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corazondebeskar-reads · 5 months

Text

the art of breaking (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

written for the #deaddovedecember2023 event hosted by @romana-after-dark | also on ao3 | dedicating this to @kewwrites, who is a master and icon of unsettling-but-still-romantic dark fic & whose incredible vibes made me feel brave enough to write this. love you ty 🖤

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Seriously, I am saying this as clearly as I can: read the warnings carefully. If anything listed is something you don’t want to read, don’t. The working title for this was “the darkest joel” for a reason (and I actually tamed it down/cut out some of the intense scenes). It’s modern-day/no outbreak, but Joel still lost Sarah and went off the deep end. He was probably a good dom at some point, but now he’s just fucked up.

If you're worried it'll be too dark, it probably will be.

Warnings under the cut:

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, semi-permanent damage (a bone is broken, I’m not fucking around), whipping, spanking, face slapping, tit slapping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, anal, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, edging, denial, dacryphilia, bastinado (mentioned), restraints, very brief knifeplay, tiny drop of blood play, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it.

Please read responsibly.

I. in media res

-the fracture

There’s one comfort Joel almost never denies you.

Well, never denies himself.

Unless you’ve been real bad, you always take your place in bed with him at the end of the day. You think it’s so he has easy access to you if he wakes up horny, but honestly, that happens a lot less than expected. He works hard all day; he needs his sleep.

No, he likes the comfort of your warm body next to his. The way you curl up and press kisses to him, no matter how bad he hurt you during the day. His sweet little pet, desperate for every bit of his affection you can earn. He’s always gentle with you here.

It’s part of what makes The Pit so effective.

It fucks with your brain on so many levels, exposes you to so many fears, and then you have to reconcile that you were bad enough for Joel to deny himself the comfort of you in his arms at night. That you’re so undeserving of his love.

Of all of the ways he punishes you, this will be the worst. You can take the humiliation, the pain—not easily, but you can, and there’s usually immediate care after.

But a night in The Pit will tear you down completely.

You hadn’t known what to expect when he said you’d have to spend the night alone, but it wasn’t this.

“No, please,” you scream, stumbling to keep up as Joel pulls you by your hair.

“Shut up,” he snarls.

The soil is loose, clinging to your sweat as you try to right yourself. It’s a futile effort. When you reach The Pit, he holds you down with his boot on your chest while he unlocks and opens the bars.

“Get in,” he says.

You’re sobbing and shaking, skin already gone cold. Somehow, you manage to obey.

The Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It has an open wooden frame with mesh on the side walls to keep the dirt in place. The bottom is bare soil. Mounted to the top of the beams is a grate of bars that sit flush with the ground.

It’s big enough for you to curl up at the bottom—which is what you do now.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

He shuts and locks the gate.

II. from the start

-intact

It was kismet, really, that he was there that night. He didn’t usually go out for drinks with the guys, not wanting to be the boss who was always cramping their style. But Tommy had dragged him out tonight, and so he was witness (with the rest of the pub) to your relationship falling apart.

And okay, maybe he went outside for a smoke after you moved the fight to the alley so he could eavesdrop. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he not?

You had said, “Maybe you’re just not man enough for me,” to the brawny but pathetic prick across from you in the booth. “Wanting you to be rough doesn’t make me a freak.”

“That’s not rough; that’s fuckin’ abuse. You’re sick,” your boyfriend had practically shouted.

The discussion evolved into a screaming match in the alley, where Joel had been pleased to be right. It was about more than just a little rough sex or spanking.

At the end of it, your boyfriend stormed off, and you went back in the pub. Joel found you at the bar, throwing back another shot and wiping your tears away.

“You did good back there,” he says.

You startle and look at the stranger. The very handsome stranger. Rugged, with a salt and pepper beard and a scar across his nose.

“What do you mean?”

“Standin’ up for yourself. Not a lot of people woulda been confident enough. ‘Specially not a girl lookin’ for that.”

You glare at the bar counter. “M’not a weirdo.”

“Nah, you’re not. Shit like that is perfectly normal. He’s just pathetic.”

You look back up at him, and he sticks one hand in his pocket, trying to adjust himself discreetly. The tear streaks on your cheeks are getting to him.

“I don’t know. He’s probably right. It’s not your garden variety shit,” you say. The tequila and his gentle eyes have loosened your tongue.

“I doubt that. Try me,” he says.

“What?”

“Try me. Tell me what he freaked out over, and I’ll tell ya if it’s weird. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

You hesitate, but he looks genuine and kind. “I asked him to hit me. Like, in the face. And to, y’know, pin me down and—” you trail off.

“And make ya take it?” he guesses.

You nod. “He thought I like, I dunno, actually wanted to be raped,” you whisper the last word, eyes darting to the people around you.

Joel laughs. “Honey, that’s so normal, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve helped ladies out with that little roleplay more times than I can count. If that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy, and he couldn’t take it, then you’re better off without him.”

“It’s not,” you mumble.

“Speak up, honey.”

“It’s not my deepest, darkest fantasy. It’s probably one of the least of them.”

He grins. “Then you’re definitely better off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ things on the darker side, sweetheart.”

You’re feeling hot all over and are about to ask him more when your phone rings. It’s your idiot boyfriend, who’s realized you have the car keys.

“I better go. Thank you,” you say, standing and offering him your hand.

He gives it a firm shake, tipping his head. “I’m Joel. And if you’re ever so inclined, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

You laugh. “Let me break up with my boyfriend first, Joel.” But you dig a pen out of your purse and write your number on one of the tiny bar napkins.

Your first date was so normal. You’re not sure what you expected. To jump right to hardcore sex?

But no, he turns up at your door in a neatly pressed green button-up, black slacks, and an ostentatious belt buckle. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of wildflowers, lavender stalks nestled between pink honeysuckle and red salvia. Not a traditional arrangement, but it reminds you of a summer sunset.

“From my garden,” he says a little sheepishly, but you like them a lot better than some generic store display. You tell him as much and his cheeks flush a little.

You return the kiss and pop the flowers in a vase of water before he sweeps you off in his pickup. You aren’t surprised, really, but it’s more charming than some of the other men and their gaudy trucks.

Joel’s is older but well-kept, with minimal rusting around the wheel wells. The bed is open, and you can see streaks of grease and paint spills. A silver tool chest is mounted against the back of the cab. Everything inside and out has a light coating of sawdust.

He isn’t some insecure man with a truck big enough to make up for what isn’t in his britches, that’s for certain. You’d hazard a guess that the corded muscle of his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders are well-earned.

He holds the door open for you, which you tease him for as you slide onto the truck’s bench seat.

“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cause you’re incapable,” he drawls. “Or because you’re a lady,” he adds when he sees the glint in your eye.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

His grin is lopsided, a little dark. “Nah. I just think you deserve to be taken care of, s’all.”

You flush, the back of your neck burning, but you don’t fight the smile that threatens to break out. “Thank you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure, now, that if he plays his cards right, he’s found somethin’ special.

He waits three whole dates to take you to bed, and even then, it doesn’t start dirty.

“Let me get to know your body first, baby,” he urges when you ask him to fuck you rough. Instead, he takes you apart piece by piece. First with his tongue, and then his fingers. He brings you to the edge over and over, but never lets you fall.

After a while, you’re a broken record, pleas and sobs spilling from you.

“That’s music to my ears, darlin’,” he says, pulling his fingers out abruptly to see how your cunt throbs for him. He spits on your clit and watches it drip down to join the mess between your thighs.

“Please, please, Joel,” you beg.

“Please who now?”

“Please, sir,” you try, and are rewarded with his sharp grin. But not with an orgasm.

He slaps your cunt. “That’s more like it, baby. You remember who you’re talkin’ to, alright?”

You nod. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”

He shakes his head, sucking on your clit for a moment before pulling back to get a good look at you. “You do like a little pain, huh?”

“Would like more,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What would you let me do to you?”

“Anything, please, sir.”

He clicks his tongue at you. “Don’t go sayin’ that to someone you barely know. It’s okay to mean it when you trust somebody, but you’re gonna end up in more trouble than you bargain for if you pass that out like candy.”

“I do mean it.”

“Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” His open palm smacks across your face, leaving a sting tingling on your cheek and a lightness to your brain.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you nod frantically.

“What about this?” he grabs a nipple in his calloused fingers and yanks, twisting.

You yelp, but it trails off to a moan, and you nod.

“Goddamn, baby. S’good. But what about this?” He flicks open the switchblade he keeps in his pocket.

You jerk and whine, eyes wide and wet as he brings it to your breast. Your breathing falls shallow as you try to hold still, the point scraping the delicate skin as he circles it. But the look you’re giving him almost has him cumming in his pants like he were twenty years younger.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. I mean, you’ve gotta have limits; everyone does. But you just want me to hurt you, huh?” He digs the tip of the blade in a little on the side of your breast, cock throbbing as you gasp, and you both watch a tiny drop of blood bead and trickle down the blade.

He puts it away. “No,” he says when you whimper. “Not today. I ain’t prepared for all that.”

Joel doesn’t like to break his toys. Not permanently. Just enough that he can put them back together how he likes and then do it all over again.

“Don’t need to be prepared; just do it,” you whine.

He slaps you again and wrenches your head up with a hand in your hair. “First of all, I fuckin’ told you no. Second, I know you want to be a stupid little cunt for me, but I’m not about to cut you open without any goddamn first aid shit.”

He leans back and smacks the breast he had cut. He hits you over and over, alternating sides, until your chest burns, and you’re sobbing.

He looks you over briefly and then shoves his hand between your thighs. “You’re wetter than a slip ‘n slide, baby.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, and wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb. He feels your cunt twitch when he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.

It’s the last straw for him. He’s not opened you enough, but he has a feeling you’ll like it better this way anyway.

You cry out, back arching when he shoves into you. He meant to go slow, he really did, if only to drag out the anticipation. But you’re so warm. So wet. So he just stuffs himself inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you love the pain; it’s just that he can’t resist feeling the evidence for himself. He slaps you across the face while you’re still processing his cock, and the resulting clench and jerk of your body drag a moan from him.

He holds back, regulates his urge to pull each whimper and scream from you, but it’s still so fucking good. It’s been a long time since he’s doled out real cruelty to a slut like you who loves to suffer.

When he finally lets you cum, it’s when he’s about to. He pulls out and spanks your cunt, granting his permission. As your pussy flutters desperately around nothing, he cums on it, watching the way it gets prettier as he paints it.

You black out for a minute. When you come to, he’s wiping you down gently with a warm washcloth, wicking the sweat off your face and chest before cleaning his cum from your curls. You whimper, and he grins, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Even after that first night, he goes slow. He can’t scare ya, not while you still have someplace to run. Plus, it’s so much easier if he starts planting the seeds for your training now.

He knows you’ll beg for it, anyway. He’s been getting the nastiest text messages from you. Part of it is the dopamine; he’s not stupid. But part of you really wants this shit. And the rest? Well. You’ll get there.

It’s the little things. He orders you a black decaf at the drive-thru when you ask for a latte. You start to correct him, like you think he’s made a mistake, but he gives you a look, and you shut your mouth immediately.

When he pulls away from the speaker, you look over at him again. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry…?”

You squirm a little, heart pounding, unsure if he’s really doing this at the Dunkin’ Donuts. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles and rubs his hand on your thigh where it peeks out from your skirt. “Thanks, baby.”

And that’s all it takes. You take the cup when he hands it to you and you’re quick to say, “Thank you, sir,” even though the kid at the window is still passing things through to Joel and can clearly hear you.

-fissured

It goes on like that for a couple of months, but it doesn’t all go so smoothly. One night, he picks you up from work and takes you to a restaurant, saying he wants to treat you. Halfway through the meal, he asks for your panties.

“What?” you say, shocked at his vulgar language in the dining room.

“Take ‘em off and hand ‘em to me.”

You go to stand, probably thinking you can go to the bathroom to obey.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Right here, right now, baby.”

“Joel,” you hiss, sitting back down, “I can’t do that.”

He fixes you with a calm smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising one finger in the air. “I’ll give ya three choices. The first one, the one I’m going to advise you pick, is that you do it right now, and I’ll only punish ya for talkin’ back.”

“The second one,” he holds up another finger for emphasis, “is you can go to the bathroom to take ‘em off, but you’re gonna pay for it when we get home. The third one is where you don’t listen, we leave right now, and you learn to fuckin’ regret it.”

Your breathing is shallow, and your pretty eyes are shining. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper. “Please, sir.”

“You got about thirty seconds to make up your mind.” The softness is gone—from his voice, from his face, from the set of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and you stand up. You’re only in the bathroom for a minute, and when you sit back down, you try to hand them to him under the table.

“Nah, that was only a choice if you were good,” he says, smirking and laying his expectant hand on the white linens.

Mortified, you ball them up tight in your fist and press them into his hand. He slides them into his pants pocket.

He doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of dinner, asking instead about your projects at work and your visit with your parents over the holidays. You feel sick, barely eating a thing, and biting your lip to stave off the tears.

As soon as you’re in the truck, you start to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just scared and—”

“Shut up. You made your choice. You’re not sorry. You’re just afraid of the consequences.”

“N-no, I am sorry, I mean it.”

“You’re gonna have to prove it.” He doesn’t look at you on the drive home, doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even turn the radio on; just listens to you sniffle.

When he parks, he sets his hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you can be my good girl. All you gotta do is take your punishment and learn from it, okay?”

You sniffle again and nod, blinking through tear-laden lashes at him.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he murmurs. He gets out and comes around to open your door, offering a hand to help you step down from the tall truck. You take it, and he holds on, leading you inside his house.

He sits sprawled on the couch, thighs parted wide to make room and waits until you’re comfortably kneeling between his legs. You’re sat in silence, head bowed, arms folded behind your back.

“Tell me what you did wrong today.”

This is a first, but not a last. Even on days when nothing egregious has happened, you will follow this ritual. He’ll ask for your sins, and you’ll confess. There will always be something you’ll owe him for.

“I argued when you gave me orders. I was disobedient.”

“Anything else I need to know about, baby?”

“No, sir.”

“Why’d you argue?”

“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Save your grovelin’ for after, baby. Why were you afraid?”

“I didn’t want people to see. I didn’t want to get kicked out or arrested.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to you? You think I would have given you an order that put either of us at any kinda risk?”

Your face burns. “I—”

“I thought you trusted me.” He sounds hurt, and you’re a little nauseous when you look up to see his eyes wide and sad, lips turned into a wounded scowl.

Your shoulders slump. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”

“Hmm. Okay, I can work with that.”

You look up at him, brow scrunched and lips pouting as you try to parse his words.

He smiles. It’s cold, and his eyes are steel.

You swallow hard, and his grin widens, quirking into a smirk.

“Alright, baby. I got just the thing.”

He leads you into the ensuite. You kneel on the little rug by the tub while he fills it. You’re too afraid to ask what’s happening, so you just sit quietly. He leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the tub is nearly full, and you’re starting to worry that you were supposed to be monitoring it.

He comes back in, and once it’s nearing the lip of the tub, he turns off the faucet. He has you kneel on the top of the three steps leading up to the edge. It’s the most luxurious thing in this house, and you suspect he installed it custom so he could soak his aching muscles.

He bends you over the edge so you’re leaning close to the water and crouches down behind you. It’s a pleasant surprise when he spreads you wide and licks from your clit to your asshole.

He stays there for a few minutes, indulging in your wet cunt and the cries it draws from your lips. After he’s had his fill, he stands up and lubes up his cock before pushing his way into your ass. He’s generous with the lube but rarely preps you, since you both like it better when it hurts.

You’re writhing a little beneath him, wriggling your hips to try to ease the passage. Once he’s fully seated inside you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves it under the water before fucking hard into you.

You thrash, displacing water from the tub, until he yanks you back up.

You gasp for air and scrabble to get a grip on the wet tile, but he pushes you back down and groans at how tight you get while you’re struggling.

He pulls you roughly back up. “Gonna keep going until you stop makin’ a fuss.”

You go to protest, to panic, and he pushes you back down.

The next time he pulls you out, he spanks you until your skin is burning. “Fuckin’ trust me. You think I’m gonna let you drown?”

“No, sir,” you cry, but it’s garbled as he pushes you back down. You’re still fighting him each time.

He pulls you back out and repeats the beating. “Relax, or we’re gonna be here all night.”

He continues the process a few more times and then gives you a reprieve, letting go of your hair so you can rest your cheek against the cold edge of the tub while he pounds into you. He reaches and rubs featherlight circles around your clit until you’re softly moaning.

“You gonna trust me?”

“I’m trying, my body panics,” you pant.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya. You hear me? You know you’re panicking, so focus on me instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

It shouldn’t make sense, but you think he’s long warped your brain anyway. The next time he pushes you underwater, you clench your fists tight and focus on what oxygen you do have, even if he knocks a little out with each thrust.

His hand in your hair is your anchor and buoy. You tense when you feel your body start to jerk, trying so hard to control it.

He pulls you up. “Just like that, baby. Again.”

It gets just a little easier each time. He leaves you under longer, until your lungs are burning, and you’re on the edge of gasping in water, but he pulls you out in time.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well.” He’s a little fascinated. He hadn’t really been sure it could be done or if your survival instincts would go into a frenzy. But here you are, letting him almost fucking drown you.

Not that he would.

Despite being balls deep in your tight little asshole, he isn’t trying to reach his orgasm. Not yet, staving off his pleasure so he can keep a clear head.

He keeps it up just a little longer. You’re getting tired and tolerating less and less time underwater. The last time he pulls you up, he pinches your clit and tells you to cum while he fills you.

He dunks you again while you cum, and you clamp down on him tighter than you have before, convulsing on his cock. When he pulls you back up, you’re gasping and sobbing. He pulls out and wraps you in a towel, easing you to the wet floor while he cleans up.

When he comes back to you, he helps you stand and dry off, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“So?”

Your brow furrows. It’s not what he usually asks after a punishment, but you think you know what he means. “I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”

“I know. M’so proud of you for taking that. You’re turning out so nicely, sweet thing.”

In the morning, you’re almost late to work after sucking him off when you should have been getting dressed. He’s about to walk out the door to head to the site when he hears your frustrated voice from the bedroom.

“Joel, where are my underwear? I need to fuckin’ leave.”

“I told you, baby. There was a price to pay when you picked the bathroom. Y’ain’t wearing ‘em anymore.”

“What?”

He doesn’t need to see you to smirk at the shocked expression he knows is on your face. “We’ll talk about it more tonight; I gotta run.”

-avulsed

“Y’know, baby,” Joel says, leaning forward to rub your shoulder. “They just don’t fuckin’ appreciate you.”

You’re bent over, elbows on your knees, crying with your face buried in your hands. You sit up and sniffle, wiping the tears. “It’s fine; it’s not like I need to be coddled at work.”

All the stress of the PR world is getting to you, and you hate it, you fucking hate it, but you dropped 50k on a degree, so now you’re stuck.

“But they make you work all this overtime, cut your team in half, and then berate you when you can’t meet the client’s deadline? You do not deserve that, baby.”

You let him coax you into his lap, facing him so you can bury your face in his soft, worn tee. He rubs your back and holds your head to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” you mumble.

“Nah, darlin’, I’ve told ya a thousand times. You deserve to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I, well. I was thinkin’...”

You wait, but when he doesn’t pick back up, you sit up and look at him.

“I dunno. It’s nothin’,” he says.

“Please tell me?”

“Alright, fine. Now, I don’t want ya to feel any pressure. It’s just a thought. But maybe you should just quit and stay with me a while, ‘till you can find something better?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. He must see something on your face, because he tips your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I know it’s sudden, but I mean it. Let me take care of ya while you figure shit out. We don’t gotta treat it like living together if y’ain’t ready. But I’d be open to that conversation, too.”

It doesn’t take much more than that. The first couple weeks, he lets you give it a try—searching for new degree programs, applying for jobs you know you’re overqualified for just to try something different.

After nothing pans out, he suggests you both take a week off. Him from work and you from the burden of trying to escape unemployment. Just relax, like a little staycation.

It’s bliss. You go on dates, eat pizza and marathon the “Jurassic Park” movies, and fuck like crazy.

On the third night, he sits you down. On his cock, of course. While you’re bouncing and brainless, he cups your cheek. “Baby, you’ve been too damn stressed still. What if we… well, what if we tried out a day or two like we’ve been talking about?”

Sometimes, you whisper to him in the darkness, usually while he’s balls deep, how you wish you could be his all the time. His good girl. His pet. And he whispers back, lures you right in with promises of taking care of everything, of you not having a worry or care in the world. Just him.

Now, he fondles your tits while he murmurs to you. “We can just wake up together, and I can take care of ya. Everything you need, baby. All you’d have to do is be good for me, yeah?”

You moan and grind down harder on his cock. “Please, sir. I want it more than anything. Just to be yours.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Joel had no patience for brats, so he usually broke his toys in sooner into the training process. He liked ‘em nice and obedient—scared, if that’s what it took, but devoted. But you had been from the start—you wanted to be good in all the ways you could never seem to be to other people. Your family, your job, the world seemed to just demand more and more.

Joel was the first person to make you feel like you had actually, really, truly pleased him. There wasn’t a higher mark you should have made. There wasn’t any expectation for you to give more and more.

His orders were complete, always. You learned that very quickly. Attempts to go above and beyond were rebuked.

“If I wanted that, I woulda said so,” he told you. And like everything else, you committed his words to memory.

It helped that he gave praise freely. You didn’t have to wonder if he was satisfied, if you should have licked him differently, if you should have made prettier faces while you came. He reassured you until you believed him, and then kept going anyway.

It made it easier for him to slowly peel you away from the ungrateful world.

“You don’t have to take that,” he’d say after watching your face fall further and further while on the phone with your mom. “Family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”

They made it too easy, really, and your relationship with them would have likely just fizzled out. But in the end, he had to step in and snap it off.

You asked him to come with you to dinner at their house. He was hesitant. He wasn’t really the boyfriend type. He wasn’t really even your boyfriend. That was too weird a word for either of you, not when he owned you.

But he knows you didn’t want to go alone, and he has a feeling he’ll be cleaning up the mess anyway.

You want to give them a chance. Things have been so tense, and they said they missed you. But they didn’t even make it through the entrée without ridiculing you.

When your father asks how work is going, you quietly confess to quitting, hastily reassuring them that you are looking for a new position. Though, and you keep this part to yourself, you maybe haven’t been trying that hard.

“What do you mean you quit? How are you paying your bills? You better not have come here to ask for money,” your father says, setting down his fork to glare at you.

“Well, I’ve been living with Joel,” you mumble to the tablecloth.

“I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger,” your mother chides.

