#resisting the urge to call everyone pet names is not working

[suntoru]

reminder to take care of yourself ♥️

awwwww babes, thank you so much, i will 💗💗

take care of yourself too okay? <3333

[hoshifighting]

Rivals to Lovers — Mingyu

— Synopsis: You were willing to do everything to win the science fair and claim the $500 prize, hoping to outdo Mingyu, your college rival. You successfully win the prize, but your excitement took a hit when you found out that Mingyu actually wanted to use the prize money to support a dog adoption campaign. — WC: 9.1k — WARNINGS: smut, angst, fluff, some messages archives! sabotaging a school project, which could be interpreted as a form of cheating, pet adoption, rumors, guilt/regret, oral (f. receiving), bulge kink, face slap, dirty talk, mentions of fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, creampie, creampie eating, big cock!mingyu.

You never thought you'd have a rival. Enemies? Definitely not. You never even wanted one. Why bother? For what? Life is hard enough without unnecessary drama. But things have just changed.

Your science professor has announced a competition. The task? Create a clay volcano for the upcoming college science fair. It’s a throwback to middle school projects, something you haven’t done in years. The prize, however, is enticing: $500.

"Easy," you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your name is consistently at the top of all your class grade scores. This should be a walk in the park.

But then there’s Mingyu. You and Mingyu are always neck and neck academically. Your rivalry isn’t born out of animosity, but there’s a real tension between the two of you. It’s as if the universe decided to pair you up as academic sparring partners.

As you sit in the lecture hall, the announcement still fresh in your mind, you can’t help but glance over at Mingyu. He’s already deep in thought, probably planning his volcano. Typical. You shake your head and chuckle quietly to yourself.

The whole college is buzzing with talk about the upcoming science fair. Everyone seems to have an opinion on who’s going to make the best volcano and walk away with the prize. Your name comes up a lot, but so does Mingyu’s, along with a few other students. The competition is heating up.

One afternoon, you’re in the library when Mingyu saunters over, a cocky grin on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, leaning casually against the table. “I hope you’re ready to lose. My volcano is going to blow yours out of the water.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a spark of irritation. “Oh, really? And what makes you so sure?”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Just a hunch. You might as well not even bother showing up.”

You narrow your eyes, your competitive spirit ignited. You didn’t intend for this to be such a cutthroat competition. It doesn’t even affect your grade; you just wanted the prize. But now, with Mingyu’s teasing, you’re ready to do whatever it takes to win. Even if it means cheating.

The week before the fair, you’re working overtime. Your room is a chaotic mix of clay, paint, and scientific paraphernalia. Not only are you perfecting your volcano, but you’re also hatching a plan to sabotage Mingyu’s. You overheard him mentioning he’s going to use bicarbonate for his lava. Perfect.

It’s late one evening when you spot Mingyu in the hallway. He’s carrying a bag of supplies, looking as smug as ever. You can’t resist the urge to confront him.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you call out, walking up to him. “I hope you’re not getting too confident. You might just be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

He stops, turning to face you. “Oh, please. I’ve got this in the bag. Maybe you should focus more on your project instead of worrying about mine.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I am focused. More than you know. Just don’t come crying when you lose.”

Mingyu’s expression darkens, and he steps closer. “You know, for someone who claims to be so good, you sure talk a lot of trash. Maybe it’s because deep down, you’re scared you’re not as great as you think.”

Your blood boils, and you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. “Watch it, Mingyu. You might be good, but you’re not unbeatable.”

“Neither are you,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with irritation.

The tension is thick, and for a moment, it feels like you might actually come to blows. But then a passing professor gives you both a stern look, and you back off, muttering under your breath.

That night, your resolve hardens. You’re going to win this. You’ll work doubly hard on your volcano and ensure Mingyu’s project doesn’t go as planned.

On the day of the fair, the hall is packed with students and faculty, all eager to see the displays. You manage to sneak into the lab when no one’s around before the presentations begin. You swap the bicarbonate inside Mingyu’s volcano for salt, ensuring his project will be a complete flop.

Your volcano stands proudly, a testament to your hard work and determination. As you watch Mingyu set up his project, you can’t help but smirk, knowing what’s coming.

When the time comes for the demonstrations, you go first. You add the substances, and your volcano erupts perfectly. The foam drips beautifully over the clay, drawing gasps and applause from the other students. The professor praises you, saying, “Perfect as always, Y/N.”

You beam with pride, soaking in the admiration. As you watch Mingyu with crossed arms, you can’t resist a little tease. “Good luck, Mingyu. You’re gonna need it.”

He gives you a sharp look but then turns his attention to his volcano, the picture of confidence. 

But as soon as he adds the final ingredient, nothing happens. 

The salt just mixes with the vinegar, and the expected eruption is a complete failure. Mingyu gives a strained smile to the professor, who watches with disinterest, as he tries to stir the mixture, but nothing happens.

The crowd murmurs, and you see Mingyu’s face fall. You look on from your table, feeling a rush of satisfaction. As Mingyu continues to fumble with his project, you walk out like nothing happened, feeling no guilt at all. 

Your name is called as the winner, and you step forward to accept the prize. As you hold the trophy, you feel a surge of triumph. Maybe this rivalry has gone too far. But for now, you’re on top, and that’s what matters. The envelope with the $500 is in your hand.

As you leave the university building, you slip the envelope into your bag. Some students congratulate you, and you give them your best smile as you advance to your car. Turning the key in the ignition, you glance at the group sitting by the fountain. There, a very frustrated Mingyu sits with his friends Joshua and Wonwoo, who are trying to comfort him. You look over your shoulder at them before getting into your car and driving away.

Over the next few days, the campus buzzes with talk about the volcanoes—mostly about your perfect eruption and Mingyu’s epic fail. Every time you stumble upon him in the hallway, you flash a devilish grin, ready to tease him, but he just walks away, mumbling an apology.

Was this really too much? You begin to wonder. The comments about the science fair slowly die down within the week, but Mingyu remains resentful. This puzzles you. Determined to confront him, you find him alone in the grandstand, reading some books.

You sit down beside him. He immediately starts gathering his things, but you hold his book down, stopping him.

“Are you really going to be all pitiful because of this stupid science fair?” you ask, your tone sharper than intended.

He huffs, looking up at you with frustration. “What do you want, Y/N? You want me to congratulate you? Fine. Congratulations! I don’t know what the fuck you did with that stupid money, but I wanted it. I really wanted that $500. Is that what you want to hear?”

You stay in shock, his words and tone catching you off guard. You and Mingyu have never argued like this before. You've never seen him lose his cool.

“Mingyu, I—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. He gathers the rest of his books and stands up, looking down at you with anger.

“You know what? Forget it. Just forget it,” he mutters before walking away, leaving you alone in pure disbelief.

Why did Mingyu want that money so badly? You try to ask some of your classmates, but no one knows. As you walk out of the university door, you hear Joshua's voice nearby. Glancing around, you see him apparently alone. Deciding to take the moment, you approach him.

“Hey, Joshua,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Can I ask you something?”

He looks up, surprised, but nods. “Sure, what’s up?”

You ask, “Do you know why Mingyu wanted that $500 so much?” 

Joshua frowns, contemplating whether or not to reveal the reason. After a moment, he breathes out and says, “Mingyu is a volunteer at a dog shelter. He wanted to use the money for a dog adoption campaign there.”

Your shoulders fall. “That’s why he wanted the money so badly?“

Joshua nods. “Yeah, he’s been volunteering there for years. He’s really dedicated to those dogs.”

Back at home, you sit on your bed, staring at the envelope on your bedside table. You haven’t even used the money yet. Closing your eyes, the regret beats at your door, relentless and insistent. You grab your notebook and start stalking Mingyu's social media.

When you pull up his LinkedIn, you see that he’s been volunteering at the kennel for five years. There are countless photos of him playing with puppies and grown dogs, some with disabilities, some older. Your heart clenches at the sight.

As you scroll through the photos, you see the joy and love on Mingyu's face, surrounded by the dogs he cares so deeply about. The realization hits you hard—his frustration and anger weren’t just about losing a competition. They were about losing the chance to help those dogs, to make a change.

You look back at the envelope, untouched and alone. The victory that once felt so sweet now tastes bitter.

You know what you have to do. 

The next morning, Mingyu arrives at the dog shelter, adjusting his volunteer shirt on his torso. He greets Mrs. Lee, who immediately coos at him.

“Why are you here today, Mingyu? It's Saturday, the sun is shining. You should be hanging out with your friends.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I was planning to make up some extra hours here and help with the donations later.”

Mrs. Lee's eyes light up, and she claps her hands. “No need for that, dear. A kind lady came by today and covered the donation. She gave us $500! Isn't that great?”

Mingyu frowns in confusion. Donations of that size are unusual for this shelter. “Really? Who was it?”

Mrs. Lee continues, “She's outside playing with the puppies. It's such a cute scene—you need to see it!”

She holds his hand and leads him to the open field. There, you are, lying on the ground, surrounded by a flurry of excited puppies. They lick your face and jump on you, their clumsy movements making you laugh. The scene is one of pure joy and innocence, and Mingyu can see that both you and the puppies are enjoying every moment.

He stands there, watching in awe. As if sensing his presence, you look up and meet his gaze. A smile spreads across your face, and you gently push the puppies off you, standing up and dusting off your clothes.

After a moment, Mingyu's expression turns serious. He waits for you to notice his presence. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice sharp.

You look down, avoiding his eyes. “I heard that you volunteer here and—”

“Yeah, I know. Joshua told me. What do you want?” Mingyu cuts you off.

You take a deep breath, looking everywhere but at him. A puppy cries at your feet, trying to get your attention, and you pick him up, nestling him in your arms as you caress him. “I’m sorry, Mingyu. If I had known that this was the reason you needed the money, I would have helped you with your volcano. Or I would have donated this earlier.”

He stands there, reluctant. “Did you really donate all the prize?”

You nod. “Yes. I’m really sorry.”

Just then, Mrs. Lee appears again, beaming. “Look, Y/N, who’s ready to go home!” In her arms, she holds a caramel puppy with a cute pink bow.

Mingyu's eyes widen. “Lola!”

Mrs. Lee continues, “Yes! Lola is finally getting a home. She’s such a sweet girl.”

Lola was a caramel dog who had a problem at birth and only had one eye. 

You smile softly, looking at Lola and then back at Mingyu. “I heard about Lola from Joshua. She deserves a good home.” “I fell in love with Lola,” you continue, sniffling the head of the puppy. 

Lola wriggles in your arms, her little tail wagging furiously. Mingyu watches you, trying to hide the way his heart throbs at the sight.

“Lola had a hard time getting adopted,” he says quietly. “I never thought you’d be the one to take her home.”

You smile, looking down at the puppy who’s now nuzzling into your neck. “I couldn’t resist her. She’s special.”

Mingyu nods, his expression softening even more. “Yeah, she is. She’s been here for a while, you know. I was worried she’d never find a home.”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Well, now she has one. I’m going to make sure she’s happy.”

He pouts a little, thinking about how Lola won’t be teething his pants or his shoelaces when he arrives at the shelter anymore. “I’m going to miss her.”

“You can visit anytime,” you offer, then stop to think if it hadn't sounded too appealing. “I mean, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, a small smile forming. 

You shrug, feeling a sense of relief and a twinge of regret. “It’s the least I could do. I’m really sorry for what I did, Mingyu. I hope this makes up for it, even just a little.”

“It does,” he admits. “Seeing you with Lola… it’s a good sight. She looks happy.”

“She is,” you say, watching as Lola’s eyes droop sleepily in your arms. “And so am I.”

Mingyu chuckles softly. “I guess she found the right person after all.”

For a moment, you both stand there in comfortable silence, watching the puppies play. The rivalry that once felt so consuming now seems distant, replaced by a shared understanding and a newfound… respect.

“Maybe we could work together next time,” Mingyu suggests, breaking the silence.

“I bet you want to work together because you know I'm the best, right?” you tease, a playful glint in your eye.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, laughing. “Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Y/N.”

As you turn to leave the shelter, Lola nestled contentedly in your arms, Mingyu watches you go, a smile lingering on his face. 

[...]

In the days that follow at college, Mingyu's friends find it strange to see the two of you greeting each other kindly, for what they believe is the first time. You don't force anything, knowing that pushing for kindness right now would feel hypocritical.

Mingyu always wondered why you were so gentle to everyone but him, but he also remembered that he wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, given your rivalry and his constant teasing. Now, seeing this different side of you, the resentment he held begins to fade.

In the quiet moments of your day, you reflect on the past weeks. How quickly things had escalated between you and Mingyu, from academic rivals to almost enemies. It felt strange, now that the tension was easing, to think about how much energy you had spent on trying to outdo him. You wonder if it was worth it.

The next day, you see Mingyu in the hallway. He’s standing with Joshua and Wonwoo, and they glance at you as you approach. You give them a small wave and a genuine smile.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you say.

“Hey, Y/N,” he replies, his tone surprisingly warm.

Joshua and Wonwoo exchange bewildered looks, but you don’t pay them much attention. “How’s Lola settling in?” Mingyu asks.

“She’s great,” you reply, the memory of her wagging tail bringing a smile to your face. “She’s already made herself at home.”

Mingyu nods, his expression softening. “That’s good to hear.”

As the days pass, you notice the way people react to your newfound harmony with Mingyu. They seem curious, whispering to each other as they watch the two of you interact. You and Mingyu aren’t best friends overnight, but the hostility is gone, replaced by a cautious but genuine friendliness.

Well, that's what you thought until now.

You walk into the hallway, the usual buzz of students replaced with an unsettling silence. Eyes follow you, not with curiosity but with judgment. The whispers you once ignored now feel like sharp blades. You push the bad feeling down your throat, trying to keep your head high as you make your way to the courtyard.

As you approach your friends, you notice their uneasy expressions. They exchange nervous glances, unsure whether to walk away or stay put. “What’s going on?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

One of your friends steps forward, looking uncomfortable. “There’s a video, Y/N,” they begin hesitantly. “On the university blog... it shows you sabotaging Mingyu’s volcano. It’s a little dark, but it’s you.”

Your heart sinks, a cold chill spreading through your chest. “What?” you whisper, the word barely escaping your lips.

Another friend chimes in, their voice low. “People are saying you might get kicked out of the university. They’re already talking about disciplinary actions.”

You feel the weight of their words settle on you, heavier than you could’ve imagined. Your thoughts race as you try to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Kicked out? You’d worked so hard to get here, and now it might all be over because of a moment of weakness and petty rivalry.

Your mind drifts to Mingyu, the awkward but promising start of a truce between you two. You wonder if he’s seen the video, if he knows the full extent of what you did. The thought makes you feel sick.

You glance around the courtyard, suddenly hyper-aware of the stares and whispers. Your friends stand by, uncertain and uncomfortable. You can’t blame them; they didn’t sign up for this drama. The fear of repercussions, the shame of being caught—it's all too much. You swallow hard, fighting the urge to cry.

“I—I need to go,” you stammer, turning away from the group. You don’t wait for their reactions as you walk briskly toward the building's exit. The video, the possibility of expulsion, Mingyu—all of it spins around in your head, a chaotic mess you can’t straighten.

The thought of your parents, the disappointment in their eyes if they find out, makes you feel even worse.

You sit in your car in the parking lot, tears streaming down your face as you watch the damning video on your phone for what feels like the hundredth time. The grainy footage shows you sneaking into the lab, swapping out the bicarbonate for salt in Mingyu’s volcano. Your heart sinks with each replay, the weight of your actions pressing down on you.

Then, a notification catches your eye. A new comment appears right after the post, marked by the blog admin so that it's fixed at the top. It’s from Mingyu.

kmingyu_1577: "hey everyone, just wanted to clarify that this video doesn't tell the whole story. the truth is, i had already messed up my volcano. the bicarbonate i used was expired, and i didn’t realize it until it was too late. y/n knew about it and was just trying to help me out. it’s not her fault. please stop the hate."

You blink through your tears, rereading the comment to make sure you didn’t misinterpret it. The comments below start shifting, the tide of public opinion turning. Relief and understanding replace the initial anger and disappointment.

“Wow, Mingyu’s so mature about this.”

“Glad to know the truth. Poor Y/N, she must have been so scared.”

“Thanks for clearing this up, Mingyu. You’re a good guy.”

You sit back, stunned. Why would Mingyu do this? After everything, why would he cover for you?

You hear a knock on your window, and your heart sinks. There he is, Mingyu, standing outside your car with a serious look. You’re too embarrassed to face him, but you roll the window down slowly, your hands trembling. He gestures for you to step out, his expression softening just slightly. You nod and step out of the car, trying to discreetly dry your tears, but the redness of your nose and eyes betrays you.

Mingyu stands in front of you, his posture relaxed but his eyes full of unease. He takes a deep breath, his voice calm as he speaks. “Why did you do this, Y/N? I mean, you're incredibly talented and intelligent. You’ve always been at the top, outshining everyone. There’s no need for you to resort to something like this. It doesn’t make sense... not for someone like you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you can’t bring yourself to look up. You feel the weight of your actions pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. But then you feel his hand gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and you see the genuine concern in his gaze.

“Y/N, you’re so much better than this. You’ve always been more than just your grades, more than just this rivalry we’ve had. You have so much potential, so much to offer. Sabotaging my project... it’s not who you are. It’s not who I believe you can be.”

You sniffle, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They spill over, running down your cheeks. Mingyu’s eyes soften even more, and he sighs. 

You feel the lump in your throat grow, and a sob escapes your lips. “I’m so sorry,” you choke out. “I just... I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to win so badly, I lost sight of everything else. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Mingyu steps closer, his expression easing as he listens. He hesitates for a moment, then wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. You freeze for a second, surprised by the gesture, but then you melt into him, the sobs coming harder now. He holds you tightly, one hand gently rubbing your back.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers. 

You cling to him, feeling the regret starting to lift, just a little. The heat of his embrace feels like a safe haven. Mingyu doesn’t let go, even as your tears soak into his shirt. He just holds you, steady and patient.

Eventually, your sobs quiet down, and you pull away slightly, wiping your eyes.

A question lingers in your mind, and you finally find the courage to voice it. “Why did you leave that comment?” you ask. “You didn’t have to say those things, you didn’t have to defend me like that. After everything I did... why?”

“I can’t lose my favorite rival that easily. Our rivalry... it’s pushed both of us to be better, to work harder. And I think, deep down, we both know that.” 

You chuckle softly. “So, you’re saying you did it because you need me as your competition?”

Mingyu laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Instead of tearing each other down, why don’t we join forces for a change?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Join forces? What do you have in mind?”

He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Well, there’s a whole new batch of freshmen who think they can waltz in and take over. They’re talented, sure, but they have no idea what they’re up against. I say we show them how it’s done. What do you think? Team up and teach them a thing or two?”

You can't help but smile; the idea sparks a sense of harmony you hadn’t felt in a while. “So, you’re proposing an alliance?”

“Just think about it,” he replies.. “We could be unstoppable. The dynamic duo.”

Later that day, you scroll through the university blog and notice a new post: a photo of you and Mingyu sharing a heartfelt hug in the parking lot. The caption reads, “The unexpected truce: rivals turned allies?” Below the post, a comment catches your eye:

JoshuaHong_223: “I always thought they would make a powerful couple.”

[...]

You walk into the library, scanning the rows of bookshelves. Your mind is still buzzing with the encounter you had earlier. As you turn a corner, you spot Mingyu sitting at a table, surrounded by a pile of books. He’s focused, scribbling notes, but your presence doesn't go unnoticed. He looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees the expression on your face.

You stride over to him, your steps quick. When you reach his table, you crouch down to his level, trying to keep your voice low but unable to hide your frustration. “Mingyu, can you believe what just happened? One of the new freshmen had the nerve to confront me in the hallway. Can you imagine?”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, closing his book slowly as he leans back in his chair. “Seriously? What did they say?” He keeps his voice calm, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “They came up to me, all smug and confident, and basically implied that they were going to knock us off the top spot. Like they could actually compete with us.”

Mingyu’s lips twitch into a slight smirk. “Wow, bold move. Did they really think they could take you on just like that?”

You nod, still fuming. 

Mingyu chuckles softly, leaning forward with an amused twinkle in his eye. “Guess they have no idea what kind of competition they’ve signed up for. Ya! this could be fun. A little extra motivation to keep us sharp.”

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “Fun for you, maybe. I just don’t like the idea of someone thinking they can walk all over us.”

He reaches out and gently taps the back of your hand, a reassuring gesture. “Relax, Y/N. We’ve got this. If they want a challenge, we’ll give them one.”

You sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a bit. 

