#this is actually the perfect vibes for a fic i already have going!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cuteandhughesy · 5 months ago

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Love Looks Pretty On You ╰┈➤ JK8

summary: dating one of the members of the new jersey devils roster was frowned upon, and breaching that rule could result in the loss of your job—however, when johnathan kovacevic comes into the picture, the rules seem to fade away

[word count] 15.5k

a/n: based off this lovely request! this is a player i’ve never written before, and before this request I wasn’t too familiar with (just his name and the team he plays for) so i’m so happy to have learned and now share! but i’m actually really happy with this, so I hope you love.

🎵 love looks pretty on you by nessa barrett, glitch by taylor swift, cry your heart out by adele, stuttering by jack & jack, fantasy by mariah carey, back for you by one direction, + heavenly by cigarettes after sex

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part1: job of your dreams

you toy with the long stick of liquid eyeliner, biting the most sensitive part of your inner lip as you contemplate your next move. your eyes dart back to your own reflection, examining your usual makeup look that you'd just finished. is winged liner too much?

today is the first day of your new—dream—job. a job which before jessica campbell paved the way to woman leading jobs in the nhl, you never imagined you'd achieve...but here you are—in your bathroom, minus 1 hour until you needed to show your face at prudential center and contemplating if you wanted to add a small black wing on your eyelid.

you want to come off sophisticated and put together, and you can't decide if liner is the perfect way to showcase that...or the complete opposite. you look down to the drugstore branded stick, and with a rough sigh, you slot it back in your drawer—nestled between other coloured pencils you're always hesitant in using and a stack of blotting sheets you always forget to grab before heading out.

you leave your warm bathroom without another glance at the mess of makeup left on your bathroom counter, hastily making your way through the hallway and towards the kitchen—you still need to get your coffee ready. the sound of your feet padding along the hardwood has you cat, hazelnut, chirping sweetly, jumping off the back of the couch in favour of weaving through your legs.

you almost trip, and you curse gently. "hazy, baby, please—i'm nervous enough already? the last thing I need is to fall and break my nose beforehand."

she blinks her wide green eyes at you, and obviously that's as much as an answer you're going to get out of your sweet kitty. you sigh, carefully walking around her and to the previously brewed coffee pot. to keep with the professional vibe you're hoping to give off, you opt for a sleek black travel tumbler, filling it dangerously high with decaf—although the chances of you leaving it in your cup holder is so high, you could've chose a rangers branded tumbler and it wouldn't of really mattered.

you fasten the lid, turning and meeting the eyes of hazelnut—who's now sitting comfortably on your kitchen island, her striped tail wagging happily. you give your cat a nervous, closed lip smile. "wish me luck!"

and in some twisted way like your cat can understand you, she meows once, a slow blink of her eyes following. it has the nerves bubbling in your stomach settling down ever so slightly, and you finally feel like you can drag yourself out the house.

just before you open the door, you double back and speed walk back into your mess of a bathroom, pulling the top drawer back open and grabbing not only your blotting sheets, but the eyeliner as well—throwing them both into your purse.

the drive to the arena was filled with your own personal ferris wheel of nervous anticipation and self deprecation—accompanied by your cheesy pop playlist full of tate mcrae, the wicked broadway soundtrack, and everything in between. you're so focused on not only the road ahead, but with the thoughts of how you'll make the best impression on the men that you'll be helping coach.

the professional hockey players that you'll be coaching. it's so surreal, and just as exciting—so much so that you're not even positive it's completely sunk in, despite the butterflies in your stomach reminding you every single minute.

by the time you pull into the parking lot, you're only just realizing you left too early—the practically empty parking lot and time on your dashboard undeniable evidence as such. you turn off your engine, unbuckling your seatbelt with a deep breath. you fall back into your seat, attempting to get a grip on your sweaty limbs and racing heart.

"fuck it." you chime, digging through your purse while simultaneously flipping your visior down—the mirror lights shining in your face. you grab the eyeliner, and with another sigh, you begin lining your lashes, creating the smallest wing. you pull back, and surprisingly enough it looks really good—good choice, you think to yourself.

"okay," you smile, "now just the other side." talking to yourself has always been your favourite pass time, as clinically insane as that may seem. there's no friend—or critique—like yourself, and sometimes you needed you to tell yourself things—like the choice to bring your eyeliner for example...smart.

you drop the felt tip to the middle of your lid, and slowly begin dragging it outwards. you're pretty sure your tongue is poking out as a concentration method, and you can only hope none of your new team members are around to see the way your face is contorted.

a soccer ball smacks against your window, making you jump. the tip of your eyeliner follows the line of your face, a thick black line going all the way back to your hairline. "shit!"

shocked, and still flustered from the sudden scare you whip around to look through the driver's window in an attempt to see what the fuck just occurred. a battered soccer ball rolls away from your tires, back in the direction it came from. your eyes follow the pattern, slowly trailing the line until you're landing upon...oh it's a man.

a man who is jogging towards your car with a sheepish expression on his face. you open your door and quickly get out of the car just as the man stops in front of you—his guilty expression not yet letting up.

he's actually quite handsome, you think. beautiful tawny skin with a hint of dark stubble lining his sharp jaw and chin. he's also tall, like intimidatingly so—it has you feeling tiny in comparison.

"i'm so sorry," he starts, voice gravelly in a way that has your stomach swooping. "soccer has never been my sport of choice...for obvious reasons." the man gestures between the now still soccer ball and your open car door, a small, but hesitant grin taking over his face.

if you were angry before, you're not anymore—any remarks dying on your tongue at the sight of the attractive man in front of you. you clear your throat twice, blinking to regain focus—this is the last thing you needed to be thinking about on a day as big as this one. you're not sure exactly what to say, but you know the words that leave your mouth next aren't the right ones. "yeah, soccer sucks."

his eyes twinkle with amusement, his grin growing slightly. behind you, a small brunette with killer curves and a phone in her hands calls for him. "johnny, can you at least throw the ball back! i'm missing prime content—wait, luke come back!" the girl in question attempts getting luke hughes, an nhl player you're well familiar with, to participate in whatever video she's filming—clearly one that involves the soccer ball between you and johnny.

he picks up the ball before tossing it back in her direction, which another player who looks like dougie hamilton catches. johnny turns back to you, eyes following the black line on your face. "you've got makeup..." he trails off, gesturing to the area on his own face.

you gasp slightly, memories of only moments ago when you'd totally not only messed up your eyeliner, but your face makeup. "fuck," you curse hurriedly, darting back into your car and pulling the mirror as close to yourself as it can go. you're in an awkward position, half in your car while your ass juts out.

johnny clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he attempt to draw his eyes away from your backside—your ass and thighs that are perfectly hugged by the heather gray slacks you're wearing.

you lick your thumb, swiping the liner—but it only makes more of a mess. "double fuck." you pull yourself out of your car, turning back to the 6"5 god behind you. he's blushing now, eyes not quite meeting yours as he attempts to calm himself down—johnathan doesn't think he's ever been this turned on from dress pants in his life.

"do you have a napkin? or maybe some tissue?" you ask him, seemingly unaware of the tension in his shoulders and flickering gaze.

slowly, he shakes his head. "no, I don't, i'm sorry." his face falls as yours does. he hates the way your clear disappointment makes him feel...fuzzy. johnathan steps closer, his mouth opening as he tries to finds his wording. "but, I can help...If you want. ill just use the sleeve of my sweater, I can wet it and clean you up..." his eyes twinkle, an awkward chuckle leaving him. "you can even lick the sweater if you prefer."

you look up at him with what you can only describe as a combination of amusement and disbelief. johnny has already pulled his black sweatshirt over his fist, closing the distance between you with one large step. "you can lick it, I don't mind."

he's kind of relived that you don't want to lube up his sweater with your spit, because then johnathan would be really turned on. he nods, wetting the edge of his sweater before bringing it up to the side of your face, gently wiping away the mess of eyeliner smudged along there.

despite how odd this whole interaction is, you can't help but feel rather enamoured with the mystery man—a man who obviously plays for the new jersey devils, or at least works for them. but based on his stature and the size of his quads peeking out from his athletic shorts—you're thinking it's the former.

his eyes are filled with nothing but concentration as he wipes away the makeup off your skin, his sweater soft against the side of your face as he works. you watch as his tongue pokes out the corner of his lips as he focuses, and that has a smile blossoming on your face.

"okay," he begins quietly, using the other side of his sleeve to dry your skin. "you might want to double check that, but I got it all off—well, my sweater did." johnathan laughs that awkward rumble again, and you can't help the way it makes your heart leap.

so much for being professional.

"thanks." you hum, smile growing. "i'm y/n."

he breathes in something that feels like relief, shoulders dropping slightly as the tension he'd been feeling earlier begins dispersing. "johnathan."

your brows pull in confusion, but your grin stays. "that girl called you johnny, is that what you prefer I call you?"

"you can call me anything you want." the words slip from his tongue before he can think them through, and johnathan hates the way his cheeks flush at his own words—but he loves the way your cheeks do.

"okay," you hum, turning to grab your purse from the passenger seat of the car. you take a glance in your visior mirror, and surprisingly he did a really good job at fixing your makeup—the wing is a little wonky but all the men you'll soon be surrounded with won't notice...you hope. you stand up straight, shutting the car door with an echoing thump.

the parking lot has begun filling up, various hockey players and team members making their way inside—most participating in the game the admin girl had set up by the entrance.

"i'll call you johnny then." you hum lowly, adjusting your purse on your shoulder as you begin making your way towards the entrance doors—heels clicking the pavement as you do. considering you're actively meeting and speaking to one of the guys you'll be coaching, slapping on the faux confident personality came as second nature.

it's not that you weren't confident in your job ability to coach these professional athletes—you were more than prepared and qualified for such. but, you've never been super confident in your personal life, especially when it has to do with attractive men who you really shouldn't be forming an attraction for.

regardless, you glance over you shoulder—eyeing his frozen stature and slightly agape mouth accompanied with an amused, flushed expression. "you coming, johnny?"

your question seems to snap him out of whatever daze he'd been trapped in, blinking three times quick as he begins moving, catching up to you with two strides—honestly, screw tall men with their long limbs! or maybe you just want to actually screw them...you can't decipher that right now.

much to johnathan's dismay, as soon as you enter the building, you are swept away by a member of staff, leaving him to stand awkwardly by himself for a fleeting moment until he realizes what the fuck he's doing. before the devils on ice practice today, they'd all been called in early for what keefe and fitzgerald described as an 'introductory meeting'—whatever that means.

it's not long until he's walking through the threshold of the large room, finding most of his teammates and various members of staff already in there. some sitting and chatting, while others haven't yet taken a seat, but instead stand beside the long rectangle tables as they discuss whatever they might be discussing.

johnathan takes his seat beside brett pesce and curtis lazar, greeting his teammates with a closed lipped smile and quick nod, stretching his long legs out underneath the table. they make small talk as the rest of the team filters into the room, following suit and finding various spots throughout the room to take their seats.

it's not 10 minutes later that the head coach and general manager of the team join them—smiling politely as they come to a stop at the front of the meeting room. fitzgerald clears his throat, and although the room has begun quieting down at the authority figures presence, it completely silenced as he begins to speak. "thank you all for coming so early, we appreciate your time for such a special meeting."

special? johnathan thinks, frown tugging at his lips. what's so special about this meeting?

the GM continues, an easy expression on his sunkissed face. "as you know, we've been looking for a new fit for our open assistant coaching position behind the bench. sheldon and I wanted to make sure that this person was not only qualified, but was fun, exciting and above all knowledgeable...." he trails off, smile growing. "with that being said, id like to introduce you to our newest member of staff: assistant coach, y/n y/l/n."

it's then that johnathan notices you—you and your ridiculously faltering pants and sexy eyeliner. he swallows nervously, eyes darting around the room like he's done something wrong. he hasn't, so he's not sure by it feels that way. he should've known that you and your new, pretty face had something to do with the introduction meeting sprung on the team.

beside him, brett snickers. "how are we supposed to focus with that talking to us?" his words are hushed and slow, brett's eyes never once leaving your figure as you begin introducing yourself to the room.

that comment makes johnathan feel the upmost angry, and suddenly he feels very inclined to punch his defensive teammate in the jaw. but, he thankfully doesn't. what he does do though is narrow his gaze, shrugging his shoulders roughly. "learn."

johnathan doesn't wait for brett's reply before turning his attention towards you, catching the tail end of your introduction. he kind of feels like a sleaze anytime his eyes wander over your body, studying the curve of your hips and the round, full display of your breasts under your high necked cotton top. it also doesn't help that he knows what your ass looks like bent over, or how he knows that you smell like peaches doused in brown sugar—that he knows how your skin feels underneath his spit covered hoodie.

a low groan rumbles in johnathan’s chest—thankfully it’s not loud enough to draw the attention of any close teammates, because he really doesn’t want to explain that. subtly, he adjusts in his seat, palming his semi-hard bulge as if he's trying to tell his dick to cut it out. you're acting like such a douche, he thinks.

you stand on the other side of sheldon keefe, half listening as he goes over some minor details before the start of ice practice. you can't help the way your eyes wonder, analyzing the new faces of various players you'll soon be coaching. jack hughes, who looks tired and like he'd rather be anywhere else this morning. then there's curtis lazar, who is the complete opposite of the middle hughes brother—eyes wide and alert as he nods along to his head coach.

then like a magnetic pull, your eyes find johnathan's—or rather, johnny. he's not looking at sheldon like his table partners, but instead his gaze lingers on you. immediately you feel warm, interlocking eyes and not wanting to look away. the faintest smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, so faint that you're not sure if it's happening or if you're imagining it.

he's stupid hot. like so hot your entire body is on fire. it's dangerous and wrong—it's tempting. not only is he easy on the eyes, but he seems sweet and slightly awkward. which is the perfect combination to have you falling. subtly, you raise an eyebrow at him in silent question.

johnathan blinks, looking away from you. just before you can feel embarrassed about the situation or feel like you read him wrong, a more prominent smile pulls at his lips, eyes flickering back to yours in a fleeting moment.

you're in trouble.

for the entire time you're on the ice, even when you're going through drills and giving words of encouragement as well as discipline, you can't help but find johnathan through the sea of various faces staring at you.

it's truly like a magnetic force, and your body feels drawn to his—even though you've barley talked to the guy. you know interpersonal relationships with the athletes is frowned upon, especially when you're in a coaching position. the hiring staff made sure you were well aware of that before you were hired.

to which you told them it wouldn't be a problem—but now here you are, watching the sweat trickle down johnathan kovacevic's neck as he catches his breath with some other players next to you. and you're almost annoyed at yourself, because you really like this job, and the guys are all so welcoming and kind—well, to your face at least, and that's honestly all you can ask for.

you don't want to risk your dream job for some silly little heat of the moment crush—you can't. but as you get home a few hours and a tour of the arena later, snuggled on the couch with hazelnut beside you and a slice of cold leftover pizza in your hand—you're googling him. you dive into articles and video interviews that when he speaks in them, your belly twirls around in excitement.

but you know you're fucked when you start scrolling through his google pictures, mentally taking note of which ones are your favourites. your cat keeps giving you looks, like she knows you're doing something you shouldn't be.

but you just can't help it—stupid magnetic pull.

the next day comes with a little less stress, and a lot more excitement. you go through your morning routine with steady hands, and a content smile. todays schedule looks a little different than yesterdays, as today you'll actually be put to the test—coaching alongside keefe, colliton, and mcgill during a game.

you head to your local gym before lunch to get in a workout—hopefully burning all lingering nervous thoughts and energy out of your system. after a few hours out of the house, you make your way back home, feeding hazelnut some blueberry salmon treats before hopping into the shower.

as you dress yourself for the game, you don't contemplate anything—you know the exact outfit and makeup style you want and unlike yesterday you're leaving the black eyeliner behind. you're taking the mess up yesterday as a sign, and that you're better off looking professional without the black wing lining your eye. but then again, it's the reason you met johnathan—which, yeah you can't stop thinking about him.

but you can't start thinking about how you can't stop thinking about him or you'll spiral into a panic—which isn't ideal—so you're avoiding that itch in your brain for now. you make sure hazelnut has an appropriate portion of biscuits and water before heading out, driving to the arena.

it goes by in a bit of a blur, with various interviews and introductions that you needed to complete as the new assistant coach of the new jersey devils—which is still so surreal, and the cameras, athletes and smell of the ice rink is even more. soon enough the lights are dimming, and the beginning chords of the national anthem begin.

you try your best to stay straight faced and forward, but keeping your eyes from wandering is something you have no control over. the stands are packed, which is an electric feeling—but even with the buzz of the crowd and the various athletes in front of you, there's only one face you're seeking out.

your gaze lands on him, trailing over the number 8 on the side of his jersey and the tail end of his last name on the back. johnathan looks really good in red, you think—it complements his tan skin and dark hair almost perfectly. speaking of his hair, the curly locks are in a disarray, wet from the water he'd poured on his head during warmups, and frizzy from the towel he ran over his head afterwards.

he takes a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out as he exhales. johnathan shakes his limbs out before resting his chin on the end of his hockey stick. like he can feel your stare, his eyes flicker towards you, and your heart almost stops as your eyes lock.

he squints almost playfully, the smallest grin on his face as the anthem comes to a close. you blush, the overhead lights flickering back to life as the first period begins. johnathan fully turns in your direction, but his eyes find one of the trainers—calling for a fresh set of gloves.

the sleeves of his jersey are rolled up just enough for you to ogle his arms—veins under damp skin that look so tempting…you want to run your tongue along them. your breath hitches just as he catches the new gloves, eyes landing on you once more.

johnathan was well aware of your wandering eyes, not matter how subtle they were. it has him feeling giddy in the best way, and just before he takes his seat, he winks at you—so fast and soft that he's not even sure you've seen it.

but you did, and you force yourself to look away before you get caught. fuck the risk, you need him.

part2: wandering eyes and fluttering hearts

it's seems that the universe has plans for you and johnathan kovacevic—you can't tell if they’re positive or negative yet...but you know it's got something up its sleeve.

not only do you have to fight your urges to pounce on johnathan during work hours—like meetings, practices and games—but it also seems like you're running into him everywhere, and your desires for him are growing stronger every time you spot him out and about. whether he's letting his hand brush against your lower back as a playful greeting in the frozen isle of the grocery store, or seeing you in the lineup of a cafe and tapping his card before you have the chance to pay for yourself—none of it is helping.

johnathan is ridiculously kind, and an even better listener—you've learned such in the now two months you've been with the devils. where as some of the players aren't always friendly, and snap in frustration at you (even if they're not mad at you specifically), johnny was different. it's safe to say you've developed an embarrassing crush on a man who is technically below you on the professional scale. you know it's wrong, and you know you're his superior, but you can't help the way you feel—despite the ethics of it all.

and johnathan doesn't care either—he's been nonstop thinking about you since your wild, makeup smudged eyes met his through your cars window. everything about you is tempting and exhilarating, and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to keep his hands to himself. the way you seem to look at him with a certain twinkle in your eye, and blush anytime he comes in close to ask you a question, isn't doing him any favours—it seems like most days end now with his large hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking himself to relive the tension you bring him.

the best tension imaginable.

he's not sure what the rules are when it comes to interpersonal relationships within the nhl, but johnathan doesn't care because he'd be willing to never even look at a hockey puck again if it meant he got to kiss your lips even once—he's down bad.

just before your third month of employment with the devils, johnathan cracks. it's late at night, too late for him to still be awake when an early morning practice awaits him—but he can't find himself to sleep yet, not with thoughts of you running through his head.

the bottom of his phone rests against his bare chest as he thumbs through his list of contacts like he's on autopilot. johnathan pauses as he reaches your name, thumb halting on the gray contact icon. just the thought of your pretty lips framing your smile has his dick twitching in his pyjamas pants. johnathan sighs.

all the players had the coaching staffs numbers, so it's not like it was only johnathan who obtained your contact —so reaching out would be that crazy, right? he groans to himself, running his free hand through his tousled dark hair. johnathan only contemplates for a moment longer before opening a text thread. "fuck it."

he readjusts the cellphone in his hands, typing out a message. 'are you awake?'

johnathan clicks his tongue, deleting it before he can hit send. he shouldn't be giving into his temptation like this, especially as an athlete who practices control. it's too late, and probably too risky. he drops his phone to his chest, letting his eyes flicker shut—trying to calm his instincts.

his phone buzzes.

'hey' it's your number staring back at him—and he knows that because he's been memorizing the seven digits for the 25 minutes he's been contemplating texting you. but here you are, lighting up his lock screen with your simple greeting.

across the city, you lay in your own bed—too hot and too awake to focus on anything other than your phone. you gnaw your lip as you await for a reply—if johnathan is even awake to see it. you know there's a morning practice, and the chances of him even noticing your message tonight is slim. just as you plan on turning off your phone, it vibrates with an incoming message.

'is this a you up text?' you can practically hear his rumbly voice through his text, a smirk pulling at his tempting mouth.

you breathe a laugh—one that is tinged with nerves. you were risking a lot by sending that that message, and you're well aware of how much shit you could get in—but what's so wrong about a hello? your skin has been on fire for weeks at the mere thought of johnathan, and you're finally willing to do something about it. no matter what.

you quickly send a reply. 'is that what you're hoping for?'

johnathan re-reads your message three times, and each time his blush deepens, travelling down his taunt chest. 'not telling' he sends back, and before you have a chance to reply, he types another message. 'I was about to text you.'

you gulp gently, a million questions plaguing your mind. 'oh yeah? about what?'

at this point, johnathan knows he's in too deep to start acting coy and secretive now—there's no point of pretending he doesn't want you, no scratch that, need you. 'about having dinner thursday night. my place.' it was the perfect opportunity to spend time with you—thursday night had no games and no weird evening practice or meetings. it was free. for both of you.

you and johnathan both know having dinner somewhere out in jersey was too risky, because anybody could see you and put two and two together. the chances of getting caught by fans or teammates is too high. so him suggesting dinner at his place was making your belly spin—even though it was seemingly the bare minimum (but let's face it ladies, what man even gives the bare minimum anymore).

'if I say yes, can we order in ramen?' you tag a playful emoji on the end to showcase some playfulness. your eyes don't leave the bubbles that move along the bottom of your screen, a soft grin on your face as you wait.

'i'll order anything you want, y/n.'

it's two antagonizing days of anticipation, both you and johnathan doing your absolute best at acting as nonchalant as possible—pretending like you haven't been sending flirty texts and borderline risky snapchats to one another (an app that you both had to download because you're both acting like horny teenagers) for the last two days.

when thursday comes, you're practically buzzing with excitement. after a meeting in the late morning, you get home and take an extra hot and long shower—double washing your hair with an expensive shampoo, exfoliating and shaving every inch of your body.

you lounge around in your housecoat until you have to start getting ready—two hours before you're supposed to head to johnathan’s apartment. you opt for your usual makeup and natural hair, and you decide on your favourite jeans and black long sleeve—keeping it casual, but still cute.

hazelnut blinks at you from her spot on your closed toilet seat, a tiny purr leaving her stripped body. you pause the last flick of your mascara wand, eyeing your cat. "what? should I change?" she blinks again, and you smile like a crazy person. "you're right, I think it's perfect."

your cat chirps like she agrees, and it makes you laugh, coating your lashes in the final coat of your favourite mascara. "okay hazel baby," you start, eyeing your small collection of fragrances. "which perfume gives off i’m sophisticated but also I want to have sex vibes?"

her head cocks to the side, and you sigh. "sometimes I forgot you're not human," you reach out and give her a few affectionate pats. "johnny is going to be so surprised when he finds out I talk to my cat." you mutter to yourself, eyeing the perfumes once more. before you can overthink the decision and ultimately be late for your date, you spray yourself with your usual perfume—praying that it's a scent that johnathan loves.

the drive to his apartment only takes about 15 minutes, the traffic not too much considering it was an uneventful thursday evening. the security guard lets you through the gates after you told him you're a visitor—the sweet old man must've got a heads up from johnathan about your arrival.

you park in the first available spot, unbuckle your seatbelt and send him a message, 'i'm here, should I just come up?'

not even 10 seconds pass before he answers. 'i'm on my way down to get you' you smile as you read johnathan’s text, opening your car door and stepping out into the clean but stuffy parking garage. it's not a minute later you hear him call your name, the sound of his voice sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine. you grin as he approaches, "hey."

his smile mimics yours. "hey yourself." before he can decide against it, he pulls you into a quick, but sweet hug, squeezing your waist affectionately—and you go easily, your grin growing ever larger as your engulfed in his chest. he pulls back, "you look really nice...wow."

you watch as johnathan’s gaze wanders over your body, like he can't decide if he wants to undress you with his eyes or simply just admire you clothed. it has your belly swooping, anticipation tingling your body. "thanks, johnny." you hum lowly, taking the time to let your own gaze wander him.

johnathan looks so handsome—a crisp black shirt, and light wash jeans wrapping around his large thighs so deliciously. much to your embarrassment (or maybe your liking), he catches your stare, and a deep smile settles on his face at you clearly checking him out. "let's go upstairs."

you nod, slightly dazed and already turned on, letting him slide his fingers between yours and pull you in the direction of the elevator. the tension between you is undeniable, and the flirtatious glances you keep giving each other on the ride up to his floor are almost embarrassing. you're both so infatuated with one another, and you haven't even been close to kissing yet.

johnathan opens his apartment door, and the smell of soy sauce and steamed vegetables hit you—your stomach lowly rumbles and your mouth begins watering at the thought of food. he gestures for you to enter first, and he follows behind, shutting the door with a soft click. "the food was early, i've been keeping it warm in the oven—hope that's okay."

his apartment is really nice, with dark furniture and exposed brick. it's definitely a man cave, but not in a single, frat boy kind of way—but a sophisticated, busy manly way. you run your fingers over a dark green throw hanging over the back of the leather couch, a small playful grin pulling at your lips as you shoot him a look over your shoulder. "you know johnny, you're not supposed to leave the oven unattended."

he's in the kitchen, and because the apartment is mostly open concept—minus the bedroom—you can see him perfectly. johnathan opens the oven door, a breathy laugh leaving him as he takes out the various takeout containers. it's definitely not healthy for a professional athlete to be eating salty, delicious japanese cuisine, and if you were a meal specialist, you'd be frowning. but you're not! so you're not complaining.

"guess im just a risk taker." he hums, placing some of the ramen broth next to the cooked broccoli container—popping the lids off both.

you walk towards the island, leaning against the counter top to watch him work. you practically ogle his body as it moves—muscles shifting and contracting under his shirt so temptingly. you remove the lid off the spring bean take out container, a small grin on your face. "i'm hoping so ."

all the food is on the counter now, and that leaves johnathan to grab some dishes for the both of you—opening the cupboard beside the microwave and grabbing two sloped bowls and match plates. "are you always so confident?" he questions, placing them on the counter in front of you. he pulls open one of the drawers on his side of the island, pulling out two of each utensil. "like I don't know, you always seem to know exactly what to say...it's hot."

you blush, his compliment laying heavy on your heart. you take one of the bowls, loading some of the vegetable mix into it. "no actually, my confidence is mostly fake." he hums in surprise, spooning some beans into his bowl. you continue, "like i'm confident in my job, but when it comes to things like this—like you—I gotta fake it."

johnathan’s brows furrow while he contemplates which meat he wants in his ramen. "what?! like me? what does that mean?" he shoots you an amused look, before inevitably choosing beef and adding it into his bowl.

you laugh once, rounding the island to better reach the small styrofoam container of green onion. "yeah, I don't know you make me...feel things."

"what kind of things?" he questions lowly, the sound making your head spin. johnathan knows damn well what you're insinuating, and as soon as you say the words out loud, he may pounce.

you put some liquid into your bowl, completing the ramen bowl. you break apart one of the many pairs of chopsticks—there's enough food on the island to feed the entire team and some, so the twenty odd pairs of chopsticks don't come as a surprise. you twirl the utensils through the coil noodles, "i'll tell you later."

johnny barks a laugh, a nod following suit. "okay, fine." he watches as you bring the noodles to your mouth immediately, and he stops adding broth to his bowl. "just be careful cause it'll be really hot-"

his warning is cut short as you jump, your mouth hung open as you attempt to fan the hot food in—so hot that the steam is pouring from you like a dragon. "fuck, oh my god." you curse through the mouthful of burning noodles. you can't believe you didn't think to give it a minute before shoving the food in your mouth, and now it's so hot that you can't even chew the food without pain. you're left to only fan yourself and wait.

johnathan abandon’s his bowl on the counter, walking towards you in two quick strides. a curse falls from his mouth, "okay, hold still." he instructs you firmly, but yet softly—large hands enveloping your head as he holds your face. slowly, as if to not startle you, johnathan begins blowing into your mouth, his breath coming in fast bursts that help cool the food in your mouth.

he's so close to you and his touch is so gentle that you can't do anything but blink at him dreamily, watching as he cools the food in your mouth like it's nothing. a moment passes, and his blowing stops. "better?" johnathan questions, pulling back just enough to gauge your reaction.

you nod, slowly starting to chew the significantly less boiling hot noodles in your mouth. he smiles gently, and drops his hands from your face almost reluctantly—already he misses the warmth of your skin under his touch.

thankfully the rest of dinner goes smoothly, and you blow on every single bite loudly before attempting to put it past your lips—which has johnathan laughing in amusement, sometimes even joining in on cooling your food, which should not be so hot, but it is. you're almost tempted to burn your mouth again just so he will hold you and blow into your mouth once more.

you're not even surprised at how well you and johnathan vibe and communicate—somehow it just all makes sense, and that really doesn't help the crush you have for him. after finishing your two bowls of ramen and johnathan’s three, you both clean up, easy chatter flowing between you. it's refreshing, and feels so right—you almost forget that it's wrong.

soon enough you find yourselves in his living space, sitting on the shaggy rug you claimed you needed to feel—your backs resting on the worn leather couch. you've got your knees bent towards your chest, balancing a wine glass between your two fingers and the top of your knee cap—looking over at johnathan as he laughs at the tail end of your story.

