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mingigoo · 8 days

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oh shit, are we in love? || Jongho (m.)

🏀 pairing ⇢ cheerleader! (fem) reader x best friend/basketball player! Jongho

🏀 summary ⇢ you’ve called Jongho your best friend all your life. You were attached at the hip for ages, and even as you take on college together. With no other relationship experience other than with him, when you decide to go after a cute classmate, you look to Jongho for some help. Asking him to practice “things” with you seemed like nothing—that is, until kissing him made you think that you couldn’t kiss anyone else.

🏀 genre/au ⇢ best friends to lovers, college au, smut, fluff

🏀 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, oral sex (male recieving), cum shot, Jongho is a virgin, also is a slut for y/n, drinking, mentions of knee injury, best friends to lovers, college love, cheerleader x basketball player

🏀 word count ⇢ 15.8k (so sorry I just couldnt stop)

🏀 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

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When you were kids, Jongho gave you a ring—a ring made out of straw paper he kept after a trip to get milkshakes after school.

With the paper straw ring, he stuck it on your ring finger. The wrong one, but that didn't matter to him, anyway. He declared to you that he would marry you someday. Someday, whatever that meant to a young kid. With the ring already on your finger, you couldn't exactly decline his proposal, so you just shrugged and told him, “Why not?”

At seventeen, you went to prom together. Not because you liked each other, no. Because it was convenient, it made sense. How could you go with someone else? You wore a beautiful red gown, Jongho matching you with a patterned red tie. You had a great time, went home together, and nearly kissed at your doorstep—you didn't think too much of it. You blamed it on the atmosphere. So did he.

You sat at your desk in your cramped dorm room, your bed pushed up on the left side of the room and a mess of pillows and blankets covering it.

Suddenly, as you were finally getting to the good part in your book, Jongho barged into your room, dropping his basketball bag onto the floor with a groan. He tossed his slides off, not even meeting your gaze before walking like a zombie towards your messy bed, throwing himself on top.

“Well hello to you too,” you blinked, losing your page in your book. “Get out of my damn bed, you're sweaty as fuck.”

He huffed, crossing his muscular arms across his chest, staring up at the glow stars you put on the ceiling. “Leave me be. My roommate is fucking some chick right now. I just need to lay down.”

“San seems like he gets around a lot,” you scoffed, picking up your book again. You were currently reading a very, very smutty book—although you were supposed to be studying your literature anthology text for the exam you had in the morning. You flipped a page.

“Oh, he does,” Jongho sniffed. You looked over at him, his cut-off t-shirt revealing a good bit of skin on his side, his sweat gleaming on his body. “I mean, practice just ended. He had to have the damn girl in there even before he got back. It’s ridiculous.”

He sat up now, putting his back against his headboard. He winced a bit as he moved, his hand going to the brace around his knee.

You paused, completely forgetting the smut you were reading. “What is it? Is it hurting again?”

“Just a little, it’s no biggie.” Jongho offered you a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Don't give me that look, y/n. I hurt it a while ago. It's normal for it to ache occasionally.”

Back in your senior year, he tore his ACL before the season, causing him to never have his final year of basketball. He was a mess, but at least he had you. He got surgery, had physical therapy, but yet, he still has pain to this day.

You met his eyes for a moment, sighing when that gorgeous smile of his poked through his lips. “Fine, fine. Just get outa here when you can. I got some…important things to do alone tonight.”

He furrowed his brows, confused. “What could you possibly…..oh,” he shut his eyes painfully. “Please, I don't want to imagine it.” He scooted back down on the bed and tossed your blanket on top of him. “My eyes, my eyes.”

“Oh, shut up, you pussy.” You set your book down, crossing your legs. “A girl gotta live out her fantasies somehow, alright?”

“La la la,” he repeated, trying his best to ignore the conversation. “I don't wanna hear it.”

You let out a chuckle, stood up from your seat, and tossed yourself onto the bed with him, tackling him as he thrashed from your grip.

“Stop it, stop it,” he groaned, wriggling away from your hands as you tickled him. He giggled, childlike. You giggled right along with him, not even caring about the damn sweat that coated his skin, his clothes. You tangled together under the blanket, and after a good couple minutes of a tickle fight, you grabbed your laptop to watch your favorite TV show.

Jongho stayed under the blankets with you, his leg strewn on top of your body, his head in the crook of your neck as you watched the show together. He let out a few snide comments—earning a slap from you, but he just chuckled and nuzzled closer into you.

And after a few episodes, he fell asleep on you, legs tangled in yours, your arm wrapped around him.

—

“Dude, you wouldn't answer your phone last night,” Wooyoung mumbled as he stuffed a couple of chips into his mouth. “Do you literally have a new bitch every night?”

You and your friends were sitting at a table in the dining hall, munching on some lunch before you had class. Wooyoung, San, and Mingi sat across from you and Jongho, all of them in workout gear—they were going to the gym after lunch.

“Listen, last night wasn't even that good,” San hummed dully, taking a sip of his protein shake. “She was too damn loud—”

“I thought you liked them whiny,” Mingi deadpanned.

San’s eyes narrowed on the giant. “Your point? She was loud, not whiny—there’s a difference.” San looked to Jongho now, a slight smirk on his pretty little lips. “Where’d you go? You could've joined us.”

Jongho waved his hands sporadically. “No, no, I’d rather not, thank you.”

San huffed playfully, eyes dancing to you. They glimmered knowingly. “Ah, you’d rather be in her bed, right?” he nodded his head towards you, earning a harsh glare from Jongho.

“So what if I'm in her bed, it’s not like we do anything.” Jongho’s eyes went frantic, and his fists balled. “We’ve always slept with each other—wait, that came out wrong—”

“What he’s trying to say is that we’ve slept in the same bed since we were little, that nothing is ever gonna happen,” you interjected, crossing your arms across your chest.

San laughed at that. “Ah yeah, that nothing’s gonna happen, gotcha,” he said, taking the last sip of his protein shake. I’m going to the gym if you guys are ready. Jongho, y/n, you coming?”

You shook your head, but stood up with everyone else, anyway. “I have class, but you guys have fun. I’ll walk out with you.”

As you and your friends left the dining hall, the cool, winter air breezed through you, sending chills down your spine. Your winter coat wasn't enough. You shoved your hands into your pockets, walking stiffly next to jongho, who simply—possibly even without thinking, tossed his arm around your shoulder, warming you up instantly. Your friends continued to talk and carry on, and you snuggled up into Jongho’s warm side.

—

Class was a bore. As per usual. The spring semester had just started, and the new classes you had were far from entertaining. Anything to get through school, though.

As you packed up your things, a phone fell from the seat in front of you, landing right by your feet. You picked it up, but when the person was no longer sitting there, you quickly tossed your bag over your shoulder to follow him.

“Hey, excuse me!” you huffed, chasing after the guy—damn, his legs were long. He moved way too fast for you. “Your phone….dude!” you finally reached him, tapping him on the shoulder, only for the most gorgeous man to grace the earth to turn around.

You forced yourself to keep your jaw from falling to the floor as you met his dark eyes. His hair was even darker, his lips a soft pink, curling up slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, holding up the phone. “But you dropped this.”

The pretty guy blinked, smirking. The classroom emptied as you stood staring at each other, oblivious to the professor giving you a side-eye as he left.

“I don't think that’s mine,” he said blandly, but his eyes glimmered mischievously. He looked a bit older—definitely older than you, at least.

You furrowed your brows, looking at the phone in your hands. “I could've sworn you were the one sitting in front of me,” you wondered, confused. You pushed it forward into his chest. “Just take it I don't have time to find the owner if it's not yours.”

He smiled down at you, his thick eyebrows raising. “I won't take it.”

“Why the hell not?” your patience was running thin—you had to get the cheer practice. This stupidly pretty guy was not allowed to make you late. You were not running laps. Not today.

You were about to just shove it into his pockets until his mouth opened. “Not without your number.”

You frowned. “Is that….is that supposed to be a pickup line?”

He shrugged. “If you want it to be, then yes.”

God, the smile this damn boy had. You were gonna crumble under his gaze like some schoolgirl, but you kept your cool.

His eyes were so bright, so clear. He was tall, much taller than you, much older. You watched as he looked around, away from you. “If not, then I’ll just take the phone back—”

“No, no,” you laughed awkwardly, looking at the phone in your hands. “You just…you’ll just need to unlock it.”

He smiled gorgeously. “I can do that.”

He took the phone, typed in a few numbers, and gave it right back to you. “What’s your name?”

“y/n,” you hummed, forcing your blush away. This was the first time you had been asked for your number, the first time a guy other than Jongho or your friends had looked at you. “You?”

“Seonghwa,” the pretty boy smiled, a name now to the face. You couldn't help but grin at his expression—and the utter insanity that just happened. It was totally random; a pretty guy asking for your number? That’s never happened in all your years. Never.

“If I ask to buy you a coffee,” he started as you fumbled on your phone number. “Would you say yes?”

“Depends,” you shrugged, unable to look up at him. “If you get me food, too.”

“Deal.” Goddamn, that smile, those teeth. “Tomorrow, after class? Before class?”

You bit your lip, handing the phone back to him. “Before, I have practice after class.” actually, you had practice like, right now. You probably looked crazy, eyes wide as you realized where you needed to be. “I gotta go—speaking of which—”

Before you could leave, he called for you. “Hey, where should we meet?”

“Outside the library?” you tossed out, hoping he answered hastily.

He nodded, giving you that smile once again.

“Perfect.”

—

You were in bed after practice, and Jongho was sitting quietly on your desk chair, slowly taking off his knee brace and hissing.

“God, this thing sucks,” he groaned, the velcro tearing as he peeled it off. The brace was like a metal cage, going from his thigh to his lower calf, looking like a deathtrap.

“And it stinks,” you mumbled dramatically, staring up at your ceiling, hands folded on your stomach as your mind wandered. You sat up quickly, startling your best friend.

“What? What is it?” he spat out, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “You just sat up like a goddamn zombie.”

“If, let’s just say, hypothetically,” you wondered, looking out into space. “That I got asked out on a date to a coffee shop, how would I dress?”

Jongho’s eyes widened. “You got asked out? You?” he asked incredulously.

You scoffed, looking over at him with a playful sneer. “Is that so hard to believe?”

He laughed, finally taking off his brace and setting it on the side of your desk. “Oh yeah—y/n, you’ve never once gone on a date in all of our years of friendship. It's shocking.”

You blinked at him, gripping a pillow from behind you and tossing it at him. Of course, he caught it.

“I’m just saying—”

“Okay, but for real,” you groaned, shifting to get comfy again. “You’ve been on some dates, how did the girls usually dress for them? Did you ever go on a coffee date—”

“Who’s the guy?” he huffed out, completely ignoring your worries.

You flattened your lips. “Does that matter?”

“Uh, yeah. What if the guy is a scumbag?” Jongho leaned back in the chair, stretching out his arms.

“He’s definitely not a scumbag,” you sighed, thinking of how dreamy he looked, missing Jongho’s worried expression. “Anyway, you didn't answer my question.”

You couldn't figure out the look on your best friend’s face. He knitted his brows, his eyes raising to yours. “Just dress normally,” he spoke softly. “When’s your date?”

“Tomorrow.” You hopped off your bed and walked towards your closet across from Jongho. He followed you as you moved and hesitated to look as you tore off your top, leaving you standing in your sports bra.

Jongho gulped but rolled his eyes playfully. “Why do you always undress in front of me?” His eyes naturally dropped to your hips as you slid off your sweatpants. “I am a man, too, you know.”

“Pfft, man, my ass,” you turned your back to him as he tried his best not to look. You grabbed a t-shirt—his t-shirt that you kept from a while ago—and tossed it on. You didn't even bother with pants.

Jongho gave you a look as you turned to face him. “My shirt? Really?” He groaned, mouth parted as he looked at you. “Where the hell are your pants?”

“I don't like pants.”

“Then put shorts on—”

“Is it a crime to sleep in my underwear? God, at least I have something on, dammit.” you walked past him and hopped back onto your bed. “I could be completely naked—this is my room, remember?”

Jongho didn't change his expression—he blinked at you while you sat on the bed, bare-legged, the skin up to the top of your thigh visible. He took in a gulp. “I, uh, I got an assignment due at midnight. I’m gonna head back to my room.”

You shrugged and shuffled into bed to get comfy. “Have fun with that, babycakes,” you said, giving him a wink, but he ignored it and left your room without another look.

—

Maybe it was a bad idea to wear jeans on a day like today.

A day when you woke up painfully bloated, bleeding, and aching from your period. Out of all the days, you had to get it today.

You stood outside the library, your back against the red brick building. You wore a cute pink top with the flared jeans you were struggling with, and you added a cute little bow to hold your hair back.

You saw Seonghwa walk up to you. His lower half was also dawned in wonderfully-fitting jeans. They hugged his thighs, loosening a bit at his knees, and fell over a pair of sparkling clean white sneakers that looked like they were worth more than your car.

The white shirt was also slim against his lean frame. You held back any reaction you had like a damn cat in heat. “Hey,” he started as he neared. “Ready to go? We can go to the coffee shop on campus since we have class coming up.”

You nodded, hoping to god the smile on your face was not grimace-like.

“Yep, let’s go.”

You sat with your hands in your lap, fiddling with your fingers anxiously as Seonghwa waited for your drinks. You looked over at him, watching his figure lean against the closest wall, how his long, long legs looked in those damn pants, how his fingers tapped against his arm as he waited. You barely knew him, nothing much other than knowing his name and now his coffee order, and you wondered what it would be like to get to know him.

When he sat down in front of you, he handed you your coffee, a bright, blinding smile on his face. “I pegged you as the type to like ridiculously flavored seasonal drinks….” he paused, smirking, as you froze mid-sip on your….seasonal drink. Highly, highly sugary seasonal drink. “Guess I’m a good judge of character.”

You swallowed the party of sugar and cinnamon before giving him a shy smile. “I’m a sucker for them, to be honest.”

You sat quietly for a good while, sipping on your drink, him sipping on his. The feeling was…nice. However, you were a bit anxious as he looked at you, at your lips, as you drank from the straw.

“You’re a cheerleader for the basketball team, right?” He tilted his head slightly, looking at you. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere—besides class, I mean.”

You nodded. “Yep, I cheer for the basketball team,” you took another sip of your drink. “Do you play? I think I would've seen you before, though.”

“Actually,” he started, offering you a kind smile. “I just transferred in from another university. I start official practice today, but I’ve been to many games already.”

Oh, so he’d seen you and known that you were on the cheer squad even before he approached you?

Cute.

“Oh, wow,” you smiled, leaning closer without realizing it. “So, will you be playing in the next game, then?”

“Yes,” he looked ecstatic, like he can't wait. “We’ll see how much playing time I actually get, though. Those guys are very good—”

“Oh, I know!” you didn't mean to interrupt him, but you would take any chance to brag about your Jongho. “My best friend is the point guard.”

“You know Jongho?” Seonghwa smiled, but it looked a bit weary. “He’s a great guy.”

“He really is.” you took a large sip of your coffee, meeting Seonghwa’s gaze as you did it. His gaze fluttered to your lips once more, and he licked his own.

He tapped against the wooden table. “Would you….want to do this again?”

You raised your brows. “This? You mean, getting coffee?”

“Not exactly,” he blinked, letting out a little chuckle. “Anything, just…we can hang out more, if you're down with that.”

Your heart fluttered a bit. “Ah, yeah, I would like that.”

He smiled. “Good,” he looked at the clock on the wall near your seat. “We gotta get to class.”

“Class, yeah, that’s right,” you were lost in his gaze, not even realizing how captivating his entire being was. You followed him out of the coffee shop, walking next to each other, until you got to the classroom.

He took the seat next to you this time, and you were beginning to suffocate from the feeling of his body being so close.

—

“I think I’m doomed.”

Jongho, like always, is in your room when you come back from practice. He sat up from his lazy position on your bed, eyebrows raised.

“Why’s that?”

You huffed, tossing your cheer bag onto the floor next to your desk. “What if he kisses me? I’ve never kissed anyone, fuck, I bet I’ll look like a fish trying to gulp fucking water—”

“God, you’ve been here for not even a minute, and you're blabbing on like a maniac already.” He blinked, his face deadpanned as he looked at you. “Why are you so concerned? Did the date go well?”

You groaned dramatically, tossing off your sneakers, and balancing yourself on the back of your desk chair. “He asked me for another date, but I know damn well what that means, and I can't let him find out that I am a twenty-something-year-old virgin that’s only ever kissed books and my mother.”

Jongho looked like he was about to burst out laughing at your desperate words, biting the inside of his cheek. He managed to squeak out, “Oh, I think you’re a lost cause,” he giggled. Giggled.

“This is not funny. You're no help,” you groaned, tossing your head back as you walked to your closet—when a perfect idea came to you.

“Wait a damn minute–”

“What is it now?” Jongho sat up on your bed, legs dangling off the side.

You turned around sharply, facing him, eyes wide with mischief. His eyes widened at your expression.

“Lend me your lips,” you said, walking up to him, but he leaned back in confusion, his arms holding himself behind him.

“What?” He scoffed, unable to meet your gaze. “The hell do you mean?”

You leaned over him on the bed, him unable to lean any further back without falling. You held yourself up on both sides of him. “Oh, come on. Just once. You can help me learn how to kiss. Who else could?”

He furrowed his brows. “You’re crazy.”

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I’d rather die than embarrass myself.”

“You do know,” He started, letting out a sigh. “That friends don't kiss each other? Or did you miss that memo?”

“I swear it won't mean anything,” you pleaded, knowing you were acting crazy, immature, whatever.

Jongho huffed, leaning forward, but grabbing your shoulders to move you away. “Listen,” he sighed, meeting your eyes. “Why don't you go ask San or Mingi?”

“Because San scares me,” you shrugged. “He’d probably eat me. And Mingi is….Mingi….”

“What does that even mean—”

“For fuck’s sake, Jongie,” you grabbed his shoulders. “Is this asking too much? We’ve been best friends for so long. How would something so trivial as a kiss mess with it?”

Jongho looked like he had something to say—a lot to say, actually. But he stayed quiet, sighing, as he looked up at you from his seated position on the bed.

“Okay, but if I have to kiss someone as filthy as you,” he huffed, crossing his arms. “What do I get out of it?”

You hummed. “Hmm. well, what do you want?”

He smiled mischievously. “Do my paper for me. For my lit class.”

“Easy, done,” you leaned forward. “Now gimme your lips—”

“Ah ah ah, slow down,” he scoffed. “You can't just toss yourself into the kiss. You have to lead into it.”

“Got it,” you blinked, looking into his golden brown eyes, noticing how…nice they were. “How do I do that?”

“Well, I bet he’ll try to kiss you first,” Jongho ran a hand through his fluffy brown hair, matching his eyes. You took note of it, too. He stood up, causing you to subconsciously step away from him. You both now stood in the middle of your dorm room, the room dimly lit by your desk lamp, the warm hue coloring the tanned skin of his face.

“Okay,” you nodded, almost freaking yourself out for noticing his details, the slight curve of his lips, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Jongho’s calloused hand slowly, hesitantly, moved towards your face. You watched his eyes as his fingertips brushed your skin, watching them scrunch, watching them focus on his movements. “Maybe he’d hold you like this,” he spoke softly, eyes jumping to yours, his hand twitching slightly.

“But what do I do?” you weakly jutted out, biting the corner of your bottom lip. “Do I…touch you—touch him, too?”

He shrugged, swallowing hard. “I mean, you do what comes naturally.”

He was so close. So close. It's not like you’ve never been closer to him, because you have, but something was suffocating. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

Maybe this is just how it’s supposed to feel.

You stared into his eyes, those brown eyes, those….sparkling, pretty eyes. You swallowed as his hand slid down to your chin, tilting it up softly.

There was an unknown emotion dancing in his gaze. You were extremely aware of the spark that was setting off from his touch.

He leaned in closer, and as he got closer and closer, you felt your heartbeat flutter in your chest. You heard it in your ears, felt your stomach tighten.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said hushedly. You noticed that the tips of his ears were flushed red, and a dusting of the color was across his cheeks. When he pressed his lips to yours, you widened your eyes from the feeling, then shut them to savor it.

His mouth moved across yours, you felt the warmth of his lips, the softness of them. His other hand—the one that wasn't holding onto your chin, rested around your hip, his grip tightening.

You froze under his lips, unsure of how to do this. You moved your mouth against his, then, trying to move with his movements. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck, unsure of what to do with them if you didn't do that. You felt a small smile in his kiss.

You pressed your body into him as his lips parted against yours. You felt the soft tickle of his shaky breaths against your skin—you could only imagine what you felt like to him.

He parted from you, only slightly, and took a sharp inhale. You still had your eyes shut tight, lips parted, as you got lost in the feeling.

You opened them, meeting his gaze, meeting that heart-shattering look he had. His lips were red like his ears, like his cheeks. His eyes were hazy, his hands still on you. You felt your heart crumbling inside you.

Without another word, you leaned back up to him, awkwardly wrapping your hand around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. He shut his eyes, and let out a pleasured sound, stirring something, awakening something inside.

You kissed him this time, even knowing that you had no idea what you were doing. You just trusted these instincts you were feeling, the emotions that were overtaking your mind. Your body told you to part your lips against his sweet lips, to savor the slightly salty taste against them. To lean into his body. You couldn't help but allow yourself to touch his waist, gliding your hand down his abs, his stomach, feeling his muscles tighten under your touch.

He sighed into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist, his fingertips brushing the bare skin under your blouse. His lips felt so good, so soft, so electrifying. This feeling was unlike any other, you were beginning to lose your breath, your senses, your mind.

And when you let out a little moan—without intending to, you were shocked back to reality. You pulled away from him quickly, moving your hands to your sides, trying to catch your breath. Jongho was also huffing, begging for oxygen, as he stood in front of you. His lips were bright red now; his eyes were wide.

“Ah, um,” you cleared your throat, forcing out a laugh. “So, did I do a good job?”

Jongho blinked, still looking out of it. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah.” He swallowed, nodded, and crossed his arms across his chest. “Mhm. For your first kiss, you did good.”

Good? Good? God, that felt euphoric. Like you were drugged, high, out in space. You still couldn't get your heartbeat to slow. “Great.” That was all you managed to squeak out, now that you were suddenly aware of the ability to just kiss him again. You realized that the air was odd now, that something felt different.

“You tasted like sweat,” you playfully added, letting out an awkward laugh as you gave him a shoulder punch. “Maybe I should've kissed San or Mingi instead.”

“I am a great kisser, I’ll have you know—” Jongho boasted, but you interrupted him.

“Pfft,” you waved a hand as if you weren't just about to hyperventilate from his kiss, his touch. “You sucked, you’re a horrible teacher—”

“Oh?” he huffed, gripping your arms just below your elbows. “I’ll kiss you again, I’ll prove it, I’ll do you one better—”

“Fine! More practice for me, anyway.”

Jongho let out a grumble of incoherent words before grabbing you by the back of the neck and pressing his mouth to yours once more, his lips gliding against yours.

You grabbed the fabric of his shirt, tightening your grip as he pushed his tongue through your lips, into your mouth. You let out a sigh as he did it, his fingertips gripping your hair on the back of your head.

After a long few minutes of eating each other, He pulled away this time. He let go of you, his hands falling at his sides. “There,” he breathed. “Now you know how to handle a kiss like that. You know, just in case.”

You licked your bottom lip, sparks still flying around your body. You tasted him still, the saltiness of his sweat. You smelled the woodsy cologne he used, the minty taste of gum.

“Thanks,” you smiled, trying your best not to let these thoughts of him overtake you. “For helping me with this. You’re such a good best friend.”

“Ah, yeah,” he sniffed, forcing a smile. “I should, uh. I should go, I have something to submit before midnight, so,” He gulped, taking a step away from you. “But happy to help, of course. Now you owe me my paper.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you scoffed, smiling playfully as he walked to the door to put on his shoes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he called out as he opened the door, leaving after you offered him a wave goodbye.

And once the door shut, you nearly lost your breath, falling onto your bed.

“Oh god,” you breathed, putting a hand to your mouth. “What was that? I—ugh!” you groaned, thrashing your legs around. “Why the fuck was he so hot? Get a grip, get a grip.” you ran your hands aggressively through your hair and gripping it. “Fuck I think my brain lost too much oxygen.”

You couldn't sleep one bit—not at all. Every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Jongho, and all you felt was him.

—

A few days pass and you barely see your best friend.

It's not that he’s ignoring you or vice versa; it's that he had an away game a good distance away and was off campus for a good few days.

