#and it fucking sucks because we dated for five years and it was so good for so long
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#I wish I could stop caring as easily as her#but unfortunately my feelings are just going to constantly get hurt over and over forever#when it’s obvious she doesn’t value our friendship as much as I do#I’ve learned to stop texting beyond holidays for the most part because it hurts getting disappointed when I don’t get answers#but it really fucking sucks she saw my insta story about my birthday but couldn’t bother saying anything to me#good to know where we stand#but again: idk why I’m surprised when she has not told me directly when she:#moved to my state from the opposite coast#set a wedding date and also got married#and moved a half an hour away from me#had to find that all out from the internet#so why would my birthday matter? lmao I’m an idiot#like at least she’s remembered in past years and does answer on holidays but#she hasn’t texted me first beyond my birthday last year in like two years#anyway wish I didn’t feel like crying rn#personal#to be deleted#and I feel conceited for caring but I know it’s not#and it extra sucks to still be hurt about another ex best friend that ghosted me years ago that shares my birthday so the sadness is just#inevitable#especially when combined with the fact that my dad’s birthday is in five days#so I’m just kinda sad around and on my birthday every year
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I want to murder the love I feel for the man that cheated on me twice and beat the fuck out of me every day while claiming he loved me more than anything
#He is now dating the girl he cheated on me with at LEAST twice FOUR years ago :-)#so awesome and great for me to know they probably stayed in contact that whole time! love that!#found out bc he got a text and it said ‘I could kiss you all day’.#while we were together and everything was fine. I don’t understand why he did that.#this shit literally makes me want to off myself lol#and it fucking sucks because we dated for five years and it was so good for so long#and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone#but there’s nothing I can do#he also was the one who got me addicted to fentanyl.#and as soon as he went to rehab and got sober he left me. I wasn’t clean yet and could have died and he just left.#found out soon after he’d been seeing her.#when he cheated he sent me multiple pictures of her naked and her in our bed.#and my dumbass got back together with him.#every time#I was fucked up before this relationship but now I am literally irreparable#I can’t heal from this shit#he’d tell me to kill myself#and say he wished I was dead#knowing how difficult shit was for me and how suicidal I was#he’d strangle me and spit on me and trip me and punch me in the face#he’d constantly tell me I ruined every aspect of his life and that I was the worst thing that ever happened to him.#then he’d tell me that I’m abusive because of my mental illnesses.#I’m so tired :(#I’m so fucking damaged and broken from this shit I cannot even put it into words.#abuse tw#physical abuse tw#physical abuse cw
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— sharing ★ with: bts
#pairings: bf!jungkook X friends!bts X reader
#synopsis: where your boyfriend decides to ask his friends what they want to see
#tags: pwp, group sex, blowjob, rough oral sex (m.), fingering (f.), humiliation, degradation, cumslut, spit, sperm, tears, free use (?). aftercare mentioned but not shown. mention of bisexual jungkook
#notes: this is more fetishistic than usual on this blog, so DON'T READ if you're uncomfortable with 7 guys cumming on your face and swearing at you.
#wc: 2,2k
you see your friends after a months, like since you and jungkook are living together you don't see them. it's funny, cause you are friends an years ago, but at a some months you just can't see each other.
"you're so hot dressing like that, maybe if we fuck before the guys comes..." jungkook said lifting your skirt and rubbing your hole.
"namjoon text me, he said that come in five minutes with the guys"
"i promise that i can make you cum in five minutes"
you laughed, because you know that’s real…
but the other six guys are at your door in five minutes. not just six guys but six best friends of yours.
"i know that we fucked yesterday, but god, i need eat your pussy again, i'm addicted, i need fuck you every hour, every minute, every second, night after night..." despite the completely dirty speech, jungkook was kissing his shoulder calmly.
“the guys are coming in any minute” you tried to convince yourself.
“don't be so mean to me, give me that dirty little hole, please”
jungkook moved one of his hands up to the thin strap of your shirt, pulling it down and exposing your nipples, he turned you around, putting his mouth there without any ceremony. you were used to your boyfriend's tongue, how he sucked and bit the nipple of your breast with devotion.
and then the doorbell rang.
"jungkook, stop, the boys are here." you tried to stop your boyfriend.
"i'm sure they wouldn't mind seeing me fuck you, baby. and you don't mind showing how that tight hole stretches with my cock, sure?”
god, this is a FUCKING true, you and jungkook are worse than each other, but more than showing, you'd easily let them stretch you too!
"i know exactly what you thought, dirty little girl." he said before going back to sucking your nipples.
and then they rang the doorbell again.
"holy shit!" jungkook complained, going to open the door, you are trying clumsily to put your clothes in place.
when the other six men entered your house you smiled, you missed them, namjoon was the first to hug you, leaving a kiss on your forehead in a gentle way, and damn, you had seen some photos he posted at the gym, but he was BIG…
seokjin came next, the tall man kissing your hand before giving you a cute hug.
and after, jimin came, leaving a wet kiss on your cheek as he always did, the blonde guy had a scent that was enough to make your panties even wetter.
shit, jungkook shouldn’t have teased you.
you noticed that taehyung whispered something to yoongi, who laughed, muttering something like 'have decency?' and only then did you notice that, probably due to jungkook's saliva, her breasts were wet, and the thin shirt clearly marked this.
"oh, yes! you disturbed us, i was dying to fuck my wife and you arrived."
a lot of things happened in that sentence, jungkook calling you 'my wife' and mainly, him exposing your sex life to all his friends.
it's not like they didn't imagine, you were friends before you and jungkook dated, the other six knew what you were like, and how jungkook was too, it was a matter of adding a + b, sometimes they would say something in the group chat, but It was the first time they had said something like that in front of them.
"if you want to fuck her, i don't care, as long as i can watch. it's not like i've never fucked you guys." hoseok said as if she wished a 'good morning'.
and that was the truth, besides jungkook, you had already had sex with at least four of your friends, and the same went for him, it's very likely that that's why he wasn't jealous.
"oh, can i? because i really want to do this."
god, your boyfriend was a perv.
“please, i miss seeing her tits.” namjoon confessed, reminding you of how he loved being on top of you, sucking your nipple to make you relax on his fat cock.
“dude, respect my girl!”
jungkook scolded namjoon, but you knew it was a joke as soon as your boyfriend came behind you, pulling the strap of your shirt down and exposing your breasts to his friends.
if you stopped to think about it, you would think it was crazy, your boyfriend sharing you with six other guys, but on the other hand, the other six guys were your friends, and you wanted much more than just looks at you.
“does anyone want to see anything else?” jungkook asked, making you feel your panties soaking, you felt like an exposed slut, a trophy, and that would never be a bad thing.
"her panties" seokjin said, looking at you with devotion, you had never done anything other than kiss him at a party.
“i want something” taehyung said.
"what do you want to see?"
"i want to see her on her knees sucking my cock." it was direct.
"if you suck taehyung's cock you'll have to suck mine too!' yoongi spoke up.
"and certainly mine too." jimin said, rubbing his thumb across his lips.
“let me get this straight,” jungkook scratched his throat. "are you saying to my face that you want my wife to give you a blowjob?"
"it was you who offered her to us like a prostitute." hoseok spoke up, unbuckling his belt.
god, you never felt so horny, your boyfriend and your friends discussed you as if you were even in that room.
"what do you think about this, baby?" Jungkook asked you.
"well..." you just walked around the counter, heading towards the sofa (being followed by the seven men as if they were puppies), and then removed your skirt and the blouse that was around your waist.
jungkook came to you, kissing you as you removed his clothes, his fingers brushing the white lace of your wet panties as you let out little moans into his mouth. your boyfriend was completely turned on, rubbing his pecs on your nipples making you moan even more.
"my little slut is so greedy, seven guys in your mouth? will you be able to handle it?"
"i need to get it!"
"good whore!" he kissed you one last time. "you don't deserve that much, organize yourself to kiss her in pairs, and you know her and the word, anything I'll insist on killing each one of you.”
jungkook barely finished and jimin and seokjin came close to you, jimin from behind, pressing his already hard cock on your back, and seokjin on your belly, at that moment you wanted both of them inside you, but all you got was seokjin sucking and nibbling your nipples while jimin kissed you and played with your wet panties. you moaning to the two of them while the other five watched everything.
you didn't even notice when taehyung and yoongi arrived, their firm hands using you to rub themself, it was pathetic, the pinch that yoongi gave your left nipple while your hand was inside taehyung's pants made you scream in pain, but mixed with pleasure, you liked that aggressive way.
"are you going to call me daddy again tonight?" namjoon asked as he approached you with hoseok, sticking two fingers into your pussy without any warning when hoseok’s kissing you “i missed that drippy messy hole.” namjoon goes fast, he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you moan so loud because everything is even hotter when you see all those other men looking at you.
"i think the guys will like to see this" hoseok moved out of your way, exposing everyone to the image of you moaning into namjoon's fingers.
"so pretty our bimbo slut!" jimin said, watching the scene.
your boyfriend wanted to tell namjoon to stop it, take you to the bedroom and fuck you until his body shut down, but just seeing how much fun you were having with it all made him wait.
namjoon adds a third finger in without warning and you're feel so humiliated, leak around his hands when he fucks his fingers in and out of your cunt at an insane rhythm.
"tell your boyfriend how much you miss my cock opening all that hole, how much you miss your girl juices running down my cock. how you love look at my cock crammed in your tight pussy” and then he took his fingers out of you, rubbing them on your lips and forcing you to kneel on the floor. “you're not going to cum, unless whore, you're going to shove our dicks down your throat and let us cum all over your body, then your boyfriend sees what he does to you full of other men's cum”
and then you noticed the other six men approach you with their dicks in their hands, taehyung was the first to pull your hair, and you were agile with your warm tongue tracing his dick up and down.
while his tongue was still on taehyung, hoseok rubbed his balls in your face, and you tried to grab them on your tongue too, but it was in vain.
“jungkook you date a prostitute!” seokjin said when you grabbed his dick, starting a masturbation.
"i'm sure she can handle two" jimin said, shoving his cock along with taehyung's down your throat.
and you sucked it, not even you know how, but you sucked it like it was the most delicious lollipop in the world while they both thrust hard into your throat.
at one point in the night, you had jimin and taehyung's dick in your mouth and seokjin and hoseok one in each hand. namjoon, jungkook and yoongi took turns rubbing their dicks over your body and slapping your chest and face.
jimin took his dick out of your mouth, and you fit seokjin's cock, watching from the side as jimin started jerking off.
yoongi was in your right hand, you caressing his balls.
you felt some tears in your eyes, sometimes hitting your friends' thighs to make them stop for you to breathe, before returning to the aggressive pace.
the feeling was much more pleasant due to the environment than the sexual act itself, since you could barely actually suck the dicks, every time someone was coming in and out of your mouth.
"i think this stupid bitch was too greedy, she hasn't choked on my dick yet" namjoon complained, making you release seokjin and hoseok's dick that were in your mouth, when the two came out, an absurd amount of saliva ran out of you, it was humiliating, but you didn't have much time to think as soon namjoon grabbed your hair and made your nose touch his pelvis.
and then yoongi and jungkook joined him, rubbing their balls all over your face while you just opened your mouth and gladly accepted whatever they gave you.
"you look like a bitch in heat, trying to suck all these dicks when you clearly can't!" yoongi complained.
and this triggered a series of humiliations.
"disgusting mouth, can't even suck dick properly!" jimin said.
"i'm ashamed to say that that mouth touched my dick." seokjin said as he buried his throat on his cock, making you cough and cry.
"i think the only good hole in you is your pussy." namjoon said shortly after spitting at you, encouraging the other six to do the same.
no matter how much they cursed and humiliated you, you had never felt so good, the feeling of having seven men in a circle around you was inexplicable.
and when hoseok left your mouth just to cum you felt even better.
his sperm falling down your face and breasts, mixing with that of jimin and taehyung who came soon after.
“our cumslut, so disgusting, free whore, thank u, jungkook” taehyung joked, grabbing your hair.
you came back with namjoon's dick in your mouth, choking and coughing several times as he fucked your mouth with even greater force than he used to do in your other holes.
“dating jungkook made you stupid, that mouth doesn't do anything right!” namjoon shouted, pulling his dick out of your throat only to spit a thick string of saliva there and hit you on face.
your face full of other guys cum while he was still sucking namjoon was what made your boyfriend cum on your face, making namjoon's big cock a little dirty.
"be useful at least a little and make me cum in that throat" yoongi said.
you put yoongi's dick back in your mouth, sucking it and namjoon's as they fucked you, and you saw stars as they came together and filled your throat, so full to the point that it leaked out of your mouth even though you tried to swallow.
you cum, without any stimulation other than the humiliation and the cum on your body, you just came so hard that your body shook.
you were a mess, your entire body and the room floor is a mixture of tears, cum, and spit. and you were still fucking wet.
"do you want some help with her?" your friends offered, after putting on your clothes and seeing that you were completely destroyed.
“no need,” jungkook thanked. "i take care of my princess."
and then the other six walked over to you, giving you a careful peck on the mouth before being led to the door.
#bts x reader#bts x you#bts smut#bts#bts x fem!reader#bts x y/n#jungkook x you#ao3#jungkook smut#jk x you#jk smut#jk x reader#jk#namjoon x y/n#namjoon x you#namjoon smut#namjoon#rm#rm smut#kim seokjin#seokjin smut#jin smut#seokjin x reader#seokjin x y/n#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#jung hoseok#hoseok x reader
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The Backup || Jake Seresin x Reader [teaser]
“That can’t happen again.”
“It will.”
You sighed loudly, flinging yourself backward onto the mound of pillows, knowing that he was right. Jake rolled off the bed, tugging on his boxers.
He grinned. “Any more bad dates planned for this week?”
“A blind date on Friday,” you replied, rolling onto your side to face him as Jake got dressed. “Someone that a secretary from my work knows.”
“A blind date, really?”
Ignoring his comment, you replied, “What about you?”
“No plans.”
“Which means that you’ll have a date lined up by Thursday.”
“And it’ll be a flop and we’ll be right back here on Friday night.”
“I’m serious Jake, this can’t keep happening.” You stepped out of bed, slipping on a silk robe and tying it tightly around your middle. “We can’t be each other’s fallback every time a date goes sideways.”
“So end it,” he said. “You’re the one that called me tonight, remember?”
“I’m weak,” you replied and Jake chuckled.
“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but weak isn’t one of them. Except when it comes to those mall pretzels.”
“Well those are objectively the best.”
“True.”
You watched as Jake finished getting dressed, tying his shoelaces, slipping on his jacket. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Are we fucking each other up by doing this? Like are we the reason that every single date goes bad? Because I feel like lately they all end up sucking.”
“The dates are bad because our options are bad,” Jake replied. “We’re not cursed, Stinky. That’s just how these things go. You date and date and just when you think you want to fling yourself over the Golden Gate you find one person who suddenly makes things work. And then you live your weird Hallmark lives together forever.”
“You, Jake Seresin, believe that?” You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to the guy I met three years ago who didn’t realize that girls don’t want to come over to your fucking Tenderloin apartment and see a bed without a bed frame?”
“I loved that apartment and it was dirt cheap,” Jake argued. “Besides, you’re not much better. Remember when you thought guys actually liked girls who wore Birkenstocks?”
“They’re comfortable!”
“You looked like you were going to yell at me for not using a reusable jar to grind my own peanut butter at Whole Foods for twenty dollars an ounce. It was heinous. Also they smelled like ass.” Hence, the nickname that you hoped would die but never did.
“You’re just saying that because your type is girls who stomp around in size five Aquazzura heels on Market Street and have their daddy’s Amex card numbers memorized.”
“Better than your type. Mr. Couch potato, looks practically homeless and asks you to split the check at dinner because he’s too cheap to pay for your baked potato.”
“That happened twice, that’s not a pattern.”
