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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy.

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head.

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne.

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation.

how ridiculous is that?

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for.

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes.

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too.

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it.

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you.

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on.

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see.

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party.

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose.

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.”

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin.

satoru gojo belongs on his knees.

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you. mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties.

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress.

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown.

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark.

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand.

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…”

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be.

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin.

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick.

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull.

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did.

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time.

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune.

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess.

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda.

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time.

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.”

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies.

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt.

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.”

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible.

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.”

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé.

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls.

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.”

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.”

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth.

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!”

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru.

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth.

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.”

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!”

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth.

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either. his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again.

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with.

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place.

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic.

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring.

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.”

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.”

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold.

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo.

but the entire time, you never look back.

you don’t even look at gojo — and that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd.

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

#୨୧ KINKTOBER 23’#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #gojo thirst #jjk thirsts #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

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mountainsandmayhem · 4 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.

The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me.

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home.

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it.

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges.

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.

“I can too!”

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?”

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.”

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?”

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.”

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.”

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

“I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.”

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.”

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?”

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.”

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.”

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.”

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years.

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.

You

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!”

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.”

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.”

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs.

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?”

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?”

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.”

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!”

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo.

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve.

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it.

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in.

Spanking, five.

Whips and Crops, five.

Paddles, five.

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel.

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on.

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

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dreadfutures · 3 months ago

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regarding sept 19:

This needs to be clarified because misunderstanding has resulted in some usually very nice people getting incredibly nasty and bullying others.

This past week, many people - press, and content creators - were allowed a hands-on experience of the new Dragon Age game. They played for about 6 hours. The attendees of this event are under an NDA until Sept 19.

After September 19th, the people who played the game are allowed to speak about it in some amount of detail. The press embargo is lifted, so to speak.

No one who attended this event has come out, twirled their mustache, and said they're going to spoil major game stuff without warning.

If you think you're about to tell me that yes, someone did - no she didn't. I know it's too much to hope for but someday you must learn to not hear every tweet and text as if the other person was personally intending to harm you. Few people really are so malicious. If you approach text neutrally you can tell when people are, or not. Really.

They have instead warned that there will be info shared from this event, probably tagged and warned about (hopefully), but the reporting, sharing, reposting, etc., of that info will be - like all things in fandom - a mess dependent on individual fans. If you care about spoilers at all, get your filters and blocks ready for that. For sure!

But again, it only seems like they had 6 hours or so to play. I doubt the people who attended will be malicious or rubbing stuff in our faces. I doubt the people who attended will even be spilling every single deet. Most people who we know & are connected to the fandom that were in attendance have said they themselves avoided main game stuff, because they didn't want to be spoiled either.

So that is the real information, as best we know it, without fear mongering about a flood of spoilers - and do with that what you will!

A lot of people are starting to wholly block all of the new game's tags because they don't want to see anything else until it drops! This is definitely the time to start. Maybe you do need to go dark and hop off the internet to keep your boundaries, or maybe you feel confident in your dashboard, your friends, and your filtered content, that you won't be seeing untagged spoilers being shared. (I'm in the latter category; nothing has appeared on my dash without being filtered, for months.)

Control your space with the tools you have, but cruelty should not be one of them.

A lot of people (on twitter, love DA twitter, where the worst aspects of all your friends' personalities come out 😒) have been incredibly, viciously belligerent to those who attended this event. They have used really terrible language to bully them as individuals and make personal attacks against them. The dog-piling has been amplified by certain people who were not invited to that event, and by the wording of others who are giving "warnings" about spoilers running rampant, floodgates opening, mayday, everyone is going to be rubbing spoilers in your face after Sept 19.

Whatever you think about the marketing about this game - whatever you think about what EA thinks are spoilers - whatever your personal stance on what you want to know going into the game (or not):

Content creators and press, their job is to talk about the game. In detail. It's their job! Ideally they do it as (is typically done! as many of them have already been doing!) with warnings/tags/whatever when something spoilery might come up.

Harassing them and wishing them harm or calling them terrible things and slandering their character is just an expression of your own frustration, lack of control, whatever - and it's not a good look.

#fandom critical #and immediately turning off notes on this #peace

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withacapitalp · 2 years ago

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(Okay I saw a post about a premise similar to this but I cannot find it for the life of me. Anyway I loved it so much that I had to write a version of it myself. A post s2 AU!) Now with Part Two

Steve was never exactly the most perceptive person in the world.

He missed all of the signals that Nancy had given him, every sign that had pointed to their failing relationship. He hadn’t seen the moments that proved she was right about everything going on in their town either. Steve overlooked important details in his college applications, and took shots in basketball that almost always missed. He even sometimes walked right into walls these days, because his spacial awareness had kinda been shot since Billy smashed a plate over his head fifteen days ago.

A lot of that could be forgiven, but, this…

Well this was a little bit obtuse, even for him.

“You know you’re sitting at our table, right, King Steve?”

Steve looked up from his Tuna Surprise, resisting the urge to flinch at both the blinding light from the windows in the cafeteria and the nickname he hated so much. Eddie Munson stared back, carrying a lunch tray in one hand and his signature metal lunch box in the other.

“Your humble court is awaiting you on the haves side of this blessed cookery. This side is where the dweebs and the nerds parlay. A single place we get a reprieve from the endless bombardment of the average” Munson continued, flinging his arms to and fro, gesturing to the group of teens behind him who were staring at Steve like he was dirt under the bottom of their shoes.

He hadn’t understood the majority of what Eddie had just said to him, but those looks were enough to give Steve the gist. He was not welcome here.

“Sorry,” He muttered, grabbing his tray and sliding it to the other end of the table. He took a deep breath the second he was alone again, letting the tension melt away from his body as he collapsed back in his seat.

