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s3thwrit3sstuff · 16 hours

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❝ Comin’ back for more? ❞

warnings: yandere!leon and yandere!reader, piquerism, carving his name into r! skin, blood kink, overstimulation, leon takes pictures and videos of r!, dumbification, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick), use of boypussy & boy cunt.

“Actually,” Leon sighs, “I was gonna ask if you’ve seen him.”

Her shock is evident but to Leon’s surprise, it turns into exasperation.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Kennedy?” Ashley puts her hands on her hips and then points a finger at his way.

“He likes you. (Y/N) (L/N). He likes you, Leon Kennedy. So,” she comes around to him and despite the height difference, Leon feels slightly intimidated by her frown.

“Just fuck his brains out and tell him you’re not gonna let him go! That’s the only way you’re getting through to him, okay? God, I swear the both of you are so dimwitted!”

authors' note: heed the warnings, leon and y/n are high-key deranged, lmao. also i wrote this in a rush but enjoy!!

“Do you think he’s like…big?”

That alone was enough to make you rip your eyes away from your laptop. She chews on her glossy lip, twisting her phone to show you a Tinder profile of some douchebag that checks off everything on her list.

Awkwardly angled photos to show his jawline? Check.

Dimples? Check.

Two pairs of horrendous matching sweats? Check

A random photo of him holding some poor relative's baby to appeal to women? Check.

“Surprised he didn’t leap out from your brain,” your dry tone makes Ashley pout. “Honestly, be a little proud of me, (Y/N). He’s not holding a fish,” she turns the phone to herself. Pursing your lips, you return your attention to the report that’s been rotting in your laptop.

“Yeah, his sister is probably relieved her baby’s face is plastered on a hook-up app.” Ashley reaches over and smacks your hand. The yelp you let out turns a few heads; dark eyebags and caffeine-fueled veins already making them irritable. Exclamations of pain weren’t appreciated.

“You’re such a pessimist, (Y/N). I swear I have no idea how we ended up being friends.” An attempt was made at stifling your laughter but it tumbles out from between your fingers in quick intakes of breaths. The glaring turns into mumbling but none would speak up. Between Ashley’s status and your own, along with your golden reputation, no one could find themselves wishing ill upon the both of you.

Ashley was from a wealthy family. All you'd need to do is look at her to see she was dripped in luxury brands that were so exclusive you probably never heard of them. She met you through one of her mother's annual parties. It was an attempt on her end to play matchmaker with Ashley so she was quick to push Ashley and your sibling together.

Unfortunately for her, both you and your sibling were queer. Ashley was just glad to have real friends. How did the saying go? You win some, you lose some?

"You have your mother to thank for that. Remember how she was convinced you were a lesbian because we kept hanging out? Before I came out and everything." Ashley rolled her eyes, leaning on her elbow as she scrolled through the array of people with mild interest.

“Woah, what was that for?” Her lack of reply makes your brows raise. Closing your laptop, you reach a hand out to swipe her phone away. She gasps, attempting to swipe it back but you lean back on the chair, balancing precariously on its two legs. “Give it back, you ass,” she hisses, still trying to keep her voice low as she raises from her seat. Exiting from Tinder, your thumbs work deftly to open her messages and scoff as you go through her archived chats to see her mother’s messages were there. “You put your mom in archive jail? Woah, she must have really pissed you off,” she grunts as she tugs her phone back into her hands. You let her, folding your arms behind your head as she taps out from your intrusion. “What’s up? Did she bug you about university again? I swear she’s as anal about making those planners as you are.” “As opposed to how you live through life relying simply on your phone’s battery? Not to mention, you keep overcharging the hell out of your phone too. You should really change it — “ Ashley tucks her hand to her chest as you stand up, your chair banging as you ground it before you do so. At this point, a few people have plugged in their earphones anyway. “You’re stalling, Ms Graham.”

Ashley does this thing with her mouth. Sucking in her cheeks and chewing the insides as she contemplates spilling the metaphorical can of beans. It seems she relents as she settles next to you. There’s a sense of gratitude in her eyes as your knees are now facing her as you sit.

“These recent killings, it’s got her on edge,” she said. “She’s even been telling me I should have an escort everywhere I go. I don’t know, I just want to be normal. It’s hard enough that people treat me more like a concept or a walking ATM — an escort would just further that divide.”

A glance over her shoulder makes her words more concrete. Their eyes were clear in their intentions; flashes of green embedded in the very whites of their gelatinous orbs. Whether it was envy or greed was hard to decipher but it was clear Ashley wasn’t a person to them. She was a myth brought to life.

“You told her that?” she pushes her lips forward into a pout and you cock a brow. “Like she’d let that be an excuse. I understand her concerns but I’m not a damsel in distress. The Ghostface killings aren’t even aimed at this university, they’re completely random.”

“But you gotta admit, the close proximity would set anyone on edge. Your mother just happened to be someone who was born right on it,” you reach over to poke her cheek and she swats your hand away with a huff. “Can’t you ask her to hire secret agents instead? At least that way, nobody will see them.”

Ashley groans out that you’re the opposite of being helpful. Her phone buzzes in her hand and whatever she reads is clearly exciting enough for her to completely drop the conversation because she reaches forward and smacks your knees so hard it jerks up involuntarily.

“(Y/N), look!”

You’re half-expecting a new Tinder profile but instead, it’s a shittily made poster for a Frat Party. The curling of your lips has Ashley whining and she inches closer — her knees now between yours — as she wags the phone a bit.

“Dude, c’mon! We gotta go, everyone will be there!”

And if everyone was there, Ashley would have to be there too.

“Yeah, what better way to piss off your mother than to go to an overcrowded and overrated Frat Party,” you reply dryly. High schoolers made better posters. This one with the Comic Sans font, blurry PNGs of the hang-tight emoji, and Rick Sanchez lowered your confidence in the Earth's crust. Ashley scoffs.

“Shut up. Besides, the only reason you don’t want to go is because Mr Waitlist will be there,” she dodges your attempt to smack her arm. “Seriously, I have no idea why you choose to be in denial about your feelings for him. The chemistry between you two is insane. It’s almost sickening.”

“Almost? Guess we should try harder,” you mutter as you turn to face your laptop again. Ashley does not relent. “You should. I agree. It’s obvious you two like each other. I’ve already made a wedding plan for you.”

“Ashley,” you groan out. “Nothing is happening. We’re just...close friends.” "Again. Stage 1, denial," your eye-roll makes her inch closer and closer. "Not that anyone would blame you. He looks like some European model even with those weird side-part bangs." "Ashley." The finality in your tone makes her giggle. "(Y/N). You're attracted to him. The second you see him I swear your pupils just blow up bigger than when you're on molly. What's stopping you from just being exclusive-style?" Knowing she won't stop her sudden fixation on the topic, your shoulders droop just as you slip down your chair. Sinking deeper into your oversized hoodie, you sigh and attempt to entertain her as your fingers hover over your keyboard.

"We tried, but it didn't work, Ashley."

"Barely, tried. You had one foot out of the door before the relationship even started. I still remember you trying to keep it a secret, that's not trying that's giving up with extra steps!"

The violent shushing of a particularly peeved student causes Ashley to flinch. Pink dusts across her milky skin and she bows her head apologetically, her teethy grin gone in an instant. He seems satisfied with her expression. That quickly fades when he sees the stare you give him; his brows furrow and he frowns with a slow curl of his nose. Like a kitten hissing.

You recognize him from some of the classes you took. He was the kind of guy who'd continue to badger the professor with questions, acting so smug as he did so and never catching how exasperated they'd be. Obscenely polite because his parents were big spenders in the university's bank account. His greasy fingerprints on the steel frame of his glasses and pathetic excuse of a beard piss you off enough to curl your lips into a wicked grin.

"Sorry, were we too loud?"

The apricot sweater he wears reeks of cologne, the kind that pierces your nose and makes your eyes water from how strong it is. As he lifts his arms to cross it, Ashley straightens her back to put more distance between him.

"The two of you have been loud the second you got here." There's more he wants to say, the twitching of his lips and the tightening of his fingers prove that much. But you're staring up at him like you know something he doesn't — an omen is within your eyes and the chill it gives him shuts him up enough to leave with a comical stomp and huff.

Ashley cringes, glancing around to see if anyone felt the same as he did but is distracted by your question. "Everyone is invited to that party?" Excitement flashes in her eyes as she sees the same in yours.

"Fine. I'll go too."

The music is so loud you're convinced it's rattling your bones. People are spilling out from the threshold of doors, and windows, on the stairs and the porch, and possibly on the sloped roofs of the house. The lights are everchanging. Streams of neon blue, green, and red are flashing through the fog that's flowing down from the corners of the room. The scents. The sounds. The feeling of bodies bumping into you no matter where you walk. It was a goddamn watering hole.

You had come here with Ashley, but she split off with some of her girlfriends. Last time you checked, she'd been invested in some girl's sob story as they crowded around her with red cups in their hands and slurred words. Ashley had given you a grimace but gestured for you to just enjoy herself.

You'd try to but there'd be no point in doing so considering how vapid everyone was.

So you nurse your drink in the corner, back facing the stairs, and smile as people walk by or above you. The music isn't all that bad, typical party music with some early 2000s songs that earns a good 'oh fuck, this is my song!' from the crowd.

Scanning the front door, watching every face that comes in, your hunger becomes more and more endless. Like a predator digging its claws into the bark of trees, you're restless in that little shroud of camouflage; shifting your weight from one side to the other, sighs escaping liquor-flavoured lips; grin getting more and more grim.

The touch on your nape has your head tilting away from him. Those calloused fingerpads — which not many people in this slice of "heaven" had — press into the solid bone on your nape; it elicits a barely there moan and your features soften immediately.

The cup he's holding is perspiring in his hands and you've spent enough time under his hands to know it had every right to be red and sweating. Deft fingers pinch the rim of your cup and you give him no resistance as he pulls it away to trade his drink.

"Thought you said you didn't wanna be here, Trustfund," Leon said as he leaned on the wooden panels of the walls. The shoulder bump he did is deliberate, a soothing croon to ask you to stop staring people down the second they enter the house.

"What gave you that impression, Waitlist?"Leon grunts, downing what little is left in your cup down his throat. Risking a glance away from the entrance, your eyes chase after the trail of wetness that slithers down his chin. God, he was gorgeous. A face so pretty it's no wonder he pisses off other men around him. His odd, dry, humour doesn't exactly help either.

"The lack of replies to my messages, maybe, geez, who knows."

"Oh, poor Leon," your pout earns a frown from him. "Couldn't get your dick wet when I was going through exams? Oh, poor widdle baby," he leans away from your fingers as they invade his face to pinch to what little adolescent fat still stuck to his cheeks.

"Oh, suck a dick, (Y/N)." Your smirk as you bring your lips to the rim of his cup. "Down, boy. We're in public, don't start begging just yet."

Unamused — or attempting to look unamused — Leon simply follows your focused gaze and tilts his head.

"I'll ask then. What's up with the staring problem? You attracted to doors now or what?"

