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earlgreydream · 4 months

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His. | Loki x reader smut

I finally the Loki tv show… this does NOT have any spoilers, it’s set on Asgard with a newly appointed king and his coronation gift…

cw: d/s

“Leave any traces of fear in this room.” The command was clear, spoken sharply by a royal attendant.

Your gaze didn’t leave the fragrant water of the bath you knelt in, the attendant taking care to wash every inch of your skin. Other women pulled fluttering silks from a wardrobe, lying it out for you and finding jewelry to match. So much led to this moment, and yet it didn’t seem real — anticipation and anxiety buzzing in your head. You’d been told once already to contain the obvious fear that lingered in your chest, but the daunting task of doing so seemed impossible when your fate was waiting on a silver platter, the moment you left the private chamber you were being bathed in.

“Come, out of the water before your skin wrinkles,” you were hauled to your feet, wrapped in towels and rubbed down by several girls with movements so quick, you were barely left time to react.

Hands massaged your tense limbs, covering them in oils that bloomed with exotic scents, leaving your skin gleaming. At the same time, your hair was fixed, emeralds — his favorite — twisted into the locks and fastening to bare your neck.

“It’s customary to dress her in white,” a handmaiden spoke of you as if you were not there.

“The prince prefers black.” The will of your all-powerful god silenced any protest, everyone moving to do his bidding.

The women fretted — you had to be perfect for him. They prepared you to be presented to the god, as a divine gift to honor the crown prince of Asgard. You were bathed, decorated, and dressed, all to please the god you were gifted to, an expectation that you’d been bred for. It was a great honor to be taken from the hills, to the castle of the gods, to walk amongst the divine, even if it meant your role was to do as your master saw fit, obeying every command. You had come to terms with it, knowing that upon prince Loki’s rise to the throne, you were the sacrifice — the gift — of the kingdom, a promise of good fortune and favor granted in return.

It all seemed like a far-away, distant dream in a future that would never come. Despite that, here you were, relinquishing your whole self to Asgard’s throne. You had never met the god, and never seen him up close. Of course you’d heard the stories, the wrath and prowess of the young prince, and even seen him from a distance — but being in his presence was something entirely new, before being expected to spend the rest of time at his mercy.

Asgardian silk draped over your skin, so light you wouldn’t know it was there. Your decency was concealed beneath expensive black fabric, hiding what was only meant for Loki to see in the moments after this. The handmaidens’ fussing finally ceased, ending the long evening of preparation.

“Come with me, and do as you’re told,” the woman in charge ushered you forward, opening the chamber doors, releasing you out of known captivity into unpredictability.

You swallowed the fear in your throat, steps silent as you followed her to the throne room, the festivities growing louder as you approached your fate. Before you were given a moment to hesitate, you were led into the cavernous room of gold and heavenly magic.

All at once, it fell silent as soldiers escorted you to the throne. There he was — the god himself, draped over his golden throne. Loki was the only one adorned finer than you, a golden helm atop his onyx waves, wild cerulean eyes that bore straight into your soul.

“Your majesty, a gift in exchange for your benevolence,” the ceremony’s representative from your kingdom presented you to Loki, a hand on your shoulder forcing you to kneel before the throne.

A dangerous smile curved the god’s lips, placing his scepter aside as he rose to his feet.

“A very generous gift indeed,” Loki’s lyrical voice wrapped around your throat, stealing the air from your lungs.

He was impossibly tall and lean as he approached you, toned muscles visible even through the heavy layers of leather and gold that adorned his figure. Loki was no mere prince, but a god of mischief, holding an entire world in the palm of his delicate hand. A dark mischief glittered in his eyes, the gorgeous royal leaning down to look closely at you.

He tilted your chin up, looking him directly in the eye, immediately disarmed and vulnerable as you did so. His expression changed almost imperceptibly, gone from his eyes in a flash as he looked away from you, addressing the court who had handed you over.

Your ears were ringing too loudly to hear what he said, your head spinning. A solider moved to guide you to sit at the base of the throne, at Loki’s feet, when you were suddenly snapped back into the present moment.

“You will not lay a hand on what is mine!” Loki’s shout thundered through the chamber, stopping the man before he could touch you.

The soldier quickly fell back, recognizing the lethal danger of disrespecting Loki. An entire room held its breath, the seconds agonizing, exhaling only when Loki motioned for festivities to resume.

Despite the advice to hide your fear, Loki could practical feel your startled fright. Everything else blurred into the background, the celebration entertaining itself, leaving you and Loki at the center of your own universe.

Loki leaned down with an outstretched hand, his expression softening as you met his gaze. He had not yet spoken directly to you, but you didn’t need instruction to place your hand in his, allowing his strength to move you forward. Loki guided you to kneel at his feet as he resumed his place on the throne, slotted between his long legs.

Delicate fingers gently tilted your chin to look up at him, the touch startlingly gentle, a stark contrast to what you’d been warned of.

“There is a long night of festivities ahead, you may rest on me if you grow weary,” Loki granted you permission to lie your head against his thigh, to sink back into the new shelter.

You gave a small nod of understanding, looking back down as his attention was demanded from another round of celebration.

Despite the dizzying commotion of Loki’s ceremony, your limbs became heavy and keeping your eyes open was a losing battle. Loki peered down at you as you slowly laid your head against his leg, letting your exhausted body rest for the first time.

A fierce desire to protect you swelled in Loki’s chest, suddenly cross with the noise and lights that combatted your sleep. As he continued to entertain offerings of exotic fruits and tributes from his kingdoms, Loki moved a leg in front of you, glaring at anyone who so much as looked too long in your direction.

He couldn’t imagine how drained you were, to sleep through the chaos. Your weight rested against his leg, though you didn’t let yourself fully drift into deep sleep, some part of you making sure that you were upright, not wanting to displease him.

Loki carefully supported you as he stood, lifting you off the floor with godly strength. The festivities continued without him — kings, gods, and valkyrie reenacting stories of battles and playing with magic in the great halls.

He’d had quite enough of the noise and empty affection, and desired nothing more than some quiet time alone with his offering.

“Careful,” he warned softly as you began to stir, strengthening his grip to keep you from falling.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled, your first words spoken in a haze of exhaustion.

“It’s alright, you’re free to rest,” Loki laid you down on his bed the moment you entered the privacy of his chambers.

Golden floors were etched in sweeping illustrations of history and mythology, telling the stories of your god beneath the bed draped in dark green silks. Huge doors opened to a veranda, a summer breeze ruffling the curtains, allowing glimpses of glittering astronomy overhead.

Your mind yearned to stay awake, to learn your surroundings and stay vigilant in the presence of Loki. Despite that, your body screamed for sleep, sinking into the soft bedding he had placed you on.

Loki watched you sleep.

Exhaustion kept your body rigidly still, not moving once the entire night. You stayed curled up in the very corner of the expansive bed, out of reach of Loki, who eventually took his place as the sun cracked the horizon.

The only indication you were real, was the gentle rise and fall of your back as you breathed. As you slept, the frightened expression vanished from your face, softening the your features. Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your almost peaceful face.

Loki drifted in and out of sleep, not bothering to wake you after such a late and overwhelming night. You must have been weary, because you couldn’t have been comfortable, making yourself as small as possible at the very edge of the bed, not wanting to take up too much of Loki’s space.

You slowly opened your eyes, sunlight streaming in through the open veranda. The morning seemed impossibly peaceful, despite waking up into a new life of servitude. This didn’t feel like what you’d expected — waking up in a comfortable bed with the warm sun on your face, the scent of breakfast wafting from a huge spread on the chamber’s dining table.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki’s voice was much softer in the privacy of the chambers, without an audience.

You sat up, looking over as he stood from a couch, setting aside a novel. He was more relaxed, wearing loose black linen, his hair tied up loosely.

“Hi,” you whispered, at a loss for words — partially in awe of how gorgeous he was, and partially cautious, as if he were a cobra waiting to strike at any wrong move.

He watched as you observed your surroundings, inspecting your golden cage in the light of day. Loki’s chambers were beautiful, bright, and serene. It seemed so divorced from the perception you had of the god before being let in to the most private part of his existence. Loki moved smoothly throughout the room, delicate hands attached to a lean, muscular body. Loki’s face was sculpted out of marble, so stunningly beautiful it left you breathless. Green eyes pierced straight into your soul, laid bare when he looked at you.

“Eat something,” he gestured to the feast at the table, as if he were the devil, offering food to a goddess to keep captive in his lair forever.

It was your job to obey, your body moving before your mind even considered protest. The shimmering gown you were wearing the night before swept the floor as you walked, Loki admiring how beautiful you were, even slightly disheveled.

You hesitantly took a berry from the table, bringing it to your lips, licking the sweetness off your fingertips. The sight stirred something inside of Loki, his gaze focusing on the contours of your body that were visible through the just-sheer parts of the fabric draped over you.

“Master?” You could feel the weight of his gaze, invisibly drawing you to him.

Loki stepped toward you, pleased as you sank to your knees without any encouragement, easing into his submission. You wanted it, needed it, like your lungs needed air. A shimmer of green made your clothing disappear, baring you fully to Loki’s intoxicated gaze.

“Look at you, fit for a god,” he praised, slowly circling you as you kneeled, appreciating you from every angle.

“Only for you, master.”

“Loki,” he permitted you to call him by name, a request that pulled the corners of your lips up with small satisfaction.

The floor was cold beneath your knees, and your skin began to prick beneath a cool breeze from the veranda. Loki swelled over the recognition that you were his, and his alone. He was hard in the loose linen pants, eager to claim full ownership of you in such an intimate way. You willingly surrendered to him, practically desperate for him to take you, to consummate your submission to the god.

Your hands smoothed up the solid muscles of Loki’s thighs — limbs you wish to be bent over — before clutching the linen waistband and dragging down his trousers. The sight of him hung heavy made your mouth water and your cunt throb, desire swirling in your belly.

“Go ahead. Touch me as you please, I’m as much yours as you are mine,” Loki murmured, realizing you were waiting for permission, to do as you were told.

Long fingers wove into your hair, cradling the side of your head, pulling only slightly as you licked the tip of his cock, sending a shock up his spine.

He leaned back against the wall, smirking as your left palm flattened over his toned abs to brace yourself, pleased that you were trusting his words.

“Gods,” Loki swore when you took him in your mouth, letting him push you down until he was filling your throat.

Pretty tears welled at your lashes at his size, your throbbing need beginning to smear between your thighs. Your free hand worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your tongue dragging up his shaft. He was both long and thick, his skin like velvet on your tongue. It was a feat to take even half of him in your mouth, and you moaned and the thought of him fucking you, and how you’d beg to take it all.

“If worshipping my cock makes you wet enough to drip on my floor, I’ll let you do it every morning,” Loki purred with a grin, clearly taking notice of the effect he had on your body.

“Please,” you whimpered respectfully, dragging your fist up his length, giving your mouth a break.

“I’m close, darling, you’re doing beautifully,” he praised, watching your thighs squeeze together at his words.

“I want to come in that gorgeous mouth, feel myself in your throat.”

You tilted your head back just a bit, both to gaze up into his eyes and to let him in deeper. A low whine vibrated around his cock as his hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing.

“Fuck,” Loki hissed, spilling over into your mouth, filling your senses with his salty taste.

“Swallow it,” Loki commanded, and you were all too willing to obey, wanting to please him.

His thumb swiped over your lips, cleaning up the bit of mess he made, kneeling in front of you as you both caught your breath.

“Was that okay?” the question slipped out before you could stop yourself, puzzling Loki.

“Of course, it was perfect. Haven’t you done it before?”

“No, I’ve been kept pure for you,” you answered, earning a profane string of Norse as his dick twitched.

“You’ve made me insatiable,” Loki pressed a quick, messy kiss to your mouth that was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“No!” Loki shouted, standing up, displayed in his full glory to the guard who opened the door.

The furious god stood in front of you, blocking any eyes from catching even a glimpse of your body.

“Get out, now, or I shall have your eyes torn out!” Loki thundered, fiercely possessive over you.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. Odin has called on you—”

A sharp burst of Loki’s magic sent the man flying backward with a yell, the door slamming shut behind him.

“I’m sorry-” you began, as if you needed to apologize for being nude.

“I will never let anyone else touch you, see your body, or covet what is mine.”

A warmth spread through you at the words, taking his hand to stand up. He took a cloth, carefully cleaning you up, before guiding you into a closet that was full of the finest Asgardian fabrics.

“We’ll continue this later, darling, but for now, you’ll accompany me on whatever nonsense I’m being summoned for,” Loki explained, moving to dress himself as he left you to choose what maids had left for your arrival.

You chose green, pleasing the god as you adorned his colors, another sign of your growing devotion. Loki kissed your wrist, before a band of gold appeared in a shimmer, bringing a smile to your face.

He wordlessly led you out of his chambers, a hand at the small of your back. Being with him was intense — but the castle and all of its people was overwhelming. You found yourself leaning into Loki’s side, away from the noise of shouting and chaos of the everyday happenings.

He looked up from the throne to see what was bothering you before pulling you to sit between his legs where you could sink back into him and ignore the noise.

“We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished. Until then, you can entertain yourself by picturing what I’m going to do to your precious little pussy,” Loki whispered against the side of your face, gently nipping your ear.

You shuddered against his chest, feeling him chuckle beneath you as his arm tightened on your waist. Warmth flushed your cheeks and you turned your face into his arm, shy at the filthy words from Loki. He could feel your heart racing inside your ribs, anxious to tear the emerald gown from your body.

You were lost in your thoughts when Loki banished everyone from the expansive throne room, giant doors embedded with gemstones slamming shut, sealing you alone with him.

“Now, where were we?” Loki asked, mouthing hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“I believe you were about to fuck me, Loki,” you chirped.

“I love hearing those dirty words on your lips, all for me.”

“Only you,” you promised, closing the gap as he hovered above you.

The kiss was heady, his tongue warm and dominating as he pushed it past your lips. The sensation nearly distracted you from his hands, that were tearing the fabric around your torso, letting it flutter to the floor in shimmering pieces.

“I’m going to fuck you here, on this throne, like a proper king.”

You parted your legs, letting his hand drop between them. Loki smirked into your neck as he cupped your sex, feeling how wet you were, desperate for him as heat radiated from your center.

He didn’t bother to turn you over, perfectly happy to fuck you while you were on top of him, lying on his chest as he sat upon his throne. He glided his cock along your wet lips, only a moment until you were squirming with desperation.

He wanted to hear you beg, but even he couldn’t wait any longer, slowly sinking into you, every inch stretching you impossibly further. The sweet sting made you cry out, your head dropping back on his shoulder when he nestled himself fully inside you.

“You’re perfect for me,” Loki praised through gritted teeth, fighting not to slam into you like an animal. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, muscles burning as they were forced to take the stretch to fit him inside — and you loved it.

You doubted anything would ever feel so good, until his hips started to roll forward, the god fucking you deep and slow, holding your body against his chest. He buried his face in your shoulder, soaking up your squeals of pleasure as he lost himself in you.

Before he even thought to play with you, your cunt began to clench around him with an impending orgasm. Your startled whimper shot straight to Loki’s dick, and he fucked you harder, unable to help himself.

“Come around me, darling, let me know how good you feel,” Loki urged, nearly spilling into you as you trembled in his arms, coming with a scream that echoed off the walls.

“There you go,” he murmured, twitching before he filled you with his seed, painting your insides with him.

Your breaths were ragged and uneven, mind completely foggy in the aftermath. He breathed in your scent as he stayed inside you, preserving the moment for as long as possible.

“I’m yours, forever,” you whispered, as if reading his mind.

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galamalion · 4 months

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୨୧. 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

summary. luffy's relationship with hancock begins to strike a deep nerve within you.

⤷ contents. monkey d. luffy x gn!reader, fluff + angst, boa hancock is rude, jealous!reader, light angst (resolved by the end), slight miscommunication // wc. 2.1k

⤷ notes. request by @amortentiaz for a jealous!reader over luffy's relationship with boa hancock. i think i got a little too invested in writing reader's anger, maybe i should write some more angst... i hope you enjoy! <3

Your boyfriend wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Was he caring? Of course, he cuddled and hugged and kissed you near constantly. Was he attentive? Easily, he always wanted to snuggle with you, no matter your location—even if it led to some unfortunate circumstances.

But he may just be the most scatterbrained boyfriend anyone could ask for, and your current situation was perhaps the best example of his obliviousness.

"Ah, Luffy! I have more food if you want it!"

"Really?! Thank you, Hancock!"

You and Luffy had gotten pulled off your ship by a terrible storm, only a small makeshift raft of wood to keep you afloat. A miracle had led you to land on Amazon Lily, an island led by a woman with a fixation for Luffy.

And so here you were, stuck watching the most beautiful woman in the world drape herself over your boyfriend like they'd been married for the last thirty years. Sure, your boyfriend was the greatest catch in the East Blue, but he was your boyfriend. Not Hancock's 'sweetie pie honey bun super-special pirate king.'

You had just finished talking with Jimbei through the snail transponder, who informed you that the ship would be there tomorrow in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant you would have to stay here.

"Alright, Luffy," you sighed, "The Thousand Sunny will be here in the morning, which means that we're stuck here for tonight."

"There's a room prepared for you in the palace if you need it, Luffy! I can have whatever you need brought there," Hancock swooned, feeding Luffy a drumstick.

"Ooh! Hey, is there anything you need, ____?" Luffy turned to ask, voice muffled by all the meat stuffed inside his mouth.

You looked behind Luffy to meet eyes with Hancock, watching her expression sour at the mention of your name.

"I think I'm fine. Thanks, Luf," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Ok, but Hancock can bring us anything, so if you change your mind you can ask her!" he grinned, taking another large bite of the drumstick.

You sighed, briefly meeting eyes with Hancock who silently scoffed at your presence. Angrily, you stomped out of the palace and out of the town, going far, far away from the oh-so benevolent queen of the island.

As you walked into the expansive forest of the island, you began kicking a rock with each step, muttering under your breath.

"Oh Luffy, here's some yummy food!" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, what dress do you think I should wear?" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, you should break up and we should get married and have a bunch of tiny beautiful babies!"

You kicked the rock off the path, watching it roll off into underbrush and onto the grass floor of the forest.

"Go on then," you grumbled, "go get married to the prettiest girl in the world! then you can really be King of the Pirates..."

As you walked further into the tropical forest of the island, you came upon a rocky cliff, a beautiful location covered in small plants and light foliage. Rocks jutting out harshly in every which way, moss growing upon it, unbothered and untouched.

This is just what you need.

You stepped up to the edge of the cliff and gazed at the forest below, wild and vibrant green hues filling up every space you looked at. The sky was similar, a brilliant cloudless blue, like a calm blue sea without a boat in sight. You could stare at this serene scene for all of eternity, if only time allowed.

Sighing wistfully, you closed your eyes and stretched your body, taking a deep breath.

And then, you screamed.

You screamed at nothing and everything, all at once. At Hancock and Luffy, together, singularly, at their actions, at their attitudes. You shrieked at Hancock's cruel expressions, her blatant disregard for your own feelings. You screeched at Luffy's oblivious disposition, his inability to realize how you felt about all of this. You screamed until your throat burned, until you could feel your eyes welling up with tears and your screams turned into sobs turned into silent crying.

Needless to say, it was a much needed catharsis.

You calmed yourself down and walked back to the bustling city, taking in the nature surrounding you. As you continued walking, a long, rubbery leg touched down onto the forest path. The leg was attached to your boyfriend, who jumped down from the trees with a bewildered and frightened expression on his face.

"Are you okay ____?!" I heard—"

"I'm fine," you snapped, brushing past him.

Luffy gave you a confused look as you walked towards the village, on your way to check out the room in the palace Hancock so graciously gave you.

It was placed right next door to Hancock's own chambers, no doubt because she wanted to keep Luffy close, but the interior was far more shocking. Instead of a giant king sized bed in the middle, two beds—one far bigger than the other—with a great deal of space separating them were inside. It was almost too obvious to tell which bed was Luffy's, given the amount of food and gift baskets surrounding it.

You were just shocked that she put you in Luffy in the same room.

Deciding it wasn't worth complaining about, you instead searched around the castle in search of a library, a place Luffy would never look for you.

It wasn't that you were mad at him. No, it would be more accurate to say that you were furious. But you knew deep inside your mind that it wasn't his fault. But you also knew that if you saw him again, you would blow up, explode, in his face.

You stayed in the library until midnight, reading fairy tales and historical texts, immersing yourself in the stories and history these books contained. You could feel the anger and jealousy in your veins dwindle with each page you read.

Once you had returned your amassed collection of books back to their shelves, you made your way back to your room. Expectations were low, you were fairly certain that Luffy wouldn't have a clue regarding your feelings, and a conversation would most certainly need to happen.

Walking quietly to your shared room, you carefully opened the door. the first thing you noticed was that Luffy was still awake, crouched in the middle of his bed. It wasn't strange for Luffy to be awake so late in the night, knowing that his sleep schedule was pretty irregular, but an unusually upset expression was etched into his face.

The second thing you noticed was that the delicious gifts surrounding his bed were uneaten, unopened, the wrapping on a few having not been touched.

Luffy noticed you immediately, the corners of his lips pulling down even further, his brow furrowed in a mixture of, seemingly, sadness and confusion, like a puppy watching their owner leave for the first time.

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out quietly, clutching his knees.

All you could do was sigh in response, moving to sit on your own bed.

"I don't know," you confessed, looking away from him. "I'm...mad, yeah. But at you? I don't know."

Luffy remained quiet until you decided to break the silence.

"Hancock is pushy," you crossed your arms, "she's pushing my boundaries and she's pushing her way between us. I know she's a friend of yours and she's helped you a lot, but it hurts to watch her snuggle up to you and talk about the 'love' between you."

You looked up at Luffy, seeing the realization and hurt flood his eyes, his fingers twitching as his legs slid towards the edge of the bed.

He didn't say anything yet, instead squeezing the blankets and looking down at his feet, clearly composing his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, ____," Luffy whispered, standing up from the bed. "I know Hancock does nice things for me, but I don't see her like I see you,"

"Then why don't you tell her off? Tell her to leave you alone, tell her you're in a relationship?" you pushed, feeling the jealousy seething out of you.

Luffy frowned and walked closer to you, sitting down on your bed. "You're the greatest treasure I've ever found," he confessed, moving his hands to yours, "it's like you're so shiny and bright, and everybody else is all gray. I know Hancock talks a lot and gives me a lot of food, but if you don't want me to talk or take stuff from her, then I won't, promise!"