While he was gone, you wondered if he was thinking the same way you were, if he felt something, too, or if it was just normal to have feelings during a kiss.

Irritated by your stupid mind, you were unsure about the feeling in your chest when you saw Jongho in the library; his baseball hat flipped backwards over his soft brown hair.

You would look odd if you ran away, right? Right.

You strutted over to where he was sitting. He always loved the window seats, mainly to people watch. You sat down in the seat across from him.

“When’d you get back?”

He lifted his eyes to yours. “Last night,” he grumbled, flipping a page in the book in front of him.

“What are you reading?” you leaned forward on your elbows.

He reacted much worse than you thought, flying backward into his chair, a terrified look on his face.

“Yo, I’m not gonna bite you, Jeez,” you raised a brow, moving your gaze to the book. “Oh, ew, anatomy. No thanks.”

He scoffed, picking off an invisible—or maybe an extremely small—piece of lint from his black hoodie. He didn't say anything in response, he just continued what he was doing.

“So,” you tried to continue the conversation with him without it turning to mush. “I’m gonna be going to Seonghwa’s frat tonight. There's a party or something.”

He looked at you with shock. “You’re going to a party?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” you rolled your eyes, leaning back to cross your arms around your chest. Jongho’s vision dipped to the movement.

“Well, given that you hate crowded places,” he trailed off, not really having another excuse. “I just can't see you going to—”

“y/n?” a voice softly murmured from your left, and both you and Jongho turned to see Seonghwa walking up to your table, a bag slung across his broad shoulder. His hair was pulled up in a half up half down do, little black strands framing his unfathomable face.

Jongho, in the corner of your eye, looked away from the tall basketball player, opting for the view outside the library.

“Seonghwa?” you smiled, uncrossing your arms to look less like a grumpy bitch. “What’s up?”

You didn't even look to see the irritation on Jongho’s face.

“I was coming in to study but then I saw you in the corner of my eye,” he smiled, beamed, really, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He then nodded to Jongho, offering him a smile, too. “Hey, Jongho.”

Your best friend managed to give him a smile back, although you knew his face all too well—that was a damn grimace. “Hey.”

You looked between the two boys as seonghwa spoke again. “Hey, me and y/n are gonna be at the party tonight. You wanna come? The other guys on the team will be there, too.”

“Well, I can't imagine San missing a function,” Jongho scoffed, cracking his knuckles aggressively. “But I guess I’ll come, too.”

You nearly dropped your jaw onto the floor.

“Really?” you interjected, shocked. “I can't imagine you going to a party—”

“Anyway,” Jongho cleared his throat, ignoring you. “What time?”

Seonghwa furrowed his brows as he tried to recall. “Uh, I think ten? It goes till two, no later,” He looked to you then. “Do you wanna go for some lunch?”

You blushed. Jongho huffed. “Oh, yes. That would be nice,” you smiled, to which Jongho rolled his eyes in response. You stood up from your seat and offered your best friend a playful wink. “See you tonight, jongie.”

When you walked away, seonghwa slugged an arm around your shoulder on the way out. Jongho, still in his seat, tightened his grip on the textbook as he watched you leave.

And then he couldn't even enjoy people-watching when he saw you walk down the sidewalk with that string bean.

—

You didn't hear from jongho the rest of the day, and even when ten o’clock came, he was M.I.A. You shrugged it off, trying too hard to ignore the tug in your chest, the desire to go to his room and kiss him again.

You made it to the frat house that sat on the end of the Greek life strip in town. It was a tall, skinny building that looked way too nice to be lived in by a bunch of boys. You made sure to wear your filthy Converse, knowing damn well whether booze, puke, or a plethora of other fluids would end up all over them. Despite not going to many parties in your lifetime, you still had common sense.

You walked into the house, getting bombarded with tons of odd smells, some good and some bad. The interior was dark, lit with random colored lights that danced all over the walls, the people.

Loud, ungodly music blared through oddly positioned speakers in the wall, and there was a sea of people talking and carrying on. You weren't sure how the fuck they could hear each other over the awful music.

You walked further into the house, making a B-line to where you assumed the alcohol was. There was a bunch of beer cans, and you grabbed one with ease, cracking it open and chugging it like a champ. However, the beer sucked ass, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. You must've made a face.

“Icky?” Seonghwa’s smooth voice envelopes you with comfort.

You turn to him, offering him a sincere smile. He looked great, as always, with his hair growing even longer. “Very, but if it gets me drunk, I’ll handle it.”

“So brave,” he chuckled, standing closer to you by the second. Your mind wanders to the thought of him touching you. Would it feel as good as it did with Jongho? Would his hands be gentle? Would his lips taste as sweet?

His hand on the small of your back interrupted your thoughts.

You needed to be drunk. Quick, so you can handle these stupid ideas.

“It’s good to see you here,” he starts, but you can't help but look at his lips. You weren't thinking about them—no, rather, you were thinking of Jongho’s. Would Seonghwa feel the same?

You took another sip of your drink to get the last drop before grabbing another. “Do they have something else? This shit sucks.”

Seonghwa looked at you for a long moment before nodding in a direction. “There’s vodka in the cabinet if you want it?”

You let out a sigh of relief, but still, you kept drinking the shitty beer. “Yes, god, yes.”

After you got ahold of the vodka, you regretted your choice against the beer.

You must've blacked out for a bit—you don't remember how you got in the living room, how you got onto Seonghwa’s lap, how his lips were on your neck. You delightfully craned your neck to feel it better, to feel his hot breaths, his hands on your waist. However, when you opened your eyes, you realized that you were imagining someone else under you.

You pulled away from him, but you didn't get off him. You looked into his eyes, seeing the desire drip from them. You were too messed up—blame that on your shitty tolerance, to care what you were doing right now. “Can I try something?” you fluttered your eyelashes, not meaning it in a sultry way, but it came out that way.

“Of course,” Seonghwa mused, a little smile prickling at his lips.

Lips that you wanted to kiss—not because you needed to, but because you needed to see something, feel something—have something to compare to that ethereal experience you had with your best friend.

And at his approval, you leaned forward, doing everything that you were taught, and pressed your lips to Seonghwa’s. He responded well, gripping the back of your head as he kissed you back, and you slid your tongue in his mouth, half expecting to feel something, anything.

But there you were, imagining Jongho, his smell, his taste, the way he cautiously touched you and held you. Nothing can compare, not even this.

You pulled away from him, eyebrows raised, mouth agape. He looked confused at your reaction but put on a sloppy smile. “Everything okay?”

You were going to say no. you were going to cry out and say that you were going to die because you kept thinking about Jongho. You couldn't even kiss a hot guy, a guy you wanted to date, without thinking how much better it felt with Jongho. Everything felt better with him. It was comfortable, unnerving, exciting, all at the same time.

You smiled, but with how drunk you were, you could assume that it looked like a grimace. “I uh, yeah, I just gotta….go do something—-bye,” you huffed out, offering him a little, awkward wave, before you ran out of the spinning room.

You ended up on the back porch, not sure how you got there, but the world was spinning. Your chest was aching. You needed air, anything, you needed to breathe.

The cool air hit you just right, enveloping your lungs, helping you breathe. Your skin was hot, flaming underneath your clothes, and you were sure your cheeks were bright red. After noticing a couple making out in the corner, you grimaced and ran back into the house.

God, what a shitshow.

You avoided seonghwa narrowly, making your way up the creaky, thin staircase to get your own space. You opened the first door you got to, tossed yourself in, and slammed your back against the door with a sigh of relief.

That relief didn't last long.

“y/n, what the hell?” Jongho nearly screeched, turning his body slightly as he stood over the toilet, zipping up his pants in a frenzy. “The fuck? Don't you know how to knock?”

You didn't say anything. You just took a deep breath, your gaze falling over him.

“y/n?” He repeated, standing a bit awkwardly on the other side of the room, leaning over to flush the toilet. He looked a bit rough around the edges as he washed his hands quickly, looking over at you as he dried them. He walked up to you now, hesitantly, unsure about your expression.

You fiddled with your fingers as the world slowed around you.

“Are you gonna talk?” He scoffed playfully, his eyes raking your body, forcing themselves up to your face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you swallowed, shaking your head, the door behind you the only thing holding you up.

He gave you a concerned look, running a damp hand through his silky hair, and you couldn't help but think about how wonderful it would be to rake your hands through it, too. “No, that you're not okay, or no, that you’re not gonna talk?

You blinked. “....yes.”

He sighed. His eyes looked hazy, not quite to the extent yours probably looked, but still, he was not in his right mind, either. You took a shaky breath, watching those brown irises fall to your lips, to your chest.

You clench your fingers together, your body, dying to do something your heart would regret. You swallowed hard, sighing.

“Aren’t you acting like this because you have something to say?” He asked, his words dripping like honey from his lips.

You shook your head. “No.”

He looked like he was fighting a smile. “I think you are.”

“No, I’m not–I’m not acting like this because I have something to say.” Your mind was already screaming at you, begging you not to do anything. Begging you not to say anything. “Because I want to do something.”

The air was stuffy. The bathroom was filthy, the window was cracked open, blowing in a slight breeze, gently running up your arms, sending chills down your spine.

Jongho tilted his head. “To do what?”

The vodka in your basically vodka-virgin body was bubbling under your skin, infiltrating your mind, your blood. It was taking control over your every move, every idea, everything. So when he asked you that, when he looked like the most beautiful person in the world as he spoke, with his pretty ass hair and his lips and his flushed cheeks, you knew what you wanted to do.

“To kiss you,” you didn't stutter. You stayed put against the door despite your words. “I just wanna do it again. Every time I look at you, I want to do it.”

Jongho’s eyes widened, but he didn't run away like you thought he would. He just stood there, breathlessly, his hands at his sides and his mouth parted. It’s like he wanted to do it too, with the way his fingers twitched as you spoke, with the way his lips almost curled up completely.

You pushed off the door, taking a step towards him. When he didn't back away, you took another step. You were so close to him that you were able to feel the soft, hot breaths he was letting out against your skin. His breath smelled like that disgusting beer, but it didn't matter at all—actually, you wanted to taste it on his lips, on his tongue.

You reached out a hand, the room spinning around you. Your fingertips met his cheek, his hot skin. You felt a surge of electricity run through your body as you touched him, as you looked into his eyes. His gaze was unlike anything else you have ever seen. His eyes were zeroed in on you, shutting slowly as you rubbed your hand against his skin. He let out a soft breath, a content sigh, and his eyes were on yours again.

He took in a breath, eyes on your lips. You were too drunk to think about how the look on his face made no sense—friends shouldn't look at each other the way he was looking at you.

You leaned forward, and when he didn't flinch away, when he actually leaned forward as well, you smiled to yourself, and pressed your lips to his.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his body to yours. His hips knocked into yours, his mouth parting, swallowing you whole. He shoved you against the sink, the countertop stabbing the small of your back, but you felt absolutely no pain. You arched your body into his, as if it were instinct, and his hands ravaged your bare skin. He was desperate, trying to catch his breath as best he could while he kissed you.

Your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers tightening in his brown hair. He let out a little moan into your mouth, his hands caging you in against the sink. Accidentally, his forehead bumped yours, causing you to bite his lip.

You pulled away, but just for a moment, smiling at him, at the redness of his lips from your gloss and your bite. He looked breathtaking in front of you, so human, so perfect. So you leaned in to kiss him again, nose knocking into his, but it didn't matter if you were sloppy. It just mattered that he was the one you were kissing.

“y/n,” he breathed against your lips, his hands now on your hips, one curving around your ass. “We shouldn't be doing this—”

“Shh,” you hissed, slapping his shoulder, keeping your lips against his. “I don't care right now.”

You deepened the kiss, and as he pressed up against you, you felt something hard press into you; you felt a deep rumble from him into your mouth. The pool between your thighs.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened. Mingi stood there, his jaw down to the floor, as he took in the scene in front of him. Jongho must not have heard the door, as his hands were still clawing at you like a goddamn animal, his lips on your neck now. You quickly gripped Jongho’s shoulders and pushed him away.

“What? You just said—” He took notice of where you were looking, turning his head to see Mingi’s shocked expression. “Oh.”

“Oh, dear god!” Mingi looked like he couldn't hide the smile peeking through his lips. “I knew it!”

Jongho took a whole century taking his hands off you, finally stepping away, leaving you cold, empty. “It’s not what you think—”

Mingi threw his hands up in the air, smirking. “Ay, I didn't see anything. Carry on.”

With one last look, Mingi shut the door, leaving you alone with Jongho. The feeling in the room was completely different from a moment ago.

“I….” he started, then sighed, unable to look at you. “I gotta go.”

“Jongho—” You went to move toward him, but he left the bathroom as quickly as he could, stumbling into the doorframe, and out of sight. You were left to your own devices, standing in the middle of the bathroom, hair a mess, lips bright and painful, and a mark on your neck from your best friend.

If you could call him that…

—

It’s as if he disappeared.

You haven't seen Jongho in days. You were even too nervous to go to his room this time, not knowing how to approach him after kissing him like that. After you felt the hardness of his cock against your stomach. The wetness between your thighs. Something you have never felt before.

After a few, empty, lonely nights in your room, you took the initiative to go find him at the late hour of midnight—To ask if he feels this intense craving for you just like you do for him. But when you arrived at his dorm, San told you he wasn't there.

“He’s been super sick. I thought he was with you,” He shrugged, confused.

“He’s sick?” your eyes widened.

San nodded, messy hair from sleep. “Sorry, maybe he’s with Mingi?”

After your encounter with San, you made your way to Mingi’s dorm. But, once again, Jongho was nowhere to be found.

So you went to the only place you thought to look.

And there he was, under the bright lights, taking a shot at the three-point line on the courts near the rec center. He missed the shot and stood there a moment before going to grab his rebound.

But the ball rolled to where you were, as if it meant to. Jongho stood still as you grabbed the ball.

He stayed silent. You weren't sure whether to move closer or just pass him the ball back.

“Are you going to give me it?” He spoke blandly, sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cold air surrounding him.

You sighed, putting the ball under your arm. “Jongho, it’s cold out here.”

He sniffed, his nose red. He didn't look at you. “Just give me the ball, dammit.”

You blinked, watching the cold air show as you exhaled. “Why are you ignoring me?”

He rolled his eyes, taking in a breath. “Dammit, y/n—”

“You’re doing it on purpose,” you began to dribble the ball—very sloppily, but it didn't matter. You dribbled past him towards the hoop, tossing the ball up, watching it go through the net. “Ignoring me, I mean.”

“No, I’m not,” he huffed, moving to grab the ball from your shot. He made his way back up to the top of the key, away from you.

“Yes, you are.” you walked up to him, putting your hand out so he couldn't shoot. “Just be honest!”

With a huff of cold air, jongho tossed the ball away, an aggravated look on his face. “For fuck’s sake, y/n, Yes. I’m annoyed.”

You blinked, standing only a few feet away from him. “Why?” you asked, probably stupidly, given the irritated look on his face.

He sighed, tightening his hands into fists. “...Because….because I’m a man, too, you know.” he started, running his hands through his hair aggressively, clenching his jaw. “ You change in front of me, kiss me, do everything that causes my brain to spin. I’m sick of acting like I'm okay with it.”

You stood there, frozen. The air felt even colder as winter wrapped its arms around your bare skin.

“Does that mean you didn't like it?” you wondered out loud, possibly too immature, too inexperienced. You had no idea what you were feeling, why you felt this way. All you knew is that you wanted to spend every moment with him, to kiss him, to lay in bed with him. Things you did normally, but things felt different.

“Didn't like what?” He asked, his eyes wide.

“The kiss,” you looked into his eyes. “The kisses.”

Jongho stood tensely, unsure of what to do. You watched his eyes flicker up to the sky as little flurries fell, catching themselves in his hair.

“y/n,” he took a sharp breath in. “don't you get it? I can't kiss you. You can't kiss me. You can't….touch me like that, change in front of me, and not expect me to get flustered!” He nearly shouted the last part, and turned to the side away from you, aggravated beyond words.

“I….I’m sorry,” you spoke out, taking a step towards him. “I’m sorry that I feel this way—”

“Feel what?” he scoffed, turning back to you, a pained smirk on his lips. “You should be sorry for making me feel this….for causing me so many headaches, for god sake why the fuck am I out here when it’s fucking snowing, jesus christ you piss me off—”

“Jongho,” you interrupted his freakout, his word vomit. He stared at you with those beautiful eyes of his. “What are you trying to say?” you spoke in a small voice.

His eyes were frantic, going back and forth from eye to eye. “I…. can't do this.”

“Do what?” you felt the flurries dance against your skin, dance as they fell around you.

“I can't act like your friend anymore.” He bit his lip. “You have no idea what you do to me. What you’ve been doing to me.”

You took a step closer, but he backed away.

“I don't understand—”

“Just go,” He pleaded.

“You do things to me too!” you groaned, finally done with his attitude. “Will you knock it off? You’re not the only one confused here—”

“Oh, I confuse you?” He looked at you like you had two heads. “I’m sorry, I only kissed you because you were trying to get another guy. I kissed you so you could know how to do it, but you want to know something?” He paused, suddenly right up on you, the space gone between you. “I haven't kissed anyone either. I just…you. It’s just been you! I didn't know what I was doing, either!”

“Is that so bad?” you pleaded, your eyes bleeding into his. “Is it so bad that you had to kiss me? Should I apologize for wanting to do it again? That I haven't stopped thinking about you since?” you frantically looked into his eyes.

“Just…” Jongho sighed, his eyes a bit watery. “Lleave me be.”

The look on his face was enough. You took a step back, and then another.

“I won't apologize for my feelings, for whatever this feeling is,” you admitted. “But I am sorry I caused you trouble.” before you left him there, you looked up to him once more, snow falling around you. “Good luck at your game, tomorrow.”

You turned on your heel, not understanding a single thing that just unfolded, that was just said. He made no sense; you made none, either. It was just a bunch of words, unnecessary words, rifting your friendship. But one thing was for certain—you couldn't repair this without a few missing pieces.

Jongho stood as still as a statue as he watched you walk away.

—

You sat on the bench in your cheerleading uniform, your heart beating a mile a minute as you watched the game unfold in front of you.

It was approaching halftime. Jongho was sprinting down the sideline, limping slightly as he moved. He passed the ball beautifully to San, who was wide open for the layup.

You couldn't focus on anything—didn't even cheer when San made the shot. You just sat and stared into space, your eyes following jongho, watching his wince as he backed up down the court.

“He’s hurt,” you muttered under your breath, stomach tightening.

Jongho continued playing his heart out, but you knew something was wrong. However, as halftime came, he walked away from the court just fine and into the locker room, not giving you a single passing glance as he walked past you. Seonghwa did, however, but you weren't even paying attention to that.

After a few long moments, the team came back out. You had to cheer, but your heart wasn't in it. Jongho, once again, walked right by you, and when you were about to jump up and ignore everything that was said yesterday to make sure you were okay, the buzzer rang.

The game went on, the score going back and forth until the last quarter. Jongho stood at mid-court, calling a play, but the guy guarding him was aggressive. He tried to make a move around him, squeaking his sneakers against the hardwood, but it was no use. The defender followed him with ease, sliding his feet in perfect position.

The gym was in hysterics as Jongho pushed for the bucket, taking a side step into a euro step, but suddenly, oh so suddenly, Jongho crashed to the ground in a thud before getting the shot off.

The gym went silent. Jongho hissed in pain, his eyebrows knit tight. The athletic trainer ran out to see him as the game was put on hold with less than a minute to go. You stood up, not even realizing what you were doing. All you could feel was a pain in your chest as you saw him hurt, the intense feeling to take his pain away. You watched in despair as he was lifted off the floor, as he was carried out of the gym.

You swallowed hard, your ears ringing. Your teammates tried to get you focused, as the game was going to continue, but you jumped up and pushed through, making your way to the locker room desperately.

“Jongho?” you panted, turning the corner to enter the boy's locker room. You sucked in a breath as you see him in pain, lying down on the bench, a few others around him as he nearly cried in pain.

“Jongho!” you cried out, rushing to his side. His eyes were frantic, wide, a mess. The trainer took off his knee brace slowly as you approached. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Jongho met your gaze through his watery eyes, every other emotion gone other than…whatever this was. He almost let out a sigh of relief as he saw you. You knelt down next to him, gripping his hand, and he held yours tighter.

“y/n,” he murmured, sucking in a sharp breath as the trainer surveyed his leg. “Did I…did I do it again? Please tell me I didn't—”

You looked at the man who was assessing his injury. “Did he tear it again?” you panicked, remembering how awful this was for him back then. How traumatizing it was, how horrible it was for him to gain his strength again. You couldn't stand to see him in pain.

“I…I don't know,” the man admitted. “It’s too swollen to tell. You’ll need to get this checked out—”

“Goddammit,” Jongho hissed, shutting his eyes tightly, and swallowing hard. That was when you realized that it might not even be the pain from the injury—no, it was his trauma. The memory of his hard work all down the drain.

“I’m here,” you breathed, tucking his hair behind his ear and away from his face. “It’ll be okay.”

The buzzer rang, and screams followed. Jongho looked at you, not a care in the world other than that you were there with him, just like before.

“You’ll be alright,” you repeated softly, your heart aching at his pain. “This will be okay.”

—

“From the MRI, it looks like everything is still intact,” the doctor spoke with a tone of arrogance. “You did weaken your surgical graft, however. You’ll need some PT and rest.”

Jongho stared down at his leg, his hand still gripping yours. He breathed a sigh of relief but didn't say anything else.

“I’ll write up a referral for that, so just hold on a moment.”

You were left in silence in the middle of the emergency room, Jongho sitting up straight on the bed with a big icepack on top of his knee. He was starting right at it, his lips downturned.

You wanted to ease his troubles. To make him feel better. Nothing felt worse than seeing him like this.

You didn't know what to say. You really couldn't say anything. You were so overwhelmed with the pain you felt as you looked at him as if it were your own. You hated his tears that begged to fall and never did.

“Hey,” you mumbled softly, squeezing his hand. It took him a minute to move his gaze to you, and when he did, his eyes spoke a thousand words. “See? It will be okay.”

He sighed, his face contorting as he fought his tears. “I…I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you weren't thinking of anything else other than what was in front of you. You rubbed your thumb against his knuckles, trying to soothe him.

“For how I acted.” He looked down at your hands, how yours was touching his, how his fingers were tight around yours. He didn't want to let go—neither did you. “I was just upset.”

“I know,” you nodded, swallowing. “I was, too.”

He looked into your eyes. “y/n, I…” he paused, the beeping of his heart rate speeding up in the background. “I just don't know why I acted like that I…I guess I got caught up in how I feel about you, and it confused me.”

You blinked. “How do you feel about me?”

He let out an uneasy laugh. “Isn't it obvious?”

You shook your head. “I… don't really know much of anything. Much of these feelings,” you acknowledged, biting your bottom lip anxiously.

He let out a genuine laugh. “Me too.”

“So, how do you feel?” You tucked a piece of your hair that fell loose from your bow, suddenly aware of how much of a wreck you probably looked like. You were still in your cheer uniform, Jongho in his basketball one, and you were sure you had smeared mascara everywhere. “About me, I mean.”

He took in a sharp breath. “This isn't fair, I’m like, high from pain meds. I don't know what i’m saying.”

You smiled widely, feeling such immense love for the man in front of you.

Oh shit.

Are you….in love?

“All I know is that I haven't stopped thinking about you since I met you,” He chuckled anxiously. “I don't understand why, and it's just increasingly worse after you keep kissing me, it's making my head spin.”

Jongho yawned slightly after his somewhat confession, his eyes fluttering.

He was so pretty. So, so pretty. You wanted to sleep with him. Next to him, cuddle with him, kiss his face, his eyelids, his cheeks, his everything. You wanted him to do everything to you that you dreamed of.

Oh fuck, you definitely are in love with him.

“Holy fuck—” you paused, staring at him, wide eyed at your realization.

“What?” He furrowed his brows.

You tried to control your overwhelming thoughts. “I just realized something…” you met his gaze, holding onto it tightly. “Are we…are we in love? I mean, I think at least I might be—”

“Holy shit, we might be,” Jongho gulped, a knowing smile curling at his lips. As if he knew this, at least on his end, for much longer than you have. He looked at you, then at his leg, and back at you. “Are you in love with me?”

“I think so?” you questioned, your chest aching. Jongho’s heart began to beat faster and faster, as seen on the monitor next to him. You leaned towards him, blushing as his heart rate jumped over one hundred.

Jongho let out an anxious laugh. “You sound super confident.”

You would've kissed him right then and there, prove to him that you loved him, if it wasn't for that awful doctor.