Even though he was no longer welcome to sit at his old table, Steve probably could have gone and eaten in the library with Nancy and Jonathan. They had awkwardly invited him to join them a few times since everything had gone down, but he always said no.

It was better this way. Better to be alone. Better to not have to watch the two of them try and hide how much happier they were now that they could be together. They deserved that happiness, Nancy deserved that happiness, and Steve refused to be the one to make her try and stifle any of that.

He had hurt her enough already.

“What happened to your face?”

Once again Eddie dragged Steve out of his thoughts. He was standing over Steve’s head, nearly hovering on top of him, watching Steve like he was trying to work him out. Like Steve was a particularly complex puzzle that he could solve just with his eyes.

Nancy had always looked at him that way. Steve had hated it when it was her, and he hated it even more coming from Munson now.

“Got into a fight,” Steve grunted, stabbing at his shitty cafeteria food and hoping that his abrasiveness would be enough to get Munson to leave him alone.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he could say now that they had all signed another round of NDAs, but he was pretty sure even talking about this was toeing the line. It was safer all around to get Eddie to go away as quickly as possible.

It wouldn’t be all that hard. Usually all it took were a few well placed bitchy comments to get people to see the picture and give up on him. The only group of people who hadn’t been perturbed by Steve’s spikiness was the kids. They had shown up at his house pretty much daily since the gate had closed, and had even taken to begging on him for rides to and from school.

Dustin in particular seemed determined to stay latched onto him like a barnacle, but Steve found that he didn’t really mind their clinginess.

It was nice to be needed, even if it was only a group of pre-teen smartasses.

“With who?” Eddie asked, leaning his hip on the table next to Steve and crossing his arms over his chest, “Cause Billy Hargrove is telling everyone he can that he beat your ass for messing with his sister,”

“I would never do something like that,” Steve shot back instantly, feeling the fading bruises on his face twinge as his jaw clenched in fury. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth, unable to stop them, “Billy’s a racist jackass who tried to put his hands on one of my fucking kids,”

Shit.

“There is…so many confusing parts of that sentence,” Eddie stated, blinking in shock.

“Whatever,” Steve murmured, biting his cheek to stop himself from saying anything more and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. They weren’t exactly his kids, per say, but Steve was invested in keeping them safe now. The idea of doing anything to hurt any of them was painful, and the thought of Billy spreading that kind of rumor made bile rise up in his throat.

Fuck Billy. Fuck this. Fuck his life honestly.

“Look, Munson, I’m really not in the mood right now,” Steve sighed, hating how weary he sounded. It would have been better to fight his way out of this. Steve was crappy at fighting though, and there wasn’t much spirit left in him. Not after two weeks of perpetual stress and tension.

“Harrington-”

“I moved down, I’m not in your way, isn’t that good enough?” Steve bit out, halfway to just grabbing his tray and throwing it in the trash. He was barely eating anyway, might as well go to the gym to shoot some hoops instead of sitting here being interrogated by drug dealing extraordinaire, Eddie goddamn Munson.

Couldn’t he just let Steve eat in peace? Everything else was already so goddamn difficult these days. Could Steve at least manage to eat a mediocre meal without the entire world demanding something from him?

By the grace of whatever god was potentially out there, Eddie took the hint, pushing off of his resting place and stalking back over to his group of weirdos on the other side. Steve let his eyes slip shut and dragged in a heavy breath, utterly exhausted.

He was contemplating skipping the rest of the day and going home to sleep when a blue plastic tray identical to the one in front of him bumped his right hand

“What are you doing?” Steve wondered aloud, raising his eyebrows and fixing Eddie with a confused look as he sat down right next to Steve and began to dig into his meal.

“Eating lunch alone sucks?” Eddie offered, shoveling Tuna Surprise into his mouth and shuddering, pushing the rest of the disgusting concoction to the far side of his tray, “Plus I’m hoping that if I get in your good graces you’ll give me your pudding cup,”

Steve stared at him for a few more moments, waiting for whatever prank was about to be pulled. But Eddie didn’t budge, continuing to eat around his main dish with strange efficiency and ignoring Steve’s gaze.

“Go nuts,” He finally said, offering the plastic container over to Eddie who grabbed it and gave Steve a big smile

“Mazel Tov, Eddie said, hoisting the pudding aloft and tearing into it, “So, you have children?”

“I- I babysit,” Steve stammered out, completely perplexed by the strange set of circumstances that was playing out in front of him. Eddie paused with his spoon midair in front of him.

“You babysit,” He repeated, turning his head towards Steve. The younger teen nodded and Eddie hummed. He put his pudding down and licked his spoon clean. When he was done, he hefted it aloft, bringing it down on the back of his right hand with a smack that echoed all around the cafeteria.

“Ouch!” Eddie yelped, flapping his hand around in the air to try and get rid of the sting. Steve looked frantically to and fro as the rest of the room stared at them, whispering behind their hands.

“Why would you-”

“Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” Eddie explained, interrupting Steve’s furious whisper with a breathless little laugh, “Because I just heard the words ‘I babysit’ come out of King Steve’s mouth,”

“Would you cut it out with the King stuff?” Steve snapped, beginning to lose his appetite, “It’s been a while since I was King of anything, and it was a stupid fucking idea to begin with,”

There was a beat of awkward silence as Eddie gave him another one of those soul searching looks.

“What are you doing Thursday afternoon?” He finally asked when he found whatever he was looking to find. Steve startled, dropping his fork.

What kind of question was that?

Was Munson asking him on some sort of date?!

“I’m…benched from basketball ‘cause of my concussion. So nothing, I guess,” Steve said cautiously, carefully picking his words and trying to avoid the spike of hurt that shot along his chest as he said them.

It wasn’t much, but basketball was one of the only things Steve really thought he was genuinely good at. Not having it was kind of pure torture.

