#but I feel like it could stop people from being mutuals with me since like. if I don’t have a f/o list how will they know my blog is safe

[shot-by-cupid]

I was in the middle of making an actual f/o list when I decided actually I don’t want to do that

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[gyaruhana]

pls write for thanos with hatefucking… like that man has that potential after seeing how he talks to the other contestants

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - Hatefucking

Synopsis: You and Thanos hate each other and, no matter how many death threats he sends your way, you never listen. So he decides that, if threats don't work, maybe you need to be fucked instead.

A/N: wrote this in like two hours max so it may not be the best but I tried anyway !! I love Thanos so much and hatefuck with him has me thirstyy

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, blowjob, degradation, thanos is a little meanie and you're sassy

If there was one thing that could be said for sure about Thanos, it's that he was a total fucking dickhead. 

From the very first game you played in this hellhole, he had been nothing but a problem. He skipped around like he owned the place and had no problem with sacrificing a few people. Not to mention, he was loud. So annoyingly loud. 

Unfortunately for you, he seemed to really hate you too. Maybe it was the fact you kept glaring at him like he did something or the way you'd make some sort of sarcastic comment every time he spoke. Whatever the reason, the feeling was mutual. He hated you. You hated him. That was the end of it.

Well, it should've been. 

As if some divine being took joy in your pain, Thanos walked up to you while you were alone with an angry look - clearly having something to say to you. You could guess he was going to try to threaten you into choosing to continue the games next vote since you had chosen not to.

“Yo. It'd be in your best interest to choose the blue button. It's really pissing me off when you keep pressing that red x button every time,” he spoke as he looked down at you from where you sat.

“Or what?” You say as you stand up and look at him with disdain. You weren't about to let this idiot try to scare you into doing what he wants. You weren't his slave. “Or I'll fucking kill you,” he says as he steps closer with a look that seemed like he meant it. Honestly, you didn't doubt that he was telling the truth. He's been killing people since the first game and it certainly won't be any different for you.

“Ooh, scary,” you say sarcastically before pushing past him. You didn't get far before he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, pulling you close to him. “You don't think I'll do it? Cause you'd be wrong,” he says as he looks at you dead in the eyes. You harshly pulled your wrist away from his grip and gave him a scoff.

“You're too much of a pussy to do shit. The only thing that gives you confidence are those dumb little pills you take,” you say as you look at him, challenging him to say something else.

It was quiet as you two just stared at each other, both silently praying for the other's death. He lets out an annoyed huff before finally breaking eye contact to look to the side. Without another word, he pushes past you and walks back to the other side of the room where the rest of the people who wanted to continue playing the game were. If that idiot really thought he could sway you, he'd soon learn you aren't swayed by death threats from high dumbasses.

When it came time to vote, you could feel Thanos staring you down. You turned your head to look back at him with an eyebrow raised and he turned his head away. You could see the annoyance all over his face. 

One by one, each player went up and placed their vote. The numbers were quite even and it was hard to tell who'd end up victorious in this vote. When it was Thanos's turn to vote, he made a point of stopping right behind you before he walked down.

“Remember what I said earlier. I'll kill you,” he whispers before walking past and skipping down towards the buttons. He kissed the blue button before walking over to the corresponding side but he was looking straight at you.

You ignored his hard glare and walked down to the buttons. You raised your hand and, no surprise, pressed the red button. You turned to him and flipped him off with a small smirk before walking off to the other side. 

For a moment, you actually thought you'd get away with that because it seemed that more people wanted to leave now. However, that was not the case as the result ended up being a tie.

Great. You were stuck here for longer. You definitely wouldn't be able to avoid Thanos if you were stuck here till tomorrow. He didn't seem to walk up to you immediately. It was like he was waiting for the right time to strike. All he did was stare at you from across the room as if he was formulating the most brutal way to tear you limb by limb. And, wow, he stared at you for a very long time. 

It wasn't until there were 5 minutes before lights out did he come to you. You were all by yourself in a corner and no one seemed to be paying much attention. They were all so busy in their own whispered conversations.

“Hey, it seems you didn't understand me the first time,” he says as he grabs you by your shirt and pushes you against the wall behind you. “I said I'd kill you if you pressed the red button,” he continues as he looks at you with annoyance.

“Go ahead then. Kill me,” you say as you look at him with a small smirk. He might have already killed a few people but you didn't believe he'd have the guts to kill people outside of the games.

He was quiet. All he did was stare. It was as if he was calculating some thoughts. He looked toward the timer on the wall before looking back at you.

“You're fucking unbearable,” he speaks before he's suddenly slamming his lips against yours. You didn't expect this move. You expected him to stab you or choke you - not kiss you.

You push him away with a glare. You couldn't be kissing this idiot. You hated him and he was fucking stupid. But even with that hate, there was something about the way he kissed you that had you thinking twice.

Fuck, you were doing this. 

You pulled him in by his collar and pressed your lips against his. There was nothing romantic about this kiss. It was pure hate. Just angry, rough kissing as if it would solve anything. His hands were all over your body before they finally decided to settle on your hips with a tight grip. He pulled away before starting to leave kisses along your neck. He wasn't gentle at all. He was biting you as if he wanted to draw blood.

“You're such a fucking bitch. Always acting so smug. I'm gonna shut you the fuck up,” he says as his hand goes to your hair before yanking it back roughly to give him better access to your neck. 

“You're the fucking bitch. Always walking around like you own the place,” you say back and in response he bites your neck hard making you wince slightly at the pain. “watch your fucking mouth,” he spoke as he pulled away and wrapped a hand around your throat. As if on cue, the lights suddenly turned off leaving you two in the dark.

He let out a small laugh as it went dark before he removed the hand on your hip and instead started pulling your pants down. 

“I'm gonna fuck you till you learn you're not in control, I am,” he says before pulling his own pants down. He wasn't going to play nice or take it easy. Not when you hadn't played nice with him. 

“You think you can fuck me into submission? You're way too fucking cocky,” you say with a quiet laugh, finding it amusing how he thought you'd fold once he started fucking you. “We’ll see,” he says, his grip around your throat tightening to shut you up. He pulled his boxers down slightly, enough to let his dick out, before he pushed your panties to the side.

“I'm gonna show you not to fuck with me again,” he whispers into your ear as he lines himself up with your entrance. Without another word, he starts slowly thrusting himself in till he's all the way inside you.

“You're such a fucking whore,” he says as he starts to pull out before thrusting in again with one stroke. He kept a pace of being fast and hard as if trying to make you feel his hate on a spiritual level. 

Well, God you could definitely feel it. He kept leaving aggressive bites all over your neck as he thrust into you. His hand around your neck kept its firm grip, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe. 

He wasn't fucking you for pleasure, he was fucking you to make you learn a lesson. He wanted to make you cum. He wanted to choke you till your vision got blurry. He wanted it to be clear he hated you with every fiber of his being. 

His free hand went down to your clit and he pinched it before rubbing it with a circular motion. He wasn't gentle so it brought a mix of both pain and pleasure. A feeling that brought you closer to the edge of a sweet, sweet release. He could feel you tighten around his cock and it made him let out a groan which turned into a small mocking laugh.

“Fuck, are you- going to cum? Already?” He says mockingly with a smirk. He took pleasure in knowing he could control you like this. Control someone who seemed to hate him. “C'mon, cum on my cock then, whore,” he said before pressing his lips to yours roughly. He forced his tongue into your mouth and he was clearly eager to get you to cum. 

With a slight angle of his hips, he thrusted into just the right spot that had you tipping far over the edge. He let out a groan at the feeling of you coming undone on his cock before he quickly pulled out. 

He released your throat and grabbed your hair instead before forcing you onto your knees. You looked up at him with a glare and he returned it with the corner of his mouth just barely quirked up. “suck my cock so I can come,” he said as he brought his cock closer to your mouth. He really didn't hesitate when you opened your mouth and immediately forced himself in with a groan at the feeling. 

“God.. do you taste yourself on my dick?” He says as he looks down at you. He thrusts into your mouth making you gag and he just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “You're such a fucking bitch when you talk shit. I like you better like this,” he speaks as he mercilessly thrusts into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again.

“I'm gonna cum in your mouth and you're gonna swallow, yeah?” He says before throwing his head back with a groan. It didn't take long before you felt his cum run down your throat. He thrusted a little more as he came down from his high before finally pulling out of your mouth. There was drool running down your chin as he pulled his boxers and pants up before kneeling in front of you.

“Swallow my cum,” he orders as he tilts his head at you and waits. You look up at him before turning your head and spitting onto the floor instead. 

“I think I'll pass,” you say as you look up at him once again with a glare. Tension rose between you two again but this time, it was different. Sure, it was hate, but there was undeniably a different punishment waiting instead of an argument.

“Then I guess you haven't learnt your lesson,”

[passengerprincessblog]

“Trophy Room” Lando Norris x Reader

Warning: smut, NSFW, alcohol, drunk sex, unprotected sex.

Summary: Lando Norris throws a party in hopes of getting closer to Y/N, a girl he’s been crushing on, introduced by mutual friends. Amid drinks, dancing, and flirtation, their chemistry culminates into a moment away from the crowd, hinting at something deeper between them.

WC: 2,000?

Lando’s POV

The two weeks off couldn’t have come at a better time. After months of relentless training, race prep, and following a strict diet, I was ready to relax a bit. It’d been ages since I let loose, and tonight was all about unwinding. But honestly, the real reason I was throwing this party had less to do with relaxation and more to do with her. Y/N.

I don’t know what it was about her—something about the way she laughed or how she didn’t seem fazed by the chaos around her. She’d come into my life through Max and Pietra, his girlfriend, and since then, I’d found myself scrolling through her Instagram, even browsing her Spotify playlists just to feel like I knew her a little better. I was surprised to find out she didn’t have a boyfriend. Not that I was checking specifically… but, okay, maybe I was.

The music was already pumping as people filled my penthouse. My mate Martin was on the DJ deck, setting the perfect vibe, and the drinks were flowing freely. The weight of the day’s workout still lingered in my muscles, but the buzz from a couple of shots was loosening me up. I was taking a shot with Max when I saw her walk in, and—well, let’s just say I almost choked on my drink.

I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to her. “Y/N! Shot?” I grinned, holding up the vodka bottle.

Y/N’s POV

Walking into Lando’s penthouse, I immediately felt a bit overwhelmed. The place was packed, and the music was loud enough to make the floor vibrate. I scanned the room for Pietra; she was the one who convinced me to come in the first place, promising me a fun night and a chance to unwind.

Before I could find her, though, I heard my name being called. I looked over and saw Lando, smirking, with a bottle of vodka in hand, waving me over. He had this look in his eye that told me he was already a little tipsy. The group around him started chanting my name, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, okay… fine!” I made my way over, and Lando immediately started pouring me a shot, spilling a bit as he did. He was definitely drunk, and he was being flirty in a way that caught me off guard.

“Don’t look so scared, it’s just vodka,” he teased with a grin. “Come on, cutie… I’ll pour you an extra large one.”

I laughed, trying to hide the fact that his confidence was making me blush. “I think I can handle it, thanks.” I downed the shot, my face scrunching up as the vodka burned its way down.

He burst out laughing. “Oh, come on, was it that bad?” He watched me, his gaze lingering a little too long, and I felt his eyes sweep over me. It was like he was taking in every detail, from my dress to the way I was reacting to him.

“You never followed me back, by the way,” he said, pouting in a way that was both ridiculous and kind of cute.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Didn’t know you were checking, Mr. Norris.”

“Oh, I’ve been checking,” he replied, leaning closer. “Just waiting on you to notice.” His words were playful, but his eyes had a glint that made my stomach flutter.

He poured me another shot before I had a chance to protest, grinning as he held it out. “One more. Think you can keep up?”

I raised an eyebrow, taking the glass. “Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe,” he smirked. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”

I took the shot, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through me. The music seemed louder, the lights dimmer, and everything around me just felt more alive. I was definitely feeling the buzz now.

As more people arrived, the party got even more crowded, and every time Lando moved away, I’d find him gravitating back toward me, like he wasn’t content unless he was close. Eventually, he reached for my hand and pulled me toward the makeshift dance floor.

“Come on!” he yelled over the music, his grin infectious.

I laughed, letting him lead me, and he immediately started dancing, his movements exaggerated as he tried to make me laugh. His energy was electric, and soon I couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. At one point, a few people bumped into me, and he quickly grabbed my hips, pulling me closer. I could feel his breath on my ear as he leaned in.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, smirking as he looked down at me.

My face heated up at his words, but he was already pulling back, that same cocky smile on his face. “What?” I challenged, trying to keep my cool.

He shrugged, giving me a look that was equal parts daring and mischievous. “Just stating facts.”

Before I could respond, he tilted his head, giving me a mischievous grin. “Wanna see something cool?”

“What do you have in mind?”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I wanna show you my trophies.” He held my gaze, and even in his drunken state, I could feel the sincerity in his eyes.

I felt my stomach twist in excitement and nerves, but before I could second-guess, he grabbed my hand, leading me down a hallway. His fingers laced through mine, and I could feel the warmth of his hand, grounding me in the moment.

He opened a door to a room that had a display case filled with trophies, awards, and helmets. The room felt quieter, the music from the party faint in the background, and for a moment, it was like we’d stepped into a different world. He watched as I took it all in, a proud but slightly shy expression on his face.

“You’re really good at what you do,” I said softly, looking back at him.

He shrugged, his usual confidence wavering slightly. “It’s just racing… I dunno, sometimes it feels like people only see this side of me, y’know?”

I nodded, understanding more than I expected. “Well, it’s impressive. But I think I’m seeing another side of you tonight too.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “You mean the drunk idiot?”

“No,” I laughed. “The Lando who cares, who’s goofy and… real.”

His gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “I’m really glad you came tonight, Y/N.”

My heart pounded as he looked at me, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something warmer, something… real. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his hand lingering for a moment.

Without thinking, I found myself leaning in, and he met me halfway, his lips soft and warm against mine. It was a gentle kiss, both of us testing the waters, but as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, the kiss deepened, filled with the energy and intensity that had been simmering between us all night.

He pulled me closer, his drunken confidence fueling his actions. With a sudden force, he pushed me back against one of the trophy cases, his lips hungrily claiming mine. I was taken aback, not expecting this level of intensity from Lando. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine as he sucked on it fervently.

His hands roamed down my body, finally settling on my ass. He gripped it tightly, pulling me flush against him. I could feel his hardness pressing against my core, evidence of his desire for me. My mind was reeling, trying to process the abrupt change in our dynamic. I hadn't realized Lando wanted me this badly, but I found myself responding to his touch, my body melting into his.

As he continued to kiss me passionately, I felt a sense of excitement and nervousness coursing through me. This wasn't what I had anticipated for tonight, but the thrill of the unexpected was intoxicating. His hands slid under my dress, caressing my thighs, inching closer to my most intimate area. I let out a soft moan, the sound muffled by his lips against mine.

Lando abruptly pulled away from our heated embrace, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the trophy room, his steps hurried and determined. We stumbled down the hallway, our laughter echoing off the walls as we made our way towards his bedroom.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he pushed me onto the bed, his body following suit. He hovered over me, his eyes dark with desire and his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. "You're so fucking beautiful," he slurred, his words slightly jumbled. "I want to devour you, my little puppy."

I couldn't help but giggle at his drunken attempt at dirty talk. "You're drunk," I teased, playfully swatting at his chest.

He chuckled, his hand grasping mine and pinning it above my head. "Maybe I am, but I know what I want, and I want you. All of you." His other hand trailed down my body, slipping beneath my dress and caressing my skin.

I squirmed beneath his touch, a mix of anticipation and arousal coursing through my veins. "Then take me," I whispered, my voice laced with desire. "Show me what you've got, Lando."

