#this is more for me to put my thoughts into words

[highdramas]

ik you said you were looking for ideas: what if the f!attending!reader got too drunk at a group outing and he took her home?

party for you | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!resident!reader warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), descriptions of throwing up, references to sex and gets steamy but nothing explicit, sweet sweet fluff <3 word count: 2.6k summary: you party a little too hard and jack takes care of you in his perfect way. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with any of my work or this fic. thank you for this lovely request!!!! idk if i like how this one turned out but i hope that you do! oh to be taken care of by jack when i'm too drunk! this is a part of the ring of fire interconnected series, but it’s not necessary to read the prior parts to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find the masterlist here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!

“hey, brother.”

“hey man.” jack keeps one steady hand on the wheel, the other holds the phone to his ear. when he felt the vibration from his pocket, there was that sudden, jolting feeling. was it you? were you okay? did you just want to say hi? did you miss him, the way he missed you? but then robby flashes across his screen, adorned with a stupid picture of him from a thanksgiving potluck a few years back.

( when he thinks about that thanksgiving potluck now, in retrospect, the detail that stands out to him is that he actually sat next to you. when dana, half drunk and wild with her wine glass in the air, asked everyone to share what they were grateful for, jack had nudged you and muttered, “just say your family. it makes her weepy, every time.”

you had covered your mouth to stifle your laughter. he felt entirely satisfied with himself. one little moment out of several across the years where the lines were clearly drawn: attending, resident. teacher, student. off limits. )

jack makes a shoddy attempt at shaking the thought of you away to focus on whatever it is robby needs to share– unlikely to keep him as rapt, but worthy of his time and attention, presumably.

“you getting close to town?”

“uh– ‘bout five minutes out. what’s up?” the rumble of the party is heard, but robby doesn’t say anything. jack asks robby if you’re alright. more quiet.

when you asked jack last weekend if he was planning on going to princess’s halloween party, with that goddamn glint of hope in your eye, it had taken all of the self control in the world to say, “i volunteer with the VA for a camping trip every halloween weekend. i won’t be back until late the night of the party.”

you had deflated slightly, but mustered up enough mischief to say, “what, you don’t want to go as jim and pam from the office, in true 'we just started dating' fashion? rude.”

he had hung his head, put his hands on your thighs and looked up at you with what he could only assume was a pathetic, pitiful expression. to be fair, you made him reasonably pathetic, and certainly pitiful. the fact that every man wasn’t unreasonably infatuated with you was a wonder to him.

“i’m sure i can get someone to cover for me–”

“no,” you had said with a shake of your head. your hands went to cradle his face, your thumb brushing the place where a dimple develops when you really get him smiling, or laughing. “don’t do that. they’re planning on having you. i shouldn’t be selfish.”

but what if he wanted to be selfish? it’s already been a significant struggle to not want to follow you everywhere. he would go with you into his worst nightmare if you asked. he’d do another tour if it meant that you were smiling at him, just like you were in that moment. the hold that you have on him is not lost on him in the slightest, and he wouldn't change it, even if he wanted to. devotion feels good. it feels right.

but, with coaxing from you, he had gone on the trip, and you still went to princess’s party. when he got cell service back during the four hour drive, he immediately called you, if only to hear your voice. you sounded excited, but he could hear the dip in it when you said wish you were here. then you sent a picture of that goddamn tomb raider costume…

which was why, despite his exhaustion, despite the fact that he probably stinks like a campfire, despite the way that his leg burns… he has princess’s address in his gps.

“is she alright?” jack repeats himself.

“she’s fine. she’s fine. she’s just had a lot to drink, is all. dana’s in the bathroom with her now, but i think she’s about ready to, uh, go. i was just wanting to see if you were close, or if we should get mateo to–”

“don’t put her in a goddamn car with mateo, or anyone else. i’m down the fucking road. are you keeping her hydrated?”

“yes, and–”

“what about some carbs? get her a piece of toast. she’ll ask for it with honey, but best to keep it plain. and maybe some ice on her wrists to cool her body temperature. she’s prone to overheating.”

“jack,” robby cuts through. “we know. we got her. i’ll see you soon, brother.”

–

the thing that people don’t tell you about alcohol? it’s fun when it’s fun. it’s horrible when it’s horrible. well, they do tell you that. you've seen enough alcohol poisoning cases come through the emergency department to know just how easy it is to topple over the edge without even realizing it. but, treating it is one thing. experiencing it is another.

and there might not be anything more hellish than getting nearly blacked out, surrounded by health care professionals.

everything had been great. you were drinking a little more than normal, but, hey– it was halloween! and you had two days off in a row! that felt like something to be celebrated. and, yeah, maybe the fact that you drank two of those nearly neon blue buzzballs was a bad idea. maybe that last shot with princess was also a bad idea. but you had been feeling good. better than good.

you had never been much of a drinker, or a partier, but not because you didn’t want to be. sometimes, you just didn’t know how to be. at a certain point, you had accepted that you were a little bit of a recluse in college… and med school… and, now, through your residency, too. you liked working and researching and if you weren’t doing either of those things, you preferred to smoke some weed to relax and watch below deck, or a real housewives franchise.

the only time that you didn’t feel like a loser was when you were in jack’s living room watching something inane, like one of those live police shows, or ancient aliens, because if you get jack high enough, he’ll want to watch it for hours. in those moments, the only label that felt sufficient was his.

you are typically wise enough to know what your limits are around drinking– you are a doctor, after all. but you were feeling a little moody since jack wasn’t there, and the alcohol wasn’t doing anything to help that, and then, you made the uniquely horrible decision to hit the joint that was being passed around the backyard. you told yourself it would calm your nerves. the only thing it did was kick off the world spinning for the better part of an hour.

which is how you’re now, here. back against the wall of princess’s bathroom, your head between your knees, with dana and samira crouched beside you, each trying to heal you– as is their nature.

“baby, you need to look up, and just stare at that shampoo bottle. keep staring at it and don’t stop. that’s my trick for the spins.” dana’s voice sounds warbled, far away. you force your head up and stare at the shampoo bottle in question. “good, good. keep doing that.”

robby comes to the doorway with his phone in his hand, and a fresh glass of water in the other. you don’t quite pick up everything that he says, but you hear jack and soon and it’s enough for your incoherent brain to string together the rest. “jack is here?” you ask, and damn that hope in your voice, damn it to hell. you’ve been publicly dating for less than six months and you’re already being embarrassingly, publicly in love.

“yeah, he’s almost here.”

you smile. laugh a little to yourself. dana and samira share a look and they can’t help the laughter, too. you’re about to say something else when robby is maneuvered to the side, and jack stands in the doorframe. everything is still spinning, but you try dana’s trick, making jack into your shampoo bottle, using the image of him to ground yourself. “hey,” you say, head falling back and thunking against the wall. he’s at your side immediately, using a hand to cradle the back of your head, push strands away from your eyes. “i think i partied a little too hard.”

“yeah, i think so too, kid.” he gives robby an intense look and a nod of his head and everyone clears out from the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. he finds your eyes, so bleary and tired and unfocused. you give him a half hearted pout that turns into a smile. “want me to get you home?”

“yes, please,” you let him hold your head up, hand sliding from the back of it to your cheek. you turn your mouth to press a kiss into his palm, open-mouthed, wanting, despite everything. “i’m so embarrassed.”

“what?” jack scrunches his face up. “you have nothing to be embarrassed over.”

“i do,” you say through a hiccup, your hands reaching to grab at jack’s forearms– you love his arms, love how strong they look, love how they hold you. “i started blabbing about how much i love you to robby. and i’m not embarrassed that i love you– i’m embarrassed because i’m supposed to be a professional, and you’re my attending, and–” you cut yourself off because he’s smiling at you, wide. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because you’re one of a kind, kid.” he presses a kiss into your forehead. “c’mon, let’s–”

the sentence dies because you dive forward, scrambling to get the toilet seat up before you empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. “shit.” you hear him grunt, but it’s faint over the sound of you coughing, resting your forehead against the edge. you take in a shaky breath as you feel jack’s hands pulls the strands of your hair that have escaped the lara croft-esque braid you put your hair into. “let it out. you’re good, i’ve got you. you’ll feel better.”

you throw up another two times before your stomach finally relents and gives up the good fight. your limbs are shaky, and jack’s hand rubs a gentle pattern into your spine. you faintly, far away, hear the door open just a crack. jack murmurs something to who you can only presume is robby, because he returns with a fresh glass of water, a sleeve of saltine crackers, and a stick of gum. you're just glad they're not taking you to the emergency room for a bag of fluids. you wouldn't put it past them.

jack settles behind you with a groan, knees creaking. you look at him from over your shoulder and ask, despite everything, “how was the camping trip?”

he smirks, the amusement at your question evident on his face. “good. really good.” he adjusts the tank top that you wear, where it’s ridden up, smoothing it against your waist. “how are you feeling?”

“much better,” you say with a nod of your head as a punctuation. “it was the joint i smoked that really did me dirty. and the fact that i ate, like, ten hush puppies.”

“i believe it.” he looks lost in thought for a moment, before he adds, “i’m sorry i wasn’t here.”

“it’s not your job to babysit me,” you muse, shaky hand taking the water from him. he shakes his head and puts it to your lips, helps tip your head back, takes proper care of you. “and you deserve to do things on your own. we both have to do that if we want this to work.” the alcohol still has you loose, because you continue, “i like being my own person. doing my own things. but…” you shrug a shoulder. “i really like being me with you. i did wish you were here tonight. i missed you. i kept looking over my shoulder like you'd just... be there.”

“i wished i was too. i missed you,” jack sets the glass down and hands you a saltine cracker instead. his eyes trail you, up and down. “i didn’t get a chance to say it yet, but you look sexy.”

“i just threw up enough alcohol to get an entire sorority drunk.”

“still sexy.” his hand lands on your thigh and squeezes one time before he lets go. “you wanna get out of here? or want to hang for a little?”

“i’m ready to go.” jack helps you to your feet and rubs at your shoulders while you take handfuls of water from the sink, swishing it about in your mouth. jack unwraps the stick of gum and turns you, tapping it against your chin once. you open your mouth for him and he places it on your tongue with a heady gaze. you blow a bubble at him, listen to the pop fill the air around you.

when his eyes flick down to your mouth, you put a hand on his chest. “you can’t wait to kiss me until i’ve brushed my teeth?”

“i don’t care.” his hands are getting greedy, going to your waist, squeezing like he just needs to feel you, needs to feel that you’re real and right in front of him. “please.”

before, you never would’ve pinned jack abbot as a clingy man. now, it makes perfect sense to you. you only need to be apart for a few hours before he’s looking at the little picture of you that he has in his wallet. you could only imagine him these last three days: huddled around a campfire, mind drifting to you. the thought makes you feel a satisfaction you've never known before.

you don’t know if you’ve ever been loved as completely as jack loves you. it’s not just one way that he’s good: it’s all of the ways. he’s not perfect, and you don’t expect him to be– sometimes, he can close himself off. he can snap at you when he’s irritable. but he’s good. a good man.

how can you deny jack what he’s asking for? especially when he asks so nicely. you give a slight nod of your head and that’s enough for him. he pulls you in close, by the back of your neck, his favorite point of your body: and he presses his lips against yours and kisses you so thoroughly that you feel breathless.

you feel a little bit like a college kid, making out in a bathroom while loud music plays behind you. but you wouldn’t change a thing: you love sex with jack, you love that he makes it good, tender, hot, passionate. but you love this, too: the neediness that can exist without ever taking an article of clothing off, arching your back so that your breasts press against his chest, hearing the catch of his breath when you do. you love to rake your fingers through his hair because you know that it drives him crazy, and you like seeing the goosebumps that you get in return.

jack nips your lower lip with his teeth and it makes you gasp into his mouth, and his hand squeezes against the back of your neck. he chuckles into you. “i love when you do that,” he breathes. “when you make that sound.”

it’s your turn to cling to the back of jack’s neck and press your fingers into it. “are you going to take me home or not?”

jack wears his smirk like a badge of honor. and then, so seamlessly, he blows a bubble with the gum that at some point went from your mouth to his.

“that is disgusting,” you say, but your face deceives you: your slack-jawed, twinkly eyes expression says everything that words can’t. “foul.”

“sorry,” jack says and comes in for one more hot kiss, using his tongue to press the gum back into your mouth. “didn’t mean to take that.”

[jaysbaefie]

bullshit | sjy

synopsis: in which months of mocking jake online comes back to bite you, and he makes sure you regret every single word—on your knees.

genre: idol au

pairing: idol!jake x blogger!reader

warnings: dubcon? bratty!reader, petty!jake, mean!jake, big dick!jake, kidnapping (sort of kind of??), oral (m.rec), cum swallowing, reader grinds down on jake’s shoe, mention of daddy kink (but it’s not used), forced submission, manhandling, titty sucking, marking, begging, degrading. self degradation, rough and unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, light spanking slapping and chocking, creampie, spitting, recording for blackmail purposes. i think that’s it….

wc: 15.1k

a/n: this took a lot more time that i initially thought it would … but it’s here now! this draft has been sitting in my archives for years like literal years. back when i used to write on wattpad for bts i had this plot written for tae but scrapped it because i lacked creativity to make it happen. but here we r ! also side note this is not edited to the best of its abilities so if u c a mistake… im sorry :D hope you enjoy, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :)

✎﹏﹏

the dorm door slammed open, the sound of sneakers dragging across the floor echoing behind it. the 7 exhausted boys spilled into the living room, all drained and sweaty from the insane dance practice that had run two hours longer than scheduled. jake collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning into a throw pillow as he stretches his limbs before he feels a cramp in his leg.

"i think my spine is permanently bent," he mumbled, not moving an inch.

sunghoon flopped onto the floor, using his hoodie as a pillow. "i think i disassociated during 'bite me.'"

"you always disassociate during 'bite me,'" heeseung shot back, tossing a towel at him making sunghoon scowl.

jay, meanwhile, had his phone out, thumb lazily scrolling through twitter as he half-listened to the chaos around him. he was about to put his phone down when a thread caught his eye.

"kpop idols who probably have the smallest dick (a very unserious thread)"

"...oh?" jay blinked, intrigued for all the wrong reasons. a grin formed on his lips as he clicked, the list started off wild.

1. jaehyun nct - idc what y'all say. he screams below average. 2. jeno nct - this is a hater post. cry about it. 3. jake from enhypen - golden retriever energy but gives micro vibes. sorry not sorry.

jay let out a loud, sudden laugh at the description given for jake—catching everyone's attention.

"yo, jake," he wheezed, turning the screen toward him. "look what someone said about you."

jake rolled over lazily, half hazy, "what?"

jay shoved the phone in front of his face. jake read the tweet once, then again. then a third time. his brows furrowed deeper with each pass, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"...are you serious right now?"

he sat up, yanking the phone from jay's hand to read it himself. his eyes scanned the username, the post and then the likes. 10k likes for a bullshit post, jake scoffed in disbelief. he scrolled down to read the replies which were full of people either agreeing or arguing like their lives depended on it.

"no because she's right and she should say it louder" one of the comments read, jake furrowed his eyebrows before scowling.

"i love him but... yeah."

"nah he gives big dick energy actually"

"this is so mean LMFAOOO"

jake's mouth opened in shock. "why am i even on this list? what did i do to deserve this? how does someone look at me and go, 'yeah, micro dick.' what the hell?"

jay couldn't stop laughing. "it's so random, too. like. where did they get the data? did they run a poll?"

"this isn't funny!" jake snapped, slapping jay's shoulder with the back of his hand. "i'm being slandered in front of thousands of people. tens of thousands!"

sunoo peeked over jay's shoulder. "ooh. and someone made a follow-up post. wait—found their tumblr. they said he looks like he apologizes after missionary.'" sunoo cackles, "i can totally see that."

jake nearly choked on air, "what?!"

he snatched sunoo's phone this time, heart pounding as he scrolls violently across your twitter page. he followed the breadcrumb trail from twitter to a tumblr blog: @s0ftbrat666.

the header was a blurry photo of a cunty hello kitty, and the bio just said: "unserious about everything but dick size."

"who the hell is this? why do they hate me so bad?"

niki, who had been quietly sipping water from the kitchen, muttered, "maybe they're a fan of yours. like, weirdly obsessed. reverse psychology or something."

"no. this is personal. this feels targeted," jake muttered, already downloading and opening the tumblr app on his phone. "i'm not letting this slide."

he made a new account. he picked the most ironic, absurd username he could think of: @goldenjake420.

because that screams, 'i'm the real jake sim!!'

he messaged you immediately, his hands shaking in rage as he smashes his fingers into the screen.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

"this is so stupid," he muttered, tossing his phone beside him.

jay raised a brow. "you really just dm'd a twitter troll on tumblr?"

"yes. because the truth matters, jay. i do not have a micro dick!" he exclaims, clearly frustrated from his group mates lack of empathy. he looks around the room in hopes of his members reassurance, only to receive looks of disturbance.

"cmon guys, you know i don't have a micro dick.." he trails off when he sees sunoo grimace at his words.

heeseung smirked from the other side of the couch suddenly sitting up right, ignoring his aching body. "you should send a pic to prove it."

jay cackles before agreeing, "yeah, downwards angles always make that shit look like a tower."

"SHUT UP!" jake shouted, face red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

the room erupted in laughter as jake sat there fuming, arms crossed, waiting for a response. he had no idea the person he messaged was already rolling their eyes and preparing to block him.

and this was only the beginning.

you were no stranger to the occasional deranged and delusional fan losing their mind over a post. it was social media, not a diplomatic summit. if you said someone's fave had bad fashion sense or gave off weak dick energy, it was bound to stir drama—but you thrived in it.

what you didn't expect, though, was to get a dm from an account called @goldenjake420 claiming to be jake himself. not just a fan defending him. not someone crying in your inbox about how you were "too mean."

no. this person had committed to the bit.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

you blinked at the message, snorted, and sat back in your chair.

"okay..." you muttered under your breath. "we've reached new levels of delusion."

you clicked the profile. no posts. followed no one. default layout. pfp of a blurry golden retriever. and the username?

goldenjake420.

"oh my god," you wheezed. this was peak fandom brainrot.

you stared at the message for a minute, thumbs hovering over your keyboard before you decided, you know what? fine. you wanna play jake sim? let's play.

you typed:

@s0ftbrat666: omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry... i didn't know you had a tumblr account i feel so bad now omg i'll take it down right away thank you for being so mature and respectful about it... ugh i feel terrible lol

you hit send. then burst out laughing, eyes watering as you cackle alone in your room.

and five minutes later, you posted a new post on your blog.

—— post by @s0ftbrat666

just got a dm from someone PRETENDING to be jake sim because they were mad i said he has a micro dick LMAOOO. like babes be serious... jake sim is not on tumblr dot com messaging me with a blurry pic of a golden retriever and the username @/goldenjake420. but since he's here reading my posts, hey jake! if u're mad now wait til u see what i post next

anyway updated my list: "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version" jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes and gifs as evidence. enjoy :] ——

you tagged it: #jake sim #enhypen #pls don't take this seriously #except jake if ur reading this then yeah take it seriously

you sat back and refreshed the notes every few seconds. it was already blowing up. likes, reblogs, someone screaming in the tags: "NOT THE FOOTNOTES."

you were thriving, satisfaction filling you as the comments seemed to hype you up.

unbeknownst to you, somewhere in a dorm across the city, jake was screaming into a pillow.

jake was laying on his stomach, face shoved into a couch cushion, aggressively refreshing your tumblr page like a man on a mission. the first message he sent you hadn't gone exactly how he expected. he thought maybe—maybe—you'd feel a little guilty, take the post down, maybe even apologize. instead, he was met with:

"omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry..."

at first, he blinked. then smiled. you were going to apologize and take it down..great!

okay, he thought, that was easier than expected.

but then he saw the post you had published just a few minute later.

—— "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version." jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes. and gifs. enjoy :] ——

"NO I AM NOT," he yelled into the pillow, voice muffled but full of sheer disbelief.

he rolled over and shot upright, shoving his phone in jay's face. "do you SEE this? i was already called micro dick jake, but now i'm a submissive pillow princess? where is she even getting this from?"

jay looked over the post with a calm expression and said, "well... you did say 'ngl' in a tumblr dm. that's kinda submissive."

"jay."

"i'm just saying."

jake's blood pressure was actively rising. he was pacing the living room now, phone clenched in his fist. "this isn't a joke anymore. she's making footnotes. gifs, bro. there's like a whole academic paper on my dick energy. and worst of all, PEOPLE ARE AGREEING."

sunoo peeked around the corner. "maybe just let it go? like... it's tumblr. no one's gonna remember next week."

"it's twitter too! no. no, she wanted to make it personal. it's personal now."

he went back to tumblr, typing furiously in your dm's.

@goldenjake420: okay first of all?? i was acc being really nice u said some really rude stuff and i still tried to talk to u calmly but now ur doubling down with footnotes?? idk y ur so convinced i'm a submissive pillow princess but ur wrong like so wrong scientifically inaccurate levels of wrong

he hit send. then stared at the screen.

nothing. no response. refresh. refresh.

"error: message could not be delivered."

"...what?" jake frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he desperately tried sending his messages again.

he clicked your profile.

"you've been blocked by this user."

the silence that followed was deafening.

"she blocked me," he whispered, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. "she actually blocked me."

jay cackled from across the room. "maybe now you'll stop fighting the tumblr girl who thinks you're a bottom."

"i'm not a bottom!" jake snapped, defensive. "and i'm definitely not a pillow princess!"

jay peers over jake's shoulder, his face pulls into a grimace as he reads jake's messages. "maybe it's a good thing that those didn't deliver... you're proving her point." jake rolls his eyes in response, not wanting to deal with his friend.

he opened twitter, then paused. was he really about to tweet about this?

he closed the app.

instead, he opened his notes app and started typing:

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick."

this wasn't over.

if he had to write a dissertation, he would. he was reclaiming his name. one footnote at a time.

you were in bed, face smushed into your pillow, scrolling aimlessly when the tag notification came in. you were about to ignore it—probably another reblog of your cursed "submissive missionary micro dick energy" thread—but the caption caught your eye:

@s0ftbrat666 you need to see this LMAOOO he made a THREAD. a whole thread.

confused but curious, you tapped the post.

and there it was.

a full thread. by a tumblr user named @truthaboutjake, which already gave deranged energy, but it got better.

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick (a thread)."

you nearly dropped your phone, a giggle leaving you as you excitedly click on the thread.

the first slide was formatted like a presentation. bolded title, bullet points, and an unnecessary amount of spacing like someone had spent way too long formatting it.

—— slide 1: addressing the accusations • the tumblr user @s0ftbrat666 has made multiple posts claiming i am submissive • she has also accused me of having a micro dick • both of these are false, offensive, and based on no real evidence ——

no real evidence, he said. like you were in court.

"what in the deranged.." you muttered to yourself, re-reading the text a second time to make sure you were hallucinating.

you snorted, swiping to the next.

—— slide 2: rebuttal • i've been told i give off dominant energy • no one who owns a denim jacket collection that big can be submissive • as for the size... let's just say i've never received complaints ——

you had to pause there, hand over your mouth, wheezing. "denim jackets radiate peg me," you cackle to yourself.

this wasn't a thread written by a deranged fan. no, this was someone personally offended on a soul level. and the way it was written? the tone? the wording?

it was giving him. it was jake.

no one else would be this pressed.

you laughed so hard you had to sit up.

this man had been so insulted by your dumb, unserious thirst post that he created a whole alternate account, wrote a google-doc-tier thread, and was now trying to clear his name in the notes app format. you were obsessed.

you hit reblog.

—— @s0ftbrat666: i have never in my life witnessed a man fight for his dom rights this hard the denim jacket argument almost had me convinced ngl

jake sim if this is actually you: 1. calm down 2. you're literally proving my point 3. post the evidence since you're so confident ——

the comments came flooding in:

"NOT HIM MAKING A PRESENTATION" "'never received complaints' is CRAZY" "he could've just logged off but now he's in too deep" "@truthaboutjake is shaking"

you weren't done though. oh no.

you clicked the original post again and dm'd @truthaboutjake directly.

@s0ftbrat666: wow a thread? you really sat down and made a powerpoint about your dick this is the best thing that's happened to me all week but you still haven't proven anything so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era i'll wait <33

you hit send with a shit-eating grin.

this was your roman empire now. you were going to be thinking about this thread forever.

jake stared at your message like it physically slapped him.

"so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era"

his jaw dropped.

"e-evidence?!" he sputtered aloud, standing up in the middle of the dorm living room like he'd just been accused of murder.

jay, sitting across the room with earbuds in, pulled one out and glanced up. "what now?"

"she wants evidence."

jay blinked. "like...?"

jake gestured wildly at his phone. "like evidence evidence!"

jay raised both brows before grinning "...so what i said about the downward angle, i'm telling you jake that shit makes it look h—"

"NO!" jake practically yelled. "i'm not sending a picture of my dick to some random troll on tumblr!"

he fumed. typed. deleted. typed again. then, finally, sent:

@truthaboutjake: okay. listen. i'm not sending you a dick pic. i don't care how much you want "evidence" that's weird. this whole thing is weird. i'm literally just trying to correct a false narrative about myself

you saw the message and immediately rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain. you were curled up on your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, typing with vicious speed.

@s0ftbrat666: omg. are you serious right now?? NO ONE asked for actual dick pics. what the hell is wrong with you. you're literally so deep in this delusion you really think you're jake sim like?? be serious for once you are a grown man on tumblr dot com pretending to be an idol and defending your imaginary dick size this is next level behavior. you need to touch grass and maybe talk to a therapist jake sim would never you are EMBARRASSING yourself rn.

you hit send and sighed, rubbing your temples. it was funny at first but the more you interacted with this person the more brain cells you lost, it shocked you that people would go to such lengths to defend their favs.

this was beyond fandom drama now. this was a case study. and the worst part? you were kind of impressed with how committed he was to the bit. concerned of course, but impressed too.

like... he was spiraling. but passionately.

still. you weren't going to let up. because whoever this man was, he needed to be humbled.

you opened a new post draft and typed:

—— @s0ftbrat666: update: he dm'd me again and accused me of demanding dick pics because i said "evidence"

i rest my case. this is not jake sim. this is some 32-year-old man who unironically uses reddit and thinks being called "submissive" is a slur

log off, drink some water, and go outside before you get a nosebleed from rage

#jake sim #not the real one obviously #this is tumblr not onlyfans relax ——

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to move on.

he really did.

after the dick thread. after being labeled a submissive missionary pillow princess. after the fake fan accusations and being accused of roleplaying as himself—he made the conscious choice to stop checking your blog. he muted your username. closed tumblr for a solid 24 hours. he even turned off his notifs.

he was healing. growing. rebuilding his sanity.

until a member sent him a screenshot.

it was sunghoon.

of course it was sunghoon.

sunghoon: yo y tf she got sm time on her hands icl tho she funny asf

attached was a photo of your newest tumblr post.

jake opened it, eyes squinting. then he saw it.

—— @s0ftbrat666: watched enhypen's most recent stage and i just wanna know WHO chose those pants for jake like bffr. i can see his entire situation

the dick print? front and center. and it's not giving what he thinks it's giving

it's giving: he begged the stylist to let him wear those pants so he could prove me wrong and i'm here to tell you... babe... don't ever do that again.

i'm LAUGHING.

#enhypen #jake sim #pls don't wear tight pants if ur not ready for the scrutiny king #it's not looking good ——

jake froze.

his phone was literally vibrating with how hard he was gripping it.

"she's watching performances now?" he whispered to himself, horrified.

jay looked up from across the room, warily. "...oh god. again?"

"she's analyzing my crotch, jay. she made a post about my dick print."

jay blinked. "that's... new."

"and she said it's 'not giving'!" jake practically screamed, spinning his phone around to show him. "not giving what?! not giving big dick energy?!?!"

jay read it silently, lips twitching. "...it does kind of sound like she thinks you're trying to prove her wrong. which, to be fair, you kinda are." he pauses for a second, "but i thought she deemed you as a deranged fan, does she think that you're actually texting her?"

jake shrugs, "who knows what she's thinking, clearly way to much of this is the shit she posts. also i wasn't even thinking about her when i wore those pants!"

"you literally made a thread defending your dick size last week."

"NOT THE POINT."

jake felt like he was going to combust. it was like every time he clawed his way back to peace, you dropped another post from hell and dragged him back into the pit.

and this time?

this time you targeted his outfit. his styling choices. his crotch visibility. he couldn't even enjoy the stage anymore without wondering if you were out there in a hoodie, behind a screen, zooming in on freeze frames of his pants.

"this is psychological warfare," jake muttered.

sunghoon looked up from his phone, his face annoyed. he was tired of hearing about this, "just block her again."

jake clenched his jaw. "she'll post about it. she'll brag."

he scrolled back up, reading the caption again. and again. his fingers hovered over your username.

he didn't message you. not this time.

instead, he posted on his burner account:

—— @truthaboutjake: some people spend their lives spreading negativity online because they have nothing else going for them. if you spend your free time zooming in on people's bodies just to make fun of them, seek help.

also, the pants looked fire. ——

he hit post. and then, two minutes later he opened the group chat.

jayke: whoever styled me last week. never again. we're going back to loose pants. i'm not doing this with tumblr anymore

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to stay composed. he tried.

but every time he opened tumblr, there you were—lurking in his psyche like a demon with wi-fi.

at first it had been a few jabs, sprinkled here and there between your usual posts about other idols. someone's hair, another's dance move, one guy you kept thirsting over for his "evil smirk" and "long fingers." whatever. jake didn't care.

until suddenly—your entire blog became about him.

not in a cute, stan-like way.

no.

it was relentless.

"jake sim update: still looks like a man who apologizes during sex."

"new era, same micro dick energy."

"his pants looked like they were holding in a lie."

"i know he fumbles the aux every time. just look at him."

your followers ate it up. reblog after reblog. tags like "#he's just so bashable" and "#jake sim slander is self-care" filled the notes.

there were polls. there were graphics.

you made a tier list of idols based on who looked like they cried after sex, and jake was placed right at the top with the caption: "he looks like he'd say 'was that okay?' while tucking his soft dick back in his briefs."

jake was spiraling.

the worst part? you didn't even seem like a hater. you didn't hate him.

you just... targeted him like it was your job. your content was crafted with care. effort. borderline affection.

jay leaned over one afternoon while jake doomscrolled through another one of your polls—this one titled "which idol do you think would last the shortest in bed (no offense)", where jake was winning by 68%.

"you know," jay mused, "i think she actually likes you."

jake looked up, eyes wide with horror as he looks at jay disgusted. "what?"

jay shrugged. "she's obsessed. it's giving weirdly specific attention. enemies-to-lovers coded."

"jay. she made a gifset of my crotch."

"exactly."

jake nearly threw his phone across the room.

it wasn't just slander anymore—it was becoming personal. and the most infuriating part?

you were so sure. so smugly sure.

every post was laced with casual cruelty and the sharp confidence of someone who truly believed they knew him. his vibes. his music taste. his dick size. like you'd studied him and filed a damn report.

and the urge to prove you wrong? it was eating at him.

he'd see one of your posts and get this itch. this slow, simmering burn in his gut. like he had something to prove now. like he wanted to walk up to you and say—

"say that shit again. to my face."

he'd fantasized about it more than once.

cornering you at a fansign, maybe. or catching you backstage if he ever figured out who you were. you with that smug little expression, your arms crossed like you knew everything. and him, leaning in, low and sharp, and making damn sure you knew you were wrong about everything—especially that.

he wasn't even mad anymore. not just mad. he was determined.

this wasn't just tumblr slander. this was a challenge.

and jake sim? he didn't lose.

✎﹏﹏

jake laid in bed, phone hovering above his face, lit only by the blue glow of tumblr's godforsaken app. it was well past 2 a.m., and he'd already scrolled through your entire blog—again.

he told himself it was just to see if you'd posted anything new. which, of course, you had,

but really, he was spiraling.

another post. this one read:

—— @softbrat666: something about jake sim just screams whines when it doesn't slide in all the way like he'd pause mid-thrust to ask if you're okay because he came too fast

he'd definitely say 'but you just feel so good...' as an excuse ——

and the worst part?

jake read every single reply. studied them, even. like they held some kind of twisted insight into how you saw him. how you imagined him. you were building this whole persona of him in your mind and then broadcasting it to thousands of followers like it was gospel. and the most messed up part?

you had just enough accuracy to make it sting.

and yet—you remained anonymous.

faceless. untouchable.

he'd tried to find out who you were. he dug through old posts, clicked your tags, searched your url on twitter and insta.

all he found was:     •    you lived in seoul     •    you were 21     •    you drank too much iced americano     •    and you had audacity in excess

that was it. no selfies. no personal posts. no full name. you were just a sassy username and a collection of jake sim hate posts.

meanwhile, he was a public figure with his whole government face on blast while you dragged him through the mud constantly.

he hated how much he thought about what you looked like.

were you soft and bratty, like your tone suggested? did you smirk when you wrote those captions? were you the type to twirl your hair and say, "what? it's not that deep," while ruining a man's reputation?

he imagined you walking around seoul, laughing with your friends, ordering overpriced coffee with that smug, evil-little-gremlin energy.

he imagined running into you.

he'd play it cool at first—polite, casual, maybe even a little flirty.

watch you ramble. watch you squirm. and when he caught you slipping—maybe when you made some offhand comment about k-pop or tumblr—he'd hit you with it:

"so how's that blog going? still think i'm a submissive pillow princess with a micro dick?"

he rolled onto his side, fuming into his pillow. you lived in his head rent-free and you didn't even know what he looked like at night when he was losing sleep over your bullshit posts.

it was unfair.

you got to stay invisible while he was out here analyzing his own stage outfits to figure out what clip you were gonna slander next.

he scrolled back to that gif set you made of his recent performance. paused on the close-up. the zoom-in.

the goddamn caption: "not jake sim trying to start a dickprint redemption arc. spoiler: it's not working."

his eye twitched.