Joel tries to bite his tongue and let them dig their own graves. But your father calls you a “fucking whore,” and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you’re cowering in your chair, fighting back tears.

“You watch your mouth,” Joel snaps at your father.

You look up, mouth agape, eyes darting from Joel to your parents.

“Mind your business,” your dad tells him.

Joel stands up and throws his napkin on the table. “She is my fuckin’ business. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone talk to her like that. You’re not an exception just because you managed to get it up long enough to cum in your wife.”

“Joel,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. You’re burning, melting on the spot, from the vulgar way he’s talking to them. For him, someone who’s always strict about manners and proper hospitality, to talk back like this? God, you think, he must really love you.

He puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds firmly as you lean into it. He rounds back on your parents. “You treat her like fuckin’ dirt beneath your feet, and I’m tired of it. You don’t deserve the fuckin’ dirt beneath her feet.”

He shoves his chair back and grabs your hand. “C’mon, baby; we’re leaving.”

You take it and stand up, letting him pull you along. Your father follows you into the foyer, and you try not to look at him while you shove your shoes on.

Joel holds your coat out while you slip into it, and you tune out whatever your dad is yelling now. You don’t want to hear it; you know it’s nasty, and your whole world has narrowed to Joel anyway.

He holds out the key. “Go wait in the truck, baby.”

And you do.

He comes out about five minutes later, red-faced and huffing with fury. He doesn’t say a word when he gets in; just throws the truck into reverse and pulls away. You both ignore the blood on his knuckles.

Once you’re on the road, he looks over at you and sighs. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You unbuckle and slide over to the middle seat, tucking your hand between his warm body to curl around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Whaddya sorry for? None of that was your fault.” He kisses the top of your head and cups your cheek at the stoplight. “It was gonna happen eventually, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the ride home is silent while you breathe in his comforting musk and try to relax. But the tension is unrelenting, the horrible rotting feeling eating away at your spine.

He knows. Knows what you need, knows what he can do to seal this moment forever. He waits until he’s unzipping the pretty little cocktail dress you’d stressed over.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, breaking away from where he was sucking his claim down your neck to swap out your delicate necklace with his collar.

He unhooks the bra and kisses the marks he left behind with the cane, your penance for being allowed to wear it. It leaves you bare to him, and his hands turn greedy. He presses biting kisses against your lips while digging fingers into your bruises, swallowing your whimpers.

He grabs you by the neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, holding you to him while your vision blurs. When he lets go, you stumble, but his arm around your back holds you upright. He slaps your face with quick, sharp blows in rapid succession to keep you unsteady.

“Knees, hands behind your head,” he says, and lets go.

You fall but are quick to right yourself and take the position. He wastes no time, giving you another harsh smack before grabbing your hair and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke and gag but keep your hands in place even as your head spins. You feel limp and grateful that he doesn’t seem to require any effort from you as he uses you without mercy.

“Look at you. You’ve got my whole cock down your throat. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your eyes are already glazed over, and you moan your appreciation around him.

He pulls out and hauls you to your feet. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Get your ass downstairs.”

He fucks you, beats you, uses you wherever he wants. But the basement is where he keeps the heavy equipment and where you know you’re about to have your mind and body pushed to the absolute limit.

You’re ready, he thinks, when he gets down and finds you waiting perfectly in place for him, eyes wide like he’s descended from on high. He jerks a thumb to the wooden post, and you meet him there.

“Forget about what they want you to be,” he murmurs as he closes the steel cuffs around your ankles. “You know what you want, baby. Right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already slipping away into that safe place only Joel can get you to.

“What do you want to be?” he asks, binding your arms up over your head to the eye bolt at the top of the post.

“Yours.” It’s half-whisper, half-whine.

“Yeah? You just wanna be mine? You don’t want to get a new job?”

“No,” you finally confess. “But—”

“But what, baby? If you say somethin’ about money or bills, I’m gonna be mighty unhappy.”

You bite your lip. “I’m scared one day, you’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart. You think I put all this work into helpin’ you, into teaching you how to be mine, just to toss ya out? You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

He slides a silicone cock into the bracket lined right up with your mouth. It’s a fairly standard size, since he knows you’re going to thrash around and doesn’t want you gagging too much and throwing up.

Your torso gets tied to the post by your tits, the wood nestled between them and rope woven around. Securing you there forces your head onto the toy, but he doesn’t make you take it all the way. You keep your mouth open and don’t move closer or further, waiting for his command.

“Suck on it whenever you’d like. You’re going to need it.”

Your eyes roll back a little at his promise. If he thinks you’re going to need something in your mouth to self-soothe, you’re in for an absolutely amazing time.

“Focus on me. That’s all you’ll need to do from now on, baby. No more worries in that pretty little head, okay?”

The first strike is a warm-up. When you feel the lash of his favorite whip lick your ass, you moan. It’s a moderately short signal whip that he wields like a fucking pro. His warmups are quick but thorough, and you’re squirming when he moves on to your thighs and shoulders.

“Already?” he says, laughing when you whine around the silicone cock.

You’re absentmindedly sucking on it when he starts a harsher assault. A particularly sharp strike stings at the valley where your ass meets your thighs, and you yelp, jerking a little and gagging yourself on the dildo.

His smirk burns into your back as the cry melts into a moan, and you writhe a little, trying to get friction where you need it most. What you get, though, is the tip of the whip against your cunt.

By the time he moves around to your tits, they’re covered in spit, heaving with the effort of holding back your orgasm. He comes up to you first, and pinches at your nipples.

“Aw, does my dumb little cunt want to cum?” He croons, tugging and twisting until you moan. He laughs when all you can get out is a muffled “mhm.”

“Tell ya what. You can cum all you want while I hurt you tonight, okay?”

He punctuates it with a particularly cruel pinch, and that, combined with his permission, is all you need to let the pleasure shudder through you.

“Yeah? You gonna get off to being my little toy? Gonna let me do whatever I want?”

You moan around the fake cock, easing it further into your throat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He doesn’t give a warm-up on your tits, figuring you’re already so far gone it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.

He’s right. The first lash is harsh, a welt blooming across the top of your breast in its wake, but you groan, trying to press your cunt up against the post for any relief.

You don’t need it, though. He brings you to your peak again with the skilled flick of his wrist, landing blows across the fat of your breasts. He waits until you’re mid-orgasm to bring the whip hard across your nipples.

The resulting wail almost makes him cum in his pants. He does it only twice more, relishing in your agony, but restraining himself from just letting loose. Not with the whip, as much as he’d like to. Maybe later with a flogger.

Once he’s taken it as far as he’s willing to risk, he moves back around to give the rest of you the same treatment. The hardest hits push you over the edge, and by the time his arm is getting tired, you’re sobbing and writhing in your restraints, overstimulated in every way.

He unlatches your ankles first, helping you find steady footing before untying your wrists and torso. You drop to your knees and open your mouth, throat aching for his cock after the tease of the toy.

He doesn’t have the willpower to torment you by denying it tonight. Instead, he nearly pops the button off his jeans in his urgency to pull his cock out and shove it as far down your throat as he can.

Your arms find their place behind your back, and you just take it. He fucks into you without restraint. It’s filthy, from the mess you’re making to the wet choking sounds he pushes out of you with each thrust.

You’re shaking, and he pulls out abruptly.

“I said while I’m hurting you. You don’t get to just cum from getting facefucked.”

“Then hurt me, please,” you sob. It’s right there; you’re so close.

He slaps you across the face and laughs as you cum, shoving back into your throat while you’re still riding out the aftershocks.

He pulls back out, and you whine until he yanks you up by the bicep and pushes you over to the padded bench, bending you over it and shoving into your sopping cunt.

“Still disappointed?” he teases.

“N-no,” you pant. “Please hurt me.”

“Beg me properly, greedy little cunt.”

You clench around him just at the words, but obey. “Please, sir, please hurt me so I can cum. Please.”

“I’ve been hurtin’ you all night, baby,” he says, voice thick with false pity. “Don’t you want me to be gentle with you now?” He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cum as he mocks you.

“No,” you sob. “No, love me, hurt me, please.”

It’s got an edge of desperation and heartbreak to it that he just loves.

He smacks your already bruising ass until you sob harder, shaking uncontrollably as you cum. He wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you through it until he cums, hips stuttering, and filling your cunt with his spend.

He lets himself collapse a little on top of you, pinning you with his weight against the bench with his softening cock still buried in you. “Feel loved now?”

You’re still crying, and when he folds his arms around your chest, elbows resting on the table, you cling to him. “Love you,” you murmur over and over, pressing kisses up and down his forearms.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at you. “I know, baby. You know I love ya.” He’s half-hard—not something that happens a lot anymore at his age, so he’s not gonna waste it. He pulls out just to manhandle you up onto the bench on your back, climbing up between your legs and shoving back in.

It’s a little sloppy until he’s fully hard again; your combined cream making things a little too slippery. Once he’s erect, though, he sets a punishing pace, folding you in half with your legs up by your ears. He works your clit with his hand, relishing in the way you’re fucking exhausted and overstimulated, but your poor clit’s been neglected. It means he can twist and pull on it, tugging until you give him more and more, until you’re sobbing for mercy that you know you’ll never get.

He doesn’t ease up until he pulls out to cum over your tits and face.

“Mine,” he snarls, shoving his fingers into your swollen cunt and feeding you what’s left of his first orgasm and your… well, he’s not really sure how many. A fuckin’ lot. “You’re all mine. Little fuckin’ toy to do whatever I want, right?”

You’re still gasping for breath, having been half-suffocated in that position, but when you look at him, it’s like he’s a fucking god. “Yes, sir.”

-broken

The day had started out fine.

He’d laid out a dress for you to wear. Sometimes, he made you go around bare for a while, just to fuck with your head a little, but he prefers to unwrap you like a present.

Plus, the sight of you crawling around in nothing but a slutty, barely-there dress is picture-fuckin’-perfect. He’d know; he’s got a bunch of ‘em on his phone.

And crawl, you do. You haven’t been allowed to walk further than a couple of feet in a long time. There’s penance to be paid if you can’t avoid it.

Joel collects your penance whenever possible, gathering what’s owed for your sins and dealing out forgiveness when it's settled. It’s how he shows his love.

And he does love you. How could he not? Such a perfect little toy. He’s spent so much time training you right to be his prized possession.

He knew it’d happen eventually, so when you commit one of the worst offenses, he has to make it count. You were testing your limits, of course; he had expected it. He had expected it months ago. It was worse now, after you’d been so good and earned so much trust. But now that you’d been nothing but his for two months, you had finally fucked up.

Your punishments were never painful. Okay, they weren’t pain-focused. Sometimes, he had to put you over his knee to let his frustration out before he could give you a proper punishment. But the pain wasn’t the point—you both liked it too damn much. No matter how much farther he took it than a regular session, and no matter how sick you were with guilt, you were always a soaking wet mess after a beating.

This time would have to be different, though.

It was time to finally break you.

He knew as soon as he got home. Not the particulars, but that you’d made a huge mistake.

On the surface, nothing was amiss. You were knelt by the door in your pretty little dress, a short number in navy blue. You had your head down and arms folded behind your back in perfect posture.

But something was off. It didn’t feel like you were happy he was home. And he was pretty sure there would only be one reason for that.

He hung up his keys but didn’t bother to take off his shoes, coming to stand in front of you. “What’d you do?”

You flinch and have to re-tense to hold the position as a sob escapes you. Your hands are balled into fists to fight the urge to cover your face. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked what you did.”

If it were still the early days, when this shit usually happened, he might have been just a little softer. At least until he coaxed the confession from you, anyway. But you were in too deep, now, too entangled in this life that he had little patience for your reticence.

“I—”

“I recommend you spit it out. You’ll tell me in the end, anyway.”

You start to cry. “I can’t say it.”

“You better figure it out pretty fuckin’ fast, little girl.”

“I had an orgasm,” you blurt, whimpers escalating to sobs.

He pauses. It’s worse than he thought. The rush of disappointment and anger sends his heart racing, and his fingers flex in longing for a cane.

“Did you enjoy it?” he says.

It catches you off guard. “No, I promise.”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause it’s the last one you’re gonna have for a while.”

You aren’t surprised; you’re actually relieved. Of course, of course he’ll fix you.

He finally takes his shoes off and sets his phone on the counter, beckoning you to follow him to the living room. Taking his seat on the couch, he waits until you’re settled at his feet.

“Why’d you do that, baby?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. I was edging for the last time today, and I don’t know what happened. It was just there, and I knew it, I knew it was coming, and I—” You choke on the guilt, the grief.

“You what?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t convince myself to stop. I kept thinking ‘no, you stupid cunt,’ but I couldn’t pull my hand away.”

He regards you for a moment. He’s burning inside, but trying to calculate the most effective approach.

“Thank you for telling me right away,” he says, but even though he means it, the words are cold and clipped. “Which hand?”

You look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What?”

“Which hand did you use? Give it to me.”

You lift up your right hand, and he cradles it in his.

“Listen close.” He waits until he’s sure you’re focused on him, on his words.

This is where things have fallen apart in the past. No amount of training and manipulation can get someone across this hurdle; they have to mean it. The last thing he wants is someone running to the police because they don’t fucking understand how serious he is.

“This is going to be your last chance to back out. I will stop right now and let you pack your shit and leave. But if you stay, you’re agreeing to anything I do to you past this point.”

You bite your lip, stomach churning. “You’re scaring me,” you whisper.

“Good. You should be scared. What you’ve done is one of the worst things you could have. That’s got some serious consequences, baby.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I gotta hurt you. Bad. Y’ain’t going to like this; I can promise you that. I can’t punish your cunt because you’re such a stupid pain slut; anything short of permanent damage is gonna make you wet. And I’m not lookin’ to do permanent damage.”

Your lip trembles, heart pounding. You’ve never been so afraid, but you’re also enthralled. Lured in by the timbre of his voice and the salvation it’s promising.

He squeezes your hand where he’s still holding onto you. “I’m going to break one of your fingers.”

Your heart falters, blood rushing. “Oh god,” you whisper, shaking your head. Instinctively, you tug back on your hand, but he grasps it tight, tight enough that you feel the bones grind under his large fingers.

“It’s up to you. That’s half the price for forgiveness. The rest is gonna be spending the night alone.”

Somehow, that sounds worse. You can’t breathe.

“Gotta choose, baby. You wanna go? I’ll pay for a cab. You can walk away, but you can’t ever come back.”

You think you might be drowning. Leave? How could you leave? There’s no debate in your head; you have nothing without Joel. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And the idea of losing him feels catastrophic.

You’re crying again, and you’re vaguely aware of his soothing voice trying to coach you through breathing. When you focus on him, just like he’s taught you, you start to calm down.

It’s Joel, you think. He’ll take care of you. And he said he didn’t want permanent damage. You just have to suffer for your betrayal and he’ll forgive you.

“I think I might throw up,” you warn him.

He sighs, the fear of losing you flooding away, taking some of his anger with it. “We’ll do it in the bathroom.”

He stands up, and you follow, albeit slowly, as the wave of nausea rises. You do throw up as soon as you get in the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. He holds your hair and rubs his hand across your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, baby, get it out of your system. You’re being so brave for me,” he croons. He helps you up to sit on the edge of the tub and gets you a little cup of mouthwash.

“I’ll help you brush your teeth after,” he promises. “I’d do it now, but, well. You’re probably going to puke again.”

When you’re done swishing the mouthwash, when it’s all turned to foam and you’ve spit it back in the cup, he swaps you for water. You rinse and spit that, too.

He’s laid a few things out on the counter. You feel dizzy all over again. Something tells you the comfort you feel is wrong, but he’s prepared an ice pack and medical tape, and has four little ibuprofen out next to another cup of water.

The other, louder part of you is whispering, see? He’ll take care of you. The act of wondering what’s wrong with you feels like a farce. You’re thinking it because you think you should, just going through the motions.

He takes off his belt and brings it to your mouth. You clench it between your teeth, letting a shaky breath through. His hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“I knew you were somethin’ special,” he whispers. You’re not sure he meant to.

Your whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He watches you for a moment, worried you’re going to faint, and then sits on the floor with his back against the tub, pulling you into his lap. He lays you back against his chest, caging you in with his arms and thighs. The ice pack sits to his right, already popped and frozen. Waiting.

Gently, he lifts your hand and brings it in front of your chest, taking it in his left. It’s a macabre mockery, the way he cradles it in his palm, fingers wrapped around the sides. In his right hand, he notches his thumb on the knuckle of your middle finger, bringing the other fingers in below it.

He doesn’t drag it out, doesn’t take pleasure in your terror. When he moves, it’s faster than a gunshot. Your scream is raw, breaking free from the spaces between your teeth and the belt. The taste of leather will remind you of this moment for the rest of your life.

He has the ice pack on it before you mentally register that it’s over. You’re sobbing. Horribly, he’s right, and you are sick again. He holds your hair in one fist, holding the ice pack to your mangled hand in the other.

When you’re done, he pulls you back against him, wrapping his limbs around you in a perverse embrace as you shake harder. With his free hand, he brings a damp, cool cloth to your face, cleaning you of the viscera of your sickness.

He’s shushing you, head bent close to your ear. “It’s alright, baby, it’s over. You did so good. I’m so proud. I love you so much.”

It’s good that he doesn’t expect an answer because he doesn’t get one. You’re too lost in the pain and shock.

When it’s time to take a break from the ice, he grabs the medical tape and wraps it around your index and middle fingers. You cry out again as he jostles the break. Once he’s splinted it, he lowers your hand gently to your lap so he can grab the medicine.

“I can’t; I’ll throw up again,” you say, voice cracking.

“Don’t have a choice, baby. Gotta keep the swelling down.”

He feeds you each pill, one by one, chasing them with sips of water.

You look so sad and precious that he almost feels bad. Unfortunately, he’s also rock fucking hard, so he shifts you a little to pull his dick out.

You don’t say anything when he lifts you to lower you on it. He’s careful, trying not to shake you around too much. He was right; you didn’t enjoy this pain. You’ve never been this dry for him before, and you whimper pathetically at the pinch and sting of his girth.

You may be worn out and in agony, but your cunt doesn’t get the message. He grins when he feels you getting wet and clenching around him. He doesn’t push it though, doesn’t torment you, just fucks up into you gently until he fills you.

You’re limp against him now, and he presses a kiss into your hair. “You may have to walk for a bit,” he muses. “But I’ll cap your penance at ten.”

You wince. Ten strokes with the cane on the soles of your feet every day until your finger heals? You usually only owe enough for two or three. It is a mercy, though, so you nod and thank him.

Joel can hardly contain the way his chest is flooding with warmth. You’re so close; he can feel it. So close to being completely his to put together just the way he likes.

He can’t wait to take you to The Pit.

-kintsugi

You’re cold. So cold. You’re curled in on yourself, tucked into a corner in the hopes that you’d be able to keep warmer. Your whole right hand throbs.

Moonlight only cuts across the corner, but it’s a comfort still. The soil is loose and you keep shuddering, feeling the tickle of a dozen phantom insects.

Worst of all, your chest aches, like he may as well have hewn you open. Dry sobs work their way free every now and then, leaving your mouth tacky and your throat full of cotton.

The only rest you get is when you blessedly pass out. Every time you close your eyes voluntarily, you see the heartbroken look on his face when you begged him not to leave you there.

“I wish I didn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t broken my trust and I could keep you close, baby. But you’re never going to learn how to be good if I don’t show ya.”

Bad, I’m bad, he doesn’t want me anymore, you think to no end.

When the sun starts to rise, you’re limp, still in your corner. You barely turn your head when a shadow falls over The Pit, but your heart starts to pound when the lock clicks, and Joel raises the gate.

“Oh, baby,” he says, soft and sorrowful. “C’mere.” He reaches out a hand, and you scramble to him, letting him take your left arm in his grasp and pull you out. You move immediately to your knees, body bent forward as your knotted muscles protest. He scoots his boot out of the danger zone near your broken finger.

You keep whispering, a broken record of “Sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”

He picks you up and holds you to his chest, shushing until you fall quiet. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds as your brain desperately clings to any scrap, any way you can be good for him.

He brushes the loose dirt from you before going inside and upstairs to the ensuite. He sets you on the little rug next to the full garden tub, and he tests the water with his fingers before peeling his clothes off.

You flex your left hand, balling it in and out of a fist. You’ve never been particularly ambidextrous and wonder how you’re going to wash him without falling in or hurting your hand.

Before he gets in, he feeds you four more little red pills. Once he’s settled, he reaches out and guides you carefully by the waist, pulling you into his lap in the warm water.

That’s all it takes for you to start crying again. He doesn’t try to quiet you; just holds you there against his chest and lets you sob.

By the time you’ve calmed, the water has cooled, but instead of getting out, he just drains a little and runs more hot water.

Joel tips your chin up gently with the knuckle of his index finger. “You ready to be my good girl again?”

You nod, lip trembling.

Joel does nothing you hadn’t asked for. The trouble for you was that you asked for too much. Gave him too much. And it was far too late to get any of it back.

He gave what he could, though. Couldn’t replace what he’d taken, so he pours himself in the cracks, puts you back together with a firm hand and loving care. Sure, his love doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but he knows you see it for what it is.

“I know, baby. You took that all so well. Don’t worry,” he pauses to kiss you, “I forgive you. My perfect little toy.”

pls be nice, I'm so nervous about this.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dddne #tw noncon #non con #dark fic #tw abuse #seriously heed the warnings #don't like don't read #deaddovedecember2023

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Note

I just got done reading your fic ‘passenger princess’ and I would a another small fic of Y/n actually buying a car or she’s makes Alessia think bought one.

Instead she rented it out for the week and Alessia hates the fact that she doesn’t have her passenger princess. And instead she becomes one for the week and girl tease her about to.

(Please only write if you want!)

passenger princess ficlet II a.russo x reader

little follow up ficlet to the original fic here passenger princess ficlet II a.russo x reader

"-and you think this is a good idea given the fact you two spent an entire day at one anothers throats already. about this exact argument which shouldn't have even been an argument in the first place?" leah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as you nodded enthusastically.

"yes." you confirmed, the blonde sighing deeply. "i don't know how she puts up with you honestly, the poor girl deserves an award." your national captain shook her head, grabbing her empty lunch tray and standing as your jaw dropped. "leah!" you scoffed after her in offence, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff at her lack of support.

"you told her your plan?" lia chuckled, returning from the bathroom and watching the interaction as you nodded. "i thought she would be supportive but she basically told me i'm a terrible girlfriend and alessia deserves an award for putting up with me." you pouted at the older girl as you stood to join her.