With a growl, he captured my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth with a fervor that left me breathless. His hand continued its exploration, sliding up my thigh and teasing the edge of my panties. I gasped into the kiss, my hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

Lost in the heat of the moment, I surrendered myself to Lando's drunken passion, eager to see where the night would take us.

Lando's lips trailed hot kisses down my neck as his hands continued to explore my body. He nipped and sucked at my sensitive skin, leaving a trail of marks that I knew would be visible in the morning. His drunken dirty talk continued, each word sending a shiver down my spine.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he mumbled against my skin, his hands fumbling with the hem of my dress. "I want to taste every inch of you, my little puppy."

I could feel his eagerness, but I noticed him struggling with my dress. A mischievous idea formed in my mind, and I gently pushed him back onto the bed. He looked up at me with a confused yet amused expression.

"Let me help you with that," I purred, my fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. His smirk grew wider as he watched me take control.

"Little puppy's not so shy now, huh?" he teased drunkenly, his voice low and husky.

I hooked my fingers into his waistband and slowly pulled his jeans down, revealing his hardness straining against his boxers. "Not when I've got you right where I want you," I replied with a wink.

I leaned down, my hair falling around us like a curtain as I pressed soft kisses along his inner thigh. His hands tangled in my hair, tugging gently as I worked my way closer to his aching member.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're driving me crazy," he groaned, his hips bucking slightly.

I looked up at him through my lashes, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. "That's the idea," I whispered before taking him into my mouth, my lips wrapping around his shaft as I began to work him with my tongue.

I continued to suck on Lando's hardness, my tongue swirling around his shaft as I took him deeper into my mouth. His moans filled the room, his fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as I pleasured him. I was surprised by my own boldness, but there was something about Lando that made me feel comfortable and confident.

As I bobbed my head up and down, I felt a surge of pride when I tasted his precum. It was a sign of his pleasure, and I reveled in the knowledge that I was the cause of it. However, before I could continue, he gently pulled me off and flipped me onto my back, his body hovering over mine.

He moved to check his drawer for a condom, but after a few moments of rummaging, he cursed under his breath. "Can I... please fuck you? With nothing..." he asked drunkenly, his voice laden with desire.

My face heated up at his request, and I felt a mix of uncertainty and need coursing through me. I knew the risks, but in that moment, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. His lips trailed kisses along my neck, his hands caressing my skin as he waited for my response.

"Lando," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you sure? We shouldn't..."

But even as the words left my lips, I knew I was already lost in the heat of the moment. His touch ignited a fire within me, and I found myself craving more. I hesitated for a moment longer before finally giving in to my desires.

"Okay," I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

A triumphant grin spread across his face as he positioned himself at my entrance. "You won't regret this, pretty girl," he promised, his voice thick with lust.

And with that, he thrust into me, filling me completely. I gasped at the sensation, my nails digging into his back as he began to move inside me. The feeling was intense, overwhelming, and I knew there was no turning back now.

Lando continued to thrust into me, his movements fueled by a mix of lust and alcohol. His hands roamed my body, caressing every curve and dip as he lost himself in the pleasure of our intimate connection. I moaned softly, my hands gripping the sheets beneath us as I surrendered to the sensations coursing through me.

Suddenly, his hand slipped between our bodies, his fingers finding my sensitive clit. He rubbed it gently, his touch sending waves of pleasure through my core. I gasped, my hips bucking against his hand as he skillfully brought me closer to the edge.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he slurred, his drunken dirty talk mingling with the sounds of our lovemaking. "I love how you feel around my cock, baby. You're taking it so well."

His words only heightened my arousal, and I found myself clinging to him, urging him on. I could feel my orgasm building, the pressure inside me growing with each passing second. With a final stroke of his fingers and a particularly deep thrust, I came undone, my body shaking with the intensity of my release.

Lando followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled his seed deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me, his breath hot against my neck as he tried to catch his breath. For a moment, we lay there, our bodies intertwined and our hearts racing.

Slowly, he rolled off of me and pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me in a tender embrace. He kissed my cheek softly, his touch gentle despite his inebriated state. "Was that okay, baby?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically sweet. "Do you need anything? Water, a towel, my bathroom is all yours."

I smiled, touched by his consideration. "I'm good," I assured him, snuggling closer.

As we caught our breath, Lando helped me pull my dress back down, his hands gentle and slightly unsteady due to his inebriated state. He reached up to fix my hair, his fingers combing through the tangled locks with a tenderness that belied his earlier drunken fervor. A smirk played on his lips as he admired his handiwork, clearly pleased with himself for finally getting the girl he had been crushing on.

"Maybe you'll follow me back now, huh?" he joked, referring to the fact that I hadn't followed him on Instagram. "I mean, after that performance, you owe me at least a like or two."

I laughed, shaking my head at his audacity. "We'll see," I teased, not wanting to make any promises just yet.

Lando took my hand and led me back to the party, his arm draped casually around my shoulders.

——————————————

Thank you for reading!

Liking and following let’s me know you appreciate the writing! 💜

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Fantasy Villain

Imagine you’ve been transported to a DnD-Fantasy-like world. Quests, adventurers, and mystical beasts are everything you could dream of. You’ve already established your little troupe; becoming an important cornerstone of the group. Whatever your class, you’re excelling at they really rely on which is why things go badly when you meet him—-the recurring villain of this world.

“Oh my–oh my Zoth.”

“What? Do I horrify the little hero!?”

“No, you’re–”

“Worse than you imagined?”

“No, you’re–”

“(Y/n) stop freezing up!”

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met!”

The group is horrified as they plan a tactical retreat, finding it easier to thwart the Fantasy Villain’s attacks which are suddenly less frequent.  The group just assumes you’ve been enchanted because since you’ve locked eyes with him you’ve been unable to stand on your feet. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy you just can’t stop the heat climbing over your face and ears as you replay the moment you met over and over. 

“You realize he’s a part of the ugliest most horrible race known to all of Azarothan.”

“If that’s ugly then I’m dead!”

“M-maybe he did enchant them?”

Meanwhile, the Villain’s returned to home base, shedding his armor and dismissing his entourage. Sat on his throne he replays the words you’ve said to him…over and over….and over again. His ears are turning a deep blue and he can’t help the involuntary reaction of the volcano attached to his castle bubbling with excitement.

“They-they think I’m beautiful?!”

He’s reeling with an overflow of energy and unknown vigor when he recalls your awestruck face as you fell to your knees clutching your enchanted tool. He can’t stop the thought of you in that same position but in a different setting. Cursing his lacking imagination he concocts his usual magic to spy on the troupe with his crystal ball but this time he’s focused solely on you. 

“Surely they’ll brag about the enchantment they left on me…..and maybe talk about their own infatuation again.”

It strokes a different kind of pride when he hears you deny being cursed. The feelings are mutual. He’s over the moon all four of them. You have to understand the Fantasy Villain has never been told something so flattering. 

“From another world….figures. This world could never make such…a perfect soul.”

Since their upbringing, they’ve been met with nothing but scorn and hatred. Vowing to rule and change the world that did that to him. If others did express interest it was because he had power or was literally about to kill them. Your reaction, your unadulterated feelings for him, the tug at his soul is the only sign he needs before his objective changes. 

“I wanted to rule the world so I could change the world for me. But now I’m going to change the world so I can rule with them.”

He means it. The troops are given new orders, the deadly nightmarish beasts are given new tasks, and he’s already concocting a million different plans to attain you. He watches the crystal ball relentlessly trying to hear and see as much as he can to learn more about you. He realizes very quickly that he really hates those adventurers of yours.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Just because you’re attracted to the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to destroy the world!”

“Yeah (Y/n), you’ve got to get your head in the game. We need you!”

“I–your right…sorry guys…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who fits my preferences so perfectly.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“But one look in his galaxy-like eyes and it felt like I did.”

He really hates them. Listening to them talk you out of your feelings for him. Before you arrived they were minor pests. Simply a small roadblock that he would eventually crush to shatter the hopes of the people when they needed them most. Now they were just obstacles in the way of his goal–you.

“Sire those adventurers you told us to keep an eye on are on the move. Should I give the order to attack?”

“No…summon the siren I’d like to take a different approach.”

He gets incredibly crafty, despite only meeting you once he can tell you aren’t heartless like he. He’s certain should you find him to be responsible for the death of anyone you’ve met you’d reject his love. So he’ll make it his plan to slowly break your little troupe, such spunky and erratic individuals may be just the only tool he needs.

“My orders, My Ruler?”

“Join their group. Do what you like with whoever you wish. 

“?”

“Bring discord how you see fit.”

“Yes, My Ruler!”

His plan is perfect and the group isn’t nearly suspicious enough to reject his double agent. Who’s presence triggers the cracks that this group had always had. When the group splits apart needing to cool off you’re left alone, a perfect chance for a moment with you. 

“Hello, little hero.”

“Whoa, what are you doing here? My troupe’s not too far! A-a-a-nd I–I’m willing to fight this time!”

“That’s a shame because I came to speak to you.”

“Really! Ahem, I mean about what?”

“About those words, you said to me….I wonder did you know what they’ve ignited.”

Taking advantage of your easily lowered guard, he speaks the truth. Coming in close enough to feel the heat escaping from your armor, he’ll share the tale of his past. Which as he predicted makes you so sympathetic and just as willing to sing his praises as the moment you met. 

“But you’re not ugly or horrid like they all say.”

“No?”

“I think you’re beyond handsome. One of the most ethereal beings I’ve ever met.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I know so… I’m just sorry no one else has told you that.”

“I’m happy it was you.”

When you let him dive in for a kiss, naturally you accept it. Returning his vigor in kind if not with sympathy or just your attraction, you miss how he places a magical mark on your neck. Or how he casually enchants your armor to protect you better. Or how he influences the flora and fauna of the forest to curve in the direction you came from essentially blocking the path back to your camp. When he reluctantly releases you he further promises he’s never letting you leave his grasp. Promising to one day have you on the throne beside him.

“I must return and so must you. Your friends will worry.”

“Oh…you’re right.”

“Don’t sound so sad, we’ll meet again.”

“Not just in my dreams.”

“Not just in your dreams.”

He leaves not only giddy with love but with a new plan in mind. He prepared to be faced with a struggle, to have to fight for your affection as the enemy you’d be fighting. But he wasn’t prepared for your heart to be swayed so easily. Licking your remnants on his lips, he knows that you can be deceived, and conveniently so can the rest of the world.

Fantasy Villain devises that if the history of his race’s banishment and exile were portrayed in a certain light. You could defect to his side without guilt and if some of the more stubborn adventurers were to also agree that’d make things so much easier. Pretending to be persuaded to sign some peace treaty after being gifted enough land to rule over with you beside him didn’t sound too bad.

Even if that didn’t work the Fantasy Villain has decided you will rule beside him whether he has to trick, drug, or force you to be his. Though he adores the honest love in your eyes when he looks at you and he’s going to do whatever he needs to have it. 

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 — 𝑨𝑼

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓!𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +21 minors do not interact. this is actually taboo, mutual flirtation, desire, inappropriate thoughts, large age gap, heavy kissing, professor is so horny in this (beware), darkish AU, light stalking (if you squint) mutual pining (little) mentions of rough sex, thinking of unprotected sex.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia

Yes it happened, he’d overwork so he didn’t have to return home. That home of his was nothing but cold, empty, and lonely. Another evening of sitting in his office and marking the last semester papers. He’d secretly drink some whiskey out of a coffee cup and remove his shoes to feel comfortable. Stretching his limbs he’d sigh and think what happened to his life. Children grown up and wife somewhere out there with a new man. Yes- divorce was messy but at the end the feeling in his chest could’ve been compared to elation, maybe freedom. Divorces ended up being messy because of the heartbreak but man in his age? He desired peace- adjusting the reading specs on the bridge of his nose and sighed coming across your semesters quiz. Naturally loving the way you curved the font of your name on his papers. Reading your essay only to the half way and marking it ‘excellent’ because to be truthful you were a very creative writer. Thoughts drifting to many places as he touched the coffee cup to sip on his whiskey. He could also definitely just retire because being a teacher in his late 50’s was quite challenging. Not because of the age range, he lost patience. Yes… it happened. Secretly hating his colleagues guts, but oh god when he saw you… there it was. The weak spot- what he liked the most that you’d always catch his gaze. Sitting at the back of the classroom leaning on your elbow and catch his gaze. Seeing you press your thighs together under the desk, at the praise he gave you for your test results. He liked praising you.

Being newly enrolled, finding new friends which you did instantly and they were cool people. Sharing mutual interests and forming a little study sessions in the library. It was honestly so good. But the moment you saw him passing by holding that green smoothie in his hand from cafeteria you loved so much. You caught yourself staring, goodness he was tall. That hair slicked back, and the specs, your chest felt like giving up. A breath caught in your throat as he locked his eyes with yours. Gripping the book against your chest you ran up to him “Mr..” stilling his feet he acknowledged you “Y/N” a smile greeting his features and you grew weak in your knees. Secrets… secrets again. You had tons of them. “Did they have any different flavors?” You pointed at his smoothie and he chuckled shrugging. “I’m not entirely sure, but this one caught my eye today.” You nodded “it’s pretty great. I get it all the time.” He moistened his lips as you spoke. “Oh don’t say, that good?” Bringing the straw to his lips he tasted it. The sweet flavors leaving his tastebuds dancing. “Very healthy, it’s sweet” he hummed. “Walk with me?” He motioned to his office at the end of the corridor. Your heart needed to calm down because god, you couldn’t stop the feelings. Holding the book against your chest forgetting about your study session and your friends soon finding yourself sitting in his office. Leaning back against his chair he sighed. Finally having you for himself- it’s been days since he last time saw you. “Read your essay, i must say it’s amazing” he praised. “Really? You think it’s good?” You relaxed your shoulders taking a breath. “I know it’s very good, you don’t have to study so hard in that library you already have it.” Answering you with so much confidence your attraction level towards him spiked off the roof. “Thank you Sir..” you smiled, eyes sparkling. “Most welcome” the Sir part definitely surged through his body and straight to his cock. You had no idea…

Throwing his briefcase on the passengers seat, it was time to go home but he didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to walk into that cold empty house alone. Maybe divorce was fine but he didn’t expect to feel so goddamn lonely whenever he was at home. He could eat out, join his awful work colleagues because they constantly invited him. About to start his car he noticed you running across the road, he leaned back in his drivers seat adjusting his specs, your skirt bounced as you ran flashing him a sight of your thighs. You got in the car with a man he figured it’s your father. How much he wanted to drive you home, maybe hold your inner thigh with one hands and maybe- only maybe touch that sweet pussy of yours. He would trace your little folds and make them wet. He wanted to fit his cock right between those folds and fuck it until you’d cry for him to stop. Maybe a little rougher- maybe causing you a little lust filled pain. Snapping his hips right into you, faster and faster gripping you around your neck. These thoughts ran through his mind, making his cock heavy in his dress pants. Hissing softly as he touched his growing cock through his pants shifting in his seat, god he hated this. He hated not having you for himself and pound that little pussy of yours at every chance he’d be able to. Fill you right up with his cum, and stuff it back in you as it would leak out of you.

Seeing your professor sitting in his car, on the other side of the car park you waved. He seemed to be looking down perhaps reading something- and in fact yes he was reading a book because what else he’d have to do to make his little ‘problem’ suffice away. You told your father that you’d rather walk, the car park was nearly empty and it was getting dark maybe it was your chance to tell your professor about your new story what you were writing. No harm in that right? Getting out of your father’s car waving him goodbye, you ran back across the road to your professors car gently knocking on his window. He looked up, and god his heart sunk in surprise seeing you there. Sliding his window down slowly you stuttered at first “I-I just saw you sitting here thinking you were reading and yes you’re.” He nodded slowly masking the awful need in the pit of his stomach. “Hop in.” You excitedly did- getting on his passengers seat. “It’s actually a novel by my favourite author.” Handing you the book locking the doors. You eagerly read the info about the plot and bit your lower lip. “Have it. It’s from my library at home, I really don’t borrow books from the campus.” Your eyes grew wide. “Really?! I can read it?” He smiled nodding. “Of course! Give it back once you finish.” Your heart thumping against your chest cavity not containing yourself anymore kissing his cheek telling him endless thank you’s. Closing his eyes the moment your lips touched his cheek his breath hitched. He chuckled lightly giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Then it hit you- you kissed your professor even though it was not allowed at all you felt like breaking the rules. “I can show you.. the book, umm- in my home.” He offered, and you swallowed. Was this happening? Really? “I - I cannot accept it Sir. Honestly.. you’re too sweet.” He hummed at your words but not saying anything. “What if I like being sweet with you?” He then answered. Your cheeks deepened in red, lord… what on earth was happening to you?