"okay wait," he smiles, eyes twinkling with the upmost amusement. "so your best friend just threw them on his lawn?" he questions, searching for confirmation that, yes, he did hear you correctly. he shifts, turning himself even further in your direction—so close that you can feel the heat of him against your side.

you nod, your own smile softly gracing your face. "yup, 20 boxes of instant mashed potatoes that turned into mush during the rainfall." he laughs once more, finding the story about your best friend and her revenge plan against her ex amusing.

"oh wow, remind me to never mess with her." johnathan teases, taking a sip of his mulberry wine. you follow suit, bringing the thin rim up to your lips and taking a gulp—the flavours spicing your tongue just the way you like. you've always had a hard time turning down wine, especially when a guy who looks like johnathan kovacevic is the one offering it. worse case, you'll just stay the night.

his eyes flicker with something you can't decipher, swallowing his sip of alcohol as he eyes you. "so what about you?"

you swallow, brows pulling in question. "what about me?"

"ever instant mash potato a guys lawn?" he asks with a tempting, playful smirk.

you laugh, placing your now empty wine glass on the rustic, chest style coffee table—the sound a gentle clink in the otherwise quiet apartment. you shake your head, "no, i'd be too scared of getting caught."

he purses his lips softly, brows coming together to create a small indent above his nose. johnathan hums quietly—the sound so charming you almost pass out. "I think you're braver than you think, y/n."

oh, you think—breath catching in your throat. johnathan’s eyes on you are too much, but somehow not enough. you can't decide where to look, your eyes darting all over his face to try and drink in as much of him as possible.

johnathan's breathing changes, his lungs working overtime like he can't quite catch his breath—the way you're looking at him having him feel nothing but breathless. his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, gaze finding your plump, wine stained lips.

he blinks, turning away to place his wineglass next to yours—there's a sip left in his, but he doesn't care to finish it. "you should probably go," johnathan mumbles, eyes finding your lips once more. "otherwise i'll end up doing something stupid like kissing you or..." he slowly trails off, taking a deep breath before he meets your wide, glossy eyes.

"or what?" you prompt, tone all hopeful and quiet.

johnathan hums deeply, the sound shooting signals straight down to your core—you clench your legs together to soothe the ache you've been feeling since you got here. he licks his lip again, slow and deliberate. "...or undressing you."

you almost whine—it's pathetic and johnathan finds it so unbelievably hot. you flush even deeper than the shade the wine has left you, and you slowly bring your lip into your mouth, nibbling on the edge. "maybe I want you to kiss me...and undress me."

he practically moans. "y/n...you can't say that unless you mean it." his words are almost like a warning—an out of the tension building between you. johnathan is giving you the opportunity to walk away, and not break the rules because of him—no matter how bad he wants you to. johnathan's fingers twitch as he desperately tries to keep to himself, watching you through half lidded eyes as he waits your response.

but you don't want an out—you want him. slowly, you shake your head, legs sliding down and away from your torso. the stretch is nice, but it does no favours for your throbbing core. "I wouldn't unless I did." you whisper, pushing up and onto your knees. gently, but confidently, you swing your leg over his lap and sit on him. johnathan's jaw goes slack, watching through his lustful gaze as you move.

he can't take it anymore—he needs to get his hands on you. johnathan's palms slide up the sides of your thighs, squeezing the flesh through your jeans. subconsciously you begin moving your hips, leisurely grinding your clothed core over his. your breath hitches, forehead resting against his. "I need you, johnny."

that's all it takes for johnathan to attach your lips together, kissing you like he's been wanting to since he first saw you. it's like your mouths are made for one another, perfectly moving and caressing and sliding around one another's like you've been doing it for years.

his hands slide to cup your ass, giving you a firm squeeze before he helps grind you over his clothed core—not once stopping the bruising, messy kiss you're engaged in. his lips feel so good it hurts, and if you were to die in that moment you wouldn't be upset. your hands card through his thick strands of hair, scratching his scalp in a way that his him sighing into your kiss.

suddenly, johnathan pulls away, leaving you to whine in disappointment. his glazed over eyes flicker open at the same time yours do—eyes locking. "i've been dreaming about this—about you." he says through heavy breathing, fingers flexing against your lower back.

"you have?" you ask through a moan, your covered clit perfectly sliding over his hardening length.

he nods, leaning in and pressing a hot kiss against your jawline. just when you think he'll stop, he moves farther down, littering kisses against the line of your jaw until he reaches your ear. "I want to please you." johnathan whispers before nipping at your lobe.

you sigh, pawing at the hem on his shirt. "please." you lift the item of clothing completely off, exposing the expanse of tan, defined muscles that you've only ever had glimpses of before this moment. you jaw goes slack, fingers absentmindedly racking down his pecks and abs. "oh my god, you're so hot."

he laughs once before kissing your lips firmly—a wordless thank you. johnathan's hands slip underneath your shirt, dragging it up and off your body like its second nature—leaving you in your polka dot bra. "shit, been dreaming of these too." he mutters, palming your tits. "you've been driving me crazy for weeks with these tits, baby."

all you can manage is a moan, hips moving on their own accord as you chase the tension building in your core. a whispered plea leaves you once again, and it has johnathan gripping your backside tightly and sifting you onto your back, skin melting into the soft, shaggy rug.

you exhale shakily, fingers fisting the carpet right next to your head as johnathan begins trailing kisses down your sternum, and further towards your belly button. "that feels good." you say, hips twitching under torso.

johnathan lifts his head, eyes twinkling with playfulness as he locks his gaze on your face. "can I taste you?" you nod eagerly, and his smirk shows once again—one of his hands fiddling with your button until it pops open. johnathan sits back on his heels, and you shiver at the lack of his body heat on top of you—but as he begins sliding your jeans down, exposing your damp paintes, you quickly forget about anything but that.

he shutters, licking along his lips as he locks in on your skimpy underwear. you bite onto your bottom lip, but your smirk isn't even hidden by that. "I need you so bad, johnny." the sight of your almost shy grin has him faltering, fingers itching to get you naked—and he does, hooking his fingers through your underwear and pulling them away from your wet core.

johnathan can't wait any longer, laying flat so his face is mere inches away from your throbbing pussy—licking his lips at the sight of your arousal pooling and slowly dripping onto his rug. "fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby."

your hips jump upwards, desperate for some friction. you don't think you've ever been this turned on in your entire life, and for god sakes all you've done is a little amateur dry humping. johnathan's words further rile you up, and you can't help but whine out like a cat in heat.

"that noise," he breathes, spreading your legs even further apart with his large hands. "keep making it." johnathan doesn't give you a chance to answer before he's licking a firm strip up your folds, spreading your arousal with his tongue.

"oh...fuck." you curse, eyes fluttering with bliss and pleasure, johnathan repeating his movements in a lapid, expert manner. his long fingers flex on your thighs, digging into your flesh to continue holding you open—giving him the most range on pleasing you.

he sucks your clit into his mouth before swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud—a movement that has you approaching your peak quicker than expected. you breath hitches, nails digging into the rug. "oh, fuck i'm close."

johnathan moans against your clit before dipping back to your entrance, thrusting his tongue into your sopping hole—a squelching noise echoing through the room. he doesn't let up, and it has you reaching your peak, a frantic 'i'm cumming' leaving you in a hurry as your walls spasm on his tongue.

your ride our your orgasm while johnathan licks against your clit lazily, sending jitters through your body. it's ethereal, and so fucking good—you can't decide if you want to scream or sob. your eyes blink open, finding him hovering over you once more. "you okay?"

you hum blissfully, hands running over johnathan's arms and unapologetically squeezing and feeling his biceps. "better than okay." you watch him smirk briefly, his fingers tilting your chin up in an affectionate way before sliding back and caressing your jaw. and like the sex god he apparently is, his thumb parts your lips, rubbing along the surface before leaning in and kissing you.

you could be kissing for only 2 minutes, or it could be 20–time has completely slipped away from both you and johnathan as your lips move along one another. you can feel his hard length through his jeans, pressing against your thigh like a rock—you can also feel your own arousal building back up, dripping down your ass like you're some pornstar.

you disconnect your lips, pulling back just enough to talk. "I want you to fuck me." reaching towards his belt, you begin fiddling with the buckle, the metal clinking together as you unfasten it.

he kisses the corner of your mouth. "I must be dreaming."

you smile, tugging his zipper down. "you're not." johnathan assists you the rest of the way, briefly standing so he's able to completely rid of his jeans. just before he tugs his boxers down, he curses lightly—smile never wavering. "hold on, baby. need a condom."

you get the pleasure of watching him jog into his bathroom in the retrieval of protection—his ass looking mouthwatering under his fitted black briefs. without even thinking logically, your hands slide down your body until you're finding your wet folds, gathering your arousal and bringing it to your clit—circling the bundle slowly.

johnathan finds you like that, condom wrapper half torn in his hands. "you can't do that baby," he groans, "i'm already dying here."

you giggle, the sound broken by a moan at a powerful circle around yourself. your breath hitches, eyeing his almost completely naked body like you're an animal. "take your underwear off, johnny."

he's already in the process of removing the last article of clothing on himself as you ask, releasing his angry, heavy cock from the restraints of his briefs. the sight of him—the sheer size of him—has you gasping. johnathan drops back down between your legs, pulling the condom over his aching length.

you help guide him to your entrance, breathless as his tip brushes your slick folds. johnathan's eyes find yours, "you sure?"

too pent up to speak, you nod—eyes filled with nothing but need and aching, desperate to finally feel all of johnathan. and with that, he eases his entire length into you, stretching you perfectly—your walls molding around him like you're made for him. you let out a choked whine, watching his cock disappear into you. "oh fuck."

he bottoms out, balls resting against your ass—twitching as your gummy walls flutter over him. you can feel him in your stomach he's so deep and long—it feels like he's everywhere. "god, you feel so fucking good." johnathan babbles, already drunk on your pussy. he can't wait a moment longer, and begins thrusting, sliding in and out of your pussy easily due to your leaking arousal.

you're both so horny and worked up and only a few minutes of deep, passionate thrusts, messy kisses and hushed affirmations, that you're both growing close to your respective releases. you're whining like it's the only thing you know how to do, wrapping your thighs around johnathan's torso and he ruts into your hole—stabilizing yourself as best you can. it's a bit difficult when you feel like jello, but it's so good that you're not even caring.

"I can—oh fuck—can feel you fluttering baby, you gunna cum?" he breathes, the rhythm of his thrusts begin to falter as he nears his first orgasm of the evening. but he holds on, focusing on your spasming hole and pleasure pulled face.

you nod, jaw slack. "so close."

johnathan pushes even deeper into your pussy, which you didn’t think was possible, but he does it—tip kissing your cervix with every delicious rut into you. his hand finds yours, and he interlocks your fingers together—grounding not only himself but you to the moment.

"please don’t stop," you mewl desperately, grip tightening around his warm hand as you find the tipping point of your orgasm. "i'm cumming." and you do, walls clamping down on his cock as your reach another toe curling release.

johnathan's brows furrow in concentration as he focuses on your orgasming pussy, groaning as he thrusts into you three unrhythmic times. "holy shit, me too, fuck." his seed shoot into the latex, hot spurts of cum filling the condom wrapped around him.

you smile at the feeling, pressing a firm kiss against the front of johnathan's strong shoulder—nipping his skin with your teeth playfully.

he grins, still nestled in your warmth. "stay with me tonight."

you don't need to be asked twice, and soon enough you're being ushered into the spacious shower of johathan's apartment—the two of you washing one another in the most intimate, soft way. you're completely ruined for anyone else, and now you'll never be able to stay away from johnathan. the way he looks at you, dressing you in his clothes for bed while you're hair is still wet and face flushed—it's something you'll never forget.

you fuck again in bed, riding him slowly as breathy moans leave you both. you're not even fully naked this time, johnathan's college shirt pulled up and over your hips as he holds onto your love handles, helping you slide up and down his length. you both fall asleep in a breathless, tangled embrace—soft conversation and adorning smiles shared before you both let your eyes flutter closed.

part3: kiss it better

from that moment on you're pretty positive you're falling for johnathan kovacevic. the morning after your date, you both wake up frantically, afternoon practice sneaking up on you. just before you left, all tangled mess of hair and mascara stained eyes, johnathan grabbed your wrist gently, tugging you close to him. "can we do this again? I don't just mean the sex..I mean the dating and talking and everything in between."

to which you responded with, "yes please."

for the next few months you and johnathan find yourselves in a very secret relationship. you're going on dates late after games, lounging in his apartment or your apartment until you both fall asleep. hazelnut approves, and you think she likes your boyfriend more than she likes you. johnathan is always sending you flowers, and ordering you food when you're cranky—which obviously makes you emotional and clingy. you watch each other's favourite movies, and you're the queen of stealing his clothes. and oh my god the sex.

johnathan is like ridiculously good when it comes to pleasing you—kissing, sucking, licking and pounding all the right spots until you're on the verge of tears. sex with him is addicting, you don't think you had as much intercourse since like...ever—not even when you were a horny driven teenager.

johnathan will never get tired of your flushed skin and pulled face—jaw fallen slack while you whisper johnny over and over like a prayer. he is as obsessed with you as you are with him—if not more so. he's only had two serious girlfriends between meaningless hookups in his lifetime, and neither of them felt like this.

it has the both of you getting a little...risky, to say the least. your gazes linger on one another for just a second too long while you're at work, johnathan stands close while in huddles, and his fingers brush the back of your hand in passing almost every time—it's dangerous but neither of you can help it.

2 months into your forbidden romance, you're both dressing (in separate homes, unfortunately) for the new jersey devils charity gala—an event where everyone dressed in beautiful gowns and/or sharp suits to mingle, participate in raffles and raise money for charities.

johnathan was expecting you to look phenomenal based on the mere fact that you always do, but when you walked into the decorated rink, covered in a soft cream silk dress that dipped low down your back—leaving little to the imagination—he just about ripped it off you right in the middle of the bustling room.

you knew you were in trouble by the way your boyfriends gaze followed you throughout the first hour of the evening, tongue swiping his bottom lip or biting it in an attempt to not run over to you and destroy you. it also doesn't help that you want him to, god damn you feel like you're in heat looking at johnathan—standing with staff and teammates in a perfectly tailored suit, sipping some champagne like a slut.

so from across the room when he gestures for you to follow him, you listen easily. it's only a few antagonizing minutes later when your boyfriend is pulling you into a coat closet, lips finding yours instantly in a heated exchange.

"you look fucking edible." johnathan groans against your mouth, hands running over your body and squeezing your flesh through the silky dress. he nips at your jaw, igniting breathless laughter from your heaving chest.

you drag his face back to yours, pressing your lips to his once again. the kiss isn't only hot, but it's risky, especially in the closet that holds all the jackets and personable teams of team and staff members. but as johnathan drags your dress up one leg, slipping his hand underneath the cream silk—your mind goes blank. two long, strong fingers brush your exposed core, spreading the sticky wetness that's pooling between your folds.

he curses lowly, the tip of his middle finger prodding your entrance—but then, the door handle rattles, curtis lazar's voice growing louder as he begins opening the door. you and johnathan pull apart, jumping to opposite sides of the room and pretending to look busy—stifling through various coats and jackets.

thankfully, curtis saw nothing and is to aloof to the tension lingering between his teammate and assistant coach. from that moment, you and johnathan both know you need to get a grip, and if you're not careful, your reputation and relationship will be destroyed.

so with that in mind, you both make sure while you're at work, you're strangers. johnathan doesn't look at you, and you don't let your gaze linger on his. and this crisp tuesday evening, surrounded by thousands of fans packed into the prudential center, it'll be no different. you're his coach, and johnathan is strictly a player to you. period.

everything is normal—how it should be, really. well, everything expect the lingering turning in your stomach and heat warming your skin uncomfortably. you've not been feeling the best today, and there's been a constant queasy feeling in your belly since you got out of bed.

you've done your best to try and ignore it, brush it under the rug until it goes away—but it's proving to be persistent, and as the hours tick by your symptoms are getting worse. you know you probably should've called in, but you didn't—and now your feeling dizzy watching the players skate past the bench.

a deep exhale leaves your lungs, eyes darting to the foam covered floor beneath your feet. the crowd has your head pounding and ears ringing—this isn’t good. your stomach feels like a shaky roller coaster on the verge of turning upside down and ruining your day.

the lights are impossibly bright as you look back up, and that's when you know something is wrong. weakly and with dwindling vision, you shuffle closer to sheldon, subtly nudging his side. "I think i'm going to be sick."

his brows raise, turning his full attention to you—keeping his face neutral as to not raise suspicion. "you've been pale since you walked in here—please, go get checked out. i'm getting worried, and I don't need us to be distracted."

you attempt to laugh, but it comes across as a painfully hushed groan. sheldon gently guides you in the direction of the hallway, and into the arms of a medical staff member. after you tell ronald, said staff, what's going on he's shuffling you down the hall and to the direction of the medical room.

you don't make it inside before your knees give out, falling to the floor as you go unconscious.

johnathan skates back to his bench after a 1:30 shift, chest heaving as he desperately fights for air. he throws one gangly leg over the boards, followed by the other—but he freezes as he notices you're no longer present.

his brows furrow in a mixture of confusion and worry. you were there when he left the bench, and you seemed fine—a little pale and quiet but still ordering the team around like the confident, sexy woman you are. but now you're missing. johnathan tries not to show emotion on his face, but he can't help but to look over his shoulder every few minutes to see if you've returned.

by the time first intermission begins, you're still nowhere in sight. johnathan is glad nico brings attention to your sudden absence after keefe's speech, because johnathan is dying and anxious about not knowing your whereabouts.

"coach y/l/n left to get checked out by medical because she wasn't feeling good. i'm not sure of her condition but I understand she will not be coming back tonight."

sheldon's words have johnathan's stomach dropping down to his ass. before he has to head back out to the ice, he shoots you a quick text—letting you know that he'll be at yours after the game.

the rest of the game goes by in a flurry of anxious waves and painfully slow minutes. he can't get out of his gear quick enough, speeding through a shower so he's able to quicker get on the road—get home to his girl.

johnathan definitely breaks a few laws on the way to your place, but he can't help it—he knows nothing about your state, only the brief text of acknowledgment you sent him in response, and he’s started to get really fucking worried.

the doors unlocked, and johnathan kicks his dress shoes off beside one of hazelnuts feathery toys, walking into your silent apartment. he finds you on the couch, still in your work clothes. the door shutting had your eyes blinking open, vision slowly focusing just as your boyfriend kneels in front of you.

"hey baby," he mumbles, running his hands over your sweaty forehead. "what's wrong my girl?" his eyes flicker over your dewy, pale skin, a frown pulling on his face at the sight of your obvious discomfort and exhaustion.

your cat perks up at the sound of his voice, and immediately jumps off the back of the couch to run against johnathan's legs. you pout, "i've been feeling sick all day, and it just got worse. I didn't even make it to the medical room before passing out, johnny." tears begin gathering in your eyes, making clear vision even more impossible—you feel awful. "it was really scary."

instantly he's leaning down to kiss your head. "i'm sorry baby. did they give you some meds?" he asks against your hair.

you hum—the sound strained. "yeah. they're making me tired."

he fusses over you for a few moments longer, pressing comforting kisses to your damp face—but he doesn't want you to be in uncomfortable clothes for any longer. johnathan strips you of your clothes and quickly changes you into your favourite sweats before slipping behind you on the couch—pulling you into his chest.

you're kind of out of it and all you can really register is your boyfriends dark button up under your cheek, his hand rubbing your back and the sound of sex and the city playing from your tv. it's so numbing and relaxing that it quickly has you falling back to sleep, soft snores passing through your dry lips.

you wake up the next morning in your bed, eyes slowly focusing as you catch the sight of johnathan pulling his suit pants back on in your bedroom—the morning sun streaming the the cracks of your curtains.

"hey," you start, voice croaky. "what's going on?"

your boyfriend whips around in your direction, shoving one arm through his dress shirt. "hey, sorry I didn't want to wake you up." he rounds the mess of blankets half off the bed, kissing your head. "how was your sleep?"

"I don't even remember you getting here yesterday." you admit sheepishly, rubbing the sleep out of your eye. "I was so fucked up, god."

"it's okay," johnathan reassures you sweetly, buttoning up his shirt. "you really had me worried—you looked so sick."

you cough, a sickly dry sound that is a rough reminder of the illness lingering your body. but as you eye your boyfriend, seemingly getting ready for morning practice, has all thoughts of sickness leaving you—replaced with panic. "oh my god, i'm going to be late for practice."

you try and get out of bed, but johnathan is quicker—gently pushing you back to the pillows. "you're not going—I dealt with it all through your phone, okay. and I must say, keefe was rather relieved that you're taking the day."

"oh," you hum with a small grin, body naturally melting into your bed. "okay. you going now?"

johnathan nods. "yeah. gotta stop at home and change quick, but i'll be back later." he tosses last nights suit jacket over his shoulder, "need anything brought back?"

you smile, "just you."

he smirks all slow and syrupy down at you, cupping your cheek with his warm palm. "okay baby—can I have a kiss?"

you slap your hand over your lips—which are rather crusty and has you cringing. "I don't want to get you sick." you say, words muffled against your palm.

johnathan brows pull tightly, his smirk not letting up. "I don't care baby." his words have you faltering, dropping your hand and puckering your mouth for a kiss—which he happily obliges in giving you.

later while he's getting changed, pulling his shin pads on, he hears jack asks about your whereabouts beside him. johnathan isn't sure if he's just speaking out loud, or asking him directly—but he turns his full attention to the middle hughes brother. "she called in sick today."

jack kind of makes a curious face, one that says and how would you know that?

and the following day when johnathan doesn't come to the rink because he's sick...jack has the smallest inkling that he may know why the defence man knew about you're whereabouts.

part4: you’re made for me

you think your least favourite part about being on the road is the lonely feeling you get lying in an empty hotel room—left with only your thoughts and the hum of the heating unit.

it doesn't help that johnathan is in the same hotel…on the floor below you, and you can't even see him. you're not long back from the game, a win nonetheless, and the vegas night life is still buzzing in the street below. you knew some of the guys would be heading out for a few hours to enjoy the casinos—but you heard your boyfriend decline curtis' invitation.

so you know he's in his room—but wether his roommate is with him is unbeknownst to you. you miss him, and are in desperate need of hearing his voice. you hum, grabbing your phone off the charger beside you—thumbing your screen until his contact comes up.

you've got him saved under the soccer ball emoji—ever since you two started getting serious, you knew that having johnathan saved as his name was risky, especially when he had a habit of sending you toe-curling texts. and the same goes for your name on his phone, and instead of the previous use of your full name, he's replaced it with the name of your favourite tv show character.

hey, you send. are you alone?

a beat passes and then your phone begins to ring, the soccer ball emoji filling your screen as johnathan calls you. your grin, biting your lip as you slide over the answer button.

you lift your phone to your ear, excitement bubbling and settling deep in your belly.

"i'm alone." johnathan answers lowly, the slow smirk evident through his voice.

you sigh softly. "didn't want to go out tonight? celebrate the win? mr. two point night." your voice is playful, and kind of sexy—it has him already palming himself through his sweatpants.

a low groan leaves him, the sound leaving you flushed in the other line. you already can tell the turn this conversation is going to take, and you're not opposed to it one bit. he laughs, the sound doing a million things to you and your needy clit. "got those points for you, baby."

"whatever," you grin, hand slipping under your loose pyjamas shirt, resting on your lower belly—absentmindedly tickling just below your belly button.

"you okay?" this question is more serious, because above all else, johnathan cares for you, and if you're texting him, he wants to make sure nothing is wrong before he asks to see your boobs like a schoolboy.

you nod, and then remember he can't see you. "yeah, just miss you." you admit shamelessly, fingers dipping below the band of your sleep shorts. your breath hitches as the pads of your fingers brush over your folds, slipping through the wet mess that's been building since you picked up the phone.

the sound has johnathan groaning again, his own hand slipping under his sweatpants and finding his now rock hard and aching cock. he’s been thinking about this moment since he say your game day skirt—hugging your ass delightfully. he squeezes the base, igniting another strangled moan from his chest. "yeah?"

you hum lowly, teasing your entrance with your middle finger before trailing back to your bundle of nerves, circling yourself slowly. "I wish you were here."

a small curse leaves his lips. "what would you want me to do...if I was in your room right now?" johnathan questions, his large hand sliding up the entirety of his length, fisting the tip three times before coming back down to the base.

you inhale sharply, but you're breathless regardless. your thighs tighten around your slow moving hand, trapping yourself—your body reacting to your boyfriends words instinctively and leaving you overwhelmed already.

"don't be shy," he grins, squeezing himself. "i'm so fucking hard, baby—your voice is so sexy."

you whine helplessly, johnathan’s words pushing you into a flaming pit of lava—igniting your body in molten flames. "I'd want you to tease me, run your fingers over my soaked shorts until i'm begging you for more." you admit, cheeks flushing even deeper at your dirty words.

there's something so weird about phone sex, but with johnathan's breathing against your ear, and the throbbing between your legs, you're starting to feel very different about the idea. it’s exciting and so fucking hot—mostly because of your sexy boyfriend on the other line, prompting you.

he curses, pulling himself out of his sweatpants so that his cock is standing fully erect. he hisses at the air touching his sensitive skin, running the pad of his thumb over his leaking slit. "holy—fuck me—and then what baby?

"and then..." your breath hitches as you slip your middle finger into your wet entrance, your throbbing pussy sucking you in, down to your knuckle. "then i'd take you out of your pants, and lick up your shaft—slowly—before sucking the head of your cock just the way you like."

"i'm gunna facetime you, okay?"

your stomach drops in excitement. "okay." you slip out of yourself before completely removing your shorts, just as the incoming facetime lights up your phone. you answer it giddy, gnawing on your lip as johnathan's face fills your screen.

he smirks, eyeing your plump pink lips and rosy cheeks—the lust clear in your gaze. "you look so fucking pretty."

your smile grows, and even the way your teeth enclose around your bottom lip can't hide the fact. "johnny," you hum slowly, legs falling open to reveal your core to the empty hotel room. "I need to cum so bad."

he licks along his bottom lip. "set the phone up so I can see."

your vagina throbs pathetically, grabbing a pillow before leaning forward and resting your phone against it—the angle giving johnathan the perfect view of your glistening pussy, the outline of your perky nipples under your shirt and flushed face. he groans, stroking himself as he gets off the bed and moves towards the desk.

johnathan props his phone against the lamp, angling the camera so you're able to see his cock. "slip your pretty fingers in that pussy, baby. wanna see you fuck yourself like I would."

he watches your chest heave as you attempt to catch your breath, hand slipping down your covered stomach and back down through your soaking folds. with a moan, you ease your middle finger and ring finger in your entrance.

"fuck." you whine, head falling back as you begin moving your fingers shallowly, not quite thrusting into yourself, but not staying still either. the perfect amount of stimulation that has your toes curling.

johnathan's jaw goes slack at the sight of you and your hand—a ring of creamy arousal pooling at the base of your knuckles before dripping onto the bed. it's embarrassing how close he is to cumming, fucking his hand while he pretends it's your gooey walls enveloping him instead. "that feel good?" he asks, voice husky. "you're so sexy."

you lift your head, lips parted as breathless sighs leave you. "feels good—wish it was your fingers." a high-pitched whine bubbles from your throat, the palm of your hand rubbing against your clit perfectly. through lidded eyes, you watch johnathan. his abs clench as he fists himself, the smallest drop of pre-cum trialing down the underside of his delicious cock.

you gasp, orgasm hitting you in a white hot surprise, leaving you fluttering around your hand as your release drips off your fingers.

the sight has johnathan following suit, ropes of hot cum shooting from his head as his eyes train on your fluttering pussy and blissed out face.

a beat passes, both of your still working on coming down from your high and catching your breath. johnathan smirks all lazily at you through the screen. "I'm gonna fuck you so good once we get home, yeah?"

his promise has your core jumping all over again, and if johnathan has to fist his hand once more in the shower before bed—that's nobodies business expect yours (because obviously he sends you videos on snapchat).

thankfully the road trip is only two more days, and you get your hands on your boyfriend as soon as you're back in the enclosed walls of his apartment.

a few weeks pass since then, a whirlwind of games and practices that leave you holding your breath and clenching your thighs—you'll never get over how handsome johnathan looks all sweaty and damp, and it never fails in sending butterflies straight down to your pussy.

it seems like weeks until you get a free evening, but eventually it comes, and you take the opportunity for an at home date night—realistically the only ones you can have. johnathan cooks you mouthwatering pasta, and you get to watch him work over the stove from the kitchen island—checking out his back muscles over the rim of your wine glass.

anytime he catches you doing so, he pauses to lean over the island and give you a heart stopping kiss. it's romantic, and you think you may love him.

you eat your food next to one another on the couch, your feet tucked under his thigh while you watch she's all that. johnathan is the kind of boyfriend you dreamed of having since you were little—kind, compassionate, sexy, funny and a little awkward (plus a sex god, but 6 year old didn't know about that).

soon enough your empty bowls are abandoned, and you’re on his lap while your mouths move together. just before anything starts to escalate—johnathan's hands fiddling with your bra—a knock on the door pulls you apart.

