, slightly warmed lights of the parlor room.

Once you had finished glossing over the surfaces of the parlor room with your rag to catch any rings made by perspiring liquids, your manager dismissed you for the night. Eric told you he would meet you out front where he would bring his car around for you. You found yourself standing at the edge of the curb with a gentle, yet rare summer breeze wafting through your hair. You had your bag slung over your shoulder, and you grasped the strap and fidgeted with the material.

A car pulled up to the circular driveway—it was a sports car. The Corvette, sleek and aerodynamic, was doused in a shiny orange coat of paint that glimmered even in the night. The passenger side window rolled down so you could see Eric leaning over the center console and waving to you.

"Hey, hop in!" He said to you with a grin, lowering the music he was playing.

Gingerly, you walked up to the car and managed to maneuver yourself inside. The passenger seat was lined in soft black leather, and the inside of the car made it all the more easy to suffocate on that delicious cologne of his.

Eric had ditched his suit jacket and vest in the backseat of the car, leaving him in just his white dress shirt and slacks.

"Nice car," you whistled lowly as you buckled yourself in.

His mouth tilted upward. "Thanks," he said. He fussed around with his phone for a second before passing the device to you. "If you wouldn't mind putting your number and address in."

"Oh." It was a brand new contact page. You didn't question it, swiftly inputting all of the necessary information before returning his phone to him.

Eric took a peek at the address, then pulled out of the country club's driveway. You didn't live too far away from the club, luckily. It was only a few minute's drive, but the walk sometimes felt a bit longer. California didn't exactly have the most convenient public transportation system, and in an area like Beverly Hills, it was near impossible to find a reliable bus or train service.

"Any music preferences?" He asked you quietly.

You shook your head. "I'm not super picky. What you have on is all good with me."

"I have to confess, Yn," he said with a half smile, eyes darting toward you, "that I was trying to steal your attention all night."

Your stomach flipped and you suppressed the smile that threatened to crawl onto your mouth. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yeah, but obviously, your work ethic beat me out, as well as my own luck."

"Any reason for seeking me out?" He'd technically had your attention all throughout the banquet, but he had also needed to entertain and chat with the other people around him. While the after party was sometimes used for business discussion, too, the banquet dinner itself was the main event.

"I mean, besides wanting to talk to the cute girl eating up all my thoughts?"

He was turning onto your apartment complex's street all too soon. The car slid into a parking spot along the curb, and he twisted in his seat to face you. "I really want to take you out, show you a good time. It doesn't have to be something fancy if that's not your vibe; we can always start with golf."

You let the smile bloom on your face at the reference to the "golf date" you both had yet to schedule. You still wanted to see his swing, after all. "Then it's a date," you said, "I should have a free day two days from now, if that works for you."

Eric bit his lip. "I'm all yours, hon."

Before you could start doing somersaults from excitement, you resolved yourself to getting into your apartment first. "Well, thank you again for the lift, Eric. You have my number?"

He nodded. "Never losing it."

You grinned something fond. He grinned right back at you. "Get home safe."

"I will. Good night, cutie."

You slammed the car door shut and left Eric to his lonesome. Through the passenger side window, Eric watched as you disappeared into your apartment complex, safe and sound. He had almost given into the urge to ask if he could walk you up, but it was a miracle you had even taken him up on his offer to drive you home.

He pulled up your contact and sent you a text so you could have his number, too, as soon as possible. He deposited his phone into the cup holder, then punched the roof of his car with a shit-eating grin on his face. He'd scored your number and a date in one night—damn right, he did.

You had reasoned with yourself that this was okay based on the fact that you weren't on company time.

"Shoooooot," you whistled with a slight arch in your brows and applause. You tracked the distance Eric's driving shot sent the golf ball flying, and in the early morning sunlight, the white sphere disappeared over the crest of green hill.

You figured being courted by a club member during your own free time was a loophole you could live with. Especially when such a loophole looked so good swinging a golf club.

His follow through was just as beautiful as he was, his arms lifting the golf club over behind him from the arc. When he lowered the club to turn back to you, he was beaming. "What's the verdict?"

Your golf club was currently acting as your arm rest as you staked the head against the grass. "I don't know, Eric," you sucked in a breath, teasingly. "I think you could've gone pro."

He laughed then, eyes narrowed into glorious upturned crescent moons. "Thanks, cutie." He made a gesture to the tee. "All yours."

"Let me preface this by saying that it's been awhile," you were quick to say as the nerves suddenly bubbled up into your chest and made you wanna do a jittery shuffle. You should not have let Eric go first.

"No worries," he chirped. "Why don't we practice first?"

Yes, practice. Thank god he knew where your head was at.

You eagerly agreed, and set your golf ball up on the tee. Nervously, you smoothed your gloves down the front of your pleated golf skirt. You lined up the face of the golf club with the ball and pulled it back a millimeter—

Then chickened out.

"Performance anxiety," you grimaced to your date.

"Oh, well, that's okay!" Eric set his golf club down on the field and made his way over to you. "Can I help?"

Yes. "Please do," you chuckled, leaving room for him to take your club.

But instead, he shook his head. "No, no. You won't learn anything from just watching, silly goose."

He grabbed the golf club over your hands and lined both of your bodies up correctly. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his front pressed against your back. His mouth was so close to your ear again, and there was that damned cologne making you see hearts.

"Sorry, is this okay?" He asked softly.

You gulped, nodding. "Yeah. Perfectly okay." You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat quicken like a drum crescendoing. If he wasn't careful, your heart might just fall out and run to his arms.

From this position, Eric smoothly guided you through the steps of a perfect swing. The pullback was cranked over your shoulder, then the club would swing straight through, followed by the arc back over your other shoulder and the appropriate turn of your body. As he had explained to you, getting the perfect swing or shot in sports mostly came down to the follow through. If one could not back up their initial movement, then why make the shot?

"—and you turn your body—yeah, just like that," he praised as you automatically rotated yourself from the side to the front, the toe of your foot digging into the ground and turning with you. "That's beautiful."

He backed up from you then, giving you some space. It suddenly felt like you were missing something with him gone. "You should try it now!"

You took a deep breath in as you lined your golf club up with the ball again. Cranking the club back over your shoulder, you swung it down and back up again. When the face of the club met the ball, it did so with a resounding PING!, and the ball went sailing.

(That sound… mwah. The sweet, sweet sound of triumph.)

"You did it!"

"I did it!"

It hadn't gone as far as Eric's had, but it had definitely traveled farther than it would have without his help. You whirled to him, clasping his hand with yours as you both shared equally radiant smiles. A giddiness flooded into you, and no doubt into the glow of your face.

"See? Not too bad," he said, squeezing your hand.

"All thanks to you," you pointed out.

He shook his head, using your linked hands to lead you back to where your golf bags were waiting a little ways back by the cart. "Nah, you had it in you, Yn. It was just performance anxiety, as you said."

The two of you each grabbed your own bags and hiked them over your shoulder to head down the hill and find your respective golf balls. From this view, you could see that the other patrons of the club were slowly trickling out onto the acres surrounding. It felt strange to be here as not a staff member, but as a guest instead.

Eric piped up, "Is it weird that I was hoping you would ask for my help?"

"Not really," you mused, then meekly added, "'cause I was kind of hoping you would offer your help."

He looked about as happy as you felt, and he swung your hands together between you.

It hit you, then, that you were still holding hands. But you didn't let go, and Eric didn't say anything. He just helped you find your golf ball, line up another shot, and hugged you from behind like it was nothing.

From across the pond, Jacob, Changmin, Chanhee, and Haknyeon pulled up over the bridge. The four of them were all piled into a golf cart, and Jacob stopped it just over the crest. They all knew about where you were today and why you were dressed in proper golf attire rather than the country club uniform. They watched with wide eyes (and maybe a camera or two) as you and Eric had a good time.

"Young love," Jacob sighed fondly from his spot in the driver's seat.

"I think it's gross," Changmin giggled. He yelped, furiously rubbing the place on his shoulder that Chanhee had whacked. "Hey! I was kidding!"

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "Let them have their moment. I'm glad Yn-ie let herself have fun with him."

"They look like they're having quite the time," Haknyeon said. "They're cute."

Changmin poked his head in between Jacob and Haknyeon from the backseat. "Just a thought, but what if we turned on the sprinklers like in High School Musical 2?"

An exchange of looks, a deep consideration… "No," they all chorused. They would get their asses kicked for that.

You were on lunch break when Changmin practically crashed onto the bench next to you with a crazed look in his eyes. "You. Me. Spa. Now."

You couldn't even say goodbye to the sandwich you were eating before Changmin grabbed your arm and dragged you across the club.

"Changmin! What the hell—"

"I'll explain in a second!" He hissed back at you while ducking into the service entrance of the spa.

The backdoor led to a staff break room, where Chanhee was currently (coincidentally) seated on a stool eating a box of Pepero while watching a cartoon on his phone. The man glanced up from his phone at the loud commotion, one cheek full of his snack, and he blinked. "You're lucky I'm not with a client right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Changmin said, dragging you and a stool over to Chanhee at the same time. He pushed your shoulders so you would take a seat. Changmin placed his hands on his hips as he stood before the two of you. "You're never gonna guess what I just overheard."

"What?" You and Chanhee asked at the same time.

"Well, you know Clara?"

Chanhee jumped right in. "The one fooling around with that Brian Yang guy. He's the heir to that one corporation monopolizing SIM cards or some shit."

How the hell…?

Changmin's head bobbed vigorously. "Yes, yes! That's the one. Anyways—I was walking past the manager's office and they were talking loud enough to hear with headphones on. Apparently, Clara and Brian had a nasty, nasty split, and Brian got her fired."

Silence.

Chanhee's eyebrows flew up. "Like… fired-fired?"

A grave nod. "Fired-fired."

You held your head in your hands. "Just because of a break up?" You asked. "Clara is such a nice girl."

Your friend's lips were pressed into a line. "Doesn't mean he's a nice guy. I dunno—" he threw his hands in the air and let them flop back against his legs, "—it's fucked, man. He said it was, like, too awkward to be around her all the time since he was here all the time. And because his father is one of the stockholders of the country club, Manager Kim could do little but do his bidding."

Your heart had fallen into the pit of your stomach. Drama like this didn't really happen often here, but there was always something going on.

You always thought there were assholes here, but sometimes they just kept on reminding you of it.

"And now I'm fooling around with one of the club members," you thought aloud. The realization hit you, a golf ball to the face. "Oh my god."

Chanhee's hand came up to your shoulder and gave you a soothing, warm squeeze. "Eric seems like a good guy, Yn-ie. You never know."

"But you really never know," you murmured. There was a reason why the club discouraged romantic relations between club members and staff. Perhaps this time, it wasn't about work productivity, but about keeping your damn jobs. You needed this job. You needed it so desperately because of the money, the opportunities, the connections. Not to mention all of the people you'd befriended here… it didn't seem right that you were scared of what Eric could do to you, but reality was settling in fast.

The Sohns were a major shareholder in the club, which meant they could pull strings like tying a shoelace.

But Eric is good. He's been good, you reasoned.

Changmin crossed his arms as he leaned back against the wall behind him. "You should talk to him. At the very least, you only went on one date, so it's not like you're completely involved yet."

That was a good point. You were going to run with it.

When Eric invited you over to his house, you should have known you were about to drive your beat up sedan into the driveway of a palace, not a house. A house was for normal people, not whoever the Sohns were, you knew that much. To say you were intimidated by the massive front lawn, iron gates, and limestone arches and columns would be an understatement. Maybe you should have worn something nicer.

You pulled up to the curb of the roundabout—he'd mentioned to you that you could just park there. Apparently the garage was a little inconvenient for guests, but you weren't complaining. The front of the house was a marvel to look at, and wherever that garage was would have left you unable to fully soak in this modern wonder. Plus, you had some time to pull yourself together before seeing Eric.

The plan was… no plan, really. He wanted to hang out with you, and you'd mentioned your love for cooking. Thus, he proposed a miniature cooking class in his kitchen, along with dinner on the patio. It sounded nice. It also sounded great when you remembered what you needed to talk to him about. (Yay.)

It's not a big deal. Eric's cool.

You finally managed to trek your way up to the front door and you booped the doorbell. It was one of those loud bells that must have echoed throughout the house, because you could clearly hear it from the outside.

A couple minutes later, you heard the locking mechanism come undone. The door opened after; you swore that every time you saw this guy, you became speechless.

You had seen him in a dress shirt before, but this tank top and over-shirt thing was new. It was casual and comfortable, yet chic. His hair was styled in the same manner his clothing was—simple and so attractive. A silver chain and matching silver rings added the subtle touch of elegance to pull everything together.

"Hi," he grinned—he was always smiling, you realized. It was such a pretty smile. He stepped aside and gave you room in the doorway. "Come on in, cutie."

"Thanks for having me over," you said pleasantly, trying not to openly gawk at the front foyer with the sky-high ceiling, chandelier dripping with crystals, and grand staircase wrapping around the walls up to the indoor balcony.

He closed the door behind you as you deposited your shoes by the small rack. Eric wrapped a loose arm around your shoulder to guide you through the foyer. "Of course! I'm so excited you're here; I went out—actually no, I…" he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "ordered it off that grocery app. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for."

"Grocery app?" You laughed. "Are you talking about the stuff for dinner?"

"Yeah!"

The two of you entered the kitchen. It was a wide, open space that flowed straight into the living room. The cabinets were smooth and snow white, accented with countertops marbled with black and hints of gold. Though clean, it was a space well-loved with a recipe book left open to a lobster risotto; little candies left in a jar on the island labeled with chalk; barstools that weren't quite aligned, like they'd actually been sat on. The living room, too, was beautiful. Massive, but beautiful, with a wraparound couch sectional and a flat screen with family photos hung above it. It was framed by shelves filled to the brim with CD and DVD cases, more family photos, books, and little baubles.

And the lighting. Oh man, the natural lighting from the windows making up the entire back wall… it led out onto the acres of land his family owned, as well as a patio that overlooked the valley.

Eric had mentioned dinner on the patio. If your math was right, that meant you would probably be dining at sunset, all while overlooking a splendid view—how romantic. God, you hated how giddy you were starting to get. Those butterflies in your stomach would not cease.

"You have a really, really beautiful home," you murmured, letting him take your bag from you to place on one of the barstools.

You had always thought that big houses like this would be so difficult to fill. What was one supposed to do with so much space anyway? From the pictures on the wall, you could see Eric's parents, himself, as well as a sister who must have been out making her own mark on the world in that special Sohn kind of way. Even with just four people in this place… they still managed to make it feel like a home and not a house. It was like your own house back in your hometown, across the country. It was lived-in and warm and yours, and that was the beauty of it. And you were certain by just looking at this place that the Sohns were a family who loved each other.

How could you not believe in Eric? Not with all of this to vouch for him? He had grown up loved.

"Thank you," he said. "It's one of my favorite places to be. That's why I still haunt it like a ghost," he joked. He placed a warm hand on the small of your back and led you over to the fridge where he had put all of the grocery delivery bags in. Even the fridge was relatively stocked. "Not sure if everything I got was right, but hopefully it'll all turn out delicious anyway."

