#you cannot be surprised that he taught him that

[transformers-spike]

I cannot be the only one who wants to bang peepaw Alpha Trion plEASE TELL ME IM NOT ALONE 😭

I will never stop being an old man enjoyer. Give us your spike, peepaw

“I’m relieved we aren’t the only ones in this universe.” The words echo in his processor like sand in the desert wind. Fading in and out of consciousness under the rubble, he clings onto the softness of your voice, the faded edges of your smile burnt into his memory. He cannot make sense of your shape anymore, it’s a blotch of ink in his vision, something he recalls but cannot fully visualize. His mind reaches out to you, so close yet so far away. With every step he takes, you grow smaller, and still, you patiently wait for him with your arms outstretched. Like old times. You are dead. This he knows. Unequivocally dead. His digits twitch, warnings encapsulate his vision, reminding him each and every nanoclik of wakefulness that the next in-vent could be his last. He can’t help himself. Duty has led his life for so long, bestowed upon him by his creator, and he cannot fall back now and forgo his promise to protect Cybertron. But he is weak; pain receptors growing numb from the boulders crushing his frame, limbs quivering from a battle long lost. Primus forgive him, allow him this final comfort. Cycles ago, your crew had first established contact with Cybertron. It was a message sent across space, a simple signal that would tie your fates forever. The Council debated answering, fearing you could pose a threat to their planet, but there were only three ships with only a handful of members each. They chose fraternization over static silence. Communication was difficult, but somehow, someway, you understood each other just enough to arrive on their planet. Surprise struck him when he saw your kind, small, frail and soft to the touch. Your people were just as startled as them, but in your optics he saw something greater; a delight in meeting fellow sentient beings. They took in your crew and treated them like brothers and sisters, communicating through gestures and drawings. You could not speak their language, but they could learn yours. Knowledge was shared among you, tales of your worlds, their history, your technology, your people… Perhaps your place among your own was what drew him to you. Standing on the sidelines, you watched and took notes, occasionally serving as a sketch artist to exchange information. The others were mingling with the Council, asking questions, telling stories, showing what machinery brought you to them. But you kept your distance, politely nodding along and busying yourself with your notebooks. When he approached you, taking slow careful steps, you nearly dropped your pen in shock. His size was already intimidating by Cybertronian standards, but for a human? He could barely imagine the primal fear you felt when met with someone of his stature. You recovered quickly despite it, uneasy but maintaining your composure. Having knelt down to your level, he offered you servo, the sand within it shaping into a miniature version of your ship. You blinked, clutching your notebook to your chassis. Then, after a drawn out silence, you smiled, optics gleaming with wonder. That was the start of your companionship. You would sit in his servo, looking up at the night sky, speaking words he could barely understand but tried his hardest to learn. He recalls bits and pieces, meanings he managed to grasp through what you taught him. It wasn’t long until your time together grew intimate. As a prime, he was so focused on his duties that he barely got the chance to relax, much less interface. Things were… difficult due to the size difference, but there were workarounds. Charge runs through his fuel lines at the memory. How you would brush your digits against his valve, testing the waters so to say, before slipping your servo inside of it. There was no true relief in the interface, no way for you to properly satisfy each other. But you were both content, savoring every moment of your companionship. You would press your lips to his spike, working your servo in and out of his gushing valve. It made his frame shudder and his optics glitch.

He touched you much the same way, digits rubbing at the sensitive nerves between your thighs, gazing down at you lovingly as you grit your denta and arched your optical ridge in pleasure.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Does a bad ending ruin a good story? A comprehensive guide to my feelings on the Arcane finale

*Spoilers for Arcane season 2*

So. You just finished the show, and you're staring at the screen in bewilderment. Perhaps you’re even with some friends, shouting words of confusion to the rolling credits. Try as you might, you can barely hear them, because a single thought echoes in your mind and pushes away any other:

“What the fuck just happened?”

If this happened to you, then boy oh boy, we're on the same boat. If it didn't, well, I'm glad for you friend! We might not have been looking for the same things from this story. But this is my post, meaning I will give my opinions (which are objectively correct because this is my blog and I'm the mayor here) on everything that Arcane broke and failed to deliver in its last 2 episodes.

Let's start with characters, and why none of it mattered.

Jinx symbolized the fear we all have of not belonging somewhere, of not having anything to call home or anyone to call a family. Her anger stemmed from wanting to carve a place in a society and a world that had so harshly rejected her (i.e., Vi leaving her). Her existence was a huge middle finger to all that refused to let her live, a fight to build herself something wholeheartedly hers (hence her being an inventor). It was proof that despite the world telling her she was better off dead, she would never stop fighting to prove it wrong.

… and she died.

She died, and that means all the suffering she went through to exist simply amounted to nothing. She left nothing behind either, no trace of a legacy, something that would have left her mark on that world. Isha, the child she raised as a daughter, died. Silco, who she taught love and care to, died. Vander, who she brought back from years of trauma and torture, died. Jinx fought so hard to live, and in the end, it was as if she hadn't lived at all.

Viktor is most certainly the character that made me the angriest, because of how attached I am to the person he is in season 1 (and even the first two acts of season 2 to an extent). Everything that made him so beautifully complex… gone, in about 10 minutes. There was NO reason to make him the surprise ultimate villain. Viktor had always, always been a pacificist. That's why he was so adamant Hextech not be used as a weapon. That's why every time there were chances to test hextech to hurt, he tried to learn how it could heal. Yes, his fusion with the hexcore had changed him; but NOT into a man who didn't care for human life. He wanted to help all the hurt done to his people. People like him, living day to day in the undercity, but who had never gotten a chance to crawl out of their hell. His community was about HEALING, not controlling. The very IDEA that he would accept killing innocents and ally with Noxus, the warmongers, is so ridiculous I could genuinely laugh if it didn't make me so angry. The show needed an easy, black-and-white showdown to conclude a story that would have needed so much more time to tell. And they chose Viktor. Because it was the easy way out. It was the perfect foil to the return of the Golden Boy. And that PISSES me off.

There is this really shitty concept in popular media that the handicapped/chronically ill character is always in the pursuit of being “cured” and that they need outside help to realize “that their imperfections make them perfect”. Fuck. You. As someone with chronic illness and who just finished beating blood cancer, fuck you. That realization, that you're you with every part of your being, even the ‘bad’ ones, cannot come from outside. It's YOU who needs to learn it. It's you who needs to discover how your body and your mind are so much stronger than you previously thought them to be. Not your lover, your family, your friends, or God forbid your able-bodied lab partner. You. Others may tell you as many times as they want your illness doesn't define you; it won't matter until you, yourself, have understood why and have accepted it. Having someone swoop in and “fix” Viktor with a “you don't have to change uwu” is just….. so reductive I can barely find the words for it. That was VIKTOR’S path to find, and not Jayce’s role to find it for him.

Also… Viktor wasn't trying to ‘fix’ his leg; he was trying to find a cure to a deadly illness ravaging his body and no doubt the bodies of many in Zaun. The HELL is the message here??? That he should have just rolled with it because the deadly illness was part of him??? Again, as a cancer survivor. Fuck right off.

Of course, I can't just ignore the hideous get-up they put him in at the end. The man who laughed at Jayce's narcissism….you want me to believe… he would put on that fucking edge lord costume and not DIE of embarrassment??? The design makes no sense from a narrative standpoint either: if his cane has become the sceptre, why is he still keeping it? He doesn't need it anymore to walk, and it's a reminder of his weaknesses as a human that he apparently hated so much. Why the hell does he keep it then? And the hexclaw. Where did that bad boy come out from?? Did you all see a secret extra bonus scene where he steals it from the lab, because I sure didn't. It doesn't add anything to his sets of powers either it’s… it's a fucking laser gun. WHY. And oh sweet god that mask… there would have been so many ways of designing a mask more meaningful than the one from LoL. This one is just. A piece of metal he spawned in embryo. Get it? Because he's made of metal now and also hiding his face means no more humanity? Get it?? Of fucking course you do, because this was the easiest and worst possible way they could have integrated the mask.

Viktor and Jayce had a fantastic dynamic in that Viktor had started out as the loner, the underdog scientist from the slums; while Jayce was the leader figure, living in comfort that made him attachingly naive, his face plastered on posters stroking his ego. The shift is delightfully slow, as Viktor gains in confidence and determination to see his invention through no matter what, while Jayce is confronted with harsher and harsher truths about the world he so blissfully ignored. By Act 2, they have fully switched roles: Viktor is now the leader figure, a symbol of the future for the people, while Jayce is desperately alone, both physically in the hexcore anomaly, and mentally in being the only one who has seen the devastating future. Excellent stuff. What would be a great way to push these parallels further and to show the complexity of these characters, and perhaps how they can balance each other out? Well, Fortiche sure didn't know, now Viktor is the bad bad guy and Jayce is mister hero. Zaun bad, Piltover good. All nuance, gone. Proving that indeed, the man from poverty and inequality turns out evil, while the one from comfort and wealth turns out to be the hero of the story. The whole “giving a warm speech to the bad villain about how you care for them, somehow immediately changing their ways, and dying together to save the world” can work well in shounen anime where friendship is magic, or in the Ben 10 live-action movie (yes, that's the plot, I thought that wasn't deep when I was like 7 years old so imagine now), but not in a show like Arcane. Not with the ethical and moral nuances they have accustomed us to.

And now, let's explore...

Plotholes and incomplete storylines galore.

Ekko’s tree and the contamination of Zaun from Piltover? Fuck that. The huge showdown between the two opposite yet sister cities, like Jinx and Vi, that has been built up for two seasons? Fuck that. And for what?

For the Noxus sequel teaser.

Mel’s plotline about finding her mage origins had NOTHING to do with the main plot. Absolutely nothing. It added 0 twists or intrigues to the story, and served no purpose except making her a deus ex machina for a broken ending. All it was there for was to lay the base for a following show on Noxus and the Black Rose. Time that could have been spent either giving Mel a proper arc related to the plot, or giving all the other rushed character arcs more development.

Finally, and I deeply regret having to say this, but… the end of Vi and Cait's relationship was majorly disappointing to me. As an LGBTQ+ person myself, who feels attraction to women, it was a delight to have such a realistically portrayed w/w relationship on screen. Popular media tends to portray m/m relationships as these doomed, sinful feelings between two repressed guys, while w/w relationships are shown to just be all sunshine and rainbows and teddy bears, because two women together are a cute little accessory to have on screen. It’s non-threatening. But not Cait and Vi; their bond was raw, and rocky, with violent lows and passionate highs in a world that seemed to want to keep them apart. Their separation and the introduction of Maddie showed the reality of a w/w relationship, where fights and cheating ARE things that happen, because they're two adult women with different beliefs, objectives, an trauma. Putting them back together, as if nothing had happened, without giving us anything about how their relationship would have evolved from the breakup? I'd never thought I'd say this, but it's too easy. How about Caitlyn's literal descent into fascism??? We’ll just ignore that? Vi will just ignore that?

As with everything else, this last part of Arcane destroys all the complex emotions that exist between these characters, the resentment, the anger, the frustration, built upon years of different social conditioning… gone. Because they had 2 episodes left to wrap it up, and there was no way to make a coherent and natural transition to them getting back together with that kind of time. And can I just say. The decision to have Vi, symbol of Zaun, go down on Caitlyn, symbol of Piltover and enforcers, in a prison cell that has held innocent Zaunites and represents their complete lack of freedom as individuals by a cop state that oppresses them….. yeah, bad. So bad.

And… the multiverse. Yup, they went the multiverse route. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing: the concept of multiverses itself is interesting in a vacuum, and quite a few properties have managed to make it work coherently. But it has been terribly overused and bastardized in serialized content in the last few years, for the simple reason that it's extremely practical. Why make a new, original series when you already have worlds and characters that are developed, and come with built-in fans? It's a money-saving hack! Why dedicate yourself to an ending that is meaningful in its finality and wraps the story properly when you can just say “It's just one ending in the multiverse!”. It takes away any accountability to the fans, and leaves the door open to a potential other version of the story! The perfect combo!

…except in practice, it comes off as lazy in a medium where that trope is overly saturated (don't start me on Marvel), and like a cowardly way of escaping from the responsibility of really taking the time to craft a good, solid ending to end your story.

So, with all that said: does it ruin Arcane for me? No, absolutely not, and I don’t think it should be for you either. The intricate artistry and raw talent that went into making the first season (and I would say a majority of the two first acts of season 2) is undeniable, and will stay undeniable. Nothing can touch that story. It will forever be one of my favourite pieces of animated media, which is saying a lot because I'm currently getting my master's degree on that topic.

However, it does give Arcane, as a whole rather than two separate seasons/entities, a very bittersweet feeling that is hard to forget. Thinking of what could have been, just if a little more time had been given to the minds behind the masterpiece you so loved… it's its own form of heartbreak. Academics have even compared it to experiencing a form of death of a loved one, before they ever got to reach their fullest potential and live the life they deserved. It may sound dramatic, but the feelings you feel in this moment, watching the horrible end of a fiction you have so much love for, are real. No one can take those away from you. You're allowed to grieve the loss of something that meant a lot to you.

Tldr; No, Arcane is not a bad series because of its rushed and incomprehensible ending. As they say, it's all about the journey, not the destination, even if that's one of the parts we tend to remember the most. And I don't know about you, but this was one of the best journeys I've ever been on.

[rose-lalondde]

every time i read a Drop of Poison the most jaw-dropping shit happens

[tobisiksi]

the disastrous life of saiki k its only a comedy anime because we see everything from kusuo's pov and the things that's happens in the episode are just a normal day for him so he sees everything like normal and even comedic

I just KNOW that if it was from someone else's pov the anime would turn into psychological horror

[satorudoll]

Baby Gumi giving Toji the sus look when he saw the love bites on Mommy's chest

Toji forgot his baby has sharp senses for a baby and baby thought Toji ate his food or hurt Mommy lol

(im starting to feel like y'all wanna turn this acc into a toji thirst vault)

Megumi always had a habit of looking up at his dad weird, the two year old boy always found his dad weird.

So he would spend most of his time toddling towards you and taking up any free space that was available next to you.

The baby boy loved to be in your arms very much, therefore everytime he woke up to find you already waiting there for him near his crib with a warm smile he'd try to get up on his small chubby legs holding onto the rail guards of the crib then forward one of his hands to make grabby hands at you.

You spent most of the day holding the baby boy in one arm and doing every other chore in your house while your husband was out for work because Megumi absolutely refused to leave your side unless he was in a deep slumber.

But as much competent the little boy was so was his dad, Megumi enjoyed all his fun time with you until it was time for his dad to come back from work, the two year old will get all pouty and fussy as soon as he'll hear the slamming of the front door and a loud "I'm home!" followed by the literal thudding of his dad's running feet.

The baby boy's brows would knit together and his tiny button nose would scrunch in distaste as soon as his dad would pull you away from his side to engulf you in a hug and lay bunch of his dirty smooches on your face.

ew, Megumi would think.

Megumi always got annoyed at his dad for doing these stuff to his mom, believing his mom was just a very nice lady to not turn his dad down.

The little boy knew his fun time was over as soon as his dad was home. He would toddle out of his room and find you sitting alone in the couch, peacefully watching television, then he would proceed to start running towards you almost tumbling in his steps just so he can climb up and sit down next to you.

But then the tall giant will casually walk in and let his entire body fall down horizontally on the couch, immediately planting his head on your thighs as well, leaving literally no space for Megumi.

The two year old boy would pause in literal disgust and shock,

This would get the two year old so mad that he would get down to pick up his toy spoon from the floor and start smacking it on the old man's head who in return would start yelling in surprise at why his son was being such a brat while you try pulling him away from his dad.

Now Megumi thought he has seen all the worst sides of his dad, until, one morning the baby boy wakes up way too early than usual due to a nightmare. Not finding you besides his crib he immediately manages to crawl up by standing on his little pile of plushies.

Megumi was indeed a smart baby.

Tumbling towards his parent's shared bedroom he could hear some weird noises coming as he got closer,

he was sure most of it were your voices though?

But you sounded like you were in pain??

He slowly opens the door which was already a bit agape,

he really couldn't understand what was going on since he was way too small and his vision could only go up so far.

But then he hears the loud sound of what he considered to be a slap along with the rough angry voice of his dad followed by your sobs,

he cannot believe his dad was hurting you ! Oh he always believed his dad was a mad man,

He was definitely worst than the monsters under his crib !

and that's all it takes for the baby boy's bottom lips to quiver and let the loudest wail out,

He felt like that helped because through his blurry vision he sees his dad immediately spring out of the bed, murmuring a string of what you taught him were "bad words" while fumbling around for something.

Your head pops out of the covers as soon as you were done fixing your night gown but the two year old was way too busy crying and rolling fat drops of tears down his red cheeks to realize that you had taken him in your arms.

"Gumi- baby what's wrong- " you try to rock him in your arms but that didn't seem to be helping,

"you are just like me kid, all grumpy early in the morning" His dad tries casually playing it off after slumping down besides you both,

but the 'just like me' causes the baby's cries to get even worst making you pass your husband a mad glare for saying that,

Toji stares at you both offended.

"I'm sorry, mommy wasn't there this morning- Won't happen again honey! I'll play with you all day today, we wont be able to play if you keep crying!" you smile as he starts to slowly quite down at those words.

"What a good little boy" You praise, slowly caressing his head and moving his little black baby hair away from his forehead.

His pout is still on his face as his vision moves down from your face but then it stops,

while Toji was joking at you about how he deserves the 'good boy' title as well and you were busy brushing him off, you both failed to notice the little boy's growing frown as he stared at all the purple bruises around your neck and collar bones.

He feels his vision start to get blurry again and then its there again,

His mouth opens wide showing off the two new set of teeth as he starts crying bloody murder.

You gasp in panic not understanding what had happened again.

As you tried to rock him again he tried getting away from your arms and instead stretching his hand towards his dad as he continued balling his eyes out.

That confused you and Toji,

He has never chosen Toji before for comfort as long as you were there,

But Toji was a little too happy to care,

"Does my little boy wanna be with daddy??" He coos, stretching his arms out for you to hand the baby to him,

"I knew you always had a soft spot for me kiddo" he gushes as soon as he takes his baby boy in his arms.

But the happiness didn't seem to have lasted long, because as soon as Megumi gets close to his dad's face his little hands flung up to grip on the locks of his dad's hair.

"What's u-" He yelps when the baby boy starts to twist and turn his fists while he continues to babble something only another baby could make out and sob like he was the one in pain,

"Oh god- baby you shouldn't do that come here-"

You try pulling Megumi back in your arms, but he is willing to take Toji's head along because he just wasn't loosening his grip.

"Gumi ! mommy will cry if you don't pay attention to her !" You make a pouty face and put your hands on your hips while Toji was busy yelping and cursing not caring that the little boy could hear everything

But that immediately gets the baby's attention because he instantly turns his head around and starts crawling to you as his cries slowly starts dying down.

"Demon child !" Toji points as he runs his hands through the locks of his hair, rubbing at the area that his son almost got him bald at,

You lift the baby up in your arms as you look at Toji,

"and don't you curse again in front of our baby" you knit your brows before turning your attention to the two year old and wiping the tears away from his puffy cheeks.

"So I'm the bad guy here??" Toji questions, looking defeated.

You shrug and walk away with Megumi in your arms who had finally gotten quite.

Oh you and Toji had a lot of explaining to do to this little boy, but that wasn't a headache you both were willing to take for Monday morning.

Maybe later at night, when Megumi will seemingly be a bit less pissed at his dad.

☆ — REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

[tired-teacher-blog]

Adult Bakugou is worlds apart from how he used to be as a teen.

His prominent scowl is now replaced with a more relaxed expression, and his tense shoulders are now a lot looser.

He is no longer on edge and wishing for everyone's demise, as his years of experience in the pro hero world have taught him patience and empathy.

He's had fan girls lining up for a chance to receive some kind of acknowledgement from him since his first years as a UA student, and it's been -for the longest time- something that further pissed him off and ruined his mood as he didn't need the added attention.

_ "I still cannot believe you're the same guy who yelled at me and stormed out when I first confessed my feelings, at that moment you were as bratty as you used to be when we were still in school." you murmured softly in remembrance, tracing the faint scar on his right cheek, the same one he acquired years ago during that ruthless war everyone still remembers to this day.

To you, he was that one annoying friend whom you had to sit down and listen to while he complained about the countless love letters clogging up his locker, so when the day came -not too long ago- that you shyly revealed your feelings for the man, his reaction was nothing short of expected.

_ "Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?" he tilted his head to meet your gaze, blinking a few times as a hint of blush dusted the tips of his ears, "besides, I already told you I only reacted the way I did because I thought you were making fun of me."

_ "That's fair, but I'm glad you gave me a chance to explain myself.." you paused for a second to adjust your posture and straddle his slender waist instead of leaning against him like you had been moments before, a smile found its way to your lips as you carried on, "you've really come a long way from the brat you used to be."

His thin eyebrows raised in apparent surprise, but his firm grasp on your thighs remained unshaken, "I have?"

_ "You truly have." a giggle escaped you as you cradled his handsome face, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before pulling back to admire the mysterious smirk curving up his lips.

_ "Care to explain?" but he didn't really need the clarification, he is one of the most intelligent people you know, and is sure to have noticed the change occuring in himself without anyone spelling it out, but you still went along with his charade, just to please him.

_ "Well, let's see.." your gaze shifted and lips pursed as you tapped your chin in fake contemplation before continuing, "you're more tolerable now, I mean you're kinda tame and boring like a sweet grandpa, and also.."

_ "Hey come on," he interrupted your obvious trick with an amused chuckle and a playful smack on your butt, "well I still got the girl didn't I?"

_ "Yes you did."

His eyes gleamed hearing your words, and his arms slid up to surround your back and bring you closer to himself before groaning the demand you knew was coming, "kiss me then."

That was all it took for you to close the remaining distance between you two and claim his lips in a breathtaking lip lock.

