#please no one take this moodboard seriously

[ecile]

@yorhanic never ask me for anything ever again <3

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Mask

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, assassination attempt, mention of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of murders ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his 'ghosts', a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard

Lady Walford Moodboard

Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Lips | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Her father, the King, only realised how many enemies he had after a man dared to attack her while she was strolling around the fair during one of her walks. He wanted to get closer to her and slipped a dagger out from behind his cloak − if it hadn't been for the woman selling fish and her shouting, she wouldn't have noticed him or the steel gleaming in his hand.

She did what any other person in her position would have done, which is to say, she screamed in terror, stepping back, bumping into a wooden makeshift table full of vegetables, which toppled over with her − the assassin gave up at the last moment, terrified by the sudden outbreak of panic, and disappeared among the crowd.

Some elderly man helped her up, the knights of her father's guard rode up on horseback, alarmed by these frightened noises. One of them, Ser Lucas, her father's friend from his youth and the great rebellion furrowed his brow as he saw her face.

"Princess?"

She wasn't sure if her father was more furious with her or with the man who had tried to attack her. He commented on her irresponsibility and disobedience, her recklessness, and expressed outrage that her guards had not even noticed how she had escaped them.

"I just wanted to see the fair, my King." She said in a trembling voice without looking at him; she stood before him with her hair loose, wearing a beautiful navy blue gown with sleeves that reached to the ground − her shoulders were bare, on her hips a delicate golden belt made up of tiny eyes in which sapphires were framed.

"That's enough." He said agitated and impatient, raising his hand in a gesture of frustration, his dark hair and beard adding to his seriousness, his brow furrowed in anger. "Until you learn prudence, one of my ghosts will not leave your side."

She looked at him, horrified, and then turned her gaze to the man standing beside him, a few steps behind his throne, his figure hidden completely in shadow. He was dressed all in black, a hood over his head and a black mask on which a single tear was outlined under his right eye.

It was said that it was molded so that the people they were killing would have the feeling that they had compassion for them, that they were just a tool used by someone else.

People called them ghosts because they weren't seen on a daily basis – or at least that's what it was believed. They were forbidden to take off their mask or speak to anyone but her father, and were his principal emissaries that found his enemies, invigilated them and killed them.

Since the days of the rebellion and the overthrow of the earlier king, her father was perpetually in fear of an attempt on his or his children's lives, so he found, she supposed, people desperate or fond of killing, those who owed him everything and had no reason to betray them.

She passed and saw them extremely rarely, only during sumptuous feasts in the company of guests or gatherings of magnates from all over the country.

They stood then by her father's side, as always in the shadows, though invisible, constantly reminding her of their presence with their very posture, menacing and stony, the people around them afraid to look at them.

She didn't know how many of them there were in total; they were almost identical and differed only in height, besides that they wore the same clothes, masks, hoods and black leather gloves, probably to avoid staining their skin with blood.

The thought that someone like that was to accompany and guard her sent shivers down her spine − she had feared that her father would now know of her every move, that she would never leave the fortress again.

She lowered her gaze, saying no more, listening to his orders to find the man who had attacked her, whom she had described in detail to the other ghosts.

She left, feeling that if she stayed there another moment she would vomit.

It seemed to her that these black hooded figures were sucking the life out of everyone around them, that they were a walking harbinger of death and misery.

That night she heard his voice for the first time.

Her guards were outraged when he dismissed them.

"You are not a King, by what right do you command us?" Asked one of them, a cold, deep, mocking voice answered them.

"Shall I inform the King that not only are you incapable of guarding his daughter, but you refuse to obey his orders?"

She heard someone's growl and an unclear voice full of impatience, the clack of steel and armour proving that they had walked away − she was left alone with the cold murderer outside her door.

She pressed her lips together, felt her eyes burning due to the gathering tears at the realization that she had never felt more alone and abandoned than she did now.

She wriggled in bed, as she did every day, unable to fall asleep. It was raining loudly outside and she looked towards the window, seeing nothing but darkness. She felt small and even though she was lying under several thick furs, she was cold.

She rose slowly, putting a soft cashmere shawl over her shoulders, lighting a candle that illuminated her chamber with a pleasant, warm glow.

There is a man behind that mask, she thought.

He was not a ghost.

If she made any kind of bond with him, she would stop being afraid of him.

She walked to her door and stood in front of it for a long moment, feeling her heart pounding hard and fast. She swallowed hard and opened it with a loud creak of old wood.

Her candle instantly illuminated his figure − he was standing exactly opposite her door, leaning against the wall with his hands clasped in front of him. She wondered if he was asleep in that position, but after a moment she noticed something behind the translucent black material in the area cut out for his eyes, a blue iris staring at her.

She looked at him for a moment, wondering if he would move, but he stood like a statue − it seemed to her as if he were made of stone.

Was he supposed to stand like that all the time?

Her father had told her that he would gift her his one ghost.

Would they be exchanging? After all, he had to sleep at some point.

"What's your name?" She asked uncertainly, softly, wanting to sound as open and honest as possible.

Silence.

A long one.

"How am I supposed to address you if I don't know what your name is?" She asked again, looking at him pleadingly, asking him to let her at least get a little closer to him, to be able to give him humanity.

Silence.

She pressed her lips together and thought something else would make him speak.

"Should I complain to the king about you not answering my questions?" She asked lowly, wrinkling her eyebrows, wondering where she had got the courage to speak to this man in this way. A shudder went through her when she heard him let out a breath, as if he had given up, resigned.

"Call me any name you see fit." He said in a low, deep, indifferent tone, as if the fact that he had to speak to her frustrated him incredibly and he didn't understand what she wanted from him.

She felt a tightening in her throat at the thought that there was no more human thing than being given a name − it was the first thing given to a child at birth, and he renounced it.

"Shall I name you?" She asked shaking her head, not understanding what he was implying − he turned his face to the side, despite the mask she could feel the growing impatience beating from him.

"Yes. My Princess." He added after a moment, his words razor-sharp, cool, angry, mocking. She had the impression that he treated her interest as something completely unnecessary − apparently it suited him to remain in the shadows and he had no intention of coming out of it.

She looked at him with pain mixed with disappointment and thought he reminded her of one of the horrific mythological beasts her mother had once read to her about before bed, a great mighty dragon that sowed death and destruction.

"Vhagar."

She heard the word she had spoken echoed, followed only by the sound of rain, and felt that there was something final in what she had done.

"I will always treat you with respect and I will never make you do anything to humiliate you or offend your good name." She choked out with difficulty, wanting him to understand that they were condemned to each other and that this in itself was a misfortune, however, it would be even more so if they both pretended that he didn't exist, that he was just her shadow that followed her everywhere.

He did not respond.

She closed herself back into her chamber only walking towards her bed feeling that her legs were trembling. She lay down on her bed covering herself with thick furs, frozen and terrified, closing her eyes, praying to the gods to show her mercy.

That they would not lock her away in this cold, stone fortress forever until her father claimed to have found a suitable candidate for her to marry.

As she did every day, she also prayed for someone else.

Someone who had lived in this chamber before her.

The next day she got up awake, a terrible headache accompanying her from the moment she opened her eyes. She sat down at the table, covering herself with her shawl − overnight the wood in her fireplace had burned out.

She lifted her gaze as she heard the door to her chamber open, her servants entering with golden trays on which they served her breakfast.

She saw Vhagar follow them inside, his hands entwined behind his back − it seemed to her that his footsteps made no sound, that he could sneak up on someone silently.

"You're supposed to taste everything first." He said to one of them dryly and emotionlessly − the girl looked at him apprehensively, clearly already knowing stories of men of his ilk and what they did.

"My Lord?" She choked out, clearly not understanding what he was asking her.

"Anything the Princess wants to eat or drink − you are to taste it first. This is how it will be from now on with everything you bring her. Do you understand?" He asked coolly and insistently, and she nodded, lowering her gaze, pale.

"Is this necessary, Vhagar?" She asked looking at him with a furrowed brow − he turned his face towards her but answered nothing. He looked back at her servant after a moment.

"Begin."

"I've lost my appetite. Take this away. You can eat it all, let it not go to waste." She said raising her hand, allowing them to leave turning her head to the side, looking blankly at her wardrobe standing on the other side of the chamber.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that he hadn't moved from his spot, that he was looking at her, his aura giving her shivers.

She knew he was about to say something.

"My Princess…" He started and she turned her face towards him. "…are you going to eat your meal, or do I have to shove it down your throat?"

She looked at him with huge eyes, feeling her heart pounding fast.

She thought with horror that he was mad.

"That is all, Vhagar. You may leave." She said in an unobjectionable voice, clasping her hands in her lap, trying to hide how much they were trembling.

He stared at her, his black tear-streaked mask seeming even more frightening and mocking to her, cold and lifeless.

"Mmm." He hummed, though it sounded more like a purr, bowed barely visibly and left her chamber.

She let out a loud breath, burying her face in her hands, feeling a desperate burbling in her stomach from hunger, thinking that she would not give him the satisfaction of letting him dominate her life, ordering her servants around, locking her in a cage.

She asked her servants to help her dress − she put on this time a light-coloured gown with a fine gold belt around her hips made up of tiny chains, some of her hair pinned back in a bun, some falling down her bare back, her sleeves reaching all the way to the ground.

She walked out of her chamber without looking at him, without telling him where she was going, hearing that he immediately moved to follow her.

Her shadow.

She saw the ladies of the court looking at her, terrified of who was accompanying her, as if she were being followed by death itself − people turned their faces away and froze in silence, not knowing what to do, how to react to this unwanted sight.

She headed for the main castle library hearing him enter behind her − he stopped at the door when it slammed behind them, standing in front of it with his hands folded behind his back.

She was starving and decided to distract her mind with some reading. She picked up a few books on the history of her kingdom, sitting down at one of the large oak tables right by the window to get more light. She opened one of the books in front of her, looking for the chapter that interested her.

"You may sit down, Vhagar." She said dispassionately, not wanting him to think she expected him to stand there like some stone pillar, but he didn't move from his place.

An hour passed before he spoke to her, snapping her out of her reverie.

"You need to eat." He communicated a little more softly than before − she felt him looking at her, but she did not lift her gaze to him, uninterested.

"My servants will not taste my food. You yourself watch the cooks and what they put on my platters." She replied with reserve, answered by a long silence.

"Very well."

She looked up at him, sighing quietly, his face turned towards her − she knew what was the reason for his impatience, what he was afraid of.

What would the King think if it turned out that under his watch she had begun to refuse food and starve herself? How would that reflect on him as her protector?

She rose from her seat, putting her books slowly back on the shelf, returning to her chamber without changing another word with him.

As she sat down to supper with her father, her younger brother, and his closest associates, the King immediately asked her what she thought of her new sworn protector, who stood behind her chair right next to the wall, as usual, hidden completely in the shadows.

She swallowed loudly a piece of the roast she had just had in her mouth, noticing with a kind of discomfort that her father spoke of him as if he had given her a thing, not a man.

"Thank you, Father, I do indeed feel safer in his presence." She lied, clutching the wine cup in her hand and taking a loud sip from it, wanting to end the subject quickly.

The King nodded, looking impatiently to his confidant secretary, a companion to all the major battles won during the rebellion.

"Has Prince Aemond's body been found at last? It's been eight years, for goodness sake." He said sternly, impatient; as far as she understood, only his body of the entire Targaryen family had not been found after the great massacre that had taken place in the fortress where they were now feasting.

Lord Ronan grunted loudly, shifting in his seat, blinking rapidly as if thinking of what to answer.

"We are getting closer, my King. We're searching the city's underground, likely to find his corpse soon. The cut of the sword fell right on his face, he couldn't have survived that." He said with a certainty that was filled with the need to sound as convincing as possible, which did not escape her or her father attention.

She lowered her gaze, setting down her cup with a loud clang of steel on the wooden tabletop, looking down at her plate, losing her appetite completely.

The entire royal family slaughtered in their beds after her father at the head of the army stormed into the fortress, elected by the people to rule after the inept reign of King Viserys.

"With apologies, I will retire to my chamber. My King. My Prince. My Lords." She said bowing in turn and moved ahead, not waiting for her father's permission − she heard rustling behind her, she knew her ghost had not left her side.

They walked in silence through the dark corridors of the fortress illuminated only by the warm light of torches − she knew the way to her chamber by heart. Her mind, however, was elsewhere, wondering what would happen if Prince Aemond lived.

If he came in with his army and slit their throats as her father had done to his family.

She stood in front of the door to her chamber, glancing up at his tall black figure towering over her like a cold shadow.

"Thank you for your devotion, Vhagar. Rest now." She said turning her head and opened the door, but stood in half step, surprised to hear his voice behind her.

"How does it feel to sleep where she slept?" He asked with a kind of excitement, as if the thought of it gave him satisfaction.

She felt her heart start pounding like mad, a cold sweat on her back at the thought of Princess Helaena bleeding to death in the bed she was now sleeping in.

She looked up at him − in the light of the torch she could see through the black fabric his blue irises, his pupil looking at her in such a way that she had the impression that he was a predator who was looking at his prey, whose entrails he was about to tear apart.

She was silent for a long moment.

"Horrible." She said dispassionately lowering her gaze.

"I imagine her lying in my place and all I can think about is that the same thing will happen to me one day." She muttered, feeling his heavy gaze on her − there was some kind of tension between them, though she didn't know why. "I pray every day for her forgiveness."

"Ghosts do not forgive." He said coldly, as if stating some foreboding, indisputable fact − she looked at him with a pained expression, furrowing her brow.

"What else can I do?" She asked in a trembling voice, but got no answer, his black mask with a tear running down his cheek looked at her indifferently.

"Sleep well, Princess."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[sailor-aviator]

We Abide: Prologue

We Abide: Prologue

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: It had started out as a small outbreak, but as weeks passed, it was clear there was no turning back. The disease spread quickly, and those who caught it and were unlucky enough to survive? Their minds were no longer their own, driven to hunting what was left of humanity. Your friend had gone West to help aid in recovery efforts before the world stopped, and now you found yourself trekking across the country to try and find her. You were fine on your own, only the company of your dog to help keep you sane, but your reputation catches up with you when a cocky man decides to tag along. (Apocalypse!AU)

Content Warning: Apocalypse, End of the World, Feelings of Despair, Lost Hope. I think that's it, but PLEASE let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1.1k

Series Masterlist || Playlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Tyler Moodboard

One could argue that humanity’s oldest enemy was pestilence. Entire illnesses wiping out thousands and even millions all at once, leaving only the strongest behind to carry on. Humankind funneled money into researching cures for different diseases—cancer, AIDS, Alzheimer’s, and more. Disease tore families apart, leaving children without parents, parents mourning the deaths of their children, friend burying friend.

Humanity always survived to carry on.

When news of a new virus began to spread, those that carried on with worry were ridiculed and called paranoid. Even when the first death was reported, most people didn’t take it seriously.

“It’s just another scare tactic,” you had heard one of your neighbors scoff one afternoon as you stopped to get your mail.

“Just like with Covid. It’s just to get us to fall in line, you’ll see!” The older man had insisted. You had fought back a smile at the time, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all. You hadn’t laughed since.

The scientific community had dubbed it the Exodus Virus, but formal studies had shown that it was some type of rabies virus, attacking the nervous system and ultimately leading to death. Few were lucky enough to survive it at first, although lucky perhaps wasn’t the right word for it—not when the ramifications showed themselves preferable to death.

They were isolated incidents at first, just random acts of violence, but it wasn’t long before people started putting two and two together.

It became clear to experts that the virus created lasting damage within its hosts—causing violent mood swings, hallucinations, and aggression. It wasn’t long before the whole of social media dubbed these victims “snappers” for the way they seemed to just snap at a moment's notice.

The number of cases grew with each passing day, and it wasn’t long until your best friend, Kate, volunteered to be shipped off to where the cases were worst in the country.

“I wish you wouldn’t go,” you muttered, sitting across from the blonde on your small balcony overlooking the busy New York street below. You were a bit of a recluse at times, Kate being the one to pull you out of your shell and into the social scene most times. It wasn’t that you didn’t like being social, it was just that you were selective about who you wanted to be social with. Kate had adopted you as her best friend on the first day of kindergarten, the two of you practically inseparable since. The two of you moved to New York to pursue your education together, moving in together to afford the miserably high rent.

“It won’t be for long,” she had assured you, leaning over to grab your hand in hers. “This crisis will be over soon with all these scientists working on a cure. You just wait and see, I’ll be home before you know it!”

And a few days later she had boarded a plane to fly across the country to California. You worried after her, especially when news of a particularly large outbreak near Los Angeles made its way back to you. You had called Kate almost immediately, her reassurance doing little to calm the fear in the pit of your stomach.

“They’ve got me bouncing around all over the place right now,” she told you, a heavy sigh in her voice. You could see the bags under her eyes, much darker than before she left. Weariness radiated off of her in waves, and you felt exhausted just looking at her.

“You been sleeping okay?” You asked, earning a crooked smile in return.

“Yeah, when I can,” she offered with a wave of her hand. “This pandemic keeps us pretty busy.”

“You can’t save the world if you’re dead, Kate,” you scowled, a furrow in your brows. Her smile drooped, her lack of energy preventing her from keeping up appearances for too long.

“I’ll try and get some more rest,” she offered. “Now tell me all about the new exhibit at the museum.”

That had been the last time you spoke with her, her job keeping her too busy to keep up with phone calls. The Exodus Virus had several more outbreaks in the following weeks, and panic began to set in as the masses realized that things had turned from serious to dire. People began taking the health protocols seriously, but by then it had been too late.

The disease began to infect more and more people, the death toll skyrocketing as everyday life began to collapse all around you. As more people fell victim, the more things began to break down, and soon your phone became little more than a paperweight as things like phone calls and the internet stopped working. Soon, only those with generators were able to light up their homes, and the sky that once reflected the never ending lights of the city now shone with stars that hadn’t been seen in years.

It wasn’t unusual to find people sitting on top of the different buildings, looking up at a sky that was once so familiar to their ancestors, the cosmos staring back at faces they had never seen before. But with each passing day, those faces dwindled, and every day you wondered if you’d see your family or Kate again. Your shared friends had long since gone, and it was one random day, sitting at your small dining room table, that you decided that you had had enough of sitting and waiting for the end. You had to do something, but you weren’t sure what. All you knew is that you couldn’t stay in the all but abandoned city anymore, waiting for salvation that wouldn’t come to you on its own.

You packed a bag, making sure to pack essentials only so as to not weigh yourself down. Cars and gas were amongst the first luxuries to go in this new world, so you knew you’d be making your journey on foot most of the time. You took a map from one of the abandoned bodegas along with a sharpie. Kate had said that they kept her moving the last time you spoke with her, but you knew she was based out in California. You would aim the end of your journey there, hoping your best friend had found shelter in one of those communities you had heard some of the city stragglers muttering about. Communities built to contain the healthy—to keep them away from the snappers that now roamed the new wild lands of what had once been the United States. You didn’t know how long your journey would take, or how far it would take you. You didn’t know if you would find Kate or any of the rumored communities along the way. You didn’t know what lay ahead of you.

But you would survive.

A/N: Here it is! The prologue for my new (and first) Tyler Owens fic! I'm so excited for this one because it's another story idea I've been playing around with for like ten years now. I can't wait to hear what y'all think!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[hobiespick]

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons

a/n: if you thought I only made shitty Sam headcanons, WRONG‼️ cuz I also made a shitty moodboard (i'm extra like that yeehaw)

- Takes notice of the books you read, that is if you don't give him recomendations bc if you do that boy has a whole ass notepad and is a fast writter so try him.

- "Y/n would like this" "Y/n would probably know" "Y/n was right"- Dean gets seriously tired and makes jokes about how often Sam talks about you

- you think he's joking untill Sam isn't glaring daggers at him- but instead he starts blushing and straching the back of his head like a damn schoolboy.

- reads your body language very well- "What's wrong?" Sam asks putting all of his attention onto you. "Nothing" You shrug it off (you're not slick at all). "Bull." Sam chides still looking at you hoping you'll tell him.

-literally the happiest when you sigh defeated and tell him what's wrong but shakes it off to actually listen to you.

- uses the soft tone he talks to victims with on you- not because he thinks you're weak or fragile

- you're a badass and he knows it

- you complimented him once on it (his voice) saying he is good at comforting and how no wonder people open up that easily when he talks like THAT to them.

- "Miss, when was your neighbour killed?" All puppy eyes furrowed eyebrows and soft tone almost sticking his chin to his chest + that fake ass FBI badge, You: "Yes-"

- Sam probably met Jess through the art courses he took I'm sobbing-

- I watched that episode and I had no idea (I'm so happy google exists) what he was talking about and I'm damn art student jesus christ

- "It's good for meeting girls." So good- SHHSAJGSS I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH SAM PLEASE

- Artsy Sam save me, Please Artsy Sam

- So touch starved, hug this man PLEASE

- If you're an artist yourself and draw, sketch, paint whatever, he'll want to see it

- even teach him some stuff, LAWD

- researches stuff abt you when he can't get you out of his head- for example : the meaning of your name, your zodiac sign, which celebrity you share your bday with, etc (he can't help it)

- reads banned literature (isn't he so dreamy? 💞)

- his favourite movie is the notebook or pride and prejudice (and book!) because I said so

- Unconciously mirros your movements or tics, for example if you rub your nose with your wrist, he starts doing it too (it's contagious)

- Dean points it out but Sam wasn't raised to be fair so he justifies himself by saying he had that tic first and YOU are the one who started mimmicking him

- it's an ongoing war for some time but beacuse the system's corrupt the bastard lawboy Sam wins

- you two share an interest? HE IS SO HAPPY

- oh no! His t shirt accidentally made it's way into your bag! How did that happen? (It's him officer, that is the loverboy take him away)

- Alexa/google play good old fashioned loverboy by queen

- really likes earthy smells (freshly cut grass, pine trees and so on)

- Dean when he says your instead of you're

- love language is definetly quality time and touch

a/n: it took alot of self encouragement to post this so feedback would be very much appreciated<3! And for every person who voted "YEAHHH" on the poll, I hope your pillow is cold tonight 💞🫶

[megamindsecretlair]

Could you do a one shot with mob boss Tyrone?

A/N: My sweet Anon, you asked for one and I present to you seven. Why am I like this?

Blackbird, Part 1: Lust

Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory.

Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. Will love truly conquer all?

Word Count: 10,810k

Part 2

Interested in a Blackbird playlist? I'm not the greatest at curating songs but these remind me of these two. I may add or remove songs at my discretion.

A/N: Listen, I know. I couldn't get this idea out of my head and just kept writing. I'm trying something new here, so any feedback is welcome! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @harmshake @sageispunk @ciaqui @ms-angiealsina @satoruya @hopefulromantic1 @itsbackwoodsbby

Moodboard by the sweestes person ever, planetblaque 🥹🥹🥹

You looked at your watch on your delicate wrist. Night chased the afternoon out of the sky, taking over in their delicate push and pull. Night was safer for confessions. For reflection. 

The sun’s rays slanted through the blinds and you blinked against the bitter light. “My apologies, would you like me to close them?” Your lawyer, Mr. Gates, asked you. 

“Please,” you said. You sighed and adjusted your neat teal dress across your knees. There was nothing to fix, but you supposed you were nervous. After all these years, you thought that you would carry these secrets to the grave. Everything was different now. 

Mr. Gates moved to the window and shut the blinds more fully, draping you in the safe comfort of his office. Mr. Gates had been part of the family for years now, a profession he took seriously. It was refreshing to speak to someone who couldn’t be bought. Who would never fold, not even under threat of death. 

The office had been cleared especially for you, per your request. People liked to gossip. Busybodies, your grandmother called them. The only sound was the low hum of the AC blowing cool air into the room and Mr. Gates shuffling around. 

He finally sat down at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight. He pulled out a small recorder and showed it to you, the exact model you requested. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement. He took out a notebook, new and clean of any writing. You hoped he had enough pens. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

You adjusted your dress once more, running your hands along the fine, silken material. You licked your lips and looked back up at him. “I don’t wanna die without marking the occasion first,” you said with a clipped smile. 

Each day it drew closer to the date, you got used to the idea of dying. You had a good run. It could have been better. But you weren’t one to be greedy. 

Mr. Gates smiled softly, perhaps a little sad. It was nice to know someone would miss you. There would be one person on this earth who’d care if you were gone. That was something. 