The drink goes down with an awfully wheaty aftertaste and you smack your lips together in bemusement. "Fuck - what beer is this?" "Don't be an ass, they're doing a beer run, alright? I grabbed what I could. Are you gonna answer my question or not?" You swallow with a grimace. "D'you know that kid in Mr Pinto's class? The one with glasses and that god-awful voice? That know-it-all?" Leon nods. "Yeah, kinda looks like the typical nerdy douchebag, right?"

You lean in and Leon lets you. The both of you pretend not to feel the way his breath shudders as your wet lips brush the side of his cheeks.

"I wanna kill that rude little freak. Cut him open and smear his brains all over the fuckin' sidewalk." Leon's eyes widen. As you peer at him through your lashes, his grey-metal eyes all but melt to reveal that bloodthirsty animal stalking between reason and lace-thin morality. He gulps thickly, casting a side-glance briefly to the entrance before he darts them back to you.

"Why?" He strains out after clearing his throat.

Oh, this is why you adored Leon Scott Kennedy.

It was the way he tried so hard to deny how twisted he actually was. That abashed flutter of his lashes, the skim of teeth over his rabbit-tongue-colored lips; everything contrasting to how violently he used his strength to thrust a knife into someone's rib; how easily he swiped and cleaned a hunting blade using his gloves.

The low, guttural, grunts he makes as he thrusts into you during that high. How he's so careful with his strength outside of the bedroom but during the heat of it? He's so shameless that he leaves hand-shaped bruises all over your hips and arms and even leaves indents of his teeth into your flesh. If he was really impatient, he'd fuck you all while wearing the Ghostface mask, holding that still-bloody knife to your throat as he fucked you so hard you walked funny for a day or two.

Despite how much he enjoys it though, he still asks ' why? '

Why him? Did he do something bad to you? Why not him?

Why? Why? Why?

It didn't exactly matter why. Leon never says no to you.

"He was a bitch to Ashley."

Someone bumps into him, and he braces his hand on the base rail of the stairs. Drunken laughter muffles the minute silence as he peers down at you. His broad shoulders look bigger this time. You faintly recalled Ashley slyly mentioning how he seems to work out more often now ("always jogging past near your accommodations, you must've seen him once in a while. Has he ever come over for a quick post-workout boost?" "Gross, Ashley...A few times, yeah -").

"That won't do." He said with furrowed brows. "No, it won't." Circling your arms around his waist, you pull him in with a Cheshire smile.

"Ashley's like family to me. Besides, her mom's been worried about all these — " you giggle, trying to push down the urge to by chewing on your lower lip but failing. "What?" he asks, the tip of his nose on yours as he savours the sound. "C'mon, what'd she say, babe?"

"She's worried about these Ghostface killings," you playfully hiss out. He isn't sure if it's the party, the drinks, the bloodlust, or just you but he starts laughing along with you.

"So we gotta make sure he isn't dangerous for her sake, hm?" He noses under your jaw and the way you turn your face away makes his mouth water. That neck is far too untainted for his own liking; how long has it been since you've fucked? Since he's driven a knife into someone's skull?

Ever since that awkward break-up in your car, after that honest-to-god perfect night of killing that annoying and creepy line cook and fucking under the stars in the woods. That was the last time the two of you fucked and that was months ago. It caught him off-guard. That haze of pleasure being fanned away by the typhoon that was your sudden request to just break up.

The handjob on the wooden floors of your dorm followed by a blowjob was more recent but Leon just wanted to sink into that tight hole again and again for hours for him to be fully satisfied. The only reason he even stopped was because your alarm rang for an early class, one that you apparently couldn't afford to skip. All lies. He knows the alarm was just the weekday alarm that always went off at 9 am — he knows it's because of the beat of silence that followed after you came around his fingers.

The gentle panting from both of you, the sweet kisses he was leaving on your thighs and then your face.

You only pulled away when it got too real.

It just makes him more determined to show you how deep his devotion for you was. Whatever the reason behind your fear of commitment was, there isn't a line Leon wouldn't cross to show you how willing he is to be yours.

"Exactly," you whisper. How he hears it despite the music and people should surprise him but it doesn't. His body is hyperaware of your very presence. The minute changes in your expressions, the octave changes or lilts in your voice, the wordless way you communicate with him from across the room; Leon just knows you.

"A little birdie told me that he actually has a crush on you, Mr Kennedy." Leon doesn't pause in his actions. His tongue laps at the rising pace of your pulse, teeth brushing over skin and you try very hard to continue your speech despite the hand that cups your crotch.

"Somethin' 'bout you helping him pick up his books when the fucker tripped over his own fuckin' feet." You gasped as he started mottling your skin, capillaries just imploding under his ministrations. "Fuck, Leon." The cup is crinkling under your tightening hold and Leon simply cages you in between his toned arms. It's hard to focus on anything past them as you eye the prominent veins that disappear under the sleeves of his black shirt.

"Leon, calm the fuck down." He bites your neck in retaliation and you're glad some popular song plays over the speakers because the cheers that follow mask your moan.

What a ridiculous statement. Here you are, in his hands; perfect and handsome and sexy and yet — not his. It’s all a bit fucked up for him. Growing up alone, life offered no reprieve for little Leon Kennedy. His parents dying while he was young, then going to an orphanage — it all cemented into him that he was fine being independent. A partner sounded nice but he didn’t give it much thought.

Until you came.

Stubborn, silver-tongued, rich, handsome, so fucking handsome.

Not at all his type.

Waitlist, he hated that nickname. So he crashed a little late and unprepared for his first class. Sue him. Not his fault the school plucked out his name late too. Among the giggles of the classroom, yours stood out. It made sense since you were closest to him. Ashley was smacking your arm, sharing glances his way and you turned and mouthed a ‘sorry’ that Leon knew you didn’t even mean.

But then he kept seeing you around. Bumping into him during parties, always sitting near him in classes, accidentally hitting him in the face with a ball while you were chilling on the grass.

Fate was too perfect for him.

Leon was snarky and stubborn and he had nothing to give you that you already didn’t have.

But then, the night he saw you covered in blood. Everything seemed to shift. Because suddenly you weren’t this unreachable, little asshat with a wicked tongue and Leon was no longer a mutt with nothing to offer.

Suddenly, he saw that you were just as twisted and hungry as he was. A lone wolf with its teeth stained and its ribs showing under all that extravagant fur and Leon couldn’t resist himself chasing you after that.

The man who was bleeding out next to you had been desperate to try to sleep with you. The bruising around your neck and the dishevelled state of your clothes pieced the puzzle together. Leon used that to justify killing him.

For you. Just for you.

He was finally using the sharp teeth he had. Those blunt claws he’d been desperately trying to file down dug themselves into the dirt and he ran with you all the way down to Hell. Kicking the earth behind him, his breath visible as his teeth bare into a wolfish grin and you were right there.

Two lone wolves finding each other in a world full of rabbits and squirrels and deers.

Because that's what the both of you were. Not spiders with silk-weaved webs or snakes with venomous fangs. You were a wolf stalking its prey with your tongue lolled out and eyes so wide they shine like the moon.

Unapologetic killer.

If only you’d get the fact that you’re not a solitary animal into your thick skull.

Leon grunts when you pinch his sides, forcing himself to pull away with a disgruntled glare that you return.

“Did you hear what I said about the plan?” He tilts his head. “Was I supposed to?”

You click your teeth, placing your hands firmly on his chest to push him away. Leon resists but he lets you go after a split second.

“Christ, Waitlist.”

Leon reaches his hand out but you take a turn into the living area and suddenly he’s bumping into bodies. They’re bouncing and shaking and he feels like a sailor in rough waters.

“(Y/N)!” his voice doesn’t reach past his own nose. The music is so loud he doubts you’re even deliberately ignoring him. “God fucking dammit!” Leon ignores the hand that clumsily tried to seduce him and the glossy lips that follow it, just shouldering through the sea of people.

The kitchen hails no signs of you. He’s glad to see the beer run was successful enough and grabs a bottle of your favourite to soothe whatever it is he did.

“Leon! You’re here!” Ashley pops up from across the island and Leon smiles at her way. “Hey, Ashley. What’s up?” she eyes him skeptically and places her hands on the island. She quickly regrets this because of how suspiciously sticky it is but doesn’t miss a beat as she asks him; “I was gonna ask if you’ve seen (Y/N) but I guess those beers are for him.”

Ashley wraps her hand around a can and uses the condensation to somehow alleviate the stickiness. She would use the sink but with the state of a poor boy vomitting inside it and the amount of couples fucking in the bathrooms, this was the best she could do.

“Actually,” Leon sighs, “I was gonna ask if you’ve seen him.”

Her shock is evident but to Leon’s surprise, it turns into exasperation.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Kennedy?” Ashley puts her hands on her hips and then points a finger at his way.

“He likes you. (Y/N) (L/N). He likes you, Leon Kennedy. So,” she comes around to him and despite the height difference, Leon feels slightly intimidated by her frown.

“Just fuck his brains out and tell him you’re not gonna let him go! That’s the only way you’re getting through to him, okay? God, I swear the both of you are so dimwitted!”

Ashley walks away and Leon stands there for a second to process what he’d just been told. The beginnings of a smile threaten to crawl onto his face so Leon purses his lips and just walks on towards the hallways to see if you’ve snuck into any of the rooms there.

He instead finds another person. Quite literally, they were shoved straight into his chest (thank god the beer was in a bottle). It takes a minute for Leon to notice him, really notice him, but after their half-assed apologies are shares Leon sees who it is.

From over his shoulder, he spots your half-hidden face just as you slink out of view.

“Hey, you’re...Michael, right?” the brunette perks up considerably and nods. “You’re in Mr Pinto’s class?”

Michael jumps into the conversation. “I am!” he exclaims though considering the state of the party, it is not out of place. Leon smiles charmingly and leans on the wall, offering Michael one of the bottles he’s holding.

His hands practically tremble to take it.

“You’re pretty smart, huh?” Michael scoffs at his words, his cheeks flushed despite not one sip taken. “I guess you can say that, I mean, 4.0 GPA but yeah. I guess I am pretty smart.”

This was going to be a long night, Leon thinks as he takes a swig.

Dancing with Michael proved to be easier than talking to him. He’s much more pleasant when you can’t hear him bragging about being the smartest guy in the room or how his sister is as dumb as bricks (”It’s no wonder she resorted to bulimia as a last resort to get hitched” “Oh, wow.”).

Leon thought rich kids were already unbearable but the smart rich kids were worse. The only thing that kept him sane was the fact that he’d see glimpses of you. A sliver of (H/C) coloured through the flashes of light. At times, he swears he even hears your laughter through the crowd and music.

Michael grabs at his arms and pretends to be coy as he squeezes and asks how much Leon works out. “I see you runnin’ sometimes!” And Leon suppresses the urge to cringe at how close his face is.

Did this make him an asshole? All this pretending to be nice, if God was real, was he shaking his head at Leon?

‘ If God was real he’d open the gates of hell to swallow you up the second you were born, ‘ he thought derisively.

But then, the Devil answers his question in the form of you. He sees you dancing, hands up in the air with your teeth bared in a giant grin. Leon's entranced; your arms slither down to your neck and Leon's not sure how he sees it with the flashing lights but he can see the hickeys he left on you. Michael is speaking, his ears relay to him. But he can’t pull his eyes from you. Leon doesn’t understand how you do it.

