#should have been standing up for their 'friends' not beating them down but that's just my opinion! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 6 months ago

Text

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence.

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.”

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now.

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night.

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them.

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist.

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up.

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music.

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting.

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head.

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap.

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him.

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw.

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’”

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well.

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw.

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation.

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry.

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy.

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it.

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?”

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.”

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.”

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection.

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster - fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it.

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop!

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question.

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too.

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his.

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing.

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.”

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like.

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long.

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass.

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress.

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily.

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that.

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel.

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips.

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader

13K notes · View notes

munsonsmixtapes · 6 months ago

Text

Save a Horse

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary: you and your best friend, Tyler decided to test the waters and take your friendship to the next level, unbeknownst to the both of you that you’re in love with each other.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

The bar was hazy when Tyler walked into it, a line dance already in formation. He didn’t even want to be there, but he was trying to make himself actually get out there again. He hadn’t been on a date in what felt like ages, so he was a little rusty, but a few beers should have fixed that. Despite his looks, he wasn’t very good with the ladies. Any time he would try to flirt, it came off offensive or borderline sexist because he got a little too cocky. But this was his night. He was desperate to get laid, his hand no longer doing the job.

He made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer, surveying the area for whoever he was going to take home for the night. There were a lot of pretty women and he was trying not to be picky. This was just to get him back out there. The sex didn’t have to be good and it certainly didn’t have to mean anything.

His eyes locked on a pretty blonde that was on the other side of the bar, barely visible through all of the dancing bodies. She was already staring him down, sipping on a drink with a straw and Tyler was wondering what else she was willing to suck on. He downed half of his beer and made a beeline for her, trying to go around the dancing crowd so as to not get caught in it.

But then he heard something, someone who stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to the left and sure enough, there you were, arguing with someone like you always seemed to be doing.

You were beautiful. So much so that he couldn’t help but stare. You were dressed in a black tank top that was tucked into a pair of very short denim shorts and a pair of black cowboy boots were on your feet. Before he could stop himself, his feet were gaining a mind of their own as they carried him over to you.

He finally stood at your side, but you were paying him no attention, your argument with the stranger still going strong. You looked seconds away from pulling out your earrings and hitting the man. And as much as Tyler knew he should have stopped you, he kind of wanted to see you do it. You had a bad temper you never took out on anyone who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give me a chance,” the man said. That seemed to unleash something in you because you stepped closer to him, nothing but fire in your eyes. Tyler wasn’t a fan of how he still found you so hot when you got angry. The way your eyes would be filled with fire and your nose would twitch and your mouth would twist as you were trying to decide what you were going to say next.

There were so many times where he wanted to kiss you when he had done something to upset you. Clearly nothing had changed since he was staring directly at your mouth, watching your lips move. They were painted with a red gloss, making them even more inviting. But nothing was coming out of them. The place was loud but not loud enough to where he couldn’t hear what you were saying when you were only like a foot away from him.

“Maybe because you slapped my ass?” You replied, surely seconds away from beating this guy up. Tyler’s eyes widened, hurrying to stand beside you before he could stop himself.

“You did what?” He asked in shock.

“You bent over to grab a pool ball that fell off the table and you’re saying I wasn’t supposed to smack it?” Tyler cracked his knuckles, wanting to hit the guy himself.

“Yes,” you and Tyler replied in unison. You turned to him and he looked good. Almost too good. The scruff on his face did him well and the cowboy hat on top of his head looked far better than it should have. His white t-shirt clung to his body and you hated how much his jeans hugged his waist.

You wanted him, and bad. So much so that the man had been the starring lead in your fantasies that you had come up with every night before you went to bed. You had been in love with him for years, wondering why you hadn’t asked him out when you had the chance. He was so sweet and caring and you wished that you had been the one he had flirted with when he had a few drinks in him.

“And who are you?” Tyler asked, draping an arm over your shoulder. You loved when he got like this, all authoritative, taking control of the situation. If it had been up to you, you would have taken him right then and there.

“Who are you?” The man replied as it he had the right to be angry with either of you. Tyler felt the need to protect you, even though he knew you didn’t need saving. He just wanted to drape his arm over your shoulder to let everyone know you were his.

Well, that was what he wanted you to be. You had never gotten to that point and it was all his fault. He had been too afraid to make your friendship something more. He was stuck in the friendzone where he had put himself for years, kicking himself for not asking you out the first night he met you.

“I’m her boyfriend so I suggest you move along before I have Enrique throw you out.” You could take care of yourself just fine, but something about Tyler always jumping in to protect you always made you feel a little wet in your panties.

The man just muttered something under his breath before turning away, not wanting to get kicked out again. With him gone, you turned on your heel, heading back to the bar to order a much needed shot with Tyler hot on your heels.

Tyler couldn’t help but let his eyes drop to your ass, and watching it move as you walked in your tight shorts was torture to the man. He always found himself wanting to get a handful for himself, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he kissed you until you were breathless, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’d let out a loud moan and he’d grab you by the backs of your legs, helping you wrap them around him-

You stopped at the bar and ordered a drink before turning to face Tyler as shots of tequila were set on the bar, as if the bartender could read your mind. You reached for both and handed one of them to your best friend.

“Drink up, Owens,” you nudged him and you both downed the shots, feeling it burn all the way down. You both slammed the empty glasses down on the bar and you eyed him, wondering what he would have said if you had invited him to the bathroom right that second.

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. A look that you didn’t recognize in any way, shape or form. They were soft and sweet, just like you remembered. In that moment, you could feel your anger towards him falling away. You could never be mad at him for too long, especially not when you looked into those beautiful green eyes and this time, you could tell that he wasn’t trying to use that to his advantage.

“Thank you for that,” you said, nodding your head towards where you both had just been. “And to thank you, I’m adding your drinks to my tab.”

“That’s real sweet, darlin’, but you don’t need to thank me.” That nickname always managed to make you absolutely melt, loving the way it fell from his lips so naturally. “Just your friendship is enough,” he winked.

“Oh, shut up,” you went to shove his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“Alright,” he took another sip of his beer. “Dance with me,” he said, tilting his head up a little.

“Dance with you?” You had no idea what he was talking about, wondering if he was expecting you to read his mind. If you had been able to do that, you definitely wouldn’t have been working at the bar part-time.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Dance with me as your thank you.” He couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah, not happening,” you shook your head. One thing you didn’t do under any circumstances was dance. A ballet recital gone wrong when you were ten made you swear off the activity entirely, never wanting to be embarrassed like that again.

“No way.”

“Fine,” he took another sip of his beer. “Then I’ll just dance by myself.” He slowly headed to the dancefloor, giving you every opportunity to back out if you didn’t want to do it. His hand moved back, his palm facing you as he continued to head to the dance floor, wiggling his digits to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes even though his back was to you and reluctantly put your hand in his. Tyler pulled you out onto the makeshift dance floor and the two of you somehow ended up directly in the center. He was able to quickly pick up the routine while you were left to flounder, moving awkwardly because of your hands that were still attached.

You watched him move so effortlessly, feeling odd being right next to him since you were always there on the sidelines when he was a part of it. He’d smile at you as you sat at the bar, waving you over, but you always shook your head. But now that you were finally dancing with him, he was hoping that it could become a regular thing.

He liked the way your shoulders would brush when you moved the wrong way and the way you’d squeeze his hand to communicate that you were nervous. You turned the way that you thought you were supposed to go but ended up bumping into Tyler, nothing but a chuckle falling from his lips as he looked down at you.

“Follow me, okay?” He asked and you nodded. “Turn around.” You did as he asked and turned around, your back facing him. His hands slowly moved up to your waist, letting them make a home there. He had touched you there multiple times when he had hugged you, but this was entirely different. So close to the way you had wanted him to touch you, but not nearly enough.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his lips right by the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Of course you trusted him. Maybe more than you should have.

“Of course,” you responded with a nod.

“Follow my lead, darlin’.” It was as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Like he knew the exact effect he had on you. But he had too, right? This was all an elaborate way to get you to admit that you had feelings for him. Well, two could play that game.

You kept in rhythm with him, slowly but surely backing up to him, your ass right up against his crotch. You gingerly began to grind on the spot, resisting the urge to turn and see his reaction. You could tell he was enjoying it just by the way his fingers were digging into your waist.

You moved the two of you out of the way of the dancers and continued to grind on Tyler, your movements still slow, but harder now. You could hear his breathing pick up, feeling his nose brush your jaw, his breath on your neck sending another chill up your spin.

He never thought the two of you would be dancing like this, the movements so sensual and sexy. You knew exactly what you were doing and it was fucking unfair. He could feel his cock hardening and pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

“This isn’t the right dance,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you nodded. “But don’t you like this more, Owens? I can feel you getting hard.” Just when you were going to really take it home, you were suddenly turned around, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sudden movement. Your hands landed on his chest and Tyler’s hands rested on your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible.

You leaned closer to him, your lips brushing his and the man was convinced he was a goner. He could feel your gloss that had transferred to his own lips and wanted it other places, anywhere you could get your lips. He loved the idea of being covered in your kisses, the prints leaving your mark behind.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sugar,” he said, his voice low, raspy. And it was doing wonders for you. He was so hot and you were having a hard time not making a move anymore.

“Oh, I fully intend on finishing,” you responded, finally pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened at your actions, but he was quick to melt into you, his lips catching yours slowly.

His arms wrapped around your waist even tighter, pulling you as close to him as possible. Yours wrapped around his neck, your hands running through his hair at the back of his head.

Your head felt like it was swimming, his lips more soft than you could have ever imagined. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite make out. It was sweet and sour.

You pulled away before it could get too heated and Tyler admired the lip gloss that had smeared across your face, very tempted to go back in for more. His thumb swiped across your cheek to help get rid of it, but that didn’t seem to help, only smearing it further.

The weight of what you had done was catching up to you. You had just kissed your best friend. You had just kissed your best friend and you liked it. You had only gotten a taste but now you wanted more. All of him. You wanted to finally make your fantasies a reality.

And you couldn’t. You couldn’t do that without completely complicating your friendship and you really liked what the two of you had. It was really nice at first, to have a friend without all of the “feelings” bullshit, but now you had actually fallen for him. And hard.

“Fuck,” the word fell from Tyler’s lips, his voice somehow getting even more raspy, making you even more wet. God, you really were fucked, and not in the way you wanted to be.

“Do you wanna take this out to my truck?” You asked, your hands lazily moving up and down his back.

“I’d love to take this out to your truck,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours before paying your bills and leading you out of the bar, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

You rifled through your purse, looking for your keys and found them before unlocking your truck. Tyler opened the driver’s seat door for you before helping you into it. He then closed the door and rounded the hood before getting into his own seat.

You peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the road, thankful for how late it was so there was little traffic. Your heart pounded as you pulled into what looked like an abandoned parking lot.

Why you were scared of what you were about to do, you didn’t know. Tyler was sweet and you knew that he would do whatever he could to make you comfortable. He was nothing but a sweetheart and would make you feel good, stopping at nothing to do so.

You put the car in park and turned it off before turning toward Tyler. You stared at each other, the only thing that could be heard was the radio playing a soft country song. You turned the volume up to attempt to drown out your thoughts. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know, but you were fully prepared to dive right in.

Tyler reached out, placing a hand on your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his lips ghosting over yours, almost as if he was afraid to go for it. That confidence from the bar completely evaporated into the air.

You took the lead, pressing your lips to his, your movements more rushed and rough as you nipped at his bottom lip. He let out a little whine and that was enough to make you absolutely soaked.

Rain pattered against the car as you slotted your lips together once more before pulling away. You climbed over the center console and placed yourself into his lap, straddling him.

Tyler looked up at you, his pupils blown and his lips smeared with your lipgloss. It was an adorable sight and you hated how good he looked in that goddamn hat. You took the hat off of his head and put it on your own, moving your head this way and that, modeling it for him.

“How do I look?” You asked, turning your head to the side and he just laughed.

“You look good,” he nodded.

“As good as you?”

“Even better,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss, removing the hat from your head and setting it on the driver’s seat.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours and a moan fell from your lips at the sensation. His hands slipped into your back pockets, giving your ass a squeeze and you gasped into his mouth which only made him do it again.

You began to grind against him as your tongues tangled together and you could hear a groan in the back of his throat. The whole thing was overstimulating for him, there was no way he was going to ask you to stop any time soon.

Your hands rested on his chest as you kissed him, this one slow and gentle, as if you two had all the time in the world, and right there, in that abandoned parking lot, you did. Your tongues tangled as you continued to grind into him, your underwear getting soaked as you felt his dick forming a tent in his pants.

Tyler’s hands moved to your shorts as you reached down on the side of the seat in search of the lever that leaned it back. You found it with ease and leaned the chair back as far as it would go as you let Tyler take what he wanted from you, you pliant to his every move.

You both struggled to pull down your shorts, laughing because of how small the space was. Maybe there was a reason why neither of you ever did this kind of thing. He got them down to your ankles and you moved so he could take off his jeans, his belt buckle making a clattering noise as it hit the tops of his boots.

You both removed your shirts and Tyler eyed the black lacy number you were wearing. His hand moved up to run over the fabric of the tops of the cups, his fingers brushing your skin every so slightly.

“Like what you see?” You asked, leaning down a little so he could get a better look at your cleavage. And you had him right where you wanted him, catching him staring right at it. You scooted up so that they were right in front of his face and he brought his lips to the skin, pressing a soft to it.

He then moved up, his lips now connected with your neck, his tongue swiping back and forth as he began to suck. You moved your head to give him more access and that caused him to nip at your skin, another gasp falling from your lips.

“So good,” you moaned, your eyes shutting. He continued to work, having every intention of creating a hickey right there underneath your ear. He licked and sucked, pulling the most delicious moans from your mouth.

To test the water, he grazed the skin with his teeth and you moaned loudly, reaching your orgasm. God, you were so fucking hot, the way you were able to make the most pretty sounds and look pretty while doing it. The sweat already forming on your skin, making you look absolutely irresistible.

You helped him get his underwear down and realized there was no going back as he cock sprang free from it. It was hard as a rock and probably the biggest you had ever seen. Who knew that your best friend was packing so much? Clearly you didn’t.

You pulled a condom from your purse and rolled it onto his cock before placing yourself on top of it, both of you moving awkwardly as you got used to each other in that way. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his head went to your waist, helping you move, riding him slowly.

You picked up the pace, and Tyler couldn’t help but watch you, feeling himself getting close just by looking at you. The cause of his wet dreams right on top of him, almost convincing him that he had been in one.

He let out a moan of his own and you looked down at him, your eyes darkening as you did so. You had barely even done anything as he already looked blissed out. This had to be a record. Knowing that you could do that to someone gave you so much power and you got more confident, moving as fast and as hard as you could.

Tyler let out another moan, his own scream climbing up his throat, his fingers digging into your waist, surely forming bruises. His head was back against the headrest, his eyes shut tight as another scream ripped through him, his breathing labored.

His hands moved up your back, his nails gliding down it, leaving scratches and your back arched at the movement, reaching your own orgasm. But you stayed there, seeing if you could get one more from him before taking a break before going for round two.

“Holy shit,” he moaned. “You really know what you’re doing,” he said through breaths.

His hands scratched up your back as you watched him, seeing that he was close again. A final loud moan fell from his lips and you slowed down your pace but kept moving, another orgasm rolling through you.

You sat there, staring at each other, your chests rising and falling as you did so. You never thought you would have ever gotten to that place with Tyler, but there you were, sitting on top of his dick, having just had the best sex of your life. And it hadn't even lasted that long.

“I have an idea. And hear me out, okay?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your arms lazily.

“Okay.”

“What if-what I want you to be the only one I sleep with?” Your eyes widened at his words, but you had to admit that you loved the idea. There was no way you could fuck anyone else after that. He had ruined you for any other man.

“Oh, so like friends with benefits?” So you didn’t understand. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted you to be his. Solely exclusive with him. His girlfriend. The one he went to bed with every night and woke up to every morning.

“I love you, y/n,” he said, sitting up, taking you into his arms, looking you in the eyes so you knew he was serious. This wasn’t exactly how he had planned on telling you, but he supposed that this was a good a time as any.

“I love you too, Tyler,” you replied, pressing your lips to his, this kiss sweeter than the others, both of you smiling into it. “Be mine?”

“Oh, darlin’,” he let out a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I always was.”

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x fem!reader #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x you #tyler owens smut #tyler owens fluff

1K notes · View notes

shushmal · 7 months ago

Text

okay but a like post-series fic i want that's like: steve harrington being the only man left in hawkins fighting monsters

and not like a 'everyone died, last man standing' way but just. they beat it back, the story ends, nice little tie-up and neatly concluded, eleven loses her powers because their world is completely cut from the other. and life goes on. eddie (yes, eddie lives au don't fight me) goes off with his band, robin-nancy-jargyle off to separate cities for college. the kids go to high school, graduate high school, and scatter across the country. joyce and hop buy a beach house far-far-far away from goddamn hawkins indiana.

steve though. steve stays. he does it too without comment, takes all their calls telling him all these amazing things. the years pass. the calls are fewer and far between. he's mostly in contact with only dustin and robin. except robin's out of country doing some crazy temp job in some remote country, she never catches him at home right now so just leaves him messages. and it takes a couple of weeks for dustin to realize he hasn't gotten steve on the phone.

frantically he calls around "have you heard from steve???" except the most people talk to steve anymore is like phone calls during holidays and holy shit what could have happened??

and what if it's back?

cue everyone who can in that moment, rushing back. eddie hopping on a flight from fucking london direct to indianapolis somehow, heart in his throat. he manages to meet hopper in the airport and they pick up max and dustin at the bus station.

they get to hawkins that is even more different that what they left. a smaller town, a town that shuts down completely when the sun sets. it's creepy and deserted.

except for the fucking upside down monsters of course.

and they're in their stupid little rental in front of this demogorgon and they're screaming but then the thing just goes splat on the concrete and steve fucking harrington is blinking owlishly at them.

"Oh, hey guys!" he calls jogging up to the driver's side window. "Wow, what brought you back down this way? You should have told me, I would have told you about the curfew!"

turns out steve just forgot to pay his phone bill that month, didn't even realize he was missing calls and he's been fighting monsters the entire time because actually they WEREN'T cut off from the upside down at all and he's just been casually fighting monsters for the remaining hawkins residence—the whole town knows now and steve's the guy you call when you have a monster problem

sidebar: WAYNE still lives in hawkins, and he and steve are best friends, eddie munson you are gonna LOSE YOUR MIND

#stranger things #steddie #because who am i if i don't make things about steddie #the steve harrington whump being left behind and abandoned again of it all #who's been spending christmas with him????#dw he actually probably had a grandma rotation + wayne BUT STILL #steve who is thriving in adversity best he can but rightfully hurt about being the last one there i can have both #'i don't need you to have a fulfilling life but it sure would have been nice if any of you had stuck around'#okay im done thank you for coming to my elevator pitch #shush mal #if this fic exists you're legally obligated to send it to me #i'll sue you if you don't #my steddie ideas

3K notes · View notes

gyeomsweetgyeom · 5 months ago

Text

when the fratboy falls

fratboy!Jaehyun x tutor!reader

summary: Jaehyun is a fratboy with a notorious reputation for being a playboy, you have never heard of him. surely, he can use tutoring as an excuse to get close to you, right?

word count: 8.9k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol and weed, characters consuming alcohol, based on ages in this fic- underage drinking, mentions of sexual acts, a very brief scenario where a non-nct-fratboy verbally harasses/drunkenly flirts, confusing ages/age changes between members (just don't think about it :)), Americanized college described (I'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart) in order to avoid using y/n, uhhh I think that's it, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: oh my god this feels like it's been a long time coming, I hope you all enjoy the origins of Jaehyun and Sweetheart and grow to love them even more! Feedback is appreciated!

This fic is a part of my fratboy!jaehyun universe but can be read as a stand alone fic! (it’s the origin story)

dividers from plutism <3

taglist! @luv4jeno @vvx3 @mmjhh1998 @bluedbliss @soheendo

@lovesuhng @i4kt @johnjaesblog @sunghoonsgfreal @leemoonna

@cbgisland @yowmaman @cryingforjae @nanaissour @kongjjen

You should be in a club right now, you and all your friends should be getting drinks bought for you in the flashing neon lights of a crowded room. You should be dancing like the girls in all the college movies with your hands up, tangled in your own hair, and dancing to the beat of the music pulsing through the room.

But you weren’t there! You were stuck in the godforsaken library being proactive by studying for your staggered midterms starting in two weeks. You hated your professors for giving horribly detailed study guides that actually required you to work on them this early on. It was as if they had all conspired to make them as detailed and long as possible and to make them span two weeks.