Despite your attempts to remain stoic, you were unable to disguise the twinge of a smile caused by Luffy's statement, choosing to nuzzle your face in his neck to hide.

"You don't have to ignore her, Luf. Just ask her to tone it down, maybe? She is the queen of this place. Even if I'm mad at her, I'd rather not piss off someone who can kill us with a snap of her fingers," you mumbled, playing with his vest.

Luffy gave you a big hug, wrapping his rubbery arms around once, and then twice. "If she tries to hurt you, then I'll stop her! You're way more awesome than her," Luffy declared with a pout, falling back into your tiny bed with you in his arms, "and I promise I'll be an extra awesome boyfriend for you."

"You're too sweet, Luf," you laughed softly, hugging him tighter. "But maybe we should move to the bigger bed?"

"I'm too tired, and I'm already comfy," he whined.

"Fine," you grumbled, too tired to argue with your much stronger boyfriend (and captain.)

"G'night, ____," Luffy hummed, pulling you closer to his chest.

You smiled, shutting your eyes, "Night, Luffy."

The morning seemed to come swiftly, light spilling into the room and striking your face. Your boyfriend was still wrapped around you like a vice, caging you tightly against his chest.

"Luffy," you groaned, trying to push him away, "you gotta let me go, it's time to get up,"

Luffy moaned and pressed his face to your chest, "Five more minutes, pretty please?"

"Jimbei said the ship would be here in the morning, the mor-ning, Luf. If we're late to meet them then Nami will beat our asses."

"Then I'll beat her up!"

"Then I'll have to dig your grave."

Luffy pouted and retracted his arms, crossing them, "Fine, we can go now."

Now free from you boyfriend's hold, you and Luffy changed your clothes for the new day, then exited the bedroom.

Immediately upon opening the door, you were greeted with the beautiful, illuminating face of Boa Hancock, who was clearly shocked and upset to see you exit with Luffy.

"Ah, Luffy! I just wanted to see if you wanted to have breakfast? I've had 60 eggs cooked and 30 plates of meat—"

"Sorry, Hancock!" Luffy interrupted, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, "we've gotta go!"

"But—"

Without letting her get another word out, Luffy sprinted through the halls of the palace and out of an expansive window, stretching his way across the viridian forest below.

The sights below were familiar, but it was strange seeing them down below. You could make out the path you travelled through the leaves, even catching a glimpse of the cliff you had stood on last night, a horrible moment during a horrible day that seemed so far away now.

As Luffy jumped from tree to tree, occasionally breaking through the canopy to give you that bird's-eye view, you eventually landed at the gate to Amazon Lily, where the thousand sunny was currently floating.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Nami yelled up, waving her arms, "you're just in time! Let's get out of here!"

"Please, let me go! I need to get onto that island!" Sanji cried out, held in place by Robin's devil fruit-generated limbs.

Luffy let out a boisterous laugh, "We're comin' down! Let's go, ____!" he howled, sprinting towards the ledge.

You looked over your shoulder, fear in your eyes, "Luffy, don't you dare!"

Luffy, ignoring your pleas for a safer entrance, leapt onto the ship with a battle cry, landing perfectly on the wooden deck with you in hand. He gently set you down, flashing a grin as he patted your shoulder.

"Wasn't that fun?!" Luffy exclaimed, dusting off his straw hat.

You collapsed in shock, sprawling your limbs out on the deck as you recovered from your near-death situation.

"We'll...we'll work on that," you panted, desperately attempting to catch your breath.

"Sweet! Let's go now!" Luffy cheered, pulling you back up

"Go? Where?" you asked, astonished, "we just got back to the ship?"

"I told ya, I'm gonna be and extra super awesome boyfriend!" he beamed, "now we have to go do some extra super awesome stuff!"

He once again wrapped you up in his arms, flashing a smile as he hugged you.

"I promise I'm gonna be a way better boyfriend from now on, I won't disappoint you!" he beamed.

You smiled back and ruffled his hair, kissing his forehead.

"You're already the best boyfriend I could ask for, Luffy."

"But I can be better!"

"Better than best?"

"Best of the best!"

You threw you head back and laughed, squeezing him back.

"Alright, Luf. Show me what you have in mind."

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candy69gurl · 24 days

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hiii 🤗🤗 im new to your blog, i know you write dark fiction i was wondering if youd be open to some fluff? Like soft sex with sukuna?

Infernal Passion

Heian Era Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, slight non-con, loss of innocence, size kink (Sukuna in true form with 2 dicks, 4 arms and abdomen mouth), mentions of violence (Sukuna eats humans but gentle only with you), use of nicknames, belly buldge, pussy eating, fingering (Sukuna has nails), nipple playing, raw sex (cumming inside), breeding kink, mentions of lactation

wc - 2.4K

ART NOT MINE !

"—Oh, Uraume, bring the new offering to me." Sukuna grumbles, his voice low and menacing. "Tie her up securely and make sure she knows her place. I won't tolerate any resistance from her." He smirks cruelly, savouring the thought of what's to come.

Uraume enters the room, dragging you by the arm, your eyes wide with fear.

Uraume ties you to a wooden post, leaving you bound and vulnerable. Your eyes are filled with tears, and your breathing has turned shallow, each gasp echoing softly in the dimly lit room. The scent of blood and death hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the many who faced the same fate as you.

"Ah, such a delicate little thing." Sukuna's eyes rake over you, taking in every detail of your body. "I can already taste the fear in your blood. It's going to be a delightful meal." He reaches out, gently running a finger down your cheek, his touch cold and calculating. "Such a sweet dessert after a huge feast."

"P-please d-dont eat me.. I-I don't want to die.. I beg of you", you plead, your body already limb under his gaze.

Sukuna's eyes narrow, studying your pleading expression. "Very well, I shall spare you this time." He leans in closer, his breath warming against your skin. "But you have to give me something in return.

"What do you have to offer me?" Sukuna asks, his gaze intense. "You must give me something truly valuable to earn my mercy today." He steps back, crossing his arms, and waits for your response.

You are trembling against his piercing gaze, words stuck in your throat.

"Yes, yes, I can tell you're frightened," Sukuna says mockingly, "but I assure you, I am quite patient. What do you think would please me enough to forget your insignificant life?" He watches you closely, examining your trembling form and the fear etched upon your face. "Perhaps your body could provide some sort of entertainment... Tell me, have you ever served a man before? Or perhaps multiple men?"

Tears stream down your face as you desperately search for words. "N-no." You whisper, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks, "I am... pure, untouched." Your voice wavers, and you bite your lip nervously, hoping that your submission will be enough.

Sukuna's eyes gleam with interest as he studies your reaction. "Pure, are you? That could be intriguing." He takes a step closer, towering over you, his massive form looming over your tiny frame. "But I require more than just words, little one. Show me how much you value your life, and maybe I'll decide if it's worth keeping." He gestures Uraume towards his chamber, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Inside, you will find what I need. Fail me, and I will eat your heart and make you suffer until your last breath."

Uraume approaches you, their expression softening slightly as they untie the bonds restraining you. "Fear not, dear one. Lord Sukuna requires your purity intact." They whisper gently, helping you stand and guiding you towards the chamber, "We shall prepare you for his pleasure."

Within the chamber, a warm bath steams gently, and a pristine robe is laid out on a nearby stool. Uraume helps you undress and step into the water, washing away the dirt and fear clinging to your body. Their gentle hands work over your tense muscles, and their movements are confident and practiced.

As you relax in the warm water, Uraume carefully dries you off and helps you into the robe, adjusting the fabric to fall just right over your slender form. "You are ready now, dear one." Uraume's voice is calm and soothing, and their eyes never leave you. "Remember, you must please Lord Sukuna if you wish to live." They lead you back to the main room, where Sukuna awaits, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Well, well," Sukuna drawls, his gaze raking over your body. "Look at you, all cleaned up and ready for my pleasure." He runs a hand through his hair, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Sukuna motions for you to approach the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as you move cautiously towards him. With a single swift motion, he removes your robe, revealing your innocence and vulnerability to him. "Ah, so tempting."

"You are merely a morsel in comparison to my size and strength, yet your innocence and fragility only add to your allure." Sukuna growls, his massive hands tracing gently down your slender frame. "And here I thought your kind were all tough and unyielding, but you are anything but. You're soft, delicate, and, oh, so delectable." As he speaks, he pulls you closer, your bodies pressing intimately together.

His grip tightens, pulling you even closer, his erection pressing against your belly. "Your innocence is intoxicating, little one." He bends down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. You taste fear and surrender, which only fuels his desire further. His fingers trail down to where your legs meet, hesitating for a moment before pushing on your legs.

Your eyes fail to meet his, a tender blush filling your cheeks.

"Such shyness is adorable." But you'll learn quickly that there is no escape from my desires." His red eyes devouring your innocence.

With that, he sinks to his knees, his tongue flicking out to taste your essence.

The great Ryomen Sukuna on his knees for a mere human like you, you think.

Your thighs shake, his tongue is huge, one slide is enough to cover your whole womanhood. He savours your shock and fear, letting them mingle with the sweet flavour of your arousal. "So good; you taste better than raw blood." He murmurs, licking and sucking at your tender flesh, driving you wild with both pleasure and terror.

You squirm and whimper against his tongue. "Ah, so sensitive." Sukuna growls, his tongue darting out to catch the droplets of your arousal. "You're going to make me lose control, little one."

Sukuna's eyes widen in surprise at your sensitivity, his tongue lapping up the flood of wetness that cascaded onto his face. This is unlike any human he has encountered before. He cannot remember experiencing such sensitivity from others. It makes him thirsty for more, for your submission and pleasure.

Your mewls and whimpers turn him on further. "Such sweet sounds. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sukuna's voice is thick with lust, and his tongue never ceases its relentless assault on your sensitive core. He thrusts two thick fingers inside you, stretching your tight walls as you squirm beneath him, his nails brushing your walls drawing out moans from you, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

"A-ah, too much, Lord."

Sukuna groans low in his throat, fighting the urge to claim you right then and there. "If you can't handle that, how will you take my full length inside you?" He asks rhetorically, his fingers working in and out of you, stretching your wet heat in preparation.

Slowly, he eases himself free from his robes, his two massive members standing proud and eager. He positions himself at your entrance, taking a moment to let you feel the weight of his manhood pressing against your delicate folds. "Ready to accept what you owe me, little one?" A cruel smirk curves his lips, knowing you have no choice but to submit.

"Are you going to put both of them inside me?" You are terrified at the thought of his two lengths invading you.

"Don't worry, I won't," Sukuna responds, even though he wanted to push both his dicks inside you, the thought of your tender body feeling pain from it made him rebuff his thoughts. He gently guides his upper dick to your entrance.

Your thoughts are a mix of terror and confusion. You never imagined yourself in such a position—being taken by a powerful demon who holds your life in his hands. Yet, as he slowly pushes into you, the unfamiliar sensation overwhelms you. You cannot help but wonder if this is how your end comes, consumed by this beast. But strangely, your body responds to him, arching into his touch, craving more even

You couldn't believe it. A creature of such immense power and cruelty is gentle with you. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, almost tender. It's a stark contrast to the fear and violence that defined your encounter thus far. As he moves within you, you feel a strange mix of emotions—fear, yes, but also a strange sense of safety. It's an odd sensation to be at the mercy of a monster yet feel protected.

As he continues his slow, gentle thrusts, you can't help but wonder,

Was he capable of more than just cruelty and violence? Or was this just another part of his twisted game, designed to confuse and disorient you before claiming you completely?

"Feeling good, little bird?", he coos.

"Y-yes lord."

"Just for you, little bird. I'll be as gentle as silk." Sukuna whispers, his pace slowing down even further. His two hands hold your legs, and the third one strokes his ignored dick, a strange tongue formed from his hand slides against it. His fourth hand slides down to stroke your clit. The sudden burst of pleasure elicits a gasp from you.

"It feels so good, Lord Sukuna."

"Good. Enjoy it while you can." His thumb circles your clit, tongue formed from his hand occasionally lapping at it making your body flinch, taunting you with orgasm and drawing it out until your core is begging for release.

"Please, I am going to release, my lord", you eyes pleading him to let you release.

"I know.." Sukuna's breath hitches,"I've never been so careful with anyone, especially a mere mortal." His voice dripped with arrogance.

His two shafts pulsated, straining for release.

He hisses at your tightness as you squeeze his dick, creaming it white. Your moans echo through the room.

"Ah, so sweet, hmph," he purrs.

Without missing a beat, Sukuna switches the shaft currently inside you with the one he was stroking. He leans down and takes the newly freed member into his abdominal mouth. The sight of his shaft being devoured by his cursed abdomen sends shivers down your spine.

Sukuna seems to notice the direction of your gaze."They both want to be in you, sweetheart. Perhaps not today... I shall claim you with one of my dicks only."

"Love you..," your tone barely audible.

"Love me?" Sukuna's eyes narrow, his brow furrowing. This affection was unexpected, especially from someone he was about to devour a while ago. Yet, there is something intriguing about it. "Love? What do you know of love, little bird?"

He continues to move inside you, his pace increasing ever so slightly. Each thrust is deeper and harder than the last.

"I just know you are never going to hurt me. That's enough for me to love you."

Sukuna laughs cruelly, his hips moving faster now. His laughter echoes in the room, filled with both scorn and amusement. "Oh, how naïve you are. Perhaps I will love you back on one condition."

Your stomach bulges with each thrust, revealing a glimpse of his massive member. It moves in and out of you, leaving behind a trail of pleasure and pain.

With every thrust, your cheeks redden, and your eyes lock onto his.

"Will you be able to bear my child?"

You bite your already swollen lips, thinking your future with the curse king.

"Answer me!" Sukuna roars, slamming into you harder; his need for confirmation is overwhelming.

You swallow hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Yes! Yes, Lord Sukuna! I'll bear your child!"

"Good. You deserve my love then." Sukuna kisses your neck, then his tongue slides down your sternum to your breasts, his shaft disappearing entirely before re-emerging from between your legs.

"You'll bear my child, and you'll remember me every time you look at them. You'll remember your lord." Each word carries the weight of ownership, sealing your fate.

His eyes gleam with anticipation, imagining the sight of your breasts swelling with milk. The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

"Imagine it, your nipples engorged, milk from them flowing freely. Yes, that would be lovely." His grip tightens on her hip, his thrusts becoming deeper and more possessive. His mouth sucks on your nipples while one of his hands pinches your nipples, thinking about how they would look, swollen and ready to feed his future kids. With each squeeze and suckle, you whimper, your body writhing beneath him. This is a future you never expected, but somehow, it excites you more than terrifies you.

His thrusts grow longer and slower, each one filled with possession and dominance. His mouth moves from one breast to the next, licking and sucking while his hand plays with the other.

"So close, are we?" His voice was low and seductive, promising pleasure and pain.

"Please, Lord, fill me. Fill me with your seed," you speak out the words you never imagined, you will say.

"So desperate, already? You beg well, sweetheart." Sukuna chuckles, his hips pumping faster. His breathing's ragged, and his gaze fixed on your face. "Are you sure you want this?"

Your lips swollen and red from biting as you let go of your moans while you orgasm again.

He does not wait for an answer, instead driving deep into you and filling you completely. His hot seed spills into your womb, marking you forever. His other dick squirts, landing on your chest and tummy. His eyes darken, and his entire body becomes tense.

"Now, you carry a piece of me. Forever bound to me."

Once spent, he collapses onto her, his breath ragged. His mouth found the curve of her neck, licking gently. "We have a deal, little bird. You bear my children, and I'll protect you. Our bond is sealed now."

"Look at you," Sukuna murmurs, pushing himself off your body. Standing up, he steps back to survey his art.

The mess is undeniable—your chest and belly covered in his seed, your thighs wet with evidence of their coupling.

His finger circles around your nipple, sending shockwaves through your body.

"How messy and used you look right now. Covered head to toe in my filth. I've claimed you and marked my territory for you. No one will dare touch you again. I'll leave you here to rest, my queen. When morning comes, Uraume will take care of you."

"I love you, my queen," he says, kissing your temple, letting you drift into the kingdom of dreams, where you are taking care of lord sukuna's kids.

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laenordeservedbetter · 3 months

Text

Thieves & Prophecies

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Poseidon)

Synopsis: When your friends accuse Clarisse of stealing the lightning bolt, you make a choice that dooms Olympus.

Warnings: PJO EPISODE VI SPOILERS, r has anger issues, r isn't too fond of the gods, ooc!clarisse, Luke. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: People say you should write to get over writer's block, so here's another Clarisse x reader. The new episode had me stressing out for Clarisse and she wasn't even there. At least we got good Percabeth scenes.

masterlist || previous work

---

You’re leaning against a wooden crate while Grover proceeds to explain why Clarisse is the lightning thief. The pounding of your heart was the only thing you made yourself hear, tuning out of the conversation. You couldn’t believe it. You refuse to believe it. Clarisse wouldn’t do something like that. Something’s wrong. They are wrong.

“Y/n?” Percy stands in front of you, looking apologetic. You meet his gaze, realizing that they must have finished talking. You don’t say anything, figuring that your conflicting emotions are visible to them. “I’m sorry about Clarisse. I know that you think she’s not capable of stealing the lightning bolt, but all signs lead to her.”

The glare that you send Percy makes him flinch. “She didn’t do it.” You claim. Percy opens his mouth to protest, but you weren’t done talking. “I know she didn’t. I’m sure of it.” You say the words with such conviction that Percy can’t help but feel bad for you. You scowl upon seeing his sympathetic look, shaking your head. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Y/n…” Grover interjects, moving to stand beside Percy. “I know that this is hard to hear since Clarisse is your—” Grover cut himself off, “But there’s no other half-blood Ares could possibly want to protect except his favorite daughter.” He says softly, trying to reason with you.

You were far past reason, however. Not when Clarisse is involved. You walk a few steps closer to them, your jaw clenching. They both take a step back, their backs hitting a combination of crates and cages. They weren’t used to seeing you like this. They’ve watched you protect them from monsters, but they haven’t experienced being on the receiving end of your wrath. It was not a good feeling.

“Say one more word about Clarisse being the lightning thief and I will make sure none of us get to the underworld in time for the solstice.”

Grover and Percy merely nodded, too afraid to argue.

You retreated to the corner furthest away from them; feeling more exhausted than you had been since the quest began. A part of you wanted to ensure that Percy completes his quest and that he clears his and your father’s name, another part wants nothing more than to protect Clarisse, but the emotion that overpowers both is your anger.

How could they all just sit there and come to that conclusion without thinking it through? Their accusation didn’t even have that much of a backbone to support it with. You were mad at yourself for not being able to convince them otherwise. You were mad at Ares for taking Grover’s bait and for not ratting out the real thief, which you probably shouldn’t say out loud. Though, at this point, you didn’t care because tomorrow morning, Percy and Annabeth were going to send an Iris Message to camp and there will be nothing you can do to stop Chiron, Mr. D, and the rest of the demigods from going after Clarisse. You needed to act and you needed to act fast.

---

As soon as Percy, Annabeth, and Grover fell asleep, you stood up and silently moved to the truck’s doors. Percy was leaning against one of the cages, his eyes peacefully shut. Sometimes, you forget that he’s still a kid. He should be enjoying his childhood, not going off fighting monsters. But unfortunately, that’s just the way life goes when you’re a half-blood, being in constant danger. Yet another reason to be mad at the gods. You shake your head, trying to ignore the pang of guilt when you think about leaving your brother. If there had been another way, you would have taken it.

You just hope Percy forgives you when all of this is over.

…Or if he survives the solstice.

You stop in your tracks, wondering if what you’re about to do is the right decision to make when Annabeth starts to stir.

It was now or never.

You continue making your way to the door, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

The bag that Ares gave.

There was something about it that drew you in. You know you shouldn’t, but you grab the bag, opening the top zipper. There was cash, clothes, and golden drachmas, exactly what the god of war said. You had no need for cash or clothes, so you take those out. You scoop a few drachmas and place the rest on the floor, putting the coins inside the bag since it would be handier than putting it in your pockets. You sling the bag over your shoulder and bolt for the doors, the metal making a loud bang the moment you force it open. Before either one of the trio could go after you, you were already a few miles ahead – or behind, depending on which direction you’re looking from – of them.

You don’t stop running until you reach a coast. You wanted to collapse in exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep going until your feet touch the water. Sighing in relief, you close your eyes, allowing the water to give you strength. The wind was chilly tonight, darkness looming above you. The possibility of war was getting closer yet here you were, having just abandoned your brother for Clarisse.

You didn’t know what you were going to do when you reached camp. Would you try convincing Chiron that Clarisse wasn’t the culprit? Would you run away with your girlfriend? Or would you take the blame despite not having the lightning bolt yourself?

You hear a whine before you, prompting you to open your eyes. A creature with the head and front legs of a horse but with the tail of a fish appeared in front of you, tilting its head a little. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “Did my dad send you?” You asked.

Yes, my lady.

Your brows scrunch even more (if that was possible) at the term. Your hand reaches out to pet the hippocampus, the creature leaning into your touch. You were still surprised that your father, Poseidon, decided to help you. He did listen to your prayers most of the time, but you thought that he wasn’t your biggest fan at the moment, seeing how you were about to go to camp and possibly ruin his reputation. You guess you were wrong. A small smile graced its way onto your face as you mumble, “Thank you, father.” You get on the hippocampus, the creature making sure you were properly seated before it started moving.

---

The sun had completely risen by the time you reached camp. Being on a hippocampus was by far the best mode of transportation, in your opinion. You got good sleep this time. You get off of Summer (you learned that that was her name when you were trying to make conversation), your feet landing on the shore.

“Thank you, Summer. I promise I’ll give you a snack when I see you again.” You promise, smiling softly.

Summer made a noise of approval before diving back into the water.

You look towards the woods, feeling like something was about to go wrong. “You can’t back down now.” You mumble to yourself. Clarisse needed your help. This is the reason why you came back to camp. You will your feet to move, one foot in front of the other.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

---

Sneaking into camp was easy. Getting past the campers was the hard part. If they saw you, they would bombard you with questions. You can already sense the kind of questions they’d ask, the things they would say. You grit your teeth in annoyance. Everyone seemed to be doing something. Though, the number of campers in the archery practice range and the dining pavilion were smaller compared to the last time you were here. Odd. You shake your head, trudging forward, trying to look for Clarisse.

