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xorafe · 2 months

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cam girl (part eight)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

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His breath is hot against your cheek, his body enclosing yours.

Behind Rafe, the door to the rest of this house is shut, but anyone could walk in at any minute.

It didn’t even cross your mind the day you were up in his bedroom with him that someone could come in, because why would they?

But the laundry room is a public area. The risk of being found is dangerous and alluring at the same time.

You never expected you’d think this way and feel so excited from such a risk, but then again, Rafe has turned your world upside down.

Your back is flush against the closet door. You feel Rafe’s hand move from your wrist to the hem of your uniform, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh under your dress.

“After everything I do for you… and you’re flirting with a guy in my fucking house,” he mutters.

“I wasn’t, baby,” you whisper, stirred by his jealousy.

“Why were you smiling at him like that?” Rafe asks, his eyes narrowing as his hand squeezes your thigh hard. It’s so fucking exciting that he’s this impassioned with envy, all over a ten-second conversation you had with another man.

“I was just being nice,” you say.

“Just being nice,” he mocks. “I’m getting that asshole fired.”

“Rafe,” you say. “I’m yours. You know that.”

“I have to make sure you know it, too, don’t I, baby?” His hand rises and presses roughly against your middle. You swallow hard. “I thought we said you weren’t gonna wear panties anymore.”

“I can’t…” You swallow hard. “I shouldn’t come to work like that.”

“You probably shouldn’t fuck who you work for, either,” he says, “but you do that all the time, don’t you?”

You feel him shift your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers pressing between your lips.

“Fuck,” you whisper in pleasure.

“Already wet,” he chuckles. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

He hitches your dress up. Thankfully, he’s wearing sweatpants and there aren’t any buttons or zippers to delay it any longer. He’s able to pull his pants down in one move.

Rafe roughly hikes your leg up. He bends to guide his cock into you, pushing your panties to the side, the sensation of doing this standing up so unbelievably hot.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, sharply exhaling with his first hard push into you, the back of your head hitting the door behind you.

He feels so fucking entitled to you, and you wonder if it’s from his life of wealth and luxury, from being used to getting whatever he wants.

“You… are… fucking… mine,” he mutters, with a hard thrust between each word. You dig your nails into his shoulder, the passion between you making your entire body hot.

“You have nothing to be jealous about, Rafe,” you say into his ear. “Nothing. Ever.”

He captures your lips in his. The gesture surprises you. He’s never been that big on kissing, preferring to watch while he fucks you. But his mouth is on you now, his tongue hot and pressing against yours.

You wonder if it’s silly to think he’s kissing you out of appreciation for your reassurance.

Rafe’s spit coats your bottom lip, hands tight on you, cock moving in and out of you.

Your keep your arm around his shoulders and your other hand finds his cheek, cradling his jaw, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“Nobody can make me feel like you do,” you tell him, your breath shallow and weaving into your words. “Or make my body do the things it does with you.”

You don’t know where trying to make him feel better ends and wanting to get this off your chest begins, but the words keep spilling out of you.

“He touched my shoulder,” you breathe, “just my fucking shoulder, and I swear to God, I thought about how wrong it felt that it wasn’t you.”

Rafe’s softening eyes fixate on yours as he penetrates you. It’s like his anger is losing its burn right in front of you.

“I belong to you,” you say.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice deep. The inside of his forearm is pressed against the back of your knee as he holds you up, and his arm starts to fall and tremble. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You can tell he’s about to reach his orgasm - it’s another surprise. He always lasts much longer. You’re almost sure that the sweet words you’re whispering to him are having this effect.

His thrusts aren’t as rough, his expression not as hard. Rafe is no longer angry or determined to prove a point. He’s simply savoring the feeling of being in your pussy. A sense of pride fills you when you realize your reassurance is what calmed him down.

You watch him, restless to show him how much you want him.

“Let me swallow your cum,” you moan. He stops driving into you for a second, looking down at you with a smirk, dimples deep.

“Yeah?” he rasps.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Rafe pulls out of you, lips parted as he huffs for air, and he watches you drop to your knees. Your eyes are on his as you hold his cock, putting him in your mouth.

He tilts forward, an arm leaning against the closet door.

Your lips are tight around him, your tongue swirling. You start to move faster, putting two hands on him, rolling your wrists as you suck his tip.

“Oh, my God,” Rafe says, his tone so gentle that it sounds like he’s thanking you. “You gonna swallow my whole load?”

“Yes,” you moan against his cock. You increase your pressure on his slick length, fingers tightening, mouth sucking harder.

This right here, bringing him to his climax, feels like the most important thing you’ll ever do.

His hot cum gushes out of him quickly, oozing into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. Your hands work him even faster, his cock twitching. Rafe looks down at you as you take everything he has to offer.

“Open your mouth,” he says. “I wanna see it in your mouth.”

You obey, parting your lips and tilting your head so you don’t lose a single drop.

“So fucking pretty,” he praises. You swallow and exhale in pleasure as the hot, salty liquid spills down your throat.

He leans to collect you off the floor, his hands scooping you up. You face him, pushing your dress down as he pulls the waistband to his sweatpants up to his hips.

“Let me guess,” you whisper with a small smile. “I can’t cum until later?”

Rafe looks down at you with gratification.

“Only ‘cause I’m gonna make you squirt again,” he tells you. You laugh at his promise, how casually he says something so vulgar.

The two of you share a smile, eyes locked, and the minute you’re living in together is so tender that you think if anyone could see you, they’d think this was a romantic moment, but it’s not, and you know you need to remember that.

“We could’ve gotten caught,” you say, pushing past him so you don’t have to be subjected to those beautiful fucking eyes any longer.

“I wouldn’t care,” Rafe says with a chuckle.

“Obviously you wouldn’t.” You open the dryer and start to unload the sheets you put in earlier. “But I’d lose my job.”

“Do you even need it?”

You still to look at him over your shoulder.

“Of course I do,” you laugh. Has he forgotten that not everyone has a trust fund? Does he think you enjoy living in your shoebox of an apartment?

“Even with… with what I’m giving you?” he asks. The $1000 cam shows, the extra tips, the random deposits he gives you all have put your bank account to a number you didn’t think you’d ever see, at least while you’re still a student.

But it’s not exactly a steady income like your cleaning job is. You don’t like to think about it, but Rafe could lose interest in you tomorrow for all you know. You can’t exactly rely on his money.

“Like that’ll last,” you say, trying to sound playful. “I still need a steady job, Rafe.” You just want to be honest. Fair. He doesn’t owe you loyalty, no matter how much you’d like it.

Rafe stuffs his hands into his pockets, hair hanging over his forehead as he looks down awkwardly.

Maybe it was too serious a thing to say. Maybe you sounded like you want him to make some sort of commitment, when he has shown you time and time again that you’re just a whore to him. A whore he gets off on owning.

The gentle, languid atmosphere you were sharing is now sharp, both of you stiff.

Suddenly, the door creaks open and you’re grateful for the interruption.

One of the other maids greets you with a nod, then when she notices Rafe, she looks confused to see him in the laundry room with you.

He silently walks past her, his tall frame pushing out the door, not looking at you again.

You spend the rest of your shift distracting yourself with work. Over your lunch break, you sit in the empty backyard, talking on the phone with one of your close friends about school and everything else outside of Rafe, not wanting to risk anyone overhearing anything about him.

Finally, it’s almost three o’clock, an hour left to your shift. You head to the second-storey lounge at the back of the estate to cross off what remains on your to-do list.

As you head down the corridor, the sounds of men’s voices grow louder. You recognize Rafe’s laugh, like a melody making your heart flutter.

You see through the lounge window that he and his friends are sitting out on the beach-facing balcony, day-drinking on a Wednesday afternoon. The relaxed life of the wealthy never ceases to amaze you.

This means his bedroom is empty. An idea strikes you suddenly. You’ll leave Rafe a present to get rid of the weird energy that grew between you earlier today.

You rush to sneak into his bedroom, shutting the door behind you. You keep the lights off, the afternoon sun peeking behind his blinds.

You take your phone out of your uniform’s front pocket and lean it on his bed frame. After you settle on your knees onto the soft mattress, you start to record a video and watch yourself in the small screen.

Inching the fabric of your dress up, you close your eyes as you think about Rafe. Your hand immediately presses between your legs.

“You were right, baby, I shouldn’t wear panties,” you whisper into the phone. “They just get soaked as soon as I think about you.”

You tilt to sit on your butt and pull your underwear down, then spread your legs open for the camera.

With your fingers running up and down your slit, you shut your eyes and let yourself daydream about Rafe.

“I don’t know where I like your cum the best,” you whisper into the empty room. “In my mouth, in my pussy, or in my ass. I want your cum everywhere… all over me.”

You dip a finger inside of you, letting you a soft moan. You think back to when he first confronted you in this very room, the way you pulled down the towel that sat around his hips down and tasted him for the first time.

“Remember when you came on my face right here on your bed?” you say.

You imagine him lying here and watching you on his screen.

“Fuck, the thought of you jerking off gets me so…” You almost get lost in the moment, let the orgasm pull you in, but you take your hand off yourself. It takes all the willpower you have not to finish, deciding to save yourself for tonight.

You notice your hands are shaking when you stop the recording. You’ll send it to him during your cam session tonight.

As a final treat for him, you leave your panties under his covers.

You set to walk out of the room, but when you see the t-shirt Rafe was wearing today strewn over his chair, you can’t fight the impulse to take it. You’ll wear it for him tonight.