You helped him unload the bags onto the kitchen island, raising a brow at the labels on the groceries. They were on the higher end of price and quality, which definitely wasn't a problem, but holding a hundred dollar bottle of red wine just for sauce was making your anxiety levels spike. "Oh, no. It all looks great, Eric. Thanks for getting these, by the way. I would have gone out and brought them here, but—"

He waved away your worries. "You're busy and you're working. Plus, it lets me technically pay for dinner," he said with a cheeky look on his face and gesturing with a finger gun. It was cute. He was cute.

"Smooth, Sohn. I see you."

"That's what they called me in high school," he played along, dancing on his toes behind you to fiddle with his phone and turn on a speaker somewhere (you didn't know where). "Smooth Sohn."

You snorted, slapping a hand over your mouth. Eric's eyes glittered with a mutual mirth. "Whatever you say, honey."

He waltzed back over to you, tongue in cheek. "I like that better though—honey." He leaned back against the counter next to you and watched as you sorted out the ingredients in different piles depending on how they should be prepped. "So what's the plan, chef? You're the boss."

"I'd love to know where your knives and cutting boards are," you said.

He leapt into action. "Say no more!"

In reality, you did have to say more. It wasn't that Eric didn't know where everything was in the kitchen, he just wasn't as well versed in using the kitchen. He'd told you while teaching him how to hold a knife properly that he really only came in here for ramen. Good news was he could crack an egg with one hand; bad news was that was about all he could do. It was still charming, nonetheless. And the cute cooking lesson gave him plenty of opportunity to get close to you.

He had even insisted on you teaching him how to chop carrots like how he had taught you how to swing a golf club—over and around him—with your hands over his and your body wrapped around his, your chin on his shoulder.

But with dinner well past done, the two of you made your way out onto the patio just as the sun was sinking into the embrace of the valley below. It melted into the sky like a broken yolk, saturated and golden. He let you have the seat staring out into the valley. The way he looked at you though, made you feel like you were his million dollar valley view.

The table was set with twin glasses of red wine (amazing what a good wine paired with beef stew could do for the soul), plates separated by a hot stew pot, and a couple of candles for ambiance.

"Wow," he moaned as the beef melted on his tongue. "This is so good. And you're telling me you're pretty, smart, and can cook?"

You held back a giggle so you could swallow your bite. "And I'm single," you jested.

"And you're single!" He leaned his head back, eyes closed. "Thank god for that."

Eric leaned his cheek on his fist, his head cocked slightly and his eyes on you with a swoon-worthy admiration. "Thanks for coming out tonight and hanging out with me."

You could kiss him. "Please, I should be the one thanking you. It's been really fun hanging out with you." It was surreal, actually. The fact that this young heir had deemed you "worthy" or whatever to court and entertain—it wasn't like you defined your self worth by his attention and affection, but this felt nice. Your conversation with Changmin and Chanhee the other day came to the forefront of your mind.

"I, uhm, think this is a good time to ask if you wanted to do this more often? Hanging out with me, I mean."

You weren't sure if this was what you thought he was asking you. He reached for his wine glass, and in the fading sunlight and the candlelight illuminating the bashful expression on his face, your heart pounded.

"What I mean to say," he tried again after a small sip of wine, "is would you be my—"

"I think we should talk!" You cut in before you heard anymore. You were getting jittery, unable to figure out when was the right time to bring up the thing, but also, you wanted him to say his thing, and it was just a mess. But when you saw Eric's wide eyes, mouth zipped up, you repeated in a much calmer tone, "I think we should talk about something. It's not… it's not super serious or anything. I could just be overthinking."

Oh, you felt bad. He looked like a kicked puppy, but you saw him pull himself together for you. "It's—you're probably not overthinking, Yn. What's on your mind?"

The wine glass was put down. He even put his fork down.

Were you making a big deal out of this? Probably not, right? This was important, you reminded yourself. You pursed your lips. "So one of my coworkers—former coworkers," you amended, "Clara. Her name's Clara. She and this guy you might know, Brian Yang…"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know of him."

"Well, they kind of had this thing going on between them. And the other day, she was fired because they broke up and he thought it was too weird that she was working where he was hanging out all the time," you rambled on. "And I uhm, I just wanted to make sure from the get-go that… you know… it's stupid, I don't know. But it's my job, y'know? And—and I need this job, but I like you a lot, Eric. Am I making any sense?"

Neither of you were eating anymore.

You looked at him, hopelessly, searching for signs of understanding.

He leaned in slightly and reached for your hands over the table. "Yn, sweetheart," he said, lacing his fingers with yours over the pot of beef stew, "that is a valid point to bring up, and I can understand what you're probably thinking. That—that news must have been scary, or at least nerve-racking, and Brian's a dick for that—"

You nodded, swallowing.

"—and I don't want you to risk your job because of me," he said earnestly. "But I really want to see where this goes, you know? If anything happens and you don't feel the same way, then no harm, no foul. I'm not gonna take my emotions out on you like that asshole; that's not right."

The breath you had been holding in fell from your mouth, a wave of relief. A sappy, grateful sort of smile worked its way onto your mouth and you met Eric's own kind expression. "You are actually perfect," you let out a breathy laugh. "Where have you been all my life?"

He grinned. "Funny, that's what I've been thinking about you." Eric set your laced hands on the side of the table as he raised his glass to you. "So what do you say? Can we try this?"

You lifted your glass to gently clink it with his. "Let's do it."

"So he's perfect, but he hasn't kissed you yet?" Chanhee's gasp of incredulity hit you in a gust of air. His lips pursed like a penguin's beak. "Figures."

You sent him a look. "Oh, please. Figures what? He's just being… I dunno, chivalrous!"

"Chivalry is dead," Haknyeon snickered as he waltzed by you with fresh towels to lay out by the pool. "You should make the move, Yn."

"So you two are, like, dating now?" Asked Changmin as he hopped onto the tiki bar stool next to you and Chanhee. He kept on glancing down at his watch; he must have only a small break in between his dance classes today.

"They're 'seeing where things go,'" mocked Jacob with a shake of his head. He swirled a rag around the innards of a glass to dry it.

You sent them all dirty looks now. "Cobie, out of all the times you choose to be an imp—"

"An imp," Chanhee muttered, glancing away as he took a sip of his piña colada, "I'm dead."

"If it makes you feel better, Yn, I'm supervising a tennis match with him and the Lee cousins later today. I can get a feel of where his mind's at," Jacob offered.

You drummed your fingers against the bar. The offer was tempting… "It's fine," you insisted. "We don't have to rush things. We go to the same university and we live in the same city now. It's not like we don't have time… right?"

"Riiiight," Changmin drawled with an over exaggerated wink. He frowned at his watch, hopping off his stool. "Damn it, salsa class time. Catch you losers later!"

As he darted off into the distance, Chanhee sniffed. "Says the loser." He plucked the pink umbrella out of his drink and set the decoration down on his napkin. "You're not wrong, Yn-ie. Taking it slow isn't a bad thing. From what you told us, it seems like you're both on the same page now anyway."

"Thank you," you said.

"Maybe he's trying to plan a romantic moment." Haknyeon rejoined the conversation now that he had done his towel delivery.

Jacob nodded with an approving turn of his lips. "You might be onto something. He seems the type."

Your heart was fluttering as if it sprouted butterfly wings. Oh, the thought of kissing Eric Sohn in romantic lighting…

"I think you should take her back to her job before she drifts fully into La La Land." When you snapped back to reality, Jacob's eyes were twinkling, eyebrows wagging.

Haknyeon nudged you with the back of his hand and nodded up to the clubhouse. "C'mon, Yn-ie. I think Manager Kim wants to brief us on dinner service anyway."

Hours later, Jacob found himself on the tennis courts, overseeing a match between the three Lee cousins—Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Juyeon—and Eric. He often thought it was luck that got him to land this job where all he did to pass the day was make drinks, drive golf carts, and occasionally play doubles with club members. For all that it was, he considered himself very content.

"—that was a foul," Jacob declared, jogging to go catch the tennis ball before it bounded into the bushes.

Hyunjae let out a groan. "Nooo! It hit the line. Jacob, please, I thought we were cool!"

Sangyeon shook his head, smiling as he caught the tennis ball from Jacob with his free hand. "Hyunjae, we all know your eyesight is shit."

Hyunjae wrinkled his nose. "Hey! No one asked."

"Can we take a break?" Juyeon asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I think I need some water."

The boys all murmured their agreement, and Jacob reached down into the mini cooler he'd lugged out to toss them ice cold bottles of water. It was just one of the few perks that came with the club membership.

While Sangyeon and Hyunjae were bickering about eyesight and foul lines, Juyeon settled into a seat by them to referee. Eric sidled up next to Jacob as they both absentmindedly watched the chaos unfold from afar.

Jacob whistled. "So… Yn said she had a really good time with you the other night."

Eric perked up at the sound of your name. "She did? Well that's a relief to hear."

"It wasn't clear?" Jacob asked, face tilted in question. "I mean, not to completely expose her or anything, but she's been gushing about you all day, man."

A giddy smile took over the youngest Sohn's face. "She was?" He licked his lips, drawing the pad of his thumb over the corner of his mouth to catch the water that had dribbled from the bottle. "She's—she's so cute, hyung. Like, I don't know if this is weird for you because you're friends—"

Jacob coughed in amusement. "It's fine. Think of me as your guardian angel."

"Right," Eric piped up. "I think… I think we really hit it off, y'know? And I mean, she probably told you we just kind of had dinner and she had to leave, but she'd come after work, so she was probably tired and—"

Ohhh. Jacob understood exactly what was going on now. His heart warmed at the thought that Eric was being so considerate and not forcing you to stay. He was thinking about your long day, and didn't wish to prolong it anymore. Little did he know, you probably wouldn't have minded hanging around a tad longer.

"—I wanted to kiss her—"

Wait huh. Jacob tuned back in. "When?"

Eric blinked. "Uhm, at dinner. Or at least, when I was walking her out to her car." He glanced away and his smile softened at the thought. "I wish I had, actually. The moment was right there, and the lighting was perfect, and her smile—oh my god, her smile."

Jacob's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. So this was where Eric's mind was at; good to know. "Then do it—kiss her."

"Right now?"

"No! Not right now—"

"Hey, you guys ready to play again?" Juyeon called. The three Lees had already maneuvered themselves back to court.

Eric and Jacob exchanged glances. This conversation wasn't over, Jacob's look seemed to say.

They nodded to their companions, though. "Yeah, we're ready."

It did not come as a surprise to you when you found out Eric had a home theater in his basement. It was something like you'd pictured from the movies, the ones with the rows of dark leather armchairs, deep cup holders, and a giant screen and surround sound system. The foot of the theater room even had a little snack station to make popcorn, and a mini fridge stocked with drinks.

You and Eric shared the couch on the bottom floor that was big enough for the two of you. It was a random Tuesday, and you didn't have work today, so he'd suggested swinging by and hanging out with him for the day. You couldn't possibly refuse.

Eric scrolled through the movie options on the screen with the remote. "Are you sure you don't want any popcorn?" He asked you.

You shook your head. "I'm good, really. But it sounds like you want popcorn, Eric."

He caught his tongue in his smile. "Maybe."

If you weren't supposed to be watching a movie, you would have gladly curled up on that couch and stared at him for the rest of time. His jawline was enough to make a girl go mad, and the fact that he was just so sweet, too—

"How about this one?"

You snapped out of it, barely flicking your gaze back over to the screen in time to avoid him finding out that you were just blatantly staring. "Uhh, sure. I haven't seen this one, actually."

"Really? Oh my god, we have to watch it then." And so you did.

It was about halfway into the movie that you realized there was a draft coming down on you—the air conditioning in this room was awfully high, but you didn't want to say anything. You hiked your legs up onto the couch and hugged your arms, leaning back slightly against the quilt draped over the back of the couch. (How conveniently placed…)

Eric saw your movement from the corner of his eye. "You cold? We can share the blanket."

"My hero," you joked as he removed the quilt from behind your heads and draped it over your laps.

Because the article wasn't exactly miles long, you and Eric had to shift over closer to each other. Not that you were complaining. The arm and leg pressed against yours were warm, and it gave him the perfect opportunity to raise his arm and place it over the back of the couch behind you.

As you both watched the rest of the movie, you gradually let yourself lean into him, and his arm eventually fell to rest directly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"I always liked the ending of this movie," Eric murmured softly to you as the credits rolled. He brushed his fingers along your arm in a warm, soothing manner. "What'd you think?"

You stayed with your head tucked onto his shoulder. "Hmm, not bad. I think they could have cut the romance though."

"Ah, I see your point," he said. "Sometimes directors just like to force it for the sake of a subplot."

"Wholeheartedly agree."

His fingers danced up to your shoulder and began playing with your hair. He pursed his lips. "Are you a fan of romance movies? That's kind of a random question, I guess."

"Not really—a random question, I mean," you said, and pulled your head off of his shoulder to face him. The thought occurred to you of how close your bodies and your faces were, sharing warmth and skin. You saw his eyes dart down away from yours for a split second. "I like romance movies. I think they restore my faith in humanity," you mused. "You?"

"I like 'em, too." He released a small exhale, an almost-shy smile etching itself onto his face. "Most of them are just… feel-good movies. They're really sweet, and I've always kind of wanted something like that."

"High standards," you whispered, though playfully. "Wouldn't we all like something from the movies?" To you, this was what the movies were like—"handsome guy sweeps girl off her feet, and he's perfect and she's happy." You were already living out your too-good-to-be-true dreams.

He laughed. "True. I think it's just a matter of waiting for the right person to come along, maybe. And following through."

You bit the bait. "Following through?"

"Backing up your initial swing," he clarified. "Something to drive the ball home and make sure you mean it. I feel like maybe that's what people forget about romance—that there's still an after, beyond happily ever after."

Wow. "Your brain," you praised. "That was actual poetry, I think. Is this how you get girls?"

He bit his lip through a smile, leaning closer. "Only one girl. I hope it's working."

"I think it's working a little too well," you admitted, voice barely audible now.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan over your lips as he came closer, about ninety-percent of the way; the other ten percent was left for you to either push forward or pull back. He was giving you the decision on a gold platter.

And who could deny something served so beautifully?

You closed the gap between you and pressed your lips against his. It was soft, at first, as the nerves in your brain and your vital organs threatened to go haywire. You breathed him in, your noses slotting against each other. He cupped the back of your head with his free hand, the other curling around your waist.

When you broke apart, it was for a split second, until he was kissing you again. You were half in his lap at this point, your legs draped over his, your side pressed to his chest.

Foreheads pressed together, you shared a breath of air with him. He nuzzled his nose against you as if unable to be so far from you. "Be mine," he said, simple at first. Then, "Please."

You smiled against him and felt his mouth do the same. "Only if you'll be mine, too."

"As if I would say no," he laughed, leaning in again, and crushing his mouth to yours. The theater room filled with both of your giggles as you fell backward.