“More than once is concerning.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed because I can’t fucking stand you.”
“Stop stroking my ego.”
“Goodnight, Seresin,” you said, walking toward the kitchen, your back to him. “Slam the door on your face on your way out, won’t you?”
“Night Stinky,” he said and you could hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway. “See you next weekend!”
You grabbed a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge door and slammed it, a little too hard, the sound of bottles inside rattling as you unscrewed the cap and chugged directly from the bottle. It was acidic, probably too old, but it would do the trick. Anything to block out Jake’s words that haunted the quiet air of your apartment even after he was gone.
He was right. Somehow the two of you always fell into bed together. The dates always went belly up. Hinge, Raya, Bumble, League. No app worked. No blind set up. It was like clockwork: you’d spend an hour getting ready for a date, and within five minutes you’d know that at the end you’d call an Uber to take you to Jake’s. Or vice versa: he’d show up at your door with a pocketful of condoms and a smirk. It always ended the same way. For almost a year, you and Jake had been filling the gaps of your dating life with each other. Friends with benefits. No strings.
And, of course, you made a point to keep it from the friend group. Coyote would throw an absolute fit if he found out.
[Note: Special shoutout to @clancycucumber230 for the idea!]
#jake hangman fic#top gun fanfiction#jake seresin#top gun imagine#jake hangman x you#jake seresin au#jake hangman imagine#hangman fanfiction#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman x reader#top gun x you#top gun x reader
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gosh darn it tumblr. 😭 my original ask had a request for daniel x female reader where they're at daniel's place doing homework & the reader gets distracted by how attractive he is (aka horny) and one thing leads to another and they end up fucking and that homework gets shoved off the bed so fast
(Unedited)
“Uhhhh I hate this! How are you so good at this stuff when I just straight up suck at it!”
“It’s because I actually pay attention and take notes, not sleep all class. Like someone in this room.”
Reader huffed as she rolled onto her side on Daniel's bed. She fanned out on his bed and groaned into the mattress in annoyance. Her brain hurt just from the thought of another math problem. Daniel was way better at this stuff then she was and she wished he would suck it up and let her copy off of him.
But no he had to “help her” by trying to tutor her. It did little to help her at this point.
Daniel just smirked and rolled his eyes at her before looking back at the worksheet. His eyes scanning over his own work, not even bothering to look at the mess of Reader’s. It looked like it could rip at any minute from how much she had erased over the thin paper. He almost grimced at it.
Reader turned back over and looked at him. Her hand resting under her head as she laid on her side and just studied him.
She had only known the boy for a year and only dated him a few months now.
Up close she could see why some of the girls at school thought he was so attractive. She felt a pang in her heart, feeling like she was lucky to have caught his eye. For him to dating her. But that was nothing in her mind.
Daniel was attractive by all things holy. He might be slightly smaller and more scrawny then most boys, he wasn't beefy or have washboard abs. But it was attractive none the least. His face was a big winner for most girls including herself.
Big brown eyes that always had a glint of mischief in them. Tan skin that was only darkening the longer he stayed in the california sun. The almost invisible dust of freckles on the bridge of his nose. Not to mention his cute nose that fit his other features perfectly.
Kissable plump lips that he was always darting his tongue out to wet.
Reader couldn’t help rubbing her thighs together to try and get some friction. Her pussy was already starting to get damp just from just thinking about him. Her eyes glazed over just a little as she watched him work on his own homework. The way his jaw locked a little when he was thinking or the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was already starting to get annoyed with his own work and he watched as his jaw started to lock up.
She slowly moved a hand over his bed sheets, her fingers ran up is arm and finally over his cheeks. He didn’t seem to interested or he just didn’t notice.
That was until her fingers ran though his thick hair and her hand grabbed a big chuck, giving it a hard tug at the roots. He grunted and his eyes sprang up to look her way. He puffed out a cheek before huffing, she just gave him a innocent smile.
“Soooo you said your mom was going to be working late today? Taking a double shift?”
He raised a brow before slowly nodding. A smirk coming over his lips as he started to get what she was hinting at.
Not even five minutes later the two where naked on his bed.
Reader giggled as she pushed him down and straddled his waist. She grinned as she started to stroke his already hard dick. He hissed as she played with him, her fingers playing along his shaft and her finger tip running over his slit.
She let go of him only to run herself against him. She was already slick as she rubbed her folds over him. His dick pushing though her soft spongy folds. They both moaned out at the feeling, the tip of his dick digging into her clit with every movement.
“Babe shit, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum.”
“We don’t want that do we, not till your inside me that is.”
She laughed as she lifted herself up a little bit. Her had reached around to stroke him once more before helping to line him up with her pussy. His tip brushed her entrance before pushing fully into her wet heat. Slowly she let herself slid down his dick until he bottomed out. His bass pressed against her ass just right. They both moaned and groaned at the new feeling.
Reader panted as she let him settle inside her tight cunt. She felt so full with him inside of her, and he was so deep. Her head was in the clouds as she started to move on top of him.
Daniel grunted as she moved on top of him, her hands on his chest as she used him for leverage to move herself up and down on him. She was bouncing on his dick like not other and all he could do was try to help push and pull her down. He moaned out as he buried his face into her fat tits. Almost smothering himself in her soft tits as she moved around, her hips circling on top of him. He could feel how wet she was as she spilled all over him.
His eyes rolled back for a split second pushed himself deeper into her breasts. All he could hear was her heavy breathing and moans. The way her voice rumbled in her chest. He could hear the way her heart pounded. He groaned as she felt himself slowly start to let go. The coil in his belly was tight and about to snap, his dick felt like it was going to break off at this rate. The way she moved made his head spin.
His fingers dig into the rolls of his belly as he try’s to find some kind of purchase of leverage. Her bouncing only growing more violent by the minute. He could feel his balls throb. He was so close just a little more and he would be over the edge.
He felt her grind down and her pussy clench around him. Her tight channel fluttered and she squealed out before jerking around. It took him a moment to realize what even happened.
She just squirted on his dick.
That was all it took for him to go over the edge cum. His ball drew up as he unloaded a fat load of hot cum into her tight cunt. It quickly spilled out along his shaft with her fluid’s. Her own juices painted his thighs and pelvis. It was wet and sticky as they both lay together. Her weight was like a heavy blanket on top of him and he couldn’t help but snuggle more into her. His head resting against her pillow like tits. He sighed.
She panted over him before setting back into a normal rhythm. She hummed as her gummy walls flutter around him once again. His dick slowly softened but twitched inside her.
“Remind me to take these sheets down to the laundry later, at least before my mom gets home.”
“Ummm will do baby will do….”
#cobra kai#cobra kai blog#cobra kai ask blog#daniel larusso x reader#cobra kai daniel larusso#daniel larusso x chubby reader#daniel larusso smut#karate kid#karate kid fanfiction#karate kid imagine#the karate kid series#karate kid blog#cobra kai smut#karate kid smut#cobra kai smut thought#cobra kai x chubby reader#chubby reader
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Jake Seresin NSFW Alphabet
18+ below minors do not interact
Aftercare (What they are like after sex): Listen, he was a fuckboy until he met you. So, there was barely anything post sex except for a short peck on the lips before he left and spend the night curled up in his own bed. When the two of you started dating, he was mighty overchallenged with you pouting at him, cause he did not wrap you up into his strong arms immediately after he pulled out. It took him a little while to fully let loose and be intimate with you besides sex, but after a serious conversation where you both honestly talked about your needs, wants and concerns, he tried his best to fully satisfy you.
Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): On himself definitely his upper body. He spends a lot of time in the gym and takes a lot of pride in his looks. But no matter how much he loves his body himself, he loves it even more when he sees you watching him at the beach or at the gym, eyes ranking over his body while you absently bite your lower lip. Jake teases you enormous for it, but secretly he loves it.
On you he has a thing for your ass, your boobs, and your eyes. Your ass because he is big on physical touch and always needs to have a hand on you, preferably on your nice ass no matter if its thick and juicy or small and cute. Your eyes cause it’s what caught him first when you looked at him all those years ago on a Friday night at the hard deck. Your boobs because there is nothing better for him then laying on top of you after a particular stressful day at work and burry his face in your boobs while you play with his hair.
Cum (Anything to do with cum): He is not as messy as Rooster is, like he would not feel the need to mark you up with his cum. He either likes it clean inside of a condom, or if you are on the pill, he is obsessed with cumming inside of you. Also highly believes that spitters are quitters.
Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs): Hangman has two.
It took him ages to open up about this to you, but as soon as he did, he felt an instant relief. Jake just can’t stand the thought someone could find out that the cocky, handsome aviator has a thing for sucking your nipples. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much, and he honestly does not want to find out but something about it is incredibly comforting and calming for him.
He has not told anyone yet but sometimes he fantasizes to be watched by someone else while he fucks you senseless. And if he says someone, he means Rooster, because he would love to see the jealousy in Bradley’s brown eyes while he slowly thrusts into you and makes you feel oh so good, letting his wingman know that he will never be able to satisfy someone as good as Jake Seresin can. (The One Shot to this Headcanon can be read here)
Experience (How experienced are they?): It’s Jake Seresin we are talking about. He has been around the block. Probably five times. But I would say that he is not that experienced when it comes to real connections and intimacy, being vulnerable is something he needs to learn with you.
Favorite Position (pretty self explanatory)
Everything where he can see your face.
Mirror Sex: Ride him in reverse cowgirl position while the two of you look at each other in the mirror – pure heaven.
Missionary: He is obsessed with seeing all those expressions on your face. How your eyes roll in the back of your head when he hits that spot inside your velvet walls or how your pretty mouth forms a silent O whenever you shatter around him and squeeze him just right.
Doggy Style: On the rare occasions when he does not need to see your face as much as he needs to fuck you deep into the mattress, doggy style is his go to. He has a perfect grip on your hips and he can spank your ass occasionally while he hears your whimper beneath him.
Goofy (Are they rather serious oder humorous in the moment?): The most you will ever get out of him is small smile when you try to crack a joke to lighten the mood, even though you should know better. When it comes to Sex your man is on a mission and nothing else. He will do everything to satisfy you in every way possible and that’s why he is determined to stay serious.
Hair (How well groomed are they?): He is completely shaved in down under. Jake just prefers this look for himself, cause it fits his pretty boy aesthetic. For you he would also prefer you to be hairless, but he would never pressure you into a certain way how to treat your body. As long as you’re a happy and confident within yourself, he is a happy guy.
Intimacy (How are they during the moment?): He had plenty of Sex without ever feeling really intimate with someone. He spends all his time to build his career and never really saw a need to get emotional close to someone. Until he met you. After he experienced loving sex for the first time in his life, he got absolutely addicted. I highly doubt he could ever go back to his fuckboy years, after he experienced real emotional closeness and intimacy with you.
Jack off (pretty self explanatory): He prefers the real deal, but he is not above it. Sometimes he is deployed, or you are simply not in the mood for sex, so he would jack off.
Kink (some kinks of theirs): Hangman has several kinks (copied from my Dagger Squad Kink Headcanons)
Breeding kink – that man wants to see your belly round and your tits swollen. Could be the southern boy from a huge family in him or just him in general. No matter what – that man wants to see you pregnant with his child.
Cockwarming – Jake being the touchiest human on planet earth loves nothing more that feeling your walls hugging him perfectly close, especially after coming right back from a long deployment.
Edging – He’s a teasing piece of shit. Nothing gets him more going that hearing you beg for his cock.
Exhibitionism – slipping his hand between your thighs while sitting at dinner with Rooster and his girlfriend knowing only, he can feel the wet patch on your panties even though you are in a room full of people, that’s probably the best dinner he ever had.
Brat Taming – Mouth ‘Make me’ at him, after he admonished you several times for you teasing him on a navy ball and will fully loose his shit as soon as you come home.
He also has a thing for degradation and humiliation
Location (Favorite Place to do the deed): Hangman is pretty open and risky. He has railed you in the bathroom of the hard deck and several clubs already, as well as at the beach and his car. He never would do it on base though or anywhere else where someone of his admirals could see the two of you.
Motivation (What turns them on): Competition. Tell him your Ex-Boyfriend was the best sex you ever had, you will regret this two hours later and won’t be able to walk for the next couple of days. Watch Coyote doing push-ups at the gym for a second to long, he will rail you at home until you won’t be able to spell Coyote correctly. Tell him after girls’ night how Phoenix rhapsodized about how her boyfriend make her cum three times by giving expertly good head, he will make you call her right after he doubled this sum, so you have to tell her with shaky voice that no one will ever be as good in bed as Jake Seresin is.
No (Something they would not do): He would never share you with someone else. Hangman likes to think about the idea to be watched while fucking you, but he would never ever let someone else touch you the way only he is allowed to. He is way too possessive for this.
Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skills): That man is skilled af when it comes to giving head. He knows all the tricks; he spends his time to learn your body language and he has you squirming and shaking beneath him within seconds as soon as he puts his mouth on you. But I would say that he can get quite egoistical when it comes to giving oral. Like he does not do it on purpose but if you don’t remind him from time to time, you will get down on him way more than he goes on you. If you remind him though, he will feel bad enough to spend literally hours between your legs, long enough to beg him to let you go because you are so overstimulated but satisfied.
When it comes to receiving head, as said before he highly believes spitters are quitters, but he would never be mad at you if you would feel uncomfortable to swallow his cum.
Pace (pretty self explanatory): He can do slow. He can do passionate. He can do hard. He can do rough. Whatever you need or want it’s yours.
Quickie (pretty self explanatory): Accepting the challenge to make you cum in a spare amount of time? He is absolutely down. He loves the rush; he loves the intensity, and he loves the risk (if you are doing it at a semipublic place)
Roles (Which role do they take during sex): He mostly is a Mean Dom. Jake just has a major thing for degradation and humiliation. Everything consensual of course. I do see him having sub tendencies, which he slowly explores with you. Being vulnerable is not easy for him, but he trusts you enough to let you know this side of him.
Stamina (how many rounds are they able to go?): He is fit, he eats very well and takes good care of himself. He definitely can go for as many rounds the both you want until the both of you are left very satisfied.
Turn off (What turns them off) : Bad hygiene or someone who is overly lazy (as long as these are not consequences of mental health struggles) He spends most of his time either to work on himself or he works his ass off to get a promotion at work. Someone who has no ambitions or does not care about themselves enough to treat them good, is simply a major turn off for him.
Unfair ( How big of a tease are they?): Biggest tease on planet earth. He will do literally anything to see you all flustered, cheeks slightly red and eyes wide in disbelief. No matter if he would send you dirty texts with some nice Ab pics while you are out for brunch with your friends or if he fingers you beneath the desk while out for lunch with the dagger squad but pulls out his fingers right before you come – he will always find a way to get you hot and needy for him. And he will tease the living shit out of you for it.
Volume (How loud/vocal are they): He is big on praise. He loves to tell you who good you take him and what a good little slut you are for him. Besides this he loves to hear you beg. This man will literally have you beg for everything. You want his cock all down your throat? You better ask nicely. You want to cum on his fingers? You better go on your knees with doll eyes and beg.
Wild Card (their wild card): He is extremely competitive, which also shows in his Sex life. You probably never had a more intense orgasm than the day, you spend with Jake, Bradley, and his girlfriend in a cabin in the woods. Even though you and Jake already finished and were all cuddled up, slowly drifting into sleep – the moment he heard Rooster railing his girlfriend in the room next to yours his competitive side was awaken and it did not take him more than 5 minutes to get you all worked up and thrusting into you so deeply that you could not help yourself but to scream his name. No need to say the smirk he wore the next day at breakfast table, because he pulled three more orgasms out of you while Bradley made his girlfriend only come twice, annoyed the hell out of everyone but Jake.
X-Ray: (What's going on in those pants?): He is about average length, but he is deliciously thick with a prominent vein on the bottom side of his cock. His tip has a pretty pink tone.
Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): High. Extremely High. If he can get his hands on you – he will. Whenever and wherever you let him, just sign him that you are in the mood, and he is ready to go.
Zzzzzzz (How fast do they fall asleep after it?): He will always make sure you are being taken care of after sex. After the two of you had your conversation about what you want and crave after Sex, he will always make sure you get what you need. No matter how stressful his day was, he will wait until your head meets the pillow and he hears your sweet snores until he falls asleep himself.
#tgm#top gun maverick#tgm smut#top gun maverick smut#Jake Seresin#Jake Hangman Seresin#Jake Seresin smut#Jake Sersin imagine#Jake Seresin x Reader#Jake Seresin x y/n#Jake Seresin one shot#Jake Seresin fluff#tgm imagine#dagger squad#top gun maverick imagine
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I’ve volunteered at our local senior center for years, and once I’d gotten to know the women who came, I’d eventually ask about their husbands, and they’d confide to me that they felt like a nurse, not a wife, because he expected to be waited on hand and foot, three hot meals a day, his medicine handed to him exactly when he needed to take it, her to make all his appointments. And I’d suggest, oh, they have those pill bottles that tell you when you last took your medicine, there are these services for seniors to help get you to appointments, I can sign you up for meals on wheels!
And they’d say, no, it wasn’t that he couldn’t manage his own appointments or pills or dinner, because he’d done it for years, but he stopped when they moved in together/got married/bought a house/had a kid/two kids. A woman told me she dated a man for years, had a child with him, got pregnant again, moved across the country for his job - and the second she had no job, no nearby family, a toddler, and a newborn, his personality did an immediate 180. I heard this story from every woman, the only difference was when it occurred. After marriage? The first kid? The second? When did he feel like she was in too deep to divorce him, and stop pretending to give a fuck about her?
So I started gently inquiring with middle-aged women and younger, trying to figure it out. And they all described the same thing. Some of them were bewildered, trying to fix it, thinking it was temporary. I met a woman who described her husband’s “postpartum depression”, which involved him reneging on his promise to take paternity leave, laying around when he was home, accepting every offer of work travel he could, and yelling at her constantly. Five years later, his “PPD” is still going strong. One woman wistfully told me about how they used to go grocery shopping together and cook a delicious meal together for them and their kid, but when he got a job across the country and they moved, he stopped helping and she became responsible for cooking all meals, or he’d feed their kid a microwave quesadilla for dinner every night. I know a childfree woman who separated from her husband because he started dumping all the chores on her, but went back to him when he promised to fix it and started acting like when they were dating. And then five years later, once they’d bought a vacation home together and were renting it out, he immediately struck again. Only this time, divorcing him was going to be such a financial tangle that she just decided to suck it up and pick up his socks for the rest of their marriage.
There was one single man who came to the senior center with his wife, doted on her, was an absolute Prince Charming until the end. He was so endlessly kind and adoring with his wife, she raved about him. They would look through the classes we offered, each circle on their own pamphlet the ones they wanted to do, and then do the ones they both circled, and he would peek over her shoulder to circle the ones she did - we all knew it, and it was hugely adorable.
Then she died, and he tried to alter her will to give her family farm that she’d inherited from her mother to their son instead of their daughter, who had been running it for years.
And after all these stories, I kind of just had to accept it. All of these women were intelligent, and aware of male violence, had vetted the men they were dating, and thought they were getting a good one. Literally making the same mistake as their mothers, over and over again, because they thought, “well, I checked him out! I dated him for years before we got married/had a kid! I lived with him, I know what he’s like! I looked for red flags!” not realizing that, yeah, so did lots of women.
But the problem is, we’re not talking to each other enough, so every woman is evaluating her relationship under the assumption that he will continue to act the same way he’s acting right then. Which makes sense, but doesn’t seem to be a good predictor of behavior in men. Every single woman would tell me, “oh, he turned out just like his dad, you have to look at the dad,” “it’s because he went to vietnam, I shouldn’t have married someone who went to war, “it’s because his mom did all the chores, you have to look at the mom,” “his parents were abusive, you have to marry a man who goes to therapy,” “i think he didn’t really want kids and was just going along with me, you have to make sure the guy suggests kids first,” and they were blaming themselves for not being able to see it - although, as far as I could tell, it was pretty universal.
And I had to accept that I was not smarter than them, I didn’t have any innate talent for reading people that they didn’t, there was no secret red flag, and I wasn’t going to do any better at vetting men than they did. I find it confusing, that men can put on a mask for years. I couldn’t do that, it would be literally impossible. But all my evidence suggests that many men are capable of this, and many women aren’t great at seeing through it. So why would I even bother? I don’t find it to be worth my time to invest in a relationship that has a countdown clock on it. I don’t want to put in the time to bond with a façade. I have like. real shit to do.
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My Angel ☆
Slash x reader
warnings: a bit of angst at the start, just fluff, mentions of alcohol and drugs, etc.
summary: y/n and Saul get into a fight about his addiction, and saul finds a letter y/n had written about him.
authors note: listen to September - sparky deathcap, because it fit 💀
part 2!!
"Oh go fuck yourself, saul!" she yelled out as tears streamed down her face, staring back at the man she loves. she hid her face in her hands as Saul let realization hit him, he failed her again, he relapsed after promising to stay clean for the third time in their five years together. he called her names, trashed the house, told her he wished he never loved her, that he despised her. all because she had flushed his stash down the toilet, those words were the first thing she said since he started his tantrum. her sobs now filling the apartment "s-shit baby" he mumbled as he walked towards her his hands reaching up to hold her arms "don't touch me" she said flinching away from him almost instantly
she finally looked up at him, with a look he couldn't even describe. y/n grabbed her car keys and purse, quickly rushing out of the apartment, leaving saul alone with his mess. she left. his brain was too drugged to comprehend going after her, he didn't know what to do, he was lucky he was even still standing with the number of drugs he's consumed. Saul rushed over to the phone connected to the wall, dialling Stevens number as he waited, till he heard a voice "steven adler speaking!" "adler, I fucking- y/n, she left and... shes gone" saul sobbed into the phone, leaving his friend very confused as Steven looked over at duff who'd been over at his house "hold on, me and duff are on our way okay?" saul nodded, letting the other hang up as he fell against the wall.
he looked around the trashed apartment and noticed underneath a pile of glass, was a book. y/ns handwriting on the front of it. it was her journal, the one she always wrote in. he moved over to grab it, his fingers moving over the old leather cover of the book. he opened the book and let whatever page open, his eyes read over the words, letting himself remember how he loved her handwriting, she always said it looked like a little kid's handwriting, almost unreadable but he always read whatever she would write. he noticed the date that was written 22/9/1987. the day guns n roses performed at the ritz in new york.
how can he look so pretty, so angelic without even trying, my saul, a complete angel. gosh how I love him, how I adore him, I've loved and adored him since we first met before all this, before guns n roses, back in 84. I don't regret going to Madam Wong's in East Hollywood, I remember how adorable he looked, his hair was less wild then. I remember the funky clothes he wore that night, god how I remember what I felt when he looked at me. I felt like a little girl whose crush held her hand for the first time during recess. I remember how he stumbled over his words when he came up to me afterwards, I remember how gentle his touch was, how he asked to kiss me underneath a faulty street light in California's weather, I remember every date and moment that happened after. I know saul isn't clean anymore, it hurts me knowing he could slip through my fingers at any given moment, he doesn't remember how I held him a few nights back, I could hear his breathing vividly, and I could see how the colour and life was sucked out of him, he looked almost ghost-like. he doesn't know that's why I haven't slept well in the past few nights, how could I? how could I rest knowing my angel might vanish. how I hate when he does it, but then again, how I love him. my beautiful beautiful boy, I gifted him that song and told him it described him very well. a very beautiful boy. I've dreamt of love this good, and I've got it, saul hudson will forever be the man I love. if we're together or broken up, far or close, in love or fighting, he will always be that angel that sits in my heart, strumming his guitar without a care in the world, singing my favourite songs to me, letting me run my fingers through his untamed curls. I wonder if we ever have kids and if they'll take after him, I hope they do, how I would love little version of him, with his beautiful brown eyes, gorgeous black curls, beautiful facial features, warm coloured skin.
how I love him, my sweet beautiful boy, my guardian angel.
y/n l/n ♥
Saul hadn't noticed how hard he began sobbing, this was how much she loved him. and yet all he did was tell her he didn't love her at all. he pulled the leather-covered book to his chest and pull his knees to his chest. not realizing that the door had opened and revealed the mess of an apartment to his two friends. Steven's eyes quickly made their way to Saul, who was surrounded by broken glass, and wood. Duff looked around, getting an idea of what just might have gone down. they both rushed over to Slash, glass breaking underneath their steps "Hey man" Steven said as he crouched down to Slash's level "we need you to calm down alright? so you can tell us what happened and where y/n is" the smaller blonde explained as Duff rubbed Sauls back
"get him some water, Adler" Duff said as Steven rushed to do so. it didn't take Steven long before he made his way back to them handing Saul the glass, who chugged it down rather quickly. "could you now tell us what happened?" Duff asked, Saul, keeping his gaze straight ahead "she found out I relapsed.she flushed all my shit down the drain, and I got mad at her. I yelled, I threw things, broke some more, i-i told her I didn't love her... that I would never forgive her for what she did, fuck man- I told her I hated her, despised her even" he mumbled letting out a sob towards the end "and she told me to go fuck myself, and when I tried to touch her, she moved away and told me to not touch her, and then she... she left without another word. I need her, I really really love her and I fucked up" he mumbled tears rolling down his cheeks, not caring that this had to be the first time he'd cried around the guys.
Steven squeezed his shoulder before sighing "let's get you to bed, and then I'll clean up here and Duff can go look for y/n/n, okay?" Steven told his friend before he and Duff had helped Slash up and to his bed, the one he and y/n got up from not long ago. the minute Saul's head touched the pillow, he was out. Duff noticed y/n's journal in Saul's grip, he took it and placed it on the bedside table before leaving the room and closing the door behind him, Steven grabbed a garbage bag and began cleaning up the glass "you knew. you knew he was doing drugs again and didn't say a word to her." Steven told Duff looking at him "I know, I already feel like an asshole" the man said as he sat down on the couch
.....
part 2 will be up soon, I promise!! thoughts?
#slash hudson#slash fic#slash gur#saul hudson#slash imagine#slash x reader#guitar#80s rock#classic rock#80s aesthetic#music#rocknroll#jeffery dean isbell#axl rose#axl rose x reader#izzy stradlin x reader#gnr imagine#slash guns n roses#slash fanfiction#guns n roses#gunsnfuckingroses#live music#animated gif#tumblr gifs#hair metal#vou could be mine#november rain#welcome to the ingle#use your illusion#appetite for destruction
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I've been thinking about mules, and how fucked up the Discourse™ would be if humans and some other sapient hominid were in the same situation as horses and donkeys. The chromosomal mismatch (horses have 64, donkeys 62, mules 63) renders their offspring infertile and bring out some "primitive" traits not commonly expressed by their parents-- imagine what might happen in the development of a sapient creature.
Can you imagine how fucked up the fight for equality in marriage, sex rights, etc. would be? Would it be justifiable to have a child with your partner, knowing said child will suffer the consequences for your actions? Full scale eugenics is probably off the table for ethical reasons, but would it not also be unethical to bring into the word a child guaranteed to be infertile, developmentally delayed, or unable to live longer than their parents? The fight for LGBTQ+ rights has been ridiculously difficult, and there's literally no downsides. The debate over the rights for Human-46s and Human-48s to get it on would be terrifying.
It only matters in cases where pregnancy is a concern, but we all know how fucked everything about normal birth control is. How bad would your offspring need to have it for mandatory sterilization to be on the table? The dating scene for straight people would be so fucking dystopian. Sure, you like this guy, but do you like him enough to get a hysterectomy? Are you sure he's the one? That you won't fall apart in three years? That you won't find yourself with someone of the same species, craving children of your own, but unable because of a decision you made as drunk college kid? It matters less if you're gay/straight but one of you is trans/otherwise unable to produce a child via raw-dogging, but I trying to envisage the discourse around "The government forced me to tie my tubes even though my partner tops" makes me feel ill.
Growing up as a Human-47 would also have to suck -- knowing your parents cared more about a five second orgasm than the fifty years you get to spend knowing you're inferior to both of them. "Was it really worth it, Mom?" you ask. "Did he make you cum well enough to offset my fifth-grade reading level?"
The flip side is also bad: what if Human-47s were better than their parents, but still infertile. Are you so committed to the survival of your species that you're willing to forgo that hybrid vigor? Is it more important to you that your child produce sperm/eggs than be capable of true, total self-actualization? Do you you love your spouse enough to (relatively) stunt your children? On the flip side, is your child's success more important than letting them raise a family? Growing up Human-46/48, especially if you don't even want kinds, can you forgive your parents for their choice? Can a wanting Human-47 mother or father forgive their parents?
Not trying to draw explicit parallels with real-world issues here, and I think most of these questions aren't too hard to find good solutions to-- but I've been turning this idea over in my head like a rotisserie chicken for months and I think it might kill me if I don't get it out.
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The Root of All Ransom (2)
Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader, Part Two (see previous or series)
Warnings: so. much. cursing. It's all from Ransom's point of view, and since he's a disturbing(ly sexy) asshole, that translates to language. Explicit sexual content (protected and unprotected sex, brief to full detail, oral (m rec), fingering, no kink technically). MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. WC 6k
Summary: Ransom has no idea how to read you and no idea why he wants to so badly.
His mother is too smug about the damn Birkin. She treats it like it really is her own, and it’s pissing Ransom off.
Three Sunday brunches in a row, Linda waltzed into the country club’s restaurant and set it on the table. He narrows his eyes and stares at it in between boring topics she chooses.
“Dear, if you broke up with her—“
“We were never dating,” Ran says flatly, for the umpteenth time this month, and it’s true.
He doesn’t consider Linda’s birthday a date, the overnight at your mansion wasn’t a date, the Kennedy fundraiser wasn’t a date, and the sex in his car afterward was definitely not a date.
Hot though. Hot enough to haunt him just a little. He fantasized once or twice since with whatever nameless booty call, thinking about how your hand slapped the roof of the Beamer while you rode the fuck out of his dick in the backseat. Your head tossed back, your quiet, breathy gasps, drowned in moans he couldn’t contain because, damn, you felt fucking fantastic. Then you just shimmied your dress back over your thighs and called your driver. Condom again, however, so not perfect.
No, you two didn’t date, but shit did you fuck.
“Let it go,” Linda continues more smugly, “and if she’s asked you for it back, then either don’t respond or tell her…well, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you tell her.” His mother drains her mimosa, flagging down a waiter to order more champagne and no more orange juice. “I love this bag, and she gave it away. I would never—“
“It’s her favorite color,” Ran blurts, though he can’t imagine why. His mother won’t care obviously. “Did you know she volunteered for five-hundred hours a year to feel like she earned that?”
“Ransom, dear,” she whispers, leaning forward to pat his tapping hand on the tablecloth, “I understand what work is. You’re the only one of us that doesn’t.”
Ransom sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to avoid saying something distasteful, or rather, more distasteful than what comes out.
“You’re a little old for it, is all.” She pulls her hand away, and he shrugs. “Thought you should know.”
He’s pleased with himself, but Ran also avoids checking his phone again. He’d feel the vibration. You’ve been globetrotting for work, answering texts sporadically at best, and the last message—from over a week ago—said you’d be back in the city today.
He reminds himself that you aren’t dating and that his mother is a cunt.
Linda pours from the fresh bottle of bubbly popped table side.
“Don’t take your sexual frustrations out on me,” she coos over the black rim of her glasses.
Ran simply sneers. “Why not? That’s how I was raised.”