[fireboltposts]

When SKZ finds your well-organized Korean notes

A/N : This idea randomly popped up in my head when I was learning my Spanish. Picture credit to the owner. Also this is the first time I've tried writing for all the members together.

• Where each member suddenly stumbles upon your neat and well-organized notes for learning Korean. They knew you were studying but didn't realise you went so far as to maintaining an old diary of 2013 for writing down random notes, swear words, grammar rules, slangs, idioms, vocabulary, tests where you had graded yourself with a red pen with marks like 16/20 or 19/25 and your signature like a school teacher and even some phrases learnt from the boys.

• Chris

He found your Korean diary on a random Tuesday evening while he was searching for his laptop charger. He wondered what on earth were you doing with a 2013 diary when he had gifted you the latest one on New Year's Day. Not one to read someone's diary, but his interest was piqued because of a SKZ bookmark hanging out of the diary. He opens it curiously, flipping through the pages that contained grammar rules, self-graded tests with your signature (which he can't help but giggle at), and even an entire section labelled "what Channie taught me", containing phrases and words he had previously taught you, that he himself had forgotten, which little notes on the side in pencil on how to pronounce stating that "Channie says it like this". He smiles to himself, feeling a surge of warmth as he realizes you're working so hard to understand and connect with him and the group on a deeper level. He chuckles at the part where you had stated that he says a word in a certain tone and he's a little surprised to see how observant you were to how he spoke Korean that you had noticed such little things even he didn't know. He is moved by your dedication and effort. It meant so much to him that you wanted to understand him better and also the rest of the boys.

• Minho

Minho's looking around your room when his eyes fall on a notebook open on your bed, with pages full of neat handwriting. Intrigued, he walks over and begins to look through them, noting how well-organized and thoughtful each section is. The color-coding in different color ink, the little drawings, and the way you’ve broken down each concept and it’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into learning. He spots a few phrases he's used like "Don't be silly" written in Hangul. He feels a strange pride in knowing that you had gone through so much trouble of noting down things he has said and how observant you were to the other members' words and he feels a soft warmth on his chest. When you notice him looking, he gives you an approving nod. "Your notes are impressive," he says, with a faint smile. "You’re serious about learning, huh? I respect that." He’s not overly sentimental, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. "Just make sure you don’t learn any bad habits from the guys. I'll teach you the proper way to speak," he adds with a teasing glint in his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

• Changbin

Changbin flips your notes open curiously and starts reading. The first thing he notices is how neatly you've written grammar concepts and phrases with example sentences using names from the K industry like "Changbin ate an apple", "Joshua cannot swim", "Jaejoong, go to the market !". As he goes through, he can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for your dedication. You’ve put in so much work, and it’s clear that you’re genuinely interested in understanding the language. He chuckles when he sees a section labeled "Cute Phrases learnt from Binnie," where you’ve written down a few things he’s said, noting them with little hearts and stars. When you return, he grins at you, holding up the notebook. "These are really impressive," he says, giving you an encouraging smile. "You’ve put in a lot of effort. If you keep it up, you’ll be fluent in no time!". There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he looks at you, feeling touched that you care so much about connecting with him and the rest of the group in their language.

• Hyunjin

Hyunjin finds your notes when you’re both sitting on the couch. He’s flipping through some things on the table when he spots them, open to a section on descriptive words. At first, he’s just curious, but as he goes through them, he realizes how detailed your notes are. You’ve even added pronunciation tips in English and marked down specific tones you’d heard him use, adding little side notes in pencil like, "Try to sound softer, like Hyunjin." Seeing his own influence in your notes makes his heart race. He’s touched to know you’re paying so much attention to the language, even noting his speaking style. There’s something endearing about how you’re working so hard to speak Korean well, not just to understand him but to match his expressions too. "Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?" he murmurs, glancing over at you with a soft smile. He leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he flips through more pages, admiring your hard work. "If you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could teach you some new words too… you know, personal ones that only we would know or swear words, whichever you want", he winks, enjoying the thought of having something special shared between the two of you.

• Han

Han stumbles upon your notes one day while you’re hanging out. He flips through them casually, but the more he reads, the more impressed he becomes. Your notes are detailed, organized, and incredibly thorough. You’ve written down vocabulary, grammar rules, and even broken down complex sentences into parts. He’s particularly amused when he sees a section labeled "Funny Phrases" with things he’s said, complete with little notes like, "Han said this when he was being silly." He feels a warmth in his chest, touched that you’ve been paying attention to his quirks and speech patterns. When he looks up at you, there’s a playful glint in his eye. "I didn’t know you were working this hard!" he exclaims. "Your notes are so good; I think I’d actually want to borrow them myself!". Han’s admiration is genuine, and he’s a little flustered by how much he enjoys seeing your dedication. "Anytime you want to practice with me, let me know," he offers, giving you a shy smile. "We could make it fun, you know, with little games and stuff and next time I'll take a test and put my signature on there and an A+ and a smiley if you get it all correct", he said with a wink.

• Felix

When Felix flips through the pages and finds your neat handwriting in Hangul , he's charmed by how much dedication you've put into it, especially when he saw you noted expressions and idioms he used labelled as "Sunshine Lixie's expressions", complete with little stars. His heart flutters at the sight. "Your notes are amazing!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "It’s so cool that you’re learning, and it’s adorable how you even have a section just for my phrases." He pats your shoulder proudly, feeling touched and a bit shy. "I could help you practice anytime you want," he adds, his voice softening, secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

• Seungmin

Seungmin finds your notes by accident when he’s helping you clean up after a study session. He notices them lying open on the table and can’t resist taking a look. As he reads through the pages, he’s impressed by your organization and the level of detail. You’ve made vocabulary lists, highlighted grammar points, and even written down little notes to help you remember certain words. He brings it up later, saying, "Your notes are really impressive. You’re actually doing a great job, and if you keep at it, I think you’ll become fluent in no time." He looks at you thoughtfully, adding, "If you ever need help with pronunciation or understanding something or maybe adding some more to the "Seungmin's Tips" list, I’d be happy to help."

• Jeongin

When the maknae finds your neat diary that you've kept for learning Korean, he is a little surprised but also very impressed at you progress as the self graded "test scores" went higher and as he also remembers some difficult words meant for upper Intermediate learners you'd used a week ago while talking to him. He chuckles when he sees his own "Innie’s Words" section, where you’ve noted down phrases he’s said. Later, he brings it up with a smile, saying, "Your notes are really detailed. It’s so cool that you’re putting in so much effort to learn our language." There’s a sense of pride in his voice as he looks at you, genuinely impressed by your dedication. "If you ever need help, I’m here. I could even teach you some more slang, if you’re up for it Y/N ! And next time, I hope to see you score full marks on your little self tests".

A/N : Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you liked it. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 4

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

Chapter Summary: JMKink is nothing and everything that you need and want it to be. Meanwhile, you are nothing and everything that Joel imagines you to be.

WC: 13.8k

TW: Warnings are below the cut in small red, feel free to skip them if you want to avoid chapter spoilers, but there are some descriptions of reader so I would classify this as more of an original character versus a blank canvas female reader.

AN: I actually cannot believe how many of you reached out all excited about September 1st approaching. From the bottom of my cold dead heart, thank you!! The more I write this, the more I picture video game Joel, so do with that what you will haha. Thanks so @ak-vintage and @lotusbxtch for beta reading for me. Support banners and dividers by @saradika-graphics. I recently got promoted at work (yay me), but the job is now waaaaaay more work than before, so enjoy this chapter slowly because I am not sure when I will be writing chapter 5.

Series Masterlist || My Masterlist

TW: p in v, dirty talk, sub dom relationships, age gap, alcohol consumption, flirting, voyeurism, description of a threesome and other sexual acts, use of sex toys, nipple clamps, female orgasm, talks of neglectful parents during childhood and loss of a spouse. Mutual pining.

“Hnnng, fuck yes, daddy.” He’s rutting into you deeper than anyone else ever has. Long, slow strokes of his heavy cock sending you into a spiral of white hot, sparkling nirvana. 

“So fuckin’ wet n’ tight. Fuck, sweet girl.” His deep voice devours you - rattling around your skull, echoing slightly as if you’re in a large, empty room. 

Everything is black; darker than the onyx pits of his eyes. You’re not sure if you’re up or down, and you’re either blindfolded or have your face buried in a pillow as he fucks into you from behind. All you can feel is the pleasurable push and pull of his thick, vein lined cock slamming in and out of you. The vast darkness and the feeling of him filling you so full is overwhelming

“Please, daddy. Please. I’m so close.”

The soft mushroom head of his cock is kissing right where he taught you to crave it, and you wouldn’t be surprised if that spongy spot had ‘Property of Joel Miller’ branded on it by now. Within seconds of him pressing inside of you tonight you had completely submitted to him; surrendering to the darkness, the sensation, the exquisite pleasure. This is exactly where you were meant to be, and he’s the only one you’d want to be here with. It has never been this good, and even with your limited experience you know that it will probably never be this good with anyone else. 

“Don’t stop this time. Please don’t stop this time.” You’re an aching, crying, desperate crumb of yourself; wholly at his mercy.  

“No coming until I say.” His voice seems further away with every word and dread settles in your stomach as it all starts to fade.

“No! Nonono. Please no.” You feel a hot tear run down your face as the euphoria fades. You can barely feel or hear him anymore as little slits of yellow light appear. You blink once, twice. After a third long blink your bedroom comes into view.

Fuck. 

This has been the start of your new three part morning routine for the last few nights, since that kiss with Joel, since filling out your preferences and signing all the waivers. Since being asked to submit test results and proof of birth control. Since Joel Miller became your Dom. Night after night you dream of him fucking you, and night after night, right as you’re about to fall over the edge, he tells you not to come until he says and you wake up.

The second part of your morning routine is a lot more cathartic and vocal - very vocal. Your newly painted cotton candy pink nails (anything to stay distracted and busy) dig into the soft cotton of your pillow as you pull it out from behind your head, pressing it to your face and screaming until your throat feels raw.

Fuck.

When all the breath is pushed from your lungs, you put your pillow back and kick off the blanket. Your bare feet drag along the worn down carpet of your bedroom to the cold and cheap linoleum of your bathroom. You pee, avoiding your clit at all costs when you clean up. You know you’re down fucking bad when even the scratchy 1-ply toilet paper is enough to make you almost crumble. 

Part three of your new morning ritual is probably the part that shocks you the most. You change into leggings and a tank top, slipping a ten dollar bill and your house key into the side of your sports bra. The old springs of your mattress creak as you sit to slip on socks and your lavender colored runners, that you honestly forgot you owned until the morning after your twenty second birthday. You sneak out of your apartment, careful not to wake your roommate and jog down the stairs from your fourth floor suite to step into the cool March morning air.

Fuck. 

After shaking out each leg, you start to run. There’s no technique to your form or a planned out route. You leave your phone behind, only sounds are the morning traffic and your struggling breath to keep you company. It's just you, pushing your body to forget how badly you’re throbbing between your thighs and trying to erase the feeling of him. As you turn the corner at the end of your block you can see the bright green grass and leafy trees of the park. Your calf muscles burn with every step, but it’s not enough; you can still feel him. As you reach the park your lungs start to burn; they feel like they’re filling with fluid. Your ankles protest with every strike of your feet against the concrete. Finally, just as you swear you’re about to meet your maker it happens, the sweet release you’re pushing for. Finally every trace of the ghost of Joel Miller disappears. 

Your legs slow below you and you clutch your side, wandering lazily around the park. The rush of blood through your ears is nearly deafening, almost completely drowning out the chirping of the birds and the trickling of the water in the large stone fountain. You suck in quick, deep breaths, essentially doing everything and anything not to pass out. You’re free from him, if only for a little bit, as you fight against what feels like death knocking on your door. 

As you walk home you grab a coffee - black with just a splash of almond milk, apologizing to the barista as you hand her the sweaty ten dollar bill that was tucked into your bra and begin mentally scheduling your day. It’s Monday, which means you don’t work today and you can focus on studying and laundry. Your LSAT retake is just a few days away, today is your last full free day, and you have to get as much studying and practicing done as possible. The dread of taking that test again has your hot coffee doing flips in your stomach. Getting some college letters would really help put you at ease. You know you applied early but it would be nice to know if you need to continue to push or if you can finally rest. 

When you get back to your apartment your roommate has already left for her classes. You check your phone and your heart lurches in your chest at Joel’s name across your cracked lock screen. There’s been no contact between the two of you since Friday night. You slide open the text with shaky fingers

Good Morning, sweet girl. Are you ready to learn? 

You bite your lip as you respond. 

Yes, please, Mr Miller. 

You stare at the text thread for a while. Although you aren’t sure if a total of three texts can be considered a thread, but you stare anyway trying to will more messages into existence. After a few minutes you give up, locking your phone and stripping your bedsheets. The trek to the laundry in the building feels like it takes forever and you rush back to check your phone. There’s no response but you do have a little red bubble on your JMK app. You excitedly tap on the app to see a new menu titled ‘Dominant Preferences’ added at the top. When you click it, everything from your Reddit wormholes is revealed.

 ‘Joel Miller likes to participate in bondage play, nipple play, toy play, dirty talk, oral sex (both giving and receiving), and fingering. He doesn’t like brat taming, but is willing to participate in scenes where his submissive needs to be put in her place occasionally. He never has sexual intercourse - vaginal or anal, this is a hard limit for him and his submissives need to understand that there is zero room for negotiation on this matter. He’s very open to impact play, but believes that only good girls should get spankings.’

You click off the little ‘Read and Accepted’ box at the bottom without hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to accept, he texts you seconds after your finger has made contact with the screen. 

8pm tomorrow. I’m sending a car for you. You should dress comfortably.

The same kind faced man from your birthday waits for you outside your apartment at 7:30 the next night. He opens the door, smiling gently at you as you hop in; leather and new car smell wafting around you. During the drive to the club you learn his name is Arthur, but my friends call me Cap. 

“Can I ask you a question, Cap?” You ask as downtown comes into view.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you drive all of Joel’s, umm, do you drive lots of women around for Joel?”

He chuckles knowingly from the driver's seat, glancing into the rearview mirror at you. “No ma’am. Joel is a pretty secretive man. I have driven him places when he’s alone, or I drive Tommy’s subs, but never Joels.”

You nod and look out the window. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you.

Cap rushes to open the door when he pulls up to JMKink. The club is in a different building than Joel’s office; that was in the tall building across the street. Three bright and expansive floors of that red stone faced building belonged to JM Inc. Assumingly, the home base for all the businesses he has his hands in. This building, however, is smaller amongst the tall skyscrapers of the Austin skyline. The entire building is coated in a shiny black chrome, from the steel framing to the windows, except for the golden JMK logo on the front door. You take a calming breath before heading up the steps, the blacked out glass door slides open automatically.

Your dark high heeled boots click on the black and honey flecked marble, the floor reminding you of Joel’s eyes. You wish the marble would suck you into it so you could live in that feeling you get when Joel looks at you. Where it might be seen as cold and intimidating to others, to you it feels warm and inviting, almost familiar, and that little box of feelings in the back of your mind stirs a little bit. 

He told you to dress comfortably tonight, and you felt most at ease in a deep green sweater dress and knee high heeled boots. The dress just barely skims your thighs, making your legs look long and toned. You could use a tan, but it’s only March, everyone in Texas could use a tan at this point. You left your hair down in loose curls and kept your makeup minimal, as always. 

There are three people in the small foyer. Two stunning women stand behind the hostesses desk in matching black dresses and collars. To the right of them stands a man who looks like he could kill you with his pinkie. He’s also dressed in all black, and stands in front of a large door. Everything here seems like it’s meant to intimidate but all you can see and feel is the safety that comes with knowing Joel Miller. 

One of the women looks up at you, smiling comfortingly and asks for your name. Before you can respond, Joel's honey lined voice answers her. The sound of your name on his tongue feels like taking a breath of fresh winter air. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your own breath leaping in your throat as you spin slowly to meet his gaze. There’s no other way to around it, Joel Miller is fucking exquisite. His slightly outgrown curls are pushed back, silver reflecting off his temples and throughout his beard. Tonight he’s wearing a deep midnight blue Tom Ford suit with one jacket button done up, underneath he’s wearing a crisp white t-shirt, paired with brown dress shoes and what you assume will be a matching belt. One of his hands is tucked in the pocket of pants that literally look like they weren’t made for him, the other hangs loose at his side and you catch that gold ring again.  

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he speaks to everyone in the lobby, “You’re all to remember her name. She is my guest, my only guest, and as far as you’re all concerned she’s the most important person in this club. Understand?”

The little box of feelings lifts its lid a little. No, you say to the box, banishing it back to its dark corner.

A jumbled mess of ‘yes’ and ‘sorry’ fills the lobby but the only thing that’s clear to you is Joel as he wanders over, placing his hand on the small of your back, and leading you towards the large black door that the lethal looking man is guarding. As he pulls you into his side his voice quiets, his words a low growl meant only for you. “Hi, sweetheart.” When he sponges a soft kiss to your temple you press your lips together to stop the giggle that’s trying to burst out of you. Joel Miller makes you giddy in a way that you haven’t felt since you were much younger and saw a One Direction music video for the first time. 

This afternoon, you had your easily predicted moment of panic. As with every decision you’ve ever made, you started to think that this wasn’t the right one. Maybe Tommy was the safer choice. Maybe you’ve bit off more than you can chew, or girlbossed too close to the proverbial sun. Or in kink terms, flirted too closely with the St Andews Cross. But now, being here tucked tightly against Joel's side as he guides you into your first experience with the world of kink you couldn’t feel any more sure of your decision. 

You hold your breath as the shiny black marble door opens, this feels like one of those big climatic moments you see in the movies, like you know the main character's life is about to change, and a nervous excitement buzzes through your veins. As the club comes into view it’s nothing like you thought. For starters, there aren’t cages or naked people around, and at first glance it looks just like a lounge in a high end hotel or restaurant. JMKink is beautiful, breathtaking.

 Light pine flooring is set in a herringbone pattern across the entire club. Directly in front of you are a few tall tables and then, situated in the middle of the space, is a large black marble bar. The bartender is surrounded by a halo of soft chiffon light that casts down from a brushed gold chandelier. The tables and bar top have tealight candles on them, making the entire thing feel sensual and soft. It’s just dimly lit enough that you can’t see beyond the bar from here. Joel guides you gently to the right. The booths that line the wall are only illuminated by the flickering candle on the table. Three of the booths are roped off, guarded by a tank of a man in a black suit. As Joel leads you towards them, you notice each of those tables have a gold plated reserved sign along with a name; Joel, Tommy and Tess. 

Confusion swirls in your brain at the romantic feeling the club gives off. Part of you expected to walk into a sex dungeon or that red room that Christian took Anastasia to, but you definitely weren’t expecting this. If this place was just a bit brighter you could imagine studying here on weekends. 

This isn’t a sex club, there’s no way.

As you slide into the furthest booth you’re able to see a small stage on the back wall and empty dance floor looking area on the other side of the bar. You can feel Joel’s warm gaze on you as you look around with wide eyes. Right when you’re almost convinced that you interpreted the information you found on Reddit wrong, your eyes land on the far left side of the room.

No, now that you see if from this angle, you are indeed in a kink club; a well stocked kink club based on the entire sex shop in the corner. You feel your cheeks flush and you dart your eyes towards Joel, pushing at your cuticle under the table, smiling shyly at him.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice is syrupy and warm as two drinks land on the table. Whiskey neat for him and some sort of pink martini for you.

“Nothing..I just, it’s not what I expected,” you swallow the sand that’s found its way into your throat at seeing all those sex toys just out on display in the corner and flick your eyes towards your drink.

“That's a cosmopolitan. I can get you something else if you want, sweetheart. The female staff here seems to love them.”

“No, I should have said thank you. I’m sorry.” His hand comes to meet yours as it’s picking furiously at the non-existent skin of your nail bed. He wraps his hand tightly around yours, and brings them to rest on the top of the table together.

“Take a breath, sweet girl. You’re ok.” His words wrap around you tightly, calming you. You’re ok. Your heart rate slows and you relax into the plush velvet lined booth a little bit, smiling sheepishly up at Joel. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your free hand grabs the martini glass and you bring it to your nose, it smells like cranberry and lime.

As you take a small sip Joel says, “You really don’t have to drink it, baby girl. I can get you whatever.”

The vodka burns away any sand that remains in your throat. It’s tart, and dangerously delicious. You can see yourself getting very fucked up these with your girlfriends one day soon. “No, I like it. Thank you.”

After putting the glass safely on the table, Joel lets go of your hand, wraps his arm around your waist and slides you across the seat, pressing you to his side. “Is this ok?”

JOEL

His cock twitches at the little hum you make in agreement. You lift your leg closest to him and rest it over his under the table. He squeezes your side gently, sinking into the comfort of you and grabs his whiskey. “So if this isn’t what you thought, what were you expecting?”

He loves the way you blush a little before answering him. “People just, you know, it’s a sex club, so just having sex here.”

He lowers his head to yours and whispers just for you, “There are people having sex here, sweet girl.”

He laughs to himself as your eyes narrow and you look around at the other people in the bar. “Not out here, just because you’re in a sex club doesn’t mean you have to consent to seeing or hearing people fuck. Or to be having sex yourself, really.” He loves the way you look at him with surprise at his boldness. He cocks his head towards a guarded door between the stage and booths along the wall, “But behind that door - well, people are indulging as we speak.”

He watches the small shiver of your spine, pulling back to take a sip of his whiskey, allowing you time to look around and become comfortable in your surroundings. He watches your perfect lips part, finding himself jealous of the rim of the glass as you take another sip. Great, first spoons and now glasses. As he watches your neck work to liquid down he says, “So did you leave that little pussy alone like I asked?”

Your head whips to face him, he can’t quite place your facial expression. It’s a twisted  mix of fear, shyness and embarrassment, like you’re worried that someone may have heard him say pussy; but if you only knew the kinds of things happening in this club right now.

“What?” you ask shakily.

“Did you come? Or did you listen?”