If this was the happily ever after, then you would gladly follow through.

a/n: to anyone who read flight risk, i just redeemed myself from valentine's day

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @kflixnet

#kflixnet #bjnet #deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #sohn youngjae x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #eric sohn drabbles #eric sohn oneshots #eric sohn imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn fluff #the boyz fanfic #dbn: summer on you

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mncxbe · 9 days

Note

Sfw 8 + NSFW 12 + 17 with Denji

My babygirl deserves some love <3

the way i ate this up😳 the brainrot is brainrotting. collegeAU with Denji cuz I like to believe he'd be as much of a loser then♡ gaah i love him so much. also y/n is rich rich👀 for extra silly and damn this turned out way longer than i anticipated.

8– accidentally walking in on them while they're changing

12– catching them stealing your panties

17– they worship your body

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: alcohol cunsumption (reader is tipsy), cunnilingus, Denji being a perv, implied virginity loss, subby Denji

For your 19th birthday you decided to host the greatest party of the year and everyone in your grade was invited.

The penthouse your parents allowed you to live in during college was nicely decorated– black and white balloons and drizzle, flashy lights and speakers that started blaring loud music as soon as the sun set. Everyone was having a blast, downing glasses of neon colored punch and cheap beer, dancing and chatting in groups. Well, everyone except you. You were painfully bored.

When you threw the party of the year you didn't expect everyone to forget the purpose of the whole fucking event– celebrating your birthday.

You've been sitting all by yourself on the couch for the past half hour, sipping on a plastic cup of cocktail. Your gaze mused on the livingroom of your apartment, trying to find someone interesting to talk to. The only people who approached you were some guys from Arts who tried to chat you up, but they rambled on about some uninteresting exhibitions and you soon got bored and shunned them.

As you got up to refill your glass, you noticed someone slipping inside your bedroom. The fuck.. you thought, pushing past drunk people on your way towards your room. You swung the door open and saw a blond guy about your age standing in front of your dresser. When he heard you barge in he immediately slammed the drawer shut, his head snapping in your direction.

It was Denji. Just Denji.

Though you briefly interacted with the Denji, you knew him from highschool. He was the guy who used to let other students use him as a chair during breaks for some spare change. You remembered working on some group projects with him back then but you seldom saw him around campus now. He mostly kept to himself, so you were surprised too see him at your party in the first place— not to mention you certainly didn't expect to catch him going through your lingerie drawer. Still, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing...

"Well, well what do we have here?" you chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

"Y/N hi" he said nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt "I was just um... looking for a place to change. Someone spilled some punch on my clothes"

You noticed the stain on his shirt and smiled, closing the door behind you. "And you thought you'd find a clean tshirt somewhere next to my panties?"

A blush crept on his face as he looked down at his shoes. "No, I mean I was just looking..." he fumbled "It's not like I was snooping around on purpose, i'm not that kind of guy" His voice was weak, half hearted as he looked around the room. At anything but you.

Swaying your hips, you closed the distance between you "So you're not some perv who's trying to steal my panties?" you asked and he shook his head. "N-no I'd never–"

"The show me your pockets"

Denji's face grew livid when he heard your command and you knew you had him. He was caught red handed and there wasn't much he could do about it. If he admitted maybe you'd at least allow him to stay at the party for a bit longer The boy couldn't bear to look you in the eyes as he reached a hand to the back pocket of his jeans and procured a pair of your lacy panties.

"Here, take them, but just know it's not what you think." It was cute that he still tried to find excuses for his actions and you blamed the alcohol for the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you gazed up at him with droopy eyes.

All the while, Denji was getting more and more nervous. His palms were sweaty, heart hammering in his chest as he peered at you. God, you were so damn beautiful– Though he didn't admit it, Denji had a crush on you from the first moment he saw you. You were the pretties girl in school, which meant you were way out of his league. A goddess like you would never spare a moment of her time on someone like him, right? Well, his conviction was starting to crumble now that he saw the way you eyed him down with that taunting glint in your eyes.

"Ya know, Denji, I don't recall you giving me a gift or wishing me happy birthday. It's awfully rude of you." you slurred, tapping the floor with the tip of your heels.

His sorry excuses were half drowned by the blaring music in the other room. Your head was starting to get foggy from the alcohol, limbs growing heavier, as if an invisible weight was pulling you down against mattress. "Jee... quit the whining" you giggled, waving a dismissive hand in his direction "I'm not mad at you. However, I do think you need to make up for it."

"Y/N, I told you I'm in a tight spot with money this month, but I'll buy you something nice once I get my paycheck."

"I'm not talking about that" you deadpanned, a sly smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze drifted down towards his belt and then back up to his face, taking in his frame. You couldn't deny he wasn't bad looking. Out of all the guys at the party, he seemed the best option for a casual hookup– not to mention he was already interested in you, so why not give it a try? With a motion of your finger, you beckoned him closer, pointing at the floor "Get on your knees."

Denji swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered the courage to step away from your dresser. With hesitant steps he covered the distance between the two of you and kneeled before you, his hands folded in his lap. His fists clenched and unclenched as he anxiously waited for your instructions.

To be frank, you never expected him to obey so you were quite taken aback by his attitude.

"You still let people order you around, Denji? How cute" you cooed, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and pulling him closer to the edge of the bed.

The blond tried his best not to peek under your skirt, his face turning red from embarrassment. He's never been so close to a girl before, let alone someone as beautiful as you and he was nervous. As if reading his mind you let out a low chuckle, hiking up your skirt.

"Come on, Denji, take off my panties. If you make me feel good I'll let you keep them."

By this point Denji was too far gone. Your silken voice put him under a spell and he eagerly pulled down your lingerie. A small moan slipped past his lips when he saw the string of arousal connecting your pussy to the silky fabric, his features melting into a pleading expression. He looked so needy, gazing at your bare cunt with those puppy eyes, his hands shaking lightly as he fully removed your panties and let them fall in his lap.

"There you go, Denji. Get a good look of it." you encouraged, running your fingers through his tangled hair to ease him into the new situation. You could tell it was his first time seeing a woman naked and didn't want to scare him off. So you took things slowly, waiting for him to get comfortable. Little did you know there was no need for that.

Denji was basically drooling over your pussy. He rested his head against your thigh, leaning into your touch as he spread your puffy folds with his thumb. His breath stuck in his throat when he noticed just how wet you were and it was all because of him. With shaky fingers, he collected the slick from your hole and spread it nicely along your clit, making you flinch.

"There?" he asked in a barely audible voice but you heard him nevertheless. "Y-yea, right there."

He slowly drew circles on your bud, making you writhe on the mattress and you spread your legs wider, shamelessly grinding on his hand. Sloppy movements over your clit had increased in intensity and you could feel the knot in your abdomen tighten with each swipe of his digits.

"Go on, baby, give it a taste" you said in a hushed voice and he immediately obliged. Hooking your other leg over his shoulder, Denji's hands gently massaged your thighs. He kissed his way up to your core, wet lips tracing the inside of your thighs, teeth nipping at your skin but not enough to leave marks.

He licked a stripe of your cunt from your hole to your clit, relishing the taste of your arousal. You were basically melting on his tongue and he was adamant to please you. As the grip on your thighs tightened, Denji collected some spit in his mouth and let the blob slide down your slit. He started eating you out slow, savouring the heat on his tongue but he soon increased the pace. It was clear that he had little idea of what he was doing– he was sloppy, messy, a mixture of slick and spit coating his chin as he lapped at your juices and you swore you got ten times wetter just by hearing him moan into your cunt.

His tongue flicked your clit so eagerly, lips wrapping around your bud, giving it an experimental suck. Your hips jolted up in pleasure but Denji quickly pulled you back on his face.

"Is it good?" he mumbled, pussy drunk eyes briefly meeting your as you nodded.

"Y-yea. You're so good Denji, gonna make me cum soon."

He mewled at your praise, his ministrations growing in intensity as heat pooled in your core. You were so close, choked moans spilling from your lips as your vision blurred. Denji made you feel so good you were starting to regret not paying more attention to him all those years back. He ate you out like it was his lifeline, hugging your thighs closer to his face to keep you from squirming too much. When you came you came hard, nails grazing his scalp as you pulled him closer to your cunt, grinding down on his face to ride out your high.

"Denji fuck—" you whined, arching your back off the mattress and he gently massaged the fat of your thighs and hips, his hands seeking your body you.

"I got you, just cum for me ok? Please feel good" he said softly, kissing your pussy and the inner side of your thighs before working his way up to your belly. He didn't dare go past the line of your dress, though all he wanted was to keep touching and kissing, to soak you up in all the love and affection he harbored for you during all these years.

When you looked down at him with those droopy, drunk-dazed eyes his heart sank, a soft smile etching onto his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a small voice as you pushed yourself up to sitting and held his face in your hands, leaning towards him. Denji's eyes rolled back into his skull as you kissed him, his lashes fluttering shut. You could taste yourself on his tongue along with the sweet punch he drank earlier that night. The kiss was heated and you pulled him on top of you, tugging at the wristband on his jeans.

"H-hey wait a minute I've never done this before" he tensed up but you shushed him with another needy kiss.

"Shit, I don't care if you're a virgin Denji I just need you so bad right now. Please" you huffed out and he felt his dick getting impossibly harder. He could almost cum in his pants at the sight of your pleading expression.

"Okay..." he whispered, hesitantly unbuckling his belt and you could tell he was nervous again. With sloppy movements he managed to allign himself to your entrance, shuffling around to make sure everything was alright, but just as he was about to push himself inside he perked up, patting your thigh. "Oh, Y/N I almost forgot."

"What?" you whined, grinding your needy pussy on his length. Why can't he just fuck you already?

The blond looked down at you with a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling with adoration "I think I still haven't wished you happy birthday"

#this turned out way longer than i expected #i believe in denji eating reader out supremacy i'm telling you this man gives good head #𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#chainsaw man #chainsaw man smut #csm x reader #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji #denji x reader #denji smut

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drxmxss · 4 months

Text

Hole in One | Taeyong x Fem! Reader

a/n: 🤭 my first little one shot yay!! i hope y’all like it hehe.

notes: taeyong is bored and rich, reader is a cart girl at a country club, fluffy and smutty, overuse of the word hole lol

warnings: smut..thats abt it !

word count: 2.6k

Enjoy!! Tysm 🩷

———

“You really need to stop staring at her. It’s weird.”

Johnny’s voice breaks Taeyong out of his trance.

“I’m not staring.” He grumbles. “I’m trying to think of what I want.”

“Is he staring at the beverage cart girl again?” Mark asks, standing up straight again, holding his golf club like a baseball bat over his shoulder.

Taeyong doesn’t know why he goes with the two to play the absolute most boring game he’s ever heard of. Golf was terrible. They had to wake up at ass o’clock and dress like they were going to church to get drunk on hot beer. All the while trying to hit the tiniest balls into holes a mile away and stand in the sun for 6 hours. He had no idea why he agreed to go with Johnny and Mark to a country club in the first place. It just wasn’t his style.

Then along came the little golf cart with drinks and snacks driven by you, the beautiful beverage cart girl. Two months and a ridiculous amount of club fees and a set of clubs he didn’t even know how to use later, here he still was.

“If you wanna talk to her so bad stop making me go buy shit from her dude.” Mark says as they get into the cart to go to the next hole. Taeyong sighs, pulling at the itchy white collared shirt he bought specifically to come here.

“It’s not that simple she’s probably just gonna think I’m like these old dudes who play here to creep on her.” Taeyong says. Mark and Johnny share a look. “For starters” Johnny begins. “You don’t look like you have one foot in the grave. She’s probably happy to see us here since we are most likely the youngest members of this stuffy club.” Taeyong shrugs. “Okay what’s your next point?”.

“Second of all, whenever she sees Mark walking up to the cart she immediately scans the field for you and whenever you aren’t paying attention she’s staring just as hard as you do.” Johnny smirks as Taeyong feels his face get hot. You stare too?!?! God that’s hot. Or weird? Embarrassing? Taeyong doesn’t know.

As the boys park the cart near the next hole, Taeyong hears the sound of another cart pulling up behind them. Before he turns around he hears Mark shout “Hey Y/N!”

Taeyong feels his blood run cold.

“Hi Markie! Hi Johnny!” You shout back, waving excitedly from the front seat of your cart. Taeyong wants to die from how pretty your voice is. “I came up here to see if you guys needed to get anything? It’s hot today!”

Taeyong can’t help but stare, still sitting in the golf cart. You just look so cute in your uniform. Perfectly white cap with a tank top and tennis skirt to match. God he feels nauseous.

“Yeah Taeyong wanted something I think.” Johnny says, throwing an evil smile at Taeyong who is plotting on how he can blow up his head with the power of his mind. “Y-yeah right.” He says quickly as he gets out of the cart and walks over towards you.

“Oh so you’re Taeyong! I see you with the boys all the time but I’ve never got to talk to you.” You smile as he stands in front of your cart. “I’m Y/N.”

Taeyong feels sweatier. You can’t be real.

“What did you want hon?” You ask him sweetly, and he feels like he’s melting into a puddle. “I’ve got some chips and sandwiches and I have some chocolate in the ice chest in case you want something sweet? Theres plenty of beer and water too!”

Taeyong stares blankly, too nervous to even breathe and then says shortly “Beer. Please.”

Yep, he’s already fucked up. With any luck his mind magic worked and Johnny will burst into flames at any moment now.

You smile and nod as you turn around to grab the beer from an ice chest. Taeyong tries to be a gentleman but can’t resist sparing a glance at your ass in the pristine white skirt. Nice.

“That’s gonna be $6.” You smile, handing him the drink. Taeyong realizes he didn’t even tell you what brand he wanted at that moment and looks to see you already knew his favorite. He finally manages to smile as he hands you the cash, only to walk away awkwardly to sit in the cart again.

“Okay you boys be careful! I’m gonna circle back around later to make sure you guys have plenty of water!” You wave to Mark and Johnny and beam at Taeyong again. Taeyong’s chest hurts. You are just too sweet.

Taeyong waits to hear the turn of your cart engine, but it never arrives. He turns to see you groan.

“Damn it’s dead.” He hears you grumble.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks you, and you sigh. “No my stupid cart died. I knew it was on it’s last leg but..” You trailed off. “God now I have to lug all this crap back to the clubhouse.”

“We can help you take your stuff back!” Johnny suggests. Taeyong takes back every bad thought he had against him.

“Oh are you sure? It’s kinda far and I don’t wanna interrupt your game!” You reply. Johnny shakes his head “No it’s alright, it’s too hot today anyway we we’re thinking about leaving early anyway.”

In that moment Taeyong knew there was a God and his name was Johnny Suh.

—

Once everyone had all arrived at the clubhouse, Taeyong helped you bring the ice chests inside.

“Are you usually this quiet?” You ask suddenly “I don’t mean to ask in a rude way but after seeing how loud Johnny and Mark are it’s surprising to see how reserved you are.”

Taeyong feels his face get hot again. “Oh um….Not really. Just when I’m tired. It was pretty hot out there.” He chuckles, trying to seem light.

“Ah that makes sense.” You reply. You both leave the ice chests in the main office of the club house just as Taeyong’s phone begins to ring. You signal to him that you’ll be right back as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Take Y/N home.” Johnny whispers. “This is your chance man. You take her home or to your place or whatever in your car me and Mark will just catch a cab.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?” Taeyong whisper yells “She’ll definitely think I’m a creep!”