You’re walking towards your car, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders, when you hear that all-too-familiar voice. It’s one of the new freshmen, and her tone is dripping with smugness. You freeze, feeling a surge of irritation as her words cut through the quiet of the parking lot.

You turn around sharply, spotting her standing a few feet away with a smirk on her face. Her attitude is infuriating, and you feel your patience snapping. Mingyu, standing a distance away, watches with a knowing look, sensing that you’re about to lose your shit.

As you close the distance between you, you see her expression shift from confident to slightly uncertain. You get right up in her space, your chest touching hers. “Listen here,” you say, your voice low and controlled but bounded with anger. “I’ve had enough of your crap. I’m not afraid to beat your ass.”

She narrows her eyes, not backing down. “Oh? And what are you going to do? Risk getting kicked out of the university again?”

You scoff, shoving your bag through the open window of your car. The motion emphasizing your frustration. “Really? You think you can scare me with that? You’re just a freshman, and you’ve got some nerve talking to me like that. The parking lot is outside university grounds. No one here can touch us. And I'm not afraid to beat your ass.”

Her eyes widen as she processes your words, the confidence draining from her expression. “You think you can just intimidate me and get away with it?”

You lean in closer, your voice a dangerous whisper. “I’m not here to play games. If you’ve got a problem, we can sort it out. But don’t think for a second that you’re going to walk all over me without consequences.”

As you push your chest into the girl’s, you feel her shove back, her rage matching yours. The confrontation is heating up, and just as you’re about to respond, Mingyu strides over and steps in between you, pulling you back against him. His arms wrap around your shoulders and arms, his chest pressing against your back.

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Mingyu says, his voice authoritative. “Let’s not escalate this further.”

You struggle slightly, but his hold is steady, keeping you securely against him. 

“How about you give me a ride and let me help you get away from this situation?” He whispers exaggeratedly.

You look over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, and sighing. Mingyu releases you from his embrace but keeps a protective hand on your back as you both walk towards your car. The freshman watches, but she doesn’t make a move to follow.

As you open the car door and slide into the driver’s seat, Mingyu gets in beside you, placing your bag on his lap, and settling into the passenger seat. 

As you focus intently on the road, your jaw clenched and your eyes angrily fierce, Mingyu can’t help but notice the vigor of your expression. The anger from the conflict still simmers beneath the surface, and every so often, you grip the steering wheel a bit harder, your knuckles white. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than he intends, his eyes admiring the mad energy that radiates from you.

He’s seen you angry before, but this—this is something different. There’s a raw, magnetic energy about you when you’re like this, and he can’t help but be captivated by it.

Mingyu bites his bottom lip, trying to steady himself. Part of him is charmed by how hot you look when you’re mad. It’s as if your anger fuels a side of you that’s irresistible. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the distracting thoughts. This isn’t the time for that.

He straightens up in his seat, looking out the window, focusing on the blur of trees and buildings rushing by. The silence in the car is thick, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of gears. 

Mingyu knows he needs to break the silence, to offer some kind of reassurance. But he’s also aware that now might not be the best time for his usual teasing.

Oh, maybe that's why he liked to tease you—the sight of you mad.

His hand, initially resting awkwardly at his side, slowly finds its way to your thigh. The touch is tentative at first, his fingers feeling the warmth of your skin through your jeans. He gives it a firm squeeze, trying to offer some comfort.

“Hey, Y/N,” Mingyu says softly. “Try to relax a bit. You’re too wound up.”

You soften your jaw, releasing some of the tightness, and let your shoulders relax. You lean your head slightly against the headrest. Mingyu’s thumb begins to make slow, soothing circles on your thigh. His touch is like a balm, easing some of the tension from your body.

You pull up in front of Mingyu’s home, the car coming to a gentle stop. The quiet of the night envelops you both as you turn off the engine. Mingyu glances at you, his eyes softening as he gives a small, grateful smile.

“Thanks for the ride, Y/N,” he says sincerely. 

He reaches out, his fingers pinching the tense curve of your neck. 

“Ouch!” You pout. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases with a soft laugh, his fingers lingering for a moment.

You can’t help but sulk slightly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Well, you did just see me almost start a fight.”

Mingyu’s smile widens, and he leans in closer. “Let me help with that. I’m pretty good at taking away tension.”

Before you can respond, he starts kissing the curve of your neck with an unhurried, conscious trail of saliva. The sensation of his warm lips against your skin is making you melt against the seat. His hand moves to the other side of your neck, his fingers kneading the tense muscles with gentle strokes.

The combination of his kisses and the soothing massage leaves you in a state of blissful ease—but probably wet. You close your eyes, your head tilting back slightly as you surrender to the feeling. 

Mingyu’s touch eventually slows, and he pulls back, a satisfied smile on his face. “Thanks for letting me help with that. You’re much better now.”

You nod, still slightly dazed from the unexpected massage. “You’re welcome. I—”

He cuts you off with a soft chuckle, opening the car door. “Oh, and before I forget,” he says, glancing back at you with a touch of playful seriousness. “Send me a message when you get home, okay?”

You nod again, managing a small smile as he steps out of the car. “I will.”

Mingyu closes the door with a final, lingering look, his smile wide as he heads up to his front door. 

As Mingyu is about to open his front door, you call out to him. “Hey, Mingyu!”

He pauses, turning back with a curious eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“You nasty! Making a move like that right before you leave.”

Mingyu chuckles, his eyes twinkling with naughtiness. “Oh, was I too forward? I just wanted to help you relax. Maybe I got a bit carried away.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “A bit carried away? You practically turned my neck into a love nest.”

He grins, stepping closer to the car. “Well, if it means getting you to loosen up a bit, I’d say it was worth it. Besides, I thought you might enjoy it.”

Your cheeks flush slightly as you fight to keep your composure. “I—well, I did. But don’t think you can just get away with it.”

Mingyu leans against the car door, his expression smug. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m sure you’ll be thinking about it on your ride home.”

You give him a mock glare, trying to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Fine, fine. Just don’t think you’re off the hook for being a tease.”

Mingyu’s eyes twinkle with delight as he starts to head back toward his door. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances to get back at me. Until then, keep that bottom lip tight between your teeth. It’s kind of sexy when you do.”

You let the bottom lip escape from your teeth, your expression gawked. 

“Don’t forget to text me when you get home, or I might have to come check on you.”

With that, Mingyu heads inside, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a tight grip on your bottom lip as you drive away, the naughty exchange lingering in your mind.

(open the photos)

The next day, Mingyu looked like he’d barely slept. His pristine appearance was disheveled, his eyes a bit glassy, and there was a certain exhaustion about him that was hard to miss. It was clear that your midnight message had taken a toll on him.

His tired eyes and the slight stubble on his face made it evident he’d been up all night, likely replaying your audio moaning and the hickey photo in his mind. You couldn’t suppress a smirk at the thought of how your little game had left him looking so disoriented.

“Morning, Mingyu. Rough night?” you teased, unable to resist the opportunity.

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “You have no idea. What was that last night?” His voice was incredulous.

“You looked like you needed a wake-up call.”

Mingyu’s face flushed slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to take it that far. Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“Just keeping things interesting. You know, making sure you don’t get too comfortable. Besides, you started it.”

He shook his head, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Yeah, well, you definitely made your point. I think I might be feeling this one for a while.”

“Glad to hear it. I'll consider it a compliment.” You smirked, enjoying the way he was visibly trying to regroup.

Mingyu gave a reluctant chuckle, finally being able to see the humor in the situation. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you that. Just don’t make a habit of it. I need to survive the rest of this semester.”

Certainly, you and Mingyu hadn’t exactly become best friends overnight, but the dynamic between you two had undeniably shifted after what happened last night. 

There was a new kind of tension in the air, an electric undercurrent that had nothing to do with animosity and everything to do with the teasing games you both seemed so fond of.

Mingyu was too attracted to your fiery expressions to let things slide, and he had to admit—something was thrilling about the way your usual small spats had taken a new direction.

 But the teasing? That still remained, stronger than ever.

You were in the last class of the day, and you could tell from the way Mingyu’s gaze kept drifting toward you that he was aware of everything you were doing. 

Earlier, you had been sliding your middle and ring fingers slowly inside the slit of your book, your smile widening as you noticed his eyes glued to your movements. Mingyu hadn’t missed a thing.

In the lab, he had been at the table right next to yours, and when you crouched down to pick up something “accidentally” dropped, you made sure to lift the front of your skirt just enough to give him a glimpse of your thighs. The fabric had risen provocatively, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes blackened, nor how he subtly adjusted his position as if to ease some tension. 

On the third provocation, it clicked for him—he finally understood the game you were playing, and he was more than ready to play along.

Now, in the current lecture, you found yourself seated right beside him. You were doing your best to focus on the lecture, but when you glanced sideways, you saw him palming himself through his pants. 

The motion was subtle enough not to draw attention from others, but obvious enough for you to notice the perfect outline of his cock pressing against the fabric. Your breath hitched as your thighs instinctively pressed together under the table.

Mingyu caught your reaction immediately, and you saw a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He licked his finger slowly, before using it to turn the page of his book, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. It was a blatant taunt, a silent challenge that he was not backing down.

But you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand. Not just yet.

You shifted in your seat, leaning back slightly as you let one of your legs brush against his under the table. The touch was light, almost accidental, but the way his body tensed told you he felt it. 

You let the edge of your shoe graze up the inside of his calf, teasing your way higher as you pretended to be engrossed in your notes. Mingyu didn’t move, his breath growing shallower, but he didn’t pull away either.

Your hand slowly made its way to your lap, where you began tracing small circles on the fabric of your skirt, inching the hem higher just enough that he could see your fingers playing with the material.

You knew his eyes were glued to the action, his own hand still resting against his thigh, tense, almost daring you to keep going.

Without warning, you let your fingers dip beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing over the sensitive skin of your upper thigh. You could practically feel the restraint he was forcing on himself. His stare darted between your face, your hand, and the bit of exposed skin, as if he couldn’t decide which to focus on.

Then, leaning in slightly as if you were about to whisper something in his ear, you let your hand trail higher, just shy of the edge of your underwear. You didn’t touch yourself, but the implication was clear. Mingyu’s breathing hitched, and you could tell he was holding back a groan. His eyes were burning into you, the heat between you two palpable.

He wasn’t going to let this go unanswered. Not a chance.

Mingyu’s hand moved from his thigh to the edge of his desk, fingers tapping rhythmically as he tried to maintain his composure. But when you let out a small, barely audible sigh—one that could have been mistaken for frustration, but you knew better—his resolve broke.

Mingyu leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Keep going like that, and I won’t be able to focus on anything but you. Is that what you want?”

You bit your bottom lip, glancing at him through your lashes, and nodded ever so slightly. Mingyu’s eyes darkened further, and he let out a quiet, almost desperate laugh.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Because I’m going to make you regret teasing me like this when we’re alone.”

The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of the lecture, you didn’t waste any time. Gathering your things quickly, you slipped out of the classroom, moving fast through the hallways with a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. 

The rush of the chase made your heart race, knowing full well that Mingyu was right behind you. The game was on, and you had no intention of making it easy for him.

You headed straight for your car, hoping to put some distance between you and Mingyu, but before you could reach the driver's side, a firm grip caught your arm.

A strong hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around. Mingyu was right there, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge.

“Running away from me, are you?” he teased, his voice low and laced with a smirk.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a laugh as you looked up at him, your eyes gleaming with the same playful energy.

 But before you could respond, Mingyu’s hand slid up to your jaw, his fingers firm yet gentle as he pressed you against the side of your car. Your back hit the cool metal, and you widened your eyes in surprise, your breath catching in your throat.

There were people around—students lingering in the parking lot, walking to their cars, chatting in small groups. But the way Mingyu looked at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race, made it clear that he didn’t care who was watching. 

And from the heat in your gaze, he could tell you didn’t either. 

The next thing you knew, the scene had shifted. 

You were no longer in the parking lot, but somewhere far more yours. Your clothes were discarded in a trail leading to the bed, and now, Mingyu’s body was pressed flush against yours. 

The teasing, the back-and-forth, the playful banter—it had all led to this moment, and now there was nothing holding either of you back.

You hated yourself for not being able to resist him.

Despite everything, despite knowing you shouldn’t be this weak for him, here you were, looking into his eyes, your jaw slack as you practically drooled. 

Mingyu had already made you cum more times than you could count, his fingers and mouth driving you to the edge and beyond, and now, as he hovered above you, you struggled to take him in, feeling stretched to your absolute limit.

“Too big, too big… Mingyu—ah!” you cried out, your voice breaking as his cock pushed into you, filling you to the brim. 

Mingyu’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he licked his lips, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling beneath him. “Too big, huh?” he teased. “Should I have mercy on you?”

Before you could respond, his fingers reached down to your clit, pinching it just hard enough to make your back arch off the bed. The loud moan that escaped your lips was involuntary. 

You felt a flush of embarrassment wash over you, ashamed of how desperate and clingy you were being for him, how you couldn’t control yourself around him.

“Shhh,” Mingyu chided softly. “You don’t want to be too loud, do you? Lola’s right in the next room.”

You had made sure to put the dog away, closing the door before things heated up. Frustrated, you slapped him lightly on the chest, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it only made him chuckle.

“You’re such a crybaby,” Mingyu whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy as he started to rock his hips, each thrust making you sob. “First crying on my shoulder… now crying on my cock. What am I going to do with you?”

Your eyes drifted down, catching sight of the bulge from his cock pressing against your belly, making the stretch inside you all the more real, all the more intense. Mingyu noticed too, his gaze following yours before his hand, the one that had been tormenting your clit, moved up to caress the bulge. He pressed down on it, the added pressure making you gasp, your legs spasming around him.

“Motherfucker,” you grit through your teeth, the words almost a growl.

Mingyu only smirked at your reaction. “Watch your mouth,” he scolded, his voice low as he began thrusting harder, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust. “You… need… to… learn… some… respect.”

With every thrust, your body tensed and then melted back into the sheets, the rhythm pushing you further into a state of desperate need. 

Your chin quivered as you cried out, your voice trembling. One hand slid up his back, fingers digging into his skin, while the other wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your legs locked around his waist. You held him tight, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Mingyu smiled, leaning in so his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “You’re so cute when I fuck you like this,” he murmured. “All grumpy and stubborn outside, but here… you just melt for me.”

You wanted to respond, to say something back, but the pressure was too much, too intense, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body strung tight like a bow ready to snap.

And then it did.

Your entire body tensed, every muscle tightening as the pleasure yanked through you. Your back arched off the bed, pressing your chest against his as your nails dug into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks along his back.

Your legs tightened around him, trapping him in place as your body convulsed, your walls clenching around his cock in a desperate attempt to pull him even deeper. Your vision blurred, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you sobbed his name, the sound of it broken, completely broken.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—everything was white-hot pleasure, consuming you completely.

Mingyu stayed with you through it all, his own breath hitching as he watched you come undone beneath him.

Your body was still trembling from your orgasm, but Mingyu didn’t give you a moment to recover. He continued thrusting into you, relentless despite how tight you were around him. 

Sensing your haze, Mingyu pulled back slightly from your embrace, his strong arms still cradling your trembling frame. His hands found their way to your face, and before you could process it, he gave you a light slap, just enough to snap you back to reality. 

The sting on your face was a shock, but it was the way your body reacted—clenching tighter around his cock—that caught both of you off guard.

He watched your eyes widen. The effect it had on you was unmistakable, and Mingyu, ever the tease, decided to test it again. Another slap, this time a bit firmer, and the response was immediate—your walls squeezed him so tightly that he hissed through his teeth.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me—” His voice broke off into a moan as his hips stuttered, a hand flying to the pillow under your head to brace himself. 

He came hard, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as his head fell back, eyes rolling as his release filled you. He stayed there for a moment, savoring the high, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he drank in the way your body clung to his.

You looked up at him, your breath still coming in uneven gasps, annoyed at how effortlessly he pulled you under his spell. 

He looked too good, too smug, and it pissed you off—especially when he came with that full, satisfied grin plastered across his face. The sight of him, made your irritation spike, but it was quickly overshadowed by something else when he started to move again.

Mingyu wasn’t done. He raised himself up slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel confused. What was he planning now? Before you could ask, he began to lower himself, and your confusion turned into shock as the realization hit you.

He’s not going to… You thought to yourself, eyes widening as you watched him get lower.

But he was. 

Mingyu was about to do the nastiest shit, and the excitement was written all over his face. The look of surprise + disbelief on your face only fueled him further, making him more determined to see this through. He lowered his mouth to your core, the mix of your juices and his cum still leaking out of you, and without hesitation, he began to eat you out, his tongue lapping up the mess he had made.

The overstimulation, plus, something so dirty it made your head spin. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him in a trance. You could barely process what was happening—his lips, his tongue, all of it working on you again, despite the fact that you were already so sensitive, and full of his cum.

“Mingyu, what the fuck—” you started, but the rest of your sentence was lost to a moan as his tongue flicked out to taste more of you—and… him. His own cum smeared across his lips and chin. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He teased even as he continued to lap at you, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive flesh until your hips were twitching uncontrollably. “Too much for you? Or do you like watching me clean up my own mess?” 

You tried to speak, tried to tell him to stop or keep going; you weren’t sure anymore, but all that came out were broken moans and gasps. He hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through your already overstimulated body. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue worked you over.

He finally pulled back, leaving you breathless and trembling, your body still humming with the orgasm he'd just given you. You looked down at your pussy, glistening from his attention, but something didn’t add up. There was no trace of the mess he had made earlier, just the slickness from his saliva. Confused, your eyes flicked back to him, then back down to yourself, your mind struggling to piece together what the fuck had just happened.

Mingyu caught your fogged look and let out a deep, satisfied laugh, the sound was rich, deep, and so incredibly self-satisfied.

He stuck his tongue out, showing you the clean, pink muscle—without a hint of the mess you expected—and you nearly lost it. Did he really swallow it all? Your mind raced, and the disbelief was written all over your face.

“Fuck... did you just…?” you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You were too stunned to finish the thought.

He grinned, leaning on his elbows, completely unbothered by what had just transpired. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a low, teasing drawl. “Swallowed every drop.”

Your eyes widened, shock flooding your system. You could hardly believe it. And the worst part? He looked so damn proud of himself.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Not even you had tasted him like that, and yet he had done it without a second thought. The realization hit you like a truck, and before you knew it, you were pulling him back to you, needing to feel him, taste him, and confirm that it had really happened.

Your lips crashed into his, and you kissed him with an appetite that surprised even you. His mouth was warm and soft, the remnants of his earlier work still lingering, and it only made you more desperate. 

Mingyu’s hands slid into your hair, tugging slightly as he deepened the kiss, feeding off your urgency. When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, he gave you a smug smile, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip.

“Taste good, doesn’t it?” he teased. “Thought I’d save you some, but… I couldn’t help myself. It was too fucking good.”

You stared at him, still trying to process everything, and he just laughed again, the sound rumbling through his chest as he watched you grapple with the situation.

[...]

You didn’t know how you managed to sleep after everything that had happened. By all accounts, you should have been wide awake, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. But exhaustion won out, and not only did you fall asleep—you practically passed out. The weight of the night’s events melted away as soon as your head hit the pillow, dragging you into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Morning crept up on you gently, the first thing you noticed being something warm and wet against your face. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with Lola’s excited little face, her tongue happily lapping at your cheek. You groaned, half-heartedly trying to push her away, but she was relentless, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

“Lola, come on… let her sleep,” came Mingyu’s voice, a shout-whisper from somewhere near the foot of the bed. You could hear the fun in his tone, despite the fact that he was trying to be serious.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, surprising even you with its lightness. It felt strange, this casual morning after, as if last night hadn’t completely turned your world upside down. 

You wiped at your face Lola's excitement was contagious, and soon you were sitting up, rubbing your eyes and grinning at her.

Mingyu walked over, his hair still mussed from sleep, an easy smile on his face as he watched you. “Guess she missed you,” he said, shrugging as if to say he couldn’t be held responsible for Lola’s antics.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you replied, your voice still thick with sleep as you scratched behind Lola’s ears.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Would you write a dark and toxic romance fic?

For instance, Carlos Sainz has a girlfriend. F1 has an influencer program and invites a lingerie model to a race. Carlos is highly attracted to her, basically on his knees for her. She doesn't want to get involved and pushes him away. Carlos can't stop thinking about her and wants her more every time he sees her. He starts to try and seduce the model. She secretly enjoys his touch and pet names, dirty talks and etc., but stops him every time. Under some circumstance they finally fuck, Carlos is obsessed with making her feel pleasure. After that she's avoiding him but all Carlos wants is more of her. She even prohibits the driver from braking up with his gf. Carlos obey but in exchange wants the model to be his friend with benefits

**Not dark sorry**

Lady in Red (1) || CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, cheating WC: 2.7k

One || Two || Three || Four

You tried to resist him, you really did. You could honestly put a hand on your heart and swear you turned down the advances he made but he was persistent. 