“Umm…I,” he can tell that you’re flustered, and he finds you nearly irresistible like this.

“Are you nervous, sweet girl?”

He’s not sure if you realize it, but when you’re tense and he calls you by that nickname you relax a little. Your shoulders lower, the little crease in between your eyebrows softens. “No,” you say, and he’s not convinced.

Joel deepens his voice, a voice he only intends to use when you’re at the club together. Or when she’s in my bedroom. He pushes any thoughts of you outside of the confines of this space away, “Lesson number one, don’t lie to your Dom. We have to be able to trust each other.”

You look up at him through your lashes and it damn near kills him. You’re so beautiful, absolutely glowing against all the black in the room. The soft golden light bounces off of every little perfect piece of you; from the deep cupid's bow above your top lip, to the caramel highlights in your hair. He can tell by the long breath you suck in that you’re about to do that adorable thing where you ramble. “I’m nervous, but it’s an excited kind of nervous. And no, I didn’t…that thing.” 

He can’t fight the smile at your shyness, “Lesson number two, If you can’t say it then you shouldn’t be here. What thing, sweet girl?”

You close your eyes and say, “Come,” and then open your eyes to look at him again. 

So shy. So cute. I’m fucked, so very fucked, he thinks. He takes another pull of his whiskey if only to keep his hands and lips busy and to himself. He usually enjoys the burn but with you beside him it tastes sweeter.

As you bring your martini glass to your lips he commands, “One more time, this time look at me when you say it.”

Over your glass, sparkling eyes locked on him you mumble, “I didn’t come, Joel.”

“That reminds me. Lesson number three, as soon as we cross the threshold into my private room, you will refer to me as Mister Miller only. Out here, and anywhere else, I can be Joel, but in there,” he tilts his head towards a door on the other side of the stage, this one isn’t guarded, instead there’s a security pad that you need to have a microchip to unlock, “In there, I’m Mister Miller. Understand?”

He watches your throat again as you swallow, the palm of his hand tingles at the thought of wrapping his hand around it again. One of your eyebrows raises just a touch and he knows that cheeky little line of your lips. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

Your voice is husky as you say it and this time it’s him who has to fight the goosebumps rising on his skin and the icy shiver trailing down his spine. So perfect. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You don’t make eye contact with him when you say it, like you fear he might say no and he has a feeling that whoever made you feel that you needed to make plans A through Z also told you are a burden for asking questions. Joel isn’t a violent man, but would happily ring whoever’s neck did this to you.

“Of course, sweet girl.”

You turn to face him, taking a sip of your martini before you say, “Why did you send me into your basement that day?”

Joel clears his throat, weighing how transparent he wants to be in his answer, but there’s no hiding it after what he said to you in his office last week. “I’m not always going to be nice to you here, sweet girl. I’m going to push you, I might even hurt you. Yes, it’s all consensual, but I didn’t want you thinkin’ I’m some sort of monster.”

He watches as you take a long pull of the pink liquid from your glass. You set it back on the table, the earlier tremble of your hand gone as you reply, “Thank you for being honest with me. I don’t think I could ever see you as a monster, Mister Miller. I need this.”

The devious smile you give him has his cock come to life. He doesn’t fuck his subs, but he would take you right here in this booth if he could. “Would you like a tour of the club?”

Your eyes light up, “Can I bring my drink?”

“Anywhere out here, yes. But not behind those two doors.” He takes the last drink from his whiskey and then watches as you take two big gulps to finish your Cosmopolitan. Your nose crinkles at what he assumes is the burn of the vodka.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Joel says quietly, and hopefully just to himself, as he slides out of the booth.

No, you say to the little box of feelings when you overhear his whispered words, don’t start with me right now.

You follow him as he heads towards the store in the corner. Even with the condoms, dildos, plugs, gags, whips, lube and all sorts of other things on display it’s somehow still classy and beautiful. Lots of these things you’ve never seen before, or had any desire to play with, but you’re pretty sure you’d try almost anything with Joel. 

He nods at the man working the store counter and then walks you around the main area, his voice thick with passion as he speaks. “Usually on Friday and Saturday nights there's more of a nightclub feel, couples who like to swap partners can mingle with the room. This is a safe space, monogamous couples aren’t offended by the attention and everyone stays very respectful of others wishes and limits. There’s a drink limit of course, keeping things safe and consensual is my utmost priority.”  

You walk slowly, crossing the middle of the currently unoccupied dance floor, “That stage is often used for workshops or shows. This is a place to learn just as much as it’s a place to enjoy sex and kink. We have a new workshop coming up next week actually.”

The two of you stop beside the guarded door - the door Joel said people were indulging behind. You can’t help but be curious about what's happening back there, but you’re also desperately horny and unsure how you might react to whatever is unfolding in the dark. The man standing in front of the door is also dressed in a black suit, this seems to be the uniform of those who work at JM Kink, he says a cordial, “Good Evening, Joel.” Then nods at you and adds, “Miss.”

You jump as Joel’s hand connects with yours, his strong fingers linking with your slender ones. He spins you to face him. His freehand cups your chin, the band of his ring cold against your pink flushed skin. He tilts your face up to meet his, seriousness etched across his face. “My sweet girl, behind that door can be a bit intense at first. You’re an adult, but you shouldn’t have to see anything you don’t want to see. So you’re in charge in there. If you want to leave, we leave. If you want to cover your eyes, do it and I’ll lead you away. On the contrary, if you see something you like and want to get closer, then get closer. If you have questions, just ask. Ok?”

You nod, and Joel leads you through what you hope is the second life changing door of the night. The air feels different on this side of the threshold, something about it makes you feel like you’ve been plugged into a low voltage socket, you’re buzzing in an exciting and dangerous way. It’s dark enough in here that you can’t see your black boots as they click quietly against the hardwood. Joel's strong hand comes around your waist, tucking you into the side of his body protectively. After taking a deep breath, the familiar ash and leather scent of Joel intoxicating and calming your senses, you look up.

You and Joel stand intertwined at one end of a long rectangular room. Across from where you stand and down to your left and right the wall is lined with large windows. On the side of the hallway where you stand are plush chairs and couches, some of which are occupied by singles or couples as they watch what’s happening beyond the windows. 

You wonder if it gets easier, standing in a dark hall where you can watch people fucking. Joel is so calm, like a still glassy sea, meanwhile you are fighting against the tides. He stands almost statuesque, his thumb rubbing calming circles on your hip, while keeping you tucked safely into him. He has made it clear that you’re in charge here, so staying in the shadows as much as possible, you wander towards the first window. As if he’s another limb on your body, Joel follows you effortlessly. 

Your heart thumps in your chest as you approach the first window. The room has a large bed that remains untouched. A man is tied to a chair at the end of the bed with black silk ties, and you stifle a gasp at the painful looking device he has clamped around his hard cock. You can hear his whines through the ball gag, and the moans of pleasure from the woman spread eagle on the floor in front of him as she fucks herself with a large dildo.

Joel’s soft stubble brushes against your ear as he whispers, “We won’t be doing that.”

“Looks fun for me,” you giggle and he lightly pinches your hip.

The next window has the blinds drawn, little slits of light illuminating the edges is the only sign that someone is in the room. “You can choose to let people watch or not watch, as well as how much you want those in the voyeur area to hear when you rent the rooms,” Joel explains softly as you approach the next open window.

The bed in this room is occupied by three people. A curvy woman is lying down on her back, a copper skinned man with a shaved head has his face buried in her pussy while a fully tattoed beefcake of man fucks his ass. The look of pure pleasure on all their faces has your clit twitching and aching. And when Joel lowers himself to your ear the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“We also won’t be doing that,” Joel’s voice is so light and carefree. For a second you forget that any minute now he’s going to use that deep baritone voice to boss you around while you’re completely naked.

“Again, it also looks fun for me,” you joke, and a small smile crosses your lips as you feel Joel’s body shake with silent laughter beside yours. There’s about ten windows in this room from what you can see, most are closed or dark, probably since it’s a weekday. You lead the two of you down the room to the next open window. “Can they see us?”

“Not unless you get close to the glass,” he instructs. You stop in your tracks at the next window. Despite your teasing with Joel the last two were not your thing, but this window you could easily watch for a while. A man and a woman lay on the large red silk sheeted bed while hundreds of battery operated candles flicker around them. He’s on top of her, one of her legs slung over his shoulder, the other around his waist. As you step closer you can see a sparkly, thin layer of sweat coating both their bodies as they slowly grind together, kissing passionately. You take another step closer, if they want to be seen then it shouldn’t matter if they see you. Once you’re close enough you can hear the gentle moans she’s making as he thrusts slowly in and out of her. 

“Well,” you say softly, leaning into Joel’s side and looking up into his warm chocolate eyes, “That doesn’t look so bad.”

He cranes his neck and places a lingering kiss on your forehead and as your eyelids flutter closed you can no longer deny just how turned on you are. He pulls back to look at you, smiling slightly before saying, “When I first got here he had her hogtied and was paddling her.”

“Like I said,” you say while giggling softly, “That doesn’t look so bad.” 

The two of you watch them for a while as they fuck languidly. This should feel wrong, watching something so personal, but the beauty of them together like this is comforting and almost inviting. Her cries grow louder and as she starts to shake he pauses his hips, fully seated inside of her while whispering and smiling down at her, pushing her sweat soaked hair off her forehead. The love behind the glass is so palpable that you feel yourself getting choked up a little. 

Just as you’re about to ask Joel to take you to his room, you notice another window with about five people lined up along the glass. Curiosity gets the better of you and you lead Joel the few steps to see what’s going on. No longer feeling nervous or shy, you step right up to the glass. This time, Joel moves his body to be behind yours, pulling your back against his strong body. One of his arms wraps around your middle, the other sweeps your hair to one side and then rests gently on your shoulder. 

The set up of this room is similar to the others you’ve seen: a large bed to the right, a chair to the left, and a chest of drawers to the back. There’s a woman strapped face up on the bed, wrists and ankles bound to the four posts of the frame. Her perky breasts rise and fall rapidly with her breathing. At the back of the room, a broad tanned man faces away from you, looking through a drawer for something. As your eyes travel up his back from his hard, round ass cheeks he spins to face the window. You step back into Joel as Tommy Miller’s gaze flicks to the people along the window and then to the sub he’s chosen for the night. 

In your sane mind you tell yourself that you should look away. It's one thing to watch strangers but watching someone you sort of know feels like an invasion of their privacy. Plus, there’s no way Joel wants to see his brother like this. As if he can read your mind, Joel's lips brush against your neck, “I’m right here, sweet girl. Tommy likes an audience, he’s an exhibitionist, and lots of members come just to watch him.” 

You glance up at Joel and he smiles softly. Your voice is just above a whisper, “Can we watch for a bit?” 

“You’re in charge, sweetheart.” He patiently reminds you as you nod and look back towards the room.

The horny demon that seems to have taken over your body since catching Joel in his office has you dying to see more: more sex, more kink, more Tommy. Without consciously controlling it, your eyes travel down his tanned chest, to the hair around his belly button and then down to his fully erect cock. You can’t help but appreciate the beauty of his body, he looks like he’s carved out of stone, and that includes his cock. He’s decently long, but thick, a prominent vein running along one side of it. It’s slightly upturned and the head is smooth and glistening with precome. He looks so powerful and the small fire that’s been building in your stomach grows.  

You bite at your bottom lip nervously, crossing your arms to rest on top of the one Joel has wrapped around you. Tommy walks over to the bed; grasped in one of his large hands is a black vibrator, his other holds a small glass jar housing a lit candle. He climbs onto the bed, then drizzles hot wax along the woman's thighs. Her back arches off the bed and through the speakers along the glass you hear her pained moans. Tommy watches her intently, his lips moving but you can’t hear what he’s saying. Once she’s settled back on the bed, Tommy places the vibrator on her clit.

She writhes and pulls at the velvety cuffs holding her to the bed. “Sir, oh god, I’m - I’m gonna - Sir, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

When she calls him sir you see the dark flash of obsidian across his eyes, the same look when you called him that at the poker game. Through your research, you know that doms have preferred names and your cheeks flush a little at the thought of accidentally using his with him. 

Tommy pulls the vibrator away right before she falls over the edge and drizzles wax on her stomach. She cries out with more desperation this time, and then again, once she’s calm Tommy places the vibrator between her thighs. It’s suddenly hard to breathe and when you step back into Joel you feel his cock is hard against your back and a fresh wave of arousal coats the lace of your panties. 

Tommy takes the vibrator away as she starts shaking and moaning, then hot wax splashes down her sternum. You feel antsy, like little pins and needles are pricking along your entire body. You squeeze your thighs together, Joel's warm breath against your neck causes you to shudder. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums.

“N-nothing.”

“You sure? You’re squirmin’.” His hand runs slowly down your arm, your hands moving on their own so he can wrap you in his muscle lined arms. A light kiss lands just below your ear and you bite back a moan.  

The combination of not being allowed to have an orgasm, the feeling of Joel’s warm body pressed against you, and the erotic scenes you’ve witnessed tonight is almost too much. It’s also not lost on you that that could have been you in there with Tommy right now. Your clit is throbbing between your legs, and you aren’t sure if you have ever been this turned on. 

Joel smiles into your skin as you watch Tommy tease his sub with the vibrator again, “Do you like what you’re seein’?”

You nod, trying to calm your breathing. It hitches as he adds, “Would you like to try that one day?”

Wax hits one of her nipples, the beads hardening along the peak of her perky, round breast. You adjust your stance to cross your legs together, squeezing hard to ease the almost painful ache at the apex of your thighs. Her and Tommy speak softly to one another, he smiles down at her, puts the candle down and then adjusts himself between her legs, spreading the lips of her puffy pussy with two fingers and putting the vibrator right where you know it would ruin you. 

“Would you?” Joel repeats.

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You say, your voice shaky, almost like it’s impossible to form words as you look up at him. He’s so beautiful in the shadowy light, his tanned skin almost seems to glow against the darkness.  

His eyes dance around your face, his voice comes out soft and sensual, quiet enough for just you to hear, “Do you want to go play now, sweet girl?”

You bite your cheek to try to fight the smile, but as Joel’s eyes flick to your lips it’s no use. A shy smile tugs at the corners of your soft pink lips. “Are you going to let me come?”

He looks at you the same way he did when you drank the water and ate that toast. Pride. He’s proud of you for asking for what you want, and you can almost feel your insecurity and fear around asking for things starting to shrink. 

The softness in his voice morphs into a growl, “If you’re a good girl.”

You spin your body towards him, determination lacing your face. “I can be your good girl, Mister Miller.”

Joel’s strong fingers link with yours and a quiet giggle passes your lips as he hauls you towards a door in the shadows close to where you two entered. Truthfully, if it wasn't for the little red light on the security pad, you wouldn’t have even known there was a door there. He waves his ring past the device and after a quiet beep sounds the light flashes green and the door clicks open. He pulls you through and as soon as Joel hears the final click of the door closing he hauls you over his shoulder. Your squeal at your world literally turning upside down with his brute strength melts into an aroused moan as his strong hands grasp the back of your bare thighs.

When Joel stops walking, you tear your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted ass, like these pants must be stuffed, there’s no way this man has a better ass than me. You glance up to see two other doors; assumingly belonging to Tommy and Tess. A familiar beep sounds in the quiet hall and your throat goes dry as he steps into his room. He takes a few long strides before sliding you down his muscle lined chest and placing you at the foot of the bed. He stays close, your breasts just barely grazing his warm body. Your gazes are locked, and even though you’ve grown comfortable with his intense need for eye contact your breathing still goes shaky and uneven. 

Oh fuck, this is it. 

His hand cradles your cheek, “You read and signed off on everything in the app, but I want to reiterate a few things, baby girl.”

You swallow hard, his finger now tracing down your throat and you swear you can feel every whorl of his fingertips as they trail along your soft skin. 

“From now on, you belong to me and I belong to you. No one else. You are not allowed to come unless I say.” 

His hand continues its road trip of your body, settling to wrap around the nape of your neck. “Y-Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“I have a no sex rule. I’ll give you orgasms, I’ll fuck you with my fingers and toys, even my tongue, but not my cock. I need you to understand that my rule is nothing against you, sweetheart. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Miller,” you coo. The nervous excitement from early has returned, every bit of skin that he’s touching is almost humming, butterflies with sharp wings scrape at your stomach. You bring your hands to the lapels of his expensive blue suit, fisting the soft fabric.  

“Fuuck,” he moans, “That sounds so pretty coming out of your mouth, sweet girl.” 

You smile up at him. He squeezes the back of your neck gently, his other hand cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The rough pad of his thumb caresses your chin. “Nothin’ tonight that will require a safeword-”

“Stegosaurus,” you say eagerly, cutting him off. It’s silly really, but that little dinosaur on top of his coffee machine is what first intrigued you about the anonymous millionaire whose home had been assigned to you to clean. It also has some sort of meaning to him, so it seemed only natural for that to be your safeword. 

He smiles, laughing gently, “Not tonight, baby. If you want to stop tonight, just say so and I’ll stop. Ok?” 

Your pussy flutters at the unexpected moments to come, but a gnawing anxiety starts to claw at your chest. You’re not sure what causes the shift, but suddenly you go from excited nervous to just plain nervous. Am I ready to give up control? What if he sees me naked and doesn’t like it. He said it was only me, what if he regrets that decision? 

Your chest tightens, the knife-winged butterflies multiplying and traveling up your throat. Joel must sense a shift in you, he steps closer to you and softens his eyes as they dance around your face, a silent sign that he’s patiently waiting for you. If you said you wanted to go home you know he would kiss you softly and call your new friend Cap, but you don’t want that. You want this, you want whatever is about to happen; you just need to let go.

Vulnerability is thick in your voice as you break one of his rules and murmur, “J-Joel?” 

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice waivers, making you feel a little bit better. 

“I’m nervous.” 

He lowers his head towards yours, running the tip of his hooked nose down the slender bridge of yours. You close your eyes and take him all in. He’s warm and hard, yet somehow so soft. His familiar ash and leather scent is mixed with the expensive whiskey he drank earlier. 

“So am I, sweet girl,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you softly. You melt into him, his hands moving to cup your face. His soft lips sponge against yours and everything quiets. You’re not sure how he does it, but kissing him feels like dunking your head under water, everything silences, all the nervousness dissipates. It’s just the two of you, floating in tandem in an endless void. 

He’s nervous too? Because of me? I make this strong, successful, brooding man nervous? Your inner voice of anxiety starts to settle. I’m safe here.

The comfort of your thoughts is enough to have you pulling yourself into Joel more. You increase the intensity of your kiss, turning your head and parting your lips slightly. He follows suit, running his soft tongue along yours. The air in the room has morphed, it’s saturated with passion and arousal. With just one kiss he’s managed to erase all your fears and worries, your mind is silent and ready for whatever instructions he’s going to give you. When he pulls away your both panting for breath.

He turns his back to you, sliding his dark blue suit jacket down, the white t-shirt underneath clinging with perfection to the muscle and sinew that pack on top of each other along his back. He drapes his jacket over a padded bench about five feet away from you; you know from your extensive research that that’s a spanking bench. He spins to face you, slipping his gold and black ring off his hand, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he drops it in a dish on top of a low chest of drawers on his left. You can’t describe it, but the sound of the gold clashing with the ceramic dish puts you in a trance. Like a ritualistic symbol that you are his now.

His hands slip into his pockets, his voice taking on its deep dominant tone, “We are going to start now. You can stay fully clothed or you can get as undressed as you feel comfortable being. I’m serious here, sweet girl. Leave on as little or as much as you want. When you’re done, lay face up on the bed.”

Without thinking your hands fly back to the zipper on your boots, you unzip them and toe them off. You don’t break eye contact as you grab the hem of your sweater dress and pull it up and over your body. As your vision is temporarily blocked by the knitted fabric you can feel his eyes on your bare skin. You’re left in just a matching nude bra and panty set. He’s already seen your tits so you don’t hesitate to unclasp your bra and let it fall away from your body. 

Joel swallows hard and licks his lips. “Beautiful,” he mumbles appreciatively and it coats your skin in warmth. 

You hesitate for a moment with your thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties. You know they’re soaked through, and you’re sure he can see that from where he’s standing. He’s so fucking good at reading you, so you’re not surprised when he says, “Only take off what you feel comfortable with, my sweet girl.” 

“I do…I am…I w-want to…I just,” you fiddle with the band a bit. 

“You can say it.” He nods encouragingly.

“I like having them taken off me. I - I want to see your face up close when you…when you see it for the first time.” 

Joel smirks, popping his hip out to lean on the spanking bench. “See what the first time?” 

“Don’t make me say it, Mister Miller.” 

He clicks his tongue at you, “Mmm, but I love hearing that pretty little mouth say dirty words.” You stay silent, chewing your cheek as he continues. “Come on…say it. Say, I want to see your face up close when you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.”

You feel your cheeks flush. Earlier tonight he asked you to look at him when you say it, so you roll your shoulders back and hold your head high. As confidently as possible you say, “I want to see your face up close when..” you take a shaky inhale, “When you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.” 

Before the last syllable has left your lips he’s across the room, lifting you off the ground by the back of your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around him and gasp at the sudden pressure right where you’re aching for him. 

“I have memorized every answer from your preferences,” he growls into your collar bone, walking you around the bed. “I have strategically planned what I’m going to teach you and then you say stuff like that and fuck. I have to fight every sick and twisted thought I have, sweet girl.” He climbs onto the bed, laying you down just how he wants you, “You have no idea what you do to me. How out of control you make me feel.” 

Joel shuffles his body down, kissing down your sternum before cupping your tits. Pushing them together and sucking one of your nipples into his hot mouth. This is exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about since that moment in his office. His tongue is warm and soft as it flicks across your hardening nipple. He lightly rolls the other one between his fingers.  

“Please - oh god - please Mister Miller.” You moan needily. You try to arch into him, but his large body holds you down. 

He grazes his teeth along your nipple then looks up at you, “I’m gonna take care of you. Just relax.” 