“She’s always complaining about using a cab to go home, if she brings it up just offer! Worst thing she’s gonna say is no!”

Taeyong sighs as the call ends. Time to be a man he thinks. Johnny is right the worst thing you can say is no.

He turns around to ask you if you needed a ride and finds you standing there in a regular shirt and shorts. Somehow it makes all the more attractive to him.

“Oh um. Johnny had mentioned you complain about taking the cab alot so..” Taeyong begins. Come on be a man! A man!! He thinks. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go get dinner or something and then I can take you home if you want?”

You stare at him briefly. You think to yourself it might be weird to accept and offer from a stranger, but you also know he’s super handsome and you’d be dumb not to.

“I’d love to!”

—

Things continued to go well for both you and Taeyong. You had suggested he pick something up to go after you discovered he lived in such a nice apartment and you wanted to see if he really got away with drawing on the wall. Hearing this made Taeyong almost drive off a bridge, but he obliged.

As Taeyong drove up to his apartment complex, the only thing running through his mind was you. Your laugh your smile your voice. You were so perfect in his eyes.

And now you were going to be in his apartment. He was going to have to think of some way to repay Johnny and Mark one day.

“Wow! This place is great.” You said as you both walked inside. Taeyong smiled at your enthusiasm, setting the food down on the kitchen counter.

“Where’s you bedroom?” You asked, turning to face him. “I wanna see your drawings.”

Taeyong nodded and led you down the hall of his apartment and unlocked his bedroom door to let you in. Immediately you were greeted with neon lights and drawings that littered the wallspace.

“Wow…I really thought you were joking!” You giggled. Sitting on his bed, you admired more of the drawings on the wall.

Taeyong was suddenly aware he was still wearing his stuffy golf clothes. He started to change before he caught you staring at him shirtless. Cracking a smile at you he said “Can I help you?”

You quickly blushed and looked back toward the wall, embarrassed. “Oh I’m sorry for staring..”

Taeyong felt a wave of confidence overtake him as he walked to kneel in front of you, trying to make direct eye contact. “Honestly…it’s okay. I stare too.”

You faced him now, confused. “What do you mean?” Taeyong smiled softly at your expression. “I mean the only reason I even go to that stupid country club is to stare at you in your pretty little uniform all day.”

You stare into his big dark eyes waiting for some sort of change, but it doesn’t come. He’s serious now. You feel your face get even hotter.

Fuck it Taeyong thinks, and leans forward to kiss you softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you forward. You gasp at first, and then melt into him. He deepens the kiss and you moan softly, bringing your hands up to his dark hair.

Before he gets carried away, Taeyong pulls back. “I-is this okay?” He whispers softly, kissing down your neck to make you shiver in his grasp.

“Yes yes.” You whisper back. “I know it’s quick but I know I’ve wanted you ever since you started coming to the club.”

Taeyong feels lightheaded, and laughs as he pushes you down on his bed. “That’s good to hear.” He says, laying on top of you to continue kissing you harder.

Taeyong pulls away again to lift up your shirt and bra, revealing your bare chest. You feel yourself grow shy, but before you even have a second to process your thoughts you feel his mouth on your nipple.

“Fuck” You moan. Taeyong pulls away again and kisses the nape of your neck. “Everyday.” He whispers. “Every single day I was at that stuffy old club all I could think about was your cute little face and how badly I wanted to just flip up your tennis skirt and play with your pussy.” His words make your face feel impossibly hotter and you feel your panties start to stick to your gushing core.

“Taeyong…” You moan again, this time moving your hand down his warm chest and stomach to feel his hard bulge. “Please fuck me.”

“I will baby don’t worry.” Taeyong replies. “I’m just so happy you feel the same way.” He finally stops his ministrations on your neck to sit up and move your hair out of your face to get a better look at you.

“So pretty..” He muses, making you blush even more. Finally, he pulls down your shorts and admires the wet spot on your panties.

“Aw honey I barely even touched you..You’re so cute.” Taeyong says slowly rubbing your clit through your panties making you moan louder. “Hurry up please.” You whine to him.

“I know honey.” He whispers, pulling your panties off making you shiver as the air makes contact with your wetness. Taeyong slowly pushes a finger into your hole, making you whine at how easily he slips in. “Fucking hell.” He curses, amazed at how turned on you are. (And how turned on it makes him.)

“Taeyongie please give me more.” You moan out. Taeyong pushes in another finger quickly scissoring you open after hearing his new nickname. “You are so impossibly cute baby.” He whispers again.

Finally after deeming you ready he pulls off his shorts and underwear in one go. Your eyes widen at the size of his hard cock.

“Baby do you wanna turn around for me? Just for a minute?” Taeyong asks you softly. “I wanna see your pretty ass bounce on my cock first.” His words make you hotter, and without even thinking you’re laying on your stomach with your head in one of his pillows.

Taeyong slowly caresses your back and the moves his hands to grip your ass softly. “So fucking pretty.” He mumbles, lining up his cock with your hole finally.

You both moan when he sinks into you perfectly. Not even sparing a second he starts thrusting slowly, making you moan louder and louder.

“Fuck your so fucking tight around me honey. It’s crazy.” Taeyong babbles, obsessed with the way your ass bounces against him. You can only muster up a half groan in response to him. “Aww has my pretty girl gotten herself cock drunk already?” Taeyong teases you, going faster and harder, making you scream out. “That’s it baby let it out.” He says.

After a few minutes, you feel yourself getting closer to your peak. Suddenly Taeyong pulls out of you, almost making you sob in response.

“I have to see your pretty face when you come baby flip over for me.” Taeyong says, rubbing the small of your back before you quickly move onto your back. He leans down again to kiss at your neck and face before grabbing your cheek kiss you roughly, making you whimper.

Taeyong leans back to line himself up again and slowly pushes in, watching your expression change and once he’s bottomed out he starts of hard and fast, moaning in unison with you. For a moment you think about the shy person he was just a few hours ago, and this change makes you all the more wetter.

You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly, barely making out the words. “Taeyongie…m’gonna come.”

Taeyong leans forward to rest his fore against yours to ask “Where do you want me to cum honey?” The question pushes you further to the edge as you say “Inside.”

This makes Taeyong nearly burst at the thought of it. Soon enough, you feel him getting sloppy as he whispers in your ear “Cum with me baby I know you can my pretty girl.”

Moaning loudly you feel yourself squirt around his thick cock right as he finally explodes inside you, riding out both your orgasms before quickly flopping in the bed next you. He rolls over again to lay his head on your chest as you fight to control your breathing.

“God damn.” You finally say. Taeyong just laughs as he lays on your chest, snaking his arms around your torso to pull you even closer to him.

“Hey I just realized” He says “Our food is probably super cold by now.” You both look at each other for a moment before bursting into another fit of laughter.

As he watches you get up slowly to put the takeout in the microwave and begin a movie marathon Taeyong thinks maybe golf isn’t so bad after all.

#drxmxss writes #nct 127 #nct smut #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct taeyong #taeyong x reader #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #taeyong smut #nct imagines #nct #nct x reader #nct scenarios

188 notes · View notes

my-cherie · 10 months

Text

𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪♡

pairing ꒱modern! step-dad! pantalone x male reader warnings ꒱ step relationships (though reader doesn't know it), cheating on pantalone's part, a few pet names (darling, sweetness, pet), grinding, dirty talk, praise. wc ꒱ 600+ thoughts ꒱ small genshin drabble bc pantalone doesn't get nearly as much appreciation as he deserves, this man is HOT, y'all. inspired by the abba song with the same name. NOT BETA READ.

You hadn’t seen your mom in a long time. Ever since you moved away for college she barely contacted you, so to say you were baffled when her wedding invite came in would be the century’s understatement. Putting on your best suit, you messed with your hair a little more and tried your best to straighten your tie, before giving up and just deciding to go like this. Not like you were trying to impress anyone.

While you were on the way to the ceremony, you checked the invite again. This was maybe your mom’s third husband ever since your dad left? You weren’t sure, but maybe this “Pantalone” (as you came to know his name from the invite) would be nicer than your other step-fathers.

… The place was fancy. You almost wish you hadn’t come, because the venue in itself already seemed straight out of an expensive magazine, with the full-on white decorations, roses and tulips and baby’s breath everywhere and a ton of seats in the middle of a cute, meadow-like wedding venue and now you were sure that this Pantalone guy was at least filthy rich, because your family sure as hell didn’t have the money for this place, even with the money your mom managed to get from her past failed relationships.

You stumble amidst all the guests, making small talk with some cousins, aunts and uncles, before finally settling into the back of the garden, nursing a glass of white wine that you were sure cost more than your apartment. Trying to look for anyone else you knew besides the few relatives you had talked to, you were disappointed to see only strangers.

Fuck, was your mom gonna take too long to come out?

“Hello,” you startled, who— “do you mind if I wait here as well?

Oh, that’s a very pretty man.

He’s wearing probably the most expensive suit you’ve ever seen, with a beautiful blue tie, silver glasses and— Is that a fucking Armani suit?

“Sure dude, uh,” you shift under his attention, distractedly biting the inside of your mouth, scrambling for a common topic you could talk to this stranger about, “do you know the groom?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” He chuckles in amusement and you realize suddenly that he seemed a bit... bored. He was just observing everyone and not moving to greet any of the people in the venue, even though you can see that quite a few people seemed to wave and smile at him.

The unknown man seemed to not want to socialize with anyone else, besides you, that is.

You mess with your tie again, trying to distract yourself from the beautiful, beautiful man besides you. Your tie just never seems to sit correctly on your suits, no matter how many times you've watched those tutorials on Youtube about how to do the perfect tie.

“Do you need some help there?” The man — fuck you forgot to ask his name — asks, clearly seeing you struggle.

“Please, if you could.” You smile at him, embarrassed.

He comes closer, slowly redoing your tie for you, and you stare at his face meanwhile.

Without meaning to, your eyes are attracted to his lips and you bite your own again, thinking about how they look very much kissable. When you look up, he’s already looking directly at you, a smirk playing at his lips and his eyes muddled with arousal.

So you weren’t the only one to feel the pull of attraction between you two then, good. You weren’t even enjoying the wedding anyway.

(The man kisses hard, you dimly register, your body hidden away from view by the way he’s holding you, kissing you breathless.

His knees are slowly grinding your dick and fuck if it doesn’t feel good, making you moan each time he does it, holding his hair tighter.

“Do you like it like that, darling? Does it feel good?” He talks dirty like he’s made for it and when you don’t answer, he pulls away the tiniest bit. “Answer me.”

And you have to gasp for breath, he has already made you into such a mess in a few seconds, it’s humiliating, but not enough for you to not beg him.

“Yes! Yes, it feels amazing! Please, please—“ You don’t know his name, god damn it all. He seems to notice your predicament, because he snickers a bit.

“The name’s Pantalone, sweetness.”

You give him your name as well, completely forgetting that your mom’s soon-to-be-husband has the same name as the stranger ravaging you. Even though it’s a very clearly unique name, your brain has been completely taken by his ministrations, hazy and distracted.

“Cute,” he says, before going back to kissing you to oblivion and starting to grind against your cock with his own, clearly hard and wanting to continue just as much.

“I’m going to enjoy ruining you, pet.”)

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mirnsey · 5 months

Text

꧁𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐒꧂

❣︎𝐃𝟐. 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈❣︎

★✩★✩★✩★

• 𝐧𝐛 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲! 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧! 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝, 𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐛, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 •

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟐.𝟔𝐊

Toji was always seen as someone who wasn't good with money. He barely even upheld a job.. or, no—he wouldn't and didn't have a job at this point. No little jobs wanted to hire him because he seemed too intimidating and as if on the drop of a hat he would rob the place, and he was too lazy to do some big business jobs in offices. So, what do you do when you need money but don't wanna do work? Why not be a sugar baby? Suck some guy off and get paid for it? Easy.

So he went on some websites, looked up some people, and he got hooked up with some CEO of a big business. You were rich too? Perfect! For the first couple of weeks it was easy, Toji ventured to your condo to have a fun night with you, and he would wake up with a stack of cash on the bed side table, and with you nowhere to be found, off to work. It was like that at least five days a week, it was as if it was the nine to five job Toji refused to get. Setting off to your house each night, getting fucked, getting money, and then spending it on whatever.

And that 'whatever' was true as well. You never asked him what he spent his money on, and Toji never thought he had to tell you.

Well.. until this morning.

Toji raised from the silky comforters of your bed, dark eyes flitting over to the bedside dresser for the money, eyes widening when you were surprisingly still there. You were dressed in your work clothes, dark pants and a button up white shirt with your best leather shoes, though your jacket was somewhere else than your shoulders. Your fingers were working at counting out the money, hundreds already split between your forefingers. At the stirring of the man still on your bed, you looked over, eyes nonchalantly flicking over the pale skin of his chest. Most of the skin wasn't as pale as they were supposed to, covered with bites and red marks from last night, the man's calloused hand breaking you out of your reminiscing when it scratched over the valley of his pecs.

You looked back to the green paper in your hands, folding over about eight hundred dollars. You looked back to Toji again, the man already watching you, mostly the money in your hand, curious about something. "What do you use this money for anyway?" You asked, one of your brows raising in question as you waved the money in question.

Toji just shrugged, scratching the back of his neck while his jaw opened wide in a yawn. "Eh.. anything really," he answered, seeming as if he was hiding something. Your eyes bore into him, awaiting for him to say the whole truth. "Gambling, bets.." he listed out, as if it wasn't some waste of money. Your eyes narrowed, slight anger sparking in your voice when you spoke up.

"Do you win?" You asked, fingers tightening around the money. At this rate you would be late for work, and you were never late. Despite asking, you could probably already know the answer to how Toji would run back to you eagerly almost every night for the money to show up the next morning on the bedside dresser. It seemed to just be for the money, but he loved the sex too. "Do you?" You repeated slowly when not getting an answer from Toji, trying to keep eye contact even though he averted his gaze to one of your deep gray walls.

"Not.. really?.. like, once every.. five weeks.." he answered with a shrug, voice making it seem more like a question to himself. Your brows furrowed in annoyance, hand stuffing the roll of money into your pocket. "You mad?" He asked, the wide smirk on his face revealing its joking intentions.

Of course you were mad!

Sure this was just some side hustle because you were bored, trading sex or even just time together for money wasn't bad. And you didn't care at first, but how he would scamper back to you almost every day of the week was concerning after a while. You were wondering what he was doing with that money every time he left, it was a lot too! You asked just to make sure he wasn't buying drugs or something, this of course wasn't as bad—but you were still infuriated. You weren't just giving over money for him to give it away and not use after betting on some bad horse in a race.

Toji needed to be taught a lesson..

Maybe breaking that on time streak would do you some good..

With a roll of your eyes you ran a hand over your face, trying to ease the wrinkles caused by your furrowed brows. You snapped your fingers, gesturing him over as you ventured to the foot of your bed. You watched him walk over to you, black hair still messy and body only covered in his dark boxers. For a moment you just let your eyes rake over him, pupils focusing on his slightly hard cock. Morning wood, great..