“You’re riding with me, hermosa.” You jumped at the Spanish driver's voice in your ear, not realising he had managed to get so close to you without noticing. 

“I’m meant to be in Charles' car,” you replied as your heart rate crept up, like his cleverly hidden hand on your ribs.

“Plans changed, now I get you all to myself.”

Each day you found it harder to fight the urge to give into him. The nights left you tossing in an empty bed as you imagined all the filthy things he had whispered in your ear each time he passed. This promotion with F1 and Ferrari in particular needed to end soon or, so help you, the temptation would be too much.

A clap of hands drew your attention away from Carlos and the professional photographer waved you forward to the red sports car waiting for you. You were accustomed to being the envy of the men around you, you were literally paid to lure them in with your body and the lingerie you paraded. This promotion was no different, only it seemed to be working a little too well on one man in particular - a man who was in a very public relationship. 

“Gorgeous, honey!” Cristiano blew a kiss as he snapped away on his camera, capturing your poses on the hood of the car effortlessly.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed Carlos shuffle his way through the lighting staff and makeup artists to get a better view. You noticed, and you played with fire.

Carlos tugged at the collar of his race suit as his body temperature spiked. He had never been so enthralled by a woman before and he couldn’t let you leave without taking a bite of the forbidden fruit. The way you sat on the hood of his car made his blood race and when you leaned back and spread your legs as you looked to the sky, he swore that he had found the altar to worship on his knees for. 

Carlos bit his lip and vowed to take you like that before the campaign was over. He was going to have you, he didn’t care what he had to do to make it happen - there was no price he wouldn’t pay, and everyone had a price.

Cristiano spotted Carlos edging forward, his shadow interfering with the light and snapped his fingers at the man. “You, red man, go to her.”

Carlos didn’t need any encouragement as he strode confidently to his car and looked down at your reclined position with a dark smile. “How do you want me?”

Your lips parted with an answer before you realised he was speaking to Cristiano and snapped your mouth closed but Carlos’ smirk grew. “Do you have something to say, hermosa?”

“I thought this was a lingerie shoot.”

“I can strip down for you, I have no problem with that,” he said as he reached for his collar but you caught his hand to stop him.

“I think your girlfriend would have a problem with that.”

“Then don’t think about my girlfriend.”

“Red man, baby, you’re too stiff. Relax and take a seat,” Cristiano called out, curling a finger for you to stand up. Carlos took your place on the hood and an assistant darted across the track with his helmet. “Okay, honey, turn around and do your thing.”

You inwardly cursed as you faced Carlos and saw your reflection in the tint of his visor, the bright red lace you wore matching his suit perfectly. 

“Do your thing, hermosa,” he dared from the helmet as he lifted his feet to the front bumper and spread his knees for you to step between. 

You told yourself this was just a job, that the chemistry was purely for camera, as you placed your hands on his knees and arched your back before looking over your shoulder. The sound Cristiano made was pure excitement and he snapped a few shots with encouragement to do more. 

“Fuck, you are beautiful,” Carlos groaned as your position thrust your breasts into his line of vision and he all but whimpered when you turned around. 

You didn’t have to fake the pleasure on your face when you leaned back against Carlos and tipped your head back onto his shoulder, looking up under your lashes as you bit your lip. Without needing direction, his hands found your hips and pulled you flush against his body and your hand reached up, slipping beneath the back of his helmet to tug the strands of hair you caught.

“How wet are you, hermosa?” he whispered in your ear. “I bet you are absolutely dripping for me.”

You crossed your legs as naturally as you could in the stiletto heels and felt his chest bounce with a laugh. “Don’t be shy now. We are just getting started.”

His hands burned your skin as they slowly rose up your body and you didn’t dare breathe until they reached the cup of your bra and you pushed away from the car. You were at risk of doing something very stupid if you stayed there a moment longer. “What’s next?” you asked the director, silently begging it to be something solo so you could recover from being so close to Carlos. 

But your wish was ignored.

 “Some hot laps, you’re with Carlos.”

You looked longingly at Stacy who was making her way to Charles’ car but your view was interrupted by Carlos and the arm he threw over your shoulders, turning you to the passenger door. “Ready, cariña​?”

“Carlos…” your words died out as he opened the door and gave you a look that dared you to moan his name again so you silently took your seat.

“Open your legs.”

“No!” you gasped before looking at your lap and seeing the seatbelt was nothing like ones you had worn in the past. This one had a buckle between your thighs. “Oh.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t think about it,” he chuckled as he reached for the metal clasp, a hiss of air escaping your clenched teeth when his knuckles brushed over your panties. “It is humid here, isn’t it? Very moist.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

“What? I am talking about the weather. Unless you know of something else that is moist?”

“Please stop saying that word.”

“How about wet? Do you like that? You can tell me what you like, I am a very good listener.”

“I would like you to please focus on driving.”

“Relax, I am good at multitasking.”

“Like having a girlfriend and still trying to get my attention?”

Carlos scoffed before closing the door and walking around to his side. “Cariña, I’m not ‘trying’ anything, I had you the moment you walked in my garage.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

The engine started with a purr and your heart skipped a beat as Carlos smirked to himself. “We’ll see about that.”

Your entire body was trembling by the time the car came to a screeching halt at the start of the track. Adrenaline flooded your body and after the thrilling speeds that Carlos had driven at the world seemed to spin too slow. You wanted that heady feeling again, it was addictive.

Carlos had barely paid attention to the track as the sounds that you made drained his brain of his blood and sent it straight to his dick. He took the turns faster so your shoulders brushed with his and he hit the chicanes harder to see your perfect tits bounce in the barely-there bra.

“Dinner, tonight,” Carlos stated as he turned the car off and reached over to the buckle and pushed it in. The plastic pressed to the juncture of your thighs and a moan escaped before you could suppress it and he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Carlos knocked at your hotel door right on time and you checked yourself over once more before opening it. After seeing how he had reacted to the red Ferrari & I.D Sarrieri lingerie crossover set at the photoshoot, you found an equally racy dress in the same shade of rouge.

“I thought we were going out?” you asked as you saw a tray balanced in his hand.

The look he gave you was truly devilish as he dragged his eyes down your body and back up to your face. “I prefer to eat in.”

He slipped past you and hooked his shoe on the door, kicking it closed. You stared at his back as he walked deeper into your hotel room before he turned and curled a finger, beckoning you to join him in the dining room.

“Shit,” you murmured to yourself as you took a step towards him without meaning to and thought, I’m in trouble.

Carlos placed the covered tray on the table and pulled out a chair before holding his hand out for you. Against your better judgement, you placed your hand in his and let him pull you closer. His arms curled around your back as your hands settled on his shoulders as he smiled triumphantly.

“I finally have you all to myself, hermosa.”

One hand slipped down your back but you couldn’t find the energy to fight his advances as his palm caressed the swell of your ass. You were just trying to figure out how to make your lungs breathe again when his lips stole what little air you had left.

You curled your body against him as his tongue lashed across you lips and they parted on instinct as you wanted more.

“This dress is killing me,” he groaned as his hand travelled further down until he reached the hem and dragged it up over your hips. Cool air kissed your skin that was completely bare beneath the dress. “Looks like you had plans of your own.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips sealed over the racing pulse in your neck. “I didn’t want lines showing on the dress,” you lied, because the fantasy of this moment had crossed your mind. You just hadn’t thought about the possibility of letting it go this far in real life.

You felt his teeth graze your skin as he smiled at the lie and his hands gripped your hips before he lifted you onto the table. “What are you…”

Your words faded out as he dropped into the chair and licked his lips at the sight before him. “Eating in.”

You screwed your eyes shut knowing you were going straight to hell with a Ferrari red A pinned to your dress. You screwed your eyes shut as he kissed your left calf and placed your heel on the arm of his chair before doing the same to the right.

“Cariño,” he murmured between the kisses and bites he trailed up your thighs before he lashed his tongue through your folds. “Hmm, you are so wet for me.”

You reached for his thick, dark hair and combed your fingers through it as you gave into the temptation. You tightened your fingers in the strands and pulled him back to where you needed him most. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to talk with a mouthful?”

“Where are my manners,” he chuckled, his breath scorching on your skin. “Let me make it up to you.”

Your head thumped back on the tabletop as he completely devoured you, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. The chandelier above you was almost as bright as the stars that danced around your vision as the man made a buffet of you. You had never had someone put so much passion into eating your pussy and it showed as your first orgasm quickly built and wracked your body with undulating waves of pleasure that he eagerly lapped at.

“You taste so fucking good, hermosa,” he praised as he lazily traced his fingers along your dripping slit and he rose to his feet. Your mind was in a haze and you smiled dumbly as you looked up at Carlos to see his lips glossy with your come.

“You are a filthy man,” you purred as he swiped his thumb over his bottom lip before licking it clean.

“We’re just getting started,” he teased as he reached over to the tray and lifted the lid. “Strawberry?”

You parted your lips as he dipped the sweet fruit in the tub of chocolate sauce but instead of giving you a taste, he drizzled the chocolate over the swell of your breasts. You didn’t care if it ruined the dress because his lips were on your skin, his fingers pulling the material down to bare your breasts before his tongue swirled around them.

“Fuck, Carlos,” you cried as he sucked your nipple to hard peaks. Your body burned for more, your back arching as your hips rolled in search of friction to ease the ache to be filled. “Fuck me, please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice as he reached into his pocket for a condom before unzipping his trousers. You were impatient, squirming on the table as he tore into the foil and rolled the sheath down his hard length. You sat up at the edge of the table and surprised him as you wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him to your entrance as he watched on hungrily.

“Take it, cariña, take it,” he grunted deeply as he inched himself into your tight cunt until your bodies were pressed to each other. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your nails dug into his back, your teeth buried in his neck and he cried out your name as he snapped his hips forward.

Guilt ate at you as you dressed the next morning. The evidence of what you did was buried under layers of makeup and you swore it couldn’t happen again. Carlos was in a relationship, that should have been enough to stop you.

But he was persistent.

“Stop, someone might see,” you growled as you put your hand on his chest to stop him getting any closer. He had cornered you in a private room of Ferrari’s hospitality while you reapplied concealer to your neck.

“No ones going to come in here,” he chuckled as he easily brushed your hand aside and pulled you against him. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good again?”

“No,” you lied, your body betraying you as your nipples hardened in the thin bralette you had been scheduled to model. “Go.”

“Your lips say one thing but your hips say another,” he teased. “One touch, cariña, one touch and if you’re not wet for me then I’ll go. One. Touch. Deal?”

“No…”

“Why not?” he asked knowingly.

“Because…”

“Yes?”

You looked away from his darkening eyes and clenched your thighs together. “Because I want you to but you have a girlfriend, Carlos. This is wrong.”

“Then I’ll break up with her,” he offered, like it was the most obvious solution in the world, and pulled his phone from his pocket.

“What! No,” you gasped, grabbing the device. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason, and this was a mistake.”

His hands went back to drawing small circles over your hips and you felt yourself relaxing before you caught yourself and pushed him away. “I’m serious, Carlos, once this promo is finished we aren’t going to see each other again.”

“Then let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” His pout had you sighing in defeat. You had already crossed the line once, did the number of times really matter after that? “I’ll make you another deal, I won’t break up with Rebecca if you have dinner with me again.”

You knew exactly what he meant and exactly what was on the menu but you lied to yourself. “Just dinner,” you clarified as his smirk grew.

“Just dinner.”

Click here for part two.

[dimepdf]

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐔𝐓. + 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. maybe you did have a skirt kink?

pairing. football player!gojo satoru x reader

word count. 3.4K

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, football player au, mutual pinning, pwp, don't squint at the plot too hard now, idk how sports work, secret relationship, hookups, commitment issues, skirt kink, jealousy, heated kissing, teasing, touchy gojo, pussy drunk, car sex, backseat sex, oral (f), fingering, slight bratty reader, mentions of praise kink, name calling, pet names, unprotected sex(wrap before you tap), leather against skin, NOT BETA'D | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

It was the night of Gojo’s homecoming game. Football players spread across the field as the crowd roared, cheering for their respective university teams. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know little to anything about football, let alone sports, flinching out every time the students that sat on the bleachers next to you would scream out in excitement or shoot up from their seats to clap and cheer.

The word "bored" doesn't accurately convey how uninterested you were and how little you knew about college football. You didn't feel much better not understanding a single event that had unfolded while sitting in the brisk fall air.

Your ears and fingers were nearly numb from the absence of sufficient warming layers on your body, and you were shivering in the denim jacket you had stolen from Gojo's closet.

As the game entered the fourth quarter, you were trembling with each gust of wind and fidgeting with the gem-layered pendant that rested against your chest. 

It was obvious from the scoreboard, which you had to squint your eyes to see from the stands, that Gojo's team would win. The final score resulting, 38-14, caused students to stand up and shout in unbridled joy as the rest of the football team ran towards the field to celebrate their victory.

You still felt out of place despite being surrounded by so much school spirit, chanting, and screaming. In an effort to blend in with the crowd as much as possible, you sat as far away from the field as you could.

Watching Gojo celebrate with his teammates, shouting out in excitement and playfully tackling them into hugs, his long arms slinging over players so effortlessly, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

You found it strange to hear other women gossiping and giggling about Gojo, saying things that you would utterly concur with. 

But the rumor that he was a sex god and was extremely strict about who he chose to hook up with was what you despised the most. How only the luckiest of pretty girls would he tempt back to his bedroom.

Even though you were hooking up with Gojo and had plans to return to his apartment tonight to give him some, you resisted the urge to lean in and let everyone know because you knew that doing so would make you appear crazy.

Realizing this would make you a colossal hypocrite since you were the ones who caused the difficulties in your relationship with Gojo. 

Being overly protective of your own heart and unwilling to let the blue-eyed playboy with a long history of "sleeping around" have to close a relationship with you.

You managed to make out his trademark white hair, which is typically styled but was now pulled back over his eyes.

You also noticed his prince charming smile, the skin that peaked out from under his jersey, and the figure that shimmered from the sweat drips covering his entire body, making him look like a magazine model under the field lights.

His eyes scanned the sea of people until they finally met yours, sending a chill down your spine.

When he saw you so out of your element and knew you were doing it specifically for him, his Chester-like smile only got bigger.

He winked as he returned his focus to his coach, leaving you fiddling against the bitterly cold bleacher seats as well as the girls seated in front of you giggling as if the gesture was intended only for them to lean against each other in an out-of-control fit.

You reminded yourself that the only reason you had endured it all was because of the stupid deal Gojo had made with you as your hands clenched against your thighs in frustration.

“How about we make a little bet ___, if i win this game you have to give me a special reward.”

Any bet you placed with Gojo was akin to making a deal with the devil himself.

The winding game of cat and mouse with you resolutely giving in to his childish antics, beckoning your attention until you fall back into his trap with enough time to have you pressed against the cool tile of the guy's locker room way after practice hours.

Fucking you stupid until you gain back that tiny sense of commitment-related fear by ignoring him entirely the next day.

Gojo and you had been hooking up for long enough for him to understand that every time you pulled away, he would just snap back much harder despite your foul mood.

When you needed a quick reminder of how good he would make you feel or how well he already knew your body to turn you into a trembling mess unable to stand up by yourself, he was always there with open arms.

And each time you fall for it. The dick was simply too good to throw away entirely. 

Because of this, you kept up your end of the bargain, swallowing the last of your pride, and stood in the parking lot's darkness to observe how the other students filed through the gates along the curb.

Around the time Gojo emerged from the locker room, the crowd had vanished quickly, going about their respective lives as they drove away in their cars.

Except for a few staff vehicles scattered about, the parking lot was deserted as you watched him approach closer while tossing his gym bag over his shoulder. 

His phone initially caught his attention, not taking notice of you, swiping his thumb against the screen.

His head jerked up at the light ding notification from the phone in your pocket, and he followed it with his eyes, grinning to see you shivering by the curb for him.

He looked at your baggy outfit and lifted his brow, saying, "I'm going to be pretty disappointed if you aren't wearing my gift under that." He teases you by strolling past you with a yawn that seems uninterested, each long stride ending in the direction of his car as you simply followed his trail with a huff.

"Don't fucking worry. I've been freezing my ass the entire game wearing this stupid thing." Unbutton until the midsection of your torso to show a glimpse of the brightly colored cropped cheer uniform top you had tucked away under the fuzzy inside of his jacket, deciding there would be no harm in just giving him a peek.

The cut ending just under the curve of your ribs exposes the pudge of your stomach entirely. The uniform was very obviously designed for cookie-cutter, precisely shaped cheerleaders with pale skin, ponytails, and thin bodies who looked like they belonged in any stereotypical teen movie. 

Gojo almost drooled at the material you had to squeeze yourself into, clinging to every curve and crevice of your body.

You pulled the hem down, but it still didn't cover much since you could see the skin of your torso next to the top's strangely clashing colors. 

Gojo trapped you against the passenger side door, looming over you, and murmuring, "I think you've got to be the prettiest girl on the team ___." He spoke in a deep voice that made it difficult for you to look him in the eye, your thighs threatening to squeeze together as his hands crept under the jacket around your hips.

"Yeah, yeah, I know I look exactly like your basic ass type. Can you hurry and just unlock your car before someone fucking sees us already?" The Gojo was giving you all of his attention, but you were good at ignoring him to a point, pressing your palm flat against his muscular chest. 

His fingers reached out to grab you by the jaw as he only leaned in closer, maintaining his smile the entire time. He did this to forcefully draw all of your attention to him.

"That’s not very school spirit of you, ___. Shouldn’t you be congratulating me on winning?" It was all an act to enrage you even more, but it was working due to the pout on his lips and the way he glared down at you. 

You try to stop your heart from racing by pulling your face away from his hold and crossing your arms. 

It appeared as though he had cornered you and was treating you like prey—just another bug that had gotten caught in his web. You could feel Gojo's words brushing against your skin as he hummed, "You know, you have such a fucking potty mouth," sending a shiver up your spine.

His long fingers caressed your hips as he purposefully wedged his leg between yours. His light touch now extended under the jacket with both of his hands. 

He pressed against you until you could feel the print of his erection against your stomach as your back rested against the car window. "I’ll forgive you if you show me the skirt."

"Gojo." In a plea, you breathe out his name.

The last thing you wanted to do was to be caught flaunting some poor girl's stolen uniform when you were already feeling self-conscious about only showing the top.

"___." He rolled his eyes and moved away, saying, "That's too bad, I only give rides to pretty girls in skirts." In a bored tone, he told you. His normally innocent smile had been replaced by an uninterested glare as he cocked his head.

He was practically swinging bait in your face, and you knew that the only thing he seemed to enjoy more than playing football was teasing you.

As a result, you became the first to play along with his scheme. 

As you reached down and untied your sweatpants, shimming to pull them down to your thighs, a matching skirt set was revealed from beneath the gray cotton, his eyes never leaving yours until you broke eye contact first.

He breathed out at the view of your thighs crammed into the snug cuffed ends of the skirt's safety shorts watching as his eyes take in the sight of your body. 

You weren't sure why you were acting so shocked when Gojo chuckled and reached out to pinch the plush of your legs, but he quickly pulled back before he could become overly excited by touching you.

"Okay, you've persuaded both my dick and me. If you don't want me to fuck you in the open parking lot, get in the car, slut." 

The journey to wherever he was taking you seemed a lot worse to you. Your exposed thigh is being squeezed by his hand, which seems to be rising steadily. 

If you knew he was going to tease you for the next twenty minutes, you would much rather have him fuck you in the parking lot. Not enough of the music blaring from the radio could help you calm down as you writhed at the growing need from beneath your skirt.

Even with the sun gone and the roads seeming like a maze at night, you could tell from the turns and exits which spot he had turned into.

His fingers danced across the precarious line of fingering you in his car or not while his eyes were fixed firmly on the road. 

You even spread your legs wide to get the perfect angle for his hand, but he moved quickly to step back just far enough to deny you what you were pleading for.

What a fucking tease.

"You're so fucking insufferable," you grumbled, causing him to laugh heartily. 

"Oh, shut the fuck up," he quips. "You act like you're not eating this shit up."

"You think I like being dressed like this?"

"You agreed to it," he reminded you, his hand laying a teasing smack against your thigh. "Just admit that you fantasize about being folded like some cheap slut in a porno. I won't kink shame, angel." 

"Don't call me that," you whined. "I’m not some fucking slut."

“Well yeah duh,” he grinned side eyeing you only for a second. “But you’ll sound like one when I'm done with you.”