Your eyes were burning from staring at the screen in front of you, the books laid out around you had barely been touched since you found the information you needed, and your pencil was lost somewhere in the pages of your notebook where you had been taking notes. Right now, your fingers were itching to grab your phone and scroll through some sort of entertainment, but you knew you couldn’t.

You’d been doing so well studying for a good- wow, almost 3 hours, until the rowdiest group of guys came in and started making this experience even worse for you. They’d come in about half an hour ago and had been the worst examples of library goers since they took their seats two tables away from you.

“Those guys are such a pain in the ass,” your roommate, Ari, mumbled under her breath.

Your friend, Kira, shot a look in their direction and immediately rolled her eyes, “Frat guys, Nu Chi. I’m not surprised.”

You peeked over at the group of guys catching the Greek letters on various pieces of clothing worn within the group. The ‘ΝΧΤ’ was was patched onto some hats, hoodies, and t-shirts- the bright green of the letters made it easier to see. You trailed your eyes over the guys in the group. Some look like they’d just woken up, one was asleep, another two were actually studying, and one was looking right at you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, you hadn’t meant to get caught staring. His handsome face fell into a smirk as you saw his eyes trail you up and down. Your face got hot and you snapped your head back to the half undone study guide on your screen. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How embarrassing!

Jaehyun smirked at your embarrassed state, biting his lip as he stared at your panicked return to your studying. Thank you Taeyong for getting this table. You were cute, messy hair, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. He liked cute.

You tried as hard as you could to focus on the study guide in front of you but the heat of this guy’s gaze was distracting you. You peeked up again, catching his eye and feeling your face get warm once again when his right eye dropped in a wink.

You looked away quickly, facing your friends and covering your mouth from his view, “don’t be obvious, but one of those frat guys has been staring at me for the past 10 minutes.”

Both their heads turned at the same time, catching sight of the guy. Ari’s eyes widened as her head snapped back to you, “that’s Jung Jaehyun, bitch!”

You stared at her like she’d grown another head, “does he play sports or something? Am I supposed to know who he is?”

“He’s just one of the hottest guys at this university. My roommate knows like four girls who have slept with him and not a single one of them complained. Apparently, he’s pretty good in bed. You should get on it,” Kira explains in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t be gross, I don't want to be another notch in his bedpost or name on his roster. I’m not like that,” you sigh as you begin closing up the books spread around you on the table.

“I know, I’m just saying it could be fun for you. Don’t let him use you, you use him,” Kira offers with a smug smile.

You chuckle, gathering your things, “whatever, I’m going back to the dorm. If I read another word my brain will melt into mush. I’ll see you guys later.”

You stood from the table, your arms full of the books you’d borrowed so you could take them back to the front desk. You heard a chair scrape against the floor as you left your area and passed by tables of scattered peers also studying or at least attempting to study.

“Here, let me help you with those,” a deep voice came from behind you.

You stopped, turning your head to see that it was Jaehyun, the guy from the table. “Oh, it’s alright. Thank you though,” you smiled politely while continuing your journey to the librarian’s desk.

“Hey, child development books. Now that I think about it your pretty face did look familiar. Do you you take it with Professor G on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2? I’m Jung Jaehyun,” He explained as he walked with you. Clearly, he wasn't at all put off by you dismissing him.

“That class has like 200 people, how would you recognize me?” You asked Jaehyun, sending the librarian a kind smile in thanks before telling him your own name as you walked toward the doors of the library.

Jaehyun walked with you, holding the door open for you, “I never forget a pretty face. But hey, listen, I gotta say I’ve been struggling quite a bit with all the materials we need to know for the midterm. You always answer questions and Professor G compliments your work, would you be down to help me study? Like a tutor?”

You came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs outside the library. You bit the inside of your lip, contemplating whether or not you should help him. On one hand, you really understood the material and you would be more than capable enough to help him, and you had some time. On the other hand, did he really need help studying or was this one of his methods for getting you alone so he could work his charm to get you in his bed? “You don’t even know me, I’m sure there’s someone you know in the class that can help you.”

Jaehyun’s mouth opens quickly, “But I know you know the materials. Come on, please.”

You shook your head, he was cute, you had the time to help him, but your pride was getting in your way.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Any other girl would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him, time alone with him. You were different, making him work for it. And he knew you wanted him. He saw the way you’d been checking him out. He looked at the trees, his eyes brightening as an idea hit him, “how about this. If you help tutor me, I’ll let you and your friends in to every Nu Chi party for free for the rest of the semester.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “but I’ve never even been to any of your parties. We’re not usually the party type.”

Geez you were making this almost impossible for him, “fine. You and your friends can still get into the rest of the parties for free and I’ll connect you with some of my older frat brothers who can help you with any other class you need help with.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “Do you have a math guy? I really need help in stats.”

Jaehyun, let out a quiet breath of relief, “Yeah, Doyoung is a computer science major or something. Even if he’s not, he’s a genius and there’s about 4 other guys who could help you. We’re not all idiots, you know?”

“Just you?” You smile at him teasingly.

He chuckles deeply, “yeah, just me. So yes? You’ll help me.”

“Fine,” you drag out playfully, “I can find you on instagram to set up the meeting?”

He nods handing his phone to you so you can follow yourself. You hand his phone back to him, “I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”

The next time you see Jaehyun is at 9:48 on the following Saturday. You’ve been sitting in a study room nervously adjusting and readjusting the position of your laptop, then your notebook, then your pencil. Your coffee sits untouched beside your phone, face up to see if, and really when, Jaehyun will decide to message you and cancel. The session was supposed to start at 9:30, but there had been very few people walking through the door. None of which were Jaehyun.

You’d decided you would give him 10 more minutes and then you’d leave. You had better ways to be spending a Saturday than waiting in a study room alone like a mega loser for some guy you barely knew. A guy that was just trying to get in your pants no doubt.

With 2 minutes left you began to pack up your things. You knew it was too good to be true. Why had you even begun to think he was actually interested in studying? With the way he’d been undressing you with his eyes, there was no way he wanted to actually study with you. You were such an idiot! He was probably fast asleep, hung over, in his bed with a poor girl he’d managed to trick into sleeping with him. If you could even calling it tricking her- he was actually a good looking guy, charming, likable, and persuasive. Ugh! Why were you thinking about him like that?!

You closed your laptop and slid your chair out, reaching for your bag when finally the door to the study room opened.

There stood Jung Jaehyun, red cheeked, tired looking, and out of breath, “I slept through my alarm. I’m hungover as a motherfucker right now, but I’m here. Did you just get here?”

You were frozen, “I’ve been waiting for almost 20 minutes. I was packing up to leave.”

“How are you not hungover? Last night was a major rager.”

“I didn’t go to the party,” You told him quietly, almost shyly. You pulled your laptop out again and pulled up the necessary tabs for the material for today.

Jaehyun stared at you confused, a slight hint of wonder, and another hint of admiration. “But I gave you free entry for the rest of the semester. You and your friends. I can think of something else to make this more worth your while.”

You deadpanned, “I’m not sleeping with you Jung Jaehyun, have some respect. I’m doing you a favor.”

Jaehyun flushed, his mouth falling open silently. He shook his head quickly, almost in worry, “that’s not what I meant. God, I’m sorry. I just meant that since you are doing me a favor and you haven’t exactly used any of what I offered to your advantage, maybe you’d want something else more your style. You can still have access to my smart bros, but maybe you want some food instead of the parties? A couple of the ladies in the dining hall love me and they give me food for free. I can pass that along if you want.”

You bit your lip, contemplating your answer, “It’s fine, the parties seem cool. I mean- I’ve never been to one, but I didn’t want to leave the wrong impression showing up hungover.”

Jaehyun flushed, suddenly very interested in the screen in front of him, he was embarrassed. Of course he made a bad second impression. He was the idiot that showed up hungover! “Should we get started?” he asked. It was clear you cared about school or at least doing well and wanted to make a good impression even when he was obviously thinking with his dick. Now, he felt like a total dick.

You nodded and began explaining what you had planned for this session. You had planned for the two of you would complete part 1 of the study guide, only a handful of questions and you’d review the slides used by the professor to help Jaehyun with anything he had trouble with.

Jaehyun began to zone out after the third level of the hierarchy of needs. His eyes were zeroed in on the plastic cup on the opposite side of the table. The writing was mess but he could make out the order, a chai latte, oatmilk, a double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup over ice. He’d never had a chai latte but it sounded really good. He wondered if the ice had melted own and ruined the coffee from making you wait so long. He did feel bad about that. He really didn’t mean to oversleep. He was proactive, he’d set an alarm for 9 o’clock, just enough time to shower, throw up, and walk to campus to meet you in the library. But at some point in the party last night someone had offered him a shot and as Social Chair, he couldn’t refuse. Well, he could, but he wasn’t known to unless it was his weekend to be sober and it wasn’t. Nu Chi Tau had a reputation to uphold, a reputation he upheld with pride.

“So in the final level of the pyramid we have self-actualization, what this means is…” he heard you say, then he got distracted again. This time by you. The way your mouth moved to form the words, your lips looked soft, he wondered what kind of lip balm you used, what flavor it was, did they taste like that chai latte- WHAT?! Who was this voice invading his head?! What was this about unity and understanding you were saying?

He tuned into what you were saying, again, hoping his brain would allow him to stay focused, “since this is the highest level, not a whole lot of people ever get here. On the study guide make sure you add a note about only 2% of people ever reaching this level. I wouldn’t put it past Professor G to ask a question like that on the midterm.”

Jaehyun’s pencil scratched against a loose sheet of paper you’d let him have. “This is probably a really bad time to tell you I also forgot my laptop. Do you mind if I use yours, next time I’ll bring it. I promise.”

You sighed deeply, sending him a light-hearted glare, “Here. Let me know if you need help answering any of the questions. Let’s try to have part 1 done before we meet next time, some time during the week, if that works for you?”

“Yeah, maybe we can do Thursday before class and then we’ll see each other on Friday at the party?” Jaehyun asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

You bit your lip, mulling over his offer. His stare was intense, he was mentally crossing his fingers that you’d say yes. And god, why did you look so cute biting your lip?!

“Hey, I’ll be your personal host for the night. You obviously won’t have to drink if you don’t want to, I know all the areas that have more free space if you get overwhelmed, and I will see to it that you get back to your room safely. I promise you’ll have a safe and good night. That’s a Nu Chi Social Chair guarantee,” he pledged, complete with a hand over his heart.

You rolled your eyes, he was such a dork. “Fine, but don’t show up late to the next study session or else I'm dropping you. You can fail for all I care.”

Jaehyun feels his heart skip a beat, not only would he fail the class without your help, he’d also fail you and for some reason that sounded worse. He was definitely going to show up on time.

True to his word he’d even gone as far as showing up early on Thursday. He had completed part 1 of the study guide, and even flagged some areas he needed help with. You had been thoroughly impressed, even a little surprised. So to keep your part of the bargain you were standing outside the Nu Chi frat house with Ari and Kira. The party was already in full swing. The music was so loud that you felt the bass beneath your feet on the road across the street.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for this since our first semester to come to one of these parties!” Ari clapped excitedly.

You turned to stare at her with a look of pure confusion, “you did. Literally the first weekend here at school. You came to the dorm that night and told me you had no interest in men after a man gave you the ‘amateur DJ special,’ but you kissed a girl after and claimed to have fallen in love.”

“So I came out to you twice? Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked in shock.

Kira groaned, “both of you shut up. Let’s go.” She grabbed your arm and led you and Ari into the chaos.

Upon entering, a wave of musky funk hit your nostrils. A nasty concoction of weed, alcohol, sweat, beer, and BO. There were people cheering in the center of the hallway playing beer pong, a crowd of people grinding in the living room to r&b music, the sliding door to the back yard was open and showed people doing keg stands before flipping into the pool. This was just above and beyond. Every other frat party in town had crowded living rooms with beer being sloshed around in plastic cups, but this was a full on experience. It was as if they had seen every college movie with parties and brought them to life. You might never admit it, but you were even a little impressed.

You all moved through the bodies to the kitchen to get yourself some drinks and you looked around to observe those around you. The kitchen was strangely more empty than you thought it would be, but the party had been going on for almost 2 hours so maybe people were already too drunk to care about getting more alcohol. There was a couple making out in one corner, a group of girls sipping on seltzers all gathered around a phone, and a few drunk people snacking on some chips.

You sipped on your drink, not even noticing that someone new had taken stance beside you, “hey, I’ve never seen you around here before. You a freshman?”

Your face turned into one of poorly-concealed judgement while you studied him. He looked like a freshman himself, probably fresh out of the womb. He had cute chubby cheeks, wide eyes, and a shaggy hairstyle that made him look younger than he likely was. You laughed as you thought about his tacky line and turned to him with raised brows, “I’m in the middle of my fourth semester here. Are you a freshman? You look like you just left 8th grade, little guy.”

He scoffed, huffed, and rolled his eyes, “I’m in my second semester, I’m not some first semester loser. I’m not some kid. I’m actually almost 19. In 3 weeks.”

“Congrats,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink, “what’s your name?”

He flips his hair back with some weird swagger taking over him, “I’m Haechan, I hold the Nu Chi record for longest bender. Six whole days.”

Your eyes widen in shock and you almost choke on your drink, “that can’t have been healthy.”

Another guy stands beside Haechan with a can of beer in his hand, “it wasn’t. He also spent ‘six whole days’ in the hospital right after. You can’t keep bragging about it without providing more context. Normal people get concerned, not impressed, bro.”

“God! Mark! You kill the vibe every time I try to make my move!” Haechan yells before turning to you and speaking softly, “you should come to my birthday party.”

The two continue bickering and you make your way back to your friends to refill your cup. An unfamiliar arm slings around your and Ari’s shoulders. You had expected it to be Haechan, a harmless kid, or Jaehyun who you knew and had promised to be your guide, but instead it was another guy completely. He smelled awful, a sick mix of weed, sweat, and Axe body spray.

His words were slurred and he was clearly using you and Ari to stay upright, “Ladies, what brings you beauties to this shitty party? You know, Alpha Sig throws better parties, we got one goin’ on tomorrow night. You ladies should come by. You’ll get front of the line access, especially you.” He tugs Ari closer to him.

Ari cringes and tries to pull away from his hold, “you have no idea how much that turned me off. Go away, you smell like a preteen boy.”

“I can be your boy,” he slurs, his hot breath hitting her face. She wretches and dry heaves with the scent of his breath.

“Tyler, what the fuck are you doing here? You know you’re fucking banned. Get your ass out of here, and take any of your brothers that snuck in with you,” you hear Jaehyun’s voice. It’s surprisingly loud and stern. He speaks with confidence and command and you hate that it makes you question how you see him. He was just hot before but now he’s even more attractive, protective, and strong. Shit, what was in this drink?

You feel a sense of relief at the sound of the familiar voice. Tyler turns and begins arguing, his words barely comprehensible before a taller guy in a Nu Chi Theta shirt drags him out of the house.

Once he’s out of sight Jaehyun turns to your small group with a much more relaxed voice, “I’ve been looking for you girls all night. Come out back, it’s way more chill. I had a pledge in charge of keeping an eye out for you, sorry he sucks.”

You all follow him out of the crowded house to the backyard and past the keg stands and to a small circle of benches where it is way calmer. These must be the older members of the frat hang out. Jaehyun smiles and introduces his brothers and they all apologize for Tyler’s behavior.

Taeyong the frat president and Jaehyun’s Big, Johnny the Vice President, Doyoung the secretary, and Yuta the treasurer, which he was quickly explained he was forced to take up the role.

“I swear, the pledges get more and more useless every semester. The last good set was Mark and Haechan,” the one who had been introduced as Taeyong sighed.

Jaehyun goes to argue after rolling his eyes, but your snort interrupts him. Jaehyun turns to you as if to ask what was up. You shake your head, “Haechan tried to hit on me in the kitchen. Then Mark came in and they started arguing,” you explain.

Jaehyun laughs with a nod, taking a sip from his drink, “sounds like them.”

You all make conversation for a couple hours, laughing and getting to know each other. They share crazy party stories, embarrass each other with the occasional scolding to party-goers who are getting too rowdy out back or inside. They complain about their classes and upcoming finals, and in turn you and your friends complain about your own. You’re even able to make some connections for help with stats like you needed or the opportunity to look at some other member’s notes from similar classes.

Yuta turns to you with a look of realization on his face, “hey, were you in the library about a week ago?” You nod and he continues with a smug smile, “you know, you’re like a living legend around here. You really knocked Jaehyun down a peg, first girl to ever not fall for his charm. Now, he’s actually studying. It’s amazing!”

You don’t see it because Ari suddenly falls from the bench, but Jaehyun punches Yuta’s shoulder with bright red cheeks. You and Kira help Ari up and begin saying your goodbyes, promising Yuta that you want to continue the conversation.

Jaehyun follows you guys out. He opens up the side gate and takes the brunt of Ari’s weight while you all walk back to your dorm building, which thankfully isn’t far.

Ari nearly stumbles into a bush outside your building and plays it off with a, “I was getting you your favorite flowers, sweetie!” She pushes a crumpled pink azalea flower into you palm and you thank her while getting her upright and steady.

You and Jaehyun walk her into the lobby and from there Kira leads Ari into the elevator and she sends you a tipsy wink which is impossible to ignore.

You flush with embarrassment, shes’s so obvious. “Thanks for walking us home, but you didn’t have to do that. You have a party to return to, Mister Social Chair. There’s probably some girl you had your eye on tonight, you could have missed your chance.”

“It was my sober weekend anyway and I promised to be your guide. No one else but you held my attention tonight,” he shrugs, “I just hope Tyler didn’t discourage you from coming to any future parties. Or even Yuta.”

“I got a personal invite to Haechan’s nasty 19. Plus, I think the brothers of Nu Chi would love to have a living legend in attendance, I’ll be there,” you smile while tucking the crumpled up flower behind your ear to distract yourself from his offhand admission of you holding his attention

Jaehyun feels his heart beat a little faster. It had to be the single beer he had earlier, or were crumpled up flowers always this pretty on girls who teased him? Was it the flower or could it be your teasing? He blinked a few times, forcing his brain to work for one of its intended purposes- speaking. “That one will be smaller. I’m not sure about calmer, but smaller for sure. Before that though, we have a couple more study sessions right?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, we need to finish off parts 2 and 3 of the study guide. The midterm is two Thursdays away, so let’s try to meet this Tuesday after class.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have notes and everything.” He salutes you like a dork.

You snort out a laugh, which he automatically files stores as a sound he likes hearing and wants to hear again. “I’ll see you in class.”

He leaves with a wave and his hands shoved in his pockets. He walked back with a nice pep in his step. The stars looked brighter, he felt a giddiness he hadn’t felt in years. It was weird, but he liked it. He wanted to feel it more often. When he got to the party, he went right back to his room, alone, ready to bask in his new, light feeling. He liked this feeling, he wanted to feel it all the time.

You enter your room to find Ari passed out on the floor under a blanket from your bed and Kira happily cuddled up in her bed. You send Kira a raised brow, “your room isn’t even that far away.”

“Hey, I worked hard to get her here. I deserve this,” she huffs, setting her phone aside before she sends you a mischievous grin, “you and Jaehyun, huh?”

“Kira, I’m tutoring him. That’s all,” you sass back while changing into your pajamas.

She huffs out a humorless laugh, “sure, because Jung Jaehyun walks girls back to their dorms all the time.”

“He’s a frat boy but he’s not an asshole. We don’t even know he’s never done that before. You’re starting shit, Drunk Kira.”

“All I’m saying is, everyone else has gotten an Uber home or a pledge to walk them home. He didn’t even sleep with you and you got a personal escort while a party was still going on.”

You pull the sheets over your head, hating how you’re already over thinking an action that should be the bare minimum. She laughs drunkenly and you’re glad she can’t see the blush she’s put on your cheeks.

On Tuesday, you get to class before Jaehyun, like usual. You won’t admit you’re now keeping an eye out for him… but you are. You place your phone on the desk and pull your notebook out of you backpack and open to where your notes left off.

Someone takes the seat right beside you as your brows furrow, watching a dried azalea flutter out onto the floor from your notebook.

“Wow, another one. Ari wasn’t kidding when she said there were your favorites,” you head Jaehyun’s voice as he places the flower back on your desk.

Your face still shows confusion, reading the pink glittery note from Ari in your notebook. ‘Sorry for making you drag my drunk ass back home :( forgive me sweetie’. You chuckle, “Ari’s version of an apology. Sorry, hi. Do you always sit in this row?”

“Hell no, I usually slip in about 30 minutes late and find a spot in the back. Today, I’m hoping that your smartness radiates off you and I absorb it. In other words, whenever you copy notes, I’m going to copy notes,” he ultimately simplifies.

“Geez, no wonder you need tutoring for this class. Do you have a paper? Pencil? Laptop? Something to take notes?”