All-in-all, it’s not even among the worst of their brunches. Hatred and spite are par for the Drysdale course. What it does, however, is highlight that you handle his family almost better than Ransom does. That morning after he slept over? You walked back to Thrombey Manor in old boots you got horrifically muddy.
Even with very little sleep, you accompanied him and spoke some more with Harlan about non-profits, wiggling your toes in damp socks while your shoes sat on the porch. Ransom drove off before you even left. Fine by him. He worried you’d get the wrong impression when he awoke spooning you—not tightly, of course—your bed is just smaller than his, that’s all.
He should feel relieved.
Yes, he feels relief that you didn’t make a big thing out of it. He never even texted again until after the romp in his car, so that’s hardly eager. Goodness knows he has no interest in dedicating his abundant free time to someone running a company and volunteering with the needy.
The thought of it is simply awful. His eyes narrow at the Birkin again, wondering absently where you were flying back from and when you might be landing. He thinks about the small pile of condoms once kept in that bag and sips his own drink.
Even if you aren’t dating, the mere whiff of potential sets Linda on edge, much to Ran’s delight. His mother was told by one of her faux-friends that you and Ransom went missing around the same time from the fundraiser, and there’s a new development that kills both Linda and Walt at the same time. He can’t help but rub it in.
“Did you hear Harlan put her in the acknowledgments for the new novel?” He sets down his glass with a shit-eating grin, and Linda pours even more.
He shops until he can’t shop anymore, knowing he won’t drive all the way back downtown from his house if you text, so he kills time spending money. The sun goes down with no vibration from his pocket—well, none from you. Ransom ends with his purchases in the car and his ass parked at an upscale, overpriced bar, a sizable pour of Blue Label sitting on an embossed napkin in front of him, scrolling through his phone.
He refuses to search your name; he gave up on that after seeing one too many news blurbs about your events overseas, always with a different male model, arm-candy type that Ran is convinced you fuck also. If he’s right, shit is he glad you had him wrap up.
In the middle of another boring sunset video of an acquaintance ‘manifesting his chi’ or whatever in Maui, a text attachment from his cousin Meg comes through.
I love her, it says. Are you bringing her to the next book launch?
Ran taps the link, and sure as shit, it’s you.
Actually, it’s a video of you and a fellow entrepreneur passing in the airport, this airport, hugging with the bold letters ‘GIRL POWER’ across the bottom. It was originally posted four hours ago, has been liked by ten thousand random fucking nobodies, and Ransom is goddamn done waiting. He slaps cash down on the bar top and storms out.
He’s been approached by three women and said ‘no’ to all of them in the short time he’s been sitting there. What the fuck are you playing at?
Sure, one of those skanks had buck teeth and one had the worst laugh he’s ever heard, but the third was passable if he’d bent her over. There better be a good fucking reason you’ve ghosted him.
Thing is he hasn’t been an asshole to you; there might not be a woman within fifty square miles that he’s been nicer, too, including his own fucking mother, and you think it’s cool to just…not respond?
That’s fucking rude. Fuck you.
He’s punching the button to ring your flat at the garage entrance before long, and you buzz him up without a word. You’re goddamn home and what? Ignoring him? What a fucking bitch.
Before he can let out some frustration by banging on your door, he realizes it’s cracked open with the latch turned and fully closes it behind him, muttering “hope you get fucking robbed” under his breath.
You’re cooking and on your Bluetooth at the same time, motioning for him to sit at the breakfast table or couch or wherever while you finish talking to someone about—nope, he’s bored. You don’t mention of how he’s imposed without invitation because he’s never set foot in here until now.
Ransom looks around critically.
This building is exclusive beyond belief, and you live on the top floor with vaulted ceilings. That’s about the extent of ‘status’ visible in your surroundings. Not cheap but not custom furnishings dot sizable rooms.
Ran scrunches his nose. Even he can decorate better than this. The food smells fucking delicious, spicy, and warm though.
Linda never cooked. There was furniture he wasn’t allowed on growing up. Then he bought nice things for his own place, and every single chance he got, nearly every time he went to his parent’s house, he made sure to fuck some bimbo on that forbidden furniture.
Ransom sometimes thinks to himself that he is a real piece of work. He already knows he is an actual son of a bitch. Revenge is a dish best served without a towel underneath your sweaty ass.
Your couch is okay. Barely used and still springy when he drops down to the cushions. He’s just scanning the walls when you chirp over the island.
“Hungry?”
He snaps back to attention, opening his arms wide to rest across the back of the couch.
“Yeah.” He’s not actually sure though. He’s hungry and a bit horny and a lot irritated, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He never does. Explaining himself only ever makes Ransom feel childish and judged, so he buys new things and throws others away, buys new people and throws others away, and takes whatever else he wants, just so he doesn’t have to talk.
When all else fails, he drinks instead—which he’s already done—so now, he eats.
Your food is delicious. Ransom takes pride in your abilities and cages your achievement like a feral animal in his heart, smug that he has a good girl wrapped around his finger. He can just drop by. He can not call you, ask how you are, or bother to get to know you after fucking twice. Most importantly, it seems he can avoid talking even during a one-on-one meal with you.
All he says is the food is good, and you launch into a monologue about your mother being a fantastic cook even though your parents both worked full-time. All he does is grunt like he’s listening, and you explain how you meal prep whenever you can because otherwise, you’d have to eat out for every meal.
You hate doing that.
Ransom does that. He’s never thought about whether he loves or hates it.
“Now then,” you add at the end of your little speech, “my ploy has worked. You’ve enjoyed the spoils of my labor—” your smile makes him nervous “—and so you get to do the dishes.”
“Fuck off,” Ran snorts, half-revolted, half-amused. As if he would ever.
“Aw, do you need a trophy for encouragement?” You sweep your hand out to the far wall of the living room and its full shelves. “I have a few to spare.”
“I’m not doing your damn dishes.” He doesn’t know how to go rigid and determined without looking petulant, so he overcompensates by spreading his legs and folding his arms over his chest.
“Hugh, do you even know how to wash up?”
He shifts. “Yes, of course.”
“But you still want a prize?”
Sharp blue eyes find yours, and he nearly growls, “I’m not doing that.”
He should just walk out. He doesn’t have to be here. The door is right fucking there, but he sits completely still.
You lean back and cluck your tongue. “Shame,” you sigh, “I would have done you while you did them.”
And that’s how Ransom Drysdale ends up wrist-deep in sudsy water with your velvet mouth stretched around his dick. No chore has ever held his attention like this or been so fucking distracting.
Your nails pinch at his thigh briefly when he pauses to lean on the sink’s rim, your nose brushing his trimmed hair, your drool running down his sac.
“Fuck, that’s it.” He fishes around in the water with one hand, eyes squeezed tight. There are no more utensils floating about, so he rips out the plug. “Finished. Fuck, let me finish.”
With an obscenely wet noise, you pop his cock out of your mouth and trace your tongue down to his balls.
“Where do you want it?”
“Pussy,” he breathes before your words even register. “Wanna come in your tight pussy.”
You giggle. You actually fucking giggle while getting to your feet, hand stroking him gently—too gently to tip him over—as you rise.
“Dry your hands,” you order.
He does, practically panting in frustration. He could jerk himself for three seconds and be done, he’s that close, but he just clutches the rag that much harder.
“Close the dishwasher.”
Ran kicks that damn thing up so fast—
“Is there a tab inside?”
“Fuck,” he yells, painfully ready to burst. Why he still fucking looks under the sink and actually fucking places that tiny cube in and closes the fucking dishwasher again, Ransom cannot fathom. “I’m gonna destroy you, bitch,” he mutters, but there’s no power behind it, only pure need.
His reward is you, stripped naked beside the couch, open condom in hand, and you roll that shit onto his length at the same time he rushes you back and down to the cushion. Ran’s so strung out he can’t give less of a shit if he hikes your leg up too far or grinds against you too hard. Who fucking cares? He has to come, and you egg him on the whole way.
His hips piston so fast that his glutes are on fire, and he doesn’t fucking care. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, and he doesn’t fucking care.
It’s right when he sees your eyes roll back, right when he hears your low ‘OH, fuck yes’ that Ransom explodes, crying out in the desperate heat of the moment. They are not coherent words. That’s not the problem. The problem is that he fucking babbled without any control whatsoever.
Ran enjoys sex, no doubt, but he can’t remember a time he ever got fucking lost in it. Sure, it felt good, but he didn’t like it.
So he recovers silently, not saying a word before escaping to your bathroom.
It’s sparse. He would hardly know you lived here. Every toiletry is travel-sized and stashed in a cosmetics bag. Peeking out of the bag is a bubble sheet of birth control pills, and for a split-second, he fumes. Once his post-nut brain settles and he remembers all those photos of your ‘dates,’ he calms, not willing to ask you a fucking thing about it. He just wants to know everything so you aren’t interesting anymore. It’d be easier if you bored him, but you fucking do not bore him at all.
He’s got a whole excuse planned when he leaves the bathroom, though it’s for naught.
You’ve changed clothes, something skimpy and casual, something showing off that expanse of skin he did not get to see much this time.
You announce you’re going out to drinks with your head of R&D, a planned thing you didn’t fucking mention once before, but apparently, that bitch has been working so hard and deserves fun. While he—what—deserves to be tricked into cleaning and then kicked out?
Yes. Your actual answer is ‘yes.’
He’s handed his coat with a genuine smile and watches you adjust your boobs in the flouncy top with a giggle. Jesus.
He’s surprised it’s this easy for you, being intimate and then being done, not inviting him to stay. It’s odd. Ransom has known women who don’t cling, women who get off and get lost, and so this should be the same.
It’s not feeling the same; he’s bothered by it.
In the car home, he’s salty about being manipulated. You got him to clean. You got him to work for a decent blowjob, and that is fucking ridiculous. Hot though. Even hotter than you cowgirling in the back of this very vehicle. But why? Was it better because he ‘earned’ it or because you’re just really fucking good at sucking dick?
A tiny voice in his brain tells him to show up again, get more head, test that theory, and he tries not to get hard in the car. He gets home and tries to handle himself. Then he really, really tries to stop thinking about it altogether because, fuck, he just wants to know.
Again, it’s like nothing happened.
You don’t travel nearly as much in the next few weeks but you also do not contact him. Not first anyway because sometime—sometimes—you will respond to his messages. For example, you did answer that you’d be in attendance tonight, but that’s all.
He’s drinking and scoping out his prospects when his phone vibrates. It’s you.
That makes no fucking sense, and it makes even less sense when he reads it.
:Act like you like me.
What the fuck?
He hasn’t even turned all the way around to spot you before you’re right there, leaning down close, you hand petting the sleeve of his blazer.
“Hey” is all you say before you fucking kiss him on the lips, slowly, sweetly, and Ransom neither knows nor understands shit right now. That is an actual kiss. That’s genuine. That’s fucking heavy, and he bristles instantly. He absolutely seizes up at because it feels real and not at all like how you two actually are together.
Ransom’s been thinking about when he can fuck you again, not this, never this, yet his hand still grips at your hip because you’re so close. Your skin is still soft as ever, and your lips still work him up like it’s nothing. He groans into your mouth by accident while thinking of what else your lips do.
Finally, you explain that someone odd has been aggressively hitting on you. He suspects the guy is made up.
“Don’t make me point him out. Just,” you slide you fingers down beneath the lapel of his jacket, “just…thank you, Hugh.”
Fucking gross. You sound so genuine and grateful this his gut goes warm and gooey. This shit works on people? He’s not a god damn fluffer or beard, for fuck’s sake.
Then he does see the guy shooting his shot later in the evening, and he notices you do not and have not had a drink in your hand all night. You’re afraid to because of this prick. That’s even more disgusting to Ransom. Only psychopaths and microdick fuckers should rely on getting a girl drunk or drugged. This guy needs to go.
Ran sees your phone poised in your hand and simply texts “Hallway. Now.” He stands casually and brings his drink with him, catching your look down at the screen before he rounds the corner. Within a count of five you emerge to see him, relief washing over your stressed features until you squeak in shock. He’s pinned you to the wall.
In a low whisper, Ran starts, “tell me if he’s there.”
Your face is a mere inch from his, your eyes wide and darting between his piercing blue gaze and his parted lips.
You glance over his shoulder, your own mouth going slack but saying nothing before another once-over of Ransom’s proximity. Then your focus flickers back and your breath catches.
“He’s—“ but you don’t get to finish.
Ran’s lips crash down to yours. You’re stunned. Fuck, he’s stunned, groping your ass with his free hand and letting you pull him closer by his lapels again. He’s not at all sure you aren’t taking this the wrong way because you whimper after the initial momentum subsides, and you keep going. Isn’t that guy gone yet? Does the perv want a fucking show? Are you even looking?
And suddenly, your hands go rigid and push Ran away. That’s good though. That’s a good sign. You understand that this was just a bit of help from a friend who also hates people who can’t take a fucking hint.
Ransom offers the glass of whiskey he’s kept safe in one hand and smooths your gown with the other.
“You’re welcome,” he grunts.
You just sip at the liquor while composing yourself again. Ran’s never seen that look on your face. Just for an instant, you seem scared, but it’s gone as quickly and that very small, very genuine smile returns, directed at him.
Weeks later and Ran’s been keeping an eye on you at the few events you’ve been in town for. No suspicious assholes but he’s nearly an expert on your body language by now. He’s even more annoyed—no, still just a passing curiosity—that you do not ask him to accompany you as your date and continue to have someone on your arm at any out of town shindigs. He doesn’t understand, and it makes him simultaneously convinced that you must fuck them, too, and that there is no way you also fuck them.
He’s been drinking to suppress a lot of passing curiosity.
What he forgets to do entirely is look for someone to take home later. Doesn’t matter. The contact list is always there at night’s end.
He sees you listening to an older couple by the bar, looking exhausted and bored, but they won’t shut up. You’ve kept hold of an empty champagne flute for ten minutes, unable to even turn and order another in the face of their relentless blabbering.
He grabs around your waist and tucks you to his side, offering his hand in greeting once you take your drink, flashing his ultra-fake, glowing smile.
“Hi, Ransom Drysdale.” He shakes their hands and couldn’t give less of a fuck what their names are. “Wonderful, well, why don’t you two just write a check and shut up? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Hugh,” you sputter over a sip of bubbly, “good lord.”
He’s still staring down the couple who are paralyzed in shock.
He gives a nod. “Seriously, fuck off.”
The woman gasps and clutches her actual fucking pearls while her husband tries a sad defense of her honor or what-the-fuck-ever. Ransom doesn’t care. He just cares that they walk away, and he wins.
Before he even looks at you, he mutters, “you’re welcome,” proudly.
He expects to be chastised, at least a bit, but when he turns and releases his grip on you, you’re simply sipping on champagne, still exhausted.
“You can go home now,” he says, thinking that’ll be some comfort.
Your shoulders sag, and you cover your face with a bejeweled hand. Yellow diamonds. That pleases Ransom. Rings and a bracelet, too. He’s glad you aren’t just half-assing the dress up with a designer gown and nothing else. The clutch you’ve set on the bar beside you is Chanel, and now Ran is plain delighted. That’s multiple trips of retail therapy, that’s you spending that new money, and that looks good on you.
“There’s nothing fucking there,” you mumble. “I’ve been at that apartment a grand total of thirty minutes in the past two weeks.”
“Ah,” he teases, “so Suzie Homemaker doesn’t have any food to cook?”
You wear a guilty smirk. “You’re right. I should go though.”
“Come to my place.”
Ransom’s eyes bug out when he realizes what he’s blurted, but he lets the offer lie.
You stare silently for a long beat, waiting for him to correct himself or throw a lewd comment on the end, but he keeps his cool. Eventually, you pick your clutch up and say, “okay.”
You actively bitch about others in the car, and Ransom is flat-out grinning from ear to ear. It’s perfect. You hate people as much as he does. From the sound of it, you barely tolerate the rest of the regulars on rotation at those stuffy things.