"kovy?" an all too familiar voice calls on the other side of the door. "we know you're home. saw your car." we? as in plural? as in there's multiple of his teammates on the other side of the door?

you go stiff on johnathan's lap. "is that curtis?" you question wildly, words barley above a whisper.

he squeezes the flesh of your hips, nodding once. "and brett and erik." johnathan admits through his teeth. "i forgot they wanted me to come out tonight—someone's birthday."

one of them knocks again. "open up you little shit." the voice who sounds like brett laughs, sounding already a few drinks in.

"oh my god," you hiss, getting off johnathan's lap, pulling your discarded hoodie over your head. "oh my fucking god."

johnathan moves quickly, taking your empty bowls to the sink. "one second!" he calls in their direction, running a hand through his messy hair after wetting the dishes.

"are you fucking naked or something?" erik questions, leaning against the wall with an amused expression.

you hear curtis snicker. "he's probably jerking off."

your boyfriend looks at you, eyes full of guilt. "i'm so sorry baby, I totally forgot." he grabs your arms firmly, keeping your attention on him. "i'll get rid of them, okay? I promise."

you look almost scared—blinking up at him like everything is falling apart before your eyes. after all, you're a door away from being caught. "okay."

he nods, kissing the side of your pouting lips before guiding you to his bedroom. "just stay in here, okay? and if you hear me say watermelon, jump into the closet."

if you weren't so anxious you'd probably laugh. but obviously you don't laugh, sitting on the soft mattress as johnathan gives you one more hurried look, shutting his bedroom door with a soft click.

he quickly makes his way to the front door, pulling it open to reveal his three teammates—all of them with splitting grins on their faces. "we've been texting you, man! you forget about us?" brett grins, slapping johnathan's shoulder as the three of them walk into his apartment.

he chuckles awkwardly. "yeah, sorry—meant to text you but i'm not feeling up to going out tonight."

"boooooo," curtis drags out loudly, spinning on one of the bar stools like it's a carnival ride. "boring."

erik picks up the wine glass you left on the coffee table, a visible print of lipgloss on the rim. "you got a girl here, johnny?"

"no." he says all too quickly, face pale and red all at once. "I mean, not anymore. she left."

brett smirks, grabbing the glass out of erik's grip. he inspects the mark closer, that shit eating grin never leaving his face. "you know who wears lipgloss like this? coach y/l/n."

on the other side of the bedroom door, you feel like you're going to faint. you press your ear further against the wood, listening in.

the barstool squeaks under curtis' weight, a mixture of a disgruntled groan and laugh leaving him. "why do you know what kind of lipstick our coach wears? fucking weirdo." much to johnathan's delight, curtis' response has all three boys moving on from the marking on the wine glass. which, thank god because he had no clue how to respond to that observation.

erik eyes the ending scene of she's all that, a knowing grin on his face. "so if she's gone, you're gunna come out with us, right?"

"not really feeling it." johnathan reiterates with a shrug, subtly grabbing your keys off the counter and tucking them into his pocket.

brett groans like a naughty kid, sluggishly making his way back to the door. "fine—we'll let you beat off in peace." the other two follow suit, sending johnathan snarky little grins as they leave.

he rolls his eyes, a tiny grin pulling at his lips. "whatever—have fun." as soon as johnathan can't hear his teammates loud voices anymore, he's shutting the door and flicking the lock. he bounds back to the bedroom, and you pull open the threshold before he has the chance—your eyes wide with unshed emotion and stress.

it has johnathan feeling nothing but guilt, and he wastes no time wrapping you in his arms. "are you okay?"

you nod, but then stop. "no. I thought we were fucked—especially with the lipgloss, oh my god johnny."

he kisses your head three times, each one longer than the last. you sigh into him, letting johnathan hold you like the delicate flower you feel you are in that moment.

you hate this feeling—because secretive behaviour makes you feel dirty. and with the secret you're keeping, you're much more than just dirty. you're breaking the rules, and risking not only your job, but johnathan's. the last thing you want to do is ruin his reputation—you fucking love him for fucks sake.

it’s not even about you anymore. because for him, you’d leave everything if it meant being with him. but you know johnathan, and he would never let you give up your job for him—ever. but you can’t keep going around like this, it’s running you.

you pull back, swallowing roughly as you drop your arms from around his waist. “we can’t do this anymore.”

he freezes. “what do you mean? can’t do what?”

you blink. “johnny…” your voice is laced with a knowing edge, because you know johnathan knows exactly what you mean—you can see it on his face. you look away, as you can’t bare to look at him any longer, it may kill you otherwise. “if we keep sneaking around, it’s going to end badly—it almost blew up in our face tonight.”

his brows furrow, cupping your face firmly so that you have no choice but to look into those eyes you love so much. “but I didn’t-It won’t if we do this right.” a rough swallow makes his adam’s apple jump, looking over your face like he can’t decide where to go. “tell me what I can do to change your mind.”

a tear falls down the round of your cheek, and the sight stabs him right in the chest. you shake your head, licking the salty water off your cupids bow. “I just…I think we need to stop.”

his hands fall from your face, and he runs them through his hair—pulling at his root until it hurts. johnathan respects you, and he loves you—even if he thinks you don’t love him in this moment. he will fulfill any wish you ask of him, and he’d do it with a smile, because you’re the most important thing in the world. so he nods firmly. “okay. if you want to stop, we’ll stop. I don’t care what’s happening. all I care about is you.”

you nod—too many emotions lodged in your throat to speak. johnathan reluctantly hands you your keys, your fluffy keychain tickling his skin for the last time. you pluck your purse that’s wedged between the pillow and side of the couch, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way to the door, leaving without another look in johnathan kovacevic’s direction.

part5: love looks pretty on you

as soon as you get back to your place you break down in embarrassing sobs—falling onto the couch while hazelnut licks your chin. although you think she just likes the taste of your tears, rather than it being a comforting thing, but you pretend it’s the latter.

as much as it hurts you and you regret it, you know breaking things off with johnathan was the right choice. you don’t want to burden him, or hold him back—you can’t be that girl. so as much as you want to call him and tell him you’ve changed your mind, you don’t. it’s for the better, even if you have a hard time believing it right now.

the next week is nothing short of painful. you can feel johnathan’s eyes on you constantly, but you’re strong in ignoring him—going about your drills like he’s just another face in the crowd. if keefe notices something is up with you, he doesn’t say anything. which honestly seems worse than if he was to ask.

johnathan is no better. he’s slacking on the ice, and it’s showing even during practice—slow and uncertain and clearly distracted. he can’t stop thinking about you, or looking at you. johnathan cant help but think about all the things he wish he said to you, before you ended it.

how he’ll always care for you. how he’d quit hockey for you if that’s what you wanted. how he’s never felt about someone the way he feels for you. that he loves you.

it’s lonely without you. he misses your laugh and your smile and the way you kiss his peck every morning when you wake up. johnathan even misses hazelnut and her persistent chirping.

he so desperately wants to get you back. show up on your doorstep with flowers and a speech that would probably make you cry. but he doesn’t do that—because it would go against your wishes, and break whatever trust you put in him. it’s killing him, and he can only hope you’re happy.

—

you’re lingering with the uneasy feelings that come with a loss, tossing your purse on the counter before kicking off your heels. although the loss was a team issue, you can’t help but remember how johnathan was -5 tonight, and how exhausted and defeated he looked the entire game.

you can’t help but speculate—scratch that, there’s no speculation. you know it’s because of your breakup, and that makes you feel really shitty. if it’s still affecting him this much, hell if its still affecting you this much, you can’t help but think it was the wrong choice to make.

months of a healthy relationship down the drain for…what? because you were scared? that’s not you. johnathan brought out the best in you, he listened and cared for you like nobody before. in jersey, you’re alone. no friends or family close by to talk to or spend time with, only hazelnut. but with johnathan you had family. and you fucking threw it away.

your eyes flicker to the clock on the microwave. it’s almost midnight. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating your next actions. are you really about to do this? show up to your exs door and what? apologize? beg for him back?

you don’t know. but you know you love him, and you think letting him go forever will be the worse decision of your life.

coaching is a dream job. working with athletes in such an authoritative manner is a dream—it was your dream. but you have a new dream, and his name is johnathan. and if there’s one thing you’ve always lived by, it’s that to never give up on your dreams, especially for someone else. but that’s not what you’re doing—your dream has shifted, and you’re following its path in hopes of fulfillment.

before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re slipping on the first pair of shoes you see—a pair of heart print sandals that aren’t appropriate for the spring chill. you grab your keys and nothing else, getting into your car and following the familiar route to johnathan’s apartment.

the doorman recognizes you by now, and he lets you in with a smile. you’re anxious on the way up the elevator, a million things to say running through your mind—but as the doors open on johnathan’s floor, your head goes blank.

you force yourself to knock, a quiet sound that is barley heard from the bedroom at the back of the apartment…but johnathan hears it. he trudges over to the front door, nothing but a black hoodie and his boxers on.

as soon as the door is pulled open, revealing you in summer shoes and your game day pant suit from the game, johnathan is exhaling lowly. his eyes dart around your face, analyzing you. “you okay?”

your stomach clenches. he’s so fucking caring. “you’re my dream, johnny.” you blurt out, definitely too loud for this time of night.

his brows furrow, like he’s not sure what you mean. and fair enough, you think, because what does that mean? you continue shakily, “I love you. so much that it actually hurts. I would give up everything if it meant being with you forever—and I know you’d never let me, because you care about me and my dream. that’s why I ended things, as stupid as that sounds, because I didn’t want to put you in that situation. I didn’t want you doing something crazy like requesting a trade or fucking retiring early so that I could work for the team—because I knew you would do it.”

you swallow, but your mouth is so dry it almost hurts. “but you’re not going to let me forget about my dream, johnny—because you are my new dream. and if you love me, you’ll let me live with my new dream. being with you is all I need.”

johnathan shakes his head in amused disbelief, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth. “c’mere.” he mumbles, fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you into his apartment—only lit up by the lamp next to the tv. “you love me?” he asks, fingers leaving your wrist in favour of tucking some loose hair behind your ear—the strands that have escaped your once tight braid.

you nod all too quickly, “so much. i’m sorry.”

johnathan’s smile deepens, cupping your face like he’s done hundreds of times. “it’s okay, baby. I don’t care that you ended things with me—well, yes I care because I love you too—but if that’s what you needed in that moment, I would give it to you over and over again. even if it killed me.” he wets his bottom lip, looking deep into your watery eyes. “are you sure?”

there’s not hesitation in your words—there never has been with johnathan. “positive.” you nuzzle into his palm, “I love you so much.”

he leans in close, lips brushing yours. “I love you.”

and as he leans in and kisses you, you know that everything will work itself out. you’re not worried about the outcome, or what the future holds for your position with the team, but as long as you have johnny to come home to—it doesn’t matter.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #jonathan kovacevic #johnathan kovacevic smut #johnathan kovacevic imagine #johnathan kovacevic fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl fanfic #hockey x reader #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils smut

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imdoingsortagay · 9 months ago

Text

And They Were Roommates

Summary: Rio get's a roommate in you and suddenly she can't function.

Warnings: Smut so 18+ , Rio doing suspicious shit, Top!Rio Vidal, Bottom!reader, pet names with this women, biting, some fluff, aftercare ( because it's important),

Word count: 3.4k

a/n: i was gonna spend a good week on this fic fuck it you get it now because my professors are already on midterm talk. also thank @yourlocalsaiko for the funny ask comment they left on the sneak peek of this for influencing me to finish this. And also happy birthday to @harknessdoll. If this does good maybe a part 2 or little series ????? who knows

Happy reading

Renting a small cottage in the middle of the woods, well not middle maybe like 10 miles away from town seemed like a good idea at the time. No having to deal with noisy neighbors, having a cute little driveway to not share with anyone and not to mention not being woken up to traffic.

It sounded like the perfect thing until you heard a loud bang that woke you from your slumber, who in the fuck was in your cottage.

“ Fucking hell,” you mumble to yourself. Good thing Kate had recommended buying that bat incase anyone came in, bedtime you do need to actually buy a weapon of some sort or at least invest in some security. The noise gets louder as you make your way to the kitchen, hear what seems to be a lady humming a tune while she’s looking for something to eat in the fridge.

“ You leave for a couple of years to explore and someone can think they can just move in ? In my cottage? In my home?” She mumbles to herself.

“ IM RENTING THIS PLACE YOU ASS” you yell as you try to hit her but her reflexes are faster than you. The lady quickly grabs the bat from you, throwing it somewhere in the kitchen but what she doesn’t expect you to do is bite her back.

“ OWWWWWWWWWWW”

Your smile fades quickly when the intruder quickly pins you to the kitchen floor preventing you from moving or biting her again.

“ Who the fuck are you and why are you even in my house” She asks you

“ Someone posted this place on a realtor site to rent and he’s been renting it to me for the past 6 months,” you explain,” can you let me go now, I promise not to bite you again I swear”.

“ Just cause I might have abandoned this place 40 years ago doesn’t mean some stupid man can come and rent it to some random person,” she tells you.

“ Does this mean I need to find another place to live?” You say after a bit of silence which makes the woman giggle. She felt bad that you didn’t know this was her home but it had been years since she had shared her place with anyone besides her ex partner.

“ If you give me whoever rented this place from you I might let you stay,” she pauses a bit ,” whatever your name is “.

“ Y/n and no totally will do that, he kind of gave me the ick when he was showing me places too. Like he recommended me this house in New Jersey but the vibe was off so I said no then he was flirting with me way too-“ the mystery woman covers your mouth to prevent you from yapping anymore.

“ Gonna visit this man right away in the morning y/n, he sounds terrible,” and she leaves you to head to the other bedroom,”

“ Wait what’s your name ?”

“ Rio,” she pauses dramatically ,” Rio Vidal, have a goodnight babe”.

________________________

After the weird encounter with Rio, she had left around 9am to go talk with Anthony the realtor, not telling you anything else besides a bye. Left you with the cottage for most of the day to finish some emails for work, clean up the mess from late in the night and even make a chicken soup for Rio, or at least for you if she didn’t eat meat. Just as a thank you for not kicking her.

“ Get Norm the email about next month’s projection sales,” you read around to nobody inside, wondering when she’d come back.

She’s a grown ass woman who looks like she can easily defend herself. There’s no need to worry where she might be going. Rio has known you for less than half a day I doubt she’s gonna tell you her whereabouts.

“ God that man is such a crybaby,” Rio announces as you hear the door open, pushing the relief away when she comes towards the kitchen to the smell of chicken soup. It smelled really good, she forgot how it was to not be the only person in this home or at least have someone even cooking at all.

Rio sees you in the kitchen, trying your very best to act chill around.

“ Here’s this back, I took care of Bob for you, “ she casually tells you as she goes towards the stove to serve herself some soup.

“ What do you mean ‘ take care of bob ‘ Rio? “

“ Don’t worry about it babe” and when you look in the bad you find a large amount of money.

“ All your rent money from the past couple of months from that fucking idiot” rio explains , you were gonna ask either way.

“ so does this mean you’re kicking me out ? I can pay rent don’t worry or if not I can try to find another place to move to since this is your house and all”.

Rio thinks about it. On one hand , she’s had this house for hundreds of years so there’s no need for you to pay rent. But on the other hand, you really didn’t know that this was her house so it would be rude to expect you to leave so soon.

You were a little cute after all so this could work in her way if she wanted.

“ I’ll let you stay on one condition,” you nod, too afraid to say anything due to her very serious demeanor.

“ Keep doing what you’ve been doing around the place, don’t disturb me when I’m in my room and when I need a favor you do it,” she states. Should be simple enough for you to follow.

“ You got it pretty ?”

“ Yes “

“ Yes what ? “

“ Yes Ma’am?” You say more as a question than a statement.

“ Good job honey” she coos, paying close attention to the way that you blushed a bit being called the pet name.

————

“ What the fuck are you even doing up at 7am?”

“ Good morning to you too princess,” she says as you walk into the kitchen, your slumber being interrupted by whatever she was doing inside. 8am was enough time for you to get ready for work, especially since you do remote work for the most part.

It’s only been a day since Rio had let you stay and to stay the change was a bit weird for you was an understatement.

Both of you have mostly been lightly joking with each other half of the time, maybe a bit of flirting to be honest but she’s pretty cute. Doesn’t help that she’s always calling you all these pet names.

“ Breakfast is on the table babe,” you see a perfectly set plate on the table for you,” based on what you had stocked up in the fridge”.

“ Thank you Rio,”.

“ No problem hot stuff” she says in the sweetest tone, leaving you alone in the kitchen to question what she might have planned.

———————

One week living with Rio and so far, she’s been wonderful as a roommate. Helps with dishes when you make dinner, keeps the living room spotless, a little loud at night but nothing you can’t handle.

For a Saturday night, Rio was unsure why you decided to spend it at home and not out like most humans would do.

“ Reading a book and enjoying some wine ? Boring “, Rio announces as she walks into the living room in her casual fit. Choosing to wear an oversized t shirt of hers and simple pair of shorts.

“ It’s too far for me to go out rio,” you tell the woman sitting next to you, not bothering to tell her to move. It felt kind of nice to have the other woman sit next to you and not just a pillow of yours like most of the time.

“ Awe someone as pretty as you doesn’t ever go out?” She coos.

“ Not when it’s again, way too far to travel to a bar,” you repeat to her and before you can even get a sip of your wine she grabs it out of your hand.

“ What the fuck ?” You yell back at her and before you can grab it back the woman in front of you chugs it.

“ We need something stronger babe,” she tells you as she finishes the last of the drink with no shame,” follow me “.

You don’t say anything when she grabs your hand, leading you to the one room in the cottage that she forbid you to going into, her room.

Even before she had shown up back to her place, Bob had told you the room could not be unlocked and the windows were covered to anyone passing by and you felt weird about trying to unlock it yourself. When Rio had shown backup you never even got a peek at the inside of her room either so you were a bit excited to see what it was like.

Was it just her room ? What colors did she choose? Is it decorated all nice or a bit of a mess ? Did she have anyone in it before you were ?

Wait, you guys are just roommates you can’t be thinking about that way about Rio at all.

“ Close your eyes I can’t have you knowing how to open my room door can we princess???” She teases you. God you were not gonna survive this.

A couple of seconds later you hear the door click open, Rio grabs your hand to lead you into her room and moves you a bit so you can stand in the middle of it.

“ Open those pretty eyes for me,” you give yourself a couple of seconds to adjust to the light in the room to see the woman. Of course the wall are in her signature green color, a nice dark green to compliment the rest of the room. Paintings you assumed she made herself in the spare time, a mini fridge with what you assumed is where the alcohol she was talking about and a nice queen sized bed in the middle of the room.

“ Your’re the first person that I’ve had in here since my ex by the way y/n,” she starts off, pointing at the bed for you to sit in,” Your room was a guest room we’d use for our friends and this was our room. “

“ What happened to your ex ? “ you as casually and Rio makes a face at your question.

“ Wait fuck I didn’t meant to intrude I am so-“

“ Baby it’s all good with me,” she assures you,” we broke up after ten years together because she wanted to explore other option in the world or whatever she fucking meant by that”. Least you know she’s single.

“ Last time I heard about her, she was living in some town with her current girlfriend and their two cats. Which good for her I guess, I mean she was never the committed type when we were together, all I say is good fucking luck to her current gal or whatever,” she mumbles the last part while looking for a specific alcohol bottle for the two of you. The atmosphere room was pleaseant, Rio must have worked a lot on the room to make it as comfy as she could.

“ You have any ex’s you wanna talk about y/n ? We only know the basics things about each other” Rio questions after finding the specific bottle of alcohol she was hiding for special occasions. She quickly finds her way onto her bed, placing herself on the right side of where you were sitting, as always leaving no space between the two of you.

“ How strong is that bottle of alcohol in your hand?” You ask and rio smiles.

This was gonna be fun.

_________________________

“ You did not fucking steal Lilia’s jewelry from her cause she accidentally stole some of your food ?” You laugh as she tells the story.

“ She was being petty with me for a tiny thing I did when we were living together y/n, and all I did was just give her a piece of her medicine is all” she shrugs then takes a big swig of the bottle infant of you both. It had been three hours since Rio had let you in her room and the both of you were talking about whatever as a way to get to know each other. An hour into this hangout session or whatever you both want to call it, rio had suggested you both cuddle with each other and in your tipsy mind you decided why it.

On the inside, Rio appeared to you as quiet, funny and a little bit mysterious if you had to be honest with yourself. What you didn’t know was that she had been internally been freaking out since she found you here in the cottage. She felt bad kicking you out but it had been a couple of years since she’s had anyone here since Agatha. Rio hadn’t had anyone in the house since then and even if she did for a one night stand, she’d use the guest room to do it and not her own bedroom, making up all sorts of excuses as to why she didn’t have anyone in her own bedroom when she knew the real reason.

She was afraid.

Agatha had been her first relationship all those years ago when they met in Salem, built this house together from the ground up, shared so many happy memories together here then decided she wanted to leave Rio because she wanted to do more than just stay in Salem. She was other that woman but her insecurities got the best of her and she hasn’t had a meaningful relationship since.

“ I don’t know how that would could fucking leave you when you look so fucking hot,” you blurt out of nowhere which takes Rio out of her thoughts. Well, at least she knows that you feel the same way.

“ You think I’m hot ? “ Rio asks quietly enough for you to hear.

“ The mysterious demeanor of yours, the hot ass outfit you had when you got here, and not to mention when I first met you in not to good circumstances you kind of made me blush so much” you explain while rubbing her arm. Her mind was going places as you were cuddling up next to her, yapping about how hot she was and then casually rubbing her arm as well.

Both of you were drunk and she wanted to test the waters and see how much she can get out of you, no harming trying to get any information out of you.

“ How about you come sit on top of me while we talk then princess? “ She asks with a bit of a smile.

You don’t think about it too much, Rio guiding you on her lap so you don’t accidentally do anything.

“ Rio did I ever tell you that you look super nice from this angle , like really nice,” you giggle. It’s been years since anyone has said anything nice about her and she’ stumped with how to respond.

“ Can say the same thing about you sweet thing ,” the woman under you says in the most cool way, only eliciting a giggle from you and a confused face from her.

“ Did you forget to flirt Rio? for a witch who’s been alive longer than I have , you sure don’t know how to flirt with someone when the opportunity arises, “ you say in a joking manner to the older woman.

“ I might not know how to flirt but there is something else I can do babe,” she teases.

“ Oh and what’s that honey?” You ask in a sweet tone.

In an instant, Rio quickly changes positions so that she’s on top of you, pinning your arms above your head so that you don’t do anything with your hands.

“ You look super pretty under me princess,” she holds your chin in place with one hand while other hand is still pinning you into the mattress, not that you’re complaining or anything.

“ Just fucking kiss me Vidal,” you beg and you feel the other woman’s lips on yours in an instant. She forgot how good it felt to be in bed with someone she actually had some sort of attraction to. She can’t handle the way that you whine into the kiss, wondering what other pretty noises she can get out of you.

“ God do you know how many times I fucked myself in this bed baby? We’ve barely known each other but your’re something special baby,” she tells you as she starts to kiss your neck, no shame in leaving marks all over your neck for anyone to see. The sound of your moans and whines while she marks your neck, Rio feeling you grind into her body to set any sort of friction and the feeling of her hands roaming your body make you never want to leave her bed anytime soon.

“ Take this thing off of your body baby,” she says helping you get up,” I wanna see all of you”. You chose the right night to not wear a bra because the moment she sees that you had nothing underneath your shirt, Rio is on your tits. Sucking on your left nipple while tasting your other nipple with no mercy.

“ Be good for your mistress while I suck on these titties babe,” she orders,” then maybe I’ll fuck you with my fingers, or you can grind on my thigh so I can see you fall apart above me”.

“ Fingers! Please! I’ll be good for your mistress” you whine under her touch, you would let Rio let you do anything to you if it meant being pleasured by her .

“ Good choice baby,” She says happily, her right hands going into your sleep shorts to feel just how wet you were for her.

Still got it, she thinks to herself.

“ I didn’t even do much to you baby and your pussy is soaked,” she smirks and you moan as she continues to tease you. It won’t take long for you to cum with Rio teasing your pussy combined with her dirty talk. Rio wastes no time in taking off your shorts and underwear before she inserts two fingers into your wet pussy, groaning at the way her fingers go in easily.

“ Maybe next time we do this you can let Mistress eat this pussy,” she says and you let out a long moan,” god just the way your finger are taking me just makes me want to make you cum over and over again”.

It doesn’t take long for you to go over the edge with her fingers going at a fast pace, Rio taking in the sight before her. Praising you as she helps you down from your high, no shame in tasting yourself on her fingers, excited for the text time she might actually be able to taste the real thing from the source.

“Brain feels floaty Rio ,” you mumble to the other woman as she brings you a bottle of water and a small rag to clean you off. You take the bottle with no arguments as she cleans you up. Rio helps you up a bit to help you into your shirt again, internally giggling as how cute you look at her. Looking at her like she was the only person on earth. She felt happy to be seen like that from someone after years of being alone.

“ How you doing baby?” She asks and you mumble as she pulls you closer to her body.

“ Fine,” you yawn ,” sleepy”.

“ Okay baby,” she chuckles,” We can talk tomorrow about us”.

“ I’d love that Rio,” you say before you fall asleep in her arms and Rio falls asleep not long after with a big smile on her face.

#lizs writing #liz thoughts 💭#rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x you #rio vidal fanfic #rio vidal smut #agatha all along fanfic

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sturniololuvz · 3 months ago

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can you do one for like matts suprise for the tour and he decided to surpise people by telling them hes a dad to a 1 year old girl?

i actually love your fics too ive re read them so many times xxx

thank you!

“You’re About To Meet My Everything”

Setting: Surprise Party Tour – Matt’s night

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader (implied), featuring their 1-year-old daughter

Vibe: Heart-melting, soft, fluffy, proud dad Matt energy

⸻

The crowd was buzzing, energy vibrating through the room after an especially wild bit in the Q&A.

Nick wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. “Alright, alright—Matt, it’s your turn, bro. You got the surprise tonight.”

Chris smirked knowingly, already in on it, and Nick added with a teasing grin, “He’s been lowkey nervous about this all week, don’t let him lie.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck and stepped forward, mic in hand. “Yeah… okay. So, this one’s different.”

The energy in the room shifted. Everyone leaned in.

“This tour’s been all about surprises, right? And we’ve told stories and done challenges and everything…” He paused, glancing at Nick and Chris with a quick smile before facing the crowd again. “But I wanted to share something that means everything to me. Literally.”

He took a breath.

“I’m a dad.”

The reaction was instant. Screams. Gasps. A full wave of shocked, high-pitched sound.

He laughed through the chaos. “Yeah. I know. Wild. But… she’s the best thing in my life. She’s one year old. And she’s literally my twin. Blonde hair, blue eyes, already got the stubborn attitude.”

The crowd laughed with him, some fans clapping, some tearing up.

“I kept it private for a long time,” Matt went on. “Me, my girlfriend Y/N, and my daughter… we just wanted time to be a family, without the internet. But I think it’s time now. I wanna bring you guys into that part of my life.”

The screen behind him lit up with a photo: Matt holding a little blonde girl on his shoulders, both of them grinning, matching blue eyes and crooked smiles.

The crowd went feral.

“She’s actually here tonight,” Matt added, grinning. “So uh… I’m gonna go get her.”

He handed the mic off to Nick and jogged off stage as the crowd screamed louder.

⸻

Backstage…

Y/N—Matt’s girlfriend—was standing off to the side, holding their daughter on her hip. The little girl’s hair was in tiny blonde pigtails, sticking out on each side like baby antennae, and her blue eyes widened when she saw her dad.

“Dada!” she squealed, squirming in your arms.

“There’s my girl,” Matt smiled, taking her gently and lifting her up into his arms. She immediately clung to his hoodie, babbling happily.

“She heard the crowd and started bouncing,” you whispered, laughing. “She knew something was up.”