You helped jongho hobble out of the hospital, his leg wrapped in ice and his arms wrapped around you. You were hyper aware of the smell of sweat, the light remnant of his woodsy cologne. You heard his breath hitch as your fingertips curled around his arm as you walked toward the street for a cab.

“God, standing up really messed me up.” he wobbled a bit. “I don't know what they gave me, but fuck, I feel wonderful,” he giggled, nudging his head into the crook of your neck.

There was a mix of comfort and chaos as you got in the cab, his head on your shoulder, his hair a mess. His arm was slung over you, his eyes closed, his lips parted against your collarbone. He felt comforting, yes, but also his damn lips started to move against your skin.

“Jongho,” you breathed, trying to keep quiet as the cab driver carried on. “Stop it—”

“Mmmh,” he groaned into your neck, kissing it again, trailing up towards your jawline.

“The fuck, did they give you viagra?” you nearly choked as his hand that was around your shoulder fell to your waist, tightening on the curve above your hip. His hand moved lower, past your hip, meeting the curve right before he could reach your—

“Hey,” you whisper yelled, smacking his cheek lightly.

He opened his eyes, those brown irises sparkling despite the dark car. “Oh, its y/n,” he smiled, meeting your gaze, but you watched it fall to your lips. “You look pretty.”

You scoffed. “You don't know what you're talking about right now—”

“Oh, I do,” he smiled lopsidedly, his hand now coming up to cradle your cheek. “I know what i’m doing.”

You smirked. “I think you’re loopy.”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugged, smiling, his eyes curving into smiles too. “But I know what I want to do.”

You tilted your head, raising your brows. “And what’s that?”

He smiled villianously, teeth barred. “Do you really want to know?”

You held in your laugh, but managed to nod.

He took in a breath, letting it out in an exaggerated sigh. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he huffed, his head falling right back onto your shoulder. “So, so bad. I’ve always wanted to—”

“Jongho,” you blinked. “You’re high from pain meds, you don't know what you're—”

“Oh, but I do know,” he sat up quickly, eyes dazed, hair a mess on top of his head. He reached out a hand, tucking your hair behind your ears with a boyish smile. He focused on your face, on your eyes, your lips. His expression changed, his smile falling. “I wanted to tell you about how I feel about you.”

You bit your lip. “You did.”

He waved a hand, flopping it around. “Nah, I didn't.”

“Yes, don't you remember?” you scoffed playfully. “We just had this whole talk like twenty minutes ago—”

“Aye, stop it, I had something to say but now I forgot!” he groaned, tossing his head back against the headrest. He then turned his head to your direction. “Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”

“You just did,” you smiled.

“Oh, that’s right.” he swallowed, looking at your lips. “Did I ever tell you that I want to kiss you? Like, all the time?”

You shook your head, giving up on the fight against his high ass.

“Well, I just want to kiss you, over and over again, and then when you started kissing me, I think I went crazy,” he blinked slowly, eyes covering every inch of your face. He leaned forward. “You really fucked me up, you know?”

You frowned. “Did I?”

“Pfft,” he huffed. “Are you kidding? You would change in front of me, lay in bed with me, touch me, everything I….” he swallowed hard. “How was I supposed to react to your tits? Your ass? You think i’ve never gotten hard from it?” you wanted to shut his nonsense up, but he kept going on. “I’ve had to literally leave just to jack off so you didn't find out—”

“Woah, woah,” you rose your eyebvrows. “You’re a mess right now, youll regret what you’re saying tomorrow—”

“I wont,” he sniffed, eyes meeting yours. “I’m done with acting like I don't think about you naked—”

“Jongho, shut it, we’re not alone—”

“We should be alone so I can do everything I want to you,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple. “God, I want to do everything to you.”

You wanted to push him away. You wanted to tell him no—but…his lips, his words, his breath felt so good, so intoxicating. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, to the corner of your lips. “Can we fuck now?”

You closed your eyes, taking in a breath. “The hell is wrong with you? We’re in a cab—”

He ignored you, his lips continuing to find their way around your face. “When we get back?”

You looked down at his knee, how it was wrapped, how much pain it had caused him. “You just hurt your leg, and you’re not in your right mind.”

“Oh, i’m completely in my right mind,” he kissed your ear, letting a little breath of air tickle you. “I’ve wanted this forever.”

You sighed, your breath shaking, your chest tight. You had absolutely no experience—you’ve never had sex, never did anything with a man other than what you were doing now, and the little kiss you gave seonghwa.

“I’m a virgin,” you whispered softly, embarrased. However, you felt the most comfortable with jongho. He was your everything.

“So am I,” he admitted, smiling. “We can learn together.”

“God, we’re so lame,” you breathed, smiling.

Jongho, however, did not care about any words. He nuzzled into your collarbone, pressing a kiss there, over and over again.

“So, does that mean we can have sex?”

—

You assisted jongho into your building, helping him into the elevator and pressing your floor while he leaned against the wall.

The silence was deafening. You were sure he was able to hear your heart beat through your chest.

As the doors closed, you let a sigh out.

“y/n,” he breathed. Behind you, his eyes were on you.

“Hm?” you hummed, afraid to turn to him, afraid of what you would do, what he would do.

“I love you,” he spoke.

You’ve both basically said it only an hour before. Only then, it didn't feel real. Now, maybe it was the fact that Jongho’s eyes have cleared up, his expression was raw. He looked nervous, he looked anxious. This was all new, all foreign—but Jongho wasn't new, wasn't different. He’s always been him, been by your side, your rock, your everything.

“I….love you too, dummy.”

When the elevator reached your floor, it took you a second to move. You helped him down the hall, and when you reached your door, you paused.

“Do you…want to…” you trailed off, unsure if that was only the drugs talking earlier.

When you turned to jongho, he had a sinister smile on his face.

“You mean,” he nodded toward your room. “What I think you mean?”

“Well, jeez,” you scoffed, turning around to open your door. “As if you weren't the one all over me in the cab—”

A second later, you both stood in the entrance of your room, both of your hearts beating like crazy.

He entered the room after you, slowly shutting the door. The room was dark—you weren't even trying to turn the lights on.

You turned to jongho, watching him stand with his fists at his sides, his fingers gripping the fabric of his basketball shorts.

“How do we…” you took in a sharp breath, meeting his gaze. His eyes were wide, dripping with love, lust, with so much. You weren't sure if they always looked like that, if they looked at you like that. Those eyes….

“Let’s just, he winced a bit as he stepped closer. “Just stay where you are.”

When he got close enough, you saw the worry in his expression. The hesitancy, the love. He looked up, and his eyes spoke a thousand unspeakable words. His hand reached out, pausing at the hem of your cheerleading uniform.

You let out an anxious laugh at his face, as he looked so conflicted. You didn't say anything though, and after a moment, he tugged your top right over your head, grinning like a goofball at the red lacy bra you had on.

“For me?” he murmured, his hand subconsciously drifting to run over your skin, his fingertips pressing against the thin fabric of your bra. He met your gaze, his jaw tightening.

You reached for his top now, the loose jersey easily pulling over his head—the jersey that was hiding the soft curves of muscle. You’ve seen him shirtless many times, an unimaginable amount of times—but this time, it was different. You ran a hand down the pane of his chest, across the mounds of muscle, down his soft but muscular frame. He was perfect, absolutely sexy, breathtaking, gorgeous.

He shivered under your touch, meeting your gaze. He moved to take his shorts off, but winced. “Hold on, i’ll take them off—” but you both leaned down at the same time, crashing your heads together, causing a storm of laughter.

“God, we’re so not good at this,” He chuckled, smiling bright even in the dark room.

“No, not really,” you grinned, reaching down at his hips, pulling his shorts off, tugging a bit at the erection that bulged out. You held in your pride, the fact that he was already so turned on by just taking your clothes off.

His shorts fell down to his ankles, his underwear with them, leaving him completely naked, completely vulnerable in front of you. He looked at you with those damn eyes, those irises that held every emotion possible for you.

You took a second to take him in, his thickness, his length. You swallowed hard, suddenly aware that…that would go inside you, and it would probably tear your virgin self to shreds.

He then gripped the waistband of your skirt, tugging you to him. He was slightly taller than you, so when your body hit his, you felt his cock against your lower stomach, feeling a pulsing ache in your body. His fingers glided against the bare skin of your waist as he pulled your skirt over your hips, and when they fell, you were left standing in your mismatched underwear, begging him to take it off of you, too.

However, he just stood there like a deer in headlights, staring at the curves of your body, and the smoothness of your skin. His mouth parted, his eyes grew wide, and his hands twitched to touch you, to ravage you, to swallow you whole as if you were roadkill and he was a vulture.

An anxious vulture.

He reached around you, the heat of his body warming you, and his hands clasped around the clip of your bra. He fiddled with it for a good moment, and as he started getting irritated that he couldn't get it, you laughed. “Goddamn this thing has you locked up like fort knox—”

“Do you want me to get it—”

“No, no, i’ll be extremely embarassed, let me do it.” he continued to try to get it off you, and finally, it fell off you, onto the ground, and Jongho stood with a proud smile on his lips. “Fuck yeah, finally.”

But, right after his words of triumph, his eyes fell to your full breasts. His eyes widened, and he gave into his desires, letting himself grab one, calloused fingers gliding against your nipple.

“Oh, fuck y/n,” he breathed, both his hands coming up to cradle your breasts, to feel you up. He took in a breath, eyes unable to leave your body. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

He dipped his head, taking in a breast into his mouth, flicking his tongue over your nipple. You felt your stomach tighten, felt your wetness pool at your thighs. He looked up to your eyes as he sucked, and when he saw your ecstatic expression, he quickly pulled away.

He didn't spare an extra second to claw at your underwear, satisfyingly watching them fall to the ground, leaving you both completely naked in the middle of the room. He looked at you, love dripping from his chocolate eyes.

And thats when you gripped the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I don't do this very well,” you admitted, twirling your fingers in his hair. He didn't seem to even hear what you said as his eyes remained on your lips.

“God, we cant be friends anymore,” he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, he hesitated, lips hovering over yours, his breath shaky, tangling with yours. “Definetly not, fuck.”

You tilted your chin forward, lips so close, so so close. His hands found your hips, fingernails leaving marks in your skin.

And with one last look into your eyes, jongho sighed, letting go of everything. He pressed his soft lips to yours, taking you in like he hasn't kissed you before. Like he’s always wanted to. He breathed into you, moving his hands to cradle your face, to get as close to you as possible.

You arched your body against his, bucking your hips into his, and he grunted in response. You fell backwards onto the bed, him on top of you, but as you fell, he bit your lip so hard you let out a little yelp.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, parting from you, eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay? Did that hurt? I didn't mean to do that—-”

“Shh, shut your face,” you patted him on the cheek, giggling at his reaction.

He adjusted himself on top of you. “Here, make sure you’re head’s on your pillow, I want you to be comfortable.” he adjusted you, too, and he looked so sincere and serious it made you laugh. “Why are you laughing?” he asked, but couldn't help but let out a little chuckle, too. “Stop, this is serious.”

You laughed even more. “Sorry, sorry, you’re just really cute.” you watched his eyes twinkle as he looked at you. “And you look so pretty on top of me.”

He smirked, holding back his giggle. “Stop it.”

“I’m just saying,” you reached a hand out to wrap around his neck, tugging his lips right back down to yours, kissing him softly. “Mhm. I cant get enough of this.”

He smiled into the kiss. “Me neither, I cant believe you’re under me right now.”

You couldn't help the blush that heated your cheeks. You were suddenly aware of his dick against your thighs, of your skin against his. You looked into his eyes, looked at how they were looking at you, how he held himself over you.

And then, after a look of utter love, he smiled and kissed you. This time, he stuck his tongue into your mouth, running over the ridges of the roof of your mouth. You opened your mouth wider, deepening the kiss, knocking your nose against his.

His lips parted as he gasped for air, his chest heaved against yours. His hand delicately glided up your ribs, meeting the skin of your breasts. He gripped your breast in his hand, moaning into your mouth, hips bucking into yours. You couldve sworn you felt his heartbeat through his chest as he made out with you, as his hands covered you. He pulled away only to make sure you still wanted this, and when you nodded, he reached down to line himself up with you. The concept of sex always felt so difficult. So worrisome, so new. But with jongho, it felt like you've done this forever.

“If it hurts, tell me,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you gently. “I’ll take care of you.”

You literally couldve came at those words. You swallowed hard, and forced out a nod.

He pecked your lips, smiling, kissing them again. His hands hesitated, not knowing what to touch as his tip pressed into your cunt, his breath shortening, sweat dripping down his forehead.

You reached out, gliding a hand across his cheek, across his lips, smiling up at him.

“I….” he hesitated before entering you. “Are you wet enough? Should I spit?”

He looked terrified. Absolutely terrified. So you ran a hand soothingly through his hair, watching his eyes shut tight in pleasure, in delight. “Don't worry about anything and just do it.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, letting out a little laugh. “Okay, okay.”

And then, his eyes bled into yours as he tilted his hips, pushing his cock slowly into you, so gently, as if he was terrified of hurting you. You watched his mouth part, watched his expression change to euphoria as he filled you, every inch sparking a new feeling.

He snapped his hips, his length fully in you, and you nearly cried out from the feeling. You moaned as he moved slowly, clawing at his shoulders, this feeling unlike anything else—your damn vibrator held nothing on Jongho.

He relaxed his expression, his eyes fluttering open, looking right down on you. You met his gaze as he moved in and out of you.

“Does it hurt, if it hurts, I can stop—”

“Shut the hell up and fuck me, jongho,” you grumbled, your hands finding a home on his hips, the feeling of them snapping under your hands sent you spiraling. You moaned as his dick reached a new spot, as you felt your walls tighten around him. You wanted to cry out, rip your hair out, tear at his skin as you felt the intense crave for him. The way he looked down on you fueled the fire in your hips, in your back. You felt an ache in your hips, slamming your head back, fighting the urge to claw the bedsheets.

But then you sae his grimace, and you frowned. “Oh my god, you’re knee, you’re in pain.”

He kept moving, but he was definitely in pain. “I-I think the meds wore off—”

Without thinking, you pushed him off you, making him roll over so now he was the one on th bottom. You straddled him, looking at his shocked expression, how his breaths quickened, how his cock twitched for you. To be inside you.

You had an unimaginable amount of knowledge from all your smutty books, so you might as well try to use what you know, right?

“y/n, what are you—”

“Let me please you,” you breathed, and with a slow, calculative movement, you sat on his dick, sliding his length into you, once again gaining the extreme pleasure of his expression and the absolute desperation he expressed. He gasped as you moved up and down on his cock, and he watched you, watched him dissapear into you. He slammed his head back into the pillow, his face contorting, moans fluttering through his lips, his eyebrows knitting together in pleasure and a million other things.

“God, fuck,” his hands gripped your hips as you rode him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his breaths shallow. He gasped for air. “You feel so good, oh my god. So fucking good.”

You tossed your head back, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the smoothness of it. He blinked up at you, a smile on his lips, completely in bliss.

He moved his hands with you, nearly lifting you up as you moved on his cock, moved on his body. You forgot how strong he was.

“You sure you’ve never done this?” he gasped, his eyes shut tight. “Because fuck, this is better than I ever imagined.”

You smiled down on him, giddy at his words. You moved even faster, causing him to moan, and moan, and moan.

You didn't even know what to say—you just enjoyed his little commentary as he took you in, his gaze dripping like honey.

“Godamn,” he hissed, eyes meeting yours. He looked frantic. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he seethed, hips slamming up into yours. “Fuck, you’re so hot, so so hot.”

You felt him twitch inside you, felt your walls collapse. You began to see spots in your vision as he moved his hips, too, just as you were. You felt so much pride as he looked absolutely pathetic underneath you, his gaze hazy, his lips bright red from your kisses.

“I love you, I…love you,” he hissed out. “I love you.”

You reached your climax just from looking at him, crying out in a moan, leaning forward over his body. His hands flooded all over you, sending sparks at every touch, every spot of your body. And when you came, when you felt the rush of cum, the rush of the high finally hit, you continued to move as he did. Then, suddenly, his eyes grew so wide, he lifted you off his cock hastily, gasping for air.

You leaned back on his legs, onto your heels, trying to breathe, trying to see, as his hands grasped his own dick, moving up and down before he came, his cum shooting onto you, over your chest, your boobs, your stomach. You watched him gasp as it happened, his lips curling up in an embarrassed smile.

“Oh, oops,” he laughed, looking absolutely delectable with the hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes wide with pleasure. “Totally meant to do that….”

Something burned under your skin, something foreign, something you never felt before. You’ve only read about this feeling, this moment. But now, here you were. You just had sex, sex with your best friend, and it was the best thing you’ve ever felt before. You needed more, so so much more.

“Please tell me we can do that again,” you breathed, falling onto him, sticking to him, feeling the beat of his heart as you pressed your ear to his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes,” his hand wrapped around you, holding you to him. He pressed a gentle, exasperated his to the top of your head. “You don't even have to ask that, i’m planning on doing that all night.”

You moved a bit so you could lay against his side, totally forgetting about the cum on you that now got all over the place. “You seemed like you knew what you were doing for a virgin,” you side eyed him. “You have to be lying.”

He smirked, a light blush on his cheeks. “Uh, well,” he swallowed, eyes looking all over your face. “I mean, I have been thinking about what I would do if I ever got to sleep with you.”

You furrowed your brows. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Well I didn't get to do exactly what I wanted,” he looked down at your lips, at your body pressed to his. “Because of my damn knee, but,” he pressed a kiss to your nose. “That means we have to do this again.”

“Oh, baby,” you pinched his cheek. “We’ll be doing this way more than we probably should.”

He smiled, that blush still on his face, across his nose. He looked so beautiful, so so pretty, it actually hurt you to look at him.

You kissed him, kissed his lips, his nose, his flushed cheeks.

And you looked at him, at his eyes, the same eyes you’ve known forever.

“I love you, Jongho.”

—

The next morning, you parted ways with a sleepy jongho, late for your early class. You couldn't stop thinking about him all day, that is, until you ran into Mingi and San in the library cafe.

Mingi grinned like the cheshire cat, an eye smile brighter than the sun. “Well, hello there, you.”

You rolled your eyes as the line for the coffee moved. San and Mingi stood behind you, giggling like little kids.

“So, Jongho didn't come back last night,” San started, and you quickly cut in.

“So? He always stays in my room, its not anything odd—”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mingi crossed his arms, grinning. “But it is odd.”

“Why?” you crossed your arms, too, facing him. San stood by with a little chuckle.

“Because he came back to the room before his class and his jersey was on inside out—”

“So? He likes to sleep shirtless—”

“His lips were covered in red lipstick—”

“I don't know what you were talking about—”

“Oh, and he told me that he had sex with you—”

You slammed a hand against San’s mouth, giving him a death glare while mingi giggled like a school girl. You grimaced, pulling your hand away. “Shut up, or i’ll make you.”

“Ooh, so scary,” San waved his hands in the air dramatically. “Anyway, are you dating him now? You better date him, he’s been dreaming of that for so long.”

You blinked. “I mean, we said we loved each other, but nothing about dating….”

Mingi smirked. “Welp, guess you better go figure that out.”

After class, you found yourself in front of Jongho’s door, a shake in your breath as you knocked. He opened the door, shirtless, a smile on his face the minute he met your gaze.

And then he grabbed you by the waist and planted a big kiss onto your lips, smiling into it, and then pulled away.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hi.” he tilted his head, looking you up and down.

“I heard you told San everything.”

He bit his lip. “Was I supposed to keep it to myself?”

You shook your head, smiling.

“Do you want to come in?” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Mhm,” you nodded, following him in.

The minute the door shut, Jongho slammed you up against it, swallowing you whole with his mouth as he kissed you. His hands gripped the side of your head, tugging at your hair, causing you to let out a hiss. He took the opportunity of your open mouth to shove his tongue into you, exploring your mouth with pleasure. He moaned into you, and you couldn't help but moan yourself.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up, slamming your back into the door as he held you to him. He then started to walk towards his bed, but you realized his injury.

“Jongho, you’re leg,” you breathed with worry, trying to get him to put you down. “You’ll hurt yourself—”

“Shut up,” he spoke into your mouth, indeed shutting you up immediately. You sighed as he kissed you, as he touched you. He gently set you down onto his bed, and you went under his duvet since he kept his room like an icebox.

He followed you suit, crawling on top of you under the covers, but you had a better idea. Once again, you flipped him so he was on his back, and with one quick look at the shock in his gaze, you kissed his collarbone, then his chest, down his sternum, over the soft muscle of his stomach. You slowly pulled his pants down over his cock, his underwear along with them.

You felt his muscles tighten underneath your lips, you heard his breath hitch as you moved lower and lower, until your lips met the soft skin of his hard cock. He gasped his hands searching for you under the covers, his legs moving in pleasure as you licked his tip.

“Oh my…oh…” he arched his back against your kiss, your hands holding onto his hips as you surrounded your mouth around his erection. He thrashed against you, absolutely liquid in your embrace.

But before you could take him fully, the door of his room opened, and in came san blabbing about god knows what.

You quickly moved, trying to lay flat the best you could to hide. Jongho sat up fast, pulling the blanket up and bunching it around his dick, making sure it wasn't so obvious that you were under there….and that he was literally throbbing hard.

“I ran into y/n earlier, she admitted to it!” san roared, and you assumed he was taking his shoes off considering the sound. “Good for you buddy, I know how long you wanted to tap that—”

“Ah, yeah,” Jongho awkwardly laughed. You wish you could see the look on his face, the embarrassment. Just how long did he want you?

You couldn't help but stroke your hand against his dick, causing him to gasp.

“You alright?” San questioned, now making his way to the other side of the room.

You continued to rub him. Jongho gripped the blanket tight.

“Peachy,” Jongho grunted.

San didn't speak for a while.

“Are you gonna finally ask her out?”

You paused.

Jongho sighed. “Huh?” he was totally out of it.

“I mean, you’ve been in love with y/n for ages, you might as well make if official while you can.”

“Am I?” Jongho swallowed hard. “Am I in love with her?”

“Ah shut up, you know it,” San scoffed,and a bed creaked—assumingly his. You decided to continue to suck Jongho off, taking him in your mouth, causing him to jolt.

“I uh, i’ll ask her out later,” Jongho took in a breath. “But, um, do you think you could….you know, give me a moment?”

“A moment, why—”San paused, then gasped. “Are you beating your meat right now? Oh fuck man, my bad!”

You nearly cackled against Jongho at the way they conversed with each other, how normal it seemed. It made you wonder how often this happened, how often Jongho did this to himself, how many times he thought about you while doing it…

That turned you on even more.

The minute you heard the door shut, you tossed the covers over your head, meeting Jongho’s shocked, mind-boggled expression.

“Jeez, y/n, fuck,” he couldn't help but smile as he looked at you, as you sucked him. “You’re a freak.”

“Well, you should see the things I read,” you chuckled, and then licked up the column of his cock, causing him to take hold of your head.

He shoved you up and down on his dick, his fingers tearing into your scalp, causing you to choke on him. He groaned, moaned, hummed every note possible, and then without warning, he came into your mouth, his body going still, his eyes open wide as he watched you swallow his load.

Oh, he tasted better than you ever imagined.

His saltiness still coated your lips as you leaned over to kiss him, his eyes lost in you. He looked so in love, so in lust, in everything.

“Are you gonna ask me out?” you asked in between kisses.

“Mhm,” he leaned into your kiss, not wanting to break apart.

“Are we dating now?”

Kiss.

He blinked, looking up at you. His smile defined beauty, his lips desire.

“If you’d like.”

“Of course.”

You kissed him once more, wrapping your arms around his neck, rolling around in bed with him. He chuckled, smiled, nuzzled his head into you.

“I have practice,” you kissed his cheek, trying to get up, but his arms wrapped around you, holding you to him. “I have to go.”

“One more minute,” he mumbled into your ear as he nibbled it, then kissed it. “Just a minute.”

You smiled. “Okay, fine, I guess I can spare a minute.”

He held you, breathed in your scent, his scent on your lips. He didn't let go, even after the minute, and you hand to force yourself out of his hold.

“Meet me in my room tonight?” you raised a brow,

He nodded. “Of fucking course.”

You quickly tried to fix your hair up, tucking it behind your ears, before you gave your boyfriend a wink while you walked out.

And, funny enough, when you shut the door behind you and turned around, San stood there, smirking devilishly.