He backed into a more private space further into the deserted parking lot, engaged the car in park, and turned the radio volume down until it was barely audible over the sound of the late night.

He slapped his hands against the steering wheel, leaned back against his seat, let out an exasperated sigh, and then grinned impishly in your direction.

“The stars look just as pretty as you, ___.” 

"Oh yeah, and how many girls do you usually say that to?" Rolling your eyes, you tried to contain the warmth that accompanied the sincere compliment. 

"Only to the cheap sluts that I really want to fuck." He responded dryly, watching with a gulp as his eyes glanced at your lips. "You’re driving me crazy, baby." He finally snapped, leaning over the dash to kiss you, only being able to hold the whole arrogant persona for so long before he needed you as much as you needed him.

You couldn't claim to have much prior experience having sex in a vehicle. 

His room or yours would typically be where the two of you would spend time alone, but since your roommates were home and Gojo's fraternity was probably packed with people throwing a party in his honor, you had to make do with getting down in his car.

Holding yourself in place and pushing yourself closer so that you wouldn't completely topple forward, all you had to do was twist and strain.

You could just tell from the low grunts and small sighs that Gojo was getting a bit frustrated, his long limbs cramped into the small space. "Can’t you just sneak me into your place?"

"Oh yeah, you could just introduce yourself to my roommates while your balls are deep inside of me, maybe even shake my parent's hand and tell them about your skirt kink too."

"God, you're such a fucking bitch." Gojo sighed, nipping at your bottom lip, "you're lucky I'm into that." Gojo sighed, licking his lips before opening his door. 

After he slammed the door shut, the overhead light flickered, and you puzzledly watched as he opened the back door rather than crawling into his seat before turning to you with an expectant look that beckoned you to join him.

You managed to crawl through the seats with a bit of a struggle, settling yourself against the other door as Gojo guided your legs apart to make room to slot himself in. "Best gift ever," he muttered as you changed into your full-fledged outfit, shedding the jacket and sweats that had covered you to the ground. 

The moment that Gojo had ducked under the hem of your skirt, your fingers tangled a handful of his hair in a fist, shivering at his eagerness, feeling his teeth tease against the skin of your thigh. Finally, paying much attention to the eagerness between them, his fingers probed and nudged against your clit until he had hooked your underwear to the side.

Your body responded before you could even process what was happening. His tongue teased at your clit, his fingers dipped between your folds, and the sound of your breathy groans spurred him on to move swiftly.

With your needy whimpers, fingers clamping down firmly in the nest of his hair, grinding against his fingers, and the sensation of your legs twitching and quivering, just the taste of you on his tongue was like unwrapping another reward.

However, you weren't a fool. 

You were aware of how pussy drunk Gojo became each time he would eat you out, usually wanting to have you stumble out his name with tears threatening to prickle your eyes. When it came to going down on you, he was the type to lick the plate clean.

This is why you were taken aback when Gojo suddenly stopped and raised the material on your skirt to look you in the eyes. 

He continued to work his fingers in and out of you as if he weren't attempting to carry on a conversation while teasing, "Be honest, you so have a skirt kink."

As you attempted to comprehend the question, let alone provide a sarcastic response, your lashes fluttered and your head spun. 

Any train of thought that tried to escape your mind as Gojo's fingers worked their magic "I-i'm." is the only thing you could stutter out. 

"I-I, you what baby?" His laughter made you squint your eyes shut, and you covered your face with your hands as he mocked you in a flat tone. 

Gojo leaned up and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling your hands away from your face to give you a more delicate kiss on the lips, muttering mostly to himself, "You're so cute."

Leaning into his touch, you suddenly felt his fingers pull away from you, making a humiliating wet sound that you ignored since Gojo had already diverted his attention to another part of your body. He was fondling your breast through the crop top as his fingers explored.

You could tell from the way Gojo smiled against your mouth that he was biting back on making some stupid joke the moment that his fingers made out the bud of your nipples.

As he pulls away, his other hand switches back to tracing the plush of your thighs before quickly removing your skirt. 

He peeled it off of you without a bat of the eye, not wanting to struggle with the safety shorts that were sewn in under it like he had to do when he had blindly gone down on you. 

Bumping his elbow and leg against leather seats as he sat up trying to strip his own shirt, a loud thump jortles you from your daze. Only then had you realized Gojo’s hiss of pain.

 His normally pale face was now flushed pink, and he scrunched his brow, rubbing the back of his head. "This is the thanks I get for having such a big dick.”

He leaned back down, perfectly squeezing himself between your spread legs, and asked, "Wanna kiss it better?" while getting dangerously close to your lips. He didn't wait for a response simply because he could tell you were only glancing at his lips.

His head dove to hide in the crook of your neck with a grunt, as your fingers searched for the bulge that reacted with a twitch after you had grabbed him by the elastic of his shorts.

You didn't hesitate, never did, knowing what you both wanted as his fingers spread your pussy apart.

You couldn't help but feel intoxicated while listening to his shift in breathing as your hand guided his length to press against exactly where you wanted it.

Sharing a relieved gasp as he shifted his hips against yours, the feeling of him burying himself inside you completely, Gojo was too lost in the bliss to joke about how good it felt to have you clench around him.

Your hips move in unison, seemingly motivated by a primal urge to pursue the intense arousing sensation that had been building up. 

Gojo, rubbing his thumb in circles against your clit while whimpering into your neck about how gorgeous you were.

As the intensity of his thrusts increased, steam built up on the car's windows, and the air became humid as the car's slight creak gave way to the weight shifting inside. 

Few actual words were spoken because the two of you were too preoccupied with making each other feel good to even form sentences that had any proper finishes.

Gojo readjusted himself, finding the spot that caused your muscles to tighten and spasm. Hooking your leg over his shoulder, nearly causing it to hit the ceiling as he grunted at you while clenching around you continuing his pace until your orgasm unfurled.

Despite being athletic, Gojo went completely slack, falling with his entire weight against your chest, panting as if he were in practice running a mile.

He found calm in the thump of his heartbeat against your chest. "Hey, so about the roommate thing," Gojo spoke after he had eventually caught his breath, cuddling against your chest as his fingers played with your pendant. "I wouldn't mind meeting them, or your parents, or telling anyone honestly; I just would prefer to do it fully clothed if that's okay."

You blinked. "You mean you want this to be like an official thing?" you asked, finally working up enough energy to sit up against the side of the door.

Wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your sweaty bare skin dragging against the leather material of the seats. "Like this, you no longer refer to me as a slut but as your girlfriend instead."

"Well, I still want you to be my slut, but calling you girlfriend doesn't sound too bad either, does it?" Gojo shrugged.

🔖 @yazmunson / @prblmtic / @zuuki / @watyousayin / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol

tap here to be added to taglist.

[santaasi]

hate to be lame

pairing: fwb!jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you hate to admit it but you might love jj maybank

warnings: fluff, (small) angst, allusion to sex, no use of y/n, pet names (cupcake, doll), english isn’t my first language

word count: 4.3k

a/n: inspired by hate to be lame - lizzie mcalpine, fineas

YOU DIDN'T REMEMBER THE MOMENT WHEN EVERYTHING CHANGED. When the stars collided so that for the first time you felt this swarm of butterflies in your stomach at the very sight of him looking at you. Or when the hookups after parties stopped being just sex and became something more. Something more for you. 

JJ Maybank had always captivated your attention. Like everyone on the island, you couldn't help but notice that despite being the arrogant pain in every Kook's ass, JJ was sculpted like an Apollo. His tall, broad-shouldered frame was the result of daily labor for the wealthy residents of Figure 8, including you and your family. His eternally tousled dirty blond hair and those eyes... those mesmerizing eyes that reflected the beauty of North Carolina's sandy coast and salty sea. Adding to his allure was his reputation as a "troubled bad boy," a role that made him irresistible to all the girls on the island. No matter how much you wished to resist, you were no exception. His presence was magnetic, a blend of raw strength and rugged charm that drew you in despite your better judgment.

JJ Maybank wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. His very existence seemed to challenge the orderly world you were accustomed to, tempting you with the promise of adventure and rebellion. The way he carried himself, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, only heightened his appeal. He was everything you were supposed to avoid, yet everything you secretly desired.In those stolen glances and fleeting moments, you felt a connection that transcended mere attraction. It was as if his wild spirit called out to the hidden desires within you, urging you to break free from the confines of your polished life. And despite the consequences, despite the warnings, you knew deep down that resisting JJ Maybank was a battle you were destined to lose.

Resisting the allure of the Pogue boy required keeping your distance, avoiding any encounters, and only observing from afar how at each new party, he would make out with yet another girl. These girls, whom you secretly envied, seemed to effortlessly capture his attention. And it wasn't love or sympathy for the guy that drove you, no. It was the allure of the forbidden fruit that everyone spoke of with such sweetness that captivated you. You longed to savor its essence, if only for a fleeting moment, before moving on with your life. But there's wisdom in the saying, "be careful what you wish for," because the moment JJ Maybank became the new lawn boy in your house and when a week later he found his way into your silk sheets, you understood. JJ Maybank wasn't just a temptation; he was an addiction.

Sex with him was like scenes from an old romantic movie: tender, sensual, and passionately intense. JJ Maybank was not just focused on his own pleasure; he made it his mission to make you feel like a queen. He would lift you to the ninth cloud, then gently lower you back to earth, leaving you yearning for him again and again until you were utterly spent.

After the bliss of being in bed, he would carry that enchantment into the shower. With hands roughened by hard work, he would glide over your body, applying expensive shower gel with a touch that was both firm and tender, rinsing it off with hot water. His fingers would move through your hair, massaging your scalp as he applied shampoo and followed it with a series of hair care steps that he found frivolous but performed with care just for you. His lips would leave delicate kisses on your cheeks, shoulders, collarbone, fingers—anywhere he could reach, while his hot breath scorched your skin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

Afterward, he would wrap your towel-dried body in one of his T-shirts, the ones you kept in your closet and slept in every night, inhaling the scent of the sea that clung to them. Then he would lift you in his arms, carry you to your huge bed, and lie down beside you, holding you close.

These moments were more than physical pleasure; they were a symphony of sensations that transcended mere touch. JJ's rough, hard working hands moved with surprising gentleness, as if cherishing every inch of your skin. His presence was overwhelming yet comforting, a paradox that left you helplessly drawn to him. Each touch, each kiss, each whisper was a promise of more—more passion, more tenderness, more of the addictive connection that bound you to him. In his embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of you, lost in a private universe of bliss and desire. JJ Maybank wasn't just a lover; he was an experience, a force that transformed every moment with him into something magical. As you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that this was a feeling you would never tire of, a craving that would forever haunt your dreams.

Perhaps it was this tender and sensualness on his part, which you had never met before, that made your little heart beat more often in your chest. Or maybe it was all those little moments and conversations in between, all those stupid jokes that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, and all those "accidental" touches after which your body forgot how to breathe. 

Maybe it was all this, or perhaps everything in between, but none of it mattered in the end. The bottom line remained the same: despite everything, you fell in love with JJ Maybank, and it seemed like your biggest mistake. He wasn't interested in relationships. To him, a relationship meant the end of freedom and happiness. And you were a Kook—a Kook he despised and hated. People like you always made him do their dirty work, just like your parents did, and it was because of them that he often found himself at the precinct. All these factors combined left no chance of moving from the category of friends with benefits to something more.

You wanted to believe that the smoldering looks you caught from him at parties, the casual touches, and the late-night conversations on your rooftop meant as much to him as they did to you. But you weren't naive enough to think your relationship was special when he spent his life changing girls like gloves. So, you buried your feelings deep inside and accepted the reality you lived in, where JJ Maybank was just your fling.

You couldn't help but replay the moments when his gaze lingered a little too long, or when his touch seemed to convey more than just physical desire. Each encounter was a blend of ecstasy and heartbreak, knowing that while he held you close, he was never truly yours. The connection you felt was undeniable, but the barriers between you were just as real. He was a wild spirit, untamed and unbound, while you were part of the world that tried to cage him. Despite this, you cherished every moment spent with him. The laughter, the shared secrets, the way he made you feel alive in a way no one else could. The intensity of his presence was intoxicating, making it impossible to stay away even when you knew it was for the best. JJ was an addiction, a beautiful, dangerous addiction that you couldn't quit.

And so, you continued to live in this bittersweet limbo, hiding your love behind a facade of casual encounters. Every time he left, a part of you broke a little more, but you told yourself it was enough. Enough to have him in any capacity, enough to experience the fleeting moments of closeness. Because despite the pain, despite the heartache, loving JJ Maybank was the most real thing you had ever felt.

“You're too quiet today, doll,” JJ's hoarse voice rang out in your ear, making goosebumps run all over your body. You didn't say anything, snuggling closer to his bare chest, filling the quiet room with the rustle of sheets. His skin was still covered with beads of sweat after sex, and you were breathing in his musky scent, which was intoxicating your mind. You never thought that the smell of someone's sweat would attract you so much. 

“What happened?” you seemed to catch a hint of concern in his voice, but immediately pushed it away from you. JJ just loved to chat. That's all. He's only interested in your body. 

“Nothing,” you muttered listlessly in the area of his neck, leaving a soft kiss behind his ear. “It's just a hard day” 

"Ah, I see. Shopping and maxing out daddy's credit card must be exhausting," JJ joked, his chest shaking with laughter. You frowned, burying your face in his neck.

You hated moments like this—moments when the perfect bubble of isolation, where you were just yourself and he was just JJ Maybank, would burst, making you feel the social gap between you. Making you feel small and unworthy of him because of the money that had surrounded you since childhood. JJ wasn't trying to offend you with such jokes, but they still stung, reminding you that he wasn't the man for you.

The silence that followed was heavy, and JJ's laughter died down as quickly as it had started. Even without looking at him, you could imagine the wrinkle forming between his eyebrows, and his hand squeezing your thigh a little harder under the blanket.

"I'm serious, what's wrong?" His voice carried a hint of urgency now, his concern palpable. Yet faced with the familiar wall of silence, JJ gently lifted your chin with his free hand, compelling you to meet his gaze. You grumbled in protest, but reluctantly raised your head, locking eyes with his deep blue gaze.

"What's troubling you, cupcake?" His gaze swept over your face, noting the tension in your compressed lips, the furrowed brows, and the careful scrutiny in your eyes. JJ genuinely seemed worried.

You took a ragged breath, parting your lips as if ready to unload the burdens that had weighed on your soul for months, to confess the feelings that had consumed you. But as you looked into his eyes, knowing they had probably held the same look just nights ago with another girl wrapped in sheets, you shook your head and sought solace in his lips instead.

This kiss was different. It was tender and sensual, lacking the usual passion and urgency. His lips moved languidly against yours, synchronized in a gentle dance. With each touch of lips and intertwining of tongues, your heartbeat seemed to echo emotions too complex to name. You wanted desperately to believe this was what true love's kiss felt like, but deep down, you knew there was no love in your relationship.

JJ held you close after the kiss, his arms providing a temporary sanctuary from the uncertainties gnawing at your heart. His touch was comforting, his presence a balm against the turmoil within you. Yet, even in his embrace, the unspoken truths lingered, casting shadows on the fragile intimacy you shared. 

JJ gently laid you back, his weight hovering over you as he broke the kiss, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. His gaze slid over your face, catching the puppy-dog look you had been giving him for months. Slowly, his hand moved to your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear before tracing gentle patterns on your flushed skin with his knuckles. The touch ignited a cascade of emotions within you. You were almost certain he knew about your feelings, that his every touch was a deliberate play to elicit a response from you.

You didn't want to believe JJ could be that callous, not after spending the last seven months with him. Yet, a nagging voice whispered that you were just one among many lovesick admirers in his life—a mere grain of sand on his beach of girlfriends.

"You know I'm going to get an answer from you, doll," JJ murmured, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. "So you'd better tell me what's been weighing on you."

He rubbed his nose against yours, and you closed your eyes, a soft smile spreading across your face. Your hands, resting calmly around his neck, threaded through the regrown strands of his hair. These quiet, affectionate moments with JJ felt like sanctuary, where he seemed to be the only person in your entire world. In these fleeting instances, the words you longed to speak hovered on the tip of your tongue. Yet, time and again, you held yourself back...

"Have you ever... fallen in love?" you asked in a half-whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat.

JJ's brow furrowed again, but then he chuckled and reclined onto his side of the bed. His hand ran through his tousled hair, momentarily captivating you as you lost yourself in the sound of his infectious laughter and the sight of his radiant smile. For that fleeting moment, all else faded away. But as reality crashed back, you bit your lip, struggling to hold back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You turned your gaze towards the ceiling, chastising yourself silently. How could you have asked such a foolish question? Why did it escape your lips at all? Fool, fool, fool!

Sensing your shift in mood, JJ's expression softened into seriousness. He turned to face you, reaching out to intercept your hand resting on your stomach, gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Hey, hey, hey... I didn't mean to laugh, cupcake," JJ said with an encouraging smile. "You caught me off guard, that's all."

You both lay in silence for a while, his gaze lingering on your clasped hands, yours fixed on the ceiling. The moment hung between you, heavy with unspoken words and uncharted emotions. JJ's touch brought a sense of warmth and reassurance, yet beneath it all, you wrestled with the vulnerability of your question, unsure of what his response—or lack thereof—might mean for the fragile balance between you..

"Six months ago, I would have said no..." JJ's voice was slow and measured, his attention still fixed on your intertwined fingers. His thumb moved gently, tracing soothing circles over the knuckles of your hand. He cleared his throat before continuing, his words carrying a weight of uncertainty. "Now... now I would say everything is complicated."

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh as your eyes drifted back to the white ceiling. In the dim light, you could still make out the faint glow of the small fluorescent stars that your parents had stuck up there when you were a kid, hoping they would keep the darkness at bay. It was love, you thought.

"It can't be complicated here... you're either in love with someone, or you're not... you either have something to say to them, but you stop yourself, or you have nothing to say..." you murmured, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling. You then turned your head to look at JJ. Only now did you notice that his eyes were completely on you, not on your hands.

"I read an article on the internet… Told me that that's how you know you're fallin' in love” you added softly, almost defensively. "Of course, don't really trust what's on the internet but maybe just this once..." Your voice trailed off as you searched his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed yet oddly liberated by your honesty. The intimacy of the moment hung between you like a fragile thread, woven with unspoken truths and the silent hopes of understanding. JJ's expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher.

In that shared silence, amidst the gentle hum of thoughts and emotions swirling around you, you waited for his response, unsure of what it might unveil about the intricacies of your entangled hearts.

"Do you have somethin’ to tell me?" JJ interrupted you and you immediately focused your gaze on him, frowning again. 

As you lay there, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the weight of your thoughts, a whirlwind of questions spun through your mind. Did JJ want to understand what was troubling you once more? Or was he subtly probing to see if you harbored feelings for him, based on that theory you had read about online? Did you love him? Did you need him? Did you want him? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and part of you wished you could affirm those feelings—if only to ensure he would stay.

He shifted closer, his touch gentle as he traced patterns on your hand, silently urging you to speak or find solace in his presence. His eyes, familiar and searching, conveyed a mix of concern and a readiness to listen—a testament to the bond you had forged in the months spent together. In that moment, as the weight of your inner turmoil pressed down, you found yourself yearning for clarity, for a resolution that would quiet the storm within. Yet, the answers remained elusive, and you feared the consequences of voicing what lay buried deep in your heart.

"Do you have somethin' to tell me, doll?" he asked his question again and looked at you seriously. His eyes darkened slightly (or so it seemed to you) they looked like the sea before a storm and you could only flutter your fluffy eyelashes in shock and look at him. JJ shook his head and smiled, squeezing your hand. “'cause I have something to tell you.” 

JJ grinned, sitting up on the bed and leaning back against the padded headboard. His grip tightened around your hand, refusing to let go even as he struggled to light a cigarette. But JJ needed that connection, needed to feel your warmth as he prepared to voice something he had been holding back for too long.

With a flick of the lighter, he finally ignited the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he gathered his thoughts. His eyes, intense and focused on you, held a mix of determination and vulnerability.

“It's always in the back of my mind,” JJ said after taking a couple of puffs and dropping the ashes into the ashtray on the bedside table. His gaze was fixed forward. To where there was a photograph in a gilded frame on the dresser. He couldn't see the photo itself in the dark, he could only make out the outlines, but a picture of the day when he first met you was already forming in his head. 

Bonfire. Another Kook's party blazing on the beach, a scene where Pogues had no place. Yet, JJ found himself there, compelled to settle the last of his debt to Topper for the broken boat. Striding back to his bike, ready to leave it all behind, he glimpsed you sitting on the damp sand, clutching a bottle of whiskey. Your hair was tousled and damp, droplets cascading down its length onto the sand, while your white dress, now soaked, revealed glimpses of your underwear. You were a mess. But a breathtaking mess unlike any other.