When you’re in the room it’s as if you’re the sun; the very center of his universe and he wants to implode into you. Be devoured and destroyed within your maw. A hand on his face and Leon is now staring at Michael. God, he’s staring at Michael.

Before he can speak, Leon asks; “Do you wanna go somewhere more quiet?”

They’re in the back of the house now. Music is more muffled despite the way the walls reverberate. The wood panelling must be screaming from the LED strip lights pasted on it. All the lamps had a red cloth over them, the room would look terrifying if it weren’t for the clouds of smoke and slurred giggling from the bodies on the bean bags.

Michael’s palms get clammy and Leon pretends he doesn’t feel it. Deeper in the room, at the back, where the cove of a past reading nook was built. The heavy velvet curtains stink of weed and cigarettes. He doubts the stains at the end are anything but alcohol or vomit. Aptly named make-out nook, the windows are covered by old sports magazines so no one from the outside can gawk.

Leon pressed Michael to the window panes and he gasps, hands coming to rest on Leon’s waist. He does that annoying squeezing thing that makes Leon’s skin crawl. His lips are on him and Leon narrows his eyes, staring at the smiling bodybuilder with his bulging muscles and tanned skin. Superman underwear and all. Leon wonders what he’d think of the sight before him; if any of these frozen-in-time athletes coo and gasp at the scandalous activities this nook has seen.

The curtains rustle as Michael chews on Leon’s lower lip. He’s biting down harder than he should — Leon jerks back, hissing softly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry — Are you okay?” Michael pauses as the curtains part and your giggles flood through, tendrils of smoke slipping through your teeth. An act. You’re closing in for the kill, and Michael has nowhere to run.

Still, he looks oh-so-smug as he tightens his grip on Leon.

“Leon?” you gasped while Michael sneered at you as he took a handful of Leon’s crotch. Both pretend not to feel how soft he is. He squeezed and purred. Leon’s eyes remained on you, brows raised in a challenge. “He’s busy with me, (L/N). So move along,” Leon slid his toned arms around his waist. The sight was like a match being struck, and your eyes burned with fury.

‘ Now? ‘ his eyes ask. You nod, reaching for the pocket knife you tucked away in your (Leon’s) leather jacket.

‘ Now. ‘

Leon wanted to kiss you so badly that he felt his fingers shake as he reached for his own hidden knife.

“Dude, not cool. You can’t make out with me like 10 minutes ago then just make out with someone else!” You exclaim, clambering into the nook and letting the curtains naturally slip close. “Leon — c’mon,” you beg so sweetly when you’re pretending. Michael sighs, getting his filthy hands off Leon, and faces you.

One finger jabs at your chest and you tilt your head at it.

“Fuck off, alright? Not everyone is dying to fuck your used hole —“

He inhales sharply, lashes fluttering as metal sheathes itself into his flesh. Leon pulls out his knife and then plunges it inside his back.

Again and again and again and again and again.

Michael braces his arms on your shoulders, and your breath shudders. He looks up at you in panic. He doesn't pay attention to the knife you’re holding too, he inhales and the way his mouth opens tells you he’ll try to scream.

The blade sinks through his neck, and when he tries to swallow the blood that floods his airway you can feel his muscles and Adam’s apple squish and move it. So you twist and dig in deeper. Leon’s blade pulls out again, blood is quickly spreading beneath Michael’s legs but the room is already cast in red — as if anyone would see.

“You enjoyed the little shit, Kennedy?” Michael claws at your jacket as you tilt the knife up, slicing through more of him until he starts spasming. His choking and gasping makes you groan in relief, breathing in his death with a smile.

"He was". You don't dare pull out the knife. Not now. A little puddle of blood is fine but more than people will really notice. The thrill of it all is too much for Leon; the crowd of people being hidden only by curtains, a warm body sputtering and choking on you as you held the knife; your eyes staring up at him with nothing but adoration in them.

Try to deny him as much as you want, (Y/N). You can't hide from Leon's hunger.

Ashley's voice echoes through his head.

"Kept groping you like some sort of pervert, what a fucking loser. Heard he got caught stalking the swim team captain. Pathetic, right? Think we can drag this pile of shit to the pool?"

Why are you talking about this waste of space?

Leon grabs him and with no more than a grunt, tosses Michael's body to the window pane where he thuds and slides down onto the floor. Splatters of blood spray onto the magazine covers, forever staining them just like the vomit stains on the curtains, and Leon pushes you against the window.

You replace the knife you held with Leon's jaw, smiling into the kiss as he sticks his tongue into your mouth. Fuck, he tastes good. Like your favorite beer. He's relentless as his hands grab the mounds of your ass.

From the outside, people snicker at the thumps they can hear.

"Fuuuck, Leon — Mfph, you're so fuckin' hasty," you groan. "Sorry for rushing when — fuck — when there's a dead body next to you."

You laugh and when Leon dives in again to suck the soul of your body he tastes the heavy smoke of marijuana lingering in your mouth. Michael is grunting, attempting to pull out the knife in his neck and you're especially cruel as you dig the heel of your shoes into his crotch. When he groans spurts of blood come out of him like a deflated waterbed.

"You're acting like this is something new," you retort. Leon just focuses on your neck again. Sucking over his marks and the slight pain that follows causes you to moan, gripping onto a fistful of his hair as your legs part.

What did Ashley say exactly? Fuck your brains out and tell you he's never letting you go?

He kneels abruptly, you're still catching your breath when he licks up your stomach, his bloodied knife now in his hand. You help him by lifting up your top, watching him lap at your happy trail with a dark blush across your face.

"Gonna suck my dick? You miss it that much?" Leon does not reply. Instead, he unbuttons your pants and you're chewing on your lip in excitement, gulping thickly as he pulls it down under the swell of your ass.

There's a wet patch on your underwear and Leon moans, pulling your pants down even further until it pools at your ankles. His knife is cold on your outer thigh, you hiss softly as the edges press and nick you but his tongue lapping at your dick through the cloth derails any complaints.

"Shiiit, Leon — " he slips the knife under your underwear, the serrated edges licking at your hips before a riiiiiiip! is heard. Ashley would be pissed knowing one of the designer underwear she gave you as a gift was purposefully torn apart but perhaps she'll be forgiving knowing it was to fulfill horny, filthy, purposes.

He must be really fucking excited. Leon's tongue is making a wet spot appear on your underwear and as if flimsily slips away from your hips, you swear you can feel the growl he releases as he sucks your exposed dick.

It twitches on his tongue, flushed from his attention as his tongue laps underneath it and his lips wrap around it.

"You miss me, baby?" You let out a sound of confusion at the question. "Yeah, you fuckin' do. You're so fucking hard."

Was he...was he talking to your cock?

"Bet you're dripping for me too, hm?" "Leon, what the fuck are you — "

The knife is now between your thighs, Michael's blood smearing itself there as he presses a kiss to your cock.

"If you're gonna cut me, wipe that pig's blood off." Your sneer is the last thing Michael sees as his eyes finally cloud over. In all honesty, you'd forgotten about him until now. The thought of his blood on you just disgusted you.

Leon wipes off his blood in his signature move; simply using your ripped undergarments in replacement of his gloves. Despite your annoyance, you won't deny how hot it was seeing him do it.

"Want me to cut you?" he hitches the blade to your inner thighs, the still-warm blade makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand. "Can I?"

"...Not there. Somewhere else."

Leon stands, the tip of the blade on your stomach. He towers over you, his broad shoulders making your cunt ache for more. "Here?" You shake your head so he flicks his gaze to inspect your torso.

Taking the edge of your shirt from your hands, he instead slips it between your teeth and you narrow your eyes at him. With your hands free, you lean back onto the windows, chest rising and falling in anticipation as Leon traces the knife all the way up to your chest.

He pauses at your collarbone but you shake your head once again and so he lowers it to your pec. You shake your head but Leon is gazing at it intently. He strokes tenderly over the surgery scar then pulls the skin of your chest taut and before you can protest he digs the tip of the blade in.

You bite down on your shirt, hissing as he drags down the tip. Crimson seeps through, beading up like delicate pearls before it gushes out in small streams. Leon's knee digs up your cunt and the spark of pleasure makes you lurch forward to grip Leon's shoulders. He pushes you back, the thump once again earning giggles from the group on the outside.

"You know I love you, (Y/N). I'm sick and tired of pretending you don't love me back."

Bewildered, you stare at him with furrowed brows.

He twists the blade and you inhale sharply as he slices it, lifting the knife at the end which cuts you shallowly at the end of his...symbol?

What the fuck was he cutting into you?

"Since you're too fucking stubborn to accept it, I'll make sure you know it. I don't know what rich boarding school trauma you have or if mommy and daddy never showed you how love is supposed to work — you're fucking mine."

He drags the blade down, three quicks slices follow and your eyes well with tears while your hips gyrate down on the delicious friction he has provided.

"You think I won't understand you? Think I'll hurt you? I'm the only one in this fucked up world that'll love you unconditionally, Trustfund. I love you, (Y/N)."

The next letter — you belatedly realize — hurts more as he carves a jagged O.

"I love you. I love you, I fucking love you, I'll love you till the day we die, and even in Hell, I'll find you and I'll love you."

N hurts less, Leon's gotten the hang of the angles and how quick and deep he should do it.

"I'll burn the whole fucking world down if it meant I could stay by your side."

Your chest is bleeding, rivers of red escaping and it stings in the cool air so Leon presses himself closer. The warm of his body on yours numb out the pain of the pressure he had applied. Blood is staining your torso, dripping and mixing with your slick and his jeans and you're so turned on you can't find the words.

Leon just kisses your cheek, licking up the tears that escaped and you moan as he kisses you.

Leon thinks his ears are fucking with him. He pulls back, not far enough to let your lips leave his but far enough that he can look at you. There's a dopey grin on your face, and he can feel the shape of your lips as you speak.

"Luh — Love you too, Leon...Love you s'fuckin' much."

It's a miracle no one has pulled the curtains back.

Maybe the noises were keeping them away. Everyone's a voyeur until the chance is actually presented in front of them, right? Hearing the both of you is enough. Seeing is too embarrassing.

You're completely wrong, by the way. Ashley had chased everyone out, locked the goddamn door of this red room with a giggle. Not knowing the true horrors that were hidden.

It was for the best.

Leon has you lifted in his arm, lapping up at the blood on your sternum as his cock bullies in and out of your cunt. The gymnast staring at him from over your shoulder makes him grin and he pulls you firmly down onto his cock, groaning as you squeal.

"Fuh — Fuck! Fuck! Leon!"

You're gripping onto whatever leverage you can find purchase off without ripping off the pictures. But he's balls deep and you keen, hands finding itself tangling with the curtain rod. Leon is so rough, so intent on destroying your cunt as his hot breath protects his name from the air, every jostle and thrust makes you clench around his cock like a vice.

"Fuck, this boypussy's made just for me, huh? Sucks me in every time I pull out, greedy little cunt." His words are making your vision blur with tears, he latches onto your nipple and your arm jerks.