You tuck it under your arm and drop it off in your bag before you head to the lounge to finish up your day of work.

Your heart is racing after what you just did.

When you see Rafe through the lounge window, sitting with a group of guys you’ve seen so many times before, leaning back with his long legs casually spread, you imagine straddling his lap like you did last night.

The sun is casting an orange glow on the planes of his handsome face and… God, you need to stop staring at him.

It’s just sex, you tell yourself. Just kinky, intense, unforgettable sex with a guy who occasionally has a soft side to him. That’s it.

You start to water the plants laid out across the sill, glancing up every so often to look at Rafe.

When he finally notices you, his expression seems to relax, eyes dancing over you.

He eventually drops his gaze, continuing his conversation with his friends, surely trying to play it off in case anyone caught him looking at you like that.

He wouldn’t have told his buddies he was hooking up with you, would he? Or maybe he would, keen to brag how he was fucking the help?

You finish up cleaning the room and you know it’ll torture him, but he loves to put you through crazy shit, so you return the favor.

Instead of waiting until later tonight, you send Rafe the video you just took along with a text: keep your sound off unless you want your friends to hear me moan.

You watch him through the window, waiting for him to feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Excitement buzzes through you when he shifts back, pulling his phone out.

He looks at the screen. Sharp blue eyes pierce you, the subtle shake of his head seeming like a warning. You watch his fingers press the side of his phone, muting his sound.

Rafe brings his phone up closer to his face, sinking back a bit to prevent anyone from seeing his screen.

He only lasts a few seconds of the minute-long video. You watch him awkwardly shuffle in his seat, adjusting his groin. He brings the phone down, his lips pursed in irritation as he gazes at you.

If looks could kill.

He texts you: are you fucking serious?

You smile at your phone and reply: oh and i think i forgot my panties in your bed. you can give them to me later. my shift’s over :) see you at 10.

You’re still riding the power trip when you’re sitting on your bed with your laptop open that night, wearing nothing but his shirt. It smells so damn good.

“Hey, baby,” you coo when Rafe joins the session, right on time. You run your hands up your body, squeezing your chest over his shirt. “I stole something today.”

figure8: thief

“It’s just so soft,” you giggle.

figure8: you’re in so much trouble for that fucking video

“I’m sorry,” you laugh. “Did you like it at least?”

figure8: of course i did

figure8: if you wanted my cum all over you, why didnt you just say so

The thought of Rafe covering you in his hot cum makes your stomach tighten. You shrug.

figure8: ur panties smell like you

You lick your lips, imagining him smelling the underwear you left for him. You start to rub your hard nipples over the soft material of his shirt.

Whatever happened in the laundry room is now a distant memory. Thankfully, you two are back in your groove.

figure8: stretch yourself open

You spread your legs for him, pulling apart your lips, the camera capturing you.

figure8: so fucking perfect

You tilt your head, flattered.

figure8: get urself close to cumming and tell me what ur thinking about like u did in ur slutty little video

You lean back, one hand holding you up while the other rests on your pussy. You start to rub up and down, watching yourself in the camera.

“Every time I’m in front of you like this, I’m thinking about how you’re touching yourself,” you say. “The thought of you jerking off is just so fucking hot to me.”

figure8: doing it right now

“Fuck,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “What do you think about when you do it?”

figure8: how good you feel around my cock

“Yeah?” you say. “Which part of me?”

figure8: your pussy is my favorite to think about

“That’s my favorite place for you to be, too.”

figure8: yeah you never want me to pull out

“Shut up,” you laugh.

figure8: my needy girl

You keep rubbing your clit, your breaths starting to get faster as you think about how he stayed inside you as long as you wanted last night.

figure8: keep talking baby what are u thinking about

“Last night, the…” you sigh in longing. “The way you kept your cock in me after I squirted on you.”

figure8: u did such a good job

“Yeah?” you purr. You want to keep playing along, but it’s almost hurting at this point.

“Rafe… please, can you just come over?” you plead.

figure8: u can wait. keep playing with your clit and talking to me

You groan in frustration. He’s always keeping you on your toes like this, controlling your orgasms.

“I want your cock, baby, please,” you moan. “I want you to fuck me. Please just come over already.”

His next message makes you sigh a breath of relief.

figure8: only because u took my load so good today

figure8: keep your computer on your bed

figure8 tipped you $1000.

figure8 has left the session.

You wonder what the hell he has planned.

When Rafe arrives, he kisses you hard like he did earlier today, and even though it feels so fucking nice, you’re worried about the effect it’s having on you.

You pull away just to give yourself a breath and take his hand, leading him to your room.

When Rafe takes his jeans off, he throws his wallet at the foot of your bed.

“On your stomach,” he orders. He moves your pillow to the centre of your bed. “And get on your computer.”

You obey, allowing him to guide you to rest your pelvis on the pillow, anticipating what he’ll do to you. You feel Rafe settle behind you, fully naked. He pulls up your shirt - really, his shirt - and his hand glides over the curve of your raised bare ass.

You feel a hard slap on your skin and you yelp.

“That’s for sending me that fucking video when I was with my friends,” he chastises. “Getting me fucking hard like that… Jesus.”

“Sorry, baby,” you laugh. You’re not sorry at all.

He spanks you once more, the pain burning. You feel him shuffle again, opening his wallet in front of you next to your open laptop.

“You’re gonna buy whatever you want with my credit card while I fuck you,” he says.

You’re floored.

“Rafe,” you say in disbelief. “I don’t… I don’t even know what I’d get.”

“Then, think,” he says. “Get yourself a new computer.”

You look at your laptop. It is a pretty old model.

“This is…” You truly don’t have the words. Is he doing this because of your tense conversation earlier today? Or is it just one of his fantasies?

You moan when you feel him press his tip against your cunt.

You’re staring at your screen, in awe of all of this. In awe of him.

“Come on, baby,” Rafe encourages. He slowly drags himself into you, his hips eventually hitting your lower back when he gives you all of him.

Fingers trembling, you pull a black credit card out of his wallet and open a browser on your laptop, eager to please him. This is so different than anything you’ve done with anyone before.

You follow his instructions and simply search ‘laptop’. A string of links come up.

“Don’t cheap out,” he tells you. “Get the most expensive one.” He’s fucking you so damn slowly, surely to keep both of you from cumming.

You’re full of his cock while you click the highest price tag you find. This cost is nothing to him.

It’s nearly impossible to type in his credit card information, your name, your address, while he sinks in and out of you.

When a window pops up asking if the credit card information should be saved, his big hand is suddenly on top of yours, selecting ‘Save.’

The order goes through.

“Good girl,” he says. He sits up again, his arms supporting him, trapping your hips. “What do you want next, huh? A purse? Shoes?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admit. “I only ever buy things I need.”

“What you need is to be spoiled,” he says sternly.

This is an entirely new sensation - having no reservations, no budget while shopping. You decide to look for purses next and a $1800 designer bag catches your eye. You hover over it.

“Get it,” he tells you. You add it to your cart and set up next-day shipping. It’s an unbelievable thrill. “Keep going.”

You’re bobbing on your elbows as he continues to fuck you. He pauses a few times, warming his cock in you.

Next, you decide to buy two pairs of shoes and clothes you only imagined you’d see in a closet in a house that you’re cleaning.

Rafe is groaning behind you and you feel his weight shift on you, his chest pressing against your back.

“You wanna buy some lingerie?” His hot breath tickles the back of your ear.

“That’s more for you than me, isn’t it?” you tease.

“So?” he asks. You giggle and visit the first lingerie website you can think of. It comes up on your screen with an array of beautiful girls modelling the merchandise.

“Don’t look at these girls,” you joke, but really, you’re jealous of the thought of him lusting after another woman.

“Why the fuck would I look at…” he breathes, not finishing his sentence as he thrusts into you.

You find a white, lacy set. You buy it and at this point, you can’t take it anymore. You need him to fuck you for real.

You shuffle under him, trying to get up.

“You’re not done,” he laughs.

“If you don’t let me cum, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” you beg.

“One more thing,” he teases. He shifts to type with one hand, navigating to a sex toy website. “Whatever you want.”

You scroll through and a curved, blue vibrator intrigues you. You’ve always seen rigid, straight ones, but the thought of this one inside you is exciting.

“This one,” you say. You order it, then finally, shut your laptop in desperation. His hand trails down your spine once he pulls out. It makes you whine. You were hoping he’d start fucking you harder.

“Rafe,” you groan. You turn over on your back, looking up as he sits over you, the tip of his erect cock hitting hit stomach.

“You want my cum all over you, don’t you?” he taunts.

“You said you were gonna make me squirt again.”

“Fuck,” he laughs. “You’re so desperate, oh my God. I will. Relax.”

He’s right. You have never been hungrier for him.

“You get so fucking turned on being my sugar baby, don’t you?” he asks.

You nod - if you didn’t have this kink already, you sure do now.

“I wanna see your tits covered in my cum,” he groans. You nod, pulling his shirt up off of you.

Rafe is sitting over you, his hand stroking up and down his length. The sight is so fucking intoxicating.

“You like watching me jerk off? This is better than imagining it, isn’t it?”

“Yes, baby,” you tell him.

You squeeze your tits together, your eyes locked on his dick. He starts to stroke faster, his hips bucking.

“Shit.” His voice is hoarse as he grunts, his eyes squeezing shut.

His cum spills out into ropes on your chest and he’s whimpering as he empties his balls onto you. He collapses, holding himself up over you.