“You stupid moron! I told you. I didn’t steal the lightning bolt!”

Ah, there she was.

Your heart flutters upon hearing her voice. There was no mistaking that that was her.

You see Luke get out of the armory. You could make out a figure behind him, a girl tied against one of the tables. Your expression hardens as you stare at the Hermes cabin councilor. Before he could meet your gaze, you hide behind one of the cabins.

Anger coursed through you again. Your fists clenched, leaning your head against the structure of the Zeus cabin. You wait for a minute, then another, then another, before you feel your anger subsiding. You use the back part of the cabins in order to get to the armory, rushing past groups of campers before they could spot you.

The armory was unguarded, which was a bad decision on Luke’s part. Like seriously? The armory is the best choice you can come up with to lock up the alleged thief in? There are dangerous weapons in there. If they had caught the real thief and locked them there, it would have been a bloody day. You scowl at their incompetence, but your expression morphs into one of worry when you open the door and see Clarisse.

She glances towards you, squinting her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” You march towards her and settle yourself in front of her. Her hands were tied. “Gods, what have they done to you?” You mutter, grabbing a dagger from the table above her and using it to cut the rope.

“They’re accusing me of stealing the lightning bolt, which is stupid because I didn’t do it. This must be Percy’s doing.” Clarisse grumbles, an apologetic look crossing her face after she says the last sentence. “Sorry. I know he’s your brother, but…”

“They’re wrong. I know.” You nod reassuringly. Not a second after you finish cutting the rope, Clarisse surges forward to pull you into an embrace. You laugh in surprise, pulling her closer, “Woah, there. Hi.” You close your eyes, inhaling her familiar scent. It was good to have her near you again. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your hand on her hair. “I missed you.” You say.

“I missed you too.” Clarisse replies before reluctantly pulling away. She places both of her hands on your face, as if memorizing it all over again. Her brows were scrunched as she looks at a scar that wasn’t there before you left and you found yourself wanting to ease her worries.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She scowls. “You got hurt.”

“I’m okay now.” You insist. Before she asks follow-up questions, you try to state why you were here in the first place. “I tried to convince Percy, Grover, and Annabeth that you didn’t steal the lightning bolt, but they wouldn’t listen. So, I jumped out of the truck when they were sleeping. I got a few drachmas in case of emergencies. Then, I went to a beach, where a hippocampus appeared and brought me here. And now I’m realizing I didn’t think too far ahead because I don’t know what to do now. If I can’t convince Mr. D or Chiron that you’re innocent, I… We can run away. Yes, that we can do.”

“You did all of that for me?” Clarisse had an unreadable expression on her face. She looked like she wanted to kiss you, yell at you, and cry all at once.

Your brows furrow. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t.”

“That was really stupid.” She says.

“I know.”

“You jeopardized the quest.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve experienced your father’s wrath.”

“I know.” A small laugh escapes you.

Clarisse shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes.

“Gods, I love you.” Clarisse mumbles.

You sport a teasing grin, “Aww, you do?”

“Shut up.” She punches your shoulder playfully.

“Ouch!”

“What are you doing?”

Your playful banter came to an end when you hear Luke enter the front door, two of the kids from the Athena cabin standing behind him. You turn, stepping forward to stand in front of Clarisse. You’ve been in similar positions in the past, except she was the one protecting you. Now, it was time to return the favor.

Both Athena kids step forward on Luke’s signal, dragging both you and Clarisse outside, where there was a cluster of campers watching you.

Great, a show. Just what you needed.

“What were you doing with the lightning thief?” Luke questions.

It took a shake of Clarisse’s head to stop you from attacking him. You settled for “accidentally” stepping on his toes instead. “Clarisse is not the lightning thief.” You state. Around you, there stood at least two dozen campers. You spot Chiron and Mr. D amidst the campers and your eyes light up. “You don’t even have proof that she stole the lightning bolt, so how can you be so sure that it’s her?”

Luke ignores your question entirely. “Just give up, Y/n. Stop protecting her. You know that she stole it. We all do.”

“She didn’t steal it!” You yell, meeting Luke’s eyes. It felt like having a staring contest with a statue.

“Yeah, well, how do you know?!” His voice raises to match yours, his cold gaze almost scaring you. Almost.

You fall silent, not having a proper answer to that. Truth was, you didn’t. You could just feel it. But making choices based on feelings isn’t a good enough reason for anyone in this camp. You turn towards Chiron for help, but he doesn’t say anything. The entirety of the Ares cabin is quiet as well. That’s when it occurs to you that if they don’t speak up, there is a zero percent chance that anyone else will.

Luke appears smug, as if he had proved his point. “Exa—”

“Because I did it.”

You shock even yourself at your words, but you do nothing to take them back. You weren’t able to see any other option left. You were surrounded. If you’d try to escape with Clarisse, you weren’t making it out of camp alive. This was your last resort.

“What?” Clarisse says beside you, her voice barely above a whisper. You force yourself not to look at her. You wouldn’t be able to stand the look of betrayal on her face. You’d rather have her hating you than have her punished for something she didn’t do.

Luke scoffs, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

You don’t break eye contact with Luke as you say the words, ignoring Clarisse’s screams of protest.

For once, Luke was taken aback. He keeps shaking his head, “No, you’re lying. Just give up already. You can’t protect her anymore.”

“I stole the lightning bolt.” You say, louder this time around.

“Miss L/n, that is a serious admission.” Chiron says, his tone grave. You could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Are you sure you stole the lightning bolt?”

“She’s bluffing.” Luke announces, but he sounds unsure.

Your bag grows heavier, as if someone placed a boulder inside it while you were talking to Luke. It was too much to carry. Naturally, you removed the bag from your shoulder, setting it down on the grass. You open the backpack’s zipper, your breath hitching when you see the thing that has been weighing it down. You pull it out of the bag, hearing gasps and words of alarm from the campers.

The bolt crackled in your hand, the color mesmerizing you. You tilt your head with a sly grin, your eyes fixed on Luke.

“Do you believe me now?”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson and the olympians

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astralnymphh · 5 months

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okay hear me out right… horndog!farmellie thats so incredibly horny that she cums untouched in her boxers from you kissing her neck and sucking on her nipples 🤫

ughhh the usual horndog!ellie !! always so sensitive when the tables turn n she gets pleasured ౨ৎ MDNI !! very lovey dovey

setting the scene, night time, both of you reclined supine into the cushy nature of your bed, crafting a little gully in the mattress with your combined weight. a thin sheet wisped over the curvature of your bodies, rippling the material perfectly across your thighs– neglecting the toss so it leaves your loins and torso exposed to tottering candlelight, every groove highlighted and cast in umbrage, she looked of a delectable nature, lying flat to your raised–elbow poise. your index, soft as a plume, rides the fleshy rise of her bare breast and merry–go–rounds her bumpy nipple. she seizes up a breath, indenting the skin between her ribs lightly, mouthing, "fuck.." at the sensations. on the contrary, she'd be the one rousing every bit of your body to her relentless touch– but not tonight. in these little hours, these little, loveable hours, her flesh and bone would rather lie rot to your touch, an all–consuming caress. beryl eyes move to and fro, shimmy side to side, trailing after your encircling fingertips. then, her pupils dart, and find sightly purchase on your lips. how they curve, and flush a streak of pigment when you bite down with those pretty teeth of yours. a shared idea seems to floodlight the dark cavern of both your heads because as soon as a gasp flows down her gullet, it catches. hitched, like a mouse in a trap. your mouth hollows over her perked nipple, suctioning the flimsy nub between squeezing lips. every interval, you suck, wrinkle your lips to a pucker, and pop with a wet smack. it tasted of nothing but skin, and that wasn't an issue. the natural tang of skin was enough for you, and a lot for her. a coil begins to slink tighter and tighter, tickling the lubricous, aroused walls of her vagina. the irk a throbbing clit brings, comprised decuple the volume of sting it ordinarily would. for that sting, she clenches, like a string had attempted to flip her cunt inside out, drawing wads of frothy clear precum to dribble cold along her perineum, and far between the vale of her ass. the chopped whinnies of els' pitching suffrage all but clogged your skull, egging you on as those little noises stain your susceptible impulses, especially, certain words of,

"fuckkk you, god–",

"don't be gentle, fuck, please..",

"you' trynna make me ruin m'boxers? mhh–",

to be gentle with her was an anathema. she harbored a love–hate relationship with tender touches. the time it takes to tilt your partner over a climax cliff with teasey–tricks, renders it slow and painful, painfully gratifying. a cold thumb tamps her opposing nipple down, flopping the bundle of skin on all sides. that move? oh, that move was a curse, in fact. the time given, she tilts that blurred line between a rising climax and wetting up her boxers like a spout. and so, she cracks. "uhhn– fuckfuckfuck, mh!" she squeaks, pushing her shaken thighs harsh into the spongy bed as she cums. a gush of sticky warmth runs past her tremoring hole in lacy serum ejections, simmering a dark–hued splotch, taking a heartly shape on the plateau of her boxers, inseam tightening her fat pussy lips apart. a leak of it dribbles downward and makes merry with her smushed asscrack, smearing skin as she wriggles. you coo, "hmm, so sensitive– are we pretty girl?" as your lips drag off her suffused, swollen nipple, glistening with your bubbly saliva. a grunt grizzles in her chest, prior to her gripe of, "d–don't, call me that.." cause nuh–uh, she's 'spose to call youuu that. you chuckle, lips curling nasal creases, "hah– okay, how 'bout handsome girl?" and she just tosses her eyes off bounds, partaking her focus in the dramatic swell and heave her chest breathes, too embarrassed to gaze upon you. a smack of your lips, a rise of your body, and a stuffing of your head to her cuddled neck gets her talking again, wincing at the sanguine bite left in your rein of loving torture. one last gasp, she shudders, "f–ffuck, swear to god,"

"you make me crazy babe."

900 notes · View notes

1800titz · 3 months

Text

HI. HELLO. Here is my Valentine’s Day contribution. POTTERYINSTRUCTOR!HARRY!! POTTERY MAN! WOOO. Basically almost 7K of clay sexualization and sexually charged fluff (ish). Enjoy! :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: ridiculous sexualization of clay (I think I’ve managed to fetishize clay in this one??? OOPS), overly suggestive usage of pottery terms, a red-hot, hands-on tutorial for wheel throwing, and embarassingly long descriptions of Harry’s fingers coated in wet clay.

WC: 6.6K

slip: small bits of dry clay mixed with water to create a thick, creamy consistency

Clay is innately erotic.

Wheel throwing is, arguably, the most pornographic art form, its only competing opponent being, maybe, literal body-painting. And that latter one still falls as a close second. Close, but second.

Y/N decides that when she wanders into a little ceramics shop tucked away in a busy plaza downtown. There’s no method to her exploration, but the broad glass windows are adorned with dripping, colorful graffiti and its innards call to her. GLAZED, reads the large sign over the awning in blocky, white lettering, stippled with un-glowing light bulbs that she’s sure light alive in the night.

It’s a cute shop.

Upon entrance, the young woman discovers tables, as if set up for arts and crafts, crackling, clay covered wheels with shorter stools, and long, tall rows of shelving brimmed with colorless sculptures lining the walls. Despite its packed interior, the studio seems empty of people and quiet besides the soft notes of RÜFÜS DU SOL leaking from the overhead speakers. She roams beside the line of wheels over to a shelf by the door, admiring the myriad of statues there, some obviously crafted with expertise and elegant artistry, and others lopsided efforts that probably deserve a pitied gold star for effort.

Her eyes are caught on an unpainted little ashtray that’s got a crooked sort of bee in the center when her gaze breaks away to the sound of footsteps. Maybe the shop isn’t as abandoned as she’d previously believed — a man appears from behind a row of white shelving stacked with more unfinished pottery.

He’s a pretty man, that much she can decide from the downturned slope of his nose and his distracted lash line, focused on twisting the navy rag in his left hand over the tip of his right index finger. A dark baseball cap shrouds his hair, but little brunette tufts sneak out in curled bunches around his ears. That’s where Y/N finds a fun, little red-tinted pearl dangling from one lobe. He’s tatted in patchwork art — a mermaid with its tits out peeks at her from his forearm, soaked over and shining. She assumes he must have just been rinsing clay from that forearm, from his hands, no longer visible over his skin. However, streaks of dried gray stain over his white tee in crackling lines, like an old lamination on a well-loved t-shirt that’s been cycled through the washer one too many times. When he pulls the rag away, she discovers a shade of bright red that’s been painted over his nails.

Almost as if he can sense her presence without looking, his sneakers pause on the tile and he steals a peer up. Yes, he’s quite a pretty man, even when his features shape something caught off guard.

“Hello.”

His voice is rich — this smooth, bass-deep sort of sound driving a foreign lilt, and Y/N thinks that if it weren’t for his lengthy fingers and his cherry polished nails, if it weren’t for his handsomely sculpted face, if it weren’t for his seemingly innate effortless demeanor and style, that voice alone could make her fold.

“Hello,” she returns, aware that a nervous note plucks at her cadence, unlike his own casual greeting. I promise I’m not shoplifting clay pots in silence, she nearly tells him.

Thank fuck for the ability to physically bite your tongue.

“What can I help you with?” the man asks, sauntering forward a bit. It’s probably sort of a polite manner to say what the fuck are you doing here, and the longer the young woman stands in the middle of the empty shop the more out of place she feels, almost like this a private, little haven and she shouldn’t be in here right now.

The song shifts into its choral bass drop of electric keys. That fills the void of the silence as she swallows and fixes a little smile onto her face, fingers tightening over the strap of her tote.

“Oh, I’m just looking.”

The man purses his mouth and walks over to the counter, where the register is littered with paperwork and an eclectic collection of faux plants. He sets the rag down beside a floppy one with its green tendrils dangling over the edge.

“See anything you like?” his hand pinches over his nose, like he’s scratching an itch, before he sniffs and pivots to apparently decrease their proximity, “We’ve got loads — you can make something yourself, or,” another step, and Y/N’s eye bounce from his shorts to his tattooed knees to the hems of his white socks. “…If you know sculpting isn’t your craft, we’ve got ready-to-paint-one's on that shelf there.”

Her gaze follows the direction of his finger, where pasty ceramic bunnies, and angels, and cars line the shelving in multiples.

“I think—“ the young woman’s tongue peeks out to swipe over her mouth, words growing drier the longer she captures his stare. She focuses back on a lopsided rendition of strawberry, its leaves cradling over as a disconnected lid and its stem a crooked handle. “I like these. They’ve got so much character.”

She blinks back over to him and watches a soft smile shape over the cushiony pink of his mouth.

It only takes a moment — one where her sight draws back to the strawberry jar for a smidge of a second, before he’s so close that she can smell his cologne, spiced and clean. She ogles his arm, his hand, the way he reaches out between them to cull the piece, mildly appalled by the way he palms the sculpture and dwarfs it in his easy grasp. It’s such a casual maneuver, made almost as if he’s not fondling over something it’d take anyone else two hands to hold. Y/N imagines the dimpled form of clay coated over to match the color of his nails.

“They do, don’t they? I like this one, too. S’a little …ugly, but, s’in, like, a…” the man’s features twist into something silly and pinched, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth to avoid exposing her amusement at the brutal candor. His words catch in his throat and bubble as a short laugh, “I dunno. It’s art.”

He sets it back onto the shelf with a light clink, and turns to face her, posturing against a post in the shelving where the tiers have a break. An exhale becomes paired with his nonchalant lean, arms crossing over his pecs, and Y/N tries intensely not to stare like a hawk at the muscle there.

“I’m afraid people are coming back for these, though. This row came out of the kiln…” forest green skids to the assortment and then bounds up to the ceiling like he’s in thought, before he casts his gaze back onto her, “…yesterday. And there’s a month-and-a-half window for someone to come back and glaze before we toss or sell them to be painted.”

He’s chewing gum. Y/N realizes it when she admires the soft stubble coating his jaw, his cheeks — that’s when she notices the work of his jawline over the minty piece. He tips his head. “Did you want to try sculpting something?”

The edges of her lips break bashfully. “I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.”

One corner of the man’s mouth curls up lopsidedly, and the beginnings of a dimple nudge into place. He blinks and chews a little slower, “Have you ever worked with clay before?”

Her delayed, little no is met with the lopsided beam growing even. He nudges with his chin, deliciously bulging arms still tucked over his chest, his playfully raised eyebrows like a wordless notion of have more faith in yourself, “Then you may just be the next Magdalene Odundo. We’ll make a pro sculptor out of you, yet.”

Magdalene Odundo. Somehow, the name isn’t familiar, but simultaneously, somehow, it feels like a compliment.

Y/N inhales as his digits shift over his tri’s. “Okay.”

“Okay,” plush pink shapes a handsome smile, bordering bright white teeth in straight lines. The man tips his head towards the curved berry vase, and then looks back at her, “Did you want to do something like this? All these over here were made on the wheel.”

Y/N muzzles telling him that she’s no inkling of an idea how someone can morph a lump of clay into a vase, nevermind on a big, spinning platform that moves faster than her eyes can keep up with. The man seems to pick up on the hesitation in her silence.

“S’easy, I promise. I’ll show you how to throw.”

Show her. Okay. At least she’s not going to head into vase-sculpting or wheel-throwing or …whatever he’d called it blindly, fumbling over a block of clay on a twirling tray like a slapstick skit personified. At least it means she’s going to stay in his presence. After a moment of thought, though, (and the way she notes that his eyes make unwavering, relaxed contact with her face the entirety of the silent pause), Y/N decides she’s not sure whether that last bit is actually a good thing, considering she’s probably milliseconds away from, like, bracing a hand onto a the shelf to match his level of coolness, or something. And then subsequently sending ceramic pots spilling and shattering over the tile.

She blinks. Her shoulders rise on her nervous inhale, and he makes one of those playful faces, like he’s waiting for her to agree. The young woman’s eyes wander to the line of chairs pressed to its counterparts of wheels.

“I don’t wanna, like, trouble you—“

“You’re not. S’my job,” he tells her, crimson fingertips drumming. She catches sight of his fabric-clad pectorals flexing when he leans forward a little to tack on, “…And to be honest, it’d give me something to do besides fucking around with clay, which is what I’ve been doing for the last hour.”

Her mouth purses and then settles. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again, and then winds around through a row of little tables that resemble the set up of an art classroom, like the kind she’d have in school. She’s ashamed that her gaze wanders down the back of his arm to ogle the rest of his ink.

“You can have a seat at one of those wheels,” he tosses over his shoulder as he heads, she assumes, to wind back around the same shelf he’d surfaced from behind, “Just give me a mo’, and I’ll be right back with some clay.”

It takes Y/N a moment — mostly because she admires the view of his stature from behind as he migrates to a back hallway, irises roaming down the projection of muscles in his back showcased through his tee. They skim down his legs, down the backs of his knees, rest on toned calves. He’s gone far too quickly for her viewing pleasure. The young woman takes another glance at the uneven strawberry-esque vase, and then she pivots to step around the crowded assortment of wheels to crouch into one of those little roll-y stools, feet crossing and uncrossing in the cramped space.

He’s a sexy man, Y/N decides. That’s the word she’d been looking for all along, although pretty would match the descriptors of his long lashes and his pouty pink mouth. He’s sexy, though, in his baseball cap and his little six-inch-inseam shorts (which show off the sculpt of his tanned thighs and the ink over his kneecaps). He’s sexy when he comes out from the back over to her wheel, a gunmetal gray ball of clay cradled in his palm like it’s not the size of two of her own. He’s sexy in the green eye contact he makes when he settles into a stool similar to her own, right across, when his thighs splay because he doesn’t have enough room to sit otherwise, when he rests his elbows over his knees and stretches one arm out to pass off the clay. That’s when their digits brush, because it’s sort of unavoidable. He manages to make eye contact through that, too. Sexy.

“Okay. Clay,” the chilled ball the man hands off weighs her hand down, and Y/N’s gaze flickers up to meet his own when he instructs, “Toss it onto the wheel. Aim for the center.”

The young woman pauses like she’s calculating her aim, gearing up without visibly gearing up, and a little smile tugs at the instructor’s mouth as he waits. The clay lands with a thud onto the plate.

“Great,” he tells her, monitoring the centering, and then jade bounces back up to her face as he coaxes, “Smack for good luck.”

Y/N curbs the corners of her mouth out of mirth, hesitating for a moment before her palm lands over the smooth, gray lump in a halfhearted pat. She blinks up, hoping for assurance. The handsome man’s mouth purses like he’s restraining a grin.

“Harder,” he encourages after a second, the corners of his muted raspberry mouth seeping up a smidge, more openly, “S’not gonna cry. You can go a little harder than that.”

The young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, raises her hand, and follows his request, molding it flatter under the solid thud of her palm. Evidently, it’s a better attempt, because she earns a, “Very good,” in response from him.

She casts her gaze up to find him dipping his hands into the pot of murky water beside the wheel before a fist knocks lightly at the pedal-resembling lever on the opposite side, sending the wheel into a speeding twirl. And to add to her list of shame, the liquid that coats his fingers — that’s.

Yeah.

Y/N swallows and watches those wet hands cup over the clay, partly mesmerized by the way he coaxes the priorly deformed lump into a symmetrical cylinder, stroking up from the base up and back down, and partly mesmerized by the way the cherry polish becomes daubed with slicked clay.

“I’m just gonna get it nice and easy for you, and then you can get to the fun bits,” the man tells her as if he isn’t currently awakening some deep, deviously sexual desires in her by fondling clay. Jade flickers up. “M’Harry, by the way.”

“Y/N,” the young woman tells him in response, unsure whether to focus on his searing eye contact or the gentle press of his hands over … oddly erotic artistry in motion.

Harry unwittingly makes the decision for her by breaking the eye contact and glancing down at his work.

“Y/N,” he says, as if testing the taste of her name on his tongue.

Y/N takes a breath, smoothing her hands down her thighs.

“Y/N,” his strawberry mouth parts a tad for a soft breath in, honey smooth cadence glazed in concentration as he presses a flat palm over the top of the clay, keeping his other hand cupped over the length.

She watches the cylinder mold under his grip into something shorter, and then back up. She watches the way his arms flex, anchored to his body as he presses with the heels of his palms to sculpt.

“This is called coning. Makes the clay centered so your grip stays nice and even when it spins. Otherwise, s’gonna wobble, and you’ll feel it when you’re trying to work with it.”