What would that woman who called you ‘a breath of fresh air’ think now? Except this is actually the moment he believes she was right.
He laughs—a real-life, genuine laugh—at the fake speech you practice in the bathroom mirror before accepting an award, the one where you say you’ll melt down the gold in the trophy and use it as a face mask to keep yourself from ending up like the shriveled hags. Ransom adds that they are not all shriveled; some of them have their own trophies shoved up their asses.
You giggle at that.
It’s the first time Ran has made you giggle on purpose, and he likes it even better that way. You continue to rant, stopping yourself just before he ever gets irritated. That ability is a fucking gift, and he appreciates it, too, because very few people can read him well enough to avoid his ire.
He realizes you two have this in common: he can act nice but he doesn’t fucking care to, and you can and do act nice but your caring is wearing thin.
You’re so complimentary of his house. You seem to like the most expensive of his furniture, which makes him want to force you out shopping with him to fill your shitty apartment with things you actually enjoy, but you don’t invade the space with tons of looking, touching, and questions. You don’t argue about leaving your heels by the door. You don’t wait for Ransom to take your coat.
He doesn’t have a guest room. His house is for him, and others can go fuck right off. Normally, no one but him sleeps here, so it’s…disconcerting that Ran is so at ease.
He shows you to the bathroom, sets a plastic-wrapped, new toothbrush on the counter, looks at you, squinting, and then pulls forward three (full-size) skincare products from his neat lineup. He taps them in the order you should use them.
“One, two, three,” he says, cheekily relishing your annoyance at his babying.
That face is cute. You’re trying not to smile, you’re trying to look mad, and it doesn’t fucking work.
With a roll of his eyes, he leaves you to it.
The one thing Ransom is not around you is bored. There are people who try so damn hard, thinking whatever makes them likable is good, but none of it is real. At best, they turn out warped and misunderstood because no one knows fuck-all about them. Everything’s been curated. Everything’s been forced.
That behavior has always been brutally obvious to him. He grew up surrounded by people faking everything about themselves, disingenuous people. Harlan is the only person who did not put on a front for him. They’re the same that way, but his grandfather allows people to play their little games in front of him, using the intrigue in his novels; Ransom simply tells people to fuck off and does whatever he wants.
What occurs to Ran now is you don’t do anything for him. You don’t tailor your behavior to appeal to him in any way, and in fact, you seem to deliberately refuse to be appealing. You’re so obviously uninterested in most of the things Ransom spends his days (and nights) on that he wonders. He rethinks every encounter trying to pinpoint where something changed for you because why else would you pay him any mind whatsoever.
He’s searching for warning signs that you’ve taken this the wrong way. He can’t let you expect something from him.
Expectations are predictable. Predictable is boring. You are not boring.
It should not surprise him that you emerge butt-naked from the bathroom and ask which side you can sleep on. It’s not sexy. It shouldn’t be sexy.
You’re exhausted and get comfortable without fuss, clicking the light off and adjusting the pillow. He thinks it will help prove his point, prove that you think this is a relationship it isn’t, if you say no to sex. It’s clearly a circumstance when normal, boring people use the ol’ “I’m too tired” bit, and if you say that, he’s found his warning sign. Sure, he invited you here, but you’ve misinterpreted the whole deal.
So he turns over to face you, laying on your back, and teases the blunt tip of his middle finger down your body until he reaches between your legs. It’s nothing more than a graze, an exploratory touch with no pressure. When you part your legs slightly, he traces along the seam of you but nothing more. He listens to your breathing change, watches your chest start to rise and fall more urgently, and takes a nipple into his mouth.
What he doesn’t hear is ‘no,’ and Ran’s gut pinches, unsure which reaction he truly wanted out of you.
His standard MO is to keep lazily teasing you until you beg, but he’s not impatient like he usually is. His finger softly catches between your folds, smearing the wetness he finds there all around, over and over, using only enough pressure to push skin, not enough to push inside.
His tongue’s been playing with your pebbled flesh just as slowly, sucking and biting lightly every so often. The teasing finger flicks over your clit, and your legs spread wider. That same whimper from when he kissed you creeps from your throat again, and Ran’s sliding that finger in you so fast.
Those noises—your genuine noises of pleasure—just really fucking get to him.
Your hand dives into his hair to pull him off and up you. This kiss is sloppy but neither hard nor fast. He pumps his finger in languid strokes.
“I don’t have condoms,” he admits, pulling back. He expects to have to go rummage through your Chanel for one, but he's surprised.
“Don’t care,” you gasp, pawing at him to climb on top of you, and he’s fucking thrilled. By now you’re drenched for him, but Ran wants to savor the feel of you all over his bare cock, slippery, tight, and warm like a custom happy ending.
Fuck, it’s nice to feel your tits bounce against his chest. Fuck, do you get handsy in this position.
He’s purposefully dragging his pelvis so you make more noise. He leaves your mouth free and nips at your neck instead, the perfect view down your body whenever he wants.
You grip at his shoulders for leverage, and he feels your hips rocking faster than his to chase your high.
“Hugh, uhh, fuck, Hugh,” you pant, walls tightening like a vice around him.
Ran growls, about to correct you, when you laugh.
You goddamn laugh.
Sure, the joyous sound is broken up by the force of his thrusts, but you’re calling him ‘Hugh’ intentionally to piss him off, in the middle of sex, you bitch.
He hates it. He absolutely hates it. He absolutely is about to come.
You do first, shouting a breathy ‘yes’ that Ran cannot concentrate on because he’s fucking furious. He’s about to erupt like a volcano, all that building pressure shoved to the base of his spine while you were lazily humping. He wishes he’d been pounding into the mattress this whole time instead. Fuck you.
Fuck him. He can’t even take out that frustration on you because he’s there.
Ransom pulls out, raises to his knees, and aims his cum and anger at you.
Waves of ecstasy roll through him. Spurt after spurt of sticky, white rope glazes your skin until his balls are empty and his whole body is drained of feeling. He can’t even maneuver over your leg before collapsing, arching his back to avoid his own mess, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
“Shit,” he groans against your sweaty skin, as beautiful to taste as it is to look at.
Your hands cradle his head for a few long seconds as he recovers, but he needs to get up. He needs to go to the bathroom. He needs to not be stuck between your legs or held in your arms for a minute.
He has no words. He has no thoughts. He just has emptiness. It’s far more peaceful than it should be. It’s more peaceful than he deserves.
So once clean, Ransom goes back to bed.
He makes a point to act asleep when you return from the bathroom, and you don’t bother to touch him in any way. That’s good. That’s a good thing, he reminds himself. Slowly, like everything tonight, fatigue overtakes his anger, and Ran falls asleep.
You wake before him in the morning. The bed is already cold beside him, so Ransom has no idea how he ended up being positioned overnight. He thinks he would know if he accidentally spooned you, but he would have thought so last time, too. Your gown and clutch are still in his room, so he expects to find you around. Since you cook, he half-excites at a homemade breakfast until seeing your blank stare over tea.
You’re wearing one of his sweaters, mug warming your hands, curled up on a corner of his couch with your phone by your side. Outside the wall of windows is plain greenery, thin woods that appear lush with leaves.
He likes that view, too. He likes watching you view it. He likes that even though you clearly found things to make you comfortable, you haven’t left an imprint on his space. He likes that you aren’t needy, really, and that you’ll leave soon because you’ll have something to do.
Ransom doesn’t have to take care of you. He doesn’t have to care.
He’ll never get sick of you when you’re gone this much. There’s a weird benefit in you being admired by—and being slightly intimidating to—his family. You’re Harlan’s neighbor, for fuck’s sake.
He’s been standing, watching you watch out the windows, in his boxers for who knows how long when the doorbell rings. You jump up, an apology on your lips, and scramble to the door.
“Dubois, I told you not to make noise,” you hiss at your driver. You called your own car service to pick you up before Ran even woke up.
“I did text you, ma’am.”
After checking your phone, you sigh. “I see. I’m sorry. I must have missed it. Thank you for bringing these.”
Your driver hands over a garment bag.
“I’ll only be a minute,” you say, but to whom, Ransom isn’t sure.
He eyes you retreating to the bathroom and only turns back when Dubois clears his throat.
“Your paper, sir.”
“Right,” Ran mutters, snatching the bundle away.
You weren’t fucking kidding. You’re out of his room with all your stuff in hand in record time. Dubois dutifully takes whatever you hand him to the waiting car, and you’re left holding his sweater.
“I can have this dry-cleaned and sent back, if you want.”
“That—“ Ransom looks you up and down. You’re in a black pants suit, a pale pink blouse, with the yellow diamond jewelry from last night on again. It works. “—won’t be necessary,” he finishes.
You don’t put your golden heals back on. You carry them to the car while walking down his drive on your tip toes, smiling as Dubois helps you in.
Since it’s right there, Ran puts on the same sweater you just handed him. He can smell your perfume though you weren’t wearing it long. He wonders how the scent didn’t bother him yesterday if it was strong enough to last the whole night.
He finds the one thing you left behind and out of place, a half-drunk tea, and takes it as a sign. You aren’t perfect. That, and you didn’t mention a single other thing than whether or not you should clean his clothing.
He doesn’t know if you’re going to work or to the airport. He doesn’t know where or when he’ll see you next. You didn’t even thank him, but he’s not sure what he wants to be thanked for.
Ransom makes his own drink and sits at the same spot on the couch, his favorite spot, ready to read the paper. He flips through the pages, a sweetly scented sleeve tucked up to his nose while he leans forward.
Nothing interests him until a photo, a photo of you obviously. The announcement is for your charity’s third annual soup kitchen event. You’ve never mentioned it, and it’s two weeks away. Ran’s salty and grumbling into his own mug that you didn’t ask him to participate.
Why don’t you ever ask him to do anything? He’s proven just as useful as whatever pay-by-the-hour model has been out of town. Ran’s been diligent about remaining welcome in most circles, even if he’s not well-liked.
He can spoon soup into a fucking bowl, that’s for damn sure.
So it’s settled. Ransom will go to your event. He’ll just say Harlan asked for the publisher’s presence to be noted. This way, he can keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t burn yourself out on caring for those people, and make sure you don’t give away the shirt off your back simply to please someone.
You’re wrong, and he’s right. That’ll show you. That’ll prove his way is better.
a/n: Hoooo boi. I am ridiculously proud of this but also so exhausted this week...and it's only Monday. I also need you to know that I puttered along and then said these exact words: "Oh, fuck. It's 6K."
[Last Part *Ro is a liar. Just a huge fuckin' liar.* Part Three]
[Main Masterlist]
#hugh ransom drysdale#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drydale x you#ransom drysdale#ransom x reader#ransom smut#fanfic#fanfiction#knives out fanfiction#ransom drysdale fanfiction#ro answers#ransom drysdale x you#ransom drysdale smut#18+#18+ fanfic
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the only exception ~ tom kaulitz
background: you and Tom had been hooking up for a while now, probably close to around half a year. you had a big crush on him but were very aware that he didn’t do relationships, so even though you were ‘physically’ with him, you never let yourself get super emotionally attached. Tom couldn’t say the same for himself, though. He wanted you, and only you.
warnings: nothing much just kissing and swearing lol
a/n~ sorry for being m.I.a!! I had to visit my dad in serbia and it sucked because I hate my dad and he hates me lolllll speaking of I wrote a fic that was requested where like the ready has daddy issues and tom like helps her through it but I think I made it wayyyy to like serious I think the word is? and its very long so I’m considering scrapping it idk, also I’m getting to all ur requests that I wanna do dont worry !!
~
“hello?”, i said, picking up my phone. it was tom, my long-term fling. I can’t remember exactly how I met him, or exactly how we started hooking-up. I had heard about his band before we met, and I thought they were cool, but i didn’t quite understand just how popular they were. Until after meeting Tom, i didnt know about his ‘reputation’ either. I didn’t know until after the first time we hooked up. He had made us trade numbers, and i was expecting a call at least a day or two after we had seen each other, but nothing. I decided to do some research, just to find out that the boy i was crushing on was in fact a hardcore player. A womanizer, if you will. Part of me wanted to never go out with him again, the smart part of me. But another part of me wanted him so badly, so overwhelmingly bad that I went with my heart instead of my head. I liked Tom, I really did. I couldn’t help it. But I didn’t want myself to get hurt, so I expected just about nothing from him. We fuck and then it’s over. Whenever he would ask me to stay the night or do any of that stuff, I would politely decline and leave. Sometimes we would go out and do non-sexual things, but they always ended sexual. I learned to become okay with that, and I ultimately stopped expecting us to do anything that was hooking up.
“Hey, are you busy?”, he asked.
“Hmm, i dont know, maybe, depends on why you’re calling.”, I teased. he chuckled.
“Uh-huh… well I was thinking, that if you’re free, I could take you out somewhere.”
“take me out, huh? is that code for fucking?”, this earned me another laugh.
“no, no, it can be, but I want to actually take you out.”, he chuckled.
“are you asking me out on a date?”, i asked, a little confused.
“…yes?”
I was quiet for a second, apparently a second too long.
“look if you dont want to, we don’t have to, I just thought-“, he started.
“no, no! sorry! I was thinking but yes, I’m free and we should go out!”, I interrupted. I heard him release a breath he was holding, probably one he didn’t intend for me to hear.
“okay, yea, cool. when can I pick you up?”
“hmm let’s say in about 30 minutes? does that work?”
“perfect.”
“mhm, I’ll see you then.”
“bye.”, he said just before I hung up.
tom kaulitz. taking me out on a date?? what????
I got up almost immediately and started to get ready. I wanted to look as cute as possible. I ran over to my wardrobe and searched through it for a good five minutes. I found this super cute, also pretty tiny, pleated denim skirt and this purple and black top that had a lot of lace detailing and these little puffy princess sleeves. I put on some jewelry, makeup, and these black boots I had. I left my hair down, i noticed that when I did, Tom always complimented it. I grabbed my purse and threw some gum, lipgloss, my phone, and my little digital camera in there.
I glanced at the clock and saw that he should be here any minute. I stepped outside and waited for about 3 minutes, which would’ve been fine, if it wasn’t as cold as it was. I didn’t feel like going back in, just in case he showed up right as i did. I was shivering a tiny bit and got some goosebumps, but to my relief, and pulled in front of my house not too much later. I got in, the warm air of his car heaters hitting me.
“shit, you look freezing. how long were you out there for?”, Tom asked, looking genuinely concerned.
“I’m cold but I’m fine.”, I laughed it off.
“okay, do you need a jacket or-“
“No!! I’m serious! I’m okay.”, I laughed some more.
“okay, okay! just checking.”, he smiled. I watched as his eyes did a quick scan over me.
“you look pretty. your hair looks really nice too.”, he said, his eyes averting back forward as he began to drive away.
“thank you. you don’t look too bad yourself.”
he playfully rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but smile as well.
“sooo… where are we going?”, I questioned.
“you’ll see.”
“Oh, c’mon. I hate surprises.”
“You’ll like this one, trust me.”
I sighed and faced myself back forward. Some radio station was playing softly in the background as we raced down the highway.
the drive to the mystery place wasn’t far, only a 20 minute drive, which I filled with a lot of talking. mainly about random stuff, Tom telling a few jokes which never failed to make me laugh. He pulled into a parking lot which only had a few other cars. I looked around, it looked like we were at some kind of fancy park. A garden maybe? He leaned over the center console and grabbed something from the backseat.
Tom dropped a large black zip up jacket in my lap.
“My jacket, so you aren’t freezing your ass off the entire time.”
“Oh, thank you.”, i said quietly. He got out of the car and made his way to the back. I followed his lead, getting out of the car, putting on the jacket but not zipping it. I walked around to the back of the car where the trunk was open. There were two big woven picnic baskets. Tom grabbed both and I shut the trunk door as he began to walk off. I caught up with him.
