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basicalyrandom · 4 hours

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The Climax Problem

Literally thought that this was so funny and I wanted to make it a small story lol

Also, this was basically from this post by @faretheeoscar

This is the link to the original post! ^^

Gender neutral Y/n x Steven Grant

Warning: 18+ Mentioning of climaxing (aka: c*mming), some inappropriate jabs here and there

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

We all know of how innocent Steven is and crazy for you. But him releasing during a make out session? That's crazier.

You cupped his face as you kissed him passionately. Your tongue fighting with his and moaning into each other's mouths. You gently pulled his curls as he moaned from the action.

The passion needed to die down as you needed to go to work.

"I gotta go, baby." You pecked his lips and he responded with a small whines.

"A- Alright, love! I'll be waiting for you!" He waved goodbye to you as you waved back and closed the door.

Steven sighed as he looked at his pants. The noticeable bulge in his pants as he unzipped them and revealed a patch of his seed in his boxers.

"Bloody hell..." Steven mumbled to himself.

He got up and took off his pants and boxers to the dirty laundry. He walked to the restroom and looked at the mirror.

"Why do I even do that..." He massaged his temples.

"Looks like someone has a hard time to stop cumming." Marc looked at Steven in the mirror with his little smirk.

"Look, I just can't help it...! Y/n makes me feel so good! I- I- I just can't help it!"

Steven turned around facing at another mirror staring at his reflection.

"You gotta ask some advice for that problem of yours, hermano." Jake crossed his arms and cocked a eyebrow.

"You don't think I know that, Jake?"

He sighed as he cleaned himself with a wet towel.

"Have you ever tried to masterbate before? That could help you, Steven." Marc chuckled.

"What!? Marc! You know I could never do that! And I'm gonna wait til I marry Y/n...! How could you even think of that!?

"Steven, you poor sad little virgin." Marc sighed.

"What about you go on reddit and go to r/Advice?" Jake smirked.

"Reddit...? No, I shouldn't..."

"It's the only thing to help you." Jake chuckled lightly.

"D'oh... alright..." Steven sighed as he grabbed some new boxers and put them on.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"Steven, I'm home!!" You placed your bag on the floor as you took off your shoes. You walked into your shared bedroom and see him laying down.

You laid down next to him and peppered his face with small kisses.

"Hi." You smiled lightly and played with his curls.

"Hey..." He smiled lightly but then faltered to a small frown.

"Aww... what's wrong...?" You cupped his face.

"It's uhm..." He sighed. "Love, uhm... during out make out sessions... I uh... I cum."

You frozed when you heard that.

"Like, pre-cum or...?"

"No, like full-on climax... and it's embarrassing... just instantly releasing during a make out session...! And I went to Reddit for advise... I- I just know that you're gonna judge me..."

"Steven, that's not embarrassing at all... to be honest, I find that really flattering."

"Really...?"

"Yes, it makes me feel good. It let's me know of how good I can make you really feel..." You leaned into him and gently kissed him softly.

He pulled away and smiled.

"Thank you, love..."

This got me cracking up 💀

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this :]

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basicalyrandom · 5 hours

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I JUST HAD TO PUT MY OC THERE 😩

The text is actually from the story by @reallyrallyauthor

AND EVEN THO IT SAID NO SUNGLASSES AND SCARF I JUST WANTED TO SO BAD!!

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basicalyrandom · 5 hours

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I love Basil Stitt with all of my heart. He's such a cute, sweet, sad, pathetic little twink 😊

Love you, pookie 😘

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basicalyrandom · 6 hours

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Pussy Magnet

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Jake was always good with animals.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: I'm so sorry I had to make this stupid joke, I'm-

Warnings: Terrible jokes, Jake stealing Steven and Marc's clothes, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 567

You can’t help but smile as you glance over at Jake. You’re in the middle of speaking with your friend, whose home you’re currently in. She had invited you to a small barbeque, which had turned into an impromptu dinner party when the heavens had opened.

There were only seven of you in total, so it wasn’t too overcrowded.

While everyone else were seated on, or around the large armchair and settee in the living room, Jake was the exception.

