#tempted to text her and ask her what she thinks of the final

[rboooks]

The Royal Consort Part 2

Danny nervously took a sip out of the coffee mug. The rich liquid, filled with surgery goodness and creamer, helped settle his nerves as he tried to think of what to say.

Across from him sat Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and a man named John Constantine. Besides Danny, Jazz, and his parents sat, though only Jazz seemed unfazed by the situation, staring back at the heroes as if daring them to start a conversation first.

Sometimes he forgot she was the most mentally stable one in the family.

The Dark Knight had said nothing to him since he was brought up to the watch tower, the white lens of his mask staring back at Danny with no hint of emotion behind them.

This contrasts Superman, who had warmly offered them coffee and pie as they were brought into the meeting room. The man of steel had even allowed them all to pick a mug from the gift shop free of charge, smiling warmly when Danny hesitantly asked for a Martian Manhunter theme.

Wonder Woman had given him a courteous bow befitting her status. She seemed eager to sit down and get the peace summit going as soon as possible. It seemed she had prepared various speeches, bills, and other essential documents Danny had yet to understand in his Government Studies class. She offered the young man a warm smile whenever his eyes nervously wandered to her.

John Constantine mainly had remained silent past the few swears under his breath. He fiddled with Danny's necklace- the Royal Consort necklace. How could he have been so stupid to wear that around his neck for so long without realizing what it was? It did explain why that particular necklace had a whole room to be displayed in.

It was in the center, on a lavish pillow, on a pure marble pillar. Surrounding it were six more miniature lockets, each on their own less extravagant pillar and pillow, with similar symbols. The smaller ones almost tempted Danny until he saw that this necklace had white and red, his favorite colors.

The others had been black and red.

He wonders now what the lockets meant and if giving one to Dani had been a mistake. He hadn't had the time to text her, seeing as he had been whisked away by the Justice League as soon as he woke up.

He was escorted out of his home before ten am with news crews tripping over themselves to get a few shots of Ecto-Royalty. They had his house surrounded, flashes and questions coming from all sides as the paparazzi struggled to be the first to get Consort Daniel Fenton to comment for them.

Danny swears Sam had been one of them, laughing silly with Tucker, who had somehow gotten a hold of a prominent news camera. The two had likely thought his secret had been outed and were trying to sneak him away while pretending to be media.

"Come on. Come on," Constantine muttered in frustration, poking a glowing finger into the center of his locket. Each time he did, a soft ding went off in Danny's head, and he fought to not react. He thinks Batman had seen his flinch the first time it happened, but he hadn't said anything about it yet, so Danny hoped he was wrong.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Danny grimaces as the sound replays over and over again before he can't take it anymore and finally speaks up. "Could...could you not do that to my necklace?"

Constantine blinks, then hastily places his locket on the table as if it burned him. "Forgive me, your Majesty. I meant no disrespect."

"It's cool dude. You, ugh, don't have to call me that, by the way. Danny is fine."

The magic-user shakes his head. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but I could not do something so disrespectful. I can switch to Prince Danny, but never Danny. If His Majesty Phantom were to hear me make such a blunder, it could break apart any form of peace. I'm sure you know how much ghost value rules."

Danny thinks of the Yearly Treaty, Walker with his prison, The Observant's court, Clockwork's time frames, and even Far Frozen formal speech. He sighs. "Yeah, Phantom won't care, but his subjects will."

"Exactly."

"Speaking of King Phantom, would he be joining us soon?" Wonder Woman asks. Danny has a moment of panic before Jazz smoothly steps in.

"Phantom and Danny agree to not have him appear if Danny is near our parents." She says, gesturing to their horrified parents.

"What?" Mom looks close to tears, guilt making her face seem much older than Danny has ever thought possible. "Honey, is this true?"

Danny shifts in his seat. "Yes?"

"Oh Honey, why?"

"What are we going to do today, Jack?" Jazz cuts in again in a poor imitation of their mom. She deepens her voice, trying to match Dad's happy-go-lucky tune as she dramatically shakes her fist. "What we do every day, Maddie. Try to capture the ghost boy and rip him molecule by molecule!"

The other heroes make faces, but nothing compares to the devastated expressions on his parents' faces. He almost told them it was okay, that he had forgiven them, but Jazz glanced sharply in his direction and knew it was best not to say anything.

She has often said the only way he could rally heal from all the unintended trauma their parents inflected on them- not just the hunting but slight negligence- was to have them first see exactly what they had done. It would be harsh, but it would be necessary.

"Makes sense" That is all Dad says. He's been so quiet since this morning. Danny is worried about him.

"That explains why he hasn't answered the summons." Constantine sighs. Danny opens his mouth to ask, but Superman beats it to him.

"You were summoning him?"

"Attempting to." Constantine corrects. "Prince Danny's locket has a calling bacon in it. Someone pressing magic against the center alerts King Phantom that his husband wants to speak to him. It's difficult magic too. Anyone with less control or power would be blown to smithers if they attempt it. Or, in Prince Danny's case tapping his finger against it works too since the necklace is for him. "

"Would anyone with the necklace be able to call Phantom then?" Batman finally speaks up. His voice makes Danny jump in his seat. It sounds a lot....darker than he thought a human could make.

"No. The necklace would only work if Prince Danny willingly let someone have it. If someone tried to take it by force, the necklace would transport itself back to King Phantom's lair or Prince Danny's person."

Danny clears his throat. ''Phantom and I have other rules. He can only come to see me if I'm not in school or if one of his subjects is attacking Amity Park. Otherwise, he mostly stays within the Infinity Realms."

Constantine nods as if that makes perfect sense. "The strain on your body must make it difficult to keep your husband here."

Danny nods, then takes another sip.

"If you don't mind me asking. How did you meet King Phantom?" Superman asks.

"I'm....a meta. I can make my eyes glow in the dark and I can turn invisible." Danny blurts, making both his parents gasp. Jazz nods as if it was common knowledge and not something Danny made up on the spot.

Those two abilities have always been more linked to his emotions, so Danny thought if he established a fake meta gene as the cause if he was later caught doing them, no one would bat an eye. The world was watching him now, he needed to be careful. "It's nothing really impressive, but I guess the day I activated it caught his attention."

"How so?"

"Um, well I was playing in my parents' lab when my best friends dared me to go into the portal. I thought it wouldn't work, so I did, but it launched me into the zone as soon I stepped into it. Phantom was this big ice looking thing flying by when I was falling in the zone- they don't really have ground in there. Everything was floating, but I just started falling and screaming since I couldn't fly. He caught me and offered to help me back to my home. The only thing was I didn't know how to go home, which way was up or down, and I didn't know how long I was gone. We tried to fly for a while, but the Infinite Realms always change. By that time, my home portal had moved to who knew where. Phantom took me to his lair to rest, Phantom, since he thought I was a baby ghost because my eyes glowed until I accidentally cut my hand on one of his icicles and bled-"

"You allowed your human blood to fall in his lair!?" Constantine sounds horrified. Oops? Maybe, stealing one of Frost Bites' few human encounter stories wasn't the brightest thing he could have done?

Oh well, he's already so far into the story. "Yeah, he reacted the same way. I freaked and turned myself invisible when he saw my blood."

"Blimey, I knew King Phantom is a protective spirit, but to think he didn't do anything to you once he found out you are a human- a virgin human no less- in his own lair? Benevolent is too little of a word for him."

Yeah, Danny really didn't like the sound of that. Sadly Constantine didn't seem willing to continue that line of conversation, and it would be really suspicious if he asked for more information since he is supposed to be the most informed person here.

After a slight pause, he continues, trying to sound confident. "He helped me get home after a while. Once we found the entrance to Amity Park, he asked if he could come to see me again in the living world. I told him it was fine, but I didn't think he meant it for real. Sam and Tucker- ugh my best friends- said I was only gone for three minutes but I swear it was much longer."

Danny could feel his face heating up. This is so embarrassing to be talking about himself in the third person. He felt so lame.

Jazz gave him an encouraging nod when he peaks at her. At least the others were buying his story.

"The next thing I know, my town is almost overturned by ghosts because, apparently, our passing through the portal stabilized it and established it as a new permanent entrance. I told Phantom, who vowed he keep it safe for me, and yeah, he fumbled a bit in the beginning, but he did a good job. Whenever he needed to fight I had to find somewhere safe to hide, so that I could keep him here, and that's why I missed so much of school and sleep all of freshmen year. His last big fight was against the old king Pariah Dark after the monster took Amity Park into the zone. Once he won, he was crowned and he um gave me this necklace. We've been going ugh, steady since."

The room was silent until Wonder Woman smiles "A most romantic tale Prince Danny."

Ugh, it really was. His face grew even redder as Jazz snorted. "Thank you."

Feeling an intense stare, Danny looks up, only to be met with Batman's emotionless face. "The reason you and King Phantom look exactly alike is that he took your shape, didn't he?"

What.

"That's standard practice." Constantine waves his hand. "Powerful beings that need to anchor themselves to the human realm often take humanoid figures. If King Phantom saw Prince Danny and thought he was the most beautiful person he's ever seen -which is likely since there haven't been any hints of Phantom having any partner before now- he would, of course, make himself look like him. He even copied his parents' hazard suits because he likely thought that would honor them. Am I right, Prince Danny? ."

I could kiss you, English man. Danny thinks gratefully as he nods.

Batman grunts but for a second, Danny thinks he didn't buy it. He doesn't say anything else.

"Well, what about-"

Whatever Wonder Woman was going to say gets cut off by a blur flying into the room. The heroes all spring up into battle positions as the blur rushes Danny. He's about to throw himself before his sister to protect her until the blur slows down.

It's Dani. She's wearing her own necklace too. Shit.

"Are you okay!?" She gasps. "I saw them take you on the TV and came as soon as I could!"

"Who are you?" Superman demands. His clone turns to the other side of the room, hands pose in a fighting stance and the British man gasps.

"Stand down! She's a royal!." He shouts, pointing at her necklace. His blue eyes flicker between the two halfas until they widen dramatically. "Princess, I swear we have done no harm to your father."

Dani tilts her head, momently thrown. "My father?"

"You are wearing the Heir Apparent symbol. I assumed you were made from Prince Danny and King Phantom. I apologize if I am wrong."

"No need. I am made from Danny." Dani smiles, likely unaware that the magic man meant a daughter rather than the correct answer, as in clone.

"I'm a grandmother!?" Mom shouts, and his Dad bursts into tears.

The room descends into chaos.

( Part 1 ) (Part 3)

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 5. first date

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You are left picking up the pieces from the events of the carnival night, in more ways than you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, jealousy, domestic violence and implied SA (nothing descriptive), mental and physical abuse, bar-fight type violence

WC: 6.8K

A/N: This is a tough chapter, please heed the warnings and if anyone thinks I need to add anything, please let me know

Series Masterlist

You stared listlessly at the blades of the ceiling fan swirling above your head as you listened to the town waking up outside your window. It was getting harder and harder to force yourself out of bed, the all too familiar feeling of emptiness weighing you down with each passing day.

It's been almost a week since that night at the carnival. Almost a week since you've seen him. You wished you could remember what his lips felt like, but whenever you thought about that night, all you could see was the look on his face when you finally told him the truth. His hands dropped from your waist like you had burned him. His eyes hardened like you had slapped him. And before you even had a chance to explain, he was gone.

It was a miracle you were able to make it home, tears clouding your vision as you drove down the quiet streets back to your little apartment, all alone. At first, you had tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, but after an hour, you weren't so sure anymore. So, you picked up your phone and called him. You weren't even sure what you would say, but you needed to try to make things right. It didn't end up mattering, anyway. He never answered, which should have been telling for what was to come, but you still persisted.

You called him two more times - once more that night, and again the following morning, but still he ignored your calls. Now, you stared at your phone, looking at the unanswered texts you sent, hoping he would be tempted to respond that way, but there was no such luck.

Please call me back, I want to explain.

I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.

Where are you?

The last text was sent Monday afternoon when he didn't show up at the diner for the first time since you started. Even Betty looked shocked, but you wouldn't tell her what happened. How could you?

The rest of the week was the same. Every day you glanced up at the door, hoping to see his familiar frame walk through, hoping that maybe enough time would have passed for him to give you another chance, but all week he was missing.

You overheard Tommy talking with Maria in the kitchen, asking if she had seen his brother. Was he doing this to make things worse for you? Inevitably, the truth would come out if he kept this up, and you would be left to deal with the onslaught of questions. Was he purposely trying to hurt you?

Little did you know, later that evening you would receive your answer.

It was Friday, and you were on the schedule for the dinner shift. At least you had the luxury of laying in bed, sulking with only your overpowering guilt and the enormous stuffed penguin he won for you to keep you company. You stared at it now, wondering why you didn't shove it in your closet so you wouldn't have to look at it every time you walked into your room. But you knew the answer. You were punishing yourself for being selfish, for being dishonest, for being a horrible person who deserved what she got.

Eventually around noon, you pulled yourself out of bed, hunger getting the best of you and the smells from the pizza place downstairs didn't help matters.

You got a reminder on your calendar that you were supposed to go to book club tomorrow night. Aside from work, you hadn't left your apartment all week. You had to cancel. There was no way you would be able to go through with it. You could barely muster the energy to shower, and the only reason you managed to drag yourself to work was for the money. No longer did you have anything to look forward to now that Joel made his feelings crystal clear with his absence. What little enjoyment you had in this new life was long gone.

Deciding that you should take a short walk to try to clear your head and grab a treat from the coffee shop, you tugged on jeans and a T-shirt before pulling your hair back and grabbing a pair of sunglasses before heading down the stairs. At least with the sunglasses you could avoid eye contact.

Right as you were locking up after yourself, you heard your name. You grimaced but turned around and forced a smile when you saw Hailey approaching with a friendly wave.

"Hey," you said, giving her a small hug when she got closer.

"I haven't seen you all week! Have you been sick or something?"

"Something like that," you mumbled, adjusting your sunglasses.

"I've been trying to catch you, I wanted to show you some pics from last weekend. You were there, right? I thought I saw you tagged in something," Hailey said as she scrolled on her phone, presumably looking for pictures she took from the carnival.

"Tagged?" you repeated, confused. She nodded and held up her phone, showing you the Facebook app. You shook your head and frowned.

"I'm not on Facebook," you said to her. She pursed her lips and swiped through a few images before finally stopping on a video. It was terrible lighting and the sound was awful but you could clearly see the yellow dress you were wearing as you watched Joel play the target game. Even from the shitty video you could see the obvious attraction in your eyes as you gazed at him. A chorus of cheers followed after each pull of the trigger, but your eyes remained glued to Joel's back, frozen in place.

"Isn't this your page?" she asked, clicking on your name and showing you the profile. You took the phone from her with shaky hands, scrolling through the information and pictures listed. It was you. Everything listed was correct, but you never created this page. You wouldn't have been that stupid. Then the realization hit you and your blood ran cold.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and went back to the video, noticing at the top the location was tagged along with you, Joel, and a few other people from town you barely recognized.

"Oh my god," you whispered to yourself.

"What's wrong?"

You handed her the phone back, tears burning the back of your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go," you said, turning back around to fumble with your keys. You raced up the stairs, making sure both doors were double locked before hiding in your bedroom, your phone clutched in your hand as you looked up your fake profile, trying to learn more but you already knew.

Patrick was coming for you.

You were downright terrified to work that night. If he found you, and it was just a matter of time at this point, he most likely would wait until you were alone. He would wait until he could follow you, find out where you lived, and only then would he make his move. The idea of walking home at night seemed like a really bad idea, so even though it was a ten minute walk, you chose instead to drape yourself in an oversized hoodie with sunglasses and jog to your car, glancing nervously around the parking lot for any suspicious vehicles before sliding into the driver's seat.

Anxiously, you checked your mirrors the whole short drive to the diner, but it didn't appear that you were being followed. You knew once you got to work, you would be safe. Being around other people was your only defense. Then you had the weekend off, so you could hide and figure out what to do. All you had to do was get through your shift.

The diner was busy. It was Friday, and the carnival was no longer in town, so people were going back to their regular routines. Many people in town tended to stop by for dinner before the only movie theater in town ran the 7pm showing, so that typically meant a 5:30 rush.

Fortunately, you were busy. It helped keep your mind off everything: Patrick. Joel. The mess you created everywhere you went. It was all pushed to the back of your mind as you ran around the dining room, dropping off food and wiping down tables. You hadn't even noticed the familiar voice talking to Maria at the hostess stand, even though you had been yearning to hear it all week.

You were filling the ice when you heard him somewhere behind you, and you were so relieved you almost cried. Finally, he came back and you could explain to him what happened. He was the sheriff, after all. And you trusted him. If anybody might be able to do something to help you, it was him.

You turned around with a deep breath, then froze at what you saw. Joel was seated at one of the booths, not at the counter like he typically would be, and gazing adoringly across the table at Nikki.

He was on a date.

You thought you were going to be sick. You clutched your stomach and turned away, blinking back the tears but before you could go hide in the back, Maria spotted you.

"Do you mind taking care of Joel? Gina's got too many tables," she asked. You thought you would faint the way all the blood drained from your face. All you could manage to do was nod, and she hurried back to the hostess stand, completely oblivious.

You forced your feet to move, keeping your gaze down as you pulled out your pad of paper and pen with shaky fingers and forcing a weak smile when you approached their table. You weren't sure if his intention was to have you wait on him, or if he just wanted you to see him with another woman, or maybe he didn't care about you at all. But his reaction gave you nothing to work with since he barely spared you a glance when you greeted them. However, Nikki recognized you and gave you a warm smile.

"I don't think I knew you worked here!" she said, and when Joel realized you knew each other, he finally seemed to react. A muscle in his jaw twitched when he dragged his gaze up to look between the two of you, no playfulness or warmth to be found in his eyes. You swallowed and tried to focus on your job, ignoring Joel as best you could, but Nikki spoke before you could even get the specials out.

"We know each other from book club," she explained to him before turning back to you. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Oh, um, no I don't think so," you said nervously, feeling Joel's eyes burning a hole in the side of your head.

"Oh, that's a shame! We had such a fun time last month," she said with a giggle. You had to admit, they made a good match. She was beautiful and seemed very nice. You should be happy for them both, but you knew the moment you got home, you would collapse into tears.

"You should go," Joel said gruffly, and it took all the strength you had to make yourself look at him. He no longer gave you the same look he used to, and it broke your heart. He looked at you like a stranger, like he barely even knew you. It felt more painful than anything Patrick ever did.

"Maybe I will," you said, tearing your eyes away from him. Before Nikki could say anything else, you rambled off the specials, your mind on autopilot. You ripped a hole in your paper with your pen when you saw out of the corner of your eye Nikki link her fingers with his across the table. You mumbled something about being right back and hurried off, tears welling up in your eyes.

This was too cruel. You endured a lot in your time, but this? This was too much.

As you filled up their drinks and flicked away a stray tear from the corner of your eye, you heard Joel's voice clear his throat behind you at the counter. You turned around, drinks in hand. He was leaning over the counter, trying to stay hidden from sight.

"I didn't mean for -"

"It's fine," you said coldly, staring him down. He blinked at you, and for the first time you saw a shred of guilt pass over his features. When he didn't say anything else, you shifted your weight and glanced over his shoulder at Nikki.

"You better go. Your date's looking for you."

His gaze fell and he pinched the bridge of his nose, about to say something else but you didn't let him. You could only take so much. By the time he looked back up, you were halfway across the dining room, setting down their drinks and giving your attention to your other tables.

You drove home that night with hot tears finally trailing down your cheeks, your mind completely fixated now on Joel and Nikki. It hurt how he moved on so quickly. Maybe you misread him. Maybe he was just looking for a conquest and nothing more. What else would possibly explain it? For the first time, you wondered if you were the one better off after all.

Would he kiss her goodnight? Would they have sex?

Did they already have sex?

You parked your car and hunched over the steering wheel, letting the tears flow freely now that you were home and no one was around.

A sharp rap on your window pulled you out of your misery, making you jump. You wiped your cheeks before turning to look, your eyes widening and your heart immediately getting stuck in your throat.

Patrick just shook his head in disappointment, then beckoned you out of the car with his index finger. With a shaky hand, you reached for the door handle and swung it open, sliding out of the seat and taking a deep breath. Just when you thought the day couldn't get any worse.

"When are you gonna learn I'm never gonna give up on us, babe?"

After he left, you laid there in your bed, staring up at the fan swirling above you once again and the smell of that fucking cologne permeating your sheets. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. You couldn't help but think you brought this on yourself. Maybe if you didn't go to that fucking carnival in the first place, none of this would have happened. Joel wouldn't be icing you out, Patrick wouldn't have found you, and you wouldn't be cleaning up the mess he left between your legs while you sobbed over the bathroom sink. Every time this happened you were eternally grateful for your oldest cousin back home who took you to get birth control at the local clinic behind your husband's back. If not for her, who knows how much worse things would be.

But here you were, finding yourself slipping right back into the same situation you were trying to escape. This time, he promised to go to AA and NA. He promised he would try to get better. Part of you wanted to believe him, because what other choice did you have? He would always find you. And it was encouraging he didn't insist on staying with you at your apartment, nor did he hit you. This time.

Just as you were contemplating whether or not to flee again, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You sighed and made your way over, your body and mind exhausted, the events of the day catching up with you. You lifted your phone up and froze. Blinking a few times, you sunk down into your mattress and opened up the message.

Joel: I'm sorry about earlier

You sniffled and stared at your phone, having no idea what to say. Had he just texted you the day before, or even that morning, maybe things would have been different. You decided to ignore it for now, turning your phone on silent before crawling under the covers and trying to block out the smell.

After a fitful night's sleep, the next morning you eagerly checked your phone, hoping for another text from Joel, but you only had one from Hailey. Disappointed, you opened it up, reading her message about book club that night and who was hosting. You reluctantly agreed to go at the last minute, figuring you would at least be around people for a little while, meaning you would be safe. Besides, you wouldn't be able to avoid Nikki forever. The town was too small and you were sure everyone was already buzzing about their date last night.

You swiped back to your message with Joel, staring at the words again, wondering if you should respond. What if he wasn't alone? What if Nikki spent the night with him? You put your phone down, choosing once and for all not to reply before burying yourself under the covers again.

Going to the book club meeting was a mistake. You politely declined a glass of wine, and you regretted it about twenty minutes in when Nikki began telling the whole group about her date with Joel.

You sat there, listening to every word, each one like a stab to the heart while she told all the ladies about how chivalrous he was when he picked her up, what they talked about, what movie they saw. Every minute bringing you closer and closer to tears.

That could have been you if you had just been honest with him, or maybe just stood up for yourself once in a while instead of letting Patrick steamroll you every chance he got for the past five years.

A couple women glanced your way as Nikki spoke. You had to imagine some people saw you together at the carnival. Towards the end of the night, the heat between you was palpable, but you were pretty certain nobody saw you kiss. You did your best to look indifferent, to act like Joel was just a friend and there were no feelings there, but it was hard. At one point, Hailey asked if you were okay and you had to lie about having a headache, hoping it would explain your quiet behavior.

"It was a little strange at the end of the night, though," Nikki said, finally wrapping up her story.

"How so?" one of the older ladies asked, and you could see the flush creeping up her neck before she even spoke.

"Well, he didn't seem to take my hint about coming inside for coffee when he dropped me off. Or maybe he just didn't want to..." she said, trailing off.

"Oh please, who wouldn't want to," Hailey chimed in, making Nikki giggle. "He's probably just so rusty he wouldn't know it unless you made him a big neon sign that said 'Joel, sleep with me'."

That caused a ripple of laughter amongst the women and you took a steadying breath, already planning on announcing you needed to leave early due to your fake headache when Nikki added one more piece of interesting information.

"Yeah, maybe. But even saying good night, it felt like he didn't really want to kiss me."