Normally, JJ would have walked right past. What concern was it of his if a Shark girl was brooding over some triviality on the beach beside a party? Yet, when you turned to meet his gaze, moonlight casting a gentle glow on your tear-streaked face, makeup smudged from the remnants of sorrow, and he met the emptiness in your eyes, he couldn't ignore your pain.

Without hesitation, he sat down beside you, typing a quick message to John B. that he wouldn't be coming, and spent the remainder of the night with you. It began with conversation on the beach, the words flowing freely under the starlit sky. But soon, it evolved into something deeper—JJ's fingers tracing the delicate contours of your skin, his ear attuned to the soft, sweet moans that escaped your lips, melodies he quickly grew addicted to.

That night, for the first time, JJ wondered if his past mistakes had somehow led him to this moment with you. If he could rewind would there be some butterfly effect? What if they never met? What if the stars never aligned?

"I don't know what love is, doll," JJ broke the silence again, exhaling cigarette smoke. You disliked it when he smoked in your room, but his voice held you spellbound, his touch on your hand anchoring you in the moment.

"You know, my mom left us when I was just a little shit, and my dad... well, he wasn't exactly a role model for love," JJ said with a sad smile, shaking his head. He felt your gentle squeeze in response, giving him the courage to continue. "I love the Pogues. They're like family to me. I love John B., feels like he's been my brother forever, but it's not... it's not that kind of love." JJ took another drag before stubbing out his cigarette. "No one taught me how to love. I didn't have a good example in front of me... that's why I became like this. Always on the move, not stopping for any girl, a bit of a womanizer, you name it."

He glanced down at your intertwined fingers, the ashtray now holding the remnants of his momentary escape. "And then you came along and turned my world upside down." JJ attempted a laugh, but his voice caught, and he fell silent, grappling with his emotions.

You sat down beside him, clutching the blue sheet to your chest, studying his profile intently. You observed the subtle movements: the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the expansion of his nostrils with each deep breath, the tight line of his lips. You understood that words were never easy for him, and a part of you wanted to spare him the discomfort, to halt his struggle. But another part of you yearned to understand what he was trying to express. You needed clarity to calm the fluttering in your chest, to ensure that your hopeful heart wasn't misinterpreting his words. You didn't want to live with false hope.

As you watched him wrestle with his thoughts, your own emotions mirrored his turmoil. The closeness between you felt fragile yet profound, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken desire for honesty and understanding. The silence between you held a weight that words alone could not convey, a tension that bridged the distance between your souls.

“Hate to be lame but...” the world around you froze. Everything stopped. The clock stopped running. You stopped breathing. “But I might love you”

And the world came alive again. The clock continued to run. But you still weren't breathing and you were silent. JJ was looking at you intently, studying your expression, and with every second of your silence, he was ready to bury himself underground and die of shame. JJ Maybank confessed his feelings to a girl for the first time and you just sat and remained silent, looking at him with your big soft eyes, flapping your fluffy eyelashes and it drove him crazy, making him think that he just made up all the feelings on your part. When the silence continued, the guy released your hand and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to somehow remove the tension. 

"Okeeey… Fine… You don't have to answer anything, you don't have to accept my feelings... I understand everything and so I'll just leave and..." JJ's voice trembled nervously, his words rushing out in a jumble. He hastily retrieved his briefs from the floor, turning his back to you as if preparing to depart.

It was in that fleeting moment, just as he was poised to leave, that you seized his wrist and drew him back towards you, your lips meeting in a fervent kiss. Emotions surged through you like fireworks on Independence Day, leaving no room for second thoughts. You needed to affirm to yourself that this was real—that JJ Maybank had indeed confessed his love to you, and that reality surpassed any dream.

As you broke away, breathless and panting, JJ's hands found your waist, his touch gentle against your skin. "Is this a goodbye kiss or...?" he managed between gasps, his eyes searching yours with a mix of uncertainty and longing.

"It's a hate-to-be-lame-but-I-love-you-too kiss," you chuckled softly, leaning your forehead against his, savoring the taste of your slightly swollen lips.

A moment of quiet enveloped you both before laughter bubbled forth, cascading into the air as you collapsed onto the bed. JJ hovered above you, his gaze tender as he watched you unwind, your laughter a melody that soothed his soul and pieced together the fragments of his life into a beautiful mosaic.

He brushed his lips against yours again, a feather-light kiss that spoke volumes of tenderness. "I love you... I love you... I love you," JJ whispered softly before claiming your lips once more.

In that sublime moment, amidst the warmth of JJ's embrace and the echo of his heartfelt words reverberating in your heart, you felt a profound sense of peace settle over you. The doubts and uncertainties that once clouded your mind were swept away by the overwhelming certainty of your love for him. You knew, without a shadow of doubt, that JJ Maybank was not just a passing infatuation or a fleeting romance. He was the anchor that grounded you, the light that guided you through the darkest nights.

And as the night embraced you in its tender hands, you surrendered to the beauty of your love story, knowing that with JJ Maybank by your side, you had found your home.

thankx for reading <3

okay, i have to say it right now, bc i think this is my fav jj work so far! and i hope you liked it too and you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[littlelionwriting]

Title: Bar Top

Summary: You return to the hotel late and find Husk cleaning the bar. You decide to try and help him out.

Pairing: Husk x Reader

Warnings: Use of pet names (Doll and Princess), no use of y/n, creampie, knotting, biting, fingering (female receiving), not proof read

Word count: 1058

Minors do not interact!

You had returned to the hotel late, having lost track of time as you partied and drank away your time in hell, seeing no one was awake anymore except for Husk as he seemed to be cleaning and restocking the bar for tomorrow.

"Husk!" You let out a happy call as you jogged over to the bar, leaning onto the bar top not noticing how his eyes lingered on your chest that was practically spilling out if your shirt.

"Hey Doll. Looks like you had a good night." You giggled as you leaned on your hand, smiling up at him.

"Would have been more fun if you had joined me."

"Maybe next time, Doll." You gave him a little pout as he cleaned a glass and made the effort to look away from you.

"How much work you have left on the bar?" He let out a sigh before putting the glass away, picking up some bottles to put them away.

"More than I would like. You should head to bed, get some sleep." You shook your head before smiling at him and moving behind the bar.

"Nonsense! I'm sober enough to help you, then we can finish in half the time, and we can both head to bed!" Husk tried to object but you ignored him, taking one of the bottles from his paw and reaching up to put it away on the top shelf.

Husk's eyes trailed down your back and to your ass, the skirt you were wearing was so short he could see the lacy red panties you were wearing underneath as you reached. He let out a soft growl before pushing his body against your back, his arms trapping you between him and the bar as he leaned forward breathing in your ear. You let out a soft gasp, feeling the rumble of the growl in his chest and the obvious bulge of his pressing against you.

"What game are you playing? Are you trying to drive me crazy?" His breath tickled your ear and you had to hold back a shiver down your spine, gulping and resisting the urge to rub your thighs together to get even a bit of friction.

"N-no games. I promise." He chuffed as his paw traveled up your thigh and under your skirt, playing with the elastic of your panties.

"You're walking around in this tiny skirt, showing off your ass to everyone, and now you're helping me and giving me a peep show. What is it you want, baby doll?" You bit your lip to stifle a soft whimper before you hesitantly rolled your hips back and grinding against him, earning a soft hiss from Husk.

"Maybe it's you I want." Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Husk heard you loud and clear. He growled deeply before he ripped your panties off you and let his claws graze the soft skin of your thighs. You shivered at the feeling, feeling yourself grow wetter. He gently urged your legs to spread with his knee, lightly tracing your heat with his claws. He leaned forward and kissed your neck and nipping with his fangs, making you arch your back and moan softly at the ministrations. Slowly and carefully, he pushed a claw into your pussy, chuckling softly.

"You're already dripping. You've must have wanted this for a while." You only whimpered as he continued to slowly pump into you, keeping his pace slow and agonizing.

"H-Husk, please." You practically begged him to move faster, trying to buck your hips against his paw. He chuckled before adding a second claw and speeding up. You could hear him unbuttoning his pants and groaning softly in your ear as he stroked himself in time with his hand inside you.

"You ready, Doll? You sure you want to keep going?" You nodded your head letting out a breathless sigh.

"Yes, please Husk. Please." Okay now, you were begging. He pulled claws out of you and hiked up your skirt, slowly pushing himself inside you. You both groaned as his claws grabbed your hips and you grabbed the bar top for something to hold onto. He was certainly larger than you were used to, giving you a delicious stretch, and making you feel so completely full when he bottomed out. He leaned his forehead between your shoulder blades, and you could feel him shaking as he was holding himself back to give you time to get used to his size.

"Tell me when you're ready for me to move, Princess." You whimpered softly, having lost the ability to speak and instead rolled your hips making him hiss. He took the hint and started to thrust, his cock managing to hit every spot that had you seeing stars. Your moans grew louder and louder as his speed got faster and his thrusts harder. You could feel his head pressing against your cervix making you tremble and moan his name.

"H-Husk! C-close!" Words were almost impossible to form as you panted and moaned, feeling a coil form in your lower belly and threatening to snap. Husk growled, his thrusts getting wilder as he gripped your waist harder. You practically screamed his name when the coil snapped and you felt yourself cumming, your walls squeezing him. He let out a snarl and bit your neck, just hard enough you knew it was going to leave a mark and drawing blood. The base of his cock swelled and formed a knot binding him to you as he continued to thrust before cumming and flooding your insides.

You both were panting and shivering as you came down from the high of sex, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you close to him. As you tried to catch your breath, you leaned back into him, and you could feel him licking the bite mark.

"Sorry Doll. We're going to be stuck like this for a minute or two." Husk sheepishly explained as you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him, noticing the light blush of his cheeks.

"That's alright, I don't mind. Though next time let's do this in the bedroom and not in the lobby." Husk looked at you in bewilderment before holding you even tighter.

"Next time? You want a next time?"

"Damn right. I want to see what else you can do."

[stop-talking]

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 1)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.5k words

Tags: 18+, mike x reader, no use of y/n, exes, enemies, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, pet names, banter, angst, so much angst, flashing mike, fluff, spending time with Abby (because everyone always forgets her??)

Part 2

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Mike holds his breath as the phone rings. He's already gone down the mental checklist of people who he could possibly call for help right now, and is currently scraping the bottom of the goddamn barrel.

*click* "Hello?"

He speaks hurriedly into the dingy landline phone, praying you won't immediately dismiss him.

"Hey, it's Mike. Please don't hang up."

You're tempted to hang up on him then and there, just to prove a point. You guys broke up nearly a year ago, and hadn't spoken in... what, six months now? But the tone in his voice... he sounded desperate.

"What, drunk and lonely again?" You scoff, unable to resist taking a jab at him. You two hadn't exactly ended things on good terms, his lack-of-sleep induced grumpiness and general unpleasant disposition making it hard for him to take criticism without it turning into an argument. It wasn't your fault he never made time for you. It wasn't your fault he was so emotionally unavailable.

"No." He grits his teeth, already regretting calling you. "I need a favor. Please." He chokes the word out, his stomach in knots from having to resort to this.

You pause for a few moments, chewing on his words. It must really be serious if he'd called you, after all the things you'd said to him last time you spoke.

"Well... lets hear it, then."

"I need you to watch Abby tonight. My usual babysitter isn't answering the damn phone, and I have to leave for work in an hour. I can't leave Abby home alone. I just can't."

In an hour? You glance at the clock, it's already 8:30. What ungodly hours is he working?

"I thought you didn't work nights? I swear to god, Schmidt, if you're making me watch her so you can go get laid-"

"No. Nothing like that. I swear." He sighs, sounding genuinely exhausted. "I'm working as a security guard these days. Night gig. Long story. It sucks ass, but I need this job. Can you watch Abby? I'll owe you one."

You bite back the urge to scoff at him. He's not even going to pay you? Figures. Oh well. Holding a favor over his head might be fun.

"Ugh. Fine. I'll see. What time will you get back? I have work in the morning."

"6:15. Maybe 6:10, if I drive like a maniac."

"Shit. I'll have to get ready for work at your place. If I go home first I'll be late."

"Yeah, sure. Anything. Just please stay with Abby. She goes to sleep at 10, you can crash on the couch. I just want someone in the house with her."

You let out an audible sigh. Are you seriously going to go crash on your shitty ex-boyfriend's shitty couch on a work night?

...Yeah, yeah you are.

"Damn it, Mike. You'd better kiss my fucking feet when I get there."

Mike almost laughs at that. Almost.

"Sure thing, Princess." He cant help but taunt you a bit, using an old pet name he used to call you way back when you were dating. It probably wasn't the best decision to irritate the last person he could rely on, but he wasn't in the right headspace to make good decisions right now. These days, he mostly runs off of coffee and self-hatred.

"I'll be there in 30. You'd better be on your knees and groveling when you open the door." You slam the phone down before he can answer. Michael fucking Schmidt. Still the same jackass you broke up with all those months ago.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike opens the door to greet you almost exactly 30 minutes later, he reluctantly drops to his knees. He'd hoped you'd forgotten the silly request, but the unamused look you gave him said otherwise.

"Fucking witch." He grumbles, hanging his head as you brush past him into the house. Were you wearing... pajama pants? He stares at you as you set down your things, a purse and what looks like an overnight bag of some sort.

"Stop gaping. And stand up. You look pathetic." You shrug off your coat, revealing an old t-shirt underneath. Yeah, you were in pajamas, so what? Its late. And you couldn't be bothered to put in extra effort for Mike, of all people.

"Excuse me for doing as her majesty commands." He groans and stands up, brushing himself off. As if that'll make him look any more presentable.

Abby tentatively pokes her head out of her room, watching you and Mike argue. Shit. Did she hear all that?

"Hey Abbs." You wave to her, deciding to ignore Mike's comment. "It's gonna be just me and you tonight, sound good?"

She looks to Mike for approval, who nods and gives her a tired smile. The only kind of smile he's been able to muster lately.

"...Will you play with me?"

"Yeah, 'course I will. Let me have a chat with your brother real quick." She seems to accept that answer, closing herself back off in her room. You sigh and follow Mike into the kitchen.

"There's leftovers in the fridge, and a lasagna in the freezer. Probably have something edible in the pantry. I think there's popcorn." He explains, pointing out a few different measly options for a quick meal. "Look, she probably won't, but just try and get her to eat dinner."

You watch him lean back against the counter and rub at his temples. God damn, he looks... exhausted. His hair has grown out a bit since you last saw him, dark brown curls hanging low over his forehead. His eye bags seem to hang even lower.

"Yeah... I'll try and get her to eat."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air as you both run out of things to talk about, so he fills the void with an insult.

"You really had to come over in that?" Mike scoffs and gestures at your frumpy t-shirt and pajama pants.

"What? Were you hoping for something slutty?" You cross your arms and give him a smug look.

He turns his head, unsure what to say to that. Maybe part of him did hope to see you dressed in something a little more revealing. Or maybe just undressed. God damn it, was he blushing?

"Fuck you." He mutters, making his way to the entryway and slipping his shoes on.

"No thanks. Been there, done that." You respond dismissively, watching him leave with a smirk.

Mike slams the door on his way out. Not hard enough to startle Abby, hopefully, but hard enough to make a point he's not in the mood to play your little games. Still, the whole drive to work, he can't help but wonder what if...? What if you had never broken up with him? What if he had been a better boyfriend? A better provider for you and Abby? A better man?

"I fucking hate her." He grumbles, but the words are hollow.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Mike told me you stopped coming over because he found out you're a witch and you curse children. Is that true?" Abby finally musters up the courage to ask the question that's been on her mind ever since you walked through the door.

"Did he say that?" You chuckle, a little shocked that this is what she chose to ask after ten minutes or so of silently coloring together.

"Yeah. He said you cursed him, too. And that's why he can't color anymore. He'll explode, or something." She babbles, not looking up from her paper.

"Hmm... well, if you're really worried about your brother, I'll cut you a deal." You do your best to keep the anger from your tone as you continue to color beside her at the table. That asshole doesn't color with Abby anymore?

"...What kind of deal?"

"I'll lift the curse on your brother so he can color and draw again... but you have to eat dinner. Ten whole bites."

Abby seems to consider this for a moment, turning and eyeing you suspiciously. Mike likes to mess with her like this. Were you messing with her too? Probably. But, well, if it would make Mike spend time with her again...

"Fine. What do we have?"

You smile at her. This babysitting stuff is a breeze.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike stumbles in the door the next morning, he spots you fast asleep on the couch. He flops down in the recliner and just watches you sleep for a minute or two. You look so pretty when you're asleep. Serene. Peaceful. Not at all like when you're awake, giving him that attitude he's so familiar with. He sighs and makes his way over to the couch, knowing he should probably wake you for work.

"Uhh... wakey wakey?" He mumbles lamely, unsure what to really say. Definitely not good morning, beautiful. He scoffs to himself at the thought.

"Mmm... Mike?" You blink up at the man gently shaking your shoulder, your eyes adjusting to the morning light.

"Yeah. Who else would it be?" He shakes his head in amusement and goes back to sit in the recliner.

"I dunno. A hookup?" You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, then stretch out.

"A hookup? Still being passed around, then?" He responds with a scoff, trying to hide just how much that answer bothers him. Even after nearly a year of being broken up, he doesn't like to imagine you with other men. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, even if he's not into you anymore. Actually, you don't look half-bad right now, stretching your arms over your head like that...

"Can you blame a girl? Had to make up for all the unsatisfying nights with you."

Mike reeled at that little quip. The smug look on your face, god... He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to shut you up with a kiss or a punch.

"Just fucking go home." Nice one, Mike. That'll show her.

"Hey, you agreed I could get ready here. I'm gonna go use your shower, and then I have something to talk to you about."

Something to talk to him about? He scowls as you walk off towards his bedroom. Why couldn't you just leave him alone? Why did everything have to be so complicated? He groans and goes to lie down in bed. Maybe he could get in a quick nap while you shower. Maybe.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You emerge from the dingy bathroom connected to Mike's bedroom fifteen minutes or so later, steam trailing in behind you.

"Three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash? Seriously, Schmidt?" You scold him, crossing your arms as you stand before his bed wearing nothing but a towel. At first, he seems annoyed when you pull him out of his brooding, but when he takes in your current state of undress, he sputters.

"S-so? Its economical." He scoffs, irritated, but unable to look away as you make your way around his bed and out the door.

You return a minute later carrying your overnight bag. "Forgot my clothes." Mike just nods, still unable to tear his eyes from you.

"Stop staring."

"Stop waltzing through my room naked."

"This isn't naked." You gesture to the towel wrapped around your body, drawing his attention back to you.

"This is naked."

Mike watches in complete shock as you let the towel fall to the floor, completely baring yourself to him for a few moments before finally locking yourself in his bathroom. You hear him mutter a few curses on the other side of the door, and smile as you get changed.

"Was that really necessary?" Mike scowls at you when you emerge from his bathroom a few minutes later, now fully dressed.

"Calm down, Mikey. Not like you haven't seen it all before." The old nickname you used to call him by doesn't sound endearing anymore. It sounds taunting. Mike looks like he cant decide between kicking you out of the house or pulling you into his bed. Good to know you can still get under his skin. And maybe his bedsheets, if you wanted.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He finally asks, sighing in defeat.

"C'mon. I'll tell you."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Mike sits in the recliner, watching you set up a bunch of unnecessary crap on his coffee table. Did you really have to do your makeup right in front of him?

"A witch, Mike? Seriously? You told her I'm a witch, and then left her alone with me for the night?"

Mike swallows. Shit. He honestly forgot about that, it was just some lame excuse he came up with right after the breakup back when he was still distraught.

"Am I wrong?" He tries to brush it off with a sassy comment, but folds when he sees your intense glare.

"I mean... uh... I'll tell her you're... not a witch..." Real smooth, Schmidt. Mumble and stare at the floor.

"It's not even about that, really. Feed her all the lies you want. What I'm upset about is that she told me you don't color with her anymore."

Mike finally meets your eyes as you apply yet another random powder he doesn't understand the purpose of to your cheeks with the swipe of a brush.

"I'm busy. And it's none of your business. I asked you to come be her babysitter, not her mom." He snarls, hands clenched into fists.

"I'm not trying to be. It just breaks my heart to hear that stuff from her, Mike. I told her I'd lift the 'curse' off of you if she ate her dinner, and she did. So consider yourself un-cursed."