Your mind wandered for a moment, if he was like this every time he was over after you had left for work. Did he jerk off before he left as well? Maybe take use of some of the toys tucked away in your side drawer—

Your tongue flicked out of your mouth, licking your lips as they felt unusually dry. You had something you were doing, you couldn't get distracted by the ebony haired man's dick. Leaning back with a sigh you patted your thigh, which Toji thought was an invitation to sit on your lap, which he would gladly take. Getting a quick fuck in before you went off to work? Sure.. would he be getting paid extra? Though, with a quick hit to the back of his thigh and a sharp look in your eyes he realized you wanted him to lay over your lap. Oh no...

Toji grumbled at the hit, leaning over and resting his torso on the top of your thighs, but, oh, would he be grumbling about worse things later on. Toji's dark eyes stared at the shag carpet tucked under your bed, ankles crossing anxiously when you didn't make a move immediately. Your fingers finally started to touch him, caressing the many scares on the man's back. You watched closely as he twitched at your soft touches, hips shifting over your thigh as he tried to get comfortable. His teeth nipped at his bottom lip to keep in a moan when his cock rubbed against your thigh, eyelids lowering.

As Toji continued to shift you sent a swat of your palm on his ass, causing the man to cry out. His face was now flushed in anger but also embarrassment, looking over his shoulder at you. "Hey! Fuck was that—" his words were cut off with another slap to his bottom, body jolting forward in surprise. Are you seriously spanking him over your knee like a child? It was humiliating and it wouldn't do any good, Toji would probably just go and bet his money away once you left for work.

"Count," Was all you said, rubbing your hand over his clothed ass. His brows just furrowed, confused. "I'm not-" at this point he wouldn't get out a full sentence if you kept hitting him as he was speaking. "I said, count." You repeated, fingers grabbing at his hair and pulling his hair back. A sharp hiss left Toji's lips, eyes squeezing closed at the stinging from his scalp.

Toji let out a groan, eyes prying open to face your glare. "One.." he growled, already knowing he would not be liking this. What were you gonna do? Ten spanks to the ass and then you would shoo him off and head to work? Easy. He would be out of here in less than ten minutes.

★✩★✩★✩★

One hour.

It has been.. one hour.

Toji's cheeks were red, and not just the ones on his face. After the first ten hits you had gotten a bit annoyed by the lack of responses by the ebony haired man, so you tugged his boxers off, tossing them somewhere in your room. Now his ass cheeks were a bright red, prints of your hand left on his skin.

He hiccuped lightly, eyes glossy with tears and face stained with already fallen ones. His hands were gripping your pant leg, wrinkling your clothes as he tried to keep his composure. It was painful, it stung, and he probably wouldn't be able to sit for a week.. but it felt.. good? Every hit of your hand caused a shock to rise up his spine, and to his cock.

Speaking of his cock. It was weeping, pressing against the scratchy fabric of your pants causing only slight stimulation. With every hit of your hand he would jolt, the underside of his dick rubbing against your thigh. His tip was red, almost purple, pre leaving a patch of wetness on your pants. Toji was sobbing and yearning just to cum, or to even just get away.

He tried to get himself together as your fingers just ran over the marks you had left, whole body trembling. His chest racked with sharp and shaky breaths, trying to anticipate the next hit. Sadly, he didn't anticipate enough, body jumping when you sent another slap to his ass. "3-3.. 31.." he hiccuped, eyes squeezing closed and more tears falling from his lash line.

"Good." You smiled, palm smoothing over his bottom to try and ease away the pain. You felt a bit sympathetic for him. He had messed up counting at least twice now, each closer and closer to the last spank you promised him. You said a good 35 would be good after he started speaking back around 12, only 10 away from his first mistake.

You watched as Toji's hips started to piston against your thigh, trying to send even a sliver of pleasure to counteract the pain. With a small chuckle your hand swatted his ass again, ripping a loud whine from the man's throat. Though, after this hit he didn't say the number immediately, head dropping down as he let out more cries. Coos left your lips, fingers running up and down his spine to try and ground him again. "Color, Toji?" You asked, wanting to make sure he wasn't tapping out.

With a sharp intake of air from the man he let out a measly 'green', body shivering with the conflicting feeling of your soft touches and stinging on his ass. "Good." You said, a smirk quirking at your lips. You had a sadistic idea, and Toji would definitely hate it. But.. It's all in the work of teaching him his lesson, isn't it? You ran your palm over his cherry red ass before bringing it back and spanking him again, Toji letting out a loud cry as his body tensed up. "Number?" You purred, awaiting to see if your plan would work.

"3... 3.." Toji droned on, trying to remember. After another moment he spoke, "32?.." he spoke, concerned that he had gotten it wrong so close to his final number. Perfect.

You tutted lightly, the response already causing Toji to pipe up in fear. He couldn't have messed up again, no.. nonono.. the last number he said was 31! He was right! You were lying!

"No, sorry baby, but that's wrong.." you said, your voice giving way to the wide smile on your face. Toji couldn't help but cry louder and you couldn't help but feel yourself throb at the sound of his shaky breaths and just imagining the tears running down his face.

"No—'m not-[name] please!" He begged, using his shaken arms to raise himself up. Despite the muscles under his skin his arms seemed like noodles, using all of his strength to just lift his upper body. "Please.. please—I won' do it again! Please-" he begged, voice being cut off by a whiny cry.

You watched him with a smile, fingers still caressing his red ass. "Oh.. how can i say no to that face." You teased, using your free hand to brush his tears away, Toji instinctively pushing his cheek into your hand to try and win you back.

But really, how could you?

His cheeks, all four of them, a bright red from abuse and tears. His bottom lip swollen and almost bleeding from him digging his teeth into it, trying not to cry out too loud when getting punished. Oh, and those eyes. They were glassy and just begging for your forgiveness, eyelashes holding small tears. You cooed, using your thumbs to wipe his tears, fixing him on your lap so you were chest to chest. Toji immediately started to shift to get comfortable, the feeling of your pants a bit irritating against his slapped ass. "Promise?" You asked, brows raised as he just nodded, leaning forward and melting into your body.

His face pushed into your neck, a whine muffled when you wrapped your hand softly around his base. "Oh—wait, f-fuck— ah," he moaned, hands pawing at your shirt for something to grab onto. You stroked him slowly, carefully picking up pace. It wasn't too long until he needed to cum, your voice ringing in his ears as you whispered sweet nothing into the skin of his cheek. "Mmph—'m gonna-i gotta—" he wasn't even able to get to the point of his sentence before he let out a choked groan, hips thrusting up into your hand as he came. Spurts of awaiting cum shot from the tip of his cock, twitching and meaning widely as he finally got his orgasm, his cum coating your hand and your shirt. You marveled at the sight of his dick for a moment, grinning at its purplish color, sadly being pulled from your thoughts when some fell from your fist and into your expensive pants, a low grown leaving your lips.

Toji slumped forward into you, breathing shallow once again when you continued to stroke him. "Mmh—[n-name] no.. can't.." at his words you pulled away slowly with a roll of your eyes, mumbling a condescending 'baby' as a joke. Your hand laid on his thigh, easing it down when his muscles suddenly jumped at the contact of your hand. You pat the side of his leg, turning to lay him on the bed. You chuckled when Toji's arms shot out and around your neck, pulling you into him. You cringed away knowing that his spent and cum covered cock was leaving stains on your shirt and pants, some probably even getting on your belt.

"Toji—I'm starting your bath," you laughed, trying to not give into his embrace. You let out a chuckle at a thought, prying Toji's muscled arms from around your neck and tucking your hand into your pocket, fishing out the money you had counted out before. You folded it before tucking it between the naked man's parted teeth, catching him up off guard. You then walked off to start the bath you were talking about, leaving Toji to catch his breath and count the money you had stuck into his mouth.

800 dollars?...

Tomorrow at 8:30 it is.

★✩★✩★✩★

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 😔

𝐊.𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

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sinner-sunflower · 1 month

Text

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 19/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Hello!!! How's everyone's weekend?!

I had the most relaxing trip of my life. Me and my best friend went on a picnic and the place was so gorgeous I wish I was rich enough to have that kind of landscaping.

Anyway!

Here's my update. I hope you all enjoy.

As always: likes, reblogs, and ESPECIALLY COMMENTS are so appreciated and it honestly gives me motivation. We're near the end meaning this might end this week :((

Disclaimer: I did get some help with chat gpt for some paragraphs just to get my ideas across and also because English is not my first languagee. I edited them of course myself because u know how automated shit can be.

I'm learning I promise!

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Every denizen of Hell held their breath in anticipation as each agonizing minute passed without a word from the King. Some feared he had met his demise the moment he entered, leaving them grasping at false hope. The Overlords pondered the same grim possibility but dared not voice it in the presence of higher demons.

Amidst the tension, the task of pacifying Paimon fell upon the Goetias, who found themselves ensnared in his relentless tirade about their illustrious King and their collective duty to fix Hell's problems, a duty he believed lay solely with them, not Lucifer.

The Sins, meanwhile, remained vigilant, their eyes fixated on the entrance through which Lucifer had disappeared, searching for any subtle sign of their brother's fate.

Satan, ever watchful, kept a peripheral eye on Goodie. The Good of Humanity had fallen into an unusual silence since Lucifer embarked on his suicide mission. Unlike the rest, she wore neither worry nor despair on her face, hell, not even of glee; instead, there was a knowing glint in her eyes the Sin of Wrath definitely did not like. He could only hope Lucifer emerges from all of this still himself.

At the very back, Vox stole a glance at his rival, noting the whatever-the-fuck thing he had with the King. He half-expected the radio demon to remain his usual apathetic self. And he was half right. The guy was smiling with no care in the world. Yet, to his surprise, a strained smile is etched the demon's face. It's not as noticeable but if you've been looking at Alastor as closely as Vox had been for the past how many years, it's like a giant pimple you can't ignore. There was a glassy look in his eyes, as if the radio demon is going to-

Vox wonders incredulously if his wiring got fried by that shockwave earlier because there is no fucking way.

The media demon is silently thankful he couldn't finish that thought as they are knocked down once more.

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It all unfolded in a blink, leaving them no time to respond. The ground quaked with a force that they realized was from the towering tree that's trembling before them. Roots and branches contorted, twisting inwards and outwards like a well-oiled machine, as if the very essence of the tree was tearing itself apart. Red flowers all around withered as the oppressive miasma dispersed. Then, with a thunderous crash, the colossal tree collapsed into a single heap.

The dust clears presenting a lone figure stands in the center of it all.

Belphagor: Lucifer!

There stood the King of Hell, his horns protruding proudly and his corrupted halo casting an ominous black glow. His six wings spread wide, a testament to his power and dominance. It was Lucifer. But... something seemed off.

The Sin of Pride appeared altered. His once pure white attire had transformed into black, adorned with accents of red. His porcelain skin, once flawless, now bore a grayish, melancholic hue. However, the most striking change lay in his hair—it was no longer the radiant gold of angels, but a sinister black with tendrils of creeping red, moving like of the deadly miasma.

Lucifer looked like a shadow of himself.

Before anyone could react, the fallen angel lunged towards Goodie, swiftly pinning her to the ground.

Lucifer: Ẏ̷̨̖̯͎̤͎͖̪̆̀̊͌͑̓̇o̵̻͗̔͊̃͘̚͠ṳ̸͎̍̊͗̌̈ ̵̱͙͇͛͑i̴̳͈̗̺͒̏̃̀̚͝n̸̢̧̖͖͚͉͙̤͇͆̃͛͊̿͛́̚͘s̸͇͚̱͍͈̤̘̒̂̈́̆͗̈̆ͅó̵̇̅́͜l̶͇̝̞̜̰̘͊̒͂̓͝ë̶̮͔̰́̀̑̔̽͊̐n̶̡̧̗̤̘̞̑̇̀t̴͙̲̳̦̦͎͔̠̔ ̵̮̰̞͐̌͌b̸̧͚̾i̴̧̜̪̳̤͔̹͉̦̇͠t̴͖̐̀̾̌̽̎̂̅͜ͅc̵̛̞̳͛̋̆̏͆̏h̷̟̺̬̗͗̉̓̍!̴͉̲̼̪͓̻̪̻̀̊ ̷͇͓̲̬͍̦̙̹͓̔̈́͊̇

Goodie chokes from the stench of hellfire on her skin.

Goodie: I never lied to you, angel. I told you that you were the key.

Lucifer: Y̷̢̘̻̩̲͐͋̐̌́́͝ŏ̴͎̌́u̷̟̯͋ ̶͔̝̘̓̈́̄̈́́̀̐ǵ̸͍͌͝͝á̵̧̫͔̤̘̹̓͗͂v̶̢͕̘̼̦̰̐ẽ̵̝̥͈̝̓͋̌̋͠ ̸̝͙̐̓m̵̩͖͍͒͌͛̔e̸̤̹̻̪͇͔̽̇ ̵̜̬̰̟̖̘͈̐̆̀á̸̻̜̬̫̝͇͚ ̷̢̗̠̮͊ͅf̶̡̩̟͘͝a̵̢͎͆k̷̲̰͓̤̐͌̽͐̿̕͠e̷̛̪̖̅̒̀̓͐͜ͅ ̸̭͙̫̂̚ͅs̴̩̝̺͕̲̯͒e̸̮͍̤̦̯̎̈́̔̌̇͌ä̷̳̖͓̒̕l̶̦̬̙̘̝̉̏̔̈́͆͘͠.̸̨͓͉͒̄̚ ̶͈͆̽̿̋̑̈̕T̶̗̹̱̞̭̩͉̍͆̀̚é̵̹̗͖ļ̶̜̬͍͓̗̿͑̾̋̏̕l̸̛̀̆̓̾ͅ ̷̡̗̼̀̿̓m̸̛̗̞͕̠̟ę̵̬̰̻̮͎̉̓ ̵̥̩̞̮͈͖̅̃̑͜͝ŵ̷͈̥͕̦̘̙̏h̶̝͈̬͖̲̯̝͊̓̕ȳ̴̱̓̄̎͝ ̵̛̣̭̘͔͋̏́̀̋I̵̡̦̬̬̫͓̭͆̍͌͗̍́̀ ̶̛͈͆s̵̛̗͙̙̭h̷̝͌͌͜͝͠ȏ̴̝̹̻͚̾́̃̔͘͝ư̸̮͓̰̖͔̙̇́͊̽̐̔l̶͙̟̙̣̮̱̞̂͌̏͗d̴̢͊͒̉̈ ̸̠̠̮̉̿n̴͚̯̜̫̊ō̴̡͉̪̥̗̹̲̽̄̀̕t̴̢̺̱̊̉̎̕͜͠ ̷̛̹̜̿͝ķ̴̻͚̙͔̈́͊̍í̸̥̼͕̮̾̿͌l̷̢͂̏͆͊̃͠l̷̡̨͎̪̝̖̱̽̽̓͐̀́̈́ ̷͖̿̋͛y̶̻̝̆͂͝ỏ̸̧̹͇̫̀̐̀̍͋̃ų̶̟̩͔͇̝͚̎̈́̑̕͠ ̵͍̃͗͠ẁ̷̝̟̥̰̘͎͒͛́͒h̵̦̜̩̬͋͐̋ė̶̃͜ṙ̸̡̧̟͉̻̬͚̅e̵̤̮̟͌̓ ̴̹͕̮͍̺̲͇̉y̴̨̛̪͛̍̓̏ô̴͔͍͉̅̈́̌u̴̙͖͖͎͐͛̒ ̶̟̙͍̖̭̃̌́l̵̙̽̈́̐͝á̷̡͔̞͈̜͎͒͌̑̐͝y̴̼̹̪̻̒̓̽̀̚?̴̛̻̘͈͍͕̒̃̀̓̏

Goodie: It was not a fake. Without it, you would have perished the moment you set foot in-ah!-side.