He was laying on his side, his hand outstretched under the bookcase, slowly coaxing your friend’s new kitten out of hiding.

There was the largest, softest smile plastered over his face as the cat slowly inches forward and sniffed his fingers.

He had been carefully befriending the kitten over the last forty minutes, taking it as a personal mission the second your friend mentioned she had a new kitten that was painfully shy around new people.

She was a small thing, the runt of the litter, black and white with wide green eyes. Your friend and her partner had affectionately named her ‘Newspaper’.

Slowly Newspaper crept closer to him, a few careful steps forward until she was completely out from under the bookshelf’s protection. She paused, watching Jake carefully before shuffling closer again.

Your friend asks you a question and you turn back to her and the conversation around you.

It’s about twenty minutes later that Jake comes and sits down next to you, grinning intently.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow playfully and his grin widens.

He’s holding his shirt, a borrowed one from Steven, at an odd angle. Basically cradling it. Even if there wasn’t a bulge over his left chest it would be easy to work out why.

“What you got there?” You ask innocently.

“Nothing.” He beams at you and leans closer, moving his shirt slightly to the side to show you Newspaper nestled against him and purring.

You grin.

“You think Marc’ll tell me off for getting cat hair on his t-shirt?”

“Nah.” You shake your head. “He might tell you off for borrowing his clothes again, but not for the cat hair.”

Jake snorts. “Steven doesn’t mind when I do it.”

You grin wider.

“It’s Marc’s fault anyway for buying comfy clothes.”

That makes you laugh.

Newspaper moves a little in her sleep, tucking in closer to Jake.

You pause for a moment, watching the kitten. A terrible joke pops into your head as if it was placed there by some unseen force. Part of you wonders if Khonshu is whispering in your ear, but then again Jake would have heard him too.

“Jake…” You say as naturally as you can.

“Hmm?” He glances up, clocking the silly expression on your face before you even get a chance to talk.

You speak anyway. “You’re really good with animals…”

“Yeah.” He pins you with his deadpan gaze, ready for whatever corny joke you’re going to say next.

“Some could say you’re a … pussy magnet.”

He snorts, breaking his nonchalant facade as quickly as he formed it and nudges you playfully in the arm with his shoulder.

You expect an eye roll when he looks back at you, something along the lines of ‘that’s awful.’ But instead he smiles, silky smooth. “I have been told that in my time.” He waggled his eyebrows at you until you laughed and woke up the kitten.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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basicalyrandom · 6 hours

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Free Ride

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Your taxi driver is surprisingly familiar.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Set in London, Jake is driving a black cab in my mind for some reason.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, kisses, awkward silences, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1161

You got into the cab quickly, the cold night air raking its nails over your skin. You pulled your coat a little higher and shivered.

The bar crawl hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Two of your friends had had to check out early, and a third had hooked up with someone they’d met while getting a round. You’d decided to call it a night.

“Hi,” you greeted the driver, about to give your address when you pause in surprise. “Steven?”

Jake freezes, watching your reflection in the rear view mirror.

“Steven Grant, you, you live on the floor above me.” You smile. “I didn’t realise you drove a cab?”

He swallows, raising his chin up in a nod, his mind racing. He’d left it far too long to deny it. “I… just, part time.” He spoke quietly, adding a croak to his voice to disguise the difference in accent.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… cold.” He tapped his throat, “so, erm, home?”

You nod, “yeah. Sorry you’re unwell, hope you feel better soon.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

You nod again, something about the energy in the cab seemed… odd. Different. You were on pretty good terms with Steven since he’d helped you out when you were lugging your shelves up the stairs (they were too wide for the lift.) You chatted when you ran into each other going out or coming back. Somehow you both usually ended up going to the local sainsbury’s at the same time for your weekly shop and had kind of settled into a not exactly planned routine where you would wait for each other and do it together.

Steven talked. A lot. In the best way possible. Excitedly and passionately. Bubbly and enthusiastic. He genuinely listened as well, asking follow up questions and nodding. But even when he was listening, he wasn’t quiet. Always adding in ‘hmms’ and ‘oh right’, and little snippets of commentary that warmed your heart.