Sure enough, after a few moments, when the man takes his clay-sullied palms away, what’d priorly been a lopsided hunk twirling over the platform stands symmetrically, shining post his wet grip. When he balls his hand into a fist and punches over the lever a handful of times, the plate slows to a stop. He blows out a breath and the music shifts to the next track in the background.

“Take your bracelet off for me.”

The comment is made totally innocuously. Its purpose is solely to preserve the condition of her jewelry — she knows that when his eyes go to meet hers again and he mentions, “Otherwise, it could get covered with clay, or break. Wouldn’t wanna ruin such a pretty piece.”

But it’s the way he says it, right? Two little words, so easy off his tongue. So nonchalant, so purely intended with no ulterior motive. For me. For me, for me, for me.

It’s shameful — she’s ashamed. She’s no better than a man, Y/N decides, as she peers to the silver bangle with the sliver of warmth slithering through her chest and snaking to her tummy. She’s no better than a man, objectifying this poor, effortlessly sexy ceramics instructor and his casual commentary on a Wednesday. She swallows.

“Right. Thanks— thank you,” the young woman tells him, her tone garbled with nervous enthusiasm as the fingers of her opposite hand wriggle under the clasp to pop the piece off.

She’s still feeling dubious about the morality of her thoughts once she’s slipped the bracelet into her tote by her feet and sat back up.

“Alright,” Harry starts again, elbows braced to his sturdy thighs, “We’re gonna go over what this little thing over here does, because it’s good to know. It sets your speed. We’ve got options—“

Y/N watches the way his arm stretches, she eyes the tail of the mermaid, the lines of scales etched into his skin. His eyes meet her own again.

“…Fast,” Harry knocks over the lever again with the butt of a vertical fist, a couple more nudges rocketing the wheel into a motion that dissolves priorly visible remnants of clay rings into fast-moving swirls with no decipherable borders.

Another few nudges has the wheel skidding to a full-stop, and then stuttering back up into a spin when he taps over the pad once more.

“…Slow,” Harry fixes his gaze back onto her face and watches the curious concentration there. The man sits back up a tad, elbows bracing over his splayed thighs and fingers crooked and lax, coated with slippery wetness and clay. “Find what feels good for you. S’different for everyone.”

Despite the way the directions are made so innocently, so obviously stated as a tutorial that’s not intended to be taken as something suggestive, Y/N finds a heat teeming over her cheekbones.

“But, I recommend—“ her teeth lodge into the inside of her cheek with subtlety as the instructor hunches a little again, just a tad, to rap over the lever in a pair. The wheel speeds. “—Sticking to something around this.”

The pace of the wheel settles into an easy spin — something that’s still too quick for her eyes to keep up with, but apparently not the fastest setting, judging by the higher speeds he’d displayed moments prior.

“Alright. Here’s where you come in with your undiscovered ceramic talents,” the instructor tells her, the edges of his mouth so obviously restrained, like he’s amused with his own playful banter. His eyes glinting softly under the buttery light cast by the overhanging lanterns,”M’gonna show you how to drill, but you’ll need to get your hands wet first.”

Harry sits back, elbows still braced to his thighs, hands now coated with slippery clay as he waits for the young woman to douse her own into the bucket. The liquid greets her palms with a welcome chill, and when she lightly cups over the cylinder, it slips under her hands with ease. The man clears his throat, and their digits graze again when he touches over her fingers to guide her grasp. Y/N tries not to focus on the way his hands make her own look as if they belong to a child.

“You’re gonna take your thumbs—” Harry coaxes, all concentrated seriousness now, and the pad of his own brushes against the knuckle of her left, “—and press over the top, here. Right in the middle, just like that.”

He takes his hands away and the clay rolls under her fingertips, a divot forming from the pressure of her thumbs.

“Good. Now what you’ve done is you’ve indicated where you’re going to make the opening. And to do that—“ his hands return, unintentionally persuading her own to fall away and sort of hover stagnantly mid-air, in sullied awe, as he dips the tip of his index into the cleft they’d created together.

As if hungry for the finger, the clay parts to swallow the pad of the digit. It broadens its starving mouth, and Harry steadies the spread with his thumb, his pointer delving against the inside of the deepening wall. His opposite hand cups over the body as he molds the opening wider.

Anyways, what Y/N manages to learn from the impressive showcase, before Harry steals a glance to make sure she’s been observing (which she has, very focused, actually), is that clay-working is a dirty, dirty, lustrous art form. Especially under his fingertips. This is all very educational stuff. Perhaps the most impressive step of his tutorial, thus far, is the way that, in mere moments, he cups and strokes and caresses over the clay, drawing the opening tighter. It shrinks until it disappears, and when he smooths his hands over the rounded edges a few more times, the vessel that’s left is an entirely clean slate. Almost as if she hadn’t just spent the last few seconds ogling a weirdly pornographic display of a clay cavern opening in response to the touch of his long finger. This was a horrible mistake, Y/N thinks pitifully — she’s getting aroused by clay working. If there was ever a blaring red indicator that she needed to get laid, this is it.

“I want you to try now,” Harry directs, totally nonchalant. This is just a casual Wednesday for him, Y/N realizes. He casually fingers clay with his sexy, long fingers, and thinks nothing of it. Maybe she’s just a horribly wound-up pervert.

Still sort of stunned, she reaches out and cups over the cylinder, clumsily positioning her thumbs in a replication of the manner he’d shown her, aiming for the center and driving a divot into the top.

“Mm. That’s good. Keep your elbows closer to your body,” he prompts, eyes flickering from her posture to her hands. “Like this.”

Following his body language, Y/N mimics, ducking a tad and tucking her arms to her torso. After a few moments, she lifts her thumbs to find a centered indent, one that’s similar to the one they’d created together.

“Lovely. Now,” the chair makes a little rolling sound over the tile as Harry shifts forward, clay-slicked hands (warm, despite their cool coating) cradling over her own to position, “You’re gonna cup here, and then take this finger and push here. Yep. Jus’ like that.”

The instructor takes his grip away and encourages, “If you need more water, get your hands wet. You can tell you need it if there’s friction — you want it a little wet.”

She wants it a little wet. Y/N decides, as she dunks her hands into the bucket and returns to the clay, she in fact does not want anything wet right now. This is the last place she wants something wet. Her thoughts are disturbed by the way he grasps her at her hands again and repositions — twisted by the slippery feel of his own wet fingers. The clay over his palms has begun to dry now, morphing lighter and crackling, but the tips of his digits are still soaked and darker in shade. She’s awed when the cylinder gives under her touch, the same way it had for him to encompass her finger. It’s like magic, sort of. Very slippery, wet, weirdly erotically undertone-d magic.

“There you go,” Harry tells her, baritone soft, “You’re a pro.” Then, after a moment, “You can go a little harder. Don’t be shy. Open it up.”

She’s not blushing. She’s not blushing, because that would be silly. She presses harder, and the opening widens until it gapes.

“How long have you worked here?” the young woman asks, naturally trying to change the subject from wet and hard things. Hopefully in an organic enough manner that doesn’t imply how affected she is by said wet and hard things.

“I bought this place a few years ago,” Harry responds after a second, tone concentrating as he reaffixes the firmness of her grasp (she tries not to verbally apologize, glancing up), “…Both units. It was a smoke shop before, I think.”

“Oh!” her hands stutter again in surprise, “Are you the owner?”

He fixes them again, brows pinched, and when he glances up, his brow bone is smooth and there’s a soft smile playing over his mouth. “Indeed I am.”

“It’s …beautiful in here,” Y/N tells him, gaze walloping from shelf to shelf for a moment, lantern lined ceilings to vine-coated crown molding, trusting that his hands will keep her own grounded to the piece.

“Thanks. It’s a little crowded, but if you manage to get lost among the …phallic statues and the clay bongs,” he cocks his head, blatantly bridling a simper as he shrugs. At the response of her snort, jade flickers up and the plush of his mouth curls more obviously, “…You’ll find your way out of the maze soon enough.”

As the walls of the clay grow thinner, the instructor takes his grip away, swiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Alright. What are we going for here? A mug? A vase? A bong masquerading as a vase?”

Y/N takes the lack of his touch as an indication to lighten her own. She purses her lips thoughtfully. “A vase.”

“A vase,” the instructor parrots, voice low, and then he hunches back over and cups the clay. The young woman returns her hands to meet his own. “I can work with that. We’re gonna build it up. You’re gonna squeeze and lift. Right—“

If his fingers keep brushing hers for the duration of the next …half hour? Hour? (How long does throwing take?), Y/N decides she’ll simply combust. His hands cup lightly over her own, two digits pressed to hers, and hers pinned to the inner wall of the clay in sin.

“—Here. That’s it. You can be a little aggressive. We’ve gotta get it tall.”

Y/N swallows.

“You said you own both units?” she ponders aloud, “Is there …more?”

“My place,” Harry tells her nonchalantly, as if it’s the most casual, normal, every day thing to live over a ceramics studio, “S’just over on the next floor.”

“That’s—“ she realizes her grasp has lightened again, the integrity of the structure mostly only crawling up under the pressure of his own (steady, firm) grip over hers, “…so cool. To have, like, a whole studio right under you.”

“Mm. I think right now…” Harry cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling, “We’re under my kitchen.”

A little breath of mirth tumbles from her when he grins and tacks on, “I think this is way cooler, though.”

This is The Turning Point.

And if it was a scene title in a play, Y/N thinks it would be capitalized to denote the importance. It’s important, because somewhere along the trail of her perversions, as Harry had guided her hands into the innards of the clay — fittingly describing it as the body — when he’d pressed his hands against her own to widen its base, when he’d shown her the sponge, things had clicked. It had clicked because she realized she wasn’t fucking crazy. Because Harry then said this thing — this one little thing that would have launched her into a frenzied, internal mess of dubious morality on the basis of her perversions—

But then it clicked.

“Careful with the amount of water you’re using now, yeah?” he’d told her, maneuvering her grip over the sponge as they’d smoothed over the lip together, “S’all about balance. …If you go too hard, you’ll make a wet mess.”

Y/N had glanced up. That’s when she’d noticed the way the instructor gnawed into his cheek, almost immediately, almost as if he was amused by some sort of devious inside joke. And then his blocky front teeth had dug lightly into the plush of his pink bottom lip. It was nearly unnoticeable — but she had noticed. Clay was innately erotic, and he was doing it on purpose. It was one, or the other, or both.

For a little while from there, they work in blatantly charged silence. It’s a very short while, all things considered, and she’s willing to clam up altogether and daydream about his digits for the duration of the lesson, but the tone of his next words nearly gives her whiplash.

“So what are you doing on this lovely Valentine’s day?” Harry breaks the silence, once again, his tone so even and nonchalant that Y/N can’t begin to fathom where his composure comes from.

The young woman clears her throat, “Oh. Y’know. Trying my hand at ceramics. The yuzh.”

Jade doesn’t immediately jolt up when he ponders aloud, “Dinner plans?”

“Not any on the calendar …that I’m aware of.”

His touch doesn’t lighten, but he does glance up, mouth all (apparently) disbelieving mirth, “You’re telling me you’re not being wined and dined tonight?”

Feigning offense, the young woman sets her mouth into a line and nudges with her chin in a nod, joking, “Thank you for the reminder.”

Harry laughs softly, one of those little breaths expelled through his nostrils, and he looks back down to the vase-in-progress, gentle grin undeniable. Y/N matches his amusement, faux indignation crackling.

“You’re too pretty not to have a Valentine,” the instructor tells her, then, decibel low, almost like it was meant to be under his breath but also entirely not, and all Y/N can do is sit there with instant heat seeping to her face. Because that’s flirting. That’s definitely flirting. Her sexy ceramics instructor is helping her craft a vase out of clay on a wheel with his sexy hands, and he’s openly flirting.

Y/N stuffs down how initially stunned she is to chew into her bottom lip and volley, “I bet you say that to every girl that comes in here.”

Harry shrugs. It’s still almost an enraging level of cucumber-cool and composed.

“Just the pretty ones.” He tacks on, after a moment, “And only on Valentine’s day. Don’t think that line would fit well on a random Wednesday.”

Y/N snorts. She’s still basking in the pleasant warmth of the flattery when the man peers up and tells her, “I do accept tips, by the way, so. Feel free to leave a tip for the friendly service.”

“I will—“ she snorts, restraining her open amusement at the way his brows crinkle in concentration as he helps her grip, “—definitely do that.”

“Sick,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over his lips, disappearing back into his mouth as quick as the pink had showcased. Jade flits up, the corners of his mouth curled up in a little pause of silence, almost he wants to make it crystal clear he does not actually want a tip for hitting on her.

Anyways, this is all a flustered mess. All of it. Y/N, the pot she’s sure will grow off-center and wobble under her shaky grip, all of it.

“What about you?” the young woman takes a deep breath, hoping some sort of breathing exercise will help slow the buzzy flutter of her heartbeat, “Any wining and dining? For Valentine’s day?”

“Not on the calendar,” Harry responds, sliding her own words back to her, his gaze still honed on the work ahead of them, now impressively morphed from a lumpy, shapeless ball into the beginnings of a vase, “As for how I’m spending my Valentine’s day, I did just show this one pretty girl how to shape and smooth. And now, …m’gonna show her how to shape some more.”

Y/N bats her lashes, and then she observes the work of his clay caked fingers, the way they curl and press over the vase in different points of the body, some motions widening the rim and some drawing it more narrow. He bids their tutorial a pause shortly after, explaining, “I’m gonna give you some creative freedom now. Figure out what shape you like.”

Despite the slight disappointment budding at the close of their conversation, for now, the daunting task of unsupervised throwing is what probably surfaces on her face, more. The instructor catches it when he rolls back in the stool and stands, ogling her for a moment, mirthy mouth caving up in a way that suggests she must look like a deer in headlights.

“It’s intimidating, but I believe in you. I’ll just be in the back for a sec, give me a shout if you need me.”

Y/N shifts her legs, pressing her thighs together when he adds, “Play around with it.”

All in all, they manage to end the wheel session with (Y/N thinks, impressively) only a couple of hiccups, both being opportunities presented with unsupervised sculpting. When she’d played around with it (his words) a little too much and had coaxed a priorly even shape into something lopsided and petrifying, it’d swung around on the wheel, each turn quickening its slow but sure collapse. She’d called out for the instructor with a frantic note to his name. Of course, both times, Harry had come out from the back and patiently squeezed over the clay, hands and forearms jolting and flexing deliciously as he’d encouraged it back into something centered (yet another opportunity to stare at slick clay glazing over his fingers all over again), reassuring her that it was normal to struggle, especially with her first time.

Y/N wonders if he’s constantly full of innuendos, or whether a ceramics studio is just innately an opportunity for double entendres.

She tries not to make it too obvious when she stands on wobbling legs, when she brushes past him and catches soft notes of his cologne, clean and musky. When he directs her to the bathroom where she rinses clay from her hands into one of those artsy, utility sinks. When she sits at one of the tables, waiting for him to bring the vase over to her, torched and ready for additions, when he gives her another colorless lump. She tries not to make it obvious when she ogles more of his arms, the peek of his nipples through the white, clay-stained fabric of his tee shamelessly. She fears it’s utterly obvious how affected he’s made her, though, when she blinks up at his face, when he shows her what the different little tools in the cup do for sculpting. Y/N doesn’t even look away from him at the introduction of the first tool. She thinks that’s the one that must cross-hatch, driving little lines into the clay.

“This is called slip,” Harry explains, dipping the tips of his index and middle fingers into the cup near the brushes with no hesitation. The consistency over his fingers, when he pulls them out, is like a wetter, creamier, sloppier variation of the same clay she’d worked with.

Christ.

“You put it over the lines you’ve carved to make more clay stick,” the instructor expands.

Y/N swallows when he smears the consistency coating his fingers onto the lines he’d drawn, his gaze bouncing from his touch to her face.

“Like, if you wanted to add a handle to a mug, you’d use this method. Or, alternatively,” the young woman focuses on the way the pads of the digits rub over the lines. They fade away. “It’s like an eraser. Careful with erasing, though. …Wet mess.”

The latter is tacked on as a reminder, and it wonderfully reminds her of the heat coiling in the pit of her tummy. Wonderfully. She swallows again.

“You can probably use that brush to apply the slip, though, if you don’t want to get your hands dirty again.”

Flowers. She sculpts flowers with a searing heat between her thighs, because his added little comment of, “I don’t mind,” as he glances to the slip still glazing his fingers, implying that he doesn’t mind to get his hands dirty, does that to her. Y/N sculpts flowers and they settle into a comfortable sort of silence. It’s one where the only sounds are the soft music playing over the speakers and the occasional noise of pages turning from behind the counter as he leans over it and works through some kind of paperwork. She draws lines into the vase, and brushes on the slip, and presses creased flowers to decorate the bulbous body, concentration etching her features.

She doesn’t notice when she goes over the hours of operation, and Harry doesn’t disturb her, doesn’t tell her that the shop’s been closed for nearly half an hour by the time she peers up and declares, “I’m done.”

“You’re done,” the man repeats and sets the paperwork down, making his way over to the table where she’d set up, “Let’s have a look.”

Y/N sits back admiring her artistry. All things considered, it’s sort of an ugly vase. Despite this, a sense of accomplishment buds in her chest as she stares at her creation.

“I like it,” Harry tells her, nodding like he’s proud of a promising protégé, “It’s quite sweet.”

“Thank you. What now?”

“Now—“ the instructor props one hand onto the countertop and the other against his hip, “You wash your hands, you take a picture, and you come back in three weeks to sand it and glaze it.”

Simple. It’s a simple set of instructions. Y/N brushes crackling, dried clay off of her fingertips against the cloth laid over the table, instinctively reaching for her purse.

She blinks up at him expectantly, “How much?”

Dimples wink awake with his soft simper, and he shifts his stance before he asserts, “Don’t worry about it.”

The young woman’s features shape into something crinkled, something bemused and unwilling of a discount. She shakes her head and glances back down to the tote, “No, I have to pay you. What about your tip?”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, pecs flexing with the motion. Flexing, flexing, flexing, when will his muscles stop rippling? He sighs, cushiony mouth still smiling, “I think I’ll live. My tip was that I’ve helped you discover a hidden talent—“

Y/N snorts, eyeing the sloppy attachments to the shapely base, fingers still tucked over her wallet.

“—It’d defeat the satisfaction and all the pride I’ve got now,” the man declares, shrugging.

The unconvinced look she gives him coaxes him into a good-natured roll of his eyes, and Harry tuts before he compromises, raising his eyebrows, “But if you must tip me, you can tip me when you come back in three weeks, yeah?”

Begrudged, the young woman takes her hand from the edges of her wallet. “Fine. Okay.”

“Okay. Three weeks,” the man reminds her, a little smile playing over the plush of his mouth.

The world of ceramics is oddly pornographic, Y/N decides. But maybe clay isn’t innately erotic. Maybe it’s the way the man’s fingertips mold its shape, the way his digits look soaked in slip, the way his hands cradle over it as a wheel spins under his ducked stature. Maybe it’s the way his jade irises flit to her face when he makes an educational comment that’s obviously suggestive, Maybe it doesn’t have to do with clay, at all. Maybe it’s Harry.

Maybe it’s the way he tells her, “If I were you, I wouldn’t miss it. Glazing is my favorite part.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #(ish)? there’s a lot of innuendos in this one #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles valentine’s day fic #valentine’s day fic

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edenesth · 3 months

Text

[7:29 PM]

Stumbling into the shared apartment with Yeosang, you swiftly covered your mouth to suppress any whimpers upon seeing your boyfriend peacefully napping on the living room couch.

After carefully placing your heels by the shoe rack, you quietly tip-toed past his slumbering figure and slipped into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind you with utmost care to ensure he wasn't disturbed from his much-needed rest.

It was only upon reaching the sanctuary of your room that you collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you cradled your injured arm close. It had been a horrible day, marked by a minor accident at work amidst ongoing tensions with your boss and difficult encounters with customers. Throughout the day, you struggled to keep yourself together, merely waiting for this moment to release all pent-up emotions.

As you sobbed into your pillows, the door to the room creaked open, causing you to panic. Swiftly wiping away your tears, you sat up, trying to compose yourself.

"Darling, you're back already? Why didn't you come say hi to me first, hm? I've been waiting," Yeosang's voice greeted you as he entered the cosy space, "You know you could've just woken me up..."

His words trailed off as he noticed your bandaged arm and tear-stained cheeks, "I-I'm sorry, Yeo, it's just—" You couldn't stop the sobs escaping your lips at the sight of his concerned expression, cursing yourself internally for being such a crybaby.

Hearing your anguished cries, his heart clenched, and he swiftly moved to join you on the bed. He pulled you close, showering your head with tender kisses, "Hey, hey, it's okay. What happened to your arm? Are you alright? Please, talk to me, darling."

Your sobs only grew stronger in response to his care. Nestling your head against his neck, you stuttered out, "One of my c-colleagues didn't see me approaching and accidentally s-swung her envelope opener toward me. I tried to shield myself with my arm, and that's how..." You gestured to your injured arm, feeling miserable.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked you up from work if I had known you were hurt. And don't try to hide it from me; I know that can't be the only reason you're upset." He whispered, his lips gently pressing against your temple as he offered a comforting squeeze, careful not to worsen the pain in your arm.

The following words that left your lips broke his heart, "I d-didn't want to burden you with something so trivial, Yeo. You're already s-so busy; my work troubles must seem insignificant compared to yours."

Drawing back a bit, he cupped your face, meeting your tear-filled gaze, "What did I tell you about thinking like that? Your problems, no matter how minor you think they are, bother me if they bother you. I never want you to keep things from me again, understand? Promise me you'll always come to me first, no matter what."

He couldn't help but chuckle when your only response to that was an adorable wail, finding your vulnerability endearing as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder once more, "Y-you're the best boyfriend ever, Yeo. I l-love you so much."

Placing a gentle kiss against your hair, he grinned softly, "I love you too, darling. More than you can imagine. Now, I want you to tell me every single thing that happened at your workplace today. I'm not usually one for aggression, but I won't hesitate to deal with anyone who dared make you cry."

With a light giggle, you pulled away slightly, "Oh, you wouldn't, you little Maltese."

You squealed as he playfully tackled you onto the bed, glad to see you lightening up and teasing again as he leaned in for a firm kiss.