"But you did kiss?" another woman asked, and she nodded.

"It was... not what I expected," she admitted, pink dusting her cheeks as she took another sip of wine for courage.

"What do you mean?" Hailey asked, and you silently thanked her for being so nosy so you didn't have to ask the same questions that kept popping up in your head.

"I don't know, I thought he would be a better kisser. It was very... boring. Like, there was no passion or excitement."

All the other women murmured to themselves in shock while you remained perfectly silent. That was most definitely not the experience you had kissing Joel.

Fortunately, they moved on from the topic of Joel shortly thereafter, and you decided to force yourself to stay until the end. Given how horrible the whole week had been, you allowed yourself to feel a little bit of hope after Nikki's comment.

He didn't want to kiss her. Maybe you could still figure out a way to fix this.

Joel groaned as he rolled over in bed and snatched his phone off the charger, glaring at the device and mentally cursing whoever texted him so fucking early on a Sunday. Then his sleep addled brain jolted awake and his heart skipped a beat, wondering if your name was going to pop up on his phone again, but he was met with instant disappointment when he saw Nikki's name instead.

That couldn't be a good sign.

He should be happy to see that Nikki texted him. Deciding to blame it on the early hour and nothing more, he moved past it and set his phone back down to read the message later. He closed his eyes and sighed. Now that he was awake, all of the turmoil from the past week came rushing back to him, always plaguing his every waking moment.

He hadn't realized how much you were hurting until he finally saw you at the diner that night. It was one of his biggest regrets, taking Nikki there. He knew what he was doing, but he did it anyway, and it hurt you. But you didn't deserve that. Even though you nearly shattered his world with your secret, you still didn't deserve it.

His intention was to try to prove he wasn't as hung up on you as he really was. That it was fine that you were married. That he could move on.

It was a little cruel to go right to Nikki. He knew she had feelings for him, and he took advantage of it, all to prove he was over you. And it wasn't even true. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And now he was going to end up hurting two women, just to protect his ego.

So he decided he would try to make it work with Nikki. She was a pretty girl, she was nice and kind. Maybe, in time, he could develop real feelings for her. But when she kissed him the other night, he felt absolutely nothing. Not like what he felt when he kissed you. And that worried him.

If he knew now what he would be missing out on, could he really be happy with someone who didn't give him a fraction of what he felt with you?

He wished more than ever that he didn't let his emotions get the best of him that night. Maybe you had a reasonable explanation. He couldn't fathom what that could be, but he should have at least heard you out. You wouldn't have intentionally hurt him. In fact, you tried to tell him, in your own way. You constantly pushed him away, kept him at arms length, but he just kept coming back for more. Was it even your fault? Did he pressure you so much that you were forced to share something you weren't ready to share?

Letting his desperation win, he picked up his phone again and checked to see if you maybe texted him back in the last five minutes. When he quickly determined you didn't, he opened up Facebook. Maybe you replied to his private message on there.

Joel didn't get nervous often. He had a steady hand, a level head, and had a knack for seeing two steps ahead. He typically had a calming presence, which fit well for his job when he was able to de-escalate situations naturally and with ease.

But today, he was nervous.

For whatever reason, you didn't respond to his text message the other night, but you did decide to respond to the Facebook message he sent at an ungodly hour in the hopes he could get through to you some other way. And by some miracle, it worked.

You had agreed to meet him for coffee and talk. It was unexpected, he thought he would have to try harder, but you were very agreeable to seeing him.

He wasn't sure what he would say exactly, but he knew he wanted to apologize sincerely and give you the opportunity to explain your situation. If not to get some closure, then to at least make going back to the diner less uncomfortable.

He took a deep breath as he raked his fingers through his hair and swung open the door of the coffee shop. He glanced around the room before his eyes fell on you: hunched over and staring down at a small cup of coffee on the table in front of you.

He took a step forward, then stopped when he saw a man with a buzz cut and a beard sit down across from you. Joel didn't recognize him and he was fairly certain he could recognize just about anybody in town at this point. Something about the way you glanced up at the man across from you set his teeth on edge. You didn't smile. You didn't laugh. You looked pale and your eyes looked tired. He watched as the two of you exchanged a few words, and based on the man's body language, the mood was tense. Then suddenly, he reached his arm out across the table to grab your wrist and you jumped, fear flickering across your face. Even from this distance, Joel could see the whites of the man's knuckles as he squeezed your delicate skin under his firm grip.

Joel's nostrils flared and his jaw clenched and before he knew it, he was marching over to your table. Your eyes flicked up when you noticed him, looking like you had seen a ghost. Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you sat back in your chair. The man you were with noticed your reaction and finally loosened his grip, and you immediately tucked your hands on your lap underneath the table. He turned around and looked up with a scowl just as Joel approached.

"Everythin' alright here?" Joel asked, staring at you. You opened your mouth to reply, but the man across from you stood up, cutting you off.

"Everything's just great, Joel," he said with a sneer. Joel tore his eyes away from you to regard the man you were with. He looked him up and down, sizing him up, before answering.

"Sorry, have we met?"

"In a way," he said, crossing his muscular arms across his chest. Joel glanced at you again, but you were just staring down at your coffee cup, refusing to look at either of them.

"Don't look at her, look at me," he said, and Joel's head snapped back around with a glare.

"Excuse me?"

That was when Joel smelled the man's cologne. The same one Sarah bought for him. The same one you told him you were sensitive to. The wheels began turning in his head as he tried to put the pieces together.

"Patrick," you said quietly, trying to calm them both down when you felt other customers giving you curious looks.

"Shut up," he growled at you, still staring at Joel. Joel stiffened, the anger building low in his stomach, but he fought to keep a clear head.

"Hey, take it easy," Joel tried to interject, but Patrick scoffed. As his anger began to rise, Joel could see his neck splotching with red and veins popping out under his reddened skin.

"Don't stand there and act like you haven't been fucking my wife!" Patrick all but shouted, pulling the attention of everyone in the coffee shop now. Joel balked and took a step back.

"You've got it all wrong, we've never-"

"Patrick, I'm not sleeping with him, get a grip!" you snapped, finally standing up from the table.

"The hell you aren't. Why's he sending you messages in the middle of the night on Facebook saying he misses you and he's sorry and he needs to see you?" Patrick asked, turning on you now.

Your jaw dropped and your cheeks flushed pink, your surprised gaze bouncing between the two men and that was when Joel figured it out. Patrick lured him there to cause a fight, and you looked to be completely in the dark.

Joel glanced around nervously at all the onlookers now, murmuring amongst themselves, gossip he was sure would spread to the ends of town before noon.

"Listen, why don't we go outside and calm down. I can explain, it's not what it looks like," Joel said, lowering his voice.

"I'm staying right here," Patrick said, sitting back down in his chair and jutting his chin out with a glare. He seemed hellbent on doing this his way, and Joel was not in the mood.

"You're disturbin' the peace. These people are tryin' to enjoy their mornin' here. Either come outside with me, or we can do this a different way," Joel replied, pulling the hem of his shirt up to flash the gold star on his belt. Patrick laughed, then leaned over to grab his wallet out of his back pocket, showing Joel his own badge.

"Philly PD. 9th precinct. Wanna try that again, sheriff?"

That bit of information stunned Joel, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Hell, honey, at least you got a type," Patrick muttered to you, putting his wallet away. You grimaced and dropped your head between your shoulders, looking defeated.

"Either way, I gotta ask you to leave," Joel said, standing his ground. He could see the flush rising up Patrick's neck again, his fingers curling into a fist on the table before you stepped to stand between the two men.

"C'mon, Patrick. Let's go," you urged, holding your hand out shakily. Patrick slowly turned his head to look up at you. There was no love in his eyes. No affection or care. All Joel could see was raw anger.

"Why don't you come down to the station with me. We can talk this out, hm?" Joel asked him calmly, not feeling comfortable letting you leave with this man. You turned your head to the side, your eyes unable or unwilling to meet his.

"I got it, Joel. I'm sorry," you said softly over your shoulder.

Joel watched Patrick stand up and mock you under his breath before snatching your hand and pulling you roughly to his side, leading you out the front door. He was scrambling to find another reason to keep you from walking out of there, but he was too late. The pair of you were already halfway down the block by the time Joel was able to gather himself and walk out the door.

He stood on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips, watching as Patrick nearly dragged you up the street. You managed to turn your head once to look at him, your eyes wide and filled with worry before you turned the corner, disappearing from sight.

Nikki was talking his ear off, all bubbly and excited as she led Joel into one of the few bars in town. A blind man could see she was trying too hard. She was the one who came up with the idea of drinks, turning down dinner beforehand, and wearing one of the shorter dresses he's seen on a woman in a long time.

He realized about half an hour into the night it must have been a real blow to her self esteem when he turned her down after their first date because she was hanging all over him, pushing her chest against him every chance she could and even encouraged him to do a shot with her. He entertained the idea once but stopped her after that. He wasn't lying when he told you he wasn't much of a drinker, and he certainly wasn't interested in having meaningless, sloppy sex with Nikki, so he tried to slow her down and distract her.

"C'mon, why don't we order you somethin' to eat?" Joel said, flagging down the bartender for a menu, but Nikki shook her head and pouted.

"I'm hungry, but not for food, Joel," she whispered in his ear, then brazenly slid her hand over his thigh to try to cup him over his jeans. His hand shot down and grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doin'?" he asked with a nervous chuckle, and she groaned, pulling her hand back to wrap her arms around his shoulders instead.

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied, leaning forward to nibble on his ear. He made a face and untangled her arms from around him, pulling her back to her own stool.

"Listen, Nikki-"

A roar of laughter and some broken glass from the other side of the crowded bar caught Joel's attention. It was a Sunday night, but it was busy. There was a big football game on above the bar and it seemed to pull in all the men in town that evening. It was no wonder Joel didn't notice Patrick until that point.

He watched him through the throngs of bodies as he stumbled around the pool table with a couple other younger men from town. He looked like he was wasted: his eyes were bloodshot, his pupils blown wide, and his face was bright pink. Nikki followed Joel's gaze and turned back to him, confused.

"Who's that?" she asked, but Joel ignored her and instead waved down the bartender again.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked, wiping his hands with a worn out rag.

"What's goin' on over there, Hank?" Joel asked, nodding in Patrick's direction, watching as he grabbed the ass of a blonde girl heading to the bathroom.

"He's been here for hours," Hank said, leaning across the bar to keep his voice as low as possible. "I started waterin' down his drinks around 5, but he keeps gettin' worse and worse. Told one of his friends there to take him outside, I think he's too far gone and won't take kindly to me askin' him to leave."

Joel nodded and continued to watch. His skin looked red and his hair looked damp with sweat.

"What's wrong?" Nikki purred in his ear, trying to get his attention back on her, but he shook his head.

"Somethin' ain't right," he mumbled.

"I think he's married to that new waitress at the diner," Hank continued. Nikki sat back in her seat and said your name, her eyes beginning to clear. Hank snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"Yep, that's the one. Was sayin' some real god awful stuff earlier 'bout her to those guys. Now you know I hear my fair share of bawdy talk 'round here, but this was enough to even make me blush."

Joel cursed under his breath and stood up from his stool. Nikki grabbed his arm and frowned.

"Where are you going?"

"Just gonna have a talk with him," Joel said, shrugging her hand off as he pushed his way through the crowd. As Joel approached the pool table, Patrick's drunken gaze fell on him and he smirked.

"Well, look who it is boys," Patrick said, his voice too loud as he stumbled to lean against the wall. "If it ain't the sheriff of this here wild west." Patrick laughed at his own joke, but the other three men he was with quieted down when they saw Joel.

"I think you oughta head home. Seems like you've had enough this evenin'," Joel said, his voice steady.

"I don't think I like you telling me what to do," Patrick said, his smile slipping as he pushed off the wall and took a few steps forward. One of the younger men that was playing pool with Patrick set his cue down on the table and spoke up.

"Hey man, let's just head out - "

"Shut the fuck up, I'll handle this asshole," Patrick turned and yelled, causing the whole bar to go quiet. Joel took a deep breath and reached behind him for his handcuffs.

"I don't fucking think so," Patrick said, his eyes locked on Joel's hand, but Joel just shook his head.

"You ain't givin' me much of a choice," he replied, but before he could blink, Patrick reared back and swung, his meaty fist coming in direct contact with Joel's chest, momentarily knocking the air out of his lungs. Luckily, Patrick was too drunk and missed Joel's face. But Joel was still relatively sober, and therefore much quicker. He lunged forward and clocked Patrick right in the nose, making him stumble backwards clutching his face with a pained howl.

People scattered out of the way, some men calling out to Patrick, telling him to stop, but most were just encouraging the fight with drunken excitement.

Once Patrick got his bearings, he ran forward at full speed, aiming to knock Joel down to the ground but he dodged him with ease and instead sent him flying head first into an empty table. He rolled over with a groan, blood trickling from his nose, a bright purple bruise already forming under his eye.

Joel leaned over him with a grin.

"You done?"

Patrick just groaned again, his hands coming up to rub his head. Joel took the opportunity to snatch his wrist and twist him around on the floor. Pressing his knee into Patrick's back, he pulled his other arm around and handcuffed him before pulling out his cell and dialing the number for the station.

Once Joel loaded Patrick into the back of Bobby's cruiser, telling his deputy to book him and he would deal with it in the morning, the rest of the bar went back to watching the football game, the excitement now over and done with. Joel scanned around and found Nikki seated exactly where he left her, but she looked less than pleased. He sighed and pushed his way through the crowd, back to his date.

"Hey, sorry 'bout -"

"I think I'm ready to leave, Joel," she said curtly, standing up and snatching her purse from the bar.

"Alright," he said. He led her outside and was heading to his truck when she stopped in front of a waiting car. He turned to look at her, confused.

"I asked a friend to come get me," she explained, and Joel slowly nodded.

"Hey, I'm sorry 'bout tonight, but sometimes the job just gets in the way."

"Was it the job, Joel? Or was it her?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He paused, unsure what to say as he averted his gaze. She looked down at her feet and took a breath before bringing her eyes back up to him.

"This isn't going to work out, is it?" she asked softly. Joel forced himself to look at her again and after a moment, shook his head. He could see the tears welling up in her eyes and he immediately felt guilty. He took a step forward but she sniffled and stepped further away.

"I don't know why I couldn't see it. The whole fucking town sees it. Even after what happened at the coffee shop this morning... I just hoped..." she trailed off and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and he truly meant it. He didn't want to hurt her and he felt like shit that it had to come down to this.

"It's fine. I'll get over it," she said, trying to sound strong before turning to her friend's car and sliding into the front seat. He almost reached out, almost asked her to stay, but he stopped because it would have been cruel and selfish. He was only looking to assuage his own guilt. Instead, he watched the car back up and leave the parking lot, a pit growing in his stomach now that he was alone.

He knew it was the right thing to do, that he had to be honest with Nikki. At least he didn't lead her on, and he hoped he didn't hurt her feelings too badly, but he still felt like an asshole.

Then his thoughts drifted to you. What happened today after the coffee shop? Even though the guy was an asshole, it didn't change the fact you were married and he couldn't have you. What was he supposed to do? Pine away for you his whole life? Would he really ever be content with just being your friend?

And what the hell was he going to do with Patrick? He could charge him with assaulting an officer, that should keep him in jail for a few days until he posts bail, but would he ever see any charges actually stick? Or would he make a few phone calls and have them disappear?

He didn't anticipate this ever being a problem. He's never had to deal with another lawman on the receiving side of his job.

He was entering uncharted territory.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm

[marlenesluv]

Paper Rings. (DR)

summary: posting book content and drawing is your job, reading and drawing is luckily two of your favorite hobbies. y’know, besides posting your boyfriend, daniel.

warnings: none!

pairing: daniel ricciardo x book!reader (slight mention of reader being an artist as well)

note: not sure, but i might make this a thing with every driver..? idk. it’s tempting for sure. also, slight age-gap in my mind when i wrote this. daniel is 34, i was imaging reader as 25/26. another thing, lmao, and this pertains to all my daniel stuff, im just writing as if he’s in redbull. im missing redbull era hard.

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 782,577 others

y/n.user: midnight runs and cute annotations🎀

view comments…

danielricciardo: i look quite handsome

|> maxverstappen1: you’re cocky

|> y/n.user: he does look handsome, though

|> maxverstappen1: wow, she compliments and is smart, how tf

|> danielricciardo: 😇🖕(ily y/n!)

|> y/n.user: 💁‍♀️ (ily too!)

bookstergram: have you seen the movie ‘pride and prejudice’? or are you waiting till you finish the book?

|> y/n.user: ive seen it! (a thousand times lol) i’m rereading it rn

f1.editpage: you guys are my parents, you just don’t know it yet :/

wag.off1: our book barbie 🎀💐🩷🩰

|> y/n.user: EEK 🥹

|> danielricciardo: what am i??😁

|> wag.off1: you’re just ken

|> danielricciardo: 🙁

|> y/n.user: but you’re keneough for me 😔❤️

|> danielricciardo: i will happily be your ken❤️😇

user55: do they make us feel single on purpose…

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, georgerussell63, and 1,067,190 others

danielricciardo: my multitalented gf🎨

view comments…

francisca.cgomes: wow, your gf is so so pretty

|> danielricciardo: i know😁

|> y/n.user: my heart 🥹🫶 i love you kika (and daniel ofc!)

|> danielricciardo: 🤨 come give me kisses, that was mean

|> y/n.user: fine🙄😚

scottyjames31: wow, didn’t realize you ran a fanpage

|> danielricciardo: for my girl? of course i do

fanpage.f1: i need someone who posts me like this

user93: where tf do i find a daniel??

|> user35: for starters, im gonna need to be a little richer LMAO

|> user74: well, daniel and y/n grew up together, so just grow up with an f1 driver LOLZ

wagsoff1: our wag is looking so beautiful and creative in these

y/nfanpage: she’s so pretty wtfffff

booklover98: my book content mom🤗

_______________________________________________

liked by: danielricciardo, haleypham, and 814,134 others

y/n.user: italy, i love you

view comments…

danielricciardo: but you love me more

|> y/n.user: of course i love you more, danny 😌

wags.f1: you guys are so cute

book.lover: these pictures are so aesthetic UGH

des.sidster: what book are you reading??

|> y/n.user: the duke and i!

|> des.sidster: omg! finally starting? lmk🫶

|> y/n.user: ofc!🫶

y/n.fanpage: i need more y/n content. her page is j danny and books

|> user45: maybe that’s because she loves daniel and her books LMAO

|> danielricciardo: hmmmm🤔

dannyric.fp: the danny content? mother is feeding us🤲

pierregasly: we are also in italy??

|> y/n.user: are you asking me…?

|> pierregasly: why haven’t you asked to hangout with me and kika?

|> y/n.user: do you guys wanna get dinner tonight?

|> francisca.cgomes: yes! text our gc!!

user92: they have a gc??

|> daniel.y/n.fp: daniel mentioned in an interview once that he, y/n, kika, and pierre have one where they plan hangouts!

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 1,110,924 others

danielricciardo: i’ll marry you with paper rings (did i do it right, babe?)

view comments…

y/n.user: you did so good, love ☹️🩷

|> danielricciardo: 😁🩷

user11: this post is calling me single in every way possible. wtf

f1wags: the first picture is so sweet, but the second⁉️ i’m sobbing

maxverstappen1: i always think i’m following a fanpage when i scroll through my instagram and see these, and then i realize you’re just down bad

|> danielricciardo: sue me for being in love

|> y/ns.fanpage: i’m about to, you guys make me feel lonely

user46: the way he supports her reading addiction, posts her, and loves her more than anything ☹️

|> user16: we’re all living vicariously through them

danric.edits: we are NOT skipping over the fact that he just said that he would “marry her with paper rings” are we???

|> y/n.photoshoots: fr, like, are our parents finally gonna get married?

bookster.gram: my book mom 🫶

_______________________________________________

liked by: danielricciardo, lilymhe, and 1,162,935 others

y/n.user: bro ☹️🥹 how do i not violently sob rn

view comments…

danielricciardo: i violently sobbed when you said ‘yes’

|> y/n.user: i’m gonna sob again

des.sidster: omgggg, congratulations!!🩷

|> y/n.user: thank you des!🩷

y/nfanpage: change ur user now??

|> user04: she’s prolly waiting till they get married

saracarrolli: congratulations, pretty girl!! you guys are adorable together

|> y/n.user: thank you sara! :’)

books4life: mom and dad are getting married guys😭🫶🥹

bookofthemonth: congratulations to one of our favorite couples!! expect book mail <3

|> y/n.user: aww, haha, thank you!!!!

pierregasly: wow, he actually proposed. congratulations!

|> y/n.user: thanks pierre🙄

|> pierregasly: watch it or i wont come to the wedding

|> y/n.user: who said you were invited?

|> pierregasly: excuse me😦

|> danielricciardo: shes joking😶

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, maxverstappen1, and 1,924,035 others

danielricciardo: i love you, thank you for saying yes to forever❤️

view comments…

y/n.user: i love you more❤️

|> danielricciardo: impossible❤️

ricciardo.fp: they are too cute, your honor

charles_leclerc: congratulations, mate!!

|> danielricciardo: thank you!!

user82: mom & dad are so cuteee AHHHHHHH

dan.ricccc.fp: you didn’t marry her with paper rings tho!

christianhorner: congratulations, daniel and y/n!!

|> y/n.user: thank you, christian!! (from me and dan)

maxverstappen1: congratulations, guys!!!

|> georgerussell63: maxiel is dead now

|> danielricciardo: thank you max! and maxiel will never die

|> maxverstappen1: so true

bookk.gram: my roman empire fr

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[toxicanonymity]

beach walks - prequel.

3.8k surf instructor!Billy x f!reader, night walks AU

WARNINGS: I8+, situationship angst over Joel, infidelity adjacent, forced proximity, smut (mild dubcon?), in public, voyeurism, jealousy. See Billy in action (sex): hot ❤️‍🔥 gif set by @ilovewhiteroses or this video. Skeleton Twins (2014) Feel free to skip this fic if it bothers you.

✨NEXT FIC: Beach Walks

After your late night “swim,” you’re disappointed when Joel doesn’t try to get you into his basement. But he does kiss you goodnight before you walk home. You almost text him and invite him over, but something holds you back. You don't want to mess up the dynamic and scare him away. Maybe he’ll let himself in and get in bed with you. It takes you a while to get to sleep as you realize something has shifted. You're now craving more than his dick and his way with words. You’d be happy to fall asleep in his arms, with or without the morning wood to look forward to.

After this realization, you start overanalyzing things, debating whether and when to text him, reading into how often he texts you and what he says. After a few days of nothing but a dick pic, it feels like it's been weeks. And yet, this was normal before. One night, you break down and send him a pic of a freshly rolled joint with the text, “wanna join?” 

He replies “wish I could, gotta be somewhere early 😫.” 

After that, he seems to text you less and less. He doesn't initiate and barely texts back. You wonder if he’s bored without the chase, so you try to play it cool. You go for walks by yourself, in case he’ll come out and join you, but weeks go by, and he never does. Some nights you hear the weights clanging in his basement, so he must be fine.  

-

One day, you're outside, locking the basement side door, when an unfamiliar Mercedes Benz SUV pulls out of Joel's cul-de-sac. There's a speed bump just before your house, so it has to slow down, and you can  clearly see a woman is driving, and Joel is in the passenger seat. Your stomach drops. He looks more put together, like he spruced himself up for her. She’s pretty. Somewhere between your age and his. 

The keys are shaking in your hand as you unlock the door again. You go back inside with your heart racing. Don't text him again, you tell yourself. Don't do it. But after an hour, you do. You ask what he's up to, and he doesn't answer. He doesn't answer all day, and when he finally answers that evening, he acts totally casual, like nothing is up. Small talk. He doesn’t invite you over. Not so much as a dick pic. You leave your door unlocked and cry yourself to sleep. You judge yourself for caring so much. 