Almost as bad as not having Nancy in his life anymore.

“In that case, come to Hellfire,” Eddie offered, glancing at the clock on the wall and grabbing both of their trays. Steve scrambled to grab his backpack, hefting it onto one shoulder and jogging to keep up with Eddie.

“What?”

“Hellfire?” Eddie repeated, dumping their trash into the bin and stacking the trays next to it, “It’s the club I run,”

“What is it?” Steve asked, curious but unwilling to commit just yet. There was still a part of him that was kind of convinced all of this was some elaborate ruse to fuck with him.

But before Eddie could say anything the bell chimed all around them. The rest of the student population moved as one, and the sound in the lunchroom immediately went from dull roar to cacophonous mess. Steve’s left ear started to ring again, and he winced, shying away from the sudden noise.

“You’ll have to come and see,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows, completely ignorant to Steve’s pain. He turned on his heel, raising a hand in a wave behind him as he loped towards the rest of his friend group.

“Thursday after school! In the drama room, don’t be late!”

#Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #Steddie au #Steve joins hellfire au #post s2 #st #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #Nancy wheeler #post stancy breakup #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

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wolfnanaki · 9 months ago

Text

The Cavemanon Files

This documentation is regarding Cavemanon. They are an independent development team that created Snoot Game (the parody of proudly LGBT indie game Goodbye Volcano High) and its spiritual successor, I Wani Hug That Gator!, which released on Steam February 14th, 2024.

The vast majority of this information had been compiled over the past few months by an independent team, and Caliber (ex-Cavemanon developer who worked on Snoot Game, credited as “Spigot The Bear Anon”), has volunteered to be the primary contact regarding this documentation.

Regarding the company’s newest game, I Wani Hug That Gator!, Cavemanon failed to pay wages towards many members of the development team, with the few members who did get paid being forced to sign a potentially fraudulent NDA contract and being offered as little as $50 for their work on a game that is estimated to have made $15k-$20k within a week of its launch. Among the people not paid – wages, royalties or otherwise – includes the creator of the concept, Loanshark, who had begun it as a passion project with his friends before Cavemanon took it over.

Additionally, “Nerd”, the head of Cavemanon and the originator of the Snoot Game idea, is openly anti-LGBT; he has admitted that anti-LGBT messages were fundamental to Snoot Game (and he’s upset more people don’t see it that way), and he has attempted to impose his personal views on the fandom. This has included attempting to assert control over moderation teams of an art server, sabotaging a gay mod for Snoot Game and accusing its creator of being a pedo, and having a Wani character be hastily redesigned a week before the game’s launch after finding out the artist had designed her as a transgender woman.

There’s a whole lot more, linked below, with citations in both links and screenshots. Some names and personal info are redacted for people’s safety.

[ download link ] [ backup link 1 ] [ backup link 2 ]

[ Internet Archive ]

(On a personal note: it’s cold comfort to me that I got doxed for calling Snoot Game transphobic, only to find out later that the guy behind it admitted that was the goal all along.)

#Cavemanon #Snoot Game #I Wani Hug That Gator #video games #PSA #I will probably get lots of backlash for this #so please back up the documents if they go offline

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reallychaoticwoo · 16 days ago

Note

Ok. It's kind of long but. An ateez Yeosamg x fan reader. They go down to the area of the concert day before to get some pics and hang out with some friends. While hanging out the topic of virginity and squirting came about and the reader is the only one in the group who never had sex or even touched herself so she didn't have an idea what squirting was. She was wearing Yeosangs jersey at the time* and as Yeosang and Seonghwa pass through Yeosang hears the girls conversation and notices the jersey. And interrupts them and asks the reader to follow him not telling her where. Etc. He makes her squirt more than once if you don't mind. And gives her mind blowing oral, regular sex and rough. And creampies her? From there he realizes how sensitive she was so he makes her squirt after creampie and does after care

It's alot😔

⛓️ Honestly I LOVE requests that are detailed that way i know im writing what you want🖤 With that being said i did take the liberty of adding some possessiveness in there as well, i hope you dont mind lol! As always, i hope you enjoy and thank you for your support!⛓️

✨️A Tiny Trainee✨️

❤️Pairing: Yeosang x reader

📝Word count: 6,834

⚠️Warnings: MDNI!! cussing, smut: fingering, squirting, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it up buttercup), slight Dom Yeo, subish y/n, dumbification?, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, slightly possessive Yeo, ummm lmk if i missed anything i suck at these🖤

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idol(s) in any way‼️

🖤Hope you enjoy!🖤

It was the day before Ateez's concert and you and your friends could not contain your excitement. You all were currently hanging out in the hotel you'd gotten near the arena they'd be performing at so you wouldn't have to worry about traffic before and after the show.

Wanting to make the most of the day one of your best friends, Hana, asked if you guys wanted to go scope out the area and get a better idea of where you'd be spending the majority of your day tomorrow. Of course, you and your other bestie Fae, agreed.

You all get dressed quickly. You decided on your Yeosang jersey, a little black crop top underneath, and a cute pleated white skirt. You paired the outfit with your black converse and pulled your hair up into a simple ponytail. Finally dressed you all make your way out the door and to the arena.

You couldn't lie, the arena looked a bit small from the outside. You knew it wasn't though, considering how many seats had sold for both of days they'd be there. You walked around for a while, noting the enterances and talking about where they'd probably put the lines for tomorrow. You'd passed a small concrete area that seemed like it'd be a great spot for random dance play. Behind the concrete circle there was a small feild where you and your friends agreed there would probably be merch lines. You guys walked around for about an hour before deciding you all wanted to sit down before continuing your quest of mapping out the area like a trio of pirates mapping their next voyage.