“Do you want me to carry one?”, i motioned to the baskets.
“It’s okay, just follow me.”, he said, continuing his venture into the park. I followed close behind.
We didn’t walk for long, it was a really beautiful park. There were lots of flowers and little benches everywhere. Lots of really big and beautiful trees too. We stopped in front of this big pond, the water was so clear you could see the miniature fish swimming. there was a swan that swam around too.
Tom opened one of the baskets, revealing a big blanket. Without a word, I helped him spread it out over the fluffy grass. He sat down on it and patted the little space next to him, indicating for me to sit down as well. I did. He grabbed the other basket next to him and moved it to be in front of us. Tom opened it and inside were a ton of snacks. All of my favorites. I was shocked to say the least.
“Oh my god, how did you know?”, i said, mouth slightly agaped. He looked proud of himself.
“You mentioned some of your favorite snacks once or twice.”, he nonchalantly shrugged.
“This is lovely, Tom.”, I replied, sounding as genuine as I ever had. His eyes met mine and I gave him a little smile which he returned.
“What is all of this for?”, i added.
“Just wanted to do something nice for you, I guess.”, he mumbled and looked away.
I gently placed my hand over his, his head turned to mine.
“I appreciate it, I really do.”, i smiled. my thumb caressed his hand for a second.
“I like spending time with you, y’know? even when we’re not…”, he trailed off. I laughed, taking my hand off his, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Tom.
I grabbed one of the many snacks he packed and started to eat. In between bites, I would ramble about different things. He always would just listen to me talk, admiring me as he did. This went on for a while. Tom started eating some. Somewhere in the midst of this, my position changed. I now had my head laid across his legs, my legs stretched out and my hair splayed all over his lap. i stopped eating and just started talking. Tom gazed down at me. Eventually he lit a cigarette and started smoking. He held the cigarettes between his pointer and middle finger, moving it down for me to take a puff. I did, peering into his eyes as I did so. They weren’t filled with their normal lust, but they looked like they had something else in them. I couldn’t figure it out.
Tom talked some too, mainly making crude jokes. I always laughed, no matter how stupid. I think he enjoyed that.
He took a hit and then leaned over, his mouth hovering over mine. I opened and allowed him to blow the smoke in my mouth. He sat back up and watched as slowly blew it out.
“I know this isn’t a normal thing to do when we ‘meet up’, but i really like it.”, Tom said, his fingers intertwined with the ends of my hair.
“Really?”, i asked. I knew for a fact he enjoyed my body, but I wasn’t aware he liked spending time with me when we weren’t doing one another.
“yea… why’s that so shocking?”
“Um, i dont know. I guess I thought you really only wanted sex from me.”
“Oh.”
“Yea..”
“Uh, I guess that’s just what I wanted at first. But the more I started seeing you, the more I wanted to see you again.”
“Oh?”
“Yea, and whenever I would invite you to stay over or do anything like that, you would always say no. Kind of assumed you were the one who only wanted me for sex.”
“I don’t, I just assumed you were trying to be polite or something. It’s stupid, I guess.”
“No, it’s not. At this point, you know me and you know the reputation I have, so i understood why you thought that.”
“Sorry…”, I muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.
“Don’t be sorry.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, but it wasn’t awkward.
“I was thinking about maybe doing this kinda thing more often with you, I mean, we can still do our normal things we do, but maybe we can start doing more of this too.”
“What? Like go on dates?”, i furrowed my brows.
“Yea, something like that.”
“I feel like that’s something only couples do.”, i sorta laughed. He was quiet, which made me sit up, I looked over at him. He was staring at his lap in my absence.
“Is that… not a possibility?”, he murmured.
“But… I thought you dont do commitment? and relationships?”
“Yea, i dont usually.”
“I can’t go on dates with you and act all boyfriend-girlfriend unless you are actually going to commit. I’m not going to do that to myself, Tom. I can’t let myself get hurt like that.”, i said quietly but sternly. I had to be sensible, i didn’t want to be just another girl that got fooled by Tom Kaulitz.
“I know, but i want to try.”, he looked up at me with pleading eyes.
“What changed? What’s different now than from when I first met you?”, I asked, still unsure.
“I hate talking about my feelings.”, he huffed.
“I’m not gonna judge you or anything, I just need to know.”
“You changed me. You did. I didn’t want to date any of the girls I hooked up with for one night because they just weren’t worth it and they didn’t mean that much to me. You’re one of the only girls I’ve consistently seen for more than a month. I haven’t gotten with any other girl than you for like 4 months. I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t ignore it. And I want more of you. More than just the physical aspects. Dont get me wrong, I love those parts of you too, but i want you for more than just your body. Dude, I can’t stop saying stupid ass jokes to you just because I want to hear your laugh. So yeah, I haven’t ever really commited before because I didn’t really do relationship. But, for you, it’s different. You are the only exception.”
“What? Really? I had zero idea you felt that way at all…”, I replied, astounded.
“Well I do feel that way and have for a little while now.”
“You aren’t playing with me, right?”, i asked, still not believing it.
“Really?? I practically just confessed myself to you and you still don’t believe me?”
“Okay, I’m sorry! You’re right, this was just, unexpected from you.”
“So… what do you think?”
“I want you too, Tom.”, I managed to say. A smile grew on his once nervous face. He cupped my face in his hands and began to lean in.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Mhm.”, i responded. He kissed me so passionately, I felt like I was floating. My hand went to his jaw, my thumb subconsciously tracing little hearts on his lower cheek. I could feel him smile into the kiss. I pulled away, my forehead still connected with his. I started giggling a little, looking away and hiding my face.
“Oh, c’mon. Dont be shy, now.”, Tom pulled my back towards him so I was leaned against his frame, his arms wrapped around my torso. He left little kisses on the top of my head.
“Wow.”
“Hm?”, he hummed.
“Can’t believe I was your only exception.”, i said with a cocky smile in attempt to poke fun at him.
I could feel him roll his eyes.
“Uh-huh, whatever. Its true.”
“I kinda never thought this day would come.”, i said, my finger trailing up and down his, that rested on my stomach.
“Yea, me too, I guess. But I’m glad that it did.”
I smiled, turning my head around to kiss him again.
A new beginning.
His first real relationship.
It was me, I was his only exception.
Something about that phrase made me feel like the most special girl in the world.
~
#tokio hotel#tokio hotel fanfic#tokio hotel fluff#tokio hotel x reader#tokio hotel imagine#tom kaulitz#tom kaulitz angst#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz x you#tom kaulitz fluff#tom kaulitz fanfic#tom kaulitz x y/n
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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩
All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please read the tags and warnings before reading.
BNHA
you could have knocked me out with a feather by sahwen
"Your X-rays don’t indicate any fissures or other breaking in the skull,” his handler said as she looked over his file. She always spoke like that, as did his other handlers; the skull. Not his. Because it wasn’t his, when you got right down to it. He was a public figure. He was property. He was real estate.
And he knew what she meant when she said your x-rays don’t indicate any fissures. It meant, you’ve wasted our time. It made him sweat.
Or: Hawks gets bonked. The HPSC is not a hospital.
Stranger Things
Adopt a Jock by @sp0o0kylights
Hellfire adopts Steve during his final year of high school. Pre-Steddie. (Ongoing tumblr fic)
DC (Batfamily)
This Dark Ceiling Without a Star by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday
"For fuck’s sake, your chatter is going to drive me crazy faster than this stupid spell.”
“Then you talk!”
“There’s no point!” Jason snaps. “I can feel it, okay. It’s—there’s no emotion behind it, it’s not using my thoughts. It’s just a bunch of weird Greek echoing in my brain and a compulsion to act. And it’s getting stronger. Talking isn’t going to slow it down.”
“Then what will slow it down?”
After five long seconds of silence, Tim gives into the urge and viciously jabs his fist into Jason’s leg for the second time.
“Goddammit, why?” Jason snaps, green briefly sparking in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly.
“You are not seriously going to just sit there and wait to die.”
“The hell do you care anyway?”
“Because I don’t want you to die! Obviously!”
“You fucking should."
Marvel
status quo by jilliancares
"So, you’re investigating this not-so-bad-bad-guy, and you’re coming out of his apartment at—" Wade tilts his head to the side, just enough to check his watch “—almost exactly the time you usually start your patrol.”
Peter chews on the inside of his cheek. “Yep,” he decides on.
“And — just to be clear — I definitely shouldn’t unalive this guy instead of the douchebag across the street.”
“Definitely not,” Peter agrees. “No one would like that.”
Wade bangs his head against the fire escape again. “Okay, Webs. This one’s just to gauge if you’re smarter than a fifth grader: how much of that do you think I actually believe?"
Or: Somehow, the components of Peter’s secret identity keep crumbling all around him.
Also: He’s running out of excuses not to tell Wade that he’s in love with him.
9-1-1
Don't You (Forget About Me) by Princessfbi
"Bill, can you tell me your location? I want to send some people to make sure you’re okay. You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m not. But he’s worse off than I am. Shouldn’t you want to help him instead? Wouldn’t you want to know where he is?”
“Who is he?”
“That firefighter I buried underground.”
The long awaited buried alive fic
ATLA
All the Little Things by CSHfic, VSfic
Sokka receives an offer of an arranged marriage from the Northern Water Tribe. On the one hand, accepting would strengthen ties between their tribes. On the other hand, Chief Arnook has suggested Hahn as a potential match, and Hahn sucks. But with the future of the Southern Water Tribe Reconstruction project relying heavily on the good will of the North, Sokka doesn’t know how to say no.
(Katara doesn’t have to deal with this. Katara is dating the Avatar.)
Zuko has a solution. Sokka just wishes he’d realized he was in love with the Fire Lord before he agreed to pretend to date him.
Classroom Lessons by Thisisentertaining
Sokka never would have thought he'd be pretending to be a Fire Nation Colonial Citizen, going to a parent conference about his fake!son who was an airbender, but here he was.
At least life wasn't boring.
Sokka turned on Aang, fake mustache and beard bristling. "Young man, as soon as we get home, you're gonna get the punishment of a lifetime."
The headmaster smirked, smugly, evil-y, Fire Nation-y. "That's what I like to hear. Really Zuko him."
the snakes, and the people that they bite by Serie11
Rai is just a normal guy, really. One of the many guards that patrol the Fire Lord's palace.
Why did it have to be him who got caught up in this assassination attempt?
Finishing Each Other's Sentences by mindbending
fire lilies are red
your melancholy mood’s blue
still I prefer you
After the war, Sokka starts writing poetry.
She broke your throne by Serie11
Zuko is kidnapped from his afternoon of paperwork by a well intentioned friend. There just so happens to be a festival on in town for them to attend instead of working...
#happy monday everyone!#we've got a big boy round up this week#my posts#fic recs#weekly fic round up#bnha recs#marvel recs#dc recs#stranger things recs#atla recs#911 recs#misc recs
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hello! ✨sending you good vibes in this stressful month✨ (why is february Like This?)
if you feel so inspired for the valentine’s day fic prompts: byler where someone asks one of them out and the other cuts in like “he has plans” and (one the person is gone ofc) they share a cute lil moment? 💕🫂
lark i LOVED THIS PROMPT!!!! this was so fun!
here you go, have some post s5 byler set in the winter of 1989 in a not-destroyed hawkins!
—
1: take my hand, wreck my plans.
Mike hates high school.
Yeah, that much was a given, and honestly, Mike fucking hates high school. Middle school was bad enough, but then high school came around and turned out to be a million times worse—a tall order, considering the fact that middle school was full of things like the demogorgon and the Mind Flayer and then the Mind Flayer’s fleshy form.
…
Okay, technically, high school did have One and the near interdimensional war that could’ve ended the entire world. That sucked too. So maybe, high school was always destined to suck just as bad as middle school.
Or maybe Mike just has rotten luck.
That has to be it, because there’s no other reason that Mike would find himself here, waiting by his best friend’s locker and watching stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes flirt with Will.
Will, who most definitely seems uncomfortable right now, and Will, who most definitely does not like girls in a romantic way, and Will, who Mike is almost positive actually likes Mike.
Like… like-likes Mike. You know. In a romantic, more-than-friends kind of way. In the “Hey, I want to make out with you underneath the bleachers” kind of way and in the “I know we can’t because this is Hawkins, but will you be my date to prom this spring?” kind of way and in the “I don’t ever want to lose you again, so please don’t go” kind of way.
…
Okay, fine. Maybe Mike is projecting a little bit. But he likes to think that after knowing Will for over ten years, surviving all the horrors of the Upside Down with him, and coming out on the other side of all of this with a stronger friendship than ever, he knows his best friend pretty damn well.
Mike’s like… ninety-five percent certain Will has feelings for him too, which is exactly why he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask Will out for Valentine’s Day. He had planned to do it today, since the rest of the Party is busy today, and Will is planning on coming over to do homework with Mike.
But then stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes had to come and mess all of Mike’s plans up.
Look.
Sometime around sophomore year, something weird started to happen. Girls really started to notice Will—or maybe Mike just started to notice how they noticed Will. Either way, it was like everywhere, left and right, girls were coming up to talk to girls. Will’s reputation as “Zombie Boy” had somehow disappeared in his year spent away from Hawkins, and suddenly, all the girls seemed to view him as the cool and sweet and lovable California boy.
Suddenly, all the girls at Hawkins High wanted to date Will.
Right around the same time, Mike suddenly wanted to kill all the girls at Hawkins High.
Looking back on it, that really should’ve been Mike’s first clue (or his second… or tenth… or twentieth) that he had feelings for his best friend. Honestly, Mike knows that he’s a decently smart person (not as smart as Dustin, but smart enough), but sometimes, he can just be downright stupid.
Oh well. At least Mike knows now, and he can finally do something about it.
“Yeah,” stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes says, and she does that stupid girl thing where she twirls her hair and smiles really big at Will. “Mrs. Elliott canceled practice for the musical on Tuesday, since it’s Valentine’s Day and everything!”
To his credit, Will smiles back at her, and to anyone else, it seems like a genuine smile. But Mike can tell that Will seems incredibly uncomfortable right now and is just looking for a way out of this awkward conversation. “Oh, that’s fun!” Will says with a bit of an awkward laugh. “I’m sure everyone was, um… excited!”
Stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes smiles widely again, and God, Mike wants to punch her in the face. “We were!” she says brightly, taking another step towards Will and leaning up against the lockers. “And um… anyways, I was just thinking about it, and well… I know this is so awkward, but I was wondering if you were maybe free on Tuesday? To… you know… go on a date?”
Mike’s going to punch her in the face.
Mike is actually going to punch her in the face, and hey, it’ll actually do some damage, because unlike little fifteen year-old Mike with noodle arms, absolutely no hand-eye coordination, and a complete inability to hold his own in a fight, Mike… can sort of do some damage now. He still has noodle arms, mind you, but the hand-eye coordination has improved (who would’ve known that he’s needed glasses this entire time) and can hold his own in a fight, thanks to many long days spent training with Steve and Jonathan and Hopper and literally everybody else in their Upside Down group.
So, yeah. There’s no way stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes is winning in a fight against him.
“Oh!” Will squeaks—like actually squeaks. He sounds like how he used to before his voice dropped near the end of middle school, and his face is bright red right now. He looks completely panicked, which is actually sort of adorable if you ask Mike. “I, um. I-I mean, I—”
“He has plans,” Mike blurts out, before he can stop himself.
Both Will and stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes turn to look at Mike, with varying looks of surprise on their face. Stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes also obviously looks a little disappointed (which makes Mike feel incredibly smug), while Will looks caught off guard but also a little pleased (which makes Mike feel even more smug).
Will recovers first, and he smiles again at stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes. “I’m sorry,” he says, even though he’s definitely not. “I… I’ve already got plans.”
“Oh… okay,” stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes says, and she shifts awkwardly, glancing at Will then back at Mike. “That’s alright.”