You keep leaving your door unlocked at night, but he doesn't come. Then, one day, he drives by in the same SUV, with the same woman, and you're not sure you've ever seen him so happy. You’re lightheaded. It's a harsh reality check. You’ve never been exclusive, never had a talk. He'd never even taken you on a date. When you think about that, it makes you sick. Is his wife still in the picture? You decide not to text him again. 

You’ve been invited on a beach trip that starts the next day, but you don’t go. You don't have the energy to pack, and part of you is still hoping Joel will just show up at your door one day. But the next few nights, when you walk by his house, all the lights are off. At first, you drive yourself crazy thinking about where he could be, but does it really matter? Your anxiety starts to fade into sadness.

You’ve got to get your mind off it, so you drive solo to catch up with your friends at the beach. 

******

The resort is humble but sprawling. There are kayaks and surf lessons. You're tempted by the kayaks, but on the first day, you just relax on the beach. As soon as you lay out your towel, your friends tell you about the hot surf instructor. Then, later that day, they swear he's checking you out. You catch a glimpse from behind first, and he has a nice back. 

You see the surf instructor at breakfast the next morning, and he smiles at you. It’s a devastating smile that erases all your thoughts for a second. You can’t even look right at him. You look behind yourself, and it couldn't be anyone else he was looking at. He laughs silently, then gets in line next to you. He looks at the eggs on your plate. 

You’re not expecting his Australian accent. “Sunny side up. . .good to know.” It takes you a second, then your chest flutters when it hits you. “Enjoy,” he adds with a wink, then walks away. He moves like he has no worries and nowhere to be.

When you tell your friends, they lose their minds. All day they’re talking about what you could do, and speculating about his dick, and whether he’s that chill in the bedroom, too. They think he’s probably a freak. A few hours later, you realize you’ve barely thought about Joel all day, for the first time in weeks, and it feels good. You begin to think maybe a vacation fling could help you move on. Assuming that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Later that day, you're in the lobby waiting for a friend when the surf instructor comes in from the beach. You play it cool, but he sees you, stops, and takes off his shades. He approaches, and you get your first really good look at him up close. He's tall, tan, and shredded, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s got small ear gauges, and a tattoo of something with tentacles winding up his neck. He's chewing gum. 

A mischievous sparkle plays on his eyes as he spreads his feet and crosses his arms. "Saw ya layin’ out, nice ‘n’ dry. . .thought I should let ya know, the real fun’s in the water." 

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. "Love to get ya on a board, if ya don't surf already." 

You laugh. "No, I don't."

He checks you out, then asks, “How ‘bout it?” and waits patiently for your yes. 

"Maybe," you crack a smile. 

"No charge. . .Name's Billy." He extends his hand. As you shake hands, he leans in closer, lowers his voice, and says, "’Lot funner gettin’ wet." As he steps away, he offers, "Come down around five, yeah?" Your tummy is swarming with butterflies as he walks off, and it must be evident. Your friend immediately assumes he asked you out.

—

You go down to the shore at five to meet Billy. Storm clouds are rolling in. Billy is looking at the sky and idly spinning a whistle on a string. He has two boards laid out. As you approach, he looks at his watch. “Punctual, aren't ya?” 

First, he teaches you how to hop up on the board, something you weren’t even sure you could do. Then he demonstrates the right stance, and you can't help but notice the way his thigh muscles swell out from his swim trunks. The teal swim trunks are a little on the shorter side, which is only emphasized by the black, long-sleeve rash guard he’s wearing. Your gaze is dangerously close to his crotch when you pull your eyes back up to his face. 

He looks at your stance, and asks, “Mind if I touch ya?”

“Please,” you answer without thinking.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head playfully. “Knew ya were a bad girl.” 

“I mean,” your face heats up with a smile, and he raises his eyebrows. “I mean I need all the help I can get.”  He indulges you with a contemplative nod. 

“Sure, love.” He comes around to stand next to you. Thunder begins to rumble, and he glances at the sky. 

He crouches down, and one foot at a time, you let him adjust your position on the board. As he begins to stand, he looks up at you and his hand skims up the back of your calf, breaking away at the knee.

He steps a little closer and gently presses on the small of your back. “There ya go.” Then he gets behind you and leans forward, curving his body with yours. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls them back. He’s so close you can feel his body heat. His hands slide up your sides, hitching briefly on the bottom string of your swim top. Then he slots his hands under your arms and adjusts your posture. “Good girl,” he murmurs, then there's a loud boom of thunder. Rain begins to dot the sand before you feel it on your skin. “It’ll blow over,” he reassures you.

-

To wait out the storm, Billy invites you into the surf shack, up past the dunes. He leaves the door open. He doesn’t turn a light on, but there are a few windows. It’s only one room. It's got surfboards, lifeguard stuff, an old TV with a DVD/VCR combo, and a loveseat. In front of the loveseat, there’s a coffee table with a bong on it. Almost as soon as he walks in, he’s taking off his long sleeves. 

“Gets muggy in here quick,” he warns as he plops down on the loveseat. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. “Suppose we could watch a movie,” he muses and picks up two remote controls from the coffee table. He puts on Jaws at low volume so you can still listen to the storm. He offers the bong, but you decline.

He faces you, resting his head in his hand, with his elbow on the back of the loveseat. You mirror his posture, and he shamelessly checks you out, once again. 

You make small talk about the weather and the resort. With his free hand, he idly strokes his own sternum, slowly dragging his middle finger up and down between his pecs. His nipples are pierced – the bars are so subtle you couldn’t tell through his top.  

After a lull in the conversation, you adjust your position to face the tv. He stretches his arm across the back of the loveseat, and his hand is right behind your head. He begins to lightly caress the nape of your neck with his thumb. You don’t flinch or pull away. You chew your bottom lip, and your heart races. His eyes are glued to your body, and you’re barely pretending to watch the movie. 

“So,” he asks, “Could ya feel me starin’ at your arse yesterday?”

You laugh. “No.” 

“Well, I was,” he nods. “When ya were layin’ out.”

Finally you look at him, and when your eyes meet, he begins to let his fingers slowly dance on your thigh, sending a rush of desire to your loins. 

You’re suddenly nervous. You don't remember how to do this. You half heartedly begin to say, “Maybe I should. . .”

“Come a little closer?”  A loud clap of thunder shakes the whole shack. “Nowhere for us to go now, is there?”

He glances at the window where the sky has darkened and heavy rain is coating the glass. His voice drops.  “Kinda like this storm, if I’m honest,” he admits. 

“Yeah,” you quietly agree. 

His thumb separates from the back of your neck, then your halter string tightens for a moment before completely loosening. 

“Oops,” he whispers, looking at you. 

You gasp and your hand comes to your chest to hold the top up as you turn toward him again, bringing your knee up on the cushion. Your face burns and you laugh his name in mock admonishment. 

 "Got a boyfriend?” He asks. “Girlfriend?" 

"No," you shake your head. 

"Wouldn't stop me, anyway.” His hand curves lightly around your inner thigh, stroking your warm skin. His caress gets higher and higher, further toward your throbbing core. “Not if ya want it, love. What kinda feminist would I be then?” He tilts his head and slides his hand all the way up to the crotch of your swimsuit. “Nah, what she wants, she gets,” he murmurs, staring at his hand between your legs. A knuckle nudges the crotch of your swimsuit, and you’re gushing for him. One corner of his mouth twitches knowingly as he meets your eyes again. “And I think ya want it.” God, he’s hot. He’s so hot, and so right.

The hand behind you cradles your head, and his gaze falls on your lips. His blue eyes are dark with lust. He leans in, pauses with his lips about two inches from yours. You close the gap yourself, accepting the embrace of his smooth lips on yours. Soon he tilts his head, and his tongue slides into your mouth. You drop your hand from your chest, and the un-tied strings still dangling on your back precariously hold your top up. As the kiss becomes hungrier, his hand slides easily into one side of your loosened bikini. His fingers bracket your nipple as he caresses your breast then cups with a soft, “mmm,” into your mouth. You’re absolutely throbbing. 

There's a clattering outside, then an unfamiliar voice. "We've got someone out in the surf, down toward the pier."

Your eyes fly to the door, embarrassed, but the man doesn't even look at you. You quickly re-tie your swimsuit. Billy adjusts himself and replies, “Alright mate, let's hop on the jetski.” 

“It’s ready.” The man steps outside to wait. 

When Billy stands up, you see a massive protrusion in his shorts, resting against his upper thigh, and your breath hitches. You accidentally stare, and he smirks when he notices. “Yeah?” he asks with a downward glance. He holds his hand out and you give him yours as you stand up. He puts your hand on the bulge in his shorts. It’s stiff and warm and makes you ache to be filled. “All for you, love.” He drops your hand but it stays there for a split second. 

He pulls his rashguard on and adjusts his shorts, then gives you a short but heated kiss. “Find ya later.” 

—----

When the storm dies down enough, you run up the beach, arms squeezed together in front of you. You grab a towel from the hut by the pool and enter the lobby. A man has just left the vending area, and you do a double-take when you see a bag of takis in his hand, but he's already walking away.  Your heart jumps when you see he's wearing pj pants. But it couldn't possibly be Joel. Not this far from home. 

You brush it off, but for the rest of the day, you can't get Joel out of your mind, except for when you let your thoughts drift to being in that shack with Billy. It's gotten worse than you thought if you're thinking Joel is there on the island based on a bag of chips and someone dressing comfortably on vacation. 

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to let Billy fuck you. Maybe you need this. 

You're restless and don't have any privacy to get off. After dark, you go out to the pool, and quietly slip into the water, ignoring the sign that says “closed.”.

The water is about nipple-height where you are. You face the pool and rest your arms on the side, letting your legs float in front of you. You close your eyes and squeeze your thighs together thinking about what might have happened in that shack if you weren’t interrupted earlier. And just when you’re picturing what Billy looks and sounds like when he comes, you hear his voice. 

"Pool's closed, rulebreaker."

You look toward his voice, and he puts down a bag near your towel. You ask, "Gonna tell on me?"  

He takes off his rash guard and stretches, jutting his chest and pelvis forward with his hands clasped behind his back, then he walks over and dives in the deep end. He swims underwater and comes up for air a few feet from you. When he surfaces, he tousles his hair.

He slowly approaches, wetting his lips. He looks even sexier in the dark. "Where were we, love," he murmurs. His hands start at your floating feet–he spreads them apart, making room for himself between your legs. Then his hands slide all the way up your legs as he gets closer. He pulls you against him and you loosely wrap your legs around him. 

"There ya go," he murmurs, then dips his head and cradles yours. He kisses you long and hard. He pushes his hips forward, pinning you against the pool wall, and his cock stiffens against you. Then he pulls you off the wall and holds you by the ass so his arousal is firmly pressing against your tingling front. You wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks lower into the water. He kisses and sucks your neck, just above the waterline. He’s probably leaving a mark, and you don’t care. You don’t really care about anything but the mutual throbbing between your legs at the moment.

—

You feel someone watching, and when Billy goes after your neck again, you scan the balconies until you see a dark figure sitting on a second floor balcony. You look for a few seconds and can't make out anything. You scold yourself for thinking about Joel and wrap your legs tighter around Billy. His cock swells harder against your clit, and your thoughts are gone again. You moan softly as he grinds you on himself and kisses you needily, from your lips to your neck, your throat, under your chin, back to your lips. Billy pulls your top down enough to feel your nipples against his chest and lets out a sigh that makes you ache all over with need. 

The man on the balcony stands up, steps forward, and boldly leans on the railing and clasps his hands, watching. He’s still a silhouette, and you try not to look right at him. 

"There's, um. Someone watching," you tell Billy. 

"Bother ya?" Billy asks, keeping his eyes glued to you.

You adjust your swimsuit to cover your nipples, and he says, "Guess so, huh. Drink at my place then?"

"I dunno," you say reflexively. 

He whispers in your ear, “Come home with me,” then gently bites your neck and pulls you tighter against his massive erection. You quietly gasp. 

“I can't, we’re going to sunrise yoga.”

“Yours then,” he offers, undeterred and growing breathless with desire. 

“My friends are there.” 

“Mine’s just a few minutes up the beach. I'll bring ya back,” he offers, “Go to yoga with ya.” He begins to move your body against his again. God, you want that hard cock.  Just a few days ago, the thought of anyone but Joel did nothing for you, and now, here you are. 

You bite your lip and hum, “mm,” in contemplation.

"A drink at the bar," he offers, nodding toward the hotel bar. "Then my place." 

You smile and he presses a gentle, closed-mouth kiss onto your lips. You're smiling against each other’s mouths for a second, until his cock throbs against you, and he seals his lips on yours, and your tongues need each other again. He grinds you against him for a few seconds and moans into your mouth before you pull your head away, and remind him, “Drink at the bar.” 

“Alright,” he breathes. His cock twitches against you "Gimme a minute, love. . . Fuck, I can't walk in like this," he laughs.

Footsteps approach, and you pull away from Billy. The footsteps are from a man with shoulder length hair and a mustache. He's grinning, looking down. He keeps walking, and as he passes by he laughs, "hey, I didn't see nothin', man."

Billy looks up. "Tommyyy. Wanna catch a wave tomorrow?" 

"Nah, we're rollin' out in the morning."

"Alright, mate. Good seein' ya.”

The voice of the stranger has jolted you back from your horny stupor.  "I'm actually really tired," you say, facing the side of the pool. You put your forearms up on the side and rest your cheek on  your hands. 

Billy groans in disappointment, but he gets it. 

"Maybe tomorrow night," you muse. 

"I've got a set at Aqua tomorrow. You should come."

"A set?" 

"I'm a DJ. And as for tonight. . ." He gets close behind you and murmurs near your ear. "I won’t leave ya like this. What kinda gentleman would I be?" Thank God. He snakes his arm around your front. The stiff shape in his swim trunks presses against your crack. 

He cups your whole pussy, and his middle finger prods at the fabric right at your entrance. "Gonna let me in here next time, aren’t ya?" he whispers and begins to rub you over the fabric. Pleasure is building in your core. You begin to lose yourself under his expert touch. "Yeah, there we go." He slides his other hand up under one side of your top and his bare palm covers your nipple. You could cum any second with his hardness grinding against you.

He slips his hand into your swimsuit and rubs your clit as he palms your tit. Your head falls back, he kisses your neck, then you let it happen.  You gasp and try not to be too loud as your final ascent begins, with Billy slowly rutting against your backside, breathing heavily in your ear.

—----------------

Joel doesn’t have a great view, and his eyes are tired from the sun, but he keeps watching. He’s convinced himself it’s not you, that he’s just been driving himself crazy thinking of you.

Even from a distance, it’s really hot to see. It reminds Joel of your last hook-up. Desire stirs in his pants, and he’s going to have to jack off. Maybe he’ll send you a jack-off video—he can do that now. Joel palms himself as he turns to go back inside. Then, you moan loud enough that he freezes with his hand on the sliding door. He’s heard that moan too many times.

. . .Did he just watch you, in the pool with Billy, hours from home? He tries not to look back as he goes inside and closes the door behind him.

He’s not jealous. Not jealous, he tells himself. 

He has no right to be.

You don’t owe him anything, and he knows that.

He’s fine. Not freaking out.

Joel’s a chill guy, even without the weed. But his ears are hot, and his heart is pounding so hard he can hear it. He smacks the wall and yells, “FUCK,” as a picture frame falls. He tries to shake the pain off his hand. 

What are you even doing here? 

“You alright, man?” Tommy asks, muffled through the wall. 

Joel rakes both hands through his hair and takes a few deep breaths. 

“Joel?” Tommy asks and cracks open the door between their rooms. 

“Yeah,” Joel answers as he sits down on the bed. He interlaces his fingers behind his head, elbows pointing forward. “I’m just stupid.” 

------

------

thank you for reading!

[persevereforahappyending]

Luck Runs Out |Part 8|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: Talks of violence

Word Count: 2.3k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Epilogue

Mabel stretched, rolling over as she enjoyed the softness of her bed. She scrunched her brow when the other side of the bed felt cold. She opened her eyes, squinting through the dark to see the now empty space beside her, you were gone. Mabel rolled out of bed, looking around and not seeing you anywhere. Mabel’s hands shook as she tried to not let her mind wander. There was no reason for you to not be in her apartment, you didn’t have anywhere to go, the two of you agreed it wasn’t safe for you to leave the apartment. She also couldn’t believe you’d leave without telling her goodbye.

Mabel pulled out her phone only to realize she didn’t have your number. She went to text Charlie but remembered he wasn’t around either. Mabel clutched her phone, Charlie went off with some drug dealer who had kidnapped his brother and the others, and now you were also missing. She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew where you went. You felt guilty for getting her and the others involved even though it wasn’t intentional, and you didn’t exactly have a choice, you clearly felt responsible for them now.

Mabel shut off her phone, shoving it in her pocket and grabbed her keys. She didn’t really have a plan, but she knew people, she was going to go around, asking everyone she knew who might have answers, she’d either find you and the others or she’d make enough noise that someone would come grab her. It wasn’t the best plan, it was a really stupid plan, she tried so hard and got out of the life and now she was about to willingly jump back in to find you and the others. You would be angry if you knew what she was thinking, if you knew she was planning on coming after you. You’ve been so insistent on her not getting involved, you would not be okay with her going out there and literally searching the streets for you.

Just as she put her hand on the door to fling it open someone grabbed it on the other side pushing it open. Mabel’s eyes widened, instantly grabbing her taser and shoving it into the person's side. The intruder collapsed to the ground with a groan, Mabel stepped back ready to give them another shock if they tried to get up.

“What the hell?” The intruder asked through a groan. They pushed back their hood revealing they weren’t a scary intruder; it was just Charlie.

“What the hell!” Mabel yelled angrily, smacking him on the shoulder and making him collapse onto his back. Mabel rolled her eyes, slamming her taser back down onto the table. She was tempted to shock him even more, now knowing who it was.

“You tased me,” Charlie groaned. He continued to lay on the floor as he took deep breaths.

“You were trying to open my door!” She had just gone over the whole thing about not barging into her place, they weren’t together anymore, they were currently dealing with scary drug dealers, the last thing she wanted was someone barging into her place uninvited.

“Sorry.” He slowly began to pull himself to his feet, groaning with each movement.

Mabel rolled her eyes, stepping aside so Charlie could get into the apartment. When he was fully inside, she closed the door, making sure to lock it. She turned, crossing her arms as she watched Charlie stumble across the floor until he flopped down on the couch with a final groan.

“What happened?” Mabel asked. Charlie was back and she was glad he wasn’t dead; he also wasn’t a complete mess so that probably meant Tommy and the others weren’t dead. She still didn’t know your status though; she didn’t even officially know where you went.

“Just a sec,” he huffed out. “Geez.” He took deep breaths, continuing to hold the spot she had tased him.

“What happened?” she asked again, crossing her arms.

Charlie looked up at her, wincing as he pulled himself into a better sitting position. He opened his mouth a few times before quickly closing it. Mabel narrowed her eyes as Charlie refused to look at her. His eyes were glued to the floor as his knee rapidly bounced up and down.

“What happened?” she whispered. Her eyes widened as she watched Charlie’s reaction, waiting for him to speak.

Charlie finally looked up at her and there were unshed tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Mabel brought a shaky hand to her mouth as the worst ran through her mind. “What happened?” she rested her hands on her hips as she tried to regain her composure. She needed to be strong, she needed to remain neutral, she had no idea where you were or what happened, for all she knew you were perfectly safe.

“That guy took me to some abandoned warehouse. I think, I’m not sure, he covered my head with a sack as soon as the door shut,” Charlie began. “We drove for a few minutes, I was shoved out of the car and dragged somewhere,” he gestured frustratedly with his hands. “Next thing I know I’m being forced into a chair and the bag was being ripped off my head, they had my hand and feet bound.” Charlie put his head in his hands.

Mabel sat down at the edge of the coffee table. She reached forward, taking Charlie’s hands away from his head and into her hands. He looked up at her with his puppy dog eyes. She started rubbing circles on the back of his hands as he released a shaky breath. She might have wanted to know your status more than anything, but she also knew Charlie had been through something, he needed time to process whatever happened. Last year one of his friends was shot in front of him, he had a gun shoved in his face, Mabel herself was beaten for knowing him, none of that had shaken him as much as he was in this moment.

“I was in a room with two guys,” Charlie started again. “One was the boss, he was asking me questions about the drugs, how the drugs got on our boat, where we got them, what happened to his shipment.” He tried to ball his hands into fist, but Mabel kept a firm grip on them, continuing to rub circles on them until he relaxed them again. “I kept shouting that I didn’t know and demanding to know where Tommy was. That’s when the other guy did this,” he pointed to his face.

Mabel noticed that Charlie’s nose was already starting to bruise, though it didn’t look broken. He had smeared dried blood under his nose and a few streaks that dripped onto this shirt. Mabel’s mind was on other things after she tased him, but she was glad the worst of Charlie’s injuries seemed to only be a bloody nose. Questions were raised about the others though, Charlie clearly came to her place as soon as he left wherever he was if he didn’t even bother changing, he wasn’t distraught, meaning Tommy was most likely still alive.

“They tossed me in a room with Tommy and the others,” he continued. “Tommy had a black eye and got another punch to the gut when he saw me being thrown into the room with them.”

“How did you escape?” Mabel asked, finally releasing Charlie’s hands. She knew these drug dealers were serious, they weren’t the type to just let people go. Even if Charlie and them didn’t take the drugs and didn’t do anything wrong, they had seen to much, they had seen faces, that alone was grounds to kill them.

“They let us go,” Charlie mumbled.

Mabel scrunched her brow before her eyes widened. “Why?” she held her breath as she awaited Charlie’s answer, already knowing it before the words left his mouth.

“Y/N.”

Mabel shot to her feet and began pacing back and forth in front of him. Charlie watched her, the unshed tears still in his eyes as he dropped his gaze back to the floor. Mabel really hated you, you were a stupid self-sacrificing idiot, wanting to be a hero like in your stories. If you survived this Mabel was going to make sure to kill you.

“What happened to them?” she asked, blinking away the tears that tried to form. She looked around her room, she refused to breakdown because of you, you were practically a stranger still, there was no reason for her to be this affected by you.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said. Mabel clenched her jaw, throwing a furious glare at him but he continued before she could lecture him. “We were all dragged into a room, and they were already there talking to the boss. They made a deal,” he whispered. “And all they asked was that we be released.”

Mabel took a step back, shaking her head as she began to process the information. You really were a stupid heroic idiot. You went to this place knowing there was no way you’d be walking out alive. You had managed to make a deal with your boss that allowed Charlie and the others to walk out. Saving their lives was a good thing of course but not for you, there was no way your boss would ever allow four witnesses to walk out unless he was getting something much better in return.

“What was the deal for?” she asked.

“The drugs for our lives,” Charlie answered. He slumped back against the couch, staring at Mabel like a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry.” He dropped his eyes back to the floor. “I guess you were right,” Mabel looked at him curiously, “they aren’t so bad after all.”

Mabel nodded before turning and going over to her bed. She felt Charlie’s eyes on her, but she didn’t pay him anymore attention. She started fixing the sheets on her bed when a book fell out of one of the blankets. Mabel reached down, picking up a copy of The Odyssey, the copy she bought for you to read while you were stuck in her apartment. She ran a finger down the cover as her eyes began to fill with tears again.

She had only known you for a little over a week and yet you had impacted her life so much. You got her to read The Odyssey and though she would deny it you even changed her perspective on Odysseus. You had helped Mabel with her schoolwork when you could, you had told her about your dreams of sailing the world. She had a feeling she knew you better than anyone else had in a long time and she had to admit you seemed to know her.