"this girl is the devil," he muttered.

and yet... he couldn't stop checking. he needed to know what you'd say next.

✎﹏﹏

you wake up to absolute chaos.

your phone is buzzing. not one or two notifications—hundreds. group chats. twitter and tumblr dms. unknown numbers. missed calls. it's like your phone caught fire overnight.

you blink against the morning light, groggy and confused, heart picking up speed. something's wrong. you can feel it. you squint at the screen, drag down your notifications, and the first notification you see makes your stomach drop.

"girl you're trending rn... what did you DO???"

then another.

"is that actually your name???"

your pulse is pounding before you even open twitter. your fingers shake as you type your own @ into the search bar, and the second you hit enter, your breath catches.

it's you.

your name. your photo. your phone number. everything.

someone—no, a group of people—had clearly gone full fbi. they'd taken all your casual, dumb little posts over the years and pieced them together like a fucked-up puzzle.

and now your full name was in a viral thread titled: "this the girl behind the jake sim micro dick blog?"

with a photo of you at a party two months ago, smile beaming.

people were quote-tweeting it with comments like: "she built like someone who'd have beef with jake sim for no reason." "oh she definitely owns a stan twitter burner too." "her blog is my roman empire i need her in therapy immediately."

your blood turned to ice. you were exposed.

fully.

not just as a shitposter but as the jake sim hater. your inbox was flooded—death threats, confessions, apologies, people asking if it was really you. tumblr dms screaming:

"TAKE THE POSTS DOWN BEFORE HE SEES THEM."

too late.

you scrambled to log into tumblr. your hands fumbled across the keys. it took three tries to get your password right.

the second you were in, you did the only thing you could do.

you hit deactivate.

the blog was gone. years of posts. thousands of notes. all of your followers, your drafts, your hate-poll templates.

deleted.

and then the panic really set in.

your hands were trembling. your ears were ringing. and all you could think about was @truthaboutjake, your mind racing. it was him, you realized that it was him.

"he knows. jake sim fucking knows who i am."

and the worst part?

you had no idea what he'd do with it.

✎﹏﹏

jake found out the same way everyone else did—waking up to a string of texts from jay and sunghoon absolutely losing their shit.

jay: bro. check twitter. sunghoon: she got exposed. jay: HER NAME IS OUT LMAOOO jay: bet she's sweating rn sunghoon: she's kinda cute tho

he blinked hard, still groggy, and tapped open the thread that seemed to be trending.

your face stared back at him.

his heart flipped.

you looked... nothing like what he expected. he'd imagined someone smug. cold. maybe with villain bangs and a cigarette habit.

but no—there you were, face flushed in a group photo, laughing mid-sip of iced americano. you looked normal. it almost hurt to admit, but you were pretty.

you looked real.

and now, you were reachable.

he did what anyone would do: searched your name on instagram. he found your linked facebook.

scrolled. scrolled.

paused.

you had your workplace tagged in an old comment.

"juniper bean café - seoul branch."

he stared at it for a long moment. then, very calmly, he stood up, threw on a hoodie, cap, and mask, and left the dorm.

✎﹏﹏

the café was a little tucked away spot with plants hanging from the ceiling and a chalkboard sign outside that said "kiss me, i'm caffeinated."

jake walked in, glancing around. he spotted you immediately, behind the counter, head down as you punched in an order.

he could tell that you had a rough morning, good. your posture was tense. your hair was pulled back messily. your voice was strained. you looked tired, your eyes that seemed so full of life in your leaked photos had disappeared.

he stepped up to the counter. waited. his eyes trailed down your figure, your frame was draped with a loose fitted sweater and some baggy light wash jeans. you wore a black apron, cinching at your waist—allowing his hungry eyes to capture your curves.

you were trying to look invisible. trying not to stand out. but to him—you were glowing with guilt.

he watched you fumble with a stack of napkins, pretending you didn't feel his eyes burning into you. finally you cleared your throat, still not looking up.

"hi, what can i get you?"

he smiled behind his mask, slow and wicked. he pulled it down just enough to speak—voice dripping low, sharp with mocking sweetness.

"you gonna spit in my drink too?" he asked. "or just keep running your mouth somewhere i can't see?"

you froze.

head snapping up. eyes locking with his. and there it was—that flash of horror, recognition, disbelief. it was him.

you had to admit, he was just as if not more handsome in person. your mouth dried up when you watched his lips curl into a smirk and his eye twitch.

your mouth opened. closed. no sound.

"hi," he said, almost sweetly. "miss me?"

you fumbled a reply—something, anything—but he leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter like he had all the time in the world.

"you disappeared fast. what happened? got leaked and lost all your guts or did you burn through all your micro dick material?"

your coworker looked between you both, utterly confused and in awe that jake was standing in front her. you took a breath. straightened your spine. tried to salvage your dignity.

"this is harassment," you muttered.

"this is karma," jake shot back, his smile dark. he twitched in anger, how dare you call this harassment—what about what you had been doing for the last couple of weeks? "i wanted a latte, by the way. no sugar. unless you're finally ready to be sweet to me."

you nearly dropped the milk jug.

he didn't care. he was so amused. you were the girl who wrote entire essays dragging his dickprint and his imagined bedroom habits? you, flushed and stammering behind a café register?

he wanted to laugh. he wanted to lean in closer. he wanted to ruin you back.

and this? this was just the beginning.

your hands were shaking. milk frother sputtering. heart pounding in your chest like it wanted to escape. and he—jake fucking sim—just stood there.

smiling.

smug.

head tilted slightly like he was thrilled by your discomfort. "you gonna make that latte, or you gonna keep fumbling around and glaring at me?" he drawled, voice low and casual.

you gritted your teeth, turned back to the machine, and fumbled through the motions of making the drink. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time—watching, drinking you in like you were the fucking joke.

you finally slid the drink across the counter, trying not to slam it.

"here. now leave."

he didn't move. just sipped slowly, then licked a bit of foam from his lip like it was the most dramatic thing anyone had ever done in a coffee shop.

and then—he leaned forward. elbow on the counter. voice quiet, words slow and deliberate:

"what time do you get off?"

you blinked, "excuse me?"

"your shift. when does it end?"

"why the fuck would i tell you that?"

his smile widened, all teeth now, sharp and smug. "because there's going to be a black car waiting for you outside." he continues, "when you clock out, you're going to get in. and then you're going to follow instructions."

you stared at him, genuinely floored. "are you insane? what the hell are you talking about?"

he tilted his head, mockingly sympathetic. "i get it. you're scared. probably embarrassed." he grins, "but see, that's the thing about defamation—once it's public, i can take legal action. and you've been very public."

your stomach dropped, "you're bluffing."

he shrugged. "wanna bet your savings account on that?"

you opened your mouth. closed it again. because—fuck. he wasn't bluffing. he didn't have to. you'd posted too much. said too much. and now he had your face, your name, your location.

"you can't just—kidnap me," you said, weaker than intended.

he laughed.

"it's not kidnapping if you get in willingly, sweetheart."

then he slid the latte off the counter, turned, and started to walk toward the door. before he left, he glanced back, over his shoulder.

"9 p.m., right?" he called out. "don't be late. i hate being stood up." he grinned, fuck him.

the bell jingled as he left. the door shut behind him.

and you stood there, in your apron and sneakers and sweaty palms, absolutely rattled. what the fuck did you just get yourself into?

✎﹏﹏

9:03 p.m.

you were pacing behind the café. your shift ended three minutes ago, but you hadn't stepped outside yet. you couldn't. your feet felt like bricks. your stomach twisted with anxiety, hands clenched in the pockets of your jeans.

what the fuck am i doing?

you shouldn't go. you know you shouldn't go. this was literally stranger danger 101, except instead of a stranger it was a kpop idol whose dick size you flamed online for weeks.

your brain was screaming at you. your nerves were a warzone. your inner monologue sounded like one long anxiety spiral:

"you're insane." "this is how people get murdered." "he's rich. he could make you disappear and blame it on anxiety meds." "but also... maybe he just wants to talk?" "or maybe he's gonna sue you in person with his scary legal team and laugh while you cry." "or—worse—what if he takes a picture with you and posts it with some shady ass caption like 'finally found her :)' and now you're really cooked?"

your fists clenched tighter.

this was your own fault. you were the one who made that blog. you were the one who said he looked like a pillow princess. you were the one who photoshopped a pacifier into that one fansite photo and captioned it "baby boy can't handle coochie."

and now?

now he knew your name. your face. your shift schedule.

and there it was, waiting on the curb like a horror movie prop—a sleek black car, windows tinted, headlights glowing like eyes.

you stared at it.

and then, finally, took a deep breath and walked towards it.

the back door opened before you could even touch it. you slid inside, hesitating, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield. you looked around the dimly lit interior. leather seats. no jake.

just a stone-faced driver in a black cap.

"um," you said cautiously. "where are we going?"

no response.

you leaned forward slightly. "hello? i just—can you at least tell me if jake is—"

silence.

he kept driving.

great.

you sat back, heart still racing. the lights of the city blurred past the windows. you couldn't even track the direction—you were too jittery to focus. every turn felt like it took you farther from safety.

and god, the silence was suffocating.

you hated it. you hated him.

jake sim and his smug face and his legal threats and the fact that this whole thing was so humiliating.

how the hell did he turn it around on you? curse those people who leaked you.

you were supposed to have the power. the upper hand. you were the one who had thousands of people laughing at his expense. you were the one whose posts got quoted like bible verses on stan twitter.

and now?

now you were alone, in his car, being driven to god knows where because he told you to.

you should've never fucking posted about his dick. you should've stayed anonymous. kept your mouth shut. deleted the pacifier post when it hit 10k notes.

the car slowed. you peeked out the window. it wasn't some mansion, like you feared. wasn't a dungeon either—at least you think so.

it was a private-looking building—modern, sleek, tucked down a quiet alley with a gated entrance. definitely expensive. definitely secluded.

you were dropped off at the curb. the driver didn't say anything—just nodded toward the front door.

you stepped out slowly, phone gripped tight in your hand, ready to fake an emergency call or scream if necessary.

a man, different from the driver, opened the front door. another silent guy in all black gestured for you to follow.

you hesitated, then followed him down a short hallway, up a narrow flight of stairs, until you reached a door with a single number carved into it: 17.

he knocked once, then opened it.

you stepped in—and stopped.

jake was inside.

he was leaning casually against a wall, dressed in all black—hoodie, chain, jeans, hair tousled, like he hadn't even tried and still looked like a good.

he was scrolling on his phone when you entered, then looked up.

and grinned, "hey." he stops, letting his gaze travel down your trembling form, "glad you could make it, hate blogger."

you wanted to punch him. you wanted to turn around and leave. but most of all—you wanted to know what the hell came next.

and by the look on his face?

he was very ready to show you.

room 17 is quiet. too quiet.

you stand near the door, gripping the strap of your bag like it's your last line of defense. jake hasn't moved from his place against the wall, but his eyes haven't left you for a second. he looks too calm. like this is just some casual meetup and not the most batshit confrontation of your entire life.

"you still haven't told me why i'm here," you say finally, voice tight, trying to sound unbothered even though your throat is dry.

he doesn't answer right away. he just studies you, eyes flicking from your clenched fists to your shifting posture to the tiny, almost-invisible tremble in your knees.

then he lets out a soft little chuckle, the kind that feels mean. smug and quiet and condescending.

"you really don't know?" he asks, stepping away from the wall at last. his strides are slow, deliberate, like he knows you won't run—but that you should.

you take a step back automatically, bumping into the door behind you.

"if this is about suing me," you mutter, chin lifting defensively, "you could've just emailed your legal team. this whole drama king act—" "i'm not suing you." he cuts you off, voice calm but sharp. he walks past you and locks the door with a soft click. your stomach flips.

"then what the hell is this?" he turns back to you, expression unreadable, "this is about correction."

you blink, "what?"

"you posted things that were... inaccurate." he steps closer. you press yourself further into the door. "about me. my body. my performance. my preferences." another step. you swear you stop breathing, "so now i'm giving you a chance to see the truth."

you stare up at him, wide-eyed, "you're joking."

"does it look like i'm joking?" he murmurs.

you're momentarily speechless. your brain is whirring, trying to process what's happening. jake sim—international idol, global heartthrob, the man you've memed within an inch of his digital life—has dragged you to a private room to debunk his dick size?

you should laugh, but you can't.

because he's standing too close. because he's looking at you like prey. because his voice is dipped in amusement but his eyes are furious.

"you're out of your mind," you whisper, eyes wide and your jaw slacked.

he shrugs, "maybe."

his hand lifts, knuckles brushing your chin—just enough to make your breath catch.

"but you made this personal. you dragged it out. you turned it into a running gag." he leans down slightly, until your noses are nearly brushing. "and now you're gonna watch what happens when you say shit you can't back up."

your throat works around a swallow. your persona starts to crack.

still—you can't not be a brat.

"so what, you're gonna just pull your dick out like some frat boy in a scandal?" you snort. "you're so mad over a joke, you're—"

"baby," his voice cuts you off again, soft but dangerous.

"a joke is calling me clingy or annoying. a joke is editing me into a pink onesie." he steps even closer, "but accusing me of being a submissive pillow princess with a dick that couldn't break a hymen?" he tilts his head, mocking, "that's slander."

you flush. deeply, "you saw that post?"

"i've seen every post," he says coolly. "and the reblogs. and the tags. and the memes."

you suddenly feel so small. not because he's taller—though he is—but because you'd spent months building this image of jake sim as a joke. a punchline. a target.

and now he's right here. and he's pissed.

"you're really that bothered?" you ask, but your voice is quieter now, unsure. "bothered?" he repeats, almost scoffing. "sweetheart, i was obsessed." his hand lifts again, brushes your hair away from your face, fingers dragging a little too slow behind your ear.

"you don't understand what it's like to be degraded by someone who's too cowardly to even show their face." he pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips, "but i'll show you."

you swallow hard. "so what?" you ask, trying not to waver. "you want me to apologize? to... take it all back? post a formal retraction about your dick?"

he grins. slow and sharp, "nah."

"i want you to see it," he pauses, lets the words sink in. "and then i want to see the look on your face when you realize you were dead fucking wrong."

your mouth opens. no sound comes out. your heart is pounding so fast you think you might throw up. because there's teasing and there's joking and there's flirting with danger—but this? this is crossing the line, and you don't know if you want him to stop.

you laugh, it comes out breathy and nervous and completely unconvincing. "okay," you say, holding your hands up a little, trying to cut the tension with sarcasm, "haha, very funny. you got me. you've officially scared the shit out of me, and if that was your goal, congratulations."

jake just stands there. watching you. expression unreadable, unreadable and dark. you shift on your feet, trying to find a way out of this, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"look," you continue, "i'll take everything down, okay? every post. every meme. every stupid out-of-pocket caption." you swallow. "i'll issue an apology. hell, i'll write a thread. a whole google doc. whatever you want."

you inch away from the door, toward the side of the room, trying to put some space between you.

"i crossed a line. i get that now." you laugh again, weaker this time. "like—clearly."

jake still doesn't speak, he starts walking.

slow. silent. like a cat with its prey cornered.

your back hits the wall.

"i'll stop posting about you," you rush out, your heart beating frantically when you feel jake's breath fan against your cheek. "seriously. no more degrading content. no more jokes. you win, okay?" his palm hits the wall beside your head with a sharp thud.

you freeze.

he leans in.

"i don't want a fucking apology," he murmurs, voice thick and low, the sound of it making your legs weaken. you try to hold his gaze, but it's hard when he's this close. when you can smell his cologne—clean and warm, like cedar and skin. when you can see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"i want you to look at me," he says, "and admit you were wrong."

"i just did—" "no." his other hand comes up, fingers ghosting your chin, tilting it up. "not because you're scared. not because you think i'm gonna sue your ass. i want you to say it because you know."

you suck in a breath as his fingers graze your throat. not squeezing. not threatening. but claiming, staking a presence.

"you think i'm some submissive little pushover," he whispers, "who just lays there and takes it. soft. boring. harmless."

your heart pounds in your chest so loud you swear it echoes. "you think you own the narrative. that you get to decide who i am, what i'm like in bed, how big my fucking dick is."

you flinch at the way he says it, so vulgar and harsh it shoots straight to your core.

"but the second i show up—" his thumb brushes your bottom lip. "you're quiet. nervous. twitchy. like you already know you were talking out of your ass."

you suck in a shaky breath and try to bite back the heat that's crawling up your neck. "you're insane," you whisper, but there's no bite behind it.

his body is so close now, you can feel the heat radiating off him. he hasn't even touched you properly and you already feel like your knees are going to give.

"what do you want from me?" you ask, voice barely holding together. he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"i want to fuck the lies out of your mouth." his voice is so low, it vibrates down your spine. "i want you to choke on everything you said about me and realize i was never the one being dominated."

you let out a small, shaky sound—and that's when he finally kisses you.

not soft.

not slow.

possessive. like he's claiming what he's owed.

like he's trying to shove every insult back down your throat, one filthy kiss at a time.

your mind blanks the second his mouth claims yours. his tongue pushes past your lips without hesitation, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you right where he wants you, and you feel it deep—too deep. like he's trying to crawl inside your ribcage and brand himself there.

his kiss isn't gentle. it's punishment. all teeth and tongue, your back shoved harder into the wall as he presses against you. his body completely, deliberately dominating yours.

"still think i'm soft?" he growls against your lips when he pulls back, breath ragged, thumb digging into the underside of your chin to keep you looking at him.

you don't answer. you can't.

your mouth is open, panting, lips wet and swollen from how violently he just kissed you. your knees barely hold.

his gaze drops to your mouth. then lower, and lower.

he smirks.

"you look scared," he says, tilting his head slightly. "thought you liked writing filthy shit about me. what happened to all that confidence?"

you swallow hard, still in absolute disbelief, "you're—you're actually insane."

"and you're actually still turned on." his hand drops to your hip, gripping hard, pulling you flush against him—and fuck. he's hard. painfully hard. pressing right against your lower stomach. and he knows you feel it.

your eyes widen. you try to squirm away but there's nowhere to go, your back hits the wall again and his thigh wedges between your legs.

"not so micro now, is it?" he breathes against your neck. you let out a broken sound—half gasp, half groan—and that's when jake loses it.

he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, other hand sliding beneath your shirt, grazing skin and pulling a shocked noise out of you. he doesn't give you room to breathe.

"say it," he growls. "say you were wrong."

you shake your head. still stubborn. still you.

"no?" he scoffs. "fine." his thigh presses harder between your legs, rocking up once. your clit throbbed pathetically at the feeling, it was just enough friction to make your eyes roll back. you try to keep your composure, but he watches your face change—watches your pride falter.

"don't lie to me, baby." his voice drops lower—hungrier. "you're dripping. over the same guy you dragged for months."

you gasp, trying to turn your face away from him, but he leans in again, his nose brushing your cheek.

"you gonna blog about this too?" he whispers. "tell your little followers how jake sim manhandled you and made you eat your words with his cock halfway down your throat?"

you whimper and it disgusts you how fast your body betrays you. how wet you already are. how much you want him to ruin you just to prove you were wrong.

and he can tell.

he sees the shift in your expression. how your resistance is slowly, deliciously, falling apart.

your wrists are still pinned, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling fast as jake leans in like he owns the air around you.

"i'm done hearing you talk," he mutters, dragging his mouth along your jaw. "i think it's time you showed me just how sorry you really are."

he releases your hands and steps back. you don't move. your legs are trembling, your pride hanging on by a thread.

"on your knees," he says simply.

you scoff, arms folding defensively across your chest, "you can't be serious—"

he tilts his head, "i'm not asking again."

there's no loud threat. no yelling. just the terrifying calm of someone who already knows he's won. you hold your ground—barely. but something about the way he looks down at you, already palming the bulge in his jeans, makes your body respond before your mind does.

you sink, slowly. knees hitting the floor like it's a confession. he watches you with quiet satisfaction, like he's waited for this exact moment.

he had been dreaming about the moment he would get you to himself, on your knees—right where he wanted you.

"look at me," he says, and you do—eyes meeting his as he unzips, the sound ridiculously loud in the silence.

he's already thick in his hand when he pulls it out, and your mouth goes dry. you don't want to admit it, but fuck. it's big. way bigger than you ever gave him credit for. your throat tightens at the sheer weight of it, thick and flushed and veined.

his smirk deepens when he sees the way your eyes drop.

"what was that again?" he mocks, giving himself a slow stroke. "micro?"

you glare up at him, heat crawling up your neck. "i was clearly misinformed."

"say it properly."

you hesitate, his free hand tangles in your hair—firm, but not painful. just enough to tilt your face up toward him.

"say. it."

you grit your teeth, "i was wrong."

"about what?"

you groan. "about your dick. okay? you don't have a micro dick."

he raises an eyebrow, "that all?"

"it's big," you mutter, cheeks burning. "you made your point." he laughs—low and satisfied—and guides your face closer, "not yet."

you gasp when you feel his tip touch your cheek, he grins at your expression—feeling satisfied with your shock. he does a few experimental taps, dragging his length over your lips. you hold in a whine when he smears his pre cum over your bottom lip, almost as if he was applying lipgloss on you.

and then he pushes in.

there's no easing into it—he gives you the thick weight of his cock all at once, making you choke. your hands scrambling to grip his thighs as he holds you there, watching with dark, satisfied eyes.

"look at that," he murmurs. "mouth so full of me you can't even talk shit now." you gag again, but his grip stays steady, fingers flexing against the back of your head as he rocks his hips in slow, controlled thrusts. just enough to make you feel how deep he is and prove how wrong you were.

he could feel how warm your mouth was around him, basking in the feeling of not only pleasure but the satisfaction of shutting you up.

"this what you wanted?" he groans. "to see what i've been hiding in those pants you loved to degrade?"

you can't respond. not when he's using your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking every insult out of you with a punishing rhythm. spit drips from out of your mouth and onto your chin. tears prick at your eyes and yet—somewhere deep in your gut—you like it.

jake's grip on your hair gets stronger, the pain causing your jaw to slack as you continue to take his brutal pace. you could feel the head of his cock  rub against the back of your throat, the force not strong enough to make you gag but enough to cause a stream of tears to run down your face.

your nose touched his pelvis with every thrust, indicating how deep he was going. "fuck. look at you, __. who knew cock being in your mouth is the only way to shut you up."

you whine at his words, looking up at him with pleading eyes—yet you didn't know what exacting you were begging for. you rub your thighs together in hopes for some temporary relief, the scene so lewd that you could feel yourself gush in your panties—holding in the urge to let your hands wander down to touch yourself.

jake looked down at you with hungry eyes, his lip twitching as his grip in your hair grew tighter with each thrust. he let low moans slip from his mouth every time his dick grazed the back of your throat.

"aren't you a dirty little whore.." jake drawls out, his chest heaving with pleasure when he notices how tightly you have your thighs clenched. "getting all worked up for someone you've publicly shat on for having the least sex appeal."

you moaned around him when suddenly he pushed your thighs apart with his foot, wedging his sneaker between your legs—giving you something to ease up the tension in your core.

you mewl when he pushed against your clit, almost urging you to grind down against him while he used your mouth to his hearts content. slowly, but surely—you allowed yourself to ground yourself against him. it sickened you how desperate you had become in just a span of a few minutes.

jake almost cums when he sees you move your hips, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you from your throbbing clit.

the familiar feeling in his stomach begins to tighten, his grip on you becoming unforgiving as he loses self control and allows himself to push himself into your mouth as much as he could. his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly now, a mixture of his cum and your spit dribbling out of your mouth.

"f-fuck," he groans. "m'gonna cum.. you're gonna take it? yeah? take it in that bratty mouth, hm?" jake murmurs to what seems himself just before he combusts in your mouth. you swallowed a chocked moan when you feel his warm cum coat your mouth, gagging around him as he twitches.

jake felt as if he was on cloud 9, his head lulling to the side as he keeps your head planted where it is—ensuring that you swallow what he gave you fully.

when he finally pulls back, cock glistening with your spit and his cum, your jaw aches as you swallow the salty yet sweet taste of his release.  your chest heaving like you've just survived something.

"mouth open and tongue out," he demands. you hesitantly open your mouth, your tongue out as you show him that you swallowed everything.

you whine out desperately when he slides his foot away, leaving you aching again. jake tsk's, "desperate slut."

he crouches down to your level, thumb wiping the corner of your mouth.

"still think i'm a pillow princess?" his voice is a little breathless now. dark and smug. "or you finally ready to admit you don't know shit about me?"

your throat still burns. your lips are swollen, coated in spit and shame, and jake's leaning over you like he's just getting started.

"on your feet."

you hesitate, still panting, still dazed from the way he fucked your mouth like it was owed to him. but something in his voice—firm, expectant—makes you move. your knees tremble as you rise.

jake doesn't give you time to adjust. the second you're upright, he steps in close, hands on your waist, guiding you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

you're pressed back against the mattress, thighs parted under his hands, still catching your breath from how rough he'd just been with your mouth. but instead of backing down, you do what you do best—deflect.

"look—how about this," you say, voice shaking but holding onto some scrap of cocky defiance. "i'll just say the blog was satire. irony. you know, performance art or something. no one has to know i meant any of it."

jake's expression doesn't change.

"or better yet—i'll make a new post trashing someone else. redirect the attention. easy." you flash a grin that's all teeth. "maybe i'll even throw in a little praise for you. balance it out."

he just blinks at you. slowly.

"you think you're negotiating right now?" his voice is calm, but the grip on your thighs tightens.

you blink. "i mean, i'm trying to be reasonable—"

"reasonable?" he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "you publicly dragged me for weeks. humiliated me. and now that you're caught, you want to rewrite the narrative?"

"i'm offering solutions—" "you're offering bullshit," he snaps, and in a second he's climbing over you, his body slotting between your legs like it was made to be there. "and you think you still have leverage? cute."

your breath hitches. your hands push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down again, harder this time—your body arching into him involuntarily.

"here's what's really gonna happen," he says, leaning in, nose brushing yours. "you're gonna try to flip this. act like you're still in control. try to turn the tables on me."

your throat tightens.

"but you won't. because the second you try, i'll remind you who made you beg. who had you gagging on the dick you said didn't exist." his voice drops lower, dangerous. "and then i'll ruin you all over again."

you glare up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and defiance."you know what? fine." your voice is sharp, shaky. "you wanna play games? i'll play. let's see how fast you fold when i turn this around."

he raises an eyebrow. "is that right?" you reach down between your bodies—slow, deliberate—wrapping your hand around him. he's still hard. unfairly so. hot and heavy in your palm.

"maybe i was wrong about the size," you murmur, stroking him slow, his breath hitching. "but maybe you really are just a pillow princess. maybe you like being praised more than you like fucking."

his jaw ticks.

you press a kiss to his neck, voice a taunt against his skin. "what happens if i ride you instead? if i make you cum all over yourself."

he freezes.

"what if i write about that next?" you sit up dragging your tongue along the edge of his jaw. "'jake sim—big dick, zero stamina.' think the internet'll love that?"

you think you've got him.

until suddenly—he flips you.

you yelp, back hitting the mattress again as he rips your hand away from his cock and shoves your thighs up around his waist. the shift is fast, dominant, practiced.

"you really thought that'd work?" he's laughing now—mean, breathless, hungry. "thought you'd rile me up and get the upper hand? you forget who tracked you down and got you here in this room." his voice is pure venom now, thick with want. "who had you gagging and drooling on your knees while you fucked yourself on my shoes not even 5 minutes ago?"

his hands expertly yank off your jeans, his thumb hooked around the waistband of your baby pink cotton panties—teasing you. you writhe beneath him, but he doesn't budge—he presses into you, cock sliding between your clothed folds just to tease, just to show you what you don't get to control.

"you wanna test stamina?" he growls. "i'll fuck you 'til that smug little attitude disappears. 'til you're begging me to stop. 'til you're crying and calling me daddy."

you gasp—rage, arousal, panic blending in your gut—but you can't deny the throb between your legs. the way your body betrays your pride.

he feels it too.

his free hand runs up your sweater, your breath shaking as you feel him run his fingers up your stomach and make themselves comfortable on your tits. letting your hands go momentarily, he's yanking your sweater off and throwing it across the room.

"didn't know bratty girls like you wore baby pink. ruffles, lace trim—bows?" he grins, his hands playing with the frills of your bra as you twitch beneath him.

"fuck you," you spat out, voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. jake only smirks, his hand reaching up to pull the straps of your bra down—letting your tits fall out. "oh i will," and with that he's taking one of your nipples hostage in his mouth. his grip on your wrists stays planted, not allowing you to move or struggle against him when he nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts.

he switches from left to right for a few minutes, basking in your whimpers and mewls before he kisses down your stomach. pulling away he's back to being face to face with you, a smug look on his face before he plants a kiss to your jaw. the kiss turns into bites, nipping at your neck and chest as he leaves behind purple splotches.

"maybe you can post the marks i left and then bash me," jake grins against your skin. you roll your eyes in response only for jake to shoot you a look that says: behave.

he moves your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to his hungry eyes. he runs his thumb through your slit, gathering your slick.

"so wet," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock against your slit. "guess your body knows who's in charge, even if your mouth doesn't." he slams into you—deep, all at once—and you scream.

no teasing now. no easing in. no prepping.

just punishment. just proof. just him, ruining you from the inside out like it's the only way to shut you up.

"gonna make you forget every insult," he grits, hips snapping into yours over and over. "gonna fuck the hate right outta you."

he could feel your velvet walls convulse, sucking him in like a vacuum as he thrusts into you. you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders, back arching, mind blurring. you hate how good it feels. how right.

"gonna ruin you," he whispers, lips at your neck. "and you're gonna thank me for it." his mouth traveling down to your tit to engulf one of your nipples once again.

your body jolts with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room as you struggle to adjust to his girth.

you're still trembling when jake lifts your chin. his touch is deceptively gentle, but there's nothing soft in his expression. smug. commanding. dangerously patient.

"you still think you were right?" he asks lowly, voice scraping down your spine like velvet over steel. you blink up at him, lips parted, but your throat is dry. no sass now. not with the way your body's still recovering, knees weak, throat raw from every choked sound he pulled from you.

when you don't respond jake stops his movement, his hips go still as he simply stares down at you with a dark look in his eyes.

you were falling apart.

his cock was deep inside you, filling you so completely you couldn't even think straight— but jake wasn't moving. he just held you there, pinned beneath him, wrists trapped against the mattress, his hips grinding slow and mean against yours.

you whimpered, hips twitching up against him helplessly, desperate for more. he smirked down at you, cruel and smug, loving the way your body shook, the way your face twisted in frustration.

"what's wrong?" he murmured mockingly, leaning in so close his lips brushed your ear. "thought you'd be tougher than this."

you rationed with yourself for a moment, were you really going to beg? yes.

you tried to twist your wrists free but his grip only tightened. "please," you gasped out, tears welling in your eyes from how badly you needed to cum. "please, jake, i need it—"

he laughed, low and sharp, and snapped his hips forward once—deep and brutal—making you cry out. but then he stilled again, ignoring your desperate whines.

"you need it?" he repeated, pretending to think. "need my cock? need me to make you cum like the stupid little whore you are?"

your cheeks burned, shame rolling through you, but you nodded frantically.

"say it," he ordered, voice dropping, rough. you squeezed your eyes shut, humiliated, but the words still poured out.

"i need your cock," you sobbed. "please jake, please—i'll do anything, i'll be good, just let me cum—"

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied with himself.

"should've thought about being good before you started running your mouth online," he muttered, dragging his cock slow and deep inside you, making you arch and cry out.

you were shaking now—your whole body burning, every nerve stretched tight and ready to snap.

"you want it that bad?" he asked casually, grinding his hips just enough to make you sob.

"yes," you choked out. "please, jake—please, i need to cum, i can't—"

he grinned wickedly and finally, finally started fucking into you hard—deep, punishing thrusts that made you see stars. your walls clung onto how dick like a suction in attempt to milk him dry.

your moans spilled out loud and wrecked, your whole body bowing off the bed.

"good girl," he murmured darkly, "you're gonna cum when i say. not a second before." you nodded frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without crying. and when he finally, finally leaned down and growled, "cum for me, slut,"

you shattered.

you came so hard you were sobbing, spasming around him, your body giving out completely under his.

jake fucked you through it, laughing under his breath, dragging every last bit of pleasure and humiliation out of you until you were left shaking and gasping for air.

and even then, he wasn't done with you yet. he hadn't cum yet, and at the end of the day that's what you were here for—to be his little cum slut.  you barely had time to breathe—your body still spasming from the orgasm he tore out of you before jake grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto him, grinding even deeper.

you yelped, broken noises spilling out of your mouth, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

"no," he snapped, voice sharp and final, one hand locking tight around your waist to keep you from moving. "you don't get to run."

your head lolled back, tears slipping down your cheeks, your body a twitching mess.

"too much," you sobbed, trembling violently.

he laughed—laughed—at your misery.

"too bad," he muttered against your ear. "you're not done." he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you hard, fast, merciless. your thighs shook, your nails dug into the sheets, your mouth fell open in helpless, gasping cries. you could feel yourself spiraling again—pain and pleasure tangled together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"you think you're in control?" he grunted, slamming into you harder, making you scream. "you think you can say whatever you want about me and not pay for it?"

your whole body jolted with every thrust, the humiliation making your head spin.