Mr. Gates wrote down something on his notepad and pressed a button on the recorder. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, the date, and the time. He asked you to state your name for the record. 

“...of sound mind and body do declare this to be read as my last will and testament.” 

“Goddammit!” You yelled. Your fists thumped against the rough wood of the door as it finished slamming into your face. The asshole on the other side was just as faceless as the long stream of dance companies that tossed you out on your ass. There were plenty more, sure, but this one had been reputable. Fair. 

They took one look at your raggedy dance clothes, worn from too many times around the washer. At your hair, styled high above your head in braids they didn’t understand but were obsessed with. You didn’t have the time or the money to go to a salon. Just once, you’d like someone else to bother with your thick hair and its maintenance. You couldn’t be bothered. 

You’d shave it all off but you didn’t want to deal with the mean and hurtful comments about you looking like a boy. Your knuckles were just getting over being bruised and tender from the last mu’fucka that tried to talk out the side of their neck. 

“Asshole!” You screamed. It was open auditions. Open. Auditions. That meant that anyone could come in and try their hand. You had killed the routine. You only needed to watch something once to get it down. To feel it move through your body like a live wire and your muscles respond. To mimic it to near perfection and add your spin on it. Nothing fancy, just an extra oomph that these companies seemed to lack. 

You had waited to the side with the other girls, all wispy, wafer thin girls who took one look at your curves and deemed you less than. A joke. That you couldn’t possibly move your body like they could.

One had the audacity to allude to that, calling it doing you a favor. Next thing you knew, your fist was flying and she was crying foul, blood running down her aristocratic nose. You just gave her a little more character, honest.

You cursed under your breath and moved away from the building. To hell with them. You shifted your dance bag over your shoulder and walked backwards. The marquee above the door announced an upcoming performance. Below it, there was the name of the headliner, Gabriella Greywood. 

One day, and one day soon, your name would be up there. In bright lights. And no amount of racist, fatphobic fucks were going to stop you. 

You turned and headed down the street, running head first into a person, solidly built by the feel of them. 

“My bad, sweetheart,” a deep, rumbling voice greeted you. 

Your mouth was already fixing to give him hell for not watching where he was going and that you were nobody’s “sweetheart”. The words dried on your tongue as you looked up into a deep set of brown eyes that crinkled a bit in the corner when he smiled. 

He had a low fade and short beard, shaved close to his strong jaw. Pretty, long eyelashes that fanned across his cheeks whenever he blinked. He smirked, checking you out while you ogled him. 

“S’okay,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He took in your tights and oversized gray sweatshirt. 

“You heading inside?” He asked. 

“Away from it. Those fucks wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in the ass,” you said.

The man chuckled and nodded, like he liked your honesty. Your words. “Fuck ��em,” he said, gifting you with another smirk. You wondered what he’d look like when he really smiled. When he let it take up his whole face. 

Too bad you didn’t have time for men. You may be behind most of your friends in that department. Their heads were full of getting married and popping out babies while they were still young. Like they were checking off boxes handed down to them through the generations. Grow up, learn just enough, get married, pop out babies, and then your real life starts once they are grown up with babies of their own. Fuuuck that.

“Where you headed then?” He asked. A noise to his left made you look up and see an entire other man standing next to him. He was a bit taller, broader around the shoulders, with a narrow face and a mischievous look in his eye.

“Home, I guess. Until I find the next studio giving out auditions,” you said. Your attention was solely fixated on the man in front of you. His friend grinned and moved away, lighting up a joint. He put a foot on top of a fire hydrant and pretended to ignore you both. 

“Let me give you a ride,” he said. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. He was magnetic. Like he commanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not. 

You giggled, stomach doing tiny flips. “I don’t know you,” you said, giving him a hint of the attitude you’re famous for. None of this, giggly, braid around your finger nonsense. 

“Get to know me. Let me take you to Scarlet Lounge,” he said. His voice was smooth. Too smooth. 

You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “That’s a gangster bar,” you said. 

“What you got against gangstas?” He asked.

“They’re mean, amoral, kill for no reason, run drugs, and turn out little girls. They’re nothing but bad news,” you said.

“Damn, amoral. That’s a big one,” he said. He chuckled and licked his lips, calling attention to his mouth once more. Your body heated instantly, wanting to know what they taste like. What they feel like on your skin. What his hands would feel like on your skin. 

“Not all gangstas are the same. Maybe some just wanna get over in a life hellbent on kicking them in the teeth,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets and you finally noticed what he was wearing. Simple jeans and a black hoodie, faded from too many washes like your clothes. You felt a sudden kinship with him, an understanding passed between you in being in similar situations. Just two mu’fuckas trying to make it.

“Are you saying you’re a gangsta?” You asked.

“If I say yes, you gon’ hold it against me?” Oh, he was dangerous. Absolutely dangerous. 

You had gone on entire tirades about the level of crime in LA. It was insidious. The dangerous, hopeless underbelly that all kids from the hood grew up with was like a giant dome that prevented anyone from truly getting out. Truly making something of yourself. You either joined a gang, married into a gang, or rode the struggle bus ‘till God called you home.  

You could leave. You could find some area where the people would treat you like a freak or like you didn’t belong but you would be safe. None of them would look like you. Or understand you. Change had to start in the hood. There had to be hope some-fucking-where.

“Probably,” you said. 

He smirked and shook his head. “Cold game. What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

You should walk away. There was no way you could entertain someone like him. No way. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to walk away from him or this moment. The more you looked at him, the more you felt connected to him. That each minute you spent in his presence, you felt tiny stitches being woven in between you.  

“I’ll tell you what gangsta boy. We bump into each other again and I’ll tell you my name,” you said. You turned on the balls of your feet, walking backwards away from him.

“You gon’ do me like that? Forreal?” He asked. The corner of his gorgeous mouth lifted higher. It was almost worth staying to see if you could get a real smile out of him. 

“Byeee,” you sang. You giggled, heading towards the train station. You turned around and gave your hips a little extra swish. 

“I’m Fontaine!” He called after you. It took all of your strength not to turn back around. You waved your fingers high in the air but kept walking. You didn’t really think you’d bump into him again. You couldn’t afford the distraction even if you did. You’d head back home to your shitty apartment that you shared with your best friend and regroup. 

You needed to keep your eyes on the prize. You had a future to secure. And it did not involve pretty corner boys who talked smooth.

You finished doing your makeup in the vanity, touching up the bright red lipstick one more time and checked over your outfit. Muted music and cheers reached you into the backroom, from the set before yours. 

Other dancers were touching up their outfits as well, skimpy little things that barely qualified as a costume. The leotards were black with thin stripes, sparkly silver edges that dug into your groin and under your arms. The designer, an evil little bitch with too much hair and a permanent sour expression, thought she was so damn important. Half the time, it was clear that she thought she was too good to design clothes en masse for a dance club. 

You wore fishnet stockings like the others, black leather heeled boots, and a tiny black hat in your hair. You had sparkly glitter dusted across your cheeks so that your eyes would pop. Not that anyone would see you. You were relegated to the back in every single fucking number. 

Everyone here had the same dream as you. It just came down to who was hungrier. Who was going to stick it out. You had been dancing your whole life and you’d be damned to let some wide-eyed, bushy tail ho from Minnesota steal your dream. You’d put in the work, you’d put in your dues, and soon, you’d be headlining your own show. Working with top directors and choreographers. Maybe even get into dancing on TV.

“One minute!” One of the stagehands called into the room. Kimmy approached you and looked at you in the mirror. 

“Another day?” She asked.

“Another dollar,” you said back. 

You both grinned and stood up, heading out of the dressing room and into the chaos backstage. Stagehands moved in a dance all their own, carefully moving around each other with headsets squawking with directions you couldn’t hear. Coordinating the lights and music, curtains, and set decorations. 

The previous music was coming to a close, ending on a loud roaring beat that you felt down to your toes. Adrenaline thumped through you. Despite whatever else you went through, this made sense. This was the time that your mind finally shut up. That your focus on your dreams drifted to the back and all you had to do was feel the music. The euphoria that came with losing all sense of identity while dancing.

You stood on the stairs on the left side of the stage, too far away to see the current set; you’d seen the performance so many times you had it memorized. The group before you had done a circus themed dance, full of contortionists, flips, and tumbles. The performers worked hard to make it look so seamless, you were in awe every time. 

They were due to exit on the right, to not interrupt your group. Their song ended, the curtains closing and claps echoing throughout the club. You were shuffled on stage, getting into position in the far back. Haters. Whatever. 

Stagehands used pulleys to change the scenery behind you, to an alleyway facade. There was a fake brick wall beside you getting rolled in. The announcer, the sleazeball Rusty, was on stage and getting everyone pumped up. 

You looked at Kimmy and made a face and she giggled, waving you off. The music for your number started to play, a slow and sexy jam. You were supposed to be a lady mafia, punishing men in a cold dark alley. 

Once the curtains were open and the spotlight hit you in the face, you were gone. There was only the part you played, filling in the background while the lead dazzled the audience. You told yourself not to care, but deep down you did. It was disheartening to know that in your heart of hearts, you were more talented. You were a better dancer. You just refused to suck Rusty’s dick to get to the top. 

So you focused on the music, on the dance, and executed it flawlessly. You were in the back now, but you weren’t going to stay there. You didn’t see the audience, you didn’t see the idiots at the bar, and you didn’t see any of the VIPs in the back, scoping out the dancers to see which ones they wanted to bring to the private backrooms for a “dance”. 

You didn’t play that shit. You were too spiteful, too hateful, too outspoken. And you’d continue to do so. You had to take a pay cut to not be involved with that shit. It was illegal and unfair, but it beat spreading your legs for dirty cops and gangstas. 

As you danced, your mind was partially split between what you were doing and the man you met the other day. Fontaine. You couldn’t stop saying his name. It rolled so well off of the tongue. Fontaaaine. 

You nearly missed a step and mentally slapped yourself. You focused on the dance, lots of gyrating and popping your hips. Lots of slow glides down to the floor and rolling your back. Invisible prop assistants threw you all fake uzis and you ended the dance facing away from the crowd. You jerked your hand to pretend like you were shooting a gun into the alleyway while a group of male dancers pretended to die.

The crowd cheered behind you but your mind was already beating yourself up. Already going over what you could have done better. It’d help if your performances were recorded but for the “privacy of its patrons”, Rusty wouldn’t let anyone record inside. Phones had to be off or silent and there were plenty of bouncers willing to break expensive phones to ensure everyone’s “safety”. 

Among the last to leave the stage, you turned to walk back to the dressing room. It didn’t feel like thirty minutes went by. You were sweating buckets though. Fat little droplets soaking your leotard and dripping from your temples. 

“Aye!” You turned to the sound. “Over here!” 

You knew better than to follow some strange sound around backstage, but the voice sounded familiar. Like warm caramel. You looked towards the front, where a bouncer stood to ensure that no one slipped past the curtain. 

“Over here!” You walked towards the darkened back, following the sound. There stood Fontaine, standing behind a storage door. He smirked when he saw you. 

“What are you doing back here?” You rushed over to him, pushing him into the storage room. You looked for people behind you. This area was where dancers left so it was hardly used for anything else. There were old decorations here, forgotten sets that needed to be stripped and repainted. 

Fontaine’s callused hands pulled you into the storage room. Somehow, he found the lone lamp that worked and the soft light filled the room. It was junky. Full of chairs, tables, tablecloths. The overflow supplies. 

“You said if we bumped into each other again, you’d tell me your name,” he said. 

“This isn’t bumping into each other,” you pointed out. Your hands were still around his arms and his hands had relocated your hips. 

“Sheeit, this is better,” he said. 

You shook your head. “What are you doing here, gangsta boy?” You asked.

“Tell me your name first,” he said. He cocked his head to the side, letting you get a glimpse of his dark eyes. 

A deal was a deal, you guessed. You told him your name and he rolled it around his tongue like cotton candy. “I like that, suits you,” he said.

“Your turn,” you said.

“Scarlets run this place, you ain’t know?” He asked.

“You work for Porter Sommer?” You asked. Porter Sommer was a ruthless drug kingpin that ran all of South Central. There wasn’t shit that went down in the hood that he didn’t have a fat little finger in. You’d only seen him once and it was enough to turn your stomach. He had dead eyes like a shark. 

“He ain’t all that, I swear,” Fontaine said, shaking his head. “He the only nigga that give back ‘round here.”

“Give back? He got kids doing drugs in the parking lot before their parents pick them up. He shake niggas down for every last nickel they got,” you said. 

“That ain’t us. That’s that bitch Shayne,” Fontaine said. He shook his head. “I ain’t come here for all that. I saw you on stage and I had to tell you that you were amazing.”

Now that you knew who he worked for, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue dealing with him. You hadn’t given much thought to which side of the street he fell on. The Crips and the Bloods thought they were the top bosses in LA, aggressively defending square blocks they didn't own.

Porter Sommer and Shayne Blandford were the real OGs. They actually bought up the houses and stores on the blocks, doing their hardest to outbid each other at every opportunity. They both preyed on the weak and didn’t care who got caught in their crossfires. 

Fontaine looked at you with such admiration though. Like he saw you. Like you weren’t just another dancer on stage. That he saw you with the same lights shining on you that you pictured in your head. 

You stepped away from him to try to get some clarity. Obviously, touching him and getting that close to him was addling your brain. You were seriously thinking about entertaining a bad boy. One of the worst.

“What do you do for Porter then?” You asked. You crossed your arms. 

Fontaine sighed and leaned back against an old desk. It wobbled under his weight and he looked down at it but then turned his attention back to you. “Do it matter? You gon’ judge me for it anyway,” he said.

“I’m not judging that you’re a corner boy. I’m judging that you work for Porter. That man is…scary,” you said.

“He a’ight,” Fontaine said with a shrug. “And I ain’t no corner boy no mo. Ya boy moved up and shit,” he said. He smirked and you could see him puffing his chest out. You giggled. He looked so proud of that fact. 

You wanted to keep up your defenses against him. You wanted to walk out of the room and tell him to get lost. You could not get your head turned out by a gangsta. You didn’t have the heart for that kind of life. Why did you have to meet someone like him and he was bad news? 

“Moved up how?” You asked. 

“Protection services,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn’t fight the grin that ran across your face. Whether he was outside or in this dingy ass room, he carried the same level of magnetism. Charisma. 

“I cannot with you,” you said. 

Fontaine stood up and slowly walked over to you. He had a mean ass lean to it that caused your stomach to flip in response. He was the total package, both in looks and wit. But, but, but. 

He stood before you and clasped his hands behind his back. “I feel something. And I know you feel something too. I’d like to get to know you, sweetheart. Let me change your mind about gangstas,” he said.

“I don’t pay attention to words, gangsta boy. Your world is dangerous,” you said. 

“You watch too many movies. Real gangstas talk and shit,” he said. He smirked and swayed from side to side. He was hypnotic. You swayed with him like he casted a spell on your body. Each word he spoke wove magic through your veins. 

“Oh, really? Bunch of backroom deals and offers people can’t refuse?” You asked. You began to back towards the door. The only way to survive Fontaine was to escape. To remove yourself from the situation. With his voice and the way he spun words, he’d be liable to talk you right off of the City Hall building. 

“Let me find out you like gangsta movies and you just giving me a hard time,” he said. He looked at you and slowly began to approach you. You had nowhere left to go. Your back was against the door. 

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time,” you said. You moved your hand behind you until your hand touched the cool metal of the doorknob. Fontaine’s mouth twitched but it wasn’t a smile. Dammit, you wanted to see him smile. 

His minty breath fanned across your face as he leaned closer. You bit your lip. “I’on know if you heard me, but I’m in the protection game now. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again, I’m gon’ give you the world,” he said.

You smiled, letting his words fill up your head like fresh, doughy clouds after a storm. Plenty of people talked a good game. There was a long line of disappointing men who talked and talked but never backed it up. Starting with your daddy. Fontaine’s voice had the deep rumble of conviction behind it. He meant every single word. And you had no doubt that he could back it up. 

But, but, but.

“I can’t be bought, Fontaine. I never asked for the world,” you said. 

“I know. I’m gon’ give it to you anyway. With a matching moon,” he said. 

You dropped your eyes from his intense gaze. The light didn’t quite reach this far, so you two practically stood in shadow. He blended into the shadow. Welcomed it. Like he lived and breathed in it. 

“I’m a man of action. And I’ll prove it.” He dropped his head and kissed you. Electricity zapped your lips. His kiss was languid. Slow. Tongue already working its way inside your mouth like it owned it. Your hands came around his neck to pull him closer. 

The kiss was intense, disconcerting. He knew exactly what to do too, alternating kisses and little nibbles. Your wet lips smacked against his and your pussy throbbed. He pushed you into the door, hands gripping onto your hips like he was holding on for dear life. 

If he was magnetic before, it paled in comparison to touching him. Feeling him. You felt him everywhere. Each kiss sucked you further down into the shadows with him and you never wanted to taste the light again.

You paused here and took a deep breath. Mr. Gates cleared his throat and paused the recorder. “Do you want to skip this part?” He asked.

So kind. Mr. Gates was always so kind. He was a rare breed compared to all the men in your life. Especially when compared to Fontaine. However, Fontaine had no equal. There was no one who came close. 

That first kiss ought to have been where you drew the line. You knew better than to sit in storage rooms with strange men and let them kiss you. Let them feel on your booty. Just remembering it, brought heat to your cheeks and to your core. You felt the ghost of Fontaine’s hands on your legs, on your hips. That playful smirk tickling your neck.

You shook your head. “I just need a minute. I-I need him to know that it was always real for me. That I went into it with both eyes open,” you said. 

Mr. Gates nodded and got up, leaving his office for a moment. Your mind wandered, thinking back to those early days. From bumping into Fontaine to everything that followed after. Like the Hand of God tripped you over Fontaine’s feet so that you would meet. Would know. So that you would know each other and know what it was like to love with your entire body. 

Moments later, you collected yourself. Mr. Gates seemed to know exactly when. He came back into the office without any prodding from you. You smiled at his kind, grandfatherly face. He had white hair sticking out the sides of his head. You bet he was a player when he was younger. 

“Would you like to continue?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, where was I? Um…so, Fontaine did exactly that. He proved with more than his words that we had something songs got written about…”

Fontaine attended every performance every night you worked. You were still in the background and he looked at you as if the spotlight was on you. He didn’t help your ego at all. 

After every night, he’d somehow sneak backstage with a single red rose to tell you that you were the best dancer up there. He stole kisses after each one too. At this point, you didn’t know why you were still resisting him. You weren’t some prude waiting for a man to drop to one knee; you didn’t believe in that shit. 

There was something a little hot about making him sweat it out. Something a little erotic about heavy petting and making out and living in the moment spent with your lips colliding and tongues exploring. With his hands around your ass and your hand rubbing him over his jeans. 

You hadn’t had many occasions to lust after someone. Sometimes guys made you crane your neck, but you had a single minded focus that saw you through your shitty childhood, through your awkward teenage years, through screaming matches, and slammed doors. You got what you needed from guys, the only things they were really good for, and you left them high and dry. You left them while spit flew from their mouths as they called you bitches, hos, and anything else their little brains could think of.

Funny how once you treated boys how they treated you, you were suddenly the devil incarnate. 

But you lusted. Every dip of Fontaine’s hips made your body respond in kind. Like he had a direct line to your pussy and constantly tugged on it to drive you crazy. He knew the effect he had on you too. 

He always made sure to blow you a kiss while you were on stage. When he smirked, he liked to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. He made sure to grab your ass while making out, squeezing them like trying to get juice from a lemon. Oh and when he got to rubbing his stubble along your neck, your eyes would roll back and he’d tell you to quit being so cute before he dicked you down. 

Fontaine made you hot and bothered. In more ways than one. As much as you were interested in him, you still hated what he had to do to survive. You understood the game, but it didn’t mean you had to love it. 

When you weren’t on stage and you were taking your break, waiting for the next set, you would sneak out to the front of the house so that you could see the performances, see what worked and what didn’t. Sometimes you’d grab a drink and wait for Fontaine to sneak away to kiss you. 

And sometimes you’d see him heading to the private rooms, escorting your fellow dancers and whichever powerful men wanted to use them for the night. Rusty was always there with a grin on his face and dollar signs in his eyes. It was disgusting. 

Rusty never touched anyone but your best friend Kimmy. He took one look at her and fell ass over teakettle for your sweet friend who had a kid to look after. On top of paying her a little more, Rusty rented an apartment for Kimmy and her kid. She didn’t think anything of the little bargain. One man was better than a revolving door. 

Sometimes anger boiled in your veins at the mere thought. You wanted to burn this place to the ground. It was true that you chose to come here, night after night. However, dancing was the only thing that kept the anger at bay. Well, that wasn’t entirely true anymore. 

As Fontaine walked around the tables on his way to you, you found unexpectedly that his presence tamed the wildness of your anger. It wasn’t completely gone. The slightest thing would set you off. Until you bubbled over like a volcanic eruption, burning everything and everyone in your path. You weren’t like that with Fontaine. You didn’t want to be like that with Fontaine. And all it took was a few dozen roses and sweet stolen kisses. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. He was starting to grow his hair out. Since he moved to protection, he started dressing a little fancier. Dickies instead of jeans, plain T-shirts instead of whatever graphic tee caught his fancy. 

Fontaine dressed all in black did things to your libido that wasn’t fit for mixed company. The short sleeved black tee seemed like he bought a size down on purpose, to emphasize his muscles. 

“Hey you,” you said. 

“Isaac was telling me about the Fair. We should go,” he said. 

“The Fair? What we gonna do there?” You asked. 

“I’on know. Fair shit,” he said, that damn smirk. You were going to get him to smile if it was going to be the last thing you did on this earth. 

“You gon’ win me a teddy bear?” The question popped out before you could think about it and snatch it right back. You wished you could swallow the words, unring the bell, and ask him something different. Something that wasn’t a little too close to home. You always wanted someone to win you a teddy bear from one of those Fair games, carry it around for you. 

But that shit was for other, softer girls and men who actually gave a damn. For TV movies and shows with people who didn’t look like you. 

“I’m gon’ win the biggest one. So Friday night?” He asked. 

“Friday night,” you agreed, little butterflies taking flight in your stomach. 

“It’s a date sweetheart,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you watched his generous backside as he went back to the backrooms, making sure your friends were safe. As much as they could be. 

When he approached the door, Issac came out of it looking self satisfied. The corner of your mouth lifted in a grimace. Isaac was attractive but something was throwing you off about him. Whether it was his vibe or the oily way he looked at everybody, Fontaine included, you made a mental note to get the full story behind them.

It was obvious that they were close and did next to everything together. Issac said something to Fontaine who shook his head but bumped fists with Isaac. It’d have to be none of your business for now. 

Friday night rolled around and Fontaine was punctual in his champagne colored 90s Cadillac. You didn’t know much about cars, but you knew enough to appreciate the craftsmanship and that Fontaine lovingly took care of it.

It was shined to gleaming, silver chrome glinting from the streetlamps. Night was fast approaching and you had a long drive to Pomona, to the Fairgrounds. It was the first time in his car and you had to admit, you were a little nervous. 

Fontaine got out of the car and you had to whistle at him. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a red flannel buttoned up. The top two buttons were out, giving you a peek of a black tank underneath. He wore his signature jacket, the same one he wore when you met. You had half a mind to say fuck the Fair and invite him inside. 

“I know where yo nasty ass mind is at,” he said as he came around to the street to greet you with a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a single red rose.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” You asked.

“I know I look good,” he said. He smirked and stepped out, showing you his outfit. He dusted invisible lint from the front of his shirt and you laughed. 

“You really do look good,” you said. 

“But you look good enough to lick on,” he said. He bit his lip and eyed your outfit, a spaghetti strap dress with a modestly low neckline and blue and red ombre colors. It started out royal blue at the top until it began to lighten around the hips, turning into a jam red at the bottom. 

“And you call me nasty,” you said. You tapped his shoulder and his cheeks puffed up. You half thought you were going to get a smile but he stopped himself at the last minute. 

“Just telling the truth. Matter of fact, you look too damn good. I’on wanna spend the night catching bodies behind yo cute ass,” he said.

“Shut up!” You giggled. Fontaine said the cutest shit sometimes. Threatening murder behind you was not sexy, but when it dropped from his lips it was. It was a type of possession you didn’t think you craved, but you did. You wanted to belong to him in every sense of the word. 