“Well damn, when’s it my turn?”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #jongho #jongho smut #ateez jongho #choi jongho #jongho x reader #best friends #best friends to lovers #colle #college au

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 month

Note

Can I have Twst character reaction when the reader invite them to join in the cafe where they share milkshake (you know the one where the couple drink the same milkshake together, that classics scene) you can choose any character you wanted but I would like if it was malleus, Deuce, Ace and Riddle

Sharing a Milkshake | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Whether you got too big of a cup or you both decided to advantage of the couple’s discount. You both are now playing out the iconic couple scene of enjoying a milkshake together. It’s obvious it’ll make them feel a certain way especially when they have been dreaming of making this a reality:

Malleus Draconia

“Hey Tsuno-tarou want to help me finish this shake?”

“Of course.”

He’s on cloud 9

He’s never had his two favorite things in one go

He might have to make this a normal thing

He will not close his eyes when he drinks searching your features as close as possible

He’ll be so focused he almost forgets to drink as well

“Do you like it so far?”

“...Yes…what about you?”

“Yeah I like it a lot too!"

He doesn’t take this too seriously at first

Since he already considers you his partner sharing things is just preparation for the future

It isn’t until he notices the other couples or received prior information from Lilia

“This is a common activity for those courting each other? Then it’s best this goes perfectly.”

The waiter and surrounding customers should stay away from you two

Can’t you clearly see you two are meant to be together for all eternity?!

Ace Trappola

“T-t-this is just for the discount…right?”

“Yeah! Now get sipping otherwise I’ll drink it all.”

“Oi not on my watch!”

He’ll play if off as though he’s not seen this exact scene in his dreams

He’ll actively keep his eyes open while you sip through your own straw

Taking in the view of your lips wrapped perfectly around the straw

It gives him chills to see your face up close

He get’s a whole other set of chills when he spots the way you lick up the remnants that drip through your lips

Watching with wide excited eyes as he watches the shake that touched your lips your insides

Before returning to rest at the bottom of your straw

“I’ll be right back going to get napkins for us. Don’t drink it all.”

“N-n-no problem!”

He’ll waste no time to switch your straws taking a decent sip letting his eyes roll back

He’s indirectly tasting you

“Wow you look like your really enjoying that shake.”

“I am! I like it so much I just might finish it all.”

“Hey! No fair!”

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere ace trappola #yandere ace x reader #yandere ace #yandere ace trappola x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia x reader

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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months

Text

Logan Sargeant - London Boy

Welcome to the “Besties for the Resties” series, the backstories to the reader’s friendship with the other drivers. Now, I won’t be doing a single chapter all of them because that’s a lot, so some of them will have a joined chapter. You can’t please everyone, but for the sake of the storyline, there needs to be a few chapters as to how you became good friends with the grid! Enjoy and don’t forget to comment!

PA - I also did the head cannons before I wrote these so they might not exactly match, so I apologize!

It had been a few weeks since the winter break started. Which meant it was time to hunt for apartments across the world. Well, in two countries.

Max and Christian had been able to convince you to find a small place in Monaco so that you wouldn’t be too alone all the time. It was nice and comfortable. Way better than the one you had in Nice. That apartment had never felt like home to you. It was just a place to sleep whenever you had to go to Dams for testing.

Arthur was thrilled when he also heard the news. You strategically had found a place that was in between Max’s place and where Arthur lived. The area was clean and a few cafés littered the shops around you. You knew that you’d spend most of your time there when you were there.

But right now, you were back in London, trying to find a flat for when you needed to do team testing. As of right now, there were two more places that you needed to look and you wished that one of them would be perfect for you.

However, as you were walking, your nose picked up on an amazing scent. Turns out, there was a Starbucks around the corner and you were in desperate need of some coffee. You pulled your jacket closer to your chest as you entered the store. You were immediately hit with the smell of coffee beans and pastry items. You stood in line in front of a tall blond. But your ears must have been tricking you because you definitely heard a familiar American accent.

The barista asked for his name.

“It’s Logan.”

You let out a quick gasp as he turned to the left to go wait for his coffee. You took a step and ordered your favorite drink and a chocolate croissant. When the barista asked for your name, you told her a little quietly. You glanced over as you paid, eyes on where Logan stood. You shuffled over after you paid.

Not drawing attention to yourself, you stood a little behind him. You had the most amazing plan.

You tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Sir, can you tell me what a kilometer is?” Before he recognized it was you, he stiffened and thought the worst, a fangirl had found him.

But as he turned to answer, his eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“You are ridiculous.” He brought you in for a hug. You squeezed him tight before he let go. “What are you doing here?”

“I am trying to find an apartment, but I needed coffee before I went to the next one,” you said as you grabbed a straw.

Logan laughed before grabbing his coffee that had been set on the counter as the two of you talked. “How long are you here for?”

“Just until I find somewhere to stay. Pre-season testing doesn’t start for another couple of weeks, but I need it by then. Nice is too far and my apartment in Monaco won’t be ready until later.” He nodded as you went ahead and grabbed your drink, pushing the straw into it.

Logan took a sip of his drink. “You have any other plans for tonight?” You shook your head and that got him thinking. “Ok hear me out. I will go with you to the two other flats for you to look at, and then we need to go get pizza or something. And we still have a movie to finish.”

Your eyes sparkled at the mention of pizza. You were a bit hesitant to accept. But, Max’s voice echoed in your head. “Kid. You need to get out of your comfort zone. The drivers aren’t bad and they’ll love you as much as I do.” He was right, and you found yourself admitting that too often.

“Sure! We can get going if you’d like to. Or did you want to stay here for a little bit?”

Logan hadn’t planned on staying anyway, so the two of you made your way to the first destination.

It’s safe to say that you would not be bidding on this one. It was too far from where you needed to be and the area was sketchy, Logan was glad that he was with you. He’s sure if you told Max where you had been alone, he would have flipped. The staircase was practically falling apart and the door lock was broken. The windows were old and the house smelled like a smoker had lived there before. The bedrooms were too small, same as the bathrooms. You and Logan hightailed it out of there before the landlord even had time to speak with you.

On your way to the next one, Logan began to see some familiar sights. “Hey, can I see the address real fast?” his accent was a nice contrast.

“Sure!” You handed him your phone as you looked around for a trashcan. Logan’s laugh brought you attention back to him. “What’s up?”

He gave you your phone back. “It’s just that, the apartment you’re going to look at is right next to mine.”

You gawked at him. “No flipping way!”

“The building is nice, much nicer than the last one. I know the way back.” You turned off your navigation and followed the blond. You could definitely see that the area continually got nicer the closer you got. The streets were getting a little more crowded and you found yourself clinging to Logan’s sweatshirt. You felt like a child and probably looked like one too.

When you got to the building, you were amazed at the size. It was much cleaner than the last one. The landlord was able to give you and Logan a tour of the place. Logan gave some good feedback, since he swore that his flat was the same exact layout.

You could definitely see yourself living here. You quickly gave the landlord your price and you walked out the door as a new owner of a London flat.

When the man left, Logan looked over at you with a mischievous smirk. “Celebratory pizza?”

“You bet!” You were thankful that you found Logan or you think you’d still be flat hunting by now.

The bright light of the sign illuminated the darkening street. It seemed like the owners new Logan pretty well as they greeted him by name. They stopped and asked you a bit about yourself and to see if you’d be hanging around. When you said yes, they seemed ecstatic and it made you wonder how little business they got.

The pizza was to die for. At first, they didn’t have your favorite pizza, but Logan was quick to order you something that he’d think that you’d like. And he was absolutely correct. You ate the pizza very quickly.

After dinner, the two of you found yourselves walking around.

“How are you liking the city?” Logan spoke up first.

You shrugged your shoulders. “This is the first time I’ve really had the chance to get to see it. The only other time I’ve been here was for testing before Vegas. So, yeah.” You took a breath. “It’s nice though.”

Logan looked around at all the lights, “It gets really pretty around this time. I don’t like it when it rains all the time.”

You looked up at him, brows furrowed, “Aren’t you from Florida? Doesn’t it rain like every single day?” Logan let out a big laugh.

He licked his lips before responding, “Yeah it does. It’s a different rain. It’s more humid. The rain here is cold and just clings to you.”

After walking around for a bit, Logan invited you back to his apartment. When you walked, in you were thinking that it would be like a typical male domain. Something like a Mojo Dojo Casa House.

But you were presently surprised with how nice it was on the inside. You whistled as you looked around at the interior. “Damn Logan. Did your mother decorate for you.”

You heard a groan from behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan looking at you with hands on his hips.

“For your information,” there was the white valley girl, “I did this all by myself.”

“Which translates to ‘my mom picked everything out and you just put it all up’.” Logan pouted.

“Oscar helped as well.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.”

“Y/n!” You laughed and continued walking around the apartment. Your eye caught a small picture hanging on the way.

“Logan? Can I see this one?” You pointed at it, but couldn’t reach it.

He quickly came over and took it off the nail and handed it to you. Your fingers glided over the image. It had perfectly captured Logan, and then the boy on the other side must have been Oscar. But what surprised you was that you were also in this picture.

Logan must have seen your longing glance. “Yeah, my mom took that for me and Oscar. It was the first time the two of us had podiumed together. Oscar would have been first but…”

You cut him off, “I overtook him on the last lap.”

Logan’s eyes bulged and he yanked the frame out of your hands. He brought it close to his face, a little too close to really see anything but he was dramatizing it. You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

He brought the frame back down and looked at you. “I didn’t know that was you!”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Oscar sorry for taking his win.”

Logan looked at you as though you had grown three heads. “Excuse me! Oscar could not shut up about how cool the overtake was. And how much cooler it seemed because you were the only girl.”

You looked up at him with a surprised look, but Logan continued.

“Yeah. I actually don’t remember much of it. I was shaking so much and couldn’t concentrate. I almost dropped my trophy.” He looked over at you. You looked back up at the other pictures and sighed.

“I lost my godfather the afternoon before the race.”

Logan went quiet, silently wanting you to continue.

“I needed to win for him. That race I also debuted with the number 89. It was his number when he did karting. I felt like I owed him a win.”

Logan placed the picture back on the nail and brought you in for a hug. The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you backed up. Logan looked at you with a sad smile. You looked back up at the picture.

“Do you think your mom could print me one out?”

Logan ruffled your hair. “Sure! I’ll have her send it to me and I can just do it.”

“Thanks Logan.”

“Are you ready to watch a movie?”

“Can we finish Cars 2?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

After that night, you and Logan seemed to be closer. You were still quiet with the rest of the grid, but Max and Logan knew how to bring you out of your shell.

Your debut race was a big one, and everywhere you turned a microphone was pushed into your hands and you were finagled in front of a camera. This is where you found yourself 85% of the time that day.

“Hi Y/n, how are you doing today?” You had the urge to roll your eyes. These journalists should have been able to come up with different questions. But you didn’t or Riggs would have an aneurism.

“I’m good! A little overwhelmed but that’s expected.”

The reporter continued, “How was your break? We saw that you posted pictures of your new places on Instagram, why don’t you tell us a bit about those.”

You smiled, now that was a question you hadn’t heard yet. “I love my new places. Max had been pressuring me to get a small place in Monaco so that he could quote-on-quote look after me. I think he would just miss me too much.” The reporter laughed and so did you.

You kept going, “And then I was able to find a small place in London for when I have to go for sim training and what-not. I like it a lot.”

“We loved your pictures from London. Seemed like you and Logan Sargeant were having a good time.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of which,” you trailed off as you spotted Logan. You brought the microphone with you as you walked up to the blond. You pulled his sleeve and dragged him back with you.

“Uh hello to you to?” he questioned with a laugh.

“I was about to talk about our time in London.” Logan’s eyes lit up.

He all but whispered, “You didn’t tell them.” You now rolled your eyes.

“I haven’t had time yet.” You looked at the camera, “We’re neighbors!”

“Yeah, I’ve had to deal with seeing this child all the time.” You gaped up at him. Whack. Logan didn’t even flinch. “See what I’ve had to deal with?” He pointed at you.

The reporter’s eyebrows raised at your bickering. They interrupted, “How did you two find out that you were neighbors?”

You shushed Logan, “I was apartment hunting and I needed some coffee and found him at Starbucks. And then we went and looked at a different one first.”

Logan leaned into the microphone, “It was sketchy as heck. I’m glad I went with her.”

“And then I gave him the address to the second one and he was all like ‘dude, that’s my address’,” you mimicked his accent. It was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Yeah and then we got pizza and finished Cars 2.” You heard a gasp behind the two of you. When you turned around, you were met with an Aussie look of betrayal.

“You finished Cars 2? With me?” He put his hand to his heart as if he was shot. You shot him a sheepish smile.

Logan looked at his best friend, “You weren’t there mate”

You looked at Oscar. “I promise we will finish it with you at some point. Maybe during the next red flag?” Oscar nodded and then was on his way.

You noticed that you had taken a lot of this reporter’s time and were quick to wrap things up.

“Final question. What is your favorite part about London, now that you’ve lived there for a while?”

You glanced up at Logan. “Well you know what Mother Swift says. You gotta love a London Boy.” You winked at the camera.

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #fernando alonso x reader #daniel riccardo x reader

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writing-for-marvel · 1 year

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Don’t Get Sad, Get Even

Boyfriend’s Roommate!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finding out your boyfriend is cheating on you, you decide to get back at him by sleeping with the one person he was always insecure about throughout your relationship, his roommate.

Prompt: For making me believe that you could be faithful to me - Rihanna, Take a Bow

Warnings: strictly 18+, cheating & revenge sex, use of toys (dildo & vibrator), masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: this is my entry for my darling friend @flordeamatista’s Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You can’t deny that the sight of your boyfriend stumbling upstairs, lips locked with some young, college chick, fumbling to unhook her bra, makes your heart drop below your stomach.

You knew, even from the outset of your relationship, that Bryce wasn’t going to be the guy you walked down an aisle and pledged ‘I do’ to, but he had, at least initially, been attentive and put in the effort to make you feel beautiful. Your chest aches at the thought that it only took a couple drinks and a pretty girl seductively sucking on a straw, for him to break the four month long commitment you made to each other.

That he didn’t have the decency to break up with you before not so subtly sliping away from a party he himself dragged you to, to fuck some stranger a mere wall away from where he left you minutes earlier with the promise to fix you both a drink.

With your head held high, despite the slight sting behind your eyes and a lump forming in your throat, you stand and stalk out of the house, tuning out the disparaging whispers of his friends as you leave.

Fuck him for not being able to recognise your worth, and fuck settling for his unsatisfying, vanilla, one minute performances he was no doubt be subjecting that luckless college girl to right now.

If he’s going to fuck whoever he wanted, you’re going do the same. And you’ll start with the person Bryce was the most insecure about during your relationship - his roommate.

* * *

Ari enters his shared apartment and notices the sound of the shower running, which is odd considering he distinctly remembered his roommate telling him he’d have the place to himself this Saturday night.

Knowing Bryce could in fact be dumb enough to forget to turn the water off before heading out, Ari begrudgingly goes to do it for him, only to realise that it isn’t Bryce’s shower that’s running.

Surely he couldn’t have been stupid enough to do it himself? Cursing the insanely high water bill they were sure to get this month, Ari rushes to turn the shower off in his own private bathroom.

Once he storms in and his brain has time to realise what he’s actually witnessing, he’s already harder than a rock.

“Hey Ari.” You say so casually, almost devilishly, even though you’re completely naked and masturbating in his bathroom. You’ve left the door to the small shower open, giving Ari a perfect view of you riding a dildo stuck to the floor, steamy water flowing down your back and dripping onto the tiled floor from your ass. And by the faint buzzing sound reverberating off the tiled walls, he’s also fairly certain you’re using a vibrator. The thought makes him even more painfully hard.

“Ugh Sunshine, you do know this is my shower, don’t you?” Your heart flutters at his nickname for you. You suspect he only playfully called you that because of how it upset Bryce each time the moniker left his lips, but it still manages to slip out when it’s just the two of you and he’s found you in this downright pornographic scene.

“Yeah, I know. It's just… I saw Bryce cheating on me tonight and I thought fuck it, I always thought you were really hot.” Ari takes a prudent step closer to the shower, swearing under his breath as he watches the thick dildo disappearing into your pussy with each twerk of your hips. “I wanted to see if you could fuck me better than he can.”

“You think there’s even a contest?” Ari asks rhetorically as he adjusts himself in his shorts, desperate for any type of friction to ease his painful throbbing need. “I’ve heard how unsatisfied he’s left you through these very walls.”

“Guess you’ll just have to prove it to me then.” This time Ari wastes no time in accepting your challenge. Turning off the running water, his large hands pick you up from the shower floor and squeeze your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He kisses you with urgency and need, swiping his tongue into your mouth as if his life depends upon it, but the ardent kiss is over far too quickly as in three long strides Ari’s already at the foot of his bed, laying you down and pulling his shirt over his head.

You’re practically drooling watching him undress, his broad shoulders, strong arms and toned abs could fool anyone into thinking he was a god carved from stone. And when he finally strips himself of his shorts and underwear, you actually salivate at the sight of his deliciously large dick already hard and ready for you.

“Fuck, you’re so much bigger than Bryce.” Your brain is practically malfunctioning at the view of the naked, burly man in front of you and these words are all you can think to say.

“This is what you’ve been missing out on, Sunshine.” Ari comments with a smirk.

He kisses you again, with the same intensity as before, but now he takes his time to explore your mouth, his hands desperate to feel every inch of you, every beautiful swell and dip, every exquisite curve he gets to claim for the night.

“Turn around for me, I wanna see that ass.” You do as he commands, face and chest to his bed, arching your back with your ass in the air, giving him prime view of exactly what he wants. You grab your vibrator, switch it on your preferred setting and hold it at the angle you’ve come to know with experience gives you the most pleasure, humming in satisfaction when you find just the right spot. “Fuck, you’re so sexy when you use that toy.”

You feel him teasingly drag the head of his dick through your folds, coating himself in your arousal, which in turn makes you wetter.

“Shit, that’s a pretty pussy. So wet for me. You’ve been thinking about fucking me for a while, haven’t you?”

You breathlessly admit you have during the beat where he pauses and lines himself up with your entrance. A chorus of moans echoes through the room as he pushes into you for the first time. He fills you up agonisingly slowly, but his bruising grip on your hips prevents you from pushing back into him. The burn of your walls stretching to accommodate him dissipates once he’s fully sheathed within you and all you can think about is how completely and utterly full you feel.

“Holy shit, you’re so tight.” Ari gives himself a moment to savour the sensation of how your soft walls grip him and seemingly pull him further into you before he begins to move, quickening his pace with every new thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Fill me up so deep, Ari.” The combination of the vibrator continuously stimulating your clit and the feel of Ari’s every inch driving in and out of you already has your toes curling.

“Say my name again baby, let the neighbours know who’s fucking you so good.” You do as he requests, chanting his name with every plunge of his cock.

His bed creaks with each rocking movement, the sound of the headboard thumping into the wall rhythmically fills the room along with your moaning and the salacious sound of skin slapping skin.

“Shit, right there, Ari. Don’t fucking stop!” You think perhaps there should be a part of you that’s embarrassed at how quickly you’re finding your release, but with how neglected and needy Bryce has left you, you’re utterly desperate to feel that pent up tension snap like a rubber band.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for me, wanna feel you squeezing my cock.” Ari can feel how close you are, your velvety walls fluttering around him, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With one strong thrust, your long awaited release washes through you like a wave. Every cell in your body floods with pleasure, blinding your vision and losing control of all motor function, causing you to let go of the vibrator.

As if Ari can sense the future, he’s ready when you go slack, taking the toy from your limp hand and maintaining the perfect pressure on your clit, never breaking rhythm with his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm to the point where you’re desperately mewling for him to stop and tugging at his sheets to escape the tsunami of overwhelming pleasure.

“Best pussy I’ve ever felt. I bet Bryce doesn’t fuck you this good.” Ari says as he lazily pulls out of you, wiping stray, sweaty strands of hair from his eyes as he lays beside you on his bed, gently tapping his thighs as his indication he wants you to get on top.

“Not even close.” You say breathlessly with a smirk, a little insecure about how your legs wobble as you straddle him, though Ari doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, he looks overjoyed watching you look down at him, a hint of endearment swirling in his lust blown pupils you hadn’t been expecting to notice.

Ari lets out a rumbling moan as you sink down onto him, his hands instinctively finding your hips as he helps you through the motions of grinding down on his dick.

“Work it pretty girl, yeah, just like that. Use me, use this fat cock, it’s all yours.” Once you have worked up a rhythm Ari removes his hands from your sides, appreciating the sight of your pussy swallowing his shaft whole, before his itching fingers caress your breasts, rolling your nipples into stiffened peaks. “You’re so beautiful riding me like this. Look at these tits, they’re fucking perfect.”

“Oh God, I’m close, Ari.”

“Me too, Sunshine.” You barely hear Ari’s words as his strong arms engulf you, flipping you into his mattress. His heavy body presses you even further into the memory foam which is permanently infused with his intoxicating musky scent, trapping you so you have no choice but to take everything he’s giving you.

His long hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him from making adoring eye contact. Did his eyes always soften when they gazed at you? Or are you only noticing it now that you are so much closer than you have ever been before?

You loved the angel he hit inside you while you were riding him, but it’s nothing compared to the mesmerising drag of his cock in this position, his hips rolling fervently into yours as his hands interlock with yours above your head and his lips suck on the sensitive skin of your neck.

The sex feels much more intimate than you were expecting when you essentially broke into his apartment to provocatively display yourself, wishing he’d be interested enough in an easy lay to give you one climax for the night. You’re not complaining though, you always did had a soft spot for Ari, and Bryce was rightfully jealous of the effortless connection you share.

“Oh fuck, Ari! Please, you're gonna make me cum!” You cry, his pistoning movements becoming more erratic as he chases both of your highs, his pelvis grinding against your clit repeatedly with each thrust.

“Cum with me, pretty girl.” Ari growls into your ear, your admission only spurring him on. The coil in the pit of your stomach winding tighter with each stroke of his tip against the spongy spot inside you that makes your legs shake uncontrollably and blinding stars burn behind your eyes. The same spot Bryce was never able to find, yet Ari sought out so easily.

Euphoria takes over you for the second time with a strained cry of his name, ecstasy shivers down your spine and out to the endings of every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss as Ari captures your moans in an ardent kiss.

Your soft walls squeeze him deliciously and contrast to the sharp sting of your nails raking down his back. It’s enough to push him over the edge with you.

“Holy shit, I’m cumming!” Ari announces before a deep, husky grunt rumbles from his chest. The muscles in his abdomen tense as he spills his large load deep inside you with a drawn out groan.

When Ari finally pulls out, he takes a moment to appreciate the sight of your mixed releases dripping from your core, before he dashes into his bathroom to fetch a warm, damp cloth to clean you up. You flinch at the sensation, your body oversensitive after the two mind blowing orgasms he pulled from you, but your heart soars at the thought in his gesture.

Once he’s done, Ari’s sweaty form lays down beside you, pulling you into him, gently kissing down your neck and over your shoulder. A shiver runs down your spine at how much tenderness each small kiss is filled with.

“You know, I’ve kinda had a thing for you ever since Bryce introduced us, but I’ve never been that guy who makes a move on someone else’s girl.” You flip over so you’re looking at him, his eyes search yours for a sign that he is more than a convenient one night stand and this meant more than just getting revenge on his dickhead roommate.

“Well, I’m no longer Bryce’s girl…” You point out, which is met with a smile.

“No, you’re mine now.”

* * *

Before going another round, one where Ari vows to finally taste you, you suggest grabbing some bottled water to keep hydrated. You’ll need to replenish your fluids if he plans on having his way with you the entire night and into the morning.

When you open the bedroom door, you see a familiar figure lounging on the couch.

“Oh, hey Bryce.” You say nonchalantly, feigning ignorance that you knew he lived here, though it is a welcome surprise to see him home so early from the party where he would have heard every sinful detail of your genuine climax with Ari minutes before, something he had never experienced in your four months together.

He simply stares at you, mouth agape and eyes wide in disbelief as you casually walk over to the kitchen au naturel. You make sure to sway your hips seductively as you return to Ari’s bedroom, giving him a view of exactly what he’s missing out on.

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grandline-fics · 28 days

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I can’t get the idea of Killer having a crush on a Straw Hat out of my head. What do you think would actually make him act on it? Or I guess how would he? (Pretending he actually would) 💖🖤 thank you in advance

DESCRIPTION: You’re a member of the Strawhats and he has a crush on you

WARNINGS: some minor story spoilers but other than that, none

CHARACTERS: Killer

WORDS: 695

A/N: Thank you for the request. This was my first time writing for Killer and I don't know where I was going with this but hopefully you like what I came up with for this

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

When the Kid pirates first started making a name for themselves, they became interested in the other rookie rivals that they would be sharing the spotlight with. Naturally the likes of Law, Luffy and Zoro stood out the most to Killer as the ones to keep an eye on. Then the stories of Strawhat Luffy and his ever growing crew of unique and interesting members kept circulating and then when you joined the crew, Killer took note of your introduction bounty. While you weren’t quite considered among the Supernova’s it was still enough to pique his interest.