Taking a break from your walking, you made your way closer to the entrance of the building where there were a few trees and places to sit. "So, full delusions speaking, but what would you guys do if you got handed a nda for your bias?" Your friend Hana asked. She was always the first to think of the best (and most delusional) case scenario. "Hmm.. Well besides signing it quickly and jumping his bones?" Fae asked, equally as feral and delusional as Hana. "Well obviously. Okay, okay. Let me ask this then, what would you guys WANT to happen if you got a night with your bias?" Hana asked before quickly answering her own question. "Personally, I'd absolutely die if San did a private performance for me. He'd rip the leather strap off his other sleeve before shoving it in my mouth. Obviously he'd have me squirting repeatedly." Hana sighed daydreaming about her answer. Fae giggled at her friend before giving her answer. "I mean.. I bet it would take less than two seconds for Yunho to make me squirt. Between those hands and the fact we all know that man is hung like a horse, I'd gladly scream his name all night. My only want is that he completely destroys me." You laughed at your two extremely feral friends, not really having anything worthy of adding to their complete smutfest.

Hana noticed you weren't really talking and turned to you, "What would you want to happen if you got a night alone with Yeo? I know you're a virgin but you have to have some fantasies." You thought for a moment. "I mean if i'm being honest, I'd like to just get to know him. I dont even know what squirting is... and I'm not entirely sure if i want to seeing as it has you two loosing your minds. He probably wouldn't even want to take someone to his room that didn't know what they were doing anyways. It'd be nice to just talk.. Get to know more about him then whatever the media posts, ya know?"

What you and your friends failed to realize was that Yeosang and Seonghwa just happened to be walking by and had possibly (most definetly) stopped to ease drop on their fans conversation. They hadn't expected you guys to be dicussing all the sexual things your friends would like to do to their members, but couldn't bring themselves to leave as it was just too interesting to pass up. Seonghwa looked to Yeosang when you were talking and nudged his friend playfully. "You heard her, you can't have that sweet little Atiny thinking you wouldn't enjoy her just because she's a virgin." "Well I also can't just take her virginity for shits and giggles Hwa. That's messed up." Yeosang was quick to reply, a look of disapproval painted on his face at his friends words. "So why don't you at least talk to her? She said that'd be her ideal night with you anyways. See where it goes." Yeosang thought it over briefly as you and your friends continued your chat.

"All I'm saying y/n is it wouldn't hurt to just put yourself out there more." Fae said with a sigh. You looked at your friend with defeated eyes. "I know, but it's not really something I take lightly. I'm not going to mess around with just anyone, and I'm absolutely not just handing over my v-card to someone i don't know won't just take it for granted." A muffled cough caught the attention of you and your friends. Quickly turning your head to find the source of the sound, your eyes widened in shock and awe as you spotted Seonghwa and Yeosang standing mere feet away. They walked closer before greeting you and your friends with a polite smile and wave. "Sorry to intrude on your conversation, but my dear friend Yeosang here couldn't help but notice your jersey. We just wanted to stop and say hi to our fans." The taller of the two spoke with a polite smile, but the gleam in his eyes said there was much more to this greeting than he was letting on. Yeosang was desperately trying to hide the blush creeping up to his cheeks as he turned to you. "Hi, I hope we aren't interupting anything.. I just wanted to say hello and ask if you'd maybe be interested in coming with Hwa and me to talk? It's not very often we get to just converse with our fans, and we're not really supposed to be out and about right now."

You looked to your friends before returning your attention to the etheral looking men in front of you. "We'd love that, thank you." You tried to contain your excitment so you wouldn't scare them off but your eyes were practically gleaming in awe as you looked to them. "No offense to your lovely friends, but we were hoping to chat with just you. I hope that's okay? I can get all of you upraded to VIP and into send off as a thank you for lending us your friend for the evening." Seonghwa directed the second half more towards the two girls staring at you eagerly. "We'd love that!! Thank you so much! We will be on our way then. Take good care of our bestie!" Fae and Hana pulled you in for a quick hug whispering in your ear before they pulled away. "We want ALL the details when you get back tonight!! Good luck girl and please for the love of everything have fun!" With that, your two friends were walking away, leaving you with your bias and your bias wrecker. 'Those horny bitches.' You thought to yourself as they disappeared around the building.

"I hope it's okay we stole you away from your friends.." Yeosang said softly as he turned toward you, bringing your attention back to him and Seonghwa. "Honestly, it was perfect timing. They've been hounding me about my uh.. life choices regarding men so it's a nice break. Plus obviously, I'm a huge fan so I'd be dumb to pass up getting to chat with the two of you." You smiled at him and Hwa as you spoke. The taller of the two spared a quick glance at his shorter friend before focusing his attention on you. "About that, I hope I'm not being too forward, but we did happen to overhear some of your conversation. If you had any questions or wanted to try anything we'd be more than happy to... assist." Seonghwa spoke with such effortless tact. His voice like desire itself, and his eyes pure sin. You gulped feeling a bit insecure under the gaze of someone you were positive knew exactly what he liked and what he was doing. Looking to your feet and shifting from one to the other you tried to come up with a reply that wouldn't have you embarrassingyourself further. Thankfully, Yeosang stepped in before you could open your mouth. "Of course we are more than happy to just keep things friendly! My friend here is just a bit... eager to please. Please don't think we would try and pressure you into anything. If I'm being completely honest I'm perfectly happy just getting to know you." You smiled up at him. "We could uh.. see where it goes then. If that's okay?" You prayed he didn't hear the shaking in your voice. "Of course. Now, are you comfortable coming to my hotel room? We really aren't supposed to be out here right now." Yeosang asked, Seonghwa nodded, confirming his younger members words. You smiled at the two before stepping in between them with a bright smile. "Lead the way!"