You can’t take your eyes off him as he dives back in. Sucking and biting at your other nipple. You plant your feet on the mattress, hands tangling into his hair, as you try to grind your aching clit into his warm, hard stomach. 

“Stay still sweetheart,” He says between suckles. 

“I c-can’t. Please.”

He pinches both nipples hard, harder than you’re used to, and you whimper, freezing your hips. His voice is as deep as the obsidian in his gaze, “Stay still. I’m going to make you come. I promise. You need to trust me, relax.” 

The pressure on your nipples eases and you pout before letting yourself melt back into the mattress. He smirks, a dimple carving itself in the patchy scruff of his cheek. “That’s my girl. You like your nipples being played with?” 

The pad of his thumb ghosts over the tops of them, you shiver and moan, “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Then you’re going to enjoy what I have planned tonight.” He kisses your forehead and then climbs off the bed. You rise on your elbows, watching him as he pads across the room to a chest of drawers. He toes off his brown dress shoes and removes his belt before digging through a drawer. The actions were so simple, yet the domesticity of them has you fighting with your little box of feelings again.

No, you tell it silently as it inches out of the darkness. I am his sub and nothing more. The box seems to have grown a very annoying and persistent personality and it almost says, ‘but he’s nervous too’ back at you. 

He turns back to face you, snapping you out of your fight with the imaginary box in your brain. The same vibrator Tommy had is clasped in one hand, his other is palm up, cupping something that he’s shaking much like a gambler does with dice. 

“My sweet girl, you put a five for nipple clamps. Remind me, have you ever used them before?”

“No, Mister Miller.” 

He wanders lazily back over to the bed, and if he was anyone else you’d tell him to hurry up, but you never want to rush a single moment with Joel Miller. On top of that, you need to let him take control; he said he was going to make you come if you just relax and trust him, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do. He places the vibrator on the small table beside the bed and then sits beside you, holding out his free hand to help you sit up. 

He holds the clamps out to you and explains softly, “These are beginner clamps. See this little dial? I can control how tight they are.”

You watch his thick fingers along the dainty metal of the clamps, he’s so soft yet could have you crying with the snap of his fingers if he wanted. A fresh wave of arousal floods between your thighs completely ruining the panties he still hasn’t taken off your body. You nod and whisper, “Ok.”

“You control what happens here tonight. If you tell me that it hurts too much or to stop, I will.”

It’s time to show Joel just how good of a girl you can be, you look at him through your eyelash and sweetly coo, “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, “Fuck. Lay down..now.” 

You lay back, hair fanning around you. Joel stays seated on the edge of the bed beside you and lightly places the first clamp on your right nipple. It’s a light pinching pressure and it feels so good that your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the bed. He puts the next clamp on and you whimper. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, his strong hands gripping your hips, pushing you into the mattress and grounding you in the warm pleasure that floods your stiff nipples.  

“S-so good Mister Miller,” you groan. You’re almost convinced this is another dream, he’s doing almost exactly what you have imagined countless times. You open your eyes to watch him, determined to visually take in every single thing he gives you. 

“Good, baby. I want you to feel good. I’m gonna tighten them now, jus’ a little.” He twists the little knob. You start breathing heavily, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You bring your hands to his strong, warm forearms as you suck in air.

“Too much?”

Your chest heaves at the delicious feeling flooding your tits. “No, no. More. P-Please, more. More.”

“Good girl,” he hums deeply, the words settling right behind your clit as he tightens the tiny clamps more. The warmth around your nipples spreads to your arms and down your sides. When you cry out he asks, “Pain or pleasure, sweet girl?”

At this point you aren’t sure, it definitely hurts, but it also feels good, and his deep brown eyes are looking at you the same way they always do, full of concern and care, almost like he’s assessing you. 

“Both. Both, oh fuck. More, Mister Miller.” He kisses the left one gently and you arch into him, “More, more, please.”

“That’s as tight as they go, are you sure you want more?”

You keep your eyes on him, nodding fervently, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He pops them off and you gasp out in pain, heat rushes to both your nipples and it burns in white hot passion. Joel blows cool air along both of them and you can’t seem to stop your mumbling begging, “More. I need more. Please!”

“I know, baby. I got you.” He opens the drawer on the bedside table and takes out two gold plated clamps. You look down, your nipples already look sore, tinged slightly purple. “I’m so fucking proud of you already. Askin’ so nicely like the good girl I know you are. Goddamn, look at these stiff, perky, perfect little nipples. I love seeing you like this, seeing them like this. Are you wet for me? Are those flimsy lace panties soaked through?”

He places one of the new clamps and you cry out a ‘yes’. 

“Ya? Just dripping and desperate for me?” He puts the other clamp on as you chant a chorus of yes’s and oh god’s. 

Joel

Joel knew that tonight would either make or break him. As his name spills sweetly from your perfect pouty lips he feels it, the same tug behind his belly button that he felt with Tiffany, that his grandpa said was how he’d know when he found something special; something to hold onto. 

“Please, Mister Miller,” you murmur. He doesn’t know what it is you’re asking for, and he’s sure you don’t know either. What is it about you saying those three little words that gets him so rattled? Countless subs have called him that in the past and it never made his cock swell this painfully behind his zipper.

He taps at your nipples lightly and watches your body shudder and arch off the bed. You aren’t even fully naked and he’s fighting the urge to come right there in his pants. He loves the way your body reacts, he can already tell you’re going to look stunning as you come. 

“That feel good?” He asks, his voice deep and husky. 

“Yes. Oh god, yes!” You haven’t taken your eyes off him and he loves how your eyelids have become hooded from the pleasure while your brows furrow with the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Your cheeks are flushed pink making the colour of your eyes pop.

“Yes,” just as he’s convincing himself to remove the clamps you moan, “Please don’t stop.” 

Joel grabs the vibrator from the bedside table before sliding his body down the bed. He starts kissing at your hip bone before wrapping his teeth around the slender band of your panties. Your eyes dart down to him, this is what you asked for; to his face the first time he sees your cunt. He pulls your panties with his teeth, smiling against your soft upper thigh when you instinctively lift your hips to help him. As he shimmies down the bed his eyes stay on your face.

He gets to the end of the bed, standing with your soaked through thong still between his teeth. He relaxes his jaw, dropping the panties in his hand and bringing them to his face. “God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl. You smell so fuckin’ sweet. Imma crave that smell when you aren’t around.” He tucks your panties into the pocket of his four thousand dollar, custom made Tom Ford suit. As far as he’s concerned, that drenched thong is the most expensive and important thing he now owns. 

He trails his eyes down your sternum, your legs are straight out in front of you, not parted, but he can see your puffy pink clit pushing through the soft looking outer lips. He feels himself switching into full dom mode. The room around him fades away, everything outside of you and this room doesn’t matter anymore.

“Show me,” he growls. “Spread those gorgeous legs and show me that perfect little cunt.”

He crawls up the bed, following the path you make as you bend both knees up. He feels like a starved dog who’s about to get a meal. Your feet stop, and as he hovers above you, gaze wholly fixated on your core, you relax your legs and your knees butterfly open. God he loves how eager you are, how good of a listener you can be. He licks his lips as your outer thighs finally meet the soft sheets, baring yourself for him completely. He stops breathing as your lips part, sticky with arousal. Your pussy is swollen and glistening, your needy clit puffy and pink. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as he lowers himself to the be, his face between your legs. Once he’s close enough he can see the tight little hole he’s vowed not to fuck. “Shit, sweetheart. This is goin’ to be so much harder than I thought.”

Your cries wash over him; he’s experienced enough to know that it’s from your nipples hardening under the clamps at his words. He smirks up at you, “How are you so wet already?”

“You, Mister Miller.”

“That right? Me playin’ with those nipples get you all turned on?”

“Uh-huh, and you said I couldn’t touch myself. I’ve been like this for days.” Your bottom lip pokes out and it absolutely ruins him, but he pushes down the overwhelming need to fix it and give you exactly what you need. No, you want to experience being a submissive, and that’s what he’s going to do. 

“Poor baby,” he mocks, tsking at you. He kisses right above your clit and you gasp. He’s close enough to know the heat of his breath is going to have you squirming and he can’t wait to watch how beautiful you’ll look doing it. “So wet. Smells so good. Fuck, She’s right in front of me but I already miss her. You look so soft and tight. Goddamn, you’re gonna have me breakin’ all my rules, sweet girl.”

“Please touch me. Please.”

“Mmmm, such a good girl for asking so nicely. I can’t say no when you beg like that, baby, makes me weak.” He kisses the crook of your inner thigh, he knows how much he’s teasing you right now, he watches you get wetter by the second, the beautiful folds of your pussy opening like a flower in the sun for him and flushing a deeper pink and the blood courses to your most sensitive parts.  

“I need you Mister Miller,” your voice waivers as you say his name, and you blink a little harder, he knows you’re fighting back the tears and it makes his cock throb harder, the teeth of his zipper practically digging into him.

After what feels like hours, he finally brings a thick finger to tease at your entrance. You buck into him, desperate for the friction.  

“Don’t make me tie you up. Stay still for me, please.” Even with the please at the end, it’s a command - deep and serious, and you don’t dare test him. Your nipples stiffen every time he speaks, and they ache under the clamps, it’s the perfect twinge of pain to heighten the bits of pleasure he’s giving you. 

You press your lips in a tight line, hands grounding you as they ball the sheets, focusing on keeping still. You want to shamelessly fuck yourself with his fingers; meanwhile, he’s being slow and calculated. Joel torturously draws slow little circles along the waiting hole with just the tip of his finger. He watches as your sticky white arousal coats his fingertip, then groans as he slowly pushes his middle finger all the way inside of you. You gasp at the welcome stretch and fight like hell to stay still.

“Look at you, fuck. So warm and inviting.” He slips his finger out slowly and lets out an exasperated sigh. Your heart falls into your stomach.

“Mister Miller, no. Please, it felt so good,” you practically cry at the loss at the feeling of him finally inside of you, finally giving you a taste of what you need the most.

“I know,” he shushes, “But that’s not what I have planned, not yet at least. My sweet girl, I need ya to be loud for me. I’ve been wanting this for so long. Need to hear you. Understand?”

The distinct sound of the vibrator you forgot he had comes to life and you squirm with anticipation. “Yes, Mister Miller. I will, just please, please make me feel good.” 

He reaches up, the black vibrator makes contact with your nipple and an intense pain shoots to your core before it blooms into pleasure. One of your hands leaves the sheets, fingernails digging into the forearms of the hand he has holding the vibrator and you sob out. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groans before moving the vibrator to the other nipple, circling it around this time instead of holding it flush. “Jus’ tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Don’t, please don’t. Oh god, yes.” You know you’re screaming, you doubt anyone can hear you, but at this point you don’t care if they can. The pleasure becomes overwhelming, you slam your eyes shut and arch your back. Joel’s strong chest is warm in between your thighs, he’s so broad that he’s keeping you spread open. You grind into the soft white cotton of his t-shirt.

“Look at me. Focus, sweet girl,” you peel your eyes open to meet his gaze. Warm coffee and hazel eyes stare down at you. “Stay still, please.”

“I can’t - aah!” He presses hard on your sore nipple and it brings you back into your own body. You manage to still your hips and release your grip, leaving behind little crescent shaped indents in his muscle lined forearm.

“Good girl,” he praises and then pulls the vibrator away from your breasts. His free hand comes to your mound, he swallows hard before breaking eye contact, pulling his hand back and looking at your puffy, and completely exposed bundle of nerves. A devious uptick of the right side of the mouth sets your blood on fire before he taps lightly at your clit once with the soft head of vibrator.

You cry out in pleasure. 

He taps again and you gasp out loudly.

He taps a third time and you’re almost certain that this is how you’re going to die. No man has ever teased you like this. You’re desperate to come, your body breaking out in sweat, but you never want Joel to stop. Moans and whines are pouring out of you without you even realizing it, he looks so fucking beautiful between your thighs, staring at your pussy like it’s the sunrise over the ocean, like he’s never seen anything as beautiful or fascinating and it makes your feel unstoppable. You make him look like that. Him. A man who could have anyone in the world, but here he is, looking at you like you’re his whole world.

“Let me hear you, show me how you can be a good girl,” he clicks the vibrator up and holds it tightly to your clit. The sensation is almost too much and your nipples ache under the little gold clamps.

Your body starts to shake involuntarily and your moans become longer and huskier, you’re going to come any second now. You squeeze your eyes shut and Joel pulls the vibrator away.

“No,” you gasp. “More. Please, I need more. Please.” The fear of him leaving you like this has the back of your eyes burning. Was there a time limit you weren’t aware of with the room? No, this is his private room. Right? Didn’t he say that he has a private room? And it shouldn’t matter if the club is open or closed, he’s the owner.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You blink your eyes open, trying to focus on his face, but you’re so turned on that the edges of him seem fuzzy. “That feel good? The vibrator teasing your desperately swollen clit?”

You nod your head, “Yes, again. Please, Mister Miller.”

“Tell me what you want?”

Historically, situations like this have riddled you with insecurity. You’ve never been a talker in the bedroom and as a textbook people pleaser you never, like NEVER, ask for what you want. Yes, being here fully naked with a fully clothed Joel makes you feel safer and more understood than you have ever been. You know that if you ask for anything in this room and beyond, he’d do it. 

The words leave your mouth without you even thinking about it, without second guessing or carefully planning what it is you’re going to say. “Please make me come. I’ll be so loud for you. I’ll scream and moan until I have no voice. I’ve been such a good girl and I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please make me come.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and his voice washes over you like honey, “Good fuckin’ girl. Eyes on me and hold on.”

It happens in an instant, the vibrator flicks to the highest setting as he adjusts his body to hold you firmly against the mattress with this forearm, your hands grab onto his shoulders as he presses the soft, thick head of the sex toy right onto your clit.��

You scream and squeeze at the strong muscles of his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your system, you tense under his touch. The build of your orgasm somehow too much and not enough all at once.

“Oh god. Oh god. Yes, I’m - Mist - fuuuck.”

“I know, I’m right here.” He says darkly.

“Gonna come,” you sputter between your cries of ecstasy. You can feel that familiar tightness building.

“Relax and let go for me. Come for me, sweet girl. Let me see this beautiful little cunt twitch.”

His words send you over the edge and your orgasm rocks through you violently. You convulse with so much force that Joel grunts as he holds you down. You’re nothing but what Joel is giving you, not a single thought or insecurity, not a single worry about studying or school, you’re just what Joel has made you and it feels fucking fantastic. His dark onyx eyes swallow you whole. 

The pleasure of your orgasm, mixed with the pain in your nipples is so much more than you’ve ever known, and Joel’s deep gravel filled voice praises you the whole time.

‘There’s my girl.’

‘Sooo good for me.’

‘Fuck, that’s it my sweet girl.’ 

‘Beautiful when you scream for me.’

It starts to become too much. Your throat is hoarse from screaming. As your nails start to dig deep into his shoulders Joel slows the vibrator down and holds it lightly to your twitching clit as the aftershocks course through you. He releases your body from his and kisses your hip bone before shutting the vibrator off completely. 

He’s stills between your thighs, your hands resting on his shoulders. Joel smiles up at you sweetly and you pull at his t shirt to encourage him to crawl on top of you. He doesn’t hesitate, bringing his stong body on top of yours, resting his forearms on each side of your head. 

“Do I have your consent to kiss you?” He whispers.

“Yes,” you coo. His mouth meets yours similar to how it did when you both confessed to being nervous. It’s soft and lingering as you take shaky, calming breaths through your nose. That annoying little box of feelings shivers in the corner of your mind and you mentally put a piece of packing tape over the lid. 

You end this kiss this time, pushing your head into the pillow. “I’m gonna grab some cooling spray and take those clamps off now, is that okay?”

You nod and hum in agreement. Your eyelids and muscles feel heavy and sated. Joel's warm body parts from yours and a chill runs up your spine. When he releases the first clamp you whimper, the burning ache goes away as soon as he sprays it with a cooling coconut scented mist. When he removes the second one, your pussy clenches around nothing, a small but powerful orgasm waves through you as the cool droplets of the aftercare spray land on your pebbled breast.

“Did you just come?” Joel questions proudly.

Your hands cover your face as you blush harder than you have in years, “Yeah.”

Joel’s warmth encompasses you again as he climbs back on top of you, he gently pulls your hands away by your wrists. “Fuck, baby. I think I’m addicted to you.” He kisses the tip of your nose, “Such a good girl.”

You shiver underneath him and he rolls the two of you so he can wrap the blanket around you, your head rests on his chest, your body half on him and half on the soft bed. He holds you tightly, his meaty hands rubbing any place they can over the fluffy down filled cocoon he’s got you in. 

A comfortable silence falls around the two of you, your breaths in sync with one another. Your eyelids flutter closed, and that little voice starts to come back, lacing you with insecurity. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. You clear your throat quietly and ask, “Are you seeing any other subs?”

“No,” he replies softly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “But I haven’t told all of them yet. The dom/sub relationship is a delicate one. I can’t exactly just message them on the app that it’s over.”

You settle deeper into him. “What else do you have planned for us?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I’m going to show you everything you want to know.”

A fire burns in your stomach, “When?”

Joel lets out a small laugh, then tilts your chin up, pulling back a little so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re eager. I have to go out of town tomorrow, but we’ll make sure to find time when I’m back this weekend.”

Him leaving is a bit of a blessing in disguise for you. “I take the LSAT again on Friday, so I guess this gives me lots of study time.”

He cranes his neck to sponge his lips to yours, the scruff of his mustache tickles a little and you giggle into his kiss. “How long have you owned the club?”

“Almost five years,” he replies.

You let an impressed hum, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds are your mixed breathing and his calloused hand along the blanket. You remember all the times tonight that he called you ‘my sweet girl’ and you wonder if he’s feeling the same way you are, or if he’s so used to all of this that it’s just second nature to him. The packing tape on that fucking box starts to peels as if to say ‘he was nervous too and it’s only you’.

After a while Joel breaks the silence. “Becoming a lawyer is a pretty intense process. Your family must be really proud of you.”

“Umm, well, I actually don’t really know,” you say.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Joel says lightly and you know he means it. You know he would never push you to give him something you didn’t want to, he might push your sexual limits, but never your personal ones, and for whatever reason that almost makes it easier to tell him.

You roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your forearms on his chest. For a second you let your eyes look around the room. You were so focused on Joel earlier that you didn’t notice the rings and hooks along the black steel bed frame; or the paddles and ropes hanging on the wall next to a ladder and St Andrews Cross. In classic Joel fashion, everything is black and softly lit. Everything but the bed sheets which are plush and white. 

You take a deep breath, resting your chin on your hands, and start, “I don’t want pity for this, truthfully I’m grateful that this is my reality, but my parents had me when they were very young and they were both very selfish when I was growing up. Never abusive or anything, and not neglectful in a physical way, but emotionally I was left alone a lot. I realized early on that if I excelled in something they would show up, and for a long time that felt really fucking good. But as soon as I hit high school I realized they were showing up for themselves. They’d brag about me to other adults, but not actually congratulate me. They’d show up to honour roll ceremonies, but not with me or for me, it was so they could say I was their daughter. They didn’t help me get those grades, I did that on my own. And I’m still doing that on my own.”

Joel’s eyes soften, those two permanent lines between his eyebrows disappearing. “That explains so much, my sweet girl. I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

The tape on the box of feelings snaps as the lid flies off. Not now, you scold.

“I know, but honestly, I don’t really need anyone to take care of me. I’ve made it this far and I plan on making it the rest of the way the only way I know how.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” He asks.

“Doesn’t this?” you say gently, gesturing to the room.

“No,” he blinks at you a few times. “I was in my early twenties when my wife died. I needed to focus on raising Sarah, but I’m still an adult male with needs, so I found the world of BDSM and kink. It allowed me to get what I wanted, and what my partner wanted, without the attachment of a relationship.” His words are so real and honest and in just those few sentences you feel like you know Joel Miller more deeply than you know anyone else.

“My way doesn’t get lonely either,” you say with a smile, tucking your head back into his chest.

Joel

Your breathing is calm and heavy, it kills him that he’s going to have to wake you up. Usually his aftercare doesn’t involve opening up about his past like this. He’s not a monster, but he is very strict about keeping his kink life and his real life separate. Something about you though has him opening up about Tiffany and Sarah.

“Baby,” he whispers into the crown of your head, shaking you a little. “We can’t sleep here, I’m sorry.”

You blink up at him and his heart ceases at how beautiful you look all sleepy and supple. He finds himself unconsciously memorizing the little details of your face. Your lips are puffy from his kisses and you have a little mascara smudge under your eye. He thumbs the black make up away gently and says, “Let me help you get dressed and then Cap will take you home, ok?”

You nod lazily and he helps you gently roll off him. He stands and starts to gather your clothing. After a few minutes of looking around he huffs, “Where are your panties?”

A tiny giggle sounds from the cloud of white blankets, the sound shooting straight through his belly button, “Check your pockets.”

He laughs at himself, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out your lacy nude thong. He helps you sit up, “I’m keeping these, by the way.”

“Should I be expecting my panties to go missing every time?” You say jokingly as you take your bra from him and put it on. 

He nods and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, really good actually,” After you put your bra on he pulls your dress over your head and then kneels to help you with your boots. “I - umm - I was hoping that this would help turn my brain off for a while and it did. I feel, I don’t know. Recharged almost?”

This is exactly why he loves kink, it’s an escape from the world for him and his sub. He kisses your knee and moves to the other boot. “Good, that’s what is supposed to happen.”

He pulls you to your feet and allows you to steady yourself before pulling you in for a hug. “Thank you for tonight,” he whispers. He hopes you know that he needs this as much as you do, how much this helps him clear his mind and reground himself.

After closing the door to the town car and sending you home he goes back into the club, waving for a whiskey and joining Tommy at the bar top.

“She was pretty,” Tommy says, clinking his glass against Joel’s.

“Yep,” he swirls the amber liquid in the cup.

“New?” Tommy asks.

“Yep,” Joel repeats and then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m fucked, Tommy.”