“First editions? First official printings?” You gazed in utter awe tracing the books in his library. He was leaning against his table, arms folded in his chest. “What’s this?” You asked innocently trying to reach for a book much higher not aware that your professor was sweet enough to sneak up behind you reaching for it your hands touching. Alone just you two in his house. Tilting your head towards him your faces inches apart, your heart was jumping and juddering in your chest as his cologne hit your nose. It was woodsy, hint of spiciness, perhaps even a little tiny bit floral. “Here” whispering taking a whiff of your hair. “I should go-” you realized that this hole you were about to fall into would be hard to get out of. “So soon?” He whispered giving you some of his warmth, his chest pressing to your back. Warmth radiating from his body- your lips parted. Dropping the book by your two feet turning around his large hands capturing your ribs. Leaning down his mouth was on yours kissing you fiercefully. You moaned gaining him the access to your tongue and he kissed the hell out of you. Wet kisses, full of cravings and desire painting your soul in reds and oranges. Your hands finding rest on his back as you indulged yourself in the warm feeling, his large body pressing you against the books his hand hiking your thigh around his waist. The way your tongues glided and touched in your mouths the saliva strings connecting your mouths as you both hungrily kissed again and again moaning in sweet lust. Tilting his face to one side as he devoured your lips, you couldn’t stop the mewls which escaped you making his cock possibly harder. Your panties getting in twist pussy leaking with wetness drenching your own panties you both found pace rubbing against each other. The rough material of his belt buckle giving your clit a cold touch causing you gasping for air against his lips and his large hand gripped the back of your neck. His grunts and groans, surged through you. “S-Sir” gasping at the neck kisses wrapping your arm around his neck pulling him down on you feeling his kisses on your soul. His arms wrapped around you “let me make you feel good angel, i wanna take good care of you” your brain was telling you to stop heart telling you to give yourself to the man who was so passionately ravishing your mouth. Your body betraying you- you were so lost. “Been needing you so much lately” admitting all these things while touching your body in ways hand on your breast kissing your chest sniffing you his thumb circling your hardened peak through your bra and blouse. Your hands holding his back, wanting him all over you. “M’so scared this is not allowed but I want you” admitting making him kiss you passionately touching your pussy through your panties. Those kisses and touches were unforgettable that’s why it took you everything to gently push him away and run out of his house with tears spilling down your cheeks because this was not allowed. You might’ve loved your professor yes and he might have loved you back- but this could not happen at all. Wiping your tears with the back of your sleeve you ran as fast as you could. Even though your heart hurt immensely- you both knew you’d steal moments to be together.

My secret lover… my secret- only mine. “To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”

-

(Apologies for any mistakes and typos in advance)

[a-b-riddle]

Part 8

You had planned to spend Sunday morning nursing a hangover with Mere and Tabitha, but after last night’s events you had decided to catch up on organizing the shop while putting your phone on do not disturb.

You had turned your location services off in hopes that for a few hours the world would just leave you the fuck alone.

A few hours was all you were given before a tapping came on the front door of your shop around noon. Peering through the glass window, you spotted him.

He was holding a huge brown paper bag looking at little worse for wear since the last time he showed up. You debated on ignoring him. He had missed the early morning shower otherwise you really would have left him outside.

Bastard.

"John-" When you opened the door, he entered immediately. No doubt guessing you planned to slam the door immediately after telling him to fuck off.

He would have been right.

"Please," you say flatly before closing the door. "Do come in." After last night, after this week, the last thing you wanted to do was see anybody. Him, Johnny, Simon, Kyle, fucking Meredith or Tabitha. Why was it so hard for a person who had very few people in her life, all of which were on the skirts with her, to leave her alone for a single day?

"Well?" You asked when he said nothing. He cleared his throat, as if preparing himself for a long, drawn out speech.

Instead he handed you the bag, the smell hitting you. Warm and welcoming. Price was the only one out of the four who could cook a damn good meal, which made him extra picky when it came to eating out. “Wanted to check in.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do with them now. “Simon said you had a rough night.”

You scoffed at the understatement. "Yeah," you hated this. You didn't want to tell John about your shitty night with your even shittier friends. "It wasn't the best night out."

"So you know that bloke who got handsy or was he just some random prick?" Your mouth fell open in shock. You didn't expect Simon to be such a fucking gossip. And how fuckin' dare John for thinking he had any right to know who was grabbing your ass and your involvement to that person.

No. Fuck that.

"We're not doing this," you said putting the bag on an empty display table. Fuck. You need to go ahead and unbox that shipment in the back.

"What?" He asked, oblivious as to what he said that was wrong. You push heel of your hands into your eyes, trying to stop the headache that was threatening to form. "Some prick took a feel of ya' and I want to see if-"

"If what?" You cut in. "If I need some comfort at being utterly fucking humiliated at Simon going all caveman in front of everyone and dragging me outside like a child? Or do you want to finish want Simon start with almost killing him!"

"From what I heard, he didn't kill him," John's audacity to correct you as if Simon's restraint was remarkable baffled you. "There's something to be said about that."

"He held him by the neck in the air like a ragdoll. He choked him out in the middle of the pub."

"But," he held up a finger. "he didn't break his neck. He knew you'd be upset."

"You're not seriously defending him right now." You could feel your blood pressure rising. Your lid ready to blow like a fucking kettle.

"From what Simon said it didn't look like the attraction was mutual." That gave you pause. Simon told John it didn't look... mutual. Could Simon tell you were uncomfortable? Did he hear everything Percy said?

Where the fuck did Simon come from anyway?

why the fuck was he at the pub in the first place???

Your mouth hung open for several beats. Any longer and a bug could fly in. But fuck if it didn't feel like cold water had been dumped on you. Why and how did Simon think it wasn't mutual? Why did he care??? Why was he acting like he didn't?

"He-" You began, trying to think of what to ask only to simply screech out "What?" John held his hands up in surrender. Your kettle whistled. You were pissed. More pissed than John had ever seen you and it was still a miracle you hadn't hurled the take out at his head.

"All I'm saying is if he grabbed you without an invitation and Simon saw, the prick is lucky to be alive, much less still walking around with hands."

"Si-" you started. "He-" You clinched your fists so tightly your nails painfully cut into the palm of your hand. "UGH!" You stomped your foot. It was childish, but you didn't care. "I don't need him rescuing me goddamit! I don't need any of you pissing on my legs like a fucking dog and-" you didn't stop. You weren't sure how long you carried on verbally lashing John nor did you give a single flying fuck.

Fuck him. Fuck Simon. Fuck all of them. They didn't get to stalk you and relay information like gossiping fucking school girls. They didn't get to break your heart and believe that you would let them piece it back together. They didn't get to neglect you only to realize you knew your worth. Only giving a shit until you walked away.

You went on and on until your throat ached. You weren't sure what thoughts had left your lips. You weren't entirely sure all what you said. All you knew is that you didn't feel any better. The look on Price's fallen face didn't give you any relief. You took it out on him and you were still hurting.

"Why?" Your voice was hoarse and pleading. "Why won't you guys just fucking leave? You were barely staying in it when we were together? Why now?"

He took a tentative step forwarding. His hands started to reach out to touch your arms before falling back down at his side. He knew he had lost the right to touch you. To comfort you.

"I miss you, Dove." He confessed it as if it would somehow make it all better. "We miss you." You try not to let it phase you, but fuck you were made of flesh, not stone. No matter how angry furious disgusted absolutely devastated you were with everything that happened, with what they did and didn't do, you still, or at least had, loved them. That love didn't vanish over the span of a week. Lord know your broken heart hadn't. "We'll do better."

"It's not that simple." You shook your head, your palms covering your eyes as they began to prickle. You hoped the motion would come across as tired frustration, but John knew. It was your tell. You were close to crying. You always rubbed your face when you were upset.

"It is." He said, finally taking the chance to touch you. Even if it was just to hold your hands in his calloused ones. "We mucked things up, let us fix it. Give us at least the change to be better."

"How?" You asked. "Stop fucking yelling at me for a couple of months until something makes you blow your fucking lid and I'm left feeling like a little kid who's in trouble?" You were surprised not to see him flinch away, but the soft look in his eyes was enough to break your heart all over again. "Or Kyle actually showing up for dates? Johnny not treating me like a fuck buddy?"

"We haven't been good to you." He admits and you still don't feel better. Leaving them hasn't made you feel any better. Only angrier. Yelling at him didn't. Fucking Johnny and breaking his heart didn't. Maybe Mer had a point. Just not with Percy. "We all wanted you and slacked off in doing right by ya."

"So what?" You press. "You want to resume where we left off? I just take you all back and work through the fact of how shitty you all were and hope that you make it up to me?

"No," he shook his head. "Not like that."

"Then what?" You asked.

"I'm fighting for me and you. No one else." You didn't know what to say. The four of them had always been a part of the deal. All or nothing. I mean, the fact that you even entertained the idea of being with all of them was the reasoning that if one of them had went down on the field, three more were there to take care of you.

"If the others can get their own shit together great." He shrugged his shoulders. "If I can't and they can, that's fine too." He stared in your eyes and for a moment, you thought about the first time John apologized for getting angry. Not at you, just in front of you. How he had gotten on his knees and told you the last thing he wanted was for you to be afraid of him. To look at him the same way recruits looked at him. "But I think where we failed was all of us was expecting another one to pick up the slack."

That much was true. Where others failed, others thrived. Simon always stayed after sex, Johnny never raised his voice, John was insistent on going on dates, and Gaz was emotionally available... when he was around at least.

"I know I wasn't the man I needed to be. I wasn't the man you deserved. I took things out on you that weren't your fault. I spoke to you in a way that if any other man did, I would knock him right the fuck out." He shook his head before giving your hands a squeeze. "I'll do what I need to do to set things right between you and me. I'll put in the work to do whatever it takes to have you trust me again."

"It wasn't about not trusting you." You counter

"But it is now." He said. "You don't trust me to respect you; to show kindness, patience. And I know I have my own shit to sort out before even thinking about us being like we were. When things were good, I mean."

You don't know what to say, but you can't say he's right. You don't trust him. Not with your heart. Not anymore.

Moments of silence pass before John lets go of your hands and takes a quick survey of the boxes around you. Your background music of Van Morrison still playing softly from the speaker near your computer.

"You seem busy, so I'll let you get to it." He takes in a deep breath. You're expecting another spiel about how he promises to work on it. Just to give him a chance. You're actually worried you'll consider it. "I picked up your usual. Figured things haven't changed that much since we last went to our spot down by the river."

"Haven't been there in a minute."

"You wouldn't." He said. "Closed the place and moved shop. It's over by the park."

"The one with the asshole geese or the one where Johnny and I were flashed by that guy strung out?" That makes him laugh. You can't remember the last time John laughed. The way his eyes crinkled and his smile shifted his whole face into something entirely joyous.

You missed it.

"Asshole geese." He answered before turning and heading to the door. You didn't speak until the chime of the bell rang.

"What if the others don't?" You ask before he had the chance to close the door. "Get their shit together, I mean."

He turned, giving you that signature closed smile that makes him look like a quokka. You told him that once and he had to googling before arguing that he didn't look like the world's happiest rodent. "That's on them. I have my own work to do." His smile dropping into something softer. Something pleading and pitiful. "But, we still want this. We all still want this. Want you."

You shook your head. The threat of tears returning as you realized how wrong he was. Maybe he did. But not all of them. "Simon doesn't." you huffed, arms crossing over your chest. "He's made that much clear."

"That I don't believe." He shook his head. "Not for a minute."

"Believe it." You sucked in air through your nose as if trying to clear it. Price knew he had to leave. He knew he couldn't see you cry. He knew you wouldn't want him to even if he wanted to stay and make up for all the times he was the reasons behind your tears.

"I didn't do what I needed to and I'll do whatever it takes to get you back." He promises. "But if it came down to it... if you want to settle down and just chose one of us to have you, to keep you," he took in a deep breath. The next words like a knife twisting in his chest. "I wouldn't truly love you if I didn't tell you that Simon is the only one of us who deserves you."

"Why?" You knew in that moment Simon hadn't told John about that night. About his cruel words and your realization that he was right. There was never a true happily ever after with them.

"Because he's the only one willing to hide in the shadows and let you live your life," his smile now gone completely. "I'm sorry that I'm too selfish to do that."

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sweetheart

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> Times when you told Tyler to not call you 'Sweetheart' and the one time you did.

Disclaimer: This had been a w-i-p over the last couple of days so if it feels patchy, I apologise. Best friends to lovers, mutual pining, completely oblivious and scared idiots. Two almost kisses, one actual kiss, long love confession, little angst, lots of fluff, one bed trope, fake dating (sorta), lots of uses of the nickname 'Sweetheart', getting caught in a tornado, cowboy romance books mentioned. Not Proof Read.

You could remember the first time you told Tyler to stop calling you ‘Sweetheart’. 

It had been when he had been fixing his truck outside the fifth motel of the season. 

You’d both been friends for years. Ever since college. In fact, you were the first friend he made there. You’d been sitting under a tree since every bench either had a couple or a massive group of friends at each one. That was when he joined you. 

“Hey, do you mind if I sit here? It looks like most places are taken.”

Moving your bag from the spare patch, you let him sit down. Then you noticed his text book. 

You both got to talking and you found out your classes shared a building, and with a similar timetable for classes and a shared fear of student society nights, you both stuck together. 

Tyler took you to a couple of rodeos, showing you round and explaining everything that went on behind the scenes. Which was also when you found out he was an ex-bull rider. 

You showed him around campus and the best place to study, and when neither of you were working, you’d show him around your home town. 

And the rest was history. 

You’d both been together ever since. 

However, it wasn’t until after you both experienced an EF-4 whilst ‘off duty’ that you found something out about yourself. 

You were in love with Tyler. 

Of course, you’d always loved him as a friend. He was your best-friend and had been for years. Except, until that moment, you didn’t realise how deeply. And you couldn’t remember when it had happened. Had it been right away and you just confused it with friendship love? Or was it long after you made friends with him? 

You had a thousand and one questions about it, but something you didn’t question was how Tyler felt about you. Of course, he loved you, too. You were one of his best friends. But that was how he loved you. As a friend. 

And you were happy with that. More so considering letting your new fact be known out-loud might not only cost you your job but also your long time friendship with someone who you considered family.

Except, as time went on, you picked up on more and more things. Like how you always leaned into him, or found yourself by his side at most times of the day. Or like how he threw his arm around you when everyone sat around the campfire, or how you’d fall asleep beside him only to wake up in your bed the next morning. 

Or like how he’d always called you ‘Sweetheart’. Like he just did, when he asked you to hand him the socket wrench. 

“You know, you gotta stop calling me that. People are gonna think we’re together.”

Tyler took the wrench from you with a small chuckle. “But I always call you that.”

“That’s my point. What if someone wants to chat you up but they think you’re with me?”

“But I am with you.” Tyler told you. 

You scoffed and kicked the sole of his boot lightly. “I’m being serious. What if you miss out on meeting your wife? The mother of your children because she thinks you’re with me?”

From under his truck, Tyler rolled out. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Why?”

Everything wasn’t fine, but the less he knew about it the better. 