When he opens his eyes again, you make sure he’s watching you as you run a finger up your breast, collecting some of his cum, and bring it to your mouth to taste him.

“You’re so hot,” he says, his chuckle one of disbelief. “I’m gonna taste you, too. Sit up there.” He points to your bed frame.

Your back is soon pressed against the frame, your legs spread for him. Rafe picks up the rose toy from your drawer and settles onto his front, his head between your thighs.

The way he’s starting to know his way around your room makes your cheeks warm.

He runs his thumb up your middle, licking his lips as he watches you.

“Goddamn, princess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking swollen,” he murmurs.

“It hurts,” you whine, your clit throbbing with need. You’ve been aching for him since this morning.

“I’ll make it better,” he promises. He leans forward, trailing his flattened tongue from your cunt up to your clit.

Nothing in the fucking world beats this feeling.

When Rafe places the toy against your clit, the suction triggers pleasure to roll through you. He leans down to push his tongue into your hole.

You gaze at him in awe. You take him in, his head bobbing between your legs, his broad shoulders flexing, his right leg hiked up and his left leg partly hanging off your small bed.

The knot in your stomach tightens and it feels like last night, like you’re gonna explode again.

“Rafe, don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t…” You impulsively squeeze his head between your thighs, and the grunt that he lets out onto your pussy tells you how hot he finds this, too.

“That’s it,” he says, muffled. “Cum on my tongue.”

You feel like you shatter from the inside, a choked sob erupting from you. He forces his head back, your thighs pushed away, so he can look at you. He takes the toy away, replacing it with his thumb.

The sight of your juices splashing onto his face, the depraved smile he’s wearing while you squirt on him in spurts, is something you know you’ll never forget. Every fucking second with him is like a dream.

You tilt your head back, chest heaving. You feel him pat your sensitive pussy with a satisfied laugh.

“My good fucking girl,” Rafe praises. You meet his eyes, his face shimmering with your cum.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “What you’re doing to me is… fuck…” You don’t have the words.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he says. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

“What?” you breathe your laugh.

“I brought you something.” Rafe sits up and you wonder what in the hell this man, who has given you absolutely everything but his heart, could possibly have for you this time.

{ read part nine here }

author’s note: credit and THANK YOU to this anon for suggesting this idea!!! YOU GENIUS. i owe u my life

#i cannot believe how long this chapter is 🫢#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you

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ventismacchiato · 1 month

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RAFAYEL HEADCANONS

canon complaint, established relationship

sorry guys, can u tell i have a favorite

matching everything. phone charms. earrings. nails. socks. you name it, he’ll buy everything in two.

begs you every other day to get a matching tattoo with him. he’s even drawn up multiple designs for you to choose from and will keep asking you until you eventually agree, how could you refuse?

hates cats, says he’s allergic (he’s not) but will run out the room when your cat walks in when he’s staying over. one time you asked him to feed it when you were away on a mission and you watched through your cat cam as it took him fifteen minutes to get the bravery to even get five feet near your cat.

so very chronically online. he’s a certified yapper. you’re his only follower on his private twitter and best believe he’s posting every single thought he has, and he expects you to reply to every single one. also asks you to match profile photos, but he has commitment issues so you guys change them almost every week.

you usually wake up to at least one voice note from him, minimum of five minutes long. you got used to playing them as podcasts as you got ready for work.

honestly he already probably gets his nails done, but will let you do them for him. more so force you, he’s lazy. but if you like to have yours done he would be able to do the prettiest designs for you.

aquarium dates are his favorite, no need to get a guide because rafayel will talk your ear off the moment you’re inside.

boy who cried wolf. fakes being sick for your attention so much so that you don’t even believe him when he actually is. not until thomas tells you that rafa has been whining about missing you in bed.

clearly has abandonment issues and gets upset when you don’t let him know where you are or if you’re okay. he’ll show up at your apartment the few times you pass out from a mission and forget to reply, ready to be mad at you. but the moment he sees your wounds and tired eye bags he loses any ounce of anger he once had.

love language is quality time, doesn’t matter what you’re doing as long as it’s together. he’s the type to tag along when you need to go grocery shopping or pick up something. he just likes to be beside you.

he is a brat, so he’ll laugh as he watches you struggle to carry all the groceries back inside. but it’ll only last a few seconds before he scoops them from you. if you guys go to a carnival together his immediate thought is to win every prize there. it’s only when he’s sucked the poor booths dry is when you have to tug him away.

claw machine dates are weekly and mandatory, but if you think you’re getting a turn think again. he gets too into it and forgets to share. you’ve come to learn you just need to pry him away from it

always follows the sidewalk rule but in return will make a big deal out of you opening doors for him since you’re his bodyguard. he’s the girlfriend in the relationship fr

that’s not the entire time though, when it’s just you two and he’s all worn out from being annoying all day his tone will go softer and his gaze warmer. he loves you he really does he just showcases it weirdly

constantly asking, morelike begging, you to stay the night. even if you have work the next day he says he needs you to fall asleep. it’s happened so many times you eventually brought one of your uniforms over and some clothes so you could spend the night and still go to work. it’s hard not to give in to him.

loves pda. if it was up to him he’d have his hands on you constantly. will get sulky if you don’t hold his hand when you go out.

much like xavier i don’t think he would enjoy working out. but if you need to go to the gym to train he’ll sit on a yoga ball beside your treadmill and talk your ear off. he’ll spot you on the machines but won’t go near anything. he will offer to sit on your back as you do push-ups though. you decline.

nsfw

probably a switch but after seeing his tipsy invitation and ebb and flow scenes he’s giving he prefers to be on the bottom. probably bratty at the beginning but he according to the cards he gives in pretty easily, letting mc tie him up and referring to you as master likeeee. i feel like he just wants you to enjoy it more than he wants to enjoy it. gets off at seeing you get off type of deal.

he’s giving pillow princess vibes but if you ask he’ll give you the same treatment but tease you the entire time tbh he’s sooo bratty but i can’t see him being a hard mean dom. like he’ll give into you but make you work for it. edging kink all the way

“hmm, should i stop? i can’t let you finish this quick.”

“wow i didn’t know you were so sensitive here.”

“i haven’t even used my fingers yet and you’re already this wet.”

100% down to try any sex toy can you imagine him buying some sort of tentacle dildo as a joke cus he’s a mermaid but then you end up actually using it on him one night

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x mc #rafayel x gender neutral reader #rafayel headcanons #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace headcanon #love and deepspace headcanons

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whatthefishh · 1 year

Text

C*ck Therapy

Therapist Steven Grant x patient!camgirl!female reader

Warnings: 18+, taboo relationship, therapist-patient sexual relations, c*ck warming, p in v, unprotected, mentions of cam girl activities, mentions of masturbation, mentions of oral (f rec), umm.. how else do I tag this. Brat taming Steven.

Just 1.8k words of horniness I’m sorry. Beta’d by the lovely @melodygatesauthor

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s got you so angry, love,” he said while gripping your hips down onto his, not letting you roll them the way you longed to.

See, Steven used to be your therapist. He used to be your kind, respectful, and attentive therapist for about 4 months but that quickly changed when you decided to divulge your secondary income source – your premium content. Subscription based content. Adult modeling. Your camgirl side hustle. Whatever you wanted to call it.

He didn’t take the information as well as you were hoping, stuttering and blushing and not meeting your eyes, and you felt uncomfortable, thinking he was judging you for it. In actuality, Steven had found your profile a few weeks prior to your confession, and couldn’t help but palm himself to your entire content library. He’d never come harder than he had on the first night he stumbled upon one of your videos. It wasn’t long before he became addicted to the way you fell apart on camera.

He knew it was wrong, he knew it was probably against some rule about him being your therapist but he couldn’t help it. You were so intelligent in your sessions with him, always providing great insight on your own issues. You were one of his favourite patients. He was really happy with the progress you were making, and well… Steven couldn’t deny that you were beautiful. He was sure you were well aware of your beauty, so he never fancied himself someone you’d find attractive, especially considering the nature of your relationship. It was sort of forbidden. No, it was forbidden. The guilt didn’t stop him from subscribing to you though.

In your sessions, he never made you feel uncomfortable, he never gave away that he knew about your secret side gig, and he honestly wanted to help you. Steven was genuine in his career, he loved listening to you open up to him. He didn’t think his guilty addiction to you was hindering your growth until you mentioned your videos and apparently it showed on his face. He began stumbling over his words, trying desperately to explain that he wasn’t judging you. When you told him he was making a ‘cringe face’, he was forced to admit that he was actually cringing at himself, not at you. It was a painful few moments for you both.

Long story short, he couldn’t keep seeing you in his office, and decided some private sessions in his home were more appropriate. They usually started off with him bending you over the couch and then asking you how your day went as he righted your clothing, or kissing you messily the second you walked through the door, only to ravenously eat you out on the closest surface he could find. He was insatiable. Half your sessions were him just whining and whimpering about how delicious you were and how he couldn’t believe you were really letting him do this to you. Steven still let you talk, still listened to your issues and still tried to therapize you. It was just after he fucked your brains out.

You came over with an attitude today, irritated by external factors and you were looking forward to Steven fucking it out of your system. When you tried to initiate it with him, to get him to give you what you needed, he pulled back to look at you in concern. He offered to talk first, and you got angry and scoffed in his face, ripping yourself from his grasp. He conceded, telling you to take your frustrations out on him as he sat on the couch you usually laid down on in your sessions, patting his thighs in invitation. You were supposed to ride him, putting all your energy into it and watching his brows furrow as he watched his length disappear inside you again and again.