Judging by the look on her face, it definitely isn’t alright. Mike fights the urge to grin at that.
Then, with another forced smile, stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes picks up her wounded pride, and she waves at Will. “I should get going,” she says awkwardly. “Bye, Will!”
“Bye, Jennifer,” Will calls faintly, though stupid fucking Jennifer Hayes is already gone, her ponytail bouncing stupidly behind her as she walks down the hall. Mike can’t help but roll his eyes.
Goodbye, and good riddance.
Beside him, Will clears his throat, and Mike flinches slightly, glancing at his best friend. There’s an amused look on Will’s face, and once Mike catches his eye, Will raises a brow. “I have plans, huh?” he says with a bit of a teasing smile.
Mike feels his face go warm, and he clears his throat, leaning his hand against the lockers. “Something like that,” he says, trying his best to ignore the way his heart is pounding inside his chest. “I figured anything’s better than having to go on a date with her.”
A soft laugh escapes Will’s lips. “Jennifer’s not that bad,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But you’re right. I definitely don’t want to spend my Valentine’s Day on a date with her.”
Once again, there’s a playful smile on Will’s face, and when he meets Mike’s eyes, Mike becomes like… ninety-eight percent certain Will has feelings for him too.
Oh, to hell with it. Ninety-nine percent.
So, Mike just decides to take a leap of faith.
“Well… is there anyone else you’d want to spend your Valentine’s Day with?” Mike asks softly.
Another little smile tugs at Will’s lips, and he shrugs, leaning against the lockers slightly. “Maybe,” he says, just as soft. “That depends though.”
He’s teasing Mike—again, which… fuck, is driving Mike absolutely crazy. Will’s always been a little bit mischievous, but now, over the past few months of settling into their friendship and finding peace after the mess of the Upside Down, it’s like he’s become more and more comfortable to do little things like flirt with Mike more openly.
Mike absolutely loves it.
So, all he can do is grin back at his best friend. “Depends on what?” Mike asks, and Will’s eyes crinkle as he smiles again.
“On what these plans are that you were talking about,” Will hums, a playful glint in his eyes. “Because last I checked, Lucas had plans to take Max and El to the movies, and Dustin plans on calling Suzie that evening, so…”
Will’s voice trails off, and he looks Mike expectantly, a hesitant but shy look on his face. There’s a rosy little blush on his cheeks and a dozen different emotions in his eyes, and God, Mike just wants to kiss him.
“So… it sounds like it’s just you and me for Valentine’s Day,” Mike says, soft and shy.
“Sounds like it,” Will agrees.
“And I don’t know… I was thinking that since it’s just the two of us… maybe we could make it a date?” Mike asks softly.
A huge smile stretches across Will’s face, and Mike’s heart does a stupid little somersault because of it. That ninety-nine percent certainty increases to a solid one hundred percent, and inside of Mike’s mind, it sounds like one of those game shows after someone has finally won something—like DING DING DING, WE HAVE A WINNER! YOU’RE THE WINNER! YOU DID IT!
“I’d love that, Mike,” Will whispers back, just as shy. “I’d really, really love that.”
Mike can’t help but grin like a complete idiot, and he nods, probably just a little too excited. “Cool,” he says breathlessly. “It, um… it’s a date then.”
Somehow, Will’s face turns even redder, and he beams. Luckily for Mike, he nods just as enthusiastically, so that’s definitely a good sign. “Yeah,” he agrees softly. “It’s a date.”
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Together or not at all - Hangster sequel
I wrote a ~2.5k Javy/Nat 5+1 and this is the 2k Hangster sequel (with a potential epilogue to come, who knows?)
This is based on the fact that ~14 months ago my BF of over 20+ years started dating my husband's BF of over 20+ years. Because my husband dared his BF to ask my BF out. Yep. We are all in our mid-40s and that's a thing that happened. They moved in together two weeks ago.
“I dare you to ask him out…”
“Ask who out?” Jake asks, leaning back against the brick work of the house while he watches Javy’s kids run around in the backyard and tries to not miss Laney and Pepper too much.
“Bradley.”
“What? Uh… why do you think that would be a good idea?”
“Well, you actually have a fuck load of stuff in common for a start.”
“Okay. I…” He pauses then and considers it, because Javy’s not wrong. Except for the fact that he may have taken one too many knocks to the head. “Okay. Imagine this. I ask him out. We go out and hit it off. Start a relationship and then two or three years it crashes and burns like all my past relationships and then you and Nat feel awkward as fuck and feel like you can never invite both of us to the same thing ever again…”
His divorce was five years ago, he’s had two short-lived relationships since then, and he’s just sort of figured that maybe the problem is him. Or his career. His career is such a big part of him though that it’s something he can’t divorce himself from, which is a line Catherine had thrown at him and it had cut deep even if he’d later reflected on it and realized the truth of it.
“No. No. I don’t accept that. That’s bullshit Jake. For a start if you think Nat wouldn’t force you both to get over yourselves if you broke up – ”
“If? We haven’t even gone on a fucking date yet.”
“If you seriously don’t think you could have something with him, then I won’t press. But you guys have a lot of shit in common okay? You’re our best friends for a start, and okay, yeah, that could get a little messy if things don’t work out. But that would only be for a while. Only until Nat beat some sense into both of you…”
“And what about the fact I have kids?”
“Bradshaw loves kids. Pretty sure he’s not going to hold that against you. In fact it might even count in your favor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Uh… well… he doesn’t really know you like we do. You guys haven’t exactly crossed paths a lot the last few years, with him being stationed so far away. And it’s not like we talk about you to him, other than mention you in passing. So he might have more, um, distinct memories of you from Top Gun that first time. And some of those other times.”
“Great, so when I was young and dumb and we pretty much had a pissing contest every time we talked to each other? You seriously think this is a good idea?”
“You’re both Navy. You’re both very family orientated. You like being outdoors. You’re both best friends with either me or Nat, and after fifteen years I have to say I consider him a good friend and I seriously think you two could work.”
“So you don’t really dare me, because that’s juvenile shit… you just think it’s a really good idea.”
“Jake, buddy, my dearest and oldest friend and godfather of my children… I’m still daring you because you’re juvenile as fuck and I want you to do this. In fact, I’m not just daring you, I’m double-dog-daring you.”
“Ugh, you suck…” Jake mutters, knocking his head back on the bricks like it will somehow relieve the annoyance he’s feeling.
“Nope. But you might if you follow through on this dare.”
“You’re disgusting. One day your kids are going to ask what you mean and it will serve you right.”
Javy just laughs at him and Jake hates that he knows him so well.
He guesses he’s asking Bradshaw on a date.
… … …
They’ve decided on a local tap house specializing in IPAs and Jake is pretty sure neither of them cares about that, but it’s low pressure and informal enough that they can just pretend this is two friends catching up rather than their best friends insisting they go on a date. He’s still getting flashbacks to some of their previous meetings, and he knows that’s all past, that their most recent interactions have actually been mature and adult, but it still feels a little surreal to be meeting up with him without Javy and Nat also in attendance.
Bradshaw enters the building and he looks weird. It’s been a couple of years since Jake’s seen him in person, their careers taking them to different parts of the world. He’s not wearing a Hawaiian shirt, is missing his moustache and looks good, light blue button-down with sleeves rolled up, showing of tanned forearms and wearing dark jeans. He’s always been attractive, Jake isn’t blind, but right now he’s allowing himself to look and appreciate. It’s a different experience than what he’s used to when faced with all of Bradley Bradshaw.
“Hey Jake.”
“Bradley…” he replies, the name unfamiliar in his mouth. They don’t hug or even shake hands, both letting out little huffs of laughter at the awkwardness and Jake motions to the booth he’d been directed to when he arrived. They sit opposite one another and place drink orders with the hovering waiter.
“Is this as weird for you as it is for me?”
“Yeah. I have to say, I didn’t expect you to ask me out. I promised Nat I’d give you a chance so…” Bradshaw says, and he shrugs, but his smile isn’t mocking, just a little.. shy maybe?
“Well, don’t do me any favors Bradshaw. I’m only here because Javy double-dog dared me,” he says it with a wink, his lips twitching in amusement and hopes Bradshaw takes it with the levity in which he means it. He does, laughing and Jake has to admit he looks good.
“Only you would feel the need to do something because you got dared into doing it.”
“You saying Natasha daring you to do something wouldn’t make you do it?”
“More like the opposite really. She tells me not to do something and I immediately go and do it.”
“God, you must drive her insane.”
“I’ve mellowed as I’ve gotten older.” Jake laughs again, because he’s not sure if it’s mellowing or simply maturing, but he knows what Bradshaw means. “Anyway, we might as well catch-up, not like we don’t have plenty of things we can talk about.”
They talk. They talk and talk and he finds himself enjoying it more than he thought he would. Bradshaw is funny and entertaining, intelligent and not afraid to poke fun of his younger self, admitting that he’s come a long way. He asks about Jake’s daughters, listens to endless stories about them with a smile on his face and asks to see photos. Naturally they talk about Javy and Natasha, their joint godchildren, the sickeningly sweet way they can be together sometimes, but how happy they both are for their closest friend.
Food arrives, is eaten and shared easily when Jake apparently eyes the ribs a little too hard. He makes a passing comment about ribs in Texas and having to get Bradley to try them next time they visit and while a part of his brain spirals away in mortification, he manages to keep his expression neutral, and Bradley doesn’t seem to even do a double take at the vague mention of a future. He is very firmly Bradley now though, not Bradshaw, and he wonders how he might think of Jake. Whether it’s callsign, last-name or first. He definitely seems to use Jake with no hesitation and another little part of his brain wonders how else his name might sound at other times… He startles a little at that train of thought, not really having thought about taking Bradley to bed. It’s not an unappealing thought, but it does feel…
“Does this feel a little weird to you?”
“Yep. Little surreal. Not bad… but,” he shrugs then, but Jake knows exactly what he means.
They both pass on dessert but order coffee, neither of them wanting to stop talking and he feels a little warm when Bradley stretches his legs out, brushes against his own legs and then just rests there while they keep talking. It’s been over four hours and that’s… god, he doesn’t think he’s spent this much time just talking with anyone like this other than Javy or his parents in years. It feels good.
They finish up and settle the bill, walking out; Bradley holds the door open for him and Jake hasn’t been on a date with someone who holds doors open in a while. The last person he dated seriously was his ex-wife and while he’s had a couple of very short-lived relationships since then, none of them had felt this easy. They walk aimlessly, or what he thought was aimlessly until they’re stopping beside a car and it beeps as Bradley unlocks it before turning and looking at Jake, lips quirked in amusement.
“God, let’s get this over and done with, come here…”
Jake’s laughing as Bradley’s hand lands on his waist and tugs him close, they’re both smiling as they begin to kiss, Bradley a couple of inches taller than him giving him an ever so slight height advantage and downward angle and Jake presses into it, lets his own hands settle on Bradley’s hips. They’re not smiling anymore, the spark between them like a pleasurable electric shock and Jake groans into it, not having expected to feel anything more than warm pressure. Bradley’s hands become firmer, his body pressing against Jake’s and it feels feverish, an edge of desperation that doesn’t have an explanation. Their lips are slick, urging each other to press a little firmer and his stomach swoops with anticipation, his cock starting to harden. He’s pretty sure this is meant to be a goodnight kiss, not fucking foreplay and he pulls back ever so slightly, reluctant to step away from the press of Bradley’s body against his. But they should probably talk.
“Fucking hell…” Bradley says, and he doesn’t move away either, the words murmured into the side of Jake’s neck and his body feels tingly with awareness.
“Yeah. Wasn’t quite, uh, expecting that.”
“Uh no, neither was I. Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Jake asks, because while he might be feeling a little surprised, he’s not upset at all.
“Are we that blind? Were our best friends able to see… that?”
Jake snorts.
“Well, I think until recently one or both of us have been in relationships so no, I don’t think they’ve been waiting for us to figure our shit out for years or anything. But maybe they thought we might… get along?”
Bradley huffs a laugh and pulls back enough to give him an amused look and oh, it reminds him of all the times before when he’s given Jake a similar look. He’d thought back then that Bradley had been laughing at him, but he thinks he’s had it wrong, it’s been Bradley inviting him to share in a private joke, to laugh along with him. Okay. Maybe Javy has seen something all along.
“So… we doing this then?” Jake asks, because he needs to know. Wants to know.
“I’m… yeah. I’m in.”
“Okay. Good. Me too,” Jake says, and he kisses him again, wants to know if their first kiss was a fluke of some sort but is very happy to be proven wrong. His entire body thrums with arousal and god, it’s been a while, but not long enough to warrant this type of reaction. He wants to take Bradley to bed.
“So,” Bradley says, his lips and teeth leaving little ticklish nibbles along Jake’s jaw. “I guess one of the benefits of doing this now is we both have a better idea of what we’re looking for. Already sorted through our twenties and thirties…”
“Yeah. Know what you’re looking for in a partner, also what you’re not looking for… Oh fuck… Bradley,” Jake mutters as Bradley grinds against him and he can’t believe they’re making out against Bradley’s car like a couple of teenagers.
“Yeah Jake… Didn’t think I’d find it right in front of me, but I’m not disappointed.”
“Oh god, Javy’s never going to let me live this down. He’s going to be fucking insufferable.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth it.”
“Fuck, yes please.”
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The Backup || Chapter 1
[Jake Seresin x Reader]
Summary: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits?
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader
Warnings: Implied smut, cursing
WC: 3.2K
Masterlist here
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“That can’t happen again.”
“It will.”
You sighed loudly, flinging yourself backward onto the mound of pillows, knowing that he was right. Jake rolled off the bed, tugging on his boxers.
He grinned. “Any more bad dates planned for this week?”
“A blind date on Friday,” you replied, rolling onto your side to face him as Jake got dressed. “Someone that a secretary from my work knows.”
“A blind date, really?”
Ignoring his comment, you replied, “What about you?”
“No plans.”
“Which means that you’ll have a date lined up by Thursday.”
“And it’ll be a flop and we’ll be right back here on Friday night.”
“I’m serious Jake, this can’t keep happening.” You stepped out of bed, slipping on a silk robe and tying it tightly around your middle. “We can’t be each other’s fallback every time a date goes sideways.”
“So end it,” he said. “You’re the one that called me tonight, remember?”
“I’m weak,” you replied and Jake chuckled.
“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but weak isn’t one of them. Except when it comes to those mall pretzels.”
“Well those are objectively the best.”
“True.”
You watched as Jake finished getting dressed, tying his shoelaces, slipping on his jacket. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Are we fucking each other up by doing this? Like are we the reason that every single date goes bad? Because I feel like lately they all end up sucking.”
“The dates are bad because our options are bad,” Jake replied. “We’re not cursed, Stinky. That’s just how these things go. You date and date and just when you think you want to fling yourself over the Golden Gate you find one person who suddenly makes things work. And then you live your weird Hallmark lives together forever.”
“You, Jake Seresin, believe that?” You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to the guy I met three years ago who didn’t realize that girls don’t want to come over to your fucking Tenderloin apartment and see a bed without a bed frame?”
“I loved that apartment and it was dirt cheap,” Jake argued. “Besides, you’re not much better. Remember when you thought guys actually liked girls who wore Birkenstocks?”
“They’re comfortable!”
“You looked like you were going to yell at me for not using a reusable jar to grind my own peanut butter at Whole Foods for twenty dollars an ounce. It was heinous. Also they smelled like ass.” Hence, the nickname that you hoped would die but never did.
“You’re just saying that because your type is girls who stomp around in size five Aquazzura heels on Market Street and have their daddy’s Amex card numbers memorized.”
“Better than your type. Mr. Couch potato, looks practically homeless and asks you to split the check at dinner because he’s too cheap to pay for your baked potato.”
“That happened twice, that’s not a pattern.”
“More than once is concerning.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed because I can’t fucking stand you.”