The curtain rod falls with a crash and Leon immediately pulls you in. He shield your naked body with his own, completely ignoring the dead body inches away. He expects horrified screams. The both of you are greeted with silence instead.

The room is empty.

More space to fuck you in, he thinks as he smirks.

Limply, you lay out like a starfish on the couch. Cunt gaping and slick with your juices and blood and his spit. His dick is streaked with blood and your cum coating it, he spits a glob off spit onto your dick and you whine, reaching for a throw pillow to hold onto as he uses his thumb to jerk it.

"Fuck, you look so fucking handsome right now."

"How...how have you not cummed yet...?" You pant out, hips lifting and twisting in an attempt to escape Leon's thumb. He presses your hips down with his other hand and you groan, eyes rolling back.

"Needa' make up for lost time," he says as he licks his lips. "Missed this hole so badly. Shit, look at the way he's winking at me."

"Stop talkin' to my cunt!" He grunts as you kick his shoulder, turning to bite into your calf with a gleeful chuckle.

"Fuck, I wanna make a movie with you." Your pretty little prince-y parts are more forthcoming than you are. Your cock jumps and he sees the way you squeeze down.

"Say less, baby." You try to kick him again but he leans back faster than you. He meanders towards his discarded pants, pulling out his phone. You try to catch your breath, one arm tossed over your eyes as your legs go lax, thighs twitching as you try to calm your heart rate.

The light from his phone feels warm, but maybe that's just you being sensitive. He makes sure it takes in all the details of his carved name, then pans down to your sopping hole and a throaty moan escapes you as his fingers slip inside with ease.

"Jesus, I can feel your heartbeat." The casual way he says it makes you whine, he pumps his three fingers in and out before curling it up, and your back arches. The cutest "ah!" coming from you.

He hopes the phone picks it up. He admires the way you as he lines up his cock to your cunt. Slides it through your lips, hissing in pleasure as he bumps his cock with yours, and you squirm, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Leon, cum in me. Please, fucking Christ, just cum in me already."

His cock is so thick. The stretch of it never fails to make your mouth open in a silent scream, choked-out moans of his name or God escaping. When his balls smack against you, you see white behind your eyelids, and Leon chuckles as he feels your walls spasm around him.

He pulls back. The streaks of liquid on his cock just make him all the more eager. Leon lets the camera take in your body as it takes him. Plowing into you with abandon, bracing himself on his fist as his hips rattle yours.

"Fuck, yes. Tighten up around me, that's it, baby. Yeah, that's it."

He angles the phone away, wanting to see your face without it blocking him. It falls onto the floor and Leon steals your breath away as he kisses yo. His mouth tastes like blood and beer and you.

His brows pinched as his back rippled with pleasure. "I'm close," he warns and you whimper, locking your ankles behind him just as you wrap your arms behind him.

"C'mon, baby. Fill me up, yeah —Nghah! Yeah! There, right there! Fill me up, Leon, please — Ah!"

Pressing his forehead with yours, he claims your lips once again and his thrusts get sloppy, uncoordinated. He comes with a moan of your name, sheathed in as deep as he could get and the warmth that fills you makes your cunt clench around him tightly, milking him as your orgasm washes over you for one last time that night.

"Fuck, (Y/N)..." Leon presses gentle kisses to your cheek, stroking your neck as he pants.

"I...I promised Ashley I was gonna jog with her tomorrow," you mumble out, whining as Leon's hips stutter into you. He chuckles, trailing kisses down your neck.

"I'll take responsibility." "You better."

"Poor Michael," Ashley's brows slope as she watches the TV replay the news.

You're honestly impressed Leon managed to sneak out with the goddamn body, he wrapped it up in the curtain if you recalled, and placed it on his backseat. Leon didn't wanna leave you in the car but you were passed out, sleeping peacefully. So he spent a good hour or two just tossing the guy's body in the school's pool.

When you came to, you were at home with him wiping you down and your chest wrapped up.

It's been a week since the two of you were official, Michael's case seemed more and more hopeless — Leon had done a good job erasing traces of evidence. Like a proper killer.

His fingers squeeze your calves, and you groan softly, curling your toes as he massages it. Ashley turns back to peek at the both of you. You with your legs splayed over Leon's lap and him casually working out the kinks in them, all while you were wrapped with a blanket around your shoulders.

"You two aren't the slightest bit scared? He was at the party y'know. Michael and that Ghostface dude," she shudders and looks ahead at the screen. "Fuck, what if I made out with him!?"

Leon snorts, shaking his head. "I'm sure you didn't, Ash." You nod in agreement, adjusting the pillows under you, ignoring the sting of the wound under the bandages.

"Bet if you did, you'd know. He'd be so fucked up you'd probably taste blood in his mouth or somethin' freaky like that." Leon glances your way, and you give him a grin.

Ashley pouts, sinking back. You reach a hand out to play with her golden locks. It makes her shoulders droop and she leans back to you.

"You didn't even know the guy, Ashley. Ya' know what they say about killers, right? They only kill the people they know, you know any killers?"

She thinks about it.

"...You scream at the sight of a cockroach and Leon can barely parallel park without getting teary-eyed..."

"Hey," Leon's ears turn red. "That was one time and everyone was staring, okay?"

Ashley laughs, shaking her head as she switches the channels. Yeah, you were right! She didn't know any killers. She was safe hiding out here in your apartment with Leon until the police wrapped up their investigations.

As long as she had the both of you, she'd be safe. Which she wasn't wrong about — Ashley meant too much to you to be hurt. Her mother didn't have to worry about the Ghostface killers attacking her, the two of them were right behind her. Braiding her hair, asking if she wants popcorn for their movie night.

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 day

Text

Liam, this was so good I want them to crack open my ribs and put pages of every individual word you wrote inside of me until I am filled with your beautiful, poetic, descriptive writing. This was sO GOOD 😫💦

hear me out.

dick grayson x male reader.

summary: dick pushes you to your limits in the gym, and your animosity towards him slowly transforms into unexpected admiration (and unlocks months of concealed pining).

wc: 7.2k. genre: smut. warnings: top!dick, dom!dick, bottom!reader, sub!reader, one sided rivalry (reader's end), enemies to lovers(?), brief fighting, reader and dick are working out, physical fighting (with boxing gloves), envious!reader, insecure!reader, hotheaded!reader, uncut!reader, public!sex, gym!sex, dirty talk, praising, guidance, handjob, fingering, kissing, spitting, lots of sweat, body worshipping, reader will be walking funny for the next week.

Your shoes squeaked after every thump from landing on your feet. One foot chased after the other in a pursuit, and your knees raised past your navel as the cable rope cut through the air with a turn before hitting the ground. You huffed after every snap of the rope, a burn scalding the muscles in your thighs and wrists with every rotation, tensing as if you’d been hit, as if your coarse throat would feel the remnants of the whip afterward.

“Five…Four…Three…”

Sweat dripped off your forehead, off the locks of your bouncing hair, in anticipation of a merited water break. The water bottle sat on the seated stationary bench, pooled by its own condensation. You could taste it with your eyes, a ravishing sight that pushed you harder. You sped up, raised your knees higher, and endured the pain for ten seconds more. Your gut was sucked in, engaging with your core, and your breathed out in methodical puffs, your chest rising along with it. Everything was burning, muscles tightening into flaming knots that would render you frail by tomorrow morning. If the floor was lava, your body was the volcano erupting it.

Holy bells rang once you finally counted down to zero, and you immediately came to a halt, the weight of your gratification breaking your movement with an echoing thud as you instantly marched forward to quench your thirst.

“Fuck.”

Your nostrils stung more than usual. Flared with every inhale as you were catching up to your breath, and more so when you cooled down with several sips of water. Breathing had never felt so good, an absolute fiend you turned out to be after every workout.

You’re getting weaker. Breathing harder. Quicker. You’re losing control on your breath. How are you going to keep up with the team? If you feel this fatigued after a warm up? You let them down last time. Got knocked out and Dick—

He was getting to your head. Again.

Dick.

The name rolled off your tongue bitterly. A foul taste of metal and battery acid lingered in your parched mouth before it was drowned out by another gulp of water. Another.

And another.

And another, as the aforementioned man across from you halted his ropes, stopping in his tracks.

He’d been doing this since you’d arrived. Mirroring you like a reflection, copying your every move as if you were an instructor. If you were doing strength training, he stopped his cardio to take the machine next to you. Pushed when you pushed, groaned—louder—when you did.

Needed to stretch your hips? He made some lame excuse about how his legs were too tight, and felt the need to join you on the floor, stretching himself beyond the limits of what you could achieve. It colored you impressed, but you would never say that out loud. Though, you did silently admire the view of his ass, and that especially, would be kept a secret between you and the floor.

Now, it was with jump-roping. The two ropes swung from either corners of the gym like the gears working silently in your head. There was a need to compete with you for some reason.

A satisfied smirk rolled a drop of sweat off his face, and seized his naked torso with glitter as he took a step under a light that lit his body like a podium, or—and you hated to admit it—like one of the sculptures you remembered fawning over in Art History. From his broad build, you could tell that Dick was sturdy, toned, and undoubtedly beautiful.

His fringe clung onto his forehead, but you could see the gratification he got from outlasting you, smiling while he squeezed a stream of water into his mouth. You noticed how much more capable he was with the calmness of his breath, and felt his adrenaline pumping through the room. In turn, it possessed you—his energy–maneuvering you to the center of the room where a foam mat was placed, and to which Dick expectedly trailed after you.

“Wanna have a go, partner?” Dick said while rolling his shoulders back before picking up a pair of boxing gloves, then another without your confirmation.

“Seriously—“ He tossed the other pair towards you, an accurate shot that landed into your arms. “Are you going to be doing this all day? Copying me?” You silently thanked him because you began kneading one glove like a stress ball, the rubber foam absolutely gratifying with every scrunch of your hand, as well as consoling as it kept you sane for a little longer.

“I don’t see the problem—“ You began approaching him with the gloves fitted snug over your fists. “Well, actually. I do see the problem. You’re not training hard enough.” Marching with heavy stomps, your nose flaring with every breath that he casually spat out.

“You give up as soon as you feel tired. I mean, no amount of water breaks are going to help you. You think we have the time to sip water when we’re rescuing a town? A city? The world?”

His voice, soft and smooth yet it was grating to your ears. The constant talking. Rambling. It gave you a headache. It made you see red. Hearing him berate you. Mock you.

“You’re breathing too hard too, which is taking up all of your energy. And your emotions? You need to control them better. Not only does it affect your combat, but your relationship with your team. You shut yourself off when you don’t do well on a mission.”

“What are you, my therapist now?”

“Listen, it does no one any good if you’re—“

And it stopped with a strong swing towards his left cheek. His head snapped to the side when the rubber foam smacked him like a whip.

If red hadn’t blurred your vision, you would’ve noticed the tiniest smile he mustered up from the corner of his lips. A crooked, slanted one that was followed up with a chuckle.

“Not exactly fair play, but…” He raised a hand to rub at his cheek before adjusting the gloves onto his wrists, cracking his neck and stretching the muscles in his back with one more shoulder roll before positioning himself like you were: knees bent and fists raised with the gloves fencing off your face.