“You’ve never had a problem with me calling you Sweetheart before.”

You shrugged, trying your best to remain casual about it. “I was just thinking about it, s’all.”

Tyler hummed in confusion before disappearing back beneath his truck. “Okay, I’ll try not to call you Sweetheart in public anymore.”

Though he couldn’t see, you gave a small nod to thank him. You didn’t want to let him know that it was killing you asking that of him. You loved when he called you different nicknames, because that was him. If nothing else was right in the world, you knew he was. 

But the more and more you became aware of who you were when you were with him, the more you started to think about how it would start to affect him, even if he didn’t realise it. 

Except, for as much as he tried, he still slipped up every now and again. 

But the second time you told him to stop calling you that, he’d fully done it with intent. 

Another week, another motel. Only, this time there weren’t enough rooms to go around, with the rodeo in town. So, whilst you stood and listened to everyone fight over who had to share, you searched for some sticks before shoving them into the middle of the group circle. 

“Lily, here. Whoever pulls the short straw shares. I need the bathroom.”

So, you disappeared. 

However, when you came back, you found most of your family disappearing into their own rooms whilst Tyler was still standing inside of the motel office. 

“I think he’s gonna need your help.” Lily told you as she grabbed her bag from her car. 

A little confused, you followed her advice and headed for the office. Only when you opened the door…

“Ty, Lily said-”

“Sweetheart! There you are. Thought you’d gotten lost.” You were about to correct him and tell him to stop calling you when suddenly, you found yourself being dragged to his side. “Molly, this is my girlfriend.”

“She’s not your wife?”

Tyler seemed to panic for a moment. 

What the hell was going on?

“Is everything-”

Tyler looked at you, but something in his eyes begged you not to ask. 

“Well, no. Not exactly.”

“Well,” the owner drawled. “How long have you two been together?”

“Just a little over ten years.”

She almost exploded. “Ten years?! And you still haven’t put a ring on it yet? Oh, honey, what are you two doing?”

Tyler chuckled a little all the while your body became fully aware of his arm around your waist and his hand at your hip. “See, that’s the thing. We wanted to get married but-”

“Your parents don’t approve?”

You practically gave yourself whiplash for how quickly you turned to look at her, an offended look on your face. Okay, maybe you didn’t look your best but you’d all been on the road for six hours and you hadn’t slept the night before. And it wasn’t your fault Tyler looked good at any time of the day. 

Tyler, a little shocked himself, shook his head. 

“Her parents don’t approve?”

“Well,” Tyler seemed to be making it up as he went along. “Her parents don’t believe in marriage.”

You came back to earth. Lying, right. 

You nodded your head. “I’d love to get married but I kinda want my folks to be there. But, we’re getting around them, aren’t we, honey?”

You tried your best to ignore how easily the pet name rolled off your tongue for Tyler. 

Tyler smiled and you could have sworn he blushed. “That’s right.”

The owner looked between you both. “Well, I suppose…that’s okay. Here’s your key. I hope you two have a nice stay.”

“We will, thank you.”

Taking the key, Tyler took hold of your hand before opening the door for you and leading you outside. Once more, your hand was in his all the way towards the car, only having him let go when he climbed into the bed of his truck to grab his luggage and your own. 

“Do you…” You looked to see if the owner was still watching. She wasn’t. “Do you wanna tell me what just happened?”

“She thinks we’re together.”

“That’s my point.” You told him. “Why?”

He hopped down from his truck. “Boone took the short straw and since you were in the bathroom, the others called their own rooms. But, since he’s eaten nothing but spicy tacos for the last three days, I offered to share with you.”

“What a gentleman.”

Tyler smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“That still doesn’t explain why she thinks we’re together.”

“Hey,” Tyler held his hands up. “I was gonna correct her but then she started talking about how nobody who wasn’t wed shouldn’t share a room. So, when you walked in, I just rolled with it. The next motel is an hour away, but the rodeo in town is probably booked up.”

And everyone was tired. Dragging everyone back on the road would just feel illegal. 

So, taking your bag from him, you followed him up to your shared room. With just one bed. 

Considering the owner didn’t like unmarried couples sharing a room, it shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was. 

“Want me to take the floor? You already offered to share, seems fair.”

Tyler shook his head. “That bed could fit me, you, and probably a herd of cattle.”

You rolled your eyes before walking inside and dumping your bag on the small bench by the window. 

“We can share.”

Remember; normal. 

You and Tyler had shared a bed a hundred times before. This was no different. Other than your self-aware feelings for him and the fact that you’d been trying to complete less of them ever since. 

“Okay.”

And like normal, you both took your registered sides. Tyler by the door, you by the window. 

Barely an hour later, both yourself and Tyler were lying in bed staring at the ceiling. 

“How many people do you think have lied about being married just to get a room here?”

You shrugged. “Considering there are like, a thousand romance books out there with the main couples doing that exact thing…I guess…a lot.”

Tyler turned to you with a shocked smile on his face. 

“What?”

“You read romance books?”

You furrowed your brows a little. If you had been talking to anyone else, or talking to Tyler before you found yourself harbouring such a big secret from not only him but also yourself, you would have owned it. 

But this was a man you had secretly been in love with for god only knows how long. 

“I read other stuff, too.” You managed to stutter out. 

“I’ve never once seen you read a book that isn’t a textbook.”

“And? Plenty of people read romance. That’s why it’s a genre.”

“So, what else happens in these romances of yours?”

“They’re not my romances.” You clarified. But nothing could wipe that shit-eating grin from his face. 

“Are they all as cheesy as they used to be?”

You found yourself stumped at that question. “Used to be? Wait, you’ve read a romance book?”

Tyler nodded. “Just after I got stomped on by my second bull, I was waiting with the medic. I got bored and she gave me a book to read.”

“And how was it?”

“Cheesy,” Tyler said. “But the cover did have a half naked man on the cover. The doc tried to pass it off as her friends, but since she went bright red in the face, I knew it was her. So, what are yours?”

Then he started listing off different characters, revelling in the embarrassment it was causing you to admit it to him. 

“A hot firefighter who saves kittens from trees? A…18th century Duke from London, England who just so happens to ‘hate’ his sister’s best friend? That was what the Doc’s book was. Oh my god, is it a Prince in disguise who falls in love with the local baker and they win a pie contest together?”

“You’re an asshole.” You told him before turning over. 

“Oh, come on.” Tyler laughed. “Just tell me. If you don’t, I can always ask Boone to go through your goodreads. Maybe I want to buy you one for your birthday, but I don’t know which one you’ve already-”

“It’s cowboys.” You felt like you were shouting. 

“What?” You could already hear the grin on his face, which made you only try and repress yours. But he heard it anyway. 

“It’s cowboys. Bull riders, ranch owners, cowboys. Those are the romances I, mainly, read.”

You managed to build up enough courage to turn onto your back, only to look over and see Tyler’s smile still on his face. 

“Go on, go ahead. Laugh at it.”

“Are any of them Tornado Wranglers?” 

With a laugh behind your voice, you threw a pillow at his head. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

From behind you, you heard him laugh as he fixed his pillow. “Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

You turned the lamp off. “Go to sleep.”

He was still smiling as he turned his own off. “Night, Sweetheart.”

By the time you woke up in the morning, you were scrambling to find out where you were. 

In your head, you’d been in bed with Tyler. You’d all been sitting around the campfire, listening to Tyler finally agree to tell an actual spooky story. Of course, after scaring the crap out of you, Dexter told a nicer one which…you fell asleep to. Only, you’d woken to Tyler being in your bed. He’d carried you to bed. Again. But, just as you were laying in his arm, you felt the ground beneath you begin to shake before a cold draft came up the back of your neck. 

By the time you turned to look at the window, you saw…

Flying cows. 

Tuning back around, everything went from colourful to dim. Almost black and white. You could just about make Tyler out beneath the covers but each time you took a step, you found yourself unable to move. 

But when you finally did move, a pair of arms reached for you and held you back to the window. 

You woke up with a start, trying to figure out where you were. 

You were in bed. 

With a pair of arms around you. 

You sat up. 

You were in bed. 

In a motel. 

With Tyler. 

You were in bed with Tyler. 

For the second time in less than twenty four hours, you nearly gave yourself whiplash. The window was open a little. Tyler must have woken up in the night and opened it. But there were no flying cows. You made a mental note to not watch The Wizard of Oz, and have it be the last thing you watch, before bed.

Looking down at a sleeping Tyler, you noticed where his arms were around you. Around your back, and since you’d moved to sit up quickly, across your thighs with his hand closer to your hip. 

Trying your best, you tried to ignore how attractive he looked even when he was asleep. You’d seen the same image many a hundred times in the last ten years, and yet it never got old. Of course, at the time you weren’t trying to bury feelings. 

Slowly, you tried to peel yourself from him only to have him tighten his hold on you and pull you back towards him a little. 

“S’everything okay, Sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Morning voice. Looking like that.

“Every…” You swallowed and forced yourself to look away before he caught the heat on your cheeks. “Everything…everything’s fine.”

Having most of his face buried into his pillow, he opened up one eye and looked at you. “You’re looking a little flushed there, Sweetheart.”

The nickname rolled so easily off his tongue, you knew he didn’t notice how casually he used it with you. 

If you weren’t awake before, you were when he spoke. 

Almost throwing yourself from him, you scooted out of bed and stood up. “I’m fine. Promise. I’m gonna get some coffee.” It almost sounded like a question as you looked around for your jeans. 

From behind you, you heard him shuffle around the bedsheets. When you looked back, you almost melted at the sight. Lay there in bed, watching you with that smile on his face that you could never quite pin a meaning to. One arm behind his head, the other out of the covers and by his side, white tee on, his pj pants that you’d gotten him almost seven christmases ago just visible from the flipped corner of the bed. 

“Yeah. Coffee. You want one?”

“You sure you’re okay? You never usually have this much energy in the morning.” Tyler said. “Sure you don’t wanna wait. Don’t think the diner’s even open.”

“That’s okay.” You grabbed a random shirt from the chair by the small dining table. 

Again, that smile was on Tyler’s face. 

“I’ll be back soon.”

From their own rooms, the others watched as you left your shared room with Tyler, dressed in his shirt, looking like you’d just rolled out of bed. 

Lily: Do you think something finally happened?

Dex: If something did, I don’t think she’d look so freaked. 

Dani: Or be leaving their bed so early in the morning…

By the time Tyler had actually gotten out of bed, showered and had changed, you still weren’t back from your freaked coffee run. 

“Hey, Boone!”

“Yeah, dude?”

“You seen Y/n?”

Boone shook his head. “No. Why?”

Tyler looked…sad. And confused. “Nothing. No reason.”

But rather than wait around, he went and looked for you. And it wasn’t long before he found you. Sat inside a mostly empty cafe-diner, you were waiting on another two coffee’s to go. 

“Hey.”

Tyler could have sworn you’d jumped out of your skin. 

“Oh, hey.”

“Was starting to get worried. Need some help.”

You looked at the two coffee holders. “Uh, sure.”

Tyler watched you. You couldn’t look him in the eye. And you still looked flushed. He was starting to get worried. For years, you’d both been attached at the hip. But in the last six months, you’d asked him to stop calling you ‘Sweetheart’, had stopped leaning into him or even standing by his side when in a group. You’d stopped fighting Boone for riding shotgun with him. You’d stopped falling asleep on his shoulder or even sitting beside him at night. And he was pretty sure if the owner of the motel didn’t make a point of the married couple sharing a room, you would have taken the flatbed of his truck over sharing a room with him. 

“Are we okay?”

That got you to look him in the eye. “What?”

“I just mean…Are you sure you’re okay? In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never even been awake before a diner has opened unless you’ve had to be.”

You nodded and looked back at the drinks. “I just needed coffee, that’s all.”

“But if something was going on, you would tell me, right?”

You forced yourself to look at him, hoping he wouldn’t see through your lie. “Of course.”

Tyler nodded, but something in his gut told him you weren't telling him the full truth. 

Either way, he kept his eye on you for the rest of the day. And the days that followed. 

You’d always go to bed earlier than everyone else, or much later. He’d fall asleep watching you read over data and old textbooks but would wake up and catch a glimpse of you curled up either on the bench by the window or on the bed beside him reading a book he could only guess was a ‘Cowboy Romance’ considering a cowboy hat was just one of the small details designed into the cover. 

He’d smile and close his eyes again, listening to you turn the pages every now and again, gasp quietly or let out a soft laugh every now and again. 

Only, when the morning came round, if he woke up before you, he’d close his eyes, still holding you close because he knew the moment you woke up, you’d stay still for a moment but if he moved, you’d shoot right out of bed. 

It was getting harder and harder each day to pretend you didn’t worry him. And it was getting even harder to ignore the feeling in his chest he got each time he looked at you, or heard your voice or even thought about you. 

But all of that finally came to a head a few days after rolling into town when a tornado hit. 

All the data had shown no tornado was meant to come into town and what with the rodeo on, everyone headed down to it. Walking down there, Tyler could remember when he first brought you to one of the circuits he used to run on. He’d loved to have you there. To have you know of his life before he met you, because in a way, it put you there. Like, even if you hadn’t met til college, you had a place in all aspects of his life. 

And for the first time in months, you met his eye and smiled. Like you used to. Watching the bull riders, and the cowboys and him asking you if you remembered when you and him first attended a rodeo together. 

But just as he looked back at you, your gaze matched his for a second too long and…you looked away. Flushed, embarrassed, then…annoyed. 

Not at him. He knew that look off by heart. 

You were annoyed at yourself. 

But why?

Forcing himself to look back at the rodeo, he tried his best to not think too deeply into why you were annoyed with yourself. But it still worried him. 

But then something else worried him. 

Everyone’s alert on their phones. 

“We weren’t picking up cells this way.” 

One look shared between both yourself and Tyler let the other know what to do. People had to get to shelter there and then. And for the next fifteen minutes, everyone started running, staring up their engines to drive away or running to find shelter. 

You and the rest of the team helped who you could before finding shelter for yourselves. 

“Down here!”

Tyler pulled you closer and followed you down the steps inside the cramped underground shelter before you helped him shut the doors. Bolting it shut before the Tornado could whip them open again, you and him (like everyone else) huddled to the floor. 

With his arm across your back, you turned into him, gripping onto his shirt for dear life. And despite the rattling of the doors, people’s nervous screams and the battered weather outside, you eventually only heard one thing. 

“It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

Tyler’s voice in your ear provided soothing words that eventually started to slow your heartbeat. He pressed a kiss into your hair, his other hand coming around your front, before holding onto your hand that was gripping onto his shirt. 

“We’re okay. I promise. Just breathe, Sweetheart. Breathe with me.”

And you did. 

You didn’t know when the tornado had passed or when everyone felt like they could breathe again. But you did know you’d just fallen so deeply in love with Tyler at the thought of losing him, even if he’d been wrapped around you the entire time, that you were almost paralysed in those moments. 

Slowly, you looked back up and directly at him. Any closer and you both might have kissed. Tyler’s eyes were searching your face just as yours were searching his. He was okay. He wasn’t hurt. No scars. No bruises. 

Instinctively, he let his hand from round your back come to your face, pushing the hair from it all the while letting his finger trace your cheekbone and your cheek. 

If he didn’t fear losing you forever, he would have kissed you. 

“I love you,” he said in his head. 

“Tyler…”

He just nodded. “We’re okay.”

Leaning forward, you hugged him and he hugged you back. 

It was slow getting back to the motel. It wasn’t until early hours. You took turns getting cleaned up and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t scoot to the end of the bed only to make your way over to him in your sleep. 

As he climbed into bed, you turned towards him. 

“Come here.”

That night, you fell asleep in his embrace, listening to his heartbeat inside of his chest. Feeling his lips press a kiss to your temple twice before he locked you inside his hold, warming your entire body. 

And when a lighter morning rolled in, Tyler woke to his name being quietly called. 

You were having a nightmare. 