"leah!" the swiss woman shoved the blonde who returned, swiftly glaring at the two of you. "what? she's a numpty and i personally am tired of having to pretend that she isn't an enormous pain in my side." leah shrugged as you again scoffed, launching at her and jumping on her back.

you clung on tightly as the three of you walked out of the lunch room and toward the gym for your final session of the day. "get off!" leah demanded trying to shake you but having no luck as you latched onto her.

"less help!" leah whined as your girlfriend entered the gym, laughing at something victoria said. "having to get someone else to fight your battles for you? some captain." you tutted, arm locked around leah's neck as the woman mumbled under her breath about how she wished she could drown you in the recovery pool.

"you either get off me right now or next camp i'll make you do hill sprints and burpees till you throw up." leah warned seriously as you rolled your eyes but dropped off her none the less, hurrying away toward your girlfriend before the older blonde could retaliate.

"partner up with me?" your girlfriend requested, pulling you into a warm hug as you nodded, flipping leah off over her shoulder as the blondes lips tugged into a smile and she turned away trying to hide it.

the older girl had been looking out for you for years and loved you like the younger sister she never had, so you knew she couldn't ever really stay mad at you.

"how was lunch?" you asked, laughing quietly feeling your girlfriend start to sway the two of you, refusing to let go of the tight hug you were sharing. "good, missed you though." she confessed, placing a discreet kiss to your neck and releasing you from her hold.

the two of you had made a pact to try and not spend every waking minute with one another at trainings, given the fact you lived together and were practically together almost every minute of each day you didn't want it to put any strain on anything now you were playing together as well.

"so i've been meaning to talk to you about something." you started, standing above the blonde spotting her as you all focused on upper body for the last twenty minutes of the session. "and now is a good time?" your girlfriend heaved as she racked the bar up and caught her breath for a moment, sweat beading at her forehead.

"it's nothing bad baby i promise." you chuckled as she reached back up for the bar again and nodded for you to add extra weight on. "are you sure?" you questioned, holding your hands up in a silent apology at the firm look she sent you, adding an extra 5kg onto each end at her request.

"go on then." alessia encouraged, reaching up for the bar as you helped her to lift it, watching carefully as she did her reps. "mm?" you hummed, distracted by the way her arms rippled and flexed as she pressed.

"what did you want to speak to me about love?" alessia smiled, knowing exactly what had you so distracted, the exact reason she'd added on weight being to impress you anyway, not that after years of dating she even had to try.

"i bought a car." you announced casually but suddenly, eyes widening as alessia's arms suddenly dropped, the bar landing on her neck with a loud thump as you hurried to help her lift it back up onto the rack.

"lessi are you alright?" you squatted down, hands on her leg and eyes shining with concern as the blonde struggled to catch her breath, waving away a few of the trainers who wandered closer to check on her.

"you did what?" alessia managed to spit out, eyes locked with yours as you bit your bottom lip. "i bought a car?" you smiled innocently, helping your girlfriend to her feet as the timers sounded for everyone to switch. "and exactly why have you gone and done that?" alessia demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at you as you took a seat on the bench.

"because i can?" you shrugged, laying down and gesturing for her to remove some of the weight, everyone instructed to start light and add on with more reps completed. "you don't need a car though." alessia continued, doing as you'd asked as you lay down and waited.

"everyone with a license can find a need for a car less." you laughed, knowing you were already getting under her skin and you'd barely put your plan into action. "not girls who have girlfriends who drive them everywhere." alessia reminded as you grabbed onto the bar, lowering it and beginning your first set.

"i cannot believe you'd just go ahead and do this without running it past me." alessia shook her head, scowl set deep into her features. "what like you consulted me before dropping almost four grand on a bag?" you challenged, eyes flickering up toward her as you racked the bar again.

"okay firstly, that bag was for you. secondly thats different to buying a car! where did you get it? what did you get? when does it come?" the striker fired question after question at you, adding on more weight as you commenced your second set.

"i'm a financially independent woman alessia i can spend my money on whatever i want. and technically i told you last week i was going to buy a car!" you reminded with a smile, racking the bar and catching your breath for a moment, arms burning.

"i thought that was a joke! and i told you that you weren't allowed anyway." alessia huffed, bright blue eyes staring down at you filled with irratation as you simply smiled up at her.

"and when have i ever done what you've told me to?"

"you're seriously not going to tell me anything about it?" alessia scoffed, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel of her own car as she drove the two of you home. "nope." you popped the p with a grin, changing songs.

"hey i liked that one!" alessia complained with a frown, you rolling your eyes and skipping back to it as she smiled. "soak it in though." you added on, tucking your knees up to your chest as the taller girl gave you a confused look.

"soon enough my love you'll be here and i'll be there." you teased, gesturing to her seat and yours causing the blonde to let out a loud sarcastic bark of laughter. "oh baby you must have gotten too much sun today, you're so cute." alessia pouted mockingly as she turned the corner into your street.

"am i?" you smirked as she pulled into your driveway, slamming on the brakes seeing an unfamiliar car already parked in it. "you bought that?" alessia spat out, edging forwards to pull in next to the unfamiliar vehicle as you hummed, unbuckling yourself.

"oh no no no no. no fucking way you're getting behind the wheel in that!" alessia scoffed as the two of you slid out of her car, the blonde popping her trunk and grabbing out your kit bags.

"i already have, had to test drive it first!" you winked, sauntering toward the front door as alessia hovered behind, eyes roaming the sleek black porsche panamera parked in the driveway.

"how did it even get here?" alessia questioned, following you inside and dropping your bags by the door as you sat down to take your trainers off. "well baby when a mummy car and a daddy car love each other very much they-" you started to explain, cut off as alessia threw her own shoe at your head.

"james picked it up for me and dropped it off while we were at training, he works at the dealership so they gave me a sizeable discount too." you grinned, standing and heading toward the kitchen to start dinner hearing alessia follow after you.

for the next half hour she fired question after question your way, and you'd done your research so you were able to answer everything without a moments hesitation, only angering the blonde further.

"i actually cannot believe you. i'm going for a shower!" alessia scoffed, pushing herself up and storming off toward your bedroom, the door slamming after her.

with an amused smile you grabbed your phone and clicked call, settling in in between your shoulder and your ear as you continued to prep dinner, your older brother eventually answering after a few rings.

"it's perfect." you grinned right away, hearing his chuckle on the other end of the line. "i know. but i was serious if there is even the essence of any sort of scratch or mark or dent on it i swear to god you're dead." he warned seriously as you rolled your eyes, moving to toss the peppers into a pan.

"yes i know james i will take extra good care of your baby, i promised didn't i? why does everyone think i'm such a bad driver? the only reason i don't drive is because less actually won't let me!" you huffed, glancing over your shoulder to confirm your bedroom door was still closed, shower running in distance.

"you're an evil evil little woman sometimes." your brother sighed though you could hear his smile through the phone, the two of you always being incredibly close despite your six year age gap.

"she needs to learn her lesson one way or another! she's lucky i didn't actually buy a car." you grinned, switching your phone to the other ear as you began to cook off the vegetables in front of you.

"remind me again why you didn't?" he sighed, having loaned you his car for the next two days after much much begging on your behalf. "i don't really need one. i quite like having her drive me round everywhere, not that i'd ever tell her that." you admitted with a shrug.

"then pray tell why all this drama and winding her up for?" "well because i'd still like to drive the mercedes every now and then, and she won't let me!" "and you think this will make her more inclined to let that happen?" "yes, yes i do." "i hope its nice in this land of grand delusion you live in, i'll come visit at christmas." "ha, ha, ha. hilarious!"

the two of you spent a little more time catching up, organizing that james would collect his car from you on sunday after the match, himself and his fiance coming to watch you play.

you glanced up as you heard the bedroom door open, bidding your brother a quick goodbye and another quiet assurance you would be careful before ending the call.

"dinner's nearly done baby." you called out, your girlfriend ignoring you as she retreated to the living room and you heard the tv click on, shaking your head at her immaturity as you left her be and finished up cooking.

"kiss for the chef?" you held out her plate a few minutes later, the blonde sending you a glare and taking her plate, settling it on her lap and tugging her hood over her head as you smiled and took a seat beside her, the two of you eating in silence bar the sound of the tv in front of you.

having washed everything up and showered yourself you decided you were done with receiving the silent treatment, standing right in front of your stubborn blonde lover with a smile. "move." alessia grumbled, kicking at you half heartedly as you blocked her view of the screen.

"you're not seriously going to be moody all night over this are you?" you laughed, raising an eyebrow as the blonde shuffled across, craning her head to watch the tv past you as you sighed. "get off." alessia ordered as you flopped on top of her, moving to straddle her lap, arms locked around her neck tugging her hood down as she tried to move you off of her.

"lessi baby come on, you're being immature." you warned, playing with the baby hairs on the back of her neck with a coy smile. you could tell she wanted to argue that but chose to remain silent, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back into the lounge trying to put some space in between you.

"you know you can't stay mad at me, you're not even really that mad." you whispered in her ear, knowing exactly how to get her attention back on you as you pressed your face into her neck, tugging on her earlobe teasingly with your teeth.

you heard a quiet huff and a mumble for you to stop but you shook your head, shifting on top of her and softly kissing her neck a few times. "come on baby, talk to me." you whispered, grabbing her hands and forcing them to uncross, settling them on your hips as you pressed your forehead to hers.

"i'm simply just too gorgeous to ignore." you grinned, watching as the striker bit down on her bottom lip, clearly trying to stifle her smile as she tried to remain stoney faced.

"you're really gonna let a pretty girl sit on your lap, kiss your neck and not even smile at her? that's just bad manners baby." you tutted with a smirk, hands grabbing her face and forcing her to look up at you.

"i'm not sorry i bought it but i'm sorry i didn't tell you." you spoke, pecking her lips repeatedly until eventually her hands squeezed your hips, pushing you away slightly. "come on, you know i'm gonna look good driving it." you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows as the blonde finally cracked.

"you are truly truly insufferable to be in love with sometimes you know that?" alessia sighed, her hands sliding up the inside of your top and pulling you in closer again as your head dipped and you latched your lips to the sweet spot of her neck just below her jaw.

the blondes breath hitched and her fingers dug in tighter to your hips as your teeth sank into the warm skin, tongue running over the fast forming hickey to soothe the sting as alessia's right hand flew to the back of your head, pressing your face into her neck with a quiet demand you keep going.

"maybe, but you're still in love with me anyway."

you glanced up from your phone hearing your girlfriend yell your name from the front door, hearing her footsteps thump toward you as you zipped up your kit bag. "where are my keys?" alessia demanded, bright blue eyes menacingly staring you down.

"your keys? baby would i know where your keys are?" you played dumb, knowing exactly where they were given you'd hidden them before going to bed last night.

"i am only going to warn you once. go and get them, and give them to me. now!" alessia warned, scarily calm. "my love i would but i don't know where they are. and if we don't leave now we're going to be late, and i don't really fancy running laps for that today, do you?" you smiled, stealing a kiss as she scoffed and you made a beeline for the door.

"and just exactly how are we getting to training then genius?" alessia questioned, grabbing her bag from the dining room table, sighing heavily as you turned to her, smug smile on your lips as you twirled your own keys around on your finger.

"i'm driving, passenger princess."

"i can't deal with this much longer. i'm driving home!" alessia growled as she flopped down in the chair beside you, ready for video debriefing for their upcoming match against Everton in a couple days time.

"no you are not. i'm not allowed to drive your mercedes? you're not allowed to drive my porsche." you smiled as she sent you daggers, wanting nothing more than to smack the smug look right off your face.

"hey russo do you need your missus to straighten your chair for ya too?" katie teased, harshly kicking the back of the girls chair causing it to swivel round as she settled in behind you both, alessia having been teased all day by your team mates about the fact she'd been demoted to passenger princess, most of them already keyed into our plan.

"fuck off macca." your girlfriend grumbled spinning around again as you sent katie a beaming grin, the irishwoman winking at you and ruffling alessia's hair, yanking her hand back as the girl lunged at her.

"so less, tell us a bit about your first experience being cuffed by your woman? how does it feel to lose your lady balls?" jen turned around from in front of you and asked holding out a fake micrphone in the blondes direction, and if looks could kill the scot would be ten feet under.

"alright alright lay off her would ya!" beth stuck up for her national team mate who sent her an appreciative smile.

"besides girls the world needs passenger princesses, there's no shame in switching sides." the older girl added on with a wicked grin as alessia groaned and buried her face in her hands, jonas and the training staff clapping for everyones attention.

the onslaught of teasing continued throughout the rest of the session, alessia resorting to throwing her headphones on over her ears as she stormed out of the change room.

"you need to put that poor girl out of her misery, this is enough!" lia warned, pinching your leg as you whined and leaned into leah on your other side who wrapped an arm round you.

"yeah you made your point mate, time to give her a break." the older blonde agreed with her work wife, kissing the side of your head affectionately before pushing you away and standing.

"give her a break? need i remind you its normally me being relentlessly teased by everyone? if its not for the passenger princess status its for something else she's dropped me in!" you huffed, tugging your spray jacket on.

"ah to be young and in love." leah sang out, patting your head and again telling you to come clean as lia agreed, causing you to sigh deeply as you followed them out of the change rooms and toward the parking lot.

hugging both older women goodbye you wandered to where your girlfriend stood beside your brothers car, sour look on her face and headphones slung around her neck as her eyes searched for you, finally spotting you walk toward her.

you didn't unlock it at first, making a point to gently nudge her out of the way, allowing you to open her door for her with a charming smile. "only the best passenger princess treatment for you baby." you gestured for her to get in as she sighed but remained silent as she slid into the car and you closed the door after her.

"oh god lessi please no!" you groaned as you pulled out of the lot, country music filling the car as alessia connected to the blue tooth. "passenger princess chooses the music baby girl." alessia smirked, making a point to turn it up louder and start singing along as you rolled your eyes.

after an insufferably western drive home you sighed in relief as you parked up in the driveway besides your girlfriends white merc, smacking her on the leg with a frown as she called out that she missed it today, blowing the car a kiss.

the moment both your feet crossed the thresh hold of your shared home, the door closed and you squealed as alessia roughly pushed you against it. "so where are my keys then?" the taller girl quirked an eyebrow, smile playing on her lips as her body trapped you against the door.

"what if i could tell you something even better than that?" you challenged, tilting your head to the side making her sigh lightly. "or, you just tell me where they are, now." your girlfriend requested again, hands slipping up your top, her palm pushing against your abs holding you even tighter against the wood behind you.

"okay. firstly, they're in the wardobe under the shoe rack." you started as alessia sighed, raising an eyebrow as you continued. "secondly; i didn't buy a car." you grinned, your girlfriend stepping away from you with a frown, following after you as you moved around her.

"what do you mean you didn't buy a car?" alessia questioned, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "i didn't buy a car." you shrugged and grabbed two protein smoothies out of the fridge, handing one to the blonde and pulling yourself up to sit on the counter.

"baby i'm going to need you to explain more than just those five words please." alessia sighed, moving to stand in between your legs. "that's not my car, it's james. he let me borrow it for a few days to teach you a lesson!" you smiled, taking a sip as alessia's jaw dropped.

"sorry, you what?"

"admit it, you didn't hate being a passenger princess and i look hot behind the wheel." you grinned, swinging your legs to and fro as your girlfriend looked on dumbfounded. "so let me check i'm following. that car, not yours?" alessia questioned as you hummed with a nod.

"alessia!" you laughed as she buried her face in your chest with a loud groan, the vibrating sensation somewhat ticklish. "thank god." the girl sighed, hugging you tightly as she remained bent over, her face pressed into your chest as you fondly carded your hands through her hair.

"you're not mad?" you smiled as she tilted her head up, chin resting on your sternum as she looked up at you. "oh i am furious, but also quite impressed? and a little bit dumbfounded that you managed that so easily." she sighed with a shake of her head, your hands still playing with her hair.

"never underestimate a woman scorned." you teased, your lips meeting hers in a tender kiss as alessia straightened up, arms wrapping around you, hands pressing into the small of your back and pulling your body as close into hers as she could get.

"but do you admit its not terrible to be a passenger princess sometimes?" you pulled away and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "its not terrible." alessia agreed as you grinned happily. "maybe i will give you some driving lessons in my mercedes, maybe." the taller girl agreed as your grin widenened.

"buzzin!" you mocked her thick accent causing her to pout. "i do not say that all the time!" she whined, head falling to your shoulder as your hand gently caressed the back of her neck.

"oh but my love, you really do." "if you only have the car till sunday i guess you can drive us to get breakfast tomorrow."

"buzzin!"

#alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year

Note

Imagine Felix just guiding and talking you through your first time with him

Stuck in my head all week man, i'm begging you to write about it

okay this was supposed to be more dommy i swear but it turned out really soft ;-; sorry lol

word count: 1.3k

warnings: smut (18+), protected sex, crying

“that’s it, baby, just like that,” felix mumbles into your neck, pushing his hips forward bit by bit until his body is flush with yours. he stills once he’s bottomed out inside of you and presses a kiss to your temple.

he hopes you can’t feel how he’s trembling as he holds himself above you, hopes that if you can, you won’t attribute it to him being weak—because it’s not that.

he already embarrassed himself when he tried rolling the condom on and the elastic snapped him in the thigh, leaving a noticeable red mark behind. the last thing he needs is for you to think that he can’t even keep himself in position long enough to fuck you.

it’s just… he didn’t expect you to feel this good with the condom on and he’s losing all semblance of control. it’s your first time, so he’s trying to take it slow, but you’re just so goddamn warm and tight and perfect that he can’t seem to think straight.

“you okay?” he manages to ask, needing to make sure you’re not in any pain.

“great,” you hum and smile fondly up at him.

“it doesn’t hurt?”

“no, you made me cum earlier, remember?”

as if he could forget. the sounds you made as you fell apart underneath him were now forever imprinted in his brain. it would have been enough to make him cum untouched if he wasn’t focusing on not doing exactly that.

“yeah, but a couple of fingers isn’t as big as… you know.” he cuts himself off. he doesn’t want to imply that he’s big, doesn’t want you to think that he’s complimenting himself when all he’s trying to say is that there’s a distinct difference between the two.

“you’re sweet,” you say, squeezing his bicep with one of your hands. “and you can move now, by the way.”

“sure?”

“mhm.”

felix gathers up his strength and draws his hips back just slightly, wanting to start with shallow thrusts before jumping right in to deep strokes. you whine, eyebrows pinching together, but urge him to keep going.

“how’s that feel?”

“s-sooo good,” you sigh, hiking your knees up to your chest so that he can drive his cock even deeper.

felix can’t help but chuckle, stroking your cheek fondly.

“look so pretty, angel,” he compliments. “‘m gonna get such a big ego if you keep moaning like that, though.”

“you… deserve… it.”

felix seriously doubts that, but you don’t know any different, any better, so he doesn’t let himself get too carried away.

“cross your ankles behind my back if you’re able to,” he instructs, “that way you won’t strain yourself holding your legs up on your own.”

“like this?”

felix groans as you do what he suggested, feeling your walls squeeze even tighter around him. your thighs are hugging him like this too, soft yet strong. he feels completely surrounded by you, by your body, your scent. it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. he wants to fuck you properly— slam into you over and over until you can’t even remember what day it is. he wants to show you what he’s actually capable of, prove to you that he can show you a good time. ruin you for everyone else but him… but he’s almost already cum like. three times now. so that’s off the table, at least for today.

instead, felix focuses on what he’s doing now, which is thrusting into you at a moderate pace, and talking you through it.

“yep, perfect,” he chokes out.

he fucks you in that position for a while, basking in the pleasant sounds of you panting beneath him. you seem to like it, if your whimpers of his name are anything to go by.

he can tell when you start to feel sore, though. your frown of pleasure begins to turn into one of discomfort but you’re trying not to let it show. but felix has been dating you long enough to read you like an open book so he stops what he’s doing and checks in again.

“does it hurt, baby?”

you start to shake your head. “na- a little.”

“let’s stop here for today then.”

he goes to pull out but you stop him, keeping your ankles locked behind his frame.

“i want you to cum though!” you protest.

“tonight’s not about me, silly, remember?”

“but i got to cum it’s not fair!”

“again, it doesn’t really work like that. sex isn’t a transaction. you don’t have to ‘pay me back’ for making you finish.”

you pout silently and begin to blink rapidly. it takes felix a second to realize you’re trying not to cry.

oh, he’s really done it now.

frantically, your boyfriend cups your face with his free hand and pleads for you to look at him.

“baby? what is it? what’s wrong— what did i do?”

you sniffle. “nothing, it’s… it’s stupid.”

“no, it’s not, i promise. nothing you could be thinking right now is stupid. it’s okay to feel overwhelmed or upset or whatever it is you’re feeling… it’s your first time after all, and i’m sorry i couldn’t make it perfect—”

“that’s exactly it, lix!” you lament, wiping your tears with your free hand. “it’s my first time and, and i couldn’t even make you cum. everyone says it’s supposed to be a lot easier for boys to cum but we’ve been going at it for so long now and you’re not even close.”

felix genuinely has to keep his jaw from dropping in shock because that is not the reaction you need right now. he wants to tell you how wrong you are but you’re still talking and he doesn’t want to interrupt and risk making you even more upset so he keeps his mouth shut.

you pause, hiccuping and desperately trying to catch your breath. “i guess, i don’t know i feel like my vagina must be broken or something. is it not good? is there something i could be doing better? you can be honest.”

“baby, no! it’s not you at all! your v- you’re perfect! to be honest, i’ve been fighting an orgasm this entire time. i didn’t want to cum too soon and ruin it for you, that’s the only reason i haven’t. i promise.”

“pinky promise?” you hold your pinky out for felix to loop his own around, which he does, sealing the promise with a kiss to your knuckle.

“pinky promise.”

“so do you want to?” you ask.

“do i want to what?”

“cum, do you want to cum?”

“no, babe, you’re sore already i don’t want to hurt you.”

“but i want you to!”

felix sighs. “baby…”

“what if you cum in my mouth?”

“what?”

you prop yourself up on your elbows and raise an eyebrow.

“let me suck you off?”

“are you sure?”

“yeah, i’ve been practicing!”

you’ve been what now? this is news to felix, and the very idea of you on your knees, training yourself to take him down your throat is enough to make him feel like he’s cumming.

he is, he realizes, when he feels his cock twitching inside of you, feels his cum fill the condom.

“fu-uck, i’m s-sorry, baby…” he gasps out, doubling over back on top of you, feeling like he’s just been punched in the stomach. “i didn’t… should’ve warned you.”

when felix opens his eyes again, you’re beaming.

“this is the best possible outcome,” you tell him as he rolls off of you.

“huh?” he asks, blinking hazily at you.

“you came and i didn’t even do anything!”

“oh, yeah… see, i told you! you drive me crazy.”

you pat him on the shoulder like you’d just played a friendly game of kickball and grin.