“I’ll give it to you. You can throw a good punch. Beginner’s luck?”

The comment made you swing at his left, and he snapped his head to the right. You missed. There was a precision to his move, something that you lacked in as he snuck a punch to your right cheek. A grunt was stifled, and then let loose in a cough when you felt another beat to the left of your abdomen. Sputtering breath, when Dick scored another hit to your jaw.

“Fuck—“ Your eyes locked on him while he held your gaze. Your perception seemingly widened, heightened as you’d noticed the smallest movements from Dick, twitching upon instinct as if he was about to strike, but there was nothing. Just the taunt of his arms, and Dick’s teasing smile to garnish, to taunt.

He was circling you. You were circling him. It was the same movement, following each other like two predators unwilling to share the last morsel of food. You felt as much as a leader as Dick was, but from the outsider’s perspective, it was telling who was following the other’s lead.

Who was the experienced leader of the two sparring men.

Dick feigned a punch with a raise of his arm, and you immediately buckled, jerking back to nothing but a bluff of a hit. You were then greeted by an obnoxious chuckle before he landed a successful sneak to your head, a hit impactful enough to rattle your knees and knock a scoff out of you.

“Be observant. I punch better with my—”

Another swing to his left cheek. Successful, and harder this time, as it managed to stumble him from his stance. You could feel the impact of your fist on Dick, even if it was cushioned by foam.

It was exhilarating.

“Fight better with your mouth closed too.” You spat, raising your arm to strike the same cheek again. Dick detected it before you could attack, and ducked lower to the right, where he met a sudden fist to his jaw, a calculative undercut that sent him falling onto his back.

“Shit—“

Something unleashed in you. The red in your vision had scorched, burned blue as it reached its highest temperature. You immediately seized the opportunity to straddle him, to face the source of your belittlement, to look at the leader that everyone on your team had silently wish you were, that everyone had admired, to somehow stare and pierce him long enough with your eyes that you were able to tear into his body and take his incredible abilities and mold them into your own, becoming that someone that you had undoubtedly admired as well.

You threw another blow to his face, enough to knock a groan out of him. It was pleasing to your ears, the low trembles of his voice because of your touch, they twitched with gratitude. But you needed more, a beg from Dick, a plea for you to stop. You threw another punch, and then another as you became blinded by rage. It was out of your control, your arms had a mind of their own as they continued wailing on Dick, even if he had shielded himself with his arms for the last minute now.

You breathed hard, tossing your gloves off as you held him down for a stronger grip and prying his arms from his face. A need to touch him, to feel the impact that your gloves had been restraining you from. You pinned him by his bare and sweaty shoulders that made the grasp all the more slippery, but you nonetheless held him anywhere you could, by his biceps now, and stared into him. You peered into those brown eyes that mysteriously settled your fury until you’d succumb to the beautiful tranquility of his orbs, quietly pacific compared to his mouth.

Dick’s chest was rising. Up and down like your own, recovering from the pummeling you had given him. His eyes were widened as he watched you—studied you. No marks on his face, thankfully due to the cushions you were begging to be replaced with stone a tantrum prior.

It was humiliating to prove him right, about your emotions, and you sat still, on his lap, breathing. Your fists had stripped you of the little energy you had left, and turned it into mush, but you found support in the warmth of Dick’s body, still breathing. Your grasp had loosened, but remained on his biceps. Warm skin, and ever slightly kneading because of your own envy of Dick’s strength.

You felt your eyes closed, shutting yourself off of the supply of Dick’s silent consolation as the adrenaline pumping through your veins had slowed. “I can never be you, can I?”

“Who says you have to?” Finally, Dick’s voice hadn’t grated your ears like it had in the past. It was gentle as ever, but this time, there was a warmth to it that you wished you could be bundled up in if it had a physical body. A spirit that could temper you with just its warmth, rather than the toxic heat that had just boiled your rage.

“Because—they’ve seen you, Grayson. They know how you operate with the Titans. I can see it, you know? The way they look at you, then the way they look at me. It’s just…”

“You know, my team looked at me like that when they saw how Bats ran the Justice League.”

“With disgust? Contempt? Disdain? All of the above?”

“No,” He laughed, gathering himself half-way up with the support his elbows. “with... relief?”

“That’s… not helping?” You rolled your eyes, and then felt yourself flush upon coming to realization upon your current position on his lap when he sat halfway up. “Sorry—“ Without making eye contact, you brought yourself off Dick’s hips, but found yourself suddenly pulled back by the waist.

“No, no. What I meant was…” He cleared his throat, sitting up as he positioned you back on his lap again. His hands interlocked against the small of your back, a devise to keep you from abandoning him on the lone mat, but to also pull you closer, hip to hip.

“Batman… is impressive. You’ve seen him, right? How he has this presence that automatically appoints him as leader. Commander, really. I don’t know anyone that can plan better than him, but that’s not to say that he doesn’t have his faults. He’s all business, little relations. So are the others. You’ve seen them too. Supes, the Lanterns. I respect it. They respect him because of that, and vice versa. But… that’s not how my team works. Not the Titans.”

“I see…” You shifted, nodding every now and then as you listened.

“It’s just… My members are more than co-workers, you know? This isn’t some nine-to-five job that you’ll probably quit after five years. It’s… our lives now. And with them, they’re with me every step of the way. So, they’re more than co-workers. You don’t protect co-workers. Not saying the Justice League don’t care about each other… But what you do protect are friends, families. Yeah, they’re my family, so I treat them as such. And maybe… that’s why they seemed relieved they were part of my team. And…”

“I just have to find what works with my team?”

“Yeah. I mean, you guys are just starting out. Everyone’s still adapting, still getting to know each other, still figuring out each other’s powers, right? Things are bound to be a little more destructive in terms of chemistry.”

“I don’t know… I just… I don’t know if I can lead them like you guys can. I’m not like you guys. In terms of skills, in terms of leadership, in terms of—“

“Then work on that with your team. That’s what a good leader does, they seek out help from their teammates and let them know that their opinions and help are valued.”

It sounded absolutely simple. Something that shouldn’t have taken you this long to figure out, but Dick was right. Rather than seeking for your team’s help, you thought you had to endure whatever situation had arisen on your own. It weighted heavily on your shoulders, until you couldn’t muster up the strength to push your own weight. And in turn, that affected your team. You needed them, just as much as they needed you.

“And here you are…” Dick continued, suddenly bursting with a smile. “Instead of spending time with your team, you’re with me. I know I’m quite charming, but geez, (M/N), can a guy get some alone time?”

You scoffed and lightly punched at his chest. “Did we forget that you were the one joining me in the gym when you have your own in the tower? Copying my every move? What’s up with that?”

He shrugged, kneading nonchalantly at your sides. “Knew you’d be alone. Knew you were probably blaming yourself, moping around. Thought I would give you a little push.”

You shifted again, your hands keeping close to yourself as you couldn’t muster up the strength to complain about his wandering hands.

Or rather, find anything about his hands to complain about.

“Push as in to annoy me?”

“Well, I was supposed to be teaching you some things, but, uh… you were playing whack-a-mole with my head earlier.”

“That’s because—“ You sighed, dropping your head low in embarrassment. “Sorry. I don’t know. Everything started happening so fast and—“

“No, it’s fine. It gives me the perfect opportunity to introduce you my first lesson of the week.” He was sincere, smiling up at you, almost as if he had mistaken your brief fit of rage as a game of tag.

“What’s that?” You asked, meeting his eyes once again.

He pondered for a moment,, pursing his lips as he was lost within his thoughts before speaking again. “How To Communicate To Your Team 101.”

“How is that even going to—“

You felt a sudden press to your lips. A softness that awakened your five senses by tenfold, and a desire that you had kept vaulted in the back of your mind; now beginning to unlock to its freedom the longer Dick had his lips on you. It wasn’t right. No, it wasn’t like it was morally wrong, it was just…

You hesitated, conjuring up all the reasons in your head on why kissing Dick wasn’t a good idea. But it was futile. Everything had been resolved within this moment; the way he let you use him like a punching bag, the way he didn’t spare a single second to share his empathy for your concerns, the way he tended to your wounds days prior despite your brazen disregard to his kindness.

You were being selfish again, guarding yourself off with ice like you had done with the others. When in reality, you wanted him.

No, you desperately needed him.

You felt him open up his mouth, assuming he was about to speak, but you seized his breath with a slot of your lips, and kissed him. One hand came up to rest on his cheek, to finally feel the slight scruffs you had delivered on his skin, and you caressed tenderly across textured skin, to the slow rhythm of your lips, whispering, “Sorry… again.”

“Don’t be. Without it, you wouldn’t have been on my lap. And… I wouldn’t be kissing you right now.” Dick muttered, a satisfaction to his voice like he had gotten his wish fulfilled. He ran a lone hand up your back, then back down your spine, bone tingling once he repeated again under your hoodie, and gazed across your bare skin.

“What are you doing to me…” It was a genuine question, something you wished could be answered because you didn’t know yourself. And yet, you were scared of the answer if Dick was to ever give you one. It’d been a while since you felt like this, with someone else.

For the past few months, you hated him. Couldn’t stand the sight of him. And now, you feel like you couldn’t tear yourself apart from him. From the softness of his lips and to the warmth of his body; the longer you endured him, the more you realized you had been captivated by Dick all along.

“I don’t know, but… I like figuring you out.” Dick’s speech was slurred from dragging his lips down to your jaw, nipping at your sweaty skin. “Like how you push me away, but you can’t help but tolerate me whenever I’m in the room.” He breathed you in, sucking at the corner of the sharp bone. You pressed your head into his neck, silently letting him take you. “How you’d sneak glances at me and roll your eyes, only to keep on staring… and staring… until you hadn’t realized that I was looking back at you. Because you were too busy looking at me.”

Nothing but the truth came out Dick’s mouth. Remarkably candid, because you thought you were more covert about your conflicting feelings for him. It brought a bloom of heat to your cheeks, and you hid your face inside his neck, groaning because Dick began licking at your neck, and because you felt stripped, absolutely vulnerable.

“Dick…” Something was rising in your shorts, tightened around the center. Warm and pulsing, even when Dick had unzipped your hoodie and thrown them to the side. A chill was felt across your bare back, most likely a draft from the vent, and Dick held you closer, sandwiching the heat, and suddenly your erection, between his body and yours.

“I knew you never hated me.” There was something about your chest that he loved. How smooth it felt. A few hairs had grown at the center, raised from the feelings Dick was supplying to your body. They tickled his cheek whenever he rubbed himself against it until they were then flattened with a long, fluttering lick as he maintained eye contact with you. “Always right.”

The taste of your sweat was salty yet delicate on his tongue.

“Hate is a strong word...” Your fingers threaded through Dick’s locks, scrunching them into your fist when he started toying one nipple at a time with his tongue. The wet muscle flicked deftly, then he suckled, and then tugged, like he had known your body, like he had explored your body before. It was strange, how he knew the right thing to say, and the right thing to do.

Maybe he was ‘always right.’