Holding you closer to his chest, he stroked the back of your head with one of his hands before his other hand took hold of yours. He pressed a kiss into your palm before pressing a similar one to your temple. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here, Sweetheart. I’m right here.”

You calmed after that. But you woke up not long after. However, before you could scoot away from him and launch yourself out of bed before your body was ready for it, he told you something.

“You were calling out for me. You were having a nightmare.”

Going off your previous track record, you were about to lie. Tell him you weren’t or that you weren’t even having a nightmare. That you’d been arguing with him or you’d been talking to him and the other Wranglers. 

But you didn’t. 

You told him the truth. 

“You were hurt.”

Tyler was a little taken aback. 

“You were hurt and I needed you to be okay.”

Tyler didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if your nightmare had been frequent or if it was just a fluke after everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. 

So all he could do was say…

“Sweetheart.” 

His voice soft, his touch even softer against your skin and yet secure in all the same aspects, he pulled you closer to him as he pressed a kiss to your head. 

“I’m okay. I promise I’m okay. I’m right here.”

He kissed your hand. “I’m right here.”

All you could do was just…look at him. 

The man you’d been best friends with for as long as you could remember, the man who’d shown and invited you into parts of his life, the man who had invited you to be apart for the rest of it, the man who you’d spent almost every single day with ever since, the man who you’d been and only fallen deeper in love with each day…was right by your side. 

He was right in front of you. 

He wasn’t a dream. 

He wasn’t a nightmare. 

There were no flying cows, there were no more tornadoes (for now at least), there were no elements of anything being fake. 

And the longer you looked at him, the more you realised…

You would always be in love with him. 

And there was nothing you could do about it. 

It wouldn't matter how much you avoided him, or pushed yourself or even pushed him to find someone. You would always love him. 

With his thumb caressing your cheek, Tyler watched you. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it outloud. But he was glad he did. 

Your other hand came to his chest…but you didn’t push him away. And you didn’t push yourself away, either. 

“Tyler…”

All of a sudden, it was like the only thing either of you could hear was your heartbeats. Blood pumping faster and faster and you got closer and closer, if that was even possible. 

Finally, Tyler made a decision. 

Cupping your face, he moved until you were almost under him, placing the hand he kissed over his heart. 

Suddenly, he was nervous. 

He swallowed, gazing at you. 

“C…Can I…” He swallowed again. 

Except, just as he went to ask, and you would have replied, a booming knock came to the door making both of you jump out of your skin. 

Neither you or Tyler moved, but when it came a second time, you looked at each other quickly before bolting out of bed. You didn’t know what to do. Your mind was still trying to process the last ten minutes.

Whilst you stood on your side of the bed, Tyler took a final look back at you. And when he opened the door, Boone thought Tyler looked like he was guilty of sin. 

Boone had known Tyler long enough to know that look. Anybody who didn’t know him, well, they wouldn’t have noticed. But he did. 

“Boone, man. We were asleep.”

“Shoot. Sorry, dude.” Boone apologised. “Well, we were all gonna get some food before we hit the road to help. Want something?”

“Where’s your phone?”

“Dude! We tried. Tried Y/n, too. I’ve got a charger if you need one.”

Tyler sighed. Right. Dead phone. 

“No, that’s good. We’ll just…get us the usual?”

“And coffee!” You heard yourself add. 

Tyler smiled at the sound of your voice. “And coffee. Wait, here.”

Handing Boone a twenty dollar bill, he thanked him before shutting the door. 

“He’s gonna give someone a heart attack one day.” You said as Tyler finally shut the door. 

Tyler scratched the back of his head with a nervous chuckle. “Almost gave me one.”

Then the silence hit. 

“Well, I, uh…we better….bathroom. I’m just gonna…yep.”

In his heart, Tyler was elated at the thought of what almost happened. But in his gut, it was like a punch to his soul. 

You couldn’t even meet his eye when you spoke and ran towards the bathroom. And when you left and he entered, it had never been more awkward between you both. 

He could only hope he hadn’t lost you. 

He loved you. 

He was in love with you. 

But he didn’t want that to be the reason he lost you. 

For the rest of the day, he only felt worse. 

And so did you. 

You’d almost kissed him. Then Boone had knocked on. And suddenly him being the only other person in the room made you feel like the walls were closing in. No matter how much you wanted to go back to the bed and finish what had almost started…something inside you forced you away from it. 

Being on the verge of telling your best friend who you’d been in love with for years was suddenly a much higher cliff than you’d originally thought. 

Due to the wreckage of the tornado, you and the rest of the crew spent the day helping people, giving them food and water, making sure they were okay. 

However, just a little after two, you looked around for him. And, like usual, you found him instantly. 

By his truck, he was loading a toolbox back into the flatbed. And he turned. He’d seen you. 

He’d been looking over at you all day. And for the first time, you met his gaze. 

He would spend the rest of his life loving you. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind or in his heart about that. And there never would be. 

He could only hope that what had almost happened that morning wouldn’t make you hate him. 

After a moment, you heard your name being called and you forced yourself to look away from Tyler. 

“I love you,” you told him, in your head. 

“I love you,” he told you, in his head. 

Hours passed and every five minutes, Tyler’s gaze would find yours again before being forced away. 

When he wasn’t looking at you, he was thinking about you. Thinking about the tornado, thinking about the rodeo, thinking about the motel room. And watching you from across the wreckage, he made a decision. 

He could only hope it was the right one. 

And getting back to the motel couldn’t come quick enough. 

By the time everyone did get back, it was long after the sun had gone down. And entering your motel room, Tyler tried to get you to talk to him. 

“We need some ice. I’ll go and get some.” 

“Y/n.”

“I’ll be back in five minutes. Promise.”

Only, you weren’t. And when Tyler heard a crash, he practically ran out of his room and down the stairs. 

“Y/n?”

Looking around, he saw you stood at the end of the building scooping ice into the bucket. 

“You okay?”

You looked up. “Yeah, why?”

Tyler looked around. “I thought I heard something.”

You were confused. “I didn’t hear anything.”

But as the ice stopped, you both heard it. Trash cans. 

“This way.”

“Tyler-”

Grabbing your hand, he pulled you round the corner. Neither of you were cast in the light from the motel but rather hid in the darkness beside it. You looked behind you and around the wall whilst Tyler stood in front of you. 

“What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

It happened again and then…

Laughing. 

You physically relaxed and turned back to Tyler with a relieved smile. 

“It’s just people coming back from the bar. We’re safe.”

Only then did you realise how closely you stood together, or how you could feel his weight slowly pressing against you. Or maybe you were pulling him forward. 

Softly, you pressed yourself into the wall as Tyler started towering over you, his hands slowly grazing over your hips as he looked at you. 

It was like what had happened that morning only…more. 

Slowly, your breath tangled with his, your heartbeat steadily rising as one of his hands ran up your body and pushed your hair from your face. 

“Tyler…”

“We should get back inside. Before you get cold.”

You were anything but that, in the moment. 

And when you both got back inside your room, having Tyler carefully take the ice bucket from you and place it on the table, only made you feel hotter. 

“We need to talk about this morning.”

“Tyler…”

“Sweetheart, I mean it.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that? There’s nothing to talk about.”

“We almost kissed.”

You closed the bathroom door in his face before reaching for your toothbrush and paste. Only, you forgot to lock it. 

Opening it back up, Tyler stood by the door, one hand on his hip, the other on the handle. 

“Y/n, will you please listen to me?”

“Tyler, please. Please, just…just stop. Before either of us say something we can’t take back.”

He stood tall. “What if I don’t wanna take it back? What if I want to say it out loud so we can both finally be finished with this…this…this weird awkward…thing between us. In ten years never once has it been awkward.”

You sighed, dropping your toothbrush under the tap before rinsing out your mouth. “Well, whatever it is, you can say it to an empty room.”

Pushing past him, you grabbed your jacket and headed for the door. You weren’t going to stick around to hear him tell you your friendship with him was over. That your worst fear was about to become your reality. 

Only, as you reached for the handle and opened up the door, the next three words that came from Tyler’s mouth, as he stood, still in the opening of the bathroom, stopped you right in your tracks. 

“I love you.”

He’d told you he loved you a thousand times over the years, but it had always been quickly and in the same way and same tone as he told anybody else who he loved. But those three words. They were different. 

They meant something entirely different. 

You could hear him slowly taking a few steps forward. 

“I love you, Y/n. I’m in love with you.”

You physically couldn’t move. Everything inside of you wanted to do…something. Kiss him, tell him the same, tell him he was mistaken, that he didn’t love you, tell him to stop, tell him to keep going.

“And I think…” He took a breath. Not of fear, not of worry, but of relief. Like finally saying these words out loud was a weight off his chest. “I think you’re in love with me, too.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just waited. 

“Now, you can run out of here. You can leave, if you want. But know that I want you to stay. I want to talk about this. All day, the only thing I’ve been able to think about is you. About the rodeo, about the other morning. About all the other times I’ve wanted to kiss you and to have you be the one I share a room with. Not because we’ve drawn straws but because you would want it, too. Again, if you want to leave, you can. The door’s open. But I’m hoping you’ll stay.”

Tyler couldn’t comprehend what was going on inside your head as he watched you. He could have swore he saw your body move a little. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe you were going to leave after all. Maybe all of it was just in his head. 

But then you let go of the handle. 

The door shut in front of you and suddenly the white noise from outside floated away. You’d made your choice. But you were still scared. 

“I…I don’t know what to do from here.”

“That’s okay.” Tyler moved closer to you until he was directly behind you. Carefully, he took your jacket from you and you let go of it willingly, allowing him to place it on the bed behind him. “We can figure it out together.”

Still behind you, Tyler’s hands lay gently by your sides. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

He took another step closer. You could already feel the heat from his body behind you, warming you from the cold draft that had wafted through when you’d opened the door. 

“I’ve loved you since before I can remember. But I know the day I met you, you were gonna be in my life forever.”

Feeling brave, you turned in his arms to look at him. For a moment, he looked scared. Like it would be the last time you’d ever look at him and he’d never see you again. Scared that you’d leave. 

But as your gaze landed on his, that smile came back. 

“What?” 

Still with that smile, he told you. “You look like you love me.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because you get this look in your eyes. Like something I’ve never seen before. And it’s new every time. Do you love me?”

You didn’t have to think about your answer, but the courage you had to build to tell him took a moment. “Yes. I-I don’t know when. But I think one day it just…clicked. But I was scared. I still am…scared. Tyler, what if…what if something goes wrong? What if we lose each other forever?”

“That’ll never happen.”

“How? How can you know that?”

“I just…do. It’s like a tornado. Part science; all the chemicals that go into loving someone. Part religion. I don’t have to physically see how something happens, but I like to believe it’s there. Maybe I don’t have all the answers, but I knew I had to listen to what my gut told me.”

“And what did your gut tell you?”

Tyler gave you that smile again. “It told me that; ‘that girl, right there, under that tree. You need to talk to her, because she is going to be the best part of your day for the rest of your life.’”

You felt the heat in your cheeks rise. 

“You have always been, and always will be, the best part of my day, Sweetheart. No matter how many tornados, no matter how many sleepless nights on the road or how much data we collect. The best part of my day is talking to you. Is looking over at you and having you look back. The best part of my day has forever been, and always will be, you.”

“So, trust me when I say that,” he continued. “Nothing bad will ever happen to us. Because I don’t plan on letting you go just because of fear. I’m in love with you, Sweetheart. And I want to be in your life, for the rest of your life.”

You smiled, “Say that again. The ‘I’m in love with you,’ part.”

Tyler was a little confused, but he would say it as many times as you wanted. 

“I’m in love with you, Sweetheart.”

Watching you blush and try and hide your smile made him realise why you’d asked him to say it again. 

“I knew you liked it when I called you that.”

You looked back up at him. “You know, you’re lucky I love you.”

Tyler smiled. “That’s the first time you’re saying that outloud.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna kiss me now? Or are you just gonna keep talking, Cowboy?”

“No, ma’am.”

Pulling you in closer, Tyler finally kissed you. 

And it was…

Everything. 

Every moment he’d dreamed of finally kissing you, every moment you’d wished he’d do so, every moment you’d both shared, harbouring those feelings, wishing for something more and being too scared to reach for it…

It was a lot to put into a first kiss. 

But it came out naturally. 

Having waited years, you both had some catching up to do. 

[hitomisuzuya]

hi again, teehee. my request is just reader and scara who are enemies that got forced on a road trip by their mutual friends. the two are sitting at the back of the van, but reader has to sit on his lap cause theres not enough people!! that leads to reader cockwarming scara pretty dejectedly, cause she wanted a peaceful car ride; which ended up with her squirming in discomfort on his cock!! but of course, no one can see them cause they still have their clothes on!! byebyee 🫶

- 🎧

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. cockwarming. some humor. enemies to lovers. a bit of degrading sexting.

this request was a fun challenge for me to write since the situation doesn't offer room for dialogue😌

scaramouche hates you for a number of reasons. he hates that you smell good all the time. hates how your hair always looks so pullable. hates how soft your skin looks. hates how hard he can feel himself getting when argue back with him, and call him out on being on an asshole when he is in fact being an asshole.

and you hate scaramouche for plenty of very valid reasons. he is selfish, arrogant, and incredibly egotistical. rude and a bit self absorbed. you swore he purposely picked fights with people because he thought it was fun. he legit stuck his tongue out at like child, with this stupid fucking smirk that just wanted to kiss right off his face.

normally, you like being a passenger on road trips at night. there was just something so peaceful about just sitting and looking out the window and listening to music.

unfortunately for you, you got to enjoy none of those things.

sometimes, with road trips more people ended up coming along than there was even room for. which in turn left you sitting in scaramouche's lap. you are sore, there are so many so many ways you could sit in someone's lap. all you wanted to do was get to the hotel, check into your room and fall asleep cuddling your jeff the shark plush.

and to top it all off, scaramouche would not stop texting you. he was impossible to ignore, especially when he could clearly see you were trying to ignore him.

'you know, you can turn the other way if you want. i can brace my arm behind your back or you could rest it on my shoulder." you grit your teeth reading scaramouche's text message.

thing is he wasn't being nice. doing any of that would require you straddling him. this wasn't the first text you'd gotten from him like this. he much preferred this position. he could feel the heat between your legs right on his cock. the bumps in the road were easily felt sitting in the back of the van, shifting you in his lap and causing you inadvertently rub on his cock.

'are you cold?'

you sighed and texted back 'i am good sitting the way i am, thanks. and no, i am not cold.'

'okay, well i am so grab the blanket for me.'

you reached over and yanked the blanket back to you over the seat, and threw it at him. "the hell you are cold," you said your first words in hours outloud. you swore you heard him laughing even though you had ear buds in.

scaramouche maneuvered the blanket around the both of you. he wasn't an idiot, in fact he was very sure of a lot of things. you were undoubtedly sore, especially in your neck and back. and you are most definitely cold. you would have to change positions sooner or later.

you felt your phone vibrate in your hand again. 'look i am not exactly comfortable either.'

'didn't say you were.' you texted back, squirming a little in his lap. your body had been crying for awhile for you to change positions. you sighed heavily and moved so that you are straddling him. for the third time that night.

scaramouche sincerely thanked whatever stars aligned in his favor for the fact that you'd chose to wear a skirt that day, which was no doubt hiked up more than little hidden underneath the blanket. he was positive he could feel your panties up against his jeans, especially when the van went over a bump. especially.

'exactly, what with you grinding on my lap,' came another text.

you rolled your eyes, your hand tightening on your phone. 'oh like i plan every bump in the road,' you were more than aware of him between your legs, and feeling he was hard at times was unavoidable. and top it all off your phone battery was half way drained, being sucked up by scaramouche's texts.

you heard him sigh as a bump shifted you in his lap. 'you sure sound comfortable.' you texted.