You barely knew her but when she came back home the other day upset you instantly pulled her into a hug. Mabel allowed you to hold and comfort her, she never liked anyone doing that before but with you she felt comfortable, she felt safe. You whispered to her that everything would be all right, you promised her that you would find a way to rescue Charlie. At the time Mabel knew you couldn’t promise that and yet you managed to keep your promise, it might have only cost you your life. She knew you felt guilty for indirectly getting them all involved in this mess but when it came down to it you were willing to sacrifice yourself to save all of them.

Maybe you were really a hero, maybe your dream of being a Greek hero like Odysseus wasn’t to far off. Odysseus had to fight in a war and then had to fight obstacle after obstacle to just return home. Mabel silently hoped that maybe dealing with your boss and getting the drugs back was your Trojan war, maybe it was a trial in your hero’s journey before you got to return home.

After a few hours of Mabel trying and failing to do her homework she glanced over a Charlie, seeing him passed out on the couch. Your boss may have let him, and the others go but that didn’t mean any of them were safe. Charlie made sure he wasn’t followed but the guy that took him had seen Mabel so they could find out who she was and where she lived pretty easily. Drug dealers weren’t known for their trust worthiness and honor, just because you made a deal with them didn’t mean that once they got their drugs back and disposed of you, they wouldn’t come back and clean house, at the end of the day they were still all witnesses.

A light knock brought Mabel out of her thoughts; the pencil she was twirling freezing as she glanced from Charlie to the door. It was a light knock, not a heavy angry knock. Mabel quietly slid out of her seat, reaching for her taser once again as her hand hovered over the doorknob. She took a deep breath before flinging open the door, taser held out and at the ready. This time Mabel didn’t tase the person at her door, she just froze, bringing her hands to her mouth at the sight before her.

“Hey,” you rasped out, leaning against the doorframe. You were standing there, the doorframe the only thing keeping your propped up. You were right there in front of her, bruised and bloody, the hood of the sweatshirt you stole from her pulled up covering the majority of your face, but Mabel could see various bruising coating your face. You held your side with your good hand, wincing as you coughed. You gave her bloody smile but there you were, standing before her, beaten but alive.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Four

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Series masterlist

Chapter summary: An understanding is reached and Aegon dishes family dirt at a BBQ.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Her phone vibrates on the coffee table, the buzzing causing it to move dangerously close to the edge. Quick as a flash, Mysaria lunges forward from the sofa to catch it before it topples to the floor, smirking when she sees the name that’s flashing up on the screen.

“How many times is that today now?” She asks, gently tossing the phone to her as a missed call notification replaces the incoming call alert.

She shrugs, not averting her gaze from the TV screen as a rerun of Come Dine with Me, that neither of them are particularly paying attention to, plays to itself. “Dunno. He’ll get the hint eventually.”

It’s Sunday evening and she hasn’t spoken to Aemond since she woke up alone in his flat the previous morning, despite the fact he texts and calls her more times than she can count. She deletes the messages without reading them, and lets each of his calls go to voicemail. He’d made her feel cheap, used, put a price on her body, and she had no desire to ever speak to him again.

Mysaria sighs, flopping back against the sofa cushions. “Can I be a bitch for a second?” She asks, turning her head to face her. “You aren’t going to like it, but I think you need to hear it.”

She leans her head back, eyes flitting to meet her flatmate’s, already feeling a prickle of annoyance heat her skin, but decides to let her say her piece. “Go on then.”

“Why are you punishing him because you’ve caught feelings?”

Her annoyance bursts forth into anger as her brow furrows, her body language becoming squared and defensive. “I haven’t–”

“Yes, you have,” Mysaria interrupts. “I get that he did a shitty thing by leaving you high and dry, but he clearly feels bad or he wouldn’t keep trying to reach you. Give the guy a chance to explain himself, if you don’t like what he has to say then break things off.”

She scoffs in frustration, turning back towards the TV and rolling her eyes. “You are so bloody annoying!”

“Because I’m right,” Mysaria says smugly, leaning over to tap her on the nose. “You gonna call him back then?”

She chews her lip absentmindedly, turning her phone around in her hands. She supposes it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to him, if only to ask how to return the five grand he’d transferred to her.

The buzzer to the flat startles her out of her train of thought and Mysaria peels herself off of the sofa with a groan of “Finally! I’m bloody starving!”

Pizza first, then she’ll call him. She’s definitely not putting it off, she reasons with herself, she just doesn’t want her food to go cold.

“Erm…so it’s not pizza…” Mysaria says awkwardly as she re-enters the living room, a silver haired figure a good deal taller than her trailing behind her.

Dread gnaws at her stomach as she takes in the sight of Aemond, hair thrown back in a bun, dressed in a tight black henley and fitted black jeans, holding the largest bouquet of lilies and roses she’s ever seen before. Even when she’s angry with him he still manages to look absolutely breathtaking, and it irritates her.

“I’ll just…uh…” Mysaria makes a gesture towards her bedroom, and quickly makes herself scarce.

Lucky bitch.

“You’ve not been returning my calls,” Aemond says flatly.

“No…” She responds quietly, feeling the warmth of embarrassment spread through her, as she plucks nervously at the legs of her jogging bottoms. He’s never seen her not put together, and she loathes that she feels shame for her appearance, when she hasn’t done anything wrong. Him seeing her with messy hair, an oversized t-shirt and threadbare joggers makes her feel weak and vulnerable in his presence.

“Or replying to my texts.”

“I know.”

“Listen, if the other night wasn’t good, or I hurt you–”

“Why don’t you sit down?” She interjects, suddenly realising how absurd he looks, stood in the middle of the living room, dwarfing everything around him with his obscenely large bunch of flowers.

Aemond nods gratefully, taking the seat next to hear. “These are you for, by the way,” He tells her, handing her the flowers.

She hums a quiet thanks, immediately overwhelmed by the sweetness of their aroma, and places them on the coffee table, knowing she’ll need no distractions if she’s to say what she needs to say.

“The other night was great, really great, actually,” She begins. “But you just left the next morning without a word, and that really upset me.”

“You were upset because I left?” He asks, sounding almost surprised.

“Yes!” She replies with exasperation. “You made me feel cheap, and used.”

“Cheap? But I bank transferred you afterwards.”

“Jesus, Aemond! I’m not a prostitute!” She throws up her hands angrily, gesticulating her point.

He swallows thickly, clearly considering his next words carefully. “I know you said you’ve never done anything like this before, but neither have I, and I made a mistake. My grandfather called me into the office early on Saturday morning. You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry that my carelessness has hurt you, but I am keen to continue our arrangement.”

It all seems so simple when he words it like that. She could easily have reached out to question his actions, but she’d allowed her emotions to guide her and now feels foolish because of it. When she says nothing, Aemond presses on. 

“No funny business, I promise. We don’t have to sleep together again, but I’ve enjoyed having your company at family functions, it makes them more bearable. Please say you’ll consider it?”

She’s not sure what prompts the words from her mouth, perhaps it’s the pleading look in Aemond’s eye, or the fact that she enjoys his company too, but she says them before she fully has a chance to think about them. “Okay, we’ll carry on as before.”

“Thank you,” He says earnestly.

The buzzer sounding again prevents him from saying anything else, as Mysaria hurries from her room towards the door, in pursuit of her pizza delivery.

“I suppose that’s my cue to leave,” Aemond says softly. “I’ll text you, okay?”

She nods, and they both stand, hovering near each other, both unsure of what would be an appropriate goodbye. Eventually Aemond leans in, kissing the corner of her mouth lightly before pulling back and exiting the flat. She holds her fingers against the area, still able to feel the press of his lips even after he’s departed.

It takes three days for Aemond to message her again, and in that time it feels as though she could crawl out of her own skin with the apprehension that his silence brings. Had he changed his mind, decided her withdrawing contact over an honest mistake was too much to deal with? It fills her with a nervous energy that makes the days unbearable.

The relief she feels when he finally deigns to reach out is borderline humiliating.

Not sure if you remember my half sister, Rhaenyra, but she is having a BBQ on Saturday. Are you free?

I remember. Are you sure you want to go after what happened on your mum’s birthday? Xoxo

My mother will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t go. Will you come with me?

Yeah, I’m free :) xoxo

When Saturday finally rolls around, she keeps her hair and make-up simple, wearing a floral sundress and strappy sandals, but immediately feels underdressed as she recognises the house they pull up outside of as being the one they’d been to for Jace and Baela’s engagement party.

She has little time to dwell on her appearance though, as Aemond ushers her through the expanse of the house and out into the back garden. A sprawling, lush green lawn that could be considered more of a field due to its size plays host to various members of the Targaryen and Hightower families, as the smell of barbecued meat lingers on the breeze.

Aemond leads her around, his hand glued to the small of her back, so she can say polite hellos to everyone. Alicent and Criston greet her with warm hugs and kisses to both cheeks, Helaena does the same, while standing with Baela and Rhaena, the two girls offer a quick “hello” in sing-song unity. Aegon merely holds up a hand by way of greeting, looking less than enthusiastic to be there, and Otto says a polite “good to see you both”. The rest of the family’s greetings are a little more frosty, with Rhaenyra, Jace, Luke and Joffrey giving curt nods of acknowledgement, while Daemon is too preoccupied with the barbecue to notice they’ve even arrived.

“Viserys and Aegon not joining us?” Alicent asks Rhaenyra softly.

“It would mean having to switch off their Playstation, so I very much doubt it,” Rhaenyra says with a roll of her eyes.

The tension is palpable, but her nerves subside slightly when she sees a Rhodesian ridgeback galloping around the garden, with a copper coloured dachshund hot on its heels.

“Oh cute!” She says, turning to Aemond. “Could you not have brought Vhagar?”

“No,” He sighs. “She doesn’t get along with Syrax and Caraxes, so I’ve left her with the dog sitter.”

She gratefully accepts a glass of Pimm’s that’s offered to her by Otto, before he tells Aemond he needs a word.

“You’ll be okay for a moment won’t you, darling?” Aemond asks her.

The pet name causes her breath to catch in her throat and she merely nods, not trusting herself to speak. As they walk away together, she wanders over to a corner of the large garden, pretending to examine an ornate sundial to keep herself busy, when she feels a presence beside her.

Aegon has sidled up to her, beer in hand, a slight smirk on his face. “Having fun?”

“About as much as you are, by the looks of things,” She replies with a tight smile.

“At least you’re getting paid to be here.”

Her eyes go wide, her chest tightening as she realises he knows.

Aegon chuckles. “Ah, you didn’t think I knew? It’s fine, who do you think showed him the app?”

“O-oh…” is all she’s able to stammer, feeling too shocked to say anything else.

“You play a convincing part,” He takes a swig from his bottle. “Too good to be acting, actually. You can’t fake how you look at my brother.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She snaps, feeling the familiar heat of embarrassment tingle at her flesh.

Aegon snorts derisively. “Look, take it from me, don’t get attached. My brother is the last person you want to get involved with. This whole family is a fucking car crash.”

She sips anxiously at her drink, nodding slightly. “I’d noticed none of you seem to get along that well.”

“That is the fucking understatement of the century. Has Aemond told you much about us?”

“Nothing substantial.”

“Allow me to fill you in,” He gestures discreetly towards Alicent. “My mother used to be best friends with my half-sister, they went to school together. My grandfather and my father were business partners, tri-owners of multiple companies alongside Daemon. When my father’s wife, Rhaenyra’s mother, passed away suddenly, my mother started dating my father.”

“Jesus…” She mutters under her breath.

“Oh, it gets worse!” He says with a leer. “See, Rhaenyra wasn’t happy that her best friend had shacked up with her dad. I mean, who would be? She was even more pissed off when the three of us came along, as it meant she was no longer an only child. She started sleeping around to get back at my father, that’s how she ended up with those three.”

Aegon nods towards where Jace, Luke and Joffrey all stand.

“What about her other two children, Aegon and Viserys?”

“Those are the kids she’s had with Daemon. They got married shortly before my father passed away. Mum thinks she did it just to strengthen her claim of the assets, as Daemon’s a partner in the business and Dad didn’t bother to leave a will. Everything Mum has ever tried to claim for us she’s contested.”

“So that’s what all that talk of Dragonstone Cottage was about at your Mum’s birthday?”

“Yeah, ‘Nyra’s sneaky way of trying to hoard assets for her brood.”

“How do Baela and Rhaena fit into all of this?”

“They’re Daemon’s children from a previous marriage.”

“But Baela is engaged to Jace, isn’t that a bit…” She trails off, not knowing the exact word she wants to use.

“Incestuous?” Aegon lets out a laugh that borders on being too unhinged to come from a place of genuine mirth, before taking another swig of his beer. “Yeah, yeah, it is.”

“So what does this have to do with Aemond? Why should I not get involved?”

Aegon rounds on her. “Has he ever told you about, y’know…” He taps his eye.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Hmmm. Probably best to leave that to him to explain then.”

Their attention is pulled away by the sound of a fork being tapped against the side of a glass. She turns to see Daemon standing at the head of the garden. “Just wanted to thank you all for joining us today”, He says as everyone gathers closer, herself and Aegon included. “I think such an occasion is cause for celebration.” He brandishes a bottle of champagne, before popping the cork, a few that are stood closest step back out of its line of fire.

Luke smirks, elbowing Aemond. “He should be careful, almost had your other eye out.”

It happens so suddenly it seems like a blur, but Aemond has Luke by the collar and Aegon is rushing forward to tackle Jace away. Punches are thrown from both sides, until the ensuing scuffle is broken apart by Daemon and Otto.

Aemond’s eye is wild as he approaches her, his breathing ragged, and his usually immaculately styled hair tousled. “Come on, we’re leaving,” He grits out.

She has to hurry to keep up with his long strides through the house and to the car, and they drive in silence, Aemond’s knuckles blanched with the force of the grip he has on the steering wheel.

She drums her fingers anxiously against her thighs, not quite knowing what to say, but it is Aemond who eventually breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” He says quietly. “It was a bad idea for us to go today.”

“What was that all about?” She asks as gently as she can. “What got you so heated?”

Aemond sighs heavily, keeping his focus on the road ahead, and for a moment she doesn’t think he will answer her.

“Luke’s the reason I lost my eye,” He admits. “His little comment today got to me, and I lashed out.”

“What happened?” She turns slightly in the passenger seat to face him.

“It’s stupid really, an irresponsible rich family allowing their kids to roam the woods with Airsoft guns. The official story is that it was an accident, but accidents don’t happen at point blank range, accidents aren’t something you never apologise for.”

“Jesus, Aemond, I’m so sorry.” Her heart aches for him, having to play happy families with someone who has maimed him

“It is what it is,” He says with a slight shrug. “Makes being around them harder than it already is though. Thank you for being there with me today.”

“That’s alright,” She fidgets nervously with the hem of her dress as they pull up outside her block of flats. “Do you want to come inside for a bit? You shouldn’t be alone when you’re feeling like this.”

No funny business.

Her heart races as Aemond’s hands disappear up her skirt, reappearing with her underwear grasped in his fingers, dragging them down her legs.

We don’t have to sleep together again.

She buries her hands into the softness of his hair as he latches his mouth against her, bringing her to quick release with harsh strokes of his tongue. Every thought of what they’d discussed on Sunday evening leaves her mind as he pushes her back against the mattress, the force of his thrusts inside of her causing her toes to curl and her eyes to roll back, until he eventually collapses against her with a grunt, the faint pulsation of him inside of her signifying he’s reached his end.

They fall asleep, curled around each other in her tiny double bed and she’s pleased to see he’s still there when she awakens the following morning.

“Your mattress is fucking terrible,” Aemond grouses sleepily, pulling her tighter against him. “It feels like I’ve slept on a pile of loose change.”

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck.

They spend most mornings like that, over the coming weeks. Aemond becomes a frequent presence in the little flat. Her feet stay planted in his lap while they watch TV after work in the evenings, before he fucks her into the mattress like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Their mornings are lazy and indulgent, spent slowly exploring every inch of each other, before they part ways to go to work, only to do it all over again in the evening.

She buys a dog bed, which takes up half the floor space in her bedroom. Aemond raises an eyebrow at this.

“Vhagar’s quite fussy about where she sleeps,” He tells her, only to watch in disbelief as the elderly doberman circles several times on it, before settling down to nap. “I stand corrected.”

Their presence in her life becomes larger as time goes on, and it’s difficult not to feel that it is more than it is, but she is constantly reminded of the transactional nature with every shopping trip on Oxford Street, every visit to Champney’s Spa, each time he hands her his credit card.

The thought occurs to her that perhaps she ought to broach the topic of what they are, how their relationship is developing, but each time she decides against it, too afraid he’ll say something she doesn’t want to hear.

Mysaria smiles as she sees them snuggled together in front of the TV, when she comes home. “You’re here so often, we’ll have to start charging you rent,” She says playfully.

Aemond pulls out his phone, bringing up his banking app. “How much?” He asks, deadly serious.

“Aemond, she was joking!” She laughs, swatting his arm playfully.

It’s been a slow Saturday morning, almost midday and she sits at the kitchen table, a satisfied ache between her legs, as she sips at a coffee while Aemond plates up eggs benedict for them both. One of the things that surprises her most about him is that he’s able to cook, and he does it well.

She eyes him carefully as she pokes at her breakfast, unable to shift the feeling of how his fingers dug into her flesh, how he gazed at her so reverently, his lips featherlight against her throat just an hour before.

His money, his lavish lifestyle, she wants none of it. She just wants him, so she decides that this time she’ll be brave and shoot her shot before she has the opportunity to second guess herself.

Carefully, she sets down her cutlery and rests her chin against her hand. “So I’ve been thinking…about us.”

Aemond pauses, fixing her with his right eye.

Nerves flutter in her belly at his silence, but she continues anyway. “What we have, let’s make a proper go of it? I don’t care about your money, Aemond, I just want to be with you.”

He clears his throat, setting down his own knife and fork, before slowly wiping his mouth on a napkin. “I can’t do that,” He says quietly.

She is immediately struck by the hollowness in her chest, sucking in a harsh breath to ground herself against the lump forming in her throat.

Aemond reaches across the table, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re perfect,” He reassures her. “But I’m not, and I don’t do relationships. My circumstances are too complicated, I’d end up hurting you, and that’s the very last thing I want to do.”

She can’t argue with him, he’s being so bloody nice about it, and Aegon had warned her of this. She wants to scream at him, to cry, to tell him it isn’t fair, but it’s her that has asked for this, and at least he’s being honest with her, even if the truth does make her feel like her chest is being crushed under a vast weight. “I understand,” She chokes out.

“I’m sorry,” He says sadly, genuinely.

“Can you…can you just go, please?” She whispers, unable to look at him.

He nods, standing and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before leaving.

Only after she hears the front door click closed, and the feel of his lips have faded from her skin, does she allow herself to fall apart. Hot tears cascade down her cheeks, as she feels the presence that has taken up so much of her life leave behind a gaping void in its wake.

[wildbluesorbit]

London || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️‍🩹

I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions

Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex

Word Count || 8.3k+

*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*

You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.

“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”

A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.

“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”

“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.

You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.

“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.

“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”

Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”

“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.

Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages, all in vain of course.

Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.

The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.

Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.

One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.

But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.

Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into a envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.

So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.

Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.

“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”

Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”

She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”

Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.

JAKE:

Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?

You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now; all so you could be stood up by the man.

Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.

Jake made you feel stupid yet again.

Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.

A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”

The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.

A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”

You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.

There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.

You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.

You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.

He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.

He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.

You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.

You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.

He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.

You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.

He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”

Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.

At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.

You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?

As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.

Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.

You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.

A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.

Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic, finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.

You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.

You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.

You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.

You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.

Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.

It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.

There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.

As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.

A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.

You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.

“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”

“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”

You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”

Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.

Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.

However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.

Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”

This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.

“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.

Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.

It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.

“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”

You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.

However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”

He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.

Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.

Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.

Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.

Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.

You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”

The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.

“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.

He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.

You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.” He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”

You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.

He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”

Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.

Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”

He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.

You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”

He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”

Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”

He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.

You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.

You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”

The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”

You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.

He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”

Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.

“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”

Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”

Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, and the slight uneven curl of his upper lip. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.

If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.

He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.

He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.

You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”

He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.

“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.

Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”

“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”

“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.

Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.

Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”

You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”

Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”

You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.

He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”

You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.

He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”

A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”

Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.

He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.

Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.

His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated; animalistically yourself.

For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.

He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.

Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.

Your core already weeps with need.

The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.

He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”

The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.

You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”

Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”

You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”

Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.

He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.

“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.

Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.

His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.

“Wider,” he growls out the demand.

You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.

He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.

You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.

He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.

The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.

He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”

Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”

He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.

He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.

You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.

You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.

Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.

“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.

He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”

Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”

He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”

He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.

You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”

“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.

You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”

Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.

He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.

He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.

“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.

Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.

As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”

You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.

“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.

Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.

He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.

You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.

Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.

His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.

“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.

Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.

Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.

“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.

Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.

He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.

“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.

He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.

“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”

He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.

He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.

He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.

Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”

Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.

“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”

In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.

“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.

You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.

“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.

You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.

You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.

He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.

You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”

You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”

The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.

He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”

You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”

You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch. Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”

You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.

He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”

“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.

Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”

Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.

Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”

“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.

He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.

“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “It killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”

Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.

You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”

Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”

One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”

Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.

Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”

Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.

Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.

Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.

His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.

You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.

You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”

You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.

Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.

“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.

You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.

“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”

You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.

His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.

Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.

He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”

He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.

Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”

He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”

You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.

He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.

Jakes slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”

“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.

He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”

The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.

He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.

He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”

He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”

You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.

You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.

pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

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[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x Male!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: Um *clears throat* Hello, I’m new in discovering your fics, and you’re the first writer I find who writes for male reader x Natasha Romanoff! I’ve only ever seen writers write for only female reader- BUT I UNDERSTAND REALLY, Natasha displayed major lesbian vibes and etc, and I fully support it really. But uh, as a male myself, and having Natasha as my favorite MCU character, it’s been rare finding fics for male reader, but again I’m not complaining, I fully support writers writing female writers!

Sorry I’m rambling, I just wanted to request, if you’re okay with it, something with male reader x Natasha with Father’s Day as the theme? Perhaps maybe Nat surprises reader that they’re gonna have a baby and all that? Of course there needs to be smut involved, I’ve read all your fics and clearly smut is a must have for the fic! Perhaps some daddy kink to throw in the mix?

And again, if it’s not on the books, I’ll understand!

AN: Enjoy, anon!

Natasha stares down at the little plastic stick in her trembling hands, blinking rapidly to make sure she’s not seeing blurred. There are two lines on the little window, matching the symbol for “Pregnant.”

She had never thought this could be possible, given what she had thought had happened in the Red Room, but maybe that hadn’t been an entirely honest truth--not that she was complaining. 

She thinks about how she’s going to tell you, knowing how much you always wanted to be a father, but had accepted that biologically having children with her might have been a huge challenge. Maybe it wasn’t as difficult as either of you thought after all.

Natasha knows she can barely keep the news hidden for long, so she wraps the pregnancy test up carefully and hides it. She goes to make dinner before you come home, deciding to cook your favorite meal instead of her planned one.

The smell of sizzling steak greets you the moment you open the front door, and you’re shocked for a moment because Natasha had texted you that she was going to make spaghetti and meatballs instead. Not that you’re upset, you’re always grateful when she cooks for you. But steak was more of a special occasion kind of meal, and your personal favorite.

“Nat honey? I’m home,” you call out, dropping your work bag at the door and slipping off your shoes.

“In the kitchen!”

You walk through the living room and find your girlfriend standing at the stove, moving an impressively thick cut of meat from cast-iron pan to a plate.   

“That looks really good, babe,” you say, greeting her with a kiss before going to help set the rest of the table.

“I made a salad, it’s in the fridge if you can get that out.”