"say it," he growled. "say you were wrong."

you whimpered, stubborn even now, biting down hard on your lip. he slowed down, grinding his cock against your sensitive walls in deep, deliberate circles that made you keen helplessly.

"say it," he repeated, cruel and low, "or i'll edge you until you're fucking crying."

your pride crumbled fast.

"i was wrong," you gasped out, voice cracking. he smirked, hips snapping forward again. "about what?"

you squeezed your eyes shut, shame flooding you. "about—about your dick," you choked out. "i lied, you're big—you're fucking huge—"

he chuckled darkly, like he already knew. "good girl," he breathed, voice dripping with mockery. "what else?"

you shook your head frantically, body jerking with overstimulation. he pulled almost all the way out—your cunt squeezing around nothing— before slamming back in so brutally you cried out.

"what else?" he hissed against your throat.

"i—i'm just a stupid bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about," you sobbed, face burning hot.

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied, so cruel.

"that's right," he murmured. "a stupid little whore who can't stop begging for the cock she said was too small."

you whimpered, broken, humiliated beyond repair. and still—your body clung to him, desperate for more. you realized with a sick twist in your gut that you would do anything—say anything—just to have him fuck you harder.

and jake knew it too.

he leaned down close, mouth brushing yours cruelly.

"beg," he whispered. "beg me to ruin you."

you could barely think. your body was burning, trembling, stretched tight around him— your mind a broken mess of shame and need. and still jake kept fucking you deep, rough, relentless.

his hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, your throat, your jaw—manhandling you like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use.

you whimpered when he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

"beg," he ordered again, voice dark, breathless with lust. "beg me to ruin you, slut."

you shook your head at first, a broken little sob tearing from your throat. he growled low, slammed into you even harder—your back arching, a scream ripping from your lips.

"you don't get to say no," he hissed. "you wanted this." tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling violently.

"please," you gasped out, the word slipping before you could even think. "please jake..ruin me, use me. fuck me however you want—"

he laughed, so fucking smug, dragging his cock out slow just to make you whine. "good fucking girl," he murmured. "finally learning your place."

you babbled desperate nonsense, sobbing into the sheets, your pride shattered into dust.and jake fucked you through it all—using you like a fleshlight, pounding into you until your legs gave out, until your voice was wrecked and broken.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he sneered, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a sting. "to get fucked dumb? to get put in your place like the stupid little whore you are?"

you nodded frantically, gasping, sobbing, brain completely mush. "can't even speak anymore," he muttered, mocking. "just a cockdrunk mess." your nails clawed helplessly at the sheets, your cunt squeezing him so tight he groaned.

you felt another orgasm building—sharp, unbearable—but you were too gone to even ask permission. you just sobbed and gasped and let him take everything from you.

"yeah, that's right," he growled, voice thick with pleasure. "cum all over my cock, slut. make a fucking mess."

you shattered, your whole body convulsing around him, screaming his name like a prayer, a curse, a broken confession. and jake fucked you through it, dragging every last bit of your pride and resistance out of you, until there was nothing left but a crying, ruined mess on his cock.

you were shaking. your body was limp, wrecked, trembling under the weight of everything he made you feel.

and jake still wasn't satisfied.

he kept moving, grinding his cock deep inside your overstimulated cunt—mocking every broken sob that fell from your lips.

"what's wrong?" he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "too much?"

you could only whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. he grabbed your face again, rough, forcing your glassy eyes to meet his.

"you wanted to run your mouth so bad," he sneered. "now you can fucking thank me." your brain barely processed the words, too fogged with shame and pleasure. he slapped your cheek lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back.

"say it," he barked. "say thank you."

you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"th-thank you," you stammered, voice barely a whisper.

he smirked, cruel and satisfied.

"louder," he ordered, snapping his hips forward viciously, making you cry out. "thank you!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and broken.

he chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down your throat, pressing lightly just enough to make your head spin.

"thank me for ruining you," he muttered, rolling his hips slow and deep, dragging another helpless moan from your lips.

your pride was turned into ash, your mind gone.

"thank you for ruining me," you gasped out, shaking uncontrollably, completely destroyed. he groaned, clearly getting off on how ruined you were—your body slack, twitching, drooling, your cunt spasming weakly around him.

"pathetic," he muttered against your ear. "look at you." you could feel how wet and messy everything was—your thighs sticky, the sheets underneath you soaked.

and still—still—he wasn't finished.

"gonna fill you up," he rasped, voice rough with the effort of holding back. "gonna fuck you so full you'll be leaking for days."

you sobbed, the humiliation sinking deeper into your bones.

"please," you whispered, because you didn't know what else to say anymore. he grunted low in his chest, thrusting faster, chasing his release. he could feel that familiar tinge in his stomach, he was close.

"such a good little cumdump," he growled. "just a hole for me to use." you broke again, another weak orgasm rolling through your abused body.

and jake finally spilled inside you—deep, hot, filling you up exactly like he promised.

he didn't pull out immediately. he stayed pressed deep, making sure you felt every drop. when he finally did pull out, you collapsed completely, a ruined, twitching, crying mess.

and jake just chuckled, so fucking smug. running his fingers down your slit before plugging your fluttering hole, making sure that his cum stays in you for as long as it could.

"maybe next time you'll think twice before running your mouth about me," he said, releasing your wrists before he gets off the bed. he left you there, spread open, dripping, humiliated beyond repair.

and you realized with a sick twist of your gut— you liked it.

you fucking loved every humiliating second of it.

✎﹏﹏

your body aches.

not in the romantic, soft-lit, post-orgasm kind of way.

no. it's raw. it's degrading. it's embarrassing.

your legs are trembling so badly you have to lean on the sink just to stay upright. your thighs sticky, sore. your throat dry and stretched thin from the pathetic, wrecked sounds he pulled out of you.

you yank your clothes back on as fast as your shaking hands allow, muttering curses under your breath. you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. because you know what you'll see: the ruined, wrecked version of yourself jake created.

and you hate him.

you hate how smug he looks when you finally stumble back into the room—hair mussed, shirt untucked, standing like he didn't just break you open with nothing but his cock and his fucking mouth. you hate how he leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a look that says he's already won.

you hate that he was right.

and you really, really hate that you liked it.

you roll your shoulders back, force yourself to stand straight even if your body is begging you to drop.

"that what you wanted?" you rasp out, voice wrecked and scratchy. "you win. congrats. want a trophy or something?"

jake doesn't say a word. he just watches. calm. amused. smug.

and it pisses you off. burns you alive from the inside.

"you got what you wanted. you ruined my pride," you snarl, stepping closer even though your knees are ready to give. "so what now? supposed to kneel and thank you? beg you to keep ruining me?"

he cocks his head slightly, lips twitching.

you hate how unbothered he looks. you hate it so much it makes you reckless.

"you don't actually believe i meant all that, right?" you spit. "you really think i meant it when i said you're big? when i cried about how good you fucked me?"

you scoff, shaking your head with a cold, sharp laugh.

"you're pathetic. you got played because i moaned a little."

and that's when everything shifts.

because jake steps forward—smooth, controlled—grabbing your jaw so hard you gasp, slamming your back against the wall without even looking like he's trying. his face is inches from yours, breath warm, eyes dark and furious.

"still lying?" he murmurs.

your heart pounds wildly. you try to twist away but his grip on your jaw tightens, bruising.

"you begged for my cock," he hisses, thumb dragging across your trembling bottom lip. "you fucking cried for it. and you're gonna stand there and lie to my face?"

you choke on your words, humiliation pouring down your spine in cold waves.

he laughs bitterly, the sound vibrating low in his chest. "guess you really are as dumb as you look."

you flinch.

and jake leans in closer, voice dropping lower, meaner. "you wanna pretend you're still in control?" he taunts, dragging his fingers down your throat slow, almost tender. "you wanna act like you didn't cum so fucking hard you couldn't even say my name?"

you tremble.

but you don't back down—not yet. pride and fear tangled up, keeping you frozen.

he chuckles darkly.

"fine," he says, voice a low threat. "i'll remind you."

his hand snakes between your thighs, shoving your jeans down again, your underwear dragging with it, baring you completely in seconds. you gasp, struggling—but he's too strong, too fast. he grabs you by the hips, throws you onto the bed like you're weightless.

and then he's on you.

he presses your wrists to the mattress with one hand again, his weight pinning you down, his other hand roughly forcing your legs apart.

you barely have time to gasp before he's inside you again—deep, brutal, fucking the defiance out of you one savage thrust at a time.

you cry out, throat raw. he fucks you like he's furious, every slam of his hips meant to punish. "not so fucking smug now, huh?" he pants against your ear.

you whimper, broken sounds spilling out without permission.

"what happened to all that fake confidence, princess?" he mocks, rolling his hips harder, forcing your body to take every inch. "thought you said you could handle it."

you sob, writhing under him, but he doesn't let up. he leans down, dragging his teeth across your jaw, making you shudder helplessly.

"gonna make you beg again," he growls. "gonna make you say it like you fucking mean it."

you try to shake your head—but you're drowning. he's everywhere. he's everything. and no matter how much you try to cling to your pride, it crumbles between your shaking hands.

you're crying now—humiliated tears streaking down your flushed face—as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"please," you choke out, voice cracking.

he chuckles, cruel and satisfied.

"please what, baby?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to a deep, punishing grind that makes your whole body twitch and seize.

"please," you sob again, shame burning you alive. "please let me cum."

he leans back slightly to look at you—hair a mess, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"you don't deserve to cum," he says, voice mocking. "whores who lie don't get rewards."

you whimper, hips stuttering against his, desperate, broken.

"but," he adds slowly, almost lazily, "if you beg real nice... maybe i'll consider it."

you sob harder, pride shattered into dust. and then—you beg.

you beg like a good little whore.

"please, jake," you cry, voice wrecked and hoarse. "i need it—i need to cum—please, please—"

he grins, dark and cruel, and finally—finally—lets you fall apart again, your body convulsing, cunt clenching around him helplessly as he fucks you through the brutal, soul-crushing orgasm. and you barely have a second to breathe before he's moving again—pulling out, grabbing your face in both hands, forcing your mouth open.

"open wide," he orders.

you're so wrecked you don't even think to disobey. you just open—lips trembling, eyes wide and glassy.

and jake leans over—spits straight into your mouth, thick and wet and humiliating.

you gag slightly, tears burning your eyes.

"swallow," he commands sharply.

you do.

you obey without even thinking.

and he smirks—grabbing his phone, flipping open the recording he just made of your pathetic begging, letting you hear it on loop while you lie there ruined, body trembling, throat raw.

he tucks his phone into his pocket, grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. "remember this next time you wanna talk shit," he says, voice low and smug.

he kisses you—mocking and possessive—and leaves you there: used, wrecked, humiliated, and so thoroughly owned that you can't even pretend anymore.

jake sim ruined you and there's no taking it back.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Jamil Viper

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Jamil Viper x Reader 🐍🦐

TAGS: Fluff; a little angst; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Jamil’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 6.220 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I would also like to say: I kept the endings "sama" and "bocchan" because I thought they would make more sense, and since "sama", from what I researched, is gender neutral it could be used with Yuu. I don't know if Jamil's shawl has a specific name. And I'm not good with color names.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy 🐍

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / (Jamil) / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

Kalim seemed to have enjoyed the dream-to-dream journey, and even compared it to his carpet rides. But Vil didn't look or feel very well. It seemed like some kind of motion sickness specific to those dream travels. Everyone agrees that Vil should rest. Silver and Ortho stayed with him in the shade, while you, Grim, Sebek, Kalim and Idia, or rather his tablet, went for a walk to analyze the world of that dream a little more.

After walking around for a while, Sebek comments that it is as hot as in Kalim's dream. Which is explained by the fact that both dreams take place in Scalding Sands. Kalim recognizes the Camel Bazaar and suggests that you all should buy Vil some coconut juice, it's cold and refreshing and might help him feel better. Grim agrees, but Idia and Sebek fear that this could cause problems because they don't have the local currency. However, Kalim assures that everything will be fine.

Kalim orders, to everyone's surprise (or almost everyone's), TEN coconut juices. The vendor gives him a heap of whole coconuts with an opening at the top and a straw each. Kalim encourages you all to try a sip and you do so. It really felt good in that heat. Kalim prepares to leave with the coconuts when the vendor calls his attention.

“Excuse me, sir! You need to pay.”

“Pay? Sorry, I don't have any cash on me.” Kalim responds too naturally and tells the vendor that he can just bill his house like usual.

But the vendor didn't know what Kalim was talking about. When Kalim told him his name the vendor recognized the name, however...

“Al-Asim, huh? If that's true, that's even less reason to put anything on a tab. You think you can dine and dash at MY stall? You've got some nerve, kiddo!”

“This is going south fast...” You say. “There's no returning the juice now that we've drunk it...” You approach Kalim to talk to him about that situation and that's when the vendor finally sees you well.

“OH! (Y/N)-sama!” The vendor practically stutters your name and completely changes his attitude. “I-I didn't see you were in this group. Are they your friends? I am so deeply sorry for my bad manners. If you don't have money with you either, I can just bill the Viper's house if you'd like.”

“The Viper's house?” Kalim wonders. “Why Jamil's house?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Grim whispers loudly at your feet. “Just say yes and get us out of this!”

You accept the vendor's offer and he lets you go with all those coconuts and a smile on his face. But a slightly scared smile. Returning to Vil, Silver and Ortho, you all discuss what happened.

“So, (Y/N) seems to have more power here than Kalim.” Ortho observes. “And apparently they are also somehow connected to Jamil Viper's house.”

“But how?” Sebek wonders. “And why?”

“Well, by the way the vendor reacted when he saw (Y/N)...” Idia says. “I have an idea... but let's analyze this place better first.”

Vil and Ortho exchange glances with each other, probably thinking the same thing as Idia.

“We can start by checking my place.” Kalim suggests. “Jamil's place is on our grounds.”

Arriving at the place where Kalim's house would be, it was deserted... Literally.

“Wh... This can't be right... MY HOUSE IS GONE! The main building, the annexes, Jamil's home, they're all gone! Where'd everybody go?!”

A local resident who was passing by asked if you were tourists and told you that the Asim Palace had a change in ownership years back. The new owner had it relocated to high ground on the outskirts of town. He didn't know who the new owners were, but he know that the Asims had to give up their house after their business failed.

You go look for the palace.

You all go to where the palace was now and Kalim is shocked to discover that it was true that his house really did get relocated to higher ground. And not only that, but it looked like the exterior's been repainted too. The roofs have gone from teal to red, and the walls from white to black.

“Hey!” A Guard suddenly approaches. “What are you kids doing here? This is a private－ ah! (Y/N)-sama! It's you, and Kalim. My apologies, I hadn't recognized you from afar. Jamil-bocchan has been looking for you to go to school together.”

“Jamil?” Kalim steps forward. “Jamil is here?!”

“What kind of question is that? This is where Jamil-bocchan lives... Viper Palace!”

You discover that the one who bought up Kalim's home was Jamil's father, the head of the Viper family. He bought that manor from the Asims when they were in sore need of money, and know the Vipers were the richest family in Silk City.

After the guard's explanation, you hear music coming from somewhere and an elephant emerging through the front gates at the head of a whole parade. You see that the guy riding the elephant was none other than Jamil, wearing a uniform just like the one the fake Jamil wore in Kalim's dream, but this one was red and black instead of turquoise and white.You also see the dreamer's silver bird around his head.

“Make way! Coming through!” Another guard announced. “Make way for Jamil-sama!”

You all step aside.

“Why are YOU making way, Kalim?” The guard who was with you questioned him. “Take this parasol and join the procession!”

Since you were distracted looking at that guard and Kalim, you got startled when you suddenly felt something grabbing you by the waist and lifting you into the air. When that thing finally lets go of you, you are in Jamil's arms and you realize that that thing was the elephant's trunk.

“Where were you, my desert bloom? You are quite late.” Jamil asks you and then looks at your clothes. “Have you been shopping? Hm... no offense, but I've seen you in better clothes.” He smirks.

Jamil lands you on the elephant's back, but you can't stand on your own and cling to Jamil. He laughs.

“You haven't gotten used to it yet, have you? But let me just change those clothes real quick. You can't go to school without a uniform.” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a uniform similar to the black and red clothes with gold jewelry he was wearing. “Much better~” he says in a lower, slightly seductive tone. “Black already looks good on you, but red looks even better.” He grabs you firmly by the waist to hold you, before turning to the people in the procession behind you. “Get marching, and don't break formation!”

“Jamil looks like he's having a ton of fun!” You hear Kalim say right behind the elephant.

“You there, quiet down! Less talking, more walking!” Jamil orders him.

You look back and see two lines, in front of one of them is Sebek, followed by Vil and lastly Silver, in front of the other is Kalim, followed by Ortho and lastly Grim, who you imagine would be complaining.

“So...” You try to chat with Jamil. “How long is the path to school again?”

“Is it just me, or are you more spacey than usual?” He looks at you slightly suspicious. “Unless... Oh, you're asking because you're tired from shopping, aren't you? Well, Jahar Sahir College is on the other side of the city, but the path is straight so you'll see we'll get there in no time. Enjoy the parade.” His watchful gaze returns to the people behind the elephant. “You there － your parasol is drooping. Hold it properly!”

“Whoops, sorry! I'll fix that right away.” You hear Kalim apologize.

Jamil is very suspicious and attentive. If you take too many risks, he might realize that you are not one of the NPCs from his dream. And it’s not a good idea to take that risk more than 2.5 meters above the ground.

Suddenly, in the midst of the euphoria of the moment, Jamil pulls you to lie on his other arm, making you lose your balance and scaring you. Even if you shouted in fright, it was just another scream in the middle of the cheers. Jamil laughs before pulling you back to your feet and grabbing you to hold you steady. If you hug him or cling to him, he will like it even more.

“What was that?!” You ask, it really looked like you were going to fall off the elephant.

“Ha ha ha!” He laughs in a way you don't remember ever seeing. “I just felt like surprising you.” He smirks. “Or maybe it was a little punishment for disappearing on me and arriving so late to the parade.”

And as another surprise he kisses your lips quite lovingly, but only for a couple of seconds. When he breaks the kiss, he laughs at your surprised face.

“I know, I don't usually do this with so much attention on us. But no one will dare tell us anything.” his smile had a hint of menace.

“All right, we're here.” Jamil finally announces. “Parasols closed, elephants to the stables!”

Jamil leads your elephant to a special platform for you to get off, and he helps you, giving you his hand to support you. You look around and see a school just like the school in Kalim's dream, but once again red and black instead of teal and white. And the statue in the fountain was also different. It wasn't the Ruler of the Oasis's, but you recognized this one, it was a statue of the Sorcerer of the Sands, the same man from the Scarabia Dorm.

“We should go look for Kalim.” Jamil bends his arm to invite you to intertwine yours with his. You do so and he starts walking towards the fountain. “Kalim! Where are you?!” He shouts displeased.

“Oh, I'm right here!” Kalim waves with a big smile. “Hello!”

“Don't give me that!” Jamil retorts. “How can you loaf around without looking after your boss...? Wait. What's with that outfit? Did you botch your color-changing magic again?”

It was as if all that joy of his had disappeared as soon as he approached Kalim. It was a little sad to see, both from Kalim and Jamil's side.

“Huh? I didn't botch this.” Kalim explains. “It's supposed to look like the Ruler of the Oasis. Cool, right?”

“The Jahar Sahir College uniform uses traditional red and black colors like what the illustrious Sorcerer of the Sands wore. What were you thinking, bleaching them to your whims? The nerve.” Jamil takes his magic pen and changes the colors of Kalim's clothes to the same as his.

“Ooh, the colors changed! These are pretty nice too, actually. Thanks, Jamil!”

“I think you mean to say, 'Thank you very much, Jamil-sama, sir.’” Jamil corrects with an offended expression. “Honestly... You'll never let go of that pampered rich boy demeanor, will you? Look. The Asim family owes the Viper family more money than you could pay off with a lifetime's worth of work. So you should try to make yourself at least a LITTLE useful to me.”

“Jamil!” You say, as if asking him to moderate his words.

“I know, you don't like it when I'm like this to Kalim, but he needs to know his place.” He looks at you strangely, almost sulking. “You always had a soft spot for him that I never understood.” he addresses the group again. “By the way, who are you people? Jahar Sahir College isn't open for the general public to just waltz in.”

Silver explains that they are from Night Raven College and Vil says that the reason they came to Scalding Sands was a Film Research Club project, but that they had heard so much about Jahar Sahir College that they had to visit it. He said they were looking for the reception and it was shortly after that Kalim spotted them and approached them. Jamil seems suspicious at first, but after thinking about it for a while he supposes there is nothing strange about it.

“Considering their shabby attire and vapid expressions, I'm sure they're simply students.” Jamil murmurs.

“Hey, I heard that!” Grim informs.

“Oh dear, I beg your pardon.” Jamil says smugly. “I let my inner voice slip out there...”

“Wait a minute...” Grim notices the way Jamil talks to him. “You don't recognize me?”

“Recognize you?” Jamil repeats, confused. “My apologies, but I don't remember ever meeting a little beast like you.”

“WHAT?! You know (Y/N) but you don't know me?!”

“What does one thing have to do with the other?” Jamil turns to you. “Do you know this strange cat?”

As Grim complains that he's not a cat, you think about what to say. But what should you say? That you don't know him? That you met him once? But when? And how? The more time you let pass, the more suspicious Jamil would become.

“We crossed paths with (Y/N) before the parade.” Vil saves you. “I think Grim developed a special liking for them after meeting them.”

You see Grim look surprised at that excuse and then lower his ears a little sad, reluctantly accepting his new role in Jamil's dream.

“I can see why.” Jamil smirks. “I've never met anyone who wasn't enchanted by (Y/N). Which is ironic coming from someone who is not a mage. Allegedly.” He looks at you with that mischievous smile and raised eyebrow.

“Forgive my indiscretion if so.” Ortho says. “But would I be correct in concluding that you two are a couple?”

“Yes, you would.” Jamil answers casually.

“However, you said that they are not mages, but they are students of Jahar Sahir College?”

“An exception was made due to personal circumstances.” Jamil said defensively. “Nothing you need to... worry about.” He finished in a slightly threatening tone despite the smile. “Returning to the subject of your visit. As the student council president, I would be a far more fitting person to show you around campus than Kalim.”

“Oh, truly?” Vil smiles. “How fortunate for us to receive hospitality straight from the student council president himself.”

“I wouldn't want Kalim giving them the impression that our students are subpar.” He mutters.

Jamil says that, personally, he is interested in hearing about Night Raven College. He knows about the Dark Mirror and says that Scalding Sands also has long been a flourishing producer of magical artifacts.

“There's the Magic Flying Carpet, the Great Serpent Staff, the Hourglass of Clairvoyance...” He looks at you for a split second with a smile on the corner of his mouth, when talking about the hourglass. “And the Magic Lamp.”

Jamil says that the Sorcerer of the Sands himself employed such artifacts in his great deeds, and that to this day many people in Scalding Sands, including students from Jahar Sahir College and Jamil himself, are interested in them. He also brags about his family's treasure being bursting with artifacts collected from all over the world.

“I'd love to hear more about the ones housed at your school.”

“Ooh, wow! You liked (Y/N)? I had no idea!” Kalim says. “I'm so happy for you two. And you're the student council president? That's great, Jamil!”

“Why are you acting like this is the first you've heard of it? Not only do you GO to this school, but you and (Y/N) are friends. Now stop standing around and prepare a proper reception for our guests”

“Whoops! Right, I'm supposed to work for Jamil. Okay, a proper reception means a party, right? I got this!”

Kalim starts by asking someone to prepare a party, until Jamil reminds him that this was HIS job. Then Kalim says that a party needs drinks, but instead of going to the kitchen to get some, he uses his signature spell, Oasis Maker, to make it rain.

“You fool!” Jamil says to Kalim as he uses his own shawl to cover you and try to keep you from getting too wet. “Who goes around spraying water without any warning?!”

“We'll need food, too.” Kalim continues, oblivious to what Jamil was saying. “I'll go grab some food from the kitchen! Be right back!” The rain dissipates as he runs away towards the interior of the main building.

“What's gotten into him?” Jamil mutters again. “He's never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's usually not THIS bad.”

“Maybe he's just too excited that we have guests from so far away?” You suggest.

“Trying to alleviate his incompetence as always.” he mutters to you, slightly disapprovingly, before turning back to the others. “Ahem... I'm sorry you all had to see that.”

“Please, don't worry about it at all.” Silves tells him.

“Here you are, Jamil - uh, I mean, Jamil-sama!” Kalim comes back. “I brought a bunch of your favorite foods. Look! I've got a whole pot of curry, some dates... Oh, and lots of silky melons! Where should I put them?”

“I had a bad feeling, but seriously... Who brings the food out before they even set out rugs and tables?! This is beyond bad. You're utterly useless!”

“Ah hah hah! Sorry about that! I've never done this sort of things before.” Kalim apologizes, good-humored as always. “Jamil-sama, could you hold the pot of curry? (Y/N), Grim, you hold the dates and melons.”

“Mrah! Don't plop a whole pile of melons on my head!” Grim appeals unsuccessfully. “Geez, this is heavy!”

“Okay, I'll get some rugs next!” Kalim announces excitedly and runs away again.

“Hey, wait! What kind of staff makes their bosses and guests do the work?!”

“I thought you hated dates.” You say, looking at the large basket full of them that Kalim passed into your hands.

“And I do.” Jamil confirms. “At least someone remembers. Ahem... I'm so sorry about this.” he apologizes to Grim too. “I'll keep the dishes levitated with magic. You don't have to hold them.”

“Ooh, it's all floatin' now.” Grim says relieved. “That's much better!”

“Ugh, that dimwit gets on my last nerve. Mom and Dad are far too lenient. And so are you.” Jamil tells you.

“I see you don't like that about me.” You concluded as the others spoke amongst themselves.

“It's not that I don't like that side of you and you know it. But there are people who don't deserve it.”

“Well, I think Kalim deserves it.” You defend him.

“How stubborn.” Jamil sighs. “But I'd be lying if I said I disliked it. Depending on the situation, it's quite attractive.” he smirks.

You didn't know, but while the two of you were talking about Kalim, the others were also talking among themselves about Jamil and you.

Grim wondered if Malleus's spell wasn't supposed to be giving people happy dreams, but Jamil was in a snit, he didn't seem all that happy to him. The Shroud brothers concluded that this dream followed the same pattern as Vil's dream. Kalim was a source of stress for him, just like Neige was to Vil. But Kalim exerts an outsized influence over Jamil's personality and capabilities in reality. Removing a figure that influential would make the dream more prone to major paradoxes. Unlike Grim, and maybe that's why Jamil didn't remember him.

“Nonetheless...” Ortho sees Jamil smiling at you, even after that silly little argument. “He seems pretty happy with (Y/N).”

“True, he seems more relaxed with them.” Silver agrees.

“We must not deviate from the main point!” Sebek reminds them. “We need to make Jamil realize this is a dream as quickly as possible!”

“Right.” Silver agrees. “Between this place and the bazaar, Jamil's definitely got a strong imagination. I don't think a simple shock would do the job. How do we approach this...?”

Kalim returns, saying he went to Zahab Market and got some nice pieces from the rug merchant. Vil comments that those "nice pieces" look like they'd cost an arm and a leg. Jamil finally seems satisfied with Kalim's work, taking the opportunity to boast again about his family being the richest and most influential in the city.

“Anyway, check this out! Doesn't this carpet take you back?” Kalim shows him a carpet almost identical to the flying carpet of his that you knew, but instead of red, this one was purple.

“Take me back? Why would it?”

It was a regular, unenchanted replica of the flying carpet. Kalim talks about a time when the two of them and his father went to a rug merchant, Kalim thought it was a real flying carpet, spread it out on the ground and walked right onto it. That got him a scolding.

“How could I forget? The look on that merchant's face when you stepped on a vintage silk carpet with your muddy shoes－HRK!” The dream world begins to distort. “Wait... I would never take someone as overeager as Kalim to a high-end store. Rgh... What's going on?! I suddenly feel dizzy...”

Seeing Jamil wavering, the others encourage Kalim to keep talking. Kalim remembers a time when they snuck out of the manor to visit the Camel Bazaar and drank coconut juice together, but Jamil says that Kalim was the one sneak out on his own and Jamil had to scramble after him. Then he remembers a time, just before they enrolled in Night Raven College, when Jamil used his signature spell to make the bad guys fight each other to get him and Kalim out of trouble. But this time Jamil insisted that he didn't know what he was talking about.

Kalim says that he was always the best and most dependable friend he could have, and that he trusted everything would work out just fine as long as he left it in Jamil's hands. But he was the only one of them who felt that way and now he know that Jamil hated it all along.

“That's why you used (Y/N), Grim, and the students in Scarabia to try and get me kicked out and sent home, right? Winter break sure threw me for a loop. I was super crushed when you betrayed me and told me you hated me.”

“Used (Y/N)?! How dare you... I would never... I... I did... What I did... That Winter break...? Betrayed? Augh! My... My head!”

The world distorts a little more.

Kalim says he doesn't know what Jamil is thinking, but he knows that the person he is right now isn't the person he really wanted do be. He wanted to be the best version of himself, but that isn't this.

“Remember who you truly are!” Kalim transforms his clothes into his Scarabia Housewarden uniform, which makes Jamil start to remember.

“What was that scene just now? It shouldn't be familiar to me, but... it is. The... The real me is...”

“JAMIL-SAMA!” You hear someone shout, and a second Kalim, wearing a Jahar Sahir College uniform, appears running.

“There are two Kalims!” Silver says. “That means...”

“Yes, it must be the darkness.” Vil completes.

“Jamil-sama, when I heard you went to school earlier than usual. I scrambled to catch up...” Fake Kalim says, worried. “Oh no, how could this be?! Please, hold on! I'll get you to a doctor! Guards! GUARDS!”

The ground was painted black and Jamil began to sink rapidly into darkness, surrounded by a dark fog that prevented him from seeing you all well. And guards of black goop formed to prevent you from approaching them.

“Kalim...?” Jamil says with some difficulty.

“Yes, that's right. I'm the real Kalim, your loyal retainer.”

“Huh? Jamil, look again! That's not me!” the real kalim tries to warn him.

“He's an assassin sent to end you.” the fake Kalim tries to convince him “Don't listen to a word he says.”

“Wait...” Jamil looks directly at you with heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. “(Y/N)... they...”

Black goop rises from the ground and forms a figure, a perfect copy of you, also wearing Jahar Sahir College's uniform.

“I'm right here, my love.” your copy tells him. “They had the nerve to impersonate your beloved as well. But I'm here now. The real me. The real (Y/N). Look in my eyes. As long as you stay here, you can be a ruler forever. Money, land, freedom, love... Everything is yours!”

“Yes... That's the truth...” Jamil gives in. “You're absolutely right, both of you...”

“Wait! Trust us, not them!” Kalim shouts again. “JAMIIIL!”

But none of that stopped the darkness from swallowing Jamil.

“Stop disturbing Jamil-sama's sweet dreams, you street rats!” The false Kalim commands you.

“As if we'd listen to you!” Sebek retorts. “Let's do this!”

You all change your clothes and fight the darkness. And after defeating it, Kalim jumps into the pool of black goop without hesitation behind Jamil, followed by all of you.

When you open your eyes again, you see that you’re in the Hallway of Scarabia Dorm. By the red light that dimly illuminated the place and the dark fog, you realized that it was the same scenario as when Jamil overbloated. Suddenly, you hear a creepy laugh you've heard before and you all go to the lounge.

“I did it... I finally got Kalim ousted from school and claimed the position of housewarden for myself!” Jamil is the center of attention in the room, wearing his drom uniform, and had that psychopathic smile on his face. “Bring on the food and drinks! This calls for a celebration. The foolish king is gone, and the true power behind the throne has risen in his place!”

While the Scarabia students follow his orders, you see Azul next to Jamil with that red glow in his eyes.

“Wait a minute, those eyes...”

“Hey, (Y/N). You put it together too, right?” Grim tells you in a whisper. “Looks like Azul ain't fakin' it like he did during winter break. He's really under Jamil's control.”

Most of the dorm's students, who were all actually the darkness in disguise, were gathered in the lounge. You were decidedly outnumbered. Idia says that the best thing would be to get into a more advantageous position and make a surprise attack, so you will quietly make your way behind the students and then launch a coordinated strike on cue. Silver says that Idia should give the signal and the others would carry out the attack.

“Ahh, I feel on top of the world. So this is freedom! How sweet it is.” Jamil keeps chattering. “The biggest thorn in my side, Kalim, is gone. Azul has fallen into my hands.” he looks to his right side to see Azul standing right there. “And (Y/N)...” He looks to his left side, but finds no one. “...is trying to escape again? *sigh* Bring them back to me!” he orders the Scarabia students.

Silver pulls you behind a pillar and you all hide.

“Mrah! What do we do now?!”

“Hand (Y/N) over.” Idia says to everyone's surprise.

“What?! Have you gone insane as well?” Sebek protests as quietly as he can. “What about the surprise attack?”

“Listen, if Jamil really likes (Y/N) he won't hurt them.” Idia explains. “And (Y/N) can help distract him and provide a more effective surprise attack.”

Sebek, Silver and Grim are reticent, but you are the one who takes the initiative and gives yourself to the Scarabia students while the others remain hidden. Two students hold you by the arms and take you to Jamil. And to your surprise, as soon as they let go of you the darkness forms shackles around both of your wrists.