'awfully concentrated on me, aren't we? you like this, don't you? or maybe you have thought about this?' you knew his text was a taunt. he knew he was close to stamping on your very last nerve.

'get over yourself.' he could feel how scathing your text was. and it was such a turn on for him.

'you really haven't thought about fucking me? not even once? be honest.' you grit your teeth, and looked up at him to see him raising at you with a smirk on his face. god he is so smug.

'no,' your response was quick and simple. but truth is, you had. you hated how smug he looked just knowing he was right. you had spent some long night thinking about him. shamelessly.

'i don't mind being in this position,' you admitted in a text back, feeling a little bad about how snappy you'd sounded. you thought he felt pretty good between your legs, becoming more than a little away of thick he really is. 'yes, i have thought about it,' your heart pounded realizing you had pressed send.

scaramouche looked up, surprised at your text. you hadn't given him a inch this entire time. you look so fucking adorable looking away from your phone screen shyly, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks.

slowly you looked down at your phone when scaramouche texted you again. 'you wanna cock warm me for awhile? it would be more comfortable for both of us.' it was ideal that a blanket was around the both of you.

'..are you serious?' you texted back, hardly believing how this had happened. your pussy has clenched just reading the text, as infuriating as his text was. scaramouche was making you realize how touch starved you were.

' ...yes.' you texted back. he made you realize just how badly you wanted his cock inside of you. you squirmed knowing it was probably going to be uncomfortable after a few hours, but the thought was making you wet.

scaramouche knew in a few hours you wouldn't care how uncomfortable it felt. you wouldn't feel any discomfort. you would be wet and squirming, soaking on his cock because the van going over bumps would nudge his cock head into your sweet spot at random consistency. he couldn't fucking wait.

no one noticed you shifting into a position to peel your panties aside, the blanket concealing your movement. to everyone else it would look like you were trying to alleviate stiffness in your muscles from sitting in one position to long.

scaramouche freed his now straining cock from his jeans, silently swallowing a groan as he maneuvered his cock inside of you. you lowered yourself back down into his lap. it helped he saw the struggle to not make noise in your eyes as his stretched you apart.

'remember to keep quiet, slut. or everyone will hear how good you feel to finally have my cock inside you,' your pussy clenched reading his degrading text. texts he kept on sending you. the van went over a well placed bump, nudging his cock right into your sweet spot.

your toes curled as you squirmed a little. scaramouche on the other hand was in heaven. his cock was finally inside the girl of his dreams in a very erotic way. he could sit back and enjoy your tight warmth squeezing around his cock, your pussy oozing juices feeling it throb.

he couldn't resist idly playing with your clit underneath the blanket while he scrolled through his phone. you had to thankful to be turned away from everyone. the throbbing in your swollen clit was almost unbearable, making his cock feel twice as good inside of you.

'go ahead, kitten. roll your hips a little, no one will notice. it will make you feel better.' he pinched your clit, wagging his finger on the sensitive nub while he texted you with one hand.

the shock of pleasure made your thighs quake under the blanket. you moaned loud in your head as your hips twitched to roll down onto his cock.

'you slut. fuck that felt good. do that too much and i am gonna cum inside you.' scaramouche texted back.

your breath hitched in your throat reading his text. more wet pooled onto your pussy reading his text. your hand shook as you texted back 'promise?' you could barely even think with his cock buried that deep inside you. you want to rub and grind against him, nuzzling his neck and licking at his mouth submissively while you told him how good his cock felt.

his response was quick. 'when we checked in at the hotel, you are coming to my room and i am fucking you raw.'

'yes, please.' you texted back. he knew you couldn't wait judging from how tight your pussy felt on his cock.

scaramouche gave you break after awhile. he would have to have his cock back in his pants well before arriving at the hotel. he kept you straddling his lap though.

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Hi can I request first time with chan with shy reader? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

i’ll help you through it, yeah?

pairing: chan x virgin reader

genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: mutual pining, pet names, protected sex, praise.

authors note: i have this request in my inbox for other members as well, so look out for those in the future. i have so many requests (tysm btw) so it’s taking me a little while to get through them. i’m trying to do the oldest ones first because y’all been waiting so long. - not me blushing while writing this. i wish my first time was this sweet. lol

masterlist

"i’m just sick of it, ya know?" you complained. "i’m sick of feeling like this. like im unwanted and missing out on something."

your best friend looked at you, intently listening, but worry starting to mar his features. "are people being mean to you because you’re a virgin?" you could sense the anger threatening to rise up out of him at the thought of someone being mean to you.

"no. this is just pressure i’m putting on myself at this point. im too old to still be a virgin."

"i don’t think that’s true." chris said. "i thought you were saving yourself for someone you really loved? wasn’t that the point?"

he was right, you had always said that since you and chris were kids. you didn’t want your first time to be some fleeting, gross experience. you wanted it to be sweet and full of love. but, it didn’t seem like that was working out and you were tired of waiting.

"yeah well i don’t think that’s going to happen." you said, your voice soft, almost sad. "the person i love doesn’t love me, so im just going to have to give up on that." you chuckled sadly, the sound almost a scoff.

"i understand that. im in the same situation." he confided. "but i haven’t given up. i don’t think you should either."

you looked over at him, the space between you both on the couch was small. you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. that’s just how chris is. he’s warm. he’s warm and he’s safe and.. how could you not be in love with him? your heart longed for him to be the one to take your virginity. your heart ached with the thought of it.

he looked back at you with his big brown eyes, his curly hair tickling his eyelashes. and he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. why couldn’t you just see how in love with you he is? he hated himself for not being able to confess to you. for not being able to just come clean and tell you how you are the center of his universe. but he was scared. to have you as his best friend and to long for you but never have you was better than telling you and losing you all together. but maybe.. he could try to help you with your current problem? see how things went and then he could decide from there what he would do.

"i could maybe.. help you." chris said shyly, rubbing his sweaty palms together in his lap.

you were shocked. "help me? with this?" why would he offer to help you unless he also wanted to? you felt a small bit of hope bloom in your chest.

"only if you want to." he said quickly. "i’m not trying to push myself on you. i’m just trying to help. we don’t have to."

you thought about it for a moment, your body screaming at you to say yes. but your mind was telling you everything that could go wrong. what if he hated it? found you gross and laughed at your inexperience? you brushed those thoughts off. you and chris has been friends for over fifteen years. he would never do something like that to you. he was kind.

"i would be okay with that.." you said. "but it might not be very good."

"i’ll help you through it, yeah?"

you loved him. god you loved him. this was the right decision,you knew that.

he scooted closer to you on the couch, your thighs pressed against each other. he touched your face, turning you to look at him. he looked in your eyes before saying "if you want to stop, just tell me,okay? i won’t be mad." you nodded as he looked down at your lips. and ever so slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or scare you, he leaned it. his pillow soft lips made contact with yours and you were done for. he moved his lips against yours, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. your hands found their way around his neck, tangling in his curls.

this felt so right, but your stomach churned with worry. your body was still tense.

"sweetheart, relax." he whispered against your lips. "you know me." he kissed you again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. you felt embarrassed. kissing chris felt like the first time you had ever kissed anyone,even though that wasn’t the case.he had you so flustered, your lips weren’t listening to your brain’s commands. you opened your mouth and let his tongue in. he tasted sweet.

he pulled away, admiring your flushed cheeks. "do you want to move to your bedroom?" he asked. you nodded, and he stood, offering you his hand. he led you though your apartment and to your bedroom, knowing the way by heart. standing at the edge of your bed, he pulled you close. he kissed you again, his hands finding their way under your shirt, tickling the skin of your tummy.

"can we take this off?"

your hesitation made him pull away, studying your face for any signs of wanting to stop. "would it help if i took mine off first?" you nodded again, thankful for his suggestion. "you want to help me?"

you grabbed the hem of his black shirt and pulled it up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. you looked at him, at his body. you had seen him shirtless multiple times over the years. summers spent together swimming and early mornings at his apartment after late night study sessions, but this was different. his chest was bare because he wanted you to see it. and that made your skin hot.

"now you.." he said, reaching for your shirt slowly, giving you time to protest. but you didn’t. you let him pull your shirt off, leaving you standing in front of him in your jeans and lacy black bra. his eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat. could he do this? you were so beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you yet. you were starting to squirm under his stare. his hands were warm and soft as they grazed over your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist as he moved to kiss you again. his fingertips danced up your back, until they unclasped your bra and it fell to the floor. he continued kissing you, not looking at your bare chest right away, giving you time to get used to being bare in his presence. you nipples brushed against his chest, growing harder. arousal pooling between your legs as his kisses moved to your jaw and then your neck.

he took his time with you, slowly placing wet kisses on your skin as he guided you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body hovering above you. he kissed down to your collarbones, across your chest and down to between your breasts. he looked up at you, his lips still pressed to your skin. your cheeks were red, your mouth slightly open as you tried to draw in breath. he saw no signs of stopping in your eyes. no , they begged him to continue. his lips closed around one of your nipples, his tongue gently caressing the nub. his hand gripped your waist as he sucked on your nipple, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

"you can touch me if you want to, baby." he said, his breath blowing cold against the wet skin of your breast. "don’t hold back."

he kissed his way across to your other nipple as you brought your hands to his hair. he started to move lower, until his lips were against your belly button, and even lower still until his tongue was running along the top of your jeans. "can i take these off?" he asked, fingers grazing over the button and zipper. with your approval, he carefully unbuttoned them and slid them down your legs, revealing your panties that matched your bra. he looked up at you, his face only inches from your center. "you’re so wet, baby." he said. "i can see a little wet patch on your panties."

your face flushed and you turned your head, hiding your embarrassment in your pillow.

"hey.. hey.." he said, his hand finding yours, tangling your fingers together. "don’t hide, baby. let me see your pretty face." you did your best to look at him, trying not to focus on your insecurities, but trying to focus on him instead. you squeezed his hand, his kind brown eyes showing nothing but love. he kissed your hip, and across your skin until he was placing a gentle kiss on your clothed clit. you jerked slightly. "is that the spot baby?" you nodded, biting your lip.

he pulled away, standing up. he chuckled at your pout, your little whines of protest. "just let me take these off." he unbuttoned his jeans, and kicked them to the side. he was only wearing his underwear now, his erection causing the material to stretch uncomfortably. he admired your body from this angle. your arms wrapped around your middle, your legs bending, trying to cover yourself. "don’t." he said, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand and holding your arms out. "let me look at you, baby. god, you are so beautiful."

his hands found their way back to your breasts,squeezing slightly before his fingertips grazed down your skin to the elastic of your panties. he hooked his fingers around them. "can i take these off? can i see your little pussy?" you lifted your hips in answer, helping him slide them off. you were completely naked in front of him now but you didn’t have time to be self conscious about it. his lips were already back on your skin,kissing everywhere he could reach. "fuck you’re so pretty." he mumbled against your tummy. "been dreaming about this."

what did he mean by that? you wondered.

"can i see you too?" you asked, your voice sounding so loud to your own ears, having been silent for so long. but you were starting to feel more comfortable. he made you feel so safe.

"of course you can." he said, straightening again to take his briefs off. and now you got to admire him for a moment. the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen leading down to his hard and leaking erection. the first thing you thought was that he was big. but honestly, you didn’t really have much to compare it to.. so what did you know? "don’t worry baby. we’ll go slow." he said, sensing your hesitation.

he leaned down to kiss your lips once again, his fingers making contact with your wetness. he rubbed soft circles on your clit. you grabbed onto his shoulders, your small whimpers falling into his mouth.

"does that feel good?" he asked.

"yes.." you breathed. "so good."

his fingers traveled down through your folds and teased your entrance. "i’ve got to prepare you a little bit, okay? like this.." and he slid one finger inside of you slowly, pumping in and out. you had done this to yourself before but this was completely different. you had never felt like this before. "there you go, baby." once he felt you had gotten used to the first finger, he added a second. he moved them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing softly on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building. you were embarrassed by how quickly it had come. but you had been waiting so long for him to touch you like this, you couldn’t help it. he could feel you fluttering around his fingers. "are you going to cum?" he whispered against your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses, his teeth nibbling.

"yes.. yes fuck." you panted.

"go ahead, baby. let go."

and you did, you clamped down on his fingers, his name falling from your lips as your body shook.

he had been fantasizing about you moaning his name like that for so long now that it took everything in him not to bust right then. he took a deep breath, pulling his fingers out of you. you watched as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, your pussy dripping and pulsing, begging for more. he leaned over the side of the bed and fished a condom out of his pants pocket.

"are you ready?" he asked, holding the condom up.

"yes please." you said, breathless.

"ooh so polite." he teased, giggling as he tore the foil pack open. you watched as he pumped himself a few times, precum leaking from his swollen tip, before sliding the condom down his length. he leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you softly. "remember, we can stop at any time. just tell me. okay?"

"i don’t want to stop." you said, desperate. "please don’t stop."

he smiled. "i won’t unless you tell me to." he knelt in front of you, his hands on your knees, spreading your legs. he lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in. you gasped and his head fell back, his mouth open. he slowly inched his way inside, giving you time to adjust. you whined under him, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. "i know, baby. i know." he said. "you’re doing so good." once you felt his thighs on the back of yours, he stilled. letting you properly adjust to his size. he could feel you pulsing around him, his cock begging to cum. "i’m gonna move now, okay?"

you nodded frantically. "yes. yes please, please."

he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, his pace increasing with each thrust. he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knew that. "fuck— baby you feel so g—good." he stuttered. his hands were digging into your hips as he pumped into you. his mouth open, his eyebrows scrunched together, his hair sticking to his forehead. "are you doing okay?"

"fuck yes.." you gasped. "gonna— gonna cum."

he could feel you squeezing around him. he fell down on to his elbows, his arms caging your head, his panting breath in your ear. he continued pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds filling the room. "cum with m-me baby." he said. "fuck- fuck-"

you squeezed him tighter as your orgasm washed over you, you vision going dark. his thrusts got sloppy and then stopped all together as he spilled into the condom. he collapsed next to you, his panting matching your own. he lazily kissed your jaw and your shoulder. "i love you.." he said.

you froze.

"shit- sorry." he said. "i- i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.. it slipped out."

you turned to face him, his brown eyes looking worried. "i love you too.."

his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly back and forth. "really? you’re not just saying that because your overcome with emotion right now?"

you shook your head no. "i’ve been in love with you for a while now.." you confessed.

he chuckled. "i’ve been in love with you for a while. guess we were both too scared to say anything."

you nodded, feeling blissfully happy. you nuzzled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"are you okay?" he asked. "was that.. okay?"

"i feel amazing." you said, your voice muffled by his chest. "i’m glad i waited for someone i truly love."

"gahh my heart." he said, squeezing you tighter,

[weakformingyu]

Wait for your love | H.HJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Part 2 to We can't be friends

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: after sleeping with Hyunjin, you were dead set on getting over him, but who would've guessed it would be so difficult?

Words count: 3,329

Warnings: non

A/N: it took me a while but I'm finally here with the second part to this fic 🥳 I hope you guys enjoy it 🫶🏻

After leaving Hyunjin's house you stop at a random parking lot, crying your eyes out for almost an hour before calming down and going back home. You hate that everything inside your own house reminds you of Hyunjin, of course it does, he was always hanging out there with you and leaving his things behind so he wouldn't have to bother bringing it back when he'd sleep over.

Your bathroom is full of his skin care and his toothbrush is resting beside yours, his clothes are in your wardrobe, you even made the mistake of giving him a drawer so he could put his things on. You were too involved in the excitement of having his things there, like you were a couple, that way you could pretend that he loved you.

You feel dirty and disgusting, you want to rip your skin off and you almost succeed after staying so long beneath the shower, rubbing your skin like that could hide you of all your sins. You were only satisfied when your skin was red and aching, turning off the hot water and dressing up.