“Sure.” You’re tempted to ask the occasion, but you wait. You grab the big glass bowl of salad and place it on the table. Natasha brings over two plates, one steak almost twice the size of the other, and puts the bigger one down in front of you. 

“Thanks for cooking, Nat. I’m starving,” you say, eagerly grabbing your fork and knife and carving into the meat. Natasha clears her throat, offering you the salad bowl and you relent, making sure to take a healthy portion of vegetables to balance out the pure protein on your plate. 

The meal is finished in relative silence--you would’ve struck up more conversation with her, but were too busy scarfing down your steak. It’s only when the last piece is gone that you sit back, patting your belly and smiling at her.

“That was amazing, Nat. What was the occasion?” you finally ask.

Natasha bounces in her seat, as if she had been waiting the whole time for you to ask. “You’re not gonna believe it, babe,” she says, getting up and grabbing something from behind the sink. She holds it out to you, wrapped in a napkin.

Slowly, you unravel it, surprised to see that it’s a pregnancy test, but even more surprised when you see that it’s showing a positive result.

“Is this...Is this yours?” you ask, not realizing how stupid the question is until it comes out of your mouth.

“Yes!” Natasha squeals, throwing herself at you and wrapping her arms around your waist tightly. 

“Oh my God.” You squeeze her back, trying to comprehend the meaning of the pregnancy test. You can’t believe it. Natasha had told you she couldn’t get pregnant, so you had never bothered to use protection with her, but that wasn’t to say you didn’t want to be or were not ready to become a father. It was one of the few dreams you had carried with you your whole life, and while you had been a little sad about Natasha’s situation, she was still open to adoption and you knew you didn’t need to be biologically related to your child to be a good father.

“I can’t believe it, Nat,” you say, pressing a kiss to her head.

“You’re gonna be a daddy. My daddy.”

The word makes your head spin, and also causes a tightening at the front of your pants. You look down at yourself, slightly embarrassed, and Natasha caresses your growing bulge, causing your hips to jerk forward at the contact. 

“Bedroom?” is all you can get out of your mouth before she takes your hand and drags you out of the kitchen. Both of you make quick work of your clothes and you join your girlfriend on the bed, your hands running along her sides with a soft reverence. 

“I love you so much, Nat,” you say, kissing her. “You’re gonna be the best mother to our child.”

“Our child,” she repeats, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. You wipe them away and press your forehead to hers, not saying anything for a moment as your hand goes down and rests on her flat belly. Of course, it’s too early for her to show or for you to feel anything, but you still cannot wrap your head around the idea that you and Natasha are finally going to have a child together. 

Natasha scratches up and down your back, digging her nails impatiently into your shoulder blades. You rock your hips against hers, your cock hardening faster when it rubs against the insides of her thighs. 

“I want you, Daddy,” Natasha pleads, and this new use of the term has all the blood rushing down to your cock so fast you think you might pass out. 

“You can have me, Nat,” you insist, leaning back to guide your tip to her entrance. You push into her gently, still wanting to be gentle with her even more than before, and her velvet walls wrap around your member with a familiar warmth. “Fuck,” you mutter, rolling your hips in short strokes, resisting the urge to pound into her without abandon. 

“More,” Natasha demands, her hands curving around the back of your thighs and trying to pull you into her. “You don’t have to be careful with me,” she says, but you can’t imagine being rough with her anymore. 

But the pulsing and squeezing around your cock overtakes your willpower and Natasha moans loudly as you finally begin slamming into her, driving your cock deep into her with each stroke. 

“Yes, just like that, Daddy,” she whines, holding onto her knees to keep them as wide as possible. You watch with drool on your lips as your cock thrusts in and out of her soaking pussy. Your entire body begins to tremble as you feel yourself ready to finish. 

“N-Nat, I’m gonna...I’m gonna...” you pant.

“Finish in me,” Natasha says, and the reminder that the thought that you don’t have to pull out because she’s already pregnant causes you to erupt instantly. Hot ropes of cum pulse out of your cock, and the effort, combined with the heavy meal you just had, causes you to almost collapse on top of Natasha. You wrap your arms around her, dropping your head onto her chest as she strokes your hair softly. 

“I’m so happy you’re the one I get to start a family with,” is the last thing you hear Natasha say before you fall asleep.

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AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[axigailxo]

Pretty Like You | PJM (2)

part two: parties and pilates

series summary. where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it.

pairing. feminine!jimin x reader

rating. M | 18+ |

genre. enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, smut, sub! jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

w.c. 4.8k

warnings. heavy descriptions of self hate and self abuse later into the story, please be advised. mention of “unaliving” in this chapter.

ch summary. where oc convinces jimin to go to a frat party in an attempt to break him out of his shell

**this is part 2 of my series pretty like you, not a stand-alone

series masterlist | <-previous | next ->

“And then despite it all, she asked if I wanted to talk, can you believe it?”

It’s been a couple of days since the incident at the art room, and Jimin can’t stop ranting about it like it’s new news. He still hasn’t texted you, and it’s not like he could since he doesn’t even have your number. He could get it from you in class, but thats a little hard when he’s on a streak of skipping.

After you suggested to help him embark on a self love journey, Jimin has been so damn confused. He doesn’t know whether to jump at the opportunity, rot away in embarrassment that you read his journal, or be slightly offended that you’d suggest help when he thinks he’s just fine. Kind of.

All options are tempting, nonetheless.

Daisy, Jimin’s cat that is currently victim to listening about what happened for the hundredth time, lifts up off her soft body and saunters out of his room. What? She’s fed up.

Jimin, who is suffering from her rude and sudden exit, huffs as he debates whether he should follow up about that whole thing with you. Because despite all his options, he’s leaning more towards just avoiding you at all costs and pretending that situation never even happened.

Except he’ll remember. It’ll haunt him and his thoughts every night until he finally just addresses it.

And so that’s why he should go to class today. Maybe. Jimin squints his eyes as he contemplates and considers, ultimately deciding that coffee is the first step that should be taken. Especially since it’s way too early to have a crisis, that can wait for later. Per usual.

Making his way to his Keurig, he pops a peppermint mocha flavored pod into the top compartment followed by a little water in another compartment until he’s clicking a button to brew it.

“So now you like me,” Jimin scoffs as Daisy rubs against his ankle, excited for Jimin to give her breakfast.

Commanding to the manipulation of the feline, Jimin grabs a can of cat food out of a cupboard, internally scolding himself for being nice and buying her the expensive kind again.

Although, Jimin can’t blame Daisy for being fed up with all his predicaments. He would be too. However spilling to Daisy is much more acceptable than telling it all to his human best friend, Taehyung.

Jimin has already thought about the fact that if he spends time with you, whether it be for a self love journey or not, that’d be breaking some sort of bro code with Tae.

You’re Taehyung’s crush, and Jimin respects that. Plus it’s not like Taehyung has to worry, you’re out of Jimin’s league anyway.

However that hard on be got the other night still baffles him. He’s narrowed it down to being that you’re just attractive and he’s just a gross horny man. But not even that sounds right.

Jimin has thought about inviting Taehyung to every outing you may have together, but he can’t. How in hell would he explain to his best friend that the whole reason he’s seeing you is so that he can learn to accept himself and flaunt that feminine side of him? Let alone explain to him that you read his journal full of how much he envies and adores you at the same time. He can’t. More specifically, he won’t. Taehyung doesn’t need to meet that side of him, Jimin thinks. It’s for the better.

Jimin ponders for a second, and he hates himself for pouring his coffee into a travel cup and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He figures since he’s already keeping a secret from Tae, one more shouldn’t hurt. Plus he can’t avoid you forever. There’s really only one thing to do now.

“Eat up Daisy, I’ll be back after class.”

“Jimin? Hey!”

Standing in line at the campus’s cafe, Jimin washes over in a cold sweat as the loud call of his name attracts the attention of almost everyone near. He came here to get an additional caffeine boost before class and more importantly stall from talking to you, but it’s just his luck that you’d be here too.

“Hi,” he mutters awkwardly, eyes on the ground the second you get closer.

He’s never seen you so up-close before. He wonders if your skin has always looked so smooth.

He wishes his skin were as smooth.

“I was gonna call to ask about your no shows in class but I completely forgot to give you my number the last time we talked.”

Jimin finds this incredibly new and odd. Just a few days ago he hated you without knowing you and now you’re talking to him like a friend. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to.

“Here,” you say as you hand him your phone, a new contact page open and ready for him to fill out. “That way we can talk out of school, plus I found multiple super-helpful self esteem websites that you might li—“

“Y/N,” Jimin halts your enthusiasm. Again, way too early in the morning for this. “Can we not talk about it in such a public place?”

His tone is hushed and embarrassed, trying not to let the several eyes on them to hear that he’s struggling with self esteem. God this is so much more depressing than Jimin initially thought it’d be.

“Of course, yeah no my bad.” You rush your words, retracting your hand down before Jimin grabs the phone from you, typing his number.

“I dont expect you to waste time on me. Just text when you have absolutely nothing else to do. This isn’t important enough to occupy your schedule.”

Immediately, you frown at his words. Sure this is important. And contrary to his request, you already cleared something off of your schedule for him.

“First off, this is important. I won’t have you taking down on yourself anymore.”

Jimin so badly wants to ask why, but he won’t because that’s rude and you don’t deserve anymore rudeness from him. Not after what you read in the art room.

“Secondly, I already cancelled pilates for you. I have something else fun planned for us.”

Jimin can’t help his sudden snicker.

“What?” You ask, slightly offended.

“Nothing, it’s just funny you take pilates. Of course you do.”

You wanted to carry on with being offended, but you felt a pang of accomplishment upon getting him to laugh. Progress, you think.

“Yeah yeah,” you dismiss as you tuck your phone into your back pocket, trailing back out of the cafe. “Laugh all you want but just know that this ass didn’t grow itself!”

You: u, me, frat party tonight at 9.

Sat on the hard seats of the lecture hall, Jimin’s eyes go wide as he reads your reply to his text.

The second you sauntered out of the cafe, you were quick to text Jimin in hopes to break the tension between you two— which technically isn’t tension at all given Jimin is the only one who finds your new friendship odd. Well him and the rest of the students who saw you two talking together.

Jimin had asked what you had planned, and when you replied with frat party, he felt physically ill.

Jimin: absolutely not. sorry.

You: hear me out, it’s not even a big party

You: it’s very discreet and there’s only gonna be a couple people

Jimin locks eyes with you from across the room and mouths “no” with an adamant shake of his head. You roll your eyes before your thumbs get back to texting him.

You: we can pregame before we go so u can loosen up

You: if you’re with me, there’s nothing to worry about

Jimin wants to be offended. He most definitely does not need you at his rescue. The intent however was a little sweet. God Jimin is reminded exactly why he despised you— you’re perfect.

Jimin: i’ll think about it. that’s not a yes.

He pretends he doesn’t notice the little happy dance you do in your seat, nor the squeal of excitement you let out even though he didn’t give a definite answer.

Jimin starts to smile, but when he looks to his left he sees someone else who’s smiling at you and it vanishes. Taehyung. Completely gawking at you, Jimin fights that weird feeling that suddenly engulfs him. Maybe it’s the fact he’s hiding his new friendship with you from Tae.

Either that or somewhere in his subconscious, he doesn’t like how Tae is smiling at you.

“God dude, isn’t she so cute.” Tae whispers, completely oblivious to why you’re dancing in you’re seat.

Jimin trails his gaze to his lap as a bitter mood takes hold of him.

“Yeah… definitely.”

Jimin is in a rut.

Even though he’s still not certain about going to that party, finding a potential outfit never hurt anyone. Moments after he got home he was already sucked into his closet by the magnetic pull of all the great clothes he has— even though he knows himself well enough to understand he will end up changing into his “boy clothes” no matter what he ends up choosing.

He slips on a black, oversized distressed sweater. The seams are ripped in just the right places, leaving a fraction of his chest, his belly, and a dash of his waist to be visible beneath the shredded fabric. The back showcases a fair amount of skin as well.

This one, Jimin thinks to himself, isn’t so feminine. It’s doable. Maybe.

He wants to pair it with a skirt but that would only be a waste of time because if he can’t even leave his apartment in a skirt to check the mailbox, he sure as hell will not be wearing it to a frat party of all places.

He grabs a pair of black chinos that he thrifted not so long ago, letting it rest low on his waist. He pulls the look together with black combat boots and a dainty necklace that he tucks beneath the sweater. It makes him feel pretty despite the fact he’s the only one aware it’s on him.

He steps back to absorb the outfit in the mirror, and he feels good. It’s a combination of both masculine and feminine and it’s definitely testing the waters but Jimin knows his night won’t be enjoyable in the least if he wears a baggy hoodie or tee. He likes what he has on, even if the frat boys will give him shit for it. Which they definitely will.

He hears Daisy meow across the room, and upon directed his gaze to her his eyes settle on the makeup bag tucked into the far back corner of his desk.

He’s tempted, he is. But he can’t. He’s not ready yet.

Just as he begins to walk towards his desk, only enticing himself further, a knock on his door is heard and he takes that as a sign from god herself that he should skip the makeup.

With a sigh, he heads to the door.

“Knock… Knock… Knock!”

“Just a minute! For fuck’s sake.”

Irritated at the swat team-like announcement, Jimin swings the door open to reveal none other than Jessica Rabbit?

“You didn’t tell me it was a costume party!” Jimin complains as he steps aside, gesturing you to come in.

Both hands holding a bottle of E&J, you let yourself in and place the bottle on his countertop.

“Oh yeah, it’s a costume party.”

“It’s not even halloween,” Jimin states the obvious as he instinctively heads for two glasses out of his cupboard.

“It’s to make up for last year. There was a big game the day of halloween so none of the guys were in a party mentality.”

Party Mentality?

Jimin can’t believe he’s hearing about frat news from you, who is in his apartment dressed like Jessica Rabbit and is downing a shot straight from the bottle. What has his life come to.

You notice him staring so you apologize as you offer him the bottle to pour.

“Figured we’d pregame like I said. Also we gotta figure out a costume for you. Ooh what about a slutty artist or something.”

Jimin swears you make him lose brain cells. Sliding a now-filled glass toward you, he takes a large gulp of his own.

“Slutty artist?” He thinks out loud. “I’m fine with what I have on.”

Jimin counts down the seconds until you praise his bold sweater choice, but he can feel the alcohol rise back up when you say the opposite.

“In all honestly I thought that was a sleep shirt. We’re putting you in something else.”

You navigate yourself straight to what you assume is him bedroom, and Jimin nearly falls flat on his face chasing after you.

This may be a bit embarrassing for Jimin to admit to himself, but he’s never had a girl in his room before. It’s intimate, he thinks. Having someone inside a room that has witnessed every one of his breakdowns, outfit changes, alone time moments, etcetera. Jimin cringes as memories from the other night come back to him.

“Cute room,” you tell him as you look around, admiring the fairy lights and album covers displayed. Jimin was always big on music. Maybe posters were too far given his age, but he didn’t care. He never thought someone else would ever see them.

Although, Tae has been to Jimin’s place before. He knows about the posters and fairy lights. Though he never once questioned it or even talked about it. Only when he called that one poster of Ariana Grande hot. That’s what Jimin likes about Tae, he never questions him. But it’s not like Jimin gives him much to wonder about. He’s completely masked to the eyes of his best friend.

“This,” you start, dramatic tone and all, “this is gorg.” You hold out his favorite black skirt, and it’s lightening quick how fast he snatches it from you.

“No.” He tells you, cheeks getting hot. He’s embarrassed to say the least. He knows you know about his self esteem issues, but you have yet to discover his fondness for feminine clothing. But you have now.

“What? You’re embarrassed I found a skirt? If it’s socially acceptable for women to wear sweats, then it should be acceptable for men to wear skirts.”

Someone who gets it, Jimin thinks. This is the first time he’s ever felt understood when it comes to this, and he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“But skirt or no skirt, I think it’s important that you feel sexy tonight.”

“And why is that?” Jimin plays along. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed as you continue to look through his wardrobe.

“Because halloween parties exist solely for people to feel sexy all night.”

“It’s not halloween,” Jimin argues again, earning a shirt thrown at his face. Giggling, he holds it out in front of him.

You stand in front of his closet with a look of excitement on your face. His reaction disappoints you, however.

“Y/N, no. I can’t wear this out.”

“Just try it on.”

He knew this was part of your plan to get him to gain a little confidence and even convince him to leave the house in something he feels good in, but Jimin is adamant. He cannot wear this.

It’s a fitted baseball tee, extremely cropped and a shade of pale pink. Jimin cannot leave the house like this, despite how good it makes him feel deep down.

Reluctant and a tad shy, Jimin removes his sweatshirt from his body as he replaces it with what you threw at him. In the short moment he was bare, you might’ve stole a glance at his figure. His body is perfect, you think. Slim waist with faint yet toned abs and a noticeable amount of muscle on his arms. You take another sip of the drink that has yet to leave your hand.

“I look stupid.”

“You look sexy.”

The compliment was unexpected and was more than enough to have Jimin’s eyes widen. He breaks eye contact because how could he not, and he self consciously wraps an arm around his stomach.

More so his lap.

“I don’t know,” he says faintly, mumbling over his speech. “I think it’s a bit much.”

“Change to grey sweats. You can tell people you’re a 60’s athlete, they dressed like this back in the day you know.”

Yeah right, tell a bunch of actual scary frat boy athletes that’s he’s mocking their style from the 60’s.

His brows furrow when you step closer to him, reclining down and reaching for the skirt he had snatched from you. You grab one of his wrists, placing the bunched up material into his hand. His cheeks are on fire, his heartbeat picking up.

“Try it on,” you whisper. “For me.”

And fuck. Jimin is fully erect. He physically cannot bring himself to stand let alone change in front of you. He pushes your hand away, never wanting to disappear so badly.

“Another time. You already got me to wear this tee, baby steps.”

Disappointed, you think he’s right. You can’t beg him to gain confidence to wear an entire outfit like this on the first day of his journey. It takes time, and luck for Jimin you’re very patient.

“Another time,” you repeat softly.

Jimin has been to a function with very little people before. He knows what a small little get together looks like. This party— it isn’t that.

“You said a couple people!” He shouts over the blairing music as you pull him through the front hall and to the packed kitchen.

He has no clue who’s house this is and he hasn’t seen a single normal person. Everyone is either drunk, high, or the worst: a frat. He shivers in discomfort before you bring a shot glass to his lips.

“Guess word spread and more people came, no biggie.”

He downs the shot of what turns out to be tequila, wincing as he coughs out a reply.

“Huge biggie.” He looks around the crowded house after a bystander drunkenly bumps into him and slurs an incoherent apology.

This was a mistake.

“Y/N, what is the point of me being here? This isn’t making me feel good about myself in the least, this isn’t my environment.”

You take another shot before quickly grabbing a lime and placing it between Jimin’s plump lips, and before he can register what you’re doing, your lips are already on his as you suck from the lime. Nipping the fruit with your teeth you pull it out and drop it into the sink, grin wide as Jimin turns fire hydrant red.

That shouldn’t count as a kiss, but you just sort-of-kissed Jimin. His mouth is dry, heartbeat in his stomach, and he is hyper alert on the way his knees are subtly shaking.

“Ease up Jimin, it’s gonna be a long night.”

He didn’t know it then but that’s the last time he’d be seeing you until the end of the party. He sauntered off to a random couch that was unoccupied for the most part, only some random (and gross) couple having a full blown make out session on the opposite side.

He made sure to keep his cup filled the whole night as that’s the only thing keeping him from walking straight out the door and back into the comfort of anything that’s not this party.

He’s spotted Tae a few times, who is dressed as Jack from the titanic, but Tae hasn’t noticed him yet which is probably because his rather different fashion approach and the fact he’s at a frat party. If anything that should be a reason Tae spots him since he’s the odd one out, Jimin thinks. Then again it is a costume party and no one look normal per-say. Nor is Tae the sharpest tool in the shed.

He also thanks the universe for not letting Tae notice you and Jimin arrive together.

He’s been glancing at you for a while now, the way you sway your hips to the rap song playing on the surround sound speakers. The way your skin is glowing even under the dim, groggy lights of the house. He watches the way smoke exits your mouth as Tae places a blunt between your perfect lips. He looks away when Tae also places a hand on your waist, dancing with you so intimately that it pains Jimin to see.

He knows he’ll be hearing all about this from Tae. You’re his favorite person, he’s probably over the moon about dancing with you right now.

“Jimin?” Speaking of the devil.

Jimin waves awkwardly as Tae whispers something to you and proceeds to walk towards his direction. You go off to dance with a frat guy who’s been waiting all night to have your attention. Jimin finds him pathetic.

“What are you doing here? You never come to these kinds of things.”

The music is loud but that’s nothing compared to how deep and confident Tae’s voice is. Despite Jimin’s desire to be more feminine, there are some masculine traits he wishes to have. A deeper voice is one of them. Not Tae’s level of deep, but deeper than what his currently is.

“A friend forced me to,” he admits, not naming names because how could he.

“Oh you have friends?” The younger man teases, earning a grumpy eye roll from Jimin. He takes another swig out of his cup.

Jimin remembers what he’s wearing and wonders why his best friend hasn’t said anything about it yet. He almost wants to point it out so it doesn’t awkwardly go unsaid and leaves Tae to catch on to his secret need for femininity.

“Like my costume?” Jimin asks, masking the fact that this is actually just a random shirt he’s had in his wardrobe and not a costume.

Tae gives him a quick once over, not lingering his eyes on the top for long.

“Oh what are you supposed to be?”

He definitely thought that wasn’t a costume and instead a normal outfit. Jimin cringes, hating you right now more than ever for making him show up in this. But he also loves you for providing him with the save he’s about to use on Tae.

“I’m a 60’s athlete. They used to dress like this you know.”

Taehyung hums, genuinely convinced.

“Wah that’s clever. I thought that was yours for a sec.”

Jimin hates himself for what he’s about to say.

“Why on earth would I own a pink crop top, that’s ridiculous.”

They laugh it off, and Jimin feels a gut wrenching pang in his stomach. That sentence wasn’t made for him, and it made him a liar and a hypocrite to his own desire.

He needs to go now before he says even more self damaging nonsense.

“Hey Tae, do you think you can get me a blunt?” Jimin asks in hopes to excuse his friend and, well, get high.

“Is this coming from the same person that said smoking isn’t good for you?”

Jimin remembers when he said that but he’s far too drained to be defensive or right. He shrugs as he admits to his hypocrisy.

“Yeah well so are frat parties but here I am. Cough one up, I know you have some.”

Tae stands up to reach in his front pocket, pulling out a steep tin that reveals 3 joints. He hands one to Jimin, telling him a brief “I’ll be back” before vanishing to find you again.

Something told Jimin to stay at the party despite how badly he wanted to go. He thought about how it may make you sad if he were to just leave, then he ridded that idea because why on earth would that make you sad. Nevertheless, he glanced outside to see if the crowd was acceptable to join. It wasn’t.

Deciding to not smoke with a bunch of frat guys, he goes the alternative route and heads for the hallway to secure an empty room. When he succeeds, he closes the door behind him and props the window open as he lights the tip of his joint.

He doesn’t smoke often, barely at all, but he needed this. As the smoke entered into his mouth he inhaled it eagerly, head rolling back as he slowly blows it all back out. This feels good, he thinks. The atmosphere on the other hand still could be better.

Jimin laughs to himself. Smoking weed at a frat party you invited him to. The world is funny that way, he nods to himself. Almost as funny as how you’re all he can think about right now.

He doesn’t know what it is. It’s not hate. For sure not love. He’s just thinking about you. Perhaps he misses your company? Or the way your skirts never reveal too much but just enough to drive him crazy.

The way your pouty lips move when you talk.

Your soft skin.

Your silky voice.

The way you look in that Jessica Rabbit costume you wore tonight.