“I’m not dumb,” he states, pulling out a singular sheet of paper and a pen with no cap. God, he probably has nothing but those 2 things and a protein bar with his laptop in his backpack right now. He’s like a kindergartner. All you can do is sigh before Professor G starts going through the slides of the day and lecturing. You can see him from the corner of your eye writing when you writing and fiddling with his pen, twirling it through his fingers. You try to suppress a smile, you’re a little proud of him right now. Just a little bit.

After class finishes you both make your way to the library and you force yourself to ignore the looks being thrown your way. In reality no one is really looking at you, more like looking at the infamous campus celebrity following you to the elevators.

Getting to the study room is easy enough with nearly every girl’s eyes on your study buddy making you feel anxious and self-conscious. Jaehyun doesn't seem to notice though, and goes about getting out his laptop as normal. For the first few minutes of your session you both input new material into the study guides. Then you get into his confusion on the questions.

You begin to explain some ecological something he had flagged and all Jaehyun can think is, “why does child development have so many shapes?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth opening to respond before you burst into a fit of laughter, using your hands to muffle the sound. Jaehyun smiles at the sound, something about you is growing on him, making him feel things he hasn’t felt since his high school girlfriend. Fuck.

You smile, simplifying this theory for him before you calm down. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, “of course.” He finishes up typing his notes, writing them in the way you explained because you made it so much easier for him to understand.

“Why are you taking a child development class? This doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

“It fulfills one of my general requirements. My first and second choice were filled up, and Taeyong is an education major. He convinced me to take it, so here I am.”

“So you do have someone else to help you study…” you trail off, “why ask me? Taeyong is probably more knowledgeable about this than I am.”

He clears his throat, looking away from you, “he’s really busy. Making lesson plans and making us act like students.” He doesn’t want to tell you that it was because you were cuter and prettier. That when he first met you he wanted to sleep with you, but now you make him feel feelings he’d buried deep, deep down. Plus, Taeyong was actually very strict when he tutored Jaehyun. He didn’t let Jaehyun get distracted, snapped in his face, corrected all his work too closely. He scared Jaehyun when he was in teacher mode.

“Okay, one more question. So you told us on Friday that you had a pledge keep an eye out for me, Ari, and Kira. How would a pledge know what I looked like?”

Jaehyun blushes, his cheeks feel hot, he starts mumbling, “gave him a general description of you or whatever.”

You lean in, poking his cheek, it’s soft, “you’re lying. Did you make him stalk me or something? Did he stand outside one of my classes? This has been haunting me.”

He laughs at your exaggeration, “haunting you? No, he didn’t stalk you or follow you. I uh, I sent him a screenshot of one of your Instagram posts.”

You tried and failed to suppress a smile, your own face getting hot now, “so you have a picture of me saved on your phone? Which picture did you pick? I have some pictures of me at the beach-”

Jaehyun perks up, “really? I haven’t seen those yet. Are they recent?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens Instagram.

You snatch his phone from his hand, “don’t make it weird, pervert. I was just starting to like you. Seriously though, which picture was it?”

He shakes his head with a smile, “it was a picture of you with Ari and Kira, so he knew what all of you looked like. Is that a good enough answer? Give me my phone back.” He’s choosing to save you the embarrassment by ignoring the fact that you had just admitted you liked him.

You slide the phone back with your eyes narrowed, assessing him. “Fine. Let’s finish part two, we only have a few questions left.”

When you see him next, it’s one week before the midterm. You’re sitting in your usual seat in the auditorium with your notebook out waiting for Professor G to come in. Ari is texting you about some cute guy she saw. Kira is sending you memes about dogs. Your phone has all your attention.

Jaehyun comes in, five minutes early, making his way down the aisle to the empty seat beside you. He smiles awkwardly and apologetically as people move their backpacks out of the way and send him enamored smiles.

He plops into the seat beside you unceremoniously and loudly. You send him a look that shows him you are far beyond unimpressed by his lack of decorum. Then he sets something on your desk.

“What is this for?” You ask with your brows raised.

He shrugs, keeping himself busy by pulling out whatever he needs to take notes. “It’s a flower, sweetheart. Isn’t it obvious?”

“I know what it is, asshole. Why is it on my desk?” You ask bluntly. From anyone else ‘sweetheart’ would be condescending, but you like hearing his voice say it. Ew.

“I was walking to class and it flew in front of my face. I stomped all over it, danced on it, spit on it, and then I thought it would be nice to give to you.” He answers with a casual shrug of his shoulders, his eyes locked on the huge projector screen while everyone waits for the professor to set up the slides.

You push his shoulder playfully, preparing to reply but class starts. He lied again. The flowers don’t fly off anything because the bushes they grow on are too low to the ground. He didn’t stomp on it because it was perfectly in tact. It was round and the color was vibrant with no wilted petals. He had picked it just for you.

You study him in your peripheral, a soft look on your face which you’re glad he can’t see since he’s busy taking notes. You force yourself to pay attention, tucking the flower behind your ear before catching up on the slides you’d missed.

Jaehyun catches a blur of pink, out of the corner of his eye he can see you tucking the flower behind your ear. He feels himself blush, and suddenly isn’t so mad that he took the long way to class just to find you that flower. They might be his favorite flower now too.

It’s the Tuesday before your child development midterm and Jaehyun is waiting for you in the study room he’s booked. Class was cancelled today, it was the least Professor G could do after giving you all so much material to cover. It was 10:16 and Jaehyun was feeling weird. You were always early or at the very least on time, and you weren’t here yet. He scrolled through your DMs to be sure you had both agreed to meet at ten, and there it was, ‘See you at 10 :)’

He was busy typing out a message to you when you came into the room. You were panting, hair a mess, and an oversized, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. You looked just like you did the first time Jaehyun saw you and felt his breath hitch in his throat.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My 9 o’clock class ran over, because there was a surprise essay addition to the midterm. I didn’t think I was going to take all the time the professor gave us because I studied all night for this midterm and I knew what I was doing, but the essay threw me for a loop. I’m an anxious test take as is so the essay ruined all the calmness I had built up and-” your ramble is cut short.

Jaehyun places his hands on your shoulders. He squeezes them lightly, “Breathe, sweetheart.” He makes a show of breathing in and out until you nod, showing him you’re fine.

“Sorry, I feel bad for running late. Are you good? Have you been waiting long?” You ask in a much more relaxed voice.

Jaehyun waves you off with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “I’m good. I only have a few questions for part three so this won’t take up much of your time and you can get back to your place and relax. But now I’m wondering if I should give you this…” He holds up a familiar plastic cup, the contents looking like the perfect shade of brown you hadn’t consumed this morning. Your mouth waters and you reach for the cup, but Jaehyun pulls it out of your reach. “Promise me, the caffeine isn’t going to make you more anxious. I don’t want to be held responsible if you have a panic attack later.”

“Please, Jaehyun,” you whine, “I need coffee.”

He smirks, handing you the cup and watching as you take a drink from the straw eagerly. Your brows furrow in confusion. You expected some vanilla latte, or a caramel coffee of some kind. Instead, you taste your usual order. You taste your iced chai latte with oatmilk, double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup.

“Did Ari tell you my order?” You ask with pure curiosity.

“I remember your order from our first study session. It’s actually really good.” He tells you casually, taking a long drink from his own straw.

“You remember my order from our first study session almost two weeks ago?” You can feel your heartbeat getting faster, and it’s not the caffeine.

“I was tired and hungover, and you were talking about the pyramid thing and my brain couldn’t focus. So I focused on your cup instead. Are we studying or what?”

“Alright, yeah. Thank you, for waiting and for the coffee,” you reply.

He smiles at you, a soft smile that some part of your brain interprets as an affectionate smile for some reason, “no problem.”

You both get through the study guide, flipping through notes and making it easier to understand.

Before you know it, the study session is over and the midterm comes even faster.

Jaehyun sends you a wink, holding his knuckles out for a fist bump. His voice is a quiet whisper as the rest of the class gets the test and gets started, “you got this, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart soar, you want to get up and do a happy dance. There’s just too much giddiness in our body right now. Instead you settle for, “you too.”

This was supposed to be a smaller party? The music is louder, you can hear people shouting, cheering, and the sound of people jumping in the pool. Now the card you brought feels dumb. You barely know Haechan anyway. Why did you come?

“I can hear your thoughts, sweets. We’re already here, we’re going to have a good time. Let’s go,” Ari tells you. She knows you too well.

You don’t argue and let her and Kira guide you into the house. It is smaller, it’s less crowded than the first Nu Chi party you came to, but still full. There’s more room to move around the party, it smells less like BO and thankfully, no sign of anyone from Alpha Sig.

Ari leads you all back to the kitchen, a familiar routine of starting your night with some alcohol. Jungle juice probably. Some kind of mix of alcohol and juices that will give you an awful hangover if you drink enough of it.

“You came!” A voice screeches before someone embraces you. “I knew, Mark hadn’t ruined my chances. God he’s an idiot, but you came, for me.”

“Get off her, you little weirdo,” you hear Jaehyun before Haechan is pulled off you. Jaehyun holds him by the back of his shirt and Haechan tries to fight it.

You laugh, reaching in to hug Haechan, he’s a cutie. “You invited us, I also,” you grab the card you’d set on the counter and hand it to him, “got you this.”

“For me?!” His eyes light up.

“It’s just a gift card. I wasn’t sure what you liked but I don’t like to show up on people’s birthdays empty handed. So uh, happy birthday,” you smile awkwardly, leaning in to give him another quick hug.

Jaehyun grunts, pulling Haechan back when he snakes his arms around you for too long. Haechan begins to whine and argue but quiets down when Jaehyun sends him a look of warning. Jaehyun loops an arm around your shoulders, “Ari and Kira are already out back, come on.”

You let Jaehyun guide you out of the house again, let his arm fall from your shoulders to your waist. You like him being so close, wrapped around you like this. You like him being protective, a little possessive, and shit- you think you might like him.

The same guys greet you in the same spot as last time. This time, Yuta and Johnny are drunker than the last party. “It’s Sweets!” Johnny cheers and you shoot your friends a blank look. That was a nickname from them, so he’d obviously gotten it from them. A nickname you felt neutral about in your small group since it was kind of cute. You were unsure of its origins but you were almost certain it came from a late night snack run you all made during your first hang out. Everyone got their own snacks that night, but you were the only one to leave with an armload of sweet snacks.

“It’s nice to see you again. With Jaehyun,” Yuta smiles mischievously.

Jaehyun’s arm drops from your waist and you miss the warmth it provided, the feeling of security, safety. You take a drink of the cup in your hand, hoping that the alcohol will help distract from the weird empty feeling you suddenly have. You sit beside Kira and join the conversation, letting the stress of midterms leave you while you vent and listen to everyone else rant about the tests, projects, and professors.

You eventually come to the bottom of your cup and get up, offering to get anyone else a drink too. Taeyong joins you on your way back to the kitchen. You reach for the ladle in the giant bowl of jungle juice, already feeling a slight buzz from your first cup. Taeyong stops and chats with some people on the far side of the kitchen. A group of girls come into the kitchen and begin talking while grabbing beers.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of weird to be here and not be hit on by him you know? It’s been pretty consistent at every party. Tonight I was going to finally give in,” one girl sighs.

“Girl, I think that ship has sailed. He’s been seen with the same girl for a few weeks now. I tried to hit on him at the last party and he shut me down completely,” her friends responds.

“You’re lying, bitch. Jung Jaehyun tied down? There’s no way!” A third girl exclaims after choking on her drink.

Suddenly you want to choke too. Your throat tightens up and fuck- you’d been so stupid to think that you could be anything special to him. Why would a guy like Jung Jaehyun go after you when he could have anyone else? It’s not like you had ever shown him you were going to give into his flirting, of course he would be done with you now. He asked you to tutor him, you had tutored him and he got what he wanted. It makes sense that he got what he wanted, not the sex, and had someone else that matched him better than you. Why would he have wanted anything deeper than tutoring and maybe friendship with you?

Your hands start to shake and tears fill your eyes making everything hard to see. You leave your cup on the counter and turn to walk out of the kitchen, out of the house, away from him. You want to go home and forget you ever fell for Jaehyun and forget that you were ever stupid enough to think he could actually like you back. Fuck!

You make your way through the living room and out the front door, feeling only a sliver of relief when the fresh air hits your face again. You feel someone grab your wrist and go to pull away, but it’s Taeyong. He looks concerned as he studies your tear filled eyes. “You’re not going home alone like this, just- wait here, I’m gonna go tell the guys that I’m taking you home,” he instructs. You nod, glad he didn’t ask any questions because your throat feels tight. If he were to ask you anything else you knew you would burst out into tears.

There’s no one out front as you wipe your tears. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you exhale. You were fine. It was all going to be fine. You were fine before you even knew who he was, and you were going to continue being fine now, after him.

You can hear the side gate of the house open and shut, it must be Taeyong. You walk down the front steps and make it halfway to the gate before stopping, it’s not Taeyong. It’s Jaehyun and he looks worried.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asks, looking the slightest bit distressed.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heels, not even gracing him with a response. You can make it home alone. Ari and Kira have your location, you’ll text them when you get home. It’s not even that far. It’s fine.

“Hey, sweetheart. Just- talk to me. What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, his hand wrapping around your forearm and turning you to face him.

You wanted to make this a clean break. You just wanted to leave and forget you ever met him. Leave and forget you ever fell for him, but since he’s asking. “Why didn’t you tell me? Huh?”

Jaehyun’s brows pinch together trying to figure out what you’re talking about, had one of the guys told you that he liked you. Those fuckers, fine, he could confess now, “Look, I’m sorry they told you. I was trying to gather the courage and make sure my feelings were genuine before I told you. They are, of course, but I don’t know- it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way for anyone and I was nervous.”

You can feel the tears coming back, “And she knows how you treat other girls? She knows that you walk them home, get the flowers, memorize their coffee orders, and introduce them to your friends. You could have at least been honest with me! I told you from the beginning! I told you from the very beginning I wasn’t going to sleep with you. All I asked for was your respect, but I won’t be the girl you cheat on your girlfriend with. I deserve more than that. I don’t even know the poor girl, but she deserves more too.” You hadn’t even realized you’d gotten so close to him. Your finger was touching his chest and you breathed heavily, a few tears escaping your eyes.

His hand came up to hold yours, pulling your hand away from his chest while keeping your hand in his own, “At the risk of sounding like a dick, who is she?”

You pull your hand out of his hold, before throwing them up in frustration, “your girlfriend! Jaehyun, you have a girlfriend you didn’t tell me about! I developed real feelings for you and you have a girlfriend!”

“You like me back?”

“You’re not listening! That doesn’t matter! You’re a major fucking asshole and your girlfriend deserves better than you. Fuck you!”

He steps forward, cupping your cheeks which makes you freeze. It was the last thing you expected him to do. You try to move way, wriggle out of his hold, but he keeps his hold, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I like you. sweetheart, I like you.”

Your breathing falters, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit, “but there were girls in the kitchen. They said you were tied down and seen with the same girl all over campus and you turned one of them down when she hit on you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t very well make me look good to the girl I liked if I was sleeping around with random girls, would it? sweetheart, you were the one I was seen with. Didn’t we study together a few times? I sat by you in class, I walked you home, I was with you at parties. Any of this ringing a bell or should we get you to the emergency room?” He asks with a playful smile.

“You like me?”

He laughs, it’s loud, unabashed, and happy, “yes, I like you! I have a crush on you. You make me feel things I haven’t felt since I was in high school with my first, and only, girlfriend. I like hearing your snort, I like seeing your smile, your laugh. I like how kind you are. I like when you wear your comfy sweaters. I really like when you put flowers behind your ears. I like that you make me feel giddy and warm and liked and flirty and playful and I can be myself around you. I want to be smarter for you. I want to be around you more. I think you’re beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. I just- I like you, a lot.”

“I like you too, if that wasn’t obvious. You’re cute and funny-“

“We get it! Kiss!” You hear Ari and Kira yell. You look over Jaehyun’s shoulder and catch them watching you along with the frat officers from the side of the house.

Jaehyun sends you a look as if to ask, if it was ok. You nod minutely and tilt your head up. Your eyes fall shut when his lips meet yours. His lips are soft as he kisses you tenderly. You can feel all the pent up affection you’ve both felt for each other through the kiss. His hands cup your cheeks and yours rest on the back of his neck, holding him close. You lose yourself in the feeling of his lips against your own, fighting back the urge to smile.

He pulls away and your eyes flutter open, staring into his eyes that match your adoration and excitement in the moment. He presses his forehead against your own, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “so, want to make the rumors true?”

Your face furrows into one of confusion, the rumors? He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips which makes you melt. “Wanna tie me down, sweetheart?”

“Kinky,” you wink, which makes him laugh out loud. A deep happy laugh, which makes you embrace him closely, “of course I do. As if my temper tantrum over you having an imaginary girlfriend didn’t make it obvious.”

“Good,” he smiles. And it is good, great even.

“Simp!” Johnny and Yuta yell, before one of them drunkenly belches.

Jaehyun laughs, hooking his arm over your shoulder to lead you back to the party. So what if he was a simp? Who wouldn’t be for you?

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct fic #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fic #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun #frat!nct

2K notes · View notes

chososlilprincess · 1 year ago

Text

pt. 2 of Virgin Choso!! if you havent read the first part read it here and part 3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Virgin Choso who looks at your abandoned bag in the corner of his small living room. Standing in the little apartment he moved into recently, chewing on his lip anxiously. Should he text you? you’d realize it was gone eventually, and when you give him a call to tell him, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. It’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, the opposite really, but hes scared. He’d probably be weird and act awkward if you two were ever alone, if you came to retrieve your bag from his home.

You and Yuji had been at his apartment earlier that day to help him move his furniture around. He’d heard the doorbell ring and when you had finally ascended to the top floor were he resided, Yuji had given him a brotherly hug, patting his back. And you,

You.

it’s the second time he sees you after he realised what he felt for you, and it’s getting increasingly hard to be around you. Especially when you keep putting on those adorable little outfits. He can’t focus, he can hardly breathe. Yuji, that idiot, knows that fact better than even Choso himself, seeing right through his brother. Which is why the boy had invited you today to help him. To torture Choso, to make him crack.

But Choso wasn’t weak. He could hold his composure. Even when Yuji walks past him and whispers, trying to hold his laugh, “maybe cut back on the staring a little today, she might actually notice this time,”

And now he’s here, all his furniture in the right places, but your bag in the wrong. You’d went to the gym he remembers, which is why you had it with you.

When his phone rings a minute later, his heart starts beating faster, already? he calms down a little when he sees it’s Yuji who’s calling, but his ease is cut short when he answers.

“hello?”

“hi Choso, it’s me,” its you. He can hear people talking and laughing in the background, probably you and Yuji’s new friends from your Jujutsu College. “my phone went out so i borrowed Yuji’s to call you,” you say sweetly, and before you can continue, a voice way louder than yours comes through the line, “she forgot her bag on purpose!!” Yuji shouts from next to you, before someone in the group can shut him up,

“not true…” you say awkwardly and laugh “but uh, is it okay if i come and get it tomorrow after my shift? it’s gonna be a little late though, sorry for the trouble,” he can feel that tugging in his heart, he’s excited to see you again, even if it’s only because of your forgetfulness. “it uh…it is no trouble,” he says quickly,

“thank you Choso…ill see you tomorrow,” and with that you hang up, and Choso is left with the silence of his apartment and the bustle outside of tokyo city.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s sitting on the couch with your bag propped up next to him, did you really leave your bag here on purpose? why would you have done that? did you want to see him too? he sighs, wishful thinking.

He stands up from the couch and the movement makes your unzipped bag fall to the floor with a thud.

He looks to the floor, bends down to put the bag back when-

oh. fuck.

Laying on the ground is your used gym clothes, a big hoodie, some shorts, a top and also…

a pair of your used panties.

he freezes, his dick jumping at the sight alone. Theyre baby blue, with a little white bow on the waistband. fuck. no. don’t.

he picks them up.

He’s only just learned about sex, about relationships and about…pleasuring himself. And he’s already a massive pervert.

what would you think of him if you knew? if you could see him right now? desperately jerking himself off on the couch, whines and groans spilling from his lips, drool sliding down his mouth. your perfect little panties wrapped around his hard cock.

He watches as his pre cum makes a mess in them. he wants to make a mess with you. He wants to see you wearing nothing else than those same panties around him,

he takes them away from his dick and brings them to his nose. And when he breathes in the scent of your pussy, He cums so hard his mind turns blank.

And it hits him when he comes down, that hes disgusting. And your panties are ruined.

how can you make him feel like this. Without any cursed energy. without beating him into the ground. youre just existing, And that fact alone makes him feel so…weak? why does he feel weak?

He decides then that he needs to tell you, Its been building up in his chest for months. He needs to tell you that hes in love with you and that he would do anything for you.

he needs to tell you he wants to bury his face in your little cunt.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thx to everyone whos been leaving notes<33 part 3 coming!!