“feeling’s mutual.”

#focus #answered #anon #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix smut #lee felix smut #yongbok smut #lee yongbok smut

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

the spins (explicit)

genre: smutttyyyyyy as hell (with like one angsty conversation about isolation as a trauma response, but said in much vaguer terms lol)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you discover a new side to your former lab partner, frat wonder boy jeon jungkook, when you confess to him the one thing no man has ever been able to make you do.

word count: 10.3k

contains: explicit sexual content AKA porn!!!!! alcohol, minor frat house shenanigans, reader is a total bitch but in a highkey relatable way, jungkook is The Only Good Frat Boy, mentions of shitty hookups/sexual dissatisfaction/faked orgasms, an **absurdly** lengthy and gratuitous cunnilingus scene, a lil bit of teasing/begging, spitting, LOUD sex, reader’s first partnered orgasms, also JK has a tongue piercing 👀

A/N: so writing this nearly killed me,,, lmao. i have two inspiration sources that i must credit- one is jai’s @gimmethatagustd INCREDIBLE fic paint me naked, which gave me the final shove i needed to topple over into JK hard stan land (listen he’s 3 years younger than me, i had a complex about it, it’s fine). seriously go give it a read and give her some love, i fully credit her with moving college!JK into my brain where he now lives rent-free.

the other source of inspiration is this insaaaaane imagine audio (WARNING, extremely NSFW and will literally ruin your life!!!!!) that hooked me on the idea that JK would be competitive about eating pussy and….. yep, smack those two things together and ta-da, this porn was born. godspeed and thanks as always for reading 💜

this is now (finally) on AO3!

~*~

You really don’t know why you came to this party. It’s so crowded, bodies pressed together, people screaming to be heard over the noise, or just because they’re white girl wasted. The music is terrible, the floor weirdly sticky, the container of jungle juice in the kitchen extremely suspicious. You opted for tequila instead, the last of which you now drain from the bottom of your red solo cup. The whole place smells like cheap beer, vape smoke, and frat boy cologne.

Yet another Jack Harlow song comes on over the bass-boosted speakers and you roll your eyes. That’s it. Time to go home and actually finish the psych paper you’re putting off.

You shove your way into the kitchen, trying to be the only upstanding citizen in this godforsaken frat house and actually put your trash in a trash can. You spot one in the corner– nearly overflowing, but still good enough, except that a whole circle of Brads and Chads block your path. You do your best to squeeze past them, but because they don’t do anything except live at the gym and snort protein powder, they might as well be a brick wall.

“Excuse me,” you try. Nothing.

“I need to get through,” you say with a gentle push. It’s like talking to a brick wall, too.

“Alright, fuck it.” You roll your eyes and decide to just fucking go for it. You’ve had enough liquor that you won’t feel the pain until tomorrow anyway.

The circle breaks apart in confusion, not a brain cell in sight, as you slam your way through. They part so quickly that your plan works too well, and the excess momentum shoots you forward. You stumble, losing your footing, already cringing because you’re about to faceplant on the nasty floor of this nasty frat house kitchen.

“Hey, whoa!” A voice way too close to your ear for comfort shouts, but then an arm snakes around your waist and saves you from your doom, gripping you tightly. “Careful!”

You glance up, wondering if this guy is going to try to turn the moment into some attempt at flirtation, the world’s worst meet cute, but then you see big round eyes staring back at you with legitimate concern. Oh, fuck. You know those Disney princess eyes. Your stomach drops.

“Whaaaaaaaat!” Holding you in one arm, an unopened 18-rack of beer hoisted up on his shoulder with the other, grinning like a kid in a candy store, is none other than frat wonder boy Jeon Jungkook.

Ah, shit. You knew he was in a frat, of course. He doesn’t shut up about it. But you didn’t know it was this one– well, actually, you don’t even know which frat house you’re in right now. Alpha Beta Omega? They’re all the same to you. You don’t really understand why they have factions anyway instead of all just living together, but that would probably be too gay.

“I didn’t know you partied!” Jungkook is still smiling a smile that takes up his whole face, clearly unable to believe that you’re standing here in his disgusting frat house kitchen in your leather jacket and your combat boots.

You huff a laugh as he slowly unloops his arm from around you, assessing to see if you’re stable enough to stay upright. You shoot him a look as if to say I’m fine, dumbass. Uncoordinated, not intoxicated. There’s a difference.

“I do not party,” you correct him. “Never once in my life have I partied. I merely come to the parties, stand on the edges and observe, get my free alcohol, and then depart. Like I’m doing right now.” You aim your solo cup at the trash can and miss by about a foot.

“You– hang on,” he pauses, turning back to offload the fresh case of beer onto the kitchen counter. There’s a clamor of excitement from the Brads and Chads as they crowd around to slap him on the back, shouting things like “okay, JK!” and “let’s fucking gooooo!”

You have to get out of here, you think to yourself, and then you watch Jungkook bring his tattooed hand up to rip the cardboard front of the case off effortlessly, and that is lowkey kind of hot.

Quiet, you tell your tequila brain. No lusting after frat boys. Not even the one you sat next to for an entire semester in bio lab, the one who was actually way smarter than anticipated and didn’t just use you for an easy A, who genuinely seemed like he cared about the way you answered “How was your weekend?” every time he asked, and who didn’t even say one problematic thing the whole semester.

Just because he’s the exemplary form of his species doesn’t make him not what he is, you remind yourself. Even the best frat boy is still a frat boy.

Jungkook returns as the rest of the bros swarm the counter and proceed to decimate the case of beer. That must have been the reason they were waiting here, at their proverbial watering hole, because they circle up and dissolve back into the party, several of them clapping Jungkook on the back again in thanks as they leave.

You realize he doesn’t have to yell to be heard anymore as he says, “You’re leaving already?”

“Yes, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I have a paper to write.”

He scrunches up his face, knowing he can’t argue with academic excellence. “It’s still early. What if you just have one more drink, and then go? I haven’t even gotten to enjoy the party yet. The pledges severely underestimated how much alcohol it takes to run this place.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m so terribly sorry that your child servants who literally give you money in exchange for friendship got something wrong.”

The words feel biting as they leave your mouth, and you honestly expect him to protest, but he only shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re right. The whole thing is stupid.” For a moment you wonder how on earth he’s immune, what it is about him that allows him to live in the cradle of toxic masculinity and still be so regular, so good.

“Will you stay?” He asks again. You try to purse your lips to hide your smile, but it doesn’t work, and then he’s smiling too.

“Fine.”

The kid literally fist pumps, and your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. He gestures broadly to the kitchen counters which are a veritable nightmare of liquor bottles and beer cans. “What’ll it be? Don’t say the jungle juice,” he warns with a laugh.

You look at him like he’s gone entirely insane. “I would never say the jungle juice. Tequila, please.”

Jungkook moves fluidly, as if he’s imitating those ridiculous Las Vegas bartenders who do tricks while they pour your obscenely overpriced drink. He shakes a solo cup off the stack and throws it up, spinning on his heels and catching it in his other hand, and you’re laughing again because he’s such a fucking dork.

He crosses to open the freezer and scoops up some ice in your cup, then pours a healthy amount of tequila in. “And mixer?” He looks back at you over his shoulder.

You pause. “Uh, just ice is good.”

He puts the bottle down and turns to squint at you in disbelief. “You drink straight tequila and you’re telling me you don’t party?”

You falter, a little flustered. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m drinking it for the taste, you know?”

“Can I show you what you’re missing out on?” He asks, and you don’t know why the question makes you swallow hard. “Seriously.” He picks the bottle of tequila back up, eyeing the brand with distaste. “This stuff is… not great.”

Your instinct is to joke about him slipping something in your drink, but you bite the words back– because first of all, not funny. But you also genuinely don’t think he would ever do something like that, and you don’t want to give off the impression that you do.

“Alright,” you say instead, lifting your hands in surrender.

He opens the fridge door and crouches down, digging around through what you can only imagine is a Costco-sized amount of egg cartons and packages of chicken breasts. Finding what he’s looking for, he pulls away with a carton that’s been Sharpie’d to death, “JK ONLY DO NOT DRINK” on all sides. It’s really every bro for himself out here, you think.

“Grapefruit okay?” Jungkook double-checks, and you give a shrug and a nod. He pours a little, inspects the cup, then adds a splash more. “It’s not too sweet.”

He passes the cup off to you and returns his juice to the fridge, shuts the door, then seems to realize he forgot to make himself a drink and repeats the entire process again, spinning in a full circle which has you hiding your giggle in the rim of your cup. Once he’s made himself a matching drink to yours, he leans against the counter and takes a sip, surveying you.

You mirror him– the drink is admittedly a lot better than straight bottom-shelf, and you like how the sour taste lingers on the back of your tongue.

“Thank you,” you remember to say after a few sips, and he waves it off as if to say it’s no big deal.

“So, why are you here? Observing us in our natural habitat?” He puts on a voice for the last part, in a clear imitation of you, and you smirk. It does sound like something you would say.

“I’m an agent of chaos,” you say and he gives you a look like he’s waiting for the real answer. You choose that moment to take a long swallow of your drink, buying time. He continues to wait patiently, so you finally just shrug and make a face. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to do my paper. I saw a thing for it on insta. And I was tired of rotting away in my dorm room.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I tried inviting you to stuff when we were lab partners.” You wonder if the tequila is making you imagine that he sounds a little hurt. “You never seemed into it.”

At that, you laugh, because he’s being kind. Jungkook did invite you regularly to whatever mixers or ragers his frat was planning, and every time you would tell him no, directly to his face, like the bitch that you are. You eventually started trying to come up with as many creative ways to phrase it as you could: no, nope, never, not in a million years, when hell freezes over. He took them all like a champ, and that was one of the first things you remember liking about him. A frat boy who can respect when someone says no and not try to push it– now that is a rarity.

You want to apologize, but you really have no explanation for what makes tonight any different, at least not one you can say eloquently. How do you tell him you’re fucking sick of staring at the walls, feeling like “the best years of your life” are passing you by and leaving you with nothing to show for it? That you’ve painted sarcasm and an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude over your life for so long that now it feels like you’re backed into a corner where you can’t give a shit about anybody because there’s nobody left to give a shit about? So you were neck deep in insta stories on a Friday night like a fucking loser, and you saw a stupid post about a stupid frat party by some girl you swore was going to be your bestie the first week of freshman year who you promptly never spoke to again, and something in you snapped and said, “fuck it”?

Oof, tequila coming in strong, you think to yourself. You decide to spare Jungkook the emotional word vomit.

He keeps going when you don’t respond. “I just figured you had better things to do. Like ride motorcycles, or be in a mosh pit.”

You roll your eyes. “Motorcycles are giant metal death traps. Hard pass. And I don’t like getting punched in the face by nazis, so I don’t mosh.” You take a sip of your drink and size him up. “You’re one to talk, little alt boy.”

He’s playing with his lip ring when you say it, and the blush that creeps up his neck is honestly cute. Thoroughly unfazed by your words, he rolls up the right sleeve of his eyesore of a button down until his arm is fully exposed. “Check it out! Finally filled in the shoulder piece.”

You step closer to admire the fresh ink. Jungkook’s sleeve is, admittedly, really fucking cool. You still remember the first time you saw it in bio lab. It was the first day where the temperature crept up to an actual tolerable degree after what felt like a winter that would never end. You’d only known him in hoodies up to that point, so when he rolled into class that day in a baggy t-shirt and you saw the hint of lettering and shading peeking out from under his sleeve, your jaw nearly hit the floor.

“It’s rude to stare,” he’d said with a soft laugh and a cheeky-ass wink.

You wonder now if maybe you stepped too close, because you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. He holds his arm up for you, rotating it to show off the whole thing. Throughout the rest of the semester, you’d watched as he slowly started to fill in the blank spaces, but now it’s even more cohesive; he’s nearly finished it in the time since you last got a good look.

“Just need something on my wrist. And I might do the back of my hand. I haven’t decided.” He squeezes his hand into a fist and flexes with a put-on grunt, and you laugh even as the swell of his bicep makes your heart jump in your chest.

Emboldened by how close you are to him, and also the tequila, you trace your finger along the words that wrap across his forearm– rather be dead than cool. “That one’s my favorite,” you say softly.

When you glance up, he’s already looking at you, and now your heart’s in your throat. “I swear this thing’s the only reason you like me,” he says, the non-pierced corner of his mouth crooking up in a barely-there smile.

You open your mouth to protest when the kitchen is suddenly alive with noise as a mass of bodies crash through the doorway. A girl in a minidress that has ridden dangerously far up her thighs is nearly carried in by two of her friends, with several more trailing in right at their heels, and her name must be Hannah because they all say it about a thousand times in six seconds. A couple of dudebros shuffle in behind them, shouting for everyone to step back and give her space.

Nowhere else to go, you’re forced that much closer to Jungkook as far too many people try to squeeze into the tiny kitchen. You’ve basically got him pinned against the counter, and you look away, then look back, extremely uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” you mouth, and he shakes his head like it’s not a big deal.

He does smell really good, you realize now that he’s this close. Not like he took a bath in Axe body spray or Drakkar Noir, as most of his frat bros do, just… warm and clean, with a hint of the good kind of boy musk, salt and skin. It’s a welcome distraction from the unbridled chaos of Hannah and her entourage.

“She’s gonna be sick,” someone warns, and you wince in preparation.

“Hannah, aim for the sink!” Another girl coaxes. You turn over your shoulder and watch as Hannah takes a few steps forward, legs quivering like a baby deer, then does a last-second pivot and vomits directly into the jungle juice.

“Oh, party foul!” One of the bros yells.

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, and then Jungkook’s breath is ghosting over your neck and you can’t think about anything else. “Do you want to go to my room?” His voice is low, his lips inches from your ear.

You look up at him over the rim of your cup. “Yes, please.”

It’s only once you start walking that your mind is able to process what’s happening, and the panic sets in. Jeon Jungkook is guiding you through his packed frat house, his hand on the small of your back. Of course the crowds part for you like the fucking red sea, no throwing elbows required, because everybody loves him.

His bros greet him as he passes, “‘sup JK!”, and you try to avoid eye contact. You wonder how regularly they see this, him leading some wide-eyed girl up to his room to do what frat boys do best. Your stomach twists as you wonder what his expectations are, and what the fuck it is that you’ve just agreed to by saying yes.

You climb the stairs, his hand still pressed to your back, and he leads you to the first room on the left when you reach the top. When he opens the door and motions for you to step through, you’re surprised.

For one, it doesn’t reek of weed. It just smells like he does, but stronger, with a hint of fresh laundry. His bed isn’t made, but there are also no questionable stains on the black sheets, and he has four pillows and a bed frame, not just a mattress and box spring on the ground with one sad rectangle. There are some cups on the nightstand, but no ash tray overflowing with burnt out ends of blunts, no empty beer cans, and you can actually see the floor.

Not bad, you think to yourself, and then the anxiety presses in again as he shuts the door behind you. Nope. You are absolutely not doing this.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “These things get really crazy around finals season. I guess people need an escape in the form of mild alcohol poisoning.”

You cross your arms, unable to continue the polite conversation. “Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen in here, but it’s not going to happen, okay?”

He steps back, his brow instantly furrowing. “Wait, what? Are you mad at me right now? I just figured you’d want to get out of the kitchen, since a girl was actively puking.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you say, not buying it.

“I-I’m not.” Jungkook seems genuinely flustered, enough that you realize he’s probably not acting. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he starts, and then he sighs, like he’s correcting himself. “But, I guess my intentions really don’t matter, because it seems like I did. So I’m sorry.”

You squint at him, wondering who the fuck taught this boy how to apologize so damn well. This is the first time you’ve ever heard a frat boy say “sorry” without it being immediately followed by “but” and then something so offensive that it negates the entire thing.

He waits for you to respond, then gestures to the door. “If you want to go, you can go. I just wanted to talk to you. I haven’t seen you at all since last semester, and I’m really glad you came out.”

The thought of going back downstairs is slightly more anxiety-inducing than staying in this room. At least here it’s quiet, and it smells nice, and he apparently is not actually trying to get into your pants. It really does seem like you read him wrong, you admit to yourself, and then you unceremoniously plop down on his carpet.

Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide the big smile on his face as he joins you on the floor, and you both lean back against the foot of his bed. He slips his feet out of his slides and you lean forward to pull your boots off.

“Like I said, I’ve been rotting away in my dorm room,” you remind him with a dry laugh.

“You should’ve texted me. I would’ve come rot with you.”

His words make you smile a little, but you’re still suspicious. “Uh-huh,” you intone as he takes another sip of his drink. “And what would we have done, Jungkook?” The question nearly makes you cringe; it’s like reading a bad sext out loud. You don’t know why you keep pushing him on this.

Maybe, a tiny part of your tequila brain whispers to you, you’re goading him so hard into saying that he wants to hook up because for a split second back there in the kitchen, you realized that’s what you want. But you’re a hyper-independent bitch who can’t ever admit to needing anything from anybody, so you need him to say it first.

You grit your teeth and give your head a nearly imperceptible shake, trying to shut that brain cell up.

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, like he really doesn’t. “Play video games?” He gestures to a Nintendo 64 in the corner of his room, hooked up to a large TV that’s mounted on the wall.

It’s certainly not the answer you expected, but you don’t hate it. You raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “Well, I will kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

He sucks gently on his lip ring as he looks you over, and there’s a glint in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’ve clearly tapped into something. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“Then prove it.”

Dropping out of shit-talk mode for a second, Jungkook gives a laugh that almost sounds embarrassed. “I should warn you, I get pretty competitive.”

You refuse to back down. “Better work on your gracious losing face, then.”

In acceptance of your challenge, you watch as he sorts through the bin of cartridges next to the console until he finds the one he’s looking for. He brings it up to his mouth and blows on it, some strange gamer ritual you’ve seen before but have never understood, and a shiver runs through you.

“Here,” he says, tossing you a dark blue controller, letting the cord unravel and plugging it into the port. “You can even use my favorite.” You take it in your hands and smile when you see the yellow Pokémon logo stamped across the center.

“You’re going to regret that when I beat you with it,” you retort, shrugging out of your jacket for optimum mobility. He’s grinning as he settles back next to you and the menu music starts up.

It turns out you’re pretty evenly matched in the Mario Kart skills department. You sail past him on the first course, easily finishing in first, but get entirely wrecked by a blue shell in course two and he’s able to clinch it no problem.

You would’ve expected more shit-talking based on his warning, but instead he’s just so focused, eyes wide, mouth wiggling his lip ring back and forth. It’s a little endearing. A lot endearing, really. You keep sneaking glances over at him as you start up the third and final course, wondering why he has to be so goddamn cute, why you’re incapable of finding a single flaw in him no matter how hard you try.

Forcing yourself to focus, you return your attention back to the screen, only to see that he has flown right by you and is far ahead in the lead. Oh, this simply will not do, you think to yourself, and then an item box hands you a perfectly-timed golden mushroom, and you see your path to victory.

You drift around the sharp corners, giving yourself a speed boost each time, and it’s just enough. “Get fucked,” you say with a giggle as Princess Peach cruises her way past Bowser into first place. You use the last few seconds of your mushroom power to put a solid amount of distance between your characters. There’s less than half a lap left, and absolutely nothing he can do to deny you of your win.

Or so you think, until he reaches over and drags his hand across your controller, forcing your joystick in the opposite direction and causing Peach to start driving in circles on the screen.

“What the fuck!” You scream, trying to smack his hand away, but he closes one of your hands in his and forces that down on the joystick, making your car go fully backwards. “You fucking cheater!”

“You’re the cheater,” he grunts, which doesn’t even make any sense, but pisses you off enough to reach for his controller to mimic his strategy. However, you fail to account for his evolutionary advantage of having longer arms than you; he’s easily able to scoot away while keeping his hand pressed down on your own. You see in the game that he’s inches away from overtaking you now, the fingers of his other hand stretching to work joystick and button at once.

“No!” You cry out in frustration, desperately trying to wriggle your hand free. You can’t just sit here and watch him steal this out from under you, so you dive hard to one side and yank the controller away at the same time.

It’s only a little too late that you realize you have once again made an uncoordinated lunge and ended up with far too much leftover momentum. He does not relent, and you underestimated the severity of his grip on your hand because when you fall over he comes with you, both of you toppling onto the carpet as the controller flies out of your grasp.

You end up flat on your back, and his reflexes are only barely fast enough to respond, his hands bracing the floor on either side of your head so he can avoid landing on top of you.

But that’s even worse, because now Jungkook is hovering over you, and you’re both breathing heavy, and his hair is falling in his eyes, and you don’t even know how but his thigh has managed to end up pressed between your legs.

For a moment, you don’t move or say anything, and neither does he. You just stay like that, staring at each other. Your eyes drop to his mouth, and then he cracks a smug grin.

“I told you I don’t like to lose.”

Your stomach flips as your panic rears back in full force, and you meet his gaze again. “Am I still supposed to believe you didn’t bring me up here to hook up?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.

The smile drops off his face as his eyes search yours. “What do you want?” He asks, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “Because you’re the one who keeps talking about it.”

You falter, unable to come up with any witty retort because you know he’s right. Jungkook moves away from you and you sit up with a sigh. He scoots back a few more inches, giving you plenty of space, and reaches for the remote to mute the TV.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, your voice still soft. You can’t look at him, so you stare at the carpet instead. “That’s just alcohol and adolescent sex drive talking. It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t sound mad, but confused, like he wants to understand your thought process. Good fucking luck, you think to yourself.

You give him a look. “Because I’m not an idiot. Hooking up with a frat boy in his frat house is never a good idea.”

The way his face falls makes you feel like the biggest bitch on planet earth, and you desperately wish you could shove the words back in your mouth, that you were capable of shutting up for once in your goddamn life.

“Is that really how you see me?”

Of course it’s not. You know it’s not, and you hope he knows it too, despite your inability to ever actually say what you fucking mean. But you can’t stop yourself. The defense mechanism is fully engaged now.

“Jungkook, you are literally a frat boy. We are literally in a frat house. This is not a perception character judgment thing. It’s an objective facts of reality thing.”

He fixes you in his gaze, saying nothing, then sighs. “Why do you do that?”

Your heart sinks. “Do what?”

He shakes his head, worrying at his lip ring again, clearly a nervous habit. “I don’t know, it’s like… Sometimes I think you like me, but then you always throw a wall up at the last second. I just wish I knew why.”

That makes two of us, you think bitterly, but your heart is simultaneously cracking apart at how vulnerable he’s being with no hesitation. You’re almost jealous that he can just move through life like this, open and honest, so unafraid.

“I do like you,” you admit, and you open your mouth to add the qualifier, to put the wall up, but he speaks first.