Today, he was hell-bent on you cockwarming him, claiming it was supposed to get you talking quicker but you were highly doubting the validity of his statement with the way his cock was twitching inside you every few minutes. Your slick was coating your thighs and the hairs at the base of his member, flowing more freely the longer he sat unmoving inside your hot channel. Infuriatingly, he held your hips down with his impossible strength, looking up at you with those sweet brown eyes of his as he repeated his question. Shit, what was the question?

“Hmmm?” you managed, after another unsuccessful attempt at rolling your hips.

“I said, what’s got you so angry today, love? Talk to me. I’ll make it worth it, I promise, but first you have to be good and tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, nudging your chin with his shapely nose.

You had inhale deeply, your breathlessness making it hard for you to speak. God, he really was so thick, wasn’t he? He was filling you up so perfectly, stretching you out at this angle and you had to close your eyes to even think about what you were going to say.

“That girl at work… the one I told you about who leaves all her shit for me to clean up after her shift–”

“Mhmm, keep talking, love,” the vibrations from his chest felt like an electric shock through your body, your back arching at the sensations.

“Ahhh, she-she made a mistake, and blamed me… and, and then I got reamed out by my stupid manager,” you were close to crying now, the anger subsiding slowly, and the feeling of being denied by Steven taking over.

“Ohh, sweetheart, s’not right, is it?” He brushed your hair back and rubbed your cheekbone with his thumb, and you couldn’t help but lean into his palm like a cat needing affection. “S’not your fault. Tell you what, maybe you should quit.”

“Maybe you should fuck me, come on, Steven, just–just make it go away, I need you,” you were whining pathetically, ready to let your fists land on his chest in a rage.

Steven tutted at you. He tutted, like you were a petulant child, like you were just having a tantrum, like a teacher gently disciplining a student, not like you were sitting on his cock, leaking all over him and the couch, staining the taupe suede material with your juices. Leaning forward to softly mouth at your neck, he whispers against it and lets his lips graze your skin.

“I wouldn’t be a good therapist if I didn’t let you talk about it first, would I? That’s not very ‘healing comes from within’ of me,” he laughed at the end of it, his hot breath burning you even further.

Oh, you hate him. You tightened your core when he laughed against you, the rumbling causing his cock to shift slightly and you let out a soft moan at the smallest amount of friction it granted you, and he unwillingly thrust upwards at the feeling. Oh, you knew how to get back at him.

Clenching around him again, you wait for his reaction as your lips touch the shell of his ear, whimpering, as he garbled out a choked out groan against your neck. Steven’s hips unwittingly thrust upwards again, knocking into your cervix just that small amount, enough to make you dig your nails into his shoulders where your hands were resting. You were both moaning now, and you think you can tease him like this until he finally gave in and fucked you from under you. You needed him to, therapy be damned.

Dragging your hands up into his hair, he shuddered when your nails scraped across his scalp. He licked his lips, the edge of his tongue grazing your neck before he pulled back to look into your eyes and the previous soft look he was giving you was gone, replaced with a heady look, eyelids low as his mouth was open and panting.

“No, but considering that you’re inside me right now, I’d say you’re halfway there,” you gasp as his hand shifts down to your ass, squeezing, fingers splayed wide and pulling at the flesh there.

You lean more into his chest, your breasts pressing into him now, his mouth sitting just so, dipping down to mouth at them through your top. Steven’s control was slowly slipping, his idea failing spectacularly as he pulled your hips to roll and grind on his. You squeezed your muscles around his thick and throbbing cock again, trying to entice him to pull out to the tip and buck up into you like you wished he would. You were gripping him so tight, and your slick was more than enough to make his movements smooth and yet Steven was holding back from giving you his all, his logic lost on you.

“Steven, please, I’m sorry for being short with you, I’m sorry, okay? Please just–”

You were cut off from your helpless begging when he decided he’d had enough, that you had suffered enough, that you learnt your lesson and that the anger you walked in with was gone, along with his restraint. Steven gripped your ass even tighter, his fingers pressing divots into your skin as he thrust up into you mercilessly, bouncing you on his length as you cried out for him.

His hands were squeezing you, keeping you wide open for him as he rendered you incoherent, pathetic moans and whines leaving you. With your mouth still close to his ear, your noises began spurring him on as he grunted with each pass of his cock into your hot cunt, desperate to reach his end. Your hands began bunching his blazer lapels, angry in the back of your head that he didn’t even take off his jacket when he sat you on his thick shaft. Your soft walls began fluttering around him, signaling that you were almost reaching your end, his relentless teasing having caught up with you now, hurtling you towards the edge quicker.

“Ohh, ffffuck, Steven I’m gonna–gonna come, yes,” you shouted, so close to your euphoria that you were desperate to reach. The way his cock was punching up into your cervix was just perfect, his smell overwhelming you, his hands squeezing you just right, everything was leading to this and you couldn’t help but whine when his thumb swiped at your clit once, twice–

You were coming hard.

His grunts and groans were muffled into your chest, his thrusts getting sloppy while he chased his own release, pulling your hips down to his so hard it almost hurt. Steven bucked his hips one final time before you felt the telltale pulsing inside of you, the warmth of his cum slowly trickling out from where you were still sheathed around him. He pulled back to look at it with brows raised, almost impressed at his own mess while still catching his breath.

“How are you feeling now, love? Still angry at me?”

“I wasn’t angry at you, Steven,” you sigh dazedly, shaking your head at him. “Silly man. But to answer your question, I’m feeling much better now that you’re done torturing me.”

#Steven grant smut #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moonknight smut #moon knight smut #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #steven grant fic #steven grant x fem!reader #mona writes???

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starlightxsvt · 11 months

Text

Bloodily Safe | j.ww

pairing ➳ psychopath!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre ➳ psychological thriller? camgirl au(read note below), college au, smut

word count ➳ 18.5k

warnings ➳ toxic relationship, blackmailing, drinking, descriptive domestic abuse, death, manipulation, threatening, fingering, slapping, choking, marking, cum eating, degradation, virgin sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, humiliation kink, pain kink, psychopathic behaviours, very descriptive violence, blood, rape attempt, arson, murder (lmk if I forgot smth)

synopsis ➳ you have a little secret. one you are desperately hiding. yet the boy you have a crush on has figured it out. now a game of cat and mouse has begun. how do you make it out alive?

disclaimer:❗ I am, by no means an expert in behavioural abnormalities so please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. I tweaked the story and their characteristics to my needs so please don't take this seriously. Also, this fic contains some highly sensitive topics so please read the warnings carefully. Do not interact if you are sensitive to these things ❗

note: reader isn't a camgirl in the typical sense, she basically reads erotica on live.

loosely based on the kdrama shadow beauty

The glaring red light of the camera lens blinks at you as pause for a moment between your reading. Your tablet sits on your lap, glowing brightly in the lowly lit room as 8 thousand viewers watch you live through the lens.

With a sigh, you continue reading in your best teasing voice.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream as you feel him release inside you, making you clench. You’re not surprised when he doesn’t stop but continues thrusting inside you, far from being done with you and you feel another orgasm impending. Your pussy hurts in the best ways possible and just thinking about coming once again have your toes curling.

Surprising you, one of his hands move onto your neck, gripping it firmly and applying just enough pressure to make your body curl up and see stars. It triggers your orgasm, multiplying it by hundreds and seeing the godlike man on top of you, reaching his high, his dark, predatory eyes trained on you makes you go off like a rocket. You swear you see God himself as your body completely lets go and you feel like you’re floating in a place of pure bliss. The feeling of him releasing inside you makes you shudder before he slips out and shuffles on the bed, probably cleaning you up but you’re too gone to care.

With a blissful smile and a hazy mind, you let sleep take you.

"That will be all for today guys. Thank you so much for tuning in. I'll be back on Thursday night!" You wave at the camera as soon as you finish and do your signature pose— making half hearts on your cheeks with your hands as the viewers leave comments asking you to stay a bit longer. Sending a flying kiss towards the camera you turn off your live and watch as the screen loads to show you how much you've earned for the two-hour live. Once the number pops up, you sigh with satisfaction and finally, take off the mask that you wear to conceal your identity.

After all, you wouldn't want people, especially your classmates or professors to find out you read erotica live in skimpy underwear and flirt with people to earn some extra bucks.

Well, a girl's gotta do what she gotta do.

Quickly changing out of the uncomfortable lingerie, you put on a comfortable t-shirt and crawl to bed with your laptop to check if the money has been transferred to your account. The camming website takes 20% of whatever you earn from each live yet the amount left is enough for you to make your work worthwhile.

Camming was never in your mind at all, even in your wildest dreams. Yet when your mother fell sick last year and the medical bills started piling up, you knew you had to find some easy way to earn good money. Then, one day, you overheard a couple of girls in class talking about camming and how good the money is.

Simply curious, you visited the website only to be unlocked to a whole new world. Thousands of people did a variety of adult content there but you were not brave enough to get naked from the start. So you opted for a safer option, reading erotica on live while wearing lingerie and flirting with the camera.

The first time you did it was only to test the waters using whatever equipment you had at hand but surprisingly, the response you got shocked you. So it started, you doing lives two days a week and earning enough money to pay for your mother's treatment and your college bills.

nerdycatboy wants to chat with you

The notification appears on your screen, telling you someone wants to talk to you privately on the camming website. You generally block these messages as most of them ask for nudes or send dick picks. Still, you click on it and watch as three dots appear, your fingers hovering over the block option, ready to press it as soon as the sender sends something inappropriate.