Matt looked at the tiny version of himself in his arms—same nose, same eyes, same little dimple—and his chest swelled.

“You ready to meet a lot of people, baby girl?” he whispered to her.

She blinked up at him, then stuck her finger in her mouth and nodded.

Matt kissed her forehead. “You’re about to meet my other family.”

⸻

Back on stage…

Matt walked back out holding her in his arms, and the crowd absolutely lost their minds.

Gasps, screams, full-blown tears. Phones flew up in the air, recording the moment like it was the second coming of Christ.

Chris and Nick stepped aside, both grinning like proud uncles.

“She’s perfect!” someone in the crowd yelled.

Matt held her close, rocking her a little. “Everyone, this is Y/N. My daughter. And the greatest surprise I’ll ever have.”

The little girl blinked at the crowd, then waved with one chubby hand.

The arena collectively melted.

⸻

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 6 months ago

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im desi and i love ur fics sm.... lando watching a bollywood movie with reader and then getting addicted to it. and keeps singing it during race week or his streams? it becomes a whole thing.... please.

thursday nights ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

ׂ╰┈➤ ln x desi!reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

ׂ╰┈➤ fluff + humour ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

masterlist ☾☼

movie nights were a steady part of your relationship. every thursday night, lando and you would pick a movie and watch through those netflix chrome extension thingies. lando insisted on doing it on thursdays, because media day was always way more exhausting for him than the actual races. the two of you took turns every week on choosing the movie. you, being desi, would usually something indian, opting for comedy films to ease lando's mind.

since it was the off season, you and lando were cuddled up on the couch, with your dinner plates balanced on your laps. this thursday, it was your turn, and you had the perfect movie in mind: chennai express. as the title card flashed on the screen, lando glanced at you, intrigued.

"what's this one about?" he asked, pulling his blanket tighter around him.

"okay, so imagine a guy trying to scatter his grandfather's ashes in south india," you began, "and then getting dragged into this wild adventure with a runaway bride. it's hilarious, it's chaotic, and the best part, it has shah rukh khan."

lando raised an eyebrow. "shah rukh khan? isn't he the guy that you had a crush on when you were younger?"

"yes, but also that i would drop you in a second for him," you said, laughing. "he's also the king of bollywood. trust me, you're going to love this."

"not sure how much i'm gonna love a movie with an actor that my girlfriend would drop me in a second for, but okay," he said dryly.

you laughed.

as the film progressed, lando became hooked. the over-the-top action sequences had him in stitches, and he couldn't stop laughing at rahul's antics, especially his attempts to speak tamil. by the time the musical number, "one, two, three, four, get on the dance floor" came on, lando was bobbing his head to the beat. and when he finally heard "lungi dance", the man was dancing in his seat with you, as you laughed.

"these songs are a vibe!" he declared, grinning at you. "why didn't you tell me bollywood music was this catchy?"

"because you wouldn't have believed me until now," you joked.

by the end of the night, lando was humming "lungi dance" nonstop. you had fallen asleep to him humming the song in your ear, but it put a smile on your face regardless.

of course, by the time, the season began again, you had shown lando many bollywood movies. it got a point, where the man had a bollywood songs playlist of his own which he listened to more than he listened to other playlists.

he didn't know all the words, but the few words he could understand, he was always singing them.

when the season began, you accompanied him to the paddock. as you spoke to one of the hospitality team members, you heard him whistling lungi dance quietly under his breath as he waited for his engineer to turn up. it wasn't long before his colleagues took notice.

"lando, what is that?" oscar asked with amusement and confusion.

"oh, it's from this bollywood movie i watched during the break," lando responded nonchalantly, as if that was no big deal. "you gotta see it. it's called chennai express. absolute masterpiece. i'll send you the movie playlist too, but you'll listen to it enough through the wall,"

days later, lando's obsession with bollywood music was a constant joke among the team. fans picked on it in a live stream when lando, trying to be attentive while playing, began belting out the lyrics of tan tana tan tan aloud.

"wait, what are you singing?" max fewtrell joked.

"it's from a bollywood movie. judwaa," lando said, with perfect pronunciation as he was trained by you, grinning sheepishly. "blame my girlfriend. she's got me hooked, mate,"

"is this already in your playlist?" max asked.

"yeah, yeah. you'd know if you listened to it," lando grumbled.

"mate, it's hard for me to listen to music i don't understand the meaning of!"

"excuses, excuses, max. y/n is gonna be sad,"

max groaned, while lando laughed.

the fandom went wild with it. edits of lando grooving to bollywood beats flooded social media and "lungi dance" became the unofficial anthem for his streams. mclaren played along and sent a clip of lando teaching oscar the steps of gallan goodiyan in the paddock which left everyone guffawing.

it also led to millions of desi fans sending their song and movie recommendations to lando. they began to send him challenges for different dance numbers, questioned him about his bollywood playlist, begged him to sing a particular song during the race.

lando had taken to singing some of the songs while he was driving. he'd randomly switch on the radio, and will and andrea would be ready to listen to whatever feedback lando had to offer, and all that lando would do was sing, "one, two, three, four, get on the dance floor, booty shake, booty shake, na na, hard core,"

it made everyone at the mclaren garage and wall burst out laughing.

the interviewers would ask him about it too, and lando would laugh, and offer to watch the movie with them and explain everything the way you had explained to him.

"you've created a monster," lando said to you one day as he settled into bed beside you, where you were watching edits of him singing different bollywood songs.

"you say it as if you don't love it," you replied, putting your phone down and smiling at your boyfriend.

he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, "i do love it,"

you smiled brightly, pulling at his neck to kiss him once more.

"so, what are we watching tomorrow?" he asked, as he pulled away.

"i was thinking something with more action. singham. we could do a movie marathon if we start early, and watch all the movies in that universe,"

"oh fuck yeah," lando said softly, his body buzzing with excitement, even though his eyes were closing.

"i love you," he said in a sleepy haze.

you pecked his lips once, before repeating the words and watching the way lando's lips curled into a smile.

thursday nights had officially become the highlight of his week.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

lemme know what you think! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1

i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305

#lando norris #f1 #formula 1 #ln4 #formula one #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando x reader #lando x you #lando x y/n #lando imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando x desi!reader #lando norris x desi!reader #ln x reader #ln

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forlix · 2 years ago

Text

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes.

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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sturnsdarling · 8 months ago

Text

teenage dirtbags, part three

Skater!matt and overachiever!reader study in the library

vibe check: enemies to lovers au, a lingering look from reader? matt being goofy, bickering, just all the shit we love guys come on

1.6k words

A/N: this is like a filler part before the actual fun bit where they aren't just studying and bickering. ugh i'm sorry its taken me so long to get out a part three i'm so busy with uni. send me ideas for what you wanna see from them because your girl is braindead. also you know i had to make matt a feminist skater boy...being able to yap about philosophy in my fics gives me a little too much joy. anywaysssss i hope you love this

intro, part one, part two, part four

love and cigs, merc

You had told Matt to meet you in the library, not wanting to be in a confined space with him like your room like you had been the last few times you'd studied, being around him was painful enough, you didn't need it to be a private one on one situation every single time.

You were sat, one leg up on the creaky wooden chair with your head tucked in your current read, absent-mindedly twirling a small strand of hair by your ear into a ringlet around your finger. The library is near enough silent, the only sounds being that of a whirling printer and a few whispers from people doing joint projects a few tables over.

The serenity of the building was quickly interrupted by an obnoxious slam of the giant stain glass doors, one hitting the door frame after the other. Everyone in the room turned to look at the noise with a scowl, and the loud crash was followed by a small 'sorry'. You were torn from your book, only to be met with the apologetic frame of Matt, shuffling through the tables, his board in hand and an apologetic look, that was hiding a boyish grin, spread on his face.

you couldn't help but roll your eyes as he sauntered over to you, not a care in the world as he loudly placed all his belongings on the old, shiny oak table you were sat at.

"wussup, y/l/n" Matt said, shocked that you were already here, "am I late?" he said.

you looked at the gold, vintage watch on your wrist with a deadpan face, "only three minutes" you said, looking back to him, "lets get started" you pulled your notes for him out your bag, spreading everything out on the table.

"Jesus, not a minute to waste, huh?" Matt chuckled, sitting down opposite you and getting his notebook out, followed by all the readings you had assigned him.

"I'd like to cut the amount of time I have to be seen with you in public down to a minimum so, yeah" you said, shooting him a sarcastic smile that he returned.

Matt laid out his books on the table, all five of them riddled with little sticky notes and tabs, seeming to be very throughly annotated and read. You scanned his collection, you only assigned him three, albeit they were the heaviest with the dark green tabs you had given him, but not only had he actually done what you'd asked, he did more.

A small smile attempted to form on your lips but you quickly reminded yourself of your distaste and forced your face muscles into compliance.

"I, um, I liked this one a lot, she seems like she knows what she's talkin' about" Matt said, picking up Simone De Beauvoir's little red book and scanning it quickly.

"Beauvoir was one of the first modern philosophers I read, she's pretty cool" You nodded, focused on the hundreds of tabs in the pages, "you annotated these really thoroughly" you picked up his copy on Fanon, fanning through the pages and creating a little wind tunnel in front of your face.

"you asked me to" Matt said non-chalantly, shrugging.

You caught his eye line and let a downwards smile form on your face, raising your brows quickly before tearing your eyes from his.

You and Matt got right to it, going over everything he had written previously and cross referencing it with all the new content he had consumed. His approach was near enough perfect now it just needed its 'meat and potatoes', as Matt would say, and he was good to go.

It was nice, being able to talk to someone about philosophy in a way that wasn't just them trying to prove that they knew more than you, helping Matt study was easy and, despite the company, a nice break from the dick slinging competition your degree often felt like.

"I think I want to make Beauvoir more central to my point" Matt said, "I feel like this whole concept of 'the Other' can be applied to further corners of society and... I kinda wanna try" His final words came out more nervous than the rest, as if he lost faith in himself half way through.

"okay" You nodded, pulling out your own copy of Beauvoir and flitting through the pages, "you can definitely do that" you nodded with a shrug, not looking at the way his face lit up in response to your confidence in him.

You and Matt spent the next few hours reading basically every bit of text the library had on Beauvoir, silently flicking through everything she'd ever written, trying to find the perfect point. Matt was man spreading on his chair, back low against the seat as his leg bounced at a rapid pace against the old, dusty blue carpet, his fingers effortlessly twirling a highlighter in circles as he lost himself in the tattered book in his hand.

You were cross legged across from him, head hung low on its hinge as you chewed on the end of your pen, scanning through applications of Beauvoir, trying to find something that hadn't been said, and hoping Matt was smart enough to say it.

You knew he was, he wasn't an idiot, he just never tried. It was infuriating, how despite his complete lack of effort, he was still always on the podium with you, taunting you with his effortless wit and intelligence.

"can you stop shaking your leg" You said, growing more irritated by his movements by the second

Matt looked up from his book, "it helps me focus" he said, still shaking his leg.

"its annoying" you said, huffing and placing your feet on the floor

"more annoying than your little incoherent mumbles?" Matt said, cocking his head to the side

you slammed the book shut in your lap, "what are you talking about?" you screwed your face up at him

Matt chuckled and shifted in his chair, "so maybe if we, actually no, oh actually what about, hmm, no that won't work" Matt mumbled, mimicking you down to the pen in his mouth. Once he had finished his performance, he looked back to you with a smug smile

"I don't do that" you scoffed, looking him up and down

"yeah, you do" Matt nodded

"no, I don't" you pushed, tone growing more annoyed by the second.

"yes, you do" an unfamiliar voice sounded from beside you, a stranger, joining Matts side

You immediately turned your head to shoot him a dirty look, returning your attentions to Matt, his lips tight in a smile as he lazily pointed at the stranger as if to say 'told ya'

you rolled your eyes with a deep sigh, pulling your legs back up under you as you opened you book in a strop. Matt smirked, biting down on the end of his pen with a small shake of his head.

"nothing to say, y/l/n?" Matt taunted

"just read your book, Matt" you snapped, looking him up and down once more.

Matts eyes widened slightly as his smug smile grew on his face,

"yes ma'am" he said, sarcastically as he returned to his book, no longer shaking his leg.

You both returned to silence, losing track of time in your selected readings. Matts legs were crossed over one another on the table, creating a small bridge between the surface and his chair. He had taken his beanie off, exposing his fluffy brown hair that fell in a perfect yet messy middle part. A toothpick hung from his lips as he once again twirled a pen round his fingers, unable to just simply read without doing at least something. You were tucked up in a ball on your chair, back against where your ass should go and legs hung over the arm rest slightly as you held yet another text above your face, mumbling to yourself.

You caught yourself mid mumble, and it tore your attentions from your reading. You shifted in your seat, looking over to Matt, who was perfectly illuminated by the green table light, his bright blue eyes flitting over the lines on the page. You let your gaze linger on his mouth for a moment, watching how he let the toothpick dance over his teeth, guiding it with his tongue.

As if he could feel you looking at him, he locked eyes with you, his head and body unmoving. You quickly looked away and soon noticed that everyone in the library had begun to filter out one by one, leaving you the only people in there other than the librarian.

"we should go" you cleared your throat, sitting up completely.

Matt looked around, seeing all the lights other than yours turned off and hearing the jingle of keys from the librarian getting ready to lock up.

"why?" Matt said

"because the library is closing?" you said, explaining it to him in the tone you would a five year old.

Matt deadpanned at your condescending tone, tilting his head slightly, "I know that, dickhead, what I mean is, lets stay"

"but the library is closing..." you said, cocking your eyes to the side.

Matt let out a short chuckle and shook his head, collecting all his things messily and getting up, "come on" He said, ducking into the darkness of the towering stacks of books.

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mmogurl · 9 months ago

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Last to Fall Chapter 1 - My Demons

18+ | 10k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Maid / Dragonseed Reader | miserable, alcoholic, often dissociative, needs comfort Aegon | virgin reader, maiden, emotional abuse, first time sex, P in V, smut, wholesome, fluff, this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

This fic is heavily inspired by the infamous 'Nothing' scene with Aegon and Alicent. Her cold words and the way she lashes out really bothered me and I felt a strong need to stand up for him, protect, and console him. So that's really what this whole fic is about. Enjoy! Also went with a lot of musical vibing for this story. I started off listening to Collective Soul's Heavy, because I imagine it as Aegon's state of mind in the opening scene towards everyone and everything happening. And by the end we transition into Starset's Last to Fall - and the title of the fic. I know, I'm a sappy mf.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

Retroactive update 10/29/24: I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall) which was originally going to be a oneshot and got extended. I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - My Demons adding onto the two songs I already referenced here - but this one just felt so perfect!

Complicate this world you wrapped for me I'm acquainted with your suffering

All your weight it falls on me It brings me down All your weight it falls on me It falls on me

~Collective Soul - Heavy

—You

You have worked in the castle for as long as you can remember, always hearing the whisperings of the chamberlain, the laundress, and any other keep staff prone to gossip, that you were the late king’s bastard. There were always underhanded comments of jealousy uttered in your direction, like ‘It must be nice to have a king’s blood runnin’ through yer veins... To have yer needs met for life.’ In truth, you were worried that the Queen Dowager might see fit to dispose of you now that her husband had passed.

So far, it seems your fair looks, expertise, and agreeable demeanor has secured your position, at least for the time being, but you are not so naive as to think that will last forever.

You tended to King Viserys for six summers, and with his death you’ve been reassigned to serve the new Protector of the Realm, Aegon II Targaryen. You are mildly concerned about this development considering the rumors you’ve heard about the young prince over the years. Drinking and philandering to excess, he was rumored to be a true hedonist, only taking satisfaction when drowning himself in pleasure. It is for this very reason, that you’re surprised by your observations of your new lord within the first weeks of your employ as his chambermaid and general attendant.

You find he spends a lot of time sitting in near darkness with barely a couple candles lit in his room at night, kept company only by a carafe of wine and wearing a disassociated look on his face that could be taken for misery if it didn’t appear so apathetic in nature. It was as though he were actively trying to force himself into a mold that he would never fit into. This became even more apparent as you witnessed more of his interactions with his family, especially his mother and grand-sire. It seemed they were constantly trying to orchestrate the ruling of the Seven Kingdoms, nitpicking at every little decision Aegon made, pulling his strings just like a puppet.

You had listened from the sidelines of the Great Hall as the Hand second-guessed the king’s rulings. Even when the Aegon tried to embrace his seat upon the Iron Throne, he was made impotent by those not fit to govern. You could do nothing but stand by helplessly in saddened silence when he suffered the loss of his eldest son to assassins, while Otto Hightower forced him to parade young Jaehaerys’ corpse to the public along with his grief-stricken sister-wife, Helaena.

Day by day, your heart was beginning to ache for the emptiness you saw growing behind his amethyst eyes. And yet still he tried on most days to put a positive foot forward, even if by nightfall he usually turned back to engulfing his sorrows in drink. You couldn’t even blame him really given the complete lack of moral and emotional support the king had to endure.

This feeling of compassion built within you, until one day it peaked to a head as you made your way to Aegon’s chambers with fresh linens in hand, ready to fulfill your afternoon chores. You passed several Kingsguard as you made your way down the hall and paused outside the king’s rooms as you heard voices coming from within. The two white cloaks standing watch at the open threshold glanced at you in warning, so you simply waited with folded bedsheets in hand for the opportunity to complete your duties.

You knew you should not listen, but it was hard to ignore the distressed voice of the king from within, met by the indifferent attitude of the Queen Dowager. Oh no, you think to yourself sympathetically, she is at it again. It really did seem that tearing Aegon down piece by piece was not only a habit for his mother, but something she relished in.

“Do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom,” Alicent’s voice echoed out against the vaulted ceiling of the room, her voice patronizing and condescending. “Those men at your council table earned their seats. It was my hope that once enthroned you would honor the burden of your new duties, be silent, and strive to learn from the more studied minds around you. In the hope that you might be half the king your father was…”

You tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat at hearing such baleful words. The king was not responding, and you could just imagine the pained look of agony that Aegon was sure to be wearing under the constant criticisms he faced as of late.

“Tread carefully,” you heard him say, barely carrying enough volume to hear from where you stood. You found yourself holding back a smile at that, happy that he was standing up to her for once. But, that only incensed the Queen Dowager more, her thirst to harm not yet quenched.

“Or what?” she says with venom coating her tongue. “You’ll hang me, as you did your rat catchers? Or have me banished as you did your Hand? I ruled in your father’s absence throughout his long illness, and Otto Hightower was as cunning a statesman as ever lived. You should humbly be seeking our opinions and counsel. You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne.”

You shook your head, unsure how any mother could ever speak to her child in such a manner, let alone to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it bothered you so because you had never known the tenderness of a mother’s love, but had spent many a daydream imagining what it might be like. With your idealistic and sometimes naive mind, you wanted to think that there was more love out there in the world than this, especially within the royal family. You wanted better for the young king you had grown to feel so protective of in such a short amount of time.

Aegon’s next words break your train of thought, “Wha-“ he started with an exasperated tone, “What would you have me do, Mother?”

“Do simply what is needed of you,” she replied and the frosty chill of her cold voice was evident even from the corridor. “Nothing.”

You feel tears well up in the corners of your eyes and try your best to ignore them. It was important as part of the castle staff to never appear to be listening, to always remain professional, but it wasn’t always possible when one was witness to such cruelty.

Quickly, you wipe the errant tears away as the Queen Dowager exits her son’s apartment, walking swiftly with a scowl on her face. With the king now alone in his chambers, you nod to the guards and head inside, pausing to close the doors behind you lest Aegon had wont of some privacy.

As you turned to face the room, the king sat off to the side of his table, leaning against the back of a chair, his head resting upon his hands in defeat. He did not stir as you entered and so you cleared your throat to let yourself be known. Aegon still made no move and so this time you spoke up.

“Your Grace, might I change the linens? Or should I come back later?” you ask, your voice hesitant, but filled with understanding.

He finally lifts his head, glancing at you for a moment before returning his attention to the nearly empty decanter of wine on the table.

“Fetch me some more wine instead,” he demands sullenly, and to this you nod and hurry off to fulfill his request. After what you’d heard him endure, you’d do just about anything to cheer him up now.

With a speed you did not think yourself capable, you retrieved, not just one, but two pitchers of strongwine for the king and prepared a small platter of snacks for him as well, consisting of cheese, crackers, figs, and grapes. You hoped he’d be pleased with your thoughtfulness, and sure enough, he did perk up a little at the sight of the tray you presented on the table before him.

Aegon got to his feet, walking around the chair he’d been leaning against and sitting in it instead. You filled his chalice and placed it before him, wearing an exaggerated smile upon your face, anything to lighten the onerous mood. The king surprises you when he actually notices, his composure faltering as he looks upon your benevolent countenance.

“Did you hear all of that then?” he asks, his jaw clenching slightly as he peers down at the crimson fluid within the cup before him.

“It is not my business, Your Grace,” you answer softly, not wanting to sound cold, but knowing it is not your place to comment on such things. “But, if I can do anything, or get anything more for you. Please just ask.”

“I never wanted to be be king, you know,” Aegon says abruptly, picking up the chalice and swirling the wine around inside it. “They hunted me down, forced me to be crowned… And yet, Mother tells me I do not deserve it, even though she has placed me upon the throne herself.”

You flounder with your words, uncertain of how to reply. Should you even say anything at all? Perhaps he just wants someone to listen who won’t respond with a scathing rebuke.

“She spoke of the rat catchers, bringing up the death of my eldest son as though it were nothing to me,” he continues without your input, staring into the contents of his chalice as though it might hold some insight. “She treats me as though I am nothing.”

He finally takes a long swig of the cup, emptying most of it in one gulp. Aegon sets it down on the table with a clatter of metal and wood, an almost despondent look on his face as he adds, “Perhaps I am nothing.”

“Your Grace, no! That is not true!” the words slip out, unable to hold back your feelings at his self-denigration. You immediately cover your mouth with startled surprise, knowing that you’ve overstepped.

Aegon halts, his shoulders tensing as his eyes drift up to you and his brow furls downwards in confusion. He regards you in earnest for what feels like the first time ever, his discerning gaze sweeping from your face, down to your skirts and back up again, sizing you up. “What would you know of it?”

You bite your lip anxiously, unsure of how to proceed, even though it seems by now that you’ve already gone past the point of returning to obscurity. Ultimately, you decide that if you’re going to lose your position within the Red Keep, that you’d prefer to let the king know how you feel first.

“I have seen how determined you are,” you say quietly, a lack of confidence in your voice as you address the king. “Even though it is obvious how much hardship you must abide.”

“I am the king. I do not abide anything,” he replies gruffly, but there’s no tooth in the words.

“Of course, Your Grace,” you reply as you cast your eyes downward, your posture stiffening as you stand more upright, waiting for the hammer of discipline to fall.

There is a pervasive silence that hangs heavy in the expansive chamber as you wait for the king to cast his verdict. Does he intend to overlook your impertinence or will he punish you severely?

You hear the trickle of liquid pouring and then the glass carafe clattering against the wood of the table. The sound of swallowing is audible, followed by Aegon’s lips smacking softly as he puts the chalice back down.

“Come here, girl,” he says suddenly in a low monotone.

You look up once more, hesitating; your eyes questioning as you try to understand his intentions, his expression inscrutable.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” he reiterates, his tone a little more firm, yet without the sound of malicious intent. “Come here.”

You gulp and step gingerly towards Aegon, standing before him as he sits in the high-back chair. “Yes, Your Grace?” you ask with an uncertain look on your face.

The king startles you when he turns his chair to face you, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you towards him in one fluid motion. Before you even realize what is happening, Aegon has his face buried against your stomach while his fingers dig into the fabric of your dress at the small of your back.

For a moment you stand there frozen in shock, your arms out as if in surrender, unsure of how to respond or interpret this intimate gesture. But then, you feel his shoulders shake quietly, and it's that movement that clues you in to the nature of the king's actions. He is crying, albeit in his own restrained way.

Slowly, you lower your hands down, one resting on his back as the other smooths his white locks back against his scalp. You can feel him melt into your affectionate touch, his entire body slumping forward even as he continues to whimper quietly into your apron.

“Shh,” you say softly, trying to comfort him in a way that feels somehow natural to you despite the gap in caste. “It will be alright.” You are not fully convinced that it will be, but the young king needs some reassurance and you know you are the only one likely to give it to him.

You have secretly longed for a moment such as this to occur for awhile now, wishing you had the opportunity to provide the king with some semblance of reprieve. When you served Viserys, he never seemed very troubled, and was almost willfully ignorant to the problems that plagued his family. Aegon on the other hand, was tormented not only by his mother, but by the pressure he put on himself to please everyone, which was an impossible feat.

To soothe Aegon now and hold him in your arms, felt like putting one of the many wrongs he’d endured right, even if it was only a small fraction of what the man was owed.

Your fingers rake through his wavy tresses and you feel a surge of raw emotion as you tend to the king’s needs in a way you never imagined you would. Soon, his shaky breaths and silent tears begin to cease, replaced by sniffles as you continue to soothe him in the way his mother should have been for all of these years. You can sense his reluctance to leave your embrace, but there’s also a shame weighing heavy in the air for confiding such weakness in a simple chambermaid.

He nuzzles his eyes against the fabric of your dress, wiping his tears on the brown cloth before he abruptly pulls away and clears his throat. Aegon avoids looking directly at you, embarrassment evident in his now red and puffy eyes. He lets out a heavy sigh and you’re left feeling quite dumbfounded as he turns back to his wine.

For a long moment there is a tense and overwhelming silence, the only sounds present in the room are the soft pouring of wine into Aegon’s chalice and the glass clinking as he sets the carafe down.

You stare at the side of his face, feeling a knot form in your stomach at the growing distance. It’s as if he’s punishing you for witnessing his vulnerability, desperate to maintain the barrier between king and servant. Despite his aversion, you can’t help but feel the significance of what you shared, the way he pulled you in and how good it felt to hold him close.

The quiet stretches on, Aegon now occupied with emptying his cup as if trying to fill the void with drink. He speaks up once more, his tone now devoid of any traces of the exposed emotion you just viewed.

"That will be all," his words are devoid of any warmth or familiarity. "I don't need anything more from you tonight." Aegon’s fingers tremble subtly as he brings his glass to his lips, betraying his cold facade.

“Your Grace,” you say in acceptance of his decision, bowing your head to show deference. You turn and glance at the linens still stacked on top of the king’s bed and fret for a moment that you will get in trouble for not fulfilling your duties and changing the sheets. “Should I change the bedsheets before I leave?”

Aegon doesn’t even turn to face you, his eyes fixed on his chalice. His expression is closed off, distant, as he responds with a simple grunt of confirmation.

“Yes, yes. Do whatever it is you usually do,” he mutters dismissively, his voice lacking any real feeling. He lifts his cup to his mouth once more, drowning himself in the bitter taste of the wine.

You nod with the typical words of respectful assent and begin making the bed as you always do, except this time it feels different. Today you flew so very close to the sun and felt your skin bask in its heat. The absence of that warmth now leaves you feeling chilly, an overwhelming nothing replacing the typical humdrum of your chores. You can feel his presence in the room like a beacon calling you to shore, but you dare not approach him again.

When you finish your task, you leave the king’s chambers without saying a word, closing the door behind you as silently as you can.

For the next few days, the typical royal indifference that Aegon shows you is substituted for complete and utter disregard. He at least showed you a degree of quiet appreciation before, but now it seems he’s going out of his way to make it known that you do not exist to him. Aegon always keeps his eyes turned from you and makes no acknowledgment of your proximity, giving the impression that you are little more than a ghost.

Gone is the care-free spirit that the king usually possesses, always trying to pretend that he is happier than he actually is, at least when you are around him. It seems that Aegon erects a wall of guarded apathy the moment he becomes aware of you, sometimes so severe that you can actually see him transition into a frown at your approach.

You find yourself slinking around quietly whenever you must occupy his room at the same time that he is present. The mornings are especially tense, when you must bring breakfast and fresh wash water for his basin. Sometimes, you feel his eyes on you when you’re preoccupied with adding wood to and stoking the fire, but you try your best to ignore it since you can’t make heads or tails of his behavior.

For the most part, you attempt to finish the majority of your duties once the king has left for the day and not before that point. You hope that in time, the king will forget about what transpired between the two of you, and that everything will revert back to how it was.

—Aegon

Aegon has made a concerted effort to maintain his frosty disposition towards you. It’s a constant battle between his heart, which secretly admires and yearns for you, and his head, which refuses to acknowledge the vulnerability he allowed you to witness. Even still, he can’t help but feel a slight pang of sadness whenever you try to slip in and out of his chambers undetected, nor can he control the surge of resentment when he feels that he might need you in any way.

The king simply doesn’t know what to make of the tangle of emotions that twist inside of him whenever he sees your face. It’s as if the memory of his shortcomings and your comforting embrace is a fresh wound that refuses to heal. He wants to shove you from his mind, but your image is permanently branded on the backs of his eyelids.