"A Maltese, huh? I'll show you a Doberman."

ATEEZ Masterlist

This was super self-indulgent. I had a horrible day and ended up getting hurt in a rather similar fashion yesterday. Also wanted to show Yeosang some love after all the hate he's received for his role in my current Seonghwa series HAHA

Speaking of which, part 14 of The Way to His Heart should be out by this weekend! Hang in there, my lovelies! As always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #ateez timestamps #yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #ateez drabbles #yeosang drabble #yeosang fluff #ateez fic #ateez imagines

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spitdrunken · 3 months

Note

i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..

also, for your consideration:

Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...

Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...

this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)

I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.

Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.

The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino. But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.” Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.

When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.

“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all. “Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.

He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like. The first time you stutter out the word ‘cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…” “No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.

So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.

“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.

----- A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?

Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really. ------------ Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…

And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #vox x reader #velvette x reader #cw.drugging #cw.noncon #cw.dubcon

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sunniskyies · 3 months

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 || 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐚 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: "Clarisse x reader where readers emotions control weather? If that makes sense" 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Zeus sees Percy being claimed by Poseidon as an act of war, and decides to retaliate by claiming a child of his own 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: show!Clarisse La Rue x Zeus!fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Swearing 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Smitten Clarisse ofc (>ᴗ•) ! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k 𝐀/𝐍: Thank you so much for your request, I adore this concept !! I tried my best to replicate the reader’s emotions in the weather through the story, not just after she’s claimed. I hope I did it justice !! Enjoy <3

Terrified tears are streaming down your face and your heart is pounding in your chest. The rain is pelting against the windows now, and thunderclaps seem to shake the earth.

"Dad? I don't understand, what is that thing?" You choke, staring at the pair of red headlights out the back window, censored by the sheen of rain on the glass.

Except it isn't a set of headlights. It's a pair of eyes. Red, glowing, blood-thirsty eyes.

"D/N, are we almost there?" Your mother cries, her knuckles pale as she grasps the fabric of her pants.

"Yes," he grunts, foot hard down on the accelerator. "Y/N, do you see that hill ahead? With the pine tree?"

You squint into the darkness, just about making out the landmark your father is referring to, lit up by the high beams of the car.

"Yes, Dad. But I don't underst—"

"Listen, you must get to that tree no matter what. Don't look back, don't stop. Get past that tree and you'll be okay."

A sob escapes your lips, a crackle of lightning lighting up the sky. Behind the car, the light illuminates the beast chasing the car. A truck-sized mastiff, dripping saliva from a lolling mouth adorned with yellowing teeth. A scream peals from your throat as darkness swallows it once more.

"What is that?" You wail. Before either of your adoptive parents can respond, something large slams into the back of the car.

You're sent spinning, but the Hellhound doesn't let you hit the side of the road. It immediately stops you with a paw, tearing a hole in your car.

The beast's jaws snap eagerly at you, and you scramble backwards. In the front seat, your parents are reduced to slumped, motionless silhouettes. Terrified, you fumble for the door handle behind you, falling backwards onto the concrete and feeling your skin scrape.

You struggle to your feet, jumping away as the dog's fangs tear the car into a pile of coleslaw.

"Stop!" You shriek. Another lightning bolt reveals the landscape around you, and you see the hill towering above you, the pine tree adorning it rocking around in the hurricane-force winds.

Your father's words echo in your mind as your legs pump desperately up the slick, wet grass. They'll be okay, they got out, you think when the Hellhound turns away from the shredded metal, scarlet gaze now trained on you.

You're still nowhere near the top, and now the monster is practically upon you. It runs towards you like an excited puppy, gangly legs crossing meters of distance in seconds.

You're just about to squeeze your eyelids shut and say your final prayers when an explosion of light scorches the ground in front of you, knocking you hard backwards.

You feel your head collide with something, and then it's all dark.

A faint buzz is whining in your ears.

Where am I?

Your eyelids feel glued down when you try to pry them open, and when you manage it you're met with a kaleidoscope of white sheets and plain walls.

Your vision is swimming, but you make out the figure of a girl standing in the doorway. She has dark, coily hair and an unreadable expression on her face.

"Where am I?" You croak, your throat dry and scratchy, probably from all the screaming.

But the girl doesn't respond, just turns and leaves.

Exhausted from the effort, blackness envelopes you again.

"And this here is Cabin 4, Demeter," the boy with black hair says, gesturing to the building.

You sign inwardly, body still tired and aching. In the last few hours you have woken up, been told your parents are dead, gotten told everything you thought about the world is wrong and now you are being given a very in-depth tour of 'Camp Half-Blood'.

The sky is overcast, and you wearily listen as the boy goes on.

"And here is Cabin 5, Ares—" Luke is cut off by an olive-skinned girl storming out of the cabin's door, practically colliding with you.

"Fuck— watch where you're going, idiot!" She growls. When she looks up at you, a flicker of something swims through her eyes, but is replaced promptly by a glower.

"Newbie," she snarls. Behind her, a group of kids seep out of the cabin after her. At her words, they don menacing scowls and jeer.

"She looks awful!" One laughs.

"Push her over, Clarisse!" Another crows.

Clarisse cocks an eyebrow, looking you up and down pointedly. "You guys think I should teach this runt her place?" She asks. She's responded with cheers.

You step back hesitantly. Luke sighs.

"Clarisse, I'm just doing my job. Do you have to be difficult?" He says exasperatedly.

"That's okay, Castellan. You can go now, I'll look after the newbie," she grins, stepping forward to wrap her fists in your collar. She drops you, letting your exhausted body hit the earth with a thud. "Comfy down there, Darling?"

The all-too-fresh memory of falling out of the car escaping the Hellhound resurfaces, and angry tears spring to your eyes.

Your lip curls as you look up at 'Clarisse', her smug smile towering over you.

"Listen," you spit, standing up. "I've just been attacked by an actual Hellhound. It killed my parents. I'm exhausted. I'm just trying to get through this tour so I can get to whatever stiff sleeping bag they give me and go to sleep."

The overcast sky has darkened, heavy black clouds groaning with thunder threaten to release rain.

"I don't need some tough girl who thinks she owns this—apparently—magical fucking circus to tell me 'my place.' My place is back home with my parents. That's where I belong. But they're gone, so shove off back to kindergarten and learn some manners!"

Your voice cracked at some parts, and you know tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. But the dark look on your face gets the message across.

Clarisse's eyes glimmer with that look again, a tiny thing only you can see. But for everyone else, they just see her shrug.

"Whatever, Darling. Just watch where the hell you're going, m'kay," she states, spinning on her heel and sauntering off with her band of Ares kids scurrying behind her.

You sigh, letting your tense shoulders sag. The rain clouds give a shudder and release a light drizzle. You wipe a small tear from one eye.

This is definitely the hardest day of your life.

Your feet glide over the pine needle soundlessly, a hefty Xiphos clutched in your hands.

It's been a week since your arrival at Camp Half-Blood. A week full of training, lessons and camp activities. You have found yourself rather handy with a sword, and you're even warming up to the kid in Hermes' cabin.

Ahead of you, Clarisse La Rue and her band of sheeple are wandering back towards their flag. You're stealthily following them, the chocolate-eyed girl none the wiser.

The sky is bright and blue, flocks of cheerful clouds frolicking around on the sweet summer winds. You feel a thrill of joy pass through you. It's a beautiful day, you've finally settled in, and you are about to beat that bully La Rue.

Well, you would have if, in your excitement, you hadn't carelessly stepped on a twig.

Gods, didn't that only happen in the movies? You wince as the pack of Ares kids whip around, spears and swords brandished.

"You!" Clarisse says when she sees you. "Trying to find our flag, are you?"

She smirks, stalking forward. You step back slightly, heart pounding. Yes, you are quite good with a sword now, but you are no match for Clarisse. Even you can admit that.

She leans in close. "You should know better," she says, her voice honeyed.

A couple of her teammates move forward, teeth gleaming and swords hungry for skin. Clarisse's eyes flash, and she holds up a hand.

"No, go on to the flag. I'll deal with her," she orders. Some of the kids look doubtful, so Clarisse gives you a shove for emphasis. "I'll deal with her."

Reluctantly, the kids peter out. Turning back to you, Clarisse holds your gaze for a moment, before shaking her head with a scoff. But there isn't much venom in it.

"Just stay out of it, newbie," she grunts, swinging her spear leisurely over one shoulder and turning to leave.

You frown in disbelief. "That's it?"

Clarisse pauses, looking at you over one shoulder. "What, do you want a fight, Darling? Because we both know that would just end up with you in the infirmary."

You tilt your head, observing the brown-haired girl. "No, not at all. You're just... not what I thought."

Clarisse scoffs again, but there is even less malice in it. You think you must be imagining the warm glow around her cheekbones.

"Just, stay out of it," she mutters, turning and jogging off into the trees.

You stare after her, cheek tingling where her breath had brushed it.

Of course, you didn't stay out of it. You had followed after her, the girl too flustered to notice you slipping in and sneaking off with the flag.

After your win, the whole camp accepted you fully. Ares still shoots you glares, but no one has dared push you over again.

And yet, no God or Goddess has claimed you. Many campers are after a week or two, but it has been months and still not a sign.

"She's too smart for an Ares," someone guesses.

"But she's too tough for Athena," another had argued.

"What about Apollo? She's alright with a bow."

"Definitely not, have you heard her sing in the shower block?" Someone laughs.

"I mean, that would explain why Apollo hasn't claimed her!"

Every day begins to feel worse than the last, every time you prove yourself worthy you are rewarded with nothing. Even the weather seems to agree, the sky gradually getting gloomier and wetter. Campers have been grumbling about this being the 'bleakest summer ever.'

The only spark in your life, unbelievably, is a certain fiery girl from Cabin 5.

You've been entertaining yourself by trying to worm your way into the stony warrior's heart, your suspicions about her proving correct with every blush and scoff you are gifted with when you manage to sneak through a crack.

The clouds seem to part, letting a beam of rare sunlight through, whenever you're with her. When you're without her, you find your hands itching to touch her, a playful shove or a flick.

A few shoves and flicks later, you find yourself standing in the middle of the training Arena, clad in sweaty bronze armor being asked out by a flushed Clarisse La Rue.

A warm trickle of sunlight sinks into the space between you, both panting from the private spar you were in moments before. You can see every freckle, every dark eyelash on her face.

"Go out with you?" You breathe, lowering your sword from where it was raised. "Like, with you?"

Clarisse scoffs —her nervous habit, you've found— and removes her helmet, resting it on her hip. "Yes, with me, Darling. But if you're already set on Castellan, lift that sword again and we can forget about this—"

"Fuck Castellan, of course I'll go out with you!" You cry, letting your weapon clatter to the ground and wrapping your metallic arms around her.

You don't know what the other campers meant when they called it the 'bleakest summer ever.' All you know now is sunshine and blue-sky days, days filled with summery winds and strawberry picking and secret dates with your tough girl. You hardly ever think about your unclaimed status anymore, too in love to care. You can't even remember before Clarisse.

She's awfully protective of you, always standing up to anyone who tries to push you around. You did wish she wouldn't pick on the newbies, though.

"Clari, he's only 12! Give him a break," you protest. You're sprawled out in Clarisse's sheets as she sits on the end of the bed polishing her spear for Capture the Flag that afternoon.

"Nope. I hate liars," she states simply.

You roll your eyes. Always so stubborn. "Clarisse, he's barely put his foot in the door. Let the kid adjust."

Clarisse shakes her head. "No! He lied about killing the minotaur, he soaked me and my friends—" you snort "—and now he's walking around here like he's better than me! I ought to show that runt—"

You've sat up and pressed a kiss to her lips. Clarisse falters, flustered from the touch. For a girl who isn't afraid of anything, you've found her to be very timid when it comes to affection.

"No one's better than you, Clari," you murmur. Her face sets ablaze. "But, you don't have to prove that, we already know it."

Clarisse hums thoughtfully, leading into your touch for a moment. Then she springs up abruptly, leaving your lips cold. "Sorry, no can do. Reputation and all that. See you in battle, Darling!"

You flop back down onto the bed with a groan as she eagerly sprints off. That's right, you're on the opposite side.

"You really think he's the one, Annabeth?" You whisper to the patch of air beside you. You're crouched behind a bush watching the 12-year-old arch nemesis of your girlfriend dozing on a log after a very strenuous afternoon of dancing and playing with geckos.

"Yes," the patch of air replies. You sigh, shifting uncomfortably. You can't believe you let Annabeth rope you into this.

"Can we please go help Luke and Chris? I'm sure Percy can look after himself," you mutter. "And I'm bored!"

"Well, you won't be bored for much longer," invisible Annabeth says.

You turn back to Percy to see none other than your girlfriend stalking towards him brandishing her red-hot spear. Of course, you groan internally. She does look really good in those camo pants, though.

When the Ares pack start chasing the boy, you're about to step out of your hiding spot, but Annabeth's arm stops you.

"Not yet," she orders.

You may not be as formidable as Clarisse, but you are far from puny. You let her protect you because that's Clarisse's love language. But you can handle yourself perfectly well, one stormy glare of yours can send a camper fleeing for the hills. On top of that, you hate being ordered around, especially from a child.

But you listen, because you're reluctant to be as stubborn as your girlfriend. So you stay expertly hidden as you and Annabeth follow the pack down to the lake. But a flash of anger shoots through you when you see the young boy knocked to the floor.

"Sorry, Annabeth," you grunt, stepping out onto the gravel. "Clarisse! Leave him alone!"

Clarisse doesn't stop her tussle, just glancing over at you. "Stay out of it, Darling."

"You always say that," you growl, picking off one of the Ares kids and combatting him with your sword, and you quickly have him disarmed and on the ground. Suddenly, your head shoots up when you hear a bloodcurdling scream.

"Clari!" You cry, stomach clenching when you see the severed spear in her hands. Her gift from her father.

"Clari, stop. He's not worth it," you plead, running up to her when she hefts the scrawny boy into the air. Your arms wrap around her waist, and you guide a fuming Clarisse back towards the cabins. Percy will be okay, Annabeth will look after him.

Well. You thought she would, but you turn towards a 'splash' to see that the girl has pushed Percy into the lake.

"What the hell, Annabeth!" You begin to call over, but the words dry up when you see his bloody wounds knitting themselves over. Your jaw drops open when you realize what that means moments before the trident appears above the boy's head.

Poseidon, Poseidon, the Big Three, Poseidon, you hear kids all around you whispering. The poor boy looks shell-shocked.

"Fuck that kid," Clarisse says disbelievingly. You rub your hand on her back, once again leading her to the cabins.

"It's okay, Clari. He's just going to get slaughtered by Hades' monsters now, you know they're on the brink of war. You don't have to trouble yourself any—"

You falter when Clarisse stops walking, a look of horror in her eyes. You frown and look around confused when the rest of the Blue Team start staring at you too.

"What?" You ask, following the gaping camper's gaze to the space above your head.

The wind is knocked from your body. Above your head, an icy-white lightning bolt marks you. Daughter of Zeus.

Your insides churn—you're not an idiot, you know what this means. Zeus has seen Percy being claimed as an act of war and decides to retaliate by finally acknowledging his daughter.

The stares, the whispers, the complications, it all stirs in your gut like a hurricane. In the sky, a storm cloud has begun brewing and crackles with lightning.

"Stop staring!" You cry at your teammates, a bright lightning bolt lighting up the sky. Tears well in your eyes, and rain begins to pelt down on the gravelly shore.

When the campers don't move, you shoot them one of your deadly glares. "Scram!" You growl, the following grumble of thunder making them scatter. Only Clarisse stays.

"Don't you understand?" You sob to her, rain mixing with the tears on your cheeks. "He doesn't care about me. He hasn't cared about me for months! I'm just a bargaining chip to him, a plaything to through at his stupid brother!"

You turn to storm off, and the sky growls at you. "Is this me, too? Am I doing this?" You shout, gesturing manically at the sky. Clarisse crosses over to you.

"Screw Hades, screw Poseidon, screw the lot of them!" Clarisse hisses, grabbing your hands to stop you from leaving. "Zeus doesn't deserve you, Darling. Don't let him use you, don't give him the satisfaction."

You sniff, the rain softening to a shower. "I don't want to be like this," you croak, your foreheads touching as you look at your intertwined hands. Tiny sparks are erupting at the contact.

"I don't know, Sparky. It's pretty cool," Clarisse grins.

You laugh, the tension easing from your body. The dark clouds in the sky above blow away. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Why should I let them control me? I'll just explode them if they try."

Clarisse grins, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face and kissing you on the side of your mouth. "That's the spirit, Sparky."

( 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 !! )

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #percy jackson fic #one shot #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #fanfiction #fanfic #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue

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notjustjavierpena · 3 months

Text

Mouthful

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Made with the help from my loveliest @strang3lov3 with a talk about men conking out after cumming and how Hubby Javier still hasn’t gotten his dick sucked. So to all the girlies who want to give your fictional husband a blowjob, this one is for you.

Summary: Javier is starting to come down with the flu but he just simply won’t lie down to have some rest. You have a trick that never fails.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, sickfic, Inés is a menace, Javier is a stubborn man, ❤️ JAVIER HAS A DAD BOD!!!!!!! ❤️, blowjob, deep-throating, mouth-fucking, praise, dirty talk, cum-swallowing,

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52856839

Mouthful

You hear the clink of plates being lifted out of the dishwasher, the sound of Sebastian crying, stuttering sobs as he is bounced, and Inés going on about something that happened in preschool. Javier is barely listening, replying with half-sentences that seem to make his daughter more frustrated with her father not paying attention and eventually leading to her talking louder.

The idea of what will meet you in the kitchen is enough to make you want to flee to the bedroom, enough to make you want to pretend that you haven’t heard them during an extended nap. However, you could never bring yourself to let Javier go through the hell of late afternoons with children alone.

“Look who’s up,” he says with a desperate smile as you enter the room, twisting his whole body to make his crying son spot his mother. As soon as Sebastian’s eyes gaze upon you, his wails die down and they stop completely the moment you take him from Javier’s arms.

“Mom! Guess what happened today at school,” Inés interrupts just as you are about to say something. She speaks loudly, and you automatically reach up to cover Sebastian’s ear that isn’t pressed into your shoulder.

“Inés, indoor voices,” Javier finally manages to say, reaching up to rub his temples, “Shhh…”

“Sorry,” she makes a face, not completely convinced.

“What happened at school?” You ask but instead of looking at her, you find yourself staring at your husband who looks like absolute hell, glassy eyes and exhaustion radiating from him. Inés giggles as she tells a joke that isn’t really a joke, too lost in her story to notice that you aren’t really listening.

Javier places a hand on the kitchen table, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His shirt is crumpled, his eyes have dark circles and you don’t actually think that he has even noticed that he is sniffling every other moment. He sighs deeply, breathing mostly through his mouth as he does it, and then goes back to emptying the dishwasher.

“Are you okay, honey?” You ask him, stopping midway to shush Inés who doesn’t look pleased, “You look under the weather. Are you feeling okay?”

There’s an almost offended nature in Javier’s reply. He doesn’t stop what he is doing, sorting through the cutlery, “What? No, yeah. Estoy bien, mi amor (I’m fine, my love). Just need to get this done.”

“And then what?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“And then I’ll get started on dinner,” he tells you with a tired smile that isn’t very convincing.

“You look like… m i e r d a (shit), and you probably feel it too. I was sick last week,” you spell out the dirty word, using the Spanish word because the English is short enough to make Inés guess what you are saying.

“Mom,” Inés predictably complains.

“I’m fine. I just need 20 minutes where no one comes near me,” he says with exasperation. He finishes up the bottom drawer of the dishwasher and goes to pull out the top one. You find yourself laying a hand on top of his, stopping him in his tracks.

“Javi,” you say softly.

“What?” He grumbles.

“I can finish up here. I’ll cook dinner,” you tread lightly, knowing that he hates being babied by you. Him not pulling his weight is a common fight that the two of you have had, and he probably feels on edge when you ask him not to help out with the kids.

“I can do it,” he snaps but suddenly sneezes, and it ends up making his nose prickle enough to cause his eyes to water.

“Go do something else, laundry maybe. I’ll do this,” you say a little more firmly, strategically sending him to your bedroom to make him spot your bed and have some well-earned rest, “It’s really not a problem, and you know I hate doing laundry anyway.”

“Fine,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

“I love you,” you say in a sing-song voice as he leaves the kitchen, “Go have your 20 minutes.”

Inés looks longingly after her father but you manage to distract her with a snack before she runs after him. You run your free hand over her hair as she eats a peanut butter sandwich, Sebastian cooing happily on your hip as he has been allowed to chew on a banana.

“Do you want to watch cartoons before dinner?” You ask, “Give Mommy some time to get things done in the kitchen, and then I can hear all about school while we eat?”

“Fine,” she parrots her dad, holding up her hands as well and running off to the living room. You follow her, setting Sebastian down in his playpen and turning on the baby monitor. Then you turn on the TV, adjust the volume, and let Inés busy herself by singing along to her favorite theme song.

You finish emptying the dishwasher, cut vegetables, and throw them into the slow cooker with other ingredients, and after you check on both of your kids, you realize there’s some spare time before you have to pick Lucas up from his play date.

You decide to go upstairs to do another round of laundry, but when you cannot find the laundry basket, you go to your bedroom. Javier must have taken it when folding clothes.

“Jesus, why are you not resting? I sent you here so you’d eventually nap,” you groan as you enter the bedroom and see Javier putting his shirts on hangers.

“I told you I’m fine,” he seems even more sick at this point, nose slightly congested and causing him to speak nasally, “I can do this.”

You walk up to him to yank a clothing hanger out of his hands and throw it onto the floor, receiving a glare in response. Javier doesn’t look pleased with your behavior, but you don’t find his stubborn attitude charming either.

“Javier F. Peña,” you tut, “Just go lie down and trust that your wife has everything under control. It’s what a lot of husbands do, you know.”

“Well, wife, I don’t need your permission to do housework,” he tries to push past you but you catch him in a disarming embrace, giggling as he tries bending down to pick you up so he can move you out of his way. You avoid his efforts, catching him by the wrists when he straightens once more, and push him back towards the bed.

“You need rest, husband,” you shove him when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he lets himself fall down into the mattress, bouncing slightly as it connects with his back.

“I don’t need a nap, I’m not a child,” he groans dramatically.