“It pains me to see you reduce to this, (Y/N).” Jamil tells you and pulls you by the chains of the shackles to bring you closer to him. “But you insist on resisting me. Oh, and those clothes... Let's give you more suitable ones, shall we?” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a Scarabia Dorm uniform. He laughs with satisfaction. “A beautiful desert bloom such as yourself should be on the arm of the most powerful housewarden in Night Raven College. What do you say, my dear? Why refuse to be my new Vice Housewarden, and partner?”

“To be honest... I also have a crush on you, Jamil.” you admit and he smiles, too pleased. “But not this version of you. The real you. Or rather, the best version of you, that I know exists behind this senior psychopath.”

“The... real... Hrk!” his head hurts and the world distorts a little, but Jamil pushes you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

“I'll teach you some respect... but until then...” he orders that the Scarabia students grab you by each arm and lift you up. “Let's just calm that rebelliousness of yours for a while.”

As the students hold you by the arms, he holds your chin to make you look at him. You knew what he wanted to do to you and struggled to keep him from using Snake Wisper on you. You are saved by Kalim, who attacked Jamil before the signal with a solid blow.

“Wh... Kalim?! What are you doing here?!”

Silver and Sebek attack the students who were holding you and free you from the shackles by breaking them.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Silver asks you, holding you in his arms in case you need a little comfort.

“Huh? I don't understand...” Sebek says. “The students aren't attacking us...”

“YOU BIG DUMMY!” You hear Kalim say.

“D... Dummy?!” Jamil responds in disbelief.

“The biggest one there is!” Kalim punches him again. “How can you treat (Y/N) like that?! I may not have realized you liked them, but I know you would never do these things to them. You don't want to force them to like you. You want them to like you for who you are. That's why you started getting nervous whenever we met with (Y/N), right?

“Nervous? ... Hrk!”

The dream world begins to distort as he remembers the first time he felt good around you and then begins to worry if you secretly hated him for what he did to you and Grim on Winter break.

“You don't want to use them, you don't want to deceive them.” Kalim continues. “And the same applies to competing with others. What you wanted wasn't a prize earned through dirty trickery! And you know it! Wake up right this instant, Jamil!”

“What I wanted? ...Hrk!”

The world distorts again with another memory: Jamil telling Kalim to shut up! Telling him not to give him orders! That he was through following other's orders! That he was going to BE FREE!

“Argh, you keep trying to tell me my business...” Jamil says, annoyed. “What would someone as oblivious as you even know about me?!” he punches Kalim.

And the two of them begin to fight while insulting each other. Until the insults are reduced to one adjective at a time between punches. Cynic, Imbecile, Jerk, Airhead, Blockhead...

“Such childish bickering...” Sebek comments. “The other students and Azul are all pawns made from darkness, but they're just standing there staring.”

He suggests that you aid Kalim, but Silver stops him.

“Let them get it all out of their systems.” Silver says. “Sometimes a fist fueled by emotion is more effective than any words. ...It definitely was for me.” He gives a small smile.

After some time of fighting, Kalim starts laughing.

“Huh? What could you possibly have to laugh about right now?” Jamil questions.

“Y'know, Jamil... I think this is the first time in our 17 years together that we've ever fought like this!”

“What?! Well, obviously! If I beat you up in reality, it would spell disaster for... Ah?!” The world distorts again. “Gaaah! Augh! It hurts... My head! In reality...? Why did I say that? Rgh, augh...!”

“That's right. This is all just a dream! Please, Jamil, remember! Remember the real you!”

“Right... That day... What I did to you... What I did to... Ah, aaagh...” Jamil remembers what happened on winter break, the dream shatters and he wakes up. “Heh. Haha... Ahahaha... That's right. I failed to oust you that day.”

Kalim celebrates that you all managed to wake up Jamil, but after a little chit-chat the ground starts to shake and fissures began opening all over the place. The dream was starting to break down because Kalim wasn't supposed to exist in it.

Idia warns everyone to get out of the dream as quickly as possible, but then the floor started giving out beneath Kalim. Jamil dove in to save him and the darkness began to dragging him in. Kalim grabbed Jamil to try to get him out of there, but Jamil told him to leave him and punched him when Kalim refused to do so. If you had also tried to help Jamil, he would have just push you too. And Jamil was swallowed by darkness.

When you returned to the dream after the Shroud brothers informed you that it was safe, you landed in Jahar Sahir College. And when you see Jamil he is wearing his Scarabia uniform. Kalim ran to hug him but Jamil dodged successfully.

You and Silver say you're glad he made it back, and Jamil says that he owe all of you a great deal before asking if someone could please fill him in on what was going on.

After the Shrouds show him the explanatory video he says he gets the general gist, and admits that he wasn't entirely sure the rest of you weren't more illusions he subconsciously conjured up, but he never would have thought of the cheat tools idea that Idia came up with. And continued talking about the possibility that it was part of Malleus' spell but it didn't make sense to bring it up to him at all, if that were the case.

“So it's probably safe to accept that all of you aren't illusions created by me or Malleus.” Jamil finally concludes.

“Dude, you were questioning our whole premise...” Idia comments.

“Why wouldn't I, after having my mind, my memories, and my whole world rewritten? But... if you're all real that means...” Jamil looks at you and starts to get worried. “W-when exactly did you get here?”

“Some time before you appeared riding an elephant at the start of the parade.” Ortho answers.

“Yes, we were even part of it!” Kalim adds smilingly. “It was super fun!”

“S-s-so... those people at the parade...” Jamil stutters as the panic grows. “T-the person w-who was with m-me on top of the elephant...”

“Aaaall that until we lost you to that black goop after our fight.” Kalim adds, oblivious to the main point.

“So... that means... that (Y/N)... that whole time...”

“Jamil Viper, please breathe.” Ortho asks him. “I am detecting worrying imbalances in your aetheric structure.”

“Jamil looks like he's going to explode with embarrassment.” Idia says. “I don't even know if that's possible in a dream, but I'd rather not find out.”

You realize the best thing to do is to calm him down, he was unable to say a single word anymore. You take his hands, tell him everything is okay and ask him to breathe.

“I-I-I'm really sorry...!” He says still in panic and almost petrified. “I-I don't know why I did that... I-I didn't want to... I didn't...”

You hug him and feel how tense all the muscles in his body are.

“It's okay. I don't blame you.” You say in a whisper close to his ear. “We don't control our dreams. If you remember what happened, do you remember what I told you?”

“W-what did you tell me?”

You confess that you like him too and that you knew that wasn't the real him. Maybe you even say that you’re willing to forget all that and start over as it should be when you return to the real world.

You then feel Jamil’s muscles begin to slowly relax. Until he reciprocates your hug, is as gentle as it is strong.

“I'm sorry...” He apologizes in a whisper, probably the most sincere you have ever heard or will ever hear from him.

“Aww, GROUP HUG!” Kalim says excitedly.

“NOOO!” Everyone else grabs him and stops him from joining you.

“My goodness, Kalim!” Vil scolds him. “You really need to learn how to interpret social insights.”

When you break the hug, he still tries to look you in the eyes, but can't. You chuckle and cup his face to make him look at you.

“Ironic.” You say with a reassuring smile. “You being the one who doesn't want to look into another person's eyes.”

A small smile begins to form on his lips and he brings a hand to one of the ones you have on his face. He looks at your lips for a second and when he sees you smiling connivingly, he kisses you.

A kiss that lasts until Grim loudly clears his throat. As soon as Jamil breaks the kiss and looks at the others, remembering that they exist, he... isn't embarrassed. He smiles smugly at them, still holding you.

“Hey, last time I checked, it was still my dream.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[harrysredroom]

Playing With Fire

word count: 4.5k

summary: 18+ content! basically just smut with loads of angst. enemies? lovers? who knows. they sure don’t. dominant/switch harry, submissive/switch y/n…they don’t discriminate. Harry and Y/N just can't seem to decide if it's love, hate, or lust.

a/n: hiiii, this is my first time posting something i’ve written. It’s not something i ever thought i’d do, so go easy on me lmao. let me know if you want to see more! 

"Hello?"

"We're doing pleasantries now? I'm here."

"I'm home."

"Then buzz me in."

"I'm watching a new episode of Criminal Minds."

"Jesus. You can watch it while I fuck you from behind. Buzz me in, Y/N. Now. I don't have the time -or the patience- for your attitude tonight."

That's about as long as their phone calls ever got. The pair sighed in unison before the call ended, the tension bubbling beneath the surface from the second Y/N saw Harry's name pop up on her phone screen. She hadn't seen him or heard from him for the past three months. 

Her and Harry had a complicated, long-standing situationship…and that was putting it lightly. A friend of a friend, a few drinks, a few months of connecting, heartbreak, and a mess of blurred lines. They were the kind of almost-couple that never quite got the timing right. 

Every goodbye was temporary, every reunion accidental but inevitable. The inability to stay away from each other? That was the real reason things never worked. Too much chemistry, not enough clarity. It was passion tangled with pain, affection mixed with avoidance, like trying to hold onto smoke.

Incompatible. 

Harry was consistently gone on tour and afraid of commitment. Y/N never left her tiny bubble of life and was emotionally unavailable. 

They didn't see eye to eye on most things. 

But...their sexual tension? 

It buzzed consistently like a live wire, twisting, crackling, and sparking to life. 

Harry was a constant thrum beneath her skin, rooted deep in her veins like a heartbeat she couldn't quiet. He had this way of making her feel like she mattered even if it only lasted a second. When he'd breathe into the curve of her neck, voice low and ragged, whispering how she was his, her walls would crack just enough to let him in. In those moments, she wasn't cold or closed off. She wasn’t numb. She could feel—really feel—something other than the dull ache that usually lived inside her. It was fleeting, sure, but it was real. And sometimes, that was enough to pull her back under.

Y/N was like a drug to Harry. He was always twitching, in desperate need of a fix. Being inside of her was addictive, his head in the clouds and far away from everything. But the comedown from the high? Brutal. The crash after they were done, after the kisses cooled, after the silence settled in, always hit harder than he expected. Each time left him hollow, questioning everything. Why had he stumbled back into her life again? What part of him kept confusing chaos for comfort, or her bed for safety? He’d lie there, heart still racing, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. But it never did. Just the same ache, the same regret, curling up beside him like a second skin.

Y/N adjusted the sleeves of her oversized jumper, fingers fidgeting for a moment before she stood from the couch. Padding toward the front door, she hesitated for just a second before pressing the buzzer to let Harry in.

The soft buzz echoed down the stairwell, but to her, it felt like a warning siren.

She had to stand her ground this time.

She couldn’t keep letting him drift in and out of her life like a tide she had no control over, especially not after this long. Usually, it was a few weeks, a handful of texts, and a night that bled into morning. But three months? That was different. That was silence she’d almost started to believe in.

Almost.

Harry’s lips curved into that familiar devilish smirk the second he heard the mechanical whirl of the front gate unlocking. That soft hum, the one that granted him access, always felt like the first drop on a rollercoaster. He pushed the door open once the metal gate slid back into place behind him, shutting it with a click that echoed in the empty hallway.

He practically jogged up the two flights to her flat, his pulse quickening with each step, a boyish eagerness he never could quite shake when it came to her. But when he reached her door, any fantasy he’d built on the way up hit a wall. Literally.

She was already there, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, hips tilted, gaze unimpressed. No soft smile. No warm welcome. Just that unreadable expression he’d seen too many times before.

His grin only widened.

Of course she wasn’t amused. He couldn’t blame her.

But he was already in too deep.

“Aww, s’my sweet Bunny girl angry?” Harry crooned, voice dripping with mock concern as he looked down at her, eyes glinting with mischief.

Without waiting for a response, he brushed his shoulder past hers, slipping into her flat like he owned the place. The scent of her hit him instantly, intoxicating, wrapping around him as easily as her silence did.

"No." Y/N's tone was sharp and low, giving her away.

Harry clicked his tongue as he slipped off his shoes and hung his coat on the rack. Y/N followed him inside, closing and locking the door behind them. 

"Now, now, now...s'that what we're doing? Lying to each other? Thought we both agreed it’s just easier to be honest, did we not?" He tutted as he turned to face her. 

Before she could protest, his hands were grasping at the plushy flesh of her hips with rough vigor, tugging her frame flush against his own. Harry hummed, the sound gravelly and guttural as it rumbled through him. Y/N let loose a shaky breath, her lashes fluttering against her cheekbones.

A simple touch.

Just one very simple touch. 

That's all it took for them to fall back in head first. 

That’s all it took for their resolve to crumble.

Harry leaned in slowly, his movements unhurried and deliberate. His nose brushed against hers, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He breathed her in, sweet and familiar. That scent always did something to him, settled low in his gut and curled around his ribs. He could feel her heartbeat, rapid and erratic, thudding so hard in her chest it might as well have been echoing in his own. The corner of his mouth twitched. "There's my little Bunny, so nervous and jittery around me. S'addicting, y'know that? God, three months without you has been fucking torture."

His voice held the kind of yearning that made her lips itch to feel his own. 

His words were a plea, needy and desperate. 

Her hands moved up to hold the sleeves of his t-shirt, curling around the fabric, trying to ground herself.

"Need you t'use your words for me, love. S'that what's the matter, hmm? Been too long without me?” 

His thumb and forefinger came up to gently grip her chin, tilting up her head. “C'mon, sweet girl. Y'know I can tell if you lie. You wanna be good for me, don't you? Bad girls don't get what m'about to give you." 

Her entire body felt like hot molten lava, and she looked up into his eyes. 

Harry blew out a breath. Those big doe eyes of hers were going to kill him someday and he was certain it would be a happy death. “Fucking hell. I missed you. There. I said it.” 

Now it was her turn to tsk and chuckle, her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. “I don’t even have to speak and you’re a sputtering mess for me, Harry. It’s pretty desperate, don’t you think?” 

She watched the way his jaw clenched, felt the way his fingers dug into her sides, and how his pupils blew out, his eyes darkening. “You’re playing with fucking fire, Y/N.” He growled, low and primal, before driving her backward until her spine hit the front door with a quiet thud. In one fluid motion, his hands gripped her hips and lifted her, catching her beneath the thighs. She gasped as he pinned her there, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

His body pressed hard into hers, firm and unrelenting, holding her in place like he had every right to. The force of it stole the breath from her lungs, but it wasn’t just the impact. 

It was him.

It was always him.

Their breaths tangled in the charged space between them, shallow and uneven, like they’d both run miles only to stop just short of the finish. Their lips hovered, barely apart, neither willing to surrender first, both waiting, daring the other.

“Good thing I’m not afraid to get burnt,” she whispered, her voice low and velvet-soft, brushing against his mouth with every word. “I missed you too, by the way.”

That was all it took.

Harry closed the distance, crashing into her like a wave pulled too long by the tide. His mouth found hers with a heat that trickled through her system and she met him there, fingers threading through his hair, the other hand locking around the back of his neck to hold him close.

A quiet whimper slipped from her as his tongue slithered past her lips, insistent and hungry, tasting the sugary remnants of the candy she’d had in front of the tv before he arrived. He groaned low in his throat at the sweetness, and the sound of it unravelled her, hips moving instinctively against him.

They acted with fluid precision, like two pieces made to fall into place. Her fingers tightened in his curls, pulling just enough to draw another sound from him, and before she knew it, she was back on her feet with Harry pressed against her and his hands grasping the dip of her waist to lead her.

She didn’t remember the walk to her bedroom.

Maybe it was because her frame never left the wall of his chest, or maybe because Harry’s mouth never once left her body—trailing down her jaw, along the curve of her throat, kissing and nipping at the skin until her legs turned jelly. She walked backwards, trusting Harry to lead her in the right direction. The door creaked open behind her, and the next thing she knew, her back was pressed to her velvet comforter and Harry was hovering above, his eyes hooded and stormy with want. Her jumper rose up to her midriff, just a pair of plain pink cotton panties with a bow on beneath. She wasn’t expecting company, not that she’d have dressed differently even if she knew he was coming.

“Look at you…” he murmured, more to himself than to her, tracing the outline of her collarbone with a calloused fingertip. “Laid out all pretty for me, like some dream I haven’t earned the right to wake up from.”

She arched towards his touch, her breath hitching when he leaned in and pressed a slow, reverent kiss just beneath her ear. “Maybe you haven’t,” she whispered, breathless but teasing, her voice trembling with the effort not to beg. She said she wouldn’t crack, yet here she was.

Harry’s grin was all sharp teeth and wonderment, but his gaze softened as it swept over her face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick, “I’d spend the rest of my life tryin’.”

Then he kissed her again, slower now, deeper. It wasn’t just need anymore. It was months of silence, of missing glances, unanswered calls, aching spaces where the other used to be. It was apology and forgiveness, grief and hunger all tangled into one breathless moment. His hands moved with purpose, mapping out the skin he’d gone too long without, relearning every dip, every scar, every shiver he could draw from her with just the brush of his thumb.

“I can’t wait, I need you right now, Y/N, can you feel my cock? It’s fucking aching.” Harry grunted out, pressing his hips down against her core to prove his point. She could feel the outline of him, rock solid for her, straining against his jeans. 

She whimpered at the friction, a damp spot already present against the fabric of her panties from the second he walked through her front door and looked at her with those eyes of his. 

“I’m going to indulge in you properly later, take my time, bury my head between your thighs like your pretty pussy deserves after bein’ so neglected. But right now? I just need to fuck you.”

Harry’s hand slid beneath the back of her thigh, pulling her leg around his waist and tugging her panties to the side as he breathed heavily into her neck, his lips trailing hungry, greedy kisses along her skin. 

“Then fuck me already.” Y/N bratted through deep breaths, her hands finding the hem of his shirt and tugging, needing him unclothed and fast.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he sat up just enough to look down at her. She was absolutely sinful like this, her pussy glistening with arousal, her eyes hazy with that smug, lustful expression. He scoffed out a breath as he ripped his shirt off from over his head, tossing it across the room as his fingers nimbly found his belt buckle. “Get it all out now, Bunny. S’not gonna be so funny when I’m pounding into you so hard you can’t breathe, and you know it.” He growled, his eyes meeting hers with stern warning. 

The metal clinking sound of his belt coming undone echoed in the small space, and he pulled it from the loops of his jeans with one smooth tug. He looked into her eyes as he looped the leather in half before snapping it together, the sound crackling the room. “Behave,” he warned.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her mind flashing back to the time that Harry had tied her wrists behind her back with that exact same belt. She gulped, a glimmer in her eyes as she nodded, deciding this was her time to be quiet if she wanted to get her way.

A devilish smirk coated Harry’s lips, the dimple in his cheek protruding. “That’s my girl.” He murmured as he tugged down his boxers, his hard cock now resting heavy in his palm. He leaned down, the head pressing against her entrance. He slicked through her folds, each of them sighing in relief at the feeling. Without warning, he thrust in, hard and deep. She cried out, her back arching, her head tipping back against the mattress as he tore through her without remorse.

“That’s my fucking girl.” He growled as his body rocked into hers. The pace was unhurried but purposeful, like he was trying to relearn her from the inside out. Their sweat-slicked skin was sticking where they touched, their breaths loud and shallow in the dim light of her bedroom.

Every move he made felt like a question. Are you still mine? Do I still fit here?

And every answer came from the way she held him, close and needy, her nails dragging angry red lines down his spine, her hips rolling to meet his like she was trying to etch the shape of him into her bones. She wanted him to remember. Each time he caught a glimpse in the mirror, or the hot water of his shower cascaded over his back, he’d remember her and the marks she’d left him with.

It was messy. A little unsteady. Every shift, every gasp, threaded with the weight of what they were too stubborn to say out loud. She whimpered when his mouth found that sensitive spot beneath her ear again, the one that always made her body quake.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dragging his teeth across her jaw. “You feel the same. Still so tight f’me. Still so fuckin’ perfect.” Harry thrusts his hips forward, burying his cock deep within her. Each movement had her bed creaking, the sound of her arousal gushing around the base of his cock obscene and lewd in the best possible way. It coated his pubic bone and thighs, sticky and wet.

Y/N bit her lip, her head lolling back against the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat. “You think saying shit like that makes this less complicated?”

Harry didn’t stop. Couldn’t. “No,” he admitted, voice rough and low, “but maybe it’ll make it easier when I leave.”

Her chest hitched, a shiver rolling through her—not from his words, but from the ache in them. That aching little crack in his voice that sounded like regret finally catching up to him.

She shouldn’t have answered. She knew she shouldn’t have. But her voice came anyway, soft and breathless. “You’re the one who always comes back.”

That struck somewhere deep within him. His rhythm faltered for half a second, just long enough for the truth to land. But then his mouth crashed into hers again, hungry, silencing the sting with his tongue. He kissed her like he could steal her words, bury them inside his lungs so they wouldn’t echo back at him later.

And she let him.

Because she needed to feel something that wasn’t heartbreak. Something real. Something alive.

Her legs tightened around his waist, and her back arched into him, her body shaking under his touch as her release crept closer, hot and consuming. Y/N’s moans were nothing short of pornographic, breathy and sultry whines. 

Harry cursed under his breath, the sounds she made unraveling his restraint thread by thread. He reached his hand between them, two fingers finding her clit with ease, puffy and swollen for him. He hissed at the way her jaw dropped open, immediately moving his fingers in fast, tight circles around the bundle of nerves. He knew how sensitive she was, her thighs trembling in their position around his hips. His thrusts never stopped, the sound of wet skin slapping wet skin echoed her bedroom as he fucked into her. Harry watched the way her tits bounced beneath her jumper, each of them still half clothed, having been too caught up in the moment to worry about undressing fully. He didn’t need her nude to know how her body looked, how she felt. Her soft, blissed out features and the warm squeeze of her cunt around his cock would be plenty for him.

“C’mon, Bunny,” he murmured, voice shaking, forehead pressed to hers. “Wanna feel you. Let go f’me.”

The weight of him pressed down, grounding her, anchoring her to the moment, where nothing else outside the walls of her flat existed. Just Harry, just Y/N, and the quiet crackle of something neither of them dared name.

She could feel every inch of him, his breath against her collarbone, his fingers rolling over her clit with eagerness, the slow, torturous grind of his hips as he buried himself deeper, like he belonged there.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he always had.

“Say it again,” she whispered, her voice a velvet thread in the darkness.

Harry blinked, chest rising and falling against hers, lips ghosting over the curve of her jaw.

“Say what?”

“That you missed me.”

His throat bobbed with the swallow. His voice, when it came, was rough with more than just lust. “I did. I do.” His forehead pressed to hers. “Every fucking day I miss you, Y/N.”

That admission cracked something open inside her. Not all the way, just enough to let the ache bleed out, soft and messy. Just enough to let him in again.

She arched into him, her arms circling around his back as if she could pull him beneath her skin, as if she could memorize the weight of him and keep it when he left again. Because he would. That much she knew.

Everything about Harry was too much yet perfectly enough. His teeth nipped at the column of her throat before his tongue soothed the ache, his panted breaths hot and heavy against her neck as he fucked into her. 

Y/N was practically mewling, whimpering and trembling as she got closer and closer. Her stomach coiled up tight with each deep thrust, the head of his cock punching through her walls, rough and gentle all at once as if he couldn’t decide which half of himself to give into. Harry’s cock twitched inside of her, a telltale sign he was close. 

“Fucking hell…this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, Bunny? C’mon, tell me who’s pussy this is and I’ll let you cum.” His voice was shattered, deep and sultry as his fingers slowed against her clit to a barely there pressure.

Y/N whimpered, the noise near pathetic as she tried to roll her hips upwards, desperately chasing her high. “It’s yours, Harry. I belong to you.”

Harry puffed out a breath as if her words were too much to handle. 

“Good fucking girl. My girl.” He whispered against the shell of her ear, his tongue flicking out to lick a strip against her jaw before, without warning, he sat up, his hands gripping the backs of her calves and pushing her legs up towards her head for an entirely new angle. 

She gasped, feeling his cock slip out to the tip in their shift. Harry smirked down at her, his grin devilish. He knew how much she loved this position, how perfectly it let his cock hit that spongy, sensitive spot inside of her. He didn’t waste a second before he tightened his grip and pulled back his hips before slamming them forward. 

Y/N cried out his name as he rocked into her with fervent need, groaning at the way her walls clamped down around his cock, desperate to milk him dry. He let one of her legs fall from his grasp, only to slip his hand between their bodies, his thumb rubbing messy, relentless circles over her clit. He drove into her again and again, burying himself to the hilt, never letting her forget exactly how perfectly she took him. His breaths were mixed with shattered low groans as he watched the way her chest rose and fell, how her cheeks had pinkened and her lips hung parted in a perfect, petal pink pout of pleasure. The headboard slammed against the wall in a frantic rhythm, just barely drowning out the filthy wet sounds of his cock plunging through her slick, stretching her open and claiming her in every way. He found his home deep inside her pussy—exactly where he belonged, exactly where he was meant to be.

His Bunny let out a string of whined moans, her thighs quaking, and he knew she was right on edge. “That’s it, sweet girl. Cum all over my cock, show me how much you missed me.” He panted.

Between the desperation in his voice and the way he slammed into her, it only took seconds for Y/N to come crashing down. Her pussy pulsated around Harry’s cock as she let out a low, breathless moan, the sound like music to his ears. The way her walls clenched around him had him thrusting in as deep as he could possibly go, his body surging forward to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. His orgasm hit him hard, pouring into her in long, hot spurts that left him whimpering against her mouth. Sounds of raw yearning and need spilled from him, muffled by their kiss, as her nails dug into the muscles of his lower back. His hips stuttered against her, his body desperate to stay as close to hers as possible, every last drop of him filling her completely. He rolled forward, pushing his cum impossibly deeper as if it would keep it there, keep him there.

Harry stayed buried inside of her, his forehead dropping to press against hers again as they both struggled to catch their breath. Their chests heaved together, sticky skin sliding, the heat between them nearing unbearable. He pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the hollow just beneath her ear, murmuring sweet nothings too soft and slurred for either of them to really understand.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he panted, voice rough and wrecked with pleasure. “Missed you. Missed this. Missed being inside you.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, still feeling every delicious throb of him, every aftershock rippling through her sensitive body. She tilted her head back just enough to meet his blown, dazed gaze, smirking despite the lingering tremors in her thighs. She’d missed it too, but she wasn’t about to say it, not now, not when she hadn’t gotten her chance to have the upper hand and remind him why he kept coming back here, back to her.

“You better catch your breath, pretty boy,” she whispered against his damp temple, her voice a low, teasing purr. “Because it’s my turn.”

Harry blinked slowly, still half drunk off the high she had just pulled him into. “Your turn?” he repeated, the lazy smile that tugged at his mouth making her want to kiss it clean off.

Y/N grinned, sliding her hands down the damp, muscular plane of his back before giving his hip a playful little squeeze that made him grunt against her. “Mhm,” she hummed, shifting her hips beneath him just enough to make him hiss, his sensitive cock twitching inside her pussy. “You think you can just come in here, fuck me like that after three months, and not deal with the consequences of your actions?”

He let out a rough chuckle, his body still twitching with sensitivity, but his hands found her hips again on instinct, holding on like he already knew she was about to wreck him.

“You’re playing with fucking fire.” She murmured in a mock of his earlier words against his jaw, nipping at his scruff with her teeth, loving the low growl it dragged from his chest.

“Is that right?” Harry rasped, the words barely a thread of sound. “Well…It’s a good thing m’not afraid to get burnt.” He mused, humming out her own response to the same question. 

“Mmhm,” Y/N purred, and before he could say anything else, she rolled her hips up into his with a slow, devastating grind. His whole body jerked, a broken moan escaping his throat. “And you, Mr. Styles, are about to find out exactly what happens to bad boys who don’t think they can be outmatched.”

She tightened her legs around his hips, flipping them with a surprising surge of strength and adrenaline that made him grunt out a startled, breathless laugh. He fell back against the mattress, wide-eyed and grinning even as he tried to process the shift.

Y/N straddled him now, hands splayed on his chest, hair wild around her flushed face, a gleam in her eye that promised nothing short of absolute, blissful ruin.

“You think you can handle it?” she teased, rolling her hips again, slow and purposeful, making him gasp and clench the sheets beneath him from the overstimulation.

Harry let his head fall back, the cords in his neck straining as he fought for control. “Fuck, Bunny,” he groaned, voice breaking on the nickname. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She leaned down, brushing her nose against his before catching his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging gently, making him groan again.

“Good,” she whispered against his mouth. “That’s the idea."

[miaoua3]

RIDING SEUNCHEOL'S FACE LIKE FULL-BLOWN SITTING AND GRINDING ON IT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH

YUUUUUUUP PREACH IT GURLLL YOU COULDNT TELL ME CHEOL ISNT A CERTIFIED MUNCH OHMYLORD THE NASTINESS THAT IM ABOUT TO WRITE OOOF-

Sit On It

Pairing: bf! scoups x f!reader

Genre: the nastiest smut i will probably ever write (MDNI), face sitting, praise, power play (slight), cunnulingus

Description: you make cheol’s terrible day so so much better by finally fulfilling his biggest fantasy-you sitting on his face.

Note: hyperventilating just by thinking about sitting on his beautiful face, eyebrows furrowed, big arms wrapped around my thighs- UNHOLY THOUGHTS BEGONE XJAJAKANNSOQJAIA (also, not proofread, as per usual💔)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

here’s the thing-a lot of things that you and cheol did in the bedroom was relatively new to you, considering that your previous lovers (if you can even call them that by the lack of effort they put) were selfish and conceded. so when you two started dating, and eventually sleeping together, it was surprising to experience being with someone who was so…giving, almost catering to all of your needs.

that man, if he could, he would spend every waking moment of his between your legs, either lapping and licking and sucking on your sweet pussy, or pounding into it with the force that makes the whole bed move, never mind your body.

still, there was one thing you two still have yet to try. something he has expressed he would love to do-or, well, for you to do to him.

or rather to his face.

naturally, he respected your wishes and you saying ‘no’ to his proposal. but you could see how pouty he turns every time he tries to ask if maybe you have changed your mind yet, only for you to vigorously shake your head.

it’s not that you don’t want to, it’s just…

it’s one thing to have him lay between your legs, lapping on your juices and make you soak both his face and his sheets.

it’s an entirely different thing to have that control over him-over the situation- and just grind on his face, to make yourself cum all over it, when usually he’s the one to usually make you cream all over his face.

and you thought your answer wouldn’t change. not for a while at least.

…well. about that.

you just felt so bad. he came back from work visibly under stress, his thick eyebrows set in a frown so deep they were almost touching.

he barely said anything to you, a clear sign that one wrong word could set him off, hence why he’s avoiding any conversation that could leas up to that.

he immediately locked himself up in the shower for a while, before he came back and went directly to your room, laying flatly on his back. his naked chest rose up and down in shallow and stressed sighs, face hidden in the elbow of his arm that he threw over his gorgeous face.

he just looked so…tense, you felt like you had to do something.

and so, before you knew it, you let your shorts and panties hit the floor, your (actually, cheol’s) shirt following next.

he was just laying there, deep in thought, that he didn’t ever hear you walk across the room, didn’t even pay too much attention to the mattress dipping under your weight as you crawled towards him.

it was only when you forcefully removed his arm from his face that he was ready to say something, mean things to snap at you just on the tip of his tongue immediately dying the moment he registered your nakedness.

at first, he was ready to decline your offer, ready to say that he wouldn’t be too gentle on you right now if you two decided to have sex, that he would use you rather than love you. and that is something he wouldn’t allow to happen, not with you.

but then.

instead of straddling his hips, you went ahead and put your other leg.

on the other side of his shoulder.

cheol just stares up at you, at your gorgeous body, an angle making him both salivate and his lips completely dry, your sweet pussy that he loved more than almost anything in this world hovering over his chin, so close yet so far away.

cheol followed the trail that is your body-your wetness right in front of his eyes, followed by your soft tummy, the curves of your waist connecting right into your chest where your soft and bouncy tits stood proudly, and lastly your visibly shy and nervous face.

he could feel himself panting already, ready to actually suffocate under your weight if you would so kindly let him. but despite his urges and needs, he waited. waited for you to make the first move.

waited for you to take control.

gulping one last time, in low and raspy voice you asked him one final question.

“still want me to sit on it, baby?”

and so here you were, head thrown back as the moans flew freely out of your mouth. almost like an instinct, like an animal, you were unconsciously grinding all over his face, your juices smeared all over his mouth, cheeks, and even nose. and yet, cheol just continued to lap on your pussy like a good boy that he was.

he was so so loud as well, you can’t honestly remember if you have ever heard him be so vocal, maybe even more vocal than you. his groans were bordering on animalistic ones, vibrations coming from his mouth traveling through your pussy, through your quivering tummy and shaky chest, all the way to your ears.

his big and strong arms were strongly wrapped around your thighs, locking them in place, so even if you wanted to move, cheol wouldn’t allow you to.

your hands were so indecisive, going from strongly holding onto the headboard, to leaning back on one, hand pressed into his chest that was tight from the lack of the air, while the other was holding onto his hair, pulling on it as you were grinding all over his beautiful face.

you peaked over your tits to look at his face, only to see his eyes closed in pleasure, eyebrows now furrowed in pure ecstasy instead of anger. you notice his eyes trying to open for a second, only for them to roll back into his head the moment you circle your hips again.

and the noises-god, it was so loud and nasty, it was all the more turn on.

you were just moving your hips, sometimes back and forth, properly grinding on his hungry lips, sometimes just making circular motions, smearing your precum all over his face.

which he seems to like so much, as every time you did it, you could feel his hips buckle upwards into the air and his moans travel through your pussy.

his tongue was splitting your lips apart before dipping inside your hole, collecting your sweetness on his tongue before swallowing it, the tip of his tongue then lapping at your clit for a second before doing it all over again. you swore, it almost looked like he was passionately making out, except it was with your pussy and not with you.

you were worried that you might be too heavy, that you were suffocating him, but that seems to be exactly what he wanted, as any time you tried to raise your hips a bit and let him breathe, he would just harshly pull you back down, a sound somewhere between disapproval and warning leaving him before he goes back to being a moaning mess.

it actually came so naturally to you- being in control. you weren’t even aware just how much control you had over him right at this moment. you were the one that set the pace, the one that used your hold on his hair to move his face in the direction that you wanted him to, the one who was a babbling mess, words like “such a good boy for me” and “fuck, just like that, baby, you do it so good” involuntarily leaving your mouth.

and cheol, just like a good boy you claimed he was, took whatever you gave him.

he was so lost in the pleasure, that he didn’t even notice just how close he was to cumming untouched until your hips started buckling out of control as well, moans getting breathier the closer you were getting to creaming all over his face.

before you knew it, you harshly pulled on his hair to push his face further into your pussy as you threw your head back, a loud scream escaping you as you reached your orgasm and came all over his face, your cum smearing all over his lips and chin as he tried to clean it all up, to swallow it, to lose himself in the pleasure for just a bit longer.

after you became sensitive, you recoiled away from his touch, finally being able to lift your hips away from his face and let him breathe again.

upon you lifting yourself up, cheol uses his newfound to take one deep breath, shakily filling his lungs with fresh air. he wasn’t even aware of just how oxygen deprived he was until he tried looking up at you only for everything to become very very blurry for him.

you two just stayed like that for a minute or so, both looking at each other as your chests were heaving.

and as you were looking at each other, a clear agreement was concluded between you two as you two were trying to come back to your sanities.

fuck, we are going back from this.