Fontaine escorted you into the street and opened the door for you. You slid inside his car, smoothing your dress over the leather seats. It smelled clean, like some type of mountain scent laced with the particular smell of weed. Fontaine closed the door and walked around the front, climbing in himself. 

Low, thumping hip hop music was on in his car and you looked at him. This was different. He was different. And you only wanted to see where the night took you. 

As Fontaine got onto the 10 freeway, he got comfortable and leaned back in his seat. The seat was further back still and you got the sense that it stayed a little too far back on purpose. He kept his left hand on the wheel and dropped his other hand to your knee. 

You looked at it and it felt right. His hand was warm across your knee and you sunk into the seat, placing your hand over his. The corner of his mouth lifted as you began to speak and get to know each other beyond just his kisses. 

“How long you think you gon’ be a gangsta?” You asked.

“Damn girl. Not even gon’ ask me what my favorite color is?” He asked. The red lights from the cars in front of you lit up his face and you found that red suited him well. The starkness of the color played across his features in a way that made him seem timeless. 

“I already know what yo favorite color is,” you said.

“What?” He asked. He rubbed this thumb across your knee and you lost the ability to think for a minute. 

Everybody Loves the Sunshine played on his stereo and you shook your thoughts loose finally. “It’s purple,” you said.

Fontaine chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, you been paying attention to a nigga, huh?” He asked. 

“Whatever, Fontaine,” you said.

“Love it when you say my name. You draw it out and shit,” he said. 

“I do not! Just answer my question!” 

Fontaine was silent for a moment, weaving in and out of crazy LA traffic. Every year it got worse and worse. To the point that you almost didn’t want to leave the house most days. It was why you started taking the train more. It sucked, but it beat dealing with the mu’fuckas that continued to flock here chasing their paper dreams. 

“I’on know how to do anything else. That 9-5 ain’t me,” he finally said, his voice smooth and low. “I need to know if that’s ever going to be a problem. If you can ever accept that this is the life I’m in.”

He slanted his eyes towards you. This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. And Fontaine was a pretty serious person more often than not. He got this look in his eyes, like he saw the world burning before him and didn’t want to bother grabbing a bucket of water to help. Like he liked it. 

“I won’t promise to never speak on it. I’m…scared to lose you,” you said. You were surprised it was true. You made him sweat for a month, turning down his date ideas just to see what he would do. Testing him, you supposed. If he was in it for you or for what you had between your legs. Usually you could tell the difference with perfect accuracy.

When it came to Fontaine, nothing was certain. And you didn’t know if that scared you to the point of attraction, or turned you on to the point of fear. 

Fontaine squeezed your knee. “You don’t gotta worry about that, sweetheart. It’s me and you,” he said.

Me and you. Those three little words planted themselves inside you, taking root and growing vines around your bones. Sprouting leaves in your lungs and stretched towards your brain, filling it with the oxygen you needed to breathe. Three little words. The wonder of it brought unexpected tears to your eyes. 

You grinned at Fontaine. For the rest of the car ride, you got to know more about him. More about his little brother who was killed and why he joined the Scarlets. Why he took up a gun and was never putting it down again.

It made more sense in context. The circumstances were always fucked in the hood. And the tender heart you tried so hard to guard against all evil only broke more for Fontaine. He told you about how his mother retreated into herself. Only got herself together long enough to fake the funk at work and then disappeared into her room. 

With mounting bills and not wanting to live off anyone, Fontaine did what any other Black male did in his situation. He grew up. 

You told him about your toxic childhood. How your parents alternated between fighting and fucking. That when your dad was lost to the drink, he’d look at you like you were a stranger. And when he sobered up, he looked at you like you were a princess atop a castle. You never knew which side you were going to wake up to.

You told him about your mother and how she always seemed to be jealous of you. Like there was some aspect about how she raised you that she didn’t like. That it was your fault for taking her instruction to heart and not giving a fuck about what anyone said. You wanted something, you went after it. 

There was no love in your house so you got out when you were 17 and never looked back. Fuck them. You didn’t want to stay in that house anyway. 

Reaching the Fairgrounds, you and Fontaine turned to lighter subjects. How or why you got into dancing. Your favorite dancer was Debbie Allen. You wanted to be her so badly that you studied every move she ever made. That you went for ballet because that was where she started. 

She was able to get into TV but that wasn’t really where you wanted to be. Maybe when you got older and your knees started to rebel. For right now, you just wanted to dance. To be free. 

You held hands with Fontaine, talking and laughing while you pulled each other around the Fairgrounds. You’d only been once, when you were younger, and hadn’t bothered since then. 

There were rides and the sizzling smells of meat that made your mouth water. Desserts, weird food combinations like a Krispy Kreme donut burger, and the sounds of children’s laughter. The ground was littered with wrappers, coupons, and papers. 

Fontaine paid for your play cards, dropping a wad of money that made your eyes bug out. He kissed your cheek and told you to go nuts. Anything you wanted to do or try. There was no limit. You told him that he was crazy. 

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. You grinned and dragged him everywhere. On the ferris wheel, on the spinning ride, and on the zero gravity one until your stomach hurt so badly that you had to sit down. Your head spun painfully and Fontaine rubbed your hand while you giggled about it.

You went into the funhouse with its crazy mirrors. Fontaine only had one request, that you go on the haunted ride with him. You were determined to stay far away from it. You hated the feeling of being scared. He peppered your cheeks with kisses until you relented and got on with him.

You suspected that was his plan all along. To have you clutch onto him for dear life. He chuckled at your theatrics but didn’t make you feel bad.

“Come on, girl, I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into the safe embrace of his arms. You giggled. You was gon’ have his babies if he kept doing cute shit like this. 

After that ride, you settled on Pink’s for dinner. The smoke from the truck was whipped into the sky by a bitter breeze. You should have brought a jacket. You forgot how fucking cold it got at night out here. 

Without saying a word, Fontaine made you wear his jacket. You attempted to tell him that it was okay, if nothing else yo mama ain’t raise no bitch, but he refused to take it back. “I’m hot anyway,” he said. 

You grinned, looking up at him. He winked at you and ordered you food. You ate and laughed and talked about nothing in particular. Shit you found on TV. Movies you happened across. Books you’ve read. Music you listened to. 

You yawned and leaned your head against him after another round of rides and dessert. A huge funnel cake topped with ice cream and chocolate drizzle. Fontaine had to help you finish it in the end.

“You gon’ have to roll me out of here after all this,” you said, licking your spoon for every wayward swipe of chocolate and smacking your lips with a loud pop. When Fontaine didn’t say anything, you turned towards him. His gaze was fixed on your mouth. 

“Fontaine?” You asked. 

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer. He licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, feeling his hot tongue on your cold face. He hummed in the back of his throat. 

“Delicious,” he said. 

He pulled back with a smirk, rubbed your chin, and pulled back. Your whole body heated. Cascading down your body in waves. You rubbed your thighs together, wetness starting to pool in your panties. 

“We got a little more to spend before we dip. Let’s get you that teddy bear,” he said.

“I was just joking about that,” you said. You gulped around the tension. So thick, it stuck in your throat. 

“I wasn’t,” he said. He stood up from the bench and held out his hand. You took it, hand fitting his like a glove. He threw out the plate you finished up and tucked you into his side while he walked.

In the middle of the grounds, there was a row of carnival games like ring toss and popping balloons. There was also a basketball hoop. Fontaine made a beeline for it, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. A staff member scanned the play card and loaded up the basketballs for Fontaine.

He tested the balls and soon, started sinking ball after ball. Your mouth dropped open. He could’ve been a basketball player with that lethal game! The staff member told you to pick out a small teddy bear. Fontaine stopped you. 

“One game is a small teddy bear, but three mediums is a big one right?” Fontaine asked.

The staff member, some pimply kid, popped his gum and nodded. Fontaine loaded up more games, winning each and every one until you had three medium ones and exchanged it for a giant fuzzy teddy bear. It was so big! You squealed when the staff member handed it to Fontaine. He chuckled at your reaction. 

You squeezed one of the arms and couldn’t help jumping up and down. You were happy to take the small teddy bear. But the fact that he kept going made your heart soar. “Worth it just to see your face,” he said. You kissed his cheek a hundred times and he finally smiled.

It felt like your world narrowed to that expression on his face. Watching his whole face light up and eyes crinkle. He had a wide smile that took up his whole face. His smile was infectious but you were too dumbstruck to smile back. 

“Come on,” you said. You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Where we going?” He asked.

“I wanna remember tonight. And you better smile!” He chuckled while you pulled him to the nearest photobooth. You probably should have done this before winning the bear, but fuck it. Tonight had been nothing short of perfect and you wanted to capture this moment the best way you could think of. Like those shows and movies did. With something real. Not just something captured on your phone. 

You wanted it in your hands. You wanted to slide it into a binder so that you could look at it over and over while in class. Daydream about him in between lockers and free time. Glance at him from across the way on the courtyard. Dance with him at Homecoming. He made you feel young, like you were back in high school with your first crush. Fontaine was everything. Absolutely everything. 

The teddy did fit, and you scooted in first. Fontaine chuckled and sat down next to you. He swiped the card and it began to give you instructions. Fontaine was serious the first go around, mean mugging the camera. 

“Forreal this time!” You giggled. 

Fontaine sighed and rubbed his head. “A’ight, a’ight,” he said. He loaded it up once more. He kissed you in the first picture. Then you did a few silly ones. He tickled you for one of them. On the last one, you couldn’t think of what to do next. So you just looked at him. He looked at you. The camera flashed and you saw it reflected in his beautiful eyes. 

You continued staring at each other until the booth buzzed, wanting to know how many copies you wanted. You printed two and finally scooted out. Fontaine scooped up the two cards and you placed your head on his shoulder to look at them. 

“Thank you, Fontaine. For everything,” you said. He just…he had no fucking clue what tonight meant to you.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta thank me for this,” he said.

“Yes, I do. And I know just how to thank you,” you said. Your voice turned a little flirty and you lifted your head to look at him. He looked down at you and smirked. 

“Is that right?” He asked, licking his lips. 

“Yup. We better get back to my place before my roommate gets home,” you said. 

Fontaine took your hand and tugged you towards the entrance. You giggled the entire way, feeling giddy and light in a way you hadn’t in a really long time. Fontaine gave you that. Gave you that freeing feeling back. You thought you’d lost it when you accepted that your parents didn’t know how to love you. 

His Cadiallac sped down the open freeway, too late for the out of town mu’fuckas to fuck it up for everyone else. The windows were down and the wind rushed through the car with wild abandon. He drove safely, but fast towards your place, hand on your knee the whole way. 

The tension was back with a vengeance. Like you were both standing on top of a cliff somewhere ready to dive off. Heat pooled along with your arousal between your thighs and you couldn’t stop clenching them. 

Lust. Lust was a powerful thing. Detonating bombs in your core until you were practically drunk on them. Looking forward to them. Until there was only the dirty thoughts running through your mind and the feel of his callused hand on your knee. 

Fontaine managed to find a spot on your street. You were on the wrong side of Stocker, where you had to get to the spot faster than your neighbor. Fontaine got out first and then opened the door for you. He even grabbed the teddy for you so he didn’t have to come back outside for it. 

You pulled him into your crappy apartment that you shared with Kimmy. Considering Rusty was paying for it, it could have been worse. You still owed rent to him and had to clear out when he wanted to ditch his wife and come mess with Kimmy. She was out with her son and likely wouldn’t be back until sometime Sunday. You didn’t tell Fontaine this. You didn’t want him to think that you were plotting on him. 

But you were. You weren’t sure if he was the type to stay after sex, or once he got off, he was already looking for his pants. You wouldn’t really bring him upstairs if it was the latter. You got the feeling that he was a little clingy under that hard facade. 

You only turned on enough light to get across the living room and into your room. You turned on the lamp. Both of you were breathing heavily. Bodies preparing to experience an unparalleled pleasure. 

Fontaine gripped your hips and you giggled, accepting the kiss he laid on you. The ones before had been tame. He had been holding himself back. These were wilder. Crazier. Lips smashing into yours with a desperate plea to get closer and stay closer. 

He pushed his jacket off of your shoulders and you worked on the buttons of his flannel. He helped you pull it off of him and you licked your lips at your first real look at his body. At the tattoos down both sides of his arms. You didn’t have time to catalog them all, but you would eventually. You were going to lick and trace every single one of them.

He was thick in all the right places. A hard stomach and big arms. His stubble tickled your chin while he started to kiss your cheeks and your neck. You were a twisting mess of flailing arms and legs trying to get out of your sandals, his shoes, and his pants while working your way over to the bed.

You pushed him to sit on it and he bounced with a small chuckle. You dropped to your knees, tugging at the zipper of his jeans. “Yo, what you doin’? Ladies first,” he said.

You leaned up and kissed him. “I appreciate that, but I said I wanted to thank you proper,” you said. 

“Sheeit, don’t let me stop you then,” he said. He grinned, gifting you with another rare smile from him. It fueled your desire. 

You tore desperately at his pants and briefs, freeing his long, thick dick. You moaned at the sight of it. The tip already weeped, precum beading. You swiped your tongue at it and Fontaine moaned, rolling his neck. 

You continued to please him, licking him in certain spots trying to learn what turned him on. What made his dick twitch in your hands or his balls jerk. You wrapped your lips around his thick head and sucked him down. 

“Fuck! Just like that!” Fontaine groaned. His hands disappeared into your braids, tugging on it. You groaned around his dick and he hissed in return. You batted your eyes at him and sucked him for real this time. No more teasing. No more games. No more tests.

You drooled on his dick, growing wetter at the act. You could practically feel him inside you already, ruining you for any other man. You used both of your hands to please him where your mouth couldn’t reach. 

Sputtered words and soft commands filled your ears on top of you gulping him down. “Mm, suck that shit down, sweetheart,” he groaned.

That spurred you on, that you were doing a good job. You gripped his thighs and leaned up to take more of him. “Gah damn,” he said and licked his lips. 

You took him in deeper, as far as you were able without using your hands. You breathed where you could. The only thing that mattered was letting him know what this night meant to you. What he meant to you. 

You slurped on his dick, letting the spit lube up more of his dick for you to slide on him. His moans grew louder, fingers clutching your braids harder. “I’m finna bust,” he groaned.

You kept going. As if that was supposed to stop you? That was the goal! You wanted him to bust. You wanted to empty his balls into your mouth. You wanted to taste every ounce of his cum in the back of your throat.

He gasped and he was unleashing himself inside you, filling your mouth with him. You swallowed him down and moaned, arousal leaking from you. Pussy throbbing. 

Fontaine grabbed his dick and pulled him from your mouth, tapping the head against your lips. You kissed him and he smirked. “You a bad one, ain’t you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Oh? You a good girl?” He asked.

You nodded. He hummed, the low vibration sending signals down to your pussy. “Good girls get rewards don’t they?” 

You nodded, too struck dumb by him to say anything else. What was there to say? If you opened your mouth, all kinds of sticky, gooey, lovey dovey shit would fall out and you’d never been good at that. 

Fontaine stood up and helped you to stand, he kissed you, not caring that he just finished in your mouth. You loved a nasty nigga. He unzipped your dress and kissed your shoulders while it fell from your body.

He unhooked your strapless bra, freeing your titties and licking his lips at the look of you. “Like two little chocolate kisses for me,” he said. His lips descended on them, suckling each one and learning the shape and feel of them in his mouth. 

His hands worked your panties off, pushing them off your legs. He kissed on your chest as he laid you down and now it was his turn to get on his knees. His turn to push his head between your legs and suckle his way past your pussy lips. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. His tongue was a gift from the gods. Long and big, he flattened it against your pussy and moved his head in circles. Your breaths shuddered and your body twisted, legs shaking. 

He pulled the orgasm from you like it was his divine right and you screamed out, lungs burning with the effort. Fontaine kissed your thighs and your belly, wiping your essence off on you.

“Let me taste,” you begged. Fontaine chuckled and climbed up your body and kissed you, letting you taste just how wild he made you. You scratched up and down his chest and back, pulling him closer. 

“Let me feed you this dick,” he said.

“Feed it to me, baby,” you moaned.

He gifted you with another grin. Wide smile and crinkly eyes that you wanted to swim in. He pushed his jeans completely off and next went his black tank. He didn’t have any tattoos across his spacious chest and you ran your hands over him, learning every mole or scratch on him. 

He had a faint scar across his shoulder and you traced it with your thumb. You didn’t have time to ask him about it before his dick was pushing at your entrance.

You hissed and pushed on his chest. You were sure you were wet enough, but he was still massive. “Slow! Slow!” You cried.

He tilted his head and moved his hips, pushing deeper into you. Once the tip was in, he shoved all the way in with one hard thrust. You gasped, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he stretched you out with a bite of pain.

You slapped at his shoulder. “I said slow!” 

He chuckled and kissed you, trying to ease the sting. “I can’t help it. You so fuckin’ wet. I need you,” he moaned. He fed you long, deep strokes touching a deep, sweet place inside of you that might’ve been your soul. Like he wanted to write his name in the very fabric of you and never lose you. 

You gasped as he delivered these strokes, hissing when he hit that deep spot again and again. Your legs began to shake in earnest. “Mhm, don’t hold it, sweetheart. Let that shit go and lemme feel it.”

“Fon-tai–” you moaned.

“Shhh, I know you wanna call my name. I know you do. But all you gotta do is focus on that nut. Focus on my voice,” he asked.

He stretched you perfectly. And from how much arousal there was, it was staining your sheets. You were sliding up and down on his dick now, titties flapping from the strength of his strokes. 

He moaned, watching the expressions play out over your face. He cupped one of your titties, pushing down to hold you in place while he fucked you. “Mhm, doing so good, sweetheart. So good, focusing on you. Focusing on what I’m giving you.”

“Oh god, oh god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Shit, just like that baby. Grip it just like that,” he moaned. 

Your cries turned wild, keening, and loud while you gripped onto him and shook and twitched through your orgasm. He hummed while you did so. Satisfied with himself. 

“You-you didn’t…” 

“I know, turn over,” he said. His deep voice let you know that he wasn’t playing. Somehow, you found the strength to flip over. He smacked your ass, watching it jiggle.

He entered you once more and you cried out. You would never get used to his size. Never get used to him slamming and stroking inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You moaned. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. Hear how he knew exactly what you needed.

He gripped big chunks of your ass and used it like handles to slam you down on his dick, faster, and harder. Your elbows ached from trying to brace yourself against him. You slammed back, giving as much as you were taking.

“Ouue, that’s my good girl. You show me what you got,” he encouraged.

You continued to throw it back, craning your neck in time to see him throw his head back, surrendering to your pussy. It was enough to make you cry out, back bowing to another powerful, earth-shattering, world-altering orgasm. 

“Take that shit, baby,” he moaned and then finally climaxed, pumping you full of his delicious cum. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I need it, baby,” you moaned. 

“I know you do,” he grunted as his dick stopped pulsing. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled out. He spread your ass cheeks to watch. He slapped your ass when you were sure no more would come out. You were thoroughly stuffed like a twinkie. 

Fontaine left the room and you collapsed forward onto the bed, strength leaving you. A bit of nervousness crept in its place though. You wanted to ask him to stay. You wanted to roll over and be all sexy and enticing. As much game as you talked, sometimes you had moments where you couldn’t make your mouth move. 

Fontaine came back into the room with a warm rag to clean you off. You moaned and he rubbed your ass as he cleaned off your thighs as well. You sluggishly rolled over and smiled at him.

“You’re so damn cute,” he said. 

“You are,” you said and smiled.

“When yo roommate getting home?” He asked. 

You shrugged and looked away from him. “Um, I think she said she doing something this weekend,” you said. 

“So you gon’ be home alone?” He asked.

You shrugged again and played with the edge of a pillow. “Yeah, I think so.” 

The bed dipped as Fontaine sat down on it. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You didn’t want to. You tried to fight him. But he only smirked and held on. You looked at him and he tilted his head.

“Do you want me to stay, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Only if you want to,” you said.

He shook his head and pecked your lips. “Be a good girl for me and tell me you want me to stay,” he said.

He smiled and you rolled your eyes. He got on your damn nerves. But you couldn’t quit him. 

“I want you to stay, please.”

He nodded and kissed you. Then he pulled you further onto the bed and tucked you under the covers. He defied any expectation you had of his gender. He really was killing it for anyone else. 

Though, as sweet as he was being, you knew that there would never be anyone else.

Me and you. 

You stopped here and wiped a runaway tear sliding down your cheek. You sniffled. You were both a couple of fools. Two fools in love. In a love that blinded you to anything else.

You should have told him to go. Should have told him that one night was all you could have. Even thinking that, your chest seized like your heart was being compressed under a massive weight. 

There was no you without Fontaine. And there was no Fontaine without you, you hoped.

Check out the Tyrone masterlist if you need more in your life! The Secret Tyrone Files

Graphics by saradika-graphics

[k-tarotz]

P a i d R e a d i n g s

[ Open ]

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Hi and welcome to our paid readings post, we hope you will have fun while looking around. thank you for your time 𓆩♡𓆪

➥ CURRENT SALE: None

✦ if you will be interested in a reading or multiple ones please text us the name of the readings you would like to purchase, your initials, email and anything you think might be relevant, then we will provide a link/email where you can send your payment to. ✧ ˚ · .

͏✿ if none of our listed paid readings interest you, we can always modify one of the readings for you or make your very own reading with your own chosen questions (whole sections) we can decide the price for those in our dms ✧

𝐈. ASTRO ·.༄࿔

ᡣ𐭩 our astrology readings might take a bit longer to deliver, so please keep that in mind while looking through options. we also excel at tarot more, as that is requested more for us. regardless we will do our best with your reading.

𝓒. Future Lover ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ details about your future spouse . . . 50,50£

𝓒. Fire x Water ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ the fate between you and your twinflame . . . 40,50£

𝓒. Us, Now & Forever ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ compatibility reading between you and the person of your choice . . . 55,50£

𝐈𝐈. Idol ·.༄࿔

ᡣ𐭩 please keep in mind that we will be respectful of idol’s privacy while doing these readings! if their higher self doesn’t allow us or you to know something we will simply not put it in the reading. not as a way to do it half heartedly, but to respect them even in spiritual terms. these readings are for fun, not to be taken seriously.

𝓒. Ace of Coins ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what is it like to live together with the idol of your choice . . . 35£

disc.: includes 7 section’s & pictures (moodboard~)

𝓒. The Star ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ you as the new member in your fave group . . . 32£

disc: you don’t have to be the same gender.

𝓒. The Lovers ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ you and your bias in a romantic relationship . . . 25£

𝓒. Three of Cups ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ friendship between you and an idol of your choice . . . 25$

𝓒. Knight of Cups ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your soul connection with idol of your choice . . . 25£

𝓒. The Sun ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ how does the group of your choice view you . . . 32£

disc.; for groups over 7 members it’s 32£+ as this is a reading that requires a lot of energy.

𝓒. Ace of Wands ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ which idol(s) are most similar to your future spouse . . . 25£

𝓒. The World ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ how will your biases next year be like? . . . 25£

𝓒. Chanel N° 5 ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ you and your celebrity crush in a romantic relationship . . . 25£

𝓒. Seven of Cups ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your idol’s ideal types . . . 10,50£

𝓒. Go Big or Go Home ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ detailed dynamics between the group of your choice . . . 25,50£

disc.; for 7+ members it costs more

𝓒. BFF ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ you and the idol of your choice as best friends . . . 25£

𝓒. Peekaboo ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ how the idol of your choice if viewed by people . . . 27,50£

𝓒. Sweet Venom ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ compatibility between you and the kpop group of your choice . . . 18,50£

𝓒. Polaroid Love ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ did you share a past life with your idol/bias? . . . 22£

𝓒. When I Grow Up ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your life as a celebrity/idol . . . 20£

𝓒. Ditto ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ you in a k-pop music video . . . 19,90£

𝓒. Replay ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ which of your biases are you most compatible with? . . . 20,50£

𝐈𝐈𝐈. Romantic ·.༄࿔

ᡣ𐭩 these readings can both be about your future spouse or crush. we do not judge, so pick whatever is most comfortable for you.