Jimin is painfully erect, and without even noticing his hand has been palming himself desperately this entire time, blunt being delicately held in the other hand, occasionally being brought up for more puffs to fuel what he’s doing right now.

“Fuck Y/N, yes.”

He unties his sweats. One more rough drag and he kills the blunt on the rim of the windowsill, both hands focusing on himself now. One hand tugging his waistband down, the other guiding himself out. And all he can think about is how sexy you are.

He gets carried away, going so fast on himself that he doesn’t hear or see the door open. He’s high beyond belief, god only knows what Taehyung had laced in that blunt, and so when he sees you he swears his imagination is just very vivid.

Until his conscience registers and he almost squeals as he lunges back in shock of the situation.

Quickly you run up to him just in time to pull his entire body back and preventing him from falling out the window. You’re breathing heavy, half because of what you saw moments before and partially because you just saved his life.

“Fuck Jimin, be careful.”

And how fucking peculiar it is that you’re not addressing his cock that is out in the open between the two of you.

Jimin can’t speak. He almost literally died from being caught jerking himself to you while being high out his mind.

What a fucking legacy he’d have left.

After catching his breath he frantically goes to put himself away but his hand is stopped by yours.

“You know people sneak into rooms at parties to have sex with each other, not to do themselves.”

His cheeks flush red.

“Only freaks do that.”

Jimin has wanted to before, but he officially wants to unalive himself. How pathetic he is, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m really high right now and I thought I locked the—“

He cuts himself off when you guide his hand back onto himself.

“You’re not gonna ask me why I came in here?”

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“Why?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, very slowly putting his own hand into motion against himself.

“Because I’m a freak too.”

Your words came out in a faint whisper but Jimin’s senses are heightened and he hears it like a megaphone in his ears. Your tits are practically spilling out your tiny red tube dress as you lean to help him stroke himself. A shiver cascades down his whole body, an unintentional yet hesitant whimper rumbling off his throat.

You giggle, then abruptly you stand. You lean down and peck him on his frozen, plump lips.

“Have a good night Jimin, I’ll be in contact for our next power move.” You walk towards the door. “Masturbating is a good way to show yourself love, kudos to you kid.”

Jimin’s hand is glued to his stiff cock, frozenly just keeping it there as he stares at you with his mouth agape.

“I’ll lock this on my way out, by all means finish and do not fall out any windows.”

And just like that you open the door only a couple inches and squeeze out to give him privacy. He’s left in the same spot, still in absolute shock.

You’re perfect.

You’re beautiful, and apparently so fucking sexy in sexual situations. It takes only one more stroke and one more thought of you for Jimin to reach the finish line, cum dropping down his hand and shaft as he fucks into his fist.

He breathes jaggedly until he’s drained of all energy and collapses on the bed.

To his shock, he’s not freaking out. He’s actually smiling. Then again that could easily be the weed talking. What did taehyung put in that anyway?

Jimin’s smile dissipates as an ugly thought sends a cold chill throughout him.

You’re his best friend’s crush. You’re Taehyung's. And he just betrayed him. Jimin hates how the universe works sometimes. When one thing goes well, the whole world goes to shit.

The world is funny that way.

ply pt 2???? im sorry for how long it took luvies, last year was so intense. i hope you all are still here to read😿 run this uppppp cuties!! til next time luvs🤭❤️

🏷️: @exactlygreatcoffee @sweetieguk @ctrlsht @blessrious @someusername133 @dreamer-pjm @zadkielr @dearsullix @lailaaxd @osakis-gf @jnghs @seltansworld @bxnqtxnie @moon-kid39 @mawwnsterr @zadkielr @iamjimintrash @chansbaybygirl @canarystwin @dearsullix @polyparkj @mannymalfoy @jmincore @kyglover @coralmusicblaze @midnightangel13 @jm-jkfics @lovelyflower02 @xcherrywaltz

soooo many of u guys who asked to be in the taglist changed your usernames so unfortunately i couldn't tag u☹️hopefully this found u!🫶🏻

(for anyone else who'd like to be in the taglist pls reply to this post <3)

[vitzi9]

Can I request as ethan landry as a bf? thanks!

(Toxic relationship with female reader)

Toxic Ethan Landry as a bf

bro why is he so pretty. i could stare at this gif for hours

Masterlist if you want to read my other things.

Thanks for all the request you've been sending me! I'm working on them don't worry.

TW/CW: ghostface Ethan, murder, manipulation, stalking, voyeurism, obsession, sickness, throwing up, food poisoning

I hope that's what you wanted. I have difficulties with headcanon because I feel they're all the same? I don't know how to explain but it's hard to find new ideas that no ones ever mentionned before. Still, i liked writing this. (27/07/2023) (2 232 words)

Toxic Ethan Landry who has access to all your private life on your phone. It's his morning journal at this point, he just kinda read what you liked, retweeted or sent.

He'll spend minutes filtering the accounts you follow to see if you started following someone he doesn't know. Or if someone followed you, which is worse in his opinion. Most of the time, it's porn account with big tits but Ethan still doesn't like it because he's scared you'll fall in love with them. (he knows they're fake accounts, he doesn't care)

Toxic Ethan Landry who already thought about sending you a dick pic to see what your reaction would be. (he never did it, he probably never will either)

Toxic Ethan Landry who made multiple fake accounts to dm you on different social media to test your loyalty. And you, on the other hand, tell him how you're confused because you usually don't get any dm?? And suddenly you get plenty ? You don't even have a profile picture on some social media and you still get dm?

"The world finally understands how pretty you are!" he tells you. But it's him, him and only him. He blocks every guy he deems too pretty so you never see them. So you never get tempted to leave him.

He's happy you don't answer to any of his dm and sad because that also mean you don't answer him.... He's confused.

Toxic Ethan Landry who made a 'fan account' of you just to see how you'd react to someone with as much devotion, to test the water. You have no idea it's him and when you learn about it, you're a little creeped out because what the fuck ? A stranger did that ? And it's just picture of you in your classes from different point of view. You looking at the board, you writing, you dozing off.

Of course your boyfriend would help you file a complaint. He goes to the police station with you, supporting you. And, oh, detective Bailey is in charge of your case ! He's so nice with you, asking you to calmly explain him the situation and he even lets your boyfriend stays in the room with you. You don't understand why a detective and not a normal cop is taking your complaint but you're happy someone is simply even taking it.

And when you go back home hands in hands with your boyfriend, you feel a little better because you have hope you're protected. And your tension lessen thanks to Bailey who didn't judge you and stayed patient.

"I'm happy you like him, love." Ethan tells you fondly and you don't quite understand but you just think he's happy you feel at ease.

While Ethan is just really fucking happy he finally introduced you to his family and is delighted you like his father.

Toxic Ethan Landry who saw the text Mindy sent you. Because he reads every one, and especially those you send Mindy, of your messages. She was trying to prove you Ethan was Ghostface, she didn't have any proofs, he knew that. But you've been friends with her longer than you've been with him, she had that advantage in which you'd trust her if she was convincing enough.

And she was reminding you about how weirds things keeps happening to you ever since he's in your life. Some of your friend's contacts in your phone have been deleted, you lose your keys at least once every week just the day where your roomate isn't here and you have to go sleep at his place instead, he keeps giving his opinion on things that are directed to you. It's not even big things, it's Tara asking you if you saw one certain film and if you want to go see it and Ethan's all like "I heard this movie wasn't really good! Don't worth seeing it." And Mindy always snaps at him because "damn, nobody asked you?"

And that, right now, is why her fucking girlfriend fucking died.

Mindy keeps insisting that he's weird, that sometimes you can't make it to your friend's parties because he's all clung to you and keep begging you to stay. Or she mentions how you told her you felt bad because you always lose your homework and you often end up copying on your boyfriend. Her main argument is that he's using "passive control" over you.

"Never trust the love interest" she'd repeat. "you won't dare leave him because he's making it look like he's nice and you'll feel bad for leaving him when he's a literal demon"

And Ethan starts to freak out because you genuinely start to see everything she highlights. But he still has times, because he knows you love him. You're simply starting to have questions.

Questions Ethan can't answer.

Toxic Ethan Landry who know you want to have a good, serious conversation with him. He knows you'll ask him about the deleted numbers, he knows you'll ask him about the lost homework, or simply all the things you lost in general. And you lost damn lot of things because of him.

And each time you come back home, ready to talk, Ethan's already here. You guess your roomate let him in. He's always doing a chore before you, doing laundry, cooking, vacuuming or sometimes he just sleeps (well, he makes it look like he does anyway). And you always feel bad for wanting to talk to him when he's so nice to you.

Because he doesn't have to clean your home, it's yours, not his. But he still does it. Because he's your perfect boyfriend.

"Ethan, I wanted to... you say, setting your bag on the nearest table. You have to talk to him, it's been haunting you for days ! He looks at you, eyes bright. He came back from his classes two hours ago and he's cleaning your windows. The floor, you noticed, has been vacuumed and mopped. He only wears a shirt and a boxer, because he knows it alters your concentration and just eases your anger in general when you see his ass. Even more when he's doing chores, he looks like he's your husband. -Yes sweetheart ? Something bothering you?" with a bright smile as he's always happy to see you get back home, and he knows he won again because you change subject.

Toxic Ethan Landry who, strangely enough, never argues with you. Because somehow, he's always agreeing with you. Or, at the end of the day, you changed your mind.

"I want to take somes vacation", you'd say. And Ethan despises your idea because that mean you'll leave him alone for some time. But he won't tell you, because he's your perfect boyfriend.

"Yes, that's a good idea. You deserve a break."

But suddenly, you can't go because your roomate announces you that they won a prize on internet on a contest they don't even remember participing in. And they won a ticket for a trip to another country. So you can't leave because you'd leave the apartment empty, something you can't do in such a big city like yours. So now you have to wait before leaving.

So you announce the new to Ethan, a few hours later. He already knows it, of course. He's the one sending the damn ticket and he's the one putting a mic in your phone.

But you look so sad when you can't go on vacations so Ethan reassures you, telling you that as soon as your roomate comes back, both of you'll leave on vacations for a week, just the both of you. And you want to leave so badly that the idea of Ethan bringing you in another country is making you dream so you agree.

Or when you're on the verge of leaving because Ethan couldn't prevent you to do so sooner, bad news are thrown at you. You're trying to do one last laundry to put one or two clothes more in your baggage when the washing machine stops working. Then the fridge is acting weird, the TV is disconnected and if everything does not prevent you of leaving, you're being robbed while you're out.

Now, you just can't leave. That'd be too dangerous to leave your apartment (your roomate!) alone, even for a week, especially for a week.

You're angry, of course. Insulting whoever decided to break into your house and Ethan supports you throught it all. You're telling him how it's always hard to leave a few days because you have the strange impression the fate against you. And maybe you're right.

Ethan is happy because that mean he gets to sleep at your place more often, 'just in case someone try to break in again'.

Toxic Ethan Landry, who, hates when you go to parties. You always offer him to come with you but he refuses. He hates parties because everyone is always drunk out of their minds and they're just all semi-naked and he hates the thought of you seeing someone else's body.

He does come, of course. He wouldn't think of leaving you alone.

Well, Ethan Landry doesn't come, Ghostface does. He's anrgy enough of thinking you'd leave him alone while you're out with your friends to kill whoever is on the way. He's mad at you, but he can't be for long. He grabs the first fucker aside form the group he sees and plunges his knife in him withtout waiting. All he needed was a witness to run away telling everyone what happened, so you'd have to leave the party.

And that's what happens. Everyone runs everywhere, they're pushing each other yelling, and he hopes no one hurt you because other wise the night will be much longer than expected. He already hid his costume in the bag in his car by now. He searches for you and eventually, he finds you.

You're with your friends, you don't understand what's happening but you're leaving too. It warms his heart seeing you here. It's as if you're seeking refuge in his presence. So he endulges you and joins you, your friends recognize him so they just let you go. You're drunk. He knew you'd be as you don't go out much, so when you do, you completly let go. He still doesn't like it but it eases him the work. He won't have to explain why he's already here when you haven't even called him.

After that, everything is back to normal. You're both in pajamas, cuddling in bed. You're fast asleep and Ethan loves it. And when you wake up the next morning, he simply tells you that your friends called him to come pick you up. That he doesn't know what happened but he's happy you're safe.

Toxic Ethan Landry who, when thinks you start to avoid him just a little too much, is pissed the fuck off, and is obligated to poison your food. Because your stupid little friend Mindy is always in your fucking business when she should be crying the death of her fucking girlfriend and leave you both alone. And she's telling you that Ghostface attacked again, that your boyfriend's behaviour is just too weird and Ethan doesn't realize it but he fully death glare her when she talks now. Because you always defended him until now, he thought he was safe.

But you start having doubts.

And if it wasn't for his damn family's plan Mindy would be long gone by now. Because she just loves ruining your life, right ? But he'll talk about her to his dad later, because you're calling him. For the first time in three days. Three only (or three too much) because he didn't last long being ignored by you and he decided to act.

Food poisoning, a classic he must say. But it works. He's already packing his bag to come see you when he answers your call.

"Hi Ethan, I didn't want to bother you but do you have medicine? He hates that you didn't want to bother him, because before you'd have called him because of a headache or because you're hungry. He knows by now, your stomach hurt like hell and you probably threw up once or twice. He's sorry but it was the only option. "Aw, you're sick baby ? I'm coming. you can hear him move in the other side of the phone, you're assuming he's putting some clothes on. Did you eat ? I bet you didn't. I'll find you something to eat, okay ? Try to sleep, love. I won't be long."

When he arrives a few minutes later, he feeds you, gives you medicine and ensures your fever doesn't increase. He doesn't like seeing you in pain. But he's glad you called him. Because you were distancing yourself from him. And you know damn well you just can't do that.

And he hates to think like that but somehow, you deserved it. Because you should trust him and not her. Because he's your perfect boyfriend who'd never do harm. Because he's the love of your life.

But it'll taught you how you can't live without him. He thinks he'll have to change plan now. It seems being too nice makes you think he's weak.

But he's everything but weak, especially when you're concerned.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 5)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (5)

Masterlist (other parts here)

(A little bit of Lucy's POV. I love the subtle differences in what they notice and how they think... 🥹)

Lucy was going crazy. She couldn’t get YFN out of her head. Seeing her in the rain, those big blue eyes filled with worry as she held Jordan, a woman she’d never met before. The way she was always smiling to herself without even realising it. The amount of care she had for anyone and anything around her. Lucy knew she should have been prepping for the game, but she just had to message Jordan to get as much information out of her about YFN without her being suspicious. She was a writer, and a dreamer. A typical little go-with-the-flow Australian. Everything she did had made her fall just a little harder, from seeing her in the crowd wearing her jersey and hugging her family, to seeing her jump for joy at her goal, and laughing and bantering with Jordan like they’d known each other for years. Lucy knew she wore her heart on her sleeve but tried to hide it a lot of the time. This was a more aggressive form of that. Perhaps it’s because she’d been alone for so long now, watching Keira move on had been difficult, but she still wished the best for her best friend. She’d been with people since then however she couldn’t help but feel that this was different. She was falling. Hard. She didn’t even know if YFN was attracted to women. Or athletes. She hadn’t texted or called after Lucy gave her number to her, but was beaming when she saw her in the stadium. Was she just giving her space to prep for the game? Lucy had been frustrated at her overthinking and dug into her prep work. She pushed in the game, hard. She wanted to impress her. Her knee was screaming and she almost broke a rib when she somersaulted over a player, but it was all worth it to see the look on her face. She knew she was being cocky when she asked for a hug, but god it was worth it. She smelled so good and was so small and warm, it made Lucy tingle. She also knew she was being cocky when she asked if she wanted her autograph, but she was more than happy when she said yes. She was tempted to sign over her chest but thought better of it, opting for her collarbone instead. Lucy had to summon up most of her confidence to make it neat while they were touching each other. She placed a little number 2 with a smiley face next to it. When they locked eyes, the shy Lucy came out and she had to take in a deep breath and look away to avoid exposing her feelings in public. And although she was looking at Jordan and worrying about her when it came to deciding about the dinner party, her heart was aching to know YFN was coming.

Lucy was impatiently waiting, her knee bouncing. She’d saved two seats between her and Jorge for them and was beginning to worry. Were they coming? Just as she pulled out her phone to text, they walked through the door. Jordan in oversized clothes again and YFN wearing jeans and a loose black button up shirt, half tucked in at the front. Her golden brown hair was up in a messy but pretty bun and she looked happy. Their eyes met and Lucy had automatically stood as if she were back in the 1800s where chivalry was king. She internally cringed at herself. They both looked over at Leah and YFN leant in to whisper something in Jordan’s ear. They two were suddenly laughing loud and hanging off of each other. A tiny bit of jealously twinged in her stomach and she pushed aside the stupid feeling. Lucy was a little disappointed when Jordan sat in the seat closest to her, though she was grateful to have some good chats with a much happier looking Jordan while YFN met most of the squad and their families. It warmed her heart to see her bantering with her family, especially her nephew. She knew she had to seize an opportunity to talk to her, and was happy when she was finally next to her. They brushed up against each other sometimes, a few of those times purposely by Lucy.  The feeling of being so close to her was addictive. She was addicted to seeing her smile, hearing her laugh and the touches of her skin. She wondered what it would be like to go further, and just as quickly as the thought came into her head, she pushed it aside every single time it popped up. And it popped up a lot.

Lucy sharing her food felt so natural between the two because YFN would always be so grateful and happy, and always offer something in return. Food was one of Lucy’s big love languages and she could feel it was YFN’s also.

When Lucy opened the bathroom door and saw YFN, she was surprised. One of her teammates had said they thought she was on the phone outside. She froze and found her body stuck there. There was no one else in the bathroom, and she locked eyes with the Australian who seemed just as nervous. This had all but positively confirmed to Lucy that she wasn’t crazy, and that the feelings were mutual.

“Hi,” Lucy tried to sound confident, but it came out nervous.

“Hi..” YFN replied, her cheeks reddening. That little smile she always had on her face deepened and she ducked her head slightly, breaking the eye contact. “I’m just going to..” She gestured to the door shyly and when Lucy nodded, YFN brushed past her to the door. She wanted to step aside but she couldn’t will her body to move away from her.

The door swung open and YFN fell backwards. Lucy went immediately into protective mode and caught her with both hands on her waist. She looked over YFN’s shoulder to the drunk man, ready to get protective and put YFN behind her.

“Oh… sorry wrong one.” The door closed and the two stayed like that for a few seconds before YFN spun around in her arms and Lucy suddenly felt the wall against her back. It was happening. She felt her hands grab onto her biceps which made Lucy feel strong and confident. God, her lips. She looked back up and her eyes reflected the same feelings Lucy had. They slowly leant towards each other, both breathing raggedly and trying their best to control their bodies.

Lucy didn’t want to give in first, she prided herself on being strong, but their lips brushing softly across each other cut the last string of self-control she had. Thankfully she felt YFN give up at the exact same time. Lucy moved her hand up to cup the side of her face and felt YFN pulling on her shirt in desperation as their lips finally came together. Soft. Sweet. Her tongue became a little curious and Lucy groaned at that. She wanted to touch her anywhere, everywhere, and her lack of control surprised even her. The feel of YFN’s hands squeezing her biceps and tangling in her hair was further exacerbating her desperation.

Control yourself, she thought. The door had a lock, she knew she could just reach over and they would have privacy to go further. Would YFN want that? She heard YFN swear and it turned her on more. YFN bit her lip and tugged on it slightly. Lucy couldn’t help but moan and swear herself. This woman would be the death of her. She took her revenge and bit YFN’s bottom lip slightly harder, making sure to lick it softly afterwards to show she could be hard and soft also. She needed her. YFN tilted her head to the right and as Lucy did the same, their tongues met. The intensity increased and they were gasping and swearing and grabbing. It took everything in her to not lock that door and fuck her against the wall. Lucy felt YFN grab her and pull her backwards off of the wall. Oh, it was happening. She shivered and moaned, holding one hand cupped against her jaw and the other moving down to feel her neck, over one of her excited nipples, down over her abdomen and around. She snaked her hand under her black button up shirt and brushed softly up her back, using it to pull YFN hard up against her.

“Lucy,” she gasped. Lucy felt herself get wetter at the sound of her name on her lips.

The door swung open and YFN leapt away like she’d just been caught doing something illegal. It was just Georgia, but Lucy internally groaned at the thought of Keira and Leah finding out. The last thing she wanted was a million questions. Lucy looked at YFN. Her blue eyes were wide and worried, her swollen and now pinker lips slightly apart to catch her breath. She was stunning.

Georgia opened and closed her mouth multiple times before she found words, “Sorry! I’ll come back.”

Lucy went to take a step forward to stop her but was too late. What could she possibly say anyways?

She turned to look at YFN again who had a shy smile like a kid caught doing something they shouldn’t have. It was sexy.

“Is that bad?” YFN asked, gesturing to where Georgia had just been standing.

Lucy shook her head. “No, she’s a good friend. She’s just a kid though, and she’s very good friends with my ex.”

“Oh…” YFN looked slightly worried.

“It’s okay, it’s not a problem at all.” Lucy reassured her and took a step forwards. Noticing her expression, she stopped.

“We’re strangers, Luce. You don’t know me… and I don’t know you,” YFN whispered.

Lucy nodded, understanding. It was an unusual situation but the feeling was just too strong to ignore. “I know everything about you that I need to know.” Lucy said softly, trying to reassure but not scare her. She’d spoken to Jordan a lot about YFN and that was a lot of the reason she liked the Australian so much. As well as the obvious sexual tension. “As for me, well… I’m a public figure so you know I’m not a psychopath.”

“Those two things are more likely to be in common that you realise..”

Lucy gave a little chuckle. “You got me there. Not a psychopath, at least in the daylight. But I’d really like to spend more time with you so we can get to know each other a bit better?”

YFN nodded and gave her little dimply smile as she looked at the ground. A few strands of hair fell over her face. “I’d like that.”

Lucy’s heart melted and she reached out and took her chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so she could see into those blue eyes again. Lucy was frozen again, wanting to kiss her but not wanting to overstep. Luckily for her, YFN stepped forwards and kissed her again, though this time it was incredibly soft. Their lips softly pressed against each other, and her eyes almost rolled back into her head. The break apart came with a little disappointment but with this overwhelming tingly feeling over the entirety of her body.

“Fuck.” They both whispered.

YFN stepped back with a happy little smile, the dimple reappearing. Her phone dinged then and she pulled it out to look. Her expression dropped.

“Oh…” she said. “Pineapples. I need to go.”

Lucy was confused. “Pineapples?”

YFN grinned at her. “My safe word. Pineapples.” She didn’t say anything else, leaving it and watching as Lucy thought it over.

She has a safe word? For sexual activity or… it clicked suddenly. “Jords..”

YFN smiled at her, seemingly impressed she could work out what she was referring to. YFN nodded. “Pineapples.”

Lucy followed YFN out of the bathroom and as they rounded the corner they saw Jordan sitting and uncomfortably shifting as Leah was sat next to her trying to talk. Jordan saw them both and a wave of relief washed over her. She didn’t seem to notice that they’d just exited the bathroom together a bit dishevelled. Lucy spotted Georgia who looked between the two and then back down at her plate as if she were trying to keep a secret. She rolled her eyes. Keira was sat right beside her so she knew it was only a matter of time. YFN was first to the pair, her arm coming around Jordan for a hug.

“Hello, I’m so sorry for interrupting but Dory, can you take me home? I think I ate something bad.” She rested her chin on Jordan’s head and Lucy couldn’t help but grin at the white lie and quickly try to cover it.

Leah looked surprised and a little hurt seeing YFN with her arms around Jordan. Did she think they were together? “Oh… are you okay? Sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Leah.”

YFN let go of Jordan and shook her extended hand.