“I like you, too. I’ve liked you for a long time.” This kid is going to be the death of you. “I’m not just looking to score, or whatever."

You pull your knees to your chest, crossing your arms over them, trying to shrink until you no longer exist. You start to shake your head. “Jungkook, I don’t–”

“See,” he cuts you off, “you’re doing it right now.” You groan and bury your face in your arms. “What is that? We like each other, why can’t that be enough?”

The question hangs heavy, because you know there’s no good answer.

Finally, you look up at him and sigh. “Because,” you start decisively. “You’re… you. And I’m me.” You gesture between the two of you. “We’re from different worlds.”

His face scrunches up a little, and it’s his turn to shake his head slowly. “I really don’t think we are. I think you’re just telling yourself that.” You can see he’s getting frustrated and you don’t fucking blame him. “And I don’t get how you can complain about sitting by yourself in your dorm room, but then keep blocking everyone out so that you’re always alone.”

“I like being alone!” The lie comes out reflexively before you can even think to stop it. You’ve said it so many times at this point that it almost feels true. “Alone is best.” You pause, and for a second you really wonder if you’re going to cry right now, on the floor of Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom, in his stupid frat house. “You can’t get hurt, or disappointed, or left behind if you’re alone,” you conclude. There it is. The truth, kind of.

“I wouldn’t do any of those things to you,” he says softly.

You just stare at him for a moment. The promise is too good to be true. It always is. “You can’t know that.”

He pauses, then nods once, staring back at you. “You’re right. But I don’t want to do those things. And I would try really hard not to. I just want to make you feel good. Whatever that looks like.”

You can’t help where your stupid tequila brain immediately takes the idea, and you let out a dry laugh. “Well, if that’s what you’re after, there’s really no chance.”

His brows pinch together, clearly not understanding. “What does that mean?”

“Many have tried, none have succeeded,” you say with a roll of your eyes, stretching your legs back out. “I am a puzzle that no man can solve.”

The realization slowly dawns on him, and his eyes widen. “Wait, are you saying you’ve never had a–”

You wave a hand in the air as if to shush him, and you cut him off. “Stop. Don’t be dramatic. I’ve had plenty of orgasms, courtesy of my vibrator and my showerhead.” Your face is a little hot from talking about this in front of him. “Just… only alone. The running theme here, apparently.”

He tilts his head, processing this new information. “So do you fake it?” You tell yourself you’re just imagining that he sounds a little upset.

You grimace. “With my high school boyfriend, yeah. He was my first everything, and we were so young. I was too embarrassed to say it, so I just let him believe he had a magical dick that brought me to orgasm at the exact same time as him every time.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh of disbelief.

“And after that,” you continue, looking down in embarrassment, “I don’t know, it’s pretty much just been hookups, and most usually don’t bother to ask. Some have tried for a while, and then given up…” The memories make you cringe. “It’s just uncomfortable. Hence the alone thing.” You give a half shrug. “It’s okay. My vibrator is nice.”

He says nothing, and you mentally kick yourself for oversharing. This is why the wall goes up, you think, but when you look at him, he’s already looking at you, and not in the way you expected.

In fact, you’re surprised to see that glint in his eyes again. He licks his lips, and you realize your pulse is racing.

“The way I see it,” he begins slowly, his voice low and even, “we have two options.” You raise an eyebrow, your interest piqued, and he continues. “Option one. You let me know, for real, that you’re not interested. You don’t have to tell me why, but you do have to mean it. And I’ll leave you alone, and you can go home and write your paper.”

Your mouth goes dry as you try to prepare for what might come next.

“Or, option two.” You swear his eyes darken as he says it. “You admit to me that you like me, and that you want me. And you let me take care of you. Which includes keeping you in my bed for as long as it takes me to make you come. I don’t care if it takes hours. I’ve got hours.”

He shrugs like he hasn’t just said the most devastating thing you’ve ever heard. “We can figure out the rest after. It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. But it’s your call. I won’t be mad, whatever you choose. I just need to know.” He leans back on his hands, awaiting your choice.

“Jungkook,” you breathe. “You don’t know how tempting that offer is.” You try to say more, but he’s faster.

“Then say yes.”

You want to scream at him that it’s not that simple, that letting people all the way in is a door you slammed shut long ago, never to be opened again. But despite your best attempts, this cheeky, dorky, pierced and tattooed frat wonder boy has managed to wedge that door back open, just an inch. And it’s enough that now you can’t help but wonder what’s on the other side.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it really can be that simple with him. Maybe safe doesn’t always have to mean alone. Isn’t that why you came to this party in the first place?

You let out a slow exhale, and then for the first time in your life, you decide to get out of your own way.

“Okay,” you say, and you have to work to keep your voice from shaking. “Yes. But,” you quickly add before he has a chance to react, “I don’t want this to turn into a big thing if…” you trail off. “You know. If I can’t.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” He says with a self-assured smile, and you hate that it’s so hot. “I have a secret weapon.”

And then he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, and the end of a silver barbell winks at you.

Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, you have a tongue piercing?!”

He smirks. “Got it a couple months ago. It’s fully healed now, so you get to be my maiden voyage.” You cringe and he laughs self-consciously. “Sorry, that sounded cooler in my head.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too as his hands reach for your ankles. He gently starts to pull you towards him and you cross your legs, scooting the rest of the way forward until your knees are touching his.

“Can I please kiss you now?” Jungkook asks, but you take his face in your hands and beat him to it.

Given his competitive streak, a part of you had expected everything about this to be rough and hard, but the way he kisses you is so gentle, it’s romantic. You’d forgotten what it’s like to be kissed like this, intimate and slow, not just a tongue shoved down your throat. Jungkook is continuing to prove to you what he already has time and time again: he is nothing like any man you’ve ever met.

You are really curious about that piercing, though, so you tilt your head and tentatively lick into his mouth. When you bump against the metal post he whines a little, and goddamn, you need to be in his bed right fucking now.

He must have the same thought because his hands run firmly over your hips and you both maneuver to your feet without breaking apart. You let him guide you backwards until your knees hit the end of the bed, and you sit down and gaze up at him, breathless from his kisses.

You’re a little nervous, you realize, but then you see the way he’s looking at you. “God, you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your face flushes.

Jungkook ducks his head to kiss you again, moving you to lay down, and his hand finds the small of your back beneath you. You can’t help but smile when he uses the arm wrapped around you to effortlessly lift you up and scoot you backwards to the head of the bed. You lean against the pillows as his tongue returns to your mouth.

His fingers start to play gently at the hem of your shirt as if asking a question. You nod and he pushes it up, your lips breaking apart only for as long as it takes to pull it over your head before finding each other again.

You reach to do the same for him, but he makes an “uh-uh” noise into your mouth, then pulls away. “I want this to be about you.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, that is incredibly sweet, and it can absolutely be about me. But I think you will severely hurt your chances of bringing me to orgasm if you’re wearing that creamsicle nightmare shirt while you’re doing it."

He raises his eyebrows for a split second like he’s weighing whether or not he should accept that challenge, but then he shrugs with a grin and pulls his shirt off over his head. His body is ridiculous, lithe and toned, and he inhales sharply when you run your hands up his chest.

You realize now, as he unhooks your bra and tosses it off the edge of the bed, then starts to kiss down your jaw, that Jungkook is vocal. He makes these breathy little sighs against your skin as he goes, and when you do something like scratch your nails over his back or dip your head to trace your tongue along his neck, he outright moans. The low, raw sound makes your pussy throb.

Noise during sex has always been weird for you; you felt like guys expected you to be loud, which is hard to do convincingly when you’re nowhere near satisfied. But none of the sounds he’s making now seem in any way performative. You can tell it’s just him enjoying your shared pleasure the same way he does everything– unashamedly.

So when he sucks gently at the place where your neck and shoulder meet, lightly running his piercing over the sensitive skin there, your eyes flutter closed, and you don’t hold back the noise he pulls out of you.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, and you feel him smile.

You’re overwhelmed by all the different sensations his mouth can make against your skin. He kisses, licks, drags his tongue ring, and bites along your neck and your collarbones, working you until you couldn’t keep quiet even if you wanted to. His hands slide up your waist, coming to cup your breasts, and he tries similar experiments with his thumbs over your nipples: barely-there tapping, then firmer pressure in slow circles, then light pinches that make you gasp and writhe.

He’s clearly educating himself, paying close attention to your responses to figure out the best ways to touch you and take you apart. No one has ever cared this much about what actually felt good to you before; this is a far cry from the half-hearted two minutes of foreplay you’re accustomed to. He really does act like he’s got all the time in the world.

The thought of him touching and kissing you like this for hours is dizzying. Even if he can’t make you come, you don’t fucking care, everything he’s doing still feels incredible. It’s a hell of a lot better than writing a paper.

Jungkook groans into your skin as he mouths down to your breasts, and when he shifts, you can feel his erection grind against your thigh. The knowledge that he’s just as turned on by this as you are, paired with a deft flick of his piercing over your nipple, makes you whine loudly. Your core is already aching to be touched, licked, fucked– anything.

He reaches to unbutton your pants while his lips and tongue still work at the bud of your breast in his mouth. Your hips lift up at his touch and he pulls your jeans down, dropping your nipple from between his teeth so you can kick them the rest of the way off.

His hands slip under the band of your panties with a grunt so heady it’s nearly a growl, but instead of pulling them down, he loops the fabric around his fingers once and pulls up, so the lace is pressed tight against your dripping cunt. Even that small amount of friction makes you whimper, your hips rocking in desperate search of relief.

“Can I take these off?” He pairs the question with another firm tug, so the lace rubs right over your clit as your hips circle.

You don’t even have the breath to answer, you want it so bad; you can only nod.

He pulls your panties off, tossing them to join the rest of your clothes on the floor before moving down between your spread legs. You’re so wet for him now that just his breath on your core is enough to make you moan.

You brush his hair off his forehead and watch as he brings his mouth to your thighs, trailing lips and teeth upwards. With each pass, he comes so close to where you want him, where you need him, but deliberately stops just shy, teasing you. He runs his tongue along the crease where your hip and thigh meet, and the drag of his piercing on your skin makes you cry out, delirious with anticipation.

But then his mouth goes in the wrong direction. Rather than close the small amount of distance left to finally, finally make contact with your cunt, he shifts away from it. His lips and tongue trail back over your hips, your stomach, and up the valley between your breasts. You lift your head in disbelief to watch him, and you don’t think you’re going to make it– you’ve never been denied pleasure like this before. Your eyes start to sting like they might well up with tears.

He keeps going, lips moving from your neck to your jaw and then finally back to your mouth. You turn your head to the side, your breathing ragged.

“Jungkook,” you nearly sob, “please.”

His voice is hoarse when he murmurs in your ear with a dark laugh, “I was wondering how long it would take you to beg for it. You really held out on me.” He kisses you again and you whine in frustration as he sucks on your bottom lip. He pulls away with a smile. “Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

Your head swims; you try to form words through your desperation. “I– fuck, anything, anything. Please, Jungkook, please.” You sound so wrecked, so needy, but if he wants you to beg, you’ll do it, gladly. You’re going to die if he doesn’t touch you soon. Your hips shudder up against his, your nails dragging down his back.

“Good girl, love it when you say my name like that,” he groans into the crook of your neck, and your pussy clenches around nothing, your brain short-circuiting at the praise.

He doesn’t drag it out any longer– you don’t think you’d survive if he did– and instead just shifts to settle back between your legs. His hands come to your thighs and you’re so keyed up that you jump under his touch as he spreads you wide open. You’re nearly clawing at the bedsheets in preparation to finally feel him after so long, but instead of his fingers or his tongue, something wet hits your clit.

It takes a second for your brain to process that he spit on you. Fuck.

You look up to see him looking at you, wide-eyed, like he’s only just realized what he did. “Sorry, I should’ve asked first. Was that okay?”

It was fucking hot, actually, but you’re so far gone that you can’t make the words happen. You can only nod and roll your hips up toward him.

“Jungkook, please,” you manage to whimper one final time, and he dips his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’ve got you.” And then he closes his lips around your clit.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, relief flooding through you like a shot in the arm. His movements aren’t that different from how he first kissed you, gentle and sweet, and your clit throbs when his lip ring rolls over it.

Jungkook’s mouth falls into a steady rhythm, and he’s groaning against your pussy like it feels good for him, too. Enthusiastic is the only way to describe the way he eats you out; you really do believe he could do this all day.

Alternating with the movement of his lips, he starts to incorporate long, slow licks of his tongue across your folds. There’s enough spit and slickness that his piercing slides right over your clit, and it’s a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before that has you bucking against his mouth. He whines mid-lick when you do, and the vibration rips through you, your back arching in response.

That earns you two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, and for the second time tonight, you think you might die. Your legs start to shake as his fingers curl inside you.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you groan. You don’t recognize your own voice; you’ve never made noise like this before, but nothing’s ever felt this good. You’re coming undone in his hands, under his tongue.

He changes up the rhythm on your clit, moving between fluidly swirling his piercing over it and pulling it into his mouth for hard suction. The pleasure is still overwhelming, but something about the switch-up takes you out of your body and into your head, and you falter for a moment.

He’s been at this for a while, and he does seem to be enjoying himself, but even so, you start to feel self-conscious. Are you taking too long? Is his tongue getting tired? What if you still can’t come from this?

Your momentary silence and lack of movement must be enough to send Jungkook’s competitive edge into overdrive, because he grabs your thigh with his free hand as if to pull you even closer and fully buries his face in your cunt.

He flattens his tongue against you and starts to shake his head aggressively, wiggling his tongue with it, and the barbell tapping rhythmically at your clit has you gasping for air and grabbing at the bedsheets.

As if that wasn’t enough, he adds a third finger inside you, slowing down for just a moment to make sure you’re accustomed to the stretch. He runs his free hand up your thigh and lays it flat below your stomach, pressing down firmly on your lower abdomen. You don’t know what to expect– no one’s ever done it to you before, but when he resumes rocking his fingers back and forth against your front wall under that extra pressure, you nearly drench his hand in arousal, it feels so good.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck!” You moan, and you wonder if the whole party downstairs can hear. You sound like a goddamn pornstar, the kind of noises that are so ridiculous you’d think they were fake if you weren’t experiencing the insane, all-encompassing pleasure yourself firsthand. Here, in Jungkook’s bed, in his fucking frat house, getting eaten out like you’re his last fucking meal.

You can’t even remember what you were worrying about now. There’s no space left in your brain for it, and your pussy is already starting to flutter around his fingers as you feel the pressure building in your core.

Out of sheer desperation, you wind a hand through his hair and lift your hips up against his mouth, matching his rhythm. He looks up at you and moans around your clit, nodding his head, clearly trying to encourage you without letting his tempo slow.

His breathing is ragged and loud as you grip his hair and rock your hips, bumping your clit against his pierced tongue again and again and again, exactly the way you need it.

Your moans increase in pitch and pace as you feel your orgasm crest. He responds back in time, encouraging you, his voice coming from some raw, primal place as he grunts open-mouthed, “uh-huh, uh-huh” against your clit, and you can hear his fingers working your cunt so well, and it’s all too fucking much.

You come so hard, it makes you question if you’ve ever actually had an orgasm before. Hands gripping at the sheets, toes curling, legs shaking violently, back arching up off the mattress, all with a loud moan that’s more like a sob. You have never in your life felt anything this good.

Jungkook slows but doesn’t stop as the aftershocks roll through you, slowly moving his head up and down to lick flat, long stripes over your clit as you continue to shudder against his face. Your thighs pull together reflexively when you become too sensitive, and that’s when he finally relents, pulling off and out of you.

You stare up at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe and wondering if you really did die after all. There’s a loud bang on the door, but you’re too blissed out to even give a fuck, and it’s just one of his frat bros yelling “alright, JK!” from the other side.

At least they’re supportive of a woman’s pleasure, you think, and then you can’t help but laugh at the sheer insanity of it all. Jungkook slides up the bed to lay next to you, and he’s smiling as he wipes his face with his hand.

“I guess you didn’t fake that one, huh?”

You can only shake your head as you struggle to get your breath back.

“Holy shit, I feel like I should say thank you,” you eventually manage, and he laughs his perfect laugh. You roll over to bury your face in his shoulder. “What the fuck, Jungkook– I think I saw my life flash before my eyes. That was fucking crazy.”

Jungkook flips onto his side facing you, propped up on one arm, his other hand gently running back and forth along the curve of your waist. “What can I say? I play to win.” He can’t hide his satisfied smile as the official winner of your first ever non-solo orgasm.

You lean against him, allowing your eyes to close again as your pulse slows, and you sigh contentedly as he presses his lips to your hairline.

“What time is it?” He asks after a few minutes. “Do you need to go write your paper?”

You tilt back to shoot him a death glare. “Do not mention my fucking paper right now, Jeon Jungkook. I’m trying to bask in the glow here.”

He laughs again and pulls you closer. “My bad.”

“And besides,” your face softens, and your eyes trace down to his hand that’s now gently palming over the front of his pants, where you can see the bulge of his erection. “I believe you promised me hours.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Oh, I’ll give you hours.”

Your pussy doesn’t feel anywhere near recovered, but you’re somehow also aching for him to fuck you. If that was only his head game, you genuinely don’t think you’ll survive sex with Jungkook. But you’re willing to die trying.

“Come here,” his voice returns to that near-growl and he crawls over you, one hand cupping your jaw as he brings his lips to yours.

This time when his thigh presses between your legs, it’s on purpose. Your clit still twitches at the contact, but the pressure is indirect enough that it only feels good, and you rock your hips slowly into him.

You’re desperate to see him, touch him, return the favor, and your hand slips between your bodies to grab him through his pants. You whine against his lips when you feel how thick he is in your hand, and you pull little gasps out of him as you slowly start to pump him over the fabric.

“Please fuck me, Jungkook,” you whisper when you break apart, begging for it the way you’ve learned he likes, your hand still working him.

He bites down hard on your neck with a laugh, like he can’t believe you’re real.

You start to unbutton and push down his pants and then he flips onto his back to do the rest, shedding pants and boxers at the same time. You can’t help but giggle a little at his apparent urgency, pleased that he needs you just as bad, as he yanks his nightstand drawer out, retrieves a condom, and rips it open with his teeth.

But that urgency is gone once he’s hovering over you, cock teasing at your entrance, your knees bent and legs spread for him. It’s replaced by that same look in his eyes, those same gentle kisses, and arousal pooling in your belly at the realization that he really could do this for hours. But you need him now.

“Please,” you whisper one more time, and he groans against your throat as he pushes into you.

His pace is slow, hips rolling fluidly, and you’re still so sensitive that your walls flutter around him with each thrust. The thickness of his cock feels just as good as you thought it would. You moan loudly, arching back against the pillow, as his head drags over your sweet spot.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice ragged. He keeps rolling his hips, stroking so slow and deep that it’s pleasure and torture all in one.

Jungkook must be a fast learner, because when he thrusts into you one more time and you whine in response, the same strangled noise you made when he teased your cunt, he knows what you need. You don’t even have to beg for it.

His hands slide along the backs of your thighs and he pushes, just a little, folding your legs up so your pelvis tilts to give him full access to your cunt. And then he picks up the pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming as he bottoms out inside you over and over, and you’re already close to the edge of a second climax. You rake your nails down his back and his hips move even faster, both of you moaning with every thrust. The sound of skin on skin is so loud it’s obscene; there’s no way the whole party doesn’t know what you’re up to by now.

You don’t give a shit. You hope they’re all jealous.

Your legs start to shake as the pressure in your core builds, and you’re suddenly in dire need of release all over again. You move to reach a hand down between your legs, but Jungkook doesn’t miss a thing.

He lets go of one of your thighs to knock your hand away, replacing it with his own, his thrusts never slowing. You watch this time as he spits on your clit again, and then starts to rub circles over it.

It’s a touch you’ve felt before, fast and hard, usually performed by a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, and usually painful as all hell.

But Jungkook is very obviously a fucking expert in his field, and he must know that when you’re as slick as you are from his mouth and your own arousal, and you’ve already come once, and you’re this insanely turned on and desperate for it, it doesn’t hurt at all. Your hips lift up off the bed because right now, it’s fucking perfect.

“Oh my fucking god, Jungkook, fuck, yes, don’t stop–” you cry out, and your last moan is nearly a scream as you come all the way undone for him. Your cunt squeezes tightly around his length, and he only has to rut into you a few more times before he’s coming, too, with a loud groan of your name.

His head drops onto your shoulder as he finishes, gasping for breath. You lean back against the pillows, still shuddering a little but entirely spent, fucked out of your mind.

You’re only vaguely aware of what’s happening when he pulls out of you, or when the bed shifts as he gets up to dispose of the condom, then collapses back down next to you with a dazed sigh.

You roll into him, still lost for words, and he wraps both arms around you. You can hear his heart thudding hard in his chest, the same tempo as yours.

A laugh rips through you as you play the last few moments back and remember his hand shoving your own away. You look up at him. “So what are you, in charge of my orgasms now? Did I sign a contract tonight?”

“No,” he gives a small smile, and you see a blush creep up his neck at the reminder of something done clearly in the heat of the moment. “I don’t know. No one had ever made you come once before, so… I just wanted to do it twice. Set a new number to beat.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the grin on your face. “I’m not a video game, Jungkook.”

“Nope,” he laughs, tightening his grip around you. “You are so much better.” He ducks down to kiss you gently.

You’re still smiling when he moves to rest his chin on your head. “And you are better than my vibrator.”

There’s a comfortable pause, and then you decide you may as well do what you do best and ruin everything. “So, is now the time when I ask you the phrase that every frat boy dreads to hear?” You start, and he’s already looking at you when you glance up again. “What are we?”

He shrugs, looking totally nonplussed. “That’s up to you. I will literally go out there right now and announce to the entire party that you’re my girlfriend and I’m the first man to ever make you come, if that’s what you want.”

You press your face to his chest and laugh self-consciously. “Well, I think they already know about the second part. I wasn’t exactly quiet.”

His lips brush against your temple. “Don’t be. I want them all to know who’s fucking you right.”

You sigh, wondering how on earth this kid is real. There’s a big part of you, especially with the high of two orgasms rattling around in your brain, that wants to take the leap right now, straight into the unknown. You want to trust him fully, but you’re still scared of the uncertainty, the potential for disaster. It’s been a long time since you let someone all the way in.

“But the G word…” you say nervously. “That’s a lot for me, at least right now.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says simply, and when you meet his gaze, the look on his face betrays no hurt feelings or hidden agenda. It makes you feel like it really is okay. “We can be whatever you want,” he continues. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You can feel yourself getting emotional, and you bring your cheek to his chest again, hoping he can’t tell. “Well, whatever label we put on it, you are eating me out like that at least once a week.”