𝓒. X.O ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ do you have a secret admirer? . . . 16,50£

𝓒. Red String of Fate ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ a person who will serve a romantic purpose in your future, but is not your future spouse . . . 32£

𝓒. Aurora Lights ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ compatibility between you and your special person . . . 16£

𝓒. Love ABCS ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ describing everything your person loves about you . . . 30£

𝓒. Red light Green light ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ red and green flags of the person of your choice . . . 11£

𝓒. Serendipity ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your future partners initials and zodiac/birth month . . . 5£

disc.; this is done through pendulum. not an indepth question.

𝓒. Starlight ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your crush’s view on you . . . 16,50£

𝓒. Tied to The Soul ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ have you already met your future spouse? . . . 18,50£

𝓒. Crush on You ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ would your crush reciprocate your love? . . . 15,50£

𝓒. Love Potion ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what do people love about you . . . 15£

𝓒. Tell Me Tell Me ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ channeled message from your future spouse . . . 6,50£

𝓒. Heart to Heart ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your future spouse as a person . . . 18£

𝓒. My Universe ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ a reading on you and your fictional other . . . 10,50£

𝓒. Pretty Little Liars ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ we will tell you if x and y are/were/will be in a relationship or if one has a crush on the other . . . 22,22£

disc: this can be about anyone you desire as long as it’s within appropriate limits / boundaries

𝓒. Nova’s Fashion ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your next partner’s fashion . . . 17,77£

𝓒. Stupid Cupid ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your future spouses/crush’s/bias’ different styles in love. . . 17,77£

𝓒. Luna(r) Lovegood ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭��� ࣪ compatibility with your special person based on tarot and your chinese zodiacs. . . 15,55£

𝓒. Crush Landing On You ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ if you were an actress/actor in your favourite k-drama and who you might end up with. . . 25,55£

𝐈𝐕. Intimate Readings ·.༄࿔

ᡣ𐭩 these are 18+ readings and can get very explicit with descriptions, please keep that in mind before buying! these readings are preferably about future spouse, you alone or people you have already had positive interactions with. minors cannot purchase anything from this section.

𝓒. Dirty Dancing 18+ ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ the intimate life of you and your future spouse . . . 26,50£

𝓒. The Devil 18+ ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what makes you desirable to others? . . . 19,50£

𝓒. Lover 18+ ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what will your first time be like? . . . 19,50£

𝓒. Lucky Charm 18+ ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ the kinks of your future spouse/crush . . . 17£

disc.; crush must know you on a personal level

𝓒. Honeymoon 18+ ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ everything about your honeymoon . . . 25,50£

𝐕. Generic ·.༄࿔

ᡣ𐭩 these are a mix of readings that you can apply to life as a whole. feel free to choose whichever you wish to.

𝓒. Baby Shark ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ will you have children in the future?. . . 27£

𝓒. 10 Years ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ an insight into your future. . . 25£

𝓒. Lady Dior ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your story as royalty . . . 18,50£

𝓒. Silver Dragon ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ you as a mythical being . . . 15£

𝓒. Jeanne D’arc ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what would it be like for you to live in the past . . . 15£

𝓒. To Be or Not To Be ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ should you do/purchase the thing you are thinking of? . . . 12,50£

𝓒. Cat Eye ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ things you might be good at but not realise . . . 13,50£

𝓒. Dynamic Duo ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ dynamic between two people you are curious of . . . 15£

𝓒. Upper Side Dreaming ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what your dream is trying to tell you . . . 10,50£

𝓒. Paw in Paw ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ a reading about your animal guides . . .15,50£

𝓒. Two of Wands ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ career advice from your guides . . . 15,50£

𝓒. Aurora ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what does your aura look like? . . . 15,50£

𝓒. One In A Billion ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ what was your past life like? . . . 20£

𝓒. Me, Myself & I ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ your life in another universe . . . 17£

𝓒. StarFire ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ who are your spirit guides . . . 15,55£

𝓒. Teddy Bear ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ a reading on how you can connect more to your inner child . . . 10,50£

𝓒. 7 Days A Week ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ a reading about how your next week will be like . . . 14,50£

𝓒. Limitless ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ a reading about how your next month will be like . . . 20£

𝓒. The Wheel of Fortune ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ how will your life go next year? . . . 25£

𝓒. Yes or No ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ simple yes or no question, but in depth . . . 4,44£

disc.; if you don’t want an indepth answer it’s only 2£

𝓒. Mirror, Mirror ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ general reading of your choice . . . 4£

disc.; 4£ per question

𝐕𝐈. Platonic ·.༄࿔

ᡣ𐭩 these readings are about platonic connections, with whoever your heart desires to get them with.

𝓒. Other Half ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ initials and zodiac/birth month of your most important platonic soulmate . . . 5£

𝓒. Sound of The Wind ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ 4 long channeled messages from different people in your life . . . 17£

𝓒. Melody & Kuromi ୭

𓈒 ࣪ ˖ ୭ৎ ࣪ the dynamic between you and your friend . . . 15,50£

꒰ ౨ৎ 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ .ᐣ

please read our rules before purchasing as they exist for a reason! we do appreciate the time you spend on reading it. the list could potentially become longer in the future.

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[wholoveseggs]

Indulgences

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Part Three

As your relationship with Elijah deepens, conflict arises and you are put in an impossible situation.

5.5k words - Warnings: smutttt, red door elijah {my interpretation of him}, drug use, adult themes, domestic abuse, violence, blood drinking.

Please be aware that this part is very violent. {Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

Elijah kept coming back, week after week, booking the platinum suite and requesting you. Every time you entered the suite and locked eyes with him your memories came flooding back in an instant. He would lay his head in your lap and tell you his heartaches while you stroked his dark hair. You learned how he was robbed of his life a thousand years ago, and how much guilt he carries in his heart. He would speak of his family with equal love and frustration, his world tipping further into turmoil with every passing day.

You admired his heart, his humanity, his fearlessness in facing his darkness. Sometimes, on rare occasions, his vulnerability would peek through and he would confide in you about his need for control and his fear of losing it. And sometimes, even more rarely, his heart would bleed for those he had killed and will kill. They were moments of weakness that he only let you see.

You began to care for him, truly care for him, past being his private dancer, past him being your cash cow. They were times when his perfect mask slipped just a little, showing a more fragile side of him, one you knew he had carefully crafted and honed to perfection. These moments revealed to you just how human he still was, despite having spent the past one thousand years as a vampire.

One night, as you gently traced your fingers through his dark hair while he rested his head on your lap, you softly asked, "Why did you choose me?”

Elijah, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, murmured, "The way you looked at me... there was something about your eyes, they were so..."

"What?" you whispered, the intimate moment creating a tightness in your chest.

"Alive," he whispered back. "You looked at me as if you could see straight through my mask to the inner demon beyond and didn't care."

"I do see straight through you," you teased.

Elijah smirked, then averted his eyes. It was painfully evident to anyone who met him that beneath the facade of a perfect gentleman in tailored suits, a dark turmoil simmered within him, a side he struggled to keep subdued.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, as though trying to compose himself, and returned his gaze to yours.

"Do you like this job? Does it make you happy?" he asked curiously.

"Not happy, but it helps me survive." You replied honestly.

"If there was a way for you to never have to do this job again, would you take it?" Elijah asked seriously, studying you intently.

"It's complicated, this is my only way to earn money and stay afloat, I can't imagine life without it," you explained, a bit confused by his line of questions.

"If you had a choice," Elijah started, leaning in closer.

You sighed, borderline amused by how cliche he was being. It must have shown on your face because the side of Elijah's mouth twitched, and he continued.

"Would you want to leave with me, leave all of this, escape to a better place?" His question made your stomach lurch, and you sat up straighter, heart pounding. You weren't a fool; you had heard this offer from a few clients before. They all craved the fantasy of having a stripper for a girlfriend while playing the white knight, rescuing her from what they deemed a shameful profession. As you stared at Elijah for a long moment, sizing him up and searching his eyes, you realized he was different. Unlike the other men who made similar offers, Elijah possessed the power to fulfill his proposition—a considerable amount of power, so much that it left you feeling unsettled.

"I'd say take me to your kingdom," you jested, wearing a playful expression, not revealing any clear intention to go with him. 

He gave you a searching look and leaned towards you, hands on either side of your hips, pinning you to the couch. "Say the word, and we leave this instant," he murmured, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes.

"I'm not a fantasy, handsome. I'm a person with a life outside of this place, one you know nothing about," you remarked quietly.

"Then tell me," Elijah asked, the atmosphere around you intensifying, his gaze transforming into a look that pinned you down in more ways than one.

Running your fingers through your hair, you chewed the inside of your cheek, torn about whether revealing the truth would shift the power balance. The mysterious allure you carefully maintained gave you control over clients, resulting in higher tips. However, a part of you hesitated, not wanting Elijah to view you solely as a mystery. You longed for him to see the real you—a human with flaws and struggles like everyone else—rather than getting entangled in the fantasy of you.

"I'd rather not," you said firmly.

"Do you have terrible dark secrets?" He teased light heartedly, not daring to take his eyes away from yours.

"This," you said, gesturing around the room, "is not about me,"

You resisted this glimmer of hope, this tempting fantasy. Reality held you captive, you had troubles and responsibilities that hadn't magically disappeared just because Elijah walked in and requested to see you specifically.

"I disagree," he said gently, cupping your chin, turning your face to meet his. "It's very much about you. I would have never returned to this place if you weren't here,"

You blinked back the stinging feeling behind your eyes, and reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him close so you were face to face.

"Exactly darling, it's all about you," you murmured, brushing your lips against his.

"That's not what I meant," Elijah whispered, but let you deepen the kiss regardless.

"Isn't it though?" you teased, sliding out from under him, standing up.

"This is where our night comes to an end, handsome," you announced, extending your hand out to him.

He grasped your outstretched hand, his dark brown eyes focused on you, and pulled you down until you were straddling him. You let out a soft gasp of surprise, your hands automatically resting on his chest.

"One more kiss," Elijah murmured, his voice muffled as he nuzzled your neck.

You gave a low laugh, tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and even, sending a thrill through your whole body. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of his touch.

His hands traveled up your thighs, until they reached your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your g-string. The heat from his fingers caused a blush to rise on your cheeks and your heart to beat faster.

"May I touch you?" Elijah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your body tensing at the thought of him being intimate with you. This wasn't allowed, Mitch would fire you on the spot. No sleeping with clients. It was his number one rule. Mostly because the club would lose its license.

But you didn't care about any of that, all that mattered was Elijah. You wanted him to touch you, to bring you pleasure. You wanted him to take you away from the pain and sadness, if only for a little while. You swallowed thickly and nodded your head in consent.

Elijah's eyes darkened with lust, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers grazing your damp panties. You bit back a moan, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He continued his gentle teasing, his fingers rubbing circles against your clit, watching your responses.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, kissing your neck.

You whimpered softly, arching your back, pushing your breasts against his chest. You wanted more, needed more. You wanted him to make you forget everything except his touch.

He dipped two fingers into your aching core, a breathy moan escaping your lips. You clenched around him, your head swimming with desire. He moved his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly. He brought his thumb up and traced small circles against your clit. You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed, your climax swiftly approaching.

"That's it, beautiful," Elijah whispered, nipping at your ear.

You came undone, the tension in your body melting away, your hips bucking against his hand. You felt a sharp pain in your neck as he sunk his fangs into your skin. Your legs trembled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your breathing ragged, your skin slick with sweat. He continued to stroke you, his movements drawing out your orgasm until you were a trembling mess.

He let out a low groan, pulling his mouth away from your neck, blood smeared on his lips. His eyes were completely black, dark veins snaking down his cheeks.

You gently ran your fingertips over his cheeks, marveling at the creature that lurked beneath the mask of a gentleman. He was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly deadly. Your touch was enough to calm him and his features returned to their human appearance.

He pulled his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, licking away your arousal with a predatory growl.

You giggled and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. His hands rested on your hips, his grip tightening. He returned the kiss, a sweet yet heated one that took your breath away.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whispered, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Why not? Did you not enjoy yourself?" Elijah questioned, his eyes full of concern.

"No, no it's not that, I...I mean, we're not allowed to have sex with the clients," you confessed, embarrassed by your admission.

"Do you still see me as just a client?" He asked with a raised brow.

"No, but Mitch will. I'll lose my job." You mumbled, biting your bottom lip.

He ran his fingers through your hair and cupped your chin, his eyes boring into yours. "Then come with me," he murmured, his lips ghosting against yours.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, taking a deep breath. You wanted to say yes, you really did, but the reality was still there. He kisses you again, gently biting on his lip, the taste of his blood making your skin tingle. You felt the sting of the bite mark on your neck fade, and you pulled back. His fingers traced the area where the wound was, his eyes slightly far away.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Why?" You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

"I didn't ask for your permission," he explained, his jaw clenched.

You placed your palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath your fingers, soothing the storm inside of him. "It's fine," you reassured him.

His expression softened and he smiled at you, the love and affection in his gaze filling you with warmth. You never had anyone look at you like that before and you found yourself wishing that the moment would never end, but reality set in.

"Time to go, darling." He said quietly, his breath fanning over your face. "You won't remember this until you see me again,"

You kissed him one last time and rose off his lap, swaying on your heels. You could feel his eyes on you as you stretched lazily, earning his appreciation.

"Have a good night, handsome." you murmured, teasingly blowing him a kiss as you strutted out the door.

You sat in the dressing room, looking down at the stack of hundreds on your lap. Once again confused on how you made that much. You couldn't remember a single detail of your time with the wealthy client in the platinum suite, it unnerved you. You wondered if the molly was strong enough to block out your memory and leave you totally empty.

"I hope your not fucking suit guy," Stacy remarked, walking by your chair, admiring herself in the mirror, a dark purple silk robe draped loosely around her body.

"I'm not." You assured her, shoving the hundred dollar bills back into your bag.

"You better not be, Mitch would fire you so fast, not to mention Jordan would be devastated," she remarked, a smirk on her face.

"I don't do that," you repeated, watching her change her attitude.

"There's an exception to every rule," Stacy remarked, pursing her red stained lips and applying another coat of lipstick.

"I'm not a cheater. Elijah is just a wealthy client who likes to talk, you know the type," you said with a shrug.

"Elijah," Stacy echoed, laughing. "You're on a first name basis with him? God, you might as well be fucking him," she taunted, raising her brows at you.

"Fuck off, Stacy," you snapped, glowering at her, refusing to let her get a rise out of you.

Jordan walked in, his usual friendly expression on his face, an extra spark in his eyes, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. He pressed his lips to your cheek in greeting.

"How's my baby?" he asked cheerfully.

"Good," you mumbled, quickly moving your bag out of sight.

"Hiii Jordy," Stacy sang, batting her eyelashes at him.

He flashed her a quick grin before turning his attention back to you. You could feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying itself, he was in a good mood today.

"Let's go get dinner, I know this great bar near here," Jordan said eagerly, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You gave a half hearted smile, nodding your head. You would rather go home to a quiet apartment but you knew better than to spoil his mood with your defiance.

"Sounds fun," you murmured, forcing a smile.

Jordan and you walked out of the club, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He glanced down at you, his face still carrying a smile, but his eyes holding a warning.

"You okay baby?" He asked.

"Tired," you replied simply, hoping it would be enough to explain your earlier behavior. "Is it okay if we just go home?"

"No! It's Friday, and I need time with my girl," he practically whined, as he guided you to his car.

Your heart sank at the tone in his voice, knowing very well he wouldn't take no for an answer. It was a game he played to get you to do what he wanted and give him an excuse to fight later, usually for being stubborn or a stuck up bitch.

"My shift was so long," you mumbled.

He shoved you into the passengers seat, closing the door before you could reach the handle. He got into the drivers side and turned the key, a sly smirk on his face. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly, his nails biting into your skin, he leaned in, his lips next to your ear.

"Why is it so hard to please you baby?" he whispered, his tone seething.

You stared at him, keeping your face neutral, dread churning in your stomach. You could feel the bruises beginning to form on your wrist, his anger slowly rising. He squeezed even tighter and you winced, a strangled cry leaving your lips. He let go of your wrist and slipped his hand between your legs, inching his fingers to your mound, squeezing roughly.

"This belongs to me, baby. How many times do I have to remind you that you're mine?" Jordan sneered, tightening his hold on you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears burning behind your eyes, and looked away, trying to detach yourself from the situation.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you murmured, shrinking away from him.

"Damn straight," he said, releasing his grip on you and turning his attention to the road, "Dinner and drinks at Rousseaus, you’ll love it."

You gave a stiff nod, trying to ignore the fear and anger in your heart.

Rousseau's was more crowded than you expected, but you both managed to find a table. You sat and waited while Jordan got drinks.

Other men always looked at you, wherever you went, it always made you uncomfortable. Especially so when you were with Jordan, his jealousy could cause an explosion at any moment. You wished he hadn't insisted on coming to the bar tonight, there was a feeling in your gut that told you something was going to go wrong.

When he returned with the drinks his mood had dramatically shifted, his eyes darting around the room as he slid into his seat next to you.

You picked at your finger nails, chipping away at the paint, and scooted your chair a few inches away from his. You could feel his eyes on you, seething with jealousy, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Maybe we should go," you suggested, shooting him a wary look.

"We just got here and I ain't done drinking," he replied, placing his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his fingertips.

"Okay," you said in a small voice, lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.

He brought his hand up to your face, lightly brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. You could tell by the look in his eyes that something wasn't right.

"Stacy was telling me something very interesting about you," he whispered, his voice dripping with suspicion.

"Oh?" You asked, feigning innocence, heart beginning to race.

"Yeah," Jordan mused, gently tracing a pattern on your skin. "She told me how you kept having one on ones in the platinum suite. Absolutely raking in the tips. Does that sound like something you're familiar with?" His words were soft, but his voice was harsh.

Your stomach dropped at his question, realizing what he was getting at. You stared back at him blankly, trying to formulate a response. You thought about lying to him, you were a good liar, you did it everyday of your life. Jordan was visibly seething, but he wouldn't do anything to you in public, so you kept your guard up just in case.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, babe," you said in the sweetest, yet most patronizing tone, grabbing his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly.

He narrowed his eyes at you and took another sip of his drink. Your stomach turned, you knew he wasn't finished, this was far from over.

"If I find out you're lying to me," he started, his voice menacing. "I'll kill you."

The color drained from your face, fear coursing through your veins. You wanted to bolt out the door, run for your life, anything to get away from him, but you didn't. You looked away from his terrifying eyes, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

That's when you saw him, sitting near the window, watching you intently. Elijah.

The reality of his existence hit you like a swift blow. He was a vampire. He had bared his heart and soul to you. Just hours ago, you had been in his embrace, experiencing pleasure as he fed off you. Then he would erase the memory from your mind, leaving you oblivious to what he truly was. He offered you a knowing smile, his dark eyes piercing into yours. Your cheeks flushed red as you looked away. Despite everything, a part of you yearned to run to him, to forget about the monster lurking beside you.

"Excuse me for a second," you whispered, letting go of Jordan’s hand and sliding your seat back.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Jordan snapped, his grip on your knee tightening, his fingers digging painfully into your skin.

"Just the bathroom," you muttered, struggling to keep your composure.

He gave you a steely look, before releasing your knee. You gathered your purse and rose to your feet and without glancing back at him, headed for the bathroom.

You felt Elijah's presence behind you when you got to the hallway. Fear churned inside you like a whirlpool, as you turned to face him, not completely sure what you would say to him.

"It's not a good time for a talk," you said in a low voice, opening the door to the ladies room, hoping Elijah would get the hint.

"You seem distressed," he said quietly, concern clear in his voice.

"Come in, you can't be out here with me," you whispered, tugging on his hand, pulling him into the bathroom.

You checked to make sure the coast was clear and locked the door, feeling Elijah's eyes following you.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He teased in a gentle tone, clasping his hands in front of him, subtly checking you out.

"Yes," you said softly, leaning against the counter, staring down at the floor.

"Is he why you won't run away with me?," Elijah asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, as he placed his hands on the counter, boxing you in between him and the sink.

"Among other things," you replied evasively, tilting your head up, your gaze resting on his.

"Name one of them," he purred, bringing his hand up to your hair, twirling a stray strand around his finger.

"You've messed with my memories, Elijah. When I'm not around you, I don't remember our time together; I’m frightened of you," you admitted, your body stiffening. "I blame it on the drugs I take, I get anxious about my mental health," you trailed off, feeling shame rising in your throat.  "But then I'm with you and..I feel calm, I feel safe, like you'd protect me. And, it scares me, this emotional whiplash is taking its toll,”

"I'm sorry for frightening you, that wasn't my intention," he said gently, his hands lifting to rest on your hips, gently lifting you onto the counter.

"Everything is... complicated, Elijah," you murmured, running your fingers through your hair, trying to muster an answer.

"I know," he murmured, leaning in and kissing your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. “I won't compel you anymore, my dear, I trust you,”

You closed your eyes, inhaling his wonderful scent, it made your stomach flutter with butterflies. This didn't feel real, you hadn't felt this happy in so long, it was surreal.

Your hands went to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palms, and his lips met yours. The kiss was soft, affectionate, and full of meaning. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, never wanting to let go.

"You don't love him do you?," Elijah whispered in your ear, trailing his finger down your jaw.

"No," You breathed, shaking your head, grasping the lapels of his suit. "I couldn't, I try, I have for years, but I just can't,"

He hummed his agreement and kissed you with more passion than you'd experienced with any man before. You could feel his desire, his urgency, and you craved him. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, letting out a soft gasp when his hands slipped under your dress, gently kneading your thighs.

"No, we can't, not with Jordan here," you rasped, reluctantly pushing his hands away. "Please don't. If he suspects something..." You whispered, trailing off, swallowing hard.

Elijah glanced down at your hands on his chest, his brow furrowing as he noticed your bruised and swollen wrist.

"You're hurt," he observed, examining the marks on your skin, his expression a strange mixture of anger and concern.

"It's fine," You reassured him, trying to pull away from his grip, "just forget about it. Really, I'm ok,"

"He hurt you," Elijah insisted, frowning.

"I had an attitude with him," You mumbled, yanking your arm back, and cradling your wrist in your lap, and nervously twisting the hem of your dress in your fingers.

"Y/n," he said softly. "This isn't the first time he's hurt you is it?"

You looked up at him through tear filled eyes, your mask of composure finally slipping.

"No," you said in a small voice.

"How long has he done this to you?" He asked in a low voice, cupping your face in his palms.

"Years," you choked, no longer able to hold in your emotions, tears trickling down your face. You felt such pure humiliation, embarrassment that Elijah had seen such weakness in you.

"I have to go," you stammered, rubbing your eyes and sniffling.

"You don't have to leave," Elijah insisted, bringing your face up to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

You froze at his question, wondering what kind of answer he wanted.

"It ruins the fantasy," you said with a dry laugh, trying to brush it off as some stupid joke.

Elijah furrowed his brow at you, looking shocked at your response.

"Do you think I judge you? See you as just a stripper?" He asked earnestly, all of his usual confidence dissipating.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak, but not daring to lie to him, watching him through watery eyes.

"I told you about my life, my father, the torment he put my family through, how could I judge you?," Elijah asked, lowering his face to yours, our lips inches apart, his scent flooding your senses.

"I don't know," you whispered, keeping your gaze fixed on his, savoring his kindness.

"We'll get through this," Elijah whispered in your ear. "Together."

"I have to go," you whispered, before the weight of what he said could sink in.

"Walk out with me, you never have to be near him again," Elijah begged.

"No, please, it'll make everything worse," You pleaded, sliding off the counter. "Don't give me hope, I can't handle hope."

"Y/n," Elijah began, sounding exasperated.

"I'll see you at the club, okay? Goodbye." you said quietly, before he could protest anymore, leaving the bathroom.

Tears filled your eyes as you walked through the bar, taking slow deep breaths to calm yourself. Jordan was still sitting at the table, looking extremely impatient. You tried to ignore the unsettling feeling in your gut as you sat down. He swirled the liquid in his glass, his expression blank. 

"Took you long enough, what were you doing in there?" Jordan sneered, pinning you with his icy glare.

You could now remember everything about Elijah, how he made you feel, all those hours together in the platinum suite. Everything. And now here, looking at Jordan, your abuser, the man who took so much from you, was such a contrast that it was almost unbearable. You were revolted by his very presence.

"I just needed a moment to myself, you know? After what you said about killing me," You forced a tight smile, taking a sip of your cocktail, your throat had never been drier.