The three of you made your way back to Yeosang's hotel room with few words. Once you had all made it inside, the two idols made themselves comfortable. Yeosang took a seat on his bed sitting crossed legged; Seonghwa took to the chair at the desk in the corner of the room. "You can sit anywhere you'd like. You don't have to stay standing. We're hoping you'll decide to be here for a while." Yeosang said while gesturing to the bed and the miniture couch that was not too far away in a small sitting area in the room. "Hah, yeah. I guess it would be pretty uncomforable to stay standing." Your nerves were definately getting the best of you. Depsite the rising anxiety of being in such close proximity to the two idols you most certainly had fantasized about, you made your way to the bed, sitting next to Yeosang.

"Well, it's been a while since we've gotten to have an actual conversation with anyone outside of the company, so tell us about yourself." Seonghwa said as he sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. Yeosang turned in his spot to face you as you spoke. "Well, there's not really a lot to tell. I'm in my 20s, I live relatively close by here. I probably have too many hobbies to count.. Umm, I suck at talking about myself.." You started to trail off, embarassment coursing through your body like a tidal wave. "We could ask you questions then if that's okay?" Yeosang offered. "That works for me." You tired to make yourself relax and not seem so tense as you answered their questions.

SH- "I'm gonna ask a couple, so feel free to answer or not answer whatever you want. You said you have a ton of hobbies, can you list a couple of them? Are you more of a homebody or do you like going out? What's your favorite animal?"

Y/N- "Well, I like to draw, dance, sing, crochet, sometimes i make my own jewelry. Basically anything and everything that can be considered artsy or creative. I also read, build legos, have houseplants. I want to think that I like going out but if I'm being completely honest, I really like being at home and reading a good book or doing any of the hobbies I have. And, hmmm, I know it's weird, but my favorite animal is a capuchin monkey. They're insanely smart and funny. But if we're talking your basic house pets though, I don't really have a favorite. I love them all, cats, dogs, bunnies, fish, they're all adorable!"

YS- "That is a lot of hobbies, but it must be really nice having a multitude of creative outlets. I also like reading and plants. Although, I don't really get to have as many plants as i'd like. Do you have any pictures of your plants? I'd love to see them!"

Y/N- " I do! Here let me show you."

It wasn't long before you found yourself more relaxed in their presence. You were now laid back against the headboard of the bed, Yeosang sat next to you but with a modest amount of space between you two. Seonghwa moved closer, now sitting at the foot of the bed criss crossed facing you and his brown haired friend. "I do want to know, why are your friends so adamant about you getting out there more?" Yeosang shot his black haired friend a warning glare at the invasive question. You choked back a shocked gasp and cleared your throat. " They just want me to be happy and think that somehow getting freaky will make that happen." Seonghwa just nodded to himself at your answer, but Yeosang looked up at you curiously. "Why would they think you're unhappy?" His eyes showed genuine concern even though his face remained neutral. "Well, I guess because I'm always the third wheel when we all go out. They both have boyfriends and I don't. Plus I've complained to them before about how I wish I could find someone I felt comfortable enough to be with romantically and intimately. They think i'm holding myself back, but I don't want to feel like i'm settling, ya know?"

The two men nodded at your confession. Naturally Seonghwa was the only one confident enough to speak during the rather heavy moment of silence. "Do you feel comfortable with us?" Yeosang was quick to shut down his older members train of thought. "No offence Hwa, but I don't think that's really appropriate to ask right now." You glanced up at Yeosang then to Seonghwa and back to Yeo. You shakily reached out your hand to the one sitting next to you. To your surprise, he took it. Taking a deep breathe to gather yourself, you replied. "I do feel comfortable with you two BUT.. there's two big problems with that. One, I don't nessecarily want to loose my virginity to two men at once. That seems..uh.. honestly.. really intimidating. And two, I also don't want to have sex with someone i'm never going to see again. I'm not that kind of person. I always thouoght i'd be in a relationship before I ever did that with someone so I don't really know how I feel about that, even if I know the entire fanbase would probably kill me for passing up the two most gorgeous men that have ever walked the earth." Yeosang's blush was bright red and his hand squeezed yours in understanding. Seonghwa, although he tried to hide it, seemed to blush slightly at the compliment as well.

Yeosang looked to the man on the foot of the bed, a silent conversation going on between the two. Before you could apologize for reluctantly turning them down, Yeosang squeezed your hand again and spoke. "Hwa, I'm going to run over to our managers room to see if we can get some food delivered. Will you come with me?" You were suspicious as to why they both needed to go but before you could ask one of them to stay Hwa was already speaking. "Yeah. I'm starving anyways. Pizza sound good y/n?" You nodded, a sweet smile on your face as you leaned back into the pillows. "We'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable!" Yeosang turned to you with a cheeky smile before shutting the door behind them.

"She is considering it, you know. If you weren't so timid you might actually be able to get her to." The eldest spoke as he walked beside Yeosang. "Despite what you may think, that wasn't and still isn't my goal here. She seems like a really sweet girl and we have a lot in common. I was being completely honest when I said i'm more than happy just getting to talk to her." The shorter of the pair replied a bit sharply. "You two do have a lot in common. Like the fact your friends are also tired of hearing you complain about your lack of love." Seonghwa snapped back before letting out a defeated sigh. "Look it's obvious you both are interested in eachother. I don't care if you end up bringing he back to Korea with us if it means you can actually be happy. Just... just don't keep holding yourself back from possible good things." Yeosang just nodded at the eldest's words. He had a point. Yeosang did like you so far. You two have similar intrests, you've been very sweet and polite, albiet a bit timid, during the little bit of time you all talked, and you were stunning. He had to be honest with himself, he's always hoped that one day when he finally got to settle down it'd be with someone like you.