Lucy decided to jump to the rescue. “I should have introduced you earlier, Leah, this is YFN. YFN, this is Leah Williamson, Captain of the England Squad. And I can testify to the food poisoning, I’ve been holding her hair back for the past 10 minutes.” She knew Leah would find out about the lie when Georgia opened her mouth, but she would deal with that later. Right now they just needed to get Jordan out of there.

Lucy saw YFN press her lips together. To anyone else she would have a neutral expression but to Lucy, the dimple gave away her trying hard to hide a smile. She wasn’t lying, she had been holding her hair for the past ten minutes.

Jordan turned in her chair and put a hand on YFN’s stomach. “Oh no, are you okay?” She asked, playing into their little game.

“I’ll be okay, it must have been all of those condiments.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucy chuckled. “Worth it though, wasn’t it?”

YFN rolled her eyes at her. “Worth the regret.” She pointed to one of the dips. “My best guess is the pineapple dip. Who makes a pineapple dip?”

Lucy laughed and YFN smiled at the sound. Jordan gave a little giggle also. Leah seemed confused.

Jordan stood up and put an arm around YFN. “Let’s get you home then, yeah? We can go to mine and watch a movie. I have a heat pack we can put on your tummy.” She tightened her arm around her and rubbed her other hand on her stomach.

YFN liked movies? “Ohh, yes please.”

“Do I get an invite?” Lucy asked.

The pair looked at her, worried that if they let her come, Leah would also want to. Lucy regretted it as soon as she said it, but she couldn’t help wanting to spend more time with YFN.

“I think you should stay with your party, mate. I need to look after this one anyways.” She patted YFN’s head with her spare hand, obviously being a little flirty in front of Leah.

YFN was quick to notice and Lucy could tell she felt bad for Leah. “Again, I’m so sorry for interrupting you two. And it was lovely to meet you, Leah. I’ve heard a lot of good things.”

Lucy knew she wasn’t lying. Although she was Jordan’s ex, she knew Jordan would never speak anything bad about her, because there wasn’t anything bad to say. It made Lucy feel warm to see the sympathy YFN had for someone she’d never met, and even more, someone who was her friend’s ex.

Leah nodded but the frown remained on her face. “Lovely to meet you too. Hopefully we can chat again sometime. Take care of yourself.”

With a quick smile from the pair, they left the restaurant and Lucy couldn’t help her eyes linger on them all the way out the window to the car. She knew she was about to be bombarded with questions from Leah but she didn’t mind. As they got outside the restaurant, the two were pushing and shoving each other and laughing as they walked to Jordan’s car.

Lucy grinned after them.

[taylor-titmouse]

Julia is sick of working late. She's sick of being disrespected, and most of all she's sick of her boss. Lance is a burned out, smooth-talking playboy, but he also happens to be the son of the CEO.  When Lance pushes her buttons once too often, Julia is tempted to put him in his place – but is it worth throwing away her career for a moment of satisfaction? Content: -F/M -dom -degradation -small penis humiliation -directed masturbation -power play 5k words,  EPUB and PDF format Only $3, Releases later tonight! you can go read the first two pages on the shop page!

i've mentioned a couple times now that my editor and the author of roger crenshaw: the dogs at duskfall @mortalityplays is now available for freelance work for people other than me, but i don't think i've made as big of a deal how he's ALSO going to start releasing his own smut shorts on the last friday of every month! he is SUCH a talented writer on top of being an excellent editor and it's my absolute delight to work with him on the cover for his first release. FINALLY i have a great answer when asked "is there anyone else writing smut like you?"

and since this was the first time in a while i went through a cover design process that wasn't just me making one for myself, i thought i would go into how it went!

The Prompt

R/L wanted something that didn't visually describe the characters, because he had deliberately avoided that himself in the text. these characters are archetypes, ideas of characters: a woman who works in an office and her playboy burnout boss. for an erotic fantasy scenario, not going into detail can be ideal, as it allows the reader to project their own fantasies onto the characters. but what does that mean for a cover, when showing off the characters is often the point?

The Thumbnails

it means silhouettes, babie! if you're a reader of romance you've probably seen this approach a few times. silhouettes allow you to give the impression of a character without actually specifying them. HOWEVER! that can only go so far. note the female silhouettes in the left and right thumbnails--one with a pony tail, one with her hair down. these two very minor design elements say completely different things about the character, and pin her design down into something specific. (there is a whole line of feminist thought about this, that there is no such thing as an "unmarked" woman, or rather a woman whose presentation does not say something about her, ie a woman not wearing makeup is not perceived as neutral the way a man not wearing makeup is).

so anyway including her in the cover in full doesn't work for the prompt, because how she wears her hair or how she dresses would say something about her that we don't want to say. thus: we chose the middle design!

a man in a shirt and tie are super archetypal, and """neutral""" enough to not say anything specific about lance, our male protagonist, other than he has a job and is of average size (which are of course not technically truly neutral, but for our purposes, are functional as symbols). and while a long, narrow, leg does still say something about julia, it is abstracted enough to simply represent the concept of "woman" without projecting an overall image of her in the reader's head. she has a leg, and she wears high heels. that's all you get!

The Sketch

now we can move on to the sketch stage! this is the point at which the palette and text are figured out. i tried a few fonts before landing on one that had the retro paperback all-caps feel that i liked, and i used what i believe to have been a risograph print texture from retrosupply.

we went with the text up top rather than at the bottom, because it lends weight to the shoe and balances out the blacks in the pants. it also allows the figure to take up more of the cover, which is ideal. honestly, not a whole lot to say about this bit that i didn't cover in thumbnails: which is the point of doing thumbnails in the first place!

The Finish

well you can just scroll up to see that one. the final colors ended up a little less saturated, a little cooler, to bring it home to the retro paperback look i was going for and tie the colors together. i'm very pleased with it and had a lot of fun. cover design is one of my favorite parts of putting out books, and it was especially fun working with someone else to bring their vision to life.

anyway, you should go buy this book! it's only three dollars and i want to make more covers for these! your purchases would prove that i am a very good investment as a cover artist >:)

[jesi555]

𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒. | © jesi555 — kinktober 2023

𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐈. | nami

warnings. | wlw sex yessir, fem reader, recording, twt vids [im compensating for the fact that im shit at writing smut], camgirl, hints at vivi x nami, cunnilingus, scissoring, making out yum. im not super proud of this :( lmk if i miss anything.

tags : @aizensgf, @wolflover384, @bun-parade, @3v37773, @guccilaw, @immindingmyown @ruledbyproblematique

Nami loves her followers. After all, they rain money on her. Her tip menu is pricey, but her followers were down bad and As her no 1 fan, so were you. Sometimes Nami thought you were some pervy old man based on your tip, But money is money, and Nami loves money.

Nami felt generous recently, so she announced a competition. 131: one lucky winner, three entries max, one video of both of us, Her community post read. It was a tempting risk, so you mindlessly entered the competition.

At around 9:30 on a Thursday night, you silently studied at your university's library, a few other students doing the same. You were in the zone until a silent vibrating buzz broke your focus. Irritated, you checked your notifications, your eyes bulging out as you saw the email from @namimi. A soft squeal left your lips as you read over the contents of the email.

Congratulations ___! You have won the 131 competition. Your proof of winning is in this email. Please take a screenshot of this email along with the attached verification number and send it to me on Instagram as soon as possible! love, Nami!

You leaned back in your chair, your chest heaving. After a silent scream, you hurriedly headed back to your dorm. After screaming into your pillow and thoroughly contemplating the reward, you finally texted Nami.

___: hii! I received an email saying I won the 131 competition! here’s a screenshot!

You awaited her response for a few minutes, but as it turned into an hour and another, you slowly lost hope. You honestly felt disappointed. Your fave just flaked out on you!

Before you could wallow in sadness anymore, a buzz got you running towards the device.

namimi: omg hi! I'm so sry for the late response! I was getting my hair done. I see you're the lucky winner!

Before you could reply, a small notification popped up, '@namimi followed you'. You quickly accepted the request and waited.

namimi: hold on, you're a girl?! thank god. I was not looking forward to having sex with a middle-aged Discord mod.

you laughed and messaged her back,

___: haha no I'm very much a girl. so do you need any information from me?

namimi: just general stuff, I'd prefer it to be face-to-face though, is that okay with you?

___: Absolutely!

namimi: cool! I'll text you the location soon!

You bit your lip nervously. Nami was coming to meet you. The Nami. Your leg bounced up and down, waiting for her arrival. A few minutes pass as you see a head of orange hair enter the cafe. She looked around for a second before she saw your smiley face.

"Damn, you're even hotter in person." she chuckled, "do you wanna make the video today? I'm free tonight. You look good as it is."

Your mouth slightly fell open as a small 'huh' voice out of your throat. "I mean Yes!" you quickly said.

"Awesome, let's go back to my place then."

Her home was nice. It smelt like tangerines.

"You're okay being recorded right?" she asked. Nodding in agreement, you looked over her room.

"Alright, the camera's set up. do you want a dom or sub role?"

"girl do anything to me," you spoke without thinking, processing what you said. she laughed out and asked you if you were ready.

"yes"

"good. then strip"

A new notification spelled out 'namimi is live', and soon hundreds and thousands of followers joined the livestream. To many of them, the stream was pure heaven. 2 hot girls making the fuck out? Yes, please!

namiismymommy sent 10$: holy fuck namisslut sent 2$: wait is that @princessvivi? ilovevivi sent 4$: Nah bro that's the lucky winner namisslut sent 5$: I'm so jealous

"Are you reading the comments?" Nami whispered in your ear, both of you, skin to skin.

namiismymommy sent 20$: eat her out.

"My lovely followers are asking us a favor" she moaned, "let's give them what they want baby."

You dropped down in front of her cunt, giving her lips soft kitten licks until she pushed you into her pussy. Nami getting eaten out by an equally hotter chick was a God-sent gift.

This was probably Nami's best video yet. Not to mention, the scissoring was a highlight.

As the live stream ended, the two girls looked at the comment section.

ilovevivi sent 50$: Vivi, Nami and lucky winner threesome when?

It seems like you'll frequent her channel soon.

꩜ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐢𝟓𝟓𝟓 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫. 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

[runningfrom2am]

all i think about is karma

summary: you and rafe take on a mainland bush party where he knows no one, and you know too many people for his liking.

this can be read as a stand-alone but it's technically a part four to getaway car, big reputation, and this is why we can’t have nice things.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

tags/warnings: jealous!rafe, highschool au, (some) nondescript nudity, cursing, mean kook!reader, underage drinking, (i think that’s it??)

a/n: hey y’all!! sorry i haven’t posted anything in a little while, i’ve been busy but now im back home and on my usual schedule so there shouldn’t be any serious interruptions for a little while. i missed y’all and i hope you like this! this is what won my getaway car poll quite some time ago so im so happy to finally get it out!

"No, Y/N/N, I'll be fine. I don't want to dampen your week, you'll have so much fun!" Bella insists, adjusting where her phone is laying in her lap while she lays in bed, surrounded by tissues and snack wrappers. She came down with the flu at the worst possible time: right before you were meant to go on your spring break trip.

"It won't be the same without you! I should just stay home, I can come over and we can have a movie marathon or something. That'll be just as fun." You reply, watching her through the facetime camera while you sit at your vanity.

"No. Absolutely not. You're going- and you'll get to hangout with Rafe! It's worth it for me to get all the juicy details after." Bella giggles, sniffling and quickly wiping her nose.

You roll your eyes, rubbing your forehead. "Okay, yeah, but nothings gonna happen- you know I swore that off."

"Yeah, whatever. The two of you, alone, drunk and sharing a tent? Whatever you say." Your friend teases you. "It's actually worth it for me to stay home so you can come back with tea."

"Okay, fine," You agree, not admitting that the idea is very tempting. "But I'm not sleeping with him again."

"No! Of course not." Bella laughs, shaking her head. "But if you did, at least be safe this time. We don't need a repeat of what happened last time-"

"Okay! Okay! Bye, Bella I'll call you later!" You quickly cut her off, hanging up the phone.

Several long hours after texting Rafe the update that Bella wasn't going to make it, you found yourself in his truck on the mainland, driving into what seems to be the middle of nowhere for a bush party you caught word of from some friends you met playing soccer on a local team. You were excited to see them, and meet some new people, but you're honestly so glad Rafe still wanted to go. You'd rather not go alone if you didn't have to.

Judging by the large space in front of you full of various groups of kids your age putting tents together or starting fires around makeshift campsites at the edge of the water, you assume you're in the right place and get to work setting up your own tent off near the edge of the lake.

It wasn't long before the sun started to set over the abandoned gravel pit, and you just finish up when you crack open your first drink from the cooler. "So like... are we actually going to talk to anyone or just hide over here and be weird all night?" Rafe asks as you bring the can to your lips.

You roll your eyes a little and nod. "Well, duh. My friends are coming. I don't know what your plans are." Rafe looks around at that, seeing if there's anyone he might be able to talk to, but he was counting on hanging out with you.

"Wow, you're ditching me?" He asks, reaching into the cooler as well and grabbing a beer. "Cold."

You go to reply with a matching, somewhat snarky attitude the two of you almost always share when you recognize the purple jeep that's pulling in. "That's them! Good luck making friends!" You call back, jogging over to where they parked.

Rafe flips you off as you turn your full attention to your friends, sighing a little to himself as he lays eyes on a group of local boys who look enough like his friends that he's comfortable talking to them.

By the time that the area is lit only by the orange glow coming from the several cooking fires and the large bonfire everyone is centered around, you're already stumbling over your feet with a half-drank bottle of some liquor you didn't bring, and you're not even sure where you got it.

Rafe has been trying to keep an eye on you from a distance, but now he's lost you. He's drunk himself, so he's not overly concerned, but he would just at least like to know where you were. He looks around frantically, trying to keep his cool as the boys around him are laughing about something he didn't care to pay attention to. His eyes land on some figures out in the lake, and he squints to see if he can make out the shape of your hair in the dark. He takes a few steps away to get a closer look, hearing you laughing and shouting over the music coming from an on shore speaker. He walks down to the shore with a smug look on his face, polishing off his beer when he looks down and notices piles of clothes on the shore. Are you naked?

"Hey, Y/N!" Rafe shouts, waving to you in an attempt to grab your attention.

"Rafe!" You shout back, smile never fading as you push your wet hair out of your face. With the liquor warming you, the water feels amazing and so soft on your skin. "Come out here! Come join us!"

Rafe sighs as he finds your stuff, relieved to find only your shirt, shorts, and bra. At least you weren't fully naked in front of all these strangers. He strips of everything but his boxers and grabs your bra, wading out into the cool lake water to you and your friends as they cheer and laugh.

"Rafe! Where have you been?" You giggle, throwing your arms over his shoulders once he gets close enough for you to reach.

"I've been around- apparently I should have been babysitting you ladies." He chuckles, trying to hide any frustration in his tone as he avoids looking at your friends who are just as well clothed as you are. "Put this on, at least." He adds, pulling away from you and handing you the article of clothing, crossing his arms to watch you put it on despite his better judgement.

"Hey! Girls! Come on in, we're going to play chandelier!" One of the guys Rafe had the pleasure of talking to for the last couple hours shouts, and quickly everyone makes their way in to shore.

"Y/N, hey, we don't want you to get sick. Come warm up." Rafe turns his head as he gets his shirt back on, watching as one of the other guys, Jesse, is quickly wrapping you in a small blanket and guiding you up to the bonfire with a hand on your lower back. He scowls at the two of you behind your back, following as he urges you up the small hill and towards the large fire pit ahead.

You walk side by side with the boy, until you can feel the warmth of the flames on your skin where you stop and stand to dry off both your skin and what little clothing you have on. You don't know you're shivering until Jesse is tugging on the blanket around your shoulders. "Here, let me help you warm up.." He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you from behind and draping the blanket over both of you.

"Oh, thanks, Jesse." You say, teeth chattering from the soft breeze. You lean back into him, swaying from the alcohol still in your system and he steadies you.

"Anytime, sweetheart." He mumbles, pressing his lips to the back of your head.

You are well aware of his hands wandering, fiddling with the waistband of your underwear as you have your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you gaze across the fire and your eyes land on Rafe, who's staring at you intently.

You smile and wave at him, but he just rolls his eyes in response and looks away. Is he upset with you for ditching him? In hindsight it wasn't very nice, even if that is the kind of relationship you normally have. If it was you you'd be upset- he didn't know anyone, and he was left to fend for himself, granted; he was clearly fine.

"Hey, Ashley?" You find yourself calling over to your other friend, but she doesn't hear you as your eyes well up with tears. Why do you feel so bad right now? Does Rafe being upset with you really bother you that much? You've hardly felt like this before.

"Ashley?" You ask again, but she hardly glances at you as she's got another boy draped over her shoulder- one who is definitely not the girls boyfriend.

"You okay?" Jesse asks, leaning his head over your shoulder to get a better look at you.

"Uhm, yeah, I just have to go to the bathroom and I was hoping she would come with me." You explain, watching Rafe again as he buries himself in conversation with the two girls standing next to him.

"I'll take you." Jesse offers. "Come on, I won't watch. Swear." He says, already guiding you away and tossing the blanket back to his friend.

You glance back at Rafe over your shoulder as Jesse walks you off into the dark. Just as you look forward again to try and watch your step, Jesse's hand is smacking your butt playfully, making you jump. You laugh it off and give him a shove, but he's grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of his truck.

The swing of Jesse's arm to where his hand hit your exposed skin drew Rafe's attention again fully, and he furrows his brow as he watches you stumble away. You were sharing a tent with him and you were really about to hook up with that mainland loser? He quickly downs the rest of his beer and storms after you, fists clenched at his sides after discarding the bottle on a nearby pong table.

"Hey!" Rafe shouts, making the two of you turn just as Jesse backs you up against the side of his truck and starts kissing down your neck. You're confused, but not one to turn down an opportunity like this- especially when you never have to see him again. As soon as Jesse turns his head, though, it's snapped back again with the contact of Rafe's fist into his nose.

He groans and quickly brings his hands up to his face, tipping his head back as blood pours from between his fingers. You gasp, reaching out for him but hesitating, not sure what to do.

"You think you can hook up with any girl who accepts a blanket from you when she's cold? She came here with me." Rafe spits, and you feel your features pull into an expression of anger as you quickly step towards him and shove him back. "What?"

"Come on." You mutter, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the now bleeding boy. "What the fuck was that about?" You ask, storming back to where your shared tent was in the corner. "Do you think you have some stupid claim over me just because you drove me here?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, stopping with you next to the tent as you drop his arm and turn to face him. "He was taking advantage of you!"

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms. "No, Rafe. He wasn't. Did you ever consider that maybe I wanted that?"

"Whatever, Y/N- don't act like you weren't eyeing me up for the whole drive here."

"Oh. My. God." You find yourself laughing suddenly, realizing what this is about. "You were jealous."

"What? No I wasn't." Rafe replies defensively.

You smile at him cockily, tilting your head and waiting for him to spiral on it.

"I wasn't! I tried to help. That's what I get, I guess!" Rafe throws his hands up.

"And here I was thinking you were mad at me for ditching you. Turns out you were just horny." You smirk, knowing you were just pushing his buttons this time for fun.

"Oh, fuck off, Y/N, you're just trying to piss me off now for fun."

"You're not denying it." You shrug, looking back over to the fire for a moment, seeing Jesse sitting there with paper towel pressed to his nose and a few girls surrounding him.

"You're making it difficult not to be when you’re walking around like that.” He replies, smirking as he looks you up and down.

“Don’t be gross, Rafe.” You smile, dropping your arms from they were crossed over your chest.

He takes a step closer at that, delicately placing his hands on your hips. “You love it, Y/N/N, you know you do.”

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie , @whore-4-drewstarkey , @slut4drudy , @winterrrnight , @totalswag , @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron , @urfaveluvr , @chenslucy , @hxnnah-397 , @s-we-e-t-t-ea , @tahliac11 , @ragingsammie , @ietss, @dee127

[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 06 Jongho — dry humping // corruption kink

➥ bff!Jongho × bff!Reader summary: Y/N decides to take a break from studying when she learns her sweet and innocent best friend is still a virgin. wc: 2.9k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, sexual content (minors dni!): virgin!Jongho, experienced reader, dry humping, Jongho is a whiny mess and his hands are everywhere, Jongho is very vocal, reader has a corruption kink, Jongho cums in his pants and reader cums in her pants, use of pet names (baby, good boy, etc), reader likes to praise Jongho and see him blush Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog Ateez taglist: @2hodefender @babyhailey819 @foxylilbitch @rdiamond2727 @indigo35 @sanjoongie MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

a/n: SORRY. IM AN IDIOT AND DIDNT POST THIS CORRECTLY. IM SO SORRY. Thank you to sky for telling me so i could fix it. My bad. this was so much fun to write and I'm tempted to turn this into a mini series where the reader further corrupts her best friend turned boytoy turned boyfriend at the end of it all. Let me know what you all think about that. If there's a good response to this part, I'll do it. As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

════════════════════════════════

When the words left your best friend, you had to do a double take.

“You?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him over your textbook. Jongho looked up to meet your gaze, his cheeks reddening softly. “Don’t look at me like that,” he half whined, half hissed.

There were several shushes around you. After all, it was a library.

What was supposed to be a study session to prepare for your finals turned into a conversation with your best friend of 20 years about why you didn’t get any sleep the previous night.

“I refuse to believe my best friend is a virgin,” you hissed back, causing Jongho to look up at you with wide eyes, jaw dropped. “Shut the fuck up!” He hissed, earning several more shushes.

You dropped your eyes to your textbook momentarily before glancing up quickly at Jongho who was now flipping through his notes.

You pulled out your phone and sent a text his way.

You: but really??? You’re a virgin?

You heard his phone vibrate in his pocket and glanced up as he pulled it out and glanced at the screen before looking up at you as you looked back down at your book.

Your phone screen lit up with a reply.

Baby Bear🧸: there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin!

Your fingers tapped across the screen quickly.

You: I never said there was. I’m just shocked you haven’t had sex yet Baby Bear🧸: why? You know how I am. I can barely talk to girls, let alone have sex with them. I’m not like you

‘I’m not like you.’ What was he trying to say? Was he… slut shaming you??

You: and what’s that supposed to mean? 🤨 Baby Bear🧸: you’re so… outgoing You: is that your code for slut?

You looked up upon hearing Jongho choke on his own air.

Baby Bear🧸: no! God no. I would never call you that. You’re just so much more confident. Sexually I mean. And you’re comfortable around practically anyone. Baby Bear🧸: i could never. I don’t trust anyone like that. Baby Bear🧸: well, except maybe you

Your eyes glanced up as Jongho continued to tap away on his screen, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

Baby Bear🧸: i trust you more than anyone tbh You: then let me do it Baby Bear🧸: do what? You: let me be your first.

The sound that came out of Jongho upon receiving your text sounded like a cross between a gasp and a sputtering engine. He started coughing, covering his mouth with his fist as he looked up at you, meeting your gaze.

Trying to control his coughing, Jongho quickly gathered his things, with you one step behind as he exited the library. He was fast but not too fast that you couldn’t catch up to him.

You grabbed him by the arm. “Jongie,” you said, pulling him to a halt.

“Why would you say that?!” He hissed, looking around to make sure no one was around.

“Say what?” You asked, confusion masking your face.

“‘Let me be your first,’” Jongho hissed, his face screwing up in either embarrassment or disgust. You weren’t sure which it was.

“If the idea disgusts you that much,” you said softly, pulling the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder. “Forget I said anything.”

You turned to walk away but Jongho’s grip on your arm stopped you. “It’s not that I think it’s disgusting,” he said softly. “It’s just… you’re my best friend, Y/N. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

You turned to face him. “It’s really not. Friends do this kind of stuff all the time, Jong,” you replied. “We don’t have to if you really don’t want to.”