“Then stop acting like one,” you pull the baby monitor out of your pocket and place it on the nightstand. When Javier tries to sit up again, you snap your fingers and point at him, “Nuh-uh, lie down.”

It makes you realize that you need to use alternative methods to get him to obey; he simply won’t do as he has been told, and if anyone is ever in doubt about where Inés gets her stubbornness from, you’ll simply glance over at her father to answer the question.

“What if I treat you to something special?” You ask with a little smirk, moving to the end of the bed so you can proceed to crawl onto him. You sit on his legs, “Think that’ll make you relax?”

You already know the answer to that question. He looks ready to conk out.

“I’m actually fine, I don’t need—“

“I know, Javi,” you reply. Your fingers find his crumpled shirt and you pull it out of his jeans, shoving it up over his stomach so you can access his belt, watching your husband twitch underneath you at the sound of the buckle clinking as you undo it.

He lifts his head to watch as you tug down his jeans and underwear, “Just so you know, I’m not sleeping after this. I have to—“

“I know, Javi,” you repeat, bending down to nuzzle your nose against his soft stomach. His cock lays flaccid against his thigh, but you pull it out from underneath the waistband of his briefs to lay it against his tummy so you can skim your palm up and down the shaft. His soft cock slowly comes alive underneath your touch, and soon you can wrap your fist around him to stroke him till he stands completely erect.

Below you, Javier groans when you press a kiss to his belly, “And I have to get the laundry done.”

“Whatever you say, baby, let me take care of you and I’ll let you do as much laundry as you want,” you hum against his skin, relishing in his warmth and his so-called dad-body - the last year has blessed you with Javier getting a little softer to the touch - that you nuzzle up to at every opportunity you get.

Javier isn’t a fan of himself growing soft around the middle but you savor it every time you get to see that bit of pudge strain against his usual jeans (which he refuses to buy in a bigger size). If you thought he was gorgeous when his muscles were toned and his body looked younger, you had not been prepared for how good he looks now that he is older, rounder, and getting comfortable. His arms are still deliciously strong; an overwhelmingly sexy result of still carrying Inés around everywhere, picking her up from the ground if she has a tantrum at the grocery store.

“God, you’re so sexy,” you pinch his stomach to earn a little noise. Javier says your name in disapproval but you just look up at him with a smile, grabbing more of his pudge before biting into it and kissing it afterward, “Let your wife have her fun.”

Javier is just about to say something - you don’t know whether it is about his body, the lack of a blowjob, or laundry once more - but you know it’s more complaining and so you cut him off by running the flat of your tongue from base to tip of his cock. He tastes like salt. If you had the time, you would not finish until his scent and taste were everywhere on you. In your clothes, etched into your skin, and on your tongue.

“Oh shi—“ he gasps, resting the back of his head on the mattress once more. He breathes deeply in through his mouth, nose still stuffed, and stares at the ceiling as you work your tongue up and down his shaft only to follow the wet trail with your nose.

When you reach his cockhead a third time, you suckle on the very tip to rid him of the pearl of precome that has accumulated at the slit and is threatening to slide down (you want to treat yourself to it before it does). Above you, Javier moans at feeling your mouth, not your tongue, properly for the first time.

“Fucking hell, baby, gotta admit that I didn’t see this coming,” he half-chuckles, half-groans.

“Maybe I just wanted to shut you up for a moment. You are stubborn, you know,” you pull back to talk, look up at him, and nuzzle needily at his cock. He looks down at you but you simply smile, “I looove you for that though, not annoying at all.”

You follow your little snarky remark up with a press of your lips to the underside of his shaft, using a hot open-mouthed kiss to cut off whatever offense he might take from your teasing. He doesn’t even seem to register it after feeling your mouth on himself again.

Then you let saliva gather in your mouth before spitting directly onto the head, using your hand to smear it down his length by stroking him a few times. You lean over him and bring your mouth down over his girth, no teasing or anything, until the thick head hits the back of your mouth.

“Fuuuck, and then up again,” he groans, a strong hand reaching for whatever he can grab of you. His fingers curl around your shoulder, moving inwards until they dig into the back of your neck. Slowly, you drag your lips all the way off of him again.

Javier makes a sound when you pull off but it quickly turns into a whimper as you let more saliva drip down. You smear this too, swirling your sinful tongue around the tip and occasionally licking like were you eating a popsicle on a summer’s day.

You can feel him pulse against your lips, so you show mercy and let him into your mouth again. He is hot and heavy on your tongue and a moaning mess above you, nails starting to dig into your skin.

You start bobbing your head, hand on the base of Javier’s cock to hold his generous size in place. When he bumps against your throat for the first time and thus makes you gag the first time, he lets out a sound that you can never get enough of and it causes your cunt to throb between your legs.

“Who would think that a pretty girl sucks cock like that? Oh, fuck… I love you, just like that—” he talks in a way that makes you think he might not even be aware of what he is saying but is simply letting his mouth run, “Suck that cock, baby. Good fucking girl, married the right one, didn’t I?”

You hum in reply and he growls at the vibrations of your voice. The pride you feel is indescribable, and so you seek out his approval once again by moaning as you taste him. Even if it results in your eyelashes dampening from Javier pushing his hips upwards, you lean further down and force yourself to relax your throat.

He slides into the tight space at the back of your throat and his hand flies to the top of your head. He fists your hair desperately when you gulp around him and make your throat spasm, tugging at your follicles to the point where tears slide down your face. Soon, they also mix with the spit coating his cock.

You swallow around him again. Javier holds your head with both hands now, “Can I - Christ - can I fuck this gorgeous mouth? Por favor (please), baby.”

Even if it is hurting a little, you nod the best you can because Javier’s groan as he starts thrusting his hips upward is worth any ache in your body. Your thighs flutter, your clit pulses.

Both his hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He uses it to move your head as he pleases, makes you bob on his dick until you gag wetly with every other thrust of his hips. Every time he bucks his hips, his thigh muscles flex and your nose buries itself in his happy trail.

“You gonna take it?” He rasps, chest heaving. He is nearly there, muscles in his whole body twitching as he slowly loses control over himself when pleasure is so close. The next thrusts are maddening and you can’t blink any tears away even if you tried, “Fuck, swallow, baby. Take my come.”

You look up at him through your wet lashes and hum a mhm, confirming. Yes, yes, yes, give it to me.

You know he is peaking when his breath stops. He holds it during the last thrusts, finally letting out a loud moan as he finishes and sucks in a deep breath afterward.

His cock spurts in the next moment. You can feel it hit the back of your sore throat, warm and salty, in several pulses and automatically, you swallow hungrily around his girth. The action makes him groan weakly and his hips stutter until he finally needs to let go of you. His arms lie flat along his side.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighs contentedly when you pull off, “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, Daddy,” you tease, and then you treat the sensitive head of his cock to a few innocent kitten-licks, essentially cleaning him up until he softens.

He whimpers when it becomes too much, and so you pull off to kiss him along his stomach. You can hear his breathing changing, turning into something less erratic.

“You okay?” You eventually ask but receive no reply. You look up.

As predicted, Javier snores. You smile to yourself as you push yourself away from him, careful not to wake him up as you pull his briefs and jeans up again, leaving the latter unbuttoned.

“Javier Peña, the most stubborn man on the planet has a weakness,” you whisper and shake your head with a fond smile.

You grab the baby monitor from the nightstand and leave him to sleep, knowing he’ll wake up feeling a lot more sick and, hopefully, a lot more cooperative. You bring him a glass of water and some Tylenol to wake up to, write a note for him about how much you adore him, and that you’ll take care of everything. He needs it.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javi p #javi peña #javi pena #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena one shot #husband!javi #my writing

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rahhhbananas · 10 months

Text

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐍 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. spider-plush, miles, gwen, pavitr, hobie

summary. 5 idiots in a court room

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, foul language

a/n. A lot of ppl liked my last post, so here’s part 2!

“Order in the court!”

The judge, or Gwen, yelled. Banging the wooden mallet on the bench. She cleared her throat before looking at the crowd. Pavitr, Y/n, and Spider-Plush on one side, while Hobie and Miles on the opposing “You can all probably guess why you are all here…?” The chirps of a cricket bounced off the empty courtroom walls, “Okay, we are gathered here for the trial of Spider-Plush, or whatever, I have no idea how court works.” Gwen mumbled, fidgeting with her papers. Hobie nodded, and Miles coughed awkwardly, “Speaking nothin but the truth…” Hobie whispered, with a slight smirk. Gwen snapped her neck in his direction, sending the punk a playful glare. The blonde sighed, “Anyways..”

“HE’S GUILTY, ARREST HIM!”

“Arrest?”

“First off, don’t interrupt the judge. Second, we don’t have the budget for handcuffs that’d keep Hobie contained.”

“Got that right.”

“Y/n no one saw this ‘criminal act’ but you. We don’t even have enough evidence for a court case.”

“I AM A WITNESS!”

“Ok…Pav, maybe we should stay outta this one.”

“HE IS MY CLIENT, I WILL NOT STAY OUT OF THIS”

“YEAH MORALES, STOP HARASSING MY LAWYER”

“HARRASING??”

“wow.”

“We should all calm down.”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CLAM DOWN!”

“YEAH, DON’T TELL MY CLIENT TO CALM DOWN!”

“Come on Pav, we’re leaving!”

Y/n rose from his seat, stopping near Miles. His gaze fixed upon his boyfriend, a stern expression etched across his face. "Morales," Y/n's voice carried a note of seriousness. Miles met his gaze, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in his eyes. "L/n," Miles responded, mirroring the intensity of Y/n's stare. “The child support?” His face contorted into fear “I….forgot?” It sounded more like a question than an answer, but that didn’t stop Y/n from expressing his displeasure. But, his demeanor quickly changed.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat”

“Sure! Being a heartless lawyer is hard work”

“As long as I’m not payin”

“When have you ever paid?”

“I don’t believe in givin those big companies money, it’s all goin to waste anyways”

“Ugh, don’t get him started on another rant!”

“Like it or not, you’re gonna need it”

“Yeah, cause beating the shit outta cops is gonna get me into college.”

“It’s gonna get you somewhere alright…”

“Yeah, jail!”

“Alrigh’ stop this slander!”

As the group walked away, their voices gradually fading into the distance, Miles stood there, a smile playing on his lips. He couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment as he watched his friends. But the fleeting moment of solitude was soon interrupted by a surge of excitement, urging Miles to catch up with the others. Without hesitation, he dashed forward, his footsteps quickening as he eagerly joined his friends.

“So, what we eatin?”

“Whatever Y/n wants”

“I’m bringing Margo next time, y’all bitches are lame.”

“HEY!”

“Woah. Couldn’t even wait until we got off government grounds to start cursing?”

“I taught ‘em well.”

“Except you Pav, best lawyer man!”

“Yay! :D”

#male reader #cute #gay #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #miles molares #across the spiderverse x male reader #black male reader #marvel x male reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x male reader #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prahakar x male reader #spider plush #x male reader #atsv x male reader

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jensettermandu · 4 months

Text

oxytocin - jennie kim

genre; smut with some plot, fluff by the end

pairing; jennie x g!p reader (enemies to lovers)

content; oral (reader receiving), fingering (jennie receiving), degrading/name-calling, p in v :D

description; Something you and Jennie always did was hate each other, bickering every chance you two got, not caring about how others' ears fell off from it. Although, you two get put in a situation where you both need to try not to kill each other.

words; 13k+

masterlist

You shoved Eunwoo into the lockers with force, the guy hitting them and actually creating a dent, making you both stop and look behind him. "It's either that I am hella strong or you are just getting fat, buddy." You commented, your best friend turning back to look at you seeing the shit-eating grin on your face he decides to shove you back into the busy hallway. It was one thing when you pushed him since you pushed him into the lockers while he pushed you into a crowd of people. "Watch the fuck out, Y/n." Taehyung grumbled out as you got pushed into him, you looked at the guy. "Shut the fuck up Taehyung, no cares about you anyway." You said and the guy huffed as he continued to walk with his friend, he was one of your friends so it was ok to be mean.

"You have no chill Eunwoo just pushing me into a crowd of people." You huffed out and he gave you a smile. "Who told you to call me fat?" He asked and you pinched his side, making him squirm away. "Was that a little fat roll? Getting big are we?" You asked, knowing that he had nothing against it since you two were super close and always joked like that, he would call you fat and you would do the same, he would call you ugly and you would do the same and so on. There were no feelings getting hurt since if that would be the case one of you would say something. "The only thing big here is that attitude of yours." He bit back and you were just about to shove him back into that locker only for him to push your hands away and land his hands on your shoulders giving you a harsh shove instead of you shoving him.

This time you weren't lucky enough to get pushed into one of your friends or some random, but the biggest bitch you could possibly stumble upon in this entire universe. Her feelings of hate were mutual. The second your back collided with her side she pushed you right back the way you came from with much annoyance. "Get your herpes-infested body away from me!" Jennie yelled after shoving you away from her and you turned to look at her, the girl standing with a pissed expression, a scowl on her face as she fixed the purse hanging on her shoulder with the cross C's on it. "The only infested thing around here is that big mouth of yours with the yapping virus." You bit back and her eyes went up to you, looking away from her baby pink purse, her eyes sharp as she locked gazes with you although you weren't one to falter.

Jennie clenched her jaw in irritation as she couldn't even stand the thought of you.

"At least I'm not fucking braindead." She huffed out.

"Well...That's debatable." You commented and heard Eunwoo stifle a laugh behind you and you nudged the guy so he wouldn't laugh.

"What's debatable is you still not being in special ED class." Jennie said and her close friend Nayeon stood behind her just like Eunwoo stood behind you.

The two are used to the everyday bickering between you two that always happened. Everyone at school was used to it. No one knew why you two hated each other so much, you two just simply did even if there was no actual bad history between you two. You were the school's popular delinquent, known for that while Jennie was a popular kid, you assume mostly because of her family status because there was no way that it was because of her personality as it seemed quite rotten from your point of view. It's not like she was mean to everyone or a bully, the only person who she was a bitch to in their face was you and it was kind of the same with you.

Before you could say much more the bell rang and pissed about not getting to say the last word as Jennie started to walk, you tripped the girl for your own satisfaction. Jennie stumbled forward but quickly regained her balance as you had a big grin on your face until she without any hesitation turned around with her baby pink Chanel bag swinging towards you, covering and it hit the back of your head instead of your face. Groaning as the metal cross C's collide right with the back of your head. "You fucking bitch." You grumble out as she flips you off and walks away with Nayeon as if she didn't almost fall face first and then didn't assault you with her purse after.

That was just your first encounter with Jennie today.

The only reason why you were in this art class was that your friend Chaeyoung forced you to join it. It wasn't that you were bad at art, you would just prefer to do something else than sit with a canvas in front of you and paint whatever you were told to paint. Looking past the canvas that was in front of you. There sat Jennie very invested not in her half-finished painting but in her phone, you took the paintbrush and glanced at Chaeyoung beside you.

"Can I borrow that pink paint?" You asked her and she shrugged, taking the paint palette and holding it out for you to take the pink paint, watching you scoop up as much as possible onto your brush. Thanking her she went back and you moved your stool to get a better view of Jennie who was in front of you.

Taking aim, you whistled to catch her attention which seemed to work, Jennie flinched in her seat the second a big splat of paint flew right at her face. She stood up so abruptly that her stool flew back, grabbing everyone's attention. Her phone was discarded to the side as you watched her face turn red from anger, her jaw clenched as she with closed eyes wiped away the paint, only smearing it on her face and you finally started to laugh. "Jennie and Y/n-." The teacher got cut off as Jennie had finally charged up and her outburst came.

"You fucking idiot! I will fucking kill you!" Jennie yelled at you and you widened your eyes as she grabbed onto the pair of scissors that were laying beside Lisa. Jennie charged towards you and you grabbed onto your canvas, quickly holding it out when she swung the scissors your way and you realised that this girl was serious about killing you. The pair of scissors went right through the canvas.

"You ruined my makeup, you dickhead!" Jennie continued as the scissors fell to the floor with the canvas.

"If anything I only fixed it...You look more like your true self now, you know a clown." You said, adding fuel to the fire.

"Hey, that's mine." Minho beside you complained when Jennie took his colour palette and yanked it at you when you said that, the paint splattering everywhere and Chaeyoung beside you becoming a victim of Jennie too as some got on her shirt, the colour palette landing on your pants.

"Y/n and Jennie!" The teacher finally raised his voice at the childish behaviour coming from the two high-school seniors.

You stop as you with a clenched jaw remove the colour palette from your crotch to see a big colourful stain on your black pants, a mix of red, white and blue.

"Great, now I look like I have the American flag on my crotch." You complained, letting the palette fall to the floor, the mess getting bigger and the teacher angrier.

"Shut the fuck up." Jennie snapped and the teacher slammed his hands on his table.

"That's detention to the both of you after school, you two will stay and clean this entire classroom!" He angrily let out.

Soon P.E came and Jennie was one of those girls that always had an excuse for not being able to participate and would sit on the bench the whole school year and somehow still get a P.E grade by the end of the semester by picking up a ball and then throwing it a foot in front of her, her friends praising her together with the teacher. You would like to assume that she sucked off the P.E teacher for that grade, but the man was gay and married so you assumed that she paid him as she could swim in her family's money as Scrooge McDuck did. She was that rich.

After that art class, you had to change into the pair of sweats you had packed for P.E and luckily for you, this was your last class for today so you wouldn't have to walk around in them for the rest of the day as that wouldn't feel too fresh. Sitting on the wooden floor of the court as you stretched with Eunwoo on your left and Wonho on your right, sitting in the middle of those two big guys as you were a lanky fucker, tall (5'9) and skinny.

"Did you really get detention?" Eunwoo asked in a hushed tone and you sighed.

"Yeah."

"Awh come on, we were supposed to hang out after school." Wonho complained and you shrugged.

"Well, I will be spending it with Jennie, the girl who tried to stab me with scissors in art class." You said, not actually feeling safe doing this as you looked up in front of you to see Jennie sitting in all her glory on the bench.

The girl was for sure beautiful and you were aware of that, her personality sucked but that was probably because she was a privileged kid that had gotten everything she wanted her whole life. Always quick to judge people simply because of what they wore for example, although she never went up to someone and straight up bullied them. She did that from a distance, talking about whatever person would pass her and her friends, quickly exchanging looks with her group of friends before getting to judging.

You mostly liked to mind your own space that you were in with your friends and if someone got into that space you would quickly give them a look or say something so they would scurry away. You were the school delinquent and people were usually quick to judge you for that so you just lived up to their judgement instead.

"You had it coming for flicking that paint in her face...Poor Chaeyoung became a victim of Jennie's wrath caused by you." Eunwoo said and you looked away from Jennie and at the guy before letting your gaze fall on Chaeyoung who now had her gym shirt on, sitting with Jisoo and stretching.

"I apologised to her and to be fair Jennie was the one who had it coming for hitting me with her purse, I think I lost brain cells when that metal logo hit me." You grumbled out and winced internally since whenever you would touch that spot it still hurt. Wonho and Eunwoo both snickered and you sent both of them a look.

"I doubt that it's possible to lose more brain cells if you have none left." Wonho laughed out and you kicked the guy's shin, making him wince in pain.

Ignoring what the P.E teacher was talking about as you turned to Eunwoo and punched him too as he was about to comment too.

"Y/n, you don't seem to be paying too much attention to class either way so how about you go and help Jennie with getting the volleyball balls from the storage for tomorrow morning as the team has early practice." The teacher said and you stopped at that, he couldn't be serious.

You could see in the corner of your eye Jennie already rolling her eyes in annoyance as you got up without protest not needing much more detention after school than what you already had. Looking at Eunwoo and Wonho with a scowl before walking away as the teacher handed you the keys to the storage room.

You walked ahead, Jennie following right behind you as you pushed the big door open and walked out of the court.

"You ruined my favourite pair of pants, you know." You grumbled out still pissed about your favourite pair of black pants being ruined by paint.

Jennie scoffed and you glanced beside you where she was walking by your side with the distance between you two.

"You can buy a new pair, you ruined my makeup and I had to redo it." Jennie replied.

"Or you could buy me a new pair for ruining them, you have the money...plus ruining someone's makeup and pants are two different things- like you said you fixed your makeup." You explained with your hands in your pocket, looking in front of you as you walked through the empty school hallways.

"I don't do charity cases and plus you would never catch me in one of those cheap stores." You gave her a distasteful look at that, you weren't serious about her buying you a new pair but she didn't have to go as far as call you a charity case before judging the places you could afford to buy clothes at.

You took out the keys from your pocket as they jingled, approaching the door leading to the storage that should have the volleyball balls stored.

"Thank you for rubbing your wealth into my face and I wasn't serious about it either." You spoke as you unlocked the door before pushing it open and going inside after finding the light, walking into the small storage.

"You're welcome and I know how to read sarcasm but I still like to put it out there." Jennie let out with sass and you scoffed before looking back at her as she stepped inside just looking around the small space.

"Whatever, brat." You said and pushed her aside to push the door closed as the balls seemed to be behind the door.

"Who are you calling a brat?" Jennie angrily asked as she never liked being called a brat, she despised being called one because she wasn't one, not in her opinion at least.

"Definitely not you." You said and spotted the net with balls.

"I thought so." Jennie firmly stated and you chuckled at that.

"I thought you knew how to read sarcasm, brat." You said and turned to her.

Jennie looked confused for a second before a scowl appeared on her face and you knew that she caught on. Your eyes widened as she gave you a harsh shove, making you stumble back and trip over the net with balls. Reaching for the first thing to not fall you grabbed onto Jennie's wrists. A squeak left Jennie who definitely wasn't the best choice to grab onto as the girl seemed to lack strength and only fell with you as you closed your eyes embracing yourself for the impact.

You groaned as you landed on the bunch of soccer balls that were there too, Jennie falling right on top of you. Opening your eyes you were met by soft darkness.

"Am I in heaven or hell?" You mumbled out confused.

Jennie quickly with wide eyes pushed herself up to sit when she felt your hot breath hit her cleavage as her chest landed right on your face.

You bit back a smile seeing that the soft darkness was her boobs in your face as the girl was straddling your waist.

"I guess it was heaven after all." You mumbled to yourself with a smug look on your face, Jennie's cheeks getting coloured together with her ears at what you said as she managed to hear it.

"You fucking perv!" Jennie exclaimed and slapped you quickly.