Tommy puts his glass down and turns to face Joel, gripping his shoulder. “Are you ending it with all your other subs for this girl?”

Joel takes a long sip from his crystal highball glass. Repeating the only word he seems to know lately, “Yep.”

Tommy lets out a breath, “Shit. Ya, you’re definitely fucked.”

“Tiff told me to find someone who scares me. This fucking scares me, man.” Joel finishes off his whiskey, and even though there’s a drink limit, the glass is refilled before it’s even hit the table. “This is - I just - I ain’t felt like this in a long time.”

Tommy smiles at Joel, “I’m happy for ya, man. And look, as long as you aren’t keepin’ her panties then it’s probably not as bad as you think.” 

Joel pulls that nude thong from his pocket and puts it on the bar top as he finishes off his second glass of whiskey and then waves the bartender off, silently signaling that he’s done. 

“Shit, so you are fucked then?” Tommy laughs. 

“We didn’t,” Joel says defensively, brows pulling together.  

“I didn’t ask if you fucked. I said you are fucked.” Tommy shakes his head at his older brother. 

Joel runs a hand down his face and through his scruff. “Look, you gonna be ok this week while I’m in Paris?”

“Ya, me and Tess got it.” He claps Joel’s back roughly as he stands. “Safe travels, hey?”

Joel nods and waves over his head at his brother. He hasn’t fucked you or let you suck his cock yet and he’s already feeling all turned around. But god, the way your body twitched in response to him, the way you melt into his arms every time he kisses you. How brave and confident you were after overcoming the shyness of asking for what you want. He can’t wait to teach you more, but he’s going to have to find a way to not let whatever feelings he might be having get in the way. 

Next chapter

[br0kenangel]

𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, this shot is not following the series time, it's just a especial shot for you to have a glance at their future. Hope you enjoy!

The evening sun cast long shadows across the Great Hall of the Red Keep, where the court had gathered for a summons issued by King Viserys. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the anticipation of an impending confrontation. On one side of the hall, you stood, your gaze sharp and unwavering, with your sons, Aegon and Aemond, beside you. On the other stood Rhaenyra, her bastard children clinging to her skirts, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Viserys paced the dais, his face a stormy mask of fury. His royal robes trailed behind him like a shadow, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. His anger had been ignited by a recent incident—a confrontation in which Aegon had brutally punished one of Rhaenyra’s bastards for mocking Aemond.

Aegon stood beside you, his face red and defiant, while Aemond, still shaken but resolute, clung to your side. The King’s voice echoed through the hall, a thunderous roar that made everyone flinch.

“Why did you attack that boy?” Viserys bellowed, his eyes blazing with fury as he fixed his gaze on Aegon.

Aegon looked up at his father, his chin held high despite the trembling in his voice. “He made fun of Aemond,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “He said terrible things about him.”

Rhaenyra, standing with her bastards clutching at her skirts, shot a smug glance toward you. Her expression was one of malicious satisfaction, her gaze clearly relishing the turmoil unfolding before her.

The King’s rage was palpable. “So you took it upon yourself to act as judge and executioner? Is this how you are taught to handle insults? By violence?”

Before Aegon could respond, Viserys’s hand shot out, clearly intending to strike him. But you moved with swift, decisive action, placing yourself squarely between the King and your son. Your posture was rigid, your expression fierce.

“Stop,” you commanded, your voice a steely edge that cut through the King’s fury. “You will not lay a hand on him.”

Viserys’s eyes widened in surprise, his anger momentarily faltering. “And why should I not?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“Because Aegon did nothing wrong,” you replied, your tone unwavering. “He defended his brother from a child who deserved punishment. Her bastards should be the ones to be ashamed, not my son.”

The hall fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Rhaenyra’s smugness faltered, her eyes flicking between her own children and you. The King’s face twisted with both anger and confusion.

“How dare you speak to me in this manner?” Viserys roared. “Are you suggesting that I am blind to the truth? That my own daughter and her children are to be shunned while your sons are treated as paragons of virtue?”

“They are your sons!” You faced Viserys with unyielding resolve. “You may choose to be blind, but I am not. Rhaenyra’s children are the ones who instigate and mock. My sons are merely defending themselves. And if you choose to punish them for that, it is you who are blinded by favoritism and false loyalties.”

Viserys’s eyes flared with indignation. “Watch your tongue, Y/N. Such words are treasonous, and I will not tolerate them.”

“Cut my tongue if you must,” you declared, your voice rising in defiance. “But you cannot blind people like you are blinded by Rhaenyra’s lies and deceit. Rhaenyra is the one who bears bastards, and it is she who should be held accountable, not my children.”

The hall was filled with a stunned silence, broken only by the soft, nervous whispers of courtiers and servants. Viserys’s face grew red with rage, but before he could respond, you continued.

“I will not stand idly by while my children are mistreated. You want to punish Aegon for protecting his brother? Then do so. But know that in my eyes, you are as much a part of the problem as Rhaenyra’s misdeeds.”

Viserys, caught between his anger and the startling boldness of your words, struggled to find a response. He looked at Rhaenyra, whose face had now twisted into an expression of barely concealed outrage.

“Enough!” Viserys finally bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. “This matter will be dealt with as I see fit. And if any further insults or violence occur, there will be consequences.”

You met his gaze, your expression resolute. “I will not back down from protecting my children, even if it means facing your wrath.”

Viserys’s face softened slightly, but only in the sense of weary resignation. He turned his attention to Rhaenyra. “Get your children under control. If there is another incident like this, it will be dealt with harshly.”

Rhaenyra’s lips curled in a sneer, but she knew better than to argue further. She gathered her children, her eyes shooting daggers at you as she left the hall.

As the court dispersed, you gathered Aegon and Aemond close, your protective instincts in full force. You kissed both of them on the forehead, your eyes filled with both love and a fierce determination.

“Do not worry,” you whispered. “No matter what happens, I will always be here to protect you. You did nothing wrong, and you never should have to apologize for defending each other.”

Aegon and Aemond nodded, their expressions a mixture of relief and lingering unease. You led them out of the hall, your heart heavy but your resolve unshaken. For you, there was no higher calling than the protection of your children, and you would let nothing—neither court politics nor royal indignation—stand in the way of their safety and happiness.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[cottonlemonade]

crush!Meian who you always see around the grocery store because you have a similar schedule. You go for a lot of the same items and the annoying chore of grocery shopping soon becomes his favorite day of the week.

crush!Meian who always hurries to the bread section for his favorite only to see you toss the last bag of it into your cart, shooting him a wide grin and peace sign.

hopeless crush!Meian who doesn’t remember how to be cool and suave when eventually he reaches the aisle at the same time as you and you both go for the last bread and he pulls back telling you to have it.

“Oh. Why?”, you asked in surprise.

Because you touched it first, he thought.

“Because I’m in love with you.”, he said.

new boyfriend!Meian who brings you every single ointment the pharmacy has to offer when you cut your finger during cooking. He lays out six different tubes and explains that they are for different stages of healing when you interrupt him with a kiss as Thank You.

new boyfriend!Meian who cannot and will not keep his hands to himself when you’re even somewhat close by. Your love handles and pudgy thighs are his absolute favorite.

long term boyfriend!Meian who can’t stop smiling when he watches you getting ready for a date or waiting for him on the couch after training, everything prepared to continue the show you’re both obsessed with and kiss the stress of the day away. He will 100% rest his head on your tummy while you play with his hair.

long term boyfriend!Meian who practices his proposal speech in front of the mirror several times, not realizing that the bathroom door has been open the whole time, and when he comes out, you tell him sweetly that version four was your favorite as you fix his tie.

newlywed husband!Meian who forgets everything to do with volleyball in the post-game interviews, because he is too busy scanning the crowd for you. In his honeymoon phase he is a PR nightmare because all he wants to talk about is his wife. Any excuse to bring up his wife. Ask him about his thoughts on his opponent and he will somehow mention his wife.

newlywed husband!Meian who was once asked, “What, in your opinion, is your greatest accomplishment to date?” and everything the captain could think of was, “My wife recently taught me how to air flip pancakes and I did it on the third try.”

a/n: I am watching Love Next Door and the ointment scene was too cute not to use!

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - PROM

A/N: As I already mentioned, I have developed a huuuuuge crush on Wolverine.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: smut

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story has sexual scenes.

Words: 6600+

Important note: The reader has long hair, did my best to not describe her at all. ALSO, I know Wolverine is like 160cm but... I forgot about tha that so, he's a tall MF. (They kinda fucked that up in some of the movies, so whatever.)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett - Prom

A peaceful evening, that’s what he wanted. Once the students were in their room, Logan could finally have some time off with a bottle of beer that he was able to sneak into the school. And since he knew no one would be in the lounge room at this hour, he grabbed the beer and walked there. To his surprise, he was met with Y/N sitting there. 

She was surrounded by papers. It seemed she was grading some essays. He observed her. The way her body hunched over the papers, how her head was low, he knew she was almost asleep. But then her head fell a little and she made a sound. Shaking it, she whispered “shit” under her nose and continued to work on the essays. 

“Go to bed,” Logan said when he fell on the leather couch. 

Y/N’s head lifted, frowning at her colleague and friend sitting there as if he owned the whole damn place. “I need to finish this tonight.”

“You need to rest,” he talked back, annoyed by her stubbornness. 

Her eyes followed his every move. The way he sipped the beer, how relaxed he was on the couch and his eyes kept checking out the papers all over the place. “No, I need to grade. Only a few more left.” 

Y/N taught English and literature in the school. She wanted to have this out of her neck before she would give them another assignment - that is, if someone would piss her off again, like the last time.

“Need any help?” he offered. 

She kinked a brow and grinned. “Have you read The Great Gatsby?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then, unfortunately, you cannot help,” she said with a teasing smile. 

“So, what did the kids do to deserve to write an essay?” he asked. His eyes never stopped following her hands over the table as she went through all the papers. 

She sighed and put a grade C on the essay she finished correcting. Then she put down a comment, for the student to know what they did wrong. “One of them was rude to me. He made an inappropriate comment and the class laughed at his boldness, or as I’d like to call it, stupidity. He got detention and the whole class had to write an essay.” 

Logan chuckled. “You are strict.” 

“Well, no offence, but the kids respect you out of fear. They don’t respect me and so I punish them like this,” I glanced at him with a smile and put one of the last essays in front of me. “2500 words is not that much, to be honest. Especially when the theme is: Gender roles in The Great Gatsby.”

He opened his mouth to comment on it but then closed it. “Fair enough.” 

Y/N yawned again and rubbed her eyes. She put down the pen and stretched on the couch. “Alright, a little break won’t hurt me. Just a few minutes.”

“You will fall asleep.”

“No, I won’t,” she said with her eyes closed. 

“Yeah, you will, Y/N. Don’t argue with me. I know you well,” Logan said grumpily. He knew he was right. 

Sighing, she stood up and did more stretching, just to wake up a little. “Now, I won’t.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed at how stubborn she was, again. “Hey, is it true that Colossus is taking you to the prom?” 

Y/N stopped moving and slowly turned her attention to him. What the hell was he talking about? “What?” she was confused. “What prom? And no?”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “The prom that the Professor promised the students like a month ago. It’s this Saturday,” he reminded her. 

With her mouth agape, she sat her ass down on the leather couch, her eyes wide and unblinking. “Shit, I forgot! How could I forget? I never forget anything when it comes to my job, the kids… Shit.” 

Logan had to chuckle at her reaction. He found it quite adorable. “Y/N, you’ve been working your ass off for the kids. No wonder you forgot. It’s a good thing I reminded ya.” He drank the rest of the beer in one go. “‘Cuz I’m the best at these things.”

“Fuck, right,” she said with an irony in her voice. She wanted to smash her head against the nearest wall.

Y/N was never the one to forget anything and now, it happened. Where was her head the last few weeks? “I have no dress or shoes or anything,” she started to talk mostly to herself. The panic, tiredness and some anxiety showed in her power that she had thanks to her mutation. A forcefield started to glitch around her. 

Logan’s eyes widened. “Uh, princess, you need to calm down,” he said. “Take a few deep breaths before you hurt me.” 

Y/N’s forcefield was unique. It could protect but be deadly if she handled it correctly. 

She glared at him but did as told. She took a few deep breaths until the glitching forcefield stopped. “You know I hate that nickname,” she growled. Logan was no idiot - she was a liar. She liked those nicknames he called her.  It made him chuckle. 

“Sure,” Logan winked at her. “Lie to yourself all you want.” He enjoyed it when he could rile her up. “So, do you have a date for this prom?” he asked her again. 

“No,” Y/N replied as she started to pack all the papers. “As you didn’t already notice, old man,” she knew where to press his buttons, “I forgot about the whole thing. So, no, no date.” 

“Wait,” Logan stopped her before she could leave. “So you are telling me, that you don’t have a date? How is that possible?” 

She shrugged. “No one asked me. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I believe Bobby is taking Kitty, and Charles and Storm will be attending together. And I think Colossus will ask Angel to be his date since they have this thing going on.” 

“What if I was your date?” Logan suggested nonchalantly. His eyes were fixed on her, watching her reaction - and it was a good one. A sparkle appeared in her irises, she stopped talking and just opened and closed her mouth like a fish underwater. “We could go together if you’d like.” 

Her lips twitched to a small smile, intrigued by it. “You’d want to go with me?”

“I wouldn’t mind going as your date,” he said, his voice was a bit husky. 

“And here I thought you would like to avoid an event like this,” I shook my head in disbelief. “Too much noise, too many kids at the same place.”

“I am full of surprises, princess,” he winked at her. 

That stupid nickname made her roll her eyes. “Fine, you can be my date,” she agreed after a while. “But we still need to look after the students and be responsible teachers,” I warned him. “No booze, sir.”

“What?” he frowned, obviously not happy with that information.”Who made that rule?”

“It’s a student prom and they are all underaged,” I explained to him. “You think the Professor will allow alcohol? Ha, wake up, darling.” 

“Look who is using nicknames,” he pointed it out. “I was about to say I am excited about the whole prom thing. This changes everything. I don’t even know if I wanna go.” 

Y/N got annoyed by that comment. She gave him an evil glare. “Fuck you, Logan. And here I thought you’d be excited that I agreed to be your date. Maybe I should ask Hank to be my date.”

“Oh, come on, princess, I am messing with ya.” 

When Y/N was sure she had all her belongings, she walked away from him. “Goodnight, Logan,” she sang to him. 

She couldn’t see but Logan had a gentle smile on his face, pleased by all the teasing. There was some excitement bubbling inside of him. She agreed to go to that stupid prom with him. 

Y/N hid in her room where she finished grading the last essays. She didn’t let herself think about anything, or anyone until the work was done. Luckily, the last essays were very good and they all received an A. 

She changed into a T-shirt and shorts and got into her bed. The moment she turned the light off, she thought back to the last half an hour - to the part where Logan asked her to be his date for the school prom. 

A laugh escaped her throat. The Wolverine asked her to be his date for a school prom. How surreal. 

Her heart fluttered and her cheeks got hot. The truth was, she liked Logan a lot. There was something eye-gripping and panties-dropping about him. In the past, she would date the exact opposite men than was he. And the way Logan would mess with her, she secretly loved it. 

With him, she didn’t have to pretend to be someone she’s not.

The next few days were normal. She taught English and Literature classes and found the time to dress shop with Angel two days before the prom. She found a beautiful red dress with secret pockets on each side and an exposed back. It had a deep cleavage that would show her breasts perfectly. 

“So, found a dress yet?” Logan stopped by her side the day before the prom. He was standing close behind her, breathing in her scent. 

“Aren’t you a curious soul,” she tilted her head and grinned. “You know what they say: Curiosity killed the cat.” 

“What if I want to match a tie?” he asked innocently, to which she had to laugh. “I am serious, Y/N.” 

Y/N turned around and was met with his eyes staring into her. She pressed a book closer to her chest and smirked at him. “See, if I tell you my dress is blue, would you put on a blue tie?” 

He made a face. “No,” he said seriously. 

“So why ask if you won’t do it anyway.” 

“Come on, Y/N, tell me,” he nudged her shoulder.  

She laughed and pushed him out of her way. “I want it to be a surprise, so stop being nosy,” she winked at him and left to teach another class. 

Logan grinned when she left him standing in the hallway, but there was one person who saw the interaction - Hank. The Beast passed by him in the hallway, staring at the Wolverine, chuckling. “You two are unbelievable,” he commented. 

“Shut up,” he growled at Hank. 

“Come on, it’s… adorable,” he said the word carefully.

Logan rolled his eyes, already done with the conversation. He walked down the hallway to his class where he taught history. 

He had a thing for her and he couldn’t even lie to himself about it. Logan’s eyes would linger on her longer than necessary. He would watch her leave and stare at her back until she was gone (well, he stared at her ass, because god, it was a good ass.) 

When Saturday came, all the students were excited about this event. The girls who came up with the idea of having a prom were praised by many. The boys and men had to help set the outside with balloons, giant speakers, and other decorations. Storm and Kitty were in the kitchen preparing the drinks for the evening - making sure they were non-alcoholic. Charles forbade any kind of alcohol because the students were too young to drink. 

Logan was still pissed about it. It was one thing to go to a stupid prom with a beautiful woman by his side, which made him rethink the whole “stupid” thing. But on the other hand - no alcohol? Not even a beer? It would be difficult. 

Y/N came to the kitchen with two big boxes on top of each other, followed by Bobby who had another three, keeping them cool. Deserts arrived. They decided that finger food was the best option for this event. 

Bobby wanted to take one dessert, but his fingers were smacked by Kitty, who glared at him. “No,” she said strictly. 

“But I helped,” he pleaded. When Kitty didn’t permit him one tiny piece of cake, he left the kitchen puffy.

“Will this be enough?” Storm asked when she looked at all the boxes. 

“Maybe you should ask that boy, Dean, who can make any food with a snap of his fingers to make us something,” Y/N suggested, smiling innocently. 

“Wouldn’t that be mean?” Kitty questioned. 

Y/N only shrugged as she walked out of the kitchen. “It’s worth trying,” she then shouted at them when she was farther away. 

Logan walked inside the school just as Y/N was about to hit the upper floor. “What’s with the dumb face?” he pointed at her, curious about that smile playing on her lips. 

Her eyes squinted, giving him an annoyed expression. “Always so curious, huh?”

“And you are always so mysterious,” he smirked at her. 

“You like it, Logan,” she gave him a wink and continued walking up the stairs. 

If only she turned to see the smile on his face as he watched her walk up the stairs. “Hey,” he stopped her before she disappeared into the upper level. “Should I come for you tonight?” 

Y/N leaned against the wooden bannister. “It depends on…”

“On?” 

“What kind of movie effect do you want: ‘Princess walking down the stairs - the Princess effect’ or ‘I shall come for you, my darling to admire you in secret’.” She said the other one dramatically. “So, what do you want?” And then she made the Scales with her hands. 

She could see the wheels spinning inside Logan’s head. He thought about what he wanted to happen. And then she heard a faint “fuck” coming out of his lips. 

“Both of them sound good, huh?” she smiled brightly, showing him her white teeth. “If you don’t come by 6:30 pm, I’ll know you want the ‘Princess effect’.” And she was gone. 

That woman is a fucking tease, he thought. She did things to him and he was hard, painfully hard. Gritting his teeth, he left the hallway and went to the kitchen to fetch himself something to drink. 

When he didn’t come by 6:30, Y/N knew he decided on the ‘Princess effect’. She checked her appearance in the mirror one last time before she left her room. The prom would start at 7 pm and the teachers had to gather a bit earlier. 

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. She was curious to see Logan’s reaction. Hell, she still couldn’t believe he asked her to this prom. Y/N had to laugh at it. But it was thrilling. There were butterflies inside her stomach, tickling her - or was it her vagina? 

As predicted, Logan, Hank and Bobby were chatting at the stairs, all dressed in fancy suits. And from what she could see, Logan chose an all-black suit. Fuck, she thought. 

Bobby was the first one who saw her. “Wow,” he said when his eyes landed on her. “You look good, Y/N.” 

And then Logan turned and his eyes widened, observing Y/N in her long red dress. She looked gorgeous, like a princess. Fucking princess effect. 

There was a slit up her right leg to her thigh that showed up when she walked. Her breasts were screaming at him, as they were pressed against the dress and popping out. The way her hair was loose on her shoulders and her make-up and… he was fucked. Her scent surrounded his being, influencing his every sense.

“Gentlemen,” she greeted them with a soft smile. 

“Dressed to kill?” Bobby commented.

“Something like that,” she winked at him. “After all, this is my first prom ever.” 

Logan’s eyes still lingered on her face, occasionally drifting to her breasts and then up her neck to her lips and eyes again. He still didn’t say a word to her. Maybe he forgot to talk? Fuck, he forgot to breathe and exist.

“First prom?” Hank was surprised. “If that’s the case,” he looked at Logan and chuckled, “you are doing a splendid job.” He patted Bobby on his shoulder as a sign to leave Logan and Y/N alone. 

She made a face and looked at Logan. “Did the ‘Princess effect’ work?” 

He released a breath that he was holding. “You look hideous.” 

Y/N laughed out loud. She wasn’t offended, because she knew he didn’t mean it at all. “Uh-huh, sure, if you say so.” She reached her hand to his face and helped him close his mouth. “You are drooling.” 

“The fuck I am,” he rolled his eyes. Like a gentleman, he gave her his arm to grab. When she did, they walked outside. 

They looked like a deadly couple. When they arrived at the outdoor prom, everyone who was present turned their attention to them. Logan, dressed in black, which was shocking as it was, and Y/N in a sexy red dress, was a deadly combo. 

Some of the students, who were already there, stared at the couple, whispering about them. Logan could hear their whispers. Enhanced hearing was a blessing and a curse. They couldn’t believe that those two were attending together. 

Is Mr. Howlett dating Miss Y/L/N? 

How could she say yes to him?

How the hell did that happen?