[sirfrogsworth]

So, when one puts those little quotation thingies around words, it gives the impression that the person actually said those words.

Peter did not say this.

At all.

He was on a podcast with Marc Maron and was specifically talking about the Snow White movie.

"Literally no offense to anyone, but I was a little taken aback when they were very proud to cast a Latina actress as Snow White, but you're still telling the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Take a step back and look at what you're doing there. It makes no sense to me. You're progressive in one way, but then you're still making that fucking backwards story about seven dwarfs living in a cave together. What the fuck are you doing, man? Have I done nothing to advance the cause from my soap box? I guess I'm not loud enough. I don't know which studio that is, but they were so proud of it. All love and respect to the actress and all the people who thought they were doing the right thing. But I'm just like, what are you doing?"

When I read that, I did not get the impression that he does not want little people cast in fantasy roles. To me, it seems like his issue is the outdated stereotypes of the dwarfs in the Snow White story. He was at odds with the characterization and also the hypocrisy of progressive casting while maintaining harmful stereotypes for another marginalized group.

I think Snow White in particular has a lot of baggage attached for little people. For many folks, it is their only exposure to little people. This is probably something little people have to deal with all of their lives. When they are bullied, I imagine this story is often used to insult them.

Juxtopose that with the fully fleshed out dwarf characters in Lord of the Rings. They have their own personalities and backstories and motivations.

I mean, there was even a hot one.

If I were to extrapolate what Peter means...

It would be nice if little people were cast in real roles that are more substantive than jokey stereotypes.

I don't think he had any intention of implying fantasy roles were off limits. I think playing Trumpkin in a classic CS Lewis story is a lot different than the seven dwarfs from Snow White.

I get there is frustration about this sentiment. Some little people can only get cast in those types of roles. And they don't want to lose out on the work. For some that may be their livelihood.

But there has to be some middle ground where we progress and give better representation without harming those actors' ability to pay the bills.

[dysthymia-wet-specimen]

ughhh comments discourse goes crazy... if someone doesn't wanna be called dude or girl like i won't call them that. you shouldn't call someone something they don't like being called. but there's such a lack of dialectical nuance. are we going to make regional dialects problematic in the year of our lord 2025.

calling a trans woman dude/man/bro or a trans man girl is often used to intentionally misgender people, especially online where you can't understand tone or intent as well. linguistically, many people call people girl/dude/bro/man regardless of sex or gender. it's just a part of speech to them. you should respect what people want to be called, but de-gendering words like girl/bro/dude/man when used in non-gendered contexts is progressive as it erases the connotation of the context these words are used in and de-gendering words is kinda progressive when you think abt it. girl being used as a gossipy kind of term, dude/bro/man being used as a chill term, how words are used carries weight in a society and by calling more men "girl" and "bossy" we take away the power of those words being used to infantilize or demonize grown women. just "dudes being dudes" doesn't get to be used as a phrase for excusing rape culture if "dudes being dudes" means hanging out and watching love is blind.

for fucks sake, lgbt community seems to fight tooth and nail for the right for men (especially cis gay men) to say bitch and cunt (cunt being for american men) (derogatory terms for women or afabs) words that are used to incite misogynistic violence.

everyone can have their own preferences but gender neuteral "dude/girl/man bro" is not a thought crime. calling a trans person those words is wrong when used to misgender, but i honestly feel way more uncomfortable with people analyzing or transvestigating me before saying "omg girl guess what". it puts a focus on who is and isn't passing as certain gender rather than words being words. many cis women do not give a shit if you call them dude/bro/man. i call all my cis man friends girl (though toxic masculinity kinda makes men not like this word)

Do you view the word "dude" as gendered?

[prettydaisygirl]

can you do a part 2 about the bf james and peter story? maybe james ghosts her and she runs into remus one day, tells him what happened and he goes back and tells james

Just for you, love! This one turned out way longer than I thought it would, haha! Hope you enjoy <3

(ex)boyfriend!James Potter x fem!reader who finally talk about Peter ✿ 1.7k words

cw: fem reader, break up, Peter is the worst, Remus is the best, angst with a happy ending

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

please read part 1 here

You hate breakups.

Not that you’re entirely sure that is what is going on, but you haven’t heard from James in three weeks. That has to mean you’re broken up, right?

The first week, you’d held out hope that James might call you. Even though deep down you knew, when he’d kissed your hair instead of your lips and Peter looked at you with that smirk… It was pointless to wait around, but you’d been hoping for an opportunity to explain yourself. To tell James that it’s Peter who was saying horrible things, not you. You were trying to defend him!

But the call never came.

So your days go by in a blur, aimless routines and rituals that keep your body occupied and alive while your brain and heart ache for him. Things aren’t the same without James’ bright smile and beautiful aura. Your home feels dull without the promise of his shoes by the door next to yours, or a goodnight kiss where neither of you really want to fall asleep. You miss him. 

The park is your only escape. The light on your skin and the breeze in your hair makes you feel lighter, even if it’s just for a moment. You let the excited dogs and giggling little kids make you happy. It’s enough to get you out of the house. Enough to keep you going. Enough to make sure your heart doesn’t fully shrivel up and die. 

It’s one of those days, the ones where you feel a bit lighter sitting at the park bench and letting your mind go, when you suddenly find that you aren’t alone.

“Hello.” You know that voice. The smooth, honeyed tone you know to belong to James’ friend, Remus. 

“Remus,” You greet him with a smile that doesn’t entirely reach your eyes, “How are you?”

“I’m alright, love. But I’m more interested in how you’re doing. You look…” Remus’ words trail off but you can think of a million different ways he could end that sentence: bad, tired, upset, broken, etc.

“I’m… alive.” You decide on, but the words sound empty even to you. Remus eyes you, clearly deep in thought. 

“It was Peter, wasn’t it?” He asks the question like he already knows the answer. His words surprise you, head turning and brow raising, especially when he continues. “Peter said something that made you upset.”

You nod, throat tightening as you remember that horrible dinner all those nights ago. Your fingers pick at the wood of the park bench, your shoulders sagging.

“Peter is horrible.” You say, and you don’t care if you sound cruel, “From the moment I met him, I knew he was horrid. I know he’s your friend but you all let him say the most disgusting things about people. About each other!”

“What did he say?” Remus asks, and when you turn with your mouth open ready to argue, ready for Remus to defend his friend, he doesn’t. His face is only open, understanding.

You wring your hands in your lap and purse your lips as you think about what you want to say. Remus sits in patient silence, giving you time without complaint.

“He asked me if I think James is obnoxious.” You start, and Remus’ brows raise just an inch on his forehead. But he doesn’t speak. “He told me that… James would be getting bored of me. That someone new would catch his eye and everything we had would just…” You look around the park, eyes scanning everything without really seeing. You just will yourself not to cry. 

“I mean, I guess he was right? James and I haven’t talked in three weeks, he won’t even respond to my texts.”

Remus nods slowly, and your heart sinks a bit more. Maybe Remus agrees with Peter. Maybe he is just here to destroy your last bit of hope and put the final nail in the coffin.

“Peter and James have been friends since before I ever met either of them.” Remus says, finally, his voice cutting through the rest of the peaceful park sounds. “Peter has always been… for lack of a better term, a small man. James is larger than life, and Peter has always been jealous of him, even when we were young.”

“As boys, Peter would scare off anyone who wanted to be friends with James. It was only through Sirius’ stubbornness that he managed to break through them and become a part of the group. And Peter only allowed it if he was there too. I came along a bit later.”

“But even in our group of four, it was obvious that James is Peter’s best friend. He would get… antsy if we ever spent time together without him. It’s gotten better now as we’ve gotten older but it seems as though Peter has shifted his attention.” 

“What are you saying?” Your voice cuts through Remus’, eyes wide and your body turned almost fully toward him at this point.

“I’m saying you aren’t the first girlfriend of James’ that Peter has gotten rid of.” Remus runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, face turning serious. “I should’ve known he was going to do this.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while, a mutual anger bubbling in the air around you both.

“Has he said anything?” You ask finally, your voice weaker than you’d like it to be. “James, I mean.”

“Oh, he’s devastated.” Remus’ voice is thick with emotion and his face morphs into obvious frustration, “The man is so in love with you.”

“Then why-” It’s like Remus can read your mind, he answers before you can even get the words out of your mouth.

“James loves Peter like a brother. Peter has been by James’ side since before the two of them were in diapers. I think… I think James doesn’t want to see what Peter is doing. He wants Peter to be good but…” Remus’ voice trails off again and you find your stomach churning.

“I love James.” You say, and you’ve never said anything truer in your life. “I just want him to be happy.”

“You both deserve to be happy. I’ll talk to him.” Remus says, and he continues to speak before you can open your mouth to argue, “I mean it. Then, if he doesn’t want to be with you, we’ll know. But he does. And you both deserve to be happy together.”

“Thank you, Remus.” You say, and you hate the way hope creeps back into your soul.

But four days pass after your conversation with Remus, and you still don’t hear from James.

It’s been devastating, almost worse this time, like breaking up all over again. You really tried not to get your hopes up when you spoke with Remus, but you can’t help it. All you want is James back.

You’re in an old t-shirt and putting a frozen meal in the oven when there’s a knock at the door. You groan, moving through the living room to the front door and you open it. 

Your heart stops when you see James’ face. He looks… dull. Not that bright, bubbly ray of human sunshine he always is.

“Jamie.” His name leaves your lips as a breath of relief and also a cry of pain.

“I’m sorry,” He says, and his voice is just as strained and pained as your own. “Remus told me about what you said. About what Peter said…”

You lean against the front door a bit, letting it hold some of your weight since you don’t trust yourself to stand fully on your own at the moment. You watch James, heart pounding in your chest. You’re sure it’s loud enough that he can hear it too. 

“I tried to tell you, but you all just left.” You say, and your eyes burn as the emotions resurface. “And you never called. I just wanted to explain…”

“I know.” James’ eyes squeeze shut and you feel your heart squeeze too. “I know, I’m sorry. I thought Peter was my friend…”

“Friends don’t talk about each other like that.” You step out onto the porch, standing in front of James. You miss being close to him, even just like this.

“No. They don’t.” James agrees, and you find yourself wanting to reach out and touch him. He seems to read your mind, placing a hand on the side of your neck and placing his forehead on yours. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You say, your voice cracking at the end. “I don’t want to break up.”

“I don’t either.” James agrees softly and it’s like you can feel the broken parts of yourself start to let him put you back together. 

“What about Peter?” You ask, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. You’re worried this is too good to be true. 

“I’m done with Peter.” James shakes his head, his curls swinging in front of his forehead as he moves with vigor, “I confronted him about what happened after I talked with Remus. And he admitted everything! He bragged about it, he said he thought he was helping me out because he thinks you aren’t good enough for me.” James rolls his eyes, but you can still see the emotional turmoil he must be going through.

You pull him close, your two bodies fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle, reuniting after weeks apart. 

“I’m sorry.” You say. “I know you love him.”

“I love you.” James says, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m sorry I believed Peter.”

“I’m sorry he wasn’t a good friend to you, Jamie.” Your voice is muffled as you bury your face in his neck. His scent is comforting, soothing the ache of weeks without him. You squeeze him a bit tighter.

And this time, you’re not letting go.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[bloomseishiro]

DAYDREAMING, WITH MY CHIN IN THE PALM OF MY HANDS — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — sure, rin may be an asshole, but for some reason he offered to help tutor you in your worst subject, english. so maybe he’s not as bad as you thought. maybe he’s actually someone you could find yourself falling for. 

itoshi rin x fem!reader. fluff, high school au/no blue lock au, pining, the long awaited part 2 of “it’s impossible to ignore you” :3 ahh i loved writing this omg reader and rin r everything to meeee!! pls enjoy xx

word count. 6.3k 

“Rin is going to tutor you?” your friend, Akemi, asks with her jaw on the floor. “The same Rin who rejects girls by saying he doesn’t have time for them?” 

You nod sheepishly, just as surprised as she is. “He knows if I fail one more exam, I’ll have to retake the class during summer. And he offered to help me. Still, I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.” 

Her eyes widen as she takes a bite of her beef rice bowl. “Why would I not want my best friend to get help from the best English speaker in our grade? I don’t want you to fail!” 

“But he broke your heart just yesterday!” 

Akemi sighs, waving her hand dismissively. “Yeah, he did. And he sucks for that. But I guess I was more infatuated with him than in love. I mean—what’s his favorite color anyway?” 

You shrug.

“I don’t know either. Someone in love should probably have known at least that,” she giggles. “You don’t need to turn down a great opportunity on my account.” 

Giving her a grateful look, you mumble, “I really do want to pass English. Do you think he can actually help?”

“If he can’t, who can?”

“The Tooth Fairy? Maybe if I find a tooth to put under my pillow…” 

She makes a face. “First off, that’s gross. Second, I think the Tooth Fairy only gives you money, not a passing grade.”

You groan, placing your head in your hands with an exaggerated movement. 

Akemi simply laughs at your dramatics. “Oh, come on. Studying won’t be that bad. When’s your first tutoring session, anyway?”

“It was supposed to be now,” you reply, twirling a strand of hair as you glance away to avoid her incredulous stare. “But I just couldn’t start without making sure you were okay with it first! I asked Rin if we could postpone…”

“Y/N!” she exclaims, practically slamming down her bowl of rice onto the cafeteria table. “That’s so stupid of you! And sweet. Very sweet. You’re the best friend ever. But you could’ve been at least three times more knowledgeable about English by now!” 

You give her a sideways look. “Three times? Don’t you give Rin too much credit?” 

Akemi raises her brow at you. “Have you ever paid attention to him speaking English? Three times better in one session is the minimum. Go text Rin and reschedule for after school.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she says sternly. 

“But,” you continue in an exaggerated tone, “he has soccer practice after school.”

“Tell him you’ll wait for him then,” Akemi offers as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “You are the one who cancelled your lunch session at the last minute, after all. It’s the canceller’s duty to reschedule.” 

“That’s not even a word.”

She glares at you. 

You sigh in resignation, holding your hands up as you swallow the last bite of your food. “You’re right. I have English with him next period. Apparently. I’ll ask him if he can tutor me this evening when I see him.” 

Akemi nods in satisfaction, giving you a wide grin and a thumbs up. “Good luck, Y/N. I know you’ll ace the next test!” 

Exchanging a small smile, you nod in determination. “I will definitely pass. The next exam will be mine!” 

At least, you hope so. That is what Rin told you, after all, and soon it’d be time to see if he lives up to that promise. 

Half of you expects Rin to say no, that he’s too busy to tutor you tonight and it’s totally your loss for cancelling on him in the first place. But to your surprise, he simply nods. 

That’s how you find yourself sitting on the bleachers as you watch Rin playing soccer at his after school club. 

Oddly enough, it seems you aren’t the only one. 

“Oh, my god! Rin is so good,” the girl to your left, a few rows away from you swoons. 

“Yeah, he’s totally in charge on the field,” says another in a similar, dreamy tone. “So intense!”

A guy sitting next to them snorts, folding his hands over his arms. “Too intense. All he cares about is soccer and winning. Nothing else.” 

You raise your brow, looking over at the group with your peripheral vision. There was no doubt in your mind that the guy had a crush on one of the girls he was with, but she was too hopelessly infatuated with Rin to notice. 

The classic highschool love triangle.

Sort of. Maybe it’s more of a broken love line.

As the sun begins to set, the coach ends the practice and tells everyone to keep up the good work before dismissing them. 

You silently watch Rin down a bottle of water before grabbing a clean towel to wipe his face and neck. Seeing as the practice was over and it would likely be time for your tutoring session soon, you make your way down to the field.

“Not another one of Rin’s secret admirers,” one of his teammates groans to another. “I’ve seen enough rejections this week to last a lifetime.”

If Rin can hear them (which, given he’s only three feet away, there’s no doubt that he can’t), he chooses to ignore them completely. Instead, he saunters over to you and nods in greeting. 

“Give me a minute to change, then we can go,” he says, brushing his hair out of his face with his fingers. “Wait for me by the door.” 

From the corner of your eye, you see his teammates’ jaws drop as Rin begins to walk away to clean himself up.

“Is he willingly…speaking to a girl?” whispers one with a bleached blonde streak in his fringe. 

Another shivers, a horrified look on his face. “I feel like the world just turned upside down.” 

You stifle a laugh at their dramatics. The concept of Rin willingly interacting with someone of the opposite sex shouldn’t be that revolutionary. But, you have met Rin, after all. His stoic and uncaring persona did run rampant at times. Perhaps their shock isn’t so misplaced.

Much to your pleasure, you don’t have to wait long for Rin to finish up in the locker rooms. The outfit he changed into is a casual one—a simple crew neck and black joggers—but he somehow manages to look fully put-together. 

He comes up to you and you wave, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Hi, Rin.” 

“Hey,” he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Ready?” 

You nod, walking side-by-side with him as you skip over to the school library. It’s not open for too much longer, but it should be enough for you to get a good hour of tutoring in. 

“How was practice?” you ask conversationally as you make your way down the hall. 

Rin shrugs. “Nothing special.”

You huff to yourself, glad to see he was as chipper as ever. And to think you two almost had a moment after that train ride… It must’ve been your delusions talking. 

As he enters the library, he finds a table for you to sit at near the back, away from the librarian and remaining students so as to not disrupt them with your talking. 

“The last test we had in the class was about reading comprehension, right?” asks Rin, pulling out a children’s picture book written in English and handing it over to you. “Is your issue that you don’t know the words, or you don’t understand the meaning?”

“Of course I know the words!” you cry indignantly, proving yourself by reading a random page of the book and translating them out loud in Japanese. “Back when all we did were vocabulary tests in the previous years, I aced those. It’s the…putting it together I don’t get.” 

He nods as if he expected it. “I figured you would know how to translate it. You are in the advanced English class, after all,” he says dryly. 

“Somehow,” you murmur.

“Knowing how to translate each word to Japanese is different from understanding it in English.” 

“That’s what the hard part is,” you agree miserably.

Rin snorts, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have done Advanced English. You would’ve done just fine in the normal classes. This is the only teacher who actually cares about our conversational and comprehension skills.”

“But I always take the advanced classes!”

“How’s that working out for you?”

You glare at him. “Well, it’d be better if my English tutor was actually helpful!” 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m getting there. I have to gauge how bad you are before I know where you need help.”

You heave a sigh, unable to argue with his logic. 

Rin searches something on his phone before showing it to you. “Here, can you read that?” 

Nodding slowly, you say the title in Japanese, “Analysis of relative gene expression data using real-time quantitative—”

“In English,” interrupts Rin exasperatedly. 

You frown. “But… I don’t know how to pronounce it.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just try.”

Try and make a fool of yourself? No thanks. 

You shake your head stubbornly. 

Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly. “Okay. Well, you can theoretically translate a research paper, but you don’t know how those words go together. And you can’t make sense of it in English.”

“Sounds accurate,” you sniff. 

“All that knowledge about vocabulary and grammar won’t do you any good if you can’t understand the source language,” he comments, deadpan but not rude. 

“Well, how do we fix it, doctor?” you say sarcastically. 

He huffs, taking his phone back from you in one swift motion. “We put you through the most intensive training regimen I know. Watching English movies.”

Your next tutoring session is at Rin’s house. 

It’s a nice house, but rather empty. There are pictures of him, his parents, and someone you assume to be his brother scattered throughout the hallways, but no one else is home. When Rin opens the door, he doesn’t even have to greet anyone or introduce you to his parents before bringing you to his room. 

The session starts with Rin going over some grammar and sentence structures from an earlier class (one that you definitely slept through), and segues into you reading another children’s book. This time, he demands you read it in English and give him a summary about what it’s about instead of translating each word into Japanese. 

“The larger context is more important than each individual word. Even if you don’t know a few words, you should still be able to understand what’s going on,” he says, already sounding impatient. But really, you think that’s just the perpetual tone of his voice.

This time, you dutifully listen. You had to put your trust in Rin’s tutoring skills if you wanted a chance to pass the class. 

As you read through the picture book with a giant elephant on the cover, your brows furrow in confusion. You aren’t sure if you’re just complete ass at reading English, or if the story was genuinely this bizarre.

“Rin,” you say hesitantly.

“Hm?” 

“Is this really about an elephant finding a small planet on a speck on a clover? And no one believes him because they can’t see it? Until they… Yopp?” 

Rin nods, looking thoroughly impressed. “So you can understand some English.”

“I don’t think half of the words in this book are even real!” 

“Exactly why it’s a perfect way to force you to focus on the context over translations,” he retorts. 

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. Still, it did help you find some confidence in your comprehension skills. If you can read English on a paper, maybe understanding it audibly isn’t so far out of reach. 

Turning the TV in his room in, Rin lazily turns to you. “Time to start the intensive part. Let’s watch a movie in English. I’ll keep the Japanese subtitles on for a bit, but then change it to English subtitles only.”

You bite your lip, fiddling nervously with a thread on your sleeve. “I don’t know… That sounds a lot harder than reading a picture book meant for five year olds.”

“We can pause when you need to and go slow.”

Reluctantly, you nod. “What are we going to watch?”

“The Conjuring.”

“What’s that about?”

“You’ll see.” 

Rin sits on one side of his bed, gesturing for you to join him. Your cheeks begin to burn at the implication of joining him in bed, but the butterflies instantly turn into dust the moment he so obviously scoots away to put the most distance he possibly can between you two. 

As you blink at him questioningly, he simply explains, “My TV is better than the one in the living room. I’m not trying to…” 

“Yeah. I know.”

“Yeah,” he finishes awkwardly. 

The moment the movie comes onto the screen, your eyes widen with dread. It’s dark, and eerie, and you immediately know what this is. 

“A horror movie?!” you cry indignantly. “I did not sign up for this.”

“The plotlines in American horror movies are relatively simple,” insists Rin. “It should be easier for you to follow compared to a drama.”

You squint at his explanation, taking a pillow from his bed and hugging it close to your chest. “That sounds like baloney.” 

He snorts in amusement, eyeing the way you are clutching his pillow in a death grip. “Why? Are you scared?” 

“No!” 

Rin sighs, “I’ll keep the lights on.” 

You pause before muttering, “Thanks.” 

The movie starts and you immediately regret all your life choices. Is Rin trying to help you pass your English class, or is he secretly trying to torture you?

Rin really is an asshole…

It doesn’t take a genius to feel the sense of suspense and unease in the film, even if you didn’t fully understand what the actors were saying. You knew there was some demonic supernatural shit going on and you immediately hated it. 

Rin extends his leg and you can’t help but yelp at the sudden movement. 

Your head snaps to his, eyes wide and alert. 

“I was just getting a cramp,” he says with a hint of laughter in his voice. 

Of course, you were scared out of your mind and he was laughing. What do all the girls even see in him? 

You huff, sinking deeper into his bed and allowing his pillow to block more and more of your vision. In your fear-clouded haze, you vaguely notice Rin offering you another one of his pillows to hold. Those fluffy feathers would certainly be enough to fend off any evil spirits. 

During a particularly intense part, you find yourself abandoning the pillows and creeping over to Rin’s side of the bed, too scared to register how you grabbed his arm and buried your face in it. 

“I’m going to turn off the subtitles now,” he says, but you don’t let go of him as he reaches for the remote to change the settings. He glances over at you, his lip curled up. “Do you need a break?”

“No.” You shake your head fervently. “Let’s get this over with as soon as possible.”

He shrugs and resumes the movie, almost unfazed as you attach yourself back onto his side. 

This isn’t something you’re used to doing when you watch a movie with someone. In fact, you’re normally perfectly content sitting in your own personal space. But this movie was terrifying and you were willing to use anything that provided some source of comfort.

Besides, it doesn’t seem like Rin minds… Knowing him, he would’ve shoved you off the bed or told you to move if he got too uncomfortable. Plus, this situation is all his fault anyway. 

To your surprise, you understand some of the phrases the actors are saying despite having only English subtitles. Though, it comes at your own demise as you grow even more scared at the movie. 

You yelp as a jumpscare scene occurs, hiding your face behind your hair and pressing your cheek against Rin’s arm. 

A stifled laugh comes from beside you and you’re about to tell him off for finding enjoyment from your misery when he casually brushes your hair back behind your ear. The words on the tip of your tongue instantly become nothing but a forgotten whisper as your stomach flip-flops about ten times in the span of five seconds. 

The gentleness of his touch still burns your face. You look up at him, confused. 

“You can’t watch when your eyes are covered,” he says with his attention already back to the movie. 

You huff in annoyance. Trying to read Rin is harder than English.

For a moment, you’re tempted to put on a brave face and pull away, but you catch Rin looking over at you once more. This time his gaze is covert, as if he doesn’t want to be noticed. But it’s there. Though his expression is neutral, his eyes are bright as they burn into yours. When he sees you staring back, this time he doesn’t attempt to look away. 

Okay, so maybe you could understand why he had girls always swooning over him. 

The intensity of his gaze almost makes your cheeks flush. Almost.

Luckily for you, a sudden and loud noise from the movie jolts your mind away from…whatever that moment was.  

As the movie comes to an end and the plot is left unresolved, you are still as unsettled as you were when the movie first started. That is to say, Rin really screwed you over by making you watch this. 

“I officially hate you,” you proclaim as he turns the television off. 

“Again?” He raises his brow. “Why now?”

“Because, what kind of asshole makes someone watch a horror movie that will traumatize them for the rest of their lives?!” 

“It’s just The Conjuring.” 

You glare at him but he pays it no mind. 

“If you’re scared, that must mean you understood it,” he says smugly. 

“It’s not difficult to understand when there’s creepy music and dark shadows and everyone sounds slightly insane!”

“See, it’s all about context.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Do you?” he challenges. 

You sigh, “No. Well, maybe temporarily because there is no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.” 

Rin fixes the pillows on his bed as you get off. “Are you really that scared?” 

“Yes! Do you think I’m faking this for dramatic effect?” you ask, incredulous. 

“No, but it’s just a movie. You don’t need to be scared once it stops playing.”

“Tell that to my brain.” 

Rin snorts and you fold your arms over your chest, looking out the window and wincing once you notice just how dark it is. 

“The sun’s already down?” you say with a small voice. “Maybe I should ask my mom to pick me up…” 

“Don’t you live nearby?”

You nod, toying with a strand of your hair nervously. “Yes, but a demon can still get me within the ten minutes it takes to get home.”

Rin shakes his head but grabs a jacket as you begin to pack your belongings. “I’ll walk you home, then.”

You pause as you’re shoving your pencil case into your book bag. “You will?”

“Better than having someone come all the way here just to escort you,” he says dryly, leading you out the door. “And…I guess it might be slightly my fault you’re scared.” 

“Slightly?” you retort. “It’s definitely all your fault.” 

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thanks for the tutoring session, Rin.’”

You pull a face, crinkling your nose as you repeat monotonously, “Thanks for the tutoring session, Rin.” 

He rolls his eyes but there’s a softness to his movements. “Yeah. Sure. You really are improving, you know?” 

Begrudgingly, you nod. When he wasn’t making you read weird books and watch scary movies, he was surprisingly patient explaining concepts like participles and tenses. That part was certainly easier for you than trying to read and comprehend in English, so you were glad he pushed you to do that as well. Though today, it may have cost your sanity. 

“I guess I should be more genuine,” you say guiltily. “I really am thankful for your help. I know you could be doing lots of other things with your time. Like, practicing more soccer or…watching scary movies. Or… Actually, I don’t know what else you do in your free time.”

He shrugs. “That’s about it, really. I play horror games, too, I guess.”

“With friends?” 

“Does it seem like I make friends?” asks Rin in amusement. 

You shake your head sheepishly. “Your brother, then?” 

He frowns at the mention of his brother, his bright eyes growing dimmer. “No. Definitely not with him. Alone. I play alone. I like it better that way.” 

Sensing that you accidentally overstepped on a touchy subject, you clear your throat and look away. “Well, that’s fun too.” 

After a few moments of awkward silence as you walk down the poorly lit street, Rin offers, “Sorry.” 

You spare him a questioning glance. 

“For snapping,” he continues with an annoyed exhale. “We’re not on good terms. My older brother and I.”

You nod in understanding, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “I could tell. I’m sorry for bringing him up.” 

Rin waves you off. “It’s whatever.”

It’s definitely not whatever, but okay, you say to yourself. 

The two of you continue walking down the street, turning the corner in silence, but this time it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. Just a neutral calmness. That is, until you hear the sudden ring of a bicycle bell and jump in fear. 

Rin coughs to hide a laugh. 

“I don’t even want to hear it from you!” you sniff, haughtily crossing your arms and walking ahead of him. “You’re the one to blame for my jitters. How will I ever sleep tonight?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I know, didn’t I say I’m sorry already?” 

“A sorry isn’t enough,” you say with a humph. “How will you atone?” 

“You sound crazy,” he says, but humors you nonetheless. “I’ll send you funny cat videos until you fall asleep.”

Your ears perk at the offer. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine.” 

“I don’t have your number.” 

Rin hands you his phone and you swiftly add yourself as a contact. 

“Did you really add yourself as ‘Rin’s Worst Nightmare, devil emoji, devil emoji’?” 

You nod proudly. 

“Just remember you said it, not me,” he smirked. “What will my name be on your phone?”

“Probably something like, ‘Number One Pain in my Ass.’” 

“Creative,” he drawls. 

You stick your tongue out at him.

Your walk continues and soon enough, you see the outside of your house come into view. There’s a light visible through the window and you thank the stars you won’t be coming home to a creepy, dark house. 

“This is my stop,” you announce with a smile. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Yeah. I guess I did owe you for scaring you shitless.”

You laugh in acknowledgment. The movie was scary, but at least there were moments you could get your mind off it. “And don’t forget you still owe me cat videos!” 

Rin nods. “I’ll send them after I get ready for bed. Try to get some rest now.” 

“You too, Rin.”

“How are your tutoring sessions coming along?” asks Akemi, laying down with her head hanging off your bed. 

It’s Friday night after school and Rin told you that he would be too busy to tutor you tonight, which makes it the perfect time to catch up with your friend.

“Good, actually.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” she laughs. 

“I thought he would change his mind and leave me to dry,” you reply with a giggle. “Rin’s offer was so sudden, you know? I was partly expecting him to take it back.” 

“That does seem like something he’d do to most people,” Akemi agrees, then shoots you a devilish grin. “But not to you. He must like you.”

You shake your head in denial. “There’s no way that’s the case.” 

“But what if it was?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Would you be happy? Maybe you even like him back?” 

Groaning, you throw a pillow at her face to stop her incessant questioning. 

There’s simply no way Rin liked you. He was just slightly nicer to you because he thought you were someone who is actually worth his time. Whatever that means. 

And there’s an even less chance you like him! 

Rin has his caring moments, you will give him that, but most times he’s arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and ruthless. Somehow, those qualities suit him…

You catch yourself, shaking your head feverishly at the thought. 

There’s no way you could be developing a crush on Rin. 

So why do you feel yourself getting butterflies as you think about your next tutoring session? 

This session is at your house this time. 

You’ve had a handful of meetings in the library over the past few weeks, but Rin decided it was time for another intensive training session— Meaning, it was time for you to watch another movie. 

“It won’t be horror this time,” he assures you, tone only slightly mocking. “I think you’ve gotten decent enough that you can graduate to a more confusing genre.”

“Like romance?” you say excitedly. If Rin forced you to watch a scary movie that gave you nightmares for two weeks straight, then you could force him to sit through some romance movies you know he would hate. 

Heaving a sigh, he begrudgingly shrugs. “Student’s choice. Also, it’s your house. I don’t know what movies or streaming services you have.” 

“So you’ll watch 10 Things I Hate About You with me?” 

“It can’t be a movie you’ve already seen,” Rin says, folding his arms as he leans back on your couch. “The point is to try to piece together the plot and what the characters are saying, not recite something you’ve seen a million times.” 

You pout, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. “But it’s a good movie…”

“We’ll watch it another time. After you pass the exam.”

After you pass? So Rin’s implying he wants to keep hanging out with you even after these tutoring sessions are over? Your cheeks flush at the thought. 