"The fuck! You were the one who pushed me." You complained and cupped your cheek, bucking your hips and pushing the girl off of you as she wasn't moving fast enough.

You sat up on the floor and caressed your cheek as the girl stood up, still angry as she fixed her clothes furiously.

"You fucking molested me! You fucking freak." You frowned at that and looked at Jennie.

Jennie stopped for a second at the flash of hurt in your eyes, knowing that she didn't watch her tongue.

"That's low of you, Jennie-" You mumbled, looking down as being called a freak wasn't something pleasant as you had been called one ever since you were a kid until your 16th birthday when you changed schools at last which is this school. Growing up and getting hormonal your classmates didn't find you a freak anymore but found it attractive instead and cool, girl's instead of avoiding you would throw themselves at you. Although that didn't mean that it still didn't hurt you when you were called one. It wasn't your choice to be born with a dick.

"And I didn't molest you! It was an accident that was your fault, to begin with!" You exclaimed and Jennie let out a huff at that, with a roll of her eyes and a judging look she turned around and yanked at the door handle to leave.

It got quiet...

She yanked at it again.

Nothing.

With that she started yanking and pulling on the door handle, trying to open the door that did not want to open at all. You frowned and looked at the girl who was struggling to open a door, wondering if she was incompetent and did not know how to open doors since she probably had people do it for her ever since she was born.

"Are you that fucking stupid that you don't even know how to open a door?" You commented and she stopped pulling on it with a frustrated sigh, turning to you with her usual scowl that only you seemed to fall victim to. "I am not you moron, it's not opening...try for yourself." Jennie let out and you got up from the floor, wiping your hands on your sweats as Jennie stepped aside to give you space in the already small room.

"You just pull-." You cut yourself off as you pulled but nothing happened, frowning you tried to push instead, but still nothing. Bumping your shoulder into the door as you tried to force it open. "Now who's stupid?" Jennie asked, seeing that you couldn't open the door either. You let go of the handle and took in a deep breath because there was no way that you were stuck together in this cramped room with someone like Jennie. Your ears were bound to fall off if no one would come and open the door for you two before gym class would end.

You inspected the door and saw that you needed the keys to open it from the inside. "Oh, we just need the keys." You quickly stuck your hands into your pockets, but the only thing you felt was your cardholder. You looked up at Jennie who was leaning against the wall and waiting for you to open the door, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her purse.

Clearing your throat nervously as you did not have the keys. "Did you perhaps remove the key from the door before entering after me?" You questioned and looked as her face fell and anger was boiling inside her eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me! You didn't remove the key!?" Jennie angrily let out and you watched as her hands clenched onto the strap of her purse.

"I thought you would do it, you bimbo!" You defended although you knew that you should have removed them since you were the one who inserted them.

The word bimbo must have ticked Jennie off a lot because the purse swung right your way again.

"Don't. Call. Me. A. Fucking. Bimbo." She stated with each hit as you covered your head, trying to move away as she landed hits on your body with her baby pink Chanel purse.

"Goddamnit!" You complained and managed to push the purse away at last making her stop. You grumbled to yourself and fixed your hoodie that she messed up, taking a safety step away from her before leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Jennie asked and you shrugged. "I am not going to stand and wait-" You glanced at your wristwatch before continuing to explain. "P.E ends in 40 minutes and that's when they will come here." You stated and tried to busy yourself with something to make the time pass faster, grabbing onto the small baseball ball that layed on the floor not too far from you as it had rolled from its place after your and Jennie's fall.

Jennie sighed and looked around the small and cramped room before moving over to the corner and sitting on top of the storage drawer that contained new volleyball jerseys.

It got quiet as you rolled the ball around on the floor.

Glancing up at Jennie who opened her purse and took out her phone, shaking your head slightly as she tried to call whoever it was she was trying to call...there was obviously no signal here as the room was very isolated and in the furthest corner of the whole school.

The girl gave up on trying to call one of her friends for help and with a grumble opted on playing games on it while the two of you were waiting.

You glanced at your clock to see that it had been 45 minutes already, P.E ended five minutes ago and you knew that no one walked in this hallway, but the P.E teacher would definitely come here to get his keys back.

Jennie was still seated on top of the storage drawer with her phone and you were still playing with the baseball although it was starting to get boring.

"What are you playing?" You questioned and looked at Jennie who glanced up from her phone at you, sending you a look, obviously not up for having any conversation with you. "Mind your business." She only replied and you heaved a sigh, picking up the baseball in your hand and thinking about throwing it in her face, but you wouldn't do that since that would hurt her...and hurt you even more since she surely would start beating you with that purse again.

You opted on just looking over Jennie who was wearing a black skirt with black pantyhose, a baby pink v-neck shirt with the small Chanel logo on her cleavage that was barely visible since it was the same colour as the shirt, black low doc martens and the damned purse to match her outfit and a hairband holding back her perfect brown hair.

You already knew that you found her extremely hot, but that was it- her personality was rotten and very unattractive which prevented you from ever actually hitting on her. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts and averting your gaze at the door that hadn't been touched by anyone from outside yet.

"What if no one comes?" You stated, putting the possibility out there and that seemed to get Jennie out of her focused bubble. She looked at the time on her phone to see that it had been 15 minutes since all classes had ended and you two hadn't heard a single person even pass by the door.

"Then you are fucking dead because it's all your fault since you are a dimwitted fucker." Jennie snapped, not liking the idea of being stuck in this room much longer. "Same with detention, you always ruing everything for me." Jennie said angry with the fact that she also was supposed to have detention right now although that wouldn't happen now that she was stuck here instead.

"Hey, hey, hey...how is detention my fault?" You asked since in your opinion it was her fault.

"Because you flicked fucking paint in my face!"

"That's cause you hit me with that pitiful purse of yours."

"Watch it! It's Chanel."

"Should have gotten a bigger one 'cause that one isn't nearly big enough to fit all of that attitude in it."

"You surely have an ego way too big for the prick that you have in your pants."

"Your mother should have swallowed to spare everyone your aura of idiocy." At that Jennie gasped and reached for the first thing in sight, throwing the dodgeball at you as you shield yourself, the ball bouncing off you and you grabbed it throwing it right back at her. The girl slapped it away from her before it could hit her and reached another throwing it at you, hitting the top of your head.

"Yours regrets that she didn't." Jennie fired back and huffed, getting off the drawer and walking up the door, banging on it, as she couldn't stay in there for another second or she would totally flip.

"Someone open this fucking door!" She screamed and banged on the door, getting to yanking on the handle as you rolled your eyes at what she was doing. No one would open that door for you two, not until someone would need to get something from this room and that would be tomorrow morning when the volleyball team has practice.

Instead of wasting your energy on what Jennie was doing, you got up, ignoring her banging on the door and trying of yelling for help. You sighed and walked over to the three shelving racks that stood beside each other that were filled with stuff. Kicking the few balls to the side that were in the way and rummaging through them to maybe find something interesting, not minding the few things that you knocked over and fell to the floor. This caught Jennie's attention, who gave up on trying to get someone to hear her as most people had already left the school property and she looked at what you were doing.

She leaned against the door with a small pout from the anger and frustration this and you were causing her as there was only this much she could handle of you every day and today the limit had been crossed. Jennie never knew why the two started to bicker in the first place, but you two just did and it had been going on since you moved to this school- two years now. Well, she knew that she liked having your attention on her and what better way to get it if not from being a bitch...Seeing you all frustrated and angry because of her sent dopamine to her brain...oxytocin too...but that was something only she would know and no one else.

Your fingers stumbled upon a permanent marker and you knew that it would be enough to occupy you for a few hours since you were the type of person that could get entertained by an empty paper roll. Jennie watched as you turned and removed the cap from the marker with your teeth and walked over to the wall where you sat earlier before sitting down and busying yourself with doodling on the wall.

"Nooo." Jennie whined when her phone battery died only managing to catch a glimpse of the time before it died. School ended three hours ago- it was 7 pm now- and you two were still sitting in the cramped room, Jennie had managed to make herself comfortable on top of that drawer and you were still on the floor. None of you uttered a single word to each other for three hours as it seemed like you two only knew how to bicker.

She discarded her phone beside her and sighed in boredom, her eyes falling on you to see you still doodling on that wall- you had taken occasional breaks between. At this point, you had drawn everything you know how to draw. She looked at the things you had done on the wall and tried to come up with something to say as she would die out of boredom if none of you would say a word.

You got snapped out of it and looked beside you to see Jennie crouching down next to you, double-checking to see if you were tripping or not. There was no way that Jennie was right beside you without having any malicious intentions. Her expensive perfume invaded your space as she always smelled so feminine that her smell and looks slightly made up for that rotten attitude.

"How do you draw this?" Jennie asked and pointed at the 'Cool S' graffiti sign that everyone always did on every surface possible although Jennie had no clue how to do it. She had wanted to learn ever since she first saw it which was when she was still a kid. You looked at her slightly baffled, wondering why she wasn't throwing insults your way or hitting you with her purse.

"What?" You questioned to make sure you heard her right, Jennie rolled her eyes and pointed at it again, your eyes following her finger. "Teach me how to draw this." Jennie demanded, of course without a, please.

"It's really easy." You said as you shifted as you were sat cross-legged. "You just- draw six lines...connect this with this...then these too and lastly these and...done." You showed her step by step and finished it, looking at Jennie who was still crouched beside you, a small frown on her face. Sitting this close to her and with peace was different and it let you look closer at her features and she didn't look as dangerous as when she was angry.

"Here, try." You said and carefully held the marker out for her, Jennie looked away from the wall and at the marker, taking it from you. You leaned a bit closer to her to look at her doing it. Watching her do the first step and then moving to the second one. "No- this one goes to this." You corrected and pursed your lips when she scowled. "That's what I am doing." She huffed out, mad at you for correcting her. "I know what I am doing, Y/n." She continued and went back to the S that she was doing wrong. "If you knew then you wouldn't ask me how to draw it, Jennie." You commented and tilted your head at her attempt as it didn't look right at all.

"It's stupid." Jennie concluded and dropped the marker after failing, she was about to stand back up but you grabbed her forearm gently and pulled her back down. "It's not...come on, it was your first try and you're already giving up." You said and tried to hand her back the marker, now wanting to teach her how to do it. Jennie looked at the marker with raised eyebrows and then at you. "It is stupid...it's just an S." Jennie said in distaste as she never did anything twice if she failed on the first try.

"I know, but it's a stupid S that you wanted to learn...Why give up after just trying once?" You questioned and used your free hand to open her hand, placing the marker in her dainty hand before making her hold it. Jennie was wondering why you were this patient with her if she herself wasn't, she always gave up after her first try if it failed. "Fine." She gave in and you smiled.

She did the first lines and then looked at you for you to explain what to do further. "Connect this one to this..." You pointed and she followed your instructions.

"See, it wasn't that difficult." You said as she managed to do it on her second try. Jennie tilted her head at the S she did and then looked at the ones you did. "Yours look better than mine...Why?" You stifled your laugh when Jennie's head snapped your way. "Is my failure funny to you, Y/n?" She seriously asked with a threatening voice and you shook your head with a smile. "No...It's not that- it's- it's not important." You let out since you only found the way she asked it cute, but saying that out loud would not happen. "Just try again and it will get better with time." You said instead and watched as she shifted on her feet a little.

"Why won't you sit down?" You questioned confused since it couldn't be comfortable to be crouched down like she was. Jennie rolled her eyes at what you asked as she started her new S, trying to make it look better this time. "Because I have a skirt on Y/n, the floor isn't something I would like to sit on without jeans on." She stated the obvious since she only had thin pantyhose on. Suddenly you were in sort of a dilemma and contemplated whether or not you should offer her your hoodie since you had your t-shirt under. One time wouldn't hurt...just because you and she always bickered didn't mean that you were a complete ass.

You pulled off your hoodie while she was busy perfecting her S, taking it off just as she finished and the girl looked at you. "Here...uhm, you can sit on it...unless you don't want to." You awkwardly offered her and Jennie looked, a bit taken aback as never in a million years did she think that this type of generosity would happen between you two. About to just as awkwardly retreat your hand while cursing yourself out in your head, Jennie took it from your hold. Without knowing what to say to you, she placed it on the floor before sitting down on it. Jennie cleared her throat and went back to the wall as you watched her try another one.

Seeing that she was invested in doodling on the wall now, you stood up and walked back to the shelving racks. Just when you were about to look, your eyes landed on the paper that had written tomorrow's date on it as it layed on top of a box. Being curious you walked over to the box and dragged it away from the wall before removing the paper from it and opening the box. It was water and snacks for the volleyball team that had a game tomorrow after school. "Do you want water and crisps?" You questioned Jennie as you crouched down beside the box, not giving a single fuck about the volleyball team because you weren't about to starve for their sake.

Jennie hummed confused and you dragged the cardboard box over to her, where you had been sitting the whole time. You slumped down beside her in a v position with the box between your legs as you looked down at it. "Here." You said and took out bottled water, handing one over to her. Jennie took it as she reached for the cap of the marker, closing it to not get her clothes dirty. You both sat by the corner so you leaned against the wall where the corner connected as she sat leaning against the other wall, being a good two feet away from each other.

You took out water for yourself and placed it beside you before taking out a bag of crisps. "Do you want some?" You questioned Jennie who was drinking some of the water you had handed her, she shook her head and you frowned slightly. It wasn't like you cared, well as a decent human being you somewhat cared, right? But that was cause you were a human being and nothing else. "Why not? Aren't you hungry?" You asked her quite baffled as you opened the mini pack and went straight to eating the crisps since you were starving. "I am, but...it's not part of my diet." She murmured and looked to the side, her eyes gazing around the storage room, pretending it was interesting since she wasn't used to you being generous and somewhat caring towards her.

You laughed at that although groaned in pain when the heel of her doc marten collided with your shin. "Why are you laughing you dickhead?" Jennie asked pissed as she clutched onto the plastic bottle in her hand. You rubbed your shin. "Because you are stupid." You replied and quickly moved your leg away when she was about to hit you again. "How?" She asked with a scowl. "Who's here to see if you are following your diet or not? No one. And I certainly do not care...but suit yourself and starve." You said and continued to finish the mini bag of crisps before crumpling it up and flicking it away somewhere on the floor. Grabbing onto another one and opening it while Jennie crossed her arms and leaned against the wall behind her.

"Damn these are good." You moaned out on purpose just to get on her nerves and watched as her nostrils flared from the pissed exhale. Taking a sip of your water before eating more and chewing a bit louder and watched as her jaw moved in anger at your behaviour. "Oh, these barbecue ones are delicious...good thing you don't want any, more for me that way." You said and reached for a new pack, taking it and opening it, using your hand and trying your best to make the delicious smell of the barbecue crisps reach her proximity. Jennie groaned at how annoying you were and finally spoke up. "Why do you even fucking care if I eat or not...fuck off, Y/n." She let out pissed because not even her closest friends cared enough to make her eat.

"Because...we are staying here until tomorrow morning and you will feel uncomfortable if you sit hungry." You rolled your eyes and sighed. It was almost 9 pm. "Plus, it's not like I do it because I care specifically about you, but because I am a decent human being, but you wouldn't know that now would you...You only associate with rich people in the end so why would you ever get to know me...plus I am a freak aren't I?" You let out and took out a new packet and threw it in her lap before going back to your opened one.

Jennie licked her lips as she looked down at the small bag of crisps on her lap, pouting slightly as she felt really bad for calling you a freak earlier. With a sigh, she took the bag of crisps and opened it. "I don't only associate with rich people." She corrected while still keeping her gaze on the bag of lays. You looked up at her, watching her just looking into that bag as if she was actually contemplating if she should or not eat. "The barista at Starbucks doesn't count, Jennie." You said and watched as she, at last, ate some, rolling her eyes at you while being at it. "You don't know me either, Y/n just how I don't know much about you." She stated as a matter of fact and you hummed, agreeing with her.

"Still, the Starbucks barista doesn't count." You reminded her and the girl groaned, throwing a crisp your way. "Hey!" You complained and threw one at her too, her hard gaze met your eyes and you knew this would not end well. "You braindead fucker, it's Chanel." Jennie exclaimed and threw more your way and soon you two were throwing crisps at each other.

You took your whole bag of crisps and yanked it in her face. "Ha, gotcha big ass forehead!" You laughed and Jennie's blood was boiling as she grabbed inside the box and took an unopened pack, moving from her place you tried your best to cover yourself to not get hit in the face although Jennie wasn't having it.

"Stop. Fucking. Covering. Your. Face." She gritted out and pushed you over, making you lay on the floor, pulling on your arms to get them away from your face, the bag of crisps already discarded as she needed both of her hands since you were much stronger than her. Jennie managed to grab hold of your wrists and with all her strength yanked them away from your face, pinning them down beside your head. Your breathing was heavy as her chest heaved up and down, you both swallowing as she ended up straddling you. Her hair which was being held back by the hairband gently fell down her shoulders but kept all her hair out of her face.

Jennie took this awkward position as her chance to apologize because she knew that it couldn't get worse than this. "I am sorry for...calling you a freak earlier...I didn't mean it." Your lips parted at her words and you pursed your lips slightly. "I just...uhm..." She trailed off not knowing what to say without exposing herself too much to you now. "Well, I am sorry for molesting you." You apologized too and she shook her head. "No, you didn't do anything inappropriate, I was just..." Jennie trailed off and her grip tightened on your wrists for a second as she looked away since a blush was threatening to cover her cheeks again.

"No, I am sorry because I clearly made you uncomfy and that's my fault." You stated, because no matter how much you two would bicker and push and pull, your intentions never were to make her uncomfortable. That made Jennie look at you and her cheeks were slightly flushed as she was quick to clear it all this time without beating around the bush. "No! Really, it was because...I got really flustered and didn't know what else to do or say...So, I just slapped you and accused you when it was clearly all an accident." She finally explained and you were very surprised to hear that you made thee Jennie Kim flustered. It was something you thought that you would never get to hear or would never think would be true.

"I believe you." You said and she tilted her head at that. "I mean, look at you...you're as red as a tomato right now." You said with a smirk and Jennie clenched her jaw as she knew that it would be a bad idea to boost your ego like that since it was already big. She let go of your wrists at that and pulled away, sitting up straight about to get off you, but you stopped her, grabbing onto her forearms as you sat up with the girl straddling your lap. You glanced down at her chest subtly to see how her breath hitched. "I knew that there was something more to you than just liking to get on my nerves." You stated the obvious and her eyes darted around the room to avoid yours. "Like what? There's nothing else, I just enjoy making you mad and that's it." Jennie sassed out, trying to slither her way out of this somehow.

"You're attracted to me." You cockily said and watched how her pink chubby cheeks got a little brighter with your words, her skin flushed and probably hot. "I am not...Your ego is way too big right now and that's far from attractive." Jennie replied and still kept her eyes away from you, looking behind you instead as you still gently held onto her forearms. "Ok then, can I try something? If you don't find me attractive just stop me right away, Jennie." You said and she finally met your eyes with hers that held curiosity and she gave a hesitant nod at that. You wetted your lips and didn't waste much more time as you pulled her closer to you, her eyes widening at that but her whole body freezing and going into shock when you pressed your lips against hers.

You just gently pressed your lips against hers, you closed your eyes and started to move your lips against hers, waiting for her to either push you away or to start moving her lips against yours. Loosening your grip on her forearms, Jennie's eyes closed and her hands came around to your nape, her lips moving against yours. The amount of comments you would like to make right now just to get her mad and worked up were right at the tip of your tongue, but you decided to push it into her mouth instead of annoying her. Her nails dug into your nape slightly as she opened her mouth more. Wrapping your arms around her petite waist you tilted your head slightly to have more access, a hum left her mouth at how your tongue pushed against hers.

Although you pulled away when you felt her warm thighs that were straddling you squeeze slightly, obviously looking for some sort of friction. "Don't be a wuss and stop now, Y/n...finish what you started." Jennie firmly demanded through the blush covering her cheeks and there was the attitude you knew her for and not the shy little Jennie she was just a second ago. "Or are you afraid of some pussy?" Jennie quipped and quirked an eyebrow just trying to provoke you to get what she wanted. You bit your lower lip with a smile and lifted the girl off your lap, making her sit back down on your hoodie. You watched the frustration on her face from that before you stood up and reached your hand out for her. Jennie took hold of your hand and you pulled her up to stand.

"Still seeping with attitude even though you're the needy one." You commented and a small gasp came from her mouth when you pushed her up against the wall. Her hands gripped your shirt as you held her waist, pulling her into you before leaning down and kissing her again. This time more assertive as you knew what she wanted from how much attitude she had even when being desperate to get fucked by you right now. A moan slipped past her lips and her hands kept pulling onto your shirt, definitely ruining the material with her neediness. Your knee went between her thighs, parting them as they were so desperately rubbing against each other for friction. She shuddered at the contact with your knee and gripped onto your shoulders just in case her knees would buckle beneath her.

Feeling her hips roll against your thigh that was between her legs as she continued to kiss you fiercely, too focused on chasing her high to realize what was going on. Your hands let go of her waist and went under her skirt, gripping the thin material of her pantyhose, Jennie groaned right into your mouth when you ripped their seam, exposing her cunt- inner thighs too- that was only covered by her cheekies now. Moving your hands to her hips as she rolled them, grinding right onto your thigh that was pressed between her legs. You pulled away from the kiss, Jennie's lips were wet and parted as her head fell back and rested against the wall, her eyebrows furrowed as she lost herself in chasing her orgasm that was growing in the pit of her stomach.

Seeing that she was too busy to even try and kiss you now, you leaned down to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on the skin while your left-hand untucked the pink v-neck from her skirt. Sneaking your cold hand under it, goosebumps formed on her hot skin as you ran it up to her breast, fondling it through the bra she was wearing. "Oh fuck." Jennie breathed out, her nails digging into your shoulders while you sucked on her neck, squeezing her breast as you reached your hand inside her bra, your fingers busying themselves with her hardened nipple. Jolts of electricity went through her body at the pleasure that her body went through, starting to feel light-headed from it. Breathless moans came through her mouth mixed with cries as she was so close but yet couldn't reach the orgasm that was right there.

"Fucking rub my clit or something you fucking- fuck yes!" Jennie got stopped from cursing you out of frustration- letting out a cry of pleasure instead- when you let go of her breast and moved your hand between her legs, snaking your hand through the waistband of her panties and finding her swollen clit. Her legs tensed up and her movement halted as she moaned continuously, not being able to stop her moans even if she did not want you to think that you were good at this which you very much were. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, holding herself up as her legs were giving up at this point when her orgasm came at last. "F-Fuck." She breathed out before gasping when you did not stop rubbing her clit for even a second.