“Once a week?” He huffs softly. “How about once a day?” He shifts slightly to trail kisses along your neck. “Actually,” he murmurs in your ear, “I could go for seconds right now…”

You laugh and shove against his chest. “Hey, I’m still getting used to this brave new world over here. If you make me come again tonight I think I might literally die in your bed.” He relents with a smug smile and a kiss pressed to your cheek.

“But if you wanted to wake me up that way tomorrow…” you offer, and he gets that goddamn look in his eyes, the one that may forever be known as the look that ruined your life.

“Oh, I think we can make that happen.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #the spins

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jasntodds · 1 year

Text

Migraines | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Request: Anon - “Hey I get pretty bad migraines, and i was going the injury prompt list and #4 and #6 kind of remind me of how my lovely s/o takes care of me when i have an episode. I’d love to see those prompts with jason todd! Prompts: (from here) #4: Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them #6: Staying the night in case they need your help, being asked to sleep on the bed instead of the couch/floor

Summary: You have a migraine and try to hide it from Jason until you manage to faint in front of him, sending him into a worrying spin over you

Warnings: Description of migraines, friends to lovers, mentions of being nauseous from the migraine, fluff, hurt/comfort (kind of)

Words: 4,595

A/n: I am both a big sucker for injury prompts and Jason Todd so here we are lol I also get migraines so anon, I’m sorry you’re dealing with them 😭 I did friends to lovers just because I thought it fit a little better with the second prompt!! If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

It starts as a mild headache. It’s just an ache in the beginning of your head at first that’s a bit annoying but nothing horrible. However, with your history of migraines, you take your precautions to prevent it from turning into a migraine. The thing about the migraines is they tend to send you out of commission until they go away. You always play it out to be just a mild headache or that you’re just tired and take a nap. Jason doesn’t actually know how bad your headaches (migraines) actually are. He’s Robin! Jason could have ten broken bones and still go out swinging. You get a migraine and want to explode.

After about two hours though, the mild headache has turned into a full-blown migraine. It’s throbbing in the front of your head. Your stomach is nauseous with the pain and every bit of light in the room makes you cringe. You’re in the library of Wayne Manor with Jason, sitting with him while the two of you read and reading is making it worse. You swear you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes, unable of focus your eyes or your attention on the book. Everything hurts, even moving your eyes is agonizing.

“You good?” Jason looks over at you, noticing you haven’t turned a page in a while.

“Oh, yeah.” Your voice is quiet as you give him a fake smile and a very subtle reassuring nod, almost wincing with the movement.

“You don’t look good.” Jason sees the grimace across your face. “Seriously,” He puts his finger in the book to hold the page while he closes it. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” You shrug it off. “I’m just gonna take a nap.” You smile sweetly but faintly.

“You’re a bad fucking liar.” Jason chuckles softly as you get off the couch. “I know something’s wrong, can’t hide it from me, babe.” There’s a cheeky grin tugging at his lips when you turn to face him, knowing he’s trying to get the real answer out of you by being cheeky.

“Jay, I’m fine.” You insist, giving him a toothy grin as if that’s enough to convince him but the window is right behind Jason and you moved too quickly.

Everything is spinning and throbbing and pounding and your vision is blurring in and out. Everything is agonizing and all you want to do is curl into a ball and melt away. Your heart is starting to race while your legs are starting to feel weak and shaky.

“Y/n?” Jason calls, the grin completely vanishing as he watches the look at your face turn distant and shallow just as your legs give out.

Jason scrambles to his feet, catching your head just before you hit the ground. Panic courses through Jason’s blood as he holds your head in his hands, unsure of what just happened. You’ve never fainted before. He knew something was wrong but something wrong enough to make you faint? He never would have guessed and he’s kicking himself for not realizing that it was something that bad. He should known better, paid closer attention maybe. Something. But, then your eyes open slowly, you barely coming to with your head still pounding like a kickdrum at a rock concert.

“Hey, holy shit, are you okay?” Jason’s words are slurred as he looks at you but you can’t make them out. Everything sounds mixed together, hazy even. “Y/n?” Jason asks and as your vision starts to steady slightly, you can make out his brown eyes laced in worry, forehead wrinkled.

The jig is up.

“Migraine.” You mutter out.

Jason lets out a sigh, wondering why you didn’t just tell him. You both make fun of each other with little stuff. It’s all fun and games though, Jason tends to take some low blows when he gets mad but it’s never anything too horrible and you know where not to cross a line. Had you just told him you had a migraine, he wouldn’t have made a joke or yelled to make it worse. He would have just let you rest. Jason knows his constant training even with an injury isn’t normal, most people know when to tap out. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, unable to take a break even from just reading a book with him.

“Come on.” Jason slides his hands out from under your head as you sit up. “Get your ass to bed.” Jason stands up, offering both of his hands to you to help you up.

You take his hands gingerly in yours, carefully and slowly getting up, trying not to move too much or too fast. “I’ll be fine.” You brush it off once you’re on your feet.

You don’t want to bother him with it. Migraines are debilitating but it’s still a headache. It just sounds so pitiful in a way. You have to nap in the middle of the day over a headache. Jason shouldn’t be bothered with it or you. You’ll take a nap and maybe you’ll feel better later.

“Yeah, then ya fucking fainted.” Jason scoffs, not realizing he was still holding your hands.

“Mhm.” You hum, your mouth dry from the nausea of the throbbing headache.

“I’ll walk you.” He offers, realizing your hands are soft in his.

His heart swells with the idea but he lets go and opts to move to your side, resting a hand on the small of your back. He gestures for you to start walking, him walking right beside you and not moving his hand just making sure you don’t fall or faint again.

If your head wasn’t a throbbing and pulsating mess right now, you’d have some comment about how nice he’s being. Jason can be a little less than nice at times with people, but he does have these really nice moments with you ever since you followed him to Gotham. It’s….domestic in a way. At Titans Tower, there was this ruggedness to everything and this hardness that almost surrounded him, a bitterness that ate at his bones. But, when he’s here, he’s kinder. He’s still rough around the edges, that’s just Jason but he’s kinder and you’d be lying if you said you don’t like the kinder side of him that mixes with his sarcasm. And maybe if your head wasn’t causing such agonizing pain, you’d notice him looking more at you instead of where you were walking, his eyes laced with worry. It’s just a headache he tells himself, but he worries anyway because it’s you.

Jason gets you to bed, you swearing you can get into bed just fine but he doesn’t take that for an answers. You fainted in front of him and now he’s determined to not let you do anything until you’re feeling better. You’re his best friend and while it’s a migraine, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself more or prolong the pain. So, he pulls the blankets over you and takes your phone from you before putting it on silent and putting it on your nightstand.

“Did you need anything?” He asks, trying to hide his concern from his voice.

“No,” You say softly, comfortable in your bed now and glad to be able to sleep. “Thanks.”

Jason nods, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Text me if you need something, alright? Don’t go getting up and making shit worse.” Jason offers an awkward laugh.

“Yes, sir.” You mutter, giving him a soft smile.

“I mean it.” He warns as he starts walking towards the door.

“Thanks, Jay.” Your voice is a little louder this time so you know he’ll hear you.

Jason smiles softly. “Yeah.” He nods at you before leaving your room, shutting the door slowly and quietly to allow you to sleep.

Jason leaves you alone for a few hours, casually passing by your room every fifteen minutes just in case. Of course, Jason doesn’t realize he’s passing by so often. He’ll go into one of the living areas and then conveniently remember he needed something from his room which is next to yours. Or he’ll go back to the library only to realize he needed something from the kitchen which means he has to pass by your room. He plays this little game for a few hours, getting an eyebrow raise from Bruce every time Jason passes him in a different room. After the fifth time, Bruce finally just asked what was going on. Jason tried to brush it off with “Forgot something again.” Bruce didn’t press but figured it had something to do with you. Jason isn’t the forgetful type and it made Bruce chuckle softly to himself.

But, after that few hours, Jason got a bit stir-crazy worrying about you. You’re his main form of entertainment here. You’re both either training (to Bruce’s dismay) or joking with each other or reading. You show him a lot of movies and TV shows he’s missed. You’re always together and now he’s just bored and worried. So, he makes his way to your room around 10pm with a glass of water and he knocks softly, hoping it wasn’t too loud but that you heard him. You don’t answer though and Jason feels a bit more worried, so he opens the door just slightly to look inside.

You’re asleep in the same exact position he left you in. Your room is completely dark, the currents drawn and the TV off. But, Jason shines just enough light into your room to stir you awake. Your eyes peek open, catching a blurry glimpse of him in your doorframe, able to make out his dark hair.

“Jay?” You question, barely noticing the throbbing of your head slightly better than it was a few hours ago.

“Sorry.” Jason mumbles. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t die or some shit.” He brushes the worry from his words, trying to act casual.

“I’m alive.” Your voice is weak, stinging Jason’s heart.

Jason takes a step in the room, leaving the door cracked so he can actually see you. “Feeling any better?” He asks.

“Migraine is still kicking.” The sarcasm in your voice is even weak and Jason feels so bad for you.

And he’s still worried because you don’t normally nap this long. It makes him wonder if you nap just long enough to ease some of the migraine but still keep up appearances. But now he does know, so maybe your migraines do last this long after all this time and he feels horrible.

“Well,” Jason walks over, resting the water on your nightstand which you definitely take note of. Was that the excuse he was going to use if you were awake? Bringing you a glass of water? That’s kind of sweet. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get my stuff then.” He holds his head up high, chest puffing out slightly. “Gotta make you sure you don’t croak in your sleep or something.” Jason nods his head, giving you this half-cocked grin. “Or,” Jason clears his throat. “Just in case you need something.”

“In case I need something?” You wanna make fun of him so bad, you love making fun of him. It’s how you two show affection but, you’re actually curious where this is going. The migraine might still be kicking, but the curiosity has now taken over.

“Yeah,” He shrugs casually. “I don’t want you to suffer longer so if you need something, you won’t have to deal with it.” He shifts his weight from his toes to heels.

“Awww.” You manage the quip with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason chuckles softly, dodging his eyes from you for a second. “So, I’m staying in here tonight and you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

“Fine.” You try to sound stern but there’s a smile playing at your lips and your chest bursts of warmth with having Jason stay in your room.

That’s something neither of you do. You are friends and the flirting sometimes gets a bit…too flirty. There’s a difference between two friends flirting and joking around and whatever the hell the two of you do. You always get just a little too close to Jason and Jason always comes up with a quip that’s said a little too seriously. There is this invisible line neither of you have ever crossed because it overcomplicates a fun situation. Jason doesn’t think you’re into him that way and you think if you were to ever tell Jason, he’d laugh or make it weird. But, maybe this is a good opportunity to try something a little less flirty and fun and try something a little more casual and soft.

When Jason comes back, he’s in grey joggers and a loose black t-shirt. He has a pillow with a beige pleated pillowcase under one arm and a matching blanket draped over the other arm. He said he’d go get his stuff but you were certain he was just being dramatic. Jason has always had a flare for the dramatics. And a part of you thought for sure Jason was just going to slide into bed with you with a cheeky grin because that’s just Jason. But, he doesn’t. He puts his pillow on the floor beside your side of the bed. You eye him with suspicion, not moving your head and you want to laugh but you know it’ll just hurt.

“What’re you doing?” You ask once Jason sits on the floor.

He looks at you with, what you swear seems to be innocence. “Sleeping on the floor?” He questions back, not sure why you’re asking.

You let out a huff, smiling down at him. “Can you just sleep in the bed with me, please?” You ask and at this point, you don’t even want to deny the fact having him next to you would at least bring you comfort. You always sit close to him because it’s comforting but having him sleeping next to you now with a throbbing migraine? That might be the only thing you actually want, besides the pain to stop.

Jason gains this smirk and devious look in his eyes. “Oh, want me in the bed, huh?”

“Shut up.” You groan. “I said please.” You pout a lip at him and Jason swears he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Since you asked so nicely, babe.” He emphasizes the word and your stomach spins with butterflies.

Jason walks to the other side of the bed and gently flips the blankets up to get underneath them. He tries to play this off in the cool, calm, and collected way he tries to play everything like this, getting a little too close to you. His heart is thundering in his chest and he tells himself that you’re just being nice because he’s being nice. This is a nice, friendly thing to do to make sure you’re okay and he doesn’t wake up with back pain in the morning. This is a casual, friendly thing you’re doing.

You roll over slowly, careful not to move your head too much. The migraine is just barely starting to subside but you know if you move too much or try to stay awake, it will come back with a vengeance. So, you remain careful as you move closer to Jason. He stretches his arm behind your head almost instinctively, careful not to hit to your head with the movement. Your head lays on his chest and you have to admit, he is so warm.

Jason brings his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and this is kind of nice. He wishes your head wasn’t in pain so maybe this would be something a little more or something would come out of it. But, he’s so sure that you’re only willing to cuddle with him like this because you’re in pain and for a reason he doesn’t fully understand, you find comfort in him being here. Your head is aching but this is the most comfortable you’ve been in forever. Jason is comfortable.

“Thanks for checking on me.” You whisper to him, your eyes closed as you listen to his heart still thundering in his chest. “And the water.”

A bashful smile comes to his lips. “Yeah,” You feel him huff under you. “‘Course.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You ask.

Jason pauses, his eyes widening. How is he somehow at a loss for words? He’s never at a loss for words but how’s he supposed to answer that without admitting anything? Your question and his running through about it just made his heart beat faster.

“Are you...nervous?” A gentle chuckle leaves your lips, you wincing with the throbbing.

“Fuck off, no I’m not nervous.” Jason groans.

“Okay, Jason.” A snicker comes from you. “Seriously, thank you for staying.” Your voice is quiet and coated in a honey-like sincerity.

Jason sucks in a breath and honesty isn’t exactly his thing. Not that he lies, he just doesn’t say how he feels but you’re kind of really important to him.

“Yeah, well, I’d kind of doing anything for your ass.” Jason chuckles.

“I know.” You smile to yourself. You know he would. He’s a bit rough around the edges and he has his issues that he’s kind of trying to deal with, but you know he’d do anything for you. “I’d do anything for you, too.” You admit, just sensing the deadpan expression he’s giving you. But before he can turn it into some type of flirty, taunting banter, you continue. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Y/n.” Jason lets out a sigh, rubbing your back lightly.

You fall asleep first, the migraine fully wearing you out and Jason offers the perfect amount of comfort. He’s soft and there’s a firmness of his chest that isn’t hard or too stiff. It’s just firm enough to offer support and just the right amount of soft. You think he makes a better pillow than your own (which is insane since Bruce did not skimp on the pillows). Jason, on the other hand, he stays awake a little longer.

It’s been harder for him to fall asleep ever since Deathstroke. But, tonight, that’s not where his head is focused and he has to admit, it’s a bit cathartic. He’s so careful not to move or tense up with you so peacefully asleep under him. He doesn’t want to disturb you because of your migraine and he doesn’t want to disturb you and make you move away from him. You keep him calm and turn his brain off for a little bit. He always chalked it up to you being friends. You’re one of the only people who ever really listened to him anyway and that always helped a bit but, he’s looking down at you with this gentle smile and that’s his real ‘oh shit’ moment.

It’s not just flirting for fun or the joking banter, but a genuine liking between him and you. Deep inside, he knew why he was worried about you and why his heart was beating so fast. Deep down he knew why he didn’t risk immediately getting into bed with you, because he didn’t want to scare you off and risk you turning him away from the room altogether. But, right now with the dark room and you asleep on his chest, finding comfort in him, he knows and he knows he won’t be able to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach. So, he closes his eyes and settles with the thought of maybe. With the thought of maybe something happening between the two of you and the thought of maybe this becoming your thing because that’s where he finds comfort. In the thought of maybe.

The next morning comes around and you wake up first, bright and early. Your head is a bit groggy from the migraine but you’re finally away from the pain. As long as you get some food and water, it should stay away. You’re in such a state of relief the migraine has finally released you from it’s grip, you almost don’t realize your head is still on Jason’s chest. It only takes less a minute for you to realize it but it’s long enough to surprise you.

You sit up slightly, looking at him and for once, Jason Todd looks peaceful. There’s a blooming happiness that pulls at your heart as you watch him. He’s had it rough and he never really looks at peace, not fully but he does right now and you adore him so much. You don’t think he sees how happy he makes you and you wish he did. Jason Todd also deserves to live in peace and happiness with love and acceptance and that’s all you ever really want for him.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking his cheek softly. “Jaaaayyyyyy.” You hold out his name, poking his cheek again as he scrunches his face and you swear it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“What?” He mumbles, voice drenched in sleep, almost incoherent.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re sleeping.” You keep your voice a whisper and it’s the most graceful alarm Jason has ever had. Alarm even seems like too harsh of a word to call you.

He peaks an eye open at you, managing this expression of a cross between annoyance and teasing. “Just my face, babe.” He has this tired smirk that gets your stomach in a twist.

“Eh.” You shrug at him while he opens his other eye. “‘S alright, I guess.” You tease him and the annoyance evaporates from his expression.

“How long’ve you been up?” Jason asks, enjoying the lively expression back on your face.

You look like the sun now which he thinks is a cheesy thought but it’s true. Last night, you looked like a rain cloud and not even the cool ones that are large and fluffy, consuming the whole sky in lumps of deep greys and blues. No, last night you just looked like the rain smog around Gotham, gloomy and tired.

“Just a few minutes.” You answer casually before running a hand through his hair. It’s wild this morning, curly strands standing up and scattered about the pillow.

“What’re you doing?” Jason laughs, eyes looking up at your arm and back you.

“Messing with your hair, it’s shockingly soft.”

“Shockingly?” Jason chortles. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” You laugh back, pulling your hand away and resting it on his chest. “Thought it would be stringy.”

Jason’s brows furrows, the smile still tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay, perfect sense.” He jokes with you and there’s something about how this feels right now. It’s not the tension-filled flirting the two of you do. There’s something so domestic about it that he really likes. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” Your eyes widen dramatically.

“Alright, what do ya want?” Jason wiggles his brows at you. “I’ll cook.”

Your brows shoot up with surprise. Jason has cooked for you a handful of times, but it’s not that he really offers. He just kind of makes something and then tells you to try it. “What’re you up to, Todd?” Your eyes narrow at him playfully.

Jason shakes his head, smile turning down and then twitching back up. “Just being nice.”

“Well, I won’t turn down food.” You laugh softly before telling him one of your favorite breakfast foods.

“You got it.” Jason nods at you while you get off of him so he can get off the bed.

“Are you gonna bring it to me?” You pout up at him as he looks down at you. He thinks you look pitiful in the cutest way possible.

He shakes his head and he wants to argue it, tease you but he can’t. “Fine, but you owe me.” Jason has a one-sided grin as he points a finger at you jokingly.

“I’ll take that.” You beam a smile up at him, shocked he actually said he’d bring it to you.

Jason tosses the idea around in his head and you’re clearly feeling better, so why not? “How about a date then?” The words are much smoother than the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s a bit panicked that he just asked that, thinking maybe you’d actually say no or laugh. He’d be devastated if you did and then probably hide out in the Batcave for the rest of the day.

The smile falls from your face for a second, unsure if he’s joking or not. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. He actually looks pretty serious despite the devious grin on his face. There’s a pleading in his eyes that tells you he’s completely serious and you just can’t believe it. You thought Jason just liked flirting and maybe he does, but you thought that’s all it was. It was something you just accepted after a few months at Titans Tower. You just accepted that’s all it would ever be but now? It seems as if it’s real.

“Seriously?” You ask, your voice not giving Jason any indication on how you feel about it.

He shrugs a shoulder, trying his best to play it off. “Yeah, why not?”

The smile comes back to your face and you can feel the heat coming to your cheeks. “Yeah, okay. When do you wanna go?”

Jason’s heart is exploding into fireworks across his chest. You actually said yes. But, he didn’t think he’d get this far into the conversation so now he’s just stuck making it up on the fly. “Tomorrow?” Jason asks, figuring tomorrow would be better in case you need today to recover from the migraine.

“It’s a date.” You’re beaming up at him and the giddiness consumes your bones like a kid in a candy story for the first time.

“Awesome.” Jason smiles widely, looking to the floor and back to you, a few strands of his hair bouncing onto his forehead. “I’ll go make your breakfast and bring it to you then.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You give him a toothy smile. “You’re gonna eat with me right?”

“I guess.” Jason wrinkles his nose, his cheeks starting to ache from the smile.

“Okay, well hurry up, I wanna hear about this date you have planned.” You tease him and watch him stiffen just slightly.

“Just for that,” Jason says as he heads for the door. “I’ll take my sweet ass time.”

“Or, you could hurry up and come back to bed.” You taunt him, brushing your hand over his side of the bed and you can see his jaw clench.

“Fuck, yeah, alright.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost and you fall into a fit of laughter, a sound Jason adores. “I’ll be right back.” Jason says before quickly leaving the room, leaving your door open just a bit.

You fall back into the pillows, ecstatic that you have a date with your best friend and he’s making you breakfast. A part of you finds it funny that this whole thing is because you fainted over a migraine.

masterlist | request info | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #jason todd one-shot #jason todd one shot #request #i too cannot believe i wrote 3 whole things of fluff back to back #who am i #actually writing fluffy jason was fun i had a great time

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

Note

HI POOKIEE IM BACKK WITH ANOTHER SILLY IDEA😋😋😍(lets ignore the fact that all my requests have been ninjago related)

Basically hc's with the ninja who have a little sibling(the reader) and they have these like witch powers that they're trying to control. The ninja of that scenario try to help the reader with various training sessions, leading them to be a mentor for them. When the reader gets the hang of their powers the ninja are reminded of a memory of their childhood where the reader helped the ninja as children in a really dark time and the ninja see the training sessions as repayment for the readers help all those years ago.

THATS IT HOPEFULLY IT MADE SENSE!!! ANYWAYS BYE POOKIE HOPE YOURE DOING GREAT AND REMEMBER ILYYYY😘😘😘😍😍😍👻👻👻

YAY you’re back!! Always good to hear from u <33

Ninjago - Being the Ninjas’ Little Witch Sister

Zane

When you first ask him to train you, he’s a bit surprised

Of course he agrees though

He proves to be a very patient teacher, both with you and himself as you both continue to learn

He reads up on magic extensively to better know how to help you

He also frequently consults master Wu

If there’s something he doesn’t know, he’ll just tell you to do something else while he researches it

He doesn’t want you doing anything he isn’t able to predict/help you with

Both for your safety and for the sake of your surroundings

As you master concepts, he moves on to progressively harder ones until you’re a skilled witch

His meticulous teaching would have rubbed off on you, so you rarely make mistakes, doing things by the book

Or should I say grimoire?