Lucifer: H̵̹̩̗̑̎̈́́̕o̷̘͝ẇ̷̢̨̛͇̞̝̦̠̎ ̸̯̹͋̃͑͘͝d̴͉̭̟̫̙̠͂à̶͎̮̝̺̺̥͙̓͛͂̒́ŗ̴̡̺̬̭̝̳̓̈́̑̍͝ĕ̷͓̕ ̸̺͈̖̣̳̃y̴̜̞͆͑̉͠o̴͓͋ủ̸͈͎̳̥͈̞̍̀͜ ̸̥̑͐̇̂̈́̐͝t̶͓͋r̶̼͠ỉ̸͍̻̫̩͍̓͌̍̄͝ċ̷̞̤̭̳̈́̓́̃k̶̖̹͙̋̓̑̀̅̔͊ ̵͙̠̻̜̎ͅt̵̛͇̀̑̀h̴̛̥͉̲̬̰͛̊̀̅͝e̵͇̮̫̟̗̍͊̓ ̶̰͎̟̜̗̈̋͂̓K̶̞͉̰̫̂͂̋͝ͅi̷̯̟̤̽͛̈͑n̵̬͙͑̉̍͊̕͠ģ̸͖͍̪̉͗̂͠ ̷̣̯͖̭̜̀ͅǫ̵̨̣̿̽̑͜f̶͔͖̬͐͌ ̸̼̅̿͒̎́Ḣ̴͎͕̳́ͅe̶̛̞̱̦͈l̴̡̲̯͔̰̱̂̅̀̄̈͗͋l̸͍̩̯̗̏?̴̯̥̭̦͙̃̏!̸̼̹͍͖͒̊̅̊̌̔̍

Goodie: Do not delude yourself. There was no chance that this could have ended differently.

Lucifer was heaving so much that Goodie could sense his energy waning. Seizing the opportunity, she managed to escape his clutches. Despite the danger surrounding her, (such bothersome loyalty) she couldn't resist letting out a chuckle, teasing the angel one last time.

Goodie: I gotta say, angel, I do like your new look. Corruption definitely suits you.

Lucifer: F̸̢̨͔̲͖̖̳͍̑̽͜U̵̼̪̰͈̟̜͙͌́́̅̈́̔C̷̢̯͓̘̬͖̝̎K̶̳̖͓̘̝̗̀̓̈́̾̉̾̾͊͠͝Î̶͇͕͚̪̭̎N̴͉̟͍̻͇̚G̵̠̲̰͈̖̎͂͋̾ ̴̧̥͕̹̭̘̜͍̟̎̂̔͗̋̿̒B̶̢̦̤̥͕͉͋̂͌́́͂̈̔͠I̸̗̭̼͊̐͂̀̈́̐̏̐T̸̍̔̽̍��̠̹͓̮̱̻̹̯͉̦͌̆C̸͍̩̉̈́̈́̄͒̓͑̾͝ͅḨ̴̦̙͉̫̪̫̇̀̄̈́̋͘!

Lucifer then collapses to his knees, clutching his throat as if he's drowning in searing heat. Confusion and desperation fill his voice as he struggles for breath.

Lucifer: How? *gasp* why? *gasp* -trusted-

There's a flurry of movement around him, voices overlapping and blending into a chaotic white noise. Amidst it all, someone speaks with a commanding tone, their words cutting through the haze.

Alastor: Listen to only me, my dear.

There was a faint humming of music? Was Alastor here?

Alastor: I'm here, my Majesty. Calm yourself. You need not to panic.

He's trying, he really is. But his ears are muddled and he can't understand anything anymore. Everything is happening all at once, leaving him disoriented and terrified.

As consciousness begins to slip through his grasp, the Sin of Pride feels a sense of detachment. A new presence moves in front of him, accompanied by a chorus of apologies that echo faintly in his ears.

A cool sensation brushes against his fevered forehead, offering a brief respite from the overwhelming heat and chaos. And with that fleeting moment of relief, Lucifer succumbs to the darkness.

Roo: How fun~

--------------------------------------

Transformation central! (Transformation central!)

Reformation central! (Reformation central!)

Transmogrification central!

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

Keith wakes up with terror turning to ice in his veins and his brother’s name clawing its way out of his throat.

He takes a moment, chest heaving, to orient himself. The details of the dream quickly fade, dark caves and towering footsteps, leaving only an impression of fear and the memory of Shiro, falling, crying out for Keith to save him, and Keith being just too late. He peels the sweat-soaked sheets off himself in disgust, tossing them haphazardly on the ground in front of him. Grunting, he forces himself upright, placing his feet on the cold tile floor of his bedroom to force himself fully awake. Sunlight streams through his window, assaulting his bleary eyes, making him grumble as he walks over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for the day.

Not unusually, his nightmares have woken him hours before he really needs to be awake. He only has one afternoon class, today, and it's frustrating to have one of his few mornings off spoiled so early. As he spits frothy toothpaste into the sink, he tries to rework the whole situation in his mind. Waking up too early sucks, but with the extra time this morning, he’ll have time to wash his sheets. That’s a net neutral, at least.

It doesn’t take him too long to gather up a load of linens and clothes, tossing them into the machine, sipping a coffee as the old thing chugs on. He hangs them to dry once the cycle is over, tossing some overdue marking into his messenger bag and scarfing down a bagel before hopping onto his bike.

His bicycle, that is. He would never take his precious bike to class. The one and only time he had, it had been vandalised by angry students. Never again.

The ride to the school is uneventful, normal, boring. Even the asshole drivers who refuse to give him space on the road, coming within inches of crushing him, are par for the course. He wonders if he looks particularly dead-eyed, or if that’s just how he feels.

“Hey, Pidge,” he says to his lab assistant, nodding at her as he walks into their lab. She shouldn’t even be his lab assistant, really. She’s more brilliant than he’ll ever be, and it’s insulting that she has to answer to him. But she’s only twenty, and whip smart as she is, their field is ripe with rich old white guys who smile condescendingly at her and call her sweetheart. No one will give her a tenured position. So while not ideal, their situation is the best both of them can come up with: Pidge gets total freedom in his lab, any resource that she wants and he can get his hands on, and he’ll publish any finding she discovers with her name as a second on the paper. That way she’ll be credited with dozens of peer-reviewed papers before she even has her doctorate, and once she’s finally got a lab of her own and every intellectual around the globe is interviewing her, she can tell them all where to stuff it and get all the credit she deserves.

“Bad news, Kogane,” Pidge says, glancing up at him with a furrowed brow.

Keith grimaces. If Pidge is looking up from her computer screen, then he’s fucked.

“Is the building on fire?” he says hopefully. That’s a slightly less miserable conclusion than the one he knows is happening.

She huffs sadly, shaking her head. “Nah, check the douchebag waiting in your office.”

Sighing, Keith does. James Griffin, head of the geography department and the resident jackass who’s been trying to shut Keith down for years.

“Keith!” he cries, grinning at him like they’re friends.

Keith doesn’t even pretend to smile at him, staring at him blankly.

“Good to see you, pal,” James continues, either oblivious or uncaring. “Thought I’d drop by and personally deliver the news. I’m getting a new office!”

The absurdity of the sentence makes Keith blink, looking at James in confusion. “Pardon?”

James ignores him, pulling out a tape measure and holding it against the cabinets and counters, barely even making any real effort to measure anything. Keith finally starts to notice the smugness to his department head’s grin, and something like dread builds in his stomach.

“See, progressive volcanology just isn’t what it used to be. Ten years ago it was breakthrough science, today it’s an ancient relic of the past.” He snaps the tape measure closed, turning back to face Keith. He no longer makes any effort to hide his smirk, placing a falsely pitying hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith shrugs it off immediately. “They’re shuttin’ ya down, bud. I’m taking the space. I’m sure you myriad of adoring students will be devastated, but budget cuts are budget cuts, and this is a decision the department has to make. For the good of the university, you understand.”

Keith knows that pleading is useless. In all likelihood, this decision was made months ago, and he’s only hearing about it now because it’s been finalised. No way would James be so confident otherwise.

But there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from trying.

“You can’t shut us down,” he pleads, throat unfathomably dry. “We’re – we’re on the verge of a breakthrough, James, I can feel it, shutting us down would be spitting in the face of progress –”

“How many of your sensors are even still active?” James interrupts. “One? Two?”

He sounds so smug that Keith can’t bear it. “Three!”

“Right,” James says, snorting. “Three whole sensors.” He turns away, patting one of the overhanging shelves of the wall, crowded from front to back with dozens and dozens of rock samples slowly collecting dust. “It’s not worth the money it takes to keep them going.”

“You can’t do this,” Keith begs, voice quiet and small. He hates himself for his weakness in front of James, of all people in the world, but his hands shake and his blood rushes in his ears and the only thought running through his mind is save the lab save the lab save the lab. “It’s all I have left. Of him.”

To James’ credit, that gives him pause. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a monster.

“It’s been ten years, man,” he says softly. “The lab isn’t going to bring him back.”

Keith says nothing. He stares at him, eyes hard, hatred and pain alike building up in them and spilling over.

Shiro’s sensors. Shiro’s work. Shiro, all over the lab, in every way, the only pieces Keith has of him that are still going, that are not stagnant, and James is taking them away. Whether or not it’s James’ fault directly is irrelevant – Keith hates him for any role he plays.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” James says, and he almost sounds sincere before disappearing out of the lab and down the hall.

Keith sits down heavily in his – in Shiro’s – rickety old office chair as he goes, elbows on the crowded desk, fingers clenched in his hair. Pidge puts a gentle and awkward hand on his shoulder.

It doesn’t matter.

— — —

His classes pass in a blur. None of his students even pretend to pay attention, but that’s not unusual. He can’t remember the last time someone came into his classroom and gave even one eighth of a shit. Hell, the last person in his class to care might have been Pidge.

By the end of the day, he’s exhausted. He dreads the bike ride home, knowing it will take more energy than he has, but he tries to convince himself that the fresh air might make him feel less like the world is collapsing in on itself.

He fails.

By the time he stumbles through the door, late afternoon light spilling over his messy coffee table, he feels like a used battery from 1996. He slides the scattered change he’d found on the road today into one of his near-filled collection bottles and collapses on the couch, face-first, groaning as loud as he can into a scratchy pillow. He blindly flails one arm around until it hits the beeping answering machine, letting it play its onslaught of messages, preparing to delete whatever spam calls have made it through while he was gone.

“Keith, hey. It’s Adam. Just calling to remind you that today’s the day! We just left, we’ll be there around quarter to six? Hopefully. See you soon.”

With a gasp, Keith yanks himself upright with so much force he nearly throws himself off the couch.

Adam.

Adam!

The next message plays automatically. “Hey, got your answering machine again. Getting a little worried. We’re halfway there, and we can’t wait to see you. Right, kiddo?”

A much younger voice mutters something unintelligible, but the tone makes their enthusiasm – or lack thereof – abundantly clear.

Keith sweeps a bunch of junk off his coffee table, frantically searching for his calendar. He finds it under a stack of half-finished books, praying to himself that what he’s hearing is wrong somehow, and today is not the day he thinks it is.

In bold red ben, in the tiny square of the 28th of June, is his niece’s name written in capital letters and underlined no less than five times.

“Hana,” he breathes, and looks in horror at his watch just as the answering machine beeps and plays the newest message.

“Alright, well, we’re ten minutes away, so I hope everything’s okay. Please be ready.”

“Fuck!” Keith shouts, jumping up off the couch and catapulting into action. He can’t believe he forgot! It’s so easy for all the days to blur together, for dates to lose meaning, when everything is so mundane. He’s been thinking that Hana’s visit is ‘months away’ for half a year now, completely forgetting that time is, in fact, linear.

Adam is going to kill him. And worst of all, he is going to be justified.

He starts scooping random shit off end tables and random surfaces, sticking it wherever there’s space. Adam is a neat freak, always has been, and if he looks through that front door and sees the mess he is about to leave his only daughter in for ten whole days he is going to take it out on Keith’s hide. Keith shoves a random stack of cereal bowls into a drawer, stuffs a cabinet full of old newspapers, kicks a pile of discarded sweaters into a corner and throws a blanket over them. His answering machine beeps again, and he whips his head to his clock, watching in horror as the big hand ticks to the 9 – it’s five forty-five on the dot.

“Hope you’re home, Keith, because we’re pulling up to your place.”

A silver car slows to a stop across the street.

“Fuck!”

Keith increases his half-assed cleaning tenfold. He dumps every dish he sees into the sink, hacks up a lung from trying to blow away the accumulated dust, glances in the fridge to see what expired food he needs to toss. Is Adam going to search through his fridge? Probably not.

But there’s a chance.

He sees his brother-in-law approach the front door as he’s holding a stack of greasy car parts and freezes, slowly backing away as the man turns and makes a face at the car. Keith hears the doorbell ring but ignores it, figuring he has about three more rings to panic-clean before Adam gets fed up and picks the lock. He rushes to his bedroom, grabbing the truly gigantic quilt Pidge’s brother had made him, and throws it over his couch, coffee table, and armchair in a half-assed attempt to make the room look less like Keith has not cleaned in several weeks.

It does not work.

The doorbell rings for a third time, followed by rapid knocking.

“Keith? You home?”

Keith takes a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face.

Fine. This is going to be fine.

“Hey, Adam!” he greets, opening the door. Adam glances behind him, taking in the mess, so Keith quickly closes the door as much as he can without squishing himself.

Unfortunately, Adam has always been quick. He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You forgot, didn’t you.”

“Forget?” Keith laughs nervously. “Of course I didn’t – I didn’t forget! Been looking forward to this for weeks, counting down the days, just been prepping like you would not believe –”

Adam takes off his glasses, cleaning them slowly while making direct eye contact.

Keith sighs.

“Yeah, I forgot.”

“Come on, Keith,” Adam sighs, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “We planned this months ago. Ten days. That’s all I ask. She’s your niece.”

“Just because I forgot doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to it!” Keith says defensively. “I haven’t seen her since she was what, nine?”

“Seven,” Adam corrects flatly.

Keith winces. “Right. Seven.” He follows his brother-in-law to his car, forcing himself not to drag his feet. He is excited. He is. He loves his niece, and besides, it’s only ten days. What can happen in ten days?

“Hana,” Adam says, knocking on the roof of the car. “Say hi to your uncle.”

“Hi to your uncle,” deadpans a young girl, pulling her beanie further down over her eyes and sinking into her seat. Adam sighs, heading to the trunk to dig out some bags, and Keith has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He probably shouldn’t laugh when teenagers are being little shits, but that was kind of funny.

“Hey, kid,” Keith says, in the same semi-awkward tone he used to talk to Pidge in until she started decking him every time he did. He inclines his head at the device in her hands. “Whatcha got there? One of those ePod thingies?”