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x reader #choso smut #choso fluff #choso x you #choso x reader #choso x female reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #i love him so much

8K notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 6 months ago

Note

imagine red hood and the reader being friends. They helped patch him up one day and now he won't leave then alone.

Then jason todd meets reader somewhere and they bump into each other quite often.

Now imagine reader gushing to hood about how cute this guy is and how bad they want to kiss him/fuck him/whatever.

I know hood's face would be matching his helmet and he resolved to ask them out the next time they met in his civilian form.

Jason Todd x Reader

Pt. 2

"Are you for fucking real?" You grumbled, half asleep yet a bat in your hands, ready to swing at the predator who knocked all the trinkets of your living roon window sill.

Bright white eyes shone back at you, the giant figure just standing there, though his hand was clutching his side.

"Man, I told you not to come back here," you scoffed, throwing the bat to the ground and getting your first aid.

"I got sliced." The modulated voice replied nonchalantly, heading for your couch.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I see it." I muttered, kneeling in front of him, inspecting the wound. "It's not that bad, Red. Should have you fixed up in a couple of minutes.."

"There we are," you sighed, finishing the bandages, admiring your handiwork. "Do you not know how to do this shit yourself or..." You asked, packing away the supplies.

"I like the way you do it." He muttered, patting the bandages, a dumb smile across his face, behind his helmet.

"You staying the night, or do you have to head out again?"

"Go out."

"Don't get yourself hurt again. Okay?" You said, your expression softening as you stood back in front of Red Hood, cradling his helmet in your hands.

He just grunted, getting up and placing his hand on your head in silent assurance that he'll be fine.

The next afternoon, walking around the city as you stumbled across a quaint, charming book shop cafe that you haven't noticed before.

The atmosphere was comfortable when you entered as you walked around the narrow aisle of bookshelves. When you spotted a book that you've been meaning to read for a while at the top shelf, you reached up to grab it, when another hand beat you to it.

You turned to scowl at the person who took your book when you were obviously there first, when you were met eye to eye with a gorgeous stranger. His face was sharp, with jagged scars decorating his face. His nose was big and slightly crooked. His lips were chapped. His eyes were a beautiful mix of blue and green.

Your brain short-circuited, forgetting that you were going to scold the man for taking the book, but isntead, you stood there, looking like a fool as you stared at the man.

But when you realised how creepy you looked, your fight or flight responded with flight, saying absolutely nothing as you tried to walk away, mentally slapping yourself for the awkward interaction.

"You like Austen?" The gruff voice said. A familiar voice, but you couldn't put your finger on it. You turned back to the stranger.

"Uhm.. I guess.. I'm not much of a book person, but I've wanted to read 'Emma' for a while now," you sheepishly said.

He nodded. "It's good." He said, handing you the book.

You stared at it. "Are you not gonna.."

"I've read it a bunch of times." He said, taking your wrist and putting the book in your hand. "You take it."

"Oh.. thanks.." You muttered.

"Jason." He said, extending out his hand as you shook it back, giving your name in return. Jason held back from an accidental slip of an 'I know.'

"Sorry for taking it off, you," he said. "I was just a little too eager to see the book. Can I get you some coffee while we're still here?"

Your eyes widened. "Oh! You don't have to real-"

He took your wrist, taking you to the coffee shop. Honestly, you were beginning to think this guy was a serial killer from how eager he was. But it was free coffee that you weren't willing to turn down.

"I met this guy today at a book and cafe shop I ran into," you said as you focused on wrapping bandages around Red Hood's bicep. This information made his ears perk up, remembering the little meet-up the two of you had.

"Oh yeah? Gonna replace me?" He said.

You scoffed. "No. But he was pretty hot," you said nonchalantly. "He had scars all over his face. And a great nose..." You muttered as Red Hood tilted his head.

"His nose?"

You looked up at him, a suggestive glimmer in your eyes. Red Hood shifted on your couch, suddenly feeling hot and uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. "Is the nose the first thing you notice in a guy?"

"Not usually. His was just very distinct. I might go again tomorrow to see if he'd show up again."

And he did. He was already there the second you stepped in. And once he saw you, he was already walking up to you, seemingly determined to get to know you.

"Oh my god, Red!" You squealed that night. "He's actually so fine, you don't understand!"

Usually, Red Hood stops by because, according to him, he 'likes the way you patch him up'. But he just dropped by, unharmed because he felt like it. Also, he knew you'd talk about this Jason guy and wanted to hear what you think of him.

"His thighs- ugh!! I need my head in between them now!"

"My thighs not enough for you, sweetheart?" He muttered.

You rolled your eyes. "If I knew what you looked like, then maybe. Anyway, don't interrupt me. His hands?? I need to suck on his fingers, oh my god."

Red Hood shifted in his seat, his pants feeling tighter than usual.

But you continued. "His lips were pretty chapped. Don't ask me why I was looking at his lips, but man! I actually need him to shove his tongue down my throat. I need him to put me in a chokehold in between his biceps, I need to suck on his pecs. I can go on about the absolute VILE thoughts of what I'd let him do to me-"

Red Hood stood up. "And I don't wanna be here to hear them." He said, almost stuttering. "I'll come back tomorrow night."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, I'd expect it."

When Jason got back to his safe house, running an extremely cold shower while his hand was tight around his cock, he tried getting those filthy images that you described out of his mind.

Jason was a slow pace man, so as much as he was on the verge of tossing his helmet off, giving you the fantasy of stuffing your mouth with his tongue, he wanted to do the least and ask you on a date first.

SORRY ANON I wasn't sure how to conjure up the whole date thing. I might make a part 2 if interested!!

2K notes · View notes

mountainsandmayhem · 28 days ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 7

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I am not the least bit sorry for the ending 😉

Word Count: 8k

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

TW: open door smut scenes, unprotected P in V. Cream pie. Squirting. Use of nipple clamps. Oral (female receiving). Fingering (anal and vaginal). Ass play. Use of nicknames (good girl, sweet girl). Pussy and dick pronouns. Joel having a filthy mouth.

You

Holy shit, I just fucked Joel Miller.

The thought rattles around your brain over and over, as if the more you say the more real it will feel, but you’re still floating, still up in the clouds even though you’re firmly tucked against Joel's side. Your head rests in his chest, rising and falling with the quick rhythm of this breathing. Your eyes flick down to his beautiful cock; it’s standing straight up, ready whenever you are, as you both try to slow your heartbeats and breathing. You nestle your body tighter to the warm, solid wall of a man beside you, wrapping a leg around his. He slides his fingers up and down your spine. As you lay in silence your mind races.

“Just call me Joel”.

There are almost too many things bouncing around your head, making it hard to focus on only one. Does he love me? When I tell him what I've decided with college, will he think I’m staying in Austin because of this? Aren’t I staying in Austin because of this? How else do I explain it? What about my friends? I don’t want to keep this a secret anymore; is this worth losing my job over? What if this is all part of his plan? Sleep with me and then use it as a reason to end our dom/sub relationship? Is this even a dom/sub relationship anymore?

Anxiety and worry start to buzz through your veins. The sight of soft belly and rock hard cock blurs. You slam your eyes shut, the unknown starting to overwhelm you. Sucking in a big breath, you try to break the vice grip that’s starting to tighten around on your lungs and throat.

“Are you ok?” Joel says softly.

“Ya,” you nod as his free hand that's been tucked under his head comes to your chin and tilts it up. The moment you’re engulfed by his soft chocolate brown eyes, your brain stops. Quiet washes over you. You’re safe here, you’ve always been safe here. Rolling over, you perch yourself on his leg and hip, chin resting on the tops of your hands as they lay on his chest. You can feel his heart beating strong and steady under your hands. That’s what you need: consistent stability. No, not need, deserve.

Joel removes the golden clip from your hair. “Freckles, I probably should have said this before, but this isn’t what I normally do with my subs, and I’m…”

His eyes dance around yours as he pauses. You can see a million emotions happening at once, all of them mirrored in yours. Fear. Happiness. Confusion. Anxiety. Vulnerability. But mostly, love. You finish the sentence for him.

“I’m pretty sure we aren’t just a dom and a sub, Joel. I don’t know if we ever have been.”

I love you.

With that, he pulls himself up, stuffing some pillows so he can lean comfortably against the headboard. You follow, and he guides you to straddle his lap, his cock pressed between your bodies. The air between you feels thick with emotion. Both of you look at the other, your shallow breaths in sync before both of you snap and dive in. The kiss is hungry and desperate. There’s probably a million things you both could say, but in this moment, the kiss is enough.

“I’m never going to get enough of you,” he moans as your lips trail his jawline.

“Good,” you hum, sliding your hips up to drag your pussy along his length. You’ve slept with a handful of men before Joel, but it’s never been this passionate with anyone else. You just had each other, yet here you both are, acting like it’s been years since you’ve touched. His head falls back, a sigh passing his parted lips as you kiss down his neck.

“Fuck that feels good, sweet girl.” His hands tighten along your hips. Joel is always so concerned with your pleasure and needs, so for now, or for as long as he’ll let you, you spend time focusing on him. You kiss every inch of him that you can reach: his neck and shoulders, his collarbone and ear lobes, all while softly grinding against his cock. Every moan and gasp from his lips has you growing wetter.

You drag your slippery pussy up his cock, both of you completely coated in your arousal. Joel lifts you to hover above his cock. “Need to feel you wrapped around me again. Please, sweet girl.”

You capture the sound of him begging with your lips, snake a hand in between your bodies, and guide the tip of his bare cock inside of yourself. You shudder and whimper at the delicious stretch of him. “Oh god.”

“This pussy,” he coos, and the sound of his weakness at the feel of you has the muscles behind your navel tightening. Your lips find his again as you slowly work yourself down his cock. “That’s my girl, nice and slow.”

You rock and grind, sliding him in further, your body writhing as you take inch by tortuous inch. As your hips finally come into contact with his, you still your movements and relax into the feeling of him at this new angle. Joel is definitely big, not in a scary romance novel kind of way, but bigger and thicker than you’ve been with. “Joel,” you mew, the vowels of his name lasting longer than they should and you tuck your head into his neck.

“It’s all you, baby girl. Just sit on him if you need to, fuck.” He kisses your shoulder, hands moving to the globes of your ass. “Tell me how it feels.”

“F-full,” you whine into his skin.

“What else, my sweet girl?”

“You’re so big, J-Joel. I can feel you everywhere. I - I need, oh my god.” You grind your hips forward slightly, the cool metal of his piercing sending a shockwave through your clit and up your spine. “More. I need more.”

“Just take it, baby. I’m yours.” He rasps between kisses along your shoulder and neck.

You pull back, your face mere inches from him. He’s everywhere all at once and the painful stretch of your cunt around his cock starts to become an intense burning pleasure with each flick of your hips.

“Suck on my nipples,” you gasp, leaning back slightly. The shiny silver ring in his pelvis presses harder against your clit, and now, not only are you madly in love with Joel Miller, you’re also so fucking addicted that not even a twelve step program could fix you.

He obeys your wishes, sucking your right nipple into his warm mouth roughly and swirling his tongue as your hips grind back and forth once, twice, three times. He moans against your skin, moving his hands up your body to cup both your breasts. “Harder, please Joel, harder.”

Your movements become less fluid; your clit aches with every brush against his piercing. The muscles behind your navel start to feel like they’re going to snap. He moves to the other nipple, meeting it with his teeth, but it’s still not enough.

“Harder,” you beg.

“Do you need clamps, baby?” Of course this man would know what you need; he’s never not known what you need.

“Yes, god yes. I need more.”

“Can you reach the top drawer of the nightstand?” You nod, then push his sweaty curls away from his forehead. He raises an eyebrow and you reach into the drawer, pulling out a small set of gold nipple clamps. “Good girl. Now, can you reach my hat at the end of the bed?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop your smile and nod excitedly. He winks and you turn your upper body the other way and stretch to reach his hat. As soon as you place it on his head you feel the sharp pressure of the clamp on your left nipple. The pain heightens the feeling of him inside of you and a high pitched whine leaves your throat.

“Fuck, please, Joel. Please.”

As he places the second clamp he says, “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?”

A mix between a whimper and a whine passes your lips in response and your lashes flutter shut. “That’s what I thought. Just as long as I keep myself deep in this tight little pussy, you’ll be happy. Won’t you?”

The second clamp evens out the pain and sends a wave of adrenaline through your system. You pick up the speed of your hips. His piercing bumps against your clit, the pleasure coursing through your veins mixed with the burning pinch on your nipples is almost all the ingredients you need to fall over the edge.

“You’re doing so well for me, sweet girl. Wish you could see how good you look right now.” Joel moves his hands back to your ass, pulling you forward in time with the pace you’ve set.

“I love - Joel, oh my god.” You want to tell him how much you love the feeling of him inside of you, how much you love the words he says and the praise he gives, but you aren’t capable of forming sentences with the way his piercing teases at your clit. All you can do is let your forehead fall to his shoulder, your eyes squeezing tighter.

“Love what, huh?” He whispers deeply into your ear. “The feeling of my bare cock so deep inside of you that you can feel it in your stomach? Or the way my piercing feels against your swollen clit? Or maybe you love the pain of the clamps on your nipples as you ride me? Huh? Is that what you love, baby?” You make a gasping whining sound of agreement.

“Look at me,” he adds. It takes all of your strength to sit back up and open your eyes. When he comes into focus you’re overcome with desire. He’s so much more than you could ever imagine in his new black cowboy hat, pupils blown wide with passion, and cheeks flushed a light pink. “Good girl, keep your eyes on me. I want to see it in your eyes when you come on my cock.”

Your hips slow, but you push your clit harder against his pelvis, and you blurt the first thought you have. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel.”

A smile tug of his cheek reveals the boyish dimple you love so much. You slide your hands from his shoulders to the short hair at the nape of his neck. You’re close, so very close. “Come with me, I’m so close,” you whimper.

“I know, Freckles. Fuck, I can feel it.” He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, but the flex of his jaw tells you he’s holding back for you. “Squeezin’ me so tight. Fuck, can feel her fluttering, listen to how wet you are.”

You reach back and grab his wrist, squeezing it gently, “Spank me.”

“Christ, sweet girl.”

You release his wrist, and without looking away he spanks you hard and you are launched into your orgasm. His face lights up with admiration as you chant a mixture of his name and ‘oh god’. You grind frantically into his piercing, your clit practically vibrating at the attention.

“That’s it baby. Good, fuck, I’m gonna, good girl. Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.” He slaps your ass again and that same familiar pooling of liquid starts to build.

“More,” you cry and he spanks you again.

You feel the gush of your cum, and Joel takes over as you’re consumed by pleasure. His strong hands grip your hips, moving you at a slower pace. “There she goes, such a messy little pussy.”

You peel your eyes away from him, looking down at the way his piercing presses against your clit when your bodies meet. “Fill me,” you moan.

“Fuck - oh fuck, sweet girl.” Your orgasm starts to fade and you tug at the hair you can reach.

“Fill me, Joel. I want to feel you leaking out of me for days.” You aren’t sure where this version of yourself has come from. Just weeks ago you wandered around JMKink all wide-eyed and nervous, and now you’re saying words that you never thought you could.

Joel lets out a mix between a growl and a moan and you feel his cock harden before it jerks inside of you, hot ropes of his cum filling you like you asked. He moans your name, stilling your hips in his hands as his orgasm washes over him. “God, you feel so good.”

The two of you gasp for breath, your head falls back and you close your eyes, trying to slow your heart beat. Joel removes the nipple clamps and you cry out just as he places light kisses along them. “Ouch,” you whimper.

“I know,” he says, moving to kiss the other one. “Taking them off is the worst part. I’m sorry, sweet girl.”

When he pulls back to look at you again your body goes limp and you fall into his chest, head tucked into the crook of his neck. “Need a minute,” you murmur.

He pulls the blanket from the other side of the bed and wraps it around the two of you. “Good, because I’m not ready to let you go yet.” His lips caress your hairline softly, one hand on your back under the blanket, the other playing with your hair.

I love you.

After a few moments of blissfully content silence you wince at the pinch in your hip. “I gotta get up, I’m sorry.”

He laughs gently into your hair, and pulls back the blanket before helping you slide off his softened cock. You both look at the mess you’ve made on his lap and you let out a mischievous giggle.

“Don’t even think about it, Freckles. I need nourishment before you take advantage of me again.” He says jokingly.

“Well, I guess this is what I get for fucking around with an old man,” you laugh, flopping down on the bed beside him.

Joel moves quickly, slipping two thick fingers inside of you easily and you squirm at the feeling. You suck in a huge breath, like you’re about to swim to the bottom of a deep pool. Tears start to burn behind your eyes as overstimulation makes it almost impossible to breathe, nevermind being able to tell him to stop.

His voice is a gravel filled growl, “That right, little girl? Because from what I can tell, you’re about to beg me to stop, so be careful who you call old.”

Heat flushes your skin, pleasure building, yet when your tired pussy flutters around his strong digits a loud, pained cry fills the room. You’re not willing to admit defeat as you force your lungs to suck in a breath.

“I’m not.”

“No?” He pumps his fingers harder against your sensitive g-spot. “Don’t wanna use that safe word?”

Can’t. Fuck, I might actually die if I come again again. You never imagined yourself debating if you wanted another orgasm. A cold sweat coats your lower back as you arch off the bed, a sob leaving your throat.

“How’s that feel? Wanna come again?”

You shake your head and moan in disagreement.

“You sure? She wants to, I can feel it.” He pumps his fingers forward again.

“M-mister Miller. No.” As you swallow down the scream that’s inching its way up from your lungs he watches your throat like a starved wolf.

“Safeword,” he commands.

“Steg-“ you don’t even say the full word and he’s slipping his fingers out of you with a lewd squelching sound. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?” He says softly, his dom mask gone as his eyebrows knit in concern.

“Yes,” you say with a quiet laugh. “I was close to coming again, but….”

He gives you a thigh lipped smile, “Sore?”

You nod as he continues, “Food, then shower, then we can come back here,” he says deeply before he slips his two fingers in his mouth, cleaning off the mixture of the two of you.

I fucking love you, Joel Miller.

Joel

The small crack of light in the curtains wakes him. His alarm clock shows 7:18 am; he can’t remember the last time he slept past six am, but he also can’t remember the last time he stayed up until two in the morning. He rolls slowly, careful not to disturb you in the cocoon of blankets you’ve created in the night. The top of your head and one foot is the only thing visible, your slow, quiet breathing filling the room.

So fucking cute.

He pulls on a pair of black pajama pants and adjusts the curtains to keep the room dark before slipping downstairs. The morning sun reflects off the gold in the marble, basking his kitchen in warm fire light. His eyes glance around the kitchen, a dirty frying pan sits in the sink from the grilled cheese sandwiches he made you both last night, the kitchen stool still pulled out from where you sat. A smile pulls at his cheeks, his cock stirring as he remembers the rest of the evening.

The two of you ate your sandwiches; all you had on was one of his t-shirts, and he was wearing the pants he’s in now. After you both finished eating, he grunted as he came over to help you off the stool. You made another joke about him being old. Slipping in and out of dom mode is almost too easy around you. Without missing a beat, he made you clean the cum that had leaked out of you off the stool with your tongue, then spanked you until more cum dripped down your legs and onto the floor. He didn’t even have to tell you what to do, all he did was glance at the floor then at you with a raised brow. His sweet girl got down on her hands and knees and cleaned up. He praised you the entire time and then took you upstairs to shower; not that it did much good, because he fucked you from behind the moment the two of you got back into his bed. Joel hasn’t fucked someone back-to-back like that in years, but you have him feeling like he’s in his twenties again.

He pulls the jar of imported coffee beans from the cupboard and grinds them, reflecting upon how easy it was to just sit with you. As you ate, you both laughed and joked about whatever came to mind. He made fun of you for asking for ketchup to dip your sandwich in, then you poked fun back by eating the sandwich with one pinky up once you realized it wasn’t just processed bread and cheese.

As he tamps the freshly ground beans into the basket he realizes just how lonely he has been. He’s always been surrounded by people and enjoyed coming home to his quiet solitude of a house, but now? He smiles sadly to himself. This is really going to hurt.

He places the basket in the machine and as it brews he gets your beans in the grinder and then grabs the milk to steam and froth. He adds the milk to his cup and then starts on yours just as he hears a very soft ‘Good Morning’ from behind him.

He looks over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his middle, placing a kiss on his bare spine. It shoots right to his heart and he holds it there, desperate to keep this love he’s feeling, love he knows is on a timeline.

“Good morning, sweet girl. Coffee?”

“Mmm, yes please.”

He rubs at your arms around his stomach. “How does bacon and eggs sound?”

The soft warmth of your cheek rests on his back as he steams your milk, your espresso almost done. “You actually use the kitchen?”

“Used it last night, didn’t I?”