Jordan scoffed, his features darkening with annoyance. "Let's go, this bar fucking sucks," he snarled, slamming his empty glass down on the table, rose to his feet and swiped his keys off the table.

You took the last sip of your drink and reached into your purse, pulling out your wallet. You felt his hand rest on your arm, you were almost paralyzed with fear.

"What the fuck is that?" Jordan snarled, looking at the tips you earned from Elijah earlier.

You swallowed thickly, completely taken aback, you had no idea what to do.

"I... I got a bonus today," you said in a feeble tone.

Jordan stared down at the money, completely enraged. "Stacy was right wasn't she? You've been fucking that rich asshole," he whispered, his fist closing around your arm, dragging you to your feet.

He quickly guided you through the crowd and outside the bar, pulling you towards the nearby alley. Your mind reeled with panic, realizing what was happening. Your legs no longer functioned as he dragged you behind the building.

"Baby, let's go back inside, I don't understand what's going on," you pleaded, trying to regain composure.

"I asked you a question. Tell me," Jordan growled, his fingertips dug into your arm painfully.

"It was a bonus," you snapped.

His fist connected with your face in a sudden and violent burst of rage. The impact was so intense it dazed you, the air being knocked out of your lungs as you tried to keep your footing.

"I know you're fucking some gangster and keeping all the tips for yourself," he shouted, his hands wrapping around your throat, forcing you against the wall.

Your hands scrambled for his, trying to pry his fingers off, his grip squeezing tighter as the lack of air made your vision blur.

"I asked you nicely and you have the nerve to fucking lie to me? That just shows me that you don't love me at all," he yelled, rage boiling in his veins, his grip nearly crushing your windpipe.

"Please..." you whispered, through ragged gasps for breath.

"I've done nothing but take care of you since we met and this is how you repay me?" He shouted, his grip tightening even more, your entire body struggling to get oxygen, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

You brought your knee up as hard as you could to his groin. Jordan groaned and doubled over, loosening his grip enough to allow you to wrench yourself free.

You began to run in the direction of the street, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. But he caught up, grabbing your hair and forcing you to the ground. You cried out in pain as he landed on top of you, his hands roaming all over your body as he held you down, squeezing every inch of skin he could grab.

"Shh, shh, don't scream baby, don't scream," he hushed you, slapping his hand over your mouth. "It's okay I forgive you."

"Get off of me!" You cried, as he frantically tugged on your dress. He didn't waste another second, gripping your jaw tightly, his fingers digging in painfully.

"You think I'd let you cheat on me and get away with it?" Jordan gritted out, his hands wrapping around your throat again, increasing the pressure. Your screams were only barely audible now, your vision starting to fade, everything slowly turning black. 

Suddenly there was no weight on your chest. You gasped for air, taking desperate shallow breaths, looking up at Elijah who was pinning Jordan to the wall by the throat. Elijah's eyes were completely black, gray veins stretched out under his eyes.

"Do you know what it feels like to be unable to breathe?" He growled, his grip tightening, Jordan's face turning a ghastly shade of blue. "The fear, the terror that overwhelms your body. To know that no matter how hard you fight, you're going to die?"

Jordan's eyes bulged in fear, his hands clutching at his throat, trying to get away.

"You were going to kill her, weren't you?" Elijah seethed, his voice trembling with rage.

"Please... I'm sorry," Jordan wheezed, his voice barely audible.

"She begged for mercy and you ignored her, why should I show you the same courtesy?" Elijah asked, in an eerily calm tone.

Jordan's eyes widened as he struggled against Elijah, desperately trying to loosen the vampire's grip.

"Cockroach," he snarled, his fingers curling tighter around his neck, lifting him up, Jordan's feet no longer touching the ground. "Be still."

"No... no," Jordan squealed pathetically, "what are you?"

Elijah pulled Jordan's face close to his, Jordan's limbs thrashing at his sides, trying to pry away the iron grip on his neck. Elijah gave him a sinister smile, his fangs gleaming in the dim light.

"Death," Elijah whispered, before swiftly snapping his neck.

The blood drained from your face, your head spinning, everything feeling as if it was happening in slow motion. His body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, an unnatural twist to his neck, Jordan's life no longer there.

You felt your heart stop, like someone had thrust a knife through your chest, you almost couldn't breathe. He was dead. Gone. A part of you was happy, euphoric even, he would never touch you again, hit you again, torture you any more. You never felt any pleasure when you were with him, the man was your prison, he had no redeeming qualities and yet, the scars still remained.

Elijah knelt in front of you, pulling off his suit jacket and draping it across your shoulders. Your hands were numb as they slipped through the holes, holding it shut in the front.

"We can't leave him like that," you whispered, staring at Jordan's body, slumped against the brick.

"I'll handle it," Elijah murmured. "Can you stand?"

You nodded, rising on unsteady feet, grateful when he wrapped his arms around you, supporting you as you stumbled. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to his car, quickly setting you down in the passenger seat.

"Do you wish for me to take you home?" Elijah asked gently, seeing that you'd retreated inside of yourself, staring into the distance.

"No." you said hoarsely, resting your head against the glass.

He didn't seem surprised, opening the door, slipping inside and starting the car. His hand rested on your knee, drawing lazy circles on the bare skin, the effect was soothing and you closed your eyes, taking slow steady breaths.

"My home it is, then.”

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

PS: There will be a part four -xo

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vervain3 ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 4: First Cookout

Sarah invites you to Joel's place to celebrate the last night she's in town. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut. Because obviously smut. It's these two, they fuck. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.8k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“And this is going to be your desk,” you smiled, excited but keeping your voice down. Sarah made a quiet squeal back at you. “See, I can see you from my desk so you can make faces at me while I’m dealing with the boring accounts people. I’m manifesting it, I swear I am.” 

“I’m seriously about to make a fucking moodboard if it’ll help,” she sat on the desk, her legs dangling over the edge. “I miss Austin. I didn’t think I’d miss it this much but I really do. Seattle was way more fun when you were there, now all I do is try to convince myself that my job is totally worth the 500 days of rain we get every year.”

You laughed.

“Something tells me it’s not quite that many.” 

“Feels like that many,” she rolled her eyes. “Now please. I need BBQ.” 

You shook your head and laughed before heading to the elevators to go to lunch with your best friend. 

Joel had texted you a warning with his usual good morning text that day. 

“Good morning, Beautiful,” he wrote. “Really miss feeling you right before I fall asleep. Please tell me you’re not busy tomorrow night. Heads up, expect Sarah to drop in on you today. I have to be at a site for a few hours and she mentioned stopping by your office. She’ll probably invite you to the cookout we’re having tonight - up to you if you want to come.” 

You frowned when you read it. “Up to you if you want to come.” What the fuck did that mean? 

“Miss feeling you too,” you added a heart emoji. “Only plans I have for tomorrow night involve you ripping my clothes off.” 

You rapped your nails against your phone, waiting to see if he’d text back before you started getting ready for the day but he didn’t. You sighed. He probably had to be on site early and couldn’t use his phone. 

“Goddammit,” you muttered, putting your face in your pillow and groaning. How were you supposed to navigate this? 

Did Joel want you to come but was trying to keep the pressure off? Did he not want you anywhere near him when Sarah was in town? 

Yes, he’d spent a fair bit of time fucking your brains out over the past few weeks but, in reality, he wasn’t anything to you. He was a guy you’d gone out with once, he wasn’t your boyfriend, he didn’t have to invite you over for anything let alone something that might make him feel uncomfortable because you were friends with his kid. Even though, to you, he felt like so much more than some guy you were fucking. So, so much more. 

And also your best friend’s dad. 

Because fate was a cruel, cruel thing. 

You checked your phone every few minutes as you got ready for work but the messages sat on delivered. You sighed and resisted the urge to text again and just kept checking your phone every few minutes in your office, too. 

“Wouldn’t argue with some help in the clothing removal department,” he wrote. “I’m going to want you naked fast. Requesting something with easy access so I can get inside you ASAP.” 

You smiled and shook your head a little. 

“Still warm enough for a sundress,” you sent a winky face emoji with that and briefly considered going to the bathroom to take a selfie that involved an unprofessional amount of cleavage. 

“Jesus Christ,” he sent back. “Pull me in a restroom wearing one of those and we’re not stopping at you humping my leg.” 

“Counting on it,” you wrote, smiling a little wider before deciding to just bite the bullet. “Did you want me to go tonight? If Sarah asks?” 

“What’s go you smiling so big?” 

You almost jumped out of your skin when you saw Sarah leaning against the doorframe to your office. 

“Good lord, girl, we gotta put a bell on you,” you smiled anyway, being sure to lock your phone before getting up to hug her. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dad had some client issue so I figure I’d come visit my bestie,” she gave you a squeeze before stepping back from you. “Plus I’m dying to see where I’m going to commute to every day once they finally let me come here.” 

Sarah picked the restaurant, a BBQ place that wasn’t far from your office and only offered wooden picnic tables sitting under a rusted metal awning for seating. 

“Oh this is going to be good shit,” you said, taking a deep breath, the smell of smoked meat heavy on the air. “I can tell.” 

“Knew you’d love this place,” she smiled. “Kind of surprised my dad hasn’t taken you here already, actually.” 

You froze for half a second before regaining your composure. 

“We’ve only gone out the one time since the first time we met up,” you shrugged. “Can’t exactly show me the entire city in that time.” 

The two of you got in line, the place starting to get crowded now that it was pushing noon. 

“I know,” she rolled her eyes. “I just really thought you guys would hit it off I guess.” 

Well you’d definitely done that. 

“Does it really bother you that I’m not hitting the town with your dad more?” You asked, teasing. 

“Kind of, actually,” she laughed. “You know those stupid TV episodes they do where the cast of one show goes on another show?” 

“The crossover ones?” You frowned.” 

“Right,” she nodded. The line moved and the two of you stepped forward. “This was like… my real life crossover episode and it just kinda flopped. Like my two favorite characters finally were in the same place and just didn’t have the chemistry for good TV.” 

Yeah, chemistry? Not your issue with Joel. 

“I’ll be sure to lodge your complaint with the writers,” you said dryly. “Tell them to get their shit together.” 

You talked Sarah into ordering the meats you didn’t so you could try at least a bite of everything and you were almost uncomfortably full when you dropped your final wet napkin on the butcher paper covered tray in front of you. 

“Oh, hey, meant to ask you before,” she said, polishing off her Dr. Pepper. “Did you have any plans tonight? My dad caved and is grilling out. My Uncle Tommy is coming over, his wife Maria, a few neighbors who have known me since I was in diapers and who can tell you every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done…” 

“I don’t think they can tell me about the time you got drunk at karaoke night and tried to take the mic from that guy who was making an ass of himself,” you smirked. 

Sarah groaned, throwing her head back and laughing.

“Oh my God, I forgot about that!”

You laughed, too, and took a second to check your phone to see if Joel had gotten back to you. 

He had. 

“Love for you to come,” he wrote. “Just going to be hell keeping my hands to myself all night. But would rather do that than not see you.” 

You smiled a little and put your phone down. 

“Yeah, I’ll come,” you said. “Just tell me what I can bring.” 

You were almost giddy by the time you got home. It’s not like you’d seen Joel every day since you’d met him but the option always felt like it was there. You’d only texted a bit since the phone sex Sunday and it felt like it had been eons since you’d gotten to touch him. You wondered if it would be weird if you gave him a hug when Sarah was there. You could get away with a hug, right? 

You pulled out a few outfit options, trying to find something that would make Joel want to check you out but not look like you were trying to get him to check you out. You pulled the shirts out and hung them on your floor length mirror so they were next to each other when you got an idea. 

You stripped out of your work clothes and changed into your favorite matching bra and panty set, standing in front of the mirror with the shirts still hanging on it, arranging yourself so you could see your body between the clothes. You took a picture. 

“Which shirt for tonight?” You typed, sending the picture to Joel. 

He responded while you were jumping into your jeans, the denim tight on your thighs and hips. 

“You’re cruel, you know that right?” He wrote. “I vote green. Feel like you’ll cause less trouble in the green.” 

The green was a little tamer, you supposed. The v-neck wasn’t quite as low, the eyelet lace softer and almost girlish. You smiled a little. 

“You’re right,” you wrote back. “Black it is.” 

Black was a wrap top, with a deeper v-neck, something that would highlight your curves even more. And give Joel easy access.

“You’re a menace,” he texted. 

“I know :)” 

You got dressed and stopped by HEB on your way over, picking up a dozen bottles of Shiner. You’d had to consciously toe the line of trying without trying too hard and you stomach was in knots as you walked up to his front door. What if your hair or your makeup or your shoes or the tightness of your jeans screamed “I’m fucking the man who lives in this house”? 

But you took a deep breath and rang the doorbell anyway. It didn’t take long for it Sarah to rip it open with a squeal, pulling you inside. 

“I’m so glad you came!” She said, jumping a little as she pulled away from you. “This is going to be so much fun, I promise. See, we’re going to do shit like this all the time when I move down here. We gotta manifest it, girl, I’m telling you. It’s even more fun when it’s summer and people want to swim because getting drunk in a pool that’s not open to every other idiot in your apartment complex is seriously the best pass time.” 

“I can only imagine,” you smiled. “And, I brought beer!” 

You held up the six packs just as Joel went rushing past, on his way to the kitchen. But he doubled back and stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked you up and down from over Sarah’s shoulder. You smirked just a little and he shook his head slightly, smiling. 

“Good to see you,” he said, stepping around Sarah for a somewhat awkward hug. He lowered his voice, his lips next to your ear, speaking so softly you could barely hear him. “Menace.” 

He stepped back and you smiled wider. 

“Good to see you, too.” 

Joel took the beers from your hands and his eyes lingered a little too long on your chest - not that you were arguing. 

“Come on,” Sarah slipped her hand into yours. “I want you to meet everybody!” 

She tugged you along behind her to the backyard, you giving Joel an apologetic smirk over your shoulder, people standing in little clusters around the pool. You spotted Joel’s brother immediately, the resemblance hard to miss. He was standing next to a beautiful woman with braids half way down her back, his arm around her waist. You smiled a little. You remembered dropping Sarah off at the airport when she flew down the year before for her uncle’s wedding. 

“Have fun!” You said, putting her duffle bag on her shoulder as your car sat with the emergency flashers on in the loading zone. 

“Yeah, this is going to be a disaster,” she said. “There’s no way they’re making it down the aisle. I haven’t met Maria but it’s Tommy. He’s jumped from woman to woman since before I was born, the day he settles down is the day hell freezes over.” 

When you picked her up again three days later, she had a different story. 

“So did they actually get hitched?” You asked as she flopped heavily into the passenger seat. 

“Holy shit, they did. She is the only woman on the planet who could actually get him to settle down,” she said. “And by some miracle, she wanted to. No accounting for taste with some people…” 

You laughed and headed to your favorite bar to hear all about it. You hadn’t really expected to ever really meet him except maybe in passing at Sarah’s wedding one day. Now you were meeting him in your - boyfriend’s? Fuck buddy’s? Who knows what’s? - backyard. 

“Tommy, Maria!” Sarah called as the two of you worked your way around the pool. “Got someone for you to meet, she’s new in town and in desperate need of social contacts.” 

She made the introductions and Tommy laughed when he heard your name. 

“The infamous best friend,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “She as bad an influence on you as she was on me?” 

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her eyes. 

“She talked me into grand larceny once,” Tommy said, pointing accusingly at Sarah with the beer bottle in his hand. 

“Did she now?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Oh yes,” he nodded, smiling cheekily. “She was seven and Joel said she couldn’t have all her Halloween candy on Halloween…” 

“A crime, really,” she smiled, grabbing Tommy’s beer and taking a drink before giving it back. 

“And she was so cute, these big eyes and her little princess costume and her hair going in about a million different directions…” 

“Yeah, Dad hadn’t figured out how to handle that yet,” she laughed a little. 

“I caved,” Tommy said. “I put up a valiant fight…” 

“You said yes immediately!” Sarah scoffed. “I barely even had to pout…” 

“She was a monster,” Tommy cut her off. “I was at her mercy, I swear!” 

“And then what happened?” Joel asked, joining your little circle with two beers in hand. He wordlessly pressed one into your palm. You smiled a little at him and he brushed his hand down your spine on his way to putting it in his back pocket. “C’mon, you two partners in crime, finish that story. What happened?” 

“Nothing that bad,” Tommy waved him off. 

“Yeah, it was fine,” Sarah said. “No lasting damage…” 

“For you two maybe,” Joel laughed. “I was the one who was up until 3 in the morning washing all her bedding and scrubbin’ the wall of her room because she projectile vomited three pounds of candy like she was starring in the damn Exorcist.” 

You laughed as Sarah and Tommy both tried to downplay it and Maria just lovingly patted her husband’s shoulder, rolling her eyes. While everyone was distracted, you snuck a look at Joel. Just a second to actually look at his face as he laughed and smiled with his family. It was a little unfair, how good looking he was. Somehow both rugged and soft, handsome and beautiful and you had to resist the urge to reach up and twist your fingers in his slightly unruly curls. You looked back at Sarah before anyone said anything and took a sip of beer. 

Sarah got sidetracked talking with Tommy and you took advantage of it, leaning in to whisper in Joel’s ear. 

“You’re really hot,” you said quietly. “Also, I got you a present, it’s in my purse.” 

“Oh really?” He raised his eyebrows, a devious look on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Not that exciting,” you said. 

“What are you two conspiring about?” Maria asked and you almost flinched as Tommy and Sarah turned their attention to you. 

“Just how to get this one to stop meddlin’,” Joel said smoothly, nodding to his daughter. 

“I do not meddle,” she replied. “I just nudge people in the right direction. Because I’m smarter than them.” 

You got along well with Joel’s brother and sister-in-law. Tommy seemed more like a big brother to Sarah than an uncle, which made sense when they talked about her childhood years. Tommy was six years younger than Joel, just 16 when Sarah came into the world. So while he adored his niece, he wasn’t exactly mature enough to be a parent-like figure. It sounded like he’d helped his brother out a lot but had been more of a friend to Sarah than anything else. 

You liked watching her and Joel with their friends and family, the easy familiarity of it all, the comfort of having history with people. It was something that was missing from your life. 

Sure, you liked your life. You liked it quite a bit, actually. You had a job you enjoyed that paid you good money, you’d lived in some interesting places - Seattle, three years in New York City, an internship in Chicago, even Washington D.C. for a bit - and you could do just about whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. That was the beauty of not having anything to tie you down. The cost just meant not having roots and, sometimes, that hurt. 

Joel disappeared inside at one point and, after taking quick stock of the backyard to make sure no one else was inside with him, you followed. You slipped into the entry and grabbed your purse, pulling out the bag of Fire Sour Patch Kids you’d seen in the candy aisle on your way to grab beer when you stopped at the store earlier that day. 

Joel was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for burger toppings and you climbed on the counter next to the cutting board. He looked up at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide his smile while he shook his head. 

“Meant what I said about you bein’ a menace,” he said, his eyes on the knife. “You’re torture. Beautiful torture but torture.” 

“We aim to please,” you smiled, holding out the candy. He frowned for a second, drying his hands on his jeans, before he laughed and took the bag. “Warned you it wasn’t exciting…” 

“This is great, Beautiful,” he leaned in and kissed you lightly, like it was an automatic thing, as though you did this in his kitchen all the time. “Been wantin’ to try these and then I never buy the damn things….” 

“I’ll help you eat them if they suck,” you smiled. “And you can help me eat them if they don’t.” 

He smiled again and moved in front of you, nudging your legs apart so he was standing between your thighs  and he leaned in and kissed you - really kissed you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, his hands sliding up your legs to your waist as he tugged you closer. You draped your arms over his shoulders and pressed yourself against him and savored his touch. Fuck, you’d missed this. It had only been a few days but it felt like an eternity of him being out of reach and it was almost reassuring to feel the way his hands fit against your body even after some time apart. 

“Fuck, you’re trouble,” he was breathless when he pulled away from you, his hands still on your body. “Just couldn’t wear the green, could ya?” 

“And miss out on this?” You teased, running your fingers through his hair. “Never.” 

Sarah sat between the two of you at dinner, the best spot for you and Joel to be in when you thought about it. Next to you was too much temptation, you’d end up touching each other and then not be able to help yourselves and that was bad. 

Across wasn’t great, either, as you’d discovered at dinner the other night. If you could just check each other out the whole night, that wasn’t the safe way to go. Not to mention the opportunities for playing footsie under the table. 

No no, you needed a better way to keep your hands to yourselves and Sarah was a great barrier for that - both literally and metaphorically - and you managed to get through the meal without any big slip ups. Something you were pretty damn proud of, if you did say so yourself. 

You excused yourself to the bathroom as things were in that easy after dinner conversation stage of the evening, everyone pleasantly full and a little drunk, Sarah laughing with a neighbor from down the street whose name you’d forgotten. But when you opened the bathroom door to head back outside, Joel was there, pushing you back into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Joel!” You hissed, his hands on your waist. 

“You really can’t expect me to wait when you show up lookin’ this damn good,” he growled, boosting you up so you were perched on the edge of the sink. “Everyone’s too busy to even notice we’re gone…” 

His mouth found your neck and your chest as he untied your top, his tongue and teeth ranging over your skin and you couldn’t help but moan at his attention, your body already feeling warm and wanting. Joel stepped back from you a he fully opened your shirt, revealing your body to him as though it were some wondrous thing, moaning as he did. 

“Fuck Beautiful,” his hands trailed up your exposed skin to cup your breasts through your bra. “Ain’t fair how one person can look this damn good…” 

“Had to pull you away from the grill somehow,” you smiled, tugging him back against you and kissing him. He kissed you back, getting more and more desperate as he did. He pulled your breasts free of their cups so he could suck at them and hold them in his large hands, moaning into you. Your hands ran down his body to find his cock hard in his jeans, feeling him through the fabric, desperately wishing you could just rip all his clothes off and get him inside you. 

“Think you can come from just your clit?” He asked, breathless, as he licked and sucked your neck. 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Think you can come from just my hand?” 

“It’d take less than that,” he panted as he opened your jeans and slid his hand inside as best he could, his finger finding your clit quickly. He ghosted over it with his finger, making you squirm and moan. “Fuck, Beautiful, you close already?” 

“Maybe,” you panted as he pressed a little harder against the sensitive nub. You reached down to pull out his cock to start jerking him off but he caught your hand. You whined a little. 

“Not yet,” he kissed back up to your mouth, holding his lips a fraction of an inch away from yours. “Lemme take care of you…” 

He kissed you then, his tongue slipping into you as his finger pressed into your clit. You groaned and rocked your hips on him and you felt him smile against your lips. He started rubbing you in slow, aching circles, adding a little pressure every time around, matching his kiss to the pace of his fingers. You moaned desperately against him and he picked up his pace, working you over until you were gasping into his mouth while you came from his fingers. 

“Fuck,” you panted as Joel slipped his hand from your pants. “How are you so goddamn good at that?” 

“You’re so pretty when you come it’s easy to remember what does it,” he replied, stepping back from you. You slid off the sink but, instead of fixing your bra and closing your shirt, you dropped to your knees and started unzipping his fly. “Baby…” 

“I can be quick,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you freed his cock. You never really got used to hot big he was - thick, heavy, long. But you’d be fine choking on him if it meant making him come. 

You started by licking his head and he let out a shuddering little moan and you smiled a little, lapping at the dripping pre-come at his slit like he was your favorite flavor of ice cream. Which, he kind of was. Heady and masculine and Joel, knowing that he was dripping because of you made you want him even more. 

Instead of taking the more gradual route, you took him into your mouth and throat all at once, having to swallow around the head of him as he pushed past your gag reflex. His hand flew to your head, fingers twisting in your hair and sinking into the thin layer of flesh over your skull. 

“Oh fuck,” he panted. “Oh my fucking god…..” 

You sucked him and moaned, the vibration of your vocal chords working the tip of him as it was lodged in your throat. You pressed your tongue against the thick vein that ran along the underside of him before you started pulling back, his grip on your head relaxing just enough to let you do it. You worked is cock up and down, sucking and licking and taking him into your mouth until you started to cough. He panted and moaned as you worked him until, eventually, he was clinging to the sink to stay upright. 