“Whatever it is, it’s not stopping you right now.” His hands dropped to the waistband of your shorts and he pulled away from your swollen nubs. It was unwilling. You could see it in his eyes, the thirst to ruin, and it compelled him to bring another suck to your nipples, a few seconds more that almost pulled a dangerous whimper out of you before he ultimately paused. “Nor is it stopping me.”

With a gentle push on your chest, he leaned you back onto the mat while lifting your hips up, smoothly sliding your shorts off. They joined the pile containing your hoodie soon after, and then your briefs to top.

“R-right here? Aren’t there cameras or something…?” Your hands instinctively came down to cover yourself, cupping that embarrassing erection that Dick was thirsting for. The head of your cock peeked out from your clumsy gasp, and his hands instantly came up to pry your hands off.

Dick had that same look in his eyes when he was circling around you earlier. A rapacity blaring the pupil of his eyes. His piercing gaze alone kept your hands from coming up to cover yourself again. You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against his strength.

“I doubt anyone is watching the gym… Private for a reason.” Your legs were then wrapped around his waist after pulling you by the ankles. His presence was commanding. You knew to keep your arms to your side, hands forbidden from obstructing the view of your hard, throbbing cock.

“No wonder you’re so stressed. Look how hard you are.” Dick muttered, seemingly speaking his inner thoughts because he was too distracted by the veins of your erection. Thick and pulsing as he wrapped a hand around you, and stroked, fascinated by the stretch of foreskin unfolding from the head of your cock when he pulled back, then rolling back up when he pulled forward. “This okay?”

“Fuck—Yeah… Feels good.” One arm was raised to wipe the cold sweat off your forehead, but it then rested against your forehead, shielding yourself from Dick’s gaze as he slowly pumped you back into breaking another round of sweat.

“No,” He paused, suddenly squeezing your foreskin over the tip of your swollen glans. You whimpered. Not only did he squeeze you tight, stripping you of a friction that you desperately had been needing more of. But Dick was teasing, threatening with the dull movement of his thumb as he pressed and rubbed into the fold of skin, polishing the head of your cock in a thick sheen of pre-cum as his grip would draw out a generous amount from beneath. “I want to see you properly. Look at me.”

You reluctantly met his demands, only after you felt the tip of his thumb prying into your slit. Was this supposed to be a punishment? Because you could’ve allowed it to go on for longer, knowing how much Dick marveled at how much pre-cum you were leaking out.

Your body felt hot, and your hands—they needed something to hold, something to grip. When Dick began resorting to quicker strokes to your cock, you were clawing at the mat at first, etching your presence with indentations of your nails as your warning came in vain. “I’m going to cum if you keep doing that, Dick—“

“Use your words I’m telling you.” He spat in his palm after a millisecond of a break before lubing your cock in his own spit and churning you into the tight, yet slippery friction of his fist. Dick’s gaze had been fixated on you, never once had it torn away to look at something else. Not even a peek at your cock deliciously fucking into his fist. Because in case you forgot, he liked figuring you out. “Gotta communicate with me.”

The stoicism you had worn with pride, only ever fragmenting from anger upon defeat; Dick had discovered another facet to its escalating submission, and it was delightful watching you unravel in real-time. The slick of his hands; one beating off your cock while the other massaging your balls; your expressions had given yourself away on how to break you down. Maybe it was because you had given up keeping up the facade. Or maybe it was because it was Dick, who has done more than enough to earn your trust, that you found yourself nearly crumbling.

He had studied you, his hands continuing to wander, explore every part of you while silently cataloging the right spots to make you crack. You were close, hanging off the edge with one hand, nails dulling over a cliff as you desperately prevented gravity from pulling you down under. When his hand had left your balls in favor of suddenly pushing a finger inside of your tight hole, Dick knew you had completely submitted.

Your body was writhing, hips desperately thrusting in the air despite Dick pinning them down to properly stretch your hole and fill you up with another finger, and another. Your expressions were ravishing, conflicted with pleasure and tension, and your mouth opened to politely tell Dick to stop, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to utter the demand. Instead, all that came out of your mouth was a whimper of his name, a stutter that rang delectably in Dick’s ears when he interrupted you with a deep push of his fingers, curling and then pumping in and out of you, and another whimper would secure the deft removal of the rest of his shorts and briefs. All because he couldn’t contain himself anymore.

He had absolutely no right to teach you about control, for the reason that he was on the brink of losing it himself. You looked absolutely wrecked, all from the stubborn grip around your cock, the tight fit of his fingers, and Dick couldn’t imagine what you’d look like if he was in you, his thick cock fucking you, making love to you.

“Seriously, Dick—I’m about to—“

You couldn’t help it. Dick’s demand to control yourself was absolutely absurd with his reign on your body. The wet, sticky sound his spit made as Dick’s fist was being screwed by your pulsing cock drove you nuts. And then came the view of Dick’s thick cock, throbbing, pre-cum dripping heavily off of his swollen head as he watched you untouched, begging to be touched. You swore you almost surrendered had it not been for his wrist slowing down, a delicacy you begged prior, but now desperately wanted to vanish.

“God, you know I always loved it whenever you accidentally let a smile slip. But this? You’re so beautiful like this, (M/N).” He paused despite your silent pleas for him to otherwise. Though, all was forgiven when he leaned forward to kiss you on the lips. Sweet and bountiful like his words had made you feel, and you kissed him right back, an eagerness compared to his own movements, but then gratefully countered with an impatient swipe at your crack. His cock, plump and heavy, then wet and sticky as he smeared his pre-cum over your hole. Your legs remained wrapped around his hips, but Dick pushed his body weight forward until they folded with your knees touching your chest, his cock dangerously pressing at your entrance.

Dick spat in his palm again, reaching down to coat himself in the sticky layer of spit, and you felt him press. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, anticipating with an accelerating drum of your heart as he teased, slicking your pucker with the gentle, smooth circling of his tip.

“Please… I need it.” You had a gentle grasp around his nape, pulling him down until his forehead rested against yours. You’ve never seen him like this, so up-close and intimate. A mole, a freckle on his face that you’d never noticed, and you instantly yearned for what could’ve been all this time, had it not been for your stubbornness.

“What do you need? You need me inside of you?” Dick clarified against your lips, a whisper into your mouth as you parted them open to welcome his tongue. Hot and heavy, you let your tongue wrap around his for a tingling moment before pulling away, a string of spit webbing a path between your lips and his. “Use your words.”

“Need your cock, need you… Need everything. As long as it’s you.” You marveled at Dick, drunk off of the mutual endearment you have for each other. He regarded you with a warm smile, followed by a dazzling glint within his gaze, then relayed the turn of his mouth to yours with another kiss, a gentle warning, before Dick pushed his hips forward and slipped his cock inside of you.

“Good boy.”

“O-oh, fuck.”

Your body tensed as soon as you took the first inhale of breath since he’d breached you, sharp and abrupt, just like the pain that had jolted the muscles in your body to squeeze around him. You were playing defense, impeding the foreign introduction inside of your body with a clamp, yet Dick resisted. Rather, he thrived on your strain, adoring the suctioning feeling of his cock as if you were conflicted about inviting him in or pushing him out. It didn’t take much to figure out that it was the former. During the meantime you were adjusting to his cock, Dick was thrusting the few inches that had slid inside of you. Small and short movements to aid in your stretch, and then eventual pleasure as he gradually pushed himself deeper until you’d blossom completely open for him, like a bud in the Spring.

“Fuck, you’re so tight… So good, your ass is so good.” He was satisfied with half of his cock inside of you, rocking into you slowly until you felt comfortable enough to have him harder, faster. Till then, it was perfect like this. Breathing in your whimpers, holding your face like it was the last vestige of your sanity, before kissing you again, sweet on the mouth, tender with your tongue, to hold a fragment of your sanity within him and sealing it where no one could ever take it from him.

“T-too big, Dick—Fuck…” You whimpered again, closing your eyes from the uncomfortable detection of already feeling completely full, yet you and Dick both knew it wasn’t a complaint. Rather, it was a simple observation that had rendered you speechless, an inkling you’d disappoint Dick for not being able to take him properly, to not let him in like you had done for all these months.

“You’re doing great, baby. Doing so good… You can take it, I know you can.” His words were so warm, so kind, so gentle in your ear, low and sinking in your neck as he marked you as his with constant licks and kisses, and immediately, he dialed up your confidence by tenfold. You felt yourself relaxing, the tension in your body melting the longer he rocked half of his cock into you.

Just breathe. Breathe. You found it helpful following Dick’s breathing pattern, exhaling when he pulled out, inhaling when he pushed in, and gradually, you felt yourself opening up for him, taking him in longer strides, with little breaks, faster, harder, until you felt thoroughly plugged when he pushed once more to cork his cock inside of you, balls-deep.

“S-shit, Dick—Fuck—So good—“

Dick trembled with a moan sinking into the underside of your jaw. His cock had never felt so wanted, so warm in another’s body. You took him in without a single complaint, and it was a spectacle, an absolute wonder when Dick leaned back to watch himself completely unsheathe out of you like a dagger out of its scabbard.

“Look at that… Fucking beautiful.” Your hole was gaped open with the diameter matching the girth of Dick’s cock. Blinking, puckering desperately as it painfully endured the loss of heat, the loss of his desire. You’d never felt so exposed, completely powerless as Dick had you bending your legs further back with one hand, and the other spreading your cheeks apart to further see how much more you could stretch.

The color of your flesh was enthralling, and if the marks on your neck had not been telling that you were Dick’s; he pressed a kiss to your pucker, gentle nibbling and licking at the puffy rim before abruptly spitting inside of you, and another for good measure, the glorious designation would remind you now.

“Dick—No more, I need you, please—“ You reached down to spread your pucker with the spit dribbling out of you using two fingers, then pulled back to taste him, sucking on them before your craving for Dick would return with a vengeance, body-writhing and mind-numbingly so.

“Tell me. What do you need, hm?” Dick tapped his cock against your hole. The plump head slid smooth over the spit-covered flesh, mixing with his pre-cum, while he watched you with a grin, each swipe of his cock taunting to pull completely away unless you spoke.

“Need you. Inside of me. Fucking me. Holding me. Kissing me. Touching. I don’t know—Please, please. Just need you.” Your wishes were long-winded, but sincere. The gaze you had given him, an imploring look that Dick would take a moment to hold for a little longer despite your begging. Cherishing it, not knowing if this would be a fluke you’d later regret down the line, but in the end, all that mattered was that you let your guards down at the mercy of Dick’s guidance. Then utterly defenseless, when he gave into your wishes, a chaste kiss to your lips while doing so, and pushed himself deep inside of you with one smooth thrust.

You stiffened in Dick’s arms when they slipped around you, digging your nails into his skin. Squeezing his waist with your legs, you held onto him when he pushed the rest of his body weight over you, bending you further while keeping his lips connected to yours. He was stabilized on the tip of his toes, thrusting into, past, and against your inner muscles all at once. You clenched around his cockhead, the pleasure unbearable to resist as each dip of his hip successfully knocked a gasp from your mouth.