Now he was quiet. Pulled in and zipped up.

Maybe it was just the cold making his throat hurt. You’d have to get him something to help, maybe tomorrow you could knock on with some ginger, lemon, and honey tea.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You stilt your head to the side as you watch him drive. He takes a turn smoothly, travelling down the late night roads without as much as a pause. Or a word.

It just didn’t make sense.

How unlike Steven he was being. You pause, for a second entertaining the idea that he wasn’t actually him. But that made no sense did it? He’d have to be an identical twin, and besides, he was talking you back to your flat. If he wasn't Steven, how would he know where you lived?

“I didn’t know you could drive?” You say, speaking up a little to try to hide the spike of nervousness that had settled in your gut. You had been so sure that he’d told you he couldn’t… though had that just been an excuse? A reason to tag along with you when you went food shopping? Was his quietness now embarrassment from being caught out?

“Hmm,” he nodded, glancing back at you again in the rear view mirror. “I don’t mention it… much.”

You nod. “Yeah.” You pick at your fingernails as he drums his hands against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change.

The silence stretches out, almost blanketing the low grumble of the engine. It’s sickening. Nerve wrecking.

“How’s work?” You blurt out, and then quickly clarify. “Both I mean, how’s driving going today and how’s the museum?” He glances back at you again, the action is starting to remind you of a priest in a confessional.

“It’s all… normal.”

“Normal?”

“Fine. Normal.”

You don’t speak again until he pulls up by the block of flats, putting on the handbrake and getting into neutral. He puts his hands on his lap, folded neatly with his palms facing upwards.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s on me.”

“Stev-”

He turns quickly, flicking off his seatbelt in a practised move so that he can twist his body fully around to face you.

For a moment you think he’s going to say something, reveal some grand secret but instead he pauses before giving you a very weak smile.

“It’s on me.” His voice is quiet, barely there at all. And, for the briefest second you could have sworn that his accent was different.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs politely, dismissing it as if it was nothing.

Before he can turn away you reach out for his shoulder, the action instinctive and leaving you lost for a reason why you did it.

He glances at your hand for a second before looking back to your face.

You lean forward. “Thank you.” You repeat softly, and slowly kiss his left cheek, giving him plenty of time to pull away and rebuff you if he wanted to.

Instead he leans slightly into the touch, swallowing and turning his head towards you. His nose brushes against yours and you think he’s going to turn back to facing the wheel, but instead he presses his lips to yours hesitantly.

You squeeze his arm, surprised but responsive as you kiss him back.

He kisses you slowly, but intentionally. Swiping the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip before opening your mouth with his own and licking inside. He groans, low in his chest as the kiss becomes hungrier, boarding on desperation as he presses as close to you as he physically can in his position.

When suddenly he pulls back, blinking heavily. A mumbled, ‘sorry’, just escaping his lips.

“It’s okay.” Your voice is quiet too, your mind only just catching up with what happened.

He turns back, putting his seatbelt on with a click and staring straight ahead. “Have a good night.”

“I, erm, I’ll see you later.” You mutter as you get out, feeling almost shaky from what just happened. Your thoughts reeling.

You get up to your flat in a daze. You’d kissed him, well, he’d kissed you. Did that mean anything? Had you done something to chase him off?

You change into your pyjamas and brush your teeth, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

There’s a soft knock at your front door and you freeze. Wait.

Maybe it’s a neighbor's door. Maybe it’s noise from another flat.

There’s a knock again, still soft and your phone buzzes. A message from Steven, ‘can we talk?’

Fuck.

You head to the door, checking the peep hole and confirming that yes, it is Steven outside your door. You unlock and open it quickly.

“Steven, I-”

You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before he moves forward quickly and kisses you deeply. His hands settle on your hip, the back of your neck as he walks you further inside and kicks the door shut with the heel of his foot.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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basicalyrandom · 19 hours

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3 Times Jake Lockley Tried to Kill You and 1 Time He Saved Your Life

Part 1 of 4 - Knife

Miniseries Masterlist || Main Masterlist || next

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary: Jake has been hired to assassinate you - the daughter of Chicago's most powerful and corrupt man

Or: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Word Count: 2.5k

Content: nsfw, mdni, more below the cut, READ the warnings. Dead dove - you will get what is warned!