“Fuck, please Baby, I need to come,” he groaned. You smiled as much as you could when your mouth was full of his thick cock. “Lemme… can I…” 

You looked up at him, eyes wide, as you slid down him so he was buried in your mouth to the root and you hummed your approval. His hands immediately flew to your head and he started fucking into your mouth. You took it, swallowing past your gag reflex with each deep stroke. He didn’t last long, just a few pumps, before he was spilling into you, moaning quietly as he did. You swallowed it all, his cock so deep in your throat you could barely even taste him as he pumped his come into you. 

“Fuck,” he all but collapsed against the sink and you carefully slid his cock from your mouth and got up, wiping your mouth on the back of your wrist. You adjusted your bra and tied your shirt again. 

“Worth it?” You teased. 

“Jesus Christ woman,” he groaned. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

You smiled and kissed his cheek before you went to leave the bathroom but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back against him to kiss you deep and long. You tried to hide your surprise. Other guys you’d been with weren’t huge on kissing you after you went down on them. Joel didn’t seem to mind. But then, Joel just wasn’t like other men. You smiled as you pulled back from him and he laughed a little. 

“What?” You frowned. 

“We made a mess of your makeup,” he jerked his head toward the mirror, tucking his cock back in his pants as you checked your reflection. Your lipstick had smeared and you laughed a little, too. 

“Good thing I have more in my bag,” you said, grabbing a sheet of toilet paper and cleaning up what you could. “See you back out there?” 

“Once I remember how to walk again,” he teased. 

It was sheer luck that Maria came in to use the bathroom as you adjusted your lipstick in the entryway mirror and not a few minutes earlier and you popped a breath mint so you could think about something besides the fact that the last thing in your mouth had been Joel’s cock when you talked with Sarah. 

You left only about an hour later, giving Sarah a long hug as she walked you to your car. 

“I’ll be back again soon for Thanksgiving,” she smiled, squeezing you tight. “Just manifest with me!” 

“I’m manifesting so hard I might break something,” you smiled back, trying to ignore the knot of guilt in your stomach about hiding something so big from her. 

“And seriously,” she said, stepping back from you. “If you need a friend before I get down here…” 

“Call the whole Miller clan,” you smiled. “I got it.” 

“Good,” she said. “We’ll just make a Miller out of you yet.” 

You tried to ignore how your heart skipped a beat at the thought of that. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Joel came straight to your place after dropping Sarah off at the airport the next night. You answered the door in a sundress - as promised - expecting to go to dinner. 

Which, in hindsight, was foolish. 

“Fuck,” you said, looking Joel up and down. He had flowers. He was in a plain, dark t-shirt that was tight around his biceps, his jeans hanging just right on his hips. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Just get in here and let me fuck you,” you said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into your apartment. 

The flowers were quickly abandoned on the breakfast bar in your kitchen as you kissed him, tugging his shirt off and casting it aside before you dragged him to the bedroom. 

“We gotta eat at some point tonight, Baby,” he said between kisses as you shoved him down on the bed. 

“That’s fine,” you panted, stepping out of your panties and casting them aside. “We can do this twice.” 

“Fuck, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, lifting his hips so he could slide his pants down a little and sitting so his back was against your headboard. He started working his cock, already hard in the palm of his hand. You straddled him, the skirt of your dress hiding your dripping pussy and his leaking cock from view. He kept one hand on his cock but the other went to your hips as you lowered yourself toward him until your pussy brushed his thick head. “Oh shit, fuck Beautiful, I need… Fuck, need inside you, I need to be inside you…” 

“I know,” you breathed before sinking onto his cock with a shaking moan. His other hand flew to your waist, too, pulling you down on him so his whole length was sheathed within you. You panted for breath as your body adjusted to the intrusion. “I need you, too.” 

“Fuck,” his head fell back against the headboard. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good every time, s’like I belong in this pussy, like your pussy was made to take this cock.” 

“Made to ride this cock,” you moaned, starting to rise and fall over him with a satisfied groan. Joel somehow hit all the right angles inside you, the thickness of his shaft stretching you deliciously, his head finding the sensitive place deep inside you and pressing against it, making your pussy start to tighten around him. 

“Oh shit,” his grip on you got firmer, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of you. “Want you to come on this cock, Beautiful. Want you to use me to get yourself off, fuck, Baby, make yourself come on my cock…” 

You buried your face in his neck and breathed in his deep, clean, masculine scent and started riding him harder, adjusting your hips so your clit was leaving an obscene, messy streak of your slick up and down his bare stomach. You licked and sucked at his neck as you rode him, fucking down on him hard and fast and grinding your clit against him. As your body tightened, you sat up straighter, pressing your forehead to his own so you could see his face, the liquid heat in you centering around where he was inside you until you came with a desperate moan around him. 

“There we go,” he almost sounded like he was in pain he was so desperate. “Fuck, you come so fuckin’ pretty Baby, so goddamn pretty. Feel so good, coming on my cock, better than anything else, fuck Beautiful, I can’t…” 

Joel took control of your hips then, pumping you up and down his shaft and you tried to help as best you could as you rode out your orgasm. His hips fucked up into you hard and fast until he was emptying himself into you, moaning as he did. 

You collapsed on top of him, panting for breath and he went from holding your hips to wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to him. You stayed like that for a few minutes, your breaths synchronizing as you both came back down from our highs. 

“So,” you said, breathing not quite back to normal yet. “Dinner?” 

He laughed. 

“Dinner.” 

When you fell asleep in Joel’s arms that night, all naked and entwined with him, you were starting to think that you could get used to this. That you wanted to do this all the time, every day. Do all of life’s stupid little things with him, go grocery shopping with him and pay the water bill with him and deal with traffic jams with him. 

You just weren’t sure how to talk about that yet. 

But that was OK. You were getting there, you could tell. 

When Joel kissed you goodbye in the morning, he brushed your hair back from your forehead so he could kiss you there too. 

“Leaving already?” You mumbled. 

“‘Fraid so,” he said softly. “Need to get an early start at the job site. Can I see you tonight?” 

You just hummed in response. He frowned. 

“That’s a yes, I hope,” he said. You nodded and you opened your eyes just enough to see him smile broadly. “I’ll text you. Have a good day, Baby.” 

“You too,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

When you got up an hour later, there was a sticky note on your coffee maker, telling you to check your fridge. Inside was an iced latte from the coffee shop down the street and you smiled so big it was hard to do your makeup as you got ready to go. 

You were still on cloud nine when you were getting ready to take a client to lunch that afternoon, doing a last check of your makeup when you got a call from the reception desk downstairs. 

“Someone’s here for you,” the receptionist sounded skeptical. “I’m not letting him back without you.” 

“No problem,” you laughed. “We’re going off site for lunch, tell him I’ll be down in a minute.” 

You went to the lobby, looking for someone who at least vaguely resembled the headshot from your client’s website when you did a double take. 

The man sitting on the couch in reception smiled when he saw you and your heart sank into your stomach as he headed for you. 

“Hey Angel,” he smiled. 

You couldn’t smile back. 

“Shit.”  

Next Chapter

[evansbby]

BESTIE BESTIES OMGGGG I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING SO DEPRAVED OMGSJSJKSK. Older!Coach!Ari is a famous sports coach/trainer and is training reader on her upcoming badminton match. Basically reader is a typical rich brat and is constantly butting and being bratty with Ari, but deep down all she wants is to be praised and coddled. Ari at first hates her bcs rich girlies are annoying but then once he recognizes that her brattiness is all just an act and that she's actually just a soft hopeless unloved bean irl, he starts coddling her and praising her for playing good badminton. Like calling her a good girl, rubbing her hair, making her eat etc. Plus he's got all these cute nicknames for her.

And the best part!!!! Reader wears these pastel short ass tennis skirts (yk the ones!) and just practices her badminton in them. They're so cute and short that her lil ass is always peeking and every time she bends down to grab the shuttle, Ari can see her pretty pink panties. Ari would just come up behind her and slap her ass or hold her arm and try show her how to throw properly (yk the typical move where guys get behind the girl and teach her how to do something??). She's sooo tiny next to him and so soft and shy and bratty. He'd finger her right there on the practice ground and would scold her for trembling or moaning too much or not throwing the shuttle properly. Or he'd slap her baby cunt when she's being bratty or he'd make her go down on him and go down on her in the showers. He'd do everything but fuck her (plus points if she's a virgin owwww) and reader begs for it alllll the time but he'd always reject until!!! The reader finally wins the competition she was supposed to be trained for and Ari finallyyyy fucks her because she did such a good job. Basically it's just filthy and crazy and adorable. just everything is so rough and depraved but also soft???? Kill me.

This is so long and not coherent at all. I am sorry 😭. SHOULD I WRITE A FIC ON THIS????

Oooh bestie this is so hot! I’m no expert with moodboard, but I put something together 🫣

I can totally imagine beefy dilf tennis coach!Ari, he’s super strict with his students and always seems to be in a bad mood. He doesn’t even train girls because he thinks they don’t belong in the courts, but you’ve decided tennis is your new hobby and your rich dad pays the best coach around (Ari) to teach you… 🤔🤔

And Ari doesn’t even take you seriously, always calling you a “spoilt little girl” and “daddy’s little princess who hasn’t worked a day in her life” 😭 But you’re all sunshine and giggles and so soft and sweet and cute in your pastel tennis dresses and designer racquets and special pink tennis balls! And you’d pout at him like, “Please, sir, I just wanna be as good as you 🥺 won’t you help me?” And dilf!Ari tries to resist because you’re like half his age (🫣) and also bc you’re an annoying privileged brat but he can’t help but cop a feel when he’s trying to teach you how to stand and how to swing and all that. Just his fingers brushing against your butt or the way he grips your hips as he positions you on the court 🫠 and he can’t help but get excited and happy when you do well in practice, although he tries to hide it and keep up his grumpy, disinterested persona.

I can totally imagine you skipping over to sit in his lap during breaks, perched on his knee all innocently while Ari’s eyes practically bug out of his head at how cute you look, your pastel pink tennis skirt flaring up with the wind, the front of your dress all wet bc you’re swigging your water while making eye contact with him as half the bottle drips down your front. And Ari’s so hard because you smell like candy and you’re just so cute and sexy and little but he can’t, so he shoves you off all like, “watch it, little girl. I’m your coach, not one of your boy toys that you play around with.” And you just bat your lashes at him like, “I wouldn’t mind if you played around with me, daddy.”

And Ari just can’t take it anymore, and he drags you into the court changing rooms and pulls you over his knee and gives you a good bare bottom spanking 😳😳😳 “You want to act all slutty on my courts, little miss princess? I’ll show you what happens if you even try.” And he just spanks you till your ass is raw and then he makes you practice doubly hard but he can’t help but notice how submissive and cute you look and how you seem so interested in him and how he could really teach you a lesson or two (not to do with tennis). So he fingers you as a reward for practicing so hard, “And guess what, princess? Daddy can make you feel even better if you keep being good for me.” And you work sooo extra hard in your tennis bc you want to impress your daddy (Ari) 😌😌😌 and bc he promised to make you feel good! And you want to have sex with him soo bad bc you’re a virgin and you’re so ready but Ari won’t 😭😭😭 you’re like, “Please daddy, I’ll play even better in the competition if you fuck me🥺🥺🥺” And he slaps your baby cunt and tells you that daddy knows best and he’ll fuck you when he pleases 😭😭 ALSO THIS IS ALL KEPT A SECRET FROM YOUR FATHER OFC.

And I’ll stop there but bestie you inspired me so much!!! And idek where this all came from!!! I love this cute lil tennis concept you came up with!!! I just couldn’t help but keep writing bahahaha 💕💕💕🫣🫣🫣🌸🌸🌸🥰🥰💞💞

[3lle-l-black]

Season of Love Event @george-weasleys-girl

The lapse (Part 1)

George Weasley x Reader

Moodboard inspired Part 2

Warnings: Use of you/yours, can be read as gn!Reader, the twins and the reader are best friends, swear words, alcohol. English is not my first language

With a lot of effort and the help of your wand, you finally open the door to the twins' place with a heavily drunk George hanging on your shoulder. You enter and head towards the living room, swaying a bit with each step, which is kind of hard to avoid, as George doesn't let you go for a second.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and you showed up at the WWW today to ask the twins for a drink, after working all week, you deserve to relax. You just didn't know you'd have to take a high George home before he could accept another firewhisky drinking contest with Fred.

'Honestly, I believe he can walk on his own; he just wanted to hold someone on the way home. And if I'm really being honest, I'm glad George wants to hold me.'

George was hanging on your shoulder, but he kept resting his chin on your head and pulling you closer, making it difficult to walk to the living room. Not to mention, having him so close like that made you have butterflies in your stomach. "Stop trying to hug me, it's already hard to carry you." – You could see the mischievous glint in George's eyes as he insisted on hugs, a playful smile on his face despite the alcohol's influence.

George hadn't had much to drink, but it was enough for him to become clingy.

"I like to hug you, If you didn't wanna take care of me" – He said, turning around and facing away from the house, hugging you completely, "you would have just let me come home alone, Lady" – As if he hadn't come home just because you asked and on the condition that you took care of him.

"Oh how could I leave a friend behind like this? I have a heart, you know?" – You say in a mocking tone, unable to hold back a laugh. Still hugging him, you push George the rest of the way down the hall, guiding him until his feet meet one of the armchairs in the living room.

I sit in the other armchair and push it next to the one George is in. He watches me for a few second

"I wanna be more than friends"

"Best best friends?"

"Stop joking for once! Bloody hell" – George throws himself back, lying on the armchair like a sulking child denied candy. I break into a laugh. My face lights up with a goofy smile when I look at him. So cute. "I don't want jokes"

"Is that what I heard? George mischief Weasley. Saying no to jokes" – He leans over, reaches my shoulder with his forehead, and tries to form a sentence but only manages angry murmurs. I give a little chuckle as I adjust him to rest his head in a more comfortable position on my shoulder. "Why are you acting like this, idiot? Are you, or the alcohol, talking again?"

Fred told me that they had a tiring week and that today George didn't even stop to eat, maybe that was why the alcohol hit him harder. He takes a deep breath, intertwining our fingers and playing with the knuckles, something he's always done. Stressed? He would do it. Sad? Same. Happy? Just the same.

"Georgie..." – It's my turn to let out a deep breath, trying to muster up the courage to say it out loud, "I wanna be more than..." – A low snore from George interrupt me. Looking aside, I can see him with his eyes closed, wearing a soft expression. I give him an indignant smile.

He slept. Now, seriously?

I'm training to write from the reader's pov but I'm much better at writing as a narrator lol

If you find any errors, please let me know 🧡 Support your creators by reblogging and visit @george-weasleys-girl 's blog

asked to be tag: @bee2906 - bee2906 + @futureweasleywife - futureweasleywife

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

thistle, part two

a/n: that gif in the moodboard was too perfect for me not to use it. I mean just look at it, holy fuck...

summary:  “what do we do?”

warnings: James Potter x reader, royal au, prince!James, servant!reader (lady's maid), forbidden romance, secret relationship, historical au (beginning of the 1920s), references to WW1, surely extremely historically inaccurate but this is just for fun, lovesick!James, crying, grief, kissing

word count: 1633

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“Son, you need to take your new responsibilities seriously.”

Not even caring if his father saw, James rolled his eyes and sighed, “I don’t wanna go to another fucking ball. All the stupid meetings and new lessons are more than enough for me to have to deal with.”

Lowing his voice, the king leaned in and hissed, “you will go to that ball whether you want to or not. That is not your father asking you to, that is an order from your king. You will find yourself a queen come the end of this year, and that’s final.”

“Pa,” James exhaled and uttered of the utmost truth, “I can go to a thousand balls and still not find my queen. I won’t find her there.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, his father spoke, “please don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself attached to that little maid…” using the same tone he would scolding a child that had disappointed him.

Taken aback by his apparent knowledge, “what?”

“Listen,” he placed a heavy hand on James’ heaving shoulder, “I don’t care. It’s fine, you can have her if you want. Having a bit of fun with the help is nothing new. You will be the king of this country, so you can damn well warm your prick wherever you’d like,” the careless words hit James like a bullet to the heart, “you just can’t marry her.”

The next thing James knew, his tight fist collided with his father’s cheekbone in a deafening blow. His rage-filled body not ready to stop at just one, wishing for nothing less than to pummel his face in, the lurking guards were instantly alarmed and held the prince back, preventing him from striking the monarch any further.

Showing no surprise at all, his father simply raised a hand for the guards to release him and huffed through his clenched jaw, “are you quite finished?” earning nothing but a furious twitch from his son, the king then frustratingly went on, “alright, look, these feelings they will pass, just wait it out, or better yet, how long has it been since you’ve had a taste of a proper lady? That’ll sure help you forget about that little whore of yours.”

With a guard still ready on either side of him, James, utterly stunned, merely spat in his father’s face, and fumed, “fuck you.”

James didn’t just walk when you spotted each other from either side of the hallway, but he actually ran towards you, as fast as his feet would let him. Yourself being too aware of the fact that there were other people present, resisted the overpowering urge to let yourself run into your lover's arms as well. 

“Hi,” you exhaled as he closed in on you, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs as he wrapped his arms around you, capturing you in a long yearned-for hug. 

“You’re here,” his shaky voice tickled your hair, “you’re actually here.”

Catching the odd glances offered by the passing help, you whispered, “James, people can see us.” 

“I don’t fucking care,” he hissed, his arms only tightening further around your form. 

Sliding your hand down to one of his, you suggested softly, “come on, let’s go back to your room,” and with an exhausted expression, James agreed and let you guide him along, though still not yielding his hold completely, his hand completely glued to yours.

Now being both in more private quarters, but also in a room with better light than what the dim palace halls offered, you caught sight of the state James’ knuckles were in. “What happened?” you held his bruised hand up and inspected the cracked skin, “are you alright?”

“It’s nothing, love,” he brushed you off, swiftly lowering his injured fist and pulling you with him as he collapsed on the bed.  

“James,” you sighed, wearily sitting beside him, “that is not nothing.”

Exhaling slowly, James stared up into the canopy and uttered, “they know about us.”

Feeling all of the colour rush out of your cheeks, you breathed, “oh…”

“And they basically told me that if I married a proper lady that I could keep on being with you in secret,” the bridge of his nose twitched at the relaying of those words, “keep fucking whomever I please.”

“Oh…” you echoed, letting your head drop down low. If that was truly what it took for you to be with him, if it was the only possible way for you to have each other, then so be it. You’d rather be with him in secret than not at all. 

Glancing up at you, detecting the acceptance clear in your voice, he sat back up and spoke, “I don’t want you to be a secret,” he held your hand tighter, his tone now revealing just how distressed he truly was, “don’t you get it? I love you. I love you and only you,” he spoke as it was the clearest of facts, “I don’t want you to just be some secret, I want you to be my queen!” a single tear rolled down his cheek, “if I’m forced to do this, then I want you at my side. I don’t want this, I’ve never wanted any of this! I want you! That’s all I’ve ever desired. You. Nothing else, just you.”

A couple of tears escaped as you blinked back at the broken man in front of you, “James…”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shared hazily, “this isn’t how things were supposed to be… I was never meant to be king. Thomas was, and he was good at it too, it’s what he was raised to do. I was raised as a plan b. I liked being a plan b. Everything used to be perfect. No one would have cared whom I loved. I’ve always known that I wasn’t as important, and I liked that. It meant that I actually got to live. He didn’t get to, so I did. They sent me to fucking war without a care in the world, and sure, Thomas was a soldier as well, but only in title. He was too fucking precious and important to actually send into battle. I was dispensable, he wasn’t. He was just trying to live for once in his goddamn life and it killed him.”

As the last word escaped his lips, James melted down into you and there you stayed, a minute, two, who knows how long you just stayed right there, holding him in your arms.

“Tell me what to do…” you whispered against his temple, feeling utterly powerless, “I don’t know what to do…”

“Just hold me,” his exhaustion rang clear in his voice, “make the world disappear just for a little bit…”

“I love you,” you whimpered, planting a few gentle pecks into his hair, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Nonsense,” Delilah scoffed, banging her cane lightly against the hardwood floor and stared intensely down at the young couple in front of her, “I will not stand here and have you live your life in secret.”

“But granny,” James sighed beside you, “it’s the only way.”

“No, it isn’t,” she shook her head, her dazzling earrings glistening in the low light. Exhaling slowly, her stern stare locked in on a spot on the rug beneath her feet as she hesitantly shared, “James, your grandfather wasn’t the only man I ever loved. Back when I met him, there was already someone else, someone whom I loved in a way that I never experienced again. He had no title, no money, but I loved him nonetheless. When your grandfather showed his interest in me, the other man got scared, didn’t feel like he was worthy of the love from a great lady. So, because he felt like he couldn’t compete, he made the decision for me and just removed himself from the equation. King Henry was a great man, we made a good team, but he just wasn’t my man. I’ve never stopped regretting that I didn’t fight harder for him,” finally lifting her severe gaze, she pleaded softly, “don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Glancing over at you with glossy eyes, James clutched your hand tightly, a tear rolling down his cheek as you squeezed it in return, “what do we do?”

Having the answer ready on the tip of her tongue, Delilah breathed, “we’ll spread word that you want one last night together alone. Go out into the old barn, leave a few identifiable items, your locket, Y/n, and your watch, darling, and then you are going to burn it down. Make sure to pack as little as you possibly need and go as far away as you can. Hop on a train to France and just keep going after that. Don’t look back. From this day on you will no longer be a prince and a maid, you will be just another newlywed couple moving somewhere else for a fresh start.”

“I don’t think any church in the country would marry us,” you spoke the bitter truth. 

“Darling,” she raised her chin slightly and stated, “I am the former queen of this nation. If I say that you are married, then you are married,” she then promptly took the emerald-encrusted ring off of her slender finger, grabbed your palm and placed it in it, “here,” your wide eyes flickered from the striking band to the glistening eyes of the elderly royal, “your mother would have wanted you to live a bright and vibrant life filled with every colour imaginable,” she spoke as she affectionately wrapped her hand around yours, making your fingers close in around the ring, “don't sulk around in her shadow forever. Go, be happy as far away from here as you can get.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[hoshibait]

a late night analysis of sports by beach bunny and how i associate it with ryoena. heavily inspired by that one anon a while ago and my lovely follower who made me a ryoena moodboard today, to those two, thank you <3

(please note that i’m gonna use my own interpretation of the song, i know it’s commonly associated with complicated and unrequited/ambiguous feelings but if anything i feel like that intensifies my reasoning for associating it with ryoena LMAO. also this is just for fun. don’t take it too seriously unless you wanna use this as a way to get to know my selfship more.)

anyway! onto my gay little ramble.

okay hi, i love overanalyzing things so if anything i’m using this as a way to articulate my ryoena dynamic. to start things off, let’s look over the generally accepted meaning of the song.

i basically take this as a helpless clumsy person chasing after an emotionally closed off person after a few times analyzing the lyrics. and if any of my mutuals know anything about ryoma and ena’s dynamic, that’s basically how i describe them. their whole thing is that ena’s just hopelessly smitten over this closed off stern boy and it’s ambiguous if he even returns such feelings for a while. and if he does, he’s really bad at confronting them. not only complicating things for him, but also frustrating ena in the process. basically i see this song very obviously being from ena’s perspective.

first two lines are self-explanatory if you know anything about ryoma hoshi. ryoma’s very stern and more of a loner right from the start, and ofc noticeably depressed due to trauma and other mental health issues. ena immediately takes interest in him and wants to get to know him. “i could be lonely with you.” could be them wanting to spend time with him regardless of him feeling down a lot. “why do you seem so blue?” can be taken as them still being curious about him and why the way he is.

“why are we so complicated?” is self explanatory, their relationship is odd. i often like to joke about it being “friendship goals!!!” or whatever as a sarcastic thing. although tbf their relationship is very ambiguous even when they’re intimately together. not quite romantic, but very much not platonic either.

“maybe love is overrated” is very interesting to me especially. i’m definitely just looking too much into it but i personally find it PERFECT for ena. and if anything a huge part of their character. ena’s the ultimate relationship counselor. being especially known for being good at tackling romance problems. however the bitter irony being that well, they’re very much on the aromantic spectrum, and that they heavily struggle with own romantic life, or rather lack thereof. as good as they are at handling romantic problems for other people. romance frustrates them beyond relief when it comes to themselves. that’s why it’s so agonizing when they eventually fall for ryoma. not only do they have mushy feelings for someone for the first time, but the person is, very emotionally closed off.

i absolutely love this verse. it’s a simple metaphor but it works so well. sports very much being a metaphor for the “game of love” so to speak. and again, adds onto ena’s characteristic of struggling so much with romance for themselves. “save the games for the girls on the tennis court” can refer to ena’s insecurity and frustration, basically saying “find someone else to toy with.”

and of course, the sports metaphor being perfect due to ena’s crush being a former tennis prodigy, down to the tennis court line, like cmon it’s perfect.