“So good, so tight like this…” Dick’s cock was in heaven, burying you deep until his heavy balls pressed flushed to your taint. He would stay motionless whenever he did; to catch up on his breath, to draw out his nearing high for a little longer, and to feel you, luxuriate in the warmth of your walls squeezing him tight, pulsing with dilemma, and ultimately refusing to let go. “Think I can come just like this, you squeezing my cock…”

He looked down at your face, a brief check-up. Your lips moved as if you were about to say something, but no sound came out. Only a stutter of a gasp, little sounds that Dick found incredibly magnetic, to which he found increasingly difficult to keep his lips off of you. He failed with little effort on his end, in hopes to steal those tiny sounds and keep it for himself.

Your pupils were blown when they weren’t rolling back from the smallest movement of Dick’s hips. In addition, with your lips swollen and lids heavy, you gazed up at Dick like he had saved your life, as if he had guided you towards a better place. Your life seemingly were in his hands as he held your cheeks and kissed you once more. Sweet again, rocking into you steadily, sweat sticking his skin to yours.

And maybe he did.

“Say something. I want to hear you.” A merciful demand upon your lips. You were trembling, barely swallowing down moans while Dick continuously impaled you with his cock—up into you now, when Dick leaned back until he was sitting up, and brought you back onto his lap like before, pushing your hips towards the rate of his thrusts.

Mesmerized by Dick, your mouth parted open and your throat immediately began emptying itself of all the harbored moans and groans that you had been holding hostage. “F-fuck me, keep fucking me. L-like that. No—Harder, harder—“ They rattled in volume, bouncing in sync with the way your ass had been doing against Dick’s cock, and then louder, because your marvelous sounds emerged an addiction out of Dick.

Sweet Jesus. He couldn’t stop. Watching the desire in your beautiful features, hearing your pleas reflect your want, stroking your cock awaiting for its release, marking every flesh of your skin his mouth had come in contact with. At the level of intimacy; from the pull of Dick’s hair, the sloppy, open-mouthed kisses you two shared, and the mutual passion you had for each other; you no longer felt like his disciple, but rather, an equal to Dick’s being—a derivative blessing, that would course correct each other’s life.

Your hands could barely hold onto his shoulders, but you worked with your strength, the slip of his skin, and locked your hands around his nape. Forehead to forehead, you and Dick breathed moans into each other, heavy and thick with yearning as you two pressed close, stuck to each other like glue. He cataloged the tiniest details on how your face contorted with pleasure; the scrunch of your nose, the roll of your eyes, the part of your lips. Your fist tightened around your cock, pumping it rapidly to the pace of Dick’s thrusts, churning it until your biceps had distractingly flared with veins.

You did the same. You watched Dick’s mouth agape with rapture. The scrunch of his brows when he fucked into you faster and to the root. The clench of his jaw when you squeezed tight around him, suctioning his cock until he sounded delirious with pleasure. It was beautiful. He was beautiful, and you knew he found you beautiful as well, the beautiful loss of reality from the mutual pleasure, and that was all it took to make you spill your load without a single warning.

You smashed a guttural groan to his lips and unraveled your fingers, leaning your body back to let your cock release where it pleased to afterward. “Oh, fuck—“

“Holy shit.”

Thick shots rained on Dick’s sweaty body. Three spurts to the center of his chiseled chest, and then another four splashing high in the air when Dick powered up on the sight of your cum alone, and drilled you harder, your cock dribbling in cum as he did so. His nails dug into your ass cheeks, spreading them apart, then cushioning them back around his cock to somehow press your walls against every vein pulsing through the thick of his erection.

Dick fucked you like you’d begged him to. Long, strong thrusts, to the brim on each stroke, undoubtedly hitting your prostate at every turn from the way you would jolt forward with widened, rattling, yet blissful eyes. A sight Dick would have forever ingrained into his memory, because you were officially, utterly, and completely wrecked.

It was heaven. The crown of Dick’s cock sliding over the spot, the depth of his cock rendering you immobile and dazed. Again, he’d repeat. A new addiction, surging powerfully through his veins. You let out a sob.

Again. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Again. You dug your nails into his shoulders.

And again. Dick smacked your ass at the delirious state he was in. He had completely breached inside of you, explored every inch of your hole with the circle of his hips. A thrust. A slam. A rut. He had traversed through every option to dismantle you, and like clockwork, your snug hole all but sucked on his cock, begging for him to come inside.

He couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Baby, baby…” Dick’s large hand smothered his warmth around your throat. You could feel the callous in his palm, a gentle abrasion to your smooth skin, and he rubbed your seed all over your body, then his. He fucked harder to the sight of the sticky sheen layering your body. The smell of musk. The stick to his hands. Filthy. Your body and his were filthy together. Filthier, when pleasure burst from the base of his shaft, and in turn, flooded your insides with a large load. He moaned, and you arched into him, into the stick of his body, anticipating for the rupture of your doing.

Your cock throbbed once, straining forward with its swollen head aiming towards the ceiling, and you spat thick shots of white seed into the air, eventually course-correcting to land on your body and Dick’s.

It was wonderful. You could feel Dick’s cock pulse as his seed rushed up the shaft and buried you deep into your guts with thick and heavy shots. Upon impulse, you squeezed as well, clamping around the peak of DIck’s orgasm until it must have crested with the stillness of his breath. “Don’t pull out.”

“Wasn’t planning on it…”

If he hadn’t thought it enough, you were beautiful, he was keen on calling it a mantra because it meant that he was still here, on this very earth, breathing and witnessing your very existence. Your body was weakened, barely mustering the strength to hold your chest up without the aid of Dick’s arms around you. Limp, after your second orgasm. All of you, you were so beautiful. From your rim hugging the base of your cock, your softening cock dripping, your swollen nipples, the smooth planes of your cum-stained chest, and parted lips. You were a banquet to Dick’s eyes, a feast that could muster up another around to have at you, to have you completely devoured if he had really wanted to.

But no, this was perfect. Watching you in silence, surveying up at you while you peered down at him, panting, breathing slow, in a case of wonder of how one could have such an effect on him without a morsel of effort.

“So… lessons? You always do this to new recruits?”

“Only if they absolutely suck at their role.” An exhaustion in his smile, you wanted to capture it in between your lips, and replenish him with gratitude.

“Hey— Asshole…” You muttered, a gentle knock to his chest, to which he laughed off, and then held on, to pull you in for a blissful kiss.

With the way you fit into his arms as if you’d always been meant to be there, warm where he was cold, and cold where you were warm, he knew he didn’t need his question answered.

“Kidding. Let’s just say… it was curated for a special someone. And hopefully, they liked it as much as I liked teaching it.”

“I have a good feeling that they did.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson fic #dick grayson imagine #x male reader #dc x male reader #male reader #m!reader

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 day

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When I build up the motivation, I'll make a fic about him (x ftm reader duh)

LOOK AT THIS CUTIE PATOOTIE ♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

He looks so angelic in this picture oh my god??? Bro IS a cutie patootie!! 🥺 And please tag me in your fic when you publish it!! I’d love to give it a read ehehehehe

#✩彡— sageofspades

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 day

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ACKKK I KNOW RIGHT?? (♡´౪`♡) IM CURRENTLY WATCHING SHAMELESS AND HES SO CUTE!! I GUSH OVER HIM WHENEVER HE COMES ON SCREEN (๑♡3♡๑)

I should start watching it, it’s right up my alley and Ian Gallagher is so swoon-worthy (♡´𓋰`♡)

#✩彡— sageofspades

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 2 days

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❝ you make me feel like I am clean again ❞

yandere!mob leaders x gn!reader | how you met | not proofread

warnings: graphic description of violence, guns, power imbalance (r! is part of the gang but they are a low-ranking member), yandere tendencies, mentions of drug dealings, very brief mention of r! getting felt up by someone in JH's section

masterlist ;

authors note: doing some oc writing feels lowkey daunting but I hope you guys enjoy it, I wasn't exactly sure how to format this aaaa but! I hope it isn't too confusing. I wanted to go more into depth but I suppose this serves as an introductory post to them??? IDK, I've never written this kinda thing before. * here is the better-quality post of the illustration * song on repeat: Love Song by Mariee Sioux

Kim Seo-Yun —

Seo-Yun would be unimpressed the first time she laid her eyes on you. It wouldn't be due to your looks, mannerisms, voice; she's just been hardwired that way.

Wants and needs are hard to convey when you're running one of the most dangerous businesses one could run. Drugs, gambling, skin, weapons — Seo-Yun's a busy woman.

Over time, however, she'll let her gaze linger on you.

Have you always looked so good in that colour? It really does bring out the shine in your eyes, and the suppleness of your lips. Seo-Yun's gaze is intimidating but seeing you squirm is all a part of your charm.

That's right. You're only dressing and acting this way to grab her attention, correct? Why else would she find it so hard to rip her sights from you?

Honestly, she shouldn't be making such frequent trips to the lower ring of her gang. This warehouse was meant to weed out the weakest of her guard dogs. It reeked of sweat and blood and cigarettes and cheap booze. The constant sounds of wrapped knuckles beating down on sandbags and bodies falling on thin mats gave her a headache.

Yet. She stands here on the second floor, gazing down at the sweaty men, a handful of women, and most importantly; you.

Favoritism comes slower than her interests. Seo-Yun will shove her feelings down until it bursts like a fucking volcano. All of a sudden, it's as if she's a hound that's caught the scent of their kill.

"What?" The man before you is wearing an expensive suit, luxury adorning him from the shimmering cuffs to the stitching that holds it together. "Madam Kim is requesting your transfer," he says curtly.

The transfer promotes you from doing grunt work near a polluted harbor to one of Seoul's most expensive penthouses in Gangnam.

It's jarring. She does not give you time to adjust. One moment you're setting down your duffel bag of things and the next you're in the back of a luxury car driving through Seoul's wealthiest district.

The guards (who are double your size and proudly show off their facial scars) push you toward the door of a seamstress. The very air you breathe smells like money.

When you see Seo-Yun, your eyes widen and you kneel to bow.

She muffles her amusement with a slow drag of her cigarette.

"They're very pretty, Madam Seo-Yun," a kindly old lady says from behind her. Her hands were bony and delicate, and the pin cushion she wore around her wrist looked heavy. Everything about her seemed deliberate and put together.

Despite that, despite the glamorous patterns she had on her and the jewelry hanging from her ears; Seo-Yun called for eyes on her with no more than a simple wave of her hand, flicking the ashes away from the cigarette.

"Aren't they? Such a gem."

Seo-Yun orders you to be a part of her security team. Dresses you in custom-made suits to blend in with the rest of the capable men and women. She gives you new weapons and arranges for you to have an apartment near hers. New fake IDs in store, local beat cops turning their gaze away as you smoke in alleyways with an obvious bulk under your jacket.

A gem she called you. And like a gem, she cannot keep her eyes off you.

Stares at you as if you were put on display. Relishes in the way you keep your gaze down, squaring your shoulders, straightening your posture — squirming under her gaze.

"Come inside," you freeze at her words. The other security guards stand stoically in the private entryway of her penthouse and she stands on the threshold of that obscenely large and heavy door.

"Madam?" you squeak out. She narrows her upturned eyes, like a goddess with no mood to be asked twice.

This is a nightly occurrence. It becomes a routine.

She invites you into her home, leaving the door open for you to close on your way in. She sits on the tufted leather sofa, and her grin is expectant.