It made him want to know more. It wasn’t exactly hard for his wish to come true; given who your crew was there was a story about you all and your adventures in the papers practically every week. Kid found his vice-captain’s interest in you amusing and even would go so far as to tease Killer about his crush, which was always furiously denied. It was just being thorough about the strength of possible rivals that they could run into in the future. Then the opportunity to see you and your crew in the flesh presented itself when they landed on Sabaody and all hell broke loose in the auction-house.

You hadn’t really known much about Kid, Killer or the crew until that incident. In the middle of an attack, you flipped in the air and sailed down towards the masked pirate. To avoid hurting him, you hooked your leg around his waist and turned, knocking him to the floor with you landing on top on him. The impact was enough to lift his mask slightly and reveal his face to you and you grinned down at him. “Sorry about that, handsome.” You apologised while pulling his mask down into place.

While you didn’t get why he’d hide his features, you guessed he had a reason for it. Suddenly you heard a Marine rushing towards you for a followup attack and threw your weapon up to block it. Quickly you dealt with them and got to your feet to let Killer finally stand. From behind you, Nami called your name which meant it was time to go. As you ran you looked over your shoulder to throw a lazy wave to Killer. “Let’s do this again sometime!”

As appealing as that offer sounded to Killer, who was finally beginning to admit to himself after that meeting that he just maybe did have a crush on you the chance didn’t get to come up again until two years later when your paths crossed in Wano. Under the glow of the lanterns and in the middle of the lively atmosphere of a land finally celebrating their freedom you stood and watched in amusement as the captain of the Kid Pirates was in the middle of a shouting match with your captain and Law of the Heart Pirates. When you saw Killer about to approach the group in the hopes of calming his captain you subtly took his attention by stepping beside him. “You’re better leaving them to it. Those three are like little kids, they’ll tire themselves out eventually. Enjoy the night off for once.” When Killer turned to face him you smiled and handed him a drink. “Here, to make up for our less than conventional introduction in Sabaody.”

“You remember that?” Killer asked, slightly stunned. It had been two years and it had been so brief, he doubted the encounter had left such an impression for you. He could only watch behind his mask as your grin widened, your eyes sparkling at the memory, effectively proving him wrong.

“Course I remember, definitely wouldn’t forget a face like yours in a hurry.” Killer tensed slightly when you winked and took a sip of your own drink. Killer considered your earlier statement and glanced to see the three Captains had finally calmed their squabbling at least for the time being. He supposed enjoying himself with your company wouldn’t be such a bad thing. After all, it had been two years in the waiting and who knew how long it would be before your paths crossed again after tonight.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #killer #killer x reader #killer x you #one piece killer #killer one piece #killer op #massacre soldier killer #op killer #one piece fanfiction

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rustboxstarr · 1 year

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Modern Eddie Munson headcons pt2

Thank you to @strangerthings64 for the request for pt 2!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drugs (weed), porn. Inapropriate jokes/dirty jokes, allusions to men being disgusting (well they always are) on public transport

Masterlist

🚬 This bitch will go my precious in a Gollum voice while tapping his fingers when you take your top off.

🚬 will send you 10 minutes worth of snapchat videos and get cut off mid sentence then proceed to complain about it in the next.

🚬Eddie Munson HATES pop and hip hop, but once he starts dating you he’s conflicted because he hates the basicness of it and the people who listen to it, but watching you twirl around with Robin drunk and in your element on the dance floor looking so mother fucking sexy swerving your hips in circles to Hey Mickey! By Baby Tate he’s starting to wonder if he might appreciate live stream hip pop.

🚬 Will scroll through Instagram forgetting you’re on a call or on FaceTime with each other and suddenly starts singing incredibly off key to whatever playing on his Google nest.

🚬Facetimes you while he’s cooking and you have to endure watching him shriek and scurry away from the frying pan when hot oil hits his skin.

🚬 Refuses to show his Spotify stats when the group went through theirs because he discovered Woman by Doja Cat had earned the top 6th place.

🚬His whole tiktok is just a bunch of bullshit, like he will be sat next to u scrolling tiktok and suddenly start pissing himself with laughter and showing u this

🚬 FUCKING binges top gear, especially when high.

🚬When this mf gets drunk he’s handsy, ALL OVER HANDS, dudes hands are grabbing your ass, squeezing your titties, pulling your hair cuz he thinks it’s funny all while you’re tryna fight him off you.

🚬 Tried to pick you up once while hammered. He can’t pick you up for very long normally cuz u heavy and this bitch skinny and gangly as fuck but once he gets alcohol in his system. “Eddie you can’t carry me!” “Liquid strength” he motions to his drink “that’s now how it works!” Proceeded to wrap his hands around your thighs, he managed to carry you for a whole second where he was whooping and practically screaming I told you so before loosing his balance and toppling you both onto the floor. Stuck between the end of the couch and a lazy boy.

🚬 On public transport he will sit in the outer edge so you’re against the window and no one can accidentally braze past you. If the bus is full and you’re standing he’ll fucking corner you so no one can accidentally or purposely cop a feel.

🚬Sent a video once on Snapchat where he’s talking with a cigarette in his mouth, and the he dropped it and it burned a hole in the crotch of his jeans.

🚬 No doubt will buy dog leashes and cut the fabric off to use the chains as accessories (totally don’t do that myself…)

🚬 licks your face, need I say more?

🚬took a picture of you bent over tying your boots and drew in a stick figure behind you, he wrote tappin dat ass and posted it to his story

🚬Eddie Munson has instagram, but never posts, but when you finally wear him down he posts the UGLIEST photos of u, his profile picture is you covered in pimple patches with your hair in a fucking mess, two straws sticking out your nose

🚬Watched a porn video the night before you came over, then when you were set to leave in his van his phone automatically connected to Bluetooth while the FAKEST moans bellowed out of the tinny speakers.

#80s #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson has adhd #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson headcons #Eddie Munson plus size reader #Eddie Munson x plus size reader #Eddie Munson x reader #modern Eddie #modern Eddie Munson #modern Eddie Munson headcons #modern Eddie headcons #headcanon #headcon

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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

Note

Breeding kink with Pike?

Anon said breeding kink with Marcus Pike and my brain went 'say less' - I love that man with every ounce of my being and this... well, it did something to me!

Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.4k

Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. Sweet, sweet Marcus Pike, some allusions to pain during sex but nothing to cause it here, obviously breeding kink, little bit of praise kink and maybe some daddy kink if you squint a little. Also un-beta'd so, all mistakes my own I guess.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration (now bleeding into my 2K celebration) - if you want to read previous requests, you can do that here .

He’s looking at you over his drink with those eyes that you love. Eyes that tell you he’d rather be anywhere else but here, with you, in this restaurant. His coffee brown eyes have gone dark, mainly from the way you’ve been wrapping your lips around the straw in your drink, sucking the fizzy vodka tonic into your mouth, looking into his eyes as you swallow, much like you would if you were alone right now.

“You going to keep teasing me like that all night?” He asks, raising his hand for the waiter to bring your bill.

“I’m not teasing.” You smirk, sucking the last of your drink into your mouth.

“The way my jeans are fitting right now would suggest otherwise.” He speaks lowly, finishing just in time for the check to be placed on your table.

“I’m not responsible for your inability to control yourself, Marcus,” You tease as he fishes his card out of his wallet to pay, “Can’t help that you love me so much you want to keep me perpetually naked.”

He chokes a little as the waiter comes by to take the payment, and then Marcus is all but dragging you by the wrist from the restaurant. You don’t miss how he stops just outside the door to adjust his jeans. His long strides down the sidewalk mean you have to almost jog to keep up with him as he walks the short distance back to your apartment. The one you’ve shared with him for almost a year now.

He doesn’t even bother turning the main lights on when you get in, just locks the door behind you, dragging you into your bedroom. He’s not even kissed you when he pushes gently on your shoulders to sit you on the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees in front of you. It’s almost second nature to you now, the way you hike the hemline of your dress up your thighs and spread your legs for him.

You smile when a choked gasp leaves his mouth, eyes dropping to the red lace covering your sex. He hasn’t seen this in a while. His warm palms trace up the inside of your thighs, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“You get all dressed up for me?” He speaks lowly.

“Why don’t you take my dress off and find out, baby?”

It was a calculated ploy by you, the wrap dress. Showing off your cleavage all evening, you’d caught his eyes dropping to the swell of your breasts more times than you can count, but it was also easy to take off, as Marcus was currently demonstrating – pulling at the belt at your side, watching as it reveals that you did indeed dress up for him, red lace cupping your breasts, just like the red lace between your legs.

“Fucking hell,” He breathes out, hands coming up to massage your tits as his lips finally meet your own, tongue meeting yours as he pulls the cups of lace down, you moan into his mouth when he thumbs over your nipples, rubbing them to stiff peaks, “Did I forget something special?” He asks.

You chuckle against his lips, his hands moving to shove the dress from your shoulders, sitting back on his heels to take in the sight of you. Legs spread, tits exposed, just waiting for his next move.

“You gonna eat me out, agent?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him, lifting your foot up his thigh to rest where he’s almost bulging out of his jeans.

“You think you deserve that after teasing me all night?” He growls, gripping your ankle to keep you still.

“You know you’ve got to work me up,” You smirk, eyes dropping to his groin again, “Don’t wanna hurt me, do you?”

He brings a hand to your neck, holding gently as he growls into your ear, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it when it hurts a little.”

He releases your neck, hands trailing down your body to the thin waistband of your panties. You lift your hips off the bed automatically, watching as he drags the scrap of lace down your legs and onto the floor. He moves you so that you’re lying flat on the bed now, his own body settled between your thighs as his fingers dip through your folds to your weeping hole.

“You don’t need any working up baby,” He groans, teeth nipping at your neck, “Fucking soaked just from teasing me.”

He eases two of his thick fingers into your cunt, curling them upwards almost immediately. Your big talk is suddenly nowhere to be found, not when his fingers move inside you like they do. He works you open with that expert precision he’s always had with you, got you writhing underneath him in no time. When he pulls his fingers from you, you whine, until your eyes train on him undressing himself.

He's back on you in seconds, kissing your open mouth, grinding his hip into yours so his thick cock drags through your folds, nudging at your clit every few seconds. He pulls back gently, reaching over into the bedside table for a condom, when your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him.

You look him directly in the eye, “Not tonight agent,” You breathe, “Put a baby in me.”

You’re pretty sure you see the way his brain malfunctions at your words. You’d spoken about this enough for it to not be a secret, you’d come off the pill months ago but had both agreed to wait a few more months before trying. Well, you were tired of waiting, you wanted Marcus to give you what you wanted.

“Baby,” He groans, “You sure?”

You reach down between the two of you, gripping his cock in your fist, pumping it a few times, “We’ve waited long enough,” You groan as you move your hips, lining his cock up to your aching cunt, “Fuck me, Marcus.”

He does just that, pushing his hips into yours to sink himself into your heat, dipping his head to kiss along your jaw as you shift your hips underneath him, urging him to move, to do anything. Marcus pulls back, sitting on his knees, with his hands on your hips as he starts fucking into you in earnest now. His eyes are trained on the way you’re spread out for him. His hands slip from your hips to rest on your tummy. With his cock still spearing into you at just the right angle to have you crying out of every thrust, his soft hands on your tummy almost make you want to cry.

“You’ll look so fucking beautiful baby,” He groans, looking down at you, “So fucking beautiful full of my baby.”

You reach down, fingers seeking out your own clit for relief as Marcus pounds into you with an intensity you’ve not seen before – like he knows now you’ve given him permission, he’s got hell of a fucking job to do.

“Wanna make you a daddy,” You squeal as he shifts his hips just a little to change the angle of his thrusts, “Come on baby, fill me up, please.”

“Make yourself come for me darling girl,” You can tell he’s close, his voice breathy and his hips starting to stutter, “And I’ll give you anything in the world.”

You add more pressure to the circles your drawing on your swollen clit, back arching off the bed as the tight coil finally snaps in you, crying our Marcus’ name as your pussy clenches around him.

“God damnit baby,” He groans, finally falling onto his palms, placing either side of your head as he chases his own high, “Clenching so well around me, such a good fucking girl for me.”

All you can do is continue with the moans of his name, gripping onto his sides as he pounds into you. He doesn’t last much longer, stilling inside you. You can feel that familiar warmth spread through you, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls like you’d begged for, and God it feels good.

He pushes himself back from you, back onto his knees as he pulls out of you, watching as his cum drips from your spent pussy. He looks you directly in the eye as he uses his thumb to push what’s fallen from you back inside, lifting his fingers to your mouth so you can clean off what’s left behind.

Marcus finally collapses next to you, pulling your shoulders to bring you closer to him, your sweaty skin sticking to each other as his fingers draw patterns along your shoulders as you wrap your arm across his waist.

“Not bad for a first try,” He chuckles, kiss pressed to the top of your head, “Need to perfect it though, what do you think?”

“Practice makes perfect, after all.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike Imagine #The Mentalist #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

https://at.tumblr.com/imyourbratzdoll/hey-how-are-you-doing-do-not-forget-to-drink/hqp5i3p1bu5v

Could you maybe do a part 2 to this one? Maybe where steve meets her in real life and can’t control himself he just has to have her!

here is part two of red and blue bikini

summary - steve had never thought he would meet you in person, but thanks to tony butting into things, he finally gets to feel you around him.

warning - smut, dirty talk, spit kink, soft slapping, creampie, swearing, captain kink, slightly dark, aftercare.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Steve couldn’t believe it. He was finally going to meet you. The woman of his dreams, the one that causes him to wake with morning wood. He couldn’t contain his excitement, no matter how hard he tried. He nearly fainted when he heard you were invited to Tony’s party and accepted the invitation. Steve knew he had to impress you, completely forgetting he was Captain America.

The night of the party, Steve made sure to put on his nicest shirt. A deep blue colour that hugged his upper body perfectly, showing off his large muscles. He was giddy, ignoring the funny looks his friends gave him every time someone would walk in through the door, and he’d look, only to look away disappointed when it wasn’t the woman he wanted to see.

But the moment you walked through the door, wearing a tiny long sleeve pink shirt with a matching long skirt. Steve thought he had died. His eyes dragged up and down your body multiple times, unable to take his eyes off your exposed stomach or thigh. He had to sit down quickly, or else everyone would see the massive bulge forming. You had spotted the team and smiled, making your way over with a sway of your hips. Steve’s heart began to beat faster as he heard the click of your heels on the floor, getting closer to where he was seated.

“Hi, guys!” You smile, standing next to the seated Captain as you greet the rest of the team. “Tony, did you accidentally send me the wrong invitation? I wouldn’t expect I was worthy enough to be in the presence of the avengers.” Damn, even your voice sent shivers up Steve’s spine, causing his cock to twitch. He had to bite his lip to stop the moan from escaping his mouth. Steve wasn’t worthy of being in your presence, hell. He wasn’t worthy enough to be thinking of you or stroking his cock to your poster. But, my god. He couldn’t stop.

Tony shrugs. “I had to invite the woman Capsicle has been crushing on.” Steve’s head snaps over to the billionaire, glaring as Tony smirks and sips his whiskey. “You should see the poster he has of you in his room! Out of everything I thought he’d have, that wasn’t it.” Steve could feel his cheeks becoming red. Feeling your gaze on the side of his face didn’t help.

You smile, resting your hand gently on his shoulder. “I’d like to see. It’s quite an honour to know Captain America has a poster of me in his room.” Steve’s mouth opens and closes, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Do you think you could give me a tour, Captain?” Steve gulps as he nods, trying to will away the erection currently straining against his slacks. He had to try and think of everything that would make his cock go soft, but no matter what. His mind would return to you and what you’d look like underneath him as he splits you open.

“U–Um�� Maybe you should get yourself a drink before we go….” His smile is strained, he didn’t think this would be his first impression when he met you, and he deeply regrets it. Steve watches you nod and head over to the bar. His gaze on your ass doesn’t exactly help him. His eyes close as he takes a deep breath, trying to get his cock to soften so he can show you his room. At the thought, his eyes shoot open. You were going to be in his room… Steve abruptly stands, ignoring the snickering from his team as he makes his way over to you.

“Ready for the tour?” You smile up at him, nodding as your lips wrap around the straw. Steve clears his throat and quickly rests his hand on your lower back as he leads you over to the elevator. “I–I’m not a creep or anything… I’m just a big fan of your work….” He squirms, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Steve. As I said, it’s an honour.” You giggle at the blush on his cheeks, feeling your heart pounding in your chest from being so close to your crush. You continue to sip your drink, secretly making a show of sucking the straw, when you notice his attention on your lips. The sound of the elevator door opening interrupts Steve’s staring and your sucking. You shiver when his hand lands back onto your lower back as he leads you out of the metal box and toward his room.

Steve stops you in front of his closed door, quickly peeking his head inside and looking around to ensure his room isn’t a complete mess. Before opening his door fully and smiling at you, “Well, here’s my room….” You walk inside, looking around in awe, surprised by the room's colours.

“So this is Captain America’s room. It’s nice.” You smile, walking over to the poster that hangs across his bed, grinning at the picture he had chosen. A brow raises when you spot a slight stain. You reach up and slowly trace it, not noticing the blush that appears on Steve’s face as he realises what it is. You look at him with a smirk, “So tell me, Captain. Am I the first girl to get a tour of your room?” His blush deepens, squirming around as he nods.

“Yeah… I–I don’t really have female company.” You gasp, a smirk still on your lips.

“And why not? I’ve seen the groups that latch onto you, begging for your attention. You’ve never thought to take one home and ruin them?” You stalk closer, running a perfectly manicured nail up his arm. “Throw them around like your own personal ragdoll? Finish inside of them instead of on my poster? Or am I the special one? Lucky enough to gain your attention?”

Steve’s eyes widen, his mouth opening and closing in shock. His cock begins to harden again, straining against his pants. “U–Uh… I don’t… I don’t know what you're talking about….” His hand clenches and unclenches, trying to hold himself back from taking you, throwing you onto the bed and splitting you open was the only thing replaying in his head.

“It’s okay to let go, Captain. Give into your desires, let go of all that control….” You bat your eyelashes as you look up at him, dragging your finger down his chest. A squeak escapes you as Steve grabs hold of you and pushes you onto his bed, climbing on top of your tiny form and glaring down at you.

“What is it you want? You want me to split you open like a whore, you little minx? Want to be known as Captain America’s slut?” He growls, pinning you underneath him and resting his leg against your core. You whimper, biting your lip as you gaze up at him with lustful eyes, nodding your head as you squirm against him. “You walk in, dressed like a whore, only to be used like one.” You begin to feel slick building between your thighs at this side of Steve, wondering who you’d have to thank for it. “I bet you’re so fucking wet that I don’t even need to prepare you, just split you open with my cock from the beginning.”

You whimper, nodding your head as you spread your legs open wider. “Please, please! Steve!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his hand wraps tightly around your throat.

“It’s Captain to you, whore.” His eyes are dark as his mind becomes clouded, cock threatening to break the material of his pants with how hard he is.

You nod again. “Y–Yes, Captain!”

Steve smirks, “Not so good with words now, huh? Just needed to throw you around like a ragdoll for you to shut up.” His hands make quick work of sliding your skirt up, exposing your bare cunt, and his eyes widen as his cock twitches. “You naughty fucking slut, coming to a party with nothing underneath.”

You whine as you try to shrug. “It caused lines….” A whimper escapes as his hand makes contact, slapping your sopping cunt, hitting your swollen pearl. “Captain!”

“Look at how wet you are.” He lifts his hand and shows you the juices that glisten on his skin. “Who made you this wet, doll? Hmm?” Steve moves closer to your face before slipping his fingers inside your mouth. “Not going to answer me? Too busy sucking on my fingers like a slut?” He opens your mouth with his fingers and leans forward, spitting inside and glaring down at you. “Swallow.” Steve smiles when he sees you obey him, slapping your cheek softly with his wet hand. “Good girl, at least I know you can follow orders.” He swiftly takes his cock out, groaning and staring deep into your eyes as he strokes himself before rubbing his tip into your slit, eyes rolling back as he finally feels you against him. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this, how fucking happy I am to have you beneath me finally.” Steve lines his tip up with your entrance, locking eyes when he begins to push in slowly.

A strained moan escapes you, eyes rolling back as you feel him stretching and splitting you open all at once, your head flies back, and your back arches, pressing your body into him. “S–So big!” moans continue to leave you as Steve pushes in deeper and deeper until all of him is so deep inside you that it feels like he’s in your stomach. “Oh… Too deep!”

Steve grunts above you, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist as he thrusts, delivering harsh blows into your tight hole, gripping your hips and throat. Everything becomes too much for Steve. Finally, feeling you around him and having sex made him feel fuzzy. Your moans are like music to his ears, and the feeling of your wet cunt swallowing his monstrous cock feels like heaven. “You feel so good, doll. So tight and warm around my cock, you like your Captain’s cock?”

Your head moves up and down, no words leaving you. Your mind feels dizzy from his thrusts, nails digging into his skin and legs tightening around his waist to try and bring him closer. You cling to the large man, a man who could squash you without a second thought. You try and move your hips along with his thrusts, crying out when his tip slams into your sweet spot. “Mmph… C–Cap…” Your eyes roll back, your vision becoming white as your mouth opens into a silent scream. Your walls clench and squeeze Steve’s cock, pulsating around him as your juices squirt out and cover him and his bedsheets.

Steve growls, eyes hazed with lust as he watches you cum. He leans down and presses his lips against yours, bringing you into a rushed, messy kiss as his thrusts begin to get sloppy, his balls tightening and his cock twitching as spurts of large amounts of thick cum shoot out of his angry mushroom tip and deep inside your awaiting womb. He whimpers against your lips, emptying himself into you until it begins to leak from your used hole and onto the bed. There’s silence for a moment as you both try to catch your breath. You whimper when Steve slowly pulls out of you, his gaze locked on your gaping hole as his cum leaks out of you.

Steve gets up and heads off somewhere while you lie there, eyes fluttering closed, and you wince when you feel something damp swiping across your sensitive folds. You blink and look down, your gaze softening when you notice Steve cleaning you up, sending you a gentle smile. He leaves again, only to come back and begin to strip you and himself before replacing your clothes with one of his shirts and sliding boxers up your legs to cover you before he places a pair on his lower half. You watch him become hesitant in climbing into the bed until you pat the spot next to you. As soon as he lies down, you crawl closer and wrap yourself around him, snuggling close to the large man.

Steve rests his hand on your lower back and looks down at you with a soft smile, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on your head before resting back down into his pillow. “Thank you.” His hand begins to rub up and down your back, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion sets in.

You hum, pressing a kiss into his chest before closing your eyes.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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just-jordie-things · 1 year

Text

i've got my mind on you - gojo satoru

word count: 9.7k warnings: heavy drinking, swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship (not reader’s) summary: whoever said drinking to forget works is a goddamn liar a/n: I've just been listening to say yes to heaven by lana del rey a lot lately so the vibe is kinda there (but I wouldn’t say it’s a songfic per se)

___

“So what’s your plan? You’ve either got to slow it down, or come up with a plan”

A giggle, a hiccup, and then a goofy smile spread across (y/n’s) face, before she leaned over the bar and pulled the straw in her margarita towards her mouth.

“Well, hic-” She’s barely gotten any real sentences out in the last fifteen minutes, but Ieiri still tried to get through to her. “I’ll pro’lly jus’ stay a lil’ drunk forever- hic- so that I never get hungover”

Ieiri rolled her eyes with that tiny bit of affection that she feels sometimes.

And if she was going to feel affectionate towards anyone, it was going to be (y/n). She didn’t have many friends, but she knew they didn’t deserve it. (y/n) however… was going through a tough time.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” She sighed, twirling her own straw around the ice cubes left in her glass. “I meant what’s the plan with Satoru?”

For a moment, a three second moment, the hiccuping and dopey smiles halted, and (y/n) stared down at her half empty glass.

The whole point of coming out tonight was to forget. To forget him and his stupid face and his stupid voice and his whole stupid self that she was so damn in love with that it just about blinded her. She couldn’t think when she was around him, she couldn’t breathe when she was around him.

And she simply couldn’t have that.

“The plan’s right in front of ya” (y/n) replied, giggling again before taking a few more sips of her drink.