The look she gives him is so dry and judgemental that Keith almost feels the need to both apologise and pull out a fiver to pay for the stupidity of his sentence, which is honestly an insanely powerful look for a thirteen year old to pull off.

Only Adam’s kid, honestly.

“It’s a PSP,” she says, like that’s the most obvious thing in the world and Keith is a dunce for not knowing. “And ePods aren’t a thing. The word you’re looking for is iPod.”

Lordie, this is going to be a tough ten days. Keith should have researched how to make teenagers like him.

Well. Maybe not. That would probably get him on a list somewhere.

“It’s good to see you, Hana,” Keith says, switching gears. He smiles slightly, and it's genuine, because he really is glad to see her. “You wanna head inside? Door’s open, I’ll meet you in a few.”

“Come see me first, baby,” Adam calls.

Hana huffs and walks over to see her dad. He hands her a duffel bag, which she shrugs over her shoulder, and then cups her face tightly, leaning down to kiss her head.

“Ten days, okay?” he murmurs. “Then I’ll meet you in the Ottawa airport.” He squeezes her in a hug, which she returns, if slightly reluctantly. “This move will be good for us.”

“Right,” Hana says, so bitter that Keith actually physically winces. “I am so pumped to leave behind everything I’ve ever known and go live in a new country. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

Without so much as a backwards glance at her father, she pulls away and stomps inside to Keith’s place.

“Yikes,” Keith says, grimacing at his brother-in-law. Adam isn’t looking at him, gaze following his daughter with an expression Keith can only describe as pained. He doesn’t say anything for several moments, just staring at the house, eyes far-away and deeply sad. Keith’s chest starts to ache, right under his sternum, because he gets that look, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” Adam says softly. “I’m just — I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.” And it’s been months since they’ve talked anything but surface level pleasantries but they will always be the same, Keith thinks, and he reaches over and squeezes Adam’s hand because he will always be family. Adam squeezes back, smiling tightly.

“I’ll take care of her,” Keith promises. He swallows against the sandpaper roughness of his throat and tries to stand up straight, to make up for his crumpled shirt and messy hair. The attemlt makes Adam roll his eyes, which makes Keith grin. Adam can never stay mad at him for long.

“I know you will, brat.” He cups Keith’s cheeks identically to the way he did Hana’s, tipping over to kiss his forehead. Keith’s eyes close and his hands come up to grab Adam’s wrists. “I trust you. I just wish you would take better care of yourself.”

He pulls away and Keith lets him go, watching the easy way in which he composes himself, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket and pushing up his jacket, putting himself back together in front of Keith’s eyes. The process has fascinated him since he was little; the way Adam can always pull himself back to full height.

“Besides,” he adds, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and heading for the passenger side. “You have my daughter to look after, now. If she comes home to me in ten days complaining about doing the dishes because Uncle Keith just eats pasta out of the pot, I will fly back here just to smack you.”

Keith snorts. “Noted. Drive safe, Adam.”

He waves as he shuts the door and starts the car. Keith watches him go, then turns back towards his house, peering through the door, looking for a glimpse of the kid. He doesn’t see her, but he can hear the muted sounds of a video game from outside.

“I have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” he mutters to himself, and walks inside.

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sanyu-thewitch05 · 8 months

Note

I got this Yandere imagine that's based on The Heathers from the Heathers musical:

Honestly never told anyone about this before but this fandom does need more appreciation

So we got Darling who's meek and shy,but she's smart and overall a good student, though she can't say she hates the jocks,she would rather not associate with them. Until the main Jocks trio in the school took notice of her,specifically their leader,Hunter

Let's say Hunter is a dominant man,he just suddenly show up more in front of her after she helped him with a school project

Sure he thinks nerds are boring but Darling is an exception,like she's a introverted,unsociable girl but she takes no shit from others

Hunter thinks Darling is very cute and she needed a makeover~

After the makeover, Darling did like her new look,it got some guys to catcall her which is annoying but it wasn't that bad. She still didn't like the jocks much,she only hanged out with Hunter afterwards bcuz of the favour

However,Hunter started to get more touchy, putting his arm on her shoulder or her waist,she even heard the rumors of her being his girlfriend. She decided to avoid Hunter so as not to take it any further

Hunter didn't like it at all, why is she walking to another guy and talk to him when she should've gotten to him like the good girl she is?!!! She shouldn't talk to some stupid unimportant guys!!!

Hunter is rich and famous,his family owns a big company and he's the future CEO. As his future wife,she should get close to him instead of other guys

He couldn't bare the obvious intentional ignorance towards him so one day he just dragged her into a classroom and snapped at her

He said how she belongs to him and she shouldn't even think of leaving him,she won't escape even when they graduate and go to college, because he will attend as the same college as hers. Things got sexually heated there, I'll leave that part to you

Let's just say afterwards,Darling has to be the obedient girlfriend to Hunter. He even force her to sit on his laps right in the school cafeteria to show up his good little honey and no guys should lay hands on her cuz she's his

Sorry, this took so long to answer. I’m out of school for Labor Day weekend.

All characters in my works are 18+

TW: Noncon, stalking, dubcon, catcalling, sexual harassment

Oh God, not again. Here they come.

It was only the third month of school, and everything was going great so far. You were getting A's and even joined the local majorette team. That's when everything went downhill. For some reason, Heath and Henry were at the town's Halloween festival. The best friends of Hunter McClaire. The best football player in school. They were also the best quarterbacks in school. You were on the angel side of the team, and your white uniform glittered in the moonlight. Not only that, but the white boots helped add to your dance routine. You were squatting down, preparing to do a death drop, and then you saw Heath and Henry. Their smiles made you sick. You continued the routine as usual and quickly walked away once finished. You tried to avoid them, but they stopped you as you walked home.

"Hey, Angel! Where are you going?" Heath catcalled, following close behind you.

"Home," You hissed, walking faster.

"Oh, don't be like that. We enjoyed the performance. I wish you showed more of that ass around the school. I honestly didn't think you had any good qualities besides your brain," Henry commented, making you growl.

"Listen, jackass! Leave me alone before I rip your nutsacks out!" You yelled, finally facing them.

"Ok! Ok! Ok! We'll leave you, nerd girl," Heath says, stopping at the sidewalk to watch you walk away.

They focused on your butt and smirked.

"God, I wish I could tap that ass," Henry murmured, hiding his boner.

It only got worse when you went to school after that. Hunter was there asking for your help on a history project.

"Look, if this is something Heath and Henry told you, please don't tell anyone. I just want to stay out of the spotlight and graduate," You said, trying to walk away from Hunter.

"Uh, they haven't told me anything like that. Anyway, I came to ask for help on my 20th-century history project. I got assigned the topic of fashion, and Henry and Heath said you might be able to help," Hunter said, sitting next to you.

"Fine, I'll help you," You begrudgingly agreed, tying your hair up.

For two nights, the two of you worked on Hunter's project. When he turned it in, he got an A+ and even brought his grade in history class a couple of points. As a thank you, Hunter gave you a makeover. You thought you looked fine, but you'll accept the spa treatment and new clothes any day. Wearing the jeans that hugged your ass and the lace corset top to school earned you unwanted remarks from other students. But it wasn't that bad.

You went about your school day and made friends with Hunter. Surprisingly, Hunter and you got along pretty well. You didn't like Hunter's friends. But you didn't hate them either. After a week, Hunter started to get more touchy. His hands roamed your back, his arm always around your shoulder. It even got to the point where rumors were swirling around that you were dating. You couldn't deal with it anymore, so you decided to avoid Hunter for a while, which is how you got into this current predicament.

"Hey," Hunter greets, sitting next to you at lunch.

You ignore him and continue eating your food.

"Why are you ignoring me? What did I do?" Hunter says, his arm around your waist. "Is it because you didn't like the panties I set you? They seemed like your style."

You didn't say anything, but Henry puts a hand on your thigh to make you pay attention to Hunter. His thigh moves towards your crotch, and you pack up your stuff. You get up, throw your tray away, and leave for your next class. You did the same routine of avoiding Hunter and his friends for the next two weeks.

"Charles, are you ready for the next book club?" You ask your tall, freckle-faced, white, black-haired friend.

"You bet! I'm so glad you joined! Are you sure you can handle it while being on the majorette team?" Charles asks, closing his locker.

"I'll be fine. Besides, my practice starts at 6 pm. Book club should be over by then," You respond, smiling at Charles.

"Cool! I'll see you later!" Charles exclaims, hugging you.

You reciprocate the hug and wave goodbye to Charles. Unbeknownst to you, a furious Hunter is watching you.

"Damn, dude! You're practically breaking the wall," Henry laughs, looking at his friend.

"Why is she even talking to him?! Sure, she's a nerd, but she's not fucking boring like the rest of them! Not only that, but it's Charles! The dude who can't even throw a dodgeball straight! Why talk to him of all people!" Hunter rants, punching the wall and glaring at you.

"You need to do something, Hunter. Soon enough, she'll be spending all her time with him and none with you," Heath comments, looking at your smile.

"You're right. I'll show her I'm the right choice. She'll have no choice but to see it," Hunter replies, secretly following after you.

You walk by an empty classroom and get pushed inside. You fall to the floor and hear the door lock.

"Don't even try to scream for help. Heath and Henry gave me the keys and are currently erasing the security footage," Hunter says, twirling the keys around his index fingers.

"Hunter, what the hell?" You yell, rubbing your butt and standing up.

Hunter picks you up and places you on top of a desk. He strokes your cheek and puts a strand of hair behind your ear. Hunter suddenly roughly kisses you and holds your body still. You try to get away, but Hunter is too strong. He grabs your hair and forces you to bend over onto the desk.

"Hunter, what are you doing?" You scream, squirming in his hold.

"You need to understand. You're mine!" Hunter growls, fiercely spanking your ass. "Always mine! You! Belong! To! Me"

"Oh! Ouch! Aw!" You groan between each spanking.

Hunter suddenly flips you over and lets go of your hair.

"Strip. Now," Hunter commands, pulling out his dick.

"I-"

"NOW!"

You whimper and slowly strip your clothes.

"Now then, you'll strip a piece of clothing for every sentence I say. You're lucky I'm taking it easy on you and speaking slowly. Got that?"

You nod your head, but this only irritates Hunter more.

"I need verbal confirmation," Hunter barks, grabbing a ruler and slamming it on the teacher's desk.

"Yes, Hunter!" You squeal, trying not to collapse to the floor.

"Good."

Hunter pulls up a chair and sits in while stroking his cock.

"Now, let's begin. You are my girlfriend, and you belong to me.”

You take off your shirt.

"Don't even think of leaving me because we'll always be together! Even during college when we go to the best Ivy League school! And don't even try to apply to some small liberal arts school because we both know we can do better!"

You quickly take off your bra and shorts.

"I'm rich. I'll inherit my father's company and become CEO. I'll take care of you as my future wife," Hunter finishes, watching you strip your panties, socks, and shoes. "Come closer. I need to teach you how to serve me."

You walk to him, and he pushes you down to his crotch.

"You know what to do," Hunter says, rubbing your head softly.

You put his cock into your mouth, intimately licking the body part. Hunter shivers, and soon, you're both high on pleasure.

"Oh, yes~ Suck it more! Earn hubby's cum!" Hunter moans, pushing your head up and down on his dick.

You kiss the base of his cock, and he spills his seed all over you. Some of it ends up on your face, and most of it ends up in your mouth. You stand up and try to leave, but Hunter grabs your hand.

"I thought you only wanted me to suck you off?" You question forcibly straddling Hunter.

"If I only wanted a blow job, I would only want your shirt off. I want more," Hunter says, pulling his pants down. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Hunter kisses your cheek and puts a condom on. You hold onto him for support. He sticks his dick into you and moans, throwing his head back.

"Oh, baby!" Hunter moans, making a slow but steady thrust pattern.

Your breath hitches as pleasure flows through your body. Hunter kisses your lips, and you start to melt into each other.

"Faster!" You moan, barely holding onto Hunter.

Hunter immediately follows your plea and starts thrusting faster. You both moan like crazy and eventually, you yell that your climax is coming.

"I'm cumming too!" Hunter yells, rapidly thrusting into you a couple more times. "Hah!"

Hunter cums into you, and you shiver. You relax onto Hunter's chest and let him rub your back.

"So, can I still go to book club?" You ask, looking into Hunter's green eyes.