More students came and the prom could finally start. The music was loud, drinks and finger food were served and the students had a great time. The teachers stood together at a drinks table, talking. Compliments were flying around. The women even admired how Logan looked in his suit, but he would grumble something under his nose. He was getting grumpier by the second. He desperately needed alcohol or anything else that would help him survive the night.

“Shit,” Y/N gasped when her eyes found Johny zapping other girls with his electric ability. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan was the first one to watch her leave, eyes travelling up and down her body. “Fuck me,” he cursed. 

“We are not blind, Logan,” Charles wheeled to his side, his eyes were in the crowd, watching as Y/N talked to the young student. “And, excuse me, but your thoughts are screaming some things that I wish I didn’t have to hear.” 

“So don’t be a creep and listen.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. “You should make a move, Logan.”

“We are colleagues,” he said. 

“Whatever you say. But we see the chemistry between you two. Plus, you make a good team during missions.” 

Annoyed, he turned to Charles to talk back, but the man was already talking to Kitty. Logan shook his head in disbelief. He hated to admit that what Y/N meant to him was something he wished he didn’t want to experience again - out of fear of losing that person, again. She was the air he needed to breathe, the water he needed to drink.  

Some teenage boys approached Y/N on the dance floor once she was done with Johny. Logan frowned, not liking how close they were to her. Horny teenagers. 

“You look real’ nice teach,” said one of them. 

“Wanna dance?”

“No, first with me. I do enjoy your classes the most.” 

What a fucking liar, Logan thought. None of the boys were interested in her classes or teaching or her knowledge. 

Logan clenched his fists tightly. The more he listened to how those boys talked to her; how their eyes travelled her body, looking where only he should be the one looking, the more he wanted to scare the shit out of them. And when she took a step back, his legs moved forward, determined to step in and shoo them away. 

“Is there a problem?” his voice got darker, more intimidating. 

The boys feared the great Wolverine and so they quickly stepped back. “We were just…”

“I believe there are other girls more suitable for you,” he hugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go bother them.” 

With a snap of fingers, they were gone. They wouldn’t dare to talk back to the Wolverine. And, they feared he would make their lives miserable during history lessons. 

“Charming,” Y/N commented, chuckling. 

“You should have seen how they were looking at you,” he glared at her. “As if you were their prey.” 

“Good thing you came to rescue little ol’ me.”

He rubbed his face with a hand, sighing. “I need a drink. To hell with this no alcohol policy.” 

“Already so grumpy? And the prom barely started,” she gently stroked his arm, feeling the muscles under his suit.

“Well, it sucks.”

She took a step closer to him, tilting her head up to watch his face. “You know, this dress has secret pockets and I might have something inside of them that is forbidden this evening.” She gleamed with innocence. 

Logan inhaled her sweet scent again. He saw that teasing smile, could feel her body heat and he could breathe her in until the end of his time. “Are you suggesting that there’s some forbidden substance on you right now?” 

Her lips crooked into a wicked smile. “Come with me.” 

He didn’t have to be told twice. He walked by her side, farther away from the students and the whole prom, heading to the pond. The estate was vast. It was a perfect place to sneak around at night.

“For a teacher, you know how to break the rules,” he commented.

“Rules are meant to be broken, or am I wrong?” 

They stopped by the pond, next to one of the big thick trees standing there proudly. It was a perfect spot to be hidden but also see if any of the students were sneaking away from the party. 

They were surrounded by darkness. Only the moon gave them enough light to see each other’s faces. 

Y/N reached into one of the pockets and took out a black flask. She waved it in front of his eyes. “You are the best, princess,” he said. He was quick enough to take it out of her hand, open it and take a sniff. “Whisky?” he was surprised. 

“Please, repeat that I am the best, go on,” she goaded him. 

“You are the fucking best, princess,” he said and took a sip of the liquid. “Damn.” 

He handed her the flask and it was her turn to drink. “We are the two most irresponsible teachers. How can Charles trust us with the kids?” She put the flask to her lips and drank the liquid. It burned her throat and she turned up her nose. “It’s been a while since I had whisky.” 

“Why drink if you don’t like it?” 

“Who says I don’t like it?” 

“Your face,” he grabbed the flask from her again. 

“Rude, you know that?” she made an offended face. 

“Shut up,” he laughed at her and drank once more. “You’re a bad influence, you know that, eh? 

She raised a brow. “Are you complaining? I can take the flask and leave you here while I enjoy the drinking alone.” Y/N reached for the flask but he grabbed her wrist tightly. 

“Don’t you dare, princess,” he huffed. “You’d let old man suffer like this?” 

She scoffed. “What a fucking liar.”

“I’m over 150 years old,” he states, his hand not leaving her wrist. “So, yeah, I’m old.” 

“Uh-huh, ancient even,” she put a mocking smile on her face. “ The Smithsonian called, they want their fossil back.”

“Very funny.”

Her eyes drifted to his hand wrapped over her wrist. “You know, I don’t mind that you are holding me, but I want to drink.” 

Logan clears his throat and lets go of her. “Sorry,” he apologizes. 

Y/N drank the whisky. “So Canadian,” she commented, making a fake French accent. “Always apologising.”

“Are we on this again?” Y/N loved to tease him about this. The Canadian jokes were funny. Then again, he would tease her for her European heritage. 

“Oui, oui ma chérie,” she replied in the best French she could muster. 

“Fuck you with those Canadian jokes.”

“Ha, you wish.” 

Logan took the flask out of her hand to drink again. Y/N was quick enough to take it before he could put it to his lips. A new sound escaped Logan’s throat as he pressed himself closer to her to reach for the flask again. He was successful. Y/N wanted to steal it again but Logan put it up in the air, mocking her to take it from there. 

The annoyance on her face was evident and he laughed. “Come and get it, princess.” 

Y/N tried. To get it, she took a step closer to him and stretched her arms up as much as her body let her. The front of her body pressed against his hard, muscular chest. Logan could feel the shape of her perfect breasts. 

His eyes found her. That’s when he realised how close her face was to his. All he needed to do was to lean closer and he would be able to get to her lips - taste them for the first time. Once her breath hit his face, he went for it. 

Logan closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against her in their first soft kiss. He tested the waters, just to find out if she wanted this or not. When the kiss deepened, he let the flask drop to the grass and his arms wrapped tightly around her body. Their lips moved, exploring each other lips and mouths. He found a moment where she would grant him access and he pressed his tongue inside her mouth to explore it a bit further. 

Y/N’s arms were around his neck, pulling herself as close to him as possible. “Logan,” she moaned his name when his lips moved to her chin and then to her neck. He found a sensitive spot that got her weak in the knees and another moan got out of her throat. 

Logan stopped the kissing to look into her face. “Fuck, princess, I dreamt about this for some time now.” 

“So why are you stopping now?” she whispered. 

“I don’t think I will be able to stop,” he admitted, brushing her lower lip with his thumb. 

Y/N took it between her lips and sucked on it. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop,” she said after she let it out with a pop.

His lips were back on her in a messier kiss. It was all tongue and teeth, biting and pulling. Her hands stroked his chest over the fancy clothes he wore, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. Logan’s hands gripped her ass tightly, enjoying how it felt on his big palms. “I want you, baby girl.” 

“I want you too, Logan,” she moaned into his mouth. 

He pressed her harshly against the nearest tree they stood by, pushing his body to her. He was painfully hard and there was no way he’d be able to stop now. So when her hand found his bulge, he was a goner. 

“Fuck,” she gasped. 

His hand found her exposed thigh and it travelled up until he made her wrap the leg around his waist. Then he pressed the bulge against her clothed pussy. And that was rewarded by another sweet moan. 

All of a sudden, he stopped and looked into her face. She was breathing heavily, a hint of confusion evident on her face. Her eyes asked why he stopped. Her hands grabbed tightly onto his jacket. “Not here,” Logan said after he caught his breath. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. 

“Why not?” she sighed, impatient. 

“‘Cuz a princess like you should be treated like one,” he explained. “Plus, tonight you look like a fucking princess.” He wanted the best for her. “And maybe in time, I’d fuck the soul out of you somewhere in the woods.” 

A slow smile pulled on her lips. “Ah, so you think about this not being a one-time thing?” 

He carefully let her exposed leg go. He then put a finger under her chin. “Fuck, no. You can’t deny there’s somethin’ between us.” 

Y/N’s arms were back around his neck, breathing in his scent. He still hadn’t smoked those cigars because there was no trace of the smell on him. Her fingers scrapped his nape and it made him roll his eyes in pleasure. “The teasing, the banter, how we make fun of each other… yeah, there definitely is.” 

He hummed. “Plus, everyone can see it, as they kept reminding me the last few days.” 

That made her laugh. “Yeah, I had my talk with Ororo.”

Y/N pushed her back from the three and she yelped in pain. Some of the wood scratched her back. “Fuck,” she cursed. 

“And that is another reason why we should take this somewhere else,” he said as his hand brushed her hair off the back and swiped off some of the bits of wood and dirt. He could smell a bit of blood. 

Before they headed back to the dance, Logan picked the flask from the ground. There was some alcohol left. He handed it to her and she took a sip. Afterwards, he drank the rest of it. They walked side by side, his big hand brushing against her smaller one. Here and there, they would give one another fleeting stares.

“I’m gonna take you for a ride tomorrow,” he said out of nowhere and that got her attention. “What do you say?” 

“Oh, like a date?” she nudged his shoulder. “I didn’t know you do that. I always thought that you were above these things. You know, toxic masculinity and shit.” 

“Now you hurt my feelings, princess.” 

“I’m just messing with you, Lo’. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not surprised. I really didn’t picture you as the one who would ask a girl on a date. It’s nice.”

“So, is that a yes?” 

Quickly, she got on her tiptoes, pulled on his hand to lean a bit to her and she kissed him on the bearded cheek. “Yes.” 

When they came back to the prom, they kept some of the distance between them. Kitty was the first to approach them. “Hey, I think the Professor said no alcohol,” she pointed at the flask that Y/N was holding in her left hand. 

“Cough syrup,” she said innocently. 

Logan had to hold back his laugh. Kitty, on the other hand, shook her head in disapproval. She watched as her friend put the flask into a pocket of her dress. “Sneaky.” 

“I told her she’s a bad influence,” Logan commented. That earned him a slap on the shoulder. 

Someone’s gentle fingers brushed against her back. “What happened to you?” Ororo’s voice came from behind her. She found the tiny scratches on her back. When she moved her hair to the side, there were more of them. 

“Oh,” Y/N waved a hand. “Just slippery grass and I bumped into a tree.” 

Kitty made a face and Ororo glared at her too, knowing she was lying to them. Then their eyes were on Logan. “She’s fucking clumsy.” 

“Right,” Ororo commented. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I am going to the bathroom,” she said. Nothing better came to her mind to get away from that situation. And with her head high, she left her friends and Logan standing there. 

Y/N ended up in one of the closest bathrooms where she tried to take a peek at her back, to see how bad it was. She was able to see some scratches on the left side of her shoulder, but it was not that bad. Yes, there were scratches and some blood, but nothing horrible. All she needed was to clean it off with a wet cloth. 

Her sigh reverberated through the room. It all kept coming back to her - the way his lips felt, how he kissed her and touched her. How he pressed her against the tree, ready to have his way with her. Fuck, he was packing. She thought they would fuck there, right against the tree, but he didn’t want to. And it all brought a smile to her face. 

Y/N had been pining for him for some time now. In her eyes, Logan was the exact opposite of a man that she would date in the past. He was the epitome of a man. She couldn’t count how many times her panties dropped when she talked to him, or when he did something. And those damn claws. Fuck! 

After washing her hands, she left the bathroom and headed back to the prom. Maybe she could ask him to dance with her? Would he?

That didn’t happen because Logan was standing at the stairs, waiting. 

“Why are you not outside?” she asked. 

He reached a hand to her. She eyed him, curious why he did that, but gave him her hand. “Just come,” was all he said. 

Logan took her upstairs, all the way back to her room. He was inside maybe twice, never paying her room any special attention until now. 

She had a guitar by the table, a queen-sized bed with a night table and a lamp. Her walls were decorated with shelves and books. It was a cosy room, better than his.  Y/N opened her mouth to question him. Logan made her sit on the bed. “You have a disinfection?” 

She peaked at him through her dark lashes. “Bathroom.” 

Logan went to the other door in the room where found a shower, toilet and a sink with cabinets and a mirror. He went to the cabinet under the sink where he found a box marked a first aid kit. 

He sat behind her on the bed, brushing her hair away from her shoulders so he could have a peek at her exposed back. Without words, he cleaned the tiny scratches from the tree. “Shit, there’s some wood inside this one,” he cursed once he found one wound that needed more treatment. 

He found tweezers that helped him get out the piece of wood. She didn’t even flinch. Once he was done, he put the first aid kit back in the bathroom. 

Y/N stood up and waited for his return. “How will I repay you, my knight in shining armour?” 

His actions spoke louder than words. He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her close to his body, his lips back on her as they were over half an hour ago. Her hands removed his black jacket and let it fall on the floor.

“You look so hot in a suit,” she mumbled between the kisses. “I could eat you up.” 

He chuckled. “I think that is my line, princess. Now, tell me, how much do you like that dress?” 

Y/N stopped everything she was doing and took a step back. “Oh no no, do not touch the dress with your claws. It was fucking expensive and I like it.” 

That playful grin on his face would be her death. He sat down on her bed and took off the tie. “Take it off for me, now, or,” he looked down at his fist as his three adamantium claws came out of his skin. “Or there will be no dress left.” 

Her fingers found the tiny zipper on her side. Y/N’s eyes never left his dark eyes, boring into them as she teasingly took off the dress as he commanded her. His claws were gone once he stood in front of him only in her red thong.

“Fuck, princess, look at you.” He ogled her from head to toe, his eyes lingering longer on her perky breasts. Her body had beautiful curves that he dreamt about for a long time. 

Y/N was quick to get to him and sat on his lap, pressing her pussy against his hard bulge. Her hands grabbed the middle of his black button-up. He couldn’t let a sound out, she ripped the buttons, exposing his hard-toned chest. 

“How is that fair?” he snarled. 

“And how is it fair that I am almost naked here while you sit here, all comfy and clothed?” she cocked her eyebrow. She took the piece of clothing off him completely, admiring everything and anything on him - those toned arms and shoulders, that chest, and fuck, even though he was a hairy man, she was into it. Her fingers dug into his skin, leaving deep red marks on his chest. 

His lips found her neck in delicate kisses that he pressed to her skin, trailing down to her collarbones until he found her chest and latched onto her nipples hungrily. “These tits were made for me.” He bit onto one, making her yelp. 

Y/N’s hands went between their bodies, finding his belt and zipper, trying to get inside of them hurriedly. “Impatient?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

She heard his dark chuckle that then turned into a moan once her hand got inside his trousers and grabbed his length. “Princess, don’t be a tease.” 

With his help, the rest of his clothes were gone. Logan lay down on her bed, watching her crawl on top of him. Her breasts were right at his face. One piece of clothing was separating her sweet cunt and his cock and that was the damn thong. One of his claws got out of his hand and precisely tore the piece of fabric without hurting her. He took the damaged panties away and threw them on the ground. 

“Now, are you gonna stare at me or are you gonna ride me with that sweet pussy of yours?” His hands then rested on her thighs, lazily travelling up to her sides and then to her gorgeous breasts, squeezing them. His fingers tweaked her hard nipples, making her moan for him. 

“Come on, princess, be a good girl and ride me.” 

Y/N grabbed his cock and aligned it with her entrance, carefully sinking onto it. Her mouth was agape as she kept her eyes locked onto his one. “Fuck, so thick.” 

First, the pace was slow. She tried to get used to his girth. After a few thrusts, she sped up. Logan’s hands grabbed her and they entwined their fingers. “Shit, sweetheart, you squeeze me so well. Your pussy is amazing.” 

“Logan,” she said his name hoarsely. 

He quickly lost his patience and switched them. Y/N landed on her bed with a huff and he entered her before she realised what happened. The room filled with skin-on-skin slapping sounds. He fucked her rough and fast. Y/N’s nails dung into the skin on his back. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t hurt him.

His left hand went between their bodies until he found her clit and toyed with it. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to cum.”

“Yes,” she moaned. “I’m s-so close. Fuck.”

“Come on, cum for me, princess. I wanna feel you.” He put her right leg over his shoulder and got deeper than before. “I can feel you’re close. Come on, cum for me.” 

It took a few more thrusts and some strokes on her clit when she climaxed. The way her cunt squeezed his cock brought him to his peak fast and he spilled inside her, coating her walls white. “Ah!”

“Fuck, fuck,” he cursed as his thrusts got sloppier, slower. He stopped once her pussy stopped spasming and his release ended. 

Their breaths were heavy. Her chest was heaving and it was a beautiful sight to watch her breasts move in front of his eyes. He latched onto one of the nipples, sucking on it. “Fucking beautiful.” 

Then their lips connected in a heated kiss, tongues battling. She giggled when he looked back at her. “Damn,” she whispered. “That was hot. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Logan was curious. He rolled next to her side. 

She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest, breathing in his scent. “How about,” she started slowly. “Tomorrow, after you take me for a ride on your bike, I ride you on your bike?” 

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You will be the death of me, princess.” 

[lowkeyhollland]

best of both worlds

peter park x stark!reader 4.2k words mix it all together & you know you get the best of both worlds

“I just don’t understand why I can’t know who Spider-Man is,” you grabbed yesterday’s unfinished iced coffee from the fridge and closed it. “I know everyone else’s identity, Dad. Why not this one? 

“Y/n, I love you, but–” Your dad started but was rudely interrupted. 

“You’re a yapper!” Sam yelled from across the kitchen and Bucky started laughing with him as you shot them a glare. 

“Okay, who taught them that?” You crossed your arms as the two kept laughing.

“I’m sorry, princess. But it’s true,” your dad laughed with them while you rolled my eyes. He messed with your hair and kissed the top of your head. “You can’t keep a secret to yourself.”

“You told the whole world you’re Iron Man,” You rebutted, and ‘oohs’ erupted from the small crowd. “Plus, the only person I tell is Peter.”

“What about when you told Ned you were going with us to Germany,” Bucky said.

“I had to tell my teachers I would be gone and he was curious,” You shrugged and took a sip from your coffee. 

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” Just then, the man of the hour, Spider-Man swung into the kitchen. Well, he walked into the kitchen. “I might be gone–” he stopped mid-sentence when he saw you. “Y/n! Hi!”

“Hello, Spider-Man,” You narrowed your eyes at him and he spun his head around. 

“Did I do something?” His voice squeaked and you narrowed my eyes even more. 

“She’s just upset that we won’t tell her your identity,” Tony informed him. 

“If I just keep guessing who you are, will you tell me if I’m right?” You batted your eyelashes at the masked hero as you put on the sweetest smile. You could tell he was smirking as he let out a soft chuckle while shaking his head.

“I doubt you’ll guess correctly, sweetheart.” He crossed his arms and Tony’s flickered between the two of you, a faint smirk forming on his lips. A small blush crept onto your cheeks at the nickname. 

“All I’m saying is everyone in the Hannah Montana universe was stupid because they couldn’t put two and two together,” you mumbled as you grabbed a granola bar from the pantry.

“But how were they stupid if they never heard Miley sing? They had nothing to compare her to.” Spider-Man started the counter-argument and you raised your eyebrows, turning to face him and straightening out your back. 

“At every concert, the artist speaks to the audience. How did they not notice that Miley and Hannah sounded the same when speaking? Or even her mannerisms.” You eyed Spider-man cautiously as he grabbed an apple. 

“Alright, one of you can’t be in here if you are going to remove your mask.” Your dad pointed to the both of you and you rolled my eyes.

“It’s fine, I’m leaving for school anyway.” You slung your backpack on and grabbed your car keys. “Bye Dad, love you. Bye, guys! See you later.” 

“Wait, are you picking up Parker?” Your dad yelled and your eyes widened. 

“Shit! I’m late!” You yelled and ran out the door to the car. 

“Drive safe!” You heard your dad’s voice in the distance while seeing a flash of red leaving the tower. Interesting. 

– – –

You frantically knocked on Peter’s apartment door. It swung open and Peter smiled and was breathing heavily. “Hi,” he sighed and smiled. 

“Hi,” You smiled back at him. “You ready?”

“Yeah! Let’s go.” He walked out and locked the door and the two of you hurried to your car. 

You were speeding down the road, not trying to be late for the second day. “Y/n/n! Slow down!” Peter grabbed the car handle and sat straight back in his seat. 

“Oh please, I’m only ten over. I cannot be late again. Mrs. Smith threatened to give me a week’s worth of detention if I was late to her class… again. ” You stopped at the red light and took a sip from your coffee and Peter scoffed. 

“As if they’d ever give Tony Stark’s daughter detention.”

“You’d be surprised,” you said under your breath. “Hey, weird question.”

“What’s up?” Peter looked over giving you, his chocolate brown eyes full of wonder and ready to tackle whatever question you had to say. 

“Did you watch Hannah Montana as a kid?” And just like that, all the wonder was drained from his eyes and his mouth formed a line. 

He knew he had to be careful of what he would say in this conversation in case it reminded you of Spider-Man this morning. It wasn’t that Peter didn’t trust you. No, not at all, he trusted you with his entire life. You were his best friend, but Tony had advised him to keep his secret identity to a limited number of people in case it spread like wildfire. 

“Not really, why?” 

“Nothing, I just got into an argument with Spider-Man today.” You grumbled, looking in your blindspot to switch lanes, seeing Midtown was coming up on the left. 

“It won’t ever shock me how easily you can just casually mention superheroes.” Peter took your coffee and took a sip from it. His face scrunched up and he immediately gagged. “How much sugar did you put in this?!”

“It’s from Dunkin’! You know I always get three packs of sugar with my Dunkin’ coffee.” Peter shook his head as he handed it back to you before you both got out of the car. 

“And every time, I forget how disgustingly sugary your Dunkin’ order is.”

“It's not my fault you like your coffee black. You know, you have to be some psychopath to like straight-up black coffee.” 