Mike grits his teeth as you put air quotes around the word "curse". He knew you were right, and that bothered him more than the fact he was being a shitty brother. The worst part was, you weren't even being snarky, you just sounded genuinely concerned for Abby. God damn it.

"...Yeah. Fine. Un-cursed. Got it." He grumbles in agreement as you finish up your makeup and swipe the assortment of products into your purse.

"How do I look?"

He wanted to tell you that you looked gorgeous, that he missed having you around, attitude or not. But in this moment, he couldn't do it. He was too tired. Too angry.

"Like a whore."

"Someone's jealous he doesn't get any."

"Like I'd want you."

"Oh yeah, the raging boner you had earlier when you saw me in a towel was because you don't want me. Totally."

Oh, now you're just taunting him.

"I'll have you know that didn't happen till after you lost the towel." Mike scoffs as he follows you to the entryway, unlocking the door for you while you slip on your shoes.

"Don't lie to me, Mikey."

"I'd never dream of it, Princess."

Mike has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms as you leave for work. Maybe if you didn't look so goddamn smug, he would. Instead he just shuts the door and locks it, hating himself for how much he enjoyed this whole interaction.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

will probably write a part 2 (with smut??)

edit: here is part 2

(no smut. part 3 tho...??)

idk this was my first fanfic ever so enjoy

[daisynik7]

OMG I love your party idea it's so cool!! how about "slow down baby" by Christina Aguilar for Eren Yeager 💓💓 one of my favs

Slow Down Baby

Slow down baby and don't act crazy, don't you know you can look all you want but you just can't touch

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: modern-day au, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implications of cheating, cheating, sex toy use (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, princess)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jean is working late again, and you can’t help but be suspicious that there’s something nefarious happening behind your back. Pent up from not seeing him this whole week, you take this alone time to treat yourself to some much-needed self-care. 

Eren Jaeger knows that his friend is cheating on you, and he hates it. You don’t deserve it, not one bit. When Jean asks him to do a favor to try to cover up his infidelity, Eren seriously considers telling you the truth, ultimately deciding against it because of “bro code”. But what happens when he walks in on you taking all your sexual frustrations out on a little toy? Can he really keep his mouth shut?

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request @shepnicolo! Love me some Xtina, great song for the y2k karaoke party! This was a fun one for me, so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading everyone! MDNI banner designed by @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest.

“Hey babe. Sorry, but I’m going to be at work late again tonight.” It’s already past nine in the evening when Jean calls you, informing you of this last-minute change of plans.

“Again?” He’s had overtime every day since last week. He’s also been leaving early in the mornings so by the time you wake up, he’s gone. It feels like you’ve barely seen him at all. “How about dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already ate.” There’s shuffling in the background. And maybe it’s just your paranoia, but you swear you hear a woman giggling quietly beside him.

You swallow hard, asking, “Is someone with you?”

“Huh?” His tone shifts, as if you’re asking the most ridiculous question. “What do you mean?”

Immediately regretting it, you rephrase, not wanting to sound accusatory. “I was just wondering if anyone else is working overtime with you. That’s all. Didn’t want you to be lonely there.” The last statement is a lie; you sincerely hope he’s alone and not doing what you’re suspicious of.

He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. Well, yeah, there are a few people here with me, so you have nothing to worry about.” 

Too late for that, you think, listening carefully for any more clues. When you can’t hear anything else, you sigh into the phone. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you later then.” You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t. Quickly, you add, “I love you – ” 

He hangs up before you can get it out completely. 

Jean had been pulling away from you for a while now. It didn’t just start with the overtime. It began over a month ago, when you noticed how glued to the phone he was while the two of you watched TV together. When you asked who he was texting, he answered, “It’s my new coworker. She’s asking some questions about work.” At the time, it didn’t raise any alarms in your head, so you dropped it. Every day, he was immersed to the screen, sometimes excusing himself to take a call outside on your balcony. You resisted every urge, every temptation to eavesdrop on his conversations, look through his text messages, interrogate him further. 

You continue to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s no way Jean would ever cheat on you. While you haven’t been together for that long, you like to think that you know him well enough to be sure he’s a faithful boyfriend. You don’t even have proof of his infidelity. It would be unfair to accuse him of such atrocities over some silly speculation, right?

Since he’s been in the office late this entire week, the two of you haven’t had sex in what seems like forever. Pent up and frustrated, you take this time to care for yourself, since Jean’s not around to do it. It starts with a serving of your favorite dessert, then a warm bath, soothing the tense muscles in your body. You surround yourself in a comfy robe, brushing your teeth with the full intention of falling asleep as soon as you do the one thing you need to make yourself feel better tonight. 

With all the lights off, except for the dim glow of the lampshade on the nightstand, you snuggle into your bed, untying the robe so it’s splayed beneath you. Inside the drawer, you retrieve your favorite vibrator and a small bottle of lube, pouring a tiny bead on the tip. Spreading your legs wide, you smear it on yourself. Using your free hand, you navigate to your favorite dirty audio, playing it out loud. 

~~~

Eren hates this. Absolutely hates it. 

He’s driving towards your apartment with a set of keys in his pocket and a bouquet of roses sitting in the passenger seat. All because your friend is a piece of shit. 

Eren’s known for a while now that Jean is cheating on you. It started with a not-so-subtle comment in the group chat. My new coworker is fucking hot. That alone disgusted him. Connie, of course, laughed it off. Armin didn’t say anything, probably unsure how to respond at such a statement. It only went downhill from there. 

She’s got the best body omg.

 I’m in trouble now.

This is bad guys lol. 

Don’t tell the girls okay? 

Jean has always rubbed Eren the wrong way, ever since they were kids. But at least he respected him. Now, not so much. Not at all, actually. You don’t deserve this, not one bit. No one does, but especially you. And maybe the reason he can’t completely berate Jean is because Eren’s harboring a secret of his own: He’s head-over-heels for you. 

Of course, he’s never acted on it. Bro code, right? Thou shall not hook up with another bro’s girl, or whatever the unofficial rule is. But what if said bro is acting like a total asshole? And what if this bro would treat you the way you deserve and more? Then what?

It’s because of this stupid code that he finds himself in the most ridiculous, aggravating situation. Earlier in the night, Jean texted the group chat. SOS SOS SOS. Armin and Connie were both busy, so didn’t respond, leaving Eren to answer the cry for help.

Jean explains it quickly through the phone, voice all panicky and guilty. “Dude, I need you to do me the hugest favor right now. I would you owe big time if you could help me out.” Basically, he needs Eren to buy a big bouquet of roses and deliver them to your apartment, where you can see them first thing in the morning. 

“Why?” he asks, irritated by this request.

“I think she’s suspicious. So I need to do something to throw her off the scent,” he explains. Eren can already see the cocky, shit-eating grin on his face. Why is he friends with this douchebag? And why did he agree to do this? He’s complicit in this mess now, not only for keeping his friend’s infidelity a secret, but for helping him continue it. He wants so badly to tell you the truth so you can escape this relationship. At the same time, he’s supposed to have his friend’s back no matter what, even if he is being a massive prick. 

So, he decides to help his buddy out, no matter how much it’s killing him. He meets Jean at an unknown address, most likely his side chick’s place. “Dude, seriously. I owe you one,” he says, patting him on the shoulder.

Eren nods silently, not wanting to speak in case he lets his true feelings slip. Jean hands him the spare keys to your apartment. “Just sneak in and set the flowers on the kitchen counter. She won’t suspect a thing.” It takes all of Eren’s willpower not to punch him in the face, so he quickly turns around to get into his car and drive off. 

It’s almost midnight by the time he arrives to your apartment. Surely, you’re asleep by now, still completely unaware that your bastard boyfriend is cheating on you. Still, he shouldn’t meddle in your relationship, even though he wants what’s best for you, which is not Jean.

He unlocks the door quietly, tip-toeing into the kitchen to set the flowers down, as instructed. He notices your bedroom door is ajar, a faint streak of light coming from the inside, and the undeniable sounds of a man growling expletives like, Come for me, slut. Yeah, give it all to me.

His eyes widen, surprised that you’re still awake, even more so that you’re listening to something like this. Curiosity gets the best of him; he stealthily makes his way beside your door, peering through the tiny opening to get a glimpse of you. 

You’re laid out on the bed, bare and exposed, gripping a vibrator to your pussy. The sight alone is enough to put him into a frenzy. Hearing your soft whimpers from your mouth along with the electric buzz from the toy fluttering on your clit sends him into a trance that he can’t snap out of. Before he can think logically, he’s pushing against the door, making his presence known. 

~~~

“Eren!” You sit up in bed, flinging the toy off to the side, covering yourself with your robe. “What are you doing here?”

He stands before you, a crazed look in his eyes, an obvious bulge protruding from his pants. He stutters, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, glaring at him. 

His mouth is agape, unable to get the words out. You’re losing patience, watching him struggle to explain why he’s here, inside your home, watching you masturbate. You grab your phone, making sure to exit out of whatever filthy audio that’s still playing, fingers ready to dial your boyfriend’s number when he blurts out, “Jean is cheating on you.”

You freeze on the spot, heart sinking from having your worst fear confirmed. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, staring down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.”

There are no tears in your eyes, surprisingly. Instead, your throat is heavy with emotion as you repeat for a third time, “So, what are you doing here?”

Still avoiding your gaze, he answers, “Jean thought you were catching on to him, so he asked me to bring you flowers to throw you off.” 

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you ask, “How long have you known about it?”

“A few weeks.” He looks up at you, saying your name this time. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

After a deep breath, you sigh, relaxing against the headboard. “I’m sorry you’re involved in it.” You smile at him. “And I’m sorry you had to see me…you know.” Embarrassment catches up to you, heat rushing into your cheeks, aware that you’ve just been caught touching yourself with your vibrator, which is still in plain view beside you. 

He steps forward, inching closer towards the end of the bed. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Jean is a fucking asshole. You don’t deserve this.”

“What do I deserve, Eren?” You peer at him, tears welling in your eyes now, desperate for any ounce of comfort he can give to you in this moment. 

He sits near you on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance. “You deserve to be loved by someone who’s always going to treat you right. Someone who’s going to love you from head to toe.” 

“Someone like you?”

A gentle smile forms on his face. “Yeah. Someone like me.”

No matter how badly you want to close the distance between you, want to feel the love he says he can give to you, guilt holds you back. Sensing your hesitation, he scooches nearer. “Let me help you. Tell me what you want.”

Eren has always been sweet to you. Too sweet, in fact. You’ve always gotten the sense that he cares more for you than he lets on. And maybe it’s because you’re hurt right now, fragile, heartbroken, even a little scornful towards Jean. Whatever it is, it makes you realize you’ve been too busy with the wrong man to notice the right one has been here all along. However, two wrongs don’t make a right. Even with the confirmation of Jean’s adulterous behavior, you’re still his girlfriend until you officially end it, which will be soon. 

In the meantime, you manage to come up with something you can do to take advantage of this moment. 

You let go of your robe, letting it fall to your sides, displaying your nude body to him, arousal wet between your legs from earlier. He watches you carefully, cock straining against his sweatpants, breathing heavily.

“I’m not a cheater like Jean,” you mutter, spreading yourself wider, showing off your glistening cunt.

“I know you’re not,” he whispers, scooting forward, hand drifting to his lap.

Reaching for your vibrator, maintaining your gaze on him, you say, “I’m a good girl.” 

He swallows hard, palming his erection through the fabric. “Fuck. You’re a good girl. Such a good girl.”

“You can look, but you can’t touch. Understand?” Your finger hovers over the button, tip pressed to your throbbing clit.  

He nods erratically, licking his lips. “Yes.”

“Good,” you smirk, turning the toy on, ready to give him a show. “Tell me all the things you want to do to me.”

He shoves his boxers down, cock sprung stiff against his abdomen, the slit shiny with precum, veins bulging on his shaft. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, better than what’s-his-face by a longshot, though you might be biased now, given the circumstances. Eren wraps his fist around it, jerking himself off while he watches you tease the tip on your swollen bud. “I want to fuck you into this mattress,” he moans. “Pound this pussy until we break the bed.”

“Yeah?” you purr, pressing the fluttering tip deeper into your clit. “What else?”

“Want to bounce you on this cock, watch you cream all over me,” he huffs, stroking himself faster. “God, this is hot. So fucking hot.”

Pleasure ripples through your body, toes curled from the sensation, so close to your climax with his soothing voice spitting his nasty fantasies at you. “I wish you could fuck me right now,” you confess, limbs quivering from ecstasy, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled. 

“Me too, princess. Me too. But you’re a good girl. And good girls don’t cheat.” He readjusts himself onto the bed, kneeling in front of you, stroking his hard dick. “I can give you this cum, though. That’s not cheating, right?”

You blindly agree with him, approaching your climax. “Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me, Eren.”

He swears loudly, shooting his load onto you, spilling over your clit, dripping down your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, marveling at how pretty you look covered in his seed. 

You smile at him, relaxing against your pillows, dipping the tip of your vibrator in his mess. His mouth hangs open, eyes half lidded, watching as you stuff it inside your cunt. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, stroking his cock again, eyes fixated on your pussy. 

Do technicalities even matter anymore? All you know is that you want to be loved from head to toe by Eren Jaeger. You set aside the toy, sitting up to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his. He hesitates before deepening the kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth, sloppy and eager for more.

When you break apart to catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against yours, whispering, “Are you going to be a bad girl now and take this cock?”

Grinning, you nod, pulling him in for another kiss. 

[tuamor13]

THE LUCKY ONE - F.O

Chapter One | A Little Advice

Fandom: The Hunger Games

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: You finally meet your charming, famous mentor. He’s a lot more irritating than you expected.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of death kinda, slight mentions of forced prostitution

THE LUCKY ONE MASTERLIST

Finnick looked at the girl before him. You looked to be about his age, which meant this would’ve been your last year being able to be reaped. You were facing opposite him, but he studied what he could of you.

You seemed a bit frail in a way. Like you wouldn’t last 10 minutes in the games.

You turned to around, first looking at Mags, and then at him. He locked eyes with yours, and he studied your features now that he could see your face better.

You looked almost innocent. And he wondered if you would prove him wrong with what he assumed about you. He realized he was just staring so he gave you a small smile. You looked away quickly after that and his smile faded.

Beau called out the male tributes name, Callum Rivers, and a strong, bulky looking boy walked on stage. Finnick recognized him. He was one of the toughest fighters at the school district 4.

The two of you shook hands, and Finnick saw the big difference in height, weight, and such. You looked like you didn’t stand a chance. The peacekeepers guided you two into the Justice Building, and he locked eyes with you once more. A smirk formed on his face.

Because Finnick knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

***

“Promise me, you’ll make it back.” Your mother begged.

“Mom, you know I can’t-“

“Promise me, Y/N. You’ve trained for this, you can make it. I know you can.” She cupped your face in her hands, her thumb wiping away a single tear that fell down your cheek.

“Okay.” You whispered. The peacekeepers barged through the doors, taking your mother by her arms and out of the room. She called you name, and you called to her before the doors closed shut. When they did, a sob finally escaped your lips. You put a hand to your mouth and calmed yourself.

You were escorted out to the car, and then finally made it to the train. Beau guided you and Callum into one of the carts, and your eyes widen when you see how nice it looks.

The velvety chairs and patterned wallpaper, not to mention the tables full of different types of desserts and treats, weren’t like anything you had seen before.

“Have a seat, I’m sure you’re starving. Your mentor should be here in about-.” Beau was cut off with the train door sliding open, in walking none other than Finnick Odair. For the “capitol darling”, he looked so normal. Especially compared to Beau.

“Well, here he is now. I’ll leave you three to it.” Beau said with that same smile, exiting the train cart.

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you two. I’m Finnick Odair, your mentor.” He stretched his hand out, and you just looked at it, not doing anything. After a moment, Callum took his hand and shook it.

“Callum Rivers. Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Odair.” Callum said with a smile.

“Likewise. And please, call me Finnick.” Finnick returned the smile, before looking over at you.

“Finnick Odair.” He said again. He stretched his hand out to you, and you looked at it again.

“I know who you are.” You said with a small nod. Of course you knew who he was. You still didn’t shake his hand, and after a moment he just put it down, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

“Everyone, knows who you are.” Callum added, trying to make it sound nicer. That big smile still on his face. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Well, happy to be working with some admirers of mine.” Finnick’s smirk widened as he looked at you. You scoffed lightly at his words. You definitely weren’t his admirer. Especially since the fact that he’s killed people, become the capitol’s little pet, and seems to have taken so much pride in it.

“Oh, I’m not an admirer. Sorry if that’s hard for you to hear. Don’t wanna bruise your ego.” You teased. A small chuckle escaped his lips.

“Honey, your words do nothing to me. There are thousands of other people completely enamored with me.” He stepped closer to you.

“You or your body?” He tilted his head at your brave words, the smirk on his face widening. But, he’d have to admit, he was impressed. Before he could respond, Callum interrupted.

“So, uh, where’s the other lady?” Callum awkwardly asked, referring to Mags. You just now remembered her, barely realizing she wasn’t here.

“Mags is resting and, I’ll remind you she isn’t really able to mentor as much. It’ll just be me most of the time.” He explained. You’d almost forgotten Mags was mute. He was right. She probably wouldn’t been of much help, but only because she physically couldn’t even if she wanted to.

“So, let’s eat shall we? We can get started on some things you need to know in the arena.” Finnick gestured to the dinner table behind you two. You nodded, turning and getting the seat right in front of you.

They both sat on either sides of you, and you looked at all the food in front of you. It was the most you’ve seen. You were usually used to just eating fish or just anything you could catch in the ocean. Your eyes widen a bit and you feel your mouth water but you keep your composure and serve yourself as Finnick begins talking.

“Number one thing, get water. You can go without food for a few days but water is a necessity.” He poured himself coffee in his cup before continuing.

“Pretty sure that’s common sense.” You said.

“You’d be surprised.” Finnick responded with a small smile, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Okay, so besides the obvious, what do we do to not die in there?” Callum asked, leaning forward in his chair. Finnick took one more sip of wine before putting it down.

“Sponsors.” He said with a smile. “You get people to like you. That way when your in the arena, sponsors send you things to help you survive.” He explained.

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Callum asked, taking a bite of his food.

“Charm them, give them a good show, and just try to be likable overall.”

“So, just act like you?” You asked Finnick, a small sarcastic smile on your face. He leaned forward in his chair, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly.” He said, sitting back again and taking another sip of coffee. “So, you might wanna lose that attitude, honey. It’s not gonna get you anywhere.” You scoff lightly at his words, rolling your eyes. He was starting to get on your nerves.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You say sarcastically. You wipe your mouth with your napkin before throwing it on the table and standing up, beginning to make your way out of the train cart.

“Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, sweetheart. We’re not done here.” Finnick called out to you.

“I am.” You said, before leaving the train cart, the door sliding closed behind you.

Finnick watched as you left the train cart, a small laugh of disbelief and amusement escaping his lips. He was also a bit intrigued at your behavior towards him. And a small smile formed on his lips. He looked back over at Callum, who was still looking at the train cart door, a look of shock on his face.

“Well, I guess she’ll be missing out on all the fun. Let’s continue, shall we?” Finnick took a sip of his coffee. Callum nodded at his words, clearing his throat and sitting up in his chair.

Finnick gave one more look at the train cart door, before looking back over at Callum and continuing.

***

You felt like you had 3 layers less of skin from all the scrubbing and waxing. When it was finally over, you were taken to see your stylist, Elise. She looked like any other capitol stylist, pink hair, big lashes, pale makeup. But, she was nice. That’s all that really mattered to you.

The dress very uncomfortable. It was a sea blue color, the skirt mimicking waves with it’s layers. The corset was tight, making it hard to breath. Not to mention the uncomfortable amount of cleavage it showed and the seashells covering your breast.

Your makeup and hair were covered in sparkles, pearls, and seashells. Callum basically wore the male version of your outfit, but he was shirtless, a fishnet hanging around his neck covering at least a little bit of his chest.

Elise fixes the pearls around your neck and some pieces of hair.

“Smile big, and stand up straight.” She said. You simply nodded, stepping onto the chariot, Callum opposite you. A fanfare began to play and the chariots began making their way down the path. You held on tight to the chariot when it began moving, scared you might fall off.

The crowds cheered loudly, roses being thrown left and right at you. You looked into the crowds, their brightly colored wigs making them hard not to miss. You remembered what Finnick said. And, if getting people to like you was the key to surviving, then so be it.

You put on the best smile you could, looking at the crowds and trying to look as charming as possible. You looked over at Callum who was doing the same thing, but turned your attention away from him back to the crowds until you approached the front.

Your eyes landed on President Snow as he looked down at everyone. He had a smile on his face, and you wondered how such an evil man could even try to look nice.