Surprising you, the message reads:

[nerdycatboy]: Hello, cherrybaby!

Today was the second time I watched your live.

You have a really beautiful voice.

I don't frequent these sites but I opened an account just to send you tips. Hope you received them.

Somewhat flattered, you type out a reply.

[you]: Thank you so much. I'm flattered to hear that. And yes, I received them.

[nerdycatboy]: You're welcome.

Also, I wanted to tell you something.

[you]: Sure.

[nerdycatboy]: I know who you are.

[you]: Excuse me?

[nerdycatboy]: ______. ______ of the Psychology department, Seoul University.

You're studying on scholarship.

Wanna know something funny?

I am your classmate ;D

Your throat feels something akin to a desert as you blink at the screen, praying for it to be a hallucination. The words, however, don't change and the daunting realization hits you.

Someone has figured out your identity.

Someone knows it's you.

But who?

Shit, who? Who could it possibly be?

You share your classes with almost eighty other people and it's impossible to guess this... stalker.

You're absolutely fucked.

It has only been a month since college started and you are doomed. What if whoever this is, exposes your identity and you are expelled?

Dear almighty, please let this be a dream.

A sudden ping! alerts you about another message, making you jump. Carefully, you open the chat to see what your stalker has to say.

[nerdycatboy]: Come on now, don't leave me on read.

You wouldn't want me to get angry now, would you?

A squeak of despair leaves your lips as your fingers nervously hover over the keyboard.

[you]: What do you want?

[nerdycatboy]: To play a game.

This really isn't looking good.

[you]: Please, just leave me alone.

[nerdycatboy]: Ey, where's the fun in that? Come on now, we'll just play silly little games.

You stare at the screen, your world coming down crashing on you as you wonder in the back of your mind, whether you should stop camming for good. Even if you wanted to, it's not possible.

Who's gonna pay for your mom's bills?

[nerdycatboy]: You there?

[you]: Yes.

[nerdycatboy]: Good. I'll come again before your next live. We're gonna play a little game then, okay?

You stare at the screen in silence.

[you]: Okay.

[nerdycatboy]: That's a good girl. In the meantime, have fun trying to figure out who I am. We see each other every day after all. It's just that you wouldn't know who I am.

You grind your teeth, holding back the urge to type all sorts of curse words you can think of.

[nerdycatboy]: Bye bye, now. Sleep tight.

[you]: Fuck you, loser.

You slam your laptop shut and lie in silence, curled up in your bed. The only way out seems to be to permanently delete your account but that is not an option for you. It is also quite literally impossible for you to figure out who it is. You don't even know if it's a guy or a girl or a goddamn fucking alien.

As the night grows deeper you only start to get more anxious and only when the sun starts to rise in the sky, do you fall asleep, your dreams plagued by the haunting messages from earlier.

II.

"_____? _____!"

The deep voice jolts you awake as you blink around, taking time to realize that you've fallen asleep on your desk during the lecture which now seems to have ended as you see everyone around you packing their bags and leaving.

A man stands next to your desk, holding a few sheets of paper towards you and you blink at them, confused.

"The professor gave us the answer sheet for last week's quiz. You seem to have fallen asleep during class." He says.

Your brain finally starts functioning just enough to realize it's Wonwoo talking to you.

Jeon Wonwoo.

The famous nerd, the genius, the pro gamer, the campus crush, the it boy and...

The man of your dreams.

"Right! Right, thank you," you croak, reaching for the sheets with one hand while trying to wipe the corners of your mouth for any drool.

"It's alright." He replies, as impassive as ever. His expression remains somber as always as he regards you through his glasses. Sometimes you wonder if he's a robot. Even though you have known him since high school, you've yet to see the man smile or shout or show any vivid emotion. He has always been the quiet type, keeping to himself, always studying or doing whatever intelligent people does.

He was the most popular guy in high school, loved by all, even the teachers, because of his perfect and polite demeanor and extraordinary results that got him many awards at the national level. The fame followed him to college too as you have seen in the last two months; with women and even some men flocking around him. You are not ashamed to admit you are one of them too, but not like it matters.

Jeon Wonwoo seems to be living in a completely different world.

"No, thanks, really." You reply, slightly awkward, not knowing what else to say exactly. He nods and slings his backpack over his shoulder and turns around to walk away. He seems to have a thought as he turns his head and asks, "Rough night? I haven't seen you doze off in class ever. You are always on top of your game."

Holy shit, that is the most amount of words he has spoken to you. Scratch that, that's the most you've ever heard him speak at a time.

And more importantly, he has been paying attention to you?? He notices you enough to know that you don't doze off?

Swallowing, you try not to let your face break out into a grin. "Yeah kind of," you mumble. He nods and spares you a glance before walking out of the classroom as you watch his lean, athletic frame from behind, a soft sigh escaping from your lips.

After he's gone, you pack up your stuff, mentally face-palming yourself for falling asleep during class. Not only did you fail to keep an eye out for your stalker but you also made a fool of yourself in front of Wonwoo.

What a great day!

III.

The next Thursday, a delivery from an anonymous person comes to you just a couple of hours before your live. A handwritten note sits on top as you open the package and your gut sinks once you realize who it's from.

Hello there, little cherry!

Please accept my lovely gift. Wear it in your live today unless you want your secret to be out ;)

Also, wear something black with it.

Love, your new best friend!

You crumple the note in your hand as you eye the package nervously, dread filling your veins as your mind tries to conjure what the item might be. Hands shaky, you reach for it to rip it open and then stand in silence as you gaze at it for a while.

The asshole sent you a cat costume.

A sexy cat costume.

More specifically a pair of black cat ears, a cat mask, a pair of paws and a... fucking tail.

Absolutely mortified at the idea of wearing these provocative items on live, you sink onto the floor, an utter sense of despair settling over you.

Sweet lord, this has to be a joke.

Quickly logging in to the camming website you type your new best friend a message.

[you]: You're kidding me, right? Please tell me this is a joke.

The asshole is very quick to reply.

[nerdycatboy]: I see you have received my gift. No, little cherry, I am not kidding.

You grind your teeth, eyes burning holes in the screen.

[you]: I can't wear that on live!

[nerdycatboy]: Why not? You'll look absolutely lovely. The black really goes with your skin tone.

Oh for fucks sake.

[you]: Are you a fucking furry?

There are several minutes of silence.

[nerdycatboy]: You are fucking cute you know that? I don't remember the last time I laughed this hard.

[nerdycatboy]: No, cherry, I am not a furry. I just like cats and you remind me of one. I bet if I touched you, you'd purr real good.

You would never admit how that text sent a jolt of shiver down your spine and made your toes curl.

[you]: Please, can you not do this?

[nerdycatboy]: Come on now, don't whine. It won't get you anywhere.

[nerdycatboy]: I'll tune in later. If you do not do as you're told you know what will happen...

[nerdycatboy]: Ah, I forgot. You don't have to wear the tail during your live. It will be uncomfortable to sit with. Just send me a picture later, hmm?

[nerdycatboy]: Bye now.

Fucking mother of all fucks.

You toss your phone on the bed, groaning out loud in frustration. The cat ears and mask sit next to you on the floor, mocking you in silence.

IV.

"Hello, my darlings! This is your favorite cherrybaby, back with you. Today I'll be reading the second chapter of Sugar & Spice!"

The comments, as you expected, go nuts over your outfit— the black cat ears with the mask, covering the better half of the top of your face, the furry paws paired with a lace black lingerie. Despite your initial thoughts of ignoring them, you decide to address them with their never ending onslaught.

"Everyone is talking about my little props today." You pause for an awkward chuckle. "Well, I thought I would spice things up. Aren't these cute?"

You can hear the stiffness in your own voice. Shaking it off, you read a few comments while waiting for the live to reach your minimum number of tips, which only takes a few minutes today before you start reading the erotica.

Throughout the live, u have no idea if the asshole has joined in and you almost start to think that maybe he has left you for good, that maybe it was a one time prank. However during the last ten minutes of your live, as you proceed to wrap it up you see the notification that bring your eyes to your forehead.

nerdycatboy gifted you 500$.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

As soon as your live is finished you shoot him a private message.

[you]: Didn't think you'd be that pleased to see me dressed up as a cat.

[nerdycatboy]: Oh cherry, I was pleased alright. You were an absolute sight for sore eyes.

[you]: Thank you I guess?

[nerdycatboy]: Welcome. Now send me some pictures. Wearing the tail.

[you]: Can you answer a question first?

[nerdycatboy]: No promises.

You sigh. Here goes.

[you]: Are you a guy or a girl?

[nerdycatboy]: Why? Wouldn't send me the pictures if I was a girl?

You roll your eyes.

[you]: Just trying to narrow down my suspect list.

[nerdycatboy]: Cute. Keep trying. I am a guy. The man straight out of your nightmares, as you will start to find out.

Okay...

There are many many guys in your class, literally half of the total students. It's impossible to figure him out among them.

[nerdycatboy]: Now the pictures, cherry. Don't keep me waiting.

His message breaks your train of thought as you sigh, defeated. Telling him to wait while you fetch the stupid cat tail and clip it on your underwear. You're too humiliated to look in the mirror so instead you place your tripod on the bed with your phone and pose a couple of times or so, one from the front and one from the back.

As you scroll through them, you cannot bring yourself to believe you just took these pictures and let alone you're about to send them to someone. Each of them is equally provocating and humiliating. Before you start to think too much you bite your lip hard and send, watching as he views your message.