“Your plan is stupid, then,” Ieiri huffed, leaning her elbow on the bar, resting her chin in her palm. “So you’ll drink forever?”

“Mmmhmmm” (y/n) hummed through her straw.

“And what about work? You gonna drink there too?”

(y/n) hummed again, looking up at the ceiling as though she were actually pondering the idea.

“We teach kids, dumbass,” Ieiri rolled her eyes, this time with less affection. “Seriously. You have to have some sort of plan. Distance? Or maybe…”

(y/n’s) eyes shifted sideways, just barely glancing at her friend from the corner of her eye.

“Or maybe what?” She asked, quietly, her eyes returning to what was left of her drink.

She wasn’t sure how many of these overpriced mason jar-margaritas she’d had, but it still wasn’t enough to solve her issue.

Maybe two more? She wondered.

“You could always confess” Ieiri shrugged.

(y/n) swore she could fall off her stool right now. The whole room was spinning. Or was it just her?

Am I that drunk?

“You’re delusional” She snorted, shaking her head, before sliding off her seat, steadying herself with her hands on the bar.

“I’m delusional?” The brunette repeats, like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

(And she’s put up with Satoru’s shit for a long, long time, so she was quite familiar with ridiculous)

“I’m going to the bathroom,” (y/n) sighed. “Order me another one of those, would ya?” She asks, gesturing to the empty mason jar on the counter.

Ieiri shakes her head.

“I’m sure they’re done serving you, ‘ya drunk” She says, punctuated with another eye roll.

(y/n) blows it off, trying her best to walk in a straight line towards the bathroom. She wobbles a bit, but at least makes it there.

It’s empty, to her delight because she’s been swallowing a hot lump in her throat for the last half hour and she just can’t keep it to herself anymore.

Closing herself in a stall, she fell to the toilet seat and dropped her head in her hands. Finally, a few tears could fall without the humiliation of being drunk and crying in public.

“Ya know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met?” He says with that grin on his face that should make her want to smack him, but instead she’s lost in it, mirroring it on her own face.

“And you know you’re the cheesiest person I’ve ever met?” She replies smoothly.

“You calling me a liar?” He asks, leaning in closer, narrowing the space between them even more than he already had when he’d approached her.

She was trying to finish up her paperwork, making copies for the Kyoto school in the small copy room they had. Of course he cornered her in here. Just to flirt with her and fill her with a useless hope.

And yet here she was, following that hope, like an idiot.

“A liar? Gojo, I would never,” She smirks, before turning around to pluck her copies off the tray. “See ya”

But she can feel him shadowing her as she struts out of the copy room and off to her small office.

“Why do I feel like you’re looking for something?” She muses, fighting the urge to glance over her shoulder at him.

“Can’t a guy just walk a girl back to her office?”

“And what’re you protecting me from?” (y/n) hums, her eyes catching a figure making his way in the opposite direction. “Nanami?”

“Please, leave me out of it” The blonde man mutters, picking up the pace to his office.

“Don’t worry Nanamin, I’ll fill you in later!” Gojo calls down the hallway, before skipping up to walk at (y/n’s) side. “Where to miss?” He asks, folding his hands behind his back as he stoops low to be at her ear level.

“My private space,” (y/n) replies. “Or did you intend something else?”

“Intend…? Oh, no sweetheart you’ve got me all wrong!”

She stops walking then, turning to him, her copies held to her chest and her brow raised curiously.

“Do I?” She asked, staring up at him intently.

He pauses for a moment, which interests her because it’s not often that the great Gojo Satoru freezes, and here he was frozen because of her. A smile blooms across her lips before she pats his arm and heads off to her office on her own.

“See ya, Satoru” She calls behind her.

She shouldn’t have felt so victorious walking away from him that day. Because at the end of the day, nothing changed. Whatever playful banter they had would remain just as it is. Nothing.

With tears streaming down her face, (y/n’s) hands shook as she typed the passcode into her phone. Her mind ran wild with scenario after scenario in which she found herself giving him another piece of her. Another flirty comment, lingering touch, a stare that lasted just a second too long. It was too much.

A tear hit her screen as she was scrolling through her contacts. With poor motor skills she pulled the sleeve of her dress over her palm to wipe away the moisture, frustrated when it only spread it over the screen.

When she was finally able to type on the screen, she was scrolling through phone numbers again. It took a minute before her shaky thumb selected- almost haphazardly- what she was searching for.

It only took one ring before he picked up.

“(y/n/n)?”

“Ya know you’re a real downer, right? Ya know that?”

A small chuckle came through, which for some reason only ignited her frustration in the moment. Of course Satoru would find this funny.

“And while on the subject of stupid things, what’s the point of using mason jars for margaritas? The- hic- ridges makes all the salt fall off and then it’s not even really a margarita at that point is it?” She rants. “Fuckin’ lame- hic- is the aesthetic really worth it to people?”

“The aesthetic is lame,” Satoru agreed with another chuckle. “Where are you, sweetheart? A bar somewhere?”

Now she knew she was wasted, as she could’ve easily mistaken his tone for concern.

“Yeah -hic- somewhere,” She slurred out. “You wanna know -hic- what else is stupid?”

“What’s that?”

(y/n) leaned back on the seat, the alcohol in her system sending her back into the upper holding tank of the toilet roughly. To her luck, she didn’t feel the pain of the rough smack of the ceramic into her back. However the quick movement did leave her feeling a little dizzy.

“Ah- fuck” She muttered.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice came through the phone a bit muffled but the concern was still there.

“I’m fucking fantastic. I’m faaantastic y’know?”

“If you say so. What was the bar you went to again?”

“Dunno,” (y/n) sighed, tilting her head back. “Did you guess?”

“Guess what?”

(y/n) giggles.

“You,” She answered for him. “You’re the stupid one”

Satoru snorts before letting out a short laugh. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed or entertained, but she was too far gone to notice or care.

“I’m stupid?” He asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yeah, you’re a total fuckin’ idiot” (y/n) sighed.

“You’re starting to sound like Kento,” Gojo laughs. “I thought you went out with Ieiri”

“I did, she’s here. She’s just still at the bar”

“You’re not at the bar?”

“I’m hiding in the bathroom”

“Hiding? Why?”

“I dunno. I’m tired. I’m tired of this”

It’s quiet on the line for a moment, leaving (y/n) to stare at the concerning green stain on the ceiling tile, her mind drifting off as she wondered what could have caused it, or how long it had been there.

“What’s goin’ on sweetheart?”

Why did he insist on calling her that? And why was it impossible to set fire to the butterflies in her stomach when he did?

“(y/n/n)? Ya still with me?”

“Yeah. I’m here” She mumbled back, closing her eyes before the ceiling stain could make her nauseous.

“Look, I’m on my way. Would you go wait with Ieiri? And drink some water?”

(y/n) sighs, before forcing herself to stand, only having to place her hand on the stall for a few seconds to keep herself upright.

“Alright,” She mumbles again. “Fine”

“Drink some water. See you s-”

She lowers her phone from her ear and presses the bright red END CALL before he could finish. The alcohol was getting on top of her, and she was getting too tired to continue dancing this dance.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, she finds Shoko standing there next to the door, a water bottle in hand and a gentle smile on her face.

“You alright?” She asked, uncapping the bottle and handing it over to her.

“No,” (y/n) replied. “Let’s just go”

Ieiri nods.

(y/n) can’t help but wonder where she’d gone so wrong. Was it the first time they met? If only she’d ignored him, rolled her eyes at his flirtatious nature and walked away. Maybe then she wouldn’t be stuck wallowing in self pity. Fuck, was this ridiculous.

“Oh! And don’t kick yourself over Nanami not liking you. He’s a nice guy. Just a guy of few words, that’s all” Ijichi added a tiny piece of advice into his tour. (y/n) chuckled.

“Good to know”

“And Ieiri is very nice, she’s a good friend” He adds, but this time there’s a slight pink on his face. (y/n) laughs again.

“She pretty too?” She asks with a face splitting grin.

Ijichi puts his head down, pushing his glasses up his nose and hoping the heat in his face would go away quickly.

And as (y/n’s) laughing to herself, tucking her hands into the pockets of the slacks, she catches sight of an odd, but indistinguishable character.

He’s walking in the opposite direction, with a phone to his ear, and he seems mildly annoyed from the way he shakes his head and waves his free hand around. That’s the first thing she noticed.

The second thing she noticed was the sunglasses he wore, which was strange because they were inside, but she had to admit they were alluring, in that mysterious way.

She finds herself watching him as he walks closer towards them. And she thinks that he sees her too, although it’s hard to tell with the dark lenses perched on his nose.

His hair was a shocking white, only adding to his allure. (y/n) couldn’t tear her eyes off him if she’d wanted to.

And when he finally passed, all she could do was wonder to herself who he was.

She looks back a moment later, only to find him stopped in his tracks, phone still held up to his ear, but he was clearly staring at her now. Her brows knot in confusion, watching him as still as she follows Ijichi down the hall.

Then he grins. A wide, almost shit eating grin.

And despite herself, (y/n’s) face feels warm, and she can feel her lips tugging into a smile before she can even figure out why it is that she’s smiling back at him.

Turning back to Ijichi with eyes rounded from curiosity and a bit of excitement, she beamed.

“Who was that?”

“Maybe I should just get a dating app and settle down with the first eligible man I meet,”

Ieiri snorted in response, glancing up from her phone to give her friend a questioning look.

(y/n) slumped against the brick wall they had been standing at for a while. It had been mostly silent while she was slowly drinking her water, and Ieiri smoked a cigarette. Until now.

“I mean, there’s a ton of guys on there, right? So shouldn’t there at least be… like… a couple of hot ones?”

“I don’t know,” Ieiri sighs, crossing one arm over her chest while the other waves her cigarette around as she speaks. “You don’t seem like the dating app type”

(y/n’s) brow furrows.

“Well, then what type do I seem?”

Shoko smirks, nodding her head off to the street.

(y/n) squints at her, before following her line of sight. There she found a familiar black car pulling up to the curb.

Ieiri grins, expecting an elated reaction from her friend. Instead (y/n) rolls her eyes.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me”

Gojo gets out of the driver’s seat, and jogs his way over to the wall. With that stupid grin and those stupid sunglasses, (y/n) just wanted to tell him to get out of here.

“What’re you doing here?”

The white haired man laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets as he approaches the pair.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me?” He asks.

Her brows are furrowed and the annoyed look she’s trying to give him comes off as a pout, so of course he’s laughing. His laughter pisses her off more.

She wants to tell him to get lost. She wants to shove him by the shoulders until he gets back in that car and drives away so that she wouldn’t have to look at his stupid face anymore.

Stupid.

“She’s had a bit too much,” Ieiri breaks the silence. “And she’s barely drinking her water”

Tattletale.

“I never knew you were such a party animal, (y/n/n),” Gojo teases. He’s still smirking. “Well let’s get ya home, hm?”

She doesn’t answer him. He’s not sure if he’s been given the silent treatment, or if she was finally over the peak of her drunkenness- and now came the downfall of heavy drinking. Either way, he’s slightly amused, as he’s never seen her in such a state.

There was the occasional work gathering, but they were few and far between, and at most they involved a beer or two. Seeing (y/n) obliterated was a sight for sure.

(y/n) turns to Ieiri, her lips in a frown.

“Go on,” Her friend prompts in an uncharacteristically sweet tone of voice. “You’re the one that called”

Stupid! (y/n) mentally face palms. The conversation she’d had in the bathroom came back to her in hazy images.

“Fine,” She finally speaks, swiveling on her heel to face Gojo again.

He had jumped for a second upon her quick motion, because surely she was going to trip over the skinny heel on her foot, but she had faced him with surprising balance, not even a sliver of wavering in her body.

“Then let’s go”

He nods, moving to open the passenger side door without a word. For a moment there, he thought he might have to throw her over his shoulder to get her to leave. So this was a pleasant change in plan for him.

“Goodnight,” Ieiri calls with a wave. “I’ll call you in the morning!”

(y/n) weakly returns the gesture, before Gojo shuts the car door. He turns for a moment, just to give Ieiri a look. Even behind his sunglasses, she knows the face he’s making. She grins, before putting her cigarette out on the brick behind her, and heading off in the direction of her own car.

When Satoru gets into the car, (y/n’s) leaning against the cool glass of the window, with both of her hands wrapped around the seatbelt over her chest.

“You feeling alright?” He asks.

No response.

“If you’re sick, we can wait,” He suggests. “I don’t want the drive to upset your-”

“I’m not sick”

Her words are small, and a little slurred, but he understood her nonetheless.

He nods, and puts the key into the ignition.

(y/n’s) eyes keep watch of the dark sidewalks they pass as he drives. There’s few people out this late at night- she briefly wonders what time it even is- and the city seems so peculiar when it’s this quiet. It almost makes her antsy, like the next corner they turn they’ll run into some sort of conflict.

But when he makes that left and it’s just another empty street, a calmness spreads over her insides. She sinks down into her seat a little.

Gojo sees this, having kept an eye on her for the last few minutes they’d been in silence. He waits for a minute, before he breaks that silence.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

She looks over at him, quiet for a few moments more as she tries to untangle her thoughts.

“Do you think you did?” She replies, thinking that’s the smoothest response she could have given him.

“No, I don’t,” He answers her straight away. She frowns, because it’s the wrong answer and they both know it, but that doesn’t make it any less truthful. “But then you called me, which you don’t do, and you called me names, which you sort of do, but you sounded really upset”

“Yeah” She sighs, before shrugging her shoulders.

Satoru waits for her to continue, his head constantly turning from the road to her, but she just sits there, clearly content with herself.

“Yeah?” He repeats, and he wants to scoff at her. He wants to shake his head and call her childish and inconsiderate to his feelings because clearly she had troubled him. She’d made him think something bad had happened, or he had hurt her somehow, he wasn’t sure what but she was the one that made him worry. And now she wanted to sit there and shrug her shoulders and stare blankly at him like she couldn’t see the concern pouring out of him.

“Yeah,” (y/n) says again, but this time her voice was dripping with malice. “I was upset”

His knuckles are white as they tighten around his steering wheel. Sober (y/n) would have noticed, and probably called him on it. Drunk (y/n) just glares him down.

“Okay, well, maybe you’d like to enlighten me then?” Satoru asks. His throat is tight as he desperately works to maintain an even voice.

He can’t remember a time he’s ever been this upset with her. He can’t remember a time he’s even been mildly annoyed with her. But now here she is instigating and acting like-

No.

He looks over at her again, and although she looks like she could spit on him if he doesn’t choose his words carefully, his expression softens. And soon after so does his grip.

He lets out a breath.

“Look, you worried me, okay?” He admits, keeping his eyes on the road.

When he looks straight ahead, she can almost see his eyes. Something in her chest melts just a little bit.

“You never call”

“I don’t like phone calls” She mumbles in response.

“I know”

For a second, in her staggered breathing and slow blinks, she’s brought back to reality. And the reality was Gojo Satoru knew her. He’s known her for a while, and he knows her well. And he’s here now.

She forces herself to look away, to go back to the window and try not to think about Gojo Satoru and whatever feelings led him to being here right now, driving her home.

And then it dawns on her.

“I can’t go back to my place”

“What?”

His neck was going to strain with how frantically he was looking from her to the road.

“I can’t go back to my place” (y/n) repeats.

“Yeah I got that part,” He clenches his jaw, and he’s racking his brain to remember some old breathing exercise Ieiri had told him about a long time ago. His mind comes up empty. “Why?”

“My roommate broke up with her boyfriend” (y/n) sighs, before leaning over in her seat, beginning to unbuckle the uncomfortable straps around her ankles.

“Okay?” Gojo’s shaking his head, desperate for context, but clearly (y/n) was more invested in pulling the heels off her feet.

“Oh, he lost his mind and trashed our apartment”

��What?”

“Yeah, broke all our glass dishes, ripped frames off the walls, it was insane”

“Did you call the police?”

“I was out, but my roommate did. It’s fine, but my room is a mess still. She’s been staying with her family for support”

“Jesus Christ”

“Yeah,” (y/n) sighed, leaning her head back against the seat. “But she’ll be okay, I’ve got eyes on him,”

He glances over at her, just long enough to see a small smirk playing on the corner of her lips.

Right. Her cursed technique.

“As soon as he has the intention of coming to that building again, he’s going to feel a very sharp pain on the left half of his body,” She hums, and then rolls her head to the side to look over at him. “And that will be his spleen catching on fire”

Gojo lets out a low whistle.

“You’re gonna piss off the elders when he’s a medical mystery”

“Like you’ve ever given a shit what the elders think” (y/n) mutters.

He smiles to himself and doesn’t say anything more on the matter.

“Guess you’ll have to stay somewhere else then” He says instead.

“I’ve got a couch in my office that’s comfortable enough,” (y/n) shrugs. “You can just drop me off back at the school”

“That’s ridiculous. We’re not doing that”

(y/n) doesn’t say anything. Her fingers curl around the heels of her shoes that she’s holding in her lap.

She turns her gaze back to the window, and keeps to herself the rest of the ride. ___

Rushing yourself when you’re already incredibly panicked was always the wrong way to go. (y/n) knew that. But slowing herself down would only make her more late.

Yet there she was, balancing her cup of coffee atop enough stacks of file folders to fill a whole cabinet, and running through the hallways at full speed. Luckily years of rigorous training and acrobatics meant that her balance was impeccable.

Until a door opened right in her path, too close for her to stop herself in her tracks.

With a squeal her files were thrown up in the air as she threw her body to the side before she could run straight into it.

And like magic she caught all of her files, in perfect condition, not a single paper out of place.

“Ha! Yes!” She cheered to herself.

And just as quickly as she’d rejoiced, her shoulders slumped as she realized there was just one thing missing.

“Oh, no, my-”

“I think you dropped this”

She spun around upon hearing the voice of a stranger, and sure enough, there he was holding her paper cup, which was also perfectly intact.

But this wasn’t just any stranger. This was the stranger that she saw yesterday on the phone. With the strange white hair and strange sunglasses even though they were inside.

“Wow, thanks,” She breathed out, a bit embarrassed to have acted so crazy in front of him. “Sorry for throwing it” She adds sheepishly.

“Nah, don’t be,” He replied with a nonchalant shrug. “You must be (y/l/n)”

Something about him already knowing who she was only made her face feel hotter with embarrassment.

“Uh- yeah, just (y/n) though”

“Just (y/n),” The white haired man repeats with a click of his tongue. “Gojo Satoru, most powerful man in the world, teacher, and now escort-e of women in need” He introduces.

Well, he’s clearly confident.

(y/n) chuckles.

“Well thank you, Gojo Satoru, but I’m sure there are women elsewhere in need of your services”

He seems thrown off guard as she plucks the coffee from his hands and places it back on her stack of folders. With that she grins and heads back in the direction of her new office.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Gojo calls.

“Nope!” She hollers over her shoulder. “But thank you! See you around!”

And just like that she was running off again, having not learned a single lesson. But at least the mysterious and cute stranger she’d seen wasn’t a stranger anymore. ___

For some reason, she didn’t think to ask any questions when the car was parked. She grabbed her shoes and unbuckled her seatbelt, just as Gojo had rounded the car to get the door for her.

It wasn’t until he was guiding her inside that she thought twice about their whereabouts at all.

This must’ve been his place.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door. She turned to him with wide eyes, a protest on the tip of her tongue.

But his head jerked in motion for her to go inside, and she couldn’t come up with a good enough reason not to, and so she found herself waltzing in as though she’d been there hundreds of times before.

Which in fact wasn’t close to true. She’d never been to his place before- neither one of them had ever been to each other’s places. And now she’s standing in the entryway looking into the living room and she’s… nervous.

“Bathroom’s down the hall to the left,” Satoru speaks, gesturing lamely in the direction he’d given her. “I don’t have any makeup wipes but uh there’s tissues?”

(y/n) stares at him for a moment, unsure what to do with this information.

“Is that bad?” Gojo asks, mistaking her confusion for judgment. “I could go buy some makeup wipes-?”

“No, no,” (y/n) shakes her head, turning to head off. “Tissues are, um, fine”

“Okay, great,” Gojo nodded. “I’m gonna try and find something for you to sleep in, since, yaknow, obviously..”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but she knew they were tracing the little mount of fabric of the dress that clung to her figure. Normally she’d find her hands tugging at the hem, pretending that would lengthen it. But instead of hiding in embarrassment, (y/n) glanced down at herself, admiring the pretty dress she’d chosen for her night out. Black did always suit her.

“I don’t really care what I wear to sleep in,” She says. And then maybe the alcohol gets on top of her a little bit before she continues with, “I don’t normally wear anything”

“Go,” Gojo points towards the bathroom, forcing himself to turn and walk away. “And help yourself to a glass of water while you’re at it”

With that she finally walked away, her feet sore from the heels she’d been wearing all night, and her steps were a bit staggered, but she made it to the bathroom just fine.

Once she was out of sight Satoru let out a sigh, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head so that he could rub his eyes.

She clearly loved to torture him, by whatever means necessary. And drunk (y/n) was rather cruel.

He’d yet to figure out what it was that had ruined her night, but he’d hoped that the playful change in attitude meant she was lightening up.

(Hoping she’d sober up didn’t seem probable, not until she passed out at least).

When he had texted Ieiri to try and figure out what (y/n’s) phone call was all about, she hadn’t given him any real answers. Just to ‘be a grown man and figure it out himself’. He’d tried asking her what the hell that meant but she set her phone to do not disturb pretty much after his first of many texts.

It wasn’t all that out of character for Ieiri to ignore him when he annoyed her too much. (y/n) was the one acting out of character tonight.

Had she been upset with him for a while, and tonight was her breaking point? Maybe the alcohol got on top of her and she couldn’t contain her hatred for him anymore?

Satoru opened his dresser drawer a little more aggressively than he needed to, nearly pulling the whole thing clean out. He sighed before carefully latching it back into place.

He just wanted to find what it was that he’d done so wrong. He was racking his brain of her behavior the last few weeks, trying to think of any little hint she could have given him that she wasn’t happy. There was nothing that came to mind, she’d seemed her usual, happy, playful self. Their friendship may have been based in nonsensical flirting, but it was a solid friendship. She knew that he was there for her, right?

Staring down at the plain tee shirt and sweatpants that he’d grabbed for her, he wondered if that was the problem. Maybe she was getting tired of his behavior.

The sinking feeling in his gut as soon as the thought crossed his mind told him that must’ve been it.

He hadn’t done anything, and that was just the problem, he hadn’t changed. He hadn’t gotten better, which he should have, for her.

And he should have known this all along, because the minute he’d laid eyes on her he’d had a gut feeling about her. He confirmed that feeling when they’d met, and every day since he’s found some excuse to be close to her, even if it meant bothering her, at least he’d get a smile with every annoyed eye roll she’d give him.

He held tightly onto the fabric in his hands.

He hadn’t been enough for her.

Something in him must have snapped, because with that thought he was heading right back out of his room.

And there was (y/n) standing in his living room, her back to him as she admired the only photo he had on the mantle. It was an old picture of him and Ieiri, back when they were in school. The picture was clearly folded, hiding someone behind itself. It looked awkward in the frame, and he’d known for a while that he should just put a new picture in it, but he hadn’t brought himself to do so.

“I got you some clothes,” Satoru spoke, and (y/n) jumped a bit as she spun around. “Sorry” He apologized on instinct.

“No, no I’m just surprised I didn’t hear you” She shook her head, before making her way over to him, taking the clothes from his hands.

She’d meant to take the offering and then leave, but something kept her there. Maybe it was nerves, or maybe it was the fact that he’d left his sunglasses in his messy hair and she was able to look straight into his eyes, which was something that didn’t come around that often.

She thought maybe he’d say something, seeing as the longer the silence continued while they just stood there, the more awkward it became. But he didn’t. He just stared at her. And he was the worst person to try to read, because he would never tell anyone what he was thinking, so there was never a chance in guessing.

With her teeth sawing into her cheek, (y/n) turns to make her way back to the bathroom to change.

Satoru waits in the living room, hands on his hips, in dead silence.

It remains silent when (y/n) returns from the bathroom, in a tee shirt that hangs on her like a dress and sweatpants that pool at her feet. She looks like a toddler that had gotten into her parents’ closet.

Satoru can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, make your jokes” (y/n) mutters, putting her hands up in mock surrender.

“What’s there to joke about?” He grins. “It’s about time I got you in my clothes”

She raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His grin falters, only for a moment, but long enough for her to catch it. He just as quickly shakes his head, before pushing his sunglasses back down onto his nose.