You take everything that's Hyunjin's and put it in a box, everything that he ever gave you goes inside there too and also anything that reminds you of him. You put it outside of your apartment, if you know your best friend well — and you do, he's going to show up in a couple of hours when he realizes that you were serious about everything you said. He's going to come after you, not because he loves you the way you want him to, but because he can't see you go, you're his best friend after all.

As if on cue, Hyunjin comes by later in the night, shocked to find all his belongings in a box outside, he thought you would calm down and regret about telling him you can't be friends, he thought he could show up on your door and you'd smile at him, saying that everything would be okay. Any hope he has goes down the drain after an hour of him knocking on your door, pleading for you to come out, for you to talk to him, but you won't, you can't look at him. You know you're going to cry in front of him and you can't give him that, not after he took everything else from you.

Hyunjin took your heart, took your love, took your peace of mind, but you can't let him take what's left of your dignity.

He doesn't give up, blowing your phone with calls and texts for an entire week, coming around twice a day to try and get you to talk to him but you stay firm on your decision, for the first time since you fell in love with him, you have the courage to let go and you're not going to give up on that.

When your mutual friends ask what's going on, you have to explain at least a bit of what happened to them. You don't disclose the extent of your humiliation, telling them you confessed to him and was rejected, choosing to be the petty girl who ended a friendship because the guy she loves didn't return the feelings rather than being the girl who was used and thrown away by the guy she loves.

They understood, mostly, everyone was already aware of your secret — that was only a secret for Hyunjin, since everyone else seemed to know about it.

Too soon, you have to meet him again. It's Jisung and Felix's birthday, you could have escaped if it was just one of your friends' parties but it's both of the most spoiled ones, they would never let you live it down if you didn't show up.

You put on a nice dress, get your hair done and delicately select your makeup. If you have to meet Hyunjin, at least you want to look pretty. You get to Jisung's apartment 30 minutes after the party starts, luckily there are already enough people for you to hide yourself and escape if needed.

Felix is the first to spot you in the crowd, smiling brightly and walking up to you. You hug him, wishing him a happy birthday and handing him the gift you bought him.

“Where’s Jisung?” You ask.

“He's probably in the kitchen, wanna go there?” Felix asks and you nod, following him.

You didn't expect to find Hyunjin there but it was just a matter of time before you crossed paths, so you suck it up and get closer, receiving a worried look from Felix as he mutters “sorry”.

You hug Jisung, giving him his gift and wishing him a happy birthday. You can feel Hyunjin's stare even if you don't look at him but you ignore him, listening as your friend tells you about the troubles they had while planning this party.

You excuse yourself after a while, walking in the middle of the crowd of people, trying to get away from the guy you so desperately wanted to avoid.

You open the door to the balcony and a wind gust meets your skin, making you shiver and messing your hair. At least now you can breathe.

The door behind you opens and you don't have to look to know who it is. You sigh, closing your eyes.

“I thought you would have gotten the hint that I don't want to talk to you”, you say, leaning down on the guardrail.

“You have to talk to me”, Hyunjin says, stepping closer to you, making you turn to look at him.

“I don't have to do anything!” You groan, “you lost the right to demand anything from me”

“Y/N, please”, he sighs, “I'm sorry that I slept with you and went back to Jisoo the next day. I shouldn't have done that knowing how it would affect our friendship”

“Well, you can't take it back”, you shrug.

The truth is that you're still miserable after losing your best friend and the man you love at once but know you're going to be even miserable if you have to stay by his side ignoring what you feel.

“What can I do to make it right? How can we go back to the way it was?”

You feel your heart ache and you want to cry, but you use every strength you have not to let him see you vulnerable again.

“Hyunjin, we can't go back to the way things were”, you inform him, “because the problem is not that you slept with me and then went back to Jisoo”

Hyunjin frowns, confused.

“What's the problem then?”

“The problem is that I'm in love with you”, you scoff bitterly. “I have been in love with you for so long and you never looked at me, not even once”, you look around, trying to avoid the tears of falling. “The problem is that I finally thought that you were going to love me back. But you didn't, it's not your fault that you don't love me, I know that. I just won't put myself in this miserable position of watching you happily in your relationships while I hurt, I won't”, you shake your head.

A moment of complete silence goes by, before you hear Hyunjin's shaking breath.

“I didn't know”, he whispers, brows knit together.

“I know you didn't”, you clarify, “and I'm sorry that our friendship has to end this way, but I decided to love me more than I love you”, that's everything you have to say to him, so you give him a last look before walking out of the balcony. You leave Hyunjin there, staring at the empty space you occupied a few minutes ago.

You go back home, shedding tears once more for the same person, however this time you're not feeling dirty, you feel relief. Maybe now you can finally get over him, maybe now you can find someone that's going to love you back.

You didn't think it would be so difficult to get over him, but not because you didn't try to though. You downloaded a dating app and went on dozens of dates, but you couldn't help but compare every man to Hyunjin. You never really had to force yourself to get over someone so you didn't know it would be this hard.

It also didn't help that you have the same friend group as the person you're trying to move on from, so even though they try to avoid talking about him, sometimes they let it slide and you just can't stand how their looks of pity fall on you the moment that Hyunjin is mentioned.

After another bad date, you decide that you're going to go out with your friends and get drunk, so drunk that you're going to be dragged out of the party. Is it good for you? No, but you are about to do just anything to clear up your head, to feel happy again.

Your best friend tells you about a new club that's opening in town, she doesn't have much trouble convincing you to go, you just want to have fun after all.

You start drinking even before going out, calling your uber after your second beer can. The club is not far from your apartment, so in less than ten minutes, you're already going inside with your friends.

The music is loud and the place is crowded, as expected. One of your friends swings by the bar while you and the others find a booth to sit while you wait. The red lights are making you a bit dizzy and you're feeling hot with so many people in the closed space.

The guys had invited you to go out tonight but they let you know beforehand that Hyunjin would be there too. You didn't even ask where they would go, declining the invitation instantly when your ex best friend's name came out of Jisung's mouth.

You promise that in a few months you'll be back to going out with them and probably okay with being in the same room as Hyunjin, but for now you just can't handle that, not when after a whole month you couldn't get rid of even 1% of your feelings for him.

You feel pathetic honestly, you pinned after him for so long, hurting while he was happy and not even when he treated you like trash were you able to put an end to this unrequited love.

Ari came back from the bar with a bucket full of ice and beers, you can already feel your hangover when you wake up tomorrow but you don’t really care, downing a whole bottle a moment after opening it. You dance with your friends, have nice looking guys flirting with you and laugh a lot with your friends telling you about their catastrophic experiences on their latest dates.

You go back to the booth after dancing for half an hour without stopping, your feet hurt so you decide to sit down for a bit but not without a cute guy following you close by, letting him whisper sweet nothings in your ear and promise things you’re sure he won’t be able to keep up with, but you’re having fun, it’s nice to feel desired. You kiss him, his hands wandering around your body with no restraints, you’re not drunk enough to let him do whatever he wants but also are not in the mood to tell him to stop. When you open your eyes to put some space between you and the guy, you see a shocked face staring at you not too far from your booth, you know that blond too well so you wave at Felix before it dies down in your brain that if he’s there then Hyunjin is too.

You look around, panicking, trying to find him like that would make a difference, when your eyes land on the man, he doesn’t even look the same. He has dyed his hair a wine color and cut it shorter than before. It's strange, you know how Jisoo loves his long hair.

When you find his eyes staring back at you, you avoid it, looking anywhere else. Fuck, you have to get out of there, suddenly you can’t breath. You start moving, collecting your things in a hurry and trying to get out of the booth, only stopping when you feel the grip on your wrist. You look behind to see the guy who was kissing you a moment ago.

“Where are you going?” He asks, not letting you go.

“I have to go”, it’s the only thing you’re able to say.

“What are you? Cinderella?” He mocks and you roll your eyes, shaking your arm to get away from him. “You can’t let me hanging”, he stares at you angrily.

“Fuck off”, you groan, “I’m going home”

“I can take you”, he suggests.

“I don’t want to go home with you”, you feel your heart start beating faster, reminding you that you have been holding your breath for a while.

“Are you kidding me?” He grabs your wrist even stronger.

“Hey”, you hear a voice behind you and again, you don’t have to turn back to know who it is. “She told you to let her go”, Hyunjin says.

“And what do you have to do with it? Mind your business”

“I’m her best friend, and I’m going to fuck you up if you don’t let go”, Hyunjin threatens, making you shudder to the tone of his voice, you don’t think you have ever heard him this mad before.

The guy huffs, letting you go and getting out of the booth, cursing under his breath until he disappears in the crowd.

“Are you okay?” You hear Hyunjin’s softly asking, but you feel like your heart is going to explode, beating like a hammer on your chest.

“I’m fine”, you answer, pushing him to the side while you put on your coat and walk out into the crowd, trying to find the exit.

You feel the freezing air hitting your face as soon as you open the back door, grabbing your phone on your purse and sending a message to your group chat to let the girls know you went home. You put your arms around yourself, trying to lessen the cold while you wait for your uber, when you feel another coat being put over your shoulders, making you look back, startled.

“Let me take you home”, Hyunjin asks, making you huff.

“Is it so difficult to just leave me alone?” You whine.

“Yeah, it is. I’m selfish, you know that”, he murmurs, making you sigh. “Let me have some peace of mind knowing you got home safely”

“I can just text you, telling you I’m alive when I get there”

“You know you won’t do it”, he chuckles awkwardly, “I’m going there to see if you got home anyways, it's better than me showing up at your house and waking up all your neighbors”, he tells you.

“Fine”, you huff. At this point you think you may be expelled from your building if Hyunjin spends another night knocking on your door. You can just let him have his way this one time, then you won’t get close to him anymore.

When the car arrives you both get in quietly, you sit on the opposite side of him, trying to stay as far as possible. You distract yourself looking outside the window, seeing the city and you start to feel your eyes heavy, resting your head on the window and closing your eyes just to have a quick nap until getting home.

You wake up in your bed, you are still in your party clothes but you're covered till your neck with blankets. How did you get there? You can’t remember, were you that drunk? Not really. You feel your head hurt and the thirst comes right after, so you get up walking to your kitchen to get a glass of water. When you turn around, gulping on the liquid you’re taken by surprise with Hyunjin asleep on your couch.

“Jezz”, you yelp, almost letting the cup fall on the floor and waking the man up. “What are you doing here?” You ask while he sits, rubbing his eyes.

“You were sleeping so soundly when we arrived, I didn’t want to wake you up so I carried you”, he explains.

“And you stayed over because…?” You question, making him pout.

“I thought you might need something in the middle of the night”

You take a deep breath, putting your glass of water on the counter.

“I won’t be needing anything, so you can go now”, you say, feeling your chest hurt. You shouldn’t find him sweet, you should think of him as an asshole and nothing more.

“Can’t you hear me out?” He asks, looking at you with puppy eyes. “I will grovel and beg if you ask me too but just hear what I have to say”, he pleads, making you bite on your bottom lip. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but your heart wants it so bad, wants to find an explanation so you can forgive him.

“You have five minutes”, you tell him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

He smiles, standing up immediately.

“I know I was wrong, I do. First I shouldn’t have slept with you knowing that it would hurt you if I went back to Jisoo, even if you didn’t like me romantically it would have still hurt you and I should have done better”, he says, “but after you left me, nothing more made sense, not even my relationship, it felt like something was missing and I knew all along that that something was you but I thought it was only as a friend. After you told me you like me, I started seeing things in a different light and everything kinda started making sense…”

You sigh, interrupting him.

“Look, you had a bit to drink and I don’t want you to pity me, okay? Your girlfriend is not going to like it if she knows you’re here telling me those things”

“I broke up with her”, he says, “after the last time I saw you, I ended things. I would never confess to you out of pity, I’m selfish but not that much. I took this time away from you to sort things out and find out if I was just missing you as a friend or as more than that and after seeing that guy all over you tonight I’m absolutely sure that I like you more than as a friend”

You feel your heart beating in your ears, that’s everything you wanted to hear him but you still feel insecure.

“How am I supposed to believe that you won’t change your mind tomorrow morning?” You bite on your lip, trying to not give in right away.

“Here”, Hyunjin pats on his pockets, grabbing a key and handing it to you, “this is the key to my studio, if tomorrow morning or whenever I do any shit to hurt you, you can go there and break everything”

You stare at his hand, the key hanging in wait for you to grab it, for you to grab what he’s offering you.

“What if I’m the one to do something to hurt you?” You ask, grabbing the key. “What if I’m the one to break your heart?”

“I don’t care”, he takes a step closer, “I'm giving it to you, so It’s yours to break”, he finishes, waiting for you to close the gap between the both of you. Waiting for your love.

You sigh, you know that you are a lost cause when it comes to Hyunjin and even if this is just another one of his love whims, you don’t care, as long as he looks at you and loves you this once, nothing more matters.

Tags(tumblr don't let me mention the ones in red): @hhoneylix @sunarins-whore @hyuninyriu @softkisshyunjin @skzfelixlove @hyunjinhoexxx @ittoehurt @9900z @tsunderelino @imma-queencard @redstayrosie @meowsforyujin @hynjinniesworld @yongbokified @shuaxshu @seungseung-minmin @ladyartemesia @julciaqwerty @felixsgreasylefteyelash143 @lavintine-blog @minleemin @vanblack95 @losraire @hwangshoneycake @minimin1993 @leesjuicycalves @chuuchuu1224 @lilcutieana @castbyfox @ismokeeweed @notbeforelong @nicole-2099 @chanchansgirly @trixzzie @aelin-sardothien @aujiroo @yaorzu-blog @wgothic

[mountainsandmayhem]

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

[hritika13-tamboli]

Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 5....

Series :

Baggage || dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader | best friends to lovers | co-parenting | idiots in love | slow burn—really slow burn || @angellesword

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Love to hate || Playboy businessman!jungkook x businesswoman!reader | Enemies to Lovers | Fuck Buddies!AU || @kpopfanfictrash

Summary : Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Six stages of Break-Up || ceo!jungkook x reader | Established relationship ||

Summary: Even the strongest sailing ship doesn’t last long in the sea.

Between takes 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07 || porn star!jk x f fluffer!reader | pornstar au || @jeonstudios

Summary: a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.

From home || richkid!jk x baker!reader | fakedating!au | strangers to lovers | Enemies to Lovers || @yuzukult

Summary: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? 

Sugar fairy A03 || bunny hybrid Jungkook x ruby leopard hybrid oc! | strangers to lovers au | unrequited love au || @foxymoxynoona

Summary: Bunny Hybrid Jungkook is at that age... he needs a mate, and it's making life miserable for everyone in the family. The obvious solution is to bring home a girl. The obvious problem is that while it's love at first site for Pippa when he walks into the adoption tent, Jungkook is far more into the sexy cat to her right. Will there ever be peace in the family again?

One-shot :

Mature || stupid!jungkook x reader | f2l || @jiminrings

Summary: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea.

Careful what you wish for || idol!jungkook x reader | Established relationship || @kookiesbuckethat

Summary: After a tiring week of work, the last thing Jungkook wants to hear is you lecturing him about taking care of himself. But what if he could never hear your voice ever again?

Afterglow || boyfriend!jungkook x reader | Established relationship || @onlyswan

Summary: in which jungkook can’t sleep, and he can’t stop kissing you either.

Our not so secret Secret || Athlete!fuckboy!Jungkook x smart ass!female!Reader | College AU | E2L | Athlete AU || @thvhoe

Sumaary :When someone learns that Jungkook has been secretly keeping a puppy in his room despite not being allowed to, he turns to ask the only other person who knows about his secret for help. And suddenly you two—who had long been bitter enemies—get very close.

Year 22 || childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader || @rkived

Summary: ‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘ 

T & S || Jungkook x reader | classmates!au | strangers to lovers || @jjkfire

Summary: Toddlers have always hated Jungkook and Jungkook have always hated toddlers  

+  “Jungkook… what the hell happened here? And why’s there spaghetti on the ceiling?”