“Tributes, we welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice. And we wish you, a happy Hunger Games.”

His gaze went to you for the slightest moment.

“And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

………………………………………………………………………….

A/N: I’m so proud of myself for getting this out on time everyone give me a round of applause for that please. Like, this has never happened before. Anyways, first chapter out WOO HOO this is kind of a slow burn but there will be some tension I PROMISE. Thank you SO MUCH for reading and I’ll hopefully see you for the next chapter I love you.

- Cami🤍

[bp-zb1fics]

Because it’s your birthday~

pairing: matthew x reader

pronouns: none used

genre: canonverse, fluff, suggestive themes

tw/tags: waking up together, kisses, making out, pet names, bday requests, marking, implied intimate acts, scandalised hyung line, lowkey pda, yujin is an innocent child, embarassment, yall know what matthew asked for lmao

wc: 785

summary: matthew wants one thing for his birthday. you indulge him, much to the horror of, well, everyone else.

a/n short fic for our one and only woohyun-oppa's bday! not my best work but i hope y'all enjoy! also abt 30 mins left before bday live~

check my pinned for more fics!

Strong arms wake you up, tugging towards a warm solid body. You shift a little, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. Both of you sigh, basking in each other before he speaks up.

“Babe.”

“Mmmm?”

You hum, nuzzling at him like a particularly affectionate cat.

“It’s my birthday.”

Yes it is. Which is why Matthew is over at yours, both of you planning to go back to the dorms later to celebrate with the rest of the boys before he has to do a birthday live.

“I know.”

After having your own little “celebration” the night before, you did ask your boyfriend what he wanted for his birthday. And even though he told you without hesitating, you needed to hear it from him again.

“You promised you would-”

You cut him off, tilting your head up to kiss him softly before rolling over until you were lying on your stomach on top of him. He’s so cute in the morning, mussed up hair and sleepy eyes but a promise is a promise. And it is his birthday.

“Happy birthday oppa.”

He looks so pleased, smiling in a way that you can’t resist squishing his cheeks and kissing him again. Hands slide down your back and grip at your waist as he surges forward and deepens the kiss, only relenting once you’re breathless and panting and very aware of how you’re pressed against each other.

With ease, he flips you both over so that your back’s flat against the mattress, him hovering over you. He’s leaning down to press kisses to your neck, mouthing greedily at your skin as you let out little gasps. Several times you feel his teeth, your back arching towards him as he sucks a mark into your shoulder that will most probably bruise.

Pausing for a bit to pull his shirt over his head, you’re greeted by the very pleasant site of his muscular biceps and abs. Even though you’ve been together for quite some time, you can’t help but feel a little light-headed every time you see them like this.

You run your hands along his sides appreciatively. He shivers a little, hips lowering to meet yours, both of you hissing at the contact. 

“Matt.” You call weakly, only for him to pull back, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Ah, ah babe, that’s not my name today.”

You barely stifle a giggle before you stare at him through your lashes coyly and say it.

“Oppa.”

“Yes babe?”

“Please.”

Safe to say, Matthew spends most of your morning making sure you’re calling his (preferred) name.

__________________________________________

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!”

You try not to smile as the members greet Matthew at the doorway. You’ve managed to, after your “morning activities” drag yourselves to the shower, pick up the takeaway you ordered in advance and make it to the dorms by lunch time. Your boyfriend is promptly assaulted by loud singing, several hugs and pats on the back and a decently decorated cake that you hoped they baked properly. Food poisoning would not be a great gift for any day.

Jiwoong and Hanbin are helping you and Matthew lay the food out on the table while Hao’s wrangling the younger ones. Absent-mindedly, you ask.

“Matt, where do you keep your serving spoons?”

When you don’t get an answer, you look up only to see him staring back at you expectantly.

You raise an eyebrow and throw a glance at the members. Really? In front of them.

It’s my birthday. He mouths, having the audacity to pout just a little. You tamp down the urge to sigh and summon a little aegyo, feeling sorry for those in the immediate splash zone.

“Oppa, can you bring the serving spoons?” Both Jiwoong and Hanbin freeze. Matthew smiles, answering you cutely.

“Sure babe.” And he’s off to fetch them. Hanbin’s about to catch flies with how much his mouth has dropped open and Jiwoong’s eyes are so big they’re about to pop out of his head.

“Don’t ask.” You hiss under your breath, looking Hanbin in the eye. “He’s your best friend.” Jiwoong’s managed to mediate his expression back to placid serenity, the actor he is.

You think that’s the end of it but later, when you’re reaching for one of the side dishes, Yujin makes a noise of concern and asks if you’re alright. Suddenly everyone’s staring at the bruise peeking ouIt from where the neckline of your shirt shifted. You want to die. Several of the members pointedly avoid eye contact. The younger ones look confused. And your boyfriend? Matthew’s expression is too smug for his own good.

It’s a good thing it’s his birthday. You’ll get him for that tomorrow instead.

[love-fictional-men]

Save a Horse, Ride a Statesman

Chapter 1: First Day

Summary: You just landed the job of your dreams, working IT at the revered Statesman organization. Even better, Agent Whiskey asks for your help inputting case files for your special project.

Warnings: daddy kink, age gap, power dynamics, power imbalance, lots of smut, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), PinV.

Word Count: 3698

You take a deep breath, and look up at the large, reflective building towering above you. You can’t believe you’re here, moving across the country to New York for a new job at a prestigious espionage organization. A part of you doubted if you even deserved to be here, but your qualifications spoke for themselves. This felt like a dream come true. You rang the brass bezeled door bell and the doors immediately open.

“Come on in, take the elevator to the top floor and meet us in the conference room straight ahead,” a familiar, feminine voice projects over the intercom.

You take the elevator to the top floor, and as the doors open you make your way directly to the conference room. You open the doors, and see Ginger Ale, the woman you had your first interview with, gives you a smile and pats the seat next to hers. A man with a cowboy hat, suit and glasses sits at the head of the table, along with hologram projections of other men dressed in a similar fashion. You make your way over to Ginger and take a seat.

“It’s so nice to meet every one of you, and I just want to say it’s been an honor being selected to join your team,” you state, attempting to hide your nervousness.

“I hope to aid making Statesman the most effective counter-terrorism organization in all the world,” you declare. The man at the head of the table looks at you with warm, soft welcoming eyes and smiles before saying,

“Well sugar, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Agent Whiskey, but you can call me Jack. Why don’t you go on with tellin’ us your plans to optimize Statesman?” You feel your breath leave your body after briefly admiring his warm brown eyes,

“Actually, my code name is Grenadine but you can call me (y/n),” you say with a smile. You always hated older men addressing you by anything other than your name, especially in front of your constituents. Being a woman in tech, you learned how to navigate these situations tactfully. After a brief pause you open you stand up and all eyes are on you. You notice Agent Whiskey quickly look you up and down before readjusting his eyes toward your face. You clear your throat to speak.

“I plan, with the help of all of you, to review case files dating back as far as possible. I developed an algorithm to review areas of success and opportunity. This will aid Ginger Ale in creating tools to succeed in further missions. I need to review everyone’s case files. They’ll be imported into a new data base and analyzed. Patterns and trends will be created. Ginger and I will be able to review these trends and create more advanced tools to aid agents in the field.” You sit back down and place your hands on top of one another, and lean back a smidge. Ginger gives you a brief smile before asking,

“Does anyone have any questions about Grenadine’s project?”

Jack, lifting his fist away from his chin, turns his chair to you and Ginger.

“And just how secure is this data base darlin?” Again with the pet names, but there’s something about him that makes it permissible. Maybe it’s his sweet southern drawl. Perhaps its his strong, large hands and broad nose. Whatever it is, you cannot deny that Agent Whiskey has an intoxicating effect. He’s smooth, sweet and warm, just like his code name. You resist the urge to consume any more of his charm, attempting to stay sober in front of your peers.

“It’s all stored locally on servers in a secure location. I’ve coded several firewalls that will alert those on a need to know basis if there’s any detection of infiltration. At that point, the entire system will be wiped,” you respond. The holographic Statesmen around the table appear impressed, but Jack doesn’t change his stern facial expression.

“That’s a mighty fine kill switch you got there Miss Grenadine, but ain’t it gonna defeat the purpose if all this information is lost?” Jack asks, without breaking eye contact.

“It won’t be lost, we aren’t destroying the original documents. Those will live in secure locations. I doubt anyone would be willing to physically break into a Statesman’s office to rifle through file boxes like it’s the 70s. And even if they do,” you say, warmly smiling at him, “they’d be caught between in-between a Statesman’s lasso.” The men around the table chuckle, and Jack gives you a slight smile and nod of approval. Champ, the man who gave your final interview and congratulated you on joining Statesman, speaks up. “Now we got a lot of old timers, myself and Whiskey included, who wrote down files on pen and paper. Is that gonna be a problem Grenadine?” You prepped yourself for this question, knowing Statesman had been active since the early 1900s.

“Not at all Champ! You see, I’ve developed a secure application accessible only on Statesman hardware that can translate handwriting to text and import it on the secure algorithm. Even if it can’t, I can review any files and manually input any missing information,” you state with sheer confidence. Champ looks at you and grins,

“Well, good luck translating Whiskey’s hand writing,” Champ quips, and the rest of the room bellows with laughter.

A few more Statesmen ask you questions. You gladly answer without missing a beat. Eventually, the meeting adjourns and the holograms sign off. You stand up from your seat and make your way to the door with Ginger. Agent Whiskey speaks,

“Miss Grenadine, would you mind hangin back for a spell. I just got some more questions.” Ginger looks at you, grabs your wrist and whispers in your ear, “Be careful with that one (y/n).” You gulp, take a deep breath and walk toward him.

“Now sugar, Champ ain’t kiddin’ when he said my writing was God awful,” Jack says with a chuckle. You slightly giggle, and sit down next to him, ignoring the knot growing in your lower abdomen.

“It’s okay Agent Whiskey I-” you say before he cuts you off.

“Sweetheart, I already said you can call me Jack,” he says, leaning closer to you. You feel heat rush to your face,

“Sorry Jack. Like I said in our briefing, I don’t mind transcribing older files manually. Just give me the files and I can take care of it at my desk.”

“Miss Grenadine, I don’t want to burden you with my chicken scratch notes. Would’t it be faster…easier if you came by my office and we reviewed them together?” Ginger’s words of caution rung in your ear, but your heart pounded at the mere idea of being alone with the most attractive Statesman. Was he flirting with you? Or was this just his demeanor? Maybe he was trying to help a newcomer make a name for themselves in this organization? After all, he is technically your boss and what kind of boss wouldn’t want his subordinate to succeed? You take a deep breath.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea Jack. I’d love to get your help and your input on previous missions would greatly benefit my knowledge of Statesman,” you say attempting to sound professional.

“Alright, alright Miss. Meet me in my office around, say, six o clock?” He lets out a deep breath, stands up, and you do as well. You extend your right arm out to shake his, and he firmly, yet gently grasps yours. His large, warm hand engulfs yours and you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement rush throughout you. Breaking away, you leave the conference room and head to the roof top to get some fresh air.

From the rooftop, you can see New York City in all its glory. This feels like a dream come true. Your first day appeared to be a success, you gained respect from the Statesman, and now your handsome boss wants to make sure you get this project up and running. You call your best friend from back home to share the news. After the initial pleasantries, you say to her,

“Oh and get this! Head of the New York office wants me to work with him personally to get to input his information into the new data base I created.”“That’s amazing (y/n)! It seems like you made a really great impression. I always knew you’d do great things. I can’t believe you're working for one of the best distilleries in the US,” she says. Smiling, and looking down at your shoes you mention,

“It also doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the hottest guys in the office.”“Really? Well don’t get a reputation on your first day,” she jokes.

“What’s he look like?” She asks.

“I think he’s from Texas? He’s got a whole cowboy thing going. He’s got brown hair, brown eyes. He’s older too. Totally got a daddy vibe,” you say, feeling that heat rise up to your face again.

“Daddy? Like he’s got kids?”

“No, I mean… well I don’t know. Look I’ll explain it to you later. Gotta go!” You end the call. Little did you know, Jack was behind one of the structures listening in on your conversation. A smile grows wide on his face.

The rest of the day is spent touring the facilities with Ginger, getting to know the equipment and familiarizing yourself with different programs. As exciting as this is, you’re looking forward to tonight more. You try to push back this growing crush to the back of your mind, and focus on absorbing all the interfaces and layouts Statesman has to offer. After all, you’re here to work. Luckily, the day goes by quick and before you know it almost everyone is leaving the office… Everyone except you and Jack.

“Hey Grenadine, wanna share a taxi back home?” Ginger asks. “Oh I’m staying a little later to work on the algorithm project,” you say. Ginger glances away from you, observing Jack’s office with the lights still on. “Ok, just remember what I said earlier and Grenadine?” “Yes Ginger?”

“Don’t work too hard, it's only your first day.”“Good thing I’m on salary,” you joke. She laughs, and bids you a good night.

After seeing the elevator close behind her, you make your way to Jack’s office and knock on the door.

“Well hello gorgeous,” he declares and motions you into his spacious office, furnished with a warm rosewood desk, luxurious rugs and two cozy looking leather seats. You tell yourself he’s just a gentleman, and respond,

“Hello Agent Whiskey, thanks for taking the time to help me with this,” you say trying to sound as professional as possible.

You take a seat across from his on the other side of his desk. He hands you a stack of old, dusty files and Champ wasn’t kidding. This handwriting was a challenge to decipher. You begin shuffling through the papers, and start scanning the documents into your Statesman tablet.

“Hey Whiskey. I got most of this mission inputted, but I’m having trouble making out the location. Could you take a look?” You pass the paper to his side of the desk, and his hand grazes yours and you instinctually jerk back a tad. He looks up at you and grins,

“Now sweet pea I don’t bite,” he says with a chuckle. “You ain’t gotta be scared of old Jack.” The heat rises to your cheeks and you look down at your now empty hands.

“I didn’t mean to come off like that Jack, I’m just nervous since its my first day and all. I guess there’s a reason you’re out in the field and I’m in the office,” you look up at him with your big, beautiful doe eyes. You can see his pupils widen, and he reaches for your hands and begins to stroke them. A surge of excitement rushes through your body as you notice his large hands engulf yours.

This is a mistake, I should go. I should have known this would happen. I should have listened to Ginger. You think to yourself. You’re drunk on Whiskey. You understand the ramifications of sleeping with your boss, but the tingling in your lower parts is too much to handle.

“I like your hands Jack,” you finally say, with your thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“(Y/n), there’s a lot of parts I like about you. Permission to speak freely?” He asks, with his strong, brown eyes piercing yours.

“Yes…Jack.” You feel your face get hot, and you let out a deep breathe.

“I ain’t been able to get you out of my mind since I met you in the conference room,” he confesses in his southern drawl.

“Jack, you’re my boss. I’ve always dreamed of working for such a rivered organization like Statesmen and I don’t want to throw this all away based on a lapse in judgement.”“It don’t have to be that way darlin’,” he says. Jack pulls your hand toward him and plants a kiss on it while looking you deep into your eyes. He moves his lips away from the back of your hand, looks up at you and says,

“Besides, don’t think I didn’t hear what you called me on the phone earlier,” he smirks. Your stomach tingles into your vulva. You let out a deep breathe, and begin to squeeze your legs together.

“Aww sweetheart, look what I’m doin’ to you,” he teases.

“I can’t,” you whine. “It’s not right,” you say with your eyes watering out of frustration.

“Honeybee, don’t get upset. Why don’t you sit on daddy’s lap so you can see what you’re doin’ to him?” Any self control you attempted to muster is completely gone. You know you should leave, in order to preserve your reputation, but you can’t. You get up and make your way to Jack, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down onto his lap. His growing member pushes through his jeans and onto your ass. He grabs the sides of your face and pulls you in for a kiss. His mustache tickles your lips as his tongue dances with yours. You begin to move your hips back and forth, desperate to feel him.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He teases you again. His hands make their way down your frame. You move your legs from the side of the chair and straddle his hips.

“Oh Jack you feel so good,” you let out as your skirt opens and the fabric of your panties grind against the denim outline of his cock.

“Yeah baby girl? You like feelin’ my cock rub against sweet little pussy of yours?” He asks you, taking your top off and throwing it across the room. You let out a breathy “Yes.” He starts massaging your breasts then unclasps your bra, exposing your hard nipples. Cupping your right breast with his hand, he puts his mouth to your nipple and gently moves his tongue in a swirling motion. You grab the shoulders of his blazer and slide it off his rugged body, clasping his forearms as you do so. Then, you grab the bottom of his shirt and begin pulling it off of him, knocking his cowboy hat off. You wrap your arms around him and his mouth meets yours. You can feel his warmth as you two make out. You grab his biceps and rub your hands down them as you kiss each other. You slide down from his lap and onto your knees, looking into those dark, beautiful eyes. Your eyes move down to his silver belt buckle with the engraved Statesman logo.

“Daddy… Can I?” You ask sweetly.

“Baby girl I’d be a god damn fool if I said no,” he responds. Eagerly, you begin to unclasp his belt, and pull down his jeans with his boxers attached. You are amazed watching his cock spring out, hits his belly before staring right at your face. You start to lick the base, moving your tongue up to the tip swirling your tongue around it.

“Darlin’ don’t tease me like that. Show me what a good girl you can be,” he sighs. You put one arm on his thigh, the other at his base and begin taking his length in your mouth. His size is impressive, and grows more as you inch your mouth around it. You relax your jaw, and breathe through your nose as it travels deeper and deeper down your throat. He pushes the back of your head down until your mouth reaches the base of his cock. You look up at him, eyes watering, as his pupils almost engulf his iris. The hand on the back of your head begins bobbing you back and forth as Jack fucks your mouth. You arch you back.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he remarks. He moans with each thrust as your fingers dig into his thigh.

“God damn sugar that mouth is made for me,” he says as he pulls you away from his cock. He bends down, picks you up and places you on his desk facing him. He pulls you in for another kiss and you groan with excitement. He pulls your panties and skirt down to the floor.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel real nice honey,” he says locking eyes. He grabs both of your knee caps and pushes them away from each other, exposing your sex. He pushes his index finger in you and you whimper, he pulls it out and then pushes two fingers in, twisting around causing you to squirm.

“Oh Jack I want you so badly,” you let out.

“(Y/N) you got me,” he says beginning to pump his fingers more rapidly. His lips make his way down your heat, and begins licking you while his fingers fuck you. You let out several groans. His free hand spreads your folds and his tongue circles around your bud. The fingers that are inside you begin to curl upward and hit your special spot.

“Oh fuck Daddy, keep doing that,” you pant, looking up at him worshipping your body. Encouraged, he picks up his pace and you begin to shake while letting out breathy “yeah”s over and over. The pressure builds up and you let out a long moan, throwing your head back onto the desk. Your body is shaking and your breathing shallow. Jack towers above you and grins,

“Babygirl you taste sweeter than molasses.” He leans down and kisses your lips while positioning himself at your entrance.

“You ready to take Daddy’s cock?” You look down and adjust yourself closer to him. Your back arches, perking up your breasts. He stands back up, and strokes your thighs.

“Jack please go slow,” you tell him, hinting it’s been a while.

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt my little girl,” he says.

“(Y/N), tell me if you want me to stop. You hear me?” He asks, gazing into your eyes and brushing his hand against your cheek.

“I promise,” you respond.

“‘I promise’ what?” He asks sternly.

“I promise Daddy.” You grab his hand, and lace your fingers with his. His tip enters you and you can already feel his width stretch you. He exits you, then enters you again deeper, this time halfway. You feel your walls sweating and your hips buck forward to meet his cock. With this encouragement, he enters you half way. You let out an audible gasp, followed by a moan.

“Keep going Jack, I can take it,” you say looking up at him.

“Thatta girl,” he smiles. He thrusts deeper into you, entering you fully. He lets out a “fuck” under his breath which you follow with a moan. His rhythm is slow and steady and you can feel him stretch you. You lock eyes with him, grab his free hand and put his fingers in your mouth. You begin to suck them, he lets out a groan and begins to fuck you faster. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and grabs your hips. You moan while putting your hands over his.

“You like that baby girl? You like being full of daddy’s cock?”

“Yes Daddy Whiskey,” you coo. He smiles, releases his hands from you and orders, “Open that pretty little mouth.” He sticks his finger down your throat, pulls it out covered in your saliva and beings vigorously rubbing your clit. Your thighs shake and you start panting heavily.

“Daddy please,” you let out and he fucks harder. He grabs your throat with his free hand and your thighs wrap around his waist. You whimper as he pounds into you, his finger pressing harder on your bud.