She choked on her breath as it didn't make it past her chest, her whole body burning from the inside at the feeling. Her legs were shaking the slightest as you removed your hand, watching her chest heave up and down, holding her up by her hips. She continued to pant, trying to catch her breath as quickly as possible although she hadn't had a good orgasm in a while since her own hands did not satisfy her enough. "Come on." You ushered and tried to pull her away from the wall. Jennie finally moved her head that was resting against the wall and looked at you confused. "What?" She questioned confused and you chuckled, reaching into her hair and removing the hairband that was in it gently before throwing it on top of your hoodie. "You know...I want a release too." You pointed out as you were very fucking hard right now.

"I'm not sucking your prick." Jennie let out and you raised your eyebrows at her. "Who said anything about sucking? And even if I was talking about sucking, why the fuck not?" You said, kind of offended that she wouldn't want to suck you off. You were very clean. "Because why waste talent on a one incher?" She tsk right after and your mouth went agape. "Plus, I don't have any condoms."

"One incher!?" You exclaimed and she rolled her eyes at you. You reached into your pocket, taking out the cardholder while praying to the seven goods of fortune. They seemed to be on your side when you took out the unopened condom with a big grin on your face. "Wanna do the honours?" You questioned as you held the wrapper in front of her, throwing your cardholder into the pile of other things. She was about to take it but you changed your mind. "Nevermind...why would you waste time on a one incher, right?" You said and shrugged, putting the condom in your pocket. "Unless you are saying that because you...well, in simpler words suck at giving blowjobs...I will go with my version." You provoked and saw how something literally flicked in her eyes at your words.

One thing Jennie hated was to be bad at things, anything, it didn't matter and she despised people who said that she was bad at something when she knew damn well that she was a pro at it. It triggered her so badly and she knew that she needed to work on it because it wasn't healthy to always feel the need to prove herself. You bit your tongue when Jennie literally dropped down to her knees in front of you. She was going as far as bruising her knees right now just to prove to you that she was not bad at this and she wasn't sure why she went this far because the Jennie she knew herself as would never, NEVER bruise her knees for anyone even if her life depended on it. Yet here she was, on her knees before you.

This made her not want to look up and meet your eyes. Instead, she looked at the print through your grey sweats and she could tell that you were not a one incher, definitely not. Her hand went up to the hem of your sweats as she tugged them down, the sweats pooling around your ankles. You looked down at her, watching her every move carefully as she reached her hand up to your dick that was trapped in your boxer briefs. Taking in a deep breath when she ran her fingers gently along your length up to the hem of your boxer briefs. Her lip was between her teeth as she pulled them down, curious about your size and excited.

You smirked when she finally removed your boxers, watching as she squeezed her thighs when her eyes landed on your dick. Jennie wanted it inside her, didn't matter what hole as long as it was inside her. Her hand gripped onto the base as she stroke up, your tip leaking with precum that she gathered before spreading it along your length. "Ever had anything this big in your mouth before, brat?" You groaned when her grip around your leaking tip tightened in response, Jennie wasn't sure if she liked your big ego or not. Instead of responding she let her tongue out and licked up the precum, your dick twitching at her kitten licks, wanting much more. "Come on...Anyone can do that...thought you were a pro." You added fuel to the fire.

Jennie ignored you because she knew very well what she was doing. "Don't cum too fast because I still want you to fuck me." She only said and you noted to not let go too fast to not embarrass yourself. Not after getting this far with her. Your lips parted as you watched her take your tip into her warm and wet mouth, her lips wrapping perfectly around it. You hummed as you put your hand into her hair, pushing her hair back for her as she swirled her tongue around your tip before pulling away. You watched in a daze as she finally looked up at you, using her hand, she guided your length, running your tip along her plump lips, covering them in your precum, you tried to push it back into her mouth but she did not open her mouth and you rubbed against her cheek instead which she didn't seem to mind, almost nuzzling into your leaking tip, rubbing it back to her lips.

"Are you that into teasing?" You questioned and she looked at you through her lashes with a small smile, her tongue only poking out to clean her lips before she bit down on her lower lip. With that she opened her mouth and took you into her mouth, your grip tightening in her hair as she gradually took more and more into her mouth. She hummed as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking back up and swirling her tongue around your tip. Stroking what she didn't reach with her hand while her other hand went to your balls, kneading them and making a moan escape from your lips. She continued to take you in as much as she could before sucking and swirling her tongue around your tip, fully focused on the dick in her mouth.

"I've had better." You groaned out, Jennie's movements almost halted, but she continued because she was just getting started. She sucked hard with her cheeks hollowing even more up to your tip, another moan coming from you, pulling out and licking up the spit that almost fell from your tip before entering you back into her mouth. A loud mouth left your lips and you felt your thighs shake while Jennie let out a shameless moan, enjoying this more than you at this point- when with one smooth and fluid motion she loosened her throat muscles before they tightened around your tip with her lips around your base. The girl deep throating you and making your free hand hold onto the wall beside you as her throat muscles squeezed your tip. "Oh- Oh fuck." You shakily breathed out, not knowing what to say as you hadn't had anyone do this to you yet. You were so fucked.

Jennie released your tip from her throat and slurped back up, the spit running down her chin as her hand squeezed your balls, your hand tugging onto her hair only making Jennie moan and you watched your tongue, to not say anything without thinking it through at first. With another lewd moan coming from Jennie when her throat opened for you again, her nose tickling the skin of your stomach as she had her lips around your base again. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop." You moaned out because there was no way you would be able to hold yourself if she was going to take your dick like this. Flexing your stomach to not cum when you looked down and met Jennie's eyes, who had your dick shoved down her throat with her eyes watering slightly.

You gave her hair a tug because you were going to bust any second and reluctantly Jennie slurped back up before letting your dick out of her mouth against her own will, but she didn't want this to end yet. You took deep breaths to try and collect yourself, baffled that you had to collect yourself and you hadn't even had a release yet as you pulled your sweats up. "Fuck, how- how?" You breathed out, Jennie rolled her eyes although on the inside she was smiling because she managed to get you like this and it made her feel different things. Instead, she reached for the hem of your shirt and used it to wipe her chin and mouth. "I- you bitch." You grumbled and grabbed her wrist, removing her hand from your shirt to already see that it was too late as the spot was wet on your white t-shirt. "Fuck me like one." Jennie said and you snapped your head back at her as she stood up, your lips parted and eyebrows quirked.

"You know what, I fucking will." You let out and Jennie let out a yelp when you manhandled her and turned her around, pushing her down on the drawer where her purse was laying in one smooth and quick motion. You pinned her front down on the drawer, her hands gripping onto its edge as her chest pressed down on the wood. It was the size of a desk but was used as a storage drawer and now you were going to use it to fuck Jennie into it. "J-Just...don't forget the condom." Jennie basically whimpered as she felt your hand caress her ass slightly through the pantyhose as they were only ripped on her crotch. You hummed at that.

Just when Jennie was about to push herself up because it was taking too long for her liking she hummed out a whine when you pushed her body back down, flush against the drawer. "You fuck like a grandpa." Jennie complained because she wanted you inside her right now since her wetness was already threatening to run down her thighs. You chuckled as you moved her skirt, flipping it up to get a view of her ass that was covered by the black lace cheekies and pantyhose. "Fucked a lot of grandpas?" You questioned and she groaned at what you said. "That's not what I meant!" She grumbled out and you crouched down, removing her doc martens as she let you do whatever you pleased so far.

You yanked down the pantyhose that were already ruined, hearing how they ripped more together with a gasp coming from Jennie, throwing them away in a corner since she wouldn't want them anyway. Still crouched down, you ran your hands up her smooth thighs, looking right up at her cunt that was covered by her panties that were soaked, seeing some of the wetness that was on her inner thighs. Holding them when she tried to close her legs for any friction, preventing her from doing so. "Damn, you're so fucking wet." You commented, slowly pulling down her panties that were basically clinging to her drenched pussy. "And you're so fucking annoying that I would rather fuck a grandpa at this point. Do something already!" Jennie let out frustrated, her nails digging into the wood of the drawer.

You stood up after getting her panties off her and stuffed them into your pocket, taking out the condom and pulling your sweats down. Ripping the packet and taking out the rubber as you discarded the packet somewhere on the floor. Pulling the rubber down your length to the base. You grabbed onto Jennie's hips that were exposed together with her ass and glistening cunt, her skirt flipped up above her hips, licking your lips at the view. Jennie reached behind her, wanting to speed up the process, but you grabbed her wrist, making her hiss as you pinned it against her lower back. That's how she knew that she was going to get fucked literally and in other ways, may it be emotionally or physically.

You took hold of your cock, letting your tip disappear into her folds, collecting the wetness as you run it between them before finding her grasping hole. Choking on your breath as you pushed into her, the tightness of her in this position making your stomach twist as her walls took you in with ease from how wet she was, the tightness only making it difficult to thrust. Jennie whimpered as you stretched her out, her hand that was held by you balling up into a fist and her free hand gripping hard onto the desk before a loud moan spilled through her lips.

You started to move slowly in and out of her, feeling how her walls were squeezing around you. "Fuck- Oh fuck!" Jennie cried out when your pace just picked up from nowhere as you didn't feel like going easy on her, not after what she put you through today. Letting your frustrations out on her. "You know what your mouth is actually good at?" You groaned out and thrust deeper into her, she let out an uneven hum, her voice unstable from how her body was being fucked into a drawer by you. "Sucking dick." You stated and she moaned when you pressed your hand more onto her back, making her feel your dick right on her spot, rubbing her g-spot just the right way because of how her lower stomach pressed into the drawer, making it easier for you to reach her wet, spongy spot. It made her legs shake. "Fuck you, Y/n, and fuck me better!" Jennie bit back, wanting more from this.

You removed your hand from her hip and took it up to her head, gripping her hair before pressing her face harder into the top of the drawer. Jennie's cheek squished into the wooden top, her moans and cries echoing in the tiny space that got hotter from the sex. Having her hand pinned behind her back, her legs shaking from pleasure, the lewdness of her wet cunt swallowing your dick and your hips meeting hers, taking over your senses as it all sent you into a frenzy because you were fucking Jennie Kim who was a big bitch and a brat for all you know, but here she was letting you fuck her as if she had no dignity at all.

You groaned as you pushed harder into her, hearing how the drawer banged into the wall with her purse falling off it although Jennie was getting fucked too good to even notice. "Y/n..." Jennie whined out and her thighs spasmed, clenching hard around you, making your movements go uneven and you instead tried to thrust harder into her. She choked out whines at the feeling of your tips continuously brushing her spot, the twitching of your hard cock, making her want to clench harder to feel more of you inside her. All her sticky wetness just ran down her thighs and she knew that she would never redeem herself when it came to this.

"God, you're so fucking tight, Jennie and you take dick so good." You praised and she let out a shaky hum at that. "You're the first person to fuck me this good." Jennie admitted with her tears of pleasure hitting the wooden top, her cheek still squished into it, her free hand, digging its nails into the wood as she tried her best to grip it. She needed so much more to grip on, the way you were fucking her brains out, your dick stretching her tight walls and she wasn't sure if she wanted more or if she wanted you to stop, her mind getting clouded.

"Fuck, please...I want more." Jennie begged like never before and you let go of her hand that you had pinned down, reaching it around to her front Jennie's whole body tensed up when your fingers came in contact with her clit, her body momentarily flinching at the contact. "That's too much!" She cried out although in pleasure, not wanting you to stop, you kept going, her both hands gripping onto the drawer that was sounding like the last screws in it wanted to leave right this moment. "Yet you're taking every bit of it, aren't you?" You questioned and pressed a tiny bit harder on her clit that you continued to rub and she gasped big, your dick still rubbing on her spot inside of her.

Her mind went blank, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she whimpered at the orgasm that went through her toes all the way to her ears that were ringing, her legs feeling numb with her walls pulsating in rhythm with her heart which she could feel amidst her orgasm- the throbbing of her clit and wall- her hips pushing more into you as she let out moan after moan. "I- I- I can't...Y/n." Jennie managed to whine out as she needed you to stop, her clit and walls throbbing from how intense her orgasm was. You removed your hand from her clit and let go of her head, making it easier to breathe for Jennie who was panting.

Holding onto her waist, the feeling of her slick walls, throbbing and clenching around your cock made you burst within seconds as you had been holding long enough. You pressed your body flush against Jennie, your face in her neck, burying it in her hair as her perfume attacked your nose as you busted into the condom, filling it like never before with a slight whimper. It got quiet in the small room that you two had been trapped in for a good six or seven hours now, both of you panting and swallowing to get rid of the dryness in your throats. Waiting for your legs to not feel like jelly as you rested on top of Jennie who had her eyes closed, trying to just breathe normally.

You took in a breath and placed your hands on each side of Jennie's body on the drawer, pushing yourself up before pulling out of her and pulling down her skirt for her. You took hold of her shoulders seeing her still struggling to push herself up fully, getting her up and making her turn around. Jennie leaned against the drawer and you stopped yourself from leaning over to her and kissing her since you were scared that she would find it too intimate. "Just- wait a second." You quickly let out and Jennie didn't care and just listened as you lifted her to sit on the drawer.

Removing the condom and tying it as you cringed at it before throwing it somewhere on the floor. Pulling your sweats back on fully with your boxer briefs, you turned to where your hoodie was and wondered what you were actually doing since you never acted this domesticated. You shoved your cardholder into your pocket that was on your hoodie, took her hairband and then picked up your hoodie and a water bottle before walking back over to Jennie. Cringing internally at yourself because what the fuck was up with you? "Here, put it on." You let out and placed the water with her hairband beside her, even going as far as putting the hoodie on Jennie, who yawned after you pulled it down, feeling drained.

"I don't- uhm, I don't have any paper or tissues..." You trailed off, going too far for your own liking and Jennie pointed to her baby pink chanel purse on the floor. You picked it up and like an idiot opened it, ignoring all the tampons and whatnot before taking out the pack of tissues. Jennie saw as you stopped after taking them out, seeing how you were contemplating what to do. "I can just do it myself, if you really don't want to, Y/n...You don't need to act-." You cut Jennie off as it wasn't like that. "It's not like that...I just have never even thought of doing this much after sex for someone and here I am wanting to do it...so I am just a little confused with myself." You admitted and looked away from Jennie and down at the tissues. This made Jennie just as confused cause she never had anyone go the extra steps for her and yet she wanted you to do it. God you two hated each other for this.

"I haven't had anyone go the extra step for me." Jennie decided to admit since you two were at it so there was not much more to lose here. "I mean even the hoodie was more than I have ever received." She said, people weren't even decent enough to pull a duvet over her let alone a hoodie and to think that the person she "hated" the most and was "hated" by the most was the one to show the most care. She would at first think that you were just a really generous person, but you did admit just a second ago that you never did this for anyone else before...so that meant that you actually cared for Jennie.

"But at this rate, I rather do it myself, you dingus." Jennie said and tried to reach for the tissues in your hand because the stickiness was starting to get too overwhelming after being there for so long, but you moved them out of her reach. "No...I got this." You firmly stated, for some reason wanting to leave an impact on her- which you already had done today in multiple ways- this time by being the first one to go the extra mile for Jennie. She rolled her eyes and just let you do it as you took out two tissues and helped her clean up while she took the water bottle and drank from it, liking the princess treatment she was receiving from you.

Once you were done you looked at Jennie who was looking at you with a knowing look. "I need my panties back." You groaned as you hoped that she wouldn't have caught you and reached into your pocket, handing them over to Jennie as you had been caught red-handed. Jennie took them from you and you helped her get down from the drawer and stand on her feet before averting your attention to look around the room, ignoring the corner where you had made a mess with the crisps and the other part of the floor that had her ripped pantyhose, the wrapper and the condom. You looked at the place where the soccer balls were and saw what you knew you had seen earlier, walking over to them and reaching for the rolled-up yoga mats, taking three of them.

Jennie watched as you walked over to the clean part of the storage room and rolled out the mats, placing them on top of each other before you heaved a sigh and slumped down, sitting in the corner and leaning your back against the wall. You glanced at your wristwatch before looking at Jennie. "It's only 11 pm...the volleyball team doesn't start training until tomorrow morning at 6:30 am." You informed and gestured with your head for her to just sit with you, looking at her as she stood with your hoodie that reached mid-thigh on her, making it look like she wasn't wearing much more. With that, Jennie walked over to you.

Feeling needy for cuddles after what you did to her, Jennie settled down between your legs, taking you by slight surprise but either way, you wrapped your arms around her waist wordlessly as she leaned her back against your front. "You're not really as arrogant and spoiled as you pretend to be? You're no snob." You questioned after a few seconds of just silence. Feeling Jennie shift slightly at your question before she rested her head against your shoulder, looking at the door in front of you two. "...Not really no." She replied quietly and you nodded as her fingers started to fiddle with yours.

"Then why do you always act like that?" You curiously asked.

"It's my personality Y/n." Jennie stated the obvious.

"I don't mean the attitude, that's obviously bitch syndrome." You groaned when she nipped your thigh at what you said. But you knew that the attitude was just part of her although the rest wasn't. "But seriously, I know that the spoiled brat and arrogancy isn't you...not from what I have seen today, you're no snob."

"People don't like rich people that are humble." She shrugged and you moved your face to look at her, the girl just looking down at your hands that she played with.

"How do you know?" Jennie sighed at that and you were worried that maybe she would snap soon for pushing this far since you two never had any real conversations.

You could see that she was a bit reluctant but decided to just say it. "Because I tried at first...I had to change schools because of how much they bullied me for it." She explained with a frown, remembering how much everyone just pushed her around when they found out about how much money her family had and yet she was one of the most humble people they had met. "You can't know if now will be the same if you try to just be your humble self." You tried, seeing no reason at all for her to be the snob that she pretends to be.

"Exactly, that's why I don't want to risk it...I don't enjoy flaunting wealth, but people don't like it when someone with money tries to be humble, they think that we do it out of pity or something." She reasoned and you could see it from both sides.

"Do you?" You asked her.

"No, I don't do it out of pity, I do it because wealth had never been the most important thing to me, I am thankful that we have money, but that's it..." Jennie had always been grateful for having money, but she never saw it as something that would define her until people made her use it as something to define herself as. They didn't like her humble self and bullied her for it, most people who were not as wealthy hated her for how she was like right now, but they at least didn't bully her and she associated herself with other wealthy people who were nice towards her. "I just don't trust it." She concluded, not trusting people with trying to be herself in front of them.

You thought about it carefully, knowing that this could very much ruin even the bickering between you two, but with a sigh, you just went for it just like you had the whole time ever since getting trapped here with her. "Maybe...you could give me a chance to prove to you that it doesn't have to be the same." You suggested, knowing that it wouldn't hurt to get to know thee Jennie Kim especially since she proved you wrong- her personality wasn't rotten and she was hot, but you already knew that since you weren't blind.

Jennie chuckled and turned her head, coming face to face with you...small blush on her cheeks because well, Jennie had always been attracted to you and bickered with you for your attention and because she liked it and now you were basically asking her out. "This is my pussy preceding me, isn't it? I am sure this is out of order, Y/n." Jennie let out another chuckle as everything that went down today was not in order. You shrugged as you gazed around her face, momentarily glancing down at her lips that had been places today and had let out different sounds and words before looking her in the eye.

"I mean...kind of is, but the sex isn't what's making me ask this." You cleared it up since Jennie had made you feel a few things you hadn't really felt with anyone else yet and the same went for her...You made Jennie feel like a normal human being and didn't kiss her ass just because of her money- you never did as you were basically the only one at school that didn't care about whether she had money or not and then showed a bunch of care ever since getting trapped and no one had really done that either.

"What is then?" She asked, wanting to know what your intentions were if it wasn't sex.

"I would actually like to get to know the real you...unless you really can't see yourself with someone like me, then it's fine and understandable since-." Jennie rolled her eyes at your rambling.

"Fine. Plus I just told you that I am not like that...money doesn't matter to me." She cut you off, reminding you about what she had told you not even five minutes ago.

"Fine?" You asked baffled as you expected her to be a bit harder to get to agree, but here she was...but only if you knew how you made Jennie feel every day and especially today you would understand right away why she so easily agreed.

"Yes...but no sex until you take me out on a few dates and we get to know each other." Jennie leaned more into you and licked her lips before leaning in and leaving a peck on yours. "That's just to close the chapter for what happened today." She explained as you never kissed her after fucking her so good. "No more." She said and put her hand on your lips when you tried to kiss her again since you weren't ready for that peck. "I will only kiss you once we are together...you can kiss my cheek." She let go of your mouth and pointed to her cheek, making you lean in and peck her soft cheek before the girl sighed and closed her tired eyes after today.

Soon the morning came and it was 6:35 am when the door to the room opened, the light waking you and Jennie who was snuggled into your chest while you were still leaned against the wall. The girl who opened the door gasped and you widened your eyes at the way too-familiar voice. You only managed to cover Jennie's face (although everyone would still know that it was her) who groaned awake before the flashlight of Yeri's phone lit up the whole room, taking a picture of the mess, capturing everything from you and Jennie- her bruised knees- to the condom and ripped pantyhose- Yeri the school's biggest gossip girl ran away right after.

"What was that?" Jennie asked pissed as she sat up straight, you cleared your throat and swallowed.

"Yeri." It went quiet.

"Hold me or I swear to God she will be 6 feet under." Jennie let out and was about to stand up, but you pulled her back down.

"Wait...is what we said yesterday still...you know valid and not something in the moment?" You asked to make sure, Jennie rolled her eyes at that.

"Of course, you fucking moron-" She confirmed, still having that attitude of hers that you always loved before she gave you a quick kiss on the corner of your lips before shrugging your arms from around her. "Now let go so I can threaten Yeri and the next five generations of her family, Y/n."

You smiled and she quickly stood up, running out of that room you two had been stuck in for 15 hours and 15 minutes together...it was all the time you two needed to get something between you two started.

Let's say that it didn't take her long to introduce you to her parents...she knew that you were staying for good and you had no plans of leaving Jennie once you had gotten to know her better.

#blackpink smut #jennie smut #jennie x reader #smut #jennie x g!p reader #girl group smut #fanfic #oneshot #fluff #smut with plot

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