“Stop stroking my ego.”
“Goodnight, Seresin,” you said, walking toward the kitchen, your back to him. “Slam the door on your face on your way out, won’t you?”
“Night Stinky,” he said and you could hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway. “See you next weekend!”
You grabbed a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge door and slammed it, a little too hard, the sound of bottles inside rattling as you unscrewed the cap and chugged directly from the bottle. It was acidic, probably too old, but it would do the trick. Anything to block out Jake’s words that haunted the quiet air of your apartment even after he was gone.
He was right. Somehow the two of you always fell into bed together. The dates always went belly up. Hinge, Raya, Bumble, League. No app worked. No blind set up. It was like clockwork: you’d spend an hour getting ready for a date, and within five minutes you’d know that at the end you’d call an Uber to take you to Jake’s. Or vice versa: he’d show up at your door with a pocketful of condoms and a smirk. It always ended the same way. For almost a year, you and Jake had been filling the gaps of your dating life with each other. Friends with benefits. No strings.
And, of course, you made a point to keep it from the friend group. Coyote would throw an absolute fit if he found out. He had made a point the first time he introduced you to his friend group, which had later adopted you as one of their own, to steer clear of Jake.
“Before we go in, there’s one rule.”
You frowned, looking up at him. His face, normally so relaxed and chill, was creased in concern. The two of you had known each other for more than half of your lives, growing up in houses across the street from each other. At night, sometimes you would flick the lamp on your desk off and on as a kid to get his attention. He would do the same, powering up the old Walkie Talkies your mom had given the two of you one summer so you could whisper to each other in the darkness, your own secret club. This was all before cell phones were stapled to every kid’s ear, even before AIM or Facebook. Javy had been your friend for what felt like every minute of your life.
“Don’t fall for Jake’s bullshit, OK?” Coyote said. “He’s suave and shit, but he’s going to hurt you if you let him.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Coyote had seen you at every low point in your life. When your prom date stood you up and he stepped in. When you almost failed out of sophomore year because your math professor had a chip against you. When your dad died after freshman year of college and the two of you stood side by side in your backyard in the rain, not speaking, but you knew he was there and that was enough.
Coyote had been there for all of it. You knew, deep down, that he had your best interests in mind.
But then you had walked into the bar on 22nd Street and Jake’s golden head had been thrown back in a laugh and you felt your heartbeat speed up in your chest. The way he looked at you that first night — it was like you were a prize and he was operating the claw machine with an endless supply of quarters. You flirted with him, to Javy’s disdain, but at the end of the night when he slipped his hand onto your bare knee you pulled away with a grin.
You weren’t going to make it easy for him.
At first that’s all it was. A chase, flirtation. Coyote’s eyes darting angrily between you and Jake as the two of you argued over the pool table or in a game of darts. The time all six of you — Jake, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob and Bradley — rented bikes in Golden Gate Park and the last mile was just you and Jake, ahead of everyone else, racing as fast as you could until your lungs threatened to give out and the greenery of the park opened up onto Ocean Beach.
The two of you had ditched your bikes, plopping down into the sand, gasping for breath, the waves slapping softly along the shore.
“You win,” Jake said.
“I know, I got here a solid ten seconds before you.”
He looked over with a grin. “No, I mean you win, Y/N. I’m not going to try and sleep with you. We can be friends, or whatever the hell it is that girls want.”
You shook your head, laughing. “All it took was getting beat in a physical competition and you’re giving up? Jake Seresin, I’m appalled.”
He laid back against the sand and you did the same, heads only a foot or so apart.
“What girls want,” you added, “is to be pursued not chased. Is to feel wanted but not smothered. Sexy but still intelligent.”
“That’s too much to ask for.”
“You asked what we want, not what’s attainable.”
“Is that what you want, Y/N?”
In that moment, you wanted him. You wanted to feel his hard, sweaty muscles pressed against your body. Feel his silky golden hair beneath your fingertips. His rough voice in your ear.
You rolled over on top of Jake, surprise lacing his face, your hands digging into the sand on either side of his head. Your hips grazed over his, just a hint, and Jake reached up one hand, brushing the hair out of your face where it had fallen from your ponytail.
“I’m not going to tell you what I want,” you whispered, smirking. “More fun this way.”
“Oh you’re evil,” Jake grinned, rolling the two of you over until you were pressed against the sand, his much larger body pinning you down, this time his hips grinding you down against the soft beach. You could feel him everywhere and it took everything in your body not to moan out into the open air for all the families and tourists to hear. The rush knowing that any minute the rest of the group could catch up and find the two of you only made your heart beat faster in your chest. “I’m up for the challenge.”
“You better be.”
The two of you laid there, Jake’s arms boxing you in, his chest lifting against yours. If you reached up a few inches you would be able to slide your lips against his.
But instead, you shoved him off and he landed in the sand as you laughed. You saw it in his eyes at that moment.
You had Jake Seresin’s interest. For now.
***
“Hey, you’re early for once.” Coyote leaned in, kissing your cheek gently.
You grinned. “Snagged a front row parking spot.”
“Grab a table, I’ll get us some coffees.”
“Flat white?”
He nodded, heading off toward the counter. You picked a spot in the corner, a big round table. The door swung open and Bob and Bradley walked in. You waved, Bradley sliding into the booth with a grin. “Hey Stink,” he said and you rolled your eyes. The nickname had stuck, despite your best effort to shake it over the last few years.
“Bradshaw. What did y’all get up to last night?”
“The usual,” he said as Bob sat down with two black coffees and slid one to Bradley. “Started out at the bars in Richmond.”
“And ended up in some twentysomething’s bed in the Marina,” Bob finished.
You shot him a smile which he returned with a shy grin. “Just you two idiots out on the town.”
“Phoenix was there, and Jake.”
His ears must have been burning, because the moment his name was said, Jake sauntered through the door, looking far too fresh for nine in the morning after a night of drinking and debauchery.
You should know. The two of you had, predictably, landed in bed together after your blind date. Just like Jake said you would. Just like you had hoped you wouldn’t. He spotted the three of you in the corner and smirked, lifting a pair of sunglasses onto the top of his head and heading toward the counter.
Coyote slid into the spot next to you. “Flat white. And I got you a croissant. You look hungover.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Just smile and look pretty,” he replied and you grunted, ripping off a piece of croissant and stuffing it into your mouth. “Where’s Nat?”
“Running late,” Bob said, checking his phone.
Jake took a seat across the table from you, a cup of hot coffee in one hand, a donut in the other. He took a bite, powdered sugar coating his upper lip in a faux mustache. “So everyone here got some last night?”
You rolled your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Bob’s face glowed pink. Coyote dragged a wet tea bag out of his cup. “Could you be cruder?”
“Yes.” It rolled off of his tongue effortlessly.
You scowled and took a sip of coffee. Phoenix crashed through the cafe doors, flinging herself into the remaining chair and swiping the last of your croissant, shoving it in her mouth. “Hey.”
“Morning Princess,” Bradley said. “Long night? We lost you after the second bar.”
She shrugged and leaned over, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ew, no cream, really Bradshaw? Anyways, I ran into Nina.”
The group groaned. Nina was Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend and it was communally agreed that she should stay an ex. If Natasha’s belongings on a curb and her box of coats on literal fire weren’t proof enough, Nina had also stolen from her once and racked up a monumental credit card bill that Phoenix later managed with the bank.
“She’s changed!”
“Nobody changes,” you replied.
“Well how was your night, Stink?” she asked. “That blind date work out?”
“He smelled like Fritos and told me his goal in life was to quit insurance sales and start a Lord of the Rings themed coffee bar.”
“That’s lowkey kind of cool,” Bob replied.
“Let’s just say it didn’t work out.”
“So you went home alone?”
Across the table, Jake smirked. You hid your face in your coffee mug. “Yeah. Alone.”
***
“So you work at a bank. That’s cool.”
You sighed, taking a sip of wine. “I’m actually a hedge fund analyst.”
Bill, your date for the night, frowned. “Bob told me you worked at a bank. I thought you were a teller or something. So you work.”
You were going to kill Floyd. Bill was tall, you’d give him that. But this was the third hint he’d dropped that screamed of misogyny. The first was when you ordered a steak and a glass of red and he asked why you weren’t getting a salad. The second was when you ordered a second glass of wine and he frowned, saying wasn’t it bad for your fertility to be drinking so much? “Yes, I work,” you replied. “And do you work?”
He puffed out his chest. “Of course. I’m a real estate agent.”
“And does that pay well?”
He went ashen and then a bright fiery red. You tried to hide your grin behind your wine glass.
“I’m going to use the restroom.” You slid out from your chair, grabbing your purse and heading toward the front of the restaurant. When Bill looked away, you darted right, out the front doors, practically jogging around the corner. “I’m going to murder Floyd,” you said into the phone.
Jake’s laugh on the other end was warm. “Again? I thought you were still mad at him for that sous chef-turned yoga instructor who tried to crack your back in the middle of the restaurant.”
“Just come pick me up?” you begged, looking around. “I’m at some place in the Mission, I’ll send you my location. And hurry, before my date comes out here and tries to get me to put on a costume from Little House on the Prairie.”
Five minutes later, you were stretching out in the passenger seat of Jake’s car. He had one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, cruising down Van Ness toward the Marina. You resisted the urge to study him: his golden hair illuminated by the headlights of oncoming traffic, the way he smelled like pine and fresh laundry and the smirk that you knew was practically tattooed on his lips.
Those lips that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop aching for.
It always ended the same. You and Jake in a pile of tangled limbs in crisp white sheets, sweat pricking at your skin, hair a mess, a soreness already starting to form between your legs. And you’d do it again and again, even if it was wrong. Even if hiding things from Coyote and the rest of the group was becoming next to impossible. Because ending the night with Jake was a hell of a lot better than being alone in your apartment.
“Stay,” Jake said as you pulled on your jeans, buttoning the top button and turning around in your lacy bra, searching for your shirt that had somehow been flung onto the coffee table.
You yanked it over your head. “What? No, that’s rule number three.” The two of you had started a list of informal rules for your friends with benefits situation. Rule number one: no getting attached. Rule number two: keep it a secret. Rule number three: no sleepovers.
“Rules are made to be broken, babe.”
“Don’t babe me, Seresin,” you grunted, slipping on one stiletto and then the other, examining your hair in the mirror above the dresser.
“For once, what if you just pretended to like me for more than five seconds when we’re not horizontal.”
“It’s not an act, Jake,” you replied, whipping around to look at him. He was sitting up in bed, sheet covering his lower half, top half ridiculously muscular and drenched in a thin layer of sweat that only made him glisten in the dull light from the lamp. “You and I? We’re two totally different people. We have good sex and we have the same friends but the similarities stop there. I want someone to actually be in a relationship with. Not just a booty call.”
“Feeling pretty used over here.”
“You use me and I use you,” you replied, “that’s how this works. Two-way street.”
“For a girl who claims to want more than this, you seem to be jumping into my bed a lot.”
“Fuck you,” you said, but it was lighthearted.
“I mean it, Y/N,” Jake replied and there was something serious in his tone. “You say you want a real relationship but you don’t even give guys a chance. You find something wrong with them, every single time.”
“You literally said not two weeks ago that everyone in this city is insane and that’s why none of our dates ever work out.”
Jake stood up, slipping on a pair of boxers. “That’s true, too. But you’re part of the problem, Stinky. And I think you know it.”
“I’m leaving,” you said, stomping down the hallway toward the front door.
“You'll be back here in a few days,” Jake called out.
You slammed the door behind you. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Jake wasn’t the type of guy to rush after you, say he was wrong.
And why would he? Because the truth was, he was right. And you both knew it.
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BTS MEMBERS AS ANGSTY LOVE SONG LYRICS AND WHY YOU WOULD BREAK UP
Author disclaimer: This is just for fun! I'm sure all the boys are lovely in their personal relationships. I just want to feel angsty!
Warnings: Angst, swearing, PG, but my blog is 18 plus so MINORS DNI.
Kim Namjoon:
"I'm bein' a cool girl, I'm keepin' it so tight"
"I need him like water, he thinks that I'm alright
I'm not feelin' human, I think he's a good guy"
Complex by Katie Gregson-MacLeod
Not sure if yall were ever dating officially :(
He's brilliant and wonderful but he can't make time for you in his head or his heart.
Thinks you're lovely and sweet and enjoys spending time with you but would not claim you.
You try harder to get his attention than you do caring for yourself. It's just not gone work I'm so sorry
Park Jimin:
"I know heaven's a thing
I go there when you touch me
Honey hell is when I fight with you"
False God by Taylor Swift
Absolutely devastating arguments lead to the breakup.
Jimin isn't a yeller but he can be so cruel when he's heated. And he doesn't take back anything he says even if he knows it hurts your feelings.
Will not talk to you for days on end if you don't apologize first.
Ultimately the anxiety you felt every time you disagreed on something was not worth it in the end. You break up and speak when you run into each other but don't date again.
Kim Seokjin
"'Cause I know we said we'd just be friends
I can't lie and I can't pretend
Boy, I've tried and bottom line is
I still love you and I hate this"
I hate this- Tenille Arts
He broke up with you cause he liked you more as a friend and wanted to do his own thing.
You are not handling it well.
You keep making up reasons to talk to him seeking some form of closure an he's so gentle he keeps talking it through with you because he does care about you.
Sadly as much as you love him and think he's your forever he does not feel that way about you.
Jeong Jung Kook
"Cause you're so pretty
When you smile, it kills me,
You're the only person left, so hold me
Don't leave me"
Ur So Pretty- Wasia Project
Anxious attachment style on both ends oh my gosh!
You were both so nervous about fucking things up and losing each other yall wouldn't let each other breathe like.
Lots of jealousy on both ends.
Relationship kind of imploded on itself.
Maybe some therapy would have helped but then again maybe not.
You two have an on and off thing for like a year before agreeing you're better off as friends.
Min Yoongi:
"And it's true
I tend to follow in his stride
Instead of side by side
I take his cue"
A part of that- The last five years
You just kind of lost yourself in him?
It's easy to fall into the world of min yoongi but your sense of individuality slowly fell away.
You looked up one day and your world was only him and it wasn't his fault but you had to find you again.
The breakup was amicable and you're still friends to an extent. You don't date again for a few years after him as you spend that time rediscovering yourself.
Jung Hoseok
"But when you walked out that door
A piece of me died
I told you I wanted more
But that's not what I had in mind
I just want it like before
We were dancin' all night"
Blue Jeans- Lana del Rey
Hobis ambition is not something you or anyone can get in the way of.
He loves you but he loves success a little more.
Long nights at the studio missed anniversaries long stints of no communicatom became the norm. You tried desperately to act like being second place in his life didn't bother you
But it did. And one day you walked out of his life and never looked back. One week without communication became 3 became months became a year.
It sucks that it fizzled out but you learned to date only people who had time for you.
Kim Taehyung
"I miss your tanned skin, your sweet smile
Sorry to say that you pushed this sweet guy away,friend.
So good to me, so right...But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right I'd go back in time and change it, but I can't"
Back to December- Taylor swift
You had a lot of shit going on and you liked Tay but he always felt in the way even when he was just trying to love you.
You dumped him pretty abruptly, and he was pretty hurt and even asked you to reconsider a few times, but he eventually moved on.
After healing the parts of yourself that was not ready for a man like him you decide you'd love to try again.
He's already moved on though. Sometimes timing and life is funny like that.
You learn to be happy for him after being miserable for a while and eventually you love again.
And that's it! Let me know if you liked these and if you want more boys as song lyrics or head canons. Make sure to follow me for bts fan fic/ head cannons
#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts x reader#bts imagines#jimin x you#jimin x reader#namjoon x reader#jung kook x reader#ot7 x reader#namjoon x you#jhope x reader#jin x reader#jungkook x you#kim seokjin x reader#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#bts headcanons
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