“Yea,” you reply, “but I’ve never seen you have actual food in your fridge. Cleaning it is always on your list, but aside from milk there’s never been anything in it.”

“That’s not entirely true,” he says.

“You’re right, once there was just a single long stemmed red rose.” The rose he got you for your birthday.

“So you’re saying you don’t want surprise long stemmed roses?”

You gasp dramatically behind him and then wiggle under his arm. He laughs, adjusting his grip on the milk and coffee cup to pour the milk just right, creating a heart on the top of your latte and then holding it in front of you. He watches the little smile that curves your lips. “Thank you, Joel.”

He kisses your forehead before you both part. His eyes trail from your face, down your body that’s draped in one of his black t-shirts brushing the top of your bare thighs. “Breakfast?”

You nod, wrapping both your hands around your coffee cup and inhaling. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. Get that cute little ass on one of those stools,” he spins you and pats at your butt gently, a giggle escaping your throat as you wander around the island to sit.

Joel gathers what he needs for breakfast, and after a few heartbeats you break the silence. “Can I ask you a question?”

He glances over at you, “We’ve been through this. You don’t need to ask permission, just ask.”

“Well, it’s about the hat.”

“Ah,” he says softly, starting one of the gas burners to heat the cast iron pan for the bacon. “You can ask anything you’d like, baby.”

“I just wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction.”

“That’s not a question,” he says jokingly.

You let out an amused sound that’s part giggle, part snort. “What’s the history behind the black cowboy hat?”

He clears his throat, moving around the kitchen the entire time he speaks. “I grew up on a small ranch outside of Austin. My grandparents’ ranch. Me and Tommy lived there with our mom. My grandma gave us both our first cowboy hats; mine was a black Stetson with a black satin liner. I wore that hat all the time. It brought me comfort for whatever reason, or maybe it was confidence in those awkward adolescent years. Whatever it was, it sort of became a part of who I was as a teenager. One night, in my senior year, after winning our baseball state championship I went to a party, with my hat on, of course…that’s, umm, that’s where I met her.”

He watches you take a sip of your coffee, eyes soft. “Tiffany, my…my wife. That’s where I met her. My grandpa always said that I’d feel a tug, like a pull behind my belly button, and it did. When I went to talk to her she took my hat and put it on her head and…I just knew. That hat, well, I wore it for her from then on.”

“Where’s the hat now?” You say, looking shyly up at him.

He turns back the stove, swallowing the dry lump in his throat and flips the bacon before cracking the eggs in the second pan. His voice is low. “When she passed away it just felt right to send the hat with her. I couldn’t let her go alone.”

The eggs sizzle as he flips them. “How old were you when that happened?”

“Young,” he says, then looks back over at you. “About twenty three or twenty four.”

He scoops two eggs and a few pieces of bacon on each plate and then walks around to the stool beside you. “I’m sorry that happened, Joel.”

He places a light kiss on your forehead, sliding the plate in front of you. “Me too, baby. Thank you.”

Joel sits on the stool next to yours but that still isn’t close enough for him. He grabs the leg of your stool and pulls you tight to his side. The moment your shoulder makes contact with his arm he feels more at ease. Talking about Tiffany isn’t so painful anymore.

“So it’s just been you and your daughter since then? You didn’t want to remarry?” He watched the way your lips purse to blow on your fork full of eggs before he answers.

“I wasn’t opposed to remarrying. Sarah used to try to set me up with her friends' moms when she was kid. But, I never felt that pull like I did with Tiff. I focused all of my time on Sarah and building my construction firm.“

It feels almost too comfortable to talk to you as he continues between bites. “I just kept waiting for that pull again. Then my career took off; I went from building homes to mansions, and then eventually apartment complexes. I didn’t have time to even look for a partner.”

“Is that when you got into BDSM?” You ask, nibbling on your bacon.

“Ya, I met Cap…”

“Cap?” You interrupt, looking at him with wide eyes. “Like the sweet man with the grey hair and kind blue eyes who drives me around?”

“Yes, same Cap. He taught me almost everything about being a Dom.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “He’s so soft and kind.”

“Am I not soft and kind?” He says, placing a hand on his chest. You press a kiss to his cheek and he raises an eyebrow at you. “As I was saying, I met Cap through one of the trades we hired to run cable through a large apartment building. Spent a lot of hours with him and he eventually brought up how being a dom might be a good option for me and wouldn’t risk Sarah getting hurt through a break up.”

“Sarah is older than me, isn’t she?” You put your fork down and look up at him with concern.

He nods, “She is. Not by much, but she is. However, I recently learned that I was the campus DILF while she was in university.”

You snort a laugh beside him.

“She just wants me to be happy. I don’t know what I did right with that kid. She’s a doctor and just got accepted to a surgery fellowship in New York.”

As he finishes his last few bites, your soft, warm palm traces up and down his bare back slowly. “I’m sure you were, or are, an amazing dad.”

He smiles over at you as reality slams into him. You’re younger than his daughter. You’re going to want things that he’s already done and is too old to do again. And quite frankly, he doesn’t want to do it again. Biologically he cannot have any more kids, and he’s not looking to adopt. He’s done that part of his life.

One of his hands wraps around the back of your neck and his mind races as he lowers his face to yours. He’s sure you’re going to go to Berkeley, which will break his heart, but also means he can keep that pesky little secret he’s been keeping from you hidden. You finding out about that will ruin him.

You

Something shifts in Joel’s eyes before he kisses you, his tongue swiping against your lips, asking to let him in. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, as the urge to show him just how much you need him takes over. You spin your body towards him, kissing him back at the pace he’s set. You could sit like this for hours, your lips fused to his, his tongue flicking sweetly against yours. Your hands roam along the muscle-lined skin of his arms, pressing your lips happily to his without any plans to break the kiss first.

After a few minutes, Joel pulls back, cupping your chin, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “Speaking of university,” he prompts.

You take a slow deep breath in through your nose, trying to keep your face a neutral mask as all of your thoughts around school and Joel scream in your mind. He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “Come with me.”

As he leads you towards the stairs to the basement you say, “We should clean up.”

“Nah,” he starts leading you down the stairs, his voice light, “I have a cleaner coming this week.”

You jokingly hit his shoulder with a laugh as he walks down the stairs in front of you. The two of you settle into the plush couch. You cozy up into the corner of the sectional, him beside you. He pulls your feet onto his lap and then flips a blanket from the back of the couch over you.

“It’s gonna be Berkeley, right?” Joel’s voice is excited and curious, not disappointed. For a second you think he might not care in the way you think he does, until your eyes meet his. His eyes tell a whole damn story right now, more honey flecks than onyx shine your direction. They seem sad almost, or longing.

“Maybe. That was sort of my dream school but I don’t know anymore.”

His thumbs press into the arches of your feet and after wearing those ridiculous heels last night it feels delicious. “Your phone screen, which, by the way, I’m getting you a new phone. That screen is a hazard, and don’t bother arguing with me. But your Lock Screen is the beach.”

“I know,” you look down at your hands, picking at the pearly white polish.

“I want you to follow your dreams, sweet girl.”

“But that’s the thing, Joel. Becoming a lawyer is the dream. Either way, I will graduate as a lawyer, so…” The words die on your tongue and hang heavy between the two of you.

“Don’t pick based on me.” He says softly.

You scoff, immediately annoyed by his ego. Is that really what he thinks of you? That some man would come along and change everything you had planned. Didn’t he though?

You pull your feet from his lap, bending your knees up as if you’re building a wall between the two of you. “I’m not. I’m a grown woman who can, and does, make decisions for herself.”

“So then what’s the reason for giving up what was always your dream school for a law school here?”

You feel sick to your stomach. His singing last night, that wasn’t a proclamation of love to you. He was just singing a song that he knows and you almost changed your entire life’s trajectory for him.

No, you remind yourself, these are valid points. Joel or not, it makes sense to stay.

It doesn’t matter how you justify it to yourself in your mind, the annoyance that anyone would think you’d make a decision this huge for anyone but yourself doesn’t ease. You didn’t even consider your parents when you left for university, so why would he think you’d consider him when you’ve only known him a few weeks?

You try to keep the edge of frustration out of your voice as you respond. “It’s cheaper, for one. I also have a job that I could do once or twice a week if I stay here. I have a chosen family of friends who support and love me. There’s lots of reasons. And at the end of it all, I come out with a law degree.”

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, his fingers toying with the hem of the blanket. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to defend yourself or your decisions.”

“You assumed I’d choose my future based on you.” You say, and it comes out a lot angrier than you intend. You rush an apology, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” his voice stays soft as he moves to rub the top of your foot under the blanket. You let him pull it back onto his lap, shortly followed by the other foot. “You’re making a big decision and I could see you working through your thoughts in the car last night. I just don’t want you to think you have to figure this out on your own. I’m here for you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I was trying to let you know I’m here. I should have worded that differently to begin with.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, looking back down at your hands. You feel about two feet tall all of a sudden.

“Hey,” he squeezes at your calves and you look back up at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. C’mere.”

You slide across the couch and he pulls you close, draping your legs over his and wrapping you in his arms. “I know Berkeley is more expensive, but you’d have more opportunities there, wouldn’t you?”

You shrug and lean into his touch. “Maybe, but I’d finish top of the class here, I don’t know where I’ll fit there. Plus, my friends. It’s weird, I’ve never been scared to leave somewhere before; not even when I was freshly eighteen and left my parents, but now I am.”

His strong hands rub along skin, desire beginning to flicker at your core. It’s only further ignited when he speaks again.

“Those are all very valid reasons and fears, sweet girl. We all feel that way about big change. Your friends will always be there for you, regardless of what state you decide to go to school in. I’ve only known you for a short time, and I can see how much this means to you. They’ve known you a lot longer, I can only imagine how proud of you they must be. You’re an amazing person and an incredibly hard worker. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

“I’ll be in debt forever,” you say with a sigh, leaning back so you can see his face.

“You don’t have to be…”

“No, I’ll accept the phone, albeit begrudgingly, but I will not accept that.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink and a laugh as you roll your eyes.

Joel

The rest of the morning was spent laughing and talking. He asked about your first kiss, your favourite song, what you were most proud of so far. He filed away every single answer.

As the two of you cleaned up from breakfast he said, “So you never saw yourself having kids?”

“No. I saw myself fighting for others. I think based on my past that I’d be a great mother, just do the opposite of what my parents did, but that never interested me.”

His fears from earlier started to ease knowing that you didn’t want kids, and your views on marriage were so mature compared to what he usually heard.

He oiled the cast iron as you spoke. “I just need a partner. Someone who is on my side. I’ve been alone almost my entire life, and I can be happy alone. It’s not the company I need - it’s the support. Someone who can shut the world off. You know?”

He knew the moment he saw you that he could turn you into the perfect little submissive, his perfect submissive.

“Sounds like you need a partner who knows how to be a Dom,” he says with a wink, eyes roaming over your body in just that thin black t-shirt he gave you. He sees the switch in your eyes, desire blows your pupils wide, darkening your usually sparkling orbs. “Does my sweet girl need something?”

He watches your thighs squeeze together as you stand beside him. You hum a yes and nod your head.

“Are you sore?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. But I still need it.”

He leans in closely, tracking the shiver that runs up your body as his lips ghost along the shell of your ear. In a deep whispered command he says, “Give me that shirt, and then go wait upstairs for me.”

He pulls back and watches as your arms cross in front of your body and grab the hem of the soft cotton shirt. Time slows as you reveal your naked body to him, his heart catching in his throat along with his breath. So utterly perfect.

“Good girl,” he hums, extending his hand for the shirt. “Upstairs, on your hands and knees at the foot of the bed.”

He watches you the entire way up the stairs. You only glance over your shoulder once, and he knows the wink he sends you is the reassurance you need. Granted, the little smile and the slight skip in your step afterwards were a dead giveaway that you’re excited for whatever he has planned.

He waits in the kitchen, forcing himself to keep his eye on the digital clock of the microwave. Three minutes, he tells himself. His dick has other plans, throbbing behind his loose, low hanging pajama pants. Wait three minutes, you weak and pathetic little man.

He palms himself through the fabric to relieve some of the ache, picturing your ass up in the air on the end of his bed. When the three minutes pass, he practically sprints up the stairs until he reaches his bedroom. He takes a breath to compose himself before stepping over the threshold. Looking to his left, you’re exactly how he wanted you. Knees on the edge of the bed, hands planted on the mattress, eyes glued to the fluffy sheets below you.

“Remind me, sweet girl,” he fights the smile as you startle at his voice, wide eyes looking over your shoulder. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Did you mark off that you’re interested in exploring aspects of anal sex?”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You say shyly.

“Here’s what we are going to do,” he starts to walk towards you, eyes roaming along every inch of you. “Look at the mattress, please.”

He smiles as you obey, always his good girl.

“You’re going to stay very still. I am going to tease your beautiful pussy and ass with my tongue and fingers.” He stops right behind you, running his fingertips along the back of your thighs. “I’m going to go slow. I want you to close your eyes and just breathe. Focus on my tongue. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Mister Miller.”

“Good girl. Before we start, grab a pillow and put your chest on the bed. I need you to arch your back for me.” He slips his pajama pants off as you crawl forward to grab the pillow and licks his lips as your ass scoots back down the bed before you get into his desired position.

“So beautiful,” he coos, kneeling on the small bench at the foot of his bed. “I’m going to start by drawing long lines of my tongue from here,” his finger lightly presses on your clit, he collects your arousal as he runs it up the soft folds of your cunt, stopping when he reaches your asshole, “To here”.

“I’m going to do that a few times, and then start applying more and more pressure. Once you start to shake, and you will start, sweet girl, so please, don’t hold back. But once you start to shake, I’m going to swirl my thumb along that tight little ring of muscle while I eat your pussy.”

You let out a moan, he hasn’t even touched you yet and he can see you growing wetter. “Think you like the idea of that. Already so wet for me.”

“What else?” You ask with a moan.

“I’m going to tease your ass with my tongue and fingers until you let me in. And then fuck you with my fingers, all while continuing to suck on your clit until you come for me. Do I have your consent?”

He can hear the smile on your face as you say, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

“No, no, baby. I want you to say ‘Yes, Mister Miller, you have my consent to play with my ass’.”

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, he brings his hands to your waist, holding you firmly as his cock rubs against your thighs. “Y-yes, Mister Miller. You have my consent….”

“You can say it, sweet girl. Come on.”

“To….”

He leans over you, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Good girl, keep going.”

“To play with my ass.”

He sinks his teeth into the meat of one of your cheeks and then runs his tongue over the sharp pain before he does exactly as he said he was going to.

You

Your whimpers of pleasure fill the room as two of Joel’s thick fingers slide easily into your ass. You have no concept of how long he’s been teasing you. Since he took the lube out, you’ve been nothing but a vibrating ball of pleasure. His tongue flicks your clit with perfect precision, his fingers stretching and caressing you at the same time.

“I wanna come, Mister Miller,” you whine.

He pulls his face away from your centre. “That right?”

“Please. It feels so good.”

“You know you don’t have to ask, sweet girl. You can come as many times as you want.”

“Need more,” you manage to gasp as he curls his fingers slightly inside of you.

“What do you need?”

“Fuck me - fuck me while you do that with your fingers.”

“‘Manners!” He growls.

“Please, Mister Miller,” you half whine, half cry. “I need to come. Please.”

He slips his fingers from you and you whimper in protest. “I know, sweet girl.”

He urges you to move forward and then you feel the mattress dip as he kneels behind you. The click of the cap of the lube sounds behind you, the cool liquid hitting your ass. The warm tip of his cock slides from your ass to clit, back and forth, spreading your slick along with the lube. You push back into the soft top of his cock every time it teases your ass.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“It’s been hours, please, Mister Miller.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, baby,” he says, focusing his attention on that tight ring of muscle that you’ve never explored before. “It hasn’t even been an hour.“

You push back again, feeling intense pressure. You hiss as the sensation but don’t pull away. “Easy, sweet girl. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The slippery tip of his cock slides towards your entrance. He pauses, and then as he finally pushes inside of you, his thumb enters you at the same time. You cry out, “Oh my god.”

The usual pinch of the stretch of him filling you isn’t there this time. You don’t need to adjust to his size, you just need him to fuck you.

“Harder, Mister Miller.”

He obliges, keeping his thumb firmly inside of you as he slides his hips back and thrusts forward. He repeats this motion, setting a quick pace, his hips slamming against your ass over and over. You bury your face into the pillow and scream; deja vu washes over you. The darkness, the way his cock kisses your g-spot, the heat of his body behind you. This is the recurring dream you used to have about Joel, and it’s so much better in real life.

“Play with your pretty clit, sweet girl. Wanna feel you.”

You bring your hand to your clit. You’re so wet that your fingers easily slip along your most sensitive part. You rub fast, tight circles, moaning and somehow arching your back even further. “Atta girl. Make yourself come for me.”

Your orgasm slams through you and you scream his preferred dom name into the pillow. Your entire body is vibrating, your pussy clenches hard around his cock. You feel him growing harder before he’s calling your name along with praise and then spills inside of you.

His forehead meets your back, the sweat of his forehead mixing with your own as you both try to catch your breath. Your heart races. I love you.

Joel

When his alarm goes off Monday morning, it’s the first time in a long time that he’s not looking forward to work. He spent the better part of his weekend with you. The rest of your Saturday was spent in a bubble bath before ordering take out and watching movies. He reluctantly dropped you off at home on Sunday morning in a pair of his sweatpants, a hoodie and wool socks. Even while carrying your dress and heels and doing a proverbial walk of shame, you were undeniably gorgeous.

Now, he sits in his office, the heat of the afternoon spring sun causing the air conditioner to whirl. In the past few weeks, his feelings towards being in a relationship has mirrored the weather. When he met you in February, he was cold and isolated towards the idea, but now just weeks later as March turns to April, he’s warm and soft towards it, opening up to someone when he didn’t think he ever would. He opens a brown folder, a proposal for a new building that JMConstriction is going to take on. Tommy has already done the real work; at this point, Joel is just the figurehead for the construction side. He grabs his pen, looping a J and an M neatly.

He places his glass on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he should have read that before signing, if only he could focus on the words. Somehow the letters on the page transformed into you. Smiling as the movie played, laughing as the two of you tried to toss popcorn across the couch and into the other person's mouth.

He’s all in, for as long as you’ll let him. He woke up Sunday morning to his cock in your mouth. You whispered asking if it was ok and after his hum of approval he watched your lips slide up and down his shaft. Simply put, he is mesmerized by you. He stopped you before he came, pulling you onto your side, your back against his front and slipped inside of you. He made you come three times before he let himself fall over the edge.

As he held you, you confirmed that you were staying here for law school.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes. For lots of reasons. But yes, I’m happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been happy. I’m staying here.”

Guilt and excitement swirled in his stomach at your decision. He has to tell you what he did. He should tell you regardless of your decision, but it’s going to be so much harder now. He picks up his phone and texts you.

Joel: Hi, sweet girl. Before we celebrate at the club on Tuesday, can I take you out for dinner?

You: I would love that, Mister Miller. But this super rich man has me scheduled to clean his house from 12-4, so what time are you thinking?

Joel: Get ready at my place, Freckles. We’ll have a drink and then go for dinner, then I’m going to teach you all about the St. Andrew’s Cross.

He wants you to stay. More than wants, he needs you to stay. The thought of you leaving now makes him feel like his lungs are in a vice grip. Wrong, Joel. That vice grip is actually that thing you did. You know this is going to hurt her, he scolds himself loudly. The imaginary iron fist squeezes tighter and he fights to suck in a full breath.

He has to tell you. He will tell you. At dinner tomorrow night, he will explain everything from the beginning. You can’t find out any other way or you’ll likely never forgive him. His heart starts to deflate at the thought of not being able to wake up beside you again; seeing you in a cocoon of down-filled sheets, just the top of your head and one foot giving away your identity.

He stands from his desk and walks towards his office door, clicking the lock and resting his forehead against the wood. He closes his eyes, resting one hand on his chest. I can’t lose her.

583 notes · View notes

erwinsvow · 7 months ago

Text

ain't nothing better for me

summary: at half past midnight, you get call from your ex-boyfriend. and though you really, really shouldn't answer, you still do.

now spinning: poison by brent faiyaz

word count: 8.8k

warnings/tags: toxic exbf!rafe, heavy angst, mentions of past breakup/fighting, reader knows she deserves better but can't stay away (classic), car sex feat. fingering, backshots, unprotected sex. thank you so so so much to @zyafics for all her help with reading and editing ♡

your phone goes off when you’re putting on your nightly skincare. in between layers of moisturizer and serums, a hopeful smile graces your face. you think you know who it is, and you’re actually a little excited to check your messages.

you let the anticipation soak in for a little longer, finishing your routine first before taking a look to reply. it’s been months since you’ve even felt a hint of excitement about talking to a boy, and this one—the one you know has just texted you—is making you feel somewhat normal again.

you’re not just someone hung up on her ex-boyfriend, pretty much unable to escape him and the ghost of your old relationship wherever you go anymore. now you’re just another girl—talking to a new boy and feeling the excitement that a new crush brings.

you rub on the last layer, the one that makes your skin all glowy and soft before bed, before deciding to go check the text. you rush over to your phone, which is resting on your nightstand next your books and your water, picking it up and tapping the screen to read the message you’ve been waiting for.

rc: are you asleep?

you think your beating heart has just fallen through to your stomach. the phone falls out of your hand, thudding against the counter and hitting your glass of water before falling onto the rug.