“Sorry, you have the palette of a five-year-old.” You gasped at the comment and lightly pushed Peter away as you walked through the school doors.

“Whatever, I’ll see you later.” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile on your face before walking away to your first period. 

“See you!” Peter exclaimed, a smile forming on his face as he admired you from afar.

– – –

“I was team Jake because I had a thing for blondes, but then when he cheated on Miley, I was so heartbroken my dad had to watch me to make sure I didn’t throw up from crying so hard.” Ned and Peter listened to you intently as you rambled on about your favorite childhood show. MJ would look up from her book now and then to nod at you to show she was listening. 

“How were you not team Jesse right away? I mean, even I was head over heels for him,” Ned argued with you about the teen heartthrobs. 

“I don’t know, Jake was so charming to six-year-old me. I just couldn’t not fall in love with him. He was always so smooth with everything.”

“So, the opposite of Peter?” MJ raised an eyebrow and smirked while you let out a giggle. 

“Exactly.” You agreed with her while Peter’s mouth hung open. 

“Okay well, Miley didn’t even have to tell Jesse she was Hannah. He figured it out himself because he was so in love with her while Miley had to put the wig on in front of Jake.” Peter smugly said. You stared at him as he proudly smiled at himself.

“I thought you didn’t watch the show,” you mumbled and Peter’s cheeks flushed pink. 

“I mean, not really, but– okay fine,” Peter sighed knowing you had caught him in a lie. “I was the biggest Hannah Montana fan out there. I used to perform just like her in our living room.” The whole table burst into laughter and his entire face went red.

“Please tell me May has videos!” You said in between laughs and you heard your best friend grumble something. 

“Is that why there were purple Hannah Montana sheets in your linen closet?” Ned asked, wiping away tears. 

“It’s okay, Pete. My go-to karaoke song is ‘Best of Both Worlds.’” You smiled in an attempt to make him feel better. He gave you a tight lip smile, knowing no one would let him forget about this. “But, back to this Jake and Jesse discourse,” you circled the conversation back on track. “Would you say Jesse only found out because he was so insanely in love with her?” You watched as Peter thought about the question for a while. You couldn’t help but smile as you admired the way his brown curls fell on his head perfectly or how he bit his lower lip a little as he concentrated. 

“Yes, I believe so.” And that was all the information you needed. 

– – –

Peter walked into the living room of the compound, following the echoes of your laughter. He furrowed his eyebrows together when he saw you throwing a laughing fit over something on your phone. 

“Are you… okay?” Peter cautiously asked. You motioned for him to sit next to you on the couch, still laughing. 

“Look– look at what May sent me,” you managed to get out. Peter looked at your phone and saw a video of six-year-old him singing ‘I Got Nerve’ into a remote, dancing around the living room like he was a pop star. 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled under his breath, horrified. He quickly grabbed your phone away and held it up as you protested against it. 

“No! Peter give it back!” You exclaimed climbing over him to take back your phone. 

“Nu-uh!” A playful smile formed on his lips when he switched which hand held the phone. You were both laughing and messing around until you lost your balance and he caught you under his arm, pulling you close to him so you wouldn’t fall off the couch. Your faces were inches apart and you were praying your face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

“Hi,” you whispered to him, staring into his big brown eyes.

“Hi,” he mumbled back, his eyes flickering down to your lips. His action didn’t go as unnoticed as he had hoped when you smirked back at him. It wasn’t uncommon for you two to be so close to each other, but the position you were in was definitely different than most times. You know, being quite literally on top of him and everything. 

“Can I have my phone back, please?” You batted your eyelashes at him. Peter gulped and nodded, not trusting anything that might come out of his mouth. You slowly got off on top of him and sat at the end of the couch and Peter tossed you your phone as you threw your legs over his lap. 

“Now delete the video,” Peter demanded. You were taken aback by his tone and couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I top him once and I don’t even get a thank you,” you jokingly said and he rolled his eyes. 

“Y/n, seriously.”

“Fine,” you grumbled and deleted the video against your will. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He smiled at you but the nickname took you by surprise. You furrowed your eyebrows together and looked at your best friend.

“Wait, why are you even here? I didn’t invite you over.” You realize Peter just appeared out of nowhere. 

“She tops me once and thinks she’s in control of me,” he jokes around and you lightly kick his leg. 

“You fucking wish, Parker.” You laughed at how red his face had turned while his eyes widened. 

“I- uh, I have that internship with your dad, remember?” He answered your question, ignoring the comment you made. You silently mouthed an ‘oh,’ completely forgetting about the internship.

“What do you even do for the internship? I’ve never seen you here doing anything else but hanging out with me.” You eyed your best friend suspiciously as he squirmed around avoiding your eye contact.

“I– uh, you know, I do… stuff.” He scratched the back of his neck, his eyebrows furrowing together once more. 

“What kind of… stuff?” You raised an eyebrow at him and could’ve sworn you heard him gulp. 

“I… repair their suits! Yeah, I do that,” Peter said almost like he was trying to convince himself. 

“So why are you here today? No one has been on a mission in like a month.” Your suspicions were rapidly going up by the minute. Why would your best friend lie about what he does for your dad? Unless… No, that's crazy, you thought. 

“I was upgrading Spider-Man’s suit,” Peter’s face fell. Shit. Alarms were going off in his head, hoping you wouldn’t catch onto anything. But another part of him was hoping you would. He thought maybe he should just come clean. Right here, right now. He watched as you eyed him up and down, biting your lower lip. 

“Fun.” He sat there shocked. Fun? That was all you had to say? 

“Yeah, super fun.” He let out a sigh as he sat further back on the couch. You looked at him curiously, opening and closing your mouth like you had something to say. He looked at you, questioning your movements, but you just shook your head. “I should… probably get back to your dad.” He lifted your legs off his lap and you just nodded. 

“Yeah, don’t want to upset Tony Stark,” you scoffed and he smiled. 

“Maybe tomorrow after I’m done, we can watch a movie?” Peter suggested, but you had other plans. 

“Tomorrow’s Bachelor night,” you smirked and you could have sworn you saw Peter’s face light up.

“Oh, I don’t want to miss the girls fighting. Save me a seat next to you,” he winked and you felt your cheeks start to blush. “I’ll see you later.” Peter messed with your hair and kissed the top of it. You sat there in shock while he walked away, eyes wide and face red once he realized what he had done. 

– – –

“Mr. Stark, I don’t think I can keep it a secret from her any longer.” Peter stood next to his mentor as they worked on his suit together, the memory of him kissing your head replaying over and over again. Tony sighed and looked at Peter.

“If you want to tell her, kid, you can. No one’s stopping you.” He tilted his head to the side as he sighed again. His answer took Peter aback. 

“But you told me I shouldn’t tell her.” His mouth hung open, still shocked at Tony’s response. 

“I only said that in hopes of keeping my daughter safe.”

“But she’s constantly surrounded by other superheroes. And, no offense, but she’s your daughter.” Peter bluntly said and Tony let out a dry chuckle. 

“I know.”

“So, why did you tell me to keep it from her in the first place?” Peter looked around confused. 

“Because she’s already surrounded by enough heroes as it is.” Tony made it seem like it made total sense, but Peter just stood there stunned. 

“So?” He felt bad giving his mentor attitude, but he was so confused and lost at what to do and the responses he was receiving. 

“So,” Tony exaggerated. “If she’s seen with Spider-Man, she can, you know, attract danger.” 

“But she’s already seen with– I’m so confused, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s eyes pleaded for a clear response and Tony groaned. 

“Again, if she’s seen with Spider-Man, she can get hurt. I just want my precious daughter to be safe, is that too much to ask for?”

“But she’s always seen with you guys. I don’t understand.” Peter was so confused he thought his head was going to explode for feeling so dumb. 

“If she is seen with Spider-Man–” Tony tried to emphasize. 

“Yes, I get it, but–”

“Oh my God, do I have to spell it out for you? Kid, we all know you’ve been in love with Y/n ever since you met the girl!” Peter stood there dumbfounded. 

“What? I– no I am not– I mean no offense, but–” Peter’s words were all jumbled together as his cheeks flushed pink. 

“What’s Parker rambling on about now?” Steve asked as he walked through the doors of the lab. 

“Trying to convince me he’s not in love with my daughter,” Tony bluntly said, turning back to work on the suit. Steve burst into laughter and Peter’s face fell. 

“Oh, Parker, anyone can see that you’re head over heels for her from miles away.” Peter’s entire face had turned red from embarrassment. 

“Okay, so maybe I am—“

“And you are,” Tony mumbled. Peter shot him a look before continuing. 

“Why does that have to interfere with me being Spider-Man? She’s my best friend, I’m tired of lying to her all the time when she’s already a part of this sort of lifestyle!” Peter threw his hands up in frustration. 

“It’s up to you, Parker. But if Spider-Man is seen with any sort of love interest, criminals can take advantage of that. And it’s your responsibility to make sure my daughter gets home safe.” Tony pointed his finger into Peter’s chest. The kid gulped and nodded before returning their attention to his suit. 

— — —

“I’m home!” You yelled through the compound. Walking into the kitchen, you saw a familiar red suit rummaging through the fridge. “Hello, Spider-Man.” You announced. He whipped his head around, causing him to almost hit it on the door. 

“H-Hey, Y/n!” He scratched the back of his neck and you eyed him suspiciously. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. It’s Bachelor night, are you gonna watch with us?” You swirled your iced coffee in your hand before taking a sip. 

“Yeah!” Spider-Man responded. “I mean, uh, well. I will be watching it just not… here.” Peter looked around nervously under the mask, debating if he should just tell you his secret right now. But Tony’s words rang in his head about the danger it could put you in. He watched as you used the straw to mix your coffee even more and nodded to his words. 

“You should watch with us,” you suggested. “You can finally meet my best friend, Peter.” 

Peter almost collapsed when you suggested that his alter ego should stay for ‘family night.’ You had never hung out with Spider-Man that often, always running around to see other people outside of the compound. The fact that you were inviting him was almost out of character. 

“Only if I get to sit next to you, pretty girl,” Peter smirked under the mask getting caught up in the moment, watching you almost spit out your coffee. 

“Woah there, Spidey. You’re getting bold over there.”

“Can’t help myself when you’re probably the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.” You couldn’t help but smile because you assumed who might be under the mask. Getting up from your seat, you walked over to the masked hero and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Maybe I can say the same about you if you just, I don’t know, take this little thing off.” You wrapped your fingers around the edge of the mask and could feel his heartbeat going crazy. Peter gulped as you continued to mess with the mask. It was harmless flirting, right? If he told you he was Spider-Man, it wouldn’t put you in too much danger because you two were just… friends. Right? 

“Is that coffee good?” Peter tried to change the topic, now feeling very strange watching you flirt with his alter ego instead of his true self. You removed your arms from him and grabbed your coffee, handing it to him. 

“Do you wanna try it? It’s good. Trust.” You reassured him. He grabbed the coffee from your hands and lifted his mask just right under his nose. 

As he swirled the straw around to mix the coffee around more, you couldn’t help but notice Spider-Man’s thin lips. How familiar they looked. He brought the straw up to his mouth and took a sip but immediately gagged. 

“Is this from Dunkin’?” He asked and you smirked. That was all the information you needed. 

— — — 

You knocked on Peter’s door. He had texted you earlier, saying he had something important to tell you and it couldn’t be over text or call. You had a feeling that he was finally going to tell you his secret. Peter swung the door open and smiled, cheeks turning pink. 

“Hi,” he breathlessly said. You weren’t quite sure why he was out of breath, but you just assumed it was nerves. 

“Hi,” you responded back. He let you into his apartment and you followed him to his room. You took in his room, smiling at his dorky Star Wars posters. Walking over to his desk, you noticed a picture of you and him. It was blurry and you were both laughing, your arms wrapped around his neck while his arms were around your waist. “This is new,” you told him, picking the picture up. 

“Oh! Yeah,” Peter’s face turned red but he walked up behind you to look at the picture, placing a hand loosely over your hip. “MJ took that picture from a few weeks ago. It’s my favorite.” He smiled down at you, taking in your features as you continued to stare at the frame. 

“It’s cute,” you turned around, your breath hitched seeing his face just inches from yours. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, those lips, and it reminded you of why you were here. You set the picture back down and walked away from Peter, already missing the warmth he brought you. Sitting down on his bed, you brought your legs up and he sat down next to you.

“So, I did have something to tell you,” his voice trailed off toward the end and you gave him your undivided attention. “God, this is sorta hard to say.” His hands messed with the end of his covers, shuffling something.

“You’re Spider-Man!” You blurted out. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as you smacked your hand over your mouth, not expecting to say it so bluntly. 

“How did you–” 

“Peter, I’m not stupid. You don’t have to recreate the scene where Miley is holding up the Hannah wig to Jesse with your Spider-Man mask,” you gestured your hand to his that was still under the covers. He slowly lifted his hand to reveal the mask from the bed.

“Well, yes I am Spider-Man.” You smiled to yourself, proud that you figured it out by yourself. “But,”

“But?!” You interrupted him. He let out a dry chuckle and shook his head.

“But,” he continued. “That isn’t why I invited you over. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am so insanely happy you figured out this secret and I feel a weight lifted off my chest. You’re my best friend and–”

“Peter.”

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He sheepishly smiled and looked at you. How your hair fell perfectly over your shoulder as you ran your hands through it, an anxious tic Peter found you do often. 

“I wanted to tell you that…” he spoke slowly as you hung onto every word that came out of his mouth, your heart about to explode from your chest. “I am in love with you.”

The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop. You stared at Peter in disbelief, your brain running a thousand miles an hour. 

“Y/n, please say something,” his voice was low, barely coming out as a whisper. 

“I…” you started, “I’m in love with you too.” His face broke out into the biggest smile you have ever seen and you mimicked him.

“Really?” 

“I mean, you said it yourself. Jesse was so in love with Miley that he knew he was Hannah before she even told him,” you smirked as Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Only you would bring up Hannah Montana in the middle of a moment like this,” his hand cupped the side of your face and you smiled sheepishly. 

“Only with you,” you closed the gap between the two of you. When you kissed, it truly was like fireworks were going off behind you. You smiled into the kiss, but the fireworks seemed to be getting louder– wait what?! “Do you hear that?” You pulled away from Peter, his eyes half closed. 

“Mm, no,” he leaned in again to kiss you, but you pushed him away. 

“Peter, my dad is blasting someone a few blocks away.” You saw out his window and he immediately jumped up. 

“I’m so sorry to leave right now but–”

“Go get ‘em, Spidey.” You winked at him and he smiled. He put on his mask and took off his hoodie to reveal the suit.

“Will you be here when I get back?” He asked, his eyes pleading for an answer. 

“Is Hannah Montana one of the best Disney Channel shows?” Peter rolled his eyes. 

“On second thought, you can go home,” he was about to climb out the window before you pulled him back. 

“Yes, I will be here. You,” you poked his chest, “be safe.” You lifted his mask and kissed him one more time and Peter melted into the kiss. 

“I could get used to this,” he mumbled against your lips, but you pulled away making him frown. 

“Peter.” You said sternly. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” “Go help my dad, idiot."

“On it!” And with that, Peter swung away. This really was the life and he just had to hold on tight. 

[holmsister]

Labru touch starvation but not in the way you think.

Laios loves touching people but he's been taught he's too big too loud too sweaty and too forward and it's not a good idea for a giant sweaty man to just... grab people even if it's out of love so he tries to limit himself to those he knows won't react badly

Kabru is good at touching people and respecting their boundaries but very rarely people initiate touch with HIM. He looks just the tiniest bit intimidating with his pretty face and his grand blue eyes.

So one time Kabru comes back to the castle after a dangerous mission and Laios who has missed him so much and was so so worried cannot contain himself and envelops him in a giant hug with all of his regalia and the pelt and everything

And Kabru barely had the time to shrug off his coat and armour and he's only in tunic and hose and for all that that he's not that much smaller than Laios right now he feels tiny and completely enveloped and the surprised fists he's holding against Laios' chest unclench and his eyes close and he lets out a sigh and he feels muscles he didn't even knew he had tensed relax completely and at some point Falin has to pry them apart but Kabru almost falls down out of sheer adrenaline comedown and has to be brought to bed by Laios which he would be more embarrassed about if Laios wasn't obviously so fucking happy about this.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Hugs

About time I finished this WIP that randomly appeared in my head. I've just finished defeating Cazador and mannnnnn I really really want to hug Astarion and never let him go.

Summary: Astarion learns to hug you.

“Can’t get enough of me, darling?” Astarion purrs into your ear, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you closer. He leans in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your ear before letting his lips trail downwards, sending a shiver up your spine but you push him away, placing a hand on his chest.

“We don’t need to do this.” You shake your head, “I just want you, not your body, not your services.”

He feels his heart jump into his throat, anxiety gnawing at him but he smiles outwardly anyways, as practiced. “Which part of me exactly do you want?”

“All of you,” you breathe. He blinks, surprised as you intertwine your fingers with his, a thumb gently brushing over his smooth skin. The warmth sends tingles from his arm to his body, a fuzzy feeling blooming in his chest that fills him with uncertainty.

Is this genuine love? Is this how love is supposed to feel like?

Why would you want all of him?

He cannot understand why you would want the monsterous side of him, the side that craves blood, the side that is spoken in hushed whispers, woven into stories parents tell their children to scare them into bed. He hides his fangs whenever he smiles, afraid that your gaze will be drawn to them and that they will be all you ever see of him but you never seem to be scared of them, always open to him sinking them into your soft neck so that he can drink the ambrosia that is your blood.

You place an arm around his waist, noticing that distant look in his eyes and press your chest against his, hoping the sensation will bring him back from whatever abyss he’s fallen into and his head snaps up, ruby eyes locking with yours with a look you’ve never seen in them before. You feel his hand tremble as he tentatively rests it on your back and he inhales sharply.

“If you’re not comfortable we can stop,” you murmur. “I don’t want to force you to do anything.”

“You’re…not, darling. It’s just…” He swallows. “It’s nothing.”

You narrow your eyes. If all this time spent with him has taught you something, is that every time he says ‘it’s nothing’ it’s always something.

“Astarion, you can tell me anything, but take all the time you need, alright?”

His lips quirk up for a split second, instinctively sending you a reassuring smile but the smile quickly fades, replaced by a sorrowful look. He gazes at the ground, suppressing the urge to just melt into you. You deserve someone better than him, someone who could love you properly, who understood what love truly meant and didn’t feel disgust rising every time they placed a hand on your skin because of their past. No matter how much he loves you, he’s not the best one for you.

You reach out to him, a hand gently touching his cheek but he pulls away with a snarl, fangs bared and you quickly stumble backwards, surprised at his hostility. His eyes widen when he realises what he’s done and guilt devours him even further. Your touch feels tainted, even if it lacks the usual lust and desire behind it, but that is no reason to hurt you. He forces himself to reach for your hand, muttering a quiet apology as practiced and rests it on his cheek, willing his body to remain still like always.

Doing this should be easy, he’s been doing this for centuries, so why does it feel so difficult now?

You look at him with concern, an emotion usually devoid in the eyes of those who touch him and pull your hand away of your own accord.

“I’m sorry.”

Why were you apologising? He was the one in the wrong, he was the one who had broken the moment, he was the reason the night had turned from one of tranquility to one of tension.

“There’s no need to apologise, love. Shall we continue?” He leans in once more despite the sickening smell that your scent has transformed into. “You’re just that intoxicating.”

Still, you push him away, noticing how he’s zoning out each time he moves closer to you. Worry creases your eyebrows and you take a step back, moving just out of his reach.

“Did I overstep any boundaries?” You ask. “I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t, darling.” He shakes his head. “You’re far too perfect to make such mistakes.”

Far too perfect for him.

“Astarion,” you realise what’s plaguing him. “No matter how long it takes, I will always be by your side. You are my star, my entire world, no one else can possibly replace you or be better than you.”

“I shouldn’t be,” he mumbles. “I only add to your burdens.”

“Well, it’s only fair that you do that since I do the same to you.”

“No you don’t!” Astarion snaps. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself!”

He glares at you, fists clenched, his clawed fingertips digging into his palms. You raise your hands in surrender, slowly stepping away from the riled up vampire spawn upon whom realisation has dawned. He inwardly curls up even more, despising himself for taking out his anger on you and yet no matter what he does, you refuse to leave. You’re still standing there, a safe distance away but within his line of sight with no intention of leaving him. He cannot wrap his mind around why you would do such a thing, why you wouldn’t leave someone as unstable and unloveable as him, but a small part of him is grateful for that, he can’t bear to watch you leave.

“Sorry.” He chokes out, the word leaving a foreign feeling in his mouth. “I —”

“It’s alright, apology accepted.” You smile. “We should return to camp, the others must be wondering what is taking us so long.”

Astarion shifts from one leg to another, scratching the back of his neck, “wait, darling, please.”

You pause, turning around to look at him, “yes, Astarion?”

“I…” He starts. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. Everything feels tainted, touching you feels disgusting, being so close to you feels nauseating, but it’s not your fault. It has nothing to do with you, I promise, it’s —”

“I know. You don’t have to say it out loud if you don’t want to. I’m sorry I can’t erase the past, but I want to help you forge new associations with touch.” You raise a hand, palm facing him. He does the same, shakily moving his palm closer to yours but encouraged by your smile, he presses your palms together. He swallows the bile rising to his throat and looks to you, waiting for you to make the next move. You take a step closer and he does the same, although his step is filled with much more uncertainty. You give him an encouraging nod and take another step. This time, his step is more certain, made with the signature confidence you know and love.

After a third step, the both of you are close enough that your nose fills with the scent of bergamot, rosemary and a hint of rosemary, overlaying Astarion’s real undead scent. You cautiously put an arm around his waist and when he doesn’t flinch, you grow bolder, removing your hand from his and putting the other arm around his waist.

He freezes, but the action raises no memories he’d rather keep locked away so he tries to keep himself grounded, to feel the soothing warmth of your arms around him that mean him no harm. He locks eyes with you and your gaze washes all the fear away, stirring something within him. He wouldn’t have dared do this before, but tonight you’ve given him more than enough courage to attempt this.