“say you need me, but lately, you feel unsure.” fits ryoma in this universe, so well. LMAO. even when ryoma eventually starts to return those feelings, he’s reluctant due to his fear and paranoia of letting his partner down or losing them immediately. he feels he’s not worth the energy, so he simply pushes people away.

“come on to me, i need more.” is ena’s desperation to just, help this poor guy LMAO. but also just being starved of his affection.

“if you feel broken, promise i won’t break your heart. if you shatter, i won’t let you fall apart.” is self explanatory. it’s ena’s constant reassurance and comfort for the boy. they’re basically a hypeman for him lmao, although they don’t come off too strong. they come to learn that he dislikes it when people are too intense, in a way this kinda instills a new fear into ena. with them accidentally coming off as too avoidant sometimes as a result of not wanting to overwhelm him.

“love’s a word i always hated.” just really reinforces why i associate this song so hard with ena and ryoena as a whole.

again, more of ena’s desperation just turning into frustration. calling ryoma confusing in the process. “if we keep score, bet my money that i’m losing.” i interpret as them being dejected and hopeless about the relationship.

aaaand that’s about it! this is my first time doing something like this so bear with me. hope this wasn’t too cringe lmao. my phone is about to break bc of how long this post is so i’m gonna end it here lol

[callivich]

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[starrylothcat]

Sweet Thing

Wrecker x Female!Reader One-Shot

Summary: Wrecker has a crush on you, a local sweet shop owner. Will he find the courage to ask you out? (maybe…with a little help from Omega) 5700 words

Warnings: None? Fluff, dummies in love. A little spicy make-out and a tiny bit suggestive at the end but nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: So I accidentally deleted the ask like a dumb dumb 🙈 The prompt was “You look so beautiful in this lighting” from @wizardofrozz ! I’ve been wanting to write a Wrecker fic for awhile but I’ve been nervous 😅. I think Omega would totally be a little shit (in a loving little sister way) if she knew one of her brothers had a crush. Shout out to the wonderful @l-lend for helping me with this! Seriously tysm. I hope y’all enjoy. ❤️

Incredible moodboard made by the talented @saradika

The Marauder touched down in Ord Mantell City, the engines powering off as the ramp lowered to the ground, the ship’s durasteel catching the last rays of sunlight as dusk settled over the planet.

Before the ramp had a chance to lower completely, Omega sprinted down the platform, buzzing with excitement. “C’mon, Wrecker! Let’s go!” She turned, seeing him trying to keep up with her, hurrying down the ramp himself.

“Omega, we all need to talk to Cid before you and Wrecker run off. It’s getting late.”

Hunter walked down the ramp, watching as Omega tugged at Wrecker’s armored arm toward the marketplace.

“But we always get treats from her right after a mission! We won’t be gone that long, right Wrecker?” Omega gave Hunter a dewy-eyed look, glancing between him and Wrecker. A look she knew Hunter couldn’t refuse. “Please?”

“Ya, we won’t be gone long! I’m starving, anyway. Those ration bars never hit the spot!” Wrecker agreed, wanting to join Omega. He wasn’t just excited at the prospect of food, though.

Months prior, Wrecker had found your sweet shop by pure happenstance, wandering with Omega in search of Mantell Mix after a mission. They had taken a different route than usual and noticed your humble stand in the mix of the bustling marketplace. Your handmade treats looked irresistible, perfectly placed in your small display case. Impeccably decorated cakes with different colored frostings and glazes, mouth-watering fruit tarts, hand-pies, jelly candies, custards, and other sweet confectioneries.

Your shop became Wrecker and Omega’s new post-job ritual, Mantell Mix quickly a memory of the past. Your treats were amazing, there was no denying that. But Wrecker, surprising himself even, began to look forward to seeing you more than tasting whatever you had cooked up since you last saw one another. You were easy to talk to, kind, talented, not to mention easy on the eyes. Wrecker began taking any opportunity he could to see you when he had downtime between jobs.

Hunter sighed, knowing he couldn’t fight the look on Omega’s (or Wrecker’s) face.

“Okay, just be back at the bar before long. We have a lot to discuss with Cid.” Hunter gave Wrecker a glance, more soft than stern. “I mean it, not too long.” It wasn’t a secret Wrecker had been spending more time at your shop lately. “At least have Omega back before dark. And bring back some jellyfruit cakes while you’re at it.” Even Hunter couldn’t deny your sweets were some of the best he’s ever tasted.

Omega beamed and leaned up toward Wrecker, getting on her tiptoes. She cupped her hand to the side of her mouth as if she wanted to tell him a secret.

“She’s probably waiting to see you, Wrecker!” She giggled, whispering with an impish twinkle in her eyes. Wrecker stuttered for a moment as Hunter raised an eyebrow, hearing Omega’s not-so-quiet statement.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. But he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Wrecker, it has not gone unnoticed that you spend a lot of personal time at that sweet shop. The owner of said shop has more than likely perceived you are not just there to purchase her confections. Though you do purchase a lot.”

Tech walked past, just coming off The Marauder, speaking matter-of-factly, also hearing what Omega had said. He suddenly stopped, looking up from his datapad and over his shoulder, glancing back toward Wrecker.

“More precisely, she may even assume you have what Omega has defined as “a crush.” And perhaps shares that sentiment.”

Wrecker snapped his head toward Tech, completely at a loss for words, thoroughly embarrassed now. He turned to Omega, giving her a desperate look.

“I-I don’t! I just erm…like her sweets is all!”

Echo appeared at his side, who had also just exited the ship, nudging Wrecker with his good hand. “It’s ok, big guy. From what I can tell, I think she likes you, too. So you don’t have much to worry about.”

Echo smirked as he followed Tech, leaving a stuttering Wrecker behind with Omega and Hunter. Am I really that obvious? Wrecker thought, his face feeling like it was on fire. Of course I am.

Hunter chuckled, placing his hand on Wrecker’s shoulder, seeing how flustered he was at his brother’s teasing. “If it means anything, I agree with Echo and Tech. Go see her. But like I said, Omega comes back before dark, okay? And don’t forget those cakes.”

Wrecker shifted on his feet, his heart thudding in his chest. Hunter patted his brother’s large shoulder, giving him a knowing look before following Tech and Echo to Cid’s parlor.

Wrecker groaned, looking down at Omega as their brothers left them standing near the ship.

“Omega! She ‘prolly doesn’t like me like that! What did you tell Tech?”

Wrecker still felt the heat on his face as they started toward your shop. Omega peered up, giving him a sly look. “But you like her, right?” The glint in her eyes was downright diabolical. “And I didn’t tell Tech anything! I just mentioned once you might have a crush on her, that’s all. It’s kind of obvious.” She shrugged.

Wrecker cleared his throat, thinking of your smile, how your eyes light up when you see him in the crowd, or how the sides of your eyes crinkle when you laugh at one of his jokes, a musical note that echoed in his thoughts constantly.

“You’re blushing, Wrecker!” Omega giggled as Wrecker groaned again and rubbed his face with his hands, the heat not fading.

“Fine!” He let out a deep sigh. “I guess I do. I dunno…she’s nice and pretty and…” Wrecker’s shoulders slumped, knowing Omega was on to him. He did have a crush. You were more than just nice and pretty, though.

Wrecker saw how immaculately you decorated your sweets, how careful and gentle your hands were. His hands were steady and careful too, but trained to deal in explosives, things meant to destroy. Your hands created, and he was entranced any time he watched you delicately pipe frosting flowers or stylish Aurebesh characters on cakes and pastries. He really did like you, and not just because you were talented in food-making.

But how could he ever tell you or expect you to be more than friends? He has thought about telling you how he feels, asking you to dinner or something of the sort. But he always hesitated. Your livelihoods were completely different from one another. You probably wanted someone more…normal. He was an outcast clone, not quite knowing what the future held for him and his family. He had resigned to the fact that his crush would stay just that.

Omega peered past Wrecker, who was deep in his thoughts, staring at a colorful flier that was hung up on a post as they continued walking down the marketplace. Omega ran over to what caught her eye, reading what the flier said. Omega’s eyes widened, looking back at Wrecker. “Wrecker! There’s going to be a fireworks show!” She ripped one of the flyers off the post, hurrying back to him, holding it up for him to see. “Look, it says tomorrow night! We should all go, I’ve only seen fireworks in Holonet vids…oh, I can’t wait to tell Hunter!” Omega clutched the flier, staring at the artwork and large letters announcing the event on the paper.

Wrecker snapped out of his thoughts, and couldn’t help but smile at seeing her so happy at the idea, acting like a kid should. “Yeah, big explosions in the sky, right up my alley! It’ll be great! We’ll definitely go!” Wrecker glimpsed down at Omega, who now had that impish twinkle in her eyes again as she did before when talking about you. “You should invite her to go with you!” Her eyes darkened. “You should ask her on a date.”

“Omega…” Wrecker started, feeling heat creep up his neck again.

“Wrecker, I bet it would make her happy! She likes you, I know it. I can tell! Even Tech notices!”

Wrecker rubbed his face again, the thought of asking you to the fireworks show as a date made his heart rate increase. He couldn’t catch a break today, it seemed.

“I dunno, Omega…” She watched as Wrecker’s ears turned red. Omega folded the flier, putting it in her bag. “You’ll never know if she likes you back unless you tell her how you feel! I saw a vid on the Holonet recently where the two characters liked one another but were too afraid to say it and…”

Wrecker stopped walking, kneeling down to Omega, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Look Omega…I know you’re just tryna help but this isn’t a Holonet vid. It’s a little more complicated than that…she’s a good friend and I’ll think about it, kay? I appreciate you looking out for me.” Omega pouted a little, but understood, knowing she was pushing a little hard. Wrecker smiled and ruffled her hair, causing Omega to giggle as he stood back up, continuing toward you.

“But if I did ask her on a date, ya really think she’d say yes?” Wrecker glanced down at Omega as they walked, fixing her now messy hair. “I do, and I think she’d be silly to say no!” Omega grabbed Wrecker’s hand, giving it a squeeze of encouragement. He swallowed, now actually considering this plan. “Like I said, I’ll think about it. Now let’s get going, it’s getting dark and I’m starving!”

—//—

You couldn’t help but glance up every few minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd of Ord Mantell City. You were trying to focus on placing the finishing touches on some meiloorun tarts you planned on selling tomorrow, but every louder-than-usual laugh or tall frame you caught in your peripheral made your heart jump momentarily, your eyes scanning the marketplace. You were hoping it was him. You were always hoping it was him.

You remembered the first time Wrecker and Omega visited your small shop. They had excitedly approached, wanting to try everything.

You were intimidated at first, as Wrecker’s large frame and scarred face loomed over your small stand. But his warm smile and look of pure delight at your homemade goods pushed any nervous thoughts away immediately, especially when you saw how gentle he was with the small girl that accompanied him. They had almost sold you out that day, exclaiming they would be back whenever they could.

You began to expect them often, eager to see both Wrecker and Omega push through the crowd toward your stall. Omega was always excited to tell you about the job they had just returned from, and Wrecker always unabashedly told you how your sweets were better every time he tried them, the best in the Galaxy, even. He even brought his brothers along sometimes, who also couldn’t resist your baked goods.

More and more, Wrecker would linger at your stall whenever he could, talking with you, asking if you needed help moving things, watching you work and asking questions.

You sometimes had Omega help decorate your goods, much to her delight. Wrecker was also a great advertisement, whether he knew it or not, frequently bellowing how tasty your sweets were, which caught the attention of passing patrons. Talking was easy with him, and he made your day brighter, go by faster.

It seemed silly, but Wrecker made you feel special. He seemed genuinely interested in how you made each treat, asking questions about the baking process or what ingredients you used. He especially liked watching you decorate cakes, your steady hands creating beautiful edible patterns without mistake. You felt you could be your authentic self with him, sharing your passion with someone who enthusiastically listened. You couldn’t help but fall for him.

You tried to focus on your tarts, your mind now thoroughly distracted by your secret feelings for Wrecker. You imagined being held in his large arms, cradled against his broad chest as it rumbled with his deep laugh. Oh Maker, I’m in deep, aren’t I? You thought. A tiny, anxiety-ridden voice in the back of your mind you constantly tried to snuff out became louder. Why would he like you like that? He’s a soldier on the run. You’re just…you. Get a hold of yourself. He likes your sweets, that’s all. You sighed, feeling foolish at thinking you and Wrecker could become something other than friends. But before you could let the negative thoughts bother you more, you heard your name, loud and joyful. You looked up, seeing Wrecker towering over the crowd, vigorously waving to you with Omega in tow.

The anxious feeling that had moved to your stomach turned into butterflies at the sight of him. Omega ran up first, her eyes glued to your display of desserts for the day. “Woah Wrecker, we gotta try every single one!”

Wrecker approached next, smiling, his eyes on you instead of the desserts.

“It’s been a while. It’s good to see you.” You said softly as you set the meiloorun tarts to the side, meeting Wrecker’s eyes. Wrecker could feel his face heat up at your gaze.

He noticed a smear of frosting on your forehead, and some powdered sugar in your hair. You were beautiful. “Erm yeah…we uh got caught up with some stuff, we just got back. But it was nothin’ we couldn’t handle!”

“Yeah, we wanted to come see you right away!” Omega’s eyes peeked up at Wrecker, nudging his leg a little with her foot. Wrecker gave her a quick, confused glance.

“I’m glad you’re here, because today I have some new specials!” You pulled out a few sweets from your display shelf. “Spice rolls, savory puffcakes, and zoochberry jelly squares. The jelly squares are a new recipe, let me know what you think! Here, take a sample!” You placed two in your hand, holding them out for them to take.

Wrecker knew he couldn’t deny you, his fingers brushed against yours as he took the small desserts from your hand. Goosebumps ran up your arm as you felt his surprisingly gentle touch against your palm, wondering what it would be like to have your hand fully in his. Wrecker handed one to Omega, both popping the dessert into their mouths.

“Mmmm, it’s delicious!” Omega exclaimed between mouthfuls. Wrecker nodded in agreement. “I know I say this a lot but…it’s your best yet!” Wrecker grinned, his face absolutely lighting up as he complimented your dessert. “Aw, you always say that!” You teased, wiping your hands on your apron.

Wrecker chuckled. “Well, it’s true.” Your heart swelled at his compliment as you fell into familiar conversation, catching up from when you saw one another last. In this case, it had been about a week, since their last job went longer than expected. The sun had now set, Wrecker and Omega still sampling treats and talking as you helped other customers.

It was fully dark now, and Wrecker knew Hunter was probably grumbling about Omega not being back yet. You turned away to start filling a box for them to bring back to their brothers, and Omega nudged Wrecker’s leg with her foot again, slightly nodding her head toward you. Wrecker shook his head, trying to get Omega to drop it, knowing she was bugging him about asking you to the fireworks show.

Wrecker’s stomach dropped as he watched Omega sneakily pull out the fireworks flier from her bag, pointing at it, and then pointing at you. “You should ask her! We gotta go soon!” Omega whispered through her teeth, trying to stay quiet.

Wrecker sighed internally, his belly on fire with anxiousness. He knew this was his chance to ask you. He could face 100 rancors without hesitation, without fear. He already spends time alone with you at your shop. It seemed like a good idea to ask you out tonight, but now that he was here in front of you, he was frozen in his tracks.

“What’s that?’ You asked, turning back to them and seeing Omega holding the flier in her hand.

“Oh, there’s a fireworks show tomorrow!” Omega exclaimed as she excitedly bounced on her toes. “We saw these fliers on our way here.” She held it up for you to see.

You nodded as you filled their box with two of everything, throwing in some extras as a surprise. Omega quickly nudged Wrecker with her foot again, this time a little harder, more like a kick.

Wrecker gave Omega a stern, but pleading look, hoping you hadn’t noticed.

“Are you going to go?” Omega asked sweetly.

“Oh…I’m not sure.” You placed a few more goodies into their box, placing it on your small counter.

You had seen the fliers the previous day, knowing about the event already. You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t imagine you and Wrecker holding hands, watching the fireworks together. You had half an idea to ask Wrecker to go with you, but the thought of rejection quickly shut down that idea in your head. Silly thoughts.

“We are going tomorrow night! You should, too!” Omega looked up at Wrecker, her eyes flicking toward you.

“Oh, I don’t want to impose on you and your brothers. I have some new recipes I want to test out, that’s what I’ll probably be doing tomorrow night.” You closed their box, turning your back to them again momentarily to find something to secure the box shut.

Wrecker knew this was his chance, and knew deep down that Omega was right. If he ever wanted to explore if you and him could be something more, he had to ask you. Omega was just trying to look out for him, though he could do without the kicking. That’s what little sisters are for, right?Even if you said no, at least he could say he tried. Wrecker took a breath, finding some confidence as you were turning back toward them. It was now or never.

“Would you go if…um…you went with me?” Wrecker stuttered out, suddenly fully wishing he could sprout wings and fly away, heights be damned.

You were stunned for a moment, staring at him. Did he just ask me what I think he did? You hope you hadn’t misheard him. Was he asking you on a…date?

Wrecker tried to steady his nerves, waiting for your response, bracing himself for you telling him no. For a man so large, he felt small in this moment, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Your face lit up, your eyes shining. “Wrecker, I’d love to join you.”

Now Wrecker was momentarily stunned, not fully expecting that answer. His mind was trying to process the fact you had said yes. “We can meet here tomorrow, before the show?” You questioned, knowing you were blushing but didn’t care, handing over their large box of sweets.

All Wrecker could do was dumbly nod, his brain short-circuiting. “He’ll be here, don’t worry!” Omega beamed, speaking for Wrecker, taking the box from you, elated at the exchange that had just happened before her.

Wrecker nodded again, finally finding his words. “Yeah…uhh… I’ll meet ya here tomorrow!” A weight had lifted off his chest, noticing your flushed cheeks. You looked even more beautiful than before.

Omega nudged Wrecker, but this time more playfully, her eyes saying “I told you so!”

“Oh, we gotta pay!” Wrecker’s mind was running a mile a minute, finally taking his eyes off you as quickly starting to rummage through his belt pockets to find credits. He felt foolish for almost walking off without paying, especially after just asking you out on a date.

“Oh no, it’s on the house tonight!” You waved your hand, refusing payment.

“Are ya sure, we are getting a lot and you work so hard…” Wrecker started, feeling flustered still trying to find where he put his credits.

“You can pay for my dinner tomorrow, then we’ll call it even.” Your statement made him lose his train of thought once more, letting your words sink in, solidifying the fact that you were indeed going on a date. “Oh…” Was all he could say.

“Does that sound good?” You asked quietly, fidgeting with the hem of your apron, the butterflies in your stomach threatening to explode out.

“Yes, ‘course!” Wrecker grinned, feeling giddy now, still not quite believing that you had agreed to go with him.

Wrecker wanted to stay and talk longer, but knew they had to go. As if Hunter read his mind, Omega’s commlink beeped. “Wrecker, I think we gotta go, Hunter is probably grumpy that we aren’t back yet.” Omega stepped away, talking to Hunter on her device, letting him know they really would be back soon.

Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck. “We gotta go…but I’ll see ya tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course, you shouldn’t keep Hunter waiting any longer for his cakes.” You giggled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Your lips turned into a small smile, and Wrecker wanted nothing more than to taste them and see if they were as sweet as your desserts.

Wrecker gave you a shy wave as he turned, walking away with Omega.

You waved back, watching them disappear into the dark haze of the marketplace, your smile not fading even after they were gone.

“See, Wrecker? I told you she’d say yes!”

Omega seemed satisfied, chomping on a sweet she had taken out of the box, a spring in her step. Wrecker rolled his eyes playfully, this time nudging her with his foot, gently, of course. “Yeah, yeah! And next time, lay off the kicking, ‘kay? But thanks for the encouragement.” Omega giggled, happy for her brother, who himself felt happier than he had in a long time.

—The Next Day—

As promised, Wrecker met you at your shop in the late afternoon, the sun beginning to dip in the sky. You got dinner to go, and any pre-date nerves you both had were gone almost immediately as you walked through the marketplace, making easy conversation.

Wrecker already knew he didn’t want this night to end, his eyes glued to your face, watching every laugh at one of his dumb jokes, every movement of your lips, every light that caught your eye, wondering how he was so lucky to have met someone as incredible as you.

The sun disappeared behind the buildings, and street lights and neon signs of shops that would usually flicker on stayed dark, in anticipation of the fireworks set to start soon. The streets became more crowded as citizens left their homes and businesses to catch a view of the show.

“I guess we need to find a spot to watch the show.” Wrecker realized, looking up at the surrounding buildings that blocked any view of the sky.

“I know a spot.” You lightly touched his arm, gesturing down the road. Wrecker felt your touch, warmth spreading up his arm and to his chest as he looked at your hand and down at you. He wasn’t wearing his armor tonight, just donned in civvies, a thin layer of clothing separating his skin from yours. “C’mon, this way.” You gently tugged, leading him down between some buildings. He followed, your hand falling off his arm and back to your side. Wrecker had half a mind to take your hand in his, but didn’t want to cross any lines.

“There are stairs that lead up to the rooftop right over here. I come up here sometimes when I need a break.” You turned down an alleyway between buildings, starting up a steep set of stairs that led to the roof. Wrecker started up behind you as you led the way. You both got to the roof, and you weren’t lying about the view. You were above most buildings, your view of the sky unobstructed.

“Hm, the city almost looks nice from up here!” Wrecker joked as you sat on a discarded supply crate.

“That’s why I like to come up here. Get above the city, out from the grime for a little while and clear my head.” You patted the space next to you, inviting him to sit. The crate wasn’t that big, so Wrecker sat close to you, your bodies almost touching, the crate shifting under the added weight of Wrecker. He was worried it might break at first, suddenly feeling massive against your small frame almost pressed up against him. But he relaxed, seeing you comfortable with him being so close.

There was a slight hum of electricity in the air, buzzing between the two of you now that the night had come to its zenith.

Was now the time to tell you how he felt? Wrecker was thinking about it all night, waiting for the right moment to tell you how much tonight meant to him, how much you meant to him.

Wrecker’s mind raced, trying to think how to breach the subject without sounding like a creep or ruining everything. You were having the same thoughts, your leg slightly jiggling in anticipation, trying to think of the right thing to say in the now heavy silence. Wrecker opened his mouth to speak, but a large BOOM rang in your ears, the dark rooftop flashing with light, startling you both.

The show had begun.

Both of your attention went to the sky as more fireworks shot up from all over the city, cracking and banging, colors and sparkles filling the skyline. It was dazzling, and Wrecker couldn’t help but grin as the fireworks exploded above. He had never felt so content, sitting here with you, his stomach full for once, and watching explosions fill the sky. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

Wrecker sucked in a breath as one particularly big firework exploded, shimmering in all the colors of the rainbow, lighting the city in different hues, rendering Ord Mantell City almost unrecognizable. But Wrecker wasn’t staring at the fireworks anymore. His eyes were locked on you. Feeling his gaze, you turned your head up toward him, watching as his face desperately searched yours.

The colors reflected in your eyes, haloing over your head as more hues illuminated the darkness around you. You were so radiant, and he was overwhelmed with emotion. “What?” You asked softly, his gaze intensifying. Wrecker’s heart hammered in his chest, wanting to say how amazing you were, how beautiful you were, all the things he thought but never could say out loud. Wrecker let out the breath he was holding. You were waiting.

“You look so beautiful in this lighting, is all.” Wrecker uttered before he could stop himself, the words feeling natural as he spoke what he’s been keeping inside since he first saw you.

Your eyes widened at his soft statement, butterflies dancing in your chest as you watched a deep blush heat up his face.

“You mean that? You think I’m beautiful?” You moved closer to him, reaching out and gently placing your small hand on his much larger one, finally closing the distance between you.

You wanted him to know it was okay, that you wanted nothing more than him.

Maker, you wanted to kiss him.

Wrecker swallowed as he felt your hand on top of his, nodding his head.