As you scroll through numerous streaming sites, you finally find a title that sounds familiar. 

“My friend told me this one is good! How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” you point out eagerly. 

“You must like the number ten,” he comments. 

“You’ll love it too after this!” 

Rin stifles a chuckle, and you realize you’ve been hearing him semi-laugh more often lately. The ruthless ice prince does have a fun side to him. He is still, after all, just a high school guy in your grade. And you hate to admit that it fills you with some sense of pleasure knowing you’re the only one in school who has likely ever heard that noise come out of Rin’s mouth. 

“Since it’s my first time watching too, we can compare our summaries after.” 

You groan, almost forgetting that this was a tutoring session and not just a movie night with a friend. “Compare summaries? What’s next, do I have to cite my sources?” 

He rolls his eyes at you. “Keep it up and I’ll say yes, you do.” 

Immediately, you shut your lips, desperately wanting to avoid as much outside-of-school work as possible. 

“This is so cheesy,” complains Rin as the two of you watch the movie in silence, both invested in the plot. “He has a bet, she has an ulterior motive, they’re going to fall in love while using each other, the reveal is going to split them apart, then they’re going to make up somehow and then the movie will end. I don’t even need to finish it to know.” 

You glare at him, eyes fixed on the screen as Andie exchanges a touching conversation with Ben’s mother. “Spoilers, much?” 

“I’m not spoiling, it’s an educated guess.”

“Keep it to yourself,” you demand playfully, sticking your tongue out. “Some of us like to be surprised.” 

He exhales loudly but turns his attention back to the TV. 

The rest of the movie passes by peacefully until you get to a certain scene where the main characters have their obligatory romantic kiss. The kiss is slow and playful, and the scene is so intimate you almost have to look away. 

Bashfully, you take your eyes off the screen and see Rin following suit, the apples of his cheeks colored a faint pink. 

He looks rather cute. 

Your mind starts to wander, picturing you and Rin sharing a kiss like the one on screen and you find your throat getting dry. Would his lips be soft or chapped? They look soft. Would he be the type to hold your chin, your cheek, or your jaw as he kisses you? Maybe even the back of your neck, if you were lucky. You wanted to find out…

Slapping your hands to your face, you silently tell yourself to snap out of it. 

He looks over at you, alarmed. “Did you just hit yourself?” 

“I thought I felt a fly.”

“On both cheeks?” 

“A fly on one side and a mosquito on the other.”

Rin’s brows shoot up before he shakes his head, knowing sometimes, it’s better not to question your logic. “Okay.”

Slowly, the scene escalates from a couple of gentle kisses to the characters taking each other’s shirts off. 

Your eyes widen as your gaze is forced away once again. 

“Hey. What the hell is this rated?” Rin coughs, his voice strangled. “Aren’t your parents home?”

Through your embarrassment, you glance at him in surprise. Did he really sound flustered just then? So Rin really does have the capacity to feel normal human emotions after all. 

“Um, PG-13, I t-think,” you stammer, painfully aware of the actors continuing to make out topless on the television. “My parents are gone for the weekend, anyway.”

“Oh.” 

It’s not until the scene is over that you and Rin both let out a sigh of relief, as if the tension could finally escape your bodies. You sink into the cushions, glad that you and Rin decided to sit on opposite sides of the couch. Otherwise, you would’ve been even more aware of his presence and curious about his kiss. 

Neither are good things to focus on. 

When the movie ends, you wipe away a stray tear at the conclusion. Of course, Rin was right about the entire plot, but that didn’t make it any less amazing. 

“So, what’s your rating?” you ask once the credits finish rolling. 

“For a movie that’s not horror, maybe a four.”

“Damn, tough crowd,” you say with a tsk. “I loved it! I would give it at least an eight.”

“You’re too generous,” retorts Rin. “What’s your summary?” 

You rattle off the happenings of the movie from start to finish, even going so far as to talk about your favorite moments.

When you finish talking, Rin nods, looking pleased with himself. “So you understand. We didn’t even use Japanese subtitles.” 

“You’re right!” you exclaim, eyes full of excitement as you exchanged glances with him. “I’m definitely ready for the exam! I feel so much more confident in English comprehension already.”

“Told you you’d pass with me as your tutor.” 

“I haven’t passed yet!” 

“But you will,” he says, his tone overly-confident. He would be insufferably arrogant if he didn’t have the skills to back it up. Luckily for him, he did. “Soon, I won’t need to tutor you anymore.”

A barely-there frown crosses your face at the reminder. 

Would there be no reason to see each other outside of school once you passed the class? 

Something about that unsettles you. 

Minutes of silence pass before Rin waves his hand in front of your face. “Hello?”

You swallow, forcing a smile. You don’t need to be thinking about that right now. “Sorry, I just spaced out there.”

“I can tell,” he says, somewhat amused. “It is getting late, maybe you need some sleep.”

That isn’t the case, but you nod in agreement. 

“I’ll head home, then,” Rin states, standing up and slipping his jacket on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You wave, walking him to your door and watching him walk away. “See you! And thanks for the help.” 

He looks back briefly, raising his hand in acknowledgment and even that single shared glance is enough to send jitters through your body. 

Closing the door, you rest your head back and groan. There’s no point in lying to yourself anymore. Not after you literally fantasized about making out with him while he was sitting right next to you. 

You have a crush on Rin. And you are so screwed. 

“Rin! I passed! Look, look!” you exclaim, holding your test paper out excitedly. 

Class just ended and the teacher handed you your text back with a swift, “Nice job.” That might’ve been the best compliment you received in this class all year. 

Naturally, the first person you wanted to show it off to was the one who helped you get the grade in the first place, Rin.

He pauses at your desk, peering closely at the grade on your test and nodding once. His lips are turned up in the slightest smile and he ruffles the top of your head. 

“You did it,” he says. 

You smooth down your hair, trying not to pay too much attention to how nice and warm his hand was. “All thanks to you.”

“I know.” Rin begins to walk to his next class and you follow along, bouncing on the balls of your feet nervously. “You did good too, I suppose” 

“Gee, thanks,” you remark dryly. Still, an excited cheer comes out of you. “I don’t need to stay after graduation! How great is that?”

“You can enjoy your summer before we are thrown into adulthood.” 

“I know!” you chirp. “And I really couldn’t have done it without you. Hey, how about… Never mind.”

Rin pauses, hanging around the hallway instead of entering his next lesson. He lifts an eyebrow in question. “How about what?” 

The words get stuck in your throat as you open your mouth, your nerves getting the better of you. You aren’t someone who finds it easy to confess, and you know Rin’s track record with confessions isn't exactly great. 

Yet, you want to ride the momentum of this excitement and ask. It’s now or never.

You take a deep breath before you ask, “How about I treat you to some dinner this Saturday? You know— As a thank you for your help.”

You can barely look Rin in the eye as he stares at you, cheeks dusted pink. 

“I told you before we started you don’t need to give me anything in return,” he insists. 

Immediately, your face falls. Of course, he would say no. At least he sugarcoated it for you instead of his typical cutthroat rejections…

“But, we can still get dinner this Saturday.” 

You lift your head in surprise. 

“It’ll be my treat, though.” 

You blink. “Like a…? As in a…?”

Rin’s brows furrow at your nonsensical mutterings. “A what?” 

“A…” 

“Can you say it already?”

“A date?” you blurt. 

He snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “Now, was that so hard to say?” 

You pout at his teasing, sticking your lower lip out as he chuckles. “Hey. Don’t be mean.”

“Sorry,” he amends, though his smirk tells you he’s not actually sorry. “The answer is yes.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a date.”

“Really?!” you ask, unable to contain your excitement. Before he can even reply, you bounce closer to him, throwing your arms around his waist as giving him a hug. 

He stiffens for a moment before slowly returning your embrace. Rin’s hand rests on the small of your back and you want nothing more than to stay like this. 

Until the bell rings and snaps some sense into you. 

You jolt at the sudden ring and Rin coughs to hiss his embarrassment at the public display of affection. 

“Oh, shit! I’m late. So late,” you cry, holding the strap of your book bag and spinning around frantically. “Bye, Rin! Let’s talk about our date after school!”

“I’ll see you after practice then,” he calls out as you run off. “We can plan it while I walk you home.”

Your cheeks heat up and you feel thankful he can’t see the embarrassment evident in your expression. Who knew Rin could be smooth like that? Saying he’ll take you out on a date and walk you home today so casually? 

It’s another side of him you want to get to know more about.

There are times he can be an asshole, and honest to the point of being uncaring. But he’s also surprisingly nice at times. And even patient.  You hope the next layer for you to unravel, which is perhaps the most exciting of all, is to learn how Rin is as a boyfriend. 

You giggle to yourself at the thought. Would he be teasing and mean? Or doting and affectionate? Maybe a bit of both.

Shaking your head, you stop yourself from fantasizing. It’s just one date, that doesn’t mean he’s your boyfriend yet. But you’re in no rush. The most fun part is the journey it takes to get there.

[shaunasrabbit]

Playin' Games | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You steal Joel's cut from a run. He comes to claim what's his.

Tags: No use of y/n, implied age gap (pretty nondescript but I imagined the reader is in her 20s, Joel is in his mid-50s), reader is afab, some physical descriptions (reader has hair that can be pulled, has a bush because #bushnation, and is curvy if you squint), sort of mean!Joel, reader is a little bratty, blood (brief and barely described), pussy eating, pussy pronouns, Joel is uncut because I said so, pussy slapping, use of good girl and other pet names, choking, face fucking, light dacryphilia, impact play with object, edging, hair pulling, squirting, unprotected piv, creampie. If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~6.5K

A/N: This is my first time writing fiction ever (nonfic writer here), so I'm very excited and nervous to post. My apologies for any grammatical/spelling errors—I lightly proofread this myself. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! The entire fic was born out of wishing Joel Miller was hitting me with something. If you like this fic, please reblog and like. I hope you enjoy! Divider by @/saradika-graphics.

You knew what you were doing when you pocketed Joel’s cut.

It was a job that he orchestrated, smuggling some pills out of the QZ, but you did all of the heavy lifting. You put your ass on the line. Really, if you think about it, you deserved it more than him, but that’s not why you kept it. 

It’s no secret that Joel has a temper. You have seen him murder people—innocent people—for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t find it sexy. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with you, but you figure that you’re living through the fucking apocalypse so you give yourself a pass for failing to psychoanalyze yourself. Trying not to die is the priority. And getting fucked by gruff Joel Miller apparently. When he bursts through your front door, and you know he will, he’ll get his payment. One way or another.

You’re waiting for him in bed, clad in only his under shirt. He gave it to you on a run after yours was shredded by barbed wire. Although you’d never admit it, you find yourself wearing it to bed sometimes, touching yourself to the thought of him. It’s infrequent—the fucking. A treat after a particularly stressful week, sometimes after a night of heavy drinking. He gives you the look, the one that says he’s about to ruin you, and you know. The small group that the two of you work with have no idea, though. You and Joel keep your mouths shut, talking only business. But fuck, you crave it. You crave the way his cock stretches you out, his intuitive hands, the feeling of his sticky cum on your tits. Sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about it while trailing behind him on jobs, staring at his broad shoulders and the gray peppered throughout his curls. Joel Miller makes you feel like a goddamn school girl with a crush.

Right when you think you’re growing too impatient, hands almost sliding between your legs to give yourself some relief, you hear it. A blunt knock on the door followed by the jiggling of the door knob. Your thighs squeeze in anticipation, feeling giddy like a teenager. When you hear his keys jangling, you stand up, scanning the room for the best place to hide. Unfortunately, your shabby apartment came without a closet door and you don’t really own many items to hide behind. Under the bed will have to do, even if it is predictable. He’ll find you in seconds, but it’ll rile him up a bit.

The door swings open and you hear him call your name. Sliding under the bed, you lie on your stomach—a rabbit waiting for the fox to sniff it out. Despite knowing you aren’t in any real danger—well, probably—you feel your hands start to shake, your breath becomes uneven, and wetness pools between your thighs. You silently curse him for the effect he has on you. Fucking embarrassing, you think to yourself.

“You better get your ass out here,” he barks from the living room, boots thudding against the distressed hardwood as he slowly makes his way towards the archway into your bedroom. You clamp your hand over your mouth to dampen the sound of your heavy breathing. 

He walks into your room and passes your bed, heading for the bathroom. A deafening scrape from the shower curtain rings echoes through the apartment, making your heart race. The anticipation feels like torture. Both you and your pussy, now clenching around nothing, know that Joel’s coming for you any second—there’s nowhere else you could be hiding. 

A gasp is pulled from your throat as Joel’s calloused, large hands grip onto your ankles and yank you out from underneath the bed. You don’t even have time to think as he flips you onto your back and places his worn boot on your chest to hold you down. “Fuck,” you curse under your breath.

“Where is it?” he asks, his voice low and flat. A twinge of annoyance hits you as your pussy is left unacknowledged; either he’s actually focused on getting his ration cards or is intentionally ignoring you to fuck with you. Heat creeps across your face, searing your cheeks.

You blink at him, eyes wide in a half attempt to feign innocence. Slowly, you spread your legs to draw attention to your slick folds. “Where is what, Joel? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel’s eyes rake down your body as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt. His eyelids are heavy and though it seems impossible, his deep brown eyes become darker. There’s a hint of lust—maybe rage—behind them. The line is blurry, and all you can think about is his broad shoulders as he towers above you. 

“I’m not playin’ these fuckin’ games with you, sweetheart,” he spits out, clenching his jaw and his fist in unison. Got him. “The ration cards. My cut. Hand ‘em over.” 

“Oh, that.” You bite your lip to hold back a smirk. “Gone. Sorry. You can take mine from the next run.”

Within seconds, your chest is relieved from the pressure of his boot, but his hand tangles in your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling you up to your feet. 

“Not how that works,” he says, tightening his iron grip on your hair before pushing you onto your bedspread. He climbs on top of you, pinning one of your wrists to the bed while the other reunites with your throat. If he wasn’t squeezing your neck so damn hard, you would probably be able to moan when his knee makes contact with your leaking core. Instinctively, you rut your hips against him for even a hint of friction. 

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to think I’d take this pussy as payment.” Joel lets go of your wrist and lands a sharp smack against your cunt. “No matter how fuckin’ sweet she is.”

Grabbing your mound, he rubs circles over your hair there before slapping your pussy again. You try to yelp, but his grip is so tight that it comes out strangled and pathetic. Joel scoffs and his jaw goes slack. 

“Ya see this?” He holds up his hand, slowly moving his fingers apart so you can see strands of your slick between each of his digits. “Barely touched you—god, you’re desperate. A desperate fuckin’ whore.” 

He lets go of the python-like grip he had on your throat and jams two of his wet fingers into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. Tears well in your eyes quicker than you’d like to admit. 

“I may be a dumb, desperate whore,” you say, managing to choke out the words through your gasps, “but you’re the one that’s already hard.” 

Joel moves swiftly to stand and you sit up on your elbows, legs parted and pussy still exposed to him. Your eyes drop to his belt buckle to watch his hands move expertly to undo it. Saliva pools in your mouth as you think about how hard his cock is going to be. Joel’s bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, and you fear that there will come a time where you don’t get to feel the stretch of him anymore. No one else could compare.

“I know what’ll shut you the fuck up.” He pushes his pants down to his mid-thigh. As his cock springs free, he demands, “On your back. Head off the edge.”

Fuck, he’s going to make it hurt and considering how pissed he looks, he’s going to make it really hurt. But you do as he says because you want it regardless. You want anything Joel has to give, but you’d never admit that to him and even without confessing, he knows. 

With your head hanging off the bed, you look up at him and see his heavy balls above you, bouncing as he strokes his already hard cock and exposes the swollen head. You stick your tongue out and he rewards you with a hard slap. Closing your eyes with bliss, you taste his salty pre-cum. A sense of victory swells in your chest—your plan was fucking working.

“This isn’t payment, darlin’. This is punishment,” he grumbles before forcefully shoving his uncut cock into your open mouth. He says it’s not payment, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like punishment to you as your wet, wanting mouth coaxes a groan out of him. The intrusion makes you gag and tears prick at your eyes. You can tell he hasn’t showered today, taking in the scent of his musky sweat. So unmistakably Joel—you swear you’d wear it as perfume if you could. 

It takes a moment for your throat to adjust to his size, but once you do, you stop gagging as much as he finds a rhythm. And damn, he is relentless, fucking your mouth fast and careless. 

“That’s it,” he groans, “I like you better when you got my cock in your mouth.” 

Joel grunts above you, expletives and your name interrupting every now and then. Your hands are fisting the sheets, trying to give yourself some stability as he rocks his hips. Tears roll down your temples and into your hairline, your eyes closing tightly as you try to blink them away. 

He looks down at you, eyelids heavy. “So goddamn pretty when you cry, baby.”

You’re rewarded with a particularly hard thrust that causes spit to sputter out of the sides of your mouth, dripping onto your cheeks. You instinctively try to pull your head back to catch your breath, but Joel’s hands grip the sides of your head to hold you in place. 

A cruel chuckle mocks you from above as Joel looks down at you, rubbing your cheeks, hot and burning with want. Joel slows his hips and nearly pulls out all the way before slowly easing himself back in. “Fuck,” he exhales, looking down at his cock disappearing between your swollen lips. “You’re such a fuckin’ mess, but you’re takin’ my cock so well.”

You hum at the praise, the vibration adding an extra twinge of pleasure for Joel. His movements become erratic and you can feel his dick twitch in your mouth as he gets close to his release. That’s your favorite thing about fucking Joel—watching a man who never loses his composure, never seems vulnerable, finally falter when he comes. But when he suddenly leaves your wet mouth with a groan, you’re left gasping for air. You push yourself upright, feeling a little dizzy from all the blood rushing to your head while upside down. “Joel,” you whine, exasperated and utterly frustrated.

“‘Joel’ what? Do ya need something, baby?” he teases as he strips fully naked. 

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up against the headboard and spread your legs, lightly teasing your clit with your index finger. Even the slightest touch makes your legs tremble and you rest your head back, letting a delicate whimper slip from your lips. 

“Uh-uh,” Joel tuts, sliding between your legs and slapping your hand away, “use your words. Had no problem runnin’ that pretty mouth earlier.” 

Joel has always had a way of turning you on without even touching you, but this was a whole new level. His taunting goes straight to your cunt and you can feel your arousal dripping out of you. As badly as you want his hot, wet tongue on your clit, you aren’t going to give in that easily. 

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to need me to spell it out for you,” you quip, voice low and sultry. 

Joel’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. You can tell he’s trying to decide what to do with you. Maybe he’ll shove his cock down your throat again to shut you up, maybe he’ll deprive you altogether and leave, or maybe he’ll give you what you want. When he’s in a bad mood, Joel likes to deny, deny, deny. But he does end up giving in. He always gives in. 

Grabbing you by your leg, Joel pulls you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. Your slick cunt finally makes contact with his hard length and you bite back a small moan at the pressure. There’s no point in trying to mask your neediness, Joel already knows, but you hold yourself back from grinding against his cock. 

“Playin’ a real dangerous game, baby, ya know that?” Joel growls in your ear, giving your neck a light nip. You shudder at the sensation and take a deep breath, still fighting the urge to move your hips. His hands find your ass, squeezing and digging his fingernails into the soft flesh. 

Draping your arms over Joel’s shoulders, you tilt your head to give him better access to your neck. “Maybe,” you smile as his teeth pinch the sensitive skin on your pulse point, “but I think you like this game.” 

Joel lets out a breathy laugh against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and your breath catches in your throat. His fingers trail lightly up your ass before settling on your hips. The gentle touch is soured as he clutches you, a deep burn licking your sides. He moves you ever so slightly, making your clit brush against his swollen head. Your breath wavers and you pull back to look at him. Brown eyes illuminated by the setting sun, accentuating all of the flecks of gold and amber in his irises. You swear that you could stare into his eyes all day. Joel’s lips part like he’s hungry for you and you lean in to kiss him, but his hand intercepts you, grabbing your jaw tightly.

“No. Rule number one is,” he scolds, shaking your head slightly before letting it go of you, “no kissing.” 

Part of you can’t help but feel disappointed even though you expect this from Joel. The two of you only ever kiss when there’s too much whiskey involved and the heat of the moment blinds him from his normal detachment. 

You open your mouth to say something snarky, but Joel cuts you off. “Rule number two”—he grips the collar of the shirt hanging loosely off of you—“is no hiding these tits from me.” 

Effortlessly, Joel rips your favorite shirt—his shirt—right down the middle. Within seconds, he brings his mouth to your already pebbled nipple, swirling it around his warm mouth. You bite back a moan and remind yourself that he just destroyed your favorite item of clothing. Instead, you furrow your brows and clench your jaw. You’re sure that you look ridiculous as put on the angriest face you can muster while pleasure shoots through your core.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?” you hiss while trying to push him off of you, palms pressing hard into his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. 

He pulls back for a moment and looks at you, replacing his mouth with his fingers and gives your nipple a light pinch. You pull your cheek between your teeth to stop a moan from tumbling out of you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Like you’re not wearin’ nothing but my shirt.” Joel bites the swell of your breast and soothes it with a gentle suck after, finally eliciting a moan from you. “You wear it when you touch yourself?” 

Your cheeks feel hot as embarrassment bubbles in your stomach alongside desperation. Every time Joel mocks you, you feel yourself falling deeper into that safe space that you crave. The space where you don’t have to think about the broken world around you, the space where only Joel and his touch matter. 

Unable to think of anything snarky to say back, you let out a pathetic whimper that Joel takes as a victory. He flips you onto your back and settles between your legs, nearly growling when he sees your arousal leaking from slit. Gripping your hips, he stops you from trying to wiggle towards him.

“Look at that, baby,” he groans before kissing the coarse hair on your mound, “I can’t believe how fuckin’ wet she is for me. Such a needy little thing.”

All you can manage is a small whine as you tangle your hands in his soft curls, practically pushing his face into your pussy. Joel’s hot breath fans over your cunt and you press your head into the pillow, spreading your legs more for him—begging him to give you something.

Joel accepts the non-verbal invitation and licks an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, he lets go with an obscene pop. You moan at the loss of contact, squeezing your eyes shut and letting go of his hair so you can fist the bed sheets instead. Joel’s not patient, but neither are you, and you’re starting to feel a level of want that’s almost painful. 

Two of Joel’s fingers form a V to spread your folds, further exposing your clit so that he can get a better look at you. You glance down and the sight of him causes you to clench, reminding you how empty your pussy is. Pupils blown, hair tousled, and if you didn’t know that the glisten around his lips was your arousal, you’d swear he was drooling. He may have you melting under his touch, but you were wrecking him, too.

“Are you going to be a good girl f’me?” he asks, lightly brushing his index finger over your swollen bud. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t know, Joel,” you say, almost sing-songy, as you tilt your hips closer to him. “Are you going to give me a reason to be?”

A hard smack to your cunt forces your eyes open and you try to retreat, scooting towards the headboard, but it’s useless. Joel has you held firmly in place with one hand. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he growls.

You don’t get to answer before Joel’s jamming two fingers inside of you, giving you no time to adjust to the width before he’s fucking into you. You suck in sharply at the slight burn before a strangled moan claws its way out of your throat. His pace is unforgiving, but you can’t get enough. You find yourself bucking your hips into his hand, propping yourself up on your elbows for a better view of his fingers moving in and out, covered in your juices. 

Joel’s eyes are dark and fixated on your cunt and how it gushes around his fingers. The sound of your squelching pussy and wanton moans filling the room, sounding like a symphony. If you had the ability to think about anything besides the sweet tension building in your lower stomach and the rugged man between your legs, you’d be concerned about the neighbors hearing. 

“Good girls get to come,” Joel says, glancing up at your flushed face. Your lips are parted as you’re basically panting, trying to catch your breath, but Joel never gives you the chance to, continuing to fuck you mercilessly. “Is that ‘nough of a reason for you, sweetheart?”

“Mm, maybe—fuck!”

When Joel’s tongue meets your clit, you cry out and try to grab at his free hand to ground yourself. For a moment, he laces your fingers together, his large hand swallowing yours, but he quickly moves your hand up to your breast. Your grab at your own flesh, gently tugging at your nipple as Joel’s fingers and tongue work in tandem. The way Joel’s tongue swirls against your clit in precise circles feels like magic, like this is all he was built for. Your legs start to twitch as you approach your release and electricity courses through your body while Joel’s fingers curl just right to hit that spongy spot inside of you. You clench around him, obscene moans and gasps just pouring out of you. Joel hums against you, clearly pleased with himself. He takes your bud into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. And fuck—that nearly does you in. But just as quickly as you got there, he takes it all away—keeping you at the edge but not allowing you to fall over. 

Pulling his mouth away and retracting his now soaked fingers, he drags his index finger up and down your seam. Your hips shift and you groan, disgruntled and, frankly, annoyed. When the two of you make eye contact, despite your exasperation, you can’t help the way the corners of your mouth turn slightly upward, admiring how his lips and scruff are glistening with your arousal, his disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat on his forehead that’s dampening his curls. 

“What’s that little smirk about?” Joel asks with a raised brow. He moves up towards you, peppering your breasts with a few delicate kisses before settling next to you. As Joel’s arm snakes around your shoulder and he pulls you into his warm chest, your breath hitches at the sudden, unexpected gentleness of it all. 

These moments when Joel’s soft with you are rare, making them all the more satisfying. Something tugged at your heart, though. You wonder what Joel was like before the outbreak, before the world turned even the softest to stone. Maybe Joel was the type to make love, not the type to fuck. Maybe he brought his dates flowers and opened the car door for them. Once, you heard whispers that Joel had a daughter who died. The thought of him making her school lunches makes your chest tighten. With your ear pressed to his chest and his heart beating steadily underneath you, you realize that you’d do anything to see Joel Miller being domestic, being soft, being sweet. God, what the fuck is wrong with me? you think, squeezing your eyes shut to push the thought away. You tell yourself being this turned on can make the mind think crazy things. 

“You gonna answer me?” Joel’s voice is low, quieter now. 

Nipping at his jaw and soothing it with a kiss, you whisper, “Need you—need your cock inside me, Joel.”

“Darlin’,” he chuckles, his lips brushing your temple, “I don’t really give a shit what ya need. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”

With a small whine, you nod and nuzzle your face into his neck. You asked for this, you know that, but you feel like you're going to explode and there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same. His cock twitching ever so slightly against the soft shelf of his tummy gives him away. 

Joel’s free hand slides down to your breast, giving your nipple a hard tug, before coming in contact with your clit. He begins to rub excruciatingly light circles on your sensitive nub. A wanton sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan, climbs its way out of your throat as you press your face into his neck. You start to hate him for a moment, but then you remember how perfectly stretches you out and if you’re just a little more patient, maybe you’ll feel it soon. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Wanna come for me, huh?”

All you can do is whine and nod in response, bucking your hips toward his thick finger, begging for more pressure on your clit. The way his voice has softened shoots right to your core. Something akin to butterflies in your stomach overwhelms you as heat spreads throughout your chest. You feel so hot, so needy, and so agitated that he isn’t just giving you what you want. 

Joel lets out a breathy laugh and finally rubs your clit in earnest. It feels like heaven and hell at the same time, both overstimulating and not stimulating enough. You close your eyes so tight that you see stars as you feel the pressure steadily build inside of you. Joel whispers filthy things in your ear, but you can hardly focus on anything except the practiced circles on your clit.

Involuntarily, your legs twitch and begin to close as you approach your peak. Joel pins your leg to the bed with his own and slaps your clit, a playful warning. “C’mon now, be a good girl. Keep ‘em spread for me,” he says, voice husky and low as it vibrates the shell of your ear. 

The praise nearly makes you come and Joel knows it, but he slows his pace, letting your impending orgasm dissipate. You exhale slowly, trying to mask your frustration. But then he does it again and again, bringing you right there before taking it all away. After your orgasm is snatched away from you for the fourth time, you’re a shaking mess, hair sticking to your forehead and face hot with lust and anger which, right now, feel like the same thing to you.

“Y’look s’pretty  like this, y’know that?” he asks, his syrupy drawl thickened by want. 

“Mm—feels s-so,” you moan, “fucking good, Joel.”

After the first few times fucking him, you figured out that Joel likes praise as much as you do, even if he isn’t forthright about it. It isn’t a lie, it feels so fucking good, but you also hope that telling him so will give you the release you crave. As his fingers speed up, applying the right amount of pressure, you think your strategy may have worked. Your moans become louder as your hips jerk up. You’re right there. But he stops altogether, dragging his fingers up to rest on the curve of your stomach, leaving a trail of your arousal. 

The smug look on his face pisses you off. You want to hit him. You want to scream, maybe cry. You want to fucking orgasm.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you snap, breaking away from his hold. 

“Oh, baby, real awful, ain’t it? Not getting what you want?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, trying to pull yourself up off the bed despite your legs feeling like gelatin. 

A calloused hand catches your wrist and drags you back onto the bed. Joel positions you so that you’re straddling him. If you weren’t so worn out from being edged for what felt like hours, you probably would try to resist, but it’d be useless. You’re forcing yourself to hover above him, legs twitching as you try to muster the strength to stay like that, just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of your wet, hot cunt on his throbbing cock. 

Joel notices that you’re enraptured by him below you, your eyes focusing intently on the expanse of his chest and the gray hair littered across, covering scars here and there. While you’re thoroughly distracted—lecherous yet embittered—Joel forces you down on his cock. The unexpected intrusion makes you wince and a jumbled fuckjoelohmygod spills from you, sandwiched between high pitched whines and moans. 

“Fuck me, sugar,” he commands with a grunt, slapping your ass as he bottoms out inside of you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix, stirring a delicious pressure inside of you, and the initial burn of the stretch melts into pleasure. 

You can’t think of anything except the feeling of Joel splitting you open. The way the gray patch of hair at the base of the cock meets your own hair and your swollen clit, the weight of his hands on the soft, plush flesh of your hips, the bead of sweat rolling down his aquiline nose. You snap out of your trance as he squeezes your supple thighs and raises an eyebrow, awaiting your movement.

“I-I…” you stutter, pinching your eyes closed. You anchor yourself to him by pressing your palms flat against his chest, his heartbeat steady yet accelerated under your touch. Seated fully on his cock, you begin to languidly grind on him, softly moaning as the base of his cock grazes your puffy clit. You’re slow in your movements, but precise, only prioritizing Joel’s cock nudging the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and the pressure on your clit. 

“Is that the best ya can do?” Joel groans, discontented with your lack of compliance. His feet dig into the bed for leverage as he lifts his hips to fuck up into you, fast and sloppy. 

It’s an obscene sight—your tits bouncing as he fucks you, his thumb playing with your clit, hands grasping at the headboard for some grounding. But the sounds, god. The sounds in the room were downright sinful. High-pitched, borderline squeaky, gasps and mewls from you with grunts and groans from Joel. Skin on skin. The bedframe precariously creaking. Nearly out of your goddamn mind from Joel’s cock ruthlessly pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt, you have no idea how loud you really are, but even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. The louder you get, the harder Joel fucks you. 

“Mm, fuck, can feel her squeezin’ me, sweetheart,” Joel grumbles between heavy breaths, “but ya can’t come until I say so, got it?” 

You nod dumbly with your mouth agape, doing your best to fight the fire in your clit that was rapidly burning. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline as Joel’s thumb works faster to circle your clit and you hear him chuckle beneath you. That fucking asshole. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

“Joel, stop,” you choke out, “or I-I-I’ll…I’m going to—”

“No, be a good girl f’me.”

That’s all it takes. Those two words—good girl—send waves of pure ecstasy over you while you come on his cock. As your walls spasm and clench around him, you dig your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’ll leave your mark on him, adding to the collection of scars across his body. Joel fucks you through it, each thrust more erratic and delectable than the last. 

As you come down from the high of your orgasm, each of your senses trickle back in. You can now hear Joel saying something that you can’t quite make out below you, you can taste the iron on your tongue from where you bit down on your lip while you came, you can feel the wetness on your thighs. Wait—why was it so wet?  Glancing down, it hits you. You must’ve squirted because you and Joel are drenched in your release. Heat creeps up your neck and rests on your cheeks, your face burning with embarrassment. 

“Hey,” Joel’s gravelly voice cuts through your haze. A light tap to your ass draws your eyes down to his. “Up.”

Lips parted, you nod slowly, pulling yourself off of his cock and collapsing next to him. Joel shifts onto his side to face you, heavy and hard cock landing on your wet thigh. Your eyes meet his for only a few seconds before you look away, unable to read his expression. You sigh and say ,“That’s…never happened before…”

Joel hums in response as he sits up and positions himself between your shaky thighs, spreading them apart and grabbing the base of his cock. Your breath hitches and your eyes widen, mesmerized by the angry red tip in front of you. How is it even possible to still need him after such an intense orgasm? Joel makes you like this. Insatiable. You think you hate him for it or  at least you might right now, while you lie in front of him, absolutely wrecked.

“Soaked my goddamn lap,” he grumbles.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Don’t go blamin’ me,” he gruffs, lining himself up to your leaking entrance. “Blame this needy fuckin’ pussy. Can’t help creamin’ all over my cock, huh?”

In one swift motion, Joel snaps his hips into you, his groin flush against yours. You nearly yelp, your pussy beyond sensitive from your orgasm. He begins fucking you relentlessly and you wrap your legs around his waist to suck him in as deep as possible. You swear, you can feel him in your stomach every time he bottoms out. Joel leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, your sweat mingling with his. It’s tortuous, having him this close to you, but knowing that you can’t kiss him. You wouldn’t risk it, not when you’ve already pushed your luck with him. All you want is Joel. Inside of you, on top of you, touching you. 