[you]: There you go, asshole.

[nerdycatboy]: Only three?

[you]: Take it or leave it. I'm tired.

You reply, not caring to be polite. The frustration and humiliation get to you as you rip the stupid things off your body and toss them away before falling on your bed and lying face down in silence.

[nerdycatboy]: Getting feisty. It's okay, I'm feeling kind today so I'll let you go.

[nerdycatboy]: Until next time, little cherry. xoxo

You watch his messages, a numbing feeling of defeat settling over you as you turn off your phone and push it away.

Even though you desperately want to think of nothing a thought continues to nag you. A shameful, despicable thought that you just can't seem to ignore.

You might be really enjoying being humiliated by an unknown man on the internet. How truly absurd, no? You let out a scream of frustration into the pillow. A faceless, seemingly rich man who has a kink of humiliating you is keeping your mind awake and body restless at night.

How did it ever get to this?

[nerdycatboy]: I've been thinking about your task for tomorrow and finally made a decision.

[you]: Okay...

[nerdycatboy]: Wear a white shirt. Nothing more, nothing less.

[you]: Excuse me?

[nerdycatboy]: You heard me all right, little cherry.

You keep staring at the message as if looking at it long enough will make it disappear. It definitely doesn't. In fact, it gets worse.

[nerdycatboy]: And keep the top two buttons undone. Showing a little cleavage won't hurt. And wear red lipstick.

You keep staring at your screen, wondering in the back of your mind for the nth time just how your life came to be this.

God sure loves to test you.

[you]: I'm not a harlot you know.

[nerdycatboy]: Never said you were one. Besides what's wrong with being a one?

Him and his way with words. You roll your eyes, your fingers pressing the keys on the keyboard angrily.

[you]: If I wear white my tits will show.

[nerdycatboy]: That's exactly the point.

A seething rage envelopes your entire being as you clench both of your fists, inhaling a few deep breaths to stop yourself from smashing something. Ever since you came across this asshole you're realizing you've unlimited anger that you never thought you had in you.

[you]: Whatever, dick.

You reply and shut off your computer in an unsuccessful attempt to block him out.

However, the next day, you do end up doing your live in a plain thin white shirt which of course, makes the chatbox go up in flames.

Within a minute of starting your live, comments about your outfit start flooding in.

Fuck, you look so hot!

The red lips suit you so much!!

Yo, I can see her nipples.

You're getting bolder these days. Love to see it!!!

I'll pay anything for you to take the shirt off.

Swallowing, you ignore the crude comments and start with your usual greeting. "As you can see, everyone, my outfit is a bit risky today. Just thought I'd venture into something new." You force a laugh.

Did she lose a bet or something?

Yes, we need more risky outfits. How about being topless next time?

It's a downpour of all types of comments but you can't let them get to you. So you start reading the erotica instead, reading one or two decent comments every now and then for the next two hours. The view count is insane, the highest you've ever had and the number of tips are also sky high.

A tiny, tiny part of you is thankful to your crazy stalker, whom, you haven't seen in the comments section. You could have missed him, sure, but he was silent during the last live too so you can't rest easy knowing he is watching. You're ninety-nine percent sure he's gonna DM you as soon as the live is over.

Which turns out to be accurate.

Just as you are done taking off your mask and stretching your sore muscles after the live, his message pops up on the screen.

[nerdycatboy]: you looked absolutely devouring, little cherry.

You don't know why those words make you flush. Just a little bit, you tell yourself.

[you]: thanks, pervert.

[nerdycatboy]: this pervert would like some pictures today too.

Oh god. You rub your temples.

[you]: definitely not nudes.

[nerdycatboy]: no? :(

[nerdycatboy]: I don't want nudes, ____. Let us build up to it ;) Just snap some of you sitting on your bed with those pouty red lips. And undo another button of your shirt.

It's humiliating how his orders make you curl your toes and feel giddy all over. Like an obedient pet, you do as you're told, a bit too enthusiastically. You take your time and make sure to appear sexy and get the best angles. Once satisfied, you send them to the anonymous and wait eagerly.

[nerdycatboy]: you're a sight for sore eyes.

[you]: Prof Luther's assignment getting to you?

[nerdycatboy]: Mhmm. These will definitely help me power through.

[you]: glad I could be of help 🙄

[nerdycatboy]: you sure are. until your next live, little cherry. don't miss me too much.

You snort.

[you]: yeah, whatever, sicko.

[nerdycatboy]: Also, I'll be sending you a gift. You'll love it. I already do.

Oh god. Worry begins to bloom as your brain tries to think of the gift. What will he be sending you now? What is he gonna make you do on your next live? More importantly, are you seriously looking forward to it?

Yes, you are. This tiny, fucked up part inside you is excited and all too eager to please and obey a random stranger on the internet.

[you]: Please don't.

You type instead.

[nerdycatboy]: You should receive it within the next three days. We'll talk then.

[nerdycatboy]: Bye, little cherry. Sweet dreams.

And he's offline, leaving you hanging once again.

VI.

True to his words and from your worst nightmares, a package arrives three days later. Once again, you're too scared to open it, just standing there in silence while chewing on your lower lip. Your gut is telling you that it won't be something good which means it can only be something humiliating and freaky.

Taking a deep, calming breath, you start to open the outer packaging to find a baby pink cardboard box. There's a note taped on top of the lid.

I can't wait to see you use this on camera, little cherry.

It's only a line but it has you sweating buckets as you take off the lid with shaky hands.

Your world comes to an absolute halt. For long moments, you just stand rooted to your spot with your mouth agape, convinced that this can't be real.

It is, unfortunately.

The asshole sent you a vibrator.

A fucking vibrator.

It's a huge Hitachi wand and just looking at it gives you shivers.

There is absolutely no way...

You're immediately reaching for your phone to fire a text to the asshole.

[you]: Wtf? Is this a joke?

You type and snap a picture of the device to send it to him.

It seems that he has been expecting you to text as he immediately replies.

[nerdycatboy]: It absolutely is not. I am very much looking forward to seeing you use it.

[you]: Fuck you, dickhead. I won't. There's a limit to everything.

[nerdycatboy]: There's no limit to the games we play, little cherry. In fact, this doesn't even begin to cover it. I have more plans for you.

You can't think of a way this could get any worse.

Holding your breath, you wait for him to elaborate.

[nerdycatboy]: Little cherry, do you want to hear my voice?

What?

Your breath catches in your lungs as you stare wide eyed at the text for a long time.

[you]: Yes but not at the cost of this.

[nerdycatboy]: Hmm, as stubborn as ever. What if I told you I'd reveal myself if you use the vibrator on yourself in live?

It's the second time your breath stutters, a small gasp emitting from you as you cup your open mouth.

Immediately, the gears in your brain start turning. You'd finally get to know who he is and end this misery. Maybe you can come up with some sort of dirt on him and blackmail him in return. The possibilities are endless, truly.

However, more than anything else you're excited to finally see who it is and no matter how much you keep telling yourself no, a teeny tiny part of you is eager to pleasure yourself on camera.

God, what have you become, _____.

With a defeated sigh, you start typing.

[you]: You drive a hard bargain.

[you]: Alright. You have a deal but make sure to keep your promise.

[nerdycatboy]: I vow on my degree, little cherry. You will know who I am within the next forty-eight hours.

The thought sends an exciting chill down your spine.

[nerdycatboy]: Exciting, isn't it?

You roll your eyes.

[you]: Shut up and tell me what I need to do in the live.

[nerdycatboy]: Ah, yes. Nothing that tough really, wear that white shirt you wore last time and play with yourself. According to my instructions, of course.

[you]: Your instructions?

[nerdycatboy]: Yes.

I'll be on call with you throughout the live, giving you instructions.

Your curl your toes and bite your lip, a new wave of excitement rising within you as heat pools in your belly. This is unlike anything you've ever done before and way out of your comfort zone but surprisingly, you're all too ready to comply.

Your hands are shaky as you type.

[you]: Okay.

[nerdycatboy]: You are so obedient, my cherry. It really is great fun to play with you.

I'll call you tomorrow just before your live, then.

You swallow.

[you]: Alright.

He doesn't reply anymore and you think he has gone offline. Just as you are about to log out too, another text comes.

[nerdycatboy]: And remember ______, you follow every instruction of mine. That means you follow how I tell you to please yourself and you come when I tell you to. If you do a single thing without my permission, you're absolutely done for.

Your earlier feelings are replaced with an overwhelming feeling of trepidation and doom in the blink of an eye.

Quick realization dawns on you that you are a mere puppet being controlled by an evil puppeteer and your fate is hanging by a thread.

VII.

The next day, you receive an incoming voice call from nerdycatboy just two minutes before your live.

You are ready with your full setup; you just need to start the live when it's time. The AirPods are also set in your ears for him to guide you through.

At first, your entire body freezes up as your phone starts ringing and anxiety envelopes you as and you fall into a spiral. But when you remember how your entire life is on the line, you pick up the phone just as it's about to stop ringing.

Inhaling deeply, you speak.

"Hello?"

There's a beat of silence on the other side.

And another.

"Start the live, _____. It's time."

The voice is deep, gravelly, familiar yet unfamiliar but you don't get to think long about it because your finger presses the start button and just like that you're on live.

You see yourself on the screen, dressed in a white shirt amidst the neon pink lighting in your room. Today, you've put on a wig— a baby pink wig with two high ponytails and wore a basic black face mask instead of your usual stylish mask that covers the upper half or more of your face. It's obvious you're trying to cover as much of yourself as possible to counter the part that you're going to show.