There is no non-con in this fic, but it's dark in the sense that the reader IS in real danger from Jake. Violence, language, stalking, blood, knife play, also actual knife use - like for its intent - stabbing, danger, sexy dreams, glove kink, masturbation, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The second time Jake saw you up close, he darkly chuckled to himself at how easy of a mark you were.

Everyone in his line of work knew who you were - the beautiful daughter of the most powerful man in the city. And your father had endless enemies.

Including the one who hired Jake to take you out. Jake's boss was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. To assassinate the most powerful mob boss' only daughter required someone removed from the situation. Someone professional. Invisible.

Jake wasn't stupid either. There wasn't enough money in this city to lure him into crossing your father.

No, this was plain, old fashioned revenge. So maybe Jake's boss was stupid - this was personal, for Jake anyway.

So tonight, as he saw you walking out of a club with your girlfriends, your inept bodyguards flanking you, he sneered.

You had style - that, Jake had to admit. Your dress fit you like a glove, but landed an inch or so longer than your obvious minions’ skirts. The girls around you were trying too hard. You didn’t have to.

They flocked to your power and your money (or your father's), but the attempt was desperate, at best.

But you held yourself with a self-assurance and something Jake had no idea he was interested in until he'd started tailing you: class.

Your eyes shone as your laughter rang out into the night. You must’ve been a little tipsy, if the glow of your cheeks was any indication.

The bodyguards - who Jake mentally referred to as Dumb and Dumber - ushered the small group of you into a waiting car.

Jake thought about it: driving you. Using his day (or night) job to get close to you. Too complicated. You had a faithful driver, well paid, who had shuttled you around the city practically all your life. Then, of course there were Dumb and Dumber and the other girls to...dispose of.

So no driving. Not this time.

You rarely ventured out alone, but Jake had discovered your quietest moments. You lived in a hotel, actually - one of your father's - in a penthouse, with, at least, adequate security.

So, no home invasion. That made Jake feel like a creep anyway, and he wasn't a creep. He was a professional.

He found the easiest access to you would likely come during one of your early morning jogs in the park, or while you liked to shop or run errands during the day.

In fact, he walked right by you just yesterday.

That was the first time he saw you up close.

You were even more beautiful up close.

Yesterday, he simply wanted to see if Dumb and Dumber would notice how close he got. He was also checking out the lack of security cameras in the park.

He had to do this right. And even then, he would flee afterward. He hated this city anyway.

Fucking Chicago. Every horrible thing in his life went wrong in this city. New York never treated him so poorly. And besides, the alter in his head preferred life across the pond. So, finishing this job would be the perfect excuse to never return.

So the next morning, he arrived in the park before sunrise. Sure enough, you came jogging round the corner, an unsafe number of strides ahead of Dumb and Dumber. Or...it was only Dumber this time. One bodyguard? Seriously, this was too easy.

All it took was a gloved hand around your mouth and a knife to your ribs to get you where he wanted you, into the dense thicket, away from prying eyes.

You struggled, but Jake’s experience won out. He used the tip of his knife to inflict the slightest twinge of pain.

"I can make this almost painless," he breathed on your ear.

You whimpered, angry with yourself for going limp in his arms as you felt the pinch of pain in your ribs.

However, you're weren't stupid either. If he wanted to kill you, he would have dragged that blade across your jugular with your mouth still covered. You would bleed out silently and he would have plenty of time to escape before your bodyguard found you.

His annoying poke to your ribs and striking up a conversation meant he wanted something else and that's why you shuddered. This was a kidnapping or an assault. Or he was a sick freak who wanted to play with his food first.

He whirled you around and pushed you up against a tree, crowding in front of you, with your mouth still covered.

The tree's bark scraped against your bare legs, but cold, dark eyes which - under different circumstances, might have captivated you - momentarily distracted you.

Distinguished nose - mouth set in a thin line, strong, square jaw with a beard - well kempt. Dark brown curls peeked out of a flat cap. He almost looked like something out of the 1930's when you really thought about it.