“shit. oh, shit,” you repeat to yourself, picking up the now spilled, half-empty cup. you look at the water drip off your nightstand, dark specks of water painting your rug while you try to catch your breath.

it feels impossible to do so, and you wonder how one short text can get you so winded. you scramble to the other side of the room, grabbing a towel but unable to walk back to where your fallen phone is. picking it up and rereading that text feels impossible. every muscle is frozen in place, the towel clenched in your fist while you realize nothing you could ever do is going to make you normal again. all it takes is a few words from rafe cameron to get you completely unglued.

“okay. deep breaths,” you say quietly, as though rafe could hear you through the phone. you tread back carefully, watching your screen fade back to darkness. letting out yet another deep breath, you blot the wet patches with the towel and take a seat on the floor against your bedframe, resting your back and bringing your knees in.

it’s pathetic, you know that already. no one should permit one text to get them curling up half-fetal with a new fear of their phone, but that’s what rafe has done to you.

a tumultuous relationship had brought you here now—for every up, there was a down, and though you had once thought rafe was the most misunderstood guy you had ever met, you know now that there was a reason for it.

all of your friends had warned you, and you hadn’t listened. and it’s not as though you have something hard, something concrete to blame. maybe it would have been better if rafe had just cheated on you or gotten bored of you, maybe that would make getting over him easier.

instead you’re left the gutting realization that there was still, to this day—even four months after you two had officially broken up—no lack of love between you two. the way you’re sitting on the floor with tears brimming in your eyes is enough to prove that to you.

and of course, there’s that other feeling nudging through in the back of your mind. the one you’re trying so hard to avoid feeling the full brunt of, to avoid letting that feeling stand on its own two feet in your heart and head. rafe cameron still wants to know if you’re asleep or not.

he still wants to know what you’re doing, where you are, even how you are. and that feeling is a beast of its own, impossible to even begin to understand.

you try to let yourself soak in the feeling, when your phone screen lights up again.

rc: i know you’re up

rc: stop ignoring me

fuck. how does he know you’re even awake? setting aside yet another impossible feeling, you finally pick up your phone, rereading his texts for the third time in sixty seconds. gone was the cute profile picture, the emojis next to his name and the butterflies in your stomach when you got a text from him.

instead you stare down at messages from a boy who has always seemed to know you better than you know yourself, wondering why you had even unblocked his contact to begin with. actually, you know why, but you decide to ignore that for now.

you need to grapple with your current reality. you need your best friends to read these texts and tell you how you should feel, because you know you can’t trust your own feelings. you need an hour just to work out how you should respond, and another hour to work up the courage to actually do so.

but you don’t get any of that. your screen glows with a red button and a green button, rafe’s contact appearing and a call coming through.

“oh god,” you get out, wondering why the hell he’s calling you. you didn’t even respond. briefly, you think if you let it go to voicemail, rafe will think you’re asleep and leave you alone. you wrestle with that idea for a moment, thinking it’s the best course, coming to terms with the fact that the boy you had once loved more than anyone in the world is now getting his call screened.

and then, as if your heart has a mind and body of its own, you feel your finger hover over the green answer button. what if rafe’s hurt? what if he really needs you and you’re ignoring him, what if it’s something serious? you shouldn’t just ignore him because of your feelings when it’s closer to one in the morning than midnight, and your boyfriend knows you always sleep early.

shit. ex-boyfriend. you let this new idea of the freudian slip take over your mind, feeling like your head might explode from the amount of emotions you just went through in the last ten minutes.

heartbreak, anxiety, and a terrible sadness even imagining telling your friends about this. they’d praise you for not answering and deep down wonder how you didn’t immediately text back. everyone in your life knows how you much you love rafe cameron.

shit. that’s the wrong word. not love, but rather loved. you need to get better at this.

“oh.” it comes out in one short breath, more a noise of relief than anything else. the call went away, your screen returning to your home wallpaper, a pretty picture of the sunset on the water. you stare at it, thinking that you really, really need to go to bed now.

rc: your light is on. answer before i-

you don’t even finish reading the text, eyes going wide. you should scramble up and turn your lights off, but you don’t even get to it before the call screen comes back on. fuck, he’s calling again.

and fuck. because this time, you answer.

bringing the phone to your ear, you wait with bated breath.

“hey, kid,” rafe says, and true to form, like something out of a dramatic teen movie, you slide down against your bedframe because those two words will always, always make you feel weak in the knees.

your eyes are closed now, a stray tear making its way down your cheek. you think you’ve missed the sound of rafe’s voice like nothing else in this world. and now, realizing what an impact it’s having on you, you wonder if cutting him off cold-turkey was the smartest idea.

“how did you know my light’s on?” you ask quietly, and it seems the whole world has stopped spinning. you can picture it now, wherever he is, running a hand through his hair at your question, licking his lips before speaking.

“i’m outside.”

oh no. no, no, no. rafe cannot be outside your house right now, he can’t be anywhere near you. and he certainly can’t be looking through your bedroom window and texting you about your lights or about anything else.

“rafe, why are you-”

“‘cause we need to talk.”

“i don’t have anything to talk about, rafe.” the words sound foreign coming out of your mouth, feels like it’s wrong to even speak this way to him.

“then just listen. c’mon, kid, come outside. gimme ten minutes, okay? s’it.”

you hang up the call without answering his last question. and letting your heart call the shots again, you get up, slipping on your shoes and grabbing your phone. and then, though you know you shouldn’t, you climb down the stairs and open the front door, being greeted by rafe’s blue truck parked alongside your curb.

you stand there frozen for a moment, thinking about every time before this you had snuck out for rafe. and then you really take it in—how the hell had a two minute phone call convinced you to do this?

the night air nips at your exposed legs, and you cross your arms to feel less cold. usually you couldn’t help yourself, ignoring the chill and running up to the passenger side door that rafe would open from the inside for you.

at first you’d been too shy to greet rafe with a kiss but it had come to you over the early months of your relationship. there were times you two spent hours in his truck on the same deserted street by the forest, coming back home before dawn and soaking in the feeling that you finally had what you wanted.

now you stare at the truck, wondering why it felt so hard to even walk closer. your body tenses up at the muscle memory coursing through you, but you hold back this time. releasing a breath, you tell yourself one thing.

“ten minutes. that’s it.”

slow steps lead you to rafe’s truck, and then when you’re just a foot away, reaching for the doorhandle, you can make out rafe leaning over your seat and pulling the handle, opening the door for you like he always does.

you should turn around and run back inside.

instead, you climb up and take a seat, gently closing the door. you stay seated, eyes focused on your lap, trying your hardest not to look around and take everything back in from the countless times you’d been here before.

moments later you fail, feeling your entire body soften like butter upon taking in the memories of yourself in this car. your lip gloss sits in the cupholder, a photo of you and rafe that you had clipped into the passenger side mirror pokes out, and the air freshner you’d bought for rafe hangs around the rearview.

you smile without realizing it, thinking that maybe rafe had erased the memories of you like you had tried to do to him. you turn, finally, to look at rafe. he’s already looking at you.

“you could have thrown this away,” you say, picking up your lip gloss and avoiding his gaze quickly.

“nah. kept it safe for you.” you bite your lip, tugging on the skin much too hard. words are becoming harder and harder to find, and you want the ache in your chest to go away more than anything in the world.

“y-you said ten minutes,” you get out, your expression dipped in sadness. without knowing why, fresh tears brim at your eyes, and you stay turned ahead to make sure rafe doesn’t see.

“that was just to get y’out here.”

“rafe-”

“c’mon, kid. m’sorry. how many times do i have to say it, huh?” unfortunately, tears start streaming down before you can control them. wiping them away, you turn to look at rafe for the first time tonight, and for the first time in a while.

he looks like he always does. some of his hair falls into his forehead, and every time he runs a hand through it, it falls back in exactly the same place. his blue eyes are completely focused on you, and though there was a time where nothing could have made you happier, right now it feels like they’re burning into you. he looks upset, like this is all very serious and like you’re not getting out of this car until you accept his apology. that last thing may be the truest part.

but worst of all, rafe looks just as handsome as always. he doesn’t have to do anything to completely take your breath away, to be that guy you would give up anything for, do anything for. that boy is still here, you just had thought that you weren’t that girl anymore. but now you don’t know.

“if you think this is about.. apologizing, then i don’t know what to say to you.”

and you mean that. you don’t know what to say to him. you don’t know any sentence you can utter that will get you out of this car with your heart still in one piece.

“kid,” rafe says, and your entire body tightens up. he moves one hand to your exposed knee and you feel your skin turn to fire underneath his touch. “you wanted time. i gave you time. i gave you months. you really so much better off without me that you won’t even let us try?”

“it’s not like that,” you say through tears, a sob wrangled in your throat.

“then what’s it like? ‘cause i’ve been waiting. first you didn’t answer my calls, my texts. then you fuckin’ blocked me and you said you needed time. this is enough time.” rafe looks at you like he’s ready for this whole thing to be over, like all the two of you need to mend this relationship in the next few minutes.

“it’s not about the time, rafe. you still think this whole thing is about flowers and-and attention, and it’s just not-”

“i know i fucked up.”

the sentence hits you like a wall of bricks. the entire break-up had started from what was mostly a simple thing—you felt like rafe never got you flowers anymore. the two months leading up to this relationship starting had been everything you had dreamt of. rafe would check in on you everyday, go out of his way to see you, make sure you were okay even when you had already lied that you were fine. spontaenous dates, car rides, boat trips, he had done it all.

but it was really the effort behind the actions that had made you so head over heels. you didn’t care about anything but that simple word—effort. and rafe had put in the effort the entire time before you two agreed to date.

truth be told, you didn’t care about all the stuff you two did together. everything with rafe was fun for you, but it was really just being with him that you wanted. and for the first six months of your one-year relationship, you had his complete effort and attention. there was never anything pressing when the two of you were together, never anything that was worth leaving you for.

and the flowers. the boy who had taken you on the first date had brought you flowers. and you, being you, had beamed. those peonies had lived on your nightstand for much too long, and then you had taken one and kept it on your windowsill.

the single dried peony was still on your windowsill—you had never thrown it away, and the realization makes your heart hurt. it had been a stupid argument about flowers that had made you decide you wanted, or rather that you needed to end things with rafe. you had been sitting in this very seat, noticing for the hundredth time in the last few months that rafe was stressed about something, unhappy about something else. instead of talking to you about it, he was neglecting you.

conversations were one-sided. your efforts to try and help him, and to try and figure out what was even going on were met with silence or a gruff leave it alone, kid. a couple dates were forgotten or cut short, but that wasn’t a big deal. you wanted to be supportive, and you tried as best as you could, but you couldn’t keep burning the candle on both ends.

you wanted to take care of rafe while he was going through this, but in that process, you had to take care of yourself too. and when it came to it, sitting where you were sitting now, you had decided to put yourself first.

you snap out of your thoughts at once. you’re reflecting as though something is about to change, and for your own sanity, you know it can’t. rafe admitting he did something wrong is nice, so at least you don’t have to blame only yourself anymore, but it can’t change what you’ve decided.

“you..” you falter, unsure where your sentence is going. “it wasn’t just you. but maybe we both need to stop, rafe. this isn’t healthy.”

“no, no, it was just me.” your shut your eyes tightly, holding back a painful noise that you don’t want to release.

“rafe, please-”

“you got upset about flowers. i didn’t know what it was really about. and that’s my fault, okay? it’s not about the fuckin’ flowers. it’s about us, i get that now.”

your eyes open, though tears have made your vision blurry and your eyes hurt. you keep looking at rafe, wondering when he realized all this and when he decided he was going to keep chasing you. you don’t think you really want to know the answer. holding back another sob, you try to reply, but it comes out in a teary whisper.

“why couldn’t you figure this out four months ago?”

you start crying again, though you really wish you wouldn’t. it’s been more than ten minutes, but you have a feeling you’re not getting out of this car anytime soon. rafe grips the steering wheel so hard you see his knuckles lose color.

“‘cause i wasn’t.. i wasn’t paying attention. and m’sorry. what else can i do, huh? y’know i can’t live without you.”

the words bring up more tears, and you wipe them away with your hands.

“c’mon kid, don’t cry.”

“i can’t just forget about all of that because you’re saying this now. if this happens again i’m gonna-”

“it won’t,” rafe says it firmly, moving his hand back to your thigh. there’s goosebumps on your skin. “it won’t happen again.”

you’re staring at rafe while he stares at your thigh, where he’s touching you. you sniffle, a million thoughts running through your head. you want to know what to do, what to say. unfortunately, the one person in the world you ask every question to is the one sitting next to you right now.

you focus on wiping your tears away, crossing your legs. rafe stretches his arm to the backseat, grabbing something and bringing it to the front. he offers it to you—one of his hoodies, the navy one from his alma mater that you used to wear almost every day.

“i-i’m fine,” you say, though you’re still cold. it’s the idea of wearing it that provokes you to say that. you don’t know how you’ll feel if you put that sweatshirt on again.

you could remember the first time you wore it like yesterday. at the bonfire, wearing a dress you had thought rafe would like, you were freezing by the water with him and his friends. rafe had left to get you two new drinks and come back with it, and you had spent the rest of time curled up next to him, refusing to take it off even when the group migrated near the fire. when had you given this hoodie back? it seemed to have a new permanent home in your bedroom or your car.

“stop lyin’ to me. just put it on.” suddenly too sad to fight about this, you comply, pulling it over your head and covering your pajamas—a big shirt and your sleep shorts getting hidden.

you shouldn’t take in the scent, but you do, inhaling deeply. it smell like rafe’s cologne—which is enough to bring more tears to your eyes, since it’s been months since you’ve smelled that scent—and the laundry detergent he uses and something else you can’t place.

“thank you.”

you know what you’ve just done. someone staying in the car for another few minutes doesn’t put on their ex-boyfriend’s hoodie. you think you’ve just signed your death warrant through this simple act.

“i don’t want one of your neighbors to call the cops,” rafe says, looking into the side mirror.

this is your chance. the logical part of your brain screams at you to tell rafe to leave, to take off this hoodie and run back inside. it reminds you that no one can change instantly, no matter what they tell you and how much better they seem.

it says that the next time rafe gets stressed out, you might suffer through everything you went through all over again. you see it in flashbacks—nights spent crying into your pillow, waiting on your front porch for dates that never happened, asking rafe for flowers and deciding that you need to break up with him after he finally gave them to you.

“do you want ice cream?” you ask, blinking up at rafe.

“where are we gonna get ice right now?” you shrug at his response.

“you always found somewhere.”

rafe laughs at a little, and your heart soars.

“yeah, guess i did.”

rafe looks down at you, perched in his passenger seat like you always are, like you always should be, your face a little flushed from the tears.

“you sure you want ice cream, kid?” you don’t miss the implication in his words, the tone of his voice, or what he’s really asking you. you nod. “alright. let’s go then.”

changing gears, he pulls the car away towards the road and takes off down your street while you fasten your seat belt.

you had only suggested getting ice cream because you couldn’t find it in yourself to go back to your room and sleep after everything you just went through. rafe’s words were having an immediate, visceral impact on you, making you reevaluate everything the two of you had gone through these last few months.

he did seem different. you’re probably one of the only people in the world who would notice, but you know he has. there’s small changes—the way he talks to you, the words he’s using to apologize, how much he seems to understand everything you were feeling during the end of your relationship and the following months.

but you’re not sure yet. you can’t let a few nice words or what could end up being empty promises change your mind completely, as heartbreaking as that idea now seems.

you need to think about it, and you need more time. you push down some of your inner thoughts—they’re telling you what you really need is a good night’s sleep and an hour-long conversation with your best friends. instead you’ve decided for yourself that you need some more time with rafe. hence; the ice cream.

rafe pulls up to the drive-through window of the only place still open on figure eight. the parking lot is mostly deserted, but not empty. you don’t recognize any of the cars, but you keep looking, staring off into space, distracted with your own thoughts. you don’t look up until rafe’s driving towards the second window to pay, not realizing he’d already ordered.

“oh, i didn’t tell you-”

“s’okay. i got you what you always get.”

“oh.” you’re left a little stunned. it’s been four months since you’ve had a real converastion with rafe and he still remembers your ice cream order—is that normal?

rafe pays and hands you one of the ice creams to hold, keeping the other in his hand while he drives away, parking in an empty corner of the lot. you stare at him stupidly while holding your ice cream, watching as he picks up your lip gloss from the cup holder and puts it in your lap. he takes the ice cream in your hand first, putting it into the holder, and then does the same with the one in his hand.

you look away finally, now peering at the lip gloss on your lap.

“sorry, kid.” rafe says, picking it up from your lap. his hands are cold and even with his hoodie on, you shiver at the touch. he drops the bottle into the center console, and then looks up at you, one hand still on your thigh.

“huh?” you ask quietly, a little overwhelmed. there’s so many thoughts running through your mind, you don’t know which to focus on first. rafe remembers your order. rafe doesn’t want you to hold the ice cream since you’re cold. rafe brought you a hoodie because he knows that you wouldn’t put one on before coming out. the last thought is particularly biting—rafe knew you would come to his car if he called.

“you okay?” he asks, and truly, you don’t know how to answer.

“fine. yes, i’m fine. just tired,” you murmur, reaching for your ice cream with your hand covered by your sleeve.

“yeah. s’late for you.”

before you even take a bite, you look up at rafe. he’s just eaten a bite of vanilla soft-serve, licking the spoon before going back for another scoop. you feel your defenses slipping away while the scene infront of you unfolds. rafe doesn’t even like ice cream that much, not like you do. but he still always gets some because you hate getting it alone, and he knows that. if he remembers your order, he remembers that. rafe looks up and catches you staring, your melting ice cream in your hand.

“you sure you’re okay, baby?”

you turn away, staring down at your ice cream.

“you can’t just do that,” you mutter, all of a sudden upset at yourself more than at rafe. you’re doing it—the very thing you had told yourself to watch out for before even getting in rafe’s car. falling for him all over again, without any thought of your own mental well-being if this all goes south another year from now.

“do what? check on my girl, huh?” there’s a teasing lilt in his voice that makes you want to chuck your ice cream at him.

“i’m not your girl anymore, remember? and you-you can’t just call me baby and act like everything’s back to normal-” you feel so stupid. why were you even here? why had you even suggested this?

“i thought we just went over this, kid, i’m-”

“i can’t rafe,” the words come out a little too loud, and you put your half-eaten ice cream back in his cupholder. “i can’t just.. go back to you. you’re gonna hurt me again, i-i know you are. i know you’re fine and-and you wanna get back together but it’s gonna tear me apart all over again.”

you stay silent, holding back what you really want to say. the words even rest at the tip of your tongue. no matter how much i love you, i can’t do that to msyelf again. you hope rafe understands, that he’ll try to make this easy on you.

“there’s no.. no amount of ice cream and hoodies and flowers that can make us okay again.” your words linger in the air and you stare at your hands now, trying to avoid looking at rafe because you’ll start crying the moment you do.

“kid, i-i know i fucked up. this stuff is just to show you m’still tryin for you. m’never gonna stop. that’s all.”

your shoulders sink down, all the tightness leaving your spine.

“can y’just look at me, please?” you glance up, meeting rafe’s eyes again. “i’m gettin’ better, baby. i can’t do it without you.”

“don’t i deserve someone who doesn’t have to get better for me?” you ask, though your heart isn’t really in the question.

“you do. i know you do. and maybe m’just the idiot hopin’ for another chance, even if i don’t deserve it.”

“then why are y-”

“‘cause i can’t live without you. and i’ll hate myself forever if i don’t try again.”

rafe can see it happen, the way your eyes soften immediately. you hate when he says stuff like that, mostly because you believe every word coming from his mouth. your lips turn into a small pout, eyes looking down again.

“finish your ice cream before it melts,” he says, and you listen immediately, picking it back up.

the two of you stay like that for what feels like forever, eating ice cream. you glance up every now and then but then look back down when you catch his eye.

“you-uh, found anyone like that yet?” rafe asks, while you eat another spoonful of your own soft-serve. “that doesn’t have to get better and all that?”

you let the sugary dessert melt in your mouth, licking your lips while you try to think of the best answer. rafe’s staring at your mouth, but you don’t notice.

“no. not really, i guess.”

“you guess?”