“Cum on daddy’s cock sweet thing,” he commands. You shake and let out a muffled moan. He pulls out of you and sits on the leather chair behind you. He pats his lap,

“Go on, show daddy what you got,” he commands. You stand up from the desk, legs shaking like a new born foal. You position yourself above him, he grabs your face and kisses you passionately. You break away and take a deep breathe.

“Save a horse, ride a statesman,” you giggle. He smiles with a chuckle,

“Baby girl you’re perfect,” he says. Your hips move down, and you begin to motion your hips back and forth, riding his cock as if your life depended on it. You feel his balls slap against the area between your sexes. You let out a few squeaks and moans, your tits bouncing in his face as he kisses them. He starts breathing heavier,

“Daddy’s gonna come,” he exhales. He starts to push you off, but you saddle back on his hips. His eyes widen, he lets out a deep groan and shoots his load into you. You can feel his seed shoot into you and you let out a gasp. You get off of him, kissing him softly.

“I’m gonna have to keep you around baby girl,” Jack says as he embraces you.

[finn-writes-stuff]

I have no idea if your requests are open or not but I have been hankering for some more Resident evil 8 Duke. Possibly a short fic? The only Idea I got was the Duke getting baby fever after watching Y/n (who is either his S/O at the time or soon will be) taking care of Baby rose for the lords? Yknow before the whole dismantling thing....

Bonus points if she's plus sized! You can decide if you want it fluffy or H0rny lmao.

Baby Fever

I’ve got a production all through next week, so either I’ll write a lot on my breaks or not at all lmao. Don’t expect posts over the weekend.

The Duke x Reader

Fandom: Resident Evil 8

Format: Oneshot

Warnings: Talk of wanting children, implication of reader getting pregnant, innuendo. Baby Rose is a big part of this!

Implied AFAB Reader, feminine pet names used.

The village was a dangerous place for kids, and everyone knew it. From rickety houses, to tall grass, to feral lycans, the dangers ranged from mundane to horrific.

You really weren’t sure why Mother Miranda had decided to bring an infant into the fold.

Of course, you weren’t part of her inner circle, although you weren’t sure that even the lords knew the entirety of it. You were simply a…friend? To call your relationship with the strange lords a friendship seemed incorrect, but you were far more than acquaintances by now.

You knew them well enough to recognize that out of all the dangers in the area, the worst was likely to come by putting the child into their care. Even Alcina, with her wild daughters, didn’t know how to take care of one so small.

So you offered to step in, to help look after Rose while they figured out a more permanent solution. It wasn’t entirely selfless of you. She was an adorable kid, and she had you wrapped around her finger from the first time she smiled at you.

It was easy enough to bring her along with you on your errands around the town, holding her close to your chest and showing her the safer sights you knew. You slowly drifted closer to the safest place you knew, your lover’s caravan. You could hear him singing to himself and you smiled.

“There he is, Rosie, do you hear him?” You asked, making the baby giggle. “That’s my love, my darling, my favourite man.”

You stepped into the clearing as you spoke to her, letting him hear you as well.

“Ah! Ma chérie! And is this the talk of the town, little Rose?” He was already reaching out to pull the both of you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Isn’t she adorable? I’m looking after her for the day so she doesn’t get into any trouble. But she’s been an Angel so far.”

“I’m sure you’re just working your magic on her, my dear. Who could get upset when I’m your arms?”

You laughed, kissing him properly. Rose didn’t seem to care about being pressed between you two, instead trying to grab at the Duke’s buttons.

“No, honey, we don’t pull on those in case they come off, okay? Let’s find you something you can play with!” You cooed at her, looking hopefully at the Duke.

He was beaming as he looked back around his wares, pulling out a small wooden toy. A crow by the looks of it, polished and sturdy.

“Perhaps this should match her fancy? Little princesses such as her should never want for toys.”

Rose loved it, babbling when she got her hands on it and swinging it around. You leaned back against your love with her in your arms, watching her play happily.

You could feel the rumble in his chest when he spoke again, this time right by your ear.

“This suits you, my love. The baby in your arms.”

You laughed bashfully, knocking your head gently against his. “It’ll be a shame when Miranda takes her back.”

“Perhaps we could find a solution, yes? One of our own?” His hands were resting on your sides, thumbs tracing circles against your skin. “We could start trying as soon as you’re off babysitting duty.”

You flushed bright red, resisting the urge to cover Rose’s ears and he laughed, warm and loud, his belly shaking behind you.

“Don’t tease me like that! There is a child listening!”

“She’s distracted with her toy, love, but I won’t tease. Do think about it though? I’m not sure there’s anything I’d love more than seeing you holding one of our own.”

[theybitch]

If that's the case then it won't long if I unzip my pants and my cock flops out semi hard in front of you and it gets a horny, slutty toy on your knees so quick and easily all so you can get your mouth and throat used and fucked~ Such an eager fleshlight but hey it's been a rough few days I won't say no to a desperate, boytoy~ But be warned and prepared for all my stress and sexual frustration to be taken out on you~ When you feel me grab the back of your head after you've gotten used to licking and sucking from top to bottom, worshipping my balls before I fuck my pretty boy's face~ You look so cute and are practically leaking from your boycunt all over when I roughly take and use your throat for my pleasure, thrusting and forcing my cock deep inside and making you take it like a good bitch in heat for me~ Maybe I should collar and leash you and tug you forward while you're sucking me dry or when I'm fucking your handsome face til it's glazed in a facial~ You'd look so adorable called and marked as my fucktoy that I'd spend hours fucking and filling your needy boypussy full of cum til my balls are empty and you're leaking it all over the floor and your legs are limp and too weak to stand or resist as I've spread apart and fucked you from above~ Maybe the position you'd find yourself in after playfighting and me coming out on top and dominating your body with my own, maybe frot and grind our thighs together before I rip off your clothes and fuck your tight holes without mercy and make you call and cry out my name and I'll record it as audio for you to hear with me in the background growling at you to take my cock like a good fucking boy, you slut, needy whore, filthy cumdump~ My personal free use bitch~ Gonna change your name from theybitch to MyBitch or maybe put it on your collar you occasionally wear in safe places so everyone knows you're my toy~ Maybe we should share the audio with the class~? Let Tumblr hear and see what a good and needy toy you can be under my...supervision and ownership~

I can't wait to fuck breed your tight gay ass and spank your ass red, tug your hair back and kiss and mark your neck in hickies and nibble your earlobe in between my growling and sweet nothings mixed dirty talk filling your mind~ Overwhelming and flustering you further as you beg for more of me on you overtime~ Going from whining and complaining and begging me to stop to begging for more my cock in your boycunt, ravaging and pounding you senselessly without remorse, a primal urge to fuck and overwhelm and make you MINE~

You're my whore now~ And my pet~

Better learn how to beg well and proper if you want this dick to go further than just cumming in your throat and on your face before I'm back to work sweetheart~ Maybe a little grinding and bad behavior gets you punished and fucked into unconsciousness and when you wake up you won't be allowed to touch or cum until you throw away your pride and beg for forgiveness and I'll remind YOU who's in control when I pin you down against my house office door and force my fingers into your mouth while you needily hump my leg desperate and eager to cum for me but more importantly cum on my fingers and cock and it's not long after a teasing season of edging you before you're bent over, head outside my window while my office camera is getting a good look at your irresistible ass being plowed from behind by me~ And everyone outside can hear and will know what a needy, eager fucktoy of a whore you are for me~ Such a good boy~ Everyone can hear your slutty and handsome voice begging for my dick and cum so deep inside of your holes it's a little embarrassing isn't it~? Then why are you getting wetter and clenching tighter around me hm~? Seems like you're enjoying this a lil too much~

But it's okay I'll settle for fucking you nonverbal now and then fuck you into unconsciousness later and use you further still if I'm still horny and make you cum over and over for me~

God I could really stand to have something in my mouth lately… it’d feel so good to just focus on licking and sucking and teasing, and eventually working hard to not gag or choke as you rut into my throat. I love having my mouth used so much, it’s almost embarrassing how stupid wet it gets me. It just feels so good to make a drooly mess while getting someone off with my tongue. I promise you’d love the sight of me collared, leash pulled taut to keep your cock deep in my throat, my eyes starting to water as I whine around you.

I’ve been badly craving getting used roughly, deeply. Your fingers and nails digging into me to pin me down or bounce me on your cock like a toy. Having my hair pulled, my mouth covered, warning me to quiet down as I complain and beg - please, you’re hurting me, it’s so much, you’re too big, please be gentle, I can’t take it, please pull out. I’m sure it would only get you harder to watch me flinch away from the pain of getting stretched open, to hear my whines get less and less coherent as you pound my insides, to feel me tighten up around you when you hurt me or threaten me.

You can tell this is just what I need. You know better than me what I can take. You can feel me getting wetter when you tell me to shut up or the whole neighborhood will hear me and want a turn, despite my pleads - no, no, I’m sorry, please don’t, I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good. You can tell that’s just what this set of holes needs, so maybe you’ll whore me out anyway even after promising not to if I just behave for you <3

[goddesspharo]

emoji fic asks: 🥺🌞✅

(let it be known that i resisted a very strong urge to send you the WIP emojis)

[fic emoji ask game!]

If you had asked me about the WIPs, it would basically just be wildly out of context make outs!

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I don't know that I feel strongly enough about my own writing to be "in the feels" about it as I'm writing, but I do have a soft spot for when the more emotionally closed off character lets their guard down a bit. The first use of a pet name is always a good one (when that first "baby" hits, just know that I'm patting myself on the back for throwing it in there), something I was NEVER one for until they had Selina Kyle use it so deftly in The Batman. (It's all about how COOL the person saying it is and how much of a dweeb the person they're saying it to is. Matt Reeves was a real one for translating that specific bit of their dynamic from the comics so well.)

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I almost always do the bulk of my writing at night. Alas, what I prefer (reasonably early at night, maybe when I don't have to be up early the next day) and what actually happens (always starts around 11pm the night before I have to be up at 6am the next morning to go to work and be on call) are not the same. Basically, nearly every fic that I have written in the past year has resulted in me being sleep deprived the next day.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Every once in a while, I see that tumblr post that is some variation of "look at me writing the same story again" (or conversely, Nick Miller's "there are only seven types of stories") and I feel like that's BASICALLY me these days? Am I just writing the longest "idiots fall in love" anthology? Sometimes the idiots are different and there are extenuating circumstances, sometimes they fall into hate first, sometimes they're not even gonna call it love, but that's essentially what I'm doing. One day, someone's gonna be like GIRL, FIND ANOTHER ANGLE and then maybe I'll tackle dog vs zombie.

Speaking of Nick Miller, I do feel like Jake Johnson was right on the money when he recently said, "Whenever I'm writing something, if there's not a love story, I don't know what it is." (Hilariously, he said that while promoting his movie Self-Reliance which only really works in the twenty minutes he lets it get rom-com lite with Anna Kendrick so he should've stuck with that instinct MORE.) I don't need or want all stories to be love stories, but I find that it grounds them a bit to have some sort of emotional connection involved. But recent fics aside, I'm also less of a plot-driven fic writer so of course I'm saying that. That said, I tend to usually have one person be wiser to the relationship dynamics than the other person. They're almost never on the same page until they are because I don't know how to sustain even my own interest if everyone is transparent about their feelings from the very beginning. Someone ALWAYS falls first and my favorite thing in the universe is to sprinkle just enough in it throughout so that when it finally clicks for the other person, it's not a shock that the robot has fallen in love. On a more superficial note, you're always gonna get some pop culture references in anything that I write.

[theenpcbracket]

The TTRPG NPC Tournament Round 2: Angtha Reinhardt vs. Balthazar D. Blackstone

Images are in the order of the poll! Image ID included, click to see the full image please!

More about each NPC below the cut!

Character 1

Name: Angtha Reinhardt Party: The Fosters Relationship to party: Previous pest, current comrade.

What makes them the best NPC: She's a butch anarchist three-quarters orc cowpoke, just to set the stage. Though she started out morally dubious and doubtfully loyal, she's worked through some stuff and has become a dedicated, passionate, and good-hearted friend to the party. Part fighter, part bard, part homebrew caster, Angtha is an all-around heavyweight in battle -- whether it's bashing heads, inspiring her friends, or coming in clutch with last-resort counterspells, she's got your back. Other quirks include her inability to cook (her favorite dish is medium rare chicken soaked in whiskey), her love of ridiculously huge weapons, and her ultimate desire to help people make the world a better place for everyone (except for CEO's).

Quote: "I didn't say 'hey,' I said 'howdy.'"

To learn more about Angtha, check out the extra propaganda in her tag here!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 2

Name: Balthazar D. Blackstone Party: Emissaries of the Cradle of Twilight Relationship to party: One PC's wizard mentor, killed another PC's family. Estranged grandfather figure.

What makes them the best NPC: He is an ancient necromantic bone dragon/skeleton wizard. He has bound his magic in a spell to keep his pet dog around so he can see him once every 100 years!

He is helping the party fight the evil fascist empire. He is the wizard mentor of one of the party members, and also the dragon mentor (helped the PC do a ritual to become a dragon). When the party first met him he was called Magic Max and ran a small magical store. He has published books! He wears old fancy suits because he’s old as balls and likes that fashion best! He’s even trans!

Quote: "For over a thousand years, I have resisted that covetous urge of our kind. But now, after residing here for only a month, seeing how wonderful life can be, being amongst those who have found safety here, it seems that I have made this whole city my hoard.

I didn’t even mean to."

To learn more about Balthazar, check out the extra propaganda in his tag here!

[sw33tsuccubus]

Radiowaves

fun ghoul x reader

desc: reader is worried about Ghoul

genre: comfort/fluff

A/N: not proofread 💔 sorry i haven’t written in a while, writers block :((

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poison turned on the radio, heading the crackling of someone in the other end. Everyone else looked at the red head.

“Hello?”

“Poison? Hey, it’s Y/n. How is everyone?”

Ghoul’s eyes widen. He would love to talk to his partner, but something tells him it would be a bad idea. Jet and Kobra look at Poison uneasily.

“Uhh.. we’re alright. You?”

“I’m doing fine. The missions almost over, I’ve got what I need. I’ll be home soon.”

Ghoul semi-panics. The others decide that the two need to talk, so Poison places the radio on the table in front of him. They three silently wish him luck and then leave.

Ghoul scowls at their backs, and places a hand on his arm. What’s left of it, anyways.

“Hello?”

“Hey, bug.”

“Oh, Ghoul! How are you?”

Y/n’s tone is happy, and Ghould doesn’t find that fair. They’re gonna be so upset when they find out!

“I’m.. okay. We got into a clap earlier.”

“Oh, that sucks. You all okay?”

Ghoul nervously chuckles.

“About that..”

On the other end of the radio, Y/n looks worriedly at the radio. They know that Ghoul and Kobra both fight recklessly.

“What happened, dear?”

Ghoul frowns. Y/n only calls him those soft pet names when they’re worried.

“Uhhh… you sure you want to know?”

Ghoul looks at his arm. Blown off above the elbow, it’s bloodily wrapped in a bandage and is now a stud.

“Yes? Ghoul, you’re worrying me.”

Ghoul’s past the crying and screaming part of being an amputee. He’s frowning and resisting the urge to touch it.

“Well.. my left arm is gone above the elbow and down.”

There’s silence for a moment. Ghoul bites a nail nervously. And then-

“WHAT!”

“Yeahh..”

“Are you okay? Ghoul.. I’m coming home right now.”

“No! I’m fine. Complete the mission.”

“I already did. I’m coming home. See you.”

“Y/n-“

Ghoul groans as the radio cuts out. He goes to stuff it away, and then stares at what’s left of his arm. What does this mean for him?

~~~

“Fun Ghoul!”

Ghoul looked up, grinning. He looks pained, but he’s happy.

“Hey, boo.”

“You okay?”

Reader rushes over, placing their hands on his cheeks, cupping his face. They kiss his forehead, their eyes casting to his arm. They gasp, their face a mix of fear and concern.

“Are… are you actually okay?”

Ghoul nods, turning his head to nuzzle their hand.

“‘m okay. Over the shock of it all, now. It’s just… gone now.”

Ghoul wiggles the stump of an arm, and then grins.

“Do I get benefits of being disabled now?”

Reader shakes their head, sighing. They lean down and hug Ghoul, placing their forehead against his.

“You are okay, right?”

Ghoul gives Reader a soft look, wrapping his arm around Reader’s waist.

“Thanks for caring, bug. I know you get tired sometimes, but you keep carin’ about me.”

“Because I love you?”

Reader wraps their arms around Ghoul, and lift him up. He wraps his legs around their waist, and they carry him to their shared bedroom. They lay him down, and stroke his hair.

“Sleep, Fun. I can tell you’re exhausted.”

Ghoul whines, wanting to stay up with his partner, but he knows they’ll be mad if he doesn’t rest. He closes his eyes, and he’s out in about two minutes. Reader continues stroking his hair, until they hear Ghoul’s soft snoring. They then stand, and walk to Jet’s room. He’s busy tinkering with something.

“What are you doing?”

Jet looks up and smiles at Reader.

“I’m making an arm for Ghoul. Buddy needs two for multiple reasons, and this should be stronger than any of us. Strong punches against BL/i, yknow. Plus, steadier than his real hands.”

Reader nods, and then walks over. So far, it’s just wires and trinkets. Reader hums, watching Jet work.

“We’re going to need to decorate it like he would, and let it be a surprise for him, yknow?”

Jet nods. The two stand in silence for a long time. The sun starts to rise, and the two are still there. Reader began to help Jet, handing him things he asks for. By now, Jet has the inside mechanism working. He’ll make the outside, like armor, and then Reader will decorate.

With the sound of footsteps outside, Reader hurries over to check. Just Kobra heading to the bathroom. They say ‘goodmorning’ and then Reader wishes Jet goodbye as they go back to their room. Ghoul is still asleep, but now curled in a ball.

Reader gently smiles and walks over, laying down to spoon him. They fall asleep, and wake up to Ghoul poking their lips with a spoon. They groan at the taste of Power Pup, and then open their mouth. Ghoul giggles, feeding them to the best of his ability.

After Ghoul’s finished feeding Reader, he pulls them into his lap. He grins devilishly at them, and then licks his lips.

“You know, it’s been a while..”

Reader rolls their eyes. They playfully push him, and then climb off his lap. They pick up clothes, assembling an outfit.

“Like that?”

Reader gestures to Ghoul’s arm.

I’d love to, but you’re not in shape.”

Reader makes a kissy face at Ghoul, and he pouts. He whines, holding his arm and stub out for his theyfriend.

“Sorry, dear, but I don’t wanna hurt you. Besides, I’ve gotta plug everyone else in with the mission. You keep resting, don’t wear yourself out.”

Ghoul whines again as Reader leaves. They can’t help but grin as they walk to Jet’s room. Luckily, they don’t hear footsteps as he closes the door and sits beside him.

“How’s it coming along?”

“It’s going well. See?”

Jet got about two layers over. He said he was gonna do five, keeping it strong and reliable.

Reader sits, kicking their feet as Jet builds. He hopes Ghoul’s glad; he’s never enjoyed getting help from others. He says it makes him feel weak.

When Jet’s finished with the fifth layer, he hums. They’ve both been in there for a few hours, and they’re both sweating. It’s like baking in the sun, but they’re both dedicated to taking care of their friends.

As soon as Jet finishes, he hands it to Reader.

“Go crazy.”

~~~

“Fun?”

Ghoul looks up. His bandage has been off for a week now; it’s been about four months since the incident. His tee shirt fits loosely enough that it covers the stub, going to his elbow on his arm.

“Yeah, boo?”

“Come here, I’ve got something for you.”

Ghoul smiles, and then skips over. He hums with curiosity. Reader hands him a robotic arm, and Ghoul’s face lights up excitedly. It’s decorated with little bomb and cartoony explosion stickers, and Ghoul giggles like an excited child.

Reader helps him out it on, and he tries it out. He clenched the fingers, and then wraps the arm around Reader. He pulls them close, and they squeak at how strong it is.

Ghoul’s face lights up, and he presses a sloppy kiss to Reader’s lips.

“I’ve gotta practice shooting now. And building bombs. I’m behind, I’m gonna get rusty. I need to do a lot with this actually-“

“Fun, my sweet maniac. Calm down. You’re gonna have this forever, you’ll have a lot of time to practice with it.”

Reader caresses Ghoul’s cheek, and he leans into the touch. He moves his head slightly, biting down on Reader’s finger. They let out a surprised sound.

Ghoul giggles, and then kisses their palm.

“You’re the… jelly to my peanut butter. You make things sweeter.”

Reader grins.

“That’s stupid Fun. I love you.”

“Love you too.”