“It means get to bed. I’ll get you a glass of water, but you’ve got to drink all of it before you go to sleep, alright?”

(y/n) blinks.

“I’ll just stay here,” She says, elbow jutting towards the couch. “Looks much nicer than the one in my office,” She adds, before taking account of the intricate details on the fine leather armrests. “Probably costs more than the entire office actually” She mumbles.

“No, no, you’re staying in the bed,”

(y/n’s) not sure she’s ever heard him sound so firm. She begins to think that she’ll just have to give in to the offer.

“Come on”

He beckons her to follow him, and without being told, her feet follow. She finds herself walking on the tips of her toes, trying to remain as quiet as possible.

When they reach his doorway, she waits there, while he wanders in and pulls back the covers to his bed.

Even I have to admit that’s the most enticing bed I’ve ever seen in my life, she thinks, eyeing the plush comforter that covers the king-sized mattress. Before he had pulled it open for her, it looked completely untouched.

“You don’t sleep here much, do you?” She asks as the thought crosses her mind.

She takes a few timid steps into the bedroom.

A small scoff escapes him before he turns back to her.

“Don’t sleep much at all”

She holds his gaze for a moment longer than she maybe should have, but she wasn’t expecting such a genuine, no, vulnerable, response. It wasn’t often Satoru voiced how he really felt, but it seemed tonight he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah,” (y/n) glances down at the floor, toes curling into the soft carpet. “Me either”

With haste Gojo excuses himself from the room, muttering something about a glass of water. (y/n) watches him go, feeling her shoulders slump.

Being left alone in his room makes a chill run down her spine. It doesn’t quite feel right, like maybe she should stand in place, and not look at, and dare not touch anything.

Then there’s a part of her that presents itself, which begs her to act on her curiosities.

Luckily, the alcohol in her system was happy to be a little more impulsive than normal.

She wanders to his dresser first, eyeing the few things he had on top of it. Her fingers slide across the smooth oak as she studies a framed photo. It was a graduating class photo. A small smile graced her lips at the sight of a familiar pair of sunglasses. A young Shoko was also an amusing sight.

The sound of footsteps brought her back from her thoughts, and she quickly took a seat at the end of the bed.

Satoru strode in, glass of water in hand.

“Please try to drink all of this, okay?”

(y/n) simply nods, taking the glass, but she just stares down into it. Gojo’s brows furrow.

“What, you need a lemon in it or something?”

“No,” She mumbles, before looking back at him. “Satoru, I need to ask you something”

“No one ever likes hearing that, (y/n)” He chuckles. But when he sticks his hands into his pockets, she takes it as her cue to go on.

“Why did you come?”

“To pick you up?” He asks.

He knows full well what she meant.

She nods her head in a small motion.

“I told you I was worried,” He answers. “You should’ve heard yourself on the phone. Pretty concerning stuff, (y/n/n). Who knew you couldn’t hold your liquor”

Now (y/n) shakes her head.

“But why?”

Gojo shrugs, confused. His lips purse and he doesn’t know what she expects him to say.

“Why?” He repeats, eyebrows forming a knot. “Why was I worried?”

“Yeah,” (y/n’s) voice is as small as that of a child who’d just awoken from a nightmare. “I mean, I was with Ieiri,” She adds. “I would’ve been fine, it’s not like I was in any trouble”

“Well, it didn’t sound like it,” He sighs, and crouches down in front of her, so he could be at eye level with her as he spoke. “After you called and then hung up on me, I reached out to her to try to figure out where you were and what was going on”

“You did?”

He nods, and hesitates a moment, before ultimately saying fuck it and continuing.

“Truth be told, she wasn’t much help either. I think my two best girls had it out for me a little tonight, hm?”

His hand reaches out, taking a loose strand of her hair and carefully placing it behind her ear. (y/n) hopes she’s not blushing, but she knows it’s a lost cause. Satoru’s fingers linger near her jaw for a moment before he drops his hand.

“Is that why you were upset earlier?” He asks. “You wanted to go with Ieiri? You were upset with me for coming?”

She stares into the dark glass that covers his eyes, getting lost in her own reflection as her drunken thoughts swirl around in her mind in a tornado of infatuation and fear. She’s scared that if she opens her mouth too hastily, the wrong thing will come spilling out, and she’ll scare him off like a wild animal that didn’t know any better than to run.

And while it was difficult to navigate her thoughts at the moment, she knew that scaring him off was the last thing that she would ever want.

She reaches out to him this time. She’s unsure if she’d be able to touch him, unsure if he would have put his infinity up as soon as he’d pulled his hand away from her just moments ago.

But to her surprise, she’s able to carefully take holds of his sunglasses. She pauses, as if in shock, or maybe it was just her nerves, before she slowly begins to slide them off his face. She was certain he would have told her to stop, or swat her hands away. But again, tonight he was full of surprises, as he just sat there, and let her take them off.

As she folds them up and sets them on the mattress beside her, she’s careful not to dirty the lenses.

She gives herself just a few seconds to admire his eyes, before she finally answers him.

“No,”

Her voice is barely a whisper. Satoru’s lucky he’s close enough to hear her.

“I was upset because…” (y/n’s) confidence was dwindling with every second that passed with his eyes on her like this.

It was like she could see every bit of concern, and confusion, swirling within the pools of his irises. It made her heart beat erratically in her chest. It made her fingers curl into the edge of the mattress, gripping tightly to it like it were a lifeline. It made her breaths short and every second longer than the last.

She was so hopelessly in love with him that sometimes it felt like she couldn’t even function.

“I’m drunk,” She sighs.

Gojo nods, dropping his gaze for a moment, defeated, certain that she was going to say forget it and bid him goodnight. His eyes land on her hands, gripped around the edge of his mattress like a vice. Her knuckles were white, and he thought she might even be trembling a bit. He makes a mental note to grab her an extra blanket.

“And I hate everything,” She continues, instantly bringing his attention back to her. Her eyes flicker between his, and her lips hesitate to say what she’s been dying to get off her chest for quite some time. With a shaky breath, she mentally counts to three, and then whispers, “Everything except for you”

He’s frozen for a moment, staring at her with eyes so ablaze she could almost forget they were blue. The corner of his lips tug ever so slightly upwards, and a sense of relief relaxes his tense muscles.

“I think that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, sweetheart,” He says.

His words are teasing, but his tone is as genuine as his smile.

He stands.

“Would you like me to tuck you in?” He asked, lifting the blanket next to her.

“Stay” She says, taking the blanket from him and pulling it back further, before sliding into the open space.

“What?” He asked, having heard her clearly.

“Stay,” (y/n) says again. “With me”

He starts to shake his head, because it doesn’t exactly feel right. She was drunk, she might not know what she’s saying, right?

But she pats the space next to her and gives him a small smile, and he thinks that she knows she’s making his heart melt.

“(y/n)-”

“Please?” She asks softly. “Just till I fall asleep?”

He lets out a sigh, before nodding his head faintly.

(y/n) grins, and he quickly shoves her abandoned glass of water in her face.

“Take a few big drinks of this first,” He demands, which she quickly obliges to. He almost laughs at how quickly she chugs half the glass down. “Alright, alright, don’t choke” He chuckles, taking the cup back and setting it on his nightstand.

(y/n) shuffled under the covers before laying down. She couldn’t contain the moan that came out upon laying her head on the most feathery pillow she’s ever felt.

Gojo looked over at her, with a brow raised and a wide smirk.

“This is the most comfortable pillow ever,” She breathed out. “What is this, feathers?”

“I have no idea,” Satoru chuckles with amusement before sitting down on the bed. “I’m glad you like it”

While he settles under the blanket, and tries his best to pretend like this was normal and they’d done this a thousand times before, (y/n) rolls onto her stomach to press her face into the feathery goodness. She inhales deeply, taking in the clean smell of freshly washed sheets that always scratched the right itch in her mind.

Satoru admires her while she’s not paying attention to him. Every one of his self-preserving instincts are telling him he needs to go- that she should be alone for the night and staying here with her couldn’t possibly be good. It would make him look vulnerable if he stayed.

But then (y/n) rolls onto her back, her eyes catching his in the process, and he lays down, resting his head on his pillow.

It is pretty comfy.

“Okay if I turn the lights off now?” He asked.

(y/n) hums an affirmative tune, and Gojo doesn't even have to sit up to reach the lamp on the bedside table, tugging the little string and submerging them in darkness.

It’s silent for a moment, and he assumes that she also thinks that the dark added another layer of intimacy that neither one of them planned on for the evening.

After a minute or so, (y/n) shuffles around under tha blankets, rolling onto her side and facing him. He turns his head to find her looking at him. Even in the dark he can faintly make out the soft features of her face.

“Thank you, Satoru,” She says softly. “I… I hate sleeping alone”

He nods back at her, before mirroring her position. He hooks an arm under his pillow to get more comfortable before speaking.

“Anytime” He hums.

“That so?” She responds, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder. “Might take a while to get your apartment fixed up. If you need somewhere to crash for a while… you could stay here a bit longer”

(y/n’s) heart does a little backflip in her chest, or at least it feels like it. She added ‘hospitality’ to her mental checklist of things that made him more attractive to her.

“Yeah, well, I dunno. Appreciate it though,” She mumbles. Her finger absentmindedly drew patterns on the sheets. “I’ve kinda been a shitty guest so far, huh?”

“You?” He muses, and then shakes his head. “You could never”

(y/n) lets out a humorless laugh.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for seeing your place for the first time” She says, and she regrets it almost as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“Oh?” Satoru chimes. “And what did you have in mind sweetheart? Less clothes perhaps? Hm, or perhaps more rose petals, a bit of wine-?”

“Yeah yeah laugh it up Satoru,” (y/n) rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I meant”

“You maybe meant it a little like that though” He teases.

(y/n) shakes her head, looking up at the ceiling as if it were going to tell her how to handle this idiotically charming man.

“I would’ve liked it to be on better terms” She admits.

Satoru turns off the act, but his smile remains as he continues to pry her into opening up more.

“Well, what did you have in mind, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” (y/n) shrugs. “Realistically it probably would’ve been you begging me to come help you with the paperwork you procrastinate so much on,” She muses, her imagination beginning to roll it’s film. “But… a movie might have been nice. Or drinks, or something”

Her thoughts get away from her for a bit as she imagines Satoru inviting her to his place, how he would have answered the door and ushered her in, taking her coat, showing her around his place. He’d probably be over the top with his enthusiasm, but she would have found it charming like she always does.

“Sounds like a date” He hums.

Slowly, her gaze wanders from the ceiling to where he’s laying, still on his side, still studying her as though he were trying to complete a puzzle in the dark.

She laughs softly to herself.

He thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

“I don’t think you’re capable of such a thing,” She murmurs. “That’s why I’m here now, like this” Her hand gestures vaguely in the air.

“Like this?” He repeats, hoping for clarity once again.

(y/n) hesitates, anxiety attacking her mind and her fondness-warmed heart.

“Don’t you think if we were to do such a ludicrous thing as a date, we would have done it by now?” She asks him. “I don’t think that the Gojo Satoru can be tamed by just any one woman, after all” She adds with another short laugh, hoping to lighten the mood and clear her own anxieties.

He laughs with her, and she’s relieved that she didn’t upset him, but she can’t deny that her heart sinks a little in her chest.

His tongue darts out to wet his suddenly dry lips before he ignores his need to keep up a barrier with everyone he knows, and shuffles a little bit more towards her. Her eyes noticeably widen as he does this, which he enjoys more than he should have.

“You’re not just any woman, sweetheart,” He murmurs.

He’s close enough to her now that she can faintly feel his warm breath against her nose and lips. Her heart can barely keep up with the gymnastics it was doing.

“But you’re right, I suppose, I don’t think I can be tamed either. But I’d happily let you prove me wrong, any day. Or, well, night”

It must be the alcohol, but she swore her entire body felt like someone had poured gasoline over her and dropped a match.

“You can’t do that” Her lips trembled.

“Can’t do what?”

“You can’t-” She takes in a short breath of air she didn’t realize she needed. “You can’t just say things like that”

He chuckles, humored greatly by her nervous display.

“Why’s that?” He asks, his smirk only widening as he catches her gaze darting down towards his mouth, before meeting his eyes again.

A knot forms between (y/n’s) brows.

“Because tomorrow I’m going to wake up and you won’t be here, and tomorrow I’ll go home like none of this ever happened. As if the whole point of going out tonight wasn’t to forget you, only for you to show up anyways and remind me of all the reasons why I should be forgetting you in the first place. And then we’ll go back to work and you’ll continue to mess with me by flirting with me and I don’t know what to do anymore because- because it’s not funny anymore Satoru I’m actually-”

She stops herself before she could admit she actually was in love with him. But it didn’t matter anyhow, because she’d already admitted enough to make him question her.

“You went out drinking to forget me?” He asks.

“No” She lies.

“That’s what you just said”

“No I didn’t”

“Yes… you did. You said the whole point of going out tonight was to forget me,”

(y/n) doesn’t say anything. It’s not like denying it was working, he’d obviously heard her, and even if she was a good liar, he was an even better lie detector.

“You got drunk to forget that you… you have feelings for me? Romantic feelings? You feel romantically about me?”

She stays silent. It seems like the safest option at the moment. She’d ruled out lying, and running away wasn’t exactly an option either. Maybe she could pretend to fall asleep?

“(y/n),” His hand reaches out, resting on top of hers, halting her erratic doodling on the sheets. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say?” She whispers, a small, sad smile on her face. “That I fell for the whole stupid act and couldn’t get over it?”

Gojo shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, what act?” He asks. “I’ve been flirting with you since- well, since we met, I’m pretty sure down to the day. It wasn’t some act, sweetheart. Every compliment or innuendo or invitation, all of it, I meant all of it,”

(y/n) blinks, her lips parted as she tried to process what he was saying. Her mind wasn’t as fuzzy as it was an hour and a half ago, but with all of the new information, she was having trouble processing all of it.

“You think I never meant it when I told you how beautiful you are? Or perfect? Or brilliant? Or strong? You thought I was just messing with you?”

“Satoru…” (y/n) shakes her head, the gears in her mind all jammed up by his words.

“Sweetheart, tell me, why in the world do you think I would drop everything in a heartbeat to come pick your drunk mopey ass from the shittiest bar in town? And do you really think I’m so terrible at getting my paperwork done that I need your help and only your help with it every week?” He chuckles to himself. “Sweetheart, have a little more faith in me”

Her throat burns hot, and she realizes then that she’s been fighting the urge to let her eyes water.

“What are you-” Her words are almost whimpered, and she pauses to catch her breath before speaking again. “What are you saying then, you’ve h-had feelings for me this whole time?”

His lips curl into a smile, and he takes his hand off of hers, so that he can reach closer, and lay his palm against her jaw, fingers brushing gently against her cheekbone.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” He murmurs, his eyes following his index finger as he draws small shapes into her skin. “So… do you still want to forget about me?”

Her quivering lips curl into a smile, and a tear slips from her eye.

“It didn’t work anyways,” She says in a hushed whisper. “I ended up calling you anyways, didn’t I?” She reminds him. Her tear slides against his thumb, and he hurriedly brushes it away. “I fear forgetting you isn’t going to work”

“Good,” He says, grinning ear to ear. “So that means I can invite you to my place for drinks? Or to do my paperwork for me?”

“A date?” She hums.

He nods his head.

“Okay”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” She says again, smiling so wide it hurts. “Yeah, okay, I’ll do that”

He’s smiling back at her, his thumb stroking gently back and forth against her cheek. Her poor heart was about to combust.

She leans in closer to him, her nose brushing into his, prodding softly as she closes her eyes, letting all of her other senses take him in. The warmth that bled from his hand against her jaw. The way he smells like pine, and fruit.

Just as she’s about to close the distance, he beats her to it.

His lips slide over hers with ease, as though he’s kissed her infinite times before now.

She melts almost instantly, kissing him back as softly as she could, trying to contain the overwhelming sense of urgency inside of her.

Satoru drops his hand from her cheek, and it briefly rests on her shoulder before sliding to her hip, so that he can pull her in closer to him.

Her lips, her body, they feel pleasantly warm against him in a way he’d never felt before.

When she parts from him, her forehead resting against his as she tries to quietly catch her breath. A small chuckle escapes him as he brings his hand back to her face, cupping her cheek and leaning back just enough that he can get a proper look at her.

“Sweetheart,” He hums. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that”

Her smile tells him she knows just how long it was.

He steals another kiss from her, and he tries to be quick, but he just can’t help but hold his breath a little longer, for just a few seconds more of her soft lips against his.

“Satoru,” She murmurs against his lips when they part again. “I’m in love with you”

“I’m in love with you too, sweetheart,” He replies, punctuated with another kiss. “Stay the week with me” He requests, before kissing her again.

“The whole week?” She hums in between another.

“Mhm” Is all he’s able to respond with, his mouth far too occupied to carry a conversation. (y/n) giggles until he leans back.

“And you don’t think people will notice when I show up to work with you at the same time every day?” She muses.

“Let them notice” He sighs, prodding his nose against hers as his lips search for hers once more.

“And our students?”

This time she steals a small kiss.

“You don’t think they’ll be happy for me?” He murmurs, and she giggles again.

“I think your students might tease you a bit” She suggests.

Gojo shakes his head, grinning at her.

“They’re just jealous,” He affirms. “Because I’ve got the prettiest, dopest girl in the whole school”

She laughs louder, bursts of bubbling giggles filling the room as she shakes her head at his ridiculousness. But as silly as it was, her cheeks were warm with a flattered blush.

“We can talk about you staying tomorrow,” Satoru tells her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you get some rest tonight, and I’ll make you a nice breakfast to cure your hangover tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it then, hm?”

She sits there for a minute, smiling at him, at his sweet smile and pretty eyes. Her heart has never felt more full than it was right now, and she thinks maybe this is the first time she’s ever truly loved someone. She could sit here for hours and stare at him. Unbeknownst to her, he was thinking the same thing.

“Sounds like a plan” She murmurs.

“Alright then,” Satoru has to bite on his cheek to keep himself from grinning like a madman. “Get some beauty sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up”

He rolls onto his back, sliding his arm around her shoulders to keep her close to him as he lets his eyes fall shut.

He can’t quite hear, but he can feel her lips move softly against his neck as she mumbles something he can only perceive as a bid goodnight. With a smile on his face, he runs a hand through her hair, carefully untangling it with ease. He only has to lean forward a little bit to press his lips to the crown of her head.

“Goodnight, sweetheart” He murmurs back to her, followed by another, softer kiss.

[ i’ve got my mind on you ] ___

a/n: squealed and kicked my feet thru most of writing this btw :3

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru scenario #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo satoru reader insert #jujutsu Kaisen reader insert

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

Text

dime store cowboy 2 . (hangman)

pairing ; cowboy!jake seresin x female!reader

synopsis ; jake teaches you about the cowboy hat rule. (part two of dime store cowboy, but can probably be read separately.)

wc ; 6.5k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, alcohol abuse, explicit sexual content (semi-public sex, sex while under the influence, p in v, fingering, riding, dirty talk, lil tiny bit of degradation maybe?, almost getting caught)

note: YEEHAW PARDNERS………. i hate this so much, but hey i finished! that's the only positive about this goodbe.

sol. sunderlust. you already know what i’m gonna say thank you for being my bestie :(

It’s a small town, so news travels like wildfire - soon, all the kitchens are burning.

When you walked into work on Monday, three of your co-workers told you not to get too involved with Jake. On a trip to the local mom-and-pop shops for nails to hang your newest art print with, the older woman at the register frowned, called you by name even though you don’t remember ever introducing yourself to her, and said, Jake Seresin is bad news, honey. At a diner, a whole table of mid-twenties girls glared actual daggers at you.

With the way he’s looking at you right now, sort of like he’s ready to reach across the table and devour you whole, you think you kind of know what they mean.

“You’re like… a local legend,” you tell him, toying with the straw in your margarita. Jake ordered it for you before you even walked through the doors, and you don’t know how to feel about him remembering your drink order.

Jake raises an eyebrow. He’s wearing a pale blue button-down tonight that seems more formal than the flannel you met him in, but the hat and obnoxious belt remain the same.

“Am I?” he asks and sounds a little too pleased for your liking.

You nod. “I got advised not to show up tonight by….” You count them off on your fingers. “... four people. And that’s not counting any of the girls who I think are planning my murder as we speak.”

It punches a chuckle out of him, but something about the sound is almost sad.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, waving it off. “I may have a bit of a reputation.”

“What sort of reputation?” you ask, watching as your straw paints swirls into the pink slush of your drink.

Looking at him is dangerous business, you’ve learned this much by now. It makes you do crazy things, shuts off whichever part of your brain is responsible for logic and common sense. So you avoid his eyes, even as you feel his gaze burn holes into the side of your face.

“A bad one,” he says.

It’s ridiculous, and judging by the fake deep voice he puts on, he knows it too. So you laugh, duck your head, and wonder if you even want to know the real answer.

From what you’ve gathered, Jake is a bit of a ladies man. (Your co-worker’s description had been somewhat less flattering. At least you don’t think town mattress is going to show up on his CV any time soon.) Usually, that fact alone would have been enough to have you running for the hills, but you can’t forget the night you met him - his hand on your thigh and the easy banter and feeling sexy, carefree, grown-up in a way not even doing your taxes can duplicate.

Still. The uncertainty remains.

“You think I should listen to them?” you ask. The leather of the booth clings to your sweaty thighs. It’s a hundred degrees in this stupid bar.

Jake hums and shrugs his shoulders. “What I want you to do and what you should do are two entirely separate things, sugar.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He’s drinking whiskey neat. When he picks the glass up to take a sip, amber liquid trembles like a lake in an earthquake.

“It’s your choice, sweetheart.”

That’s not exactly an answer, and it doesn’t escape your notice.

Jake sets his glass back down, braces his elbows on the table’s edge, and leans forward, leans into your space, a conspiratorial grin pulling up the corners of his mouth and says, “If you’re asking me, though… I think you’ve already made your choice.”

You’re not exactly sure what you’re talking about anymore, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of saying what.

“How so?” you ask.

“Well.” Jake makes a sweeping gesture that seems to encapsulate both your little outfit and meticulously styled hair as well as the bustle of the bar. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

You can’t argue with that. A new song comes on, and a group of girls near the bar yell in excitement. You watch them for a second.

“What made you come anyway?” He has his arms folded on the tabletop, clearly trying to pull you back from whatever train of thought you’ve boarded and sailed away on.

That’s a good question, and it’s one you’re not too sure how to answer. Because, truth be told, you almost didn’t. Without the liquid courage of three strawberry margaritas coursing through your bloodstream, without him so close you could barely think of anything but his stubble between your thighs, your nerves caught up with you. You’ve agonized over this, even twenty minutes ago, sitting in your car and staring at the twinkling neon of the bar, your heart beating an erratic pattern that echoed in your words like the same question repeated again and again: Should I?

You shrug. “Curiosity.”

He grins, his teeth gleaming between the pink of his lips. You wonder if he uses Crest white strips or if he gets them professionally bleached. They’re almost too white.

“Curiosity about what, exactly?”

You take a sip of your cocktail to bide your time, to collect your thoughts. Then you say, “I’ve never been on a date with a cowboy.”

Casually, Jake leans back in his chair, folding his arms in front of his chest. His expression is unreadable. “Oh, so is that what this is? A date?”

Your heart drops to the vicinity of your kneecaps. Could it really be that you’ve misjudged this situation so completely? Could it really be that you’re so inexperienced, so out of tune with the signs and signals of the chase, that you can’t even recognize when somebody’s flirting with you?

And you were so sure of it all. That he had felt the same pull as you did that night at the bar. That he’d wanted you almost as much as you had wanted him. That he’d called the number you’d scribbled hastily on a napkin soaked in beer (called, not texted, and you’d been so sure it was a spam call you almost hadn’t picked up) because he’d genuinely wanted to see you again to continue whatever your co-worker had interrupted.

Back home, your friends used to call you romantically challenged, but you didn’t think it was this bad.

“Oh,” you say, and your cheeks feel warm as you shift your weight in your seat, as you pull your shoulders up like you’re trying to disappear between the blades, “I’m sorry, I just….”

Jake is shaking his head before you can finish the sentence you had no idea where to end anyway. “I’m only messing with you, sugar,” he says, his laughter warm even as he teases you, and for a split second, his fingers graze over your knuckles on the tabletop. “I’m honored to be the first cowboy to take a pretty lady like you out.”

That line has no business making your heart race the way it does. Where his fingers touched yours, the skin tingles.

Because you don’t know what to say, you down the last of your cocktail.