“Y’need to learn your lesson, girl,” he mumbles, lips dangerously close to yours. Joel’s hand snakes between the two of you and rests heavy on your throat.

“Please,” you choke out, unsure of what you’re even asking for. Pliant and soft beneath him, you’d take anything. 

Joel props himself up on an elbow, his large hand never leaving your neck, as he looks around the room. Something shifts as his gaze lands on the back scratcher next to your bed. His eyes, dark and heavy lidded. Letting go of your throat, he grabs the back scratcher and turns it over in his hands like he’s contemplating whether or not it’s a suitable punishment. You know damn well that he’s already made up his mind—he’s just fucking with you. 

“Hm,” his eyes flick up to meet yours, “ya think this will get it through that pretty little head? That ya gotta listen to me?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you give a small shrug. “Maybe,” you say, practically a whisper. Sweat starts gathering in the pit of your knee as you anticipate the burn.

Joel pushes your legs together and shoves your knees into your chest, making your pussy choke his cock and you can’t help but moan at the change in position. With the back of your thighs exposed to him, Joel has the perfect view of where his cock meets your pussy and he’s practically salivating. When his thumb brushes your swollen lips, you hum in pleasure and close your eyes, letting your head loll back onto the pillow. Lost in a daze, Joel seizes the opportunity to catch you off guard. Cold wood meets your skin with a loud smack and you cry out at the sudden pain. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim, eyes opening and brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Poor thing. Shoulda listened to me if ya didn’t want me to hurt ya.” Soothing the skin that was already beginning to raise with his thumb, Joel tuts and shakes his head. “But I think ya like this, don’t ya?”

You whine in response, nodding your head in quick succession. It’s true; in a world with so much unmitigated pain, it was nice to have a strike come from Joel. Joel, who despite all of his rough edges, wouldn’t ever hurt you too badly.

“S’what I thought,” he says, raising the back scratcher and hitting the back of your thighs again, but this time with more force. 

As the sting fizzles out, Joel begins fucking you, setting a punishing pace. The pleasure and pain are an irresistible cocktail and you start to clench around him, feral moans and his name mindlessly pouring out of you. 

Joel groans at the sight in front of him. You, all fucked out, just writhing in front of him. Pulling your legs closer to your chest, you invite him to hit you again. And fuck, he does. Over and over again, only stopping when he sees that he’s broken skin, crimson bubbling from the small split in your flesh. At this point, the pain has clouded your mind and everything felt hazy. You’re finally in that space that only Joel can bring you to. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel coos between grunts, “did s’fuckin’ well takin’ your punishment.” 

You smile stupidly at the praise, letting your legs drop, blood smearing on your bedspread. When you open your eyes, you see Joel looking down at you, almost affectionately. You’d seen him vulnerable before, yes, but this feels different, like you’ve managed to access a different part of him. You’re not sure what part of him, but it was definitely something new. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as he continues to fuck you, hard and deep. Holding him to you like you’ll fall off of the earth if you let go, you moan his name in his ear as he kisses that sweet, velvety spot in your pussy with his cock. 

Hips stuttering, you can tell he’s close. His grunts grew louder and beautifully harmonized with the squelch of your pussy. “Joel,” you whimper, “want you to fill me up. Please.”

“Like when ya use your manners, sweetheart,” he says, nipping at your throat. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Claim this fuckin’ cunt.” 

With that, he’s spilling ropes of come inside of your spent cunt, filling you to the brim. Your pussy has a vice grip on him, squeezing and milking every last drop from his cock. When he finally stills inside of you, you’re both panting messes. Joel goes limp against you, putting all of his weight on you as you both try to catch your breath. 

You could lie like this forever, you think. There’s something comforting about his body suffocating yours, cock softening inside of you. Something safe about it. Something that makes your body vibrate. You push the warm thoughts away, knowing that in a few minutes, Joel will be slamming your door shut to go back to his apartment across the QZ. 

Joel pulls out of you carelessly without a word and begins to get dressed, shoving his come-slick cock in his boxers. You reach over to your nightstand, opening the draw and pulling his ration cards out. As you do this, you feel his come leak out of you, trickling down to your puckered hole and pooling on your definitely soiled bed sheets. 

Tossing the ration cards his way, you lean back against the headboard. Joel’s eyes flick from his cut to you, quietly shoving the cards in his back pocket. 

“Y’could’ve just asked,” he says flatly. 

“More fun this way.”

Joel exhales through his nose and the slightest smirk tugs at his lips. Padding over to you, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face. You leave a kiss on the palm of his warm hand before getting out of bed and walking over to the bathroom to clean up. Joel’s eyes are burning into you as he watches his come drip down your legs from behind.

When you emerge from the bathroom, Joel’s gone, but the white t-shirt he was wearing under his flannel is folded at the end of the bed.

[spiicii]

the usos / sibling rivalry

x fem!reader word count → 4.5k summary → what happens when jey loses a bet and jimmy wins a night with you? there’s only one condition: jey gets to watch. notes → a huge shoutout to the incredibly talented @wildbornsiren and her amazing fic that inspired this story. another source of inspiration would be this fantastic fic by @eringobragh420 which i cannot recommend enough. y’all are so talented … i bow to you!   links → masterlist / taglist  tags → unprotected piv sex, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, degradation, dirty talk, face-slapping, hair-pulling, restraints, dom/sub, orgasm delay, spanking, crying, squirting, breeding kink, fluff and aftercare at the end

“You ain’t gotta tie it so fucking tight,” Jey hissed, his eyes flashing in annoyance as he glared up at his older brother. His annoyance doubled when he met Jimmy’s wicked grin. 

“Gotta make sure you keep your hands to yourself, uce.” Jimmy’s words were already taunting and Jey curled in his lip in response. 

“Jimmy,” you chided, watching them both from where you reclined on the bed. “Be nice.” 

Jimmy’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Yes ma’am.” 

You watched as his deft fingers tied the intricate knots around his twin’s wrists, effectively restraining him to the chair by the bed. You hadn’t asked where Jimmy had learned to tie such complex knots, but it certainly wasn’t Boy Scout camp.  

Jimmy finally stood back to admire his work, his grin cocky. “Well, go on, uce. Try them.” 

Jey glared at him, but he still obeyed, tugging against the rope to test its strength. Jimmy’s cheshire grin widened, looking positively delighted at Jey’s predicament. 

“Looks like you ain’t going anywhere, little brother.” 

Jey’s eyes flashed again, his gaze downright murderous. Nobody knew how to press his buttons the same way his twin did. It was rare to see your normally easy-going boyfriend so riled up and you thought he’d never looked more beautiful. It was why you’d agreed to this, after all. Seeing Jey angry and restrained and begging to touch you was something you’d only fantasized about. 

You couldn’t help but jump down from the bed to approach him, reaching out a hand to trace his bearded jaw. You watched as Jey’s angry expression shifted into something far more vulnerable, his gaze up at you adoring. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” You murmured. The three of you had already talked about safewords and expectations, but you wanted to be sure. 

Jey offered you a reassuring smile. “A bet’s a bet. Besides, I don’t mind watching my girl put on a show for me.” 

You smiled back, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. Jey leaned into your touch, his hands instinctively tugging on the ropes in an effort to reach out and touch you. You couldn’t help but smile. 

“I think I like you like this,” you murmured, continuing to pet him. “You look so pretty all tied up.” 

Jey’s cheeks flushed, his eyes flickering self-consciously to his twin who was leaning against the bed to watch the two of you with amusement. 

“Don’t look at him.” Your hand shot out to grab Jey by the beard, forcing his eyes back at you. “Look at me. And only on me. Understand?” 

Jey quickly nodded and you didn’t miss the way his cock jumped in his shorts. 

“Good boy.” 

You released his beard and Jey leaned forward to chase your hand, eager for more of your touch. You chuckled and moved away, watching with amusement as Jey whimpered at the loss, his puppy eyes pleading. 

“No more for you tonight, baby.” You told him. “Now be a good boy and stay.” 

Jey seemed distressed, already beginning to tug against the ropes around his wrists.

“See, that’s why I had to tie you.” Jimmy’s grin showed far too many teeth. “Knew you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” 

Jey’s face twisted at his words. 

“Jimmy.” There was a new warning in your tone. “You promised to play nice tonight.” 

Jimmy spread his hands. “What? It ain’t every day I get to fuck my brother’s girl in front of him. I can’t have a little fun with it?” 

“You can do something productive with your mouth instead of running it.” You shot back, already climbing onto the bed and spreading your legs in invitation. “Unless you’d rather switch places with Jey?” 

Jimmy’s grin was devilish, but you were pleased when he finally tugged his shirt over his head. “I can’t say I’d be mad if a girl as pretty as you decided to tie me up.” He admitted, throwing you a cheeky wink as he crawled between your legs. “But I guess we’ll save that for next time, huh?” 

You raised an eyebrow at his words, but your incredulity quickly took a backseat to desire as he began pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thigh. 

“Excited to see this pretty pussy my brother keeps talking about,” he murmured. “You already wet for me, baby?” 

You wanted to offer him a clever retort, but all thoughts flew out the window when he used his teeth to tug your panties to the side, allowing him to finally catch a glimpse of your soaked folds. 

“Even prettier than I imagined.” Jimmy breathed, his breath hot against you as he leaned closer. “Lemme have a taste, pretty girl.” 

You couldn’t help but moan as he licked a hot stripe up your leaking sex, throwing your head back against the pillow as the older twin began to explore you with his tongue. He ate you out leisurely, seemingly savoring your taste as he lapped up the nectar that was beginning to leak out of you. He nudged his tongue deeper into your hole and you shuddered at the feeling, the hairs from his beard tickling in the inside of your thigh. 

It should have felt strange having your boyfriend’s brother between your legs, but it didn’t. If anything, it felt strangely normal. Jimmy was familiar, his skin the same bronze, his own tribal ink similar to tattoos you’d already memorized. 

You realized that Jimmy was removing your panties, tossing them onto the floor to grant him better access to you. And when you met his gaze again, he was smiling. 

“Shirt too, baby,” he rumbled, motioning to the tank top you still wore. “Lemme see all of you.” 

You quickly obeyed, throwing the shirt onto the floor with the other pile of clothes to allow Jimmy’s large hands to reach up and palm at your breasts. 

“So beautiful,” Jimmy murmured, his gaze at you appreciative. “So lucky I get to see you like this, honey.” 

Before you had a chance to respond he dipped his head back down to resume licking at your swollen cunt, moving his hands back down to your thighs to keep you spread for him. 

Your gaze slid over to Jey, curious to see his reaction. The three of you had already spoken at great length about how things would go tonight, but now that it was really happening - Jimmy’s tongue exploring parts of you Jey had never imagined - you were worried he might be having second thoughts. He was normally pretty good about sharing with his brother, but he still had a jealous streak. What if he hated this? What if he regretted ever agreeing to it? What if he safeworded?

But you shouldn’t have had any doubts. 

Jey’s eyes were blown wide with lust, seemingly enraptured by the sight of his older brother feasting against your soaked folds like a starving man. You didn’t miss the way his cock jutted up from inside his shorts, a wet spot rapidly forming there. 

Jimmy’s teeth nipped at the inside of your thigh and you jumped at the sudden prick of pain. 

“Don’t look at him.” Jimmy growled, his fingers already reaching up to prod at your empty hole. “Look at me.” 

His fingers sank deeper inside you and you moaned, your eyelids fluttering as he scissored you open. His clever tongue found your clit and began circling the sensitive bud, his broad shoulders nudging at your legs to urge them further apart. 

Delicious heat curled at the base of your spine, another needy moan falling from your lips as Jimmy’s thick fingers explored deeper inside you. You could feel your gummy walls fluttering and clenching around him, greedily sucking him in. 

“Poor thing,” Jimmy tutted, his eyes glued to your cunt as it continued to leak around his fingers. “She’s hungry, ain’t she?” 

You gasped when he curled his fingers and found your g-spot, pleasure now throbbing between your legs. 

“Already close?” His words were taunting. “Knew you was a slut, but I didn’t think you’d come this fast.” 

“Jimmy.” You were writhing against the mattress now, Jimmy’s free hand gripping your thigh tighter to keep you still. His fingers were incessant, now pressing against that sweet spot inside you with devastating accuracy. You could feel yourself on the edge, your body tense as your orgasm rapidly approached. Then Jimmy withdrew his fingers. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, looking down at him in desperation. “Jimmy, please…” 

“Shut up.” He snarled, smacking the inside of your thigh and grinning when you yelped in surprise. “Don’t be greedy. I ain’t even fucked you yet.” 

You let out a whine, but Jimmy wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was now meeting his younger brother’s desperate gaze with a smirk, putting on a show as he licked his fingers clean. “Her pussy tastes even sweeter than I thought it would,” he jeered, his other hand still on your thigh to keep you spread open for Jey to see. “Too bad you can’t touch her, uce. She already begging for it.” 

Jey seethed in anger, tugging again helplessly against the ropes that kept him tied down. 

Jimmy chuckled, dipping his fingers back into your soaked folds one last time to gather more of your wetness. You watched with wide eyes as he slid off the bed and approached his brother’s side, holding out the fingers covered with your juices to his younger brother.  

“Wanna taste?” There was a challenge in Jimmy’s eyes and Jey’s anger wavered. He seemed uncertain now, his gaze flickering between you and his brother. 

“Well?” Jimmy’s grin was devilish. “How desperate are you, uce?” 

Jey stared at his fingers, practically licking his lips at the prospect of finally getting to taste you. But the line in the sand was clear. Would he cross it? 

Then Jey slowly opened his mouth. His cheeks turned a violent shade of red, his gaze up at his brother equal parts humiliated and desperate. 

“You an even bigger slut than her,” Jimmy huffed, though he seemed amused, quickly pushing his fingers into Jey’s mouth to allow him a taste. Jey’s eyelids fluttered, licking your juices from his brother’s fingers with fervor. 

Jimmy looked over to you with a smirk. “See how whipped you got him, girl? I’m impressed. Ain’t ever seen my brother this desperate before.” 

Your pussy clenched around nothing as you watched Jimmy remove his fingers from Jey’s mouth, Jey’s cheeks still beet red and his lips shiny with spit. He now looked thoroughly debauched, struggling to meet your gaze as Jimmy gave a derisive laugh. 

“Can’t say I blame you, uce.” Jimmy chuckled, picking up your discarded panties from the floor and wadding them up in his hands. “Now that I’ve had a taste, I get it.” 

Jimmy was quick to grab his twin by the hair, shoving your panties into Jey’s mouth when he let out a hiss of pain. 

“Good boy.” Jimmy’s words were mocking, offering his brother a condescending pat on the head just to watch Jey’s entire body flush crimson. “Now you just sit and watch. Might even learn a thing or two.” 

Jey’s eyes flashed murderously, his muscles rippling as he strained against the ropes. But when you met his gaze again, his pupils were blown wide. It was clear he hated this as much as he loved it. Your hole spasmed again when you saw that he didn’t spit out the panties in his mouth. 

“C’mere, slut.” 

Before you realized what was happening, Jimmy was grabbing you by the ankle, tugging you roughly until you were standing in front of him. 

“Pretty girl,” he cooed, reaching up to cup your cheek with his large hand. His eyes were softer now, staring down at you with unconcealed affection. “Can’t believe my brother’s been keeping you all to himself. Selfish, ain’t he?” 

You wanted to protest but he was quickly kissing you before you could, his lips warm against yours. You couldn’t help but lean into it, your knees already weak from his touch. His kisses were nothing like Jey’s. Jey was soft. Sweet. His kisses were always gentle, each one a sign of his love and affection. His kisses weren’t possessive - not like Jimmy’s. Jimmy kissed you like he owned you, his tongue bullying its way past your lips to claim your mouth for himself. And when his fingers reached up to tangle into your hair you gasped, your eyelids fluttering. 

“Such a submissive little thing,” Jimmy murmured, his eyes dark as he stared down at you. “That why you letting me do this to you? You like being roughed up like this?” 

Your cheeks grew warmer, suddenly unable to meet Jimmy’s smoldering gaze. Jimmy’s lip curled and he tugged on your hair again, a small whine escaping your lips at the feeling. 

“Answer me, slut.” He snarled. “You like being treated like this?” 

“Yes.” The word came out breathy, your voice hoarse. “Yes, I like it.” 

Jimmy smirked, his grip on your hair tightening. “That’s what I thought.” He leaned forward to lick up the side of your neck and you shivered. “That’s why you need this, baby. Need me to give you what my brother can’t.” 

He quickly released your hair and spun you around, pressing himself against your back as he held you close. You could feel Jey’s eyes watching you but you were too embarrassed to look at him. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Jimmy murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “Imma take care of you. Gonna give you whatchu been begging for.” 

He placed his hand between your shoulder blades and forced you to bend over the side of the bed. You felt a humiliating trickle of your own wetness run down your leg, the inside of your thighs already coated with it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this wet. 

Jimmy’s cock nudged at your entrance and you gasped at the feeling. You hadn’t really gotten a good look at Jimmy’s dick before, but when you felt him pushing inside you, your hole spasming as it tried to accommodate his width, you realized that he was bigger than Jey. Much bigger. 

“Good girl,” Jimmy crooned, his hands roaming your body appreciatively as he gave you inch after agonizing inch. “Just made to take me, weren’t you, honey? Grippin’ my shit so tight. God, you feel so fucking good.” 

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he pushed deeper and deeper inside you. Jesus, how big was he? You started to squirm, your hole fluttering helplessly around him as that delicious burn began to curl from within. 

“Be still.” Jimmy’s hand shot out and grabbed you by the hair, forcing your back to arch further for him. “What’s wrong, slut? Ain’t used to being split open like this, are you? Guess Jey been going too easy on you.” 

You could see Jey staring out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t look at him. Not like this. You instinctively moved to hide your face in the sheets but Jimmy’s tight grip on your hair made it impossible. Instead, you were forced to screw your eyes shut, your body hot with arousal and embarrassment. You felt so slutty like this: bent over the side of the bed with your boyfriend’s brother inside you, your back arched and your face on display like you were Jimmy’s trophy. You felt helpless beneath him, his mocking laughter only making things worse. 

“I can feel you clenching around me, slut,” Jimmy laughed, landing a harsh swat on your ass just to hear you moan. “You love this, don’t you? Love getting fucked in front of my little brother.” 

You wanted to protest, but your body betrayed you. Your leaking hole spasmed at his words and Jimmy laughed harder. 

“Nasty fucking whore,” he cackled, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “God, where’d Jey dig up a slut like you?” 

He finally bottomed out and you let out a cry at the feeling, your body trembling beneath him. God, you’d never had anything this big inside you before. Jimmy was massive. 

“It’s alright, baby.” Jimmy cooed, rubbing a reassuring hand down your hip. “I gotchu. I know what you need.” 

His first thrusts had you moaning, your hole still struggling to accommodate him. 

“Such a good girl,” Jimmy praised, though his words were breathless, your velvety walls still tightly gripping him as he began to pound into you. “God, you feel amazing. I can see why my brother’s so whipped. If I got to fuck this pretty pussy every day, I’d do anything you asked me to.” 

He finally released your hair, your face immediately falling into the mattress to hide. You hadn’t looked at Jey since Jimmy had stuffed your panties in his mouth. Unfortunately, Jimmy noticed. 

“Aw, who you hiding from, honey?” 

You could feel Jimmy leaning forward, draping himself across your back even as he kept drilling into your leaking hole. 

“Nah, you gon’ look at him. You gon’ look at my brother.” 

Before you realized what was happening, Jimmy had a firm hand around your throat, forcing your head up once again to look in Jey’s direction. You squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body burning with shame and embarrassment. It didn’t help that the pleasure from Jimmy’s thrusts were forcing small, breathy moans past your lips, your mind already growing hazy. 

“Look at him, slut.” Jimmy snarled, his breath hot in your ear, and your eyes flew open at his command. 

Jey’s eyes were impossibly wide, seemingly glued to the sight of his older twin fucking you in his own bed. His chest was heaving as he’d run a marathon, the skin around his wrists red from how hard he’d been tugging on the ropes. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his erection straining in his shorts. You couldn’t believe that he hadn’t spit out your panties yet, still holding them in his mouth to taste what little of you he could. 

“He fucking likes it,” Jimmy chuckled, his thrusts unfaltering as he continued to lean over you. “Likes seeing his girl fucked by his older brother. That’s because he knows I can do it better, ain’t that right, Jey?” 

Jey’s face went crimson, though you couldn’t be sure if it was from anger or arousal. 

Jimmy chuckled again, quickly flipping you onto your back to change his angle. 

“Just needed to see your pretty face, honey,” he purred, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your cheek. “I can’t believe Jey gets to see you like this all the time. Lucky bastard. You make the cutest faces when you’re getting fucked.” 

This new angle had Jimmy’s cock aligned perfectly with your g-spot, lightning bolts of pleasure shooting up your spine with every cruel thrust of his hips. Jimmy leaned over you, one of his hands gripping your hip tightly to keep you close while the other cradled your cheek. His gold chain dangled in front of your face, glinting in the light.

“That’s why you needed the older brother to take care of you, isn’t it, slut?” Jimmy’s words were cocky, his lip twisted into a smirk as he stared down at you. “Needed Big Jim to give you what you need. And you need it bad. I can tell. I know Jey don’t fuck you like this.” 

He aimed a vicious slap to your cheek and you couldn’t help but moan, Jimmy grinning sadistically as you began to writhe beneath him. 

“You gonna come on this dick, bitch?” Jimmy’s words were strained now, his thrusts stuttering as he grew closer and closer to his own release. “Gonna cream all over my dick while your boyfriend watches?” 

You could barely keep your eyes open, the pleasure threatening to drown you. You could only nod, another moan tearing from your throat when Jimmy slapped you again. 

No matter how embarrassed you were at his words, you knew that Jimmy was right. Jey had never fucked you like this. And when you finally came, squirting all over Jimmy’s dick with a high-pitched keen, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt pleasure this intense before. The spray coated both of your stomachs, surprising Jimmy so much that he leaned back to watch with wide eyes. 

“Holy shit,” Jimmy looked stunned. “You squirting just for me, baby?” 

You were too exhausted to feel embarrassed, your hole continuing to spasm and convulse around Jimmy’s massive length. You opened your eyes just enough to see Jimmy’s triumphant grin, his eyes now on his brother. 

“Yeah, I bet she ain’t ever done that shit for you, uce. Gushing all over my dick like a goddamn fountain.” 

You couldn’t see Jey at this angle, but you could hear his heavy breathing behind you. You could only imagine what he looked like - your panties still between his teeth, his face a beautiful shade of red. 

“Gonna come inside your girl, Jey,” Jimmy’s voice was a low growl, leaning forward to cage you in possessively as his hips stuttered out of rhythm. You caught a glimpse of Jimmy’s gaze and it was wicked. “Gonna breed her and make her mine. And whatchu gonna do about it? Just gonna have to sit there and watch, won’t you, little brother?” 

You could have sworn you were going to come again from the brutal way he was pounding into you, your body still twitching from pleasure and overstimulation. You couldn’t help but moan when Jimmy finally spilled inside you, hot ropes of come painting your gummy walls white. You could feel your cunt fluttering and convulsing around him, trying to milk every last drop from his softening cock. 

Eventually Jimmy stilled, his breath coming out in short, ragged pants. 

The room suddenly seemed very quiet, your soft moan sounding louder than usual when Jimmy finally pulled out of you. 

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Jimmy’s words were sweet, a stark contrast to the nasty filth he’d been spitting before. “I gotchu, baby. You’re okay.” 

He quickly retreated to grab a warm washcloth, washing your tearstained face and cleaning the mess between your legs. You let out a low hum of contentment when he maneuvered you to the middle of bed, tucking you into the sheets before pressing one final kiss to your cheek. 

“Sweet girl.” He murmured affectionately before pulling away, his eyes now on his younger brother.

Jimmy chewed his lip in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness, slowly climbing off the bed to approach the chair where Jey was tied. Jey watched him warily. He had spit out your panties long ago, his fingers now flexing dangerously as Jimmy got closer. 

“I’ll…get the ropes.” Jimmy mumbled, kneeling beside his brother to undo the intricate knots around Jey’s wrists. Jey said nothing in return, his expression inscrutable. While everything that happened tonight had followed the expectations set up in advance, Jimmy had certainly taken some creative liberties. Would Jey be angry? 

The air felt tense. Jimmy’s brow furrowed in concentration as he finally freed Jey’s left arm. Jey let out a sigh, grimacing as he attempted to stretch the sore muscle. Jimmy watched him carefully. He seemed to be expecting a hit from Jey’s newly freed hand, his body stiff from where he knelt beside his brother. 

“You gonna untie my other arm or you want me to do it?” 

Jimmy seemed startled by Jey’s words. “Nah, I got it, uce.” he muttered, now focused on Jey’s other arm until it was finally free. 

Jey grimaced again, rubbing his chafed wrists. 

“Hold on, lemme grab something.” Jimmy was quick to stand, retreating into the bathroom and returning with an aloe cream. Jey raised an eyebrow when Jimmy knelt beside him again, squirting some of the aloe onto his own fingers and gingerly reaching out to take his younger brother’s arm.  

“Lemme help, uce.” He murmured, rubbing the aloe across the red skin and massaging Jey’s sore wrists. “I know it gotta hurt.” 

Jey allowed it, his eyes never leaving his brother’s even when Jimmy finally retracted his hands and stared up at him. 

“We good?” 

Jimmy’s question was tentative, his eyes flickering down to Jey’s hands. You wondered if he would fight back if Jey decided to hit him. Some of Jimmy’s dirty talk had been diabolical. Had it been anyone else, you had no doubt that Jey would have killed them. 

Your heart soared when you saw the barest traces of a smile on Jey’s lips. “Yeah, we always good, uce.” 

Jimmy’s smile was so bright that it felt like you were staring into the sun. “Oh, good.” He seemed relieved. “I guess I went a little overboard, huh?" 

Jey shrugged, helping his brother to his feet. “Nah. We already talked about it beforehand. I knew what I was getting into. Besides, a bet’s a bet.” 

You struggled to follow the rest of the conversation, your eyes growing heavy as you listened to Jey shuffle to the bathroom to clean up. It wasn’t until he crawled into the bed with you, his lips brushing across your temple, that you opened your eyes again. 

“You alright, baby?” Jey murmured, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. 

“Mm hm.” You hummed, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. “Are you?” 

Jey grinned. “Yeah, I’m alright. More than alright actually. That was hot as fuck.” 

“Really?” You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” 

“Only thing I didn’t like was the damn rope.” Jey chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “And that’s only because it hurt. Next we using cuffs or some shit.” 

“Next time?” 

A splotch of pink dotted Jey’s bronze cheeks, but he still maintained your gaze. “Yeah. Next time.” 

You heard a small cough and turned your gaze to the bedroom door. Jimmy stood in the threshold, now fully clothed with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Well, I guess I better head out.” He said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. He seemed to have trouble meeting your gaze. “I’ll see y’all later.” 

“Where are you going?” You asked, sitting up in concern to stare at him. 

Jimmy furrowed his brow in confusion. “Whatchu mean?” 

“I…” You suddenly felt embarrassed. The three of you hadn’t discussed what would happen afterwards. “I don’t want you to go.” 

Jimmy’s eyes flickered over to his brother, but Jey seemed unbothered, reclining further back into the pillows to give a cat-like stretch. 

“You want me to stay?” This seemed like a revelation to Jimmy, his eyes wide as he stared at you. 

“What, you got a hearing problem now?” Jey’s words were sharp, but his eyes sparkled with humor. “Come on, uce. We ain’t got all night.” 

Jimmy dropped his bag, approaching the side of the bed with caution. You offered him a reassuring smile. 

“Thought you liked to cuddle?” You questioned, pulling the sheets back to welcome him in. Jimmy removed his shoes and jacket, only stripping off his pants when you gave him an encouraging nod. 

“I do.” he muttered, finally climbing into bed with you. “I just didn’t wanna impose.” 

“I think we’re past that now, Jim.” You chuckled, reaching out to take his hand. “Don’t you?” 

Jimmy couldn’t help but smile, interlacing your fingers together and giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah.” he said. “Yeah, I think we are.”  

_____

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection @levissslutt @mingisfavgf @aaira3333 @thealliasylum

[icupblog]

Where did the party go? (batfam x neglected reader) This is part 2!! part 1

Your hands shake as you bring the water to your parched lips. The cold embrace of the liquid makes you sigh in satisfaction. The outfit you were wearing suddenly felt too tight and your makeup felt like a second face on top of your own.

This was the biggest moment of your life... so far. Compared to your siblings it wasn't that big but to you, it was everything. You can't think of them now though. Even the mental image of any of your so-called family made you feel bile climb up your throat.

You don't need them, or their validation. After everything that has happened you need to forget their harsh words and unforgiving cruelty.

----------------------------------

2 years earlier

The cold hallways recognised your presence as you walked through them. You feel like a zombie, knowing who you were but pulling your body away from your brain, your mind slowing down as every-time you take another step a part of your image dies.

Maybe you were dramatic, maybe you were immature, maybe if they actually cared you wouldn't be. Your hands shake as you grip a bannister. Where were you going again. You didn't even know. Eventually you came to the familiar scene of the kitchen.

The sink was filled with dishes, had they eaten dinner already? what time was it? You hadn't even realised. All you could think of was that mask, his mask. Your supposed brother. The empty eyes that he would stare at you with when he slowly cut your skin open.

You were about to leave, the thought of food in your body made you feel sick. When you saw him. He never showed you his face but you could recognise him anywhere. He could never hide from you. You could spot him out from a mile away, seek him out in a crowd easily.

His body was fire, and yours was gasoline and paper. He would ebb away at you until all that was left was ash. His pupils widened in recognition at you. "name...hi" You couldn't move, he would attack you, throw you against the wall. As he slowly reached towards your shoulder you winced.

Was this some kind of cruel joke?, did the universe hate you that much? "listen, I-I'm sorry, I wasn't in my right mind and-" your breath became shallow. "I guess I took it out on you" tears filled your eyes, this is it, he came back to kill you. "besides me and Bruce are trying to work things out so-" he took his hand off your shoulder and put it behind his head. He wasn't touching you, could you escape? "maybe we could be a real family-" You bolted, you couldn't stay still anymore, you ducked under his arm and ran past him. Back to your room back to safety.

Turns out Jason's presence was not in fact a joke. He became part of the family, Or maybe he always was. He would make inside jokes with Damian, learn sign language for cass (something you had done when you first met her, not that she noticed). He would even hang out with Tim and Stephanie two people who could not physically stand to be around you for more than five minutes. Maybe in some way you wanted his attention because maybe if you had his you could be part of that family.

It got worse the more Dick came round, his cheery aura meant the family would constantly be around each other. And you were not part of that family. They would have movie nights (without you), hang out at arcades (without you) and even spend Christmas together (they would always forget to buy you presents). Even Bruce went along with them for gods sake, were you really worth so little? Just because you weren't in spandex? You were so insignificant that Alfred just referred to you as 'miss' almost as if he had forgotten your name.

In these moments you would think back to times when your mother held you in her arms as you opened your presents, it was never anything expensive but you would cherish every one, no matter how much it cost. When she smiled her eyes would crinkle, you always wanted that, a life full of smiles and laughter. Yet for some reason you only got sadness.

-----------------------------------

Present day

When you asked a Wayne child what they wanted to be when they were older they normally answered with something artistic and niche like when Damian said he wanted to be an artist. Except you knew he would be even more insufferable if he was one so you thought he was better staying in the tights. Or Cass wanting to do ballet, not Cass you mentally scold Cassandra, when has she ever asked you to call her Cass.

You on the other hand wanted to make an impact, a small irreversible dent on the world (not literally). So now that you are 18 you study law. Is it difficult? yes, but weirdly rewarding. Getting out of Gotham made you realise how shitty that place really is. The air felt like it was choking you and the overall atmosphere felt heavy. Moving to Metropolis was like getting a weight lifted off your shoulders.

You were able to get a scholarship with a college you had great friends. You loved how bright it was all the time, and you weren't being kidnapped every other month, you were feeling amazing.

You had made a life for yourself, a somewhat stable, broke, happy life. What you didn't expect was for the family to remember you or even worse miss you...

yippee I made another one!!

there might only be one more chapter for this series because I'm on exam leave and I'm sick but thank you for all the support!! <3

[midnightshindig]

i hope that’s not too distressing of a scenario but i wanna know how would mark, cecil, donald, rex and allen react to accidentally making you cry during an argument! god knows they’re capable of doing that lmao

Allen, Cecil, Donald, Mark, and Rex x Reader: Making you Cry

ngl if a man ever made me cry during an argument i'd hit him with my car

hcs under the cut!

Allen

like legit the most gentle dude alive

He fucks up sometimes because he treats you like an equal, and forgets that not everyone can take a verbal lashing like he can

You probably get into an argument about his job, telling him that you don't like him almost dying all the time

"What? You think I should let thousands of people die for YOUR comfort?! You don't get how much bigger this is! This is more important than you!"

it sends you over the edge, tears spilling down your puffy cheeks

It hurts to have something true said so hurtfully

he immediately caves, apologizing profusely and putting an arm around your shoulder

"Heyyy.... heyyyyy shh shh shhhhhh, I'm sorry- I'm so sorry baby I shouldn't have said that-"

he hates seeing a pretty person cry <3

Cecil

lowkey a menace ngl

He doesn't like making you upset but he's RIGHT and he's not willing to lie for the sake of your feelings

Like Allen, you probably fight about his job

"Y/n, let me make it crystal clear, if it comes down between my job and my relationships, you're welcome to leave."

"So what? I'm not allowed to have problems without you disregarding them?! That's not a relationship, Cecil. I'm not convenient for you."