Which...given the circumstances, why in the hell were you thinking about his looks?

Finding your courage, you tried to speak against his gloved hand. He positioned the knife at your throat - finally a more useful spot - and breathed against your cheek. "Scream and it'll be your last word, doll."

You nodded quickly, trying to blink back the moisture in your eyes. Your father was going to end this asshole, but you might suffer mightily first.

Slowly, Jake removed his hand, keeping it close to your mouth in case you got any ideas.

"Why didn't you just cut my throat?" You gasped, your chest heaving, drawing his eyes momentarily down to the fit of your sports bra and your chest, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

"Are you offering suggestions?" One dark eyebrow shot up, almost comedically.

"It would be the quickest and quietest way," you confessed, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm just trying to see what I'm in for. You want me to beg or something? Cry? Just tell me and get it over with."

Jake chucked.

Oh. So he was a condescending asshole. Awesome.

Still, he didn't taunt you or threaten you, which probably meant ... damn it.

"Aw hell, you're a pervert then?" You scoffed. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're hoping."

That puzzled your captor, but only for a moment. " - no," he scoffed. "That's not something I have to...coerce."

You rolled your eyes, but made sure to keep still because that knife tip was starting to dig into your throat. "I'm sure you're a real catch. Just get this over with. My bodyguard will be here soon."

The corner of Jake's mouth curled. "Trust me, I'm not worried about him."

You shivered slightly, realizing he'd done his homework. "What do you want?" You managed, a little more desperately than you were hoping to sound.

"Revenge," he evenly responded

You locked eyes and saw honesty there.

You slightly nodded, swallowing hard as his breath ghosted your cheek.

"W-what did I do to you?"

Jake's eyes darkened as he pulled the blade from your throat and positioned it right over your heart.

"Your father killed my brother."

Wetting your lips, you whispered, "I'm sorry. I-I don't know anything about that."

"'Course you don't," Jake sneered. "But your father does."

"So I have to pay for your brother's life with my own?" You hurriedly reasoned. "You think that will make my father suffer the way you have? There's no way. I don't even think he loves me." Your voice was now dripping with panic, but Jake started to admire the way you fired off protests.

"Nice try," Jake scoffed. "Everyone knows you're daddy's pride and joy. You're the only way to his heart."

"Then do it," you spat. "I hate all this Criminal Minds villain discourse bullshit. Just put us both out of our misery."

"Villain?" Jake huffed. "I'm the villain? Your father has corrupted this entire city! And you benefit from every cent and every life he takes. You're the villain - both of you."

"Then what are you fucking waiting for?" You hissed, jerking against him, causing the knife to slip and slice your chest.

"Shit!" You cried out, your hands flying to cover your wound, which was only superficial, but still hurt like hell.

The gloved hand clamped back over your mouth as the knife tip dragged down your sternum to just under your ribs once more. Without hesitation, he pushed the blade into your abdomen.

You screamed into his hand, tears streaming down your face. Your body flamed with searing pain as you went limp in his arms.

"Shhh, shh, sweetheart. It's only enough to slow you down. You'll live. Promise."

And he fucking left you there.

With his knife inside you.

Oh your father was going to crucify this asshole.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You spent hardly any time at all in the hospital - the wound was so insignificant. Still, you were stabbed so it warranted medical attention and your father was furious. He attempted to double security around you and forbade you from leaving your penthouse.

You indulged him for a day or so but you weren't one to be caged. He'd made your life enough of a living hell. You felt scared all the time, always a pressure point for him - a bargaining chip for his enemies.

You didn't tell him about the bouquet of tulips you received from your attacker, with a note that read, 'Did you keep what I left inside you?'

The next day, gardenias arrived with another note. 'I'll show you how to use it sometime.'

Okay, so maybe you were stupid. Because instead of turning the notes over to your father, or even the police (not likely), you kept them to yourself.

The most intriguing thing about this mystery man was how he was managing to get these flowers and notes past your (obviously shit) security.

You dreamed.