Even his nights have become restless, with no amount of drink or pleasure helping to ease his troubled heart. In fact, he’d already tried visiting one of his favorite brothels, dragging along his drunken friends for the chance to brag at how loud he could make the women scream. He was so distracted by thoughts of you that he couldn’t even stay hard and had to call it a night without release, defeated even by the the carefree abandon of a whore’s cunt.

The only thing that helps him drift off to sleep lately is recalling the moment he shared with you, and imagining how it might have gone differently if he had not pulled away from you. His hand enveloping his rigid cock, stroking it eagerly as he envisions what it would be like to reach under your skirts and feel the heat at the apex of your thighs. The resulting climax is strong, but it always leaves him feeling ashamed and guilty afterwards, as though he’s given into an urge worse than the crudest of debaucheries.

It’s becoming more and more obvious, that no matter how much he denies himself, he wants you in an unbearable way. He wants to reach out to you, wants to apologize and thank you for your soothing care. He wants those arms wrapped around him once again, that gentle hand running through his hair. He wants to confess all of his troubles to you. How he is tired of being treated like a child, of being scolded and slapped around by his mother, and never being taken seriously by his own small council. Aegon wants to hear the solutions you might propose to his growing list of problems, instead of relying on the wine that he drinks to excess more often as the days pass, an answer that he knows is mere avoidance.

And so, the king finds himself at a crossroad, facing a decision that can’t simply remain unsettled. He can either choose to embrace his feelings for you and allow himself the chance of experiencing the compassion he so badly craves, or he can continue to repress those feelings and bury them under the weight of his own self loathing and fear.

At the end of another long and monotonous day, he finds himself sitting at the end of his table in the very same chair where he had shared a moment of weakness with you. He sighs as he pours himself another cup of wine, the burgundy liquid not doing much to take the edge off tonight.

He shivers slightly as gooseflesh erupts over his pale skin. Glancing out the window, he can see that the skies are grayer than usual and that autumn is settling in over King’s Landing. Aegon begins to worry as he considers the already dwindling food supply and the civil war that is ravaging what little they have left. His grand-sire and mother both seem to be ignoring the constant plight of the commonfolk, but he’s spent enough time amongst them to know that revolt might loom on the horizon.

The large wooden doors to his chamber suddenly open and his attention is drawn from the window, snapped to the form now entering the room. It is you, his chambermaid, carrying a bundle of blankets. You stop dead in your tracks as you notice him sitting in the dwindling light of the gloaming hour.

“Sorry to disturb, Your Grace,” you offer sheepishly. “I didn’t know you had already retired for the day.”

Aegon turns his chair outwards, sitting sideways as he leans an elbow against the table and lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his favorite sweet Arbor red. He doesn’t acknowledge your apology, and instead regards you with a steadfast gaze as he tries to hide his conflicting feelings.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone tinged with disinterest.

“It’s supposed to be chilly tonight,” you answer with a soft voice. “I wanted to bring you some extra blankets and build the fire up so that you are comfortable.”

“Hm,” he grunts, taking another swig of his wine. He doesn’t respond more than that and simply watches as you begin to lay two massive quilts upon his bed, then approach the fireplace to add more wood and stoke the flames. Even now you were doing your best to take good care of him, doting on him as though he were your very own husband.

He can’t help but discreetly study the shape of your body as you kneel before the mantle, appreciating the way the firelight projects shadows over your kneeling figure. The flickering orange light bounces off your face and he can’t help but notice the softness of your features, the curve of your cheek and lips. As you rise back to your feet and turn to face him, he’s finally made his decision.

Perhaps it is time to lay these fears to rest.

He sighs softly, his shoulders slumping somewhat with the release of breath, as he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Sit,” his word is quiet, almost a whisper.

You look at him perplexed as though you did not hear him properly, an apprehension soon settling in as you hesitate to respond.

There is an air of determination in his eyes as he nods once more, encouraging you to sit. His voice now holds a trace of insistence as he shifts in his seat, sitting upright as he repeats himself. “I said sit.” Aegon points at the empty chair once more, his gesture sharper this time.

You oblige him swiftly at that, taking a seat in the ornately carved high-back chair, your legs are pressed together and your hands fidget awkwardly on your lap. Aegon reaches forward and grabs an empty chalice from the silver tray before him, pouring you a glass of wine.

“Here,” he says, his voice strangely calm in your presence now that he has finally given in to his wishes. He hands you the cup across the table, his fingers brushing against yours for just the briefest of moments. He relishes in the heat of your touch, no matter how fleeting, and offers a clumsy smile. “Have a drink with me.”

You take the chalice reluctantly, the anxiety of such taboo evident in your expression. Aegon knew it was unheard of for the staff to share a drink with members of the royal family, but it was also not typical for the king to be denied anything he desired either.

“T-thank you, Your Grace,” you offer appreciatively.

Aegon settles back into his chair, his posture becoming more relaxed as he spreads his legs. He takes comfort in the fact that no matter how much he has tried to avoid you, that you still humbly show him gratitude. That small act of polite civility has him convinced that what he is attempting will not end in rejection.

He raises his cup and toasts to you, a courtesy which seems so simple and yet holds so much significance when coming from a king. “To your service.” His eyes gleam in the fading light of day, bright with unspoken promise.

“I don’t even know what to say, Your Grace,” you squeak out in embarrassment, your face impossibly red as you direct your gaze away from him.

He can feel his confidence returning as he sees the flush of color bloom on your cheeks. It’s a sign that his attention is not entirely unwelcome, and that thought alone is enough to make his heart beat steadily in his chest.

Aegon leans forward, trying to capture your attention once more, his eyes pleading for you to look at him again. After so much time evading this very situation, he now feels hungry for it.

“You don’t have to say anything at all,” he reassures you, his tone softened but with a hint of authority as he motions for you to drink your wine.

Without wavering, you grasp the heavy brass chalice in your hands and with courage etched in your features, take a long draught of the Arbor red.

As you drink, Aegon raises an eyebrow in mild surprse, watching as you take a rather ambitious swig of strongwine. He finds he’s actually impressed with your ability, and his expression soon transforms into a smirk of amusement.

He takes a sip from his own chalice before setting it back down on the table. “You drink deeper than many of my knights, I can tell you that,” he jests with a good-humored ease, testing the boundaries of this fledgling dynamic.

Your cheeks blush once more although this time it is likely due to the wine as well as your timidity. “This is much better than the swill the staff typically has access to,” you offer almost apologetically, as though it were not proper for you to imbibe in your spare time.

The admission has the corners of his mouth curling into a grin once more, and a breathy laugh escapes his lips. It’s clear now that the two of you are finally making progress, the barrier of propriety quickly falling away as it typically did with drink.

“So you mean to say you enjoy good wine, yes?” he teases lightly, tapping his fingertips against the edge of his cup, his gaze focused on you, eager to see your reaction.

“I am enjoying it, yes,” you say with bright eyes, your guilt beginning to fade away with each sip of sweet wine you take.

Aegon can sense the increased ease in your demeanor, and is delighted by the sight of it. He knows that the alcohol has broken through the tension that’s been building between the two of you for days now and he plans to take full advantage of it, feeling even bolder in his pursuit of you.

“Good,” he replies gladly, feeling content with the newfound freedom he’s allowed himself. “Then have some more,” Aegon adds, his tone light and playful as he pushes the decanter of wine closer to you, encouraging you to fill your own cup. He can feel a pleasant buzzing in his head from the strongwine, and can tell that you aren’t far behind him.

“Is Your Grace trying to get me drunk?” you ask, a surprising riposte that he didn’t expect from you.

The question has Aegon laughing aloud, the sound hearty and full of mirth. He leans closer, sliding his elbow further along the table as he offers you a grin. That little spark of humor you show only heightens his own sense of urgency to be in your arms once more.

The king rests his chin on his fist, and raises a brow at you with a mischievous grin. “And what if I was?” he replies playfully.

“Then I’d have to ask to what aim?” you say holding onto your cup, your finger tracing the circular rim of it.

Aegon’s gaze is drawn to your fingers, following the movement as his pulse quickens. He can hear your question, but it fails to register fully as he’s momentarily lost in a daydream of those same fingers running across his skin. His mouth goes dry and his skin feels hot. He finds he must take another large draught of wine to calm the sudden surge of longing that courses through him.

“Well,” he says, his tone feigning seriousness. “Perhaps I intend to get you drunk so I might take advantage of you.”

Aegon is surprised when you chuckle in response to his daring assertion, having expected more of a demure reaction instead. “You would not have to ply me with wine for that,” you admit, lowering your head slightly as though realizing how direct your words had been a little too late.

His eyes go temporarily wide as he registers your brazen honesty, wondering if he’d even heard you correctly. “Do you jest with your king, girl?” he asks incredulously.

“No,” she offers adamantly, with all the defiance of a loyal hound. “I’m afraid I’d be quite willing.”

“Is that so?” Aegon says more for his own confirmation than to communicate it, his eyebrow raising with dubious intent.

His stiffening cock was becoming uncomfortable in his taut breeches and he couldn’t help but consider the irony that such an innocent encounter had taken on an incredibly sexual nature. The comfort you had offered him becoming like an intoxicating fuel to his loins, making you far more attractive than any other woman could ever possibly be in his eyes.

“And what would you be willing to do in order to satisfy your king?” he prods further, feeling confident that he has the upper hand now. His desire to claim everything you have to offer now undeniable.

“I-I,” you begin to stutter nervously, clearly not expecting such a blunt response from him. “What is it you wish of me?”

Aegon let’s out a sharp huff of delight at the question you pose. To his great joy it seems you truly don’t realize the effect you have over him right now. He stands from his chair, sending it backwards with the backs of his thighs. His legs then carry him around the corner of the table until he’s towering above you, looking down upon your trembling form with a burning hunger.

“The real question is.. What don’t I desire of you?” he poses the question with a lurid tone as he thumbs the neckline of your bodice. “I believe you’ll find me quite insatiable in my needs.”

You’re frozen in his sights, appraising him with frightened doe-eyes, but there is no mistaking the undercurrent of lust also hidden right below the surface. Likely, the only true trepidation you have is the thought of performing such acts out of wedlock, but it seems obvious to Aegon at least, that you should have no concerns when offering your virtue up to a king. And given the poorly state of mind he’s been in as of late and desperate weakness he has for you, it’s possible you might even be assisting in the betterment of the realms.

“You’re speechless,” he hums softly, running the back of his knuckles over your bare collarbone. “Don’t worry, I will do the talking,” he says with a smirk, delighted to hear that he sounds every bit the authoritative ruler he should. “Take my hands,” he commands softly, reaching down as he grasps you and encourages you to rise from your chair.

When you obligingly follow his orders and rise before him, Aegon then guides you, leading you towards the bed. He stops once the backs of your knees hit the wooden frame, which is now padded by many layers of newly laid quilts, and turns you away from him. His hands carefully unfasten your apron, tossing it over the footboard before he starts to work at untying the laces of your dress. He loosens them swiftly until your bodice hangs slack.

He’s very well practiced in the art of removing a woman’s clothing, whether they be a whore, a noblewoman, or even a servant as is your case. Still, he holds a certain fondness for you, a consideration that he does not offer readily to most of his conquests. You have given him something so valuable, a treasure that no other has even thought to bestow upon him, and he means to reward you well for it.

Aegon finally removes your dress, pulling it over your head and placing it on top of the apron. All that remains now is a long sleeved undershirt, a slightly more drab version of the sort all women wore under their dresses. He’d like to rip it from your body, but you’ve stirred up such tenderness within his empty heart that he is loathe to treat you in such a way.

Instead, he turns you to face him once more and takes a step back to regard you. “You truly are beautiful,” he states with a sort of quiet awe. He had never really noticed you before and he most definitely should have. What with your cornsilk blond hair and bright blue eyes. Was he really so oblivious to the people and the world around him that he couldn’t even notice such a stunning, caring maiden working directly under his nose? Had he always been avoiding any state of mental clarity and missed so much in the process of hiding from himself?

You look at him nervously, your body antsy as you shift uneasily, precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

“Sit,” he tells you in a hushed tone, not quite wanting to sound as bossy as he does, but trying to relieve you of your discomfort. He takes another step back once you have complied, his gaze now roaming your body, taking in the sight of you, or at least what he can see in that loose potato sack of a frock you’re wearing. Aegon can definitely make out some of your feminine curves though, the slope of your shoulder incredibly pleasing as is the way your breasts protrude noticeably through the fabric, and so too do your wide hips.

He smiles warmly at you, his eyes taking their time to appreciate the woman before him. He can’t help but ponder in this moment, how he’s never felt this way before, a lust that isn’t just physical in nature, but somehow more genuine. Aegon is no stranger to carnal pleasures and strongly desires to claim you in every way possible. But there is something more present in his heart as well, the wish to hold you close and protect you from the entire world, and to in turn be sheltered by you from the chaos of the Iron Throne.

Aegon decides then that he wants your first time together to be gentle, just as it was when you first came together. He closes the distance between the two of you and reaches out with both hands, grabbing softly on either side of your shoulders. Your soft, supple flesh gives pleasingly beneath his fingers as he guides you to lay down on top of the blankets. As you scoot backwards across the width of the bed, he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction that you were finally in his bed and no longer a fantasy inside his mind.

Once you’ve nestled into the plushness beneath you, he steps back again, his fingers making quick work of removing his woolen doublet. A flush of excitement blooms across his alabaster skin as he makes a show of the action, enjoying the way you watch him with such focused anticipation. He casts the garment to the floor, now removing his boots as swiftly as he can.

With his breeches already half undone and his chest exposed beneath a simple linen shirt, he is gifted with the sight of you lying in his bed in wait. The image is far more pleasant, far more intimate, than any other woman he has ever taken to bed. Your warmth radiates outward like a blazing fire and by now he is desperate to feel your heat directly. He practically rips his undershirt off, flinging it sideways across the covers.

Aegon makes his way back to you, lifting one knee up onto the mattress and crawling over the entire length of your body until he is face to face with you. His hand cradles your jaw tenderly, caressing up and down until his fingers slip up into your long, flowing tresses.

His intense, violet eyes fix upon yours, looking for any hesitation, but he sees none. It was as though you had been given to him as a gift from the gods, you who always gave and never took from him. There is a vulnerability in his expression that is rarely visible, replacing his usual display of smugness.

He maneuvers his breeches down without much effort, kicking them off once they’re low enough. Now fully settled into the valley of your spread legs, Aegon then grips the hem of your shift, lifting it up your thighs until he feels your body tense. He glances up at you and sees a pang of worry present that is perfectly normal, especially for a maiden.

The king asks the question he’s sure he already knows the answer to. “Have you done this before?”

You shake your head no as a blush of pink covers your cheeks and you bite your lip with pent up longing. Even with your inexperience and worry, he can tell how eager you are regardless. Much like he had been warring with his own thoughts about pursuing more with his chambermaid, you seem torn between your fears and your desires as well.

Aegon smiles sincerely, brushing his thumb gently along your lower lip, before leaning down to give you a chaste kiss. It was a bit of a selfish wish of his that you were untainted by any other man, and a part of him was happy to hear that you were indeed a virgin. It made him revel in delight; knowing you were his alone, that he’d be your first and your last if he had any say in it.

“Relax,” he whispered parting from your lips. “I’ll go slowly.” Aegon gazes at you again, wondering if this is perhaps too much for you, too soon. “That is if you still wish to.”

A look of panic crosses your face, as though you’re worried he might stop. “N-No! I still want to!” you affirm urgently. Your hands wrap around his back, pulling him closer to you, seemingly unwilling to let him go.

The king can barely contain his elation as he presses his forehead to yours, chuckling slightly at your eagerness. His hand slips beneath your undershirt and he slowly strokes the soft skin of your stomach, his fingers grazing over the warm plains of your flesh. Aegon’s breath hitches as he travels higher up your abdomen, finding the pliant curve of your breast.

You moan softly beneath his greedy touch, your body writhing with fervor, and your hips rising impatiently to meet him. Any question he had that you might not be fully keen about this joining was now all but diffused by your enthusiasm.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he teases playfully, feeling a sense of satisfaction at how responsive you are to his touch. He gives your breast a firm squeeze, then teases over the sensitive areola before cupping the whole mound again. His cock throbs painfully against the mattress, still bound by his smallclothes and yearning to sink into your heat.

His pulse pounds with expectation, finally feeling a sense of relief from the pent up desire he’s held for you all of this time. Aegon removes his hand from under your shift, propping himself up on the bed as he reaches down to unlace his braie. His hand brushes against your core in the process and he shivers at the feel of how wet you already are for him.

With his stiff length finally freed, he ventures a finger along your folds, growling at the silky slickness of your center. “Gods,” he utters with a groan. His cock twitches with need as he tests the tightness of your cunny, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he imagines thrusting into you with his thick member instead of his digit.

“Are you ready for me, girl?” he asks eagerly, the question a soft inquiry as well as a warning of the impending pain his intrusion is likely to cause. At this point, he feels more like a lovesick boy than the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, his suspense heavy as he drapes your leg around his his hip, opening you more to him. He positions his head at your entrance and presses himself closer to you.

You nod, never taking your eyes off of him as you wrap your hands around his back. Aegon rests his weight on his elbows, covering you completely as he kisses you with tenderness. He tries to express everything he feels for you with actions instead of words, his lips hungrily devouring yours with passion. Without breaking the kiss, he begins to ease into you slowly, immediately feeling the resistance of your still in tact virtue.

His arms slide down, gripping your hips on each side tightly as his chest presses into yours. You let out a whimper into his mouth as he breaches your depths, your thighs clenching against his body at the sharp pain of his invasion. It doesn’t take long for you to relax again, your walls suddenly more welcoming as the sting subsides.

Aegon parts from your lips, pulling back slightly so he can look down at you. A smirk forms on his face as he sees your lurid expression and he begins to move, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm. His hands slide down to your thighs, spreading them further apart as he thrusts himself deeper inside you. He groans with overwhelming pleasure at the feel of you, his head falling forward as he picks up the pace.

He kisses you again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as he continues to move inside of you. His tongue dances with yours as he begins to lose control, his hips snapping against you with intensity. Aegon can feel his release approaching quickly, unable to hold back for much longer, he tries to hasten you along to satisfaction. His hand slides up your shift once more, squeezing your breast and tweaking your delicate nipple until it pebbles between his fingers.

You squirm under him, incapable of holding still as he drives into you with increased enthusiasm. The king grinds his hips into you relentlessly, grimacing at the way your walls tighten around his cock like a vice. Aegon’s grip on your tit becomes harder, flipping between gripping and tweaking your sensitive nipple. His lips withdraw abruptly, his mouth searching out your other breast and nipping it through your undershirt.

He grins against the cloth as you cry out loudly, your body rigid as your climax rolls over you and soon he can feel it wash over his length as well. But, he can’t take it anymore, not how tight you are or how creamy your release feels on his tender cockhead. It’s all too much and within a moment he is gripping hard to your flesh and burying himself deep within you, his spend erupting in spurts from his pulsing member.

“Fuuuccck,” he growls out, his hands finding their way beneath your back and pulling you towards him securely, trying to get even closer if that was at all possible.

You pant below him, trying to catch your breath as little spasms continue to twitch throughout your back and your thighs tremble against his hips. A warm, blissful calm settles over him as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply of your scent. He feels pleasantly dizzy, his heartbeat finally slowing as the haze of lust subsides.

Aegon sighs into your ear, the tone content and relaxed. “That was incredible,” he murmured softly, his voice low as he gently runs his hand along the side of your cheek.

“It was,” is all you can manage to say, your breath still a bit ragged as you try to come down from the high.

Your hand finds its way into his white hair again, brushing up against the nape of his neck and causing him to shiver. He’s once again reminded of the shared encounter that started all of this and he’s overcome with a fondness that makes his chest ache.

Aegon feels closer to you in every possible way now and isn’t keen on the idea of parting from you, but he can feel his cock softening and the mess beginning to pool on the sheets. So he slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto the bed at your side. He grabs one of his stray garments without looking, probably his smallclothes or maybe his shirt, and cleans up his seed from you first and then himself.

He adjusts towards the head of the bed, resting on his side against the pillows and reaching out for you to join him as he scuttles under the covers. “Come here,” he says softly, pained by the loss of her warmth.

As you get up and crawl towards him, he scoops you up into his arms. Aegon holds you close, his chin resting against the top of your head as he wraps the quilts around your form and presses himself tighter against your back. The king can no longer deny the depth and the power of his feelings for you as you cuddle in his arms. There’s a sense of deep security and comfort welling up within him, but any words seem inadequate in this moment.

Aegon kisses your temple, the doting gesture unlike anything he’s bestowed upon a lover before. “I think I’m going to sleep quite well tonight,” he muses into your hair, still cradling you in his arms.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to stay with you? In your chambers?” you ask quietly with seemingly no clue how ridiculous he thinks you sound for asking such a thing.

His mouth twitches into a small smile and he lifts his chin to press another kiss into your hair.

“Of course. I’m the king. I can do whatever I want,” he quips playfully, his voice sounding drowsy and relaxed as he settles into the plushness of the bed. “Now, come. Get your rest. You’re going to need it.” There is a gentle warning present in his tone that you do not seem to catch, that he intends to have more of you in the morning.

You nod, twisting your back towards the mattress until you’re facing him. The expression you give him is enough to make his heart melt, those big, blue eyes like deep pools filled with bottomless love and devotion. You wrap your hand behind his neck and pull him close for a kiss, a request he’s more than happy to oblige.

Your mouth is sweet and hot against his and he can’t help but to lick the line of your lower lip before parting from you. Aegon settles you back into place, his chest enveloping your smaller frame as he holds you possessively. He feels such solace in the close proximity of your body, his limbs toasty warm as he falls into a deep state of relaxation. He’s not even aware of when the moment he falls asleep, it happens so quickly.

—Aegon

When the first light of day streams through the window, Aegon finds his eyes drifting open and then closing again, not sure of what time it is, but too comfortable to want to move. His back feels incredibly warm with the slight dampness of sweat and he opens his lids once more to see your arm wrapped over his chest. He can feel your hot breath at his neck now that he’s paying attention fully and your leg slotted between his.

Aegon’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, basking in the near domestic feel of waking up like this with someone he actually cares for. He takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours as he rests his own arm on top of yours.

He tries to settle into his pillow once more, nuzzling his backside into you further and bending his knees more deeply. The peace is short lived though as the doors to his chamber fling open and he hears the startled gasp of a woman. It couldn’t be just any woman, like perhaps another maid come to clean his room in place of the one that never showed up for work. No, it had to be his mother, of all the people he did not wish to see this morning.

The king whips his head over his shoulder and squints in the direction of the door. His mother stands there with a hand over her mouth, frozen in horrified disbelief as though she’d just seen a ghost. Aegon grits his teeth, sitting up with a jolt, forced to realize just how compromising this situation must look with the way he was tangled in bed naked with you.

“No, no, no, no, no, Aegon!!” she practically screams at him and the sound jars you from your slumber. He wishes you could have stayed asleep, to have escaped the madness of his family for just a little longer.

Alicent picks up her skirts so she can walk swiftly around the bed and to his side, standing there with a judgmental sneer. “This is just like Diana, isn’t it!?” she cries hysterically. “Isn’t it!?” his mother prods him further.

Aegon looks back, catching your shifting uneasiness from his peripheral vision, then turns to his mother again, suddenly feeling very protective of you. You are innocent in all of this and should be afforded the ability to wake up from your first time making love in some semblance of calm, not to one of his mother’s outbursts. And of course the first thought she would have of him was that he had raped yet another servant girl. His mother was blissfully ignorant of everything he had done as a young man, except for the acts she felt the need to berate him for, even though she had never been around to offer any kind of proper guidance.

He lets out a groan of exasperation, running his fingers through his mussed hair and tries to think of an answer that might satisfy his fuming mother, but he knows this is a lost cause.

“No,” he denies, shaking his head as he avoids eye contact with her. There is no conviction in his tone, but it’s not like she would ever believe a thing he said on the matter.

“So it was consensual then?” the Dowager Queen asks glaring past Aegon and looking straight at you.

He glances to his side and sees you nod, but interrupts before you can say anything more. “You do not have to explain yourself to her,” he says in a much softer voice, trying to shield you from his mother.

“So, she’s just another one of your tramps then!” Alicent hisses with disgust. “Is it so hard for you to keep your hands off the staff? Can’t be bothered to go into the city anymore, you need to make sure you find your pleasure within the walls of the Red Keep?” Her words are vitriolic and hateful without any attempt to understand the situation.

“I should have gotten rid of your father’s little bastard when I had the chance. I should have known better that she would be too pretty for you to resist, but I was assured that the girl’s skills were tantamount to any risk,” she continued on her tirade, barking out every spiteful dagger she could think of.

“What of your wife!? How can you carry on like this!? Oblivious to the people you hurt!?” the Queen Dowager prattled on, not waiting for an answer, but seemingly wanting to preach her conclusions endlessly.

“You know Helaena’s fallen deep into sadness ever since Jaehaerys died. Ever since you forced her to endure that disgusting funeral procession through the streets of the city.. And it’s not like we ever had a deep connection even before that, Mother.” Aegon’s voice was bitter, resentful. He was sick and tired of this farce of familial love when she barely ever showed him any hint of it.

He’s incredibly shocked when he hears you speak up, your voice quiet, but accusing, even defensive, “You’re one to talk, Queen Dowager. You hurt Aegon more than any other.”

“How dare you! You insolent wretch!” his mother didn’t hesitate to bite back, her acrimony potent in the air. “You can consider your employ here ended. Gather your belongings and leave!” she looked at you impatiently, as though expecting you to stand immediately and go. “Now!” she snarled, her nose crinkled with anger.

“No,” the king interceded on your behalf, stilling you with his hand on your hip. “You will not go anywhere.”

“She absolutely will go! This is not acceptable behavior for any chambermaid in the employ of the royal family!” Alicent was insistent, with no sign of backing down, but Aegon had enough of this contest of wills.

“Mother!” he bellowed at her furiously, finally snapping back at her with conviction. “I am the king and you will obey me!”

That finally got her attention, for the first time in his entire life he saw a flash of fear in his mother’s eyes and it only emboldened him to continue.

“You will not do a thing to this girl. She is under my protection,” he added, his ruling absolute. “And if I find that you have touched her, hurt her in any way, then I will have you hung. Just like the rat catchers.”

Aegon’s lips curl upwards in smug satisfaction, finally realizing a fraction of the true power he held as sovereign of the realms. His mother did not respond, regarding him with silent malice, her glare ever testing the limits to see if he truly meant it. When she saw that he did, his mother backed down, her shoulder slumping slightly as she relented, but not before getting one last dig in.

“Very well, My King,” she mocked with false sincerity, giving him a sarcastic curtsy. “I will leave you to your dalliances. I should know better than to interrupt a man having his fun.” She left in a flurry of resentment, slamming the door behind her with a loud thud.

No matter how furious he was with his mother, she still remained his parent, the woman who gave him life, whom he loved and had once revered above all else. Even this victory he had over her felt hollow, and he realized that even when he won, he still lost in one way or another.

He turned to you, his expression a mix of concern and tenderness. Aegon stroked gently at the side of your cheek, wanting to make you feel safe again after you’d been forced to tolerate the full brunt of his mother’s wrath. He found you to be more resilient than he’d ever expected, already sitting up and staring at him with a knowing look upon your face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say softly and almost instantly he feels something within his chest fracture.

It might have been the facade he always wore cracking, how he always projected an image of indifferent merriment so none would know how truly miserable he was. It might even have been the very fact that you had suffered insults by associating with him and yet you were still concerned about his well being.

Aegon can feel tears welling in his eyes and when you spread your arms out towards him, he doesn’t hesitate to crash into you. He buries his face in your comforting bosom and finally allows himself to fall apart in your embrace without shame. It’s probably the safest and most accepted he’s ever felt in his entire life and he knows now that he won’t ever be able to exist without you.

As you rake your fingers through his silvery locks, his tears dwindle until he is left relaxed, sated by your validation that his life is not as easy as everyone might think it is. He listens to your heartbeat as his fingers dig firmly into your back, making sure you can never leave his side. It’s a mercy, that you don’t seem to mind how clingy and needy he is. If anything, you seem born to mend his wounds, a soothing balm to his troubled soul.

You lean back against the pillows and soon Aegon finds himself drifting asleep against you. As his aching eyes begin to close, he can’t help but hope that he never disappoints you. He’s so convinced that he is a failure from the constant disparagements he’s endured throughout his life, that he can’t even fully enjoy you without worrying that he isn’t worthy of you - that you might leave him.

As if reading his mind, your hand massages gently along his scalp, cradling his head closer to your breast. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuringly. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

Aegon didn’t know how you could possibly promise him such a thing, but somehow hearing you say it aloud makes him actually want to believe it.

Read Chapter 2

And will you be bold Will you lose control? I could never desert you I could never let go If you fall in line And the zenith calls I'm standing waiting The last to fall

~Starset - Last to Fall

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laughing-with-god · 2 years ago

Text

Unsaid Vow I

(This is the first 1.7k of the 10k chapter that is available right now on my Patreon. Please join for early access plus beta content!)