After what seemed like ages, but was really only ten or fifteen minutes, the pair returned to the room. "Pizza should be here in about 30 minutes. I honestly might pass away before it gets here i'm so hungry." Seonghwa whined as he plopped down on the couch nearby. You giggled at his dramatics finding it rather cute compared to his imdimidating seductiveness from earlier. "I think you can make it 30 minutes drama king. Here I was thinking Wooyoung was the most dramatic of you all." You joked. Yeosang choked back a chuckle while making his way to the bed where you still sat, before adding, "Hwa doesn't play about his food. He might actually pass away if it takes too long. But he most definetly can make it 30 minutes." Seonghwa only lazily glared at Yeosang before pulling out his phone to pass the time.

Yeosang scooted further onto the bed so he could make himself comfortable. "Want to watch a movie while we wait?" He asked. You smiled at him nodding your head. "Heck yeah, movie and pizza is my kind of hang out." You giggled, but internally you were cringing at yourself. Yeosang noticed and quickly asked, "What's your favorite movie?" You thought for a second. "That's hard cause there's so many good ones. Have you ever seen The Fifth Element. It's a bit older, but I love it. It's a si-fi movie and there's a scene in it with an opera singer and her voice is absolutely mesmerizing." Yeosang's eyes sparkled at how excited you were telling him about the movie. "I haven't seen it before, let me see if I can find it so we can watch it." You couldn't contain the giddy smile that spread across your face at the fact your bias was eager to watch one of your favorite movies with you. You felt like you were dreaming. "Found it!" He shouted triumphantly as he pulled up the movie on the TV facing the bed. Pressing play, he smiled at you before leaning back into the pillows and making himself more comfortable.

"You know, we could..uh.. would you want to.. maybe come cuddle?" Yeosang asked looking at you out of the corner of his eyes trying to hide the embarassment spreading across his face. You blushed at his question, but scooted yourself up next to him laying your head on his shoulder. Seonghwa, who was still sitting by himself on the couch glanced over at you two cuddled up together and smiled to himself like a proud mother whitnessing her son's first date.

As you two laid side by side, your head on his shoulder, you couldn't help but stare at the man next to you. He was gorgeous, etheral, like something otherworldly. You couldn't bring yourself to fully comprehend how in the world you ended up next to him in his bed watching your favorite movie, but you weren't complaining. Maybe in a different life Yeosang would be the one you gave up your virginity to, the one you trusted to not leave you. Maybe in a different life he could be the one you ended up with. Maybe.

A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts. Seonghwa shot up like lighting from his seat and answered the door. Grabbing the food from their manager, he said thank you before shutting the door and turning around to place the pizza on the table in the sitting area. The gigantic grin on his face at the sight of the food was priceless and had you giggling to yourself. "He really does love food." You said, turning your head to look at Yeosang. He let out a soft giggle himself, his shoulder lightly moving your head as he laughed. You looked at him with such softness his heart skipped a beat. "You know, I felt you staring at me a second ago. Care to share what you were thinking?" He teased. You hummed in consideration. "Oh, you did? Uh.. nothing really. I was just thinking." "Uh huh, I figured as much. Tell me what you were thinking about." You glanced over to the man stuffing his face full, praying he was too engulfed in his gluttonous love affair to be listening. Looking up at Yeosang you sighed. "Okay but please don't make fun of me... I was just thinking about how if things were different and we met on normal terms that this would be a great first date. How if you weren't an idol who will obviously have to leave in a couple days, that we could maybe actually have a chance at becoming something down the road. It's stupid, I know.." Something inside you almost whimpered at the truth that was inevitable, but you were determined to make the most of the time you have now. "I don't think that's stupid at all. And who's to say we couldn't continue to get to know each other?" You wanted to laugh in his face. There's no way he could think that'd be realistic, but the hope in his eyes said he very much did.

The two of you had made your way to the sitting area. Yeosang claiming the spot next to Seonghwa, and you sitting on the floor in between his legs. "You don't have to sit on the floor ya know?" He said looking down at you. You tilted your head back to meet his eyes and asked, "Well where do you suppose I sit then? You two take up the entire couch." He chuckled at your sassiness and reached down to lift you onto his lap. "You could sit here. That way I don't have to feel all lonely." He replied, earning him a punch on the arm from Hwa who stared at him like he just committed the biggest act of betrayal. "I am literally right here. But I'm glad to see you two finally opening up more. It's actually quite adorable." The matching blush that appeared on your faces only proved the eldest's words rang true.

After quickly eating together you all made your way back to the bed to continue the movie. Before pressing play you and Yeosang filled Seonghwa in on what he'd missed while he was impatiently waiting on the pizza. After catching him up, you resumed your movie, and your cuddling. Once again, you found yourself sparing numerous glances at the man beside you. The butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildy at his proximity, at the fact you were still here with him and Seonghwa and it felt so natural. Seonghwa, feeling a bit left out and lonely scooted closer to you hoping he could join in on the cuddles. Unbeknownst to you Yeosang was quick to glare in his direction, a silent declaration to back off. What you did notice though, was how the brunette pulled you closer into him, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head. Seonghwa took it for what it was. Yeosang had finally made his decision, even if he wasn't fully aware of it himself. Seonghwa faked a yawn before looking over to the two of you, "Alright you two, I'm gonna head to my room and get ready for bed. Y/n thank you for hanging out and letting me get to know you some. I'll see you tomorrow at the show! G'night Yeo." You said your goodbyes as Seonghwa made his way towards the door. Before he closed the door behind himself he shot his younger member an encouraging wink.

Grabbing your phone for the first time tonight you checked the time, 10pm, and noticed several messages from your friends.

Hana: SOOOO how's it going???

Fae: Girl at least let us know youre alive you can fill us in on the rest later

Hana: I hope your lack of reponce means youre enjoying yourself ;)

The most recent message from a few minutes ago being came from Hana. "Are you coming back tonight or do we need to plan a meet up for tomorrow?'