Bunny adventures || hybrid!Jungkook x human!reader | hybrid!au || @kooktrash

Summary: | you had absolutely no intentions of ever owning a hybrid until jungkook came along. a mistreated, misunderstood rabbit hybrid who’d only ever wanted was to be treated like an equal.

Fighting hearts || boxer!jungkook x rich!reader | boxing!au | strangers to lovers || @kooktrash

Summary: never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more.

That night of graduation party || Jungkook x reader | strangers to lovers | right person wrong time?? | friends to lovers || @smartkookiee

Summary: After a stupid game of Truth or Drink you are convinced into telling everyone about the time you and Jungkook hooked up together the night of college graduation. A missed connection that you and Jungkook hadn't even talked about. Bringing up some unexpected feeling that you hadn't realized had been lingering between the two of you.

Jump then fall || Jungkook x reader |cruise AU | fake dating AU | best friends to lovers AU || (Three-shot) @writtenwhalien

Summary : bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

Explorer || alien!jungkook x reader | alien au || @1kook

Summary: Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning. 

A touch of silk || pairing: werewolf!jungkook x f. human!reader | werewolf au || @war-of-hormoan

Summary: have been working with wolves long enough to recognize trouble the second it walks into the bar but there was something about Jungkook that made you forget everything Namjoon told you about the dangers of lone wolves.

Please don't eat me || werewolf!Jungkook x girlfriend!Reader | werewolf!au | college!au | established relationship!au || @spicybutterfly

Summary: What do you do when your longtime boyfriend turns into a werewolf right in front of you? Take off running of course!

Strictly platonic || bestfriend!jungkook x reader || friends to lovers | college au | fake dating au || @jeonqkooks

Summary: Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

True love || tattoo artist!jungkook x reader | f2l || @lovieku

Summary: when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

I Re Do || Ex husband Jungkook x ex-wife reader || @keen-li

synopsis: Young love is so sweet, but people never realize how foolish it can be (sometimes), especially for you and Jungkook. You and Jungkook were the typical high school sweethearts, and after school, you thought you were grown enough to get married. Your families disagreed, but you still went through with it. It was fine for the first year; you were still in the honeymoon phase. But soon, reality caught up, and you both had to go to university. You attended the same university, thinking it would make things easier. Many obstacles came your way, but you were still going strong, afraid of proving your family right. However, after two years of unhappiness, you both called it quits. Unfortunately, your relationship ended on a sour note, and the man you once loved turned into someone you never wanted to see again. So, what happens now, when you face him one more time after many years of being away from him.

[fantasylandloser]

Not Flirting

Pairing; Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You and Rafe want each other so bad.

Warnings: smut, mdni, Public sex, smoking, shotgunning, two uses of slut and one use of good girl, Rafe calling the reader kiddo in flirty way

******

You’re not flirting with Rafe Cameron. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself anyway. The casual touches, and the constant bickering that presents like foreplay is how the two of you have always been. Right?

The two of you don’t even talk outside of when you’re with your mutual friends. That’s probably why you seem so focused on each other. And the only reason the air around you is so charged with sexual tension is because- well he’s Rafe. He could have chemistry with a doorknob. It is not flirting. 

You’ve told nearly every person that’s been in contact with you something similar to those words that you’ve been trying to convince yourself of. Nobody believes you, sadly you’re not even stupid enough to believe it. That doesn’t stop you from trying though.

It helps you feel less guilty about wanting his attention, and having it. He’s a known fuck boy on the island and you’ve been sort of friends since high school, but after graduating your friend group got smaller and it was hard to ignore him. 

You tried to sometimes, but it never worked. The pull the two of you had on each other was too damn magnetic. Like at this party you were at. He’d found you accidentally, laughing with some people, your bikini practically melded with your skin after a dip in the water. 

You don’t see him when he walks behind you, but the way the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you know it’s him. So, you don’t panic when his arms wrap around your shoulders, or when he takes your cup and drinks out of it, even though he knows you hate that. 

“Hey, kid.” You roll your eyes at the nickname he’d given you when he found out about the one year age gap between the two of you. You hate yourself a little for the smile you feel making its way onto your face. 

“Don’t start.” Rafe doesn’t acknowledge that, or the people that were around you because he starts pulling you away from them. “Where are you taking me?” You wish you could sound like you actually cared but you’d go with him regardless. 

“We’re smoking.” He whispers, his breath fanning the outside of his ear. 

You twist your lips in apprehension and Rafe must have a sixth sense for you at this point because he eases your mind immediately. 

“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s more your speed than mine.” Again, you roll your eyes. You don’t stop him from walking you towards wherever he’s going though. 

“I don’t even-” 

“I know, I know. “ Rafe groans. You reach back to flick him for interrupting you and he finally lets go of you since you’re walking with him willingly. “Just trust me.” You miss his body heat the second that it’s gone but you’re going to blame it on being cold, even though it’s ninety degrees out. 

You mock him childishly, to ignore the heat that crawls through your body when you look at him. You remember him saying something about cutting his hair off, and then you teasing him and saying it would look bad. You just thought his long hair added to his cuteness. You were very wrong. 

“Oh you did it.” He lets you run your hand over his buzzed head, while you walk beside him. 

“Mhm.” He smirks and you already know what’s coming. “Is it as bad as you thought it would be?” But he knows it isn’t because you are not subtle in checking him out and his ego is bigger than the sun. 

“It’s somehow worse.”You taunt only to be met with a tug on your hair. It’s childish and violently in character for Rafe. He smiles at the squeak you let out and laughs when you push him back. 

“Yeah, whatever you like it.” Your conversation is cut short when your presence is noticed by your other friends.

“Where have you been all night?” Kelce asks from the hammock he’s lying in. 

“Up your butt.” You answer obnoxiously, skipping over to your friend Natalie’s lap and giving her a hug. You could tell she was a little high on something you didn’t want. 

“I think that is the last place you’d wanna be.” Topper says, patting your head and you can tell he’s been drinking by the way he slurs. 

The conversation between you and your friends is mindless while Rafe rolls the blunt on the patio table. You tried not to stare at his fingers as he did so. Or look at him too hard as he licked the paper. You failed. 

You try not to think too much of it when he’s finally done and he beckons you over, or when he pulls you in his lap, like that's normal. Once again, you fail. It takes you all over two seconds to get comfortable once he wraps his arm around you though and you’re used to ignoring your friends' looks by now. 

You’re a little nervous once he lights it but he brings it to his lips first and you really want your lips to be on that blunt all of a sudden. When he hands it to you, you try to mimic what he had done but you can tell you did it wrong immediately. 

“Inhale, kid.” You try again, you kind of feel it this time. 

“Lemme see.” He takes it from you and inhales the smoke, which you’re pretty sure is like illegal when it comes to rotation, but you don’t say so. You’re a little surprised when he grips your jaw firm and gentle, before blowing the smoke into your mouth.

“Inhale”  You do so, trying your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

 “Good girl.” He says finally releasing your jaw. You choke on the smoke in your lungs as he passes off the joint. Rubbing his hand on your back, immediately reminding you how naked you are in just your bikini. 

“I hate you.” You say once you’ve finally gathered yourself, but it holds no weight as you lean back into him. 

*****

You’re horny. That’s all you can think about by the time your friends and you stop smoking. Everyone had dispersed by now and it was just you and Rafe with you still sitting sideways across his lap. 

“I can feel you.” You squint eyeing your position.

“It would be concerning if you couldn’t.” You're well aware that your skin was touching his. He shakes his head, propping his hand right to the pulse in between your legs that was only covered by the thin layer of your bikini bottoms. 

“You’re fucking throbbing.” Your words are caught in your throat at the sensation of him rubbing you. Intensified by your high and how long you’ve been wanting him.

“Someone is gonna see.” You finally get out, trying to shift your legs. 

‘Good for them.” When he grabs your jaw this time, it’s to kiss you and you immediately forget whatever it was that you were worried about. He lets you shift around until you’re straddling him, kissing him back with equal fervor. 

“So you do like my hair.” He says panting once, you finally give him room to breathe. 

“What hair?” You softly scrape your nails down the nape of his neck. He sniggers, when you begin grinding against him. And he’s a little shocked when you pull his hard dick out his shorts. 

“And what’re you gonna do with that?”

“Sit on it.” Rafe moans, he’s not sure if it’s at your words or the hickey you’re currently sucking into his neck. Possessive. He finds himself noting. “Unless you don’t want me to.” You add, and he almost laughs at the fact that you’re giving him an out. 

“I do.” You’re so excited to fuck him you forget how much of a stretch he would be. But it’s too late to care once you start, you brutally force yourself to take half, ignoring your own pained whimpers at the sound of Rafe gasping into your neck. 

Despite himself, Rafe grabs your ass so that you can’t go any further. “Eager little slut.” 

“You started it.” You accuse after catching your breath. “You’re the slut.” Your voice is whiny, which is unlike you and Rafe can’t help but wonder if that’s a result of you being out of your mind horny or high.

“You’re the one that’s making a mess all over the both of us.” He says gesturing to the slick skin in between the both of you. While he’s talking you continue to take him deeper, nipping at the skin on his neck. He stops you again from taking more of him.

“Too much for you, kiddo.” You push past his hand in an act of rebellion, your ass meeting the top of his thighs. The stinging pain only makes you regret that action a little, but the look in his eye makes it worth it. 

‘Fuck” He lets you continue to bounce on him for a minute, but once you start to finally find your rhythm he starts bucking his hips back into yours. He’s pleased when you can no longer hold back your moans.

“Rafe!” And he knows that warning anywhere, especially mixed in with the way you clench around him. 

“Yeah? You like that?” Your answer to him is nearly gibberish as your body begins to convulse. And initially Rafe had every intention of pulling out, but the thought washes from his memory at the feeling of you. He groans as he finishes inside you, not utterly appalled by the idea of getting you pregnant. 

Once you catch your breath, you laugh a little to yourself. “I guess I like your haircut.”

[cheriecoke]

I loooveee the way u write nanami 🥺🥺 was wondering if u could do a mini fic on nanami x reader but when they were in high school :O I feel reader would constantly flirt with him but he stays unbothered until she stops 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank uuuu

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS — nanami kento

omg thank u so so much, you're very sweet <3 i think i was taking requests when you asked this, so im so so so sorry i took forever to answer :( this isn't exactly what you said but i hope it's close to what you had in mind <3

contents: sfw, high school nanami & reader, mutual pining, silly teenage emotions, fluff, it's not even really romantic but they're best friends that won't admit they have a crush on each other, reader is shorter than him, gn!reader — 1.2k

“you can’t stay mad at me forever, kento.”

your best friend — or so you thought — stayed silent as you walked through the abandoned warehouse, searching for the curses that needed exorcising. so far, they’d evaded you, just as kento had all of your questions.

he glanced over at you, mouth drawn into its usual line. “i can if i want.”

“oh really?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued forward, following him through the building. “are you fifteen or five? you’re supposed to be the mature one!”

kento rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, letting his blade dangle loosely at his side. an odd sound echoed through the hallways, but it wasn’t quite menacing enough to be a curse.

you groaned. “don’t you know everyone will just keep pairing us up on missions until we work this out?” if kento was going to continue to be a pain, you wouldn’t allow him the silence he wanted so desperately. he’d been ignoring you for over a week. “haibara’s lucky. he gets to go with the second years.”

nanami glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow, before looking ahead once more. “you mean he’s lucky he gets to go with gojo.”

though you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be an insult to you or not, you laughed. “maybe.”

“yeah,” kento scoffed. “i thought so.”

the tone was flatter than usual, even for someone like kento, and you raised your eyebrows, letting the words settle between you.

“you’re being so sour. you know, you never even told me what i did wrong. you’re so mad at me, kento, and i don’t even really know why.”

kento watched his feet take one step, then another, the opposite ones moving ahead. he’d grown a lot over the summer — a fact you’d somehow only realized. since when had he been that much taller than you?

“i’m not mad,” he finally settled on. a weak argument as to why he’d been ignoring you for the duration of your mission, and the week before.

you frowned, chewing the inside of your mouth. although kento had a kind heart, you knew how nasty he could be to people he didn’t like. you didn’t want to be one of those on the list. “kento… i really am sorry. if i’ve done something wrong.”

the tension drained from his shoulders. he sighed. “you haven’t.”

despite wanting to push the issue further, you let it die, deciding to listen to the silence in case of any curses. though, it had been nearly half an hour, and you hadn’t found any yet. you were beginning to think that maybe your teacher had led you astray.

“can i ask you something?” kento, after ten minutes, finally interrupted the quiet again. and though that sort of phrase was never a good sign, you would’ve taken anything to get him talking to you again.

“of course, kento.”

he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, seeming shy, almost. had it not been so dark, you would have seen the slight tint of pink on his cheeks, that you only assumed was there to begin with.

“what is it about gojo that you like so much?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“you’re… interested in him, aren’t you? like that?” kento shifted awkwardly, holding his body as if it wasn’t quite his own. “i mean, i just assumed…”

all over, you great hot, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, a wave of dread heaping onto your stomach. “you think i have a crush on gojo?”

“don’t you?”

you thought about it for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“maybe?” kento pinched his eyebrows together. “what the hell kind of answer is that? you either do or you don’t.”

“i think he’s...” you stumbled over the words, not really sure when you’d started talking to nanami kento about these sorts of things. the words tasted sour in your mouth. “well, i suppose he’s attractive, isn’t he? he’s certainly charming. he makes me laugh.”

“you’re always flirting with him," kento said skeptically.

you shrugged. "i'm just teasing. if you consider that flirting, then i guess i am."

“hm. you sound like you think you’re supposed to be interested in him, just because he’s gojo.”

that raised a small laugh out of you. “maybe you’re right. i think i might just be interested in people i know won’t ever like me back.” kento’s eyes flashed, and before he could say anything, lips parted, you continued. “but what do i know about anything, anyway? teenagers are supposed to be dumb like that, aren’t they?”

kento frowned, brown eyes softer than you’d seen in awhile. “i don’t think you’re dumb.”

“thanks.” for some reason, that made you bashful, darting your eyes away as you smiled at the ground. “have you ever had a crush on anyone, kento?”

he gave you a tiny little smile, poking you in the temple, before repeating your words from earlier. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“you’re so stupid.”

kento laughed, then, a light noise that was more familiar to you than it was to a lot of others. “you know, if it makes you feel better, i think gojo likes you. really, i do. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes when you laugh at his jokes. geto told us. he talks about you to him all the time.”

and though you’d expected the words to send a wave of glee over you, the sort of silly emotion that came with a teenage crush, you didn’t feel excited as you should've. perhaps because satoru had never been the one you wanted.

“gojo just likes to be admired. besides, everyone likes when people laugh at their jokes. that's not special.” you kicked at the floor. “anyway, geto’s probably just telling you all that so you’ll tell me and i’ll make a fool of myself in front of them. that would really make them laugh.”

kento frowned, contemplative. “i don’t think he would do that.”

he wouldn’t. it just seemed the only good way to diverge the conversation.

you threw your hands up, expelling a loud sigh. “well… whatever. honestly, it doesn't matter. i don’t think i even want a boyfriend.”

kento gawked at you for a moment, lips slightly parted, before he shook his head, another snort of a laugh leaving him. “you’re so confusing.”

“you should be relieved. wouldn’t you be miserable if i started dating gojo?” you were only teasing him, bumping his shoulder with your own, a playful grin on your face.

but kento’s voice was gentle when he returned his answer, and the relief was evident on his face. “i would.”

whether you knew it then, or not, that little confession had changed the course of your life. you brushed it off easily, gripping your cursed tool tightly as you turned the corner again.

“hey kento?”

“what? the curses are going to sneak up on us if—”

“you’re my best friend, by the way. even if i was dating gojo, you’d still be my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” you stopped him, serious now. “no matter what happens.”

kento smiled softly, barely there at all. he squeezed your hand in return. “i hope so.”