For a while, the two of you chat about nothing and everything. Your new job, the adjustment to the countryside. His work on his parent’s ranch and his family. He names all of their seven dogs, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“Seven?” you repeat, a note of awe sneaking into your voice. “You guys have seven dogs?”

Jake laughs. “I take it you like dogs?”

“Like is like… the understatement of the century.”

“If you’re a good girl,” he says, looking at you over the rim of his glass, “maybe I’ll introduce them to you one day.”

That has your thighs clenching, your toes curling against the soles of your shoes. Jesus. He can’t just say things like that.

Jake orders you another cocktail from a waitress that does very little to conceal the glare she throws in your direction. When she comes back to deliver your drink and the beer that Jake has switched to, she leans so low both he and you get a good, thorough glance into her cleavage.

As she saunters away, hips swinging, you blink, caught between confusion and a tiny bit of annoyance, and Jake just snorts into the sweating neck of his beer bottle.

By then, the sugar and the alcohol are beginning to work their way into your bloodstream, and you feel just the right side of tipsy. Where your senses are dulled enough the bar fades away to a steady chatter of background noise, tuned out by the gleam of Jake’s smile and his eyes and his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the wood of the table. You feel loose and swaying and unsteady in a way that is funny, thrilling, instead of scary.

It’s strange to be so far from him, all the space of the booth stretching and elongating. Later, you’ll blame the liquid courage, but something (it’s definitely not jealous, nope, not at all) propels you to slide along the leather of the seat, feeling the sweat collecting in your kneecaps, heart in your throat, until you’re on his side, your legs just an inch or two from his.

Jake watches your migration with a faint smile on his face.

“Hi,” you say, blinking up at him.

“Hi,” he echoes back, his arm sliding over the backrest just above your shoulders. “You good?”

You nod. “I was getting lonely over there.”

As soon as the words are out, you cringe at yourself, mouth already opening around an apology, but Jake’s hand on your waist silences you. Wordlessly, he pulls you the last inch to him. And then you’re pressed to him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and he’s like a massive bulk of heat and muscle and the pleasant, spicy scent of his aftershave. Your heart stutters, stumbles, trips.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Jake says, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Pretty girl like you all on her lonesome.”

It has you grinning involuntarily. His arm goes from your waist to drape across your shoulder instead, heavy against you, and you set a tentative, searching hand on his thigh. The denim of his jeans feels rough against your palm.

“Better like this?” he asks, and the words are quiet, soft, like they’re meant just for you.

You nod. “Much.”

From your perch against his chest, you watch as he takes a sip of his beer. The bottle comes away, mouth wet just like his lips. His tongue pokes out just a little as he chases the flavor, chases a drop, and it’s like an intrusive thought, something planted in your mind by someone else, something…

“Can I have a sip?” you blurt.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a beer girl.”

You’re not. That’s not what it’s about.

You shrug, his arm moving with your gesture, and say, aiming for nonchalance, “Maybe I could be.”

He chuckles but hands you the bottle without further protest. It’s ridiculous, but something about the thought that you’re putting your lips where his have been moments ago excites you, sets your heart racing. Maybe you’re childish. If you reached up now and kissed him, you’re almost entirely sure he’d kiss back, but the tiniest, smallest spark of fear flickers inside of you at the idea. What if he rejects you?

So instead, you bring the bottle to your lips, take a single, tiny sip, and then, because you can’t help yourself, because apparently, this has become a habit in his presence, you lick the rim.

Then you cringe. “Nah,” you say. “Still not a beer girl.”

Jake snorts, but his eyes stay fixed on your mouth for just a moment too long. “Can I try your margarita, then?”

You nod, lean forward out of the crescent of his arm for just a moment to pluck the glass you left abandoned across the table.

Jake takes a sip and, to your disappointment, does not copy your moves. There’s no licking off the sugar for him.

He grimaces. “Jeez,” he says, “this is like ninety-five percent sugar.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “That’s why I like it.”

“Well, sugar,” Jake says, his grin turning just a touch devious, “I bet you taste even sweeter.”

Now that has blood rushing into your cheeks, fingers tightening around his thigh. You can feel his hand tracing up and down your side in leisured patterns, the naked skin of your legs against the fabric of his jeans. Your foot in the dainty sandals just an inch shy of his boots.

It’s like you can’t stop touching each other. Like a circuit, the electricity only flows if all parts of the pattern are connected. Like you’re gravitating towards each other, hands always on the other, your neck, his knee, your hip, his biceps.

“You want to find out?” you ask, voice barely more than a whisper, and wonder where the hell that came from.

Jake’s mouth lifts into a grin at one corner. “You’d let me have a taste, sugar?”

I’d let you have anything you want. That’s what you want to say, but when you open your mouth, somebody else’s voice cuts over yours.

“Jake.”

It’s the waitress from earlier. She’s gotten rid of her apron and notepad and is smiling at Jake in a way that makes her intention crystal clear. This girl is definitely here on a mission.

“Hi,” Jake greets back. “We’re still good on drinks, thank you.”

She laughs, and the sound is almost musical. “That’s not why I’m here. My shift just ended.”

For the first time, you really take her in. She’s beautiful, tanned skin, full lips, long hair the color of butterscotch that seems to dance in the light breeze from a ceiling fan. If it hadn’t been for Jake’s arm around you, you would have tried to melt back into the cushions of the booth. Suddenly, you feel painfully inadequate.

But Jake just says, “Good for you.”

The girl casts a furtive glance at you, a furrow etching itself between her eyebrows as if she cannot understand what Jake is doing with someone like you.

Welcome to the club, you think and startle at how bitter that sounds. It’s not like you to pity yourself like this.

“You remember when you asked me out on that date?”

Jake takes a moment to think about that. When he speaks again, he somehow manages not to sound like an absolute douchebag, and you’ll take that as a testament to his immense charm. “Vaguely.”

The girl’s mouth twists like she’s just bit into a lemon. “How about it then?”

One of Jake’s eyebrows rises so high it almost touches his hairline. He says, “I’m a tad busy.”

You watch the whole exchange like somebody watching a tennis match. Sort of like you forgot you’re at all involved in this and not just an innocent bystander watching a girl’s romantic advances crash and burn. Then she sends a truly withering look at you, and you’re reminded that you’re smack dab in the middle of this thing.

“Alright,” she says, trying not to let the note of hurt in her voice show too much. Honestly, you feel sort of bad for her. “Give me a ring whenever.”

Jake hums, but he isn’t even looking at her. His eyes are fixed on your face, his thumb dragging in a long line from your hip down to the top of your thigh. A thoughtful expression crosses his face, and then he’s reaching for where he placed his hat on the tabletop earlier and planting it on your head again.

There’s a thrill to it all - a guy who could potentially have any girl in this town (pretty girls and funny girls and smart girls), but he’s looking only at you. His arm around you and his eyes on you, and his fingers on your leg. His hat on your hair.

You don’t even know if the waitress is still standing by the table or if she’s left. You don’t care.

“Did you drive here?” you ask.

Jake, preoccupied with adjusting the hat on you, glances down at your face and answers, “I did.”

Maybe you’re flattered by all the attention. Maybe it’s been too long since you last got laid. Maybe Jake is too pretty. Or maybe you’re just drunk.

But there’s a sudden bout of confidence, a wind in your sails, a voice at the back of your head whispering fuck it, and another answering yeah, we’re trying.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. What matters is this: You say, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You expected Jake to be surprised. Instead, he just smiles, something like amusement crossing his face, and you’re not sure how to feel about that.

“Sure,” he says. “Wait by the door for me, yeah, sugar?”

You agree. As he goes to pay, you idle by the entrance, acting like you don’t feel any of the eyes on you. Without his touch on you, you feel almost forlorn. A little sheepishly, you take off the hat and hold it to your chest, turn it over and over to stare at that label inside.

“Property of J. Seresin,” you read out in a whisper, running a finger along the thin leather of the hat band.

“You really like that hat, don’t you?”

Jake’s voice startles you. He’s smiling, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d call the expression on his face affectionate.

“It’s that cowgirl fantasy,” you say and watch as he stuffs his wallet back into his pocket.

“Yeah, I got my own cowgirl fantasies,” Jake mutters, and you don’t know how to respond, so you act like you didn’t hear him. Something at your core has gone liquid.

He takes the hat from you and plants a warm palm at the small of your back, steering you confidently toward the door.

And this time, when you twist over your shoulder to throw a last glance at the bar, there’s something a little smug to your smile. So what if everybody sees you leave with Jake Seresin? Let them talk about this come Monday then, let them talk about it in the break rooms and the supermarkets and the diners. Let them set the whole town on fire.

You don’t really care, not when you’re the one Jake is ushering toward his truck with something like urgency in his step.

Jake parked his car towards the end of the lot, where the lights of the bar turn into shadows, where the music and the voices are drowned out almost entirely by the chirping of cicadas. The air smells of gasoline and green things, growing things you never really knew back in the city with all its traffic jams and construction work.

When you tilt your head back, you see the stars like glowing pins stuck in the velvet of the night.

“Earlier,” you tell him, slowing your steps as you get closer to the truck, “you asked what I was curious about.”

Jake hums in agreement. He’s rounded the car with you, clearly intent on opening the passenger door for you, but now he stops when you do. You’re still in sync.

“I think,” you say, and wonder how your voice sounds so firm when you feel like you’re floating off into the stratosphere, “I was wondering what it might be like.”

In the dim of the night, Jake’s eyes look almost black. “What what might be like, sugar?”

You bite your lower lip. “That ride I owe you.”

He’s on you within seconds.

One of his hands tangle in your hair, the other falls once more to that spot at the small of your back, pulling you towards you with enough that you go careening, that you crush into him. The alcohol still has you a little off balance, so you steady yourself with both palms flat on his chest, then make a sound against his lips when you feel the muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart.

It’s all so sudden that it takes you a moment to get used to it. I can’t believe this is happening, you think distantly as Jake opens his mouth against yours, as his tongue traces over the seam of your mouth. You react on instinct, letting him in, melting in his arms. It’s all hot and wet, and god, he’s warm. You know the backs of your thighs and knees are still damp with sweat, with the sweltering heat of the bar, and now, surrounded by the furnace of Jake’s body, not even the night breeze can do anything to cool you down.

Jake walks you backward until your back connects with the metal of his truck, and then he presses you against the door. The hand on your back wanders down, down, down, over the curve of your ass, and then he’s pinching the skin there, and you yelp.

The curve of his smile presses against your own mouth for a moment, and then he’s drawing back at the exact moment that he pulls your hips forward. He’s hard beneath the denim of his jeans, his cock an insistent pressure against your core.

“Oh,” you gasp.

Jake grins. “So do I get to be the first cowboy to fuck you, too?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hips instinctively bucking forward and into him. The sound of those words tumbling from his lips, his tone so easy, so unaffected, has something inside of you clenching.

“I…” You clear your throat and take a deep breath. “Yeah. First cowboy.”

His voice is husky when he says, “Good.”

Then he’s leaning back in, his tongue sliding into your mouth, his feet kicking your legs apart so he can slot himself between them. His thigh nudges against your clit just once, the contact almost has you keening, and then he’s angling it away, holding your hips back so you can’t rut against him.

Jake is a good kisser. He’s probably had enough practice, you think, and then immediately abandon that train of thought. There’s nothing good down that line. It’s not difficult anyway, not when he does something with his tongue, when his hand slides from your hair to the back of your neck and your brain melts into a puddle anyway, all coherent thoughts shriveling up with it.

When you lick into his mouth, you find traces of the whiskey he had earlier, of honey and oak and smoke. His stubble scrapes against your cheeks, your neck when he leaves a trail of open-mouthed, lingering kisses along the edge of your jaw. Part of you imagines him leaving a mark, imagines the rasp of that bear along the inside of your thighs, and your breath hitches.

The hand has wandered from your ass to the very top of your thighs, where your skin is so tender and sensitive that you bounce up onto your tip toes when he lets the pads of his fingers stroke a figure-eight pattern against you. His answering chuckle vibrates somewhere low in your throat, tickles in an exhale of warm air against your collarbone.

“Sensitive, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

And that’s just about the only answer you give because then he’s inching your panties to the side, and one finger dips between your lips, and you have no air left in your lungs to form words with.

“Jesus,” Jake rasps. “You’re fucking soaked, doll. Have you been like this the whole time?”

You make a soaked noise at the back of your throat. Truth be told, you may have been wet since you walked into this stupid bar. It’s not your fault you’ve been wound tighter than clockwork since that night you first met him, it’s not your fault he’s so unfairly hot, not your fault he kept looking at you like he was mentally undressing you, not your fault he…

His finger finds your clit, applies a steady kind of pressure, and you throw your head back and moan so loudly you’re glad the parking lot is abandoned.

He grins again. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Then he’s kissing you again, his finger rubbing circles against you. You can barely keep up with the movement of his tongue, can’t really do anything but open your mouth and take what he’s giving you. The metal of the car is cold against your back, your head.

“Hold this,” he mutters without breaking the kiss, bunching the fabric of your dress up around your stomach and shoving it into one of your hands.

You do as he says, giving him better access to you. His mouth trails from your lips to your jugular, where your pulse is jumping so quickly it’s making you dizzy, as he slides your panties down your legs, taps the side of your thigh to signal you to step out of them. You go one foot at a time, knees feeling like jelly, but Jake steadies you. Bending down to retrieve the underwear, he presses a kiss to your kneecap on his way and mutters, “Good girl.”

Then he’s back up, your panties a crumpled up piece of fabric in his hand, and he presses his face right into the lace. Inhales deeply.

You’re going to pass out.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “can’t wait till I get that taste, sugar. You really are just the sweetest thing, aren’t you?”

It’s not really a question, but you still think it warrants some kind of answer. Your brain won’t cooperate, though. It’s completely and utterly blank.

You think he’s going to chuck the panties into the truck or something, but instead, he shoves them into one of his pockets, a bit of the pink lace peeking over the denim, and you swear you get even wetter.

“Souvenir,” he says, winks at you, and then you’re grabbing him by the collar, pulling him in, in, in, shoving your mouth to his, and kissing him like you want to drown.

If Jake is at all surprised by your sudden initiative, he doesn’t let it on. He takes as well as you give (if not better), fingers digging into your bare ass, your thighs, one sliding through your wetness and then inside of you. You whimper against his mouth as he fucks that finger in steadily, as he thumbs at your clit. Cling to him with both arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

The sound of gravel crunching beneath feet reaches you as if through a fog. Thankfully, Jake is quicker on his feet than you are, pulling his fingers out of you, tugging your dress down to cover you, and angling his body to shield you from whoever is approaching their car.

You can’t believe this is happening to you.

“Seresin,” the man calls as he unlocks his car door. Most of your vision is blocked by Jake’s shoulder, but you see the silhouette of someone raising their hand in a wave.

Jake tips his hat in response, arms protective and reassuring around you. He greets, “Hal,” then stays just as he is until the sound of the engine has died away in the buzz of the cicadas and the faraway traffic of the highway.

“Shit,” he curses, but there’s a chuckle to his voice. “You alright, sweetheart?”

The thing is this: you actually are alright, apart from the very, very insistent thrum between your legs Jake is doing nothing to help with. In fact, you’re more than alright. It’s exciting in a way you can’t explain, to be right here in the open with him, to know he wants you so much he’s willing to do this where anybody could possibly see. To know you want him so much you don’t even care. But also to feel so incredibly safe with him, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’ll take care of you no matter what…

This one, you definitely can’t blame on the alcohol.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Can we… can we get in your car, maybe?”

Jake nods immediately. “Sure thing, sugar.” He unlocks the car door and opens it for you. “You want me to drive you home? I can…”

But you don’t let him finish. For the second time that night, you pull him by the collar, shove him down into the passenger seat and then climb after, clambering into his lap with your knees pressing into the cushion by his hips. Behind you, you pull the door closed with a resounding thud.

Jake’s truck smells like the air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror, but you barely take note of that. He throws his hat in the general direction of the driver’s seat. His face is just inches from yours, his hands immediately settling on your ass, his eyes wide and blown, and his lip curling in a surprised, pleased smile.

“Sure you don’t wanna do this in a bed?” he asks, but his fingers are already shoving beneath the fabric of your dress again.

You shake your head, lower yourself down until you feel his cock against you, until you both exhale in shaky unison. “Owe you that ride,” you mutter and lean in to kiss him.

It’s torture after that. Jake kisses you like he’s trying to climb into your body, tugs at your hair until you feel each pull like sparks of electricity down to your clit. He pulls your dress down your shoulders, lets it pool around your stomach to get his mouth on your nipples even over the fabric of your bra, the lace soaked through with his spit and your skin aching. All the while, you grind against him, spread your wetness all over his denim as Jake ruts up into the movement, the friction almost unbearable. On every hitch of your hips forward, the obnoxious belt buckle nudges against your clit, and it almost undoes you - the cold of the metal against your heat enough to have your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your mouth opening around moans of Jake’s name.

Finally, he seems to crack, reaching around you to prop open the glove compartment and get out a condom. You watch as he finally unzips his jeans, gets out his cock, and hisses as he rolls the rubber down. Your heart is in your throat with the anticipation of it all.

And then you spot it.

In a split-second decision, propelled by something that must border on madness, you stretch across the middle console, reaching for the driver’s seat.

Jake frowns. “Where you going, sugar?”

“Just…” You strain until you can finally get your hands on the soft fabric, and then you’re sinking back down into his lap, your cunt rubbing over him, and a long, languid moan escaping you before you place his hat on your head.

Jake blinks at you for a moment, eyes glassy, mouth open, the fingers on your hips tightening.

“Jesus,” he whispers, “you gonna wear that, sweetheart?”

You can’t read his face, can’t read the expression, and the uncertainty slams into your chest like an iron-clad fist. Maybe this was a bad idea.

But Jake groans, says, “You gonna wear my hat as you ride my cock, sugar? That’s how you wanna play this thing?”

And shit. Okay, then.

“Yeah,” you breathe, plant both hands on his shoulders. “Can I?”

In answer, he surges forward to kiss you at the same time that he pulls you down on his cock. It’s a stretch, and it’s a slow slide down, but it feels so good, it makes you go a little crazy. You cling to him, let him kiss you, let him dig his fingers into the skin of your hips, pant into his mouth.

When he finally bottoms out, you can’t tell how long it’s been. Your legs are already shaking, your head spinning, your words failing.

Gently, Jake pinches your side. He’s undeniably beautiful, face painted in the neon lights of the far-off bar, shadows crowding behind him. His lips pink and swollen from the nip of your teeth. His eyes lidded and glazed. “Go on then, sugar. You owe me.”

You whimper and obey, move yourself up and down on him slowly at first. The slide of his cock in and out, the clench of your cunt around him each time, as if your body doesn’t want to relinquish its hold on you. His fingers on you as he finally slides your bra off. His lips on your collarbone, then on your breasts, his teeth grazing a nipple, his tongue soothing the sting… It’s almost too much, all of it.

The cubicle is filled with your sounds, the quiet gasps and the loud whines, with Jake’s moans muffled against your skin.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “god, you feel so fucking good, sugar.”

You just nod in answer, the hat almost slipping over your eyes again, and up the pace. You’re all but slamming yourself down on his cock now, the sounds obscene. It’s the wet squelch of your pussy every time he spears into you, the frantic slap of skin on skin as your thighs meet his, the noise of his mouth on your tits.

It goes on forever, something that spirals higher and higher and never reaches the pinnacle. The windows fog up. Your thighs ache. You chase a high that eludes you, time and again.

And all through it, Jake’s hands remain infuriatingly stagnant on your hips.

Finally, you give in and whine, “Jake….”

You can barely keep up the bouncing, your thighs trembling with the pent-up desire, the strain of the movement. In fact, you’re shaking all over, so far gone you can’t even control your own muscles anymore. Sweat drips in steady tracks down your back.

“Hmm?” The sight of him, his hair disheveled by your fingers as he trails a line of wet kisses from your clavicle down between the valley of your breasts, is almost too much.

“I can’t….” You slump against him, the fatigue catching up with you, pant into the place where his collarbone dips in.

“You tired, doll?”

Without lifting your head, you nod.

His laughter brushes over your hair on an exhale. If you had any strength left in you, you might feel insulted at the fact that he’s laughing at your plight. But the alcohol and the exhaustion and the night in total have finally caught up with you, and you can’t think of anything but your dizzying, deafening, debilitating need to cum.

“That’s too bad,” he says, “You promised me a ride, didn’t you?”

And, like… fuck him, honestly.

“I’m too tired,” you whine, and you’re not too ashamed to admit it. Haven’t you been doing all the work for long enough?

Jake clicks his tongue and pats along the length of your spine. In a voice like melting honey, he says, “You want to come, don’t you, doll?”

You nod, words drifting far away from you like letting go of a balloon.

“Well.” He presses a kiss to your temple that is too soft for the moment. “Then you better get back to work, hmm?”

That’s the breaking point for you.

“Jake,” you say, pushing yourself into an upright position with both palms balanced on his pecs and glare down at his stupid, evil grin, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll go back into that bar and find another cowboy to do it properly.”

You wouldn’t, of course. There isn’t anybody in there you trust the way you trust Jake, not a person you’d want even half as much as you want him.

But Jake doesn’t know that.

The shift is almost immediate.

His eyebrows furrow, his hands tighten on your hips. Something dark crosses his face.

“Don’t talk about other guys while wearing my hat,” he says.

You shrug, motioning to take off his hat. “I will if you can’t fuck me pr….”

Your words trail off into a squeak as Jake fucks his hips up, as his cock plunges into you with more force. Then he’s sitting up straight, wrapping one arm around your waist as he sets a quick, hard rhythm, as he plants a firm hand on the hat and pushes it back down.

“Don’t even say it,” he whispers into your neck as he licks at a drop of sweat, as he sinks his teeth gently into your skin. “You should know better than that, sugar.”

He’s fucking you for real now, hips pistoning in and out with abandon. Your breasts bounce with the force of it, your hands scrabbling for purchase among the curve of his shoulder, the leather of the headrest.

Into your ear, between pants, he’s pouring buckets of filth, saying, “They couldn’t fuck you like this anyway, sugar, and you know it. Nobody but me could give it to you like this, get that pretty pussy this wet, give you the ride of your life….”

Your mouth drops open, sounds pouring from you that could put most porn actresses to shame. When Jake’s fingers find your clit, you have to muffle a full-on scream into his neck.

“Jake,” you whimper, and it’s almost scary how big it is, looming just in the distance. So close now, you’re so goddamn close.

“Yeah,” he’s saying into your hair, planting his feet firmly on the ground and fucking up into your pussy, his cock plunging so deep you swear you feel him in your stomach, “fucking take it. You better not forget who’s fucking cock you’re taking, sugar, who’s hat you’re wearing, who….”

You don’t hear the rest of it. All you can think of is the weight of the hat on your head. All you can think of is that label on the inside of it.

Property of J. Seresin.

You cum with a strangled shout, with your cunt clamping down so hard on Jake’s cock he grunts, with a gush of wetness, with your back arching far enough the hat tips backward off your head, with your fingers and toes numb, with your head somewhere in the clouds, with your blood rushing in your ears, and your heart like a sledgehammer and your arms around his neck. And then you sob, gasp for breath, wriggle like a fish on land.

“That’s my girl,” Jake is saying into your ear when you regain enough presence of mind to tap back into your hearing. “Look so pretty when you come on my cock, Jesus, you’re so fucking tight, sugar, God….”

He pumps his hips a few more times before the rhythm stutters, before he groans and tenses and empties into the condom. His cock twitches inside of you, and you moan weakly, slumped against his chest as you are.

Jake’s arms wrap around you as he hauls you closer to press kisses down the slope of your shoulder.

“You good?” he asks softly.

You nod, eyes fluttering closed. God, you could fall asleep right here - completely sated, completely exhausted, completely full.

“Jake?” you whisper, and as your lips move against his skin, you taste the salt of sweat.

“Yeah, sugar?”

“Can I keep your hat?”

It’s so warm in the car, and he’s even warmer. Soon, you’re going to have to climb off him, going to have to pull your dress back on, let him take you home and step under the shower, wash off the remnants of this night, of this thing that will never happen again. Something you’ll keep locked in your heart forever, a warm, soft memory to melt you in the cold.

But just for now, you get to keep it. For another minute, for another moment.

Jake laughs, his shoulders shaking and your body moving with it.

“Since I’m keeping the panties,” he says, his voice almost tender. “Sure thing, sugar. It’s all yours.”

You press your smile into his chest, preen as he reaches around you to put the hat back on you, and then you think, Thank God for Carrie Underwood.

#hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #fic #writing #mine #top gun maverick #fic: dsc

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