"Nope. You're staying with me for a while," Hunter replies, smacking your ass in response to your question.

~~~~~~~~

"Yo! Dude, how's the relationship with your darling?" Henry asks, high-fiving Hunter as he sits next to him during lunch.

"Pretty good. I taught her a lesson, and now we're the perfect couple," Hunter replies, sitting you on his lap. "Charles won't even go near her."

"Hunter, please," You say, feeling his boner.

"Oh, sorry, darling. You're going have to deal with this dick for a long time," Hunter replies, kissing your cheeks. "Keep complaining, and I'll have to make sure you'll know to appreciate it."

You are stuck with him. Forever, and ever, until the day you die.

#asks #inspired by heathers #yandere jock #yandere smut #yandere noncon #yandere dubcon

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misseviehyde · 5 days

Text

RUNT

"Hey guys, please make some room," whined Tommy as he tried and failed to insert himself into the group of his friends bathing in front of the tiny magic mirror.

Waves of toxic feminine energy pulsed out of the glass, transforming reality and altering the three boys stood in front of it into hot bratty bitches... all except Tommy.

Giggles and soft moans emerged from pink pouting lips and there were cracks and pops as hips pushed out and bones shifted. The smell of tight wet pussy and female perfume filled the air, as the three former boys became hotter and hotter - enjoying their transformations into popular bitches.

Tommy, feeling increasingly desperate tried again, but the changing boys ignored him and actively blocked him, pushing him away and stopping him from getting into their tight knit pack.

"Fuck off you runt, mmmmmmh you're like such a loooooser."

Of all the boys, Tommy had needed this the most. He had always been smaller, weaker, the butt of the joke. He dreamed of being popular. As a tiny undersized boy he was nothing, but this mirror could make him into a sexy popular girl. Once he had long hair, a tight pussy, boobs and an ass for miles - no one would care that he was short. In fact as a girl it would just make him sexy.

"Pleeeeeease," he sobbed, but the three of them just laughed at him and did the L for loser sign on their foreheads with their fingers.

Tommy noticed that all three had cute manicured nails now. Rings and jewellery decorated their bodies... earrings and belly button rings were on show. His friend Brian even had a tongue piercing.

"Fuckkkk yeah... give it to me," he moaned sticking out his pierced tongue and giggling.

Tommy watched as Brian's boring male clothing shrunk and tightened. His underwear became bright pink and transformed into a bikini set. Soft skin tanned and smoothed and with a hot groan Brian stuck out his chest. Tommy watched in envy as two perfect round tits pushed out to fill the cups of the pink bikini. They looked so fucking good.

Long sexy hair tumbled down her slender back as Brianna was born and she left her boring life as a boy behind.

Next to her Tony shuddered in pleasure as he whipped back long blonde hair and stuck out his tongue like a little teasing whore. "Like I feel sooooo horny right now," gasped Tina as reality snapped around the brat and she became the little bitch she had always dreamed of being.

"Yeah I know what you mean babe," smiled Ashley - her identity as Ash forgotten as she bared her dazzling white teeth and ran a hand through her gorgeous brunette hair.

The three of them were now fully female and the mirrors magic spread out to change everyone's memories of them. Brianna, Tina and Ashley were now the three most popular girls at school. Spoiled rich brats who had boys blowing up their phones and everyone dancing to their tune.

Taking the mirror down from the wall, Brianna dropped it with an evil smile and it smashed into hundreds of pieces.

"Whoops."

"Hey, you like know that's bad luck right?" giggled Tina.

"Only for that little loser Tommy," purred Brianna. "What a fucking runt. He could never understand how good it feels to be this hot."

Laughing the three girls carefully walked around the broken glass and giving their former friend mean looks before exploding with laughter, they walked off to find something fun to do.

Sobbing, Tommy began gathering the shards of the mirror. Maybe he could fix it?

Somehow he doubted it. After all, he was just a worthless runt and he knew it...

#evie hyde #bitchification #m2f transformation #corruption #brats #mean girls #sluttification #reality change

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chantsdemarins · 1 month

Text

😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston fan fic #foot lover #meet cute

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dior-and-dietcoke · 1 year

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐎.

KOKONOI + BIMBO!READER ‧₊˚⊹

18+, chubby!reader, friends to fwb, oral, public sex, praise, rich ass reader and koko, mutual pining, fucked out koko, (kind of) inexperienced koko, softdom!reader + sub!kokonoi, use of 'good boy' and 'mistress', mentions of bdsm and pegging,

You and your bestie koko just went shopping together and were now on your way, driving home in a limo, and.. you suggest sucking his dick.

All chars are over 18 ⊹ reader's skin color is not mentioned ⊹ mdni

The two of you were just coming out of dior after buying some heels and earrings, right on your way to Koko's limo. The driver was already waiting for you two. "And after he talked all that shit i said 'with that outfit?'" He told you about some stories back when he was part of a gang, and you two laughed. "That's so like you!" You giggled. "I wish I would have been there, ugh.."

you said as you got into the back of the car with the nice golden lighting and expensive champagne. Koko watched you get in, and as you turned your head, his gaze was very obviously on your ass.

Once he noticed you looked at him, he quickly looked away, and you had a knowing grin on your face before sitting down on the seats.

"So..we're going home?" You asked, you already knew the answer. "Yes."

All you two did was get dressed nicely to go shopping and then just sit at Koko's huge nice couch and watch movies from 1990 to the 2000s. You would watch for hours.. until it was pitch black outside and koko either let you sleep there or he would drive you home.

"Oh, koko! Do you remember that guy I mentioned I liked?" Koko remembered. He hated him.

He pretended to be this cultured man who liked art, fancy music, and all that shit.. but koko knew exactly he was just trying to impress you. He hated those fucking men, "sadly i do.." no man you ever brought up was ever good enough for you in kokos opinion.

You rolled your eyes with a grin "anyways..he invited me to a party in some fancy villa," you explained, and koko sipped on the champagne, rolling his eyes "mhm.."

"I won't go."

He didn't expect you to say that..he expected you to go and let this limp dicked fucker fuck you and leave you unsatisfied. Like every guy you wrnt on a date with..

He would never ever say this but..he could definitely make you cum so hard you'd go blind

"Ohoho~" he purred all cocky "you'll just let that amazing man go, huh?" You laughed and softly hit his upper arm with the back of your hand."I just don't wanna hear him talk anymore! God!" Koko looked at you with the most cockiest grin."Are you saying that... I was right?" He fake gasped, and you bitterly grinned at him in return "no I'm not saying that." You said.

"It's just that I just wanna be with you today," koko couldn't help but feel his heart soften a little bit. "It's way more fun to be with my best friends than with some boring fuck boy" and just like that you let his heart down again. Of course, koko loved you as a friend. In fact, he would say he enjoyed being around you more than anyone else actually. But he couldn’t help but think about 'what if'

What if he kissed you?

What if he told you he'd treat you better than anyone else ever did?

What if he told you that he'd eat you out?

What if you two were more than friends?

But he's afraid that if he did all of the above, he would lose you. And he didn't wanna risk it. Even though the way you looked at him most of the time was more than a friendly look.

"Well, that sounds perfect because I was planning on the same thing," koko said as he took a sip of his champagne with raised eyebrows. You smiled at him and then looked away to bite your bottom lip.

That's it.

That's what he meant.

Now it was dead quiet again, and there was sexual tension, it was making the air in the limousine feel stuffy. So koko just side eyed you while looking you up and down, from your cleavage that he could see through your open white button down dior shirt and the VS black bra, down to your chubby tummy that was visible through your tight and long black Mugler pencil skirt to your soft and squishy thighs wrapped in nice black back seam tights. And those beautiful red bottom Louboutins, he actually bought them for you on your birthday.

You noticed koko watching you. He always thought you didn't notice, but you obviously did. Truth be told..

You wanted to be more than friends with him.

Especially since there was always a quiet pause between you two where you could feel the sexual tension. And you were afraid that if you didn't fuck at least once..you two could drive away from eachother..

And that stare was the last straw for you. You just had to turn to him. You got a little closer than normal and said a little. "Hey." Like you were asking something. And it obviously took koko off guard. "H-hey?" He asked, confused and flustered. You were bending your upper body a bit, giving him an even better view of your tits and the pretty bra. It was making him feel hot all of a sudden.

"Can I ask you something weird?" You whispered, still leaning over to him, so close that he could smell the alcohol on your tongue. "Sure, go ahead, I guess.." he responded, still confused and filled with anticipation, deep down he hoped that you would ask him to fuck you. "Okay.." you said, taking another sip of your drink before asking.

"Have you ever thought about me sucking you off?"

Koko's grip on his glass, and the leather seats tightened that he almost ripped a hole into the expensive fabric. He was quiet for a second, knowing his face looked like he was lacking oxygen. Because he was. He didn't notice he was holding in his breath until he decided to laugh it off out of nervousness he wasnt good with women or even men. He's just a little awkward when it comes to intimacy, even when he really, really wants it. Like right now. "What??"

But as he laughed and you just kept smiling at him with that 'fuck me' look in your eyes, his palms started to get sweaty. "You know what I asked. C'mon, " you said, clearly. You knew you didn't need to repeat it. "Have you?"

Koko didn't know if this was one of your weird teasing jokes..if he said the wrong thing he'd be fucked. Not in the way he wants to be anyway..

"Uhm.." he laughed again nervously. "Is this a joke?" He asked with a suspicious expression. He wanted to be sure.

You just quietly shook your head. "No, I'm just curious." You said with an unreadable smile. Koko hated when he couldn't tell what other people were thinking. Especially when he couldn't tell what you were thinking.

Koko swallowed and looked to the side nervously until your voice made him look at you again "then I'll tell you something first.."

"I thought about it." You said boldly.

That line definitely stopped kokos heart for a second. He started shaking and sweating.

Right after you said it, you closed the small window that let the driver see you two. Koko started breathing a little heavier. Are you actually trying to suck his dick??

"And?" You started, "What about you?"

Koko actually started to relax a bit hearing you confess. Having closure is all he needed to gain a little confidence. He felt your long nails trace his thigh over his dress pants, drawing dangerously close to his crotch.

He gulped and looked from his lap back up at you, being almost on his lap.

"Yeah.." he responded. "I did."

A smirk started stretching your pretty and lipgloss covered lips. "Want me to do it?" You asked, just above a whisper. Staring at koko like his dick was already between your lips.

Fuck he was sweating so much now, of course he wants it! But he just couldn't get any words out.

He coughed and nodded with closed eyes. "I need a verbal answer." You said, tracing your middle finger over the big golden chanel belt buckle. "S-sure—yes! Please.." he stuttered.

You smiled and kissed your best friend on the cheek, and he let out a frustrated and needy sigh. You've never seen koko being flustered. You only knew him being cocky, confident, and...cunty. so seeing him being so stuttery and nervous is refreshing.

Once you put your hand on his buckle, starting to unbuckle it while placing wet and sticky kisses on the sensitive skin of kokos neck. He surprisingly let out little moans and sighs.

The belt was open, and you unzipped his pants, wasting no time to slide your hand into his pants and boxers, immediately you found his hard cock. You gasped softly at the warmth, hardness, and most of all: lenght.

You never actually saw each other naked. Ever. He only saw you when you wanted to try on your new Victoria secret underwear, and that was also the only thing koko ever jerked off to. He never wanted to think of it, but his own mind betrayed him every time.

"Fuck—that feels..really fuckin' good.." he huffed, you barely even stroked him, but you weren't judging..you know he hadn't had a date since last year January when he met a cute guy at a party..and it was March now.

You continued stroking him as you pressed your tits against his chest. You looked up at Koko's face to see him already flushed a pretty deep pink. You wanted to kiss him until he couldn't even breathe properly. But you weren't sure if this was something he wanted as he could find kissing too romantic. "Wanna kiss?" Koko chuckled in response before just kissing you. It didn't even start of slow, because neither of you wanted that.

You just wanted to feel eachothers warmth. While kissing, you started pulling his pants now to his ankles, breaking the kiss in the process and lowering yourself along with the pants.

You put your hand on his chest to make him lean back into the leather seat while you kissed his bare thigh as his cock was right next to your face.

Finally seeing you like this was more than satisfying to koko, it was all he fucking wanted all this time. "You look so fuckin' beautiful.." you smiled but said nothing back, you just wanted his long and pretty cock in your throat.

As soon as you started kissing up his cock he tipped his head back "shit—oh my fucking.." he trailed off as he started moaning. His moans were pure music to your ears, and it just egged you on to suck the soul out of him.

You put your lips on the tip of his cock and he started twitching, "o-oh fuck—" he cursed again. You found it so cute how he already mindlessly babbled. You darted your tongue out and sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth with your tongue flat on the backside of his cock. You then slowly, slowly lowered your mouth on his cock until you reached his balls and his tip was in the back of your throat.

Koko felt like he was gonna faint, his hips stayed flexed, and an inch above the limo seat. His hand was in your hair involuntarily, he just needed to hold onto something or he would lose his fucking mind.

Then, all of a sudden you started to Bob your head up and down on his throbbing cock, making koko slap his hand infront of his mouth to cover up his loud and pathetic moans. But it was no use, and he knew it, but it was more so that the driver couldn't hear what a horny slut kokonoi Hajime was.

"Mhpff!—" he moaned against his hand. He had already started to drool against it. He was disgusting, but he felt good, free even. Giving you full control over him made him feel at ease, koko did have a busy life where he had to control everything, but having someone control him and his pleasure made him feel relaxed.

"Good boy.." you hummed before you started to stuff his long cock back into your throat. Kokos' eyes widened, and he scratched at the seat. At this point the didn't give a single fuck about the expensive leather because what you just called flipped a switch in his brain and he just moved his hand from his mouth, it was all shiny from his own spit

"m-may I—shit!.." he began. "may I call you mistress?" He asked, and suddenly you felt yourself getting to the point of being as horny as koko.. you truly did not expect this.. and you think neither would have koko.

You pulled off of his pulsing cock to look up at him and use your middlefinger to wipe away some if his precum from your lips. You would die to have him call you that, and you would kill to have him as your slut.

"You may.." you said with a sultry smile as you continued to jerk him off. "Tha-thank you.." then you squeezed his cock as a warning "who are you thanking?" You asked as you stopped jerking him off and just having a tight grip on him, before he could correct himself you got lower and started sucking one of his balls into your mouth. Making Koko's head fly back onto the seat rest and his eyes roll back. "I—" he struggled to catch his breath and choked on his spit for a second. "Thank you, mistress!"

"There we go.. Remember that for next time, " you said with a knowing smirk. Koko looked back at you, and you saw that he already had small tears in the corners of his eyes. He looked so cute..

Koko bit his bottom lip to stiffle his breathless moans. "Y-yes..Mistress," his mind went racing at the thought of a next time... God, he wanted you to do horrible things to him. He wanted to see you in a matching latex bra and thong set. He wanted you to tie and gag him. He wanted you to just fucking use him. Peg him! Ride his face 'til he can't breathe! He will fucking beg for it! The once reserved and cocky koko was now nothing more than a desperate slut.

As you continued to suck on his cock your other hand went up to feel up his chest to then reach his lips, koko immediately just started sucking on them as if it was in his DNA to obey you.

Koko grabbed your hand and swirled his tongue around your digits as your head kept bobbing up and down, koko pressed his hips up from the seat, and his eyes rolled back behind his closed eyes as he started sucking your fingers more desperately.

The feeling of him throbbing and twitching in your throat while his wet and warm tongue swirled around your manicured fingers made you so wet, you knew that your tights were also soaked through. You've never felt as horny as you did in the very moment. The rush of sucking your friends dick in a moving vehicle, not knowing if the driver can hear you. and the fact that koko would literally whore himself out for you,

"M-mhh!—" he moaned loudly around your fingers. He was about to cum..and youwere going to swallow every single drop.

Koko shivered and thrashed around. His grip on your hand tightened as his hips started to rit back into your throat. You hollowed your cheeks, and koko suddenly came with choked and loud moans. With every moan, he started to relax more and more.

The bitter and salty cum shot into your mouth and you moaned at the taste of his hot cum, it drove you wild..

Koko sighed one last time, and you took your fingers out of his mouth. He looked down at you, hair messy, lip makeup smeared with spit and cum.

His mind was so clouded by lust and the after shock of a life changing orgasm that he didn't realize where his cum was. Until he heard a gulp, and you licked your lips. "fuck—did you just..swallow it?.." he asked and you just got up to lay your chest on his and he winced a bit at his cock meeting your skirt.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your kissed him, his tongue swirled around yours and he sighed at the taste of champagne and his cum.

You then looked at him with a soft smile. "You did good.." You kissed him again. "Y-you did good..you did really good.." koko complimented you back.

After a few seconds of just staring after each other, koko asked "so..you said next time.."

You grinned and picked out a long, pretty strand of his hair to swirl it around your finger. "Yeah, I did.. Would you like that?" Koko blinked away some of the remaining tears and nodded "yeah..sure.."

"Then how about you return the favor while we watch movies?" Koko's eyes widened assist cock twitched slightly against you, it's crazy how he's still hard..this never happened before. "Y-yeah,I'd love to," you jokingly hit him on his arm. "Don't go soft on me now. On the way home, we'll still only be besties, alright?" You said while sitting up and wiping your skirt and face clean with some tissues you had in your black dior purse, you handed some to koko and as he wiped his cock clean, you took a tissue and wiped his face clean.

It took him by surprise. He looked up at you, and you smiled. "You still have so much spit and lipgloss on your face, hun"

After you two were done wiping everything, you straightened your clothes out, and you sat back down next to him. If you didn't know that, you just sucked the soul out of his dick. It would look like you two were just friends.

But then you put your hand on his thigh,

You two knew his couch would need to be replaced after fucking it up with multiple cum, sweat and saliva stains.

#—☆ jojo writes‧₊˚#koko smut #kokonoi hajime smut #koko hajime smut #tr smut #tokyo revengers smut #chubby!reader #bimbo!reader

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