“well, i.. i was waiting for a text from this guy, but it’s nothing, i-i barely know him.”

you notice what you’ve just done as the sentence finishes—trying to undermine everything you were going through before rafe came back into your life suddenly earlier tonight. and you know why—you don’t want rafe to think this guy means anything to you. and watching rafe finish the last of his ice cream, the one he only got because he knew you’d hate eating yours alone, you know that boy doesn’t mean anything anymore.

“waiting for? so you didn’t get it?”

“no, i don’t think so. i haven’t looked since you called. actually, when you texted me, i-i thought it was him.”

“really?” rafe asks. you nod. “were you happy? that it wasn’t?”

“i don’t know,” you say it immediately. and truthfully, you don’t. “i need to think about it.”

“what’s your gut tellin’ you?”

“my gut said not to answer your call. but here we are.” you put your empty ice cream in his cup-holder, listening to rafe laugh.

“sorry, kid. that’s my fault.”

“your fault?” you question, looking at rafe. your confused expression stares back at him while he debates the best way to tell you this.

“i had a conversation, y’know, man to man. it was his choice.”

“rafe,” you start, turning in your seat to face him. “what did you say?”

“nothin’, kid. just, y’know.. if he texted you he’s gonna get a black eye.”

“rafe-”

“if he took you out, he’s gonna get two-”

“what the fuck-”

“what? you just said it was nothin’-”

“but you decided for me! before i even had a chance. it’s not your choice to make, it’s not your-”

“-but it is. if it’s about you, s’about me.”

exasperated, you sink into the seat, unsure about how to reply to that.

“how many times have you done this?”

“not a lot,” rafe says. you don’t believe him, staring with a look that tells him as much. “once.. or twice.”

“once or twice? please tell me-oh my god. that guy last month—i thought he stood me up, you dick!” you swat at rafe’s arm, but only manage to get a few taps in before he holds your wrist in place, stopping you from moving at all. “i thought there was something wrong with me.”

“there’s nothin’ wrong with you. just thought you deserved better than those assholes, s’all.”

“oh, but your type of asshole is fine, is that right?”

“yeah, it is.”

you lock eyes with rafe for a second, before the two of you start laughing. it feels so stupid to think back to the last few months and realize you couldn’t even remember the last time you and rafe laughed together. you keep looking at him, your laugh dying down until you bite your cheek and watch rafe run a hand through his hair.

“i didn’t like him anyways,” you finally say after enough silence has passed.

“good. i didn’t either.”

“is there any guy you would like for me?”

“just one, kid.” rafe stops, taking in the way you’re looking at him. he knows where and when he fucked up, even knows how to be better for you and not let it happen again. convincing you is the hard part, and he thinks he’s even making progress with that, with the way your pretty eyes shine up. your expression is as close to hope as he’s ever seen before. hoping that he’s not just saying these things, hoping that it won’t end like last time.

but you care enough to hope, and that’s enough for him to run with.

“m’sorry about the.. threats. but it’s me, so-”

“what did i expect?” you finish, smiling back at him. the way rafe looks at you right now makes you feel things you wish you could bottle up. instead you redirect your gaze, staring at the street lights illuminating the now-empty parking lot.

“exactly. and if i let you go on a date with some guy, i couldn’t give you these.”

“rafe,” you start, though you’re not sure where your going with it. you shut up though, because rafe leans back, behind your seat. he picks up a bouquet of flowers and puts them on your lap, and the whole time you watch holding in a breath, tears automatically springing to your eyes.

it’s a nice sentiment, you think, trying to justify it to yourself. the flowers on your lap are pink peonies, dark and light wrapped in brown paper. they look just like the ones rafe had give you on your first date and you smile down at them, still trying to wrap your head around the sentence that had you dizzy all night long—maybe rafe really had changed.

“this is really cheesy,” you finally admit, your eyes flickering back up at rafe with another smile. he keeps his eyes on you for a while, not saying anything, though you’re sure you know what he’s thinking. something along the lines of how you’ve wanted cheesy, you’ve wanted flowers without asking for them.

“i wanna be cheesy for you.” you inhale, not realizing how much such simple words mean to you. “it’s not flowers. it’s you, it’s for you. the things i do. the way i show it. i thought you wanted flowers but you just wanted me, didn’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe out.

“well i’m here now. and you have me. you have all of me. and i’m not goin’ anywhere this time.”

the feeling coursing through your veins right now is unlike anything else. you feel more than just happy, more than just like a girl about to get back together with her ex-boyfriend. you feel like you’ve just become whole again.

what a shitty metaphor—as though you’d been totally and utterly incomplete without rafe in your life. that thought lingers for much too long, because haven’t you? you’ve always been attached to rafe, teetering on the edge of codependence, but there’s no denying the plain truth so obvious to both of you right now.

you can’t live without rafe and rafe can’t live without you.

“i gotta take you home. can you imagine what your parents will say? one day back with me and already sneakin’ out until-”

“i don’t wanna go home,” you say quietly, watching as rafe reverses out of the parking spot. he swings his arm around the headrest of your seat, watching behind him. back on the road, he drives in the direction of your house.

“don’t worry, kid. i’ll see you in a couple hours, probably-”

“will you take me by the water? where we used to go?” the truck comes to a halt at the stoplight. rafe looks over, the entire car glowing in the dim red light. the two of you meet eyes for a moment.

“yeah. sure.” you smile, watching rafe take a left instead of heading straight to your street. it’s not a long drive to the water from here, but the place the two of you always frequented is tucked away between trees and dead-ends.

it’s a bit of a maze to get there, and you don’t think you could figure it out in the broad daylight. but here in the dark, with rafe driving and music playing faintly in the background, you remember it like the back of your hand.

you entire body tenses up, a tingling running from your fingers to your toes. the mere feeling is electric, to be back in yours and rafe’s spot—almost like nothing has changed. it feels like maybe nothing has changed—you’re just as happy as you once were.

the tell-tale bumpiness of the road signifies you’re close to the spot. there’s a small outlook just beyond patches of gravel, a parting between trees where you can see the ocean. it’s private, almost completley inaccessible unless you were searching for it.

and maybe something’s changed in the last few months, maybe someone is searching for it, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. rafe puts the truck in park and you take a moment, first to stare down at your peonies, then to look over the water.

“it’s late,” you say, taking in how dark the sky is. stars sparkle above you, and when rafe turns the car off, you can even hear the waves rushing on the beach.

“nah, kid. it’s early.”

“yeah, i guess you’re right.” holding another breath, and without knowing exactly why you are, you lean forward, resting your elbows on the dash and staring up at the sky through the windshield. you release the breath suddenly when you feel rafe’s hand on your knee, first just the touch, but followed by a squeeze.

“say the word and i’ll take you home.”

“no, i don’t wanna go. it’s just so late. i’m never up at this time anymore.” you bring your arms back, sitting in your seat and staring at rafe again, like you’ve been doing this entire time. “thank you, rafe.”

you prepare yourself for his usual answer, waiting to explain why you’re thanking him and how you still feel nervous but you’re ready to jump back into this relationship if he is, the sentences and words forming in your head already.

instead he doesn’t say anything, leaning in suddenly and taking your face in his hands, bringing you into a kiss. and fuck, you’re a liar if you say you hadn’t missed this. rafe kisses you—always has, and seems like now he always will—like you’re about to slip away if he’s not holding you tight enough.

the hand on your face hold your jaw securely, tilting your face up for him. the kiss has you reeling from your seat, a wave of heat coursing your entire body. your face is hot, your palms clammy, eyes clamped shut while you try to remember if his lips have always been this soft, or felt this good on yours.

your flowers fall to the floor, rolling off your lap and landing with a rustle. you’re sure there’s loose petals and stray leaves littering the car now, but still, it’s hard to care. rafe moves his hands away from your face, pulling away from the kiss for just a second.

while you try to look down and see the damage you’ve just caused your peonies, you feel his hands on your hips, picking you up and bringing you onto his lap. you let out a noise of surprise, looking back at your boyfriend now. he doesn’t hesitate, leaning in again for a kiss.

this time, you don’t hesitate either, both of your hands migrating, traveling from his arms to his shoulders, gripping him as hard as he’s holding you.

you feel wandering hands on your waist, traveling down to your ass and grabbing hard, making you let out squeals into rafe’s mouth. it feels like nothing has changed, like the last four months have never happened, with the way you fit so comfortably, how it feels so right to be back on his lap. you move your hands again, running through his hair like you always did—how you always loved doing—when you pull away this time to catch your breath.

you meet rafe’s eyes, letting out a shuddery breath and a laugh all in one. you move your hand to his chest, pressing down against it, trying to make sure this is really happening. rafe follows your movement, taking your hand into his. your fingers intertwine with his, and rafe brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the back of it.

you think you’ve just melted all over again, lips curling up into a happy smile but finding it so much harder to keep looking into his blue eyes. he doesn’t say anything, just brings you back for another kiss.

this might have been enough for you tonight, but everything rafe had said in the last few hours rushes back into your mind, and you can feel how hard he is beneath you. before you can even think about what you’re doing, you’ve moved to the backseat. propped up against the door, you wait for rafe to join you, biting your lower lip so hard it’s about to bleed. you watch rafe—he sighs, turning to look at you smiling in the back.

“jesus, kid,” he says, opening the driver’s door and getting out of the car. you sit up a little straighter, confused until he opens the other door, meeting you in the back. you tilt your head at him, rolling your eyes.

“you couldn’t just hop over?” you question, blinking up at him.

“no, ‘cause i’m not a runt,” rafe says, shutting the door once he got in beside you. you stay still for a moment, looking at him again.

but it really is just a moment this time—you’ve become far too impatient to wait any longer. normally you’d savor it—there’s a lot that you and rafe can get done in this tiny space—but today your mind can’t focus on any of it.

your hands go to rafe’s polo first, moving it up his abdomen, fisting the bunched cloth to get it off your boyfriend as fast as you can, until he finally pulls it over his head. you crawl back onto his lap, hands perched on his shoulders while you start kissing again.

your brain goes numb and fuzzy, feeling rafe sneak under your shirt and rub the soft skin of your back and stomach, before making his way up to your tits. he gropes while you keep kissing—and it’s a vicious cycle. you moan at every teasing touch, rutting harder against his erection.

it’s quick—he lifts your shirt up and off, and you both stay like that for a while, until you feel rafe paw at the waist of your shorts. leaning into his touch, you let him move you around like a rag-doll, now on your back on the seat, with him in between your legs. you lift your hips compliantly, letting him slide the shorts and your panties off together, laying completely exposed before him.

“not fair,” you breathe, watching as his eyes rake you over from top to bottom, like he’s memorizing every detail. “you’re still dressed.”

“don’t worry ‘bout that, kid,” he says, and you feel your walls flutter at the words, it’s nothing but it feels like everything right now, with anticipation driving you insane.

“can you just.. hurry? please?” you whine, even though it’s against your best interest. rafe likes taking his time with you, a fact you are well aware of.

“no,” he says, and you’re meant to understand the word is an entire sentence and your only answer. “y’know how long i’ve been thinkin’ about this?” you glance up at rafe from your position, watching as he hovers, your hand reaching out to touch his chest again. his silver chain glimmers in the light around his neck, and you loop your fingers around it. you want to tug, pulling him on top of you for another kiss, but you refrain for now.

“i don’t know,” you answer. “four months?” rafe laughs and so you laugh too, the sweet sound filling the tense air. he brings a hand to your exposed stomach, trailing up and down and taking in how your breath catches.

“needy, huh?” rafe starts talking and your body tenses up immediately, knowing what’s coming. “when’s the last time you came? hm?”

“i-um,” you trail off, paying more attention to how he’s unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. you’re close to getting what you want, the question getting lost in your mind in a swirl of thoughts—all of them revolving around how rafe’s stroking himself, his eyes scanning over you.

“s’not an answer, kid,” he says, leaning over you again. his chain dangles on your skin and the mere touch of it transports you back to every other time rafe had you like this. you clench hard around nothing, positive that you’re humiliatingly wet for rafe right now. and he’s still waiting for you to answer a question you’ve clean forgotten. “the last time you came. tell me. or y’not cummin’ this time.”

you whine, toes curling. rafe’s teasing your pussy with his fingers, two of them prodding through your folds and hovering over your wet hole. you think an answer might get him to actually fuck you with his fingers, but you still can’t piece it together with how fast your heart is beating.

“i-i think-” his fingers press into you without actually pushing inside your tight walls.

“don’t think. jus’ tell me.”

“last-last week. i was-” he gives you a little more pressure, you can feel them almost inside but it’s not nearly enough-

“you were what?”

“thinking about you-!” it comes out all in one quick gasp, rafe plunging both fingers inside you quickly. you moan, back arching off the seat, but restrained by rafe that you can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything but take it. he keeps going, finger-fucking you faster until you’re positive you’re about to tip over the edge.

“good. good girl. wasn’t so hard, was it?” he keeps going, leaning over you to bring you in for another kiss, and it seems that’s all you need. that feeling—his chain grazing your face and his fingers deep inside you is enough to have you cumming, the tightness in your stomach unwinding while you make a mess over his hand. rafe swallows your moans, keeps his motions going while you ride it out.

when he finally pulls his fingers out, you feel empty. you try to catch your breath and level out your heartbeat, looking back at him with your dopey, teary eyes. he’s stroking himself with his glistening hand, getting ready to fuck you, you think dreamily.

rafe brings one hand to where your head is, pressing his palm flat against the seat. you watch him with big, wet eyes how he lines himself up with your throbbing pussy, how he leans in for another kiss. that’s when he pushes inside—no teasing words or questions, just a kiss you groan loudly, feeling the impossible stretch you’ve missed so much again, eyes rolling all the way back. your noises are muffled by rafe’s kiss, until he pulls away to bury his face in your neck. he bites at the sensitive skin there, leaving marks you’ll have to deal with later today, but it seems like a fair exchange in this moment.

rafe pulls out and slams back in, and you moan in response with each thrust, forgetting how good he was at this. your legs are quivering, pussy impossibly sore already but you don’t think you’d make him stop even if someone knocked on the window right now. you move your hand, holding onto the seat while rafe keeps battering into you, your eyes wandering down to where the two of you are connected. rafe sucks hard above where your pulse is, and you arch your back up, legs wrapping around him.

“feels good, doesn’t it baby? better than you fingers?” he asks, and you nod, still speechless. “tell me how good-”

“rafe, rafe, i-” you moan his name but he interrupts.

“no, kid, lemme hear you-” he brings his face close to yours, your foreheads almost touching. you close the gap, kissing him again, feeling the tickle of his chain on your neck now.

“i missed you,” you cry out. you realize later it wasn’t the answer he was asking for, but you don’t really care. the words fly out of your mouth, you’ve been so desperate this entire night to keep them tucked away, but it can’t stay down any longer. “i missed you, i missed you, i missed-”

he shuts you up with another kiss, his pace picking up, if it’s even possible. your senses abandon you again, toes curling while rafe hits a spot inside you that’s been so neglected these past months. a white-hot sensation rushes over you, exploding from your stomach and spreading out, while your walls clench tightly against rafe. rafe presses back to your neck, murmuring let me hear you, and you do—finishing with a moan so loudly you’re sure someone in the vincinity has just heard you.

you need to catch your breath, but rafe doesn’t give you the chance. he pulls out of you, letting your sore pussy flutter around nothing, before he turns you around, your body folded up while he slaps your ass so hard it starts stinging.

he pushes back in and your eyes roll back again, gripping the seat and then the door handle just to stabilize yourself for a moment. rafe likes backshots—the only thing he likes more is mean backshots, slamming into you from behind while you cry out. everything feels even more sensitive like this, coming down from two highs and blindly chasing a third.

rafe’s talking but you don’t hear what he’s saying, you can’t make it out over the ringing in your ears. so you turn your head, looking up at him from this position, but you still don’t actually hear him. instead you feel it—his hips stuttering, the weight of his body collapsing on you, hot, wet streams of his cum shooting inside you.

you two stay like that for what feels like forever, listening to birds chirp and the waves crash over rocks. it’s rafe who untangles the two of you, separating sweaty, sticky limbs. he leans against the seat and brings you in to his chest, holding you tight while you let your eyes shut again. it’s comfortable—even more so when rafe picks up the discarded clothing, using it to cover you like a blanket.

you move your hand until you find his, bringing your palms together on his chest, close to your face so you can rest your cheek on his hand.

“shit. i gotta get you home,” rafe says, and you sigh in agreement, listening to the thud of his heartbeat from your position. outside, the sky is lighting up a little bit with soft early blues.

“can’t we sleep first?” you murmur back, eyes still closed.

“don’t think we’ve ever stayed here ‘til sunrise. have we?” he asks you, and you try to rack your exhausted brain for the answer.

“first time for everything.” finding some strength, you turn your head, looking up at your boyfriend. “rafe? can i ask you something?”

“yeah, kid?”

“did you mean everything you said?”

“yeah. i did.”

“oh. good.” the words are quiet coming from your mouth, and you lean back against his chest, getting comfortable again. “thanks for the flowers.”

“yeah, kid,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. your breathing evens out, and he knows you’ve fallen asleep. it’s fine—it’s way too late for you anyways. “thanks for answering.”

♡

#here it is! i hope everyone likes it ♡#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #ex bf rafe #... why do i not like it lol

1K notes · View notes

sleepy-steve · 2 months ago

Text

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.”

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.”

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

#ohoho they're BACK my friends!!#i've been working on this between my EMBB fic for funsies #but yes there will be More of this too hehe #more of steve being a morbid little shit and more of eddie wondering what the fuck steve's life is #cira writes #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things fic #steddie

754 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 3 days ago

Text

Stolen Siblings and 10 Year Plans

poly!wolfstar x Rosier!reader who is to go nowhere near them under any circumstances [667 words]

CW: fem!reader, siblings, rivalries, chaos and fluff

“Oi! Rosier!” Sirius called, dodging a few first years who went careening by him as he made his way over to the Slytherin table. “What’s the deal with your sister?”

Evan fought (and lost) against an eye roll as the hand currently gripping his spoon tightened.

“For the last time” he seethed “I have no bloody clue what a wrackspurt is.”

“No, not that one.” Sirius dismissed with a wave of his hand. “The other one.”

Evan’s eyes narrowed at the Gryffindor. “Y/N?”

Sirius smiled. “Yeah; what’s her deal?”

“What do you mean ‘what is her deal’?”

“You know…is she single? Does she like blokes? Do you know where I can find her?”

Sirius had barely gotten the end of his sentence out when Evan’s hand slammed against the table, earning him a look of concern from Dorcas who protectively slid her bowl of porridge closer to herself.

“Why in the buggering fuck would you want to know?” Evan demanded.

Sirius offered a flippant shrug of his shoulder. “She’s fit, yeah? I’m thinking of asking her out but thought I should check first.”

“I thought you were dating Lupin!”

“I am dating Lupin!” Sirius confirmed with a wide smile just as Remus appeared behind him.

“‘Lo, Rosier. Meadows.” Remus greeted.

“Lupin.” Dorcas greeted in turn, though Evan didn’t bother with the pleasantries.

“Oh come on! What’s with you bloody Gryffindors?! Your weird friends already stole Reg!”

Sirius’ brows furrowed as he looked towards the offending weird friends currently sitting on either side of his brother at the Gryffindor table.

“Stole? Wasn’t he technically mine first?”

Evan didn’t grace that with a response, simply pushing his bowl away from himself and making to stand.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not. I cut my losses with Reg, I made peace with the Hufflepuff,” Evan stated, gesturing vaguely to Regulus and then to Pandora who was sitting nearly on top of one Xenophilius Lovegood, “but Gryffindors?! Not a fucking chance.”

“Awe, come now, Rosier, there’s no need for that-” Remus started, but was interrupted by Evan calling Barty’s name.

“You rang?” Barty drawled as he jumped down from one of the high windows, apparently having been enjoying his breakfast from above.

“They’re doing it again.” Evan complained.

“What do you mean?”

“These two fancy Y/N.” He explained petulantly as he gestured towards said two.

“Again?! What is with you Gryffindors?!” Barty screeched, turning to ask what Sirius assumed to be a rhetorical question. “First Potter and Evans ruin our Blackier wedding-”

“The what wedding?” Remus asked cautiously.

“The Black-Rosier wedding, Lupin, do keep up.” Barty spat at Remus’s interruption. “Do you know how adorable my nieces and/or nephews were going to be?!”

“When in Merlin’s name was Reg and Y/N dating?” Sirius asked then.

“They weren’t.” Dorcas offered in monotone. “Barty just likes making 10 year plans.”

“But…other people’s?” Remus tried, but the conversation was swiftly moving along.

“Go find Y/N,” Evan directed Barty, “she’s to go nowhere near these two.”

Barty’s interest seemed positively piqued at that; foiled 10 year plans forgotten. “Oh! A little game of finders keepers? Don’t mind if I do!”