He's pinned you up against the tree. His gloved hand applies pressure to your throat. The tip of his knife blade traces lightly over your bottom lip, before he drags it down the smooth column of your throat. He trails down your chest, raking it between your breasts before slicing right through your sports bra. Your breasts spring free and his eyes darken. He grazes your nipple with the blade - the cool metal electrifying your peak, making it go stiff.

His grip on your throat loosens as he pushes gloved fingers up over your jaw and slips his leather clad digits into your mouth. His eyes find yours again as you obediently suck without being asked.

He pushes his fingers to the back of your throat, gagging you, which makes him smirk.

Then he surprises you by taking his hand out of your mouth and pushing the hilt of the knife into your palm.

"Hold this for me, baby," he instructs, roughly shoving his sopping wet glove - wet with your spit - into your tight leggings, slipping them between your already soaked folds.

Your hand shakes as you realize you have the power - you have the knife and you can get away. You can hurt him back, like he hurt you.

Without another thought, you jab the knife into his side, even as his gloved thumb circles your clit.

"That's my girl," he pants as blood pools and spills through his crisp, white dress shirt. You yank the knife back out, puzzled, but your brain is starting to short-circuit from the wildest fingerfucking you've ever experienced.

You try to whisper his name, wondering if he'll be okay, but you realize - you don't even know his name. You have no inkling whose fingers are stuffed inside your cunt, even as you grind down on his palm, riding his glove like a toy.

You woke up covered in sweat, slick heat pooled between your legs even as your belly filled with shame.

Without another thought, you reached into your nightstand drawer for the knife he left inside you.

You yanked your nightgown aside, gently running the cool metal over your nipples, just the way he'd done in your dream.

You shoved your fingers into your mouth, just like he had, and once they were sopping you slid them into your silky panties and rubbed your clit furiously.

"Oh god," you moaned, writhing, carefully scraping the knife across your other nipple before a nasty idea formed. You used the knife handle and pushed it down over your clit with two fingers of the opposite hand stuffed inside you.

You felt wrong - disgusted with yourself. The man wasn't being sexy - this wasn't some fantasy of a dangerous man in the woods. He had no interest in you. He threatened you - stabbed you, for fuck's sake. Who knew what else he was capable of? He could've taken advantage of your body or sliced your throat.

And now he'd sent the flowers and messages. So he was probably a stalker. This would escalate and be dragged out, just like you'd wanted to avoid.

He was probably watching you right now.

...which, to your utter shame made you feral.

You moaned so loudly, you were sure your bodyguards would rush in.

"Can you see me?" You panted, repulsed with yourself, but so close, rubbing the blunt end of the knife faster and faster over your clit as you shoved your fingers as deep as they would go.

One more thought of that horrible man plunging his knife in you and your back arched euphorically as a powerful orgasm wracked your body - as good as any with your array of top-of-the-line toys.

As you lay there panting, wondering how you would rid yourself of this shameful new obsession - masturbating to a man who wanted revenge against your father - who attacked you and honestly, showed no real interest in you - you decided you needed a way to reach him.

He was able to get to you somehow, by sending you flowers and notes.

So the next day, you instructed your staff to return a wrapped, sealed box to whomever delivered flowers, and you paid handsomely to make sure the box got back to the sender.

It may never make it to the mystery man, but you had to try.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"I told you - you can't come back here," Jake scolded the young delivery boy.

"Sorry, mister. That lady gave me a ton of money to bring this to you."

Fortunately, Jake had met up with this little idiot on a street corner and not near where he lived, nor near his car. He also used a false name.

It was risky enough sending things to you, but you got under his skin.

He knew this was all a bad idea. His boss wanted you dead and Jake wanted his revenge for Randall.

But here he was, behaving like a pathetic stalker, sending you flowers and creepy notes, bypassing your security.

And now you sent something back?

Jake pulled the lid from the box and almost choked. It was his knife. Something had...dried on the handle, along with what he could only assume was still your blood on the blade. And there was a handwritten note.

'I came on it.'

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

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basicalyrandom · 19 hours

Text

I think it’s somewhere in China based on Brioni’s ig caption

I would cross over that street like my life depends on it just to see Oscar’s billboard up close and personal

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basicalyrandom · 20 hours