You kneel. Then, you bring your palms to the floor and crawl towards her. Only stopping when your chin is on her knee and you bring your eyes to meet hers.

"Sweet thing," she'll coo. Her palm is soft and cared for, but there is the slightest bit of callousness here and there. That roughness that comes with holding a gun to someone's head.

The first time she had told you to kneel, you'd been so confused you stood there like a statue. Seo-Yun gives you a minute to let it click, and she tilts her head as you jerkily kneel on her expensive floors.

"Crawl to me."

"Sweet darling," she continues. Your eyes flutter close as she traces your cheekbones with her thumb. "So good for me, so obedient, aren't you?"

How could you not be?

In the weeks you'd been with her, your life took such a drastic turn. Well-fed, well-cared for, and pampered in little but big ways. You were the runt of the litter, a stray, she told you.

She had seen you, she said. She had seen your potential, your drive, your passion.

"I was...I just, I just needed the money, Madam," you sheepishly admit that first night, balancing your chin on her knee.

Who would choose to become the grunt of a dangerous gang? Miniscule soldiers with dreams of dying a movie-worthy death, of brotherly bonds between hardened criminals — Please. You were at the end of your rope, this was the only option before the noose.

"Money is life," Seo-Yun strokes over your cheeks. "You fought to live, climbed through the muddy filth of the pier, and here you are. In my lap."

"I see you, (Y/N)."

"Are you tired?" the shake of your head earns a firm squeeze on your jaw. Your eyes flutter open so she grins sweetly.

"Bathe with me." She lifts your chin and you stand, taking her into your arms as she tugs on the shoulder gun strap you wore, leading you along like a leash. A security guard's job does not include such tasks. You're aware. But how could you say no to the most powerful woman in Seoul?

Your relationship starts off with a clear dynamic. You belong to Seo-Yun, no ifs or buts. No matter how dubious your feelings towards her are, you cannot deny there is such a lovely prospect of being a powerful person's beloved.

Or gem. Or pet. Or...whatever it is Seo-Yun considers you as.

All you know is you are hers and she expects nothing but loyalty and excellence from you. She dresses you in the best, feeds you the best foods, your mattress is hers and therefore it is fit for a Queen.

How spoiled are you, (Y/N)?

So spoiled you do not even realise the pretty cage she's put around you. Don't realise that those pearly white gates are her own teeth as she closes her jaws; too distracted by the gifts, the love, she showers you in.

Exactly how she wants you to be. Pliant, demure, and hers.

So what if your old friends suddenly never contact you again? Or your financial dependence has suddenly been transferred to her? If you never hold a gun in your hands ever again.

"Crawl to me, baby."

And you do. And she grins as she holds your face.

"Good pet."

Kim Jeong-Hyun —

Jeong-Hyun is a peculiar man. Some would argue he's barely a man; others would chime that he's barely human. The sight of the deep scars on his body; the mutilated side of his face. His left ear was chewed off, his left eye cloudy, and a good chunk of his lips ripped off to reveal gums and teeth.

Even if he wasn't a monster; he looked it. That was enough to set people on edge. Seemingly unaware of how he plants the fear of God within people, Jeong-Hyun stares at everyone with a dark gaze that could make the devil shiver.

Unlike his older sister, who hides her emotions until they spill over the edge, he makes his interest known from the beginning.

His good eye, lighter than any brown you've ever seen; a molten hazel that flashes gold in sunlight, devours you as he stands before you.

Although Madam Seo-Yun attends the funerals of her fallen men, she does not linger for the drinking and eating. Jeong-Hyun does.

You'd excused yourself from your circle, the drinks making your body warm enough to endure the cold night air as you light up a cigarette.

The clicking of nails on the brick ground forces you to look at the whimpering dog. Mangy, fur matted, and with its stubby legs like rubber as it paws at your shoe. It was someone's pet, left on the streets. Judging from the overgrown fur, it's been a while since someone's given it any kindness.

Jeong-Hyun had just walked out for a breather (he enjoys spending time with his men, but the noises and the scent of booze could get overwhelming), a bag of meat in hand as he set his sights on feeding the local strays.

But then he sees you crouched by an alleyway, pouring some cheap kibble you bought from a nearby convenience store onto some newspaper. Jeong-Hyun's footsteps are ghostlike, you don't even notice he's there until you feel his breath whisper along your ear and when you spin he's statue-like.

"B — Boss!" He's not the boss — he's just her brother. He still outranked you (by a whole league) so, he doesn't correct you as you bow your head so far down it's between your knees.

He looks silly crouched down in his two-piece suit. You're dressed formally, though the two of you were in different financial brackets. Jeong-Hyun does not speak. The pinkish scar that runs across his neck peeks from the collar of his button-up. It has your toes curling just imagining what had caused it.

He nudges the plastic bag your way, and you cautiously take it from him. To your surprise, he squishes his eyes into crescent moons, and despite his scarred cheek lifting from behind the black surgical mask he wore he looked so...innocent.

The rounded shape of his eyes, the deep crease of his eyelid, and his brows - it all makes him look boyish.

You turn your attention to the strips of expensive beef he had gotten, feeding the poor puppy in silence.

Jeong-Hyun's interest begins with him accompanying your crew as you were tasked to make a show of a traitor. He shoves the blade your way, hilt tilted your way as he connects his gaze with you.

The leader of your crew informs him you are new. He does not even pretend to hear him.

You took the blade, the forged metal heavier than you expected it to be but not impossibly so. It seemed as though it was his favorite, a little longer than a dagger but still small enough to hide under your clothes. Weighing it on your palm, you test the balance of it before gripping it tightly and Jeong-Hyun is entranced by the casual dominance you have over it.

The man before you, on his knees with his cut lip hanging heavily and his eyes so bruised you wonder how he can still see you enough to squeak in fear; he shivers and bows desperately.

"How do you want him, boss?" You glance at him, the grip on the blade strong and confident. He narrows his eyes then closes his eyes, jerking his chin forward.

' However you see fit. '

Jeong-Hyun falls in love with your violence.

Asking for you, always. Giving you food to bring back, giving you new knives and even transferring you to his personal squad of men and women. He'd even invited you into his home. Which, apparently, was not unusual but no one had ever had the pleasure of being able to see the pack of dogs he had.

He starts hanging around you more. His favoritism is hard to mask and it causes you more issues than you'd like to admit.

"You're his little bitch now, huh?" or "His cock tastes good, (Y/N)?"

But who can say no when their boss tells them they want you to follow him around, be his shadow, do nothing more than observe boring meetings and itching for the usual vulgarity of mobsters while you're stood by the wall or behind him?

The madam is not impressed by you. Whenever she speaks to her brother, she will cast a glance filled with nothing more than mild bemusement and disgust.

"Hey, boss," he tilts his head in your direction. You're sat in a barbeque restaurant, and he's watching you intently as you flip the meat, licking his exposed teeth with an almost canine-like attribute.

"...Can I ask you a question?" Jeong-Hyun nods, tearing his eyes away to now look at you. They're almost golden, you think to yourself, the colour of his eyes is so bright.

"Why do you favour me?"

Jeong-Hyung, you come to find out, does not speak. The scar you see peeking from his high collars was apparently a wound that had gone so deep, it took the ability for him to speak comfortably. So Jeong-Hyun signs; "What does that mean?"

"Favour?" You ask and he nods.

"Well, it means, why do you...like me...?"

Jeong-Hyung blinks for a few seconds then tells you to flip the meat. The conversation seemingly ends. That is until you find yourself in his home and he has invited you to his basement.

The dogs bark from behind the doggy gate, a hallway away feeling like a stretch of land as their noises echo. In the basement, you find yourself surrounded by crusted blood and metal. He lifts a dagger and shows it to you. It takes a moment for you to recognize it, it's been weeks since you've held it, but then your brows furrow.

"You kill good. Like me, I like that. I like you," he signs while you hold the dagger. "You like me?" He nods, pulling his black mask away from his face, and grins. It's surreal to see, not exactly grotesque but an unusual sight.

"I like you," he signs.

When his enthusiasm is met with confusion, Jeong-Hyun's face contorts into worry.

He takes the dagger from your hand, places it down, then holds your hands in his. He's tall, towering easily over you as he brings your knuckles to his lips.

He has essentially muted himself. Focusing his strength on keeping your hands hostage as he walks forward until your back meets the smoothed limewash walls of his basement.

"Boss? I'm flattered, but this is a lot to take in....!"

His cloudy eye is in a perpetual squint, healed scars tugging on the skin so it looks almost uncomfortable stretched. They have so much sadness that you feel guilt sprout in you.

'Love me,' they say, 'Love me, love me, lovemelovemelovemelovemelovemeloveme'

Your relationship is dubious. The jeers from your comrades make you feel more flustered than before and Jeong-Hyun is not shy about his affections.

He holds your hands in meetings and traces the shapes of your fingers and joints.

When a snake requires a beheading, Jeong-Hyun takes off your jacket for you and hands you a weapon of his choice. The men who snicker at the sight? Jeong-Hyun is not fond of guns but he so does love it when his sister presses her Beretta to the back of their necks and makes them gasp and sputter.

Madam Seo-Yun may not like you but you matter too much to her little brother for her to allow their insubordinate to make fun of you.

Jeong-Hyun is like a touch-starved puppy. Despite his towering size, he crumbles under your touch, your gaze.

"My brother, he is naive to relationships," Seo-Yun informs you during a lunch meeting. "I noticed, Madam," you shrink under her gaze. How is it she has the same shade of eyes and hers are so, so, so cold?

"But he likes you, favours you I think is the word he used. He has never liked someone before. Not as strongly as this. I suppose I should advise you to take some caution."

"My brother's love comes with a storm of violence. It runs in the family, I'm afraid. Please, don't be frightened by his displays."

You didn't quite understand what she meant.

He'd never been violent to you. You had witnessed him kill before, torture, maim — it was not an unusual sight in your line of work.

You didn't understand until you saw it.

Another funeral, more drinks, more meat. Jeong-Hyun has you beside him, eagerly awaiting your metal chopsticks to place more grilled beef onto his plate.

No one laughs at the sight anymore, they treat you as an extension of Jeong-Hyun which, considering how he monopolies your time, you might as well be. It's rare to see you without him.

But as you got up to wash your hands — someone had spilled their drinks and your hand became sticky — an inebriated man had pressed himself against you.

"You must be a good lay if *hic* Jeong-Hyun-ssi keeps you around, riiight? C'mon, just a quickie, c'mon," "Fuck! Get away from me!"

Jeong-Hyun's hand grabs the back of the man's head, rears it backward, and slams it right into the sink. It shatters, the man yells, people around you scream; but Jeong-Hyun tightens his grip, rears his hand back, and slams him down again.

By the end of that public fiasco, the man's head was obliterated so badly, his face was no longer there. Just shredded skin, muscle, and shattered bone and brain matter.

Madam Seo-Yun's gaze on you is heavy in the car. Jeong-Hyun lumbers in, his hand covered with tissues and you immediately pull the bloody fist to your lap. Approval shines in her eyes as you apply pressure and ask if it hurts.

Well, you couldn't say she didn't warn you now, could you?

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