He groaned, leaning into his hands "God don't I know. Trust me, Y/n, you're the furthest thing FROM convenient with these tantrums."

his words stung, coming from the man who was usually so kind. Who was so good at balancing the demands of his life and the demands of his love

you bit back tears, welling up in your tear ducts but holding their place due to your unwillingness to conciet

buuuuuut he noticed nontheless, and softened momentarily

"Y/n..... I'm.... I shouldn't have said that." he reached out for your hand, but you snatched it back and turned on your heel

"Fuck off, Cecil. Go do your important work." and with that you left the room, storming off somewhere else to cool down

Donald

Type of dude who doesn't get heated often

He's literally js a chill guy

Probably pulls a Devil Wears Prada and yells at you out of stress

"Y/n- Fuck- do you have those papers copied? Cecil needs them now-"

"Oh, sorry honey I thought I told you, our printer is out of ink." You replied casually, leaning against the dining room table

This sent Donald into a stressed panic as he raced around the room

"You didn't think to TELL ME?!!" He cried out, more aggressive than he intended

You'd never heard him yell before

CERTAINLY not at you

and the waterworks began

You sniffled and wiped at the tears with the backs of your hands

But Donald was too busy to notice, let alone console you

Nontheless, once he resolved with Cecil, the first thing he did was call you from work

"Y/n, I am SO sorry for yelling at you this morning. It was out of line and I apologize."

he topped it off by making dinner for you from scratch as an apology

Mark

He's so nice but he's SOOOOO stupid

you're probably arguing about something hypothetical, like a comic book morality issue

and he takes it too far

"Aghhh Mark, it's totally fucked up for Superman to have that much unchecked power! What happens if he turns evil or something?"

"Y/n, the point of superman is that he's a good guy!! He fights the bad guys!"

"Okayyyy but we see sometimes his idea of whats right differs from the government, who gets to make that decision? The government? How do you govern the ungovernable when the ungovernable is the one who governs you? How do you checks and balances a god?"

"Oh my god- If you're good, you're good. You don't need checks and balances if you're a good person!!"

"But what if someone with that kind of power WASN'T good?!" your argument increasing in heat, you jokingly feeding into his very real anger "You NEED kryptonite to ensure Superman doesn't go off the deep end!"

Marks eye twitched "And who is someone like YOU to decide what a SUPERHERO should and shouldn't be able to do?!? HUH?!"

"Mark you're taking this too seriously-"

"GAh- NO! I'm serious, Y/n!. What business do regular people have telling me how to use my abilities? The government?! What a joke!"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Mark, I love you, but you're starting to sound like your dad"

Marks eyes widened as he shot up from the bed, breathing heavy with anxiety at the accusation "SH- SHUT UP!!!"

The room shook a little, the bed shook harder, causing you to briefly lose your seating and rustling you a little more than you would've liked

You stared at him, wide eyed, afraid, and furious

tears silently streaming down your face

You quielty stood up and dusted yourself off, walking over to Mark, who had begun panicking when he realized what had happened

"You need to get it the fuck together. That was pathetic. I will not date the equivalent of a frat bro who punches walls when his girlfriend won't fuck him."

He reached out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his eyes widening when you flinched

"Oh- Oh fuck- Y/n, I am so sorry that was so horrible oh shit oh shit- are you okay? babe I'm so sorry" he wrapped you up in a hug, levitating off the floor slightly as he did, pulling you to your tiptoes

Rex

honestly he's such a dick i'm not surprised

You probably catch him ogling your waitress or smth and tell him off

It escalates from there:

"You were totally eye fucking her, Rex! What the hell?" You hissed, trying not to cause a scene in this Olive Garden

He scoffed, eating an olive off YOUR martini skewer "Babe please, I'm appreciating her boobie-I mean beauty!" He grinned, hoping his hilarious mistake would make up for his bullshit

You grimaced in response, rolling your eyes "Rex you're being a jackass. If this is how you are no wonder Eve left your ass."

He responded by spitting back "At least Eve was hot."

It hit him how stupid he was the second it left his mouth, and regret filled his expression as you slowly started crying

It was a restrained sob, only louder as you attempted to choke it back

Only made worse by the realization people were staring at your ugly, puffy, crying face

and Rex had caused it

he reached across the table for your hand "Hey- I didn't mean that. You're SO hot, you're like- gorgeous. Way prettier than the waitress."

He didn't get it.

You stood up and grabbed your bag, walking to the restroom as Rex followed suite

"Rex, go away."

"No! I apologized, why are you still crying? hey-" He tried to calm you down, following after you and cooing at you

"GAh-" you spit out, turning to face him "You think I need you to remind me your ex is a hot superheroine I can't compete with? And that you fumbled HER. If she wasn't enough for you how could I POSSIBLY be?!"

Rex softened, pulling you into the family restroom for some privacy

"I've grown up a lot since that, and even though I fuck up-" he took both your hands, looking at you through his eyelashes "I would NEVER cheat on you. Nobody deserves that. Especially not my gorgeous, amazing, patient, skilled, precious, unfathomably hot and hilarious, and perfect partner. You're all I want. My eyes wander but my heart-"

he put your hands on his heart

"My hearts all yours, babes."

[leighsartworks216]

Cookies And Kisses

Zayne x gn!Reader

I am YEARNINGGG for a Zayne kiss so badddd (and also cookies) I also wrote this like minutes after my friend sent me the trailer for the new banner cuz ough Zayne why you gotta kiss like that and NOT BE REAL

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, kissing, baking, established relationship

Word Count: 1,229

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It was only a matter of time before the sweet fragrance of baking cookies beckoned Zayne to the kitchen. Even though he was in his office, working away on his reports and research, it's the most surefire way of getting him to take a break. You've only just put in the second batch when he wanders in with that round-eyed interest, honing in on the fresh tray of sweets.

"You're baking today?" he asks. You hear the excitement in his voice, even if he's trying to act natural.

You slip off the oven mitt with a smile. The counter is a bit of a mess - flour, baking soda, vanilla and almond extract, sugar both powdered and crystalized. You tried to keep it contained, for what it's worth. Cooling racks are spread out on the kitchen island, empty for now. A full one sits beside the oven. Twelve golden sugar cookies, with coarse rainbow sprinkles pressed into their tops. You are the only thing between him and the cookies.

"They're still hot," you warn, walking over to meet him so you can hold him back for as long as it takes to let them cool for just a couple minutes. You wrap your arms around his neck. His hands rest comfortably on your waist, slipping around to your back to hold you close. Eyes focus down on you, momentarily distracted by the one thing he loves more than his sweets. "I thought it would be fun. I was going to bring some to Yvonne and Grayson."

He glances back at the cookies. "How many are you making?"

"The recipe makes about 50 cookies. I don't think either of us need that many to ourselves."

He hums noncommittally and asks, "How many are you giving them?"

"Eight each. Will 30-something cookies be enough to satisfy you?"

"With your baking, no amount could satisfy me."

You laugh softly. Your fingers begin caressing the back of his neck and playing with the short ends of his dark hair. His eyes soften behind his glasses, warm with affection as he soaks in your touch. "With your sweet tooth, no amount of anyone's baking could satisfy you."

His ears grow warm, but he just smiles. His long fingers trace light patterns against your spine and lower back. He glances at the cookies once more. You try not to laugh at how obviously he's restraining himself. "Can I have one?"

"Just one?"

"Mm, or two, or three?"

You peck his lips with a snicker and pull away. His hands slide away, falling down back to his sides. You miss them immediately. Still, you grab a napkin and carefully settle two cookies on it. The third you take for yourself, taking a bite as you turn to rest your back against the counter, holding out the napkin for him. He stands close, comfortably within arms reach, as he eagerly accepts the cookies and takes a bite of one.

Still warm, the sugar cookie crumbles in the best way possible. The subtle vanilla, the sweet almond, the added crunch of sugar crystals. He hums in content. You reach up to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of his mouth, and he looks at you with a smile.

"They're delicious," he praises after he swallows his first bite. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. "Thank you."

You catch his lips again before he can fully pull away. A quiet sigh escapes him as he reciprocates, fanning across your cheek from his nose. He tilts his head. Sets his partial cookie back in the napkin to hold your cheek as he licks the seam of your mouth, tasting the cookie's lingering sweetness on your lips, on your tongue.

Zayne kisses like he'll never kiss you again. It wasn't always like this. When you first started dating, kisses were hesitant. Light pecks, chaste and quick. Even your first make out, there was always something restrained in the way he kissed. He allowed you to lead, to take what you wanted from him. Now that you've grown as a couple, discovered each other's quirks and habits, moved in together, begun intertwining your souls, his kisses aren't the quiet, reserved pecks they used to be. He's always aching to kiss you deeper. Tilting his head from one side to the other as his hands hold you in place, pull you closer. His breaths grow heavy with excitement, soft sounds escaping the back of his throat. He devours you. Kisses you as though it's the last kiss you'll ever share and he needs to make the most of it. Kisses you like a soldier off to war, saying goodbye to his partner before he's shipped off. Kisses you like you're sweeter than pure sugar.

The oven beeps. You pull away with a sigh, sad to see the moment end. He smiles reassuringly as he kisses your cheek, silently promising to continue this later, before he steps away to lean back against the island. Those lithe fingers slipping from your cheek to pick up the cookie again, bringing it to his kiss-swollen lips and-

The oven beeps once more and you push away from the counter to stop the timer. You slip on the oven mitt, open up the inferno to let its dry heat caress your already-warm cheeks, and retrieve the tray of fresh cookies. Zayne watches as you hold the tray in one hand and pick up the spatula with the other, one by one depositing the cookies onto a cooling rack.

He's halfway through his second cookie when you begin scooping an array of dough onto the tray. Sneaking a third from the first batch when you're pressing divots into the center of the dough-balls and dispensing pinches of sugar in them. Finishing the third when you're slipping the tray on the top rack of the oven and setting a new timer. You grab his hand before he can grab a fourth, tugging him away and toward the kitchen doorway.

"You're gonna make yourself sick one of these days," you playfully chide. "No more until after dinner. Or at least until I've boxed up the ones for Yvonne and Grayson."

He chuckles as you drag him all the way back to his office. Smiles like a lovestruck fool as you push him into his chair. He grabs your hips before you can pull away, settling you to be standing between his legs as he looks up at you like you're the moon itself.

"Will you tell me when you've finished?"

You brush his bangs aside from his forehead. Trail your touch down his cheek. Hold his chin as you run your thumb along his lips. "Finished baking or finished separating theirs out?"

His eyes close as he presses a kiss to your finger. "Both."

You lean down and kiss his forehead. "So long as I don't catch you sneaking out before then."

"I won't."

"Mm-hm."

He tilts his head back, eyes flickering to your lips. "I won't," he insists.

"You won't get caught, you mean." You brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He turns to fully catch your lips again. Draws you into him, until your knee is resting on the chair right up against his crotch. He murmurs breathlessly against your mouth, grinning with a subdued playfulness, "Now, I never said that."

---

Tag List:

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[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

~ AGAIN, MAYBE?

Tw; p in v sex, nsfw, MDNI, idk tbh, comfort, insecure!reader, shy!reader, simon riley things again <3 and yes, chubby reader/ curvy.

Some people lay their life out in front of you like they are a book, ready to be read, wanting to be read. It was easy to make friends with those people, they were friendly, they wanted to be around others. That was you. And there was him. Reserved, quiet, a book that refuses to open, locked with the key thrown into the ocean, you have to break it up just to read the first page. He hated people, he hated being around people.

There we went again, spiraling into the void. The sunshine isn't supposed to meet the moon but once in a lifetime, it happens. You were looking at him with doe eyes, staring like he was the prettiest man you've ever seen, from across the coffee shop. And it made him hungry. Curious, interested. What's a pretty bunny like you doing, staring at the big bad wolf? Like he wants to bite into your neck. You were hoping he wanted to. You stared like you could take him. You stared like you could handle him. It made him almost smirk, laugh at the thought. You, a pretty small little thing? But listening to your friends for 5 minutes talking about how "you should totally, no, need to go there", you caved in. You swallowed as you held your hands together in front of you and blushed, walking towards him. "..Ex-excuse me.." He slowly turned towards you. He raised an eyebrow and when he saw you, he smirked. He tilted his head, "What do ya need?" He asked, like he didn't already know. You swallowed, words almost stuck in your throat. "Well, I was wondering.. Maybe, you know, if you were uhm.. Interested? And not taken of course uhm.. If you would give me your-.." He fully turned towards you and crossed his arms. He smirked fully and cut you off. "You want my number, sweet thing?" He asked before you finished your sentence. You were rambling like you were doing it to save your life. He found it adorable, he found it amusing how you were actually brave enough to come up to him. You sighed and nodded, defeatedly. "Yeah.." You looked away, expecting rejection more than anything, when he stood up and put his rough hands on your soft cheeks, caressing it. "How about this, sweetheart? I'll take you out to dinner tonight, like a real gentleman. And if you decide you still want it, I'll give it to you." He said, his thumb still working it's way to give you the butterflies you never had before. You nodded, now turning as pink as your lip gloss. He smiled and spoke. "Great. Meet me out here at 6, alright pretty? Wear something cute." He said, and let go of you, and gestured his head to your friends. "Run along now love." And so you did. For some reason your feet moved on it's own when your friends looked at you with a smirk, amusement and utter happiness, excitement for you. Looks like you have a date. ~~

And you showed up right exactly at the time, no later, maybe a little early. He showed up in semi fancy clothing, nothing too much, no suit or anything, just not casual clothes either. You wore a pretty dress, and it surprised him. Not how pretty you were. He knew from the start you'd look like a damn fucking angel if you come here, the thing that surprised him was your braveness. You actually came, and it was a little shocking. Foolish little bunny. He grabbed your hand, softly. Way more gentle than what he actually looked like he would be. Rough on the outside, gentleman on the inside. He brought you to his car and opened the door for you. Once he also got into the car, he reached behind your seat. He pulled out pretty red roses and spoke as he handed them to you. "Didn't know what you'd like, so figured I couldn't go wrong with roses." For the first time, he sounded nervous, his cocky confident attitude gone for a second. He sounded like he was afraid you'd hate it, in a way. You smiled at him, and looked at him in his gorgeous brown eyes. His heart skipped a beat, but not just metaphorically. He swallowed and he felt the feeling of something crawl up his stomach. You spoke, in the softest tone he's ever heard. "Thank you. They are very pretty.. uh.." You trailed off, realizing you don't even know his name yet. He smiled. "Simon. It's Simon, love." You smiled back at him, and spoke. "Mine's *name,*" You said, fidgeting with your fingers. He noticed, he noticed every bit of you. It made him hungry. But not yet, he couldn't, not yet. He spoke with a tone a little darker than before, but it's barely noticeable. He smiled. "What a pretty name, for a pretty girl." He said, and looked at you up and down. You just had to wear a dress with the prettiest laces at the end of your thighs, didn't you? He swallowed visibly. He drove to the restaurant in mostly silence, trying to keep the talking to the date. He put on some music, even told you to do it, he wanted to know your favorite songs to rail you to to listen to.

The restaurant was very pretty. People weren't noisy, it was well built and people followed the rules. Like an elite restaurant, just not really. You were amused, you were surprised by how beautiful everything was all around. Practically in shocked, you gasped. "Woah.. Such a pretty view." Simon didn't take his eyes off of you as he swallowed and looked at your face. He spoke quietly. "Yeah. Mesmerizing.." As he snapped himself out of it and got your reservation. He smiled at the receptionist and admittedly you wish it was towards you. You two sat down and ordered. The start is always awkward, but the tension quickly broke with him cracking a joke about the food here and you two started talking about your favorite foods. He listened to your every word like you were teaching him the ways of life. Your favorite drink, favorite food, how you eat your favorite food. Everything you said just stayed in his mind, locked up in a memory of his most treasured events that were already filled with two encounters. You coming up to him, and now you having dinner with him. Towards the end of the date, you got yourself a little tipsy, but still completely aware of what you were doing. You were already sobering up when you started being more bold, making jokes. Cracking a joke about the waiter being into him, you smiled as you made it. Something about how handsome and perfect he must be, for everyone around him to want him. He looked surprised. "What do you mean by everyone around me?" He asked, with one of his eyebrow raised. Questioning you. You smiled and rolled your eyes, the alcohol hitting enough to be a bold truth serum, you spoke. "Everyone in this place probably wants to get on their knees and suck your cock." Bold. You didn't even realize what you just said, as the second of silence passed and it hit you. But it was too late. His eyes darkened and he practically stared at you hungry, but not for the food anymore. His tone lowered as he asked, "Do you?" And you didn't know what to say. The alcohol in you didn't want you to deny and lie, but the mature version of you in your mind begged you to not agree, begged you to not seem like a desperate little bitch. But you didn't have to say anything. Your breathing quickened and your thighs pushed together at the thought and he noticed. Every single part of your body, every single thing about you, he noticed. The flush on your cheeks. It made him wanna stop holding back on you. Made him wanna go feral, fuck, it made him go feral. Drove him crazy. And suddenly, he smirked. A challenge.

"Like you could handle it, bunny." It echoed in your head. Bunny. Your eyes widened and you took it as a challenge, too far gone in your head as you swallowed and you screamed "Fuck it, fuck you" in your head to the only part of you that was still somewhat smart. And you spoke. "You wanna bet on that, Riley?" You called his last name. He loved it and tilted his head. "Let's ditch this fucking place, then." Yes, absolutely. Let's do it. For fucks sake, did you really just do that? Did you really just get yourself into that? your cheeks felt hot as he rushed to pay for the damn dinner and practically pulled you out of the damn restaurant, a starved, hungry man. Won't you be kind enough to feed him love? He's so hungry for you. He swallowed and he opened the door for you again, making sure to still be a gentleman even while wanting to rip your clothes off with his teeth. He was feral, like a dog. He drove home the quickest he could and the second you stepped foot into the stupid apartment and he could lock the door, the only reaction you could have was, "Wow, this is huge" before he was already on you. Kissing your lips like it was a lifeline, holding onto you like you were his savior. He needed this. He needed you. You were such a brave, stupid little bunny, walking right into his arms and practically begging him for this. Wouldn't it be rude to refuse? By the time your first kiss with him ended, you were panting an so was he. He started unzipping your dress from the back, and his lips travelled down to your neck.

He picked you up, which caught you off guard. He carried you to his bed, stopping his lips from wandering just until he got to his bedroom and placed you on the bed. He got on top of you and put one of his hands on your cheek, while the other he used his elbow for support. He held himself on top of you, his lips pressing kisses down your collarbone. You breathed heavy, speaking. "..I expected you to be more rough, if I'm being honest." But he shook his head. He stopped and looked up from your collarbone into your eyes as he spoke, "Not tonight." He wanted to be gentle as long as he could be. He knew he would lose it eventually. So he would do it as long as he could. He reached your breasts with his kisses and looked up again, waiting for your consent. Begging for it, begging for you. You whispered. "Go ahead, Simon.." And he slid your top half of the dress off of you. He started kissing down your breasts, leaving hickeys everywhere he could get his mouth on. He then slowly slid the bottom half of your dress down and sat up. He swallowed. How was he supposed to hold back, with a body like that? You tried to sit up too, but he immediately pushed you back down, practically glaring into your eyes. "You told me you could handle it, bunny. You're gonna handle it, without moving." He looked at your underwear and smirked. Lacy and red. What a combo, you really did that for him? He looked at you and he slowly slid his hand inside. He whispered. "Cheeky, did you plan this out?" You swallowed, feeling his cold thumb start to rub against your clit. "N-no.." And you swear you didn't, not at all. You were simply.. hoping. He slid two fingers inside, and his eyes widened. Why the hell were you so tight? Did you really think that with tightness like this you could handle him? He swallowed. He spoke. "I've got you filled by just two measly fingers, bunny. How do you think this is gonna work out? You really wanna take me on?" And you already felt numbed, because you had never been this filled before. You swallowed. "I want it. I want it, Simon- I need it. I need you. Please?" You begged. And how could he refuse when you look at him like that? But not yet. He swallowed and he used his fingers to stretch you out further, as much as he could. Pumping his fingers in and out of you, and he leaned down to kiss you, muffling your moans that were starting to get louder. He whispered to you, against your lips. "Come on now, baby. You don't want my neighbors hating me, do you?" He teased. He smirked, and you shook your head no, but it wasn't good enough for him. He stopped moving his fingers. "Words, bunny." You swallowed and looked at him with frustration. "W-what are you doing? keep moving! Si- Simon!" You demanded, like you deserved it. And that amused him. "You're in no position to demand anything. Are you, bun?" He asked, mockingly. He tilted his head as he looked at you and you swallowed, once you realized he was serious. "N-No. I'- I'm sorry." His smirk widened and he started moving his fingers, faster than before, this time he was trying to make you cum. He let out a loud groan and he spoke in a raspy tone, "There's a good girl." And that was all you needed. You released all over his fingers and he pulled his fingers out with a satisfied, sadistic look on his face. "Look at what a fucking mess you made, sweetheart. Look at this. Is this how you treat your host, huh? What kind of guest are you baby?" Your cheeks flushed as he talked like that. It was embarrassing. But you loved it, and he loved it. He loved the look on your face every time he spoke like that. He looked into your eyes much more seriously now. "You think you're ready?" He asked, pulling your panties down. You looked at him, and slowly spoke. "Yes. Yes Simon. I want this, I want you."

He swallowed and slowly unzipped his pants. He pulled his boxers down, and he seemed nervous. Not insecure, nervous. He didn't wanna hurt you, and when you saw it, you just couldn't understand. You guessed it wouldn't be small at all, but for it to be big and pretty? Was completely ridiculous. You swallowed at the size, preparing yourself mentally for it to hurt. Because you knew it would. He spoke again. "If you want to back out of this, say no, you have to tell me now-" You cut him off. "I want it, I want it inside me." And he snapped. He didn't have any more questions, he just slowly put himself inside you. He looked at you. At your uncomfortable expression. It hurt at first. It hurt so bad, but after letting yourself adjust to his size, he felt like heaven. He started slow, moving in and out and looking at you. You looked so sexy, your moans got so much louder than before. He loved it. He craved to see more. "You're so fucking beautiful, angelic," He said, looking at you. He started to hurry his pace up, breathing heavy. He needed you. Fastening his pace again, more and more. "Si-Simon, sl-slow down! I'm n-not going a-ah! Anywhere.." But he wasn't listening. He couldn't even hear you, pussydrunk and drunk on how beautiful you are. He couldn't focus on anything but the pleasure and how good you looked under him. Muscle memory, maybe, but he suddenly put his thumb on your clit again. Rubbing it, fast, and it made you scream his name louder than ever, snapping him out of his state. His eyes widened as he realized what just happened- you squirted. He was satisfied, and he fastened his pace, not even stopping for a second. You were overstimulated, your mind begging for a break, your body took it like it needed it. He was chasing his own release. "You look like a fucking angel, bunny. You look beautiful. You drive me crazy, you fucking know that? Drove me crazy even from the first moment you stared at me. Pretty fucking bunny thinking she can handle me.." He rambled. "I wanted you since the start. And that pretty red dress you were wearing? Fuck, bun. You look perfect. You belong here, you belong under me. Don't you baby?" All you could do was moan, "Y-yes-, all yours Simon- all yours.." "Is tha' right baby? Yer all mine? All my baby? All mine, huh? Mine to fuck, mine to own? Mine to treat, huh?" He asked, looking down at you. "Y-yes Simon.. Yours.. all yours, for-forever.. My body is all yours." And his eyes snapped open at that, fully. Fuck yes, you're his. His release came crashing down on him and he panted on top of you. He pulled out of you before falling next to you, and he looked at you, panting heavy. He smiled at you. You looked beautiful. You leaned over to press a kiss on his lips, and he smiled. He spoke, his voice much more gentle. "..You wanna go on a date? Again, maybe?" You smiled, and wrapped your arms around him. A silent yes. When you realized something- Did you forget to take your plan B pill?

A/N: HIYIOOOOO i hope you guys enjoy this fanfic too lmfao idk anymore tbh, I love yall, sorry if this was rushed it was my first fic writing ACTUAL smut BTW my requests are ALLLLLL open, commisions r also open <3

[heechwe]

WORST BEHAVIOR | 양정원

⟢ PAIRING: yang jungwon & fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 2K ⟢ GENRE: smut ⟢ TAGS: established relationship, actor!jungwon, a bit pwp, pet names (pet, love, sweetheart, etc), dom & sub elements (dom!reader & sub!jungwon), sensory play, multiple positions (cowgirl, reverse cowgirl), ass play, unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Jungwon's perfect in front of the camera—a film darling in the eyes of the fans who love him and the team that calls him their "shining star." But sometimes it's too much; sometimes he needs you to be chaotic so he can handle his own chaos, especially in the bedroom. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Requested by anon and inspired by the song by kwn. This is also my first fic for Wonnie which I did not expect to write so quickly but I love him and this so much. Also bless up @ghstzzn for letting me carry the torch of this idea lol ilysm. It's not proofread this time, but I think it's good grammar-wise! Let me know if there's any mistakes, though!

He wants this. He wants it all, you tell yourself as you tug the knot of the silky red blindfold tighter until it's snug. You wipe the bead of sweat from his forehead, his body already taut in anticipation of what you plan to do.

"Do you remember your safe word, pet?" you ask. One of your fingers trails down his cheekbone, an acrylic nail dragging lightly across his soft skin, and he shudders from the contact. You unfurl your entire palm for him to rest his cheek inside of, and it melts you like warm honey, similar to the color of his newly dyed hair.

"Artemis," Jungwon whispers. He gasps when you move your hand lower, nestling the palm against his racing heart.

The first date you ever went on, Jungwon called you the goddess's name like it was the greatest title in the world to hold. "She's not a sufferer of fools, right? I know we've just met, but you give me that same impression." Maybe it was the bottle of wine you shared that night, but you couldn't forget how smoothly the compliment slid down into your soul. It's apt to use it now, you think.

He looks like pure sin laid out on your shared bed. His skin is well tanned, muscles toned, strands still slicked back from his earlier photo-shoot. The only thing out of place for him is how swollen and painfully hard his cock is, his tip red and leaking already. You've barely touched him, only a few writhes of your hips being enough to make him crumble before things have even started. But it's more than enough. It's everything, how well you take care of him.

He walked into the apartment with a dejected pout on his face and his fists balled tightly at his sides. You thought the muscles of his face had to be sore from the tight set of his jaw as well. You stopped cooking then to run to him, arms immediately circling his middle.

"Another press junket in Los Angeles." he grumbles into the crown of your head. "They just told me before I left. You'd think they'd give me a break after this damn premiere."

"Didn't they say no more engagements after March?" You furrow your brows in confusion, suddenly angry for your boyfriend, but definitely not to the same magnitude as him.

"Yeah. But that was before they got some famous starlet to interview me for Actors on Actors and landed an entire spread in GQ." He pinches the bridge of his nose to stop the impending bang across his temple, one of his anxiety-induced tension headaches on the horizon.

You squeeze him tighter to fight the negativity in his voice, hoping your touch will settle him and ease his irritation. His blazer rubs against your cheek, the fabric cool despite the wearer's blazing ire.

Film production is stressful; Jungwon's never discounted the level of effort you put into your own career. However, it's no match for the expectations placed upon him as a media starlet or the stress that accompanies the success he's garnered. He's not ungrateful, though; he knows the acclaim will not last forever, and he needs to work hard now to make up for when calls stop coming.

You want to shelter him from every piece that rattles him to alarming degrees, tuck him into your pocket so he can forget it all and coast instead of crash.

"It's not forever. You'll have the entire summer after this," you swear, although it's not up to you to determine completely. You hear the beat of his heart slow, its pace transitioning from frantic to steady, and you think things might just be right in the world again.

Then Jungwon says he needs you—"Please touch me" to be exact—and you know that for him, his stress is far from gone until he's given exactly what he wants.

Lucky for him, you know the solution to every problem he has—what will pull him back to normalcy—even if your methods to get there are unorthodox.

You grip his cock in your hand, lightly squeezing as you run your hand along the shaft. Jungwon can't fight the subtle raise of his hips to meet your touch, nor can he stop the "fucking finally" that slips from his mouth.

You remove your hand altogether, clicking your tongue. "What did I say before we started, pet?" you ask, the question entirely rhetorical. But you expect an answer, even as Jungwon whines. You stiffen. "Do I need to gag you too?"

"No! N-No, Mistress, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to misbehave." He shakes his head at you to articulate his point, and you swear you can see the tears forming behind the blindfold. Jungwon's cock twitches, his sex aching. It begs for your tender, lewd touch once again, even if Jungwon doesn't say the words out loud.

"Then answer my first question. What did I say before I put the blindfold on?"

Jungwon whimpers, the sound high-pitched and full of cracks. "Stay still until you tell me to."

You take his face in both of your palms, rubbing circles into the apples of his cheeks. "Yes, my love. Now do as I say and you'll be rewarded like the good boy I know you are, okay?"

"Yes, yes, please."

You go back to holding his cock between your fingers, running the pre-cum at his slit down the length of him. Its girth and length are in unbelievable harmony, the muscle snug every time he fits inside of you. You admire it as you twist your wrist, enjoying the sound of its slickness as it fucks your fist.

In so many ways, Jungwon is the puzzle piece you didn't recognize was missing until he came into your life with endless witty banter and his soul's infinite fire. It's what makes him so worthy of adoration, fame and love.

But where he burns, you're there to cool him into a calm state again, the pinnacle of fortitude and composure. The core answer of why you work so well together is in that balance. And you're reminded of why you love him every second he asks you to take over like this, make him succumb to all your whims before you repay him in kind.

It's salacious how easily you sit on his cock, no preparation needed on your end to become accustomed in record time. He fills you so completely; you don't mind how he once again bucks up into you, a throaty groan ripping from his lips from finally being inside of you. He keeps his arms at his sides, but you know he wants to touch. He loves everything about your body, especially the voluptuousness of your breasts and how freely they bounce when you ride him.

"You can touch me now, pet." Jungwon doesn't need to be told twice, immediately running his thumbs over your nipples until they pebble. He kneads them in his hands as you set the pace, slamming down now and then to make him cry out.

The blindfold is both constricting and necessary. Jungwon was initially terrified of it, but he couldn't get enough after you first wrapped it around his head. Now, his sensory perception goes into overdrive every time because of his loss of sight. He loves to see you on top of him and against him, without a doubt, and there have been days where he was already so sensitive he could do without the cloth. But, most of the time, he'd rather soak in the passion like this compared to any other way.

You guide one hand from your chest to down to your clit, and he immediately pinches and pulls like the expert he is. He's well attuned to what works to get you off and what doesn't. If he wants to orgasm, he knows he has to let you do so first.

A mewl crawls out of your throat at the rhythm of his thumb and forefinger against your slick, the digits almost running down to where you're both connected before going back to the hood of your cunt.

"You feel me, Mistress? Is it good? Do you love it?" Jungwon may be stationed in the submissive form often, but it doesn't keep his mouth from running. You adore every sinful word, all his statements and questions that hold a hint of wonder at how good he's making you feel, and vice versa.

"Yes, yes, it's so good—ah, fuck—you know you're such a good boy." You suddenly switch positions, you're riding Jungwon in reverse. Laying your hands across his thighs, you move faster, slam down in lewd slaps to each other's skin, clench around him with more force than before. You feel the traces of your orgasm with every movement, and you'd be a fool to not chase it.

"I can feel how close you are. Your cunt is squeezing me so tight," he moans. He grips an ass cheek in his hand, massaging it while his opposite palm continues touching your clit.

You know the thought on his mind, and even though he can't see, you look over your shoulder with a wolfish grin. "You can do what you want, my love."

Jungwon groans low in his throat, the timbre of it animalistic. He sucks his thumb for a long second before pressing it to your perineum. The digit slowly enters you, and the taste of ecstasy coats your tongue with each centimeter that goes in. It's too much all at once, his fingers in tandem working against your clit and ass while his dick fills you up.

"Come, Mistress, pretty please?" is what does you in. You wail as you shatter into a million discomposed pieces, saying his name the entire time as your body floats. You laugh, your chest heaving up and down, from how incredible all of your synapses firing off at once feel. But it's more than just your orgasm. It's in how much you love the man underneath you, how eager you feel to please him the second you come back to your senses, and how lucky you are to love him.

"Do you want to come now, too, pet?" you ask him, voice ragged but still acceptable to speak with.

Jungwon nods eagerly, his thumb still inside of you while he runs his other fingers along your lower half. "Please, Mistress. It hurts so bad."

"Don't worry," you coo, "you'll get to soon, I promise."

You move your hips once again, using the last drops of your shared strength and spirit to ride him to completion. His hands come up to your bare breasts once again, and you use them as leverage to continue, intertwining his fingers with your own.

"You're too good for me, my love, always so eager to please me. You're my beautiful boy, Wonnie." His pet name on your tongue unravels him. His face contorts as his hips stutter up into you. He covers your insides with his cum, painting your walls white with his seed like it's all he knows how to do. It warms you to the brim, and your body practically glowing in the aftermath.

You move from his lap as he tugs the blindfold free. He may be sweaty, as are you, but it doesn't stop you from burying your face in his sweat-soaked chest.

"I love you so much," he says into your damp hair. "Don't ever say you're not good enough. You're just right in every way." He tucks a finger under your chin to kiss you firm on the lips. You moan into his kiss, tongues intermingling. "You're perfect for me, you know that right?"

You blush, squeezing him tighter against you. "As you are for me."

You fall asleep like that, basking in a love that is so whole, so equal, you don't think anyone else will ever recognize it the same way you both do. It's yours, in all of its unique facets.

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