And the two Slytherin’s were off.

“Are…are you boys going to do something about that?” Dorcas asked after a few beats of silence, gesturing towards the direction that the two boys had just disappeared with a flippant thumb.

“She’ll sniff those two out in a matter of minutes and avoid them like the plague.” Remus snorted as leaned forward to pluck a strawberry from the spread. “Besides, we’ve got a secret weapon.”

“Astronomy tower.” Sirius offered conspicuously as he folded the map up and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Brilliant.” Remus confirmed, offering Dorcas a salute. “Best be off.”

“Stay out of trouble, will you?” Dorcas called after them, though she knew it was a lost cause.

“You know what, Meadows?” Sirius returned as he followed Remus backwards. “I don’t think I will.”

Dorcas let out a chuckle turned sigh. “Figures.”

582 notes · View notes

uzurakis · 7 months ago

Note

hello!

Can we have JJK guys reaction to his friend/buddy being in love with his girlfriend? (can sukuna and other any other characters you like).

THEIR FRIEND ALSO . . . LIKES YOU?!

featuring: ryomen sukuna. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. fushiguro megumi.

n. hey sweetheart, i’m not used to writing sukuna, but i tried to write him as him as much as i can! i hope it suits him. thankies for the req x—x

GOJO SATORU. when gojo found out that his friend also liked you, his reaction was, unsurprisingly, far from what most people would expect. instead of anger or jealousy, he simply shrugged it off, his trademark smile playing on his lips.

“did you hear what i just said?” you asked, looking at him with wide eyes, he wasn’t fazed. “your friend likes me.”

gojo laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “oh, i heard you,” he replied, leaning back against the couch with an amused glint behind those glasses. “but why should i be worried? i know you’ll choose me at the end of the day.”

you blinked, taken aback by his confidence. “you’re not even a little bit concerned?”

“not at all,” gojo said, grinning. “i mean, can you blame them? you’re everything. but they don’t stand a chance against me, darling.”

“besides, it’s not like i don’t trust you. i know you love me.”

his words were playful, but because you know him well, he was serious. it was just the way he expressed it. “you’re right,” you admitted, tracing figures on his hands. “i do love you.”

“see? nothing to worry about. let him have their crush. it doesn’t change anything between us. if anything, it’s flattering. just proves i have excellent taste.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA. being in a relationship with sukuna meant navigating his unpredictable moods and overwhelming presence, but you had never seen him this angry before. the air seemed to crackle with his frustration as he paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with a fury that sent chills down your spine.

“babe,” you began, trying to calm him down. “what’s wrong?”

he stopped pacing and looked at you, his expression dark. “fucking jerk, it’s that so-called ‘friend’ of mine,” words spat out immediately. “i found out he likes you.”

your heart skipped a beat. you had noticed the way his friend had been acting lately, but you hadn’t thought much of it. now, seeing sukuna’s reaction, you realized just how serious this was.

“ryo,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “i chose you from the start, right?”

he growled, his hands clenching into fists. “i don’t care about that. he should have known better. he should have known that you’re mine.”

sukuna lined up his hand on your chin, causing your eyes to meet. “if he comes near you, he’ll face my wrath,” he whispered, his tone still laced with menace. “no one threatens what’s mine.”

“especially my woman.”

ITADORI YUUJI. you told him about his friend’s feelings while you both were sitting inside your cozy room. itadori’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he leaned back in his chair, processing the information.

“wow,” he said softly, scratching the back of his head, those pink locks becoming messier. “i didn’t see that coming.”

bitting your lower lip, you’re worried about how he might take the news. “you’re not mad, aren’t you?”

but your boyfriend shook his head, full of understanding. “no, i’m not mad, baby. feelings are complicated, y’know? it’s not like he can control how he feels.”

you sighed in relief, appreciating his maturity. “okay... i was just worried about how you’d react.”

“baby, i trust you, and i trust our relationship. besides, i’m kind of curious now. like, since when did he start liking you? how did i miss that?”

feeling the tension ease out of the situation, you chuckled at him. his obliviousness always gets in the way. “don’t know the exact moment, but i guess it’s been a while.”

“hmm,” the guy leaned forward, resting his chin on his free hand. “did he ever try to tell you or make a move?”

you shook your head. “no, i guess he didn’t. i think he knew about us and didn’t want to cause any trouble.” after your statement, a thoughtful expression was written on his face. “that must have been tough for him. i mean, having feelings for someone who’s already in a relationship.”

“it probably was,” you agreed. “but i’m glad you’re handling this so well.”

“hey, anyone would be lucky to have you. i just got there first.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. he took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. after fushiguro found out that his friend liked you, it hit him harder than he wanted to admit. the knowledge gnawed at him, and although he tried to brush it off, doubts began to creep in, making him question his own worth and your relationship. “i found out that one of my friends likes you.”

“really? who?” you blinked in surprise, not expecting that. he named the friend, and you frowned, thinking back on any interactions you might have had. “i had no idea…”

fushiguro nodded, but his eyes avoiding yours. “i didn’t either. it just… fuck, it bothers me.”

“i guess it makes me question things. like, am i good enough for you? do you have feelings for him too? those sorta things..”

your hands immediately caressed his by instinct, seeing him like this made your heart ache. “baby, you’re enough for me. i don’t have any feelings for them. i’m with you until the end.”

the man looked down for a long while, his grip on your hand tightening. “but what if i’m not enough? what if there’s something lacking in our relationship that makes you look elsewhere?”

“there’s nothing lacking, megumi. i’m happy with you. and i love you just the way you are.” you shook your head, cupping his face with your free hand.

after that he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. “i don’t want to that jealous boyfriend but i can’t help it. the thought of losing you to someone else…”

“you’re not going to lose me,” you interrupted softly. “i’m here with you, and that’s not going to change. fushiguro then opened his eyes, searching for reassurance in yours, before closing them again. a little, relieved smile tugged on the edges of his lips. “i love you. i’m sorry for doubting us.”

@uzurakis

2K notes · View notes

evilminji · 10 months ago

Text

You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?

Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?

The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.

And it WANTS?

To be a HOME™.

To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.

Come live in me~

I am a good home.

I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.

I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.

But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!

But... instead?

They are hurt.

Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.

It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.

When? Who should come along?

But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...

He's TIRED.

He wants to cry.

Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?

"Free House!"

Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!

Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?

Is he really gonna do this?

......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?

Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.

The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.

House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.

He probably SHOULD have.

Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.

No one can get near it.

It's been getting BIGGER.

Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.

Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.

Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes

#minji's writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

2K notes · View notes

little-jana · 10 days ago

Text

"Innocent Accident"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Genre: heated, smutty, 18+, no explicit s*x

Warnings: kissing, touching

Words: 2.2k

Summary: After accidently sending an after fitness selfie to Hotch, month worth of tension breaks.

It all started with one stupid mistake. One accidental slip that I would never live down.

I’d been lounging on my couch after work, still in my yoga leggings and sports bra, scrolling through my phone while waiting for dinner to heat up. My best friend and I had been texting back and forth, and she’d demanded proof that I hadn’t completely abandoned my fitness goals over the holidays.

Reluctantly, I snapped a quick mirror selfie. It was harmless enough—just me standing in the warm light of my apartment, flushed from the workout but still looking decent. I attached it to the text, added a sarcastic caption, and hit send.

Except… I didn’t send it to my best friend.

I sent it to Aaron Hotchner.

My stomach dropped as soon as I realized what I’d done. My finger hovered over the screen as if I could magically pull the message back through sheer force of will. But it was too late.

Aaron Hotchner, my boss, the stoic leader of the BAU, the man who had perfected the art of the unreadable expression, now had a picture of me in workout gear on his phone.

My phone buzzed almost immediately, and my stomach twisted into knots as I opened the message.

Hotch: “I think this may have been sent in error.”

I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw my phone into a fire. Instead, I typed back quickly, my fingers trembling: “Oh my god. Hotch, I’m so sorry. That wasn’t meant for you.”

Three dots appeared as he typed, and I held my breath.

Hotch: “No need to apologize. Accidents happen.”

That was it. Short, professional, and completely devoid of emotion. Exactly what I should have expected from him. And yet, something about the message left me uneasy.

The next day at work was unbearable.

Hotch was calm and composed as always, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that his eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual. Every time he walked into the room, my pulse quickened, and I felt like I was walking on a tightrope.

I avoided him as much as possible, diving into my work with single-minded focus. But by midday, I knew I couldn’t keep it up.

“Y/N,” his deep voice called from across the bullpen. “Can I see you in my office for a moment?”

My heart leapt into my throat as I nodded, forcing myself to look calm even though my nerves were screaming.

When I stepped into his office, he closed the door behind me, and I suddenly felt very aware of how small the space was.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

I sat down, folding my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.

“I just wanted to check in,” he began, his tone gentle. “You’ve seemed… distracted today.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I’m fine. Really.”

He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes piercing. “Are you sure?”

The weight of his attention was almost too much to bear. My cheeks flushed, and I looked away, fumbling for a response. “I guess I’ve just been… embarrassed about the text,” I admitted finally.

“Y/N,” he said softly, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. It was an innocent mistake.”

His voice was calm, reassuring, but there was something else in his expression—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“I appreciate that,” I said quietly, still avoiding his eyes. “But it’s hard not to feel… self-conscious.”

There was a pause, and then he spoke, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “For what it’s worth, you looked… strong. Confident.”

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Of all the things he could have said, I hadn’t expected that.

His gaze didn’t waver, and I felt a flush creep up my neck as the silence stretched between us.

“Thank you,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said, his tone softening further. “You’re intelligent, capable, and… you’re harder on yourself than you deserve.”

The air between us seemed to shift, growing heavier with each passing moment. I couldn’t look away from him now, my pulse racing as his words sank in.

“Aaron…” I said softly, not even realizing I’d used his first name until it was out of my mouth.

Something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. He leaned back slightly, as if trying to put distance between us, but his eyes never left mine.

“You should get back to work,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

I nodded, standing on shaky legs. “Right. Of course.”

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Y/N.”

I turned back, my hand still on the door handle.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, his expression unreadable now, “you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Over the next few days, the tension between us became impossible to ignore.

Hotch kept his professional demeanor, but I couldn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on me when he thought I wasn’t looking, or how his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to me. It was subtle, but it was there.

For my part, I was a mess. My thoughts were a jumble every time he entered the room, my pulse racing as I replayed his words over and over in my mind.

By the third day, the tension had reached its breaking point.

It was late. Most of the team had already left, and the bullpen was eerily quiet. I’d stayed behind to finish up some lingering paperwork, hoping the monotony would distract me from the mess of emotions swirling inside me.

But then, as if the universe had decided to toy with me, Hotch appeared. His presence was unmistakable—the sound of his polished shoes on the tile floor, the way the air seemed to shift when he was near.

“Still here?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual, though his eyes told a different story.

I nodded, looking up at him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on me. Finally, he gestured toward his office. “Can I see you for a moment?”

My heart thudded in my chest as I followed him, my nerves thrumming with an anticipation I couldn’t quite name. He closed the door behind us, the quiet click of the lock making the room feel even smaller.

He turned to me, his expression unreadable. But his voice—it wasn’t his usual, measured tone. It was deeper, rougher, laced with something I couldn’t ignore.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said suddenly, his words cutting through the silence.

I blinked, startled. “Doing what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between us. “Pretending there’s nothing here. Pretending I don’t feel this… pull every time I’m near you.”

My breath caught in my throat, his words leaving me speechless.

“I’ve tried to ignore it,” he continued, his voice softening but no less intense. “For weeks. Months. But it’s only gotten worse.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my ears. “Aaron…”

The sound of his name on my lips seemed to break something in him. In two strides, he closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as his lips crashed against mine.

It wasn’t tentative or hesitant—it was hungry, desperate, like he’d been holding back for far too long. My hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his shirt as he pressed me back against the door, his body warm and solid against mine.

The kiss deepened, and I could feel the tension that had been building between us for days—weeks—finally snapping. His hands moved down, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his touch firm and possessive.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to catch our breath.

“This is reckless,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “But I can’t seem to care.”

I smiled, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Then don’t.”

His lips found mine again, slower this time but no less intense. His hands slid up to tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepened the kiss, his control slipping further with every passing second.

“Aaron,” I whispered, the sound of his name sending a shiver through him.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine. “Tell me to stop,” he said softly, his voice almost pleading. “If this isn’t what you want—”

“It is,” I interrupted, my voice firm despite the breathlessness. “It is.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. He kissed me again, and this time there was no hesitation, no restraint. His hands moved to my hips, lifting me effortlessly onto his desk as he stepped between my legs, his body pressing against mine in a way that left no room for doubt.

The next few minutes were a blur of heat and urgency, of whispered names and stolen breaths. I’d never seen him like this—so undone, so raw—and it only made me want him more.

When we finally pulled apart, our lips swollen and our breathing ragged, he rested his forehead against mine, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“This changes everything,” he murmured, echoing his earlier words.

“Good,” I whispered back, my fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Because I don’t want to go back to pretending.”

He kissed me again, softer this time but no less fervent, his hands cradling my face like I was something precious. And in that moment, I knew—this wasn’t just a breaking point. It was a beginning.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader

573 notes · View notes

marauder-misprint · 27 days ago

Text

Book Club

James Potter x gn!reader (also pretty house neutral too)

1.7k words

cw: fluff

“Where you off to, Prongs?” Remus asks as James suddenly gets up from his spot on the common room couch and headed for the portrait hole.

“Library.”

Remus tilts his head. “What for?”

“Book club.”

Lily giggles from a table nearby. Sirius and Peter sport confused looks and Remus looks simply unconvinced.

“You’re in a book club?” Lily asks. Her amusement is obvious in her voice.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t believe you,” Sirius says with a wide crooked grin on his face. He has suspicions. “Where you really off to?”

“The library, I swear,” James answers.

“As a punish for McGonagall or something, yeah?” Peter asks.

“No. Because I want to.”

They all stare at James with varying degrees of confusion and disbelief so James pulls out the assigned book from his bag. He branishes it for them to see.

“Huh,” Sirius says. “Have fun, I guess.”

That had been none of his suspicions. The group watches in silence as James leaves the common room. None of them quite believed that he had joined a book club on his own accord. But he had.

He had specifically asked if he could join. You had turned toward him from the small group of people you had been talking with. James thought his heart stopped beating when you smiled at him and said that of course he could join, the book club was open to all. He joined your small circle as you rehashed which book was next and when you’d be meeting. James had stood with you until everyone else had left. He asked you more about the book club, if there was anything he was supposed to be looking for in the book, like themes or character archetypes or seeing if it matched a hero’s journey method of storytelling. You laugh sounded like wind chimes after he asked that. You assured him that you were reading for fun and anything he got out of the book and wanted to talk about was enough. Even if he had nothing he wanted to talk about, he should come to the meeting and listen. You explained that maybe someone else’s insight might make something connect for him.

James knew he was probably imagining it, but it really felt like you wanted him to come. Like you had been waiting for him to ask if he could join. Afterall, you hadn’t given him the confused or disbelieving look everyone you were talking with had given him, the same looks his friends gave him when he left the common room. That left him with two options: either you knew absolutely nothing about him and were just that excited about your book club, or, and this one is far more desirable for him, you knew James wasn’t really a bookworm but you were excited that he was interested in joining your club. He convinced himself it was the second because how could you not know anything about him? And if you were that excited for him joining his club, maybe you were as interested in him as he was in you.

“James!” your voice called from the upper level of the library almost as soon as he walked through the doors.

You are standing at the bannister with your torso half leaning over it. Even from below, James could see the death grip you had on the railing to prevent yourself from possibly falling forward as you wave at him. He waves back up at you and heads for the stairs. Just hearing you call his name and waving with such vigor brought a massive grin to his face. You wait for him to walk the length of the library back to you. James flexes his fingers at his side, trying to squash the urge to reach out and grab your hand.

“We’re just over here,” you say as you lead him into the shelves.

There’s a circular table that has two open chairs. One for you and one for James. To his delight, they are right next to each other. After sitting down, James looks around the table, seeing who he’s agreed to spend his evening with, besides you, of course. Everyone from the group you had been talking to the day he asked about the club is there, along with a few more students. Mostly older students, although he thinks there is a third year on the opposite end of the table, sinking further into her chair. She was definitely feeling intimidated by the older students. The students were mostly Ravenclaw, with a few Hufflepuffs and a Slytherin. James feels slightly out of place as a Gryffindor.

“Everyone read the book?” you ask, taking your copy out of the bag that was slung over your chair.

There were affirmative murmurs around the table.

“Great!” you exclaim, clasping your hands together like an overexcited teacher about to lecture on their choice passion subject. “What’d we all think? Lovegood, you want to go first?”

A blond boy, a seventh year James thinks, sitting next to the young girl, looks up at you and nods. He clears his throat before his light voice breaks into a monologue about how he doesn’t relate to the main character at all, but he feels very akin to a character who was only in two chapters.

James doesn’t listen to much of what the Ravenclaw is saying. He keeps shifting his gaze between you and his book. His fingers fiddle with the worn pages. You had told him that Madam Pince had more than enough copies of this book in the library for the group, but you wouldn’t let that deter your selection of future reads. You would be more than happy to lend James your copy of a book, as long as he didn’t mind your notes in the margins. He couldn’t wait until you assigned a book that he could oh-so-casually borrow from you.

Right now, you appear to be listening so intently to Lovegood. Your eyes don’t leave his direction and you’re leaned ever so slightly over the table, nodding every so often. James thinks you’re soaking in every word, waiting for him to stop talking so you can pipe in with your thoughts. But when he stops talking and looks around the table expectantly, it’s one of the Hufflepuffs who goes next. Her takeaways build off of Lovegood’s, but in a way that James finds much more relatable. He finds it almost difficult to care though; the only one at the table whose thoughts he actually wants to hear are yours. So he leans back in his chair. He’d wait for you to speak.

James’ eyes continue to flicker between his book, which he’s taken to holding in his hands and flipping through the pages as if looking for a passage he wants to comment on, and you. As the Slytherin speaks, you twirl some of your hair around your finger in a repetitive way. James can’t see the semi-glossed over look in your eyes or how absentminded you’ve become listening to the others at the table. You had started the session with actually listening, but as your peers droned on and on about the book you’d chosen, you find yourself caring less and less about what they said. You wish that James would speak up. You want to know what he thought of it. You have to keep telling yourself that it’s because he’s new to your book club and that’s all.

By the time Madam Pince approaches the table to tell you that she’s closing the library soon, neither you nor James had given thoughts. The group gets up almost simultaneously. James offers some small talk to the Ravenclaw on his other side.

“I’ll have the next book picked out by Thursday,” you say, pushing your chair in. “It’ll be posted on the bulletin board, like usual.”

Members of the club break into smaller groups as they leave with their friends. You linger by the table like you usually do. You like to give members a chance to talk to you after meetings if they want to. The only one lingering with you is James. He walks side-by-side with you as you make your way to the stairs.

“Didn’t hear your thoughts on the book,” you muse as you walk together.

“Bit nervous for my first meeting,” he replies, running a hand through his hair. “I did like the book, really.”

You nod and smile.

“You didn’t talk either,” James points out. “I mean, between when you started the meeting and ended it.”

“I was a bit distracted,” you say softly with a chuckle. “And I’ve read this one like a hundred times. Think I talked everyone’s ear off when I picked it.”

“My ear didn’t get talked off.”

You give James a small smile. “Because you joined after I picked it.”

“So? I think I’m still entitled to having my ear talked off.” James pauses, his eyes lighting up as he had an idea. “Are your thoughts in the margins of your book?”

“Uh… yeah, they are. I always write in my books when I own them…”

“Then can I borrow yours? I’ll reread it! I’d love to know what you think of chapter seven.”

Your eyes widen. You stop walking so you can turn fully toward James. You haven’t even left the library yet and you know Madam Pince is eyeing the two of you from somewhere in the shelves.

“You really want to borrow my book to reread it?” you ask in disbelief. “But you’ll have a new one to read in a day or two.”

James shakes his head, sporting his own small smile. “I know, but I want to know what you think about this one.” He waves his library copy in front of your face. “And then when I’m done, we can meet over coffee or tea or something and discuss. Because, you know, you didn’t get to hear my thoughts on it either.”

Your smile grows slowly as you reach into your bag to retrieve your copy.

“I’d… I’d like that,” you say, holding out the book for James, although you jerk it back just as he’s about to grab it. “But! If you lose this book, I will murder you.”

He snatches it out of your hands with the widest smile you’ve seen on his face.

“I wouldn’t dream of losing it.”

James places the library copy in the return cart before he follows you out of the library. He’s feeling very satisfied and confident. He’s more convinced than before that your excitement for him joining your book club was for spending time with him rather than an overall love of books.

#marauders fic #marauders #marauder-misprint #james potter #james potter fluff #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter fic #gn!reader

587 notes · View notes