One day, when he’s watching you perform a healing spell on an old man, he remembers the first time you used your powers

It was when Dr. Julien fell down the stairs

Zane remembers hearing him cry out in pain; the sound still haunts him to this day

He was terrified that his father was fatally wounded

But when he rushed to his side, you were already there, holding his wrinkled hands with yours, which were glowing

You had unintentionally used a healing spell

If you hadn’t, Dr. Julien might have actually been seriously hurt

Zane’s forever thankful for that, and this forever thankful for you

Kai

He’s stoked that you want him to teach you

He always thought your powers were cool, and he’s excited to test their limits with you

He always pushes you hard, which can get a little exhausting

Eventually he’ll ease up a little as he realizes that you need rest

If there’s something he doesn’t know, he encourages you to try it anyway

Meanwhile he’s hiding behind a metal shield in the corner

You learn through experimentation, which leads to many, many failures

But Kai never stops encouraging you to keep trying, and eventually you master your powers

You start joining the ninjas on missions, and one time you used a spell that knocked an entire posse of attackers on their backs

Kai stared at you with wide eyes, flashing back to the time you used a similar spell

It was back at the blacksmith shop; a particularly obnoxious customer was insisting that he “test” a sword

He ended up snatching it and running at Nya with the clear intention of nabbing her

It was then that you used the spell, downing the assailant

Kai had stared at you with the same wide eyes back then

But now he smiled, feeling grateful that you were always there to help protect those closest to you

Jay

Much like Kai, he’s more than thrilled to mentor you

Most of his teaching consists of him insisting you try things he’s seen in movies and comics

Which makes lessons fun, but disappointing at times when you can’t figure things out

In his excitement sometimes he’ll insist you try your spells on him

This has led to the both of you getting hurt many times

Yet neither of you seem to learn your lesson

He’s quick in getting you out on the field

He wants you to be able to test more dangerous things, and he sees the battlefield as the perfect spot to do so

So he’ll take you along on missions pretty early on, making sure you stick to his side so he can protect you

But when your moment comes, he yanks you forward and pushes you towards the enemy like a rag doll

The slight panic this induces in you amplifies your spells

Once you used a spell that released a bright flash of light at the enemy, blinding them

Jay recognizes the spell

It was much smaller at the time, but you had used it when you were both kids

The power was out at the junkyard, and you were both alone while Ed and Edna went to fix the fuse

Jay was terrified in the dark; he was literally about to have a panic attack when your little cupped hands summoned a ball of light

Mesmerized, he forgot his panic, instead smiling hugely at you

He claps you on the back when he remembers that moment, silently beaming with pride at all the progress you’ve made

Cole

He thinks being a magic mentor sounds pretty cool, so of course he agrees when you ask for some lessons

He’s a really chill teacher; almost to an annoying extent

If there’s something he doesn’t know, he just shrugs and asks what you think

(Which happens more often than you’d like)

He won’t encourage you to try more dangerous things until you’re ready though

He always reminds you to be careful and not overwork yourself

Progress is slow, partly because you’re pretty much guiding your own training

He’s just there to support you

Eventually he decides that you’re ready for some real action

Well. Long story short you ended up falling off a cliff with him

But you used a spell that froze you midair right before you hit the ground

You both planted your feet safely on the ground, quaking from the adrenaline

Cole is reminded of a strikingly similar moment from your childhood

You were rehearsing a dance routine on stage

He wasn’t paying attention, and he ended up twirling right off the stage

But luckily you were there, and you froze him in the air when his face was mere inches from the floor

He had hugged and thanked you profusely that day, and he did the same now, lifting you off your shaky feet and kissing your cheek endlessly

Lloyd

He has some experience with magic, but not enough to make him a very competent teacher

He’s humble when he teaches you, always admitting when he isn’t sure

He’ll go with you to find out more when there’s something he doesn’t know

You always learn together :)

He makes sure you don’t push yourself too hard; he knows what that’s like, and it isn’t fun

So your training is a little slow but very steady

He lets you decide when you’re ready to go on missions

He trusts you to know your own capabilities, so if you think you can hold your own, then you can hold your own

That doesn’t mean he’s any less impressed when you turn your opponent into a ferret

He remembers when you pulled a similar move several years ago

You were both cornered by bullies, with Lloyd in front, trying to protect you

Suddenly you pushed past him, pointing your finger at the main culprit and turning him into a mouse

The effect only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for you both to get away

Lloyd laughed aloud at the memory, ruffling your hair proudly

Nya

At first she readily agrees to help train you

But as time progresses, it becomes obvious how incompetent you both are in magical knowledge

She knows a bit, but not nearly enough to coach a fledgling witch

She gets almost as frustrated as you when you try and fail to learn spells

But she calls on her knowledge from her own training, and she realizes that first she needs to fix your attitudes

So you both adopt a more “go with the flow”-esque style, and the spells start clicking

You both glow with excitement at each new mastered concept

High fives all around!! :D

She’s eager to get you on the battlefield; she knows how much it sucks to have to wait

You come to a massive gorge on your first mission, one too big to jump across

You use your magic to create a bridge, allowing everyone to cross safely

As she crosses, Nya recalls seeing a similar miracle performed by you in the past

You had both gone out to pick flowers in the woods

There was a flash flood while you were out, and the little creek you had to cross to get home had become a raging cascade of impassable muddy water

But you had used your little bridge spell, and you both made it safely home

Nya remembers that day fondly, and takes much pride in knowing how far you’ve come since then

Thank you for your request my love!! And thanks for reading, take care little squirrels <33

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago headcannons #lloyd garmadon #cole brookstone #jay walker #kai smith #nya smith #zane julien #cole ninjago #kai ninjago #zane ninjago #ninjago cole #jay ninjago #nya ninjago

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kay-elle-cee · 6 months

Text

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 23 || 812 Words || Read on Ao3 —

“Look out!”

“Fuck!”

A sharp pain in her arm rips a cry of pain from Lily’s mouth as the contents of the folder in her hand—her portfolio, her CV, scratch paper for notes—go flying all over the pavement, some catching on the wind and blowing into the street.

All her preparation for this interview. Gone.

It only takes a split second for her attention to turn from the lost papers to the culprit of her misfortune: the man groaning as he picks himself and his electric scooter up from where he’d landed sprawled on the pavement, eyes wide and square-rimmed glasses askew on his horrified face.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” he asks, wincing as he stands. His eyes take in her stunned face and turn to the papers rustling along by their feet. “Shit, let me help you with that.”

“It’s fine.” Lily’s voice sounds emotionless to her own ears as she watches a copy of her CV get run over by the wheel of a car. Her arm is throbbing with pain and she feels oddly inspired to laugh.

“No, no, we can still—”

Lily sighs, picturing her walking into the Grunnings office—late—with her brother-in-law’s sneer following her into the room with the hiring committee. She can practically hear her sister’s shrill chiding: ‘Vernon stuck out his neck for you, you ungrateful brat. And you show up late and ill-prepared. That’s what we get for offering support, I suppose. Don’t expect any more favors from us.’

(Nevermind that she had never asked for the favor, but had been cajoled into accepting it by a concerned father.)

“None of it matters now.”

The man looks up from where he’s crouched by her feet—arm outstretched and reaching under a parked car for a rogue CV—and Lily’s eyes wander from his concerned gaze to the messy black hair that peeks out from under the helmet atop his head.

“Are you sure?” Her gaze falls back to his face and she sees his brow furrow as he looks at the paper in his hand. “This looks important. Seriously, let me—”

“I said it’s fine,” she insists, shaking her head and snatching her CV from his hand. “I wasn’t particularly…excited about this opportunity anyway.” Cramming the paper back in her folder, she lets out a long, despairing sigh as she stares at it. “I have a job right now so it’s not like it’s desperate times or anything.”

“Wait, can I see that again?”

Lily blinks in shock, looking up at the man who had knocked her over. There’s still a crease between his brows and she notices he’s fixed the set of his glasses.

“Er, why?”

“Just…the company I work for—MischiefMade Solutions—we’re actually hiring.” He raises his hand up to rub the back of his neck and Lily notes the scrapes on his elbow from their collision. “It looked like maybe you’d be a match. And ah, I could put in a referral if you’d like.”

Lily’s heart is pounding in her chest, blood roaring in her ears. MischiefMade was a dream company for her—much better than her current company, which was ineffectual at best and downright suffocating at worst.

“Why would you do that?”

The man straightens up and Lily realizes that all this time he’d been crouched low—trying to help gather her things. He’s taller than her, but not by much.

“Well I think I owe you, for one,” he states with a frown. “And two, I know the hiring manager pretty well and you seem to be exactly what she’s looking for.” He shrugs. “I’m happy to give you more information about the role. It’s not my department, but I have an okay grasp on it.”

You seem to be exactly what she’s looking for.

A little spark of hope ignites in Lily’s chest and she grips the folder tighter with excitement.

“I’d…I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do.” His eyes dart from her face to where she’s gently holding her arm, and he smiles guiltily. “And look, tell me to piss right off if you’d rather do something else, but I feel like I owe you for that—” he gestures to her arm “—too. If you don’t have anywhere to be right now, I’d like to buy you a coffee or something, and we can chat about that position. If you want.”

Lily’s eyes widen and she’s uncertain at how unbelievably lucky her day is turning out to be after being hit by a bloody electric scooter. But she knows a sign from the universe when one’s presented to her.

“I’ll take you up on that,” she nods. “But I’m not getting on that thing.”

He lets out a laugh, and it’s a pleasant sound. “It’s not safe for two people.”

“I’d go as far as to say it’s not safe for one.”

#it's (always) you #jilytober2023 #jily #jple #james potter #lily evans #31 prompts

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spookymystery67 · 19 days

Text

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Long time no see. This took way longer than I had hoped. I guess life is really kicking my ass right now, so apologies. I really appreciate all the support from everyone who reads/comments/likes my story. It really helps with motivation when I feel like my writing is awful. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I'm hoping that now that we're moving on to the actual game story line that it will be easier to get chapters out now that I don't have to rely fully on my imagination. It's lacking right now lol. Enjoy!

Chapter 19:

-2004-

“You'd think you and I would have learned our lesson by now.”

“Just help me get down, you lunatic.” You grumbled once you could look at her properly, as you were finally done spinning in uncontrollable circles.

Ada couldn't keep her composure any longer and let out an amused laugh at your predicament. She tried a few times to stop and regain her breathing, successfully doing so before she looked back up at you, only to begin laughing harder once more when she caught your unamused glare.

She couldn't take you seriously when you were hanging upside down by your left leg from a beam, struggling to get yourself free from the tangle of wire as you growled at yourself over your failure. Your growling was turned to aim at her when she had made no move to help you down and her laughter showed no sign of slowing down.

“Ada, my love. Please stop laughing and get me down from here.” You said as sweetly as possible through your irritation. You were becoming more and more lightheaded the longer you were stuck up there and your leg was going numb from holding all your weight.

Ada had to brace her hands against her knees to stop herself from falling over due to her laughter throwing her off balance. She stood to full height as her laughter slowed down to a stop, looking at you with fondness and love in her expression.

“Of course, my love.” She moves to help carefully untangle you. “You know, maybe it's time you give up on the grappling hook. It's only ever caused you pain and embarrassment.”

“True, but it also brings you amusement.” You pointed out. Ada nodded in agreement.

“Definitely. But I don't want to see you get hurt, dear. Plus, it's been six years. It's just not meant to be if you haven't got the hang of it by now.” Ada said as she finally untangled you. She quickly caught you as you fell, placing you gently on the ground and holding you steady as you tried to get over the dizziness that nearly made you tumble to the floor of the abandoned warehouse building you both chose to practice in.

You huffed in disappointment. “But I don't want to give it up. It's cool.”

Ada smirked. “Only when you can actually use it correctly.” You playfully shoved her away from you in response to her teasing.

“Well, apparently not everyone can be as cool as you.”

Ada shook her head in amusement as she wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you in close. “Oh hush. You are cool. Just in your own, unique, way that others may not fully understand.” She cooed.

You raised a brow, unimpressed with her teasing attempt to “comfort” your bruised ego. But, you couldn't resist her soft smile and beautiful brown eyes for long.

Your face broke into a smile and you gave up on being fake angry with her. “Fine. I give up. Clearly the only people that can use grappling hooks are you and Batman.”

“Does Batman use grappling hooks?” Ada questioned, having no knowledge on comic book superheroes.

You shrugged. “How else does he get on top of those tall ass buildings to stare out into Gotham City and brood?”

“The elevator?” Ada sassed.

The mental image you conjured up of Bruce Wayne dressed up as Batman trying to ride an elevator to the top without being seen by civilians makes you let out a cackle. Ada looked as proud as she always did to get that reaction out of you from her stupid jokes.

“So, I was thinking.” Ada started, still holding you in her embrace. “Maybe we can take a break from work for a while. Have a little vacation for a few weeks and just enjoy each other's company.”

You looked back up at her with surprise. “Ada Wong, the most workaholic person I have ever known, wants to take a break from work?”

Ada raised a brow and squeezed your waist tighter with a smirk. “Is that not what I just said? Do we need to get your hearing checked?” She said as she lightly flicked your ear.

You swatted her hand away with a fake glare. “Well excuse me for being skeptical. Any breaks that we've had over the last six years were the result of me whining and begging you to submit due to sheer annoyance.”

“I was never annoyed with you. I just like to play hard to get.”

You looked at her in mock confusion. “Hmm, you weren't that hard for me to get.”

“But if anyone asks, I was. I have a reputation to uphold here.” Ada teased. She playfully booped your nose just to see it scrunch up in reaction. Her smile widened as your brows furrowed in slight irritation from the gesture. “So… is that vacation a no?”

You quickly shake your head. “No! Not a no. I wouldn't mind taking a breather. Any place you have in mind?”

Ada shrugged with a smug smirk. “I have an idea or two. But it's a surprise.”

You had a love/hate relationship with surprises. Under normal circumstances, you hated not knowing what “surprise” someone thought up involving you. But with Ada, you tend to love whatever surprise she had for you. She never did anything that would make you uncomfortable and always took note of whatever interested you and kept them in mind for said surprises in the future.

“Hmm, alright. Knowing you, I wouldn't hate it.” You accepted.

Ada goes to respond when a voice from behind you interrupted, making her freeze for a moment as she looked over your shoulder.

“So this is what you have been up to these last six years, Ada. Playing house.”

You quickly turned to face the intruder as Ada moved to subtly stand slightly between you and the unknown man. He looked vaguely familiar. But you couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Though judging by the way Ada was immediately on guard, you could easily assume the stranger was bad news.

“I quite honestly never pegged you as the type to settle down. You always seemed to prefer to be constantly on the move.” The man said.

You observed him as he walked closer to the two of you. His demeanor screamed professional and dangerous. The type of guy with a no nonsense and straight to business attitude. He seemed completely unbothered by your presence, or by the gun in your hand that you took out and had pointed at him as you moved to stand by Ada. So she wouldn't be in the crossfire.

The man had blonde, slicked back hair and pale skin. His age seemed to be around his thirties or forties from what you could tell. He wore dark, professional clothing and donned a pair of sunglasses that covered the color of his eyes.

The sunglasses kind of reminded you of when Ada had worn hers back in Raccoon City, as they were completely pointless in the dimmed lighting of the warehouse you and Ada had deemed appropriate for training.

“Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises.” Ada purred dryly. Her guard was up. Her mask on. Unbothered. Toeing the line between professional and flirty. She nudged you slightly, her way of telling you to put your gun down. You listened, trusting her to know how best to handle the situation.

“I'm fully aware. Don't think I have forgotten that you had backed out of our deal, Ada. You're lucky I have more important things to concern myself with other than wanting you and your little girlfriend dead.” The man said.

Oh.

You should have known.

This was Albert Wesker. That's why he looked familiar. You had seen a picture of him six years ago when you were snooping through files just before Raccoon city fell. You also, very clearly, remembered that this man had wanted you dead and for Ada to do the job. You wondered if that was still the case, but decided to keep your mouth shut for the time being.

“Why are you here?” Ada questioned, wanting nothing more than to get you away from the man. But, she had to engage in conversation with him. She already knew that fighting your way out of this would be pointless and needlessly dangerous for the both of you.

She could handle this without endangering you.

“Business. I have a job for you. One that requires your particular skill set. Despite your previous failure,” Even with his sunglasses on, you could tell from his tone alone that he was giving you the side eye. “I am willing to give you another chance. And you will be paid, of course.”

Ada raised a brow as she swayed closer to shield you once more.

“That doesn't sound like you. Giving people second chances.” She skeptically stated. Though, it sounded almost like playful teasing with her mask on. You saw right through it.

“You're not the only one who is full of surprises.” Wesker deadpanned. He seemed bored of the entire conversation.

She smirked. “And if I refuse?” Ada seemed to already know the answer to this question, but asked it anyway.

“Simple. I will kill your little girlfriend here.” He pointed toward you, before turning back to Ada. “And then I will kill you. But you already knew this. Don't waste my time with idiotic questions. Now, what will it be?”

You didn't really like being so casually threatened. But you stayed silent.

Ada glanced back at you, who was quiet throughout the conversation, debating. While you felt you both could take him in a fight, you still had to consider the alternative.

Umbrella wasn't at all as powerful or influential as it was six years ago. Both you and Ada had a part in that downfall. You had a feeling Wesker knew this. Was he even a part of Umbrella still? Neither of you knew for sure.

But you had to assume that he still has some influence in whatever he was a part of. Meaning he had numbers. Meaning he had back up. Of course he has back up, he's not an idiot. You likely wouldn't make it out alive if Ada refused and tried to fight him off.

All the more reason to accept his threat/offer.

You gave her a single nod, knowing she had a similar thought process as you. She knew the best way out of this situation. She knew him better. Yet she still paused for your input, making a warm feeling pool in your chest at the fact she cared about how you felt in the situation. You forced yourself to brush it off.

Now is not the time to get distracted by the love of your girlfriend.

Ada turned to face Wesker. “We're a package deal. I won't go anywhere without her.” She said, referring to you.

Wesker looked unimpressed, but accepted nonetheless. “Very well. The payment I have in mind is more than enough for two. But if she interferes with the missions in any way, you both will regret it.”

You didn't appreciate being bad-mouthed like you weren't even there in the room to listen. You spoke up for the first time since Wesker had made his presence known.

“Don't worry, I won't sabotage the mission.” You affirmed. You had a lot more unpleasant words you wanted to say in mind, but chose to not risk the situation turning into more of a problem.

Ada nodded in agreement. “I trust her more than anyone to help me get things done.” Her sincerity shone brightly through the mask she donned for Wesker. You weren't sure he even noticed, or cared to.

“Wonderful.” Wesker deadpanned. “Shall we discuss the details.”

—

You and Ada had to endure hours of debrief from Wesker. To sum it up, the mission was to take place in a village in Spain called Los Iluminados, where you were both to obtain an object called the Amber by someone named Luis.

You've also both figured out that Wesker is part of the Organization Ada works for. And, by extension, you. The fact that for the last six years, Wesker knowingly and purposely spent the entire time staying out of your radar left you uneasy. If he wanted you dead before, why didn't he just kill you himself? He had the power.

Not knowing exactly what he was planning left you both feeling extremely uneasy. You only had educated guesses based on his past actions to go off of.

“Hey, you know everything is going to be fine, my love.” Ada voiced after you both searched the hotel room for hidden wire taps or anything that Wesker could use to spy on you with. It was clear. You could speak freely.

Her mask was off. The true Ada you know and love returned. Sincere and loving as always, worried about you and how you felt. She could sense your unease from a mile away and wanted nothing more than to comfort you.

You took off your jacket and tossed it on a lounge chair, before facing her fully. “I don't like it, Ada. I really don't.”

She nodded in agreement. “Believe me, I'm not a fan either.”

“The fact that this entire time we have been together, Wesker knew and did nothing? It worries me.” You said.

“Well, we both suspected he was fully aware of everything. Why is it so surprising?”

“Suspecting and knowing for sure are two, very different, things. I had a small peace of mind when I was oblivious. Now I want to know what the hell he is planning.”

“The only person who knows Wesker is Wesker. Not even his closest 'friends’ know him well.” Ada said. She walked over to the loveseat placed in the very large hotel space. She sat down and encouraged you to sit right next to her.

“Still, six years and not a peep. No threats. Then suddenly he needs you.” You ranted as you sat beside her, on her right side.

“It could be a test. To see if I can be trustworthy.” Ada stated a possibility.

You paused, thinking for a moment. “He sees you as a means to an end. This mission is dangerous. It's very similar to Raccoon City. If you fail, if you die, he'll just send another.”

Ada smirked, knowing you were right. It does seem like Wesker. “Sounds spot on, my love. He was saving all of his threats until we were needed for a suicide mission. He is sending all of his untrustworthy people first. If we die, which he could think is likely, then his problem will be solved.” She said to you as she placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

You lay your head upon her shoulder with a sigh. “What if we don't die and we succeed in getting the Amber? Will he actually pay us or will he kill us?”

Ada paused. “I'm not entirely sure. Though, I am willing to bet that he won't just let us go without issue.”

“So, we won't hand it over?”

“We'll decide that when the time is right.” She shrugged.

“I don't know how I feel about going to this village. From what Wesker said, it's a little too similar to Raccoon City for my tastes.”

“I agree. But we won't be there for very long. Plus, we'll be right by each other's side throughout the whole thing. You have my back, I got yours, right?”

You nodded sincerely. “Of course. I've got you.”

Ada smiled, “And I've got you.” She pulled you even closer to her, if that was even possible. While you always felt safe in Ada's arms, she always felt the same way in your own. It was a mutual comfort.

You turned into a more comfortable position to return the hug properly as you both sat there in a comfortable silence.

“Guess that vacation will have to wait, huh?” You muttered quietly into her shoulder. She hummed with laughter as she held you tightly.

“Seems like it. Don't worry, I'll make it to you eventually.”

#ada wong #resident evil #ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #albert wesker

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remotepixel · 1 month

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Hi, how would yandere avengers react if their platonic teen obsession threatens to disclose their yandere tendencies or has actually done so to the media?

Hii, thank you for requesting!!

Tw: yandere themes + kidnapping mentions

-I’m assuming this is somewhat far into the obsession, enough where it’s obvious to you that something is very wrong, but not to the ‘they’ve gone completely off the rails and everyone can tell’ point.

-Getting the evidence would already be pretty hard. Sure, you have the obvious fact they’re always hanging around you, but, they’re superheroes, people are naturally going to support their side unless you have enough proof (or, sometimes, no matter what).

-Any clear red flag (e.g. trackers) would be specially manufactured by a world-renowned genius, so a casual police search likely wouldn’t find anything, and it’d be pretty nerve-wracking to try and record a conversation with a superspy.