Astarion steels himself, and then puts his own arms around you. His undead heart thunders in his chest, fear consuming his mind. What if you pull away? What if you hate his cold touch? What if —

You lean into his embrace, silencing all his fears and nuzzle into his chest. He lets out a breath he never realised he was holding and buries his face into your shoulder, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Your embrace is vastly different from the previous embraces he’s had, all you want out of it is a display of love and care, you don’t want his body, you don’t want what he can offer, you don’t want anything in return.

As he continues to hold onto you, never wanting to let go, he lets a hand wander up your back, finding a better position to pull you closer and you hum in response, happily burrowing deeper into his arms.

“I like this, you know,” he whispers. “Whatever it is that we have, I don’t want it to end.”

“I feel the same way,” you whisper back, breathing in his scent. “Let’s stay here like this, the others can survive on their own for a little while longer.”

“I’m sure they can, my love.”

Hugging has definitely made its way to the top of his list of favourite things to do with you, Astarion thinks, listening to your happy hums as you soak in his embrace. He should do this more often.

[fushic0re]

𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑, 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝘅 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — the sorcerer killer sure kills it at decorating cookies. 

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. pure fluff and domesticity. 

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡

“DADDY’S EATING THEM AGAIN!” Megumi’s small voice protests, his cherubic features twisted into a frown as he shoots his father a look of disapproval. 

Toji only chuckles, all too used to his toddler’s seemingly natural grumpy disposition. He plucks a red colored chocolate button and a green one before holding it up to Megumi’s mouth. 

“Here, kid. You get two. Now we’re even.” 

The jade eyed boy stares at his father skeptically, though it is clear that he has already been won over by the prospect of getting to eat two chocolate buttons. He stretches his arm out and points a tiny finger at you.

“Mama gets two also.” He practically demands as if he is brokering the deal of a lifetime. 

The smile on your face cannot be contained nor can the cute aggression that is bursting out the seams. With a squeal, you reach out to cup his face in your palm. Your heart swells when his pupils immediately dilate the second they land on you, his eyes wide with pure awe and adoration. His frown is replaced with a small smile. 

“My knight in shining armor.” You coo. 

“I’m not a knight, I’m a sorcerer, mama.” He says bashfully, nuzzling his face into your palm. 

“You’re going to be a sore loser if you don’t decorate that damn cookie. I’m already on my third one, Megs.” Toji teases. 

His words prompt you to look over at his plate of cookies. A gasp leaves your body as your expression quickly morphs from surprised to suspicious. You clutch Megumi to your chest as you side-eye the plate of beautifully decorated cookies that look like they were material for a holiday cookbook. The toddler also eyes the plate with a wonderstruck gaze. 

“What woman taught you how to decorate like that? Because I sure didn’t.” 

Toji scoffs, rolling his eyes at your antics. 

“Your fuckin’ ‘aesthetic’ shit rubbed off on me.” 

The man bends down to Megumi’s height and feeds him the two chocolate buttons he promised. 

“You wanna decorate the last ones with daddy?” 

Megumi does not waste any time. He immediately launches himself into Toji’s arms, giggling wildly. You frown. You did not even receive the two chocolate buttons you were promised. Your gaze meets your son’s.

“Traitor.”

© all rights reserved to fushic0re — do not translate, repost, or plagiarize.

[dira333]

This Is Me Trying - Kageyama x Reader

there's one line missing that I'd have loved to include but I am still pretty okay with how this turned out instead.

Tagging: @alienaiver for helping, @screamin-abt-haikyuu and @lees-chaotic-brain for Haikyuu

“Where’s Kageyama?”

The rest of the team turns at Hinata’s question, but their first-year setter is nowhere to be seen. 

“Not this again,” Daichi mutters in frustration, thinking back to Hinata’s missing shoes the day before. “We’ve got twenty minutes before our next game. I want us to all go in teams. Hinata, you’re with me. I cannot have you get lost as well.”

- Meanwhile -

“How long have you been playing volleyball? Who taught you? How long have you been a setter? How do you train? Do you get along with your team members? Have you ever hit a wall?”

“Huh?” You turn to the guy creeping up behind you, a bag clutched in his hands as he stares you down. Your teammates are sending both of you curious looks and you can tell that your Captain is just a second away from interfering.

“Can I help you?” You ask, surprised when he flinches away, stuttering. 

“I- am… I am Kageyama Tobio.” He bows so abruptly and so deeply that you fear for his spine. “I saw you play yesterday.”

“Ah?” You blink. “What school are you from?”

“Karasuno.”

“Oh,” you blink again. “I saw you play as well. You’re their setter. What year are you in?”

“First. Your serve-”

“Alright, alright.” You pull him to the side by his arm and wave at your Captain before she can do something more drastic. “I have to say your drive is admirable, but you’re not the first person to ask for my secrets. Why would I tell you?”

Kageyama considers that for a second, brows furrowing. He’s really not good at making his face work for him. It might look cute though, if he relaxed a little. 

“I wanna stay on the court the longest,” he declares, face set in a scowl that could turn milk sour.”

“Again, you’re not the only one. You gotta impress me a little more, Kageyama-kun.” You snip two fingers against his temple, watch him almost short-circuit at the sensation.

To your surprise, Kageyama bows again.

“I want to spend more time playing with this team. I am not good with people. You are good with people. I need to learn more.”

“Fine,” you tell him after a second. “Gimme your phone.”

He doesn’t stop watching you as you type in your number. “If you win today as well, you can send me details about your play. Don’t forget to tell me where you’re staying. I’ll come by and we’ll talk about it, okay? Can’t promise it will help, though.”

“Kageyama!” Someone yells at that moment, and he turns to find two guys waving at him. One of them has a shaved head, the other has a bleached strand of hair sticking up like a lightning strike.

“Good luck,” you tell him, patting his shoulder. Kageyama leaves with one last look back at you.

“You’re in trouble!” Shaved head sings as he joins them. “Daichi’s mad as hell, looking for you. All because of a cute girl?”

“I didn’t- She isn’t-” He looks back as if to check, blushing bright red when he spots you still looking at him. “I wanted to know more about her technique, that’s all.”

Both guys laugh loudly. “You really are something else, Kageyama.” The guy with the Lighting Strike declares and then they’re gone.

“Why did you give him your number?” Your libero asks when you join the team again. “Aren’t you afraid he’s going to murder you for your skin?”

“No,” You laugh softly. “He reminded me of someone, that’s all.”

Karasuno wins. So do you. 

No one pays you any mind when you slip out of the hotel you’re staying in, jogging down the streets to where Kageyama’s team is staying.

“Oh,” Shaved Head spots you at the front door. “You’re the cute girl Kageyama found.”

“I am,” you grin, “I’m looking for him. Is he around?”

“Kageyama!” He hollers down the hallway. “Uh, he’s in the bathroom, I think. I’m Tanaka by the way. What team are you playing in?”

“Niiyama,” you explain and his eyes light up. “No way, you’re playing with Kanoka.”

“Exactly. You know her?”

“Yeah, we’re childhood besties. So, you won today, right?”

“Yep. Don’t know if she told you, but we’re thinking about making Kanoka Captain next year.”

“You are. Wow. Does she know alrea-” “I’m here!” Kageyama declares from the door, wet hair sticking to his flushed face. 

“Oh, you showered already?” You ask, “I thought we could do a run-”

“Right away,” Kageyama declares, already slipping into the shoes by the door.

“Forget it, hotshot,” you put a hand on his shoulders and drag him away, “not when your hair is still wet. You’re going to get a cold. It’s fine, it’s fine, we can still work without running around.”

And you do. Even though you have to pretend you don’t notice every single member of his team walking by, peeking into the little lobby, trying to catch parts of your conversation with him.

Kageyama, however, will not let himself get distracted. He’s sucking up every word you say and, as soon as you’ve figured out how he thinks, is able to discuss ideas with you at an impressive rate.

“So…” You lean back a little after almost an hour, ignoring the little red-haired guy who’s sitting at the door, listening in. “What are your plans? Do you want to become Captain in your Third Year? Make it to Nationals every Year? Play professionally after High School or go to College first?”

“I don’t have good grades,” Kageyama points out. “I just want to stay on Court for as long as possible. Play my best.”

“Hmmm,” you get up. “Tell you what. You have my number. Make it through these Nationals and go back home. Let me know how you’re feeling next school year, okay?”

“Okay.” He shakes your hand and bows deeply, staying far too long in the open doorway, looking after you as you leave.

You don’t feel you’ve done a lot for him today. You just listened, explained a few things, told him about your perspective.

But he’s acting like you’ve changed his world and you wonder if you did. And if so, in what way…

Kageyama’s sleeping on your bedroom floor.

Your mother would throw a fit if she knew, but she’s gone for the weekend and Kageyama took the three-hour train ride in stride just to spend a weekend training with you.

College Volleyball isn’t much different from High School Volleyball, except for the harsher course load. 

He’d been updating you weekly with the teams and his own progress, updates coming in more often when it turned out that the team had problems adapting to the new Captain, or rather, the lack of their old. 

“You miss Sugawara,” you point out only half an hour after he’s arrived. 

He looks surprised at first, but then easily gives in.

“I’m still not good at connecting with my teammates.”

“Have you tried the exercises that I gave you?”

He scowls and you laugh. “Come on, Kageyama, I know you’re better than that. Practice with me, then.”

Stiffly, he turns his head. “How are you doing lately?”

You laugh again, louder this time. “You’ve got to work on your expressions, but I’m doing okay, I guess. I don’t have that much time for training because of College, so I feel like I’m falling behind.”

Kageyama falls quiet and you nudge your elbow into his side.

“This is your chance to say ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Can I do something for you?’”

“Why did you go to College if it takes away time from playing Volleyball?” He asks instead and you stop, surprised by his question.

“Because I want something to fall back on if I can’t make it in Volleyball. What if I get hurt? What if I no longer want to play?”

Kageyama scowls. “Why would you want to stop playing?”

“What are you going to do when you’re too old to play professionally?” You ask back and he falls quiet. For the remainder of your run, he’s unreachable to you. Whatever he’s thinking about, he’s far, far away.

“What am I supposed to do instead?” He asks eventually, bangs hiding his eyes.

You’re stretching and he follows your movements, intent on copying you, as usual. As if you have all the answers in the world.

“Tell me about your Childhood, Tobio,” you ask instead.

That’s how you end up, him sleeping on your bedroom floor and you craving nothing more than to pick him up and hug him so tight that all the loneliness drains out of him.

You’re no stranger to grief, but it’s so different when you have to watch someone you care about in its clutches.

Karasuno doesn’t make it to the Nationals in their second year. Tobio still gets invited to this Year’s Youth Camp and you make sure to take that weekend off, taking the same train so you can sit next to him for three of his eight-hour ride, listening to him ramble on about school, Hinata, Volleyball. 

“You’re going to do great,” you tell him, wondering how it happened that you’re now feeling this way. As if he punctured your heart and crawled inside, making it his home without realizing it.

Third-Year Tobio is a heartbreaker. 

He tells you about the confessions he gets with the naivety of someone much younger. Every single time you have to force yourself to ask “And what did you answer?” only to hear that he’s declined, yet again.

You wonder what he’s thinking of you. You’re still a Star Setter, but do you have anything left to teach him? You think Sugawara did a way better job at that anyway. 

But he still makes the three-hour ride at least once every two months, sleeping on your bedroom floor when your mom is away for the weekend. 

One time you take his hand in a crowded train station and he doesn’t let go.

If only you could let yourself have this. 

But does he even think about you that way?

X

“Sugawara-senpai?” Kageyama asks, phone pressed hard against his ear. “What do you wear on a sleepover?”

He sits amidst his things, a volleyball in his lap.

“Pajamas, usually. Why do you ask?”

“Even if it’s with a girl?”

Sugawara sounds like he’s choking.

“A sleepover with a girl? Boy, you’re- wait, who are you sleeping at?”

Kageyama says your name with the familiar feeling of pride that comes with it.

He was the one who approached you and he’s the one who still gets to text and call you, visit you even. Not Hinata, who can make everyone like him, or Tsukishima, who’s somehow getting love confessions even though he’s an ass. 

“Well, it depends… on what you’ve already done together.”

“Done together?” Kageyama furrows his brows. “We’ve analyzed our games. And I get to play with her friends sometimes.”

“Kageyama.” Sugawara’s voice is serious. “I need to ask you this. Why are you sleeping over?”

“Because she lives far away and I can’t make both treks in one day.”

“I get that, but… why are you visiting her anyway? Just to get more tips?”

Kageyama halts for a second. “I… don’t know.”

“Mhm. Thought so. You know, most boys sleeping over at girls' houses have more than just Volleyball tips in mind.”

“She’s giving me tips on how to get along with my teammates as well,” He explains, but Sugawara just chuckles low in his throat.

“That’s not what I meant. I guess you know what it’s going to look like, right? That’s why you’re asking what to wear?”

Kageyama digs his knees into the floor of his room and bits down on his lip but the words still tumble out.

“I’ve never been on a sleepover before. One that’s not the whole team sleeping somewhere, I mean. I didn’t want to ask Hinata because he’s got so many friends and he might think-”

“Ah…” Sugawara interrupts him. “I get it. Don’t worry. We’ll go over this like we did with the topic of Smalltalk, okay? Basic steps first, then some finer things. Would that help?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Girl’s rooms look different than boy’s rooms, Kageyama knows.

His sister’s room is filled with pictures of celebrities, make-up, and accessories have driven out anything volleyball-related long ago.

Yachi’s room is colorful, with little designer pieces and cute stationery she likes to collect.

Yours is different altogether.

The prizes you won are proudly displayed, next to a collection of textbooks. There’s a bed and a small closet and you serve him tea on the floor of your room, giggling over the stories he tells from training.

Kageyama likes talking to you. Just like Sugawara, you never mind when his words come out more brash than they should, or when he can’t figure out how to word a question right. You’ve got kind eyes and a soft smile and you touch him more often than other people.

Telling you about his grandfather or his fear of ending up alone again - the words might not come easy, but you handle them gently, like it’s safe to let them rest with you.

You snore a little, he figures out that first night. The softest sound he wants to never forget.

Sleeping over at a friend’s house is something he wants to do again and again, talking low in the darkness, knowing that someone who cares is just a short distance away.

When he has to leave you hug him goodbye. 

For the first time, he thinks he knows why people do it, this seemingly unnecessary ritual of enveloping each other.

For the first time, he thinks about not letting go.

But his train’s going to leave without him and you wave until the train station is out of sight. Kageyama likes to think you waved a little longer. Just because.

“Are you away this weekend, Kageyama?” Has become a regular question. 

Hinata’s no longer pestering him with questions about his private training sessions on the weekend. 

He’s getting better at working with the new First Years and a new invite for the National Youth Camp has him reach for the phone to call you.

He’s more nervous than last time and he wonders if it’s about you, sitting next to him on the train, legs pressed together on the small seats. 

You smell sweet and he wonders if he could hug, just like that, just because. 

Do people do that? Just hug for no reason but to touch? He should ask Sugawara about it.

“You’re going to do great,” you say and he wants to promise that he will, just for you.

But he doesn’t, because that would sound weird, wouldn’t it? 

After all, he’s so much younger than you. 

Do you even think about him in that way? The way he thinks about you?

Your hand fits perfectly in his.

Kageyama knows the taste of your favorite dessert and always has some money saved to buy you a flower or two at the train station before he gets to your house.

Sometimes, when you sleep, you mumble his name and he can hardly make himself fall asleep because he wants to hear it all, every quiet mention, mumble or snore.

You’re real and you like him, still.

“Are you coming?” He asks when they get through the Qualifiers; when he knows he will make it to the Nationals one last time with this team.

“Of course,” you say and his heart leaps into his throat. 

Kageyama almost tells you, then and there, that he thinks this might be love.

But it doesn’t feel right, over the phone like that, so he pulls the words back before they can spill from his lips.

He will tell you, he promises to himself after they win. This time, Karasuno will be the last one standing in Tokyo.

X

“Oh, you’re here as well,” a guy with greyish hair and a beauty mark beneath his eye waves at you, “We’re sitting over here.”

“Do I know you?” You ask, taking the offered seat nonetheless. The guy pouts and his friends laugh.

“I’m Sugawara,” he explains, “Kageyama’s Senpai. These two are Daichi and Asahi, not that you’d recognize them, right?”

You laugh. “No, guilty as charged. I don’t think I remember any names from your team besides Tanaka and Kageyama.”

“Someone called my name?” Tanaka jumps down the last two steps leading to your seats, grinning. “Kiyoko, they’re already here, Babe.” He waits for his girlfriend to take a seat before leaning in. 

“You’re Kageyama’s girlfriend, right?”

“Oh, it’s not- I…” You wave your hands around awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Tanaka laughs.

“Ah, I knew it, I knew it. No way he’s got that much game. But he’s got lots of talent, don’t you think.”

“He does,” you take the offered topic, lament about their Kohai’s talents for over half an hour until the players finally arrive, warming for their first game. More of Karasuno’s former players have gathered around you, as well as a taiko drum group.

Sugawara lets out a shrill whistle using two fingers and most of the Karasuno players look up, obviously used to the signal.

You wave, hoping against hope that Tobio will be able to pick you out of the crowd.

From this distance, it’s hard to tell, but that frown could mean he’s smiling. Sugawara starts to point at you exaggeratedly and you slap his hands away but it’s too late. 

Tobio has already turned away.

He doesn’t play well at the beginning. Everyone notices.

It takes him a while to find his grove but when he does, he does.

Then it’s over and you wish to do nothing more but to run down and hug him. But it’s safer up here, you know, where your heart won’t leap out of your throat.

But then you have to leave, get up, and move, because the Niiyama Girls are playing in the other hall and you promised you’d watch their game too, knowing that it would sync up perfectly with Karasuno’s rest period.

“I’m going to be back for the next game,” you promise, “so don’t give my seat away.”

Your heart still hammers in your chest as you walk down the staircase.

If only you could keep these moments, locked up in a mason jar, take them out on bad days to relive them again.

“Are you leaving already?” Tobio’s looking up at you, sweat slick hair sticking to his temple, face flushed from exertion.

“I’m just moving to the other stadion to watch the Niiyama Girls,” you explain, pull him in for a hug when you reach him. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” his hot breath tickles your neck and maybe you’re imagining it, but you think you feel his heart racing through the thin jersey.

“Your start was messy though,” you reprimand him, your hand moving on its own to shuffle through his hair, putting each strand back where it belongs. “But you saved your ass. I’m going to be back for your next game, don’t worry.”

“I could come with you,” he rushes out. “It doesn’t really matter where I rest, right?”

You catch a look from Karasuno’s captain over Tobio’s shoulder. A smile dances over his freckled face and he makes a face that tells you everything you need to know.

“Fine,” you tell him, knowing that a ‘No’ would never work here, “But you should put on a jacket.”

His hand finds yours on the way to the other game, his grip warm and strong.

You don’t want to ever let go, but you still do, knowing full well how it would look like to your Kouhai’s. You’ve never had a boyfriend in the whole time you played with them. 

And even though the first years still remember Tobio showing up back then, you don’t want to give them any ideas that might come back to break your heart.

“You and Sugawara-senpai,” Tobio starts as soon as you’re sitting, “did you get along well?”

“I guess so,” your leg is pressed against his, the sensation shooting up your spine and into your brain. “He’s nice.”

“How nice?” He asks, voice so low you almost miss it.

You blink. The words are out before you’ve thought them through.

“Are you jealous, Tobio?”

“Should I be?”

You’re not sure how he means it. Teasing? Or is he unsure of this social construct, asking for an explanation?

He takes your hand, looks at it as if checking for injuries. “Would you hold my hand if Sugawara was here as well?”

Your mouth turns dry.

“Would I be allowed?” You ask. “I mean, I’m a lot older than you-”

“I like you.” He blurts it out like he blurts out most things. Two guys in front of you turn around with matching frowns. You’re sure they didn’t come here to hear your love confessions.

“We should talk about this later,” you whisper, cheeks burning. You press his hand. “I like you too, don’t worry.”

“Can’t we talk now?”

And maybe it would have been better to slip out and talk about it, but you’ve never once missed a minute of a game you wanted to see and Tobio’s hand doesn’t leave yours, his grip warm and heavy, his leg pressing into yours.

There’s much to talk about after this game ends and all the other ones today. There’s graduation and other things to consider, but you can’t help but think that it will be okay.

As long as his hand stays in yours, it will be okay.

“Where’s Kageyama?”

You turn to spot Sugawara looking through the crowd.

“Bathroom,” you explain. “I think he had a bit too much to drink.”

“Ah,” Sugawara smiles. “Haven’t had the time to properly talk to you today. How are you? How’s work doing?”

“Good and good. Our last match-”

“I know,” Sugawara smiles. “Kageyama tells me everything. He still calls every week to update me. He spent an hour boasting about that game.”

“Oh,” you blink, a little surprised and a lot flattered. “Wait, is that when he locks himself in our pantry for half an hour each Friday?”

Sugawara laughs. “He’s been asking for my advice for years and I don’t think he’s going to stop soon. I thought you knew, actually.”

“Well, I knew you taught him a lot concerning Volleyball, but this sounds like you did a lot more. Tell me the details, Sugawara-san.”

Sugawara grins cheekily, checking to see if Tobio’s still nowhere to be seen.

“When he spent the weekend at your place for the first time he asked me all kinds of questions. I’m the one who picked out the sleepwear he brought. He usually slept only in boxers or nothing at all depending on the temperature.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I see. Thank you’s are in order.”

“Uhuh,” Sugawara winks. “Nothing to thank me for. You two deserve each other.”

“That just sounded mildly threatening,” you joke just as Tobio returns, threading his arm through yours.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your weekly talks with Sugawara-san,” you lean into him. “And the fact that you only wear sleepwear because of him.”

Tobio blushes a soft red. “You said you liked my Volleyball Pajamas.”

“I do. They are adorable.”

Tip me?