Synopsis: You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a five-year-old.

Also looking for new fic art for this if anyone's interested!!

Read first: Prologue

“I’m a grown man.”

These were the words that greeted you and effectively pulled you out of your weary slumber.

You drowsily rubbed your eyes and rolled over, yawning as you took in the sight of your son staring at you bemusedly from beside your bed.

If you weren’t used to this behavior from Hugo already, you perhaps would've screamed at the sudden creepy sight of a child with a solemn expression saying odd things to you before the sun has even risen. Yet, you have grown accustomed to the old man your toddler was.

“Good morning to you too, bud.” You groaned tiredly, already searching your thick bedding for your phone in order to check the time. Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, which told you it was earlier than you had originally planned to wake up. But what was the point of having plans when you had a child? They had a talent for ruining them.

“I’m five today.” Hugo ignored your greeting, getting right into the point with furrowed brows as he held up all five fingers, each one representing a year of his life.

“Yup, I know dumpling.” You chuckled, finally pulling out your phone and opening it to see ‘6:03 am” staring back at you. “Believe it or not, the day you were born was quite memorable for me too.”

You cringed as you thought of the 20 hour labor that preceded Hugo’s birth. How could you ever forget that hellish day?

“Mom, it’s my birthday.” Hugo told you, tone serious as a heart attack.

“Yes, happy birthday love.” You smiled at your son, trying not to let him see the exhaustion you secretly felt. “I suppose there’s no way I can talk you into going back to bed for another hour or so?”

“No. You always say ‘the day starts when I first open my eyes in the morning”. Your son parroted the saying back to you with a proud grin.

Hugo once went through a phase where he wouldn’t want to leave the bed after waking up, simply wanting to stay in pj’s all day long and watch cartoons amongst his stuffies.

It took a while to get your little homebody to actually stop this habit and begin getting up to ready himself for the day whenever he woke up. You used to tell him that the day starts whenever he opens his eyes in the morning, however on days like these where he wakes up super early, he now does not see the point in lying in.

“Right, that is a good point.” You softly relented, mentally scolding yourself for yet another parenting tactic backfired. “How does some breakfast sound?”

“Mom, I have a prop-pre-preposaa-”

“Proposal?” You offered, swinging your legs off the side of your bed.

“Yeah, that.” Hugo nodded to himself, most likely taking note of the proper pronunciation of the word so he can use it again in conversation. “I think it’s time we talk about coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“You and daddy are always saying that coffee is for grownups. Today I’m five, which means I’m older, which means I should be able to have coffee.” Hugo reasoned this to you while twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit he does when he wants you to say yes to something he knows is unrealistic.

“Mmm...” You hummed, pretending to think hard about the offer. “What if I gave you a very light coffee? A beginner version to get you ready for the real thing when you’re older?”

Hugo looked conflicted, but after reading your face and correctly assuming that’s the best he was going to get, he nodded solemnly in reluctant agreement.

With one final huff you shoved yourself off the king sized bed, standing to your full height and throwing your arms up in a stretch. “Why don’t you wait in the living room for me bud? I’ll be right out.”

The freshly turned five year old happily nodded up at you before exiting your bedroom, leaving you alone once again.

You turned your attention back to the bed in which you just rose out of. More particularly, you stared at the other side of the bed, the side in which your husband was supposed to sleep on.

It was a direct opposite of your messy side, crisp and neatly made; the fluffy pillows, pressed sheets and silk duvet being perfectly in place. Yet, this wasn’t an ode to Jungkook’s neatness and attention to detail.

No.

Jungkook hasn’t been sleeping in the same bed as you for a while now.

Your husband always preferred to rise early, given he was a man who liked to follow a strict morning regime which could easily be thrown off if he slept in even a minute later. Up at 5:30. teeth brushed and face shaved by 5:40. Breakfast, coffee and newspaper consumed by 6:00.

Then right before taking his leave, Jungkook would pack himself a bag of work clothes and make a quick protein shake, given he would then head to the gym where he would get his morning workout and shower from. Then from the gym, he would head straight to work.

A few months ago, he suggested sleeping in the guest room.

You had asked why, bewildered at the request.

Sure, you two didn’t really cuddle anymore. Sex was also rare. But you figured that the least you could do as husband and wife was sleep in the same bed amicably. Had you started kicking him in your sleep or something?

“I’d notice you begin to kinda stir when I first get up and go about my routine. I don’t want to wake you up or be a bother.” He had said.

That didn’t really make sense to you.

You have always been a deep sleeper. And even if you did wake up for a second, you’d clearly see your husband getting ready for the day, roll over and go back to sleep.

It was such a lame excuse, you just shrugged and bitterly told him that he hogged the blankets anyway.

It wasn’t true, but Jungkook didn’t comment.

You trudged over to the ensuite bathroom and quickly did your morning routine.

When you came out of your room and into the living space, you saw Hugo glued to the giant flat screen in a trance-like state as he watched his usual morning cartoons. The sight tugged a small smile out of you, although the mother in you didn’t like how close he was.

“Hugo, back up from the screen! Bluey isn’t going anywhere. Your eyes will go bad.” Your son wordlessly obliged and scooted back, not breaking eye contact with his favorite family of puppies. “What would you like for breakfast ‘Mr. grown man’?”

“Blueberry pancakes…and don’t forget my coffee!”

“You got it, birthday boy.”

The kitchen, dining and living room were open concept, so you multi-tasked watching Hugo while whipping up his breakfast. You never were much of a cook and you still aren’t even after motherhood, but you did commit to learning your son’s favorite dishes.

The process was over quickly, you having made this recipe countless times and knowing it like the back of your hand.

You set a plate on the island table, calling Hugo over while you secretly mixed some instant hot chocolate in a mug.

The five year old jumped up and grinned at the meal, saying a quick “thank you” before digging in with all the grace a five year old could possibly have.

“And of course, your coffee.” You tried not to smile as you handed him the cup.

“Thanks mama.”

The mini-Jungkook took a gulp, then stared seriously at the contents of the mug, swishing it around in some faux detective work.

“Something wrong, dumpling?”

“It tastes…fa-fam-”

“Familiar?”

“Yes. Is coffee always this sweet?”

You laughed, now moving to the real coffee maker to make your own cup. “No, this is the kid version. It might taste like chocolate because chocolate has caffeine in it too.”

Your little old man huffed to himself but nodded in agreement, simply not knowing enough to dispute your logic.

Your old coffeemaker grumbled awake, croaking and hissing as you pressed the worn-out buttons for your usual morning brew. Jungkook always made fun of you for the ancient machine, but even after he had bought a much more expensive and up-to-date one, you stubbornly remained loyal to yours.

“So buddy, what do you want to do today? We can go get new books, hit up the toy store, maybe even visit the aquarium?”

“I wanna help set up for my party, mommy.”

Well, “party” wasn’t quite the right word for it.

Hugo had no friends. It was tough for a kid like him to make any. At this age and as a boy, most of his peers would meet and form relationships in little league or rough housing at the local park.

Your son was different. He preferred reading to sports, hated the outdoors and was generally a shy kid who tended to tear up when anyone other than his family tried speaking to him.

So this year, his birthday party was an intimate circle of family and family friends. You hoped that by next year you could host an actual kid birthday party, as Hugo would be in school and have classmates by then.

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s time to do both.” The boy looked at you skeptically. “We can go to the bookstore across the street after breakfast and I’ll let you pick out some new bedtime stories. Then we can go to the aquarium and have lunch there. And on our way home I’ll stop by the store to get some stuff for the party, and you can get a toy. Sounds good?”

Hugo frowned, then peeled back his pajama sleeve to look at his submarine-themed watch. The act seemed a little pretentious to you, given he didn’t yet know how to read clocks.

“Fine mommy, but we should be quick. Also you need to ask our guests if they have any food aler-alergeez-”

“Allergies? Yes bud, I’ll be sure to send them a text.” You rolled your eyes.

With that, Hugo quietly finished his breakfast as you sipped your coffee.

When you two were done, you both got dressed and ready for the day’s activities.

Before leaving the apartment, you were sure to send a text to your husband.

‘Be home by 6 please. Hugo’s birthday party starts at 6:30 and he needs you there.’

#yandere jungkook #bts #yandere bts #jeon jungguk #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #yandere bts fic #yandere imagines #bangtan boys #bts x reader

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everythingmp3 · 23 days ago

Text

pillow talk

adult!Van x fem!reader

plot: you visit your hometown for summer break and can’t take your controversially older girlfriend with you, so you have to handle two weeks of being apart from her - one night, a phone call turns heated when you both realize how badly you’re aching for each other’s touch

authors note: someome asked if I could write a phone sex fic for her, which sounded fun to me, so this is what came of that :) I think at this point I’m fully a gf!Van writer lol I hope you enjoy <3 (ca. 5k words)

warnings: smut, dirty talk/phone sex, masturbation, me subtly pushing the “Van is a switch who prefers to bottom” agenda

two weeks isn´t that much time. it´ll fly by. it´ll be fine. I´ll be back with her before I know it.

that´s what you told yourself over and over before you flew home to see your family.

the years before, you´d always stayed at your parent’s place for at least a month each summer - if not two - but things had changed: you had fallen in love during fall the year before and weren´t used to spending more than a few days without her, so, to make the separation less daunting, you decided to make your stay a fourteen day affair, enough to make your family happy, but not too much to start going crazy from the prolonged distance between you and Van.

there was no way in hell you´d have told your parents about her, that you were dating someone who could pass as their sibling, so you just let them believe that your palpable joyful, radiant energy came from a successful year in school, a group of lovely friends, a fulfilling job, instead of a woman who was out there missing their daughter so bad that she thought she might lose her mind.

within a few days of being back home, you and her developed a ritual of talking on the phone late at night, since it felt more intimate than rushed calls during the day while you were both out driving or at a cafe, a pillow talk vibe to your calls during those late hours that lent itself to whispered confessions, muffled laughter, losing track of time til you both had to get some sleep around 1 or 2 am.

that night it was no different.

you´d spent the day at the lake, being social, meeting old friends, so by the time the sun set, you took a long shower, got yourself all nice and fresh, lit a scented candle in your room, opened the windows to hear the faint buzz of the cicadas and tall trees outside, and felt giddy as you called your girl, finally, splayed out over the bed as you pressed your phone to your cheek, leg dangling off the edge, gazing up at the ceiling, already smiling before she even picked up.

you beat her to the first word when the line on the other end opened up and said “heyyy” in a sweet enthusiastic tone.

“hey there” Van responded, her voice all kinds of cracked and raspy, a sound that was deeply familiar to you from when she woke up after a nap, usually a little disoriented and cranky, so you laughed and said “oh, sorry baby, did I wake you up?”, amused when you heard her clearing her throat and trying to pull herself together.

“no no, I mean not really, was just dozing, resting my eyes, as they say” she explained as she sat upright and found a better position. “ah I see, hope you´re not too tired to talk, I´ve been waiting for this all day” you teased, so she insisted “oh no way, I´m wide awake now, trust me sweetie, feel free to chew my ear off. this is just what happens when you´re not here to keep me up til midnight, makes my body realize how old it actually is.”

“well lucky me that I caught you like this, you sound sexy, very dreamy” you cooed into the speaker which made her scoff to mask her bashfulness at the shameless flirting “took you about five seconds to start hitting on me, huh”.

you grinned to yourself and nodded as if she could see “oh I´ll make it one tomorrow, just you wait”, Van got comfortable and felt herself relax, immediately soothed by your way of lovingly messing with her, even while thousands of miles apart, “perfect, looking forward to it”.

“so” she said, as if she was just then coming to her senses, louder and clearer than before, “how are you holding up over there? anything juicy to tell me about today?”.

you thought for a second and absentmindedly stroked one of your pillows before you said “not really, no, I will have some juicy drama to tell you about if I ever slip up and mention you though, so who knows”.

“oh, that would turn into a lovely little family affair if you dropped that during dinner, I can imagine, yeah. have you gotten close?” she was genuinely curious, Van was nosy at heart and it killed her that she couldn´t observe it, how you looked and behaved when you were blatantly lying to your parents faces about being single, whether there were little giveaways or if you were truly just a stone cold liar, unlike her, who would´ve accdientally blurted it all out day one if she was in your spot.

“nope, it´s not that hard to hide our relationship, you know, I can tell them stories about things we did, trips we took together, all that, because I just refer to you as a friend, age you down a bit, easy” you told her, phrasing it that way on purpose to tickle her, which worked, a faux-offended gasp on her end of the line before she answered “oh wow.. I´ve been demoted to the friend status, ouch”.

“but isn´t that kinda hot though? being my secret, hm?” you whispered, lascivious and dramatic the way you delivered those words, trying to get under her skin, which wasn´t entirely unsuccessful, Van joked in return and said “your secret? how scandalous” her voice lowered too, matching your energy, which made you miss the banter you two always shared, the casual back and forth during your days together, the little stolen moments where you were both trying your best to make each other laugh or roll your eyes or both.

“very, we´re doing something so fucked up here, baby, depraved really, perverted” you told her, playing it up, turning yourself on a bit by phrasing it that way, thinking of your dynamic as more forbidden than it actually was, which didn´t escape her, so she interrupted your thought and said “oh yeah, our take out and move nights would have people clutching their pearls, I´m sure”.

you weren´t gonna let up, you were in a mood, which made you wanna push her buttons a bit, - perhaps the fact that you were ovulating didn´t help - so you said “well… if I went into detail about how I´ve had my way with you on the couch you´re sitting on right now, then yeah, they probably would”

Van went quiet for a moment. you hit a nerve. got the upper hand with that one. your words forced some memories back into her mind that made her shiver: vivid flashes of being ruined by you, her hand resting right where she´d once held on for dear life while you´d fingered her within and inch of her life while sucking on her tits to a point of having her beg for mercy. she crossed her legs out of instinct and sighed “damn you´re in heat, huh?”.

“yes, yes I am” you admitted, unwilling to sugar-coat how horny five days of no touching whatosever had left you, after weeks and weeks of being used to having access to her all the time.

“so, tell me… what are you wearing right now?” you asked her, which got a laugh of surprise out of her that made you heart melt, a high-pitched sound that made her sound like she was your age.

“oh it´s so fucking sexy, brace yourself” she said, so you smiled and told her “yeah go on”.

“my big white t-shirt that has a hole at the sleeve and my gray sweatpants. try not to moan too loudly imagining that” she uttered, which did give you an image that was enticing because you could easily picture the rest: her hair effortlessly messy from the humidity of the shower, falling down her shoulders in pretty waves, her face bare and rosy-cheeked, her lips glistening with that vanilla coconut balm she used, the taste of home, of soft kisses before bed, her body at ease in those wide clothes.

“no bra, right?” you inquired, already knowing the obvious answer, but leaning into the sex-hotline voice you´d been trying on for the past minutes, which was getting to her more than she cared to admit, so she scoffed “yeah that´s right, you perv.” eliciting a laugh from you too that made you break character and fear that your parents might´ve been woken up by it, a grin of success on her face when she heard it.

“fuck I wish I was there..” you groaned, theatrically rolling over on the bed and flinging your free arm out like a lovestruck teenager in a 90s romcom.

“I wanna feel you up soo bad. bet you´re so warm and soft right now” you whined to her, which made her admit to the same feeling “hm, wish you were here too. I miss how handsy you get, feels wrong not to be groped out of nowhere all day. also, your turn, what are you sporting for the night” she asked, taking the lead.

“well it´s hot as hell here, even at night, so just a thin tank and cotton panties” you told her and caressed your own bare thigh the way she might´ve if she was there in that moment.

she gave a low whistle, which made you shush her “shut up” as your face heated up from the feeling of being cat-called by her, as if she wasn´t your girlfriend, as if she was a hot stranger coming onto you.

“next time just lie and say you´re in the nude, for my sake” she added, twirling her hair while picturing you like that, naked on top of your childhood bed, glistening from your freshly applied lotion, a glow of sweat and too much sun all over your skin, a sharp hit of desire to her body when she imagined the space where your thighs would part, where she might crawl up on that bed and push her face between your legs, feel and taste and please you. god. she missed you.

“will do” you said and heard the labored breath on the end of the line, so you took the chance and set your mind on riling her up as much as possible while not being in the same room as her. challenge accepted.

“you know…” you said, which made her snap out of her fantasies, “yeah?”.

“I´ve been fantasizing about you” you said, matter-of-factly, as if it was just an afterthought, trying to reel her in, peek her interest.

“go on…” she said, barely hiding her pressing need to hear more.

“been dreaming of what I´ll do to you once I´m back home.” you went on, your voice silky smooth, buttering her up.

“oh, is that so?” she said, trying her best not to give away how much she loved hearing you talk like that, her tone huskier than before, that low, achingly attractive sound you´d come to crave during the day while waiting to speak to her later on.

“hmmm…been getting a bit too worked up actually, it´s intense. can´t help it though, I´m not used to being away from you for so long, my body is in withdrawal.”

“hm, poor thing” she cooed, deeply pleased by your open admission, so you feigned offense and said “oh wow, thanks for the concern”, which made her smile, the expression audible when she said “oh come on, you know it´s no different for me! I just don´t do anything about it and stoically suffer through it, unlike you”.

you gasped a little “what´s that supposed to mean? you think I´ve been jerking off a bunch?”.

Van had a thing for getting a rise out of you, it wasn´t a secret, so she continued the thought “I know for a fact that you have, you´re a bit more… how shall I put this. efficient? in that regard. I mean it as a compliment, it´s hot”.

she wasn´t wrong, you were defintiely more active than her when it came to masturbation, which had lead to a few moments of her asking to watch, or even walking in on you because you´d purposely left the door cracked before getting yourself off.

“well, you do know me, yeah, I´ve been trying to help myself, more or less successfully…”.

you'd definitely had one or two experiences the days before where you´d thought of her with your hand between your legs, or a vibrator pressed against yourself, giving up mid-session when you could already tell that the orgasm would only leave you disappointed and wanting more.

“send a video next time.” Van said, dead-pan, a dry delivery that somehow sounded hotter than if she´d said it playfully, like it was a demand almost.

“uh, I´m not filming a sex tape in my childhood bedroom, thank you very much” you joked, which didn´t deter her, she just said “go to the bathroom then. or the guest room, or basement, I´m not picky.” you couldn´t tell if she was joking. she coulnd´t either.

“nope, no way, I want you to reallyyyy miss me by the time I get back, so I´m not sending you anything, not even clothed.”

“so cruel” she uttered, “hmm” you agreed, a moment of silence before she felt the boldness get a hold of her again.

“well, I don´t even need visuals, just tell me about it, give me something baby, please, look at it as charity for the elderly.” that made you laugh and give in, you told her “alright, alright, let´s see” while thinking of something to say that would get her hot and bothered.

“well… when I touch myself I don´t think of memories with you, but all the things I wanna do to you when I see you again.” she made a pleased “hmm” sound, urging you to elaborate.

“the moment I´m back, I´m eating you out til you´ve drenched my face and the sheets. won´t stop til you´re shaking and crying.”

in that moment, you won, big time. you understood her to her core. her one big weakness, always, was being aggressivley pursued, so the second you stopped talking and the words settled in her mind and then in her body, her soul, she let out an almost pained “jesus christ…” a pang of need at her core then, heating pooling at her lower stomach, her face suddenly pink.

you didn´t waste any time and kept going “hmm, gonna get my fill of you, gonna make you come over and over and over, won´t let you sleep. you´re so sensitive, it´s fucking addictive, you know that? I bet you´d come just from having me grind down against your through my clothes right now, hm?”. you were hitting her in all of her weak spots, as if it was nothing, proving your power over her in a way that made her body burn up.

Van´s breathing was heavy by then, her tone quiet and strained by lust as she tried her best to speak “yeah… yeah probably.. wouldn´t take much at all.. fuck go on please, what else are you gonna do.” you had her right where you wanted her. she was turning needy, desperate, weak, just how you remembered from all those times you´d come onto her before.

“gonna kiss you and bite you and lick you all over” you were getting aroused from our own words then, so you shifted on the bed and sounded breathy and worked up as well “gonna grab you all over, rub up against you all eager and starved, gonna have you ride my fingers until you´ve drenched them.. my face too.. gonna ruin you, just the way you need, I promise baby” you told her, half speaking, half moaning the words.

“god you´re in heat…” Van groaned, turned on to no end form all the images you were conjuring up in her mind, her neck tingling where she imagined your kisses, her tits aching where she imagined your fingers digging in, her cunt throbbing where she imagined your mouth, your tongue, a strap.

“fuck I wish you were here right now, I wanna hear you whining and begging for me so bad” you confessed, your top clinging to your skin where you were getting damp from violent desire.

“fuck you´re killing me here, you know that” Van cursed into the speaker, so you begged “please touch yourself, please, tell me how wet you are… you´re soaked already, right?”.

Van did as you told her to and pushed her hand down her pants, no underwear in the way to keep her from immediately slipping her fingers over her slick folds, between her lips, collecting the arousal, lazily, but eagerly.

she let out a whimper that nearly made you choke on your own spit, so you pressed your face against your phone as close as possible and said “oh god, yeah, keep going please, do it the way I would, rub your clit nice and slow, tease yourself the way I would if I was there, do it like me”.

that instruction nearly did her in. she remembered your fingertips, the motions that always teased wild moans out of her, she imitated them and felt herself growing wetter by the second, so she moaned “fuck baby..” and kept going, legs wider apart then, her breaths and sounds pleasure driving you insane over the phone, your own body twitching with unreleased tension then as you could see it all so well in your mind, Van pressed back against the couch cushions with her hands down her pants, red splotches blooming all over her pretty pale neck the way they did over her whole body during sex.

“feels good right, to do it slow, to ache for more?” you asked, greedy for her whined words, so she said “god…yes” barely coherent, “go a bit faster now, give yourself some more” you told her and heard the result, a sharp cry as she started jerking herself off harder.

“baby.. I wish I could watch you do that right now and then have you rub your pussy all over mine, feel how wet we both are til were shaking and sweating” the words tumbled out without a filter then, you werent thinking, just spilling your thoughts, so she moaned “fucking hell” while trying to get off, you knew she needed more, it was the moment where you´d switch strategies, so you told her “put your fingers in, please”.

Van inched two of her fingers into her aching, soaked cunt and winced a little before it started to feel good, pushing herself in knuckle deep then, telling herself that they were your fingers, gripping the pillow next to her to hold on as she whined and started curling her fingers up.

“Jesus I can hear how wet you are…” you moaned, almost dying then from the sound of her fucking herself like that, faint squelching sounds reaching your ear that made you jealous beyond belief, aching for the feel of her pussy streched around your fingers, desperate to have her rock her hips down to hump your palm.

without any hesitation you pushed your hand into your panties and started jerking off too, imagining that it was her you were jerking off, her juices, her folds, her clit, her cunt you were feeling slick and pulsating against your hand, mirroring what she was doing and pushing two of your fingers in, fast, no resistance at all, your arousal from before intense enough to leave you wet to a degeee where you could’ve taken a pretty big toy without any pain, suddenly wishing she was there to fuck you, to fill you, take you.

she heard what you were doing and kept moving her fingers in and out of herself, switching to a slower pace to draw it out, to play with herself the way you would.

“I miss how you fuck me, wish you were here kissing my neck while doing this, fuck” she whimpered and lost her composure as you couldn´t keep lying on your back and got up to straddle your hand and ride your own fingers, one hand holding the phone to your ear as the other was being soaked, your hips rocking back and forth, a whiny maon escaping you as you tried to find the best angle.

“baby I miss you so much” you whined, needy and emotional then on top of being painfully horny, “miss you too god” she groaned in response, “I´m drenched just from listening to you, I´m so fucking wet” you whined to her, which gave Van a final blow to her sanity that made her twist and turn on the couch while adding a third finger to really satisfy her craving, to overwhelm herself the way you might, to come as hard as she was dying to.

“let me hear you please put your mouth right at the speaker” she begged, “you too” you demanded, so you both moved your phones right over your lips as you chased your shared climax and touched yourselves, fucked your own fingers, reached a point of pre-orgasm neediness that made her moan “fuck I´m so close, I´m gonna come” so you pleaded “just a bit more, wait for me, wanna come with you” so she held out as you fell onto your back again and shoved your fingers in as deep as possible, trying not to be too loud, hitting your weak spot over and over until your started clenching around your fingers and whined “I´m coming baby, come with me” which was all it took for her to let go and let the orgasm rip through her so hard she wasn´t sure if she´d squirted or if she had just gotten that wet, riding the high out while you did the same, breathless whimpers and moans echoing back and forth between your ears, until you both went slack, let out a shuddering deep breath at the same time, and felt a dazed, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your mouths, your eyes still shut, your bodies sticky with sweat, your legs trembling, your arms cramped up from the holding of the phones and the fucking, a moment of peaceful, charged silence before you came to again.

“well.” Van said. “gotta go wash my hand now..” but before she could get up you said “no no wait!” which made her pause and say “huh?”, still reeling, a bit out of it.

“lick it off… it´s what I would do. do it how I would” you told her, which made her laugh in a way that gave away how winded she still was, “jesus youre greedy tonight” she teased and held her hand up before her face, fingers glistening in the dim light.

“I know you taste good, so. do it for me, please baby” you said, vocally batting your eyelashes at her, so she caved and said “alright” and licked most of the cum off her fingers, imagining it was your cum instead, which made her do it more thoroughly, the sloppy sounds pretty audible to you, so you sighed “hmm” in approval.

“you got me good baby. real good. fuck” she sighed and shook her head with a dazed, pleased expression while feeling a few last aftershocks tingling all over her body.

“feels better, doesn´t it? when you let it out?” you said, feeling a cool night breeze come in through the window then and caress your limp, warm body.

“yeah I needed that…I´m lucky you´re not as repressed as I am, really helps me out here” she said, only half joking, since she did thank her lucky stars that you weren´t shy and pushed her to yield to her desires in a way she never would´ve with someone else.

“my pleasure” you whispered into your phone and took a sip of the water from your nightstand. just as you wanted to lay down again, you heard a scratching sound at the door and said “fuck, wait that´s the cat, she won´t give up til I open the door, give me a second” you told her and stood up to go let your little guest in.

Van laughed and said “sweet” as you ushered your childhood cat in, “yeah, she´s an old lady now, gotta help her onto the bed, she can´t jump that high anymore” you announced before you let out a groan from lifting her onto the bed and watched her suss out a good spot to lay down as you did the same.

“well, lucky for her, you loveee having old ladies in your bed” Van said, clearly very pleased with herself for how fast she came up with that out-of-pocket response, a scandalized gasp on your end that made her feel very smug before you chided her “you´re disgusting”, secretly approving of her remark of course.

“here, say hi to my strange girlfriend” you told your cat and held the phone out and to your surprise she actually let out a gentle meow, so Van cooed “ohh that´s adorable. damn I wish I was there to see.. are you petting her? I think I can hear the purring”.

“yeah, she´s getting all the caresses and kisses I can´t give you right now” you answered, smooth enough to make her feel a bit flustered then. “lucky girl” Van mused, endeared by the mental image of you half undressed lounging on a bed with a little creature snuggled up to you.

“but uh-” you said a moment after, trying to be earnest, to say something straight from the heart, so she didn´t interrupt you and gave you the time you needed to gather your thoughts, sensing your shift in tone. “I do miss you a lot. just so you know. like a lot, a lot. especially at night, this bed feels way too big, I don´t even want all this space for myself. ugh. I miss sleeping on your chest.”

she was quiet for a second because she was too busy feeling her heart melt to respond immediately. “yeah I miss you too. not to make it a competition but I think you´re more miss-able than me, so I have it worse. I keep reaching over at night to put my arm over you, I miss the sounds you make when you nuzzle up to me.”

“you know, it´s kinda wild…” you trailed off.

“hm, what?” she asked, speaking softly.

“I used to spend some pretty horrible nights in this exact spot when I was younger, so I kinda wish I could go back in time to tell myself how lovely things are gonna get down the line. I wasn´t very good at being hopeful back then, so. yeah.”

“aw baby…” she said, clearly affected by it, “breaking my heart here. I can´t take that image of you all upset and alone like that… now I wish I could go back in time too, to help you, or you know, hold you.”

you smiled fondly “of course you´d say that instead of thinking of yourself when you were younger, with way worse circumstances than mine. I love you.”

Van was selfless in love, devoted, loyal to a fault, you knew this, of course you did, but in that moment you were reminded of it in a way that made you tear up, which she heard, so she uttered “you´re making me choke up here, fuck. I love you too, so much.”

she shed a few tears, so did you, perhaps a little raw from the intense release a few minutes earlier, which ended in you eventually laughing, a sniffling sound before you said “sorry for getting all sappy on you, I mean it though, I´m so glad I ended up with you.”

“oh don´t be sorry” she said and wiped the corner of her eyes “happy tears are good, didn´t shed many of those before we met. so yeah. I´m glad too. that´s an understatement, but you get it.”

“I don´t wanna hang up yet…” you sighed, which was a shard sentiment, so she said “sure let´s just stay like this for a moment, we don´t have to talk, we could just lay together for a bit, relax”.