You looked to Yeosang who quickly noticed the expression on your face. "Your friends message you?" A sigh and a nod, "Yeah they're wondering when i'll be back and it's getting kind of late. I should probably be heading out.." Yeosang's heart quivered at the thought of loosing your company so soon. He wasn't ready for this time together to end, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he'd ever be ready. "You could stay... Ya know, if you want to of course. We haven't even finished the movie and it'd be a shame to have to cut our date short." You glared at him through your lashes, a faint smile spreading across your lips. "Date?" He returned the smile and interlaced his fingers with yours. The simple action sending your heart into a frenzy within your chest. "Yes, date. If you're okay with it being one. I'd like this to be the first of many." You held back your initial reaction to ask him how that would work, how you two would even be able to have more dates. Instead, you squeezed his hand and smiley brightly, your cheeks red and sore from happiness. "I'd love that. Let me text my friends and let them know I'll meet them tomorrow then." He nodded. You quickly typed out a message to your friends, 'Hey, I'm staying the night. I will tell you guys everything tomorrow i promise! We can meet in the lobby in the morning. I'll ttyl!'

Cuddling closely to Yeosang, his arm around you, your head on his chest, your leg draped over his, you felt a pang of want somewhere deep inside you. Deciding to act first for once you looked up at the beautiful man with need in your eyes. "Yeosang..." You whispered softly. He turned his head to look at you, confusion, and something similar to desire swimming in his eyes. "Yes, beautiful?" You couldn't help the immediate blush that dawned on your face. "I...I...I'm comfortable with you.." You couldn't maintain eye contact, looking at his chest as you waited for whatever his response may be. He grinned, softly, sweetly, and lifted your chin so you'd meet his gaze. "Are you absolutely sure?" You gulped, fighting your natural instincts to back out. No. You wanted this, him, it felt right, every single thing about it felt right. "Yes. I'm sure." He nodded and leaned in to take your lips in his own. He pulled back only slightly before he whispered, "Good, I am too."

Before you could so much as question what he meant by that, his lips were crashing against yours yet again. Soft. They were so soft and plush against your own like they had been perfectly made to kiss you and only you. His hand grazed down your side finding its resting place on your hip, his other found purchase at the nape of your neck pulling you closer to him. The smallest of whimpers escaping your lips only to find a home in his. He pulled back to catch his breath, his thumb rubbing gently against your hip. "Lay back for me beautiful. I'll be gentle I promise, and we can stop whenever you want okay?" You nodded as you moved to lay on your back in the center of the bed. Nervousness and excitement washing over you in a melody of increasing desire. Yeosang made his way above you, straddling your hips as he leaned forward to claim another kiss. "Are you okay with me taking off your skirt?" His eyes were soft, caring, and patient. "Y..yes. Please do." You managed to say, already breathless from the rush of emotions you'd long been afraid of letting yourself feel.

Yeosang ever so gently moved his thumbs under the waistband of your skirt. A tingle ran down your spine at the whisper of touch as you lifted your hips enough to let him glide your skirt and underwear down your legs. As the clothing hit the floor he slowly kissed his way up your legs. Placing lingering kisses to each leg slowly moving closer and closer to the place you were now aching most. You absently mindedly spread your legs, a simple but much-appreciated invitation. Two more kisses were placed on the uppermost part of your inner thighs, and Yeosang stopped, hovering right over your needy bud. His eyes met yours, a silent question as if to once again ask if you were sure. The barely audible "Please" that escaped your mouth was all he needed. He placed a soft kiss on your clit before slowly licking it in short precise flicks. The moan that escaped him at the taste of you had your body shuttering beneath him. His kitten licks turned into full-blown laps as he devoured your virgin cunt like it was his last mean. His tongue moving in long lines through your folds before darting inside your walls. You were already lost in pure bliss, a feeling of a spring getting ready to snap slowly building within your core. Yeosang reluctantly pulled himself back so he could insert a finger. Starting slowly, he pumped it in and out at a snail's pace. "Fuuuck.." Your back arched into the feeling as you whimpered beneath his touch. Leaning down to place another gentle kiss on your clit while he slid in a second, then third finger. His pace slowly increased as he found the spongey spot that would have you coming apart for him. Continuing his pace, he moved his thumb to your clit applying gentle pressure as he rubbed in circles. He kissed his way up your body, stopping only long enough to pull your crop top over your breasts so he could kiss them too. He kissed up as his fingers fucked you faster and faster until he kissed your neck and whispered in your ear. "Do you even know how beautiful you sound right now? How fucking good you taste? Fuck... you're going to break me.. and I'm going to let you." His deep whisper echoed through your body like a catalyst that set the spring in your core loose. Your walls clenched down on his fingers as your eyes snapped shut and your world went white. The moan that escaped you was nothing short of sinful, and he only wanted to hear it again and again. As the waves of pleasure and release finally subsided, you opened your eyes, trying to take in your surroundings and bring yourself back to your body.

By the time you were fully past your out-of-body experience, you saw Yeosang at the foot of the bed taking off his soaked clothes. "D..did I.. what was that?" You asked. He only smiled widely as he replied, "You squirted. I can't wait to make you do it again." The tingle that went through your body felt like lightning at his words. You couldn't wait to do it again, for him, because of him, you were far from done. You sat up to remove your jersey and crop top before dropping them to the floor. Yeosang was quick to pick up the jersey though, handing it back to you. "Put this back on, please. I want... I want to see you in it when I finish making you mine." You shivered at his words as you put the jersey back on, leaving it unbuttoned.