Oh, sweet lord, you're doing this.

Your greeting and interaction are a lot stiffer compared to other days as there is a sadistic man in your ears. You've also restricted the comment box because you feel it's necessary for today, hence they move slowly as you go through them.

The man in your ears has been quiet but you know he's there, waiting with you, for the view count to reach the minimum. As soon as it does, he speaks.

"Why don't we get started, _____. Introduce your toy to everyone."

You swallow as your panicky gaze lands on the intimidating piece of device right out of the camera frame. You are full of nerves and anxiety and to de-stress yourself just a bit, you take a sip of the wine that you've hidden in your coffee cup.

Then, with a deep breath, you start.

"So guys... I've already said that I'm not gonna be reading today. Instead, I'm trying something new and different. Very, very different." You force a smile at the camera as you pick up the device and grip it tightly in your hand.

"I'm in the mood for...playing tonight and guess what I'm playing with?" You inhale deeply before lifting the device to show it to the camera, moving it around in a teasing manner.

As expected, the people in the comments go insane.

"That's right. I'll be using this pretty toy on me." You give a seductive smile, despite wearing the mask, hoping your eyes coney the expression.

"Good job, little cherry. Let's not waste time now. Turn it on." The man commands quietly and once again you're body acts like it's on autopilot, obeying him immediately.

There's something about his voice, so dangerous, so attractive. Something so powerful you don't dare disobey.

It's insane, really.

As ordered, you plug in the device and turn it on, watching warily as it starts vibrating, your throat going dry.

"Go ahead. Open your legs and put it on your pussy. Don't hold it anywhere too long, though. Tease yourself."

Oh fuck.

The sensible, conscious part of you starts freezing up with fear while the other part lets you only think about how hot all of this is and how eager you are to comply.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lean back on your seat and part your legs. Trembling hands reach between them to pull your pink lacy panties to one side, revealing yourself to the camera.

There, you've done it.

Something inside you goes numb as you feel the chilly air on your bare core and from then on, you start feeling like a complete puppet, only here to dance as her puppeteer pleases.

Now there's no going back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the comments fly by as the view count increases significantly.

Your puppeteer has been silent and you're somewhat grateful for his patience as you slowly adjust to your actions.

With another huge breath, you bring the thrumming device to your pussy and gingerly touch yourself while interacting with the camera, careful to follow the given instructions.

You're so wound up you don't feel any pleasure at the first touch on your pussy.

"You're so tense, _____. Don't make it look like someone is holding you at gunpoint. Relax your body, little cherry."

It proves to be harder said than done.

Still, you try to get yourself to relax and interact with the camera as you once again bring the device to your lips, playing with yourself.

"Good girl, _____. You look absolutely ravishing right now. Just keep following my voice and I promise you'll have the best orgasm you've ever had."

His tone is gentle yet ordering and oh so deep that you close your eyes and just let his words wash over you. The vibrator touches your clit right then making you jolt in your seat, a sigh of pleasure falling from your lips.

"Fuck, you're soaking, little cherry. You can try to act unwilling but deep down you are loving this. This is what you want, what you need, _____." His voice is gravelly as he breathes in your ears and you chew on your lower lip, knowing there is some truth to his words.

"Hold your pussy lips open, cherry. Run the toy up and down your folds."

You do as you are told, holding yourself open to the camera as the vibration goes through your soaking folds, making you whine in need.

"Turn the vibrations up. Just one bit."

The toy thrums stronger against your core and your legs start shaking just the tiniest bit. They have fallen wide open, resting against the armrest of your chair as you play with yourself.

"So obedient, little cherry. And so filthy. You're a real sight." He whispers. Your brain is starting to feel hazy as all your attention hones down to get yourself to release but as you expected, it doesn't prove to be so easy.

"Turn it off. Now."

Despite the serious urge to disobey him, you turn off the vibrator, teeth gritting, your pussy twitching in protest.

"We're you close, little cherry? Too bad, we can't have you cumming so easily. Turn it on again. Stroke yourself with it. Slowly."

And once again, you are eagerly following his words.

"Push it inside your pussy lips, little cherry. Just a bit. Not all the way, though."

Swallowing, you release a shaky breath and slip the vibrating head inside you, just a little bit— not even half of the head and the pleasure significantly increases as you let out a loud moan.

"Feels good doesn't it? Don't you dare slip it all the way in. There's no way I am letting a toy get inside you before myself."

His words make a shiver roll down your spine as you think of his cock and him whispering filthy words in your ear as he takes you. The little, sane part of your brain shakes her head at your deprived thoughts about a faceless man who has been blackmailing you.

"Turn it off."

Just like before, the man seems to know when your orgasm starts to rise. He tells you to shut off the device and much to your reluctance you do so, not knowing how long you can continue this without losing your mind.

"Turn it on to the highest setting this time. Hold it right on your clit. Don't you dare cum, cherry. I wanna see you writhe."

Oh fuck.

It's a really tough challenge, one you're sure you're gonna fail, yet you're helpless. You do as you're told, holding the throbbing device on your most sensitive part as you start to feel like you're gonna lose your mind. Your head falls back as your eyes roll to the back of your head, heavy pants falling from your lips as your legs shake.

"P-please, let me...come."

"You look so fucking hot right now cherry. I want to see you like this, begging for my cock. Tell me, do you want it?"

"Y-yes. Please..." You are so close you can taste the release.

"Turn it off, cherry. Right now."

With a cry of protest, you turn off the vibrator and let it fall from your hands as you slump back in your chair and catch your breath.

This is the sweetest torture.

The comments go wild, some wanting to see you come and some telling you to keep edging yourself. As you watch the number of tips only increase, your toes curl at the indecency of all of this.

"Let's continue, baby. Turn it on, play with yourself."

Hands shaky, you reach for the device again.

This game of cat and mouse continues until you're a crying and begging mess. He finally grants you your release and then rewards you with a short break before continuing. In the next couple of hours, you come three more times and your bones turn to jelly by the end of it. The live reaches its end when he finally hangs up the call and you're all too quick to wrap things up.

When your computer screen goes black and you can see your disheveled state in the reflection, your mind blanks out as you sit in complete silence, the happenings of the evening slowly replaying in your mind.

The money you've earned tonight is more than you could ever imagine and yet there is no happiness or relief bubbling in you. Rather, you feel empty and absolutely numb, the past hours feeling like a fever dream but the ache between your legs tell you they are very painfully real.

The screen of your phone lights up with two notifications, interrupting your trance.

nerdycatboy has sent you 1000$

[nerdycatboy]: a little gift for your hard work

You stare at the screen in silence until it goes black and then some more. It takes a while for you to realize tears are rolling down your cheeks. And then you are full-on sobbing as you hide your face in your hands and weep at the overwhelmingly miserable situation of yours.

When you finally get some sleep it is late into the night and tears are staining your cheeks and your pillowcase.

VIII.

Despite the rough night, you attend your classes the next day, somewhat glad that they are in the evening. You doze through all of it though, tired and way too distracted to pay attention to the lecture.

The tips of your fingers drum continuously against your desk as you wait for the class to be over. Your mind is spiraling; going haywire thinking about the fact that you will be meeting nerdycatboy today.

That is if he keeps his promise.

He hasn't contacted you since last night and given his stalker-ish tendencies, you're sure he knows your schedule. So why hasn't he messaged you yet?

Probably because he played you, silly girl.

You let out a loud sigh, frustrated, exhausted and enraged. How much longer will this match of cat and mouse go on? You have seriously started to consider shutting off your page temporarily because playing this stupid game with the anonymous asshole is proving to be way too much for you to bear.

The lecture finishes at some point while you're stuck inside your head and as you start packing your bags, you receive a text.

It's him.

I'll meet you at the library building in half an hour.

Your head immediately snaps up as your eyes scan the crowd leaving the classroom, a failed attempt to pinpoint him.

Okay, I'll be waiting.

You grab a coffee while waiting for him, your foot tapping the ground incessantly as you come to terms with the fact that you will be seeing him soon. Your misery will finally be over.

Hopefully.

What do you do when you see him? Curse at his face? Hit him? Or say it was nice playing stupid games with you now please leave me alone?

You've no idea. Your nerves leave you feeling jittery and tense as you see the clock hit seven in the evening. Half an hour is almost up so you start walking towards the library building, goosebumps arising on your skin as shivers roll down your spine.

You don't know if it's the chilly evening air or your nerves.

The library closes at six thirty so there is no one around the building now. The sun has long set and the sky is dark now, save for the little bits of orange and pink here and there.

It could be your brain projecting things but the atmosphere feels eerie and you wonder why he chose such an empty place. What does he plan to do with you? He wouldn't have chosen a quiet place unless he had some bad intentions, right?

Stop overthinking, _____. Your brain hisses.

The watch on your hand reads 7:10 now and there's no sign of anybody. Anxious, you shoot him a text, asking where he is and as expected you don't get a reply.

Tired of looking around the area with wide and restless eyes you decide to step inside the building. The ground floor is still unlocked as there are a few storage units here and you make yourself comfortable in the dimly lit hallway, leaning by a small window and focusing on the garden outside to distract yourself.

Seconds pass by with your feet tapping on the tile floor in matching beats. You grow more impatient, repeatedly checking the time and your message to see if it has been read.

Until you hear footsteps.

They echo down the hall as someone enters the building.

You hold your breath and watch the silhouette, your eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the lighting.