“okay yeah” you agreed, pleased by the idea of just hearing each other breathe.

“let me go to bed real quick, get comfortable” Van said and got up from the couch, which made her groan after having sat in one spot for so long, which made you laugh a little too loudly, so she exclaimed “oh, I`m glad my sounds of agony do it for you, really”.

“oh yeah, always” you whispered and got up from your spot as well “gonna go brush my teeth, I´ll be back in like two minutes” you told her and put your phone down on your blanket before rushing to your bathroom sink.

within no time, you were back, half under the covers, and said “okay, I´m back. my cat is curled up right by my head now by the way”.

Van was laying on her side by then and smiled “she smells good I bet, cats always smell like sweet dust or something”.

“wish you could meet her” you mused while stroking the soft fur, “she´d like you, she´s always been like her mom, prefers the ladies”. Van laughed “ah, a clever one then”.

“maybe I´ll sneak you in here one day, who knows” you whispered, a hint of mischief to your tone.

“oh sure, just have me stay in some nearby hotel like I´m your mistress that you can only invite over when the wife and kids are gone” she joked. “such a storyteller, huh” you teased “go on, flesh that fantasy out for me, will you” you told her, so she indulged you and spun a little tale about her being your side piece in some alternative universe.

by the time it reached 1 am, you both started slurring your words and felt your eyes get heavy, so eventually you said good night and hung up, both of you falling into a heavy, deeply relaxed sleep afterwards, sinking into a world of dreams that were just as soft and soothing and pleasurable as your phone call.

the next morning, you woke up to a notification that Van had just transferred fifteen dollars to your account with an attached message that said “buy that book you told me about a few days ago, gotta have something to talk about later :)” , so you sent her a few sparkling pink hearts in response before you got up and realized that spending some time apart wasn´t all that bad after all, since it brought out new ways to get close to each other, to be sweet and attentive, even while you were separated by multiple state lines, proof that no amount of distance could keep you apart, ever.

#it’s not straight up filth don’t be fooled #tried a different layout and kept it on the shorter side this time I’m in my rebrand era #wrote this in pretty much one go which was nice #I had fun with it 💌#van palmer x reader #van palmer #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

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yokumirumerafan · 3 months ago

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Reader is actually their partner,lover,s/o ya know. Who has a love quirk? Like reader is basically mitsuri from demon slayer, execpt they have the quirk of love and is basically cupid? But the drawbacks are that reader gets extremely needy and needs affection/love at all times as a recharge whenever they use their quirk so basically they're always throwing themselves on their dear lover boy. Mha boys fluff fic?

💣 Bakugo Katsuki

He pretends he’s annoyed, but this man is secretly so soft for your affection.

“Oi, dumbass—get off me already.” also him five seconds later: pulling you closer by the waist.

If you come back from using your quirk and just flop into his arms with a “Kaaatsuuu~ I need your loveee 🥺” 🔥Instantly scoops you up bridal style and grumbles, “Tch… fine. Come here, needy little Cupid.”

If anyone sees him cuddling you like a teddy bear—he’s exploding them.

You: literally laying on top of him like a weighted blanket Bakugo: grumpy but not moving an inch because he loves it

⚡ Denki Kaminari

You don’t even have to say you’re low on energy. He just senses it.

“BABE?! BABE DO YOU NEED CUDDLES?? I GOT YOU—INCOMING!!” tackles you with affection

He LOVES being your human charger. Will hold your hand for 5 hours straight if you need it.

“You recharge with kisses right? Better smooch me quick before you pass out!”

Constantly insists on matching outfits with little heart motifs. You are now the “love couple” of U.A.

You: slumped dramatically on the floor Denki: wraps you in a blanket burrito “THIS IS AN EMERGENCY LOVE ZONE.”

🧠 Shinsou Hitoshi

Lowkey confused at first like… “Wait. Your quirk… drains you unless I give you snuggles?”

You: wide-eyed nodding like a kitten

He gets it real quick tho. You love hard. And he may not say it often, but he loves it.

“C’mere you clingy little gremlin…” pulls you onto his lap and pets your hair till you fall asleep

If he sees you looking all tired and pouty after using your quirk, he just silently opens his arms like 🫂 “Cuddle time. Let’s go.”

You call him “sleepy Cupid’s favorite pillow” and he pretends to roll his eyes—but secretly makes sure he’s always available for your recharge naps.

🎧 Sero Hanta

He thinks your quirk is the coolest thing EVER—like the Cupid theme?? The vibes?? He loves it.

“You’re literally my love-powered girlfriend. You’re my battery-operated babygirl.”

Hangs heart-shaped charms on your stuff. Has a shirt that says “Property of Cupid” as a JOKE but wears it like every other day.

If you cling to him while he's mid-convo, he’ll just be like “Sorry, important business,” and pull you into his lap.

“Need your fix, huh?” he teases, kissing your nose. “One cuddle latte coming up, extra whipped cream.”

🪨 Kirishima Eijiro

The perfect boyfriend for Cupid!Reader.

“Aw babe, you used your quirk again, huh? Come get your hugs!!” LIFTS you like a teddy bear and spins you around

He builds you a little “Recharge Nest” of pillows and blankets where he just spoils you until you feel like a person again.

“I think it’s manly to be affectionate!! You don’t gotta be ashamed of needing love, babe!”

He gets all shy if you shower him with kisses back tho. He’s so touch-starved but hides it with that big ol' smile.

Always ready to snuggle, no matter what. Rainy day? Cuddles. Sunshine? Cuddles. Tuesday? CUDDLES.

💞 Mina Ashido (FOR YOUR MY ASS 💕)

SHE'S OBSESSED. Like. You're her clingy, sparkly lil' angel and she’s EATING. IT. UP.

“BABY YOU’RE LIKE A LOVE MAGICAL GIRL 🥹💘 this is the cutest quirk ever I’m gonna cry”

If she sees your energy dipping? She screeches “EMERGENCY!! MY BABY’S LOVE TANK IS LOW!!”

Braids little heart beads into your hair, makes matching outfits, carries snacks and affection like a ✨prepared girlfriend✨

“Don’t worry bb I gotchu—kissies and cuddles coming right up!! 💋💋💋”

Literally carries you in her arms like a princess when your “love battery” is low. Drama queens in LOVE 💅

🟢 Izuku Midoriya

This boy has NOTES about your quirk and your recharge needs. He wants to make sure you’re emotionally supported 24/7.

“Y/N, I made a schedule so you never run out of love energy!! I have it labeled cuddle times, affirmation moments, and kiss breaks—!”

You: clinging to him in your koala form Izuku: 🥺 “You’re just like All Might in his weakened state, I must protect you—!!!”

Gives you the softest forehead kisses and mutters “I love you” like every five minutes.

If you fall asleep mid-recharge on his chest, he won’t move for hours. Not even for All Might himself.

❄️ Shoto Todoroki

Extremely confused at first. “So… you need to constantly receive affection or you’ll pass out?” pause “That’s manageable.”

Literally becomes your cuddle thermostat. Cold arm? Cool your face. Warm arm? Warm your back. Perfect nap conditions.

Very subtle, but you start to notice: He always reaches for your hand first. He holds you a little tighter when you’re tired. He blushes, but he lets you cling.

“I don’t mind if you need me. Actually... I like that you do.”

You once kissed his nose and said “I’m recharging, bby,” and he just blinked and went “Do it again.” 😭

💤 Aizawa Shouta

Tired dad + clingy Cupid = honestly the perfect slow-burn love story

At first, he’s like “…as long as your quirk doesn’t interfere with hero work, it’s fine.”

Then he finds himself letting you snuggle into his sleeping bag every time you're drained like it's the most normal thing on Earth.

“You’re lucky I’m used to needy brats.” says this while rubbing your back until you fall asleep in his lap

Starts giving you lil kisses on your head whenever you “recharge” without even thinking.

You make his heart grow 3 sizes but SHHHH he’ll never admit it (but he does bring you tea and blanket you like a burrito)

🕸️ Shigaraki Tomura

“Wha—why are you hanging off me like some lovesick kitten???”

You: “Because I used my quirk and now I need cuddlessss 🥺💘”

Him: “That’s dumb.” also him after 5 seconds: slowly wraps you in his hoodie and rests his chin on your head

He’s actually kind of addicted to being needed. It makes him feel important. Special.

“No one gets to recharge you but me, got it? You’re mine.”

When you call him “my spooky little lovebug” he threatens violence but blushes violently too.

🔥 Dabi

Oh he LOVES that you're a clingy little chaos baby

“So lemme get this straight. You go around makin’ people fall in love, but then come cryin’ to me like a kicked puppy if you don’t get affection back?”

You: nods dramatically while nuzzling into his hoodie

“...Damn. That’s hot.” 😭

He teases the HELL out of you but he gives you all the love you want and more

Will act like it's soooo annoying, but he's holding your hand under the table, whispering “you good, baby?” into your hair, and letting you warm up next to his fire whenever you're drained

Secretly takes pictures of you asleep on his chest and sets one as his lock screen. Don't tell anyone or he will combust.

🐦 Hawks

“Awwww you need cuddles?? Baby, I was born for this.”

LITERALLY THE MOST CLINGY BACK. He gives what you give and THEN SOME.

Will fly you to the clouds just to cuddle on a rooftop with stars around.

Says “I love you” every five minutes and means it.

The best recharge for you?? HIM WRAPPING YOU IN HIS WINGS.🪽

🦐 Tamaki Amajiki

“Y-you need what?? A-affection?! O-okay, okay! I’ll try!”

Panics. Turns into a tomato. But still does it because HE LOVES YOU.

He’s shy, but will hold your hand under the table, sneak kisses when no one’s looking.

When you’re visibly tired after using your quirk, he wraps you up in a blanket and cuddles you silently.

Mumbles love confessions into your hair while you sleep 😭💘

☀️ Mirio Togata

“You’re tired, sunshine? No problem! Love incoming!”

FULL ON BOYFRIEND MODE ACTIVATED. He treats you like royalty.

Gives you piggyback rides, dances around the kitchen with you, and smothers you in affection 24/7.

He’s so upbeat that his love recharges you 10x faster.

“You used your quirk? Then you get unlimited kisses today!”

🦅 Tokoyami Fumikage

“…Darkness is eternal, but your love is…bright.”

LMAOO he’s dramatic but SO SOFT. Thinks you’re ethereal.

Let’s you snuggle into his cape like a little burrito of love.

Writes poems about you and reads them while you recharge in his arms.

Dark Shadow makes fun of him, but secretly helps plan cuddles.

🧼 Overhaul

“Tch. You’re so clingy. Disgusting. soft sigh Come here.”

He's sooo tsundere about it. Won’t admit he loves it.

But you catch him cleaning up a whole space just so you two can snuggle safely.

Will hold you gently and stroke your hair like it’s a ritual.

You’re the only one allowed to touch him freely. That alone shows how much he loves you.

#mha #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha scenarios #mha boys #mha x y/n #mha x you #merafan

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brucewaynehater101 · 1 year ago

Note

Have you ever read a fic called A Medication On Railroading? Because I think you'll like it. Basic summery with no spoilers: Jack takes Tim on a trip to Atlanta and then leaves him in Atlanta so he goes train hopping to get home. Very hurt/comfort.

But it also gives me an idea that I'm not sure where to share. What if that wasn't Tim's first time getting home like that? Maybe the first time was just New York when he was say... 9 years old? His parents took him with them to a Gala and Jack thought Janet called him a car home and Janet thought Jack took care of it. Neither one did and Tiny Tim figured out how to get home on his own. It happens again when he's 11 so he already knows what to do, he studied up in case it happened again.

After the second time, anytime Tim is with his parents he keeps his camera bag on him at all times which has 300 dollars in it that he can use on getting home. Tim also discovers during the second one that trains are *way* better than busses and cabs. He's all alone, just him and the scenery and whatever cargo his car holds. He can Fully Relax. He doesn't have to be the perfect heir, he doesn't have to smile for the cameras, he doesn't have to be quiet or good or perfectly polite. He can scream and laugh and cry if he wants to and no one will ever know! He can sing and curse and throw rocks at things! He can be a *kid*.

After Tim becomes Robin, he never calls Batman for a pick up if he's abandoned somewhere and instead will make his own way home. Heck, after some missions with Young Justice he will turn off his trackers and ride trains home so that he can loudly vent about them without having to worry about anyone ever knowing what he said!

This does become a slight problem when he's 17 and Bruce needs him for something and finds out from Bart that their mission ended a day and a half ago. But Tim never called for pick up. And his trackers are all offline. And he never hit his emergency beacon and *no one can find him*. Bruce totally isn't freaking out. The other Bats totally aren't freaking out. Young Justice totally isn't freaking out. There totally isn't a panic spreading through the super hero community about Red Robin maybe being dead I a ditch somewhere and how both Batman and his team will react.

Tim meanwhile is straight vibing as he reclines on a stack of bags of rice like they're pillows, singing along to some sound track he downloaded onto his MP3 player, having turned the volume to max and nearly screaming the lyrics because it's the one time he feels like he can.

Yes! I love that fic you mentioned. It's really really good. Perhaps I should re read it since it's been a minute.

Also, I absolutely adore the little tidbit you've added. A few things to note that I love about it:

No one else knows/finds out until he's Red Robin

It's a semi-decent coping mechanism. He gets to chill out, vibe, and process. He's also in touch with nature and music during this.

Tim drops his various masks to simply exist for a bit

Tim chilling on some rice bags in a train cart with an MP3 player (not even his phone. This indicates he's fully offline during these trips)

A few additional notes to add. One, this could buff up the canon notion that pre-Robin Tim traveled far to go see Dick at the circus and convince him to become Robin again. If Tim had already done that twice unexpectedly, he'd do swell when he actually plans to do it.

Two, Tim probably created a white noise generator or something to give him totally privacy on his "me trips." This is why Kon and Superman freak out. They can't hear him.

Three, he probably gets covered in grime, dust, and dirt. He's no longer in the pristine environment he grew up in.

Gods. That sounds so nice and relaxing. I'm actually kind of jealous. Just the wind, music, and the slowly changing scenery? Fuuuck.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #dc au #thank you for the ask!!!!

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corazondebeskar-reads · 2 years ago

Text

the art of breaking (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

the art of breaking part one | part two

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

written for the #deaddovedecember2023 event hosted by @romana-after-dark | also on ao3 | dedicating this to @kewwrites, who is a master and icon of unsettling-but-still-romantic dark fic & whose incredible vibes made me feel brave enough to write this. love you ty 🖤

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Seriously, I am saying this as clearly as I can: read the warnings carefully. If anything listed is something you don’t want to read, don’t. The working title for this was “the darkest joel” for a reason (and I actually tamed it down/cut out some of the intense scenes). It’s modern-day/no outbreak, but Joel still lost Sarah and went off the deep end. He was probably a good dom at some point, but now he’s just fucked up.

If you're worried it'll be too dark, it probably will be.

Warnings under the cut:

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, semi-permanent damage (a bone is broken, I’m not fucking around), whipping, spanking, face slapping, tit slapping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, anal, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, edging, denial, dacryphilia, bastinado (mentioned), restraints, very brief knifeplay, tiny drop of blood play, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it.

Please read responsibly.

I. in media res

-the fracture

There’s one comfort Joel almost never denies you.

Well, never denies himself.

Unless you’ve been real bad, you always take your place in bed with him at the end of the day. You think it’s so he has easy access to you if he wakes up horny, but honestly, that happens a lot less than expected. He works hard all day; he needs his sleep.

No, he likes the comfort of your warm body next to his. The way you curl up and press kisses to him, no matter how bad he hurt you during the day. His sweet little pet, desperate for every bit of his affection you can earn. He’s always gentle with you here.

It’s part of what makes The Pit so effective.

It fucks with your brain on so many levels, exposes you to so many fears, and then you have to reconcile that you were bad enough for Joel to deny himself the comfort of you in his arms at night. That you’re so undeserving of his love.

Of all of the ways he punishes you, this will be the worst. You can take the humiliation, the pain—not easily, but you can, and there’s usually immediate care after.

But a night in The Pit will tear you down completely.

You hadn’t known what to expect when he said you’d have to spend the night alone, but it wasn’t this.

“No, please,” you scream, stumbling to keep up as Joel pulls you by your hair.

“Shut up,” he snarls.

The soil is loose, clinging to your sweat as you try to right yourself. It’s a futile effort. When you reach The Pit, he holds you down with his boot on your chest while he unlocks and opens the bars.

“Get in,” he says.

You’re sobbing and shaking, skin already gone cold. Somehow, you manage to obey.

The Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It has an open wooden frame with mesh on the side walls to keep the dirt in place. The bottom is bare soil. Mounted to the top of the beams is a grate of bars that sit flush with the ground.

It’s big enough for you to curl up at the bottom—which is what you do now.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

He shuts and locks the gate.

II. from the start

-intact

It was kismet, really, that he was there that night. He didn’t usually go out for drinks with the guys, not wanting to be the boss who was always cramping their style. But Tommy had dragged him out tonight, and so he was witness (with the rest of the pub) to your relationship falling apart.

And okay, maybe he went outside for a smoke after you moved the fight to the alley so he could eavesdrop. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he not?

You had said, “Maybe you’re just not man enough for me,” to the brawny but pathetic prick across from you in the booth. “Wanting you to be rough doesn’t make me a freak.”

“That’s not rough; that’s fuckin’ abuse. You’re sick,” your boyfriend had practically shouted.

The discussion evolved into a screaming match in the alley, where Joel had been pleased to be right. It was about more than just a little rough sex or spanking.

At the end of it, your boyfriend stormed off, and you went back in the pub. Joel found you at the bar, throwing back another shot and wiping your tears away.

“You did good back there,” he says.

You startle and look at the stranger. The very handsome stranger. Rugged, with a salt and pepper beard and a scar across his nose.

“What do you mean?”

“Standin’ up for yourself. Not a lot of people woulda been confident enough. ‘Specially not a girl lookin’ for that.”

You glare at the bar counter. “M’not a weirdo.”

“Nah, you’re not. Shit like that is perfectly normal. He’s just pathetic.”

You look back up at him, and he sticks one hand in his pocket, trying to adjust himself discreetly. The tear streaks on your cheeks are getting to him.

“I don’t know. He’s probably right. It’s not your garden variety shit,” you say. The tequila and his gentle eyes have loosened your tongue.

“I doubt that. Try me,” he says.

“What?”

“Try me. Tell me what he freaked out over, and I’ll tell ya if it’s weird. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

You hesitate, but he looks genuine and kind. “I asked him to hit me. Like, in the face. And to, y’know, pin me down and—” you trail off.

“And make ya take it?” he guesses.

You nod. “He thought I like, I dunno, actually wanted to be raped,” you whisper the last word, eyes darting to the people around you.

Joel laughs. “Honey, that’s so normal, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve helped ladies out with that little roleplay more times than I can count. If that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy, and he couldn’t take it, then you’re better off without him.”

“It’s not,” you mumble.

“Speak up, honey.”

“It’s not my deepest, darkest fantasy. It’s probably one of the least of them.”

He grins. “Then you’re definitely better off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ things on the darker side, sweetheart.”

You’re feeling hot all over and are about to ask him more when your phone rings. It’s your idiot boyfriend, who’s realized you have the car keys.

“I better go. Thank you,” you say, standing and offering him your hand.

He gives it a firm shake, tipping his head. “I’m Joel. And if you’re ever so inclined, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

You laugh. “Let me break up with my boyfriend first, Joel.” But you dig a pen out of your purse and write your number on one of the tiny bar napkins.

Your first date was so normal. You’re not sure what you expected. To jump right to hardcore sex?

But no, he turns up at your door in a neatly pressed green button-up, black slacks, and an ostentatious belt buckle. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of wildflowers, lavender stalks nestled between pink honeysuckle and red salvia. Not a traditional arrangement, but it reminds you of a summer sunset.

“From my garden,” he says a little sheepishly, but you like them a lot better than some generic store display. You tell him as much and his cheeks flush a little.

You return the kiss and pop the flowers in a vase of water before he sweeps you off in his pickup. You aren’t surprised, really, but it’s more charming than some of the other men and their gaudy trucks.

Joel’s is older but well-kept, with minimal rusting around the wheel wells. The bed is open, and you can see streaks of grease and paint spills. A silver tool chest is mounted against the back of the cab. Everything inside and out has a light coating of sawdust.

He isn’t some insecure man with a truck big enough to make up for what isn’t in his britches, that’s for certain. You’d hazard a guess that the corded muscle of his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders are well-earned.

He holds the door open for you, which you tease him for as you slide onto the truck’s bench seat.

“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cause you’re incapable,” he drawls. “Or because you’re a lady,” he adds when he sees the glint in your eye.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

His grin is lopsided, a little dark. “Nah. I just think you deserve to be taken care of, s’all.”

You flush, the back of your neck burning, but you don’t fight the smile that threatens to break out. “Thank you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure, now, that if he plays his cards right, he’s found somethin’ special.

He waits three whole dates to take you to bed, and even then, it doesn’t start dirty.

“Let me get to know your body first, baby,” he urges when you ask him to fuck you rough. Instead, he takes you apart piece by piece. First with his tongue, and then his fingers. He brings you to the edge over and over, but never lets you fall.

After a while, you’re a broken record, pleas and sobs spilling from you.

“That’s music to my ears, darlin’,” he says, pulling his fingers out abruptly to see how your cunt throbs for him. He spits on your clit and watches it drip down to join the mess between your thighs.

“Please, please, Joel,” you beg.

“Please who now?”

“Please, sir,” you try, and are rewarded with his sharp grin. But not with an orgasm.

He slaps your cunt. “That’s more like it, baby. You remember who you’re talkin’ to, alright?”

You nod. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”

He shakes his head, sucking on your clit for a moment before pulling back to get a good look at you. “You do like a little pain, huh?”

“Would like more,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What would you let me do to you?”

“Anything, please, sir.”

He clicks his tongue at you. “Don’t go sayin’ that to someone you barely know. It’s okay to mean it when you trust somebody, but you’re gonna end up in more trouble than you bargain for if you pass that out like candy.”

“I do mean it.”

“Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” His open palm smacks across your face, leaving a sting tingling on your cheek and a lightness to your brain.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you nod frantically.

“What about this?” he grabs a nipple in his calloused fingers and yanks, twisting.

You yelp, but it trails off to a moan, and you nod.

“Goddamn, baby. S’good. But what about this?” He flicks open the switchblade he keeps in his pocket.

You jerk and whine, eyes wide and wet as he brings it to your breast. Your breathing falls shallow as you try to hold still, the point scraping the delicate skin as he circles it. But the look you’re giving him almost has him cumming in his pants like he were twenty years younger.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. I mean, you’ve gotta have limits; everyone does. But you just want me to hurt you, huh?” He digs the tip of the blade in a little on the side of your breast, cock throbbing as you gasp, and you both watch a tiny drop of blood bead and trickle down the blade.

He puts it away. “No,” he says when you whimper. “Not today. I ain’t prepared for all that.”

Joel doesn’t like to break his toys. Not permanently. Just enough that he can put them back together how he likes and then do it all over again.

“Don’t need to be prepared; just do it,” you whine.

He slaps you again and wrenches your head up with a hand in your hair. “First of all, I fuckin’ told you no. Second, I know you want to be a stupid little cunt for me, but I’m not about to cut you open without any goddamn first aid shit.”

He leans back and smacks the breast he had cut. He hits you over and over, alternating sides, until your chest burns, and you’re sobbing.

He looks you over briefly and then shoves his hand between your thighs. “You’re wetter than a slip ‘n slide, baby.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, and wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb. He feels your cunt twitch when he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.

It’s the last straw for him. He’s not opened you enough, but he has a feeling you’ll like it better this way anyway.

You cry out, back arching when he shoves into you. He meant to go slow, he really did, if only to drag out the anticipation. But you’re so warm. So wet. So he just stuffs himself inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you love the pain; it’s just that he can’t resist feeling the evidence for himself. He slaps you across the face while you’re still processing his cock, and the resulting clench and jerk of your body drag a moan from him.

He holds back, regulates his urge to pull each whimper and scream from you, but it’s still so fucking good. It’s been a long time since he’s doled out real cruelty to a slut like you who loves to suffer.

When he finally lets you cum, it’s when he’s about to. He pulls out and spanks your cunt, granting his permission. As your pussy flutters desperately around nothing, he cums on it, watching the way it gets prettier as he paints it.

You black out for a minute. When you come to, he’s wiping you down gently with a warm washcloth, wicking the sweat off your face and chest before cleaning his cum from your curls. You whimper, and he grins, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Even after that first night, he goes slow. He can’t scare ya, not while you still have someplace to run. Plus, it’s so much easier if he starts planting the seeds for your training now.

He knows you’ll beg for it, anyway. He’s been getting the nastiest text messages from you. Part of it is the dopamine; he’s not stupid. But part of you really wants this shit. And the rest? Well. You’ll get there.

It’s the little things. He orders you a black decaf at the drive-thru when you ask for a latte. You start to correct him, like you think he’s made a mistake, but he gives you a look, and you shut your mouth immediately.

When he pulls away from the speaker, you look over at him again. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry…?”

You squirm a little, heart pounding, unsure if he’s really doing this at the Dunkin’ Donuts. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles and rubs his hand on your thigh where it peeks out from your skirt. “Thanks, baby.”

And that’s all it takes. You take the cup when he hands it to you and you’re quick to say, “Thank you, sir,” even though the kid at the window is still passing things through to Joel and can clearly hear you.

-fissured

It goes on like that for a couple of months, but it doesn’t all go so smoothly. One night, he picks you up from work and takes you to a restaurant, saying he wants to treat you. Halfway through the meal, he asks for your panties.

“What?” you say, shocked at his vulgar language in the dining room.

“Take ‘em off and hand ‘em to me.”

You go to stand, probably thinking you can go to the bathroom to obey.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Right here, right now, baby.”

“Joel,” you hiss, sitting back down, “I can’t do that.”

He fixes you with a calm smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising one finger in the air. “I’ll give ya three choices. The first one, the one I’m going to advise you pick, is that you do it right now, and I’ll only punish ya for talkin’ back.”

“The second one,” he holds up another finger for emphasis, “is you can go to the bathroom to take ‘em off, but you’re gonna pay for it when we get home. The third one is where you don’t listen, we leave right now, and you learn to fuckin’ regret it.”

Your breathing is shallow, and your pretty eyes are shining. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper. “Please, sir.”

“You got about thirty seconds to make up your mind.” The softness is gone—from his voice, from his face, from the set of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and you stand up. You’re only in the bathroom for a minute, and when you sit back down, you try to hand them to him under the table.

“Nah, that was only a choice if you were good,” he says, smirking and laying his expectant hand on the white linens.

Mortified, you ball them up tight in your fist and press them into his hand. He slides them into his pants pocket.

He doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of dinner, asking instead about your projects at work and your visit with your parents over the holidays. You feel sick, barely eating a thing, and biting your lip to stave off the tears.

As soon as you’re in the truck, you start to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just scared and—”

“Shut up. You made your choice. You’re not sorry. You’re just afraid of the consequences.”

“N-no, I am sorry, I mean it.”

“You’re gonna have to prove it.” He doesn’t look at you on the drive home, doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even turn the radio on; just listens to you sniffle.

When he parks, he sets his hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you can be my good girl. All you gotta do is take your punishment and learn from it, okay?”

You sniffle again and nod, blinking through tear-laden lashes at him.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he murmurs. He gets out and comes around to open your door, offering a hand to help you step down from the tall truck. You take it, and he holds on, leading you inside his house.

He sits sprawled on the couch, thighs parted wide to make room and waits until you’re comfortably kneeling between his legs. You’re sat in silence, head bowed, arms folded behind your back.

“Tell me what you did wrong today.”

This is a first, but not a last. Even on days when nothing egregious has happened, you will follow this ritual. He’ll ask for your sins, and you’ll confess. There will always be something you’ll owe him for.

“I argued when you gave me orders. I was disobedient.”

“Anything else I need to know about, baby?”

“No, sir.”

“Why’d you argue?”

“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Save your grovelin’ for after, baby. Why were you afraid?”

“I didn’t want people to see. I didn’t want to get kicked out or arrested.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to you? You think I would have given you an order that put either of us at any kinda risk?”

Your face burns. “I—”

“I thought you trusted me.” He sounds hurt, and you’re a little nauseous when you look up to see his eyes wide and sad, lips turned into a wounded scowl.

Your shoulders slump. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”

“Hmm. Okay, I can work with that.”

You look up at him, brow scrunched and lips pouting as you try to parse his words.

He smiles. It’s cold, and his eyes are steel.

You swallow hard, and his grin widens, quirking into a smirk.

“Alright, baby. I got just the thing.”

He leads you into the ensuite. You kneel on the little rug by the tub while he fills it. You’re too afraid to ask what’s happening, so you just sit quietly. He leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the tub is nearly full, and you’re starting to worry that you were supposed to be monitoring it.