-However, if you do collect enough, it still wouldn’t be easy to get rid of them.

-If you threaten them, the amount of guilt-tripping would be mental. Some of them are more self-aware than others, but all of them share the same sentiment that, at the end of the day, they’re (or, think they are) helping you. They know some of their behaviour crosses normal lines, but look how much your life has improved since they’ve been around, isn’t it a good thing someone cares about you?

-All of them would be hurt by your threat, and likely back off at least for a while if you strike some sort of deal (e.g. you leave me alone, I won’t tell). But they’ll be back, or still lurking around in parts of your life.

-I think members like Natasha and Bruce, who are more self-aware yet never speak out against the more delusional ones (since they’re still working together at the end of the day), would back off the most. They don’t want you hating them even more, and, currently, your relationship is on a thin line - it’s better to back off and subtly guide you back to them then force it.

-None of them fully take your threat seriously, even if it hurts their feelings. They know they have the upper hand here: government links, popularity, influence - you’re completely out of your depths even if you think, or act, otherwise.

-If you’re still very consistent on disclosing everything to the media despite their efforts to chill, you’re likely getting kidnapped. Drastic, obviously, but it’s the only way to guarantee you’re both in their grasp and others aren’t concerned.

-If you already disclosed it however, the methods you used to go through with it play a big role in the outcome.

-As I mentioned, there’s probably trackers in your phone, both for location and general monitoring, e.g. a keylogger. The second you post your blog, or send your email to the news, it’s getting deleted and completely wiped if possible. In this case, it’s probably going to follow the same route as before, but with extra emotional pain because you didn’t even “try talking” to them.

-If you focus more on meeting up with reporters in real-life, maybe getting them to collect their own evidence in the background, there’s a higher chance of success. However, that does require having insiders in a hopefully-popular newspaper company, something a teen probably wouldn’t have.

-Assuming the avengers haven’t noticed the news coming out about them, for at least enough time that citizens are able to read and share this, panic would ensue the second they realise.

-They would experience a range of emotions, most mentioned above but some would also hold a bit of rage (not necessarily at you, your actions more so). They have one, very obvious thing they need to do now though: address the ‘rumours’.

-Deleting the reports would raise more suspicions, and they can’t just admit everything the news is saying is technically true, so they decide to try and twist this into their favour. They’ll (mainly Tony as he’s probably dealt with this sort of thing before) make up some sort of story that puts you into the wrong - like you’re lying for attention or were trying to purposely ruin their reputation for petty revenge.

-If they’re feeling really nice they may try and chalk it up as a misunderstanding, but I think it depends who has a role in writing the response. For example, Steve would think it’s slightly too far, while Tony would just think of it as a necessary outcome - he also just doesn’t like listening to Steve’s advice so.

-You become a pretty big talk in the media, but, when people start believing the avenger’s side, it’s mostly snide comments or dragging your name through the mud. The avengers would probably feel bad for the amount of slander you’re getting, assuming they didn’t before, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they deleted a few, just plain evil comments. But you forced their hand, if you haven’t had ‘lied’ in the first place, this would have never happened.

-In a way, this may just bring you closer to them. With what feels like the whole world against you, the only people who really seem to care anymore are the avengers. They might even offer you a deal - you admit you were lying to the media, apologize, and they’ll publicly support you. Sure, it won’t get everyone off your back, and you’re be scared to even go outside in case reporters are there, but it means you have the most powerful team in your corner again, and isn’t that what you need?

#platonic yandere #yandere mcu #yandere marvel #platonic yandere mcu #platonic yandere marvel #platonic yandere avengers #yandere avengers #RemotePixel

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blue-slxt · 10 months

Text

Two Can Play - Chapter 4

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Here comes the pain lol. No seriously though, I get emotional reading this chapter all the time. Maybe I'm just a softy, but it just gets to me. Inspired by Search & Rescue by @pandorxxx check her out! All characters are aged up.

Previous Part | Next Part

Pairing: Lo'ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Creampie, Panic Attacks, Alcohol, Angst, Mentions of Death, I think that's all

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You finally decide to drop the L word.

The light of the sun arouses you from your sleep. You bury your face into the material of your hammock hoping to drift back into your sweet dreams, but it’s useless. There’s an unfamiliar weight sitting on your waist and a warmth on your back. It’s almost comforting enough to carry you back to sleep. You finally open your eyes and turn your head to see the blissfully unaware Lo’ak sleeping soundly behind you and his arm holding you in place. You turn yourself over carefully so that you don’t wake him just yet. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. Nothing like his mischievous, overly confident attitude he typically wears. He looks so sweet.

How long had it been since you actually slept in the comforting embrace of another person?

You catch yourself analyzing the features of his face. Up close, it’s easier to see the slightly human-like features he has. It makes him unique. It makes him beautiful. Truly one-of-a-kind. Your fingers ghost over his face to lightly trace over the patterns his freckles make while you commit them to memory. This is dangerous. The swell of your heart is setting off every internal emergency alarm you have in your head. This is not how you do things. You do not open up. You do not fall for your hookups. But when Lo’ak’s eyes slowly flutter open to look at you and his half-awake, husky voice calls out a quiet “Good morning, sevin”, Eywa, he might as well have just set you ablaze. Even then, literal flames would pale in comparison to the heat that radiates through your body right now.

“Good morning, Lo’ak” you whisper to him before pecking his nose. “It is time to wake up.”

Lo’ak groans and buries his face to hide in your chest, “But then that means I have to move. I’d rather stay here.”

Your hand strokes the top of his head, “I know, but we have responsibilities. I have chores and you have training.”

You reluctantly remove yourself from his hold and make your way across your tent to start slicing a piece of fruit. “You want a piece?”

Lo’ak finally pushes himself up from the hammock and comes to join you for your small, simple breakfast.

When you’re finished, you both straighten out your clothes and hair before leaving. Before you go your separate ways for the day, Lo’ak grabs you by your waist and asks, “So, will I see you later?” His voice is trying to play it off like a suggestive joke, but you can see the neediness in his eyes. It makes this fluttery feeling erupt in your stomach.

“Of course”, you wink up at him. You quickly peck him on the lips and wiggle free from his hold, “See you later.”

He turns around to leave in the direction he needs to go for his training. You watch him leave for a second before continuing in your own direction. When you do turn around, you see none other than Ako watching you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit. Caught in the act.

“Ummm what was that?” A playful smile plays on her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you play dumb and walk past her.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just you and Lo’ak openly locking lips?” she chases after you trying to keep up with your pace.

“I don’t know. I mean we’re kinda together now, I think. I mean he stayed the night and –”

“You let him stay the night with you? Oh, Great Mother, you’re actually falling for him aren’t you?” her face is lighting up with excitement.

“I don’t know. I mean maybe…just a little…” trying to fight the smile coming through your face is futile.

“Plus…” she gets a little closer to you and inhales deeply, “you smell different….”

Your face flushes when you lift your wrist to your nose and you’re hit with remnants of Lo’ak seared into your skin.

“You let him scent you! Oh, this is serious! You’ve never let anyone do that before! Give me all the details. I want to hear everything about everything!”

“Well, I don’t think I can tell you everything…you know?” you raise your eyebrows at her trying to imply what you mean.

Ako’s eyes almost jump out of her head at the realization, “You mean you and him!? You finally—”

“Shhh, keep your voice down!” It wasn’t that you wanted to keep your relationship with Lo’ak a secret. If anything, you wanted to shout about it from the top of the Hallelujah Mountains. But you didn’t feel like everybody needed to know all the intimate details.

“Well, now you’ve really gotta fill me in. I’m invested!” Ako leans in towards you hanging on your every word. Her enthusiasm is amusing.

“I’ll tell you as much as I can, but can we forage while we talk?”

“Deal!”

…

Admittedly, you and Ako spend more time talking than actually gathering fruit. You relay as much as you can to her without getting into all the gritty details. That wasn’t really like you. Normally, there are no boundaries when it comes to you and Ako. You would never hesitate to spill all the information about who you were with. But this one felt different. It felt more personal and intimate and you wanted to keep that as something between just you and Lo’ak. You wanted to treasure your experience. And Ako, being the amazing friend that she is, doesn’t prod you for any more info than you’re comfortable giving.

“So, the bet is off then, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’d say so. His exact words were ‘fuck the bet’ so I’m not really sure what else that could mean.” You were grateful that the wager was over. Even though you went into it with the utmost confidence in your victory, Lo’ak quickly proved himself to be a tough nut to crack.

When it’s time for dinner, you and Ako share the latest gossip while you wait for Lo’ak to show up. Big arms fold themselves around your waist from behind and a face nuzzles into the back of your neck, “I missed you”. As usual, you don’t need to turn around to see who it is. “I missed you too”, one of your hands rests on top of his sitting on your waist. Ako fake gags at your sickeningly sweet display poking fun at you both. Regardless, you all sit together and laugh as Lo’ak insists that you sit nowhere else, but his lap. He is relentless and you give in. He seemed to have that kind of effect on you.

Somehow, something about him made it damn near impossible for you to deny him now. You couldn’t quite place it, but something about him was irresistible to you now. He truly was like a drug to you in every way.

Sitting in his lap and feeling the gentle up and down motion of his chest as he breathes is soothing. It’s calming. What’s really making it hard to focus is feeling his half-hard bulge under your ass. It makes your mouth salivate, but you swallow it down and push away the dirty thoughts creeping in your head. But when Lo’ak reaches forward to grab a piece of meat and his lips just graze your sweet spot below your ear, you’re almost trembling from your own self-restraint. One look at his smug smirk only confirms that he’s doing this on purpose. You’ve never been the type to get easily flustered, but Lo’ak somehow knew what buttons to push to turn you into a blushing, stuttering fool. It was equally embarrassing and impressive.

At the end of dinner, Lo’ak walks you home again and he holds your hand the whole way. It earns you some nasty glares from some of your past hookups no doubt feeling a huge pang of jealousy and from girls that still had their heart set on being with him. But you’re so caught up in your own joy, how could you bring yourself to care?

When you reach your tent, you hold Lo’ak’s hand a little bit tighter, “Did you wanna…stay the night again?”

He pulls you closer by your hand, “Do you want me to?”

Your eyes fall to the ground as you weakly nod your head. He chuckles lightly to himself, “You are adorable” and he kisses your forehead before leading you into the tent.

For the next month, you and Lo’ak continue to let your relationship bloom into something more serious. Most nights, he stayed the night with you in your tent. On occasion, you two would visit the pond again when one of you had a particularly stressful day and needed to blow off some steam. And Lo’ak is like a true gentleman which is the last thing you expected. He often offers to help you with tasks no matter how menial, just to spend more time with you. He also would gift you flowers that he’d randomly find out in the forest. Or he’d let you pick extra food from his plate at meals. And he was very touchy. Lo’ak is very much into PDA which makes you feel a little flustered from time to time, but ultimately, you enjoyed having someone love on you so openly. He would hold your hand, wrap his tail around your leg, kiss your temple, and nuzzle his face into your neck unafraid of what anybody else thought about it. It was sweet. Lo’ak turned out to be much more of a softy than you expected.

Not to mention, the sex was mind blowing. No matter how many times you guys did it, it was still as good as the first time. You never got tired of the way he filled your pussy perfectly as if your walls were specifically sculpted to accommodate his length and girth and curve. Most nights, you two just couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. And Lo’ak always looked at you full of love and adoration. He worshiped your body every single time, even on the nights that he was rougher with you. He never stopped telling you how perfect he thought you were and how good you felt and how he could never want anything else. He sang you words of praise along with every orgasm that rushed through you. It was like a dream.

But your connection grew beyond the physicality of it all. Lo’ak took the time to try and get to know you as a person and you let him. You opened up to him about the passing of your parents in a hunting accident and your panic attacks and your deepest kept secrets and fears. He probably knew you the most out of anyone by now even though it’s been such a short amount of time. And vice versa. He would tell you about his insecurities when it came to being compared to his older brother and the nasty things people would say about him being ‘half-breed’ because of his extra finger. People could be so cruel. If you were being perfectly honest, half of the time, you forgot he even had an extra finger. It never bothered you in the slightest. As far as you were concerned, it was just that much more of him to love. And you were starting to feel like you did love him. Neither of you have said it yet, though. You want to wait for the right time, but when is the right time? You deliberately prevented yourself from letting it slip while you were having sex because you didn’t want him to think you were only saying it because you were getting caught up in the heat of the moment. But you also wanted the moment to be something special and intimate. The timing just always felt off.

And then it hits you. There’s a festival coming up in a couple of days. It’s only for the young people at mating age. It’s sort of a mixer for people to get to know each other and scope out potential mates ahead of the approaching fertility season. It’s not exclusively for unmated people, though. People that are already mated can attend too. That night can be your opportunity.

Lo’ak has a day off from training today and instead of taking the day to rest, he elects to come with you and Ako to gather flowers for the festival. The petals will be scattered around the area to help provide a more romantic atmosphere.

It feels like your excitement will eat you alive thinking about finally spilling your feelings to Lo’ak. Across the way, he smiles watching you get lost in the rich colors of the petals in your hand. The serene far-away look in your eyes warms his heart. And the small upwards tug at the corners of your lips, your perfectly full and soft lips, he can’t help the way his tail swishes behind him. Only one word comes to mind to perfectly sum up how you look to him in this moment, “Gorgeous”. It was barely a whisper, but Ako catches it behind him.

“I can feel my teeth rotting from how sweet your love is” she muses at him.

His face flushes a deep color at the mention of the word ‘love’. He tries to stutter out a retort, but to no avail. At the same time, you walk back over to him with a hand full of fresh flowers to drop in the basket he’s holding, “Look at how beautiful these ones are, Lo’ak!” He freezes in the face of your enthusiasm still blushing. Your head cocks to the side looking at him curiously, “What’s got you all nervous?” He’s still struggling to put coherent words together and it just makes you giggle. You scrunch your nose at him, “skxawng” you tease before turning to go pick more flowers.

…

“Ahh….Haah Lo’ak!...S-shit, I’m close!” you call out while your hips rock back and forth on top of Lo’ak. His hands hold your hips with bruising force guiding your movements while you grind on him. His eyes are closed tight, but he forces them open to watch you lose yourself on him.

“Yeah, keep moving just like that. Fuck I’m fill you up so good.” From this angle, every push from his hips presses his tip into your sweet spot perfectly. It drives you to fall into your orgasm with eye-rolling pleasure. And the clenching and unclenching of your walls coaxes Lo’ak’s own release out of him and deep inside of you. Your legs shake riding out your high until they give out and you fall forward on top of him.

Your head still feels so light and dizzy that you don’t even care about the layer of sweat on both of your bodies sticking you together. Over the last month that you two have been together, his stamina has improved drastically. But there are still nights when you would absolutely ruin him and render him down to a whimpering, writhing mess and it’s one of your favorite things.

“You know we should be getting ready. The festival is going to be starting soon.” He says next to your ear. You take a few deep breaths still steadying your thundering heart. You hum out a small ‘mhm’ not really wanting to move yet. “You gonna be okay with my cum running down your legs all night?” his tone is light and playful and it makes you laugh.

“Well, at least it will let all the other guys know that I’m not available.”

“You’re damn right” he throws his arms around you and squeezes you tight. “But we do need to get dressed, sevin.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and roll your eyes, “fine”. You begrudgingly pull yourself from his embrace and lift your hips from his. Sure enough, his cum starts racing down your thighs. You quickly find a spare cloth to wipe yourself down with before looking through your clothing options for the night.

“What do you think? Feathers or beads?” you hold up two tops for Lo’ak to choose between for you.

“I like the beads. The colors go well with your eyes” he’s casual when he says it, but it’s still enough to make you want to blush. You tie the top on while Lo’ak rummages around his own clothes looking for something to wear. You’re not sure exactly when it happened, but out of nowhere, more of his stuff would find a spot in your home. It’s not like you minded it though since he practically lived with you at this point. And his stuff was a nice reminder of him for the nights that he didn’t sleep over. In truth, it made you that much more excited to tell him that you love him tonight.

You finish pulling on your outfit and accessories and turn around to face Lo’ak, “Alright, how do I look?”

“Stunning” is the only word he gives you, but it says everything.

Your fingers start to fidget with each other and Lo’ak grabs one of your hands to kiss your knuckles, “Let’s get going.”

…

The atmosphere is definitely romantic. There are flower petals littered all around the ground and the scent they give off heightens your awareness of other people’s pheromones. Torches dimly light the area giving off an intimate aura. There’s lots of fruit and alcohol and loud music.

You stand with Ako near the food while you watch Lo’ak talking to a couple of his warrior friends. Every now and then, he gestures over to you while talking to them and you would offer him a small wave when you’d catch his gaze.

“I think I’m gonna do it tonight, Ako” you’re clutching the cup of alcohol in your hand that you’ve been sipping on hoping it will give you the last little bit of courage you need.

“Gonna do what?”

“I’m going to tell Lo’ak that I l-love him…” your words trail off feeling very shy at saying it out loud for the first time.

The smile on Ako’s face could split her face in half with how big it stretches. She squeals and jumps up and down in front of you clearly overjoyed for you.

“Calm down, you’re gonna spill your drink” you say as you hold her shoulders to keep her in place.

“So when are you going to do it? Are you going to do it right now?”

“I’m going to wait until they play a slow song. I’ll ask him to dance and then, that’s when I’ll do it. That feels right, right?” your nerves are totally shot so you take another swig of your drink.

“Awww I think that sounds perfect. You guys are so good together. I can’t remember the last time you’ve been so consistently happy.” It’s true. Ako has seen you at so many different stages of your life. She knew you before all of your conquests and she’s seen you grow and change into a completely different person. And now you have a similar glint of hope in your eye again like before.

At the same time, while you’re distracted talking to Ako, another girl approaches Lo’ak. A girl named Fea comes running over to Lo’ak out of breath and seemingly almost panicked. “Lo’ak, I need your help. My friend, she fell in the woods, I think she hurt her ankle and now she can’t walk and I can’t carry her. Can you come help?”

Lo’ak looks back over at you for a moment and you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Ako. ‘This probably won’t take too long’ he figures. “Alright, show me where.” He hands his drink to one of his buddies before letting Fea lead him to where her friend was hurt.

Your ears perk up at the tempo change of the music. It’s a slow song. This was it. This was the moment you’ve been waiting for. You hand your drink off to Ako, but when you turn around to find Lo’ak, he’s not there anymore. Your eyes inspect the crowd of people around you trying to find him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. That’s weird. Where could he have gone?

Now you feel anxiety pooling in your gut. What if something happened to him? What if he drank too much and wandered off somewhere? Is he lost? Is he hurt? Your worry draws you into the woods in search of your love.

Meanwhile, once they had wandered a little ways away from the festival, Fea turns and corners Lo’ak against a tree. “What are you doing?” his eyes narrow at her genuinely confused at what was happening.

“Lo’ak, I miss you. We had something so good. When are you going to stop playing house with that slut and come back where you belong?” she presses herself closer to Lo’ak until her face is only inches from his. He tries to pull his head back, but there’s almost nowhere he can actually go. Not to mention, the alcohol has his head feeling dizzy and unorganized.

“Fea, I already told you, we’re done. There’s nothing between us anymore.” He says sternly.

“Oh, come on, Lo’ak. Just let me make you feel good. I still remember how you like it” her hand shoots down to hold his dick through his loincloth and she crashes her lips to his. She starts stroking him at a quick pace and her lips muffle his words of protest.

He finally finds the strength in his arms to push Fea off of him. But it’s too late.

“Lo’ak?” your voice was little more than a whisper, but Lo’ak heard you loud and clear. His head whips around to see you standing in the tall grass behind them clearly witnessing whatever just happened. Now, the panic sets in on Lo’ak’s face. “No no no, this is not what it looks like.”

It feels like all the air has been stolen from your lungs. You don’t even feel the tears fill your eyes because they’re just rushing straight down your face already. Words. Words. Find some words! But you can’t. There are no words that could do justice to the feeling that’s gripping your chest right now.

“Listen, I can explain, okay? I swear—” Lo’ak moves towards you, but you take a step back away from him. There truly are no words. So, you say nothing and just turn and run instead. “Wait!” he calls out after your retreating figure, but it only serves in making you pick up your pace.

“Well, that was easy” Fea pipes up from where she was still standing.

Lo’ak is seething looking at her, “Hear me right now, I want nothing to do with you. Ever.”

“But Lo—”

“Ever.”

She rolls her eyes before huffing off back to the festival.

“Shit.” Lo’ak whispers to himself before finally taking off after you.

Your feet carry you back home faster than ever before. What a fool. What a fool you’ve been. How could you have possibly allowed yourself to end up in this position? How stupid. You broke your own rules and now you were paying the price for it.

You break through the entrance of your home and fall to your knees, chest heaving from running and sobbing. Looking around, his belongings are scattered everywhere and where they once brought you a sense of comfort, now they only brought you disgust. And his scent that still lingered in your skin was now repulsive. You wanted to just crawl right out of your skin to escape it. It had to go. You needed all of his stuff out of your home, right now. Your body moves on pure instinct throwing all his belongings out of your tent. You couldn’t care less about all his stuff now as it flies out of your entrance.

Before long, Lo’ak comes bursting into your tent dodging the storm of items being flung his way. “Listen, I can explain!” he says between trying to catch his breath.

Your body stiffens and now suddenly instead of being lost for words, it feels like tidal waves of fury push a never-ending stream of words out of you.

“I TRUSTED YOU!” You scream at him. Your tone makes his ears press to his head.

“I-I trusted you….” Your voice cracks and your lip quivers.

Lo’ak’s face and body droop at the sound of your sobs. “Sevin, listen to me—” he makes another attempt to move towards you.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you back away from him again.

“You know what, well played, Lo’ak. You win. I have to admit, you really had me going. ‘Fuck the bet’? I mean that was a good touch.” Your words are laced with sarcasm and bitterness. “Sevin—”

“Don’t fucking call me that. Don’t you dare. You win alright? I lost the bet because I fucking fell for you and your bullshit! Y-you…you actually got me to l-love you…” sobs break your train of thought and you can feel yourself about to start hyperventilating. And now the tears are steadily streaming down his face too.

“Just…just please go…please” you quietly plead with him. It’s physically painful to be in his presence right now.

“But I—”

“GET OUT!” you hiss at him. The panic is creeping in and you don’t want him here when it fully consumes you.

Lo’ak reluctantly turns to step out of your tent and gather his discarded items. He looks back at you one last time before he heads to his family’s tent.

Once he’s out of sight, you let the weight of your grief drop you to the floor. Shaking hands cover your face while you wail your heart out. And no one was coming for you this time.

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