“Y-yes…I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…from the second I saw ya…” Wrecker searched your eyes, the colors seeming to swirl around you. You brought a hand up to his face, brushing your fingers across his scars. You couldn’t find words, hoping your touch would be sufficient in relaying your feelings. He leaned into your hand, moving his head down closer to yours. “I care about you a lot, Wrecker.” Your voice shook with emotion, your own feelings now spilling out. “I’ve liked you for a long time…”

Wrecker stopped breathing as your lips were inches from his, your fingers tracing the side of his face. You needed to feel his lips on yours. “I’ve liked you for a long time, too…” Wrecker whispered, his voice low. “Can…can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

That’s all he needed to hear as Wrecker brought his lips to yours in a gentle, sweet kiss. You were surprised by his tenderness, knowing he was holding back, afraid he might hurt you.

With one hand still on his, Wrecker slowly brought his free hand to your shoulder, squeezing gently, wanting to press you impossibly closer to him. Your lips tasted sweeter than any of your desserts. Soft, perfect. Just like you.

The hand you had on the side of his face continued to caress, causing shivers to run down Wrecker’s spine. He’s never been touched so gently before, and he was completely undone as your lips moved together, the city backdrop falling away, the sounds of the fireworks fading.

The kiss deepened as your want for one another ignited like a firework, shooting up into the unknown and exploding with warmth and fervor.

Wrecker brought the hand that was under yours to the back of your head, his fingers twirling in your hair, bringing you closer to him, careful not to hold you too tightly. You gasped slightly into his mouth at his touches, a different type of desire beginning to burn in your belly, wanting more of him, all of him.

You moved your hands to his biceps, gripping the hard muscle under your fingers, kneading and feeling up his arms to his chest, resting your hands there, feeling his pectorals twitch under your fingers. You knew the power that lay beneath, but he was treating you so carefully, you couldn’t help but melt against him. Wrecker let out his own low groan, feeling your tender touch.

You’ve been wanting him like this for so long, you felt like you were floating, hoping this moment would never end.

Finally, you both pulled away to take a breath you both desperately needed, your lips swollen, breathing in one another’s gasps.

“You taste so much sweeter than I imagined. Better than anything I’ve ever tasted.”

Wrecker panted, wanting more. You were all that existed, all that he needed.

“How often did you imagine that?” Your lips were still close to his, and you could hear the longing in his voice.

“Every day.” He wrapped both arms fully around you, catching your mouth with his again, more passionate, more confident.

You smiled against his lips as his tongue tentatively probed at your lower lip. You let him in, pressing yourself fully against his broad chest, your hands moving from his chest to cradle the sides of his face, the kiss intensifying. He groaned at the sensation of your tongue against his, feeling your soft body under his hands, hoping this wasn’t a dream and he’d wake up without you, alone.

Wrecker became more bold, both his large hands moving to slightly squeeze at your waist, moving up your torso, wishing there wasn’t a barrier of clothing between his hands and your skin. He moved his lips to the the side of your mouth, placing sloppy kisses down the the side of your neck, trying to steady his racing heart as he felt your own rapid pulse against his lips. You lightly touched the back of his head, bringing his face up to yours. You both wanted to continue this dance, your bodies and minds on fire, burning brighter than what was still flashing in the sky, but the fireworks show was almost at its end.

Wrecker nuzzled his nose against yours, pressing light kisses to your cheeks, the side of your jaw, and back up to your lips. He didn’t want to stop tasting you.

“I care about ya a lot...” He muttered between kisses, his voice husky, now feeling lighter than air as his feelings were now out, no longer eating him up on the inside. You hummed in agreement, feeling the same way, trying to get your heart rate under control. “I care about you too, Wrecker. You’re special to me, more than you know.” You laid against his chest, feeling safe and secure in his arms. You sat there for a moment, entangled in one another, watching as the finale extravaganza erupted above you, the real world coming back into focus.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight.” You mumbled into his chest as his hands rubbed your back, knowing you had to leave the roof sooner or later, darkness enveloping you as the last firework shimmered out, lights starting to come back on over the city, marking the end of the show.

“Thanks for saying yes. I regret not asking ya sooner…” He chuckled, his deep laugh reverberating in his chest, feeling the vibrations against your entire body as you sat, watching the city glow and come back to life.

“I guess you’ll just have to take me out more often to make up for it.” You glanced up at him, hugging him tighter.

Wrecker grinned, leaning down and giving you a quick, soft kiss. “I plan on it, if you’ll let me. But tonight’s not over yet, do ya want to get dessert?” He mumbled against your lips. “I always have room for seconds, ya know that.”

His eyes flashed with want, emboldened now that he knew you felt the same way as him.

You smirked slightly, feeling Wrecker’s hands wander again up your torso, teasing the bottom of your shirt as yours traced over his neck and down to his back. “We can head back to my place for dessert, if you’d like.” You caught his meaning, wanting nothing more to continue what you had just started. Wrecker grinned, gripping your sides with anticipation.

“Well what are we waiting for!”

You squealed as you were suddenly lifted up with ease, Wrecker carrying you bridal style as he stood up with you in his arms.

“Lead the way.” He rumbled in your ear as he walked you toward the stairs that led off the rooftop.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply at the top of the stairs, your night far from being over. You laughed as he squeezed you tighter, knowing this was the beginning of something wonderful, something sweet.

@wanderer-six I hope you enjoy this Wrecker juice ☺️

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Hi I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Matt tells Frank what he does to you after his patrol, how he spoils you with his tongue, how tight you are and how good your pu$$y tastes. Matt takes Frank to your home and the 3 of you have fun together.

I've put a slightly different spin on this and sorry it's taken so long Nonnie!

|| Vacancy ||

Female reader x Frank Castle x Kingpin!Matt Murdock

w/c: 3200

Tags/warnings: When you want something Matt won't hesitate to give it to you. Two guys one girl, bit of oral, unprotected p in v, p in a, creampie. Thank you to @albatrossandivys for the moodboard! 😘 Teeheehee, this was fun to write!

"You got a good reason why you're so fuckin' late, Red?" Frank grumbles as Matt Murdock strides up to him at the bar.

Matt just smiles, he looks ridiculous in that red suit, matching fucking red-tinted glasses and stupidly quaffed hair. He makes a show of licking his lips.

"Yeah, and I can still taste her." He replies.

Frank shakes his head. "Christ… you planning on sharing the details of your sex life every time we meet?"

Matt shrugs and smirks. "Dunno, you just always seem… interested."

There's a silence for a while before Matt starts up again and Frank reluctantly resigns himself to it.

"Sometimes that's all she wants, my mouth between her thighs all night long. God, she tastes so fucking good Frank, and the sounds she makes…" He bites down on his lip for emphasis.

Frank shifts slightly, something that Matt doesn't miss. He leans in closer to him, his voice low in that fucking growly 'devil of hell's kitchen' way as he keeps on going, knowing how much it's riling Frank up.

"Sometimes she begs, when I'm fucking her, begs for more. You know, your name came up the other night." Matt tells him, so casually Frank wasn't sure he heard him right.

"My name came up?"

"Yeah. When we were fucking." He adds nonchalantly.

"Wh-when you were fucking…" Frank repeats with incredulity. "'course it did."

"Asked her if she thought she'd be able to handle you."

Frank almost chokes on his own spit.

"She acts all sweet and shy but she can't lie to me. Her cunt gripped my cock like a vice when I said your name, Frank. She wants you."

"Uh…"

"And anything my lady wants, you know I do all I can to make certain she gets. If you were to do this for me, I'll owe you one. So what do you say, Castle?"

Frank swallows and absently checks that the safety's on his handgun, his hands urgently in need of something to do. "Murdock, what the hell are you askin' me?"

"God, you can be so fucking dumb sometimes." Matt grins, shaking his head as he takes a sip of the whiskey the barman has put down for him. "Would you please, fuck my wife?"

Frank looks at him blankly and then sighs, staring out the window at the flashing lights and sirens of the night. "Jesus…"

He'd met you briefly a couple of times when Matt had brought him back to his place when he got a little more banged up than usual. You had helped stitch them both up and you tended to like doing it while wearing the skimpiest little outfits.

Frank scratches his stubbled chin while he acts like he's seriously mulling it over. "Is this some entrapment shit or somethin'?"

Matt just grins. "No, it's not. But I will be there of course, 'case you try to steal her away."

"Well alright, if that's what she wants. But if I'm gonna take care of her I'm doin' it my way."

Matt claps him on the back of his shoulder, pleased with his decision. "Attaboy!"

.

You're surprised but not shocked when you open the penthouse door to see Frank standing there in a sharp suit with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand. Matty had told you to dress up for dinner and that he had a gift for you. You just thought that the gift would be a 'thing', not a person, and least of all Matt's friend, the man you admittedly had a bit of a 'thing' for.

"Hey." He says in an adorably gruff way in greeting.

"Frankie." You smile sweetly, accepting the flowers from him. "This is, unexpected… but nice, thank you."

He clears his throat as he's taking you in. You were wearing a beautiful long dress with a plunging neckline and side split, the soft fabric skimming over your curves. "Uh yeah. You look gorgeous."

"Oh Frank, thank you, and I swear I've never seen you looking so…" So fucking good in that suit, you think. The jacket broad at his shoulders and tapering in to his narrow waist, the tailored pants hugging around his huge thighs… You have to restrain yourself from wanting to rip him right out of it in that instant. Instead, you hum as you pop the flowers in an empty vase near the door and take his offered hand. "Shall we?"

He takes you for an Italian meal, it's delicious and in such an intimate setting. Frank is a perfect gentleman throughout, but as the evening goes on you start to let your touches linger on his arm, and under the table, on his thick muscular thighs.

When he doesn't reciprocate you know it's because he's terrified of Matt. You find the whole situation hilarious, the Big Bad Punisher shitting himself because you, the Kingpin's wife wanted to fuck him.

You finally take the initiative and his hand from its resting place on his knee. "You're allowed to touch me, Frank."

He takes a large sip of wine and nods as you lean closer to him, the plump valley of your breasts right in his eyeline.

"So touch me." You purr as you guide his free hand and fingers between your legs to graze the intricate lace of the exquisitely beautiful lingerie set that Matt had bought you especially for tonight.

"Shit." Frank curses under his breath when you spread your legs wider and pull your panties to the side. He can feel your hot wet cunt right on his fingertips, it'd be so fucking easy just to…

"Bella, your dessert. Please enjoy!"

Frank barely stops himself from jolting and flipping the fucking table over as the waiter places your tiramisu down in front of you. You thank him, smiling so sweetly and telling him just how delicious it looks before taking a spoonful and moaning at the taste licking the cream from your lips as you shift your hips forward and the pad of Frank's finger glides over your clit.

The waiter looks pleased. "So glad you find it to your satisfaction!"

You take another bite, urging Frank to keep going. "Mmm, it's soooo good Frankie, would you like a taste?"

His cock has been squeezed tight to the inside of his thigh in these damn pants all night with the way you'd been acting, and now you had him fingering you in a restaurant like it was nothing. It takes every bit of his military training to remain still.

"I'll, uh, get somethin' later, when we get home." he grits out. You were something else.

"Just a lil taste? C'mon Frankie, don't be shy. You can use your fingers…"

Frank can help but relent, swiping his index finger through your slick folds and pushing inside your tight entrance. His cock twitches as you let out a tiny whimper of pleasure as he strokes back and forth before bringing his hand back above the table cloth, gathering a dollop of cream from your plate before he sucks and licks it off along with your juices from his fingers.

"Check please!" He almost yells and you just laugh.

The car journey back to your penthouse was an event itself. You instruct the driver to put up the privacy screen, so you could finally get your manicured hands on Frank's rather sizable package, squeezing and rubbing him through his suit pants so much that he was almost tearing right through them.

"Jesus Christ, Red wasn't screwing around when he told me about you."

"Hmm, or me about you Frankie. I don't know if I can take all of that…" you whine as you cup his bulge, nipping at his scruffy jaw with your teeth.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're gonna be the end of me." He runs his big paw-like hand over your breast, gently squeezing the flesh and running his thumb over the nipple through the fabric of your dress making your breath hitch. "So what's the deal anyways, the hot shot lawyer not doin' it for you anymore?"

"Oh he does it for me enough Frank. A girl just gets a lil greedy sometimes…" you grin and pull him out of the plush town car and into your even plusher building, your mouth on his all the way up in the elevator to where Matt is waiting for you both.

He's reclined on the huge leather couch, tie hanging loose around his neck with a whiskey tumbler in hand as you drag your new toy through the door.

"Hey kids! I know you had fun tonight, I can smell it." He drawls, taking a sip of whiskey before he gets to his feet. "Did you take care of my darling girl, Castle?"

Frank flushes red. "Think she's the one takin' care o' me Murdock."

You pull Frank with you as you wind yourself around Matt, tasting the booze on his lips as you kiss him. "Get my zipper for me, Mister Castle?" You plead, and Matt nods at him before Frank moves to slide the zip of your dress slowly all the way down from your nape to the small of your back. His fingers brush over the thin waistband of your underwear and you hum, shimmying free of your dress and unhooking your bra. The fabric pools down at your feet leaving you naked except for your panties. You turn around and Frank is left drinking you up with his eyes.

"Time for bed I think, don't you?" Matt says, and Frank nods as he watches your hips swing as you walk towards the huge bed on the other side of the room. You slide your knickers down your legs, bending over and giving Frank an eyeful of your bare ass and everything else before kicking off your heels and making yourself comfortable on the bed. Matt's already shirtless and following, snapping his belt free of the loops, his red tie dangling from the fingers of his other hand. "Did you have some dessert?"

Frank's tongue peaks out from between his lips as he catches the faint remainder of your taste. "A little, yeah."

Matt grins twirling the tie. "Such a sweet perfect pussy, could eat her all night long." he muses. "But, sometimes she gets wild, much safer to restrain her."

"Hey!" You huff in mock protest.

Frank slowly unbuttons his jacket, aware that you're watching his every move. "S'that so?" He replies, carefully rolling up his shirt sleeves and prowling towards you. You give him a satisfied smile as you know he's gaining more confidence with you. Matt scootches you up the bed, wrapping the silk tie skillfully around your wrists and knotting it through the bedrail. You squirm and nod, more than ready for what's to come.

"I know how much of a fucking tease she can be. So go ahead, get her back." Matt instructs, and now that Frank's in this situation with the memory of what happened in the restaurant he doesn't think twice, crawling onto the bed, curling his huge hands around your thighs to spread your legs apart.

Rough fingertips trace your soft skin and it makes you shiver, feeling the touch of someone who's not Matt is a definite thrill. You bite down on your lip, chest heaving as your body yearns for him to touch and taste, to play with and penetrate you. All while your Kingpin is happy to sit on the sidelines and conduct the proceedings.

You both moan long and loud as Frank finally dives forward, pulling your hips towards his mouth, his tongue licking you from hole to clit in one strong committed swipe. He holds you firmly and you purr, writhing and bucking your hips as he alternates such soft swirling teasing with fucking his tongue deep in and out of your aching cunt, over and over again. You're so responsive and he feels you strain and pull at your husband's tie holding you captive as he laps at your clit until you can't do anything but beg for his cock.

"Is he that good, baby?" Matt softly questions, "Not better than me surely?"

You can only mewl in answer as Frank rises to that challenge, ending you in a moaning, panting mess as he makes you come on his lips. When he surfaces his mouth and chin is shining, covered with your arousal. Matt sidles up to him, his hand sliding around the back of Frank's thick neck pulling him close as he unashamedly licks the taste of you from his swollen lips. Frank can't think or respond as Matt's dexterous fingers start to unbutton his shirt, so drunk on you. You watch hungrily as he easily flips him onto his back and removes his shoes and pants while he's so distracted. His pupils are blown full and black as Matt's slender fingers trail teasingly down the deep cut lines of his muscles and Frank grunts, jolting as Matt's hand continues down to palm his thick cock through his shorts.

"What the fuck Murdock?"

Matt flashes his teeth in a devilish grin as he gives him a squeeze. "Just curious. Come on big boy, don't keep her waiting."

You're laughing breathlessly at their interactions but the anticipation of what will happen next has you feeling a little nervous too as Frank grunts and turns back around, all of his focus on you.

"Let her loose." He growls, gaze burning right through you.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." You tut at Matt, stealing several hot, wet kisses from him as he untethers you. Then you're free, launching yourself at Frank, taking him by surprise and pinning his massive bulk to the bed. His hands run lightly up your sides, as your own scratch with your nails over his broad pectorals, your mouth quickly following their path, tasting his scarred skin. He hisses as you work your way down his hard body reaching the waistband of his underwear, yanking them down and releasing his heavy cock, the hunger in your eyes unmistakable as they land on it.

You tease with light kisses up his thick length to the tip where you flick out your tongue to taste, and the salty musk of him has your clenching around nothing as he leaks onto your tongue with a rough gasp.

"Yeah, she'll do that to ya." Matt muses as he observes.

You've been slick and ready since the restaurant, to hell with waiting any longer you think, crawling up his muscular form, straddling his hips and grinding your wet pussy along his length so he knows how much you want him and besides, Matty said you could have him after all. When you move back you tilt your pelvis, catching his tip at your entrance and lowering yourself down to force the fat head of his cock inside.

Frank groans and you cry out as you try to keep sinking down on him.

"Fuck baby, take it easy, okay?"

You're so fucking tight and hot and he's barely inside you.

Matt chuckles from his comfortable seat near the bed. "That what you wanted, Princess? Another cock to stuff you full?"

Frank's thumbs circle on your skin as he holds onto your hips, guiding you as you take another inch, you're whimpering as he's splitting you open. You're a fucking dream and his cock throbs as you keep going, you're squeezing him so tightly he has to think about something else, anything else or he's never gonna last.

"Doesn't she feel just sublime, Castle?"

You grab onto his wrist, moving his hand to the juncture of your thighs and encouraging him to pay attention to the already swollen bundle of nerves there, praying that the feeling will relax your body so you can take him all.

"Damn, so fuckin' tight…"

He keeps moving slowly, carefully, smoothing his free hand up your body, caressing you as he's finally buried in you to the hilt.

"Yeah, attagirl, there you go…" Frank soothes, watching your mouth drop open as he pumps his hips up a couple of times. He can't believe his luck.

Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you feel so full already, and when you feel the mattress dip as Matt positions himself behind you and between Frank's legs, you just about lose your mind.

"Are you ready for me now, sweetheart?"

You sob with desperation at Matt's question, whimpering yet again as he teases around the only other place he can go, very gently circling and pushing his already lubricated finger past the tight ring of your ass.

"C'mon, you wanted this. Didn't you baby?" He purrs at you with an edge of sarcasm, and as soon as he feels you relax he adds another digit, loosening you up so you can take the girth of his dick. One hand slides around your neck and the other braces around your waist as he lines himself up and slowly sinks inside you. It burns but he's right, it's everything you want.

"Mm- y-yes Matt!" You cry out at the overwhelming combination of them both, dancing on the threshold of pain and pleasure.

"Yeah, there's my greedy girl. Look at her Frank, cockdrunk already."

You're at the mercy of two men who want nothing more than to satisfy you, stuffed beyond comprehension.

"Move." Matt growls at Frank over your shoulder, clipped moans tumbling from your lips as they both start to fuck you in perfect syncrony. Frank's hands get a firm hold of your hips, your breasts bouncing as he pistons hard up into you. You whine, you plead, you beg, and you don't even know why because they're already giving you everything.

It doesn't take long until Frank can feel your pussy begin to flutter, you're about to come undone, and his balls draw up tight, dripping with your slick as he stuffs himself inside your perfect cunt over and over.

"Goddamn… I'm close sweetheart, real fucking close. W-where d'you want me to-"

"Fill her right up Frank," Matt growls low, "fuck it right into her like the spoiled little cumslut wants." He reaches around and squeezes your nipples hard between his fingers.

You cry pathetically at Matt's filthy words, but he knows that it makes you weak, gets you off.

"Oh sorry, was that too much kitten?" He smirks as he keeps pounding against your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh reminding you that you're his. He's not going to last long either with the way you're taking them.

"Mm! Ohh!"

"Good girl, fuck, yeah, just like that, just-like-that…" Frank suddenly roars as he spills first, thrusting deep in you with a grunt as you squeeze and clench around them, Matt following and groaning loud soon after as you're coming so hard you can't see and your head's completely empty of any thought other than how much you want them both.

As you come back down to earth Matt's breathy voice reaches your ears. "Honey, sweetie, darling, you okay?" you feel the light soothing touch of his hands running over your skin and slowly open your eyes.

"Mmm." You hum, looking up at both men as they're gently cleaning you up.

Matt smiles at you, kisses your forehead and turns to Frank. "You did real good, Castle. Don't think I've ever seen her this wrecked before. I'm thinking maybe you should stick around, help keep my angel satisfied when things get hectic around here."

At your insistence Frank leans down and you kiss him slow, lingering as you drag his bottom lip between your teeth.

"Think you'd want that job Frankie?" You ask him hopefully. "Because it sounds like a vacancy has just opened up."

After what just happened Frank finds it extremely difficult to say no.

[okkotsuus]

OKKOTSUUS' 1,000 MILESTONE !

Link to normal navigation page -> here

The first thing I would like to say is how incredibly grateful I am to be able to share this achievement with you all. Truly, this blog likely would not be here without you all. I've loved writing since I was young and this is my safe space to be able to put it out into the world, even if to just make one person smile. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

Alright, sappiness aside, now let's get to the part you actually care about: the event! Due to the magnitude of this accomplishment to me, it's going to be a long-lasting one, ranging from: July 27th, 2024; to August 30th, 2024. Slightly over one whole month.

The fandoms included in this event are Blue Lock, Jujutsu Kaisen, My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Honkai Star Rail, and Genshin Impact! (Basically my entire masterlist)

The included sections will follow in more detail below, but here is a brief summary: Self-Ship/Oc-Canon drabbles/blurbs, Match-ups, Prompts, Playlists, and Letters. Now, I will explain each of them more comprehensibly.

Self-Ship and/or Oc-Canon Drabbles/Blurbs

If you ship yourself or an oc with a character, please tell me a little about them/yourself! Picrews/Pictures (if comfortable) and a short description of your/your character's personality and I'll be happy to write something about the two of you.

How you first met

How they realized they were in love with you

How they confessed

First date

Domesticity

Just a blurb about you two

Or... Anything you request (within reason)

The only thing I won't do within this section is smut (suggestive is fine) or CanonxCanon. I ask you to chose one character and leave me some way to notify you because the original ask won't be used in the post. Mutuals may request up to three of these blurbs/drabbles.

Match-Ups

The infamous match-up is a staple of fanfiction-writer events, and I just really like doing them to be honest... All I need is some short info about your personality and any of the things you like, a picrew/picture if you feel comfortable.

I ask you to chose up to two fandoms, while mutuals do not have a limit.

You will receive your match-up, a small moodboard of the relationship, and a few little details about it (such as: who's the big spoon, what made them love you, etc).

Prompts

These are pretty straight forwards, you just give me a couple prompts and a character and I spit out a fic for you. I really love @mcflymemes prompts, so I will be using her prompts (chuckles, if you see this I love you).

Fluff -> here

Angst -> here

Suggestive -> here

There's no limit to how many of these you can request, the only thing I ask is that you only use up to three prompts per ask.

Playlists

Send in a character, a fic of mine, or a previously-done match-up to get a 10-track playlist from me! It will be a list of songs including spotify links (because that's what I use).

This will be limited to one per person, regardless if we're mutuals or not, so please choose carefully!

Letters

This is a mutual-exclusive section, please proceed with caution !

I wanted to make this part of the event exclusive for my dear mooties, because they make my time on tumblr feel more whole. Since I tend to have a deeper connection with my mutuals, I feel this is something that I can comfortably offer: a love letter from your favorite character.

It is both mutual-exclusive and limited to one per person.

If you are a new moot, feel free to send a little bit about yourself. But I will also reach out to you if there's anything I am doubtful of in the process.

Your letter will come in both a picture format (with a font that I hc the character to write like) and a plain text version!

Please note that any information shared with me for the purpose of this event, or in any case, will never be published or exposed online without your consent. I take privacy very seriously and will never share images or information that you submit to me with others. :)

Once again, thank you all so, so much. I hope you enjoy what I have prepared, please feel free to share this event with anyone: following is not a requirement for participation.

From, Gray

okkotsuus 24