You turned to leave again. "It was just an idea. It's fine," you said, glancing over your shoulder at your best friend.

"No big deal."

No big deal was wrong.

The moment the suggestion left your mouth, it was all Jongho could think about for the rest of the day.

It wasn't that the thought of having sex with you was weird or gross or anything of the like. Jongho was actually intimidated by the idea.

You were much more open in your sexuality and your sexual prowess. He, on the other hand, was much less experienced. The furthest he'd ever gone was kissing and some light touches.

That's not to say he's completely pure. He's had his fantasies before and they may or may not have involved you in the past. He was a horny teenager at one point after all.

But while most of his classmates had given into their desires, Jongho found himself unable to do so. He was far too shy to approach any girl who wasn't you. Even when you set him up on group dates, which thankfully only happened twice, he just couldn't seem to get his words out or say the right things.

But with you? He could talk to you for hours. He felt comfortable around you. He trusted you and he cared about you and he knew you cared about him too.

Which is why he fished his phone out of his pocket mid lecture to send you a text, hoping this little plan of his might work.

Baby Bear🧸: we didn't finish studying You: did you want to meet back at the library after classes? Baby Bear🧸: nah. Just come over to my dorm. My roommate is out so we won't have any distractions You: okay. See you after class!

╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴╶╴

You tried to focus on your worksheet but the way Jongho was glaring at you was making you lose focus.

"Stop glaring at me," you said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not glaring."

When Jongho had texted you, asking you to come over to finish studying, you couldn't contain your excitement. Maybe it was because you were secretly hoping your best friend was inviting you over with ulterior motives or maybe it was because you'd had a crush on the guy since the end of middle school.

Jongho didn't seem to notice how things changed around him in the transition from middle to high school. By the end of middle school, while he focused more on his studies, you saw how girls started to act around him. They were noticing him more as he grew out of his awkward childhood and started maturing.

And of course, you noticed, too.

By the time you were in your final year of high school, your tiny crush had turned into full blown infatuation yet Jongho seemed none the wiser. He never seemed to notice your subtle attempts at flirting. Perhaps he was as clueless as he claimed to be.

"You are too and it's distracting," you answered, setting down your pencil and beginning to stretch.

Since Jongho had invited you over to his dorm to continue your study session after the library one had ended so abruptly, you were currently sitting at his desk while he sat on his bed.

His eyed followed your movements, watching the way your shirt lifted ever so slightly when you stretched your arms above your head, exposing a small flash of skin that had him imagining things, heat rising to his cheeks.

Jongho cleared his throat and returned his eyes to his workbook but couldn't focus. Not when you continued to stretch.

He watched as you stood up and twisted your body, stretching your back before bending over to touch the floor. Had he not been fantasizing about you all day, he might have ignored the way your ass was on display as you stretched, bent over.

Had he been a little more focused, he would have noticed the way you glanced back at him, a devilish little smirk spreading across your lips.

You stood upright slowly before turning around and crossing to his bed. Jongho watched as you plopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a sigh.

Jongho, who pretended to not have been staring at you ass moments ago gave you a quizzical look.

"I'm bored," you whined, making him scoff.

"Studying isn't supposed to be fun," he replied, scribbling away in his workbook.

You looked up at him, admiring the way the soft lighting from his lamp casted a golden glow over his tanned skin, his dark brown eyes moving slightly as he read the text on the papers before him, the way his lips moved subtly as he mouthed the words his eyes were reading, looking more kissable now than ever.

Jongho wasn't a fool, he knew you were now staring at him, probably expecting him to entertain you somehow.

His eyes widened as you sat up, grabbing his workbook and tossing it aside.

"Yah! I was reading something!" He pouted as you took his pencil and tossed that, too.

"Then let's do something fun," you said, eyes shining with excitement. Jongho rolled his eyes. "We're supposed to be studying, Y/N," he reminded you. "That's why I invited you over," he added.

"Then let's take a short break," you suggested.

Jongho glanced at his poor workbook, laying in a heap on the floor, his pencil abandoned near it.

"I guess a break couldn't hurt," he mumbled, wondering what you had in mind.

Your smile widened and in a flash, you had moved, straddling his lap as he tried not to fall backwards onto the bed.

"W-what are you-?!" Jongho started to protest, his cheeks turning red at your sudden boldness.

"Shh," you said softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I saw you earlier," you added quietly, fingers grazing his scalp as you combed through his dark brown hair.

"S-saw what?" Jongho stammered, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"When I was stretching," you answered. You leaned in closer, your face inches from his. "I saw the way you were watching me. You aren't subtle, you know," you continued, your hot breath fanning over him, sending heat rushing to his head and not the one with the brain.

"Is that why you invited me over?" you asked, moving your head to whisper in his ear. "You can tell me, Jong. I won't judge."

Your words had a profound effect on your best friend, sending a shiver down his spine. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

"If you wanted to watch me stretch," you whispered, nuzzling his jaw, tugging lightly on his hair to expose more of his neck to you.

"All you had to do was ask."

Jongho let out a sigh as your lips met the skin of his neck, leaving light kisses as you moved down to where his neck met his shoulder, pushing the collar of his sweatshirt aside to tease the skin.

Your lips trailed back up, stopping briefly to graze your teeth against the spot just under his ear. Jongho let out a whine and you pulled back to gaze into his eyes. "You make such pretty sounds," you whispered, leaning in until your lips were inches from his.

"S-stop it," he muttered. You cocked an eyebrow.

"You want me to stop?" you asked, resisting the urge when he vigorously shook his head no. "Then what do you want me to stop?"

"Stop teasing me." His voice was so soft, almost helpless and you couldn't stop the smirk that appeared. "Are you sure that's what you want?" you asked, shifting on his lap and unintentionally grinding against him. "Hng, fuck," you heard him groan.

You pulled back to look down at him in shock.

"Did you just say 'fuck'?" You asked, looking impressed.

"Just shut up and kiss me already," Jongho snapped, looking flustered and like he was going to come undone any second.

You sighed out a "finally," before crashing your lips against his. Grabbing his hands, you placed them on your hips before tangling your fingers back in his hair.

The kiss was rushed, messy, but most importantly it was Jongho.

You'd wanted to kiss him for years and now you were finally getting that chance. There was no way you were gonna fuck this up.

Pulling back, your heart skipped a beat when Jongho tried to follow your lips, pouting when he couldn't. "What did you stop for?" he asked in a whiny voice. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," you said softly, fingers dragging through his hair.

Your best friend's eyes widened. "You've wanted to kiss…me?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Of course I have, you idiot," you laughed.

Jongho's brow furrowed. "So then why did you stop?" he asked again, almost as if he was challenging you.

You leaned back in, connecting your lips in a much slower, more intimate kiss, lips parting his slowly and your tongues meeting.

With your hands in his hair and his mouth preoccupied by yours, you tested the waters by rolling your hips, grinding against him slowly.

Jongho let out a moan, the sound muffled by your mouth. You felt his hands tighten around your waist, nails digging into the exposed skin under your cropped shirt.

"You've never done this, have you?" you asked after pulling away, resting your forehead against his. Jongho shook his head. "N-no," he mumbled. "N-never."

You continued to move, grinding against him, feeling him harden under your clothed heat. For once, you were grateful that women's clothing was so thin, allowing you to feel more.

"So innocent," you whispered, ducking your head to press wet kisses to his neck, trailing down the side, leaving little marks as you kissed, nipped and sucked at his skin.

"You're so good at this," Jongho whined, tilting his head to the side, silently begging for more.

He was fully hard under you now, hands gripping your ass as you grinded against his erection, earning desperate whimpers and moans from him.

"This is all so new for you, isn't it?" you asked, lips brushing against his ear. He nodded frantically, trying to guide your movements. You let out a soft chuckle, grinding harder against him.

"Are you gonna cum?" you whispered, enjoying the way he moaned under your touch. "Y-yes," he whined. "Gonna cum in your pants like a good boy?" Jongho let out a particularly low moan at that.

"You're getting so worked up and I've barely even touched you."

"Please," Jongho breathed, fingers digging into your skin, grabbing your ass tightly. "I need more."

You slowed your movements, pulling your hands from his hair to cup his face. "More? You need more?" you asked, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I guess I could give you more.'

You placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned over, pushing him back, his back hitting the mattress. You started to move, continuing your motions from before, rolling your hips and grinding against him again. "Oh shit," Jongho breathed.

"Does it feel good?" you asked, watching his face as it contorted in pleasure. "S-so good," he answered, tongue peeking out to lick his lips. "I wanna feel more," he added. "Wanna feel you."

You smirked, moving faster, letting out your own moans. "You haven't even cum and you already wanna be inside me?"

"Yeah," Jongho answered, his hands moving to squeeze your thighs. "Wanna feel all of you. I need it," he added, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "I need you."

You moaned again. It was so tempting to remove your pants and take his cock inside you but you didn't want to push him too far.

"Mmm, next time, baby, okay?" you cooed. Jongho whined, wanting to feel his cock inside you now.

"Please?" he whimpered. "Please baby. I need you. I need you so fucking bad." The way he spoke breathlessly made you want to give in, push your shorts and panties aside and sink down on him.

Be a good boy and cum for me first," you replied, grinding harder and faster against him. "Cum for me and I'll fuck you later. Only good boys deserve to get their cocks wet.

Your words had the intended effect on him and his pleas for you to fuck him turned into desperate whines as his orgasm approached.

"'M gonna cum," he moaned, eyes fluttering shut. "That's it baby," you purred, coaxing him into it. "Cum in these tight jeans for me."

Your best friend let out a whine, hands moving to your hips and guiding you over his erection as he came in his underwear. Your hips continued, chasing your own orgasm and helping him ride his out. You didn't last much longer, coming undone on top of him.

You both stayed still, panting heavily as you each tried to come down from your respective highs. Jongho moved one hand up to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a heated kiss.

"How long have you wanted to do that?" he asked, referring to what you just did when he finally found his voice.

"When you told me you were a virgin," you admitted, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. "But I've wanted you longer than that."

"Why didn't you say something?" he whined. "I've only been flirting with you since we were like 16," you replied, smiling as he pulled you in for another kiss. "You know I'm an idiot," he answered, lips against yours still. You pressed several short kisses to his lips.

"Yeah but you're my idiot now," you said, sitting back up, hands resting on his chest. Jongho looked up at you through half closed eyes. "I am?" he asked. "Yours, I mean."

You nodded, leaning over to kiss him again. "You are now." You felt him smile against your mouth. "Then that means you're mine, too?" he asked softly, to which you nodded, sitting back up to give him a mischievous grin.

"Yes, and now that you're mine, I can't wait to show you what you've been missing."

[banananutsmuthie]

The Beginner's Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes

Idol(s): Wendy [Red Velvet]

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

A/N: A quick writing experiment for an idea I had. This will be different from what you're used to but I hope you'll give it a chance. Wanted to use Wendy abs pic from the GOT the Beat "Stamp on It" performance but there were no great stills.

“Close the door.”

This is how it starts. Notice Wendy’s choice of words here. She’s left the door open to interpretation. Now, you have two choices: you can either lock the door—which is probably what Wendy meant when she said to “close” it—or, you can take her words at face value and merely close the door like she asked.

Leave the door unlocked.

Give any passersby the opportunity to walk in on whatever lewd things Wendy wants to do in the 10 minutes she has before she has to perform. Perhaps this way, she’ll learn to choose her words carefully next time.

After you close the door, Wendy will smile. “Well? I haven’t got all day.”

She’ll be sitting on the couch. Walk toward her, but not too fast! You don’t want to seem too eager. This version of Wendy only works when she’s the needy one. Give her any reason to think you’re the one that needs her and you’ll never hear from her again.

There are rules, you see, prerequisites established by Wendy for this thing between you and her to work out. First, she lets you call her whatever you want. Call her Wendy, call her your cumbucket, call her a slut (she particularly likes that one), but under no circumstance shall you claim her as yours. She is not your baby, your lover, your jagi. You are not her boyfriend. This is just sex. Because when you get caught (and you will), the first newspaper to break the story will claim Wendy is “dating”. Wendy will only speak the truth—she will say she is not dating to free herself from the backlash she will inevitably receive and place the blame on the newspaper for reporting fake news. For her, it’s all the fun without the consequences.

The second rule—the fun rule—is “never the same place twice”. This is just sex for her, and because it’s just sex, she will want to do it everywhere and anywhere. Seulgi’s room, the recording studio, in some dark alley, it doesn’t matter: when she texts you the time and place, she expects you to drop everything for her, no questions asked. Wendy enjoys the thrill. She wants to get caught. This is why you leave the door unlocked in the first place.

Now that you’re refreshed on the rules, you’re ready to begin.

Get right up to her where she’s sitting on the couch. Gently part her legs if you have to. Slap her hand away when she greedily tries to unzip your pants. She will play along when you tell her, “You had all day to text me, and you only decide right before you have to perform to call me here? Not a lot of time to do anything, Wendy. This is going to cost you.”

“Name your price,” Wendy will say.

There are rules to negotiation, just like there are rules for sex with Wendy. Ask for something absurd, something she’ll never agree to. Set the bar high so that what you get is closer to what you wanted to begin with. “Threesome later this week. You and one of your members. I don’t care which one.”

Wendy will scoff and present a counter offer: “Eat me out now and I’ll let you cum in me before our next performance and let that load soak through my safety shorts on stage.”

As tempting as that sounds, there will be no immediate satisfaction for you should you accept. Make one last offer.

“Blowjob with a blast to your face. Right now. Maybe I’ll play with your tits if you’re good. Final offer. I’m a very busy man, y’know. I’ve got better things to do.” Make it sting. There probably won’t be many things above “sex with Wendy” on your list, but you need to make Wendy believe she’s not that important—this is key.

She will complain about her makeup, how there won’t be time to redo it after you’ve ruined it, or her hair, how she spent the last couple hours getting it done. Tell her how it’s not your problem and walk toward the door. Wendy will curse, but she will finally agree because this is why she came running to you in the first place: no other man can sexually satisfy her the way that you do, so she’ll take whatever sex she can get, even if she’s not the one being pleasured.

“Fine. Handjob with a little tongue and you can cum on my abs,” she’ll say.

Turn back around, as you should always do. “Well, you better hurry then, princess. You’ve only got eight minutes left before you have to perform.”

She’ll be reaching for that zipper, but she’s a clumsy little thing, is used to handling bigger meaningful objects in her hand like a microphone, or your cock. Help her with the button, but watch as she finally figures out your skinny fit jeans and slides it down your legs.

Wendy will start to stroke, trying to get you hard for her. Let her. Undoubtedly, she will be in a hurry since she’ll have 7 minutes before she is called to the stage. It’ll feel great between her two skillful hands, but she’ll use one to start, claiming it’ll tire her arm, and she needs that arm to hold her mic up to her face in 6 minutes and 45 seconds.

“Maybe if you use your mouth, honey,” you’ll say.

Take your hand. Pinch Wendy’s chin between your thumb and index finger. Tilt her head upward so you can see the look in her eyes, determined, lustful, capable.

“You promised me a little tongue action, where’s that tongue?”

She’ll grimace. “One hand should be enough,” she’ll try to reason, but you know what it takes to get you off.

“Now. Or I walk,” you’ll say, firm and threatening, so that she understands the gravity of what’s at stake. It shouldn’t take more than that. Hold in your excitement when Wendy leans forward, parting her lips enough to stick that tongue on your tip.

Encourage her. “That’s it, right there.”

Guide her, show her where you want that tongue to be used. Bring her forward. She will try to sidestep your cock from entering her mouth, will run that tongue down the side of your shaft and make your member nice and wet. That’s okay! Make her lick your balls while she’s there, watch your cock twitch in Wendy’s grasp.

Notice how her lips have yet to touch any part of your cock. This is intentional. Look at those luscious lips glazed in gloss. She can’t afford to have them ruined by slurping up some dick just before a performance. Everyone will know then. This is why she settled on a handjob with a cum shot on the only part of her body that’s exposed in an outfit that would look better on the floor. Let her be. You’re a gentleman in that regard. If she drools from that open mouth tongue action she’s still doing on you, put your hand out underneath her chin to catch her saliva so it doesn’t drip onto her pants.

There will be a knock at the door sooner or later. “Five minutes, miss Wendy!”

This is why leaving the door unlocked is important, for times like these. Wendy will tense up, her hand on your cock tightening its grip out of surprise. What she won’t know is that the stagehand could walk in on her stroking and licking your cock right now. Imagine the look on her face when he does.

But he won’t. People in this town are too nice.

“Coming!” she’ll say, and you’ll reply with something stupid like, “Hey, that’s my line!” Wendy will roll her eyes and tell you to quiet down, but ultimately will do three things.

First, she’ll stroke faster out of necessity. This is no longer a “want” but a “need”. She needs you to cum so she can get on stage. Second, she’ll finally add that free hand to your shaft, gripping you the same way a baseball player would grip a bat. Lastly, she’ll lick your tip, just a little, starting with the underside of your cockhead, swirling around that sensitive area, and finishing with a little flourish at the tip, all without breaking eye contact.

Compliment her again, then remind her of what she promised. “So fucking hot, Wendy. But you know what happens next, right?”

She won’t need much more of a reminder than that. Apply some pressure with a pushing motion to her shoulder, just enough for her to take the hint. She will fall backfirst onto the couch.

Straddle her.

Watch as her eyes flicker as she lets out a moan when you slip your fingers between her legs, in that thigh gap, rubbing, feeling the heat radiating from Wendy's pussy even with her pants still on.

Remind her for next time: “This tight little kitty could’ve been enjoying some action right now if her owner didn’t call the lion tamer so late.” She’ll be too lost in ecstasy from your touch, and too determined with your cock to notice, but that’s okay, too.

That’ll be enough pleasure for Wendy’s pussy this time. Any more than that and she’ll be too lost in her own little world to give a fuck about her performance, the one on stage later and the one on your cock currently.

By now, Wendy will have done a good enough job to get your cock rock hard. Reward her for it. Reach underneath her top with both hands, carefully lift it up off her arms, and let it rest as a useless necklace around her neck. This way, you don’t mess up her hair by pulling it up over her head, and she won’t need to put it back on when you’re done. More importantly, it now gives you a buffer when you overshoot Wendy’s abs and cum on her tits. Not only will it be a great view, but it will also keep her outfit clean.

You should now be staring at a raw, desperate, topless Wendy. Enjoy the view. Not many people get to watch an idol giving them a handjob with such fervor underneath them. Grasp at those lovely little breasts with both hands while she strokes you. She deserves that much, at least. Watch as the muscles in her biceps flex and extend with each jerk of your cock in her tiny hands. Feel it in her soft breasts, how they jiggle lightly in your grasp.

You should feel a tingling sensation, cock throbbing, almost there, almost ready to dump your load all over Wendy. Tell her. “I’m almost there Wendy, just a little more.” She might look at the clock on the wall for a quick check, but she’ll definitely stroke faster, grip tighter, maybe even throw out some encouragement of her own to move you along.

Reward her again for being so skilled with her hands: play with Wendy’s perfect burnt-almond colored nipples. Titillate her tits. Hear her moans when you pinch those little nubs that will be getting hard with arousal. Feel her abs clench underneath you, every curve and crevice throbbing against the underside of your balls. This will encourage her to stroke faster until you hit your breaking point.

Give her a sign that you’re about to cum so she can prepare for it. You’re a gentleman, after all. It can be as subtle as tightening your straddle against her hips, or as blatant as moaning out, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” If you’re feeling extra frisky, you may even do both.

“Right here,” she will remind you, taking one hand off your shaft to caress her hard-earned abs, showing you exactly where she wants it. You must be careful to cum only where she instructs you to cum, or there may be no next time.

Quicken your breathing. Make sure Wendy doesn’t let go of your cock. Watch as her continued stroking results in blasting her stomach with globs of your cum. Groan if you'd like, she'll consider it as positive feedback. If she’s done a great job, you may notice cum shooting as far as her tits, which isn’t exactly her abs like she directed, but this is why you pull her top off her chest.

Unmount her when she’s drained you completely and admire the work. You are the paint, she is the artist and the canvas. There will be aqueducts of white filling in the crevices of her abs, gutters of cum flowing down her sides and letting the excess drip onto the couch.

She will not be able to get up without the risk of your cum sliding down her stomach and onto her pants. So because you're a gentleman, you’ll hand her a towel so that she can wipe herself off. She’ll get most of it, enough to finally sit up and slip back into her top. If you’ve timed it right, she should have no more than a minute to spare.

“You’re welcome,” you’ll say.

Wendy will be the first to leave her dressing room. “I’ll text you,” she’ll say. Wendy will be too much in a hurry to care that there are still shiny remnants of your cum shimmering on her abdomen. This is fine. If she’s lucky, she can play it off as oil, an “artistic choice”, should anyone ask. “Sex sells in this industry,” she’ll say.

Stay behind, count to thirty. You want to make sure there is enough of an interval after Wendy leaves to avoid any suspicion from anyone backstage that you were just with her. Once you reach thirty, leave the room, close the door, and find your way back to your car.

You may run into someone in the hallway. It could be BoA’s boyfriend who came to support her for the comeback. You shouldn’t say hi, but be courteous if he initiates contact. Worst case scenario, he will ask, “Was Wendy good?”

“What’s it to you,” you’ll reply, and he’ll go on about a dream he had one drunken night where he fucked every member of Red Velvet in a Cinderella-like fairytale. He’ll tell you all about this vivid experience with Wendy, how she was a moaner and liked it in the ass.

Ignore him, it’s best not to dawdle. “It was nice to meet you,” you’ll say. Politely bow and continue to the parking garage.

Once there, you’ll notice Somi just a couple cars over from where you’re parked, leaning against the hood of her car. She’ll be in this amazing outfit that highlights her best features: stockings on her legs that go on for days, a top that shows off that shredded tummy, and the horizontal stripe design that really emphasizes those mouthwatering melons. It’s not a coincidence she is here.

“Hey,” she’ll say. Be polite and greet her back. You’ll try to introduce yourself, but she’ll interrupt you.

“You’re cuter than I thought you’d be,” she’ll say.

Reply back with a compliment. Go ahead and shoot your shot. She’ll appreciate the fresh forwardness that most people would be too scared to treat her with. “And you look more fuckable than I thought you’d be.”

She’ll look appalled, but watch as her indignance turns into a smirk for the appreciation of the wit and brashness, the kind of behavior that gets her pussy wet. This is exactly what she’ll be expecting, after all.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” she’ll say, “Wendy unnie told me about you. I asked her to get you here today so I could see for myself.”

Deny anything she’s accusing you of until it comes straight from her. “What have you heard?”

“I hear you’re somewhat of an idol whisperer. Knows how to pleasure women with no strings attached. Was maybe wondering if I could get a consultation in the backseat of my car.”

You are not yet ready for Somi; she is way too advanced to be covered here. Instead, she will be covered in The Advanced Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes. Politely decline but give her your number. Tell her to text another day when you’re not so busy. If she’s really interested, she’ll call.

For now, there are other things on the agenda: places to go, people to see, things to do. Get in your car, check your messages. There will undoubtedly be a text from one Lee Saerom, another client who loves riding that dick harder than Wendy.

Her text will read: Are you coming or not?

Tell her you’re on your way. She will give you her location, tell you how she wants it. She is a much different beast from Wendy: wilder, but more tamable than Somi.

Now, the rules Wendy imposed on your arrangement are a good foundation, but these are basic principles that don’t necessarily apply to women like Saerom and Somi, women more complicated in their wants and needs. This isn’t the end of the journey—there are more rules to follow, more concepts to learn. Once you feel comfortable with the concepts in this module, take a deep breath and pat yourself on the back.

Congratulations, you are now ready for The Intermediate Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Just a little quickie I churned out in a couple days which is a much faster turnaround time that most of my fics. Thanks for reading!