He comes back in, and once it’s nearing the lip of the tub, he turns off the faucet. He has you kneel on the top of the three steps leading up to the edge. It’s the most luxurious thing in this house, and you suspect he installed it custom so he could soak his aching muscles.

He bends you over the edge so you’re leaning close to the water and crouches down behind you. It’s a pleasant surprise when he spreads you wide and licks from your clit to your asshole.

He stays there for a few minutes, indulging in your wet cunt and the cries it draws from your lips. After he’s had his fill, he stands up and lubes up his cock before pushing his way into your ass. He’s generous with the lube but rarely preps you, since you both like it better when it hurts.

You’re writhing a little beneath him, wriggling your hips to try to ease the passage. Once he’s fully seated inside you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves it under the water before fucking hard into you.

You thrash, displacing water from the tub, until he yanks you back up.

You gasp for air and scrabble to get a grip on the wet tile, but he pushes you back down and groans at how tight you get while you’re struggling.

He pulls you roughly back up. “Gonna keep going until you stop makin’ a fuss.”

You go to protest, to panic, and he pushes you back down.

The next time he pulls you out, he spanks you until your skin is burning. “Fuckin’ trust me. You think I’m gonna let you drown?”

“No, sir,” you cry, but it’s garbled as he pushes you back down. You’re still fighting him each time.

He pulls you back out and repeats the beating. “Relax, or we’re gonna be here all night.”

He continues the process a few more times and then gives you a reprieve, letting go of your hair so you can rest your cheek against the cold edge of the tub while he pounds into you. He reaches and rubs featherlight circles around your clit until you’re softly moaning.

“You gonna trust me?”

“I’m trying, my body panics,” you pant.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya. You hear me? You know you’re panicking, so focus on me instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

It shouldn’t make sense, but you think he’s long warped your brain anyway. The next time he pushes you underwater, you clench your fists tight and focus on what oxygen you do have, even if he knocks a little out with each thrust.

His hand in your hair is your anchor and buoy. You tense when you feel your body start to jerk, trying so hard to control it.

He pulls you up. “Just like that, baby. Again.”

It gets just a little easier each time. He leaves you under longer, until your lungs are burning, and you’re on the edge of gasping in water, but he pulls you out in time.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well.” He’s a little fascinated. He hadn’t really been sure it could be done or if your survival instincts would go into a frenzy. But here you are, letting him almost fucking drown you.

Not that he would.

Despite being balls deep in your tight little asshole, he isn’t trying to reach his orgasm. Not yet, staving off his pleasure so he can keep a clear head.

He keeps it up just a little longer. You’re getting tired and tolerating less and less time underwater. The last time he pulls you up, he pinches your clit and tells you to cum while he fills you.

He dunks you again while you cum, and you clamp down on him tighter than you have before, convulsing on his cock. When he pulls you back up, you’re gasping and sobbing. He pulls out and wraps you in a towel, easing you to the wet floor while he cleans up.

When he comes back to you, he helps you stand and dry off, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“So?”

Your brow furrows. It’s not what he usually asks after a punishment, but you think you know what he means. “I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”

“I know. M’so proud of you for taking that. You’re turning out so nicely, sweet thing.”

In the morning, you’re almost late to work after sucking him off when you should have been getting dressed. He’s about to walk out the door to head to the site when he hears your frustrated voice from the bedroom.

“Joel, where are my underwear? I need to fuckin’ leave.”

“I told you, baby. There was a price to pay when you picked the bathroom. Y’ain’t wearing ‘em anymore.”

“What?”

He doesn’t need to see you to smirk at the shocked expression he knows is on your face. “We’ll talk about it more tonight; I gotta run.”

-avulsed

“Y’know, baby,” Joel says, leaning forward to rub your shoulder. “They just don’t fuckin’ appreciate you.”

You’re bent over, elbows on your knees, crying with your face buried in your hands. You sit up and sniffle, wiping the tears. “It’s fine; it’s not like I need to be coddled at work.”

All the stress of the PR world is getting to you, and you hate it, you fucking hate it, but you dropped 50k on a degree, so now you’re stuck.

“But they make you work all this overtime, cut your team in half, and then berate you when you can’t meet the client’s deadline? You do not deserve that, baby.”

You let him coax you into his lap, facing him so you can bury your face in his soft, worn tee. He rubs your back and holds your head to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” you mumble.

“Nah, darlin’, I’ve told ya a thousand times. You deserve to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I, well. I was thinkin’...”

You wait, but when he doesn’t pick back up, you sit up and look at him.

“I dunno. It’s nothin’,” he says.

“Please tell me?”

“Alright, fine. Now, I don’t want ya to feel any pressure. It’s just a thought. But maybe you should just quit and stay with me a while, ‘till you can find something better?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. He must see something on your face, because he tips your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I know it’s sudden, but I mean it. Let me take care of ya while you figure shit out. We don’t gotta treat it like living together if y’ain’t ready. But I’d be open to that conversation, too.”

It doesn’t take much more than that. The first couple weeks, he lets you give it a try—searching for new degree programs, applying for jobs you know you’re overqualified for just to try something different.

After nothing pans out, he suggests you both take a week off. Him from work and you from the burden of trying to escape unemployment. Just relax, like a little staycation.

It’s bliss. You go on dates, eat pizza and marathon the “Jurassic Park” movies, and fuck like crazy.

On the third night, he sits you down. On his cock, of course. While you’re bouncing and brainless, he cups your cheek. “Baby, you’ve been too damn stressed still. What if we… well, what if we tried out a day or two like we’ve been talking about?”

Sometimes, you whisper to him in the darkness, usually while he’s balls deep, how you wish you could be his all the time. His good girl. His pet. And he whispers back, lures you right in with promises of taking care of everything, of you not having a worry or care in the world. Just him.

Now, he fondles your tits while he murmurs to you. “We can just wake up together, and I can take care of ya. Everything you need, baby. All you’d have to do is be good for me, yeah?”

You moan and grind down harder on his cock. “Please, sir. I want it more than anything. Just to be yours.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Joel had no patience for brats, so he usually broke his toys in sooner into the training process. He liked ‘em nice and obedient—scared, if that’s what it took, but devoted. But you had been from the start—you wanted to be good in all the ways you could never seem to be to other people. Your family, your job, the world seemed to just demand more and more.

Joel was the first person to make you feel like you had actually, really, truly pleased him. There wasn’t a higher mark you should have made. There wasn’t any expectation for you to give more and more.

His orders were complete, always. You learned that very quickly. Attempts to go above and beyond were rebuked.

“If I wanted that, I woulda said so,” he told you. And like everything else, you committed his words to memory.

It helped that he gave praise freely. You didn’t have to wonder if he was satisfied, if you should have licked him differently, if you should have made prettier faces while you came. He reassured you until you believed him, and then kept going anyway.

It made it easier for him to slowly peel you away from the ungrateful world.

“You don’t have to take that,” he’d say after watching your face fall further and further while on the phone with your mom. “Family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”

They made it too easy, really, and your relationship with them would have likely just fizzled out. But in the end, he had to step in and snap it off.

You asked him to come with you to dinner at their house. He was hesitant. He wasn’t really the boyfriend type. He wasn’t really even your boyfriend. That was too weird a word for either of you, not when he owned you.

But he knows you didn’t want to go alone, and he has a feeling he’ll be cleaning up the mess anyway.

You want to give them a chance. Things have been so tense, and they said they missed you. But they didn’t even make it through the entrée without ridiculing you.

When your father asks how work is going, you quietly confess to quitting, hastily reassuring them that you are looking for a new position. Though, and you keep this part to yourself, you maybe haven’t been trying that hard.

“What do you mean you quit? How are you paying your bills? You better not have come here to ask for money,” your father says, setting down his fork to glare at you.

“Well, I’ve been living with Joel,” you mumble to the tablecloth.

“I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger,” your mother chides.

Joel tries to bite his tongue and let them dig their own graves. But your father calls you a “fucking whore,” and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you’re cowering in your chair, fighting back tears.

“You watch your mouth,” Joel snaps at your father.

You look up, mouth agape, eyes darting from Joel to your parents.

“Mind your business,” your dad tells him.

Joel stands up and throws his napkin on the table. “She is my fuckin’ business. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone talk to her like that. You’re not an exception just because you managed to get it up long enough to cum in your wife.”

“Joel,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. You’re burning, melting on the spot, from the vulgar way he’s talking to them. For him, someone who’s always strict about manners and proper hospitality, to talk back like this? God, you think, he must really love you.

He puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds firmly as you lean into it. He rounds back on your parents. “You treat her like fuckin’ dirt beneath your feet, and I’m tired of it. You don’t deserve the fuckin’ dirt beneath her feet.”

He shoves his chair back and grabs your hand. “C’mon, baby; we’re leaving.”

You take it and stand up, letting him pull you along. Your father follows you into the foyer, and you try not to look at him while you shove your shoes on.

Joel holds your coat out while you slip into it, and you tune out whatever your dad is yelling now. You don’t want to hear it; you know it’s nasty, and your whole world has narrowed to Joel anyway.

He holds out the key. “Go wait in the truck, baby.”

And you do.

He comes out about five minutes later, red-faced and huffing with fury. He doesn’t say a word when he gets in; just throws the truck into reverse and pulls away. You both ignore the blood on his knuckles.

Once you’re on the road, he looks over at you and sighs. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You unbuckle and slide over to the middle seat, tucking your hand between his warm body to curl around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Whaddya sorry for? None of that was your fault.” He kisses the top of your head and cups your cheek at the stoplight. “It was gonna happen eventually, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the ride home is silent while you breathe in his comforting musk and try to relax. But the tension is unrelenting, the horrible rotting feeling eating away at your spine.

He knows. Knows what you need, knows what he can do to seal this moment forever. He waits until he’s unzipping the pretty little cocktail dress you’d stressed over.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, breaking away from where he was sucking his claim down your neck to swap out your delicate necklace with his collar.

He unhooks the bra and kisses the marks he left behind with the cane, your penance for being allowed to wear it. It leaves you bare to him, and his hands turn greedy. He presses biting kisses against your lips while digging fingers into your bruises, swallowing your whimpers.

He grabs you by the neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, holding you to him while your vision blurs. When he lets go, you stumble, but his arm around your back holds you upright. He slaps your face with quick, sharp blows in rapid succession to keep you unsteady.

“Knees, hands behind your head,” he says, and lets go.

You fall but are quick to right yourself and take the position. He wastes no time, giving you another harsh smack before grabbing your hair and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke and gag but keep your hands in place even as your head spins. You feel limp and grateful that he doesn’t seem to require any effort from you as he uses you without mercy.

“Look at you. You’ve got my whole cock down your throat. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your eyes are already glazed over, and you moan your appreciation around him.

He pulls out and hauls you to your feet. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Get your ass downstairs.”

He fucks you, beats you, uses you wherever he wants. But the basement is where he keeps the heavy equipment and where you know you’re about to have your mind and body pushed to the absolute limit.

You’re ready, he thinks, when he gets down and finds you waiting perfectly in place for him, eyes wide like he’s descended from on high. He jerks a thumb to the wooden post, and you meet him there.

“Forget about what they want you to be,” he murmurs as he closes the steel cuffs around your ankles. “You know what you want, baby. Right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already slipping away into that safe place only Joel can get you to.

“What do you want to be?” he asks, binding your arms up over your head to the eye bolt at the top of the post.

“Yours.” It’s half-whisper, half-whine.

“Yeah? You just wanna be mine? You don’t want to get a new job?”

“No,” you finally confess. “But—”

“But what, baby? If you say somethin’ about money or bills, I’m gonna be mighty unhappy.”

You bite your lip. “I’m scared one day, you’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart. You think I put all this work into helpin’ you, into teaching you how to be mine, just to toss ya out? You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

He slides a silicone cock into the bracket lined right up with your mouth. It’s a fairly standard size, since he knows you’re going to thrash around and doesn’t want you gagging too much and throwing up.

Your torso gets tied to the post by your tits, the wood nestled between them and rope woven around. Securing you there forces your head onto the toy, but he doesn’t make you take it all the way. You keep your mouth open and don’t move closer or further, waiting for his command.

“Suck on it whenever you’d like. You’re going to need it.”

Your eyes roll back a little at his promise. If he thinks you’re going to need something in your mouth to self-soothe, you’re in for an absolutely amazing time.

“Focus on me. That’s all you’ll need to do from now on, baby. No more worries in that pretty little head, okay?”

The first strike is a warm-up. When you feel the lash of his favorite whip lick your ass, you moan. It’s a moderately short signal whip that he wields like a fucking pro. His warmups are quick but thorough, and you’re squirming when he moves on to your thighs and shoulders.

“Already?” he says, laughing when you whine around the silicone cock.

You’re absentmindedly sucking on it when he starts a harsher assault. A particularly sharp strike stings at the valley where your ass meets your thighs, and you yelp, jerking a little and gagging yourself on the dildo.

His smirk burns into your back as the cry melts into a moan, and you writhe a little, trying to get friction where you need it most. What you get, though, is the tip of the whip against your cunt.

By the time he moves around to your tits, they’re covered in spit, heaving with the effort of holding back your orgasm. He comes up to you first, and pinches at your nipples.

“Aw, does my dumb little cunt want to cum?” He croons, tugging and twisting until you moan. He laughs when all you can get out is a muffled “mhm.”

“Tell ya what. You can cum all you want while I hurt you tonight, okay?”

He punctuates it with a particularly cruel pinch, and that, combined with his permission, is all you need to let the pleasure shudder through you.

“Yeah? You gonna get off to being my little toy? Gonna let me do whatever I want?”

You moan around the fake cock, easing it further into your throat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He doesn’t give a warm-up on your tits, figuring you’re already so far gone it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.

He’s right. The first lash is harsh, a welt blooming across the top of your breast in its wake, but you groan, trying to press your cunt up against the post for any relief.

You don’t need it, though. He brings you to your peak again with the skilled flick of his wrist, landing blows across the fat of your breasts. He waits until you’re mid-orgasm to bring the whip hard across your nipples.

The resulting wail almost makes him cum in his pants. He does it only twice more, relishing in your agony, but restraining himself from just letting loose. Not with the whip, as much as he’d like to. Maybe later with a flogger.

Once he’s taken it as far as he’s willing to risk, he moves back around to give the rest of you the same treatment. The hardest hits push you over the edge, and by the time his arm is getting tired, you’re sobbing and writhing in your restraints, overstimulated in every way.

He unlatches your ankles first, helping you find steady footing before untying your wrists and torso. You drop to your knees and open your mouth, throat aching for his cock after the tease of the toy.

He doesn’t have the willpower to torment you by denying it tonight. Instead, he nearly pops the button off his jeans in his urgency to pull his cock out and shove it as far down your throat as he can.

Your arms find their place behind your back, and you just take it. He fucks into you without restraint. It’s filthy, from the mess you’re making to the wet choking sounds he pushes out of you with each thrust.

You’re shaking, and he pulls out abruptly.

“I said while I’m hurting you. You don’t get to just cum from getting facefucked.”

“Then hurt me, please,” you sob. It’s right there; you’re so close.

He slaps you across the face and laughs as you cum, shoving back into your throat while you’re still riding out the aftershocks.

He pulls back out, and you whine until he yanks you up by the bicep and pushes you over to the padded bench, bending you over it and shoving into your sopping cunt.

“Still disappointed?” he teases.

“N-no,” you pant. “Please hurt me.”

“Beg me properly, greedy little cunt.”

You clench around him just at the words, but obey. “Please, sir, please hurt me so I can cum. Please.”

“I’ve been hurtin’ you all night, baby,” he says, voice thick with false pity. “Don’t you want me to be gentle with you now?” He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cum as he mocks you.

“No,” you sob. “No, love me, hurt me, please.”

It’s got an edge of desperation and heartbreak to it that he just loves.

He smacks your already bruising ass until you sob harder, shaking uncontrollably as you cum. He wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you through it until he cums, hips stuttering, and filling your cunt with his spend.

He lets himself collapse a little on top of you, pinning you with his weight against the bench with his softening cock still buried in you. “Feel loved now?”

You’re still crying, and when he folds his arms around your chest, elbows resting on the table, you cling to him. “Love you,” you murmur over and over, pressing kisses up and down his forearms.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at you. “I know, baby. You know I love ya.” He’s half-hard—not something that happens a lot anymore at his age, so he’s not gonna waste it. He pulls out just to manhandle you up onto the bench on your back, climbing up between your legs and shoving back in.

It’s a little sloppy until he’s fully hard again; your combined cream making things a little too slippery. Once he’s erect, though, he sets a punishing pace, folding you in half with your legs up by your ears. He works your clit with his hand, relishing in the way you’re fucking exhausted and overstimulated, but your poor clit’s been neglected. It means he can twist and pull on it, tugging until you give him more and more, until you’re sobbing for mercy that you know you’ll never get.

He doesn’t ease up until he pulls out to cum over your tits and face.

“Mine,” he snarls, shoving his fingers into your swollen cunt and feeding you what’s left of his first orgasm and your… well, he’s not really sure how many. A fuckin’ lot. “You’re all mine. Little fuckin’ toy to do whatever I want, right?”

You’re still gasping for breath, having been half-suffocated in that position, but when you look at him, it’s like he’s a fucking god. “Yes, sir.”

-broken

The day had started out fine.

He’d laid out a dress for you to wear. Sometimes, he made you go around bare for a while, just to fuck with your head a little, but he prefers to unwrap you like a present.

Plus, the sight of you crawling around in nothing but a slutty, barely-there dress is picture-fuckin’-perfect. He’d know; he’s got a bunch of ‘em on his phone.

And crawl, you do. You haven’t been allowed to walk further than a couple of feet in a long time. There’s penance to be paid if you can’t avoid it.

Joel collects your penance whenever possible, gathering what’s owed for your sins and dealing out forgiveness when it's settled. It’s how he shows his love.

And he does love you. How could he not? Such a perfect little toy. He’s spent so much time training you right to be his prized possession.

He knew it’d happen eventually, so when you commit one of the worst offenses, he has to make it count. You were testing your limits, of course; he had expected it. He had expected it months ago. It was worse now, after you’d been so good and earned so much trust. But now that you’d been nothing but his for two months, you had finally fucked up.

Your punishments were never painful. Okay, they weren’t pain-focused. Sometimes, he had to put you over his knee to let his frustration out before he could give you a proper punishment. But the pain wasn’t the point—you both liked it too damn much. No matter how much farther he took it than a regular session, and no matter how sick you were with guilt, you were always a soaking wet mess after a beating.

This time would have to be different, though.

It was time to finally break you.

He knew as soon as he got home. Not the particulars, but that you’d made a huge mistake.

On the surface, nothing was amiss. You were knelt by the door in your pretty little dress, a short number in navy blue. You had your head down and arms folded behind your back in perfect posture.

But something was off. It didn’t feel like you were happy he was home. And he was pretty sure there would only be one reason for that.

He hung up his keys but didn’t bother to take off his shoes, coming to stand in front of you. “What’d you do?”

You flinch and have to re-tense to hold the position as a sob escapes you. Your hands are balled into fists to fight the urge to cover your face. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked what you did.”

If it were still the early days, when this shit usually happened, he might have been just a little softer. At least until he coaxed the confession from you, anyway. But you were in too deep, now, too entangled in this life that he had little patience for your reticence.

“I—”

“I recommend you spit it out. You’ll tell me in the end, anyway.”

You start to cry. “I can’t say it.”

“You better figure it out pretty fuckin’ fast, little girl.”

“I had an orgasm,” you blurt, whimpers escalating to sobs.

He pauses. It’s worse than he thought. The rush of disappointment and anger sends his heart racing, and his fingers flex in longing for a cane.

“Did you enjoy it?” he says.

It catches you off guard. “No, I promise.”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause it’s the last one you’re gonna have for a while.”

You aren’t surprised; you’re actually relieved. Of course, of course he’ll fix you.

He finally takes his shoes off and sets his phone on the counter, beckoning you to follow him to the living room. Taking his seat on the couch, he waits until you’re settled at his feet.

“Why’d you do that, baby?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. I was edging for the last time today, and I don’t know what happened. It was just there, and I knew it, I knew it was coming, and I—” You choke on the guilt, the grief.

“You what?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t convince myself to stop. I kept thinking ‘no, you stupid cunt,’ but I couldn’t pull my hand away.”

He regards you for a moment. He’s burning inside, but trying to calculate the most effective approach.

“Thank you for telling me right away,” he says, but even though he means it, the words are cold and clipped. “Which hand?”

You look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What?”

“Which hand did you use? Give it to me.”

You lift up your right hand, and he cradles it in his.

“Listen close.” He waits until he’s sure you’re focused on him, on his words.

This is where things have fallen apart in the past. No amount of training and manipulation can get someone across this hurdle; they have to mean it. The last thing he wants is someone running to the police because they don’t fucking understand how serious he is.

“This is going to be your last chance to back out. I will stop right now and let you pack your shit and leave. But if you stay, you’re agreeing to anything I do to you past this point.”

You bite your lip, stomach churning. “You’re scaring me,” you whisper.

“Good. You should be scared. What you’ve done is one of the worst things you could have. That’s got some serious consequences, baby.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I gotta hurt you. Bad. Y’ain’t going to like this; I can promise you that. I can’t punish your cunt because you’re such a stupid pain slut; anything short of permanent damage is gonna make you wet. And I’m not lookin’ to do permanent damage.”

Your lip trembles, heart pounding. You’ve never been so afraid, but you’re also enthralled. Lured in by the timbre of his voice and the salvation it’s promising.

He squeezes your hand where he’s still holding onto you. “I’m going to break one of your fingers.”

Your heart falters, blood rushing. “Oh god,” you whisper, shaking your head. Instinctively, you tug back on your hand, but he grasps it tight, tight enough that you feel the bones grind under his large fingers.

“It’s up to you. That’s half the price for forgiveness. The rest is gonna be spending the night alone.”

Somehow, that sounds worse. You can’t breathe.

“Gotta choose, baby. You wanna go? I’ll pay for a cab. You can walk away, but you can’t ever come back.”

You think you might be drowning. Leave? How could you leave? There’s no debate in your head; you have nothing without Joel. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And the idea of losing him feels catastrophic.

You’re crying again, and you’re vaguely aware of his soothing voice trying to coach you through breathing. When you focus on him, just like he’s taught you, you start to calm down.

It’s Joel, you think. He’ll take care of you. And he said he didn’t want permanent damage. You just have to suffer for your betrayal and he’ll forgive you.

“I think I might throw up,” you warn him.

He sighs, the fear of losing you flooding away, taking some of his anger with it. “We’ll do it in the bathroom.”

He stands up, and you follow, albeit slowly, as the wave of nausea rises. You do throw up as soon as you get in the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. He holds your hair and rubs his hand across your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, baby, get it out of your system. You’re being so brave for me,” he croons. He helps you up to sit on the edge of the tub and gets you a little cup of mouthwash.

“I’ll help you brush your teeth after,” he promises. “I’d do it now, but, well. You’re probably going to puke again.”

When you’re done swishing the mouthwash, when it’s all turned to foam and you’ve spit it back in the cup, he swaps you for water. You rinse and spit that, too.

He’s laid a few things out on the counter. You feel dizzy all over again. Something tells you the comfort you feel is wrong, but he’s prepared an ice pack and medical tape, and has four little ibuprofen out next to another cup of water.

The other, louder part of you is whispering, see? He’ll take care of you. The act of wondering what’s wrong with you feels like a farce. You’re thinking it because you think you should, just going through the motions.

He takes off his belt and brings it to your mouth. You clench it between your teeth, letting a shaky breath through. His hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“I knew you were somethin’ special,” he whispers. You’re not sure he meant to.

Your whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He watches you for a moment, worried you’re going to faint, and then sits on the floor with his back against the tub, pulling you into his lap. He lays you back against his chest, caging you in with his arms and thighs. The ice pack sits to his right, already popped and frozen. Waiting.

Gently, he lifts your hand and brings it in front of your chest, taking it in his left. It’s a macabre mockery, the way he cradles it in his palm, fingers wrapped around the sides. In his right hand, he notches his thumb on the knuckle of your middle finger, bringing the other fingers in below it.

He doesn’t drag it out, doesn’t take pleasure in your terror. When he moves, it’s faster than a gunshot. Your scream is raw, breaking free from the spaces between your teeth and the belt. The taste of leather will remind you of this moment for the rest of your life.

He has the ice pack on it before you mentally register that it’s over. You’re sobbing. Horribly, he’s right, and you are sick again. He holds your hair in one fist, holding the ice pack to your mangled hand in the other.

When you’re done, he pulls you back against him, wrapping his limbs around you in a perverse embrace as you shake harder. With his free hand, he brings a damp, cool cloth to your face, cleaning you of the viscera of your sickness.

He’s shushing you, head bent close to your ear. “It’s alright, baby, it’s over. You did so good. I’m so proud. I love you so much.”

It’s good that he doesn’t expect an answer because he doesn’t get one. You’re too lost in the pain and shock.

When it’s time to take a break from the ice, he grabs the medical tape and wraps it around your index and middle fingers. You cry out again as he jostles the break. Once he’s splinted it, he lowers your hand gently to your lap so he can grab the medicine.

“I can’t; I’ll throw up again,” you say, voice cracking.

“Don’t have a choice, baby. Gotta keep the swelling down.”

He feeds you each pill, one by one, chasing them with sips of water.

You look so sad and precious that he almost feels bad. Unfortunately, he’s also rock fucking hard, so he shifts you a little to pull his dick out.

You don’t say anything when he lifts you to lower you on it. He’s careful, trying not to shake you around too much. He was right; you didn’t enjoy this pain. You’ve never been this dry for him before, and you whimper pathetically at the pinch and sting of his girth.

You may be worn out and in agony, but your cunt doesn’t get the message. He grins when he feels you getting wet and clenching around him. He doesn’t push it though, doesn’t torment you, just fucks up into you gently until he fills you.

You’re limp against him now, and he presses a kiss into your hair. “You may have to walk for a bit,” he muses. “But I’ll cap your penance at ten.”

You wince. Ten strokes with the cane on the soles of your feet every day until your finger heals? You usually only owe enough for two or three. It is a mercy, though, so you nod and thank him.

Joel can hardly contain the way his chest is flooding with warmth. You’re so close; he can feel it. So close to being completely his to put together just the way he likes.

He can’t wait to take you to The Pit.

-kintsugi

You’re cold. So cold. You’re curled in on yourself, tucked into a corner in the hopes that you’d be able to keep warmer. Your whole right hand throbs.

Moonlight only cuts across the corner, but it’s a comfort still. The soil is loose and you keep shuddering, feeling the tickle of a dozen phantom insects.

Worst of all, your chest aches, like he may as well have hewn you open. Dry sobs work their way free every now and then, leaving your mouth tacky and your throat full of cotton.

The only rest you get is when you blessedly pass out. Every time you close your eyes voluntarily, you see the heartbroken look on his face when you begged him not to leave you there.

“I wish I didn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t broken my trust and I could keep you close, baby. But you’re never going to learn how to be good if I don’t show ya.”

Bad, I’m bad, he doesn’t want me anymore, you think to no end.

When the sun starts to rise, you’re limp, still in your corner. You barely turn your head when a shadow falls over The Pit, but your heart starts to pound when the lock clicks, and Joel raises the gate.

“Oh, baby,” he says, soft and sorrowful. “C’mere.” He reaches out a hand, and you scramble to him, letting him take your left arm in his grasp and pull you out. You move immediately to your knees, body bent forward as your knotted muscles protest. He scoots his boot out of the danger zone near your broken finger.

You keep whispering, a broken record of “Sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”

He picks you up and holds you to his chest, shushing until you fall quiet. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds as your brain desperately clings to any scrap, any way you can be good for him.

He brushes the loose dirt from you before going inside and upstairs to the ensuite. He sets you on the little rug next to the full garden tub, and he tests the water with his fingers before peeling his clothes off.

You flex your left hand, balling it in and out of a fist. You’ve never been particularly ambidextrous and wonder how you’re going to wash him without falling in or hurting your hand.

Before he gets in, he feeds you four more little red pills. Once he’s settled, he reaches out and guides you carefully by the waist, pulling you into his lap in the warm water.

That’s all it takes for you to start crying again. He doesn’t try to quiet you; just holds you there against his chest and lets you sob.

By the time you’ve calmed, the water has cooled, but instead of getting out, he just drains a little and runs more hot water.

Joel tips your chin up gently with the knuckle of his index finger. “You ready to be my good girl again?”

You nod, lip trembling.

Joel does nothing you hadn’t asked for. The trouble for you was that you asked for too much. Gave him too much. And it was far too late to get any of it back.

He gave what he could, though. Couldn’t replace what he’d taken, so he pours himself in the cracks, puts you back together with a firm hand and loving care. Sure, his love doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but he knows you see it for what it is.

“I know, baby. You took that all so well. Don’t worry,” he pauses to kiss you, “I forgive you. My perfect little toy.”

pls be nice, I'm so nervous about this.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dddne #tw noncon #non con #dark fic #tw abuse #seriously heed the warnings #don't like don't read #deaddovedecember2023

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