Without so much as another word, he was back on top of you, lips against yours, hungry yet patient. His only goal was to make sure you enjoyed yourself. That's what he cared about most, your pleasure. You couldn't help but glance down in between heated kisses, taking him in. He was huge. Way bigger than what you thought he would be, and thick. Your walls clenched around nothing at the thought of him claiming your pussy as his own. Molding your walls to fit him and only him perfectly. As if he could read your thoughts, he smirked and grabbed his generously sized member, sliding it through your slick folds before lining it up with your entrance. You bucked your hips forward, a wordless plea. One that he happily answered as he slowly, painstakingly slowly, inched his way in. He let out a groan as he fully sheathed himself inside."Fuuuckk, you feel so good. So perfect." Your walls clenched around his length as he spoke. He took his time with you, his strokes long, deep, precise. Planting kisses down your neck, your shoulders, your chest, to your perfect tits. You were sensitive but hungry. Finally understanding why your friends would go hardcore feral over their fantasies. You were living a fantasy of your own right now but you wanted, no, needed more. You slid your arms up his back letting your nails gently graze his muscles on their way back down. Again, you repeated the motion but clawed slightly harder. A whine escaped your mouth as you begged for more. "Y- Yeosang p..please.. fuck.. I need more. Please" His soft attentive gaze turned borderline sinister as he grabbed your hips pulled himself out and swiftly flipped you onto your stomach. Lifting your hips so your ass was on full display before spreading your legs and snapping back into you without warning.

You screamed his name at the sudden intrusion, painful pleasure rushing through you causing your toes to curl. He only took that as a sign to continue his torturous snaps, hitting all the right spots, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. "So fucking perfect for me. You're taking me so fucking well doll, I could stay here all night buried in this perfect little cunt." You practically purred at the praise. His hand snaked around your front to grip your throat pulling you to your knees, your back flush against his chest. He nipped and sucked at your neck as his grip around your throat tightened. Your walls constricted, your eyes shut, your release so eminent. Just as your body started trembling he reached his other hand around to rub small swift circles on your throbbing clit. "Fuck me... you keep choking my dick like that and I'm gonna bust before I can pull out sweetheart." His release threatened to burst as he lost himself in your warm slick sex. "So don't. Cum in me Yeosang... please. I want you to fill me up..already so full want your cum too.. please.." You couldn't help how pathetic your babbling sounded. You needed him, you needed this, so fucking much. His brutal thrust only became more frantic, hitting deeper and deeper, his fingers on your clit matching his thrusts. You arched further into him, legs shaking furiously, your cunt repeatedly tightening around his dick. "F-fuck...i..g'na..ahhh!" Your voice cracked as you reached your peak. Your orgasm hitting you like a hurricane, your eyes shut as you lost your focus, stars swimming around in your eyes. Yeosang pumped only two more times before your orgasm pulled him over the edge and he was burying himself all the way inside you as he spurt hot ropes of cum deep inside your spasming walls.

Yeosang slowly helped lean you forward pulling out as you laid face first against the bed. You combined release coating his dick and leaking out of your spent pussy as he helped you turn to your back. "I can't believe how sensitive you are... making you squirt could get dangerously addictive, doll." You absent-mindedly hummed in response still reveling in the feeling of floating as you slowly came down from your high. He smirked at how fucked out you looked laying on his bed with eyes still hazy and a spent grin across your lips. "I'm gonna go get some things and then start us a shower. I'll be right back beautiful." You blushed at the term of endearment like he hadn't already called you a few like he hadn't just fucked you senseless. "I don't know if it's the post-orgasm brain talking or the fan mentality, but I'd say you're treating me much nicer than you should be considering you'll be leaving in two days."

The look he gave you was nothing short of disappointed, maybe even a bit pissed. "Me leaving soon has nothing to do with what happened tonight. I thought you'd realized that before we had sex, but since you haven't I guess now would be a great time to tell you. Seonghwa left when he did not just because he was tired but because he went to talk to management and the other members for me. I really like you y/n and I absolutely plan on seeing you again so we worked out a couple of options so you could pick whatever you're most comfortable with. You could come back to Korea with me and we can either set you up a room in the dorms or get you your own place. Or you can stay here and I'll pay for your travel to come and visit as often as you'd like so we can continue to see where things go." Your mouth was agape as you blinked your eyes trying to process what he'd just said to you. The tears in your eyes threatened to escape and you looked at the man before you. "Y..you would do that.. for me?" He stepped towards you and lifted your chin until your lips were mere centimeters apart. "Yes. I absolutely would. You don't have to decide right now, but I do hope I get an answer before we have to leave." His lips met yours in a tender kiss before he moved to get the shower started.

Finally in the shower, after some much-needed help from Yeosang, you leaned into the warm water letting it fall over your body. You took a moment to enjoy the way your body relaxed as the water cascaded down. Once you looked at Yeosang, your heart started singing. How could this man cause you to feel like this within mere hours of knowing each other? Sure, you've been a fan for years, but you were sure that what you saw wasn't always who he was. And, it wasn't, it was so much better. "I think, I think I want to come back with you. It'll be a little difficult figuring out what to do about my lease and all my things, but I've always wanted to leave the States anyway. Plus if this goes as well as I think it will I don't want to be asking you to pay for me to come and see you every weekend." He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Don't worry about your lease and all of that, I'll get it handled. The only thing left to figure out is if you want to stay in the dorms with me or would you prefer your own place nearby?" You faked being deep in thought for a moment before answering, "Well that depends, don't you think I'd be a little fast-moving to have someone you're not even dating living with you?" It was his turn to pretend to think. "I suppose it would be a little weird but that shouldn't be a problem if you say yes." You shot him a curious look, your eyes narrowing as you asked, "Say yes to what?" He pulled you flush against him, his hands resting on the small of your back. "It's definitely moving fast but I don't care if you don't. I think this could be something really amazing. Will you be my girlfriend?" You kissed him so fast he stumbled a step back before steading the two of you. "Yes!"

OBLIGATORY YEOSANG TAGS: @evis-gossip @yeosangcutie0615

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