And your entire world crashes and burns.

It's Jeon Wonwoo, walking towards you.

IX.

The first thing you tell yourself is that this is a coincidence, that he's here to get something from the supply closet. But the idea seems less and less plausible as he keeps walking towards you, his strides determined and only stops a few feet away from you.

You gulp, your entire body frozen as you gape at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to say something.

Judging from the upturned corners of his lips, your reaction seems to amuse him plenty. He stands there, his hands in his pockets as he watches you with a twinkle in his eyes and says the words you were still praying he wouldn't.

"Hello, little cherry."

Despite expecting those words, the shock that overcomes your system is enough to make you lose your footing as you stumble on your feet, hands reaching for the wall behind you to support yourself.

Your breath comes out in the form of short pants as small beads of sweat gather on your forehead.

You knew, you knew, you knew.

You knew it!

The second you heard his voice yesterday, your subconscious told you it was Wonwoo. You, however, chose to be ignorant, dismissing the idea just as quickly as it appeared.

There was no way it could be Wonwoo. Except it is.

You should be glad it is him, no? After all the man you had imagined in the place of the faceless man was always Wonwoo. He had been the man of your fantasies for the longest time yet the feeling of betrayal and hurt is overwhelming.

Funny, considering that he didn't actually betray you. If anything, you have been betraying yourself.

Wonwoo stands in front of you, still as a statue, hands in his pockets, his stance calmer than a winter evening. His face is blank but there is a glint in his eyes, something between sadistic amusement and cocky satisfaction as he watches you crumble in front of him.

Where is the plain old nerdy Wonwoo?

"Wo-Wonwoo..." You don't know what you are trying to say as you lose your train of thought, dropping abruptly onto the ground. Accidentally, you scrape your index finger by the windowsill but your brain registers no pain due to the overwhelming shock as you simply sit in silence and stare as little drops of blood ooze out of the cut.

God, this is straight out of your worst nightmares.

Or, your darkest, filthiest fantasies?

Wonwoo, however, seems to spot the drops of red beading on your fingertips which you ignore. He takes slow but determined steps toward you, his footsteps echoing eerily through the empty hallway. When he is right in front of you, he stops before kneeling on one knee as one of his hands reaches for your injured finger.

He watches the little drops of blood ooze through the cut with rapt attention, his dark eyes somehow appearing darker in the dim lights. Then, surprising you, he takes your hand and brings the bleeding finger to his lips, his eyes intently focused on yours as he sucks the little cut. Your breath hitches, half of yourself wanting to yank your hand away from disgust and rage while the majority of you remain paralyzed as the hauntingly mesmerizing scene plays in front of you.

"Be careful now, can't have you getting hurt now, can we, little cherry?" He takes the finger out of his mouth and observes while the corners of his lips lift into an eerie smile that finally manages to bring some heat into your blood as you seize your hand out of his grip.

"Fuck you, asshole! You're fucking sick!" You hiss out the words you never thought you would say to Wonwoo.

Your attack brings an even bigger smile to his lips as he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear. "Oh little cherry, tell me something I don't know."

You swallow and try to scoot away from him despite the limited space. "Did you have fun bullying me, you sicko?"

"Come on now, _____. Let's not twist the truth. I was not bullying you. We were just playing a game. Besides, I should be the one to ask that." He coos at you, his voice so innocent it makes your brain trip. Tilting his head to a side he keeps stroking your cheek with his fingertips and whispers, "Did you have fun being ordered around by me? By being humiliated? Hm, pretty girl?"

Your eyes widen and you swallow nervously, clenching your hands in tight fists to stop yourself from hitting him.

He chuckles. "It's alright. You don't have to answer that." He stands up, puts his hands in his pockets and stares down at you, tilting his head once more as if you're one fascinating creature. "Because we both know you loved it."

"I didn't!" Your protest is immediate as you muster every bit of strength to stand up and get into his face. "I didn't, you asshole. Don't kid yourself!"

Another pleased smile graces his lips. "Really? You didn't like it every time I called you a good girl? You didn't get more wet every time I told you I'd reward you with my cock?" He inches his face closer to yours, leaving just an inch of a gap.

"Do not kid yourself, _____." His voice drops a pitch as you feel the shift in him, goosebumps breaking on your skin. "You call me names but deep down you know you are a filthy slut and you loved being treated that way."

No. No, you didn't.

Or did you?

"Shut up!" You yell, pushing him with all your might as he stumbles a few steps back. There's a little pause in the air before his eyes meet yours as he pushes his glasses over the bridge of his nose.

"You want me to shut up because you know that it's the truth, _____-"

"Stop psychoanalyzing me!" You hiss, a fresh coat of tears blurring your vision. "Look at yourself, you twisted fucking jerk!"

You push past him as you try to stomp away but his hand catches your arm at the last second, tugging your body close to him. He leans down, his breath hovering on your ear as he whispers. "You better watch your mouth, cherry or I'll show you just how twisted I am. And you might not live to even see through it."

A bucket of ice-cold water seems to wash over you as you realize the gravity of the situation. For the first time since meeting Wonwoo, you're actually scared for your life, especially when you gaze into his pitch black pupils and the little flash of teeth peeking between his lips. Even though his grip on your arm is ironclad, you yank your arm away with all your strength and start running away from him, your heart thudding loudly in your ribcage.

You dash straight out of the library and you only stop until you're in front of a convenience store far enough. Falling on your knees, you catch your breath as you pant heavily, eyes scanning around to make sure he didn't follow you.

A new sense of fear and doom settles over you as you start to realize you might have walked into a situation that may not allow you to get out.

Alive, at least.

What's worse is that a part of you is actually excited.

XI.

Sorry guys, I cannot be doing today's and next week's livestream due to some personal problems. Please understand. Thank you!

You post the notice on your camming page and lean back in your chair, exhaling a loud sigh. The past night has been tiring with the constant struggle of being alert and a dreadful paranoia that won't leave you alone. Jeon the twisted Wonwoo keeps reappearing in your thoughts, haunting you whatever you do.

Within minutes after your post, you get a notification of an inbox and you don't have to see it to know it's the one and only, Jeon psycho Wonwoo.

[nerdycatboy]: Must have really scared you, eh?

You stare at it for a while, thinking of something snarky to reply but nothing comes up so you just decided to ignore it.

He doesn't give up.

[nerdycatboy]: Don't be scared, cherry. We've had so much fun until now. You know it deep down.

Why ignore the obvious?

You sigh, rubbing your temples.

You really need a break from all this. From him.

[you]: Can you leave me alone for one day? Please?

He doesn't text back for a while.

[nerdycatboy]: Since I'm feeling kind, sure. I won't bother you for the next twenty-four hours. We'll talk after you've regained some of your composure and hopefully your senses.

[nerdycatboy]: Because deep down you know what you really want and you know that I'm the only one that can provide it.

[nerdycatboy]: Sweet dreams, little cherry.

His message radiates a type of threat the longer you stare at it and your mind starts to go haywire. So you shut your laptop off and lie in your bed in silence, his words repeating over and over in your head like a mantra.

Deep down you know what you really want and you know that I'm the only one that can provide it.

Yes, yes you do know that. And you feel absolutely horrible for it. Who in their sane mind would allow an unhinged, deadly man to humiliate and low-key blackmail them online for some twisted form of entertainment?

You, for sure.

Your issues run deep, girl.

You mentally shake your head at the situation. If you're attracted to a man like that there has to be something wrong with you, no? But what is worse is deep down, you don't want to stop. You want to push and push and take it to the very end, extremely curious to see what is in store for you with Wonwoo.

Nothing dull, for sure.

And as if you needed more proof; you end up seeing the man even in your dreams, where he does unspeakably filthy things to you and you only beg for more.

XII.

Sunday afternoon, when you're done soaking in the tub for a good hour while enjoying a much needed glass of wine, you sit on your robe and do your skincare when your doorbell rings.

You're confused because you aren't expecting anyone. However, when you peer into the peephole your confusion flips into terror and panic as you see Wonwoo standing.

You must be seeing things, right?

No, you realize, once you double check.

What do you do now? Pretend you're not at home? Tell him to fuck off? Call the police?

You're being too dramatic, your subconscious rolls her eyes.

But your emotions are valid because you have been ignoring texts from the man. True to his words he gave you just twenty four hours before starting to send you messages again that you were too overwhelmed and cowardly to open. Now you're realizing what a horrible decision that was.

Shaking off the thoughts you straighten up and square your shoulders, taking a deep breath as you open the door.

Wonwoo stands there, looking unfairly good, dressed in a plain loose white tee and dark blue jeans, his black hair falling messily on his forehead, a few strands lying on top of his steel-framed glasses.

You briefly wonder if you have a glasses kink, if there is even such a thing.

He stands there looking so boyfriend material, it devastates you, making you wonder if this is an alternate universe where you're a 'normal' couple.

Because he definitely doesn't look like a sadistic, anti-social, slightly psycho nutjob right now. And it messes up your brain chemistry badly.

"Hi," your voice is akin to a mouse squeaking as you feel hot all over.

"Hello, _____." His voice is so sinfully deep.

Why is acting so normal? Like he's a classmate here to do an assignment with you?

"I... wasn't expecting you..." You stumble over your words.

"You weren't replying to my messages so I thought I'd pay you a visit. Make sure you're okay, you know? Our last meeting really shook you up."

You really can't tell if he's teasing you or being genuine but the delusional part of you takes it as a genuine effort.

"May I come in?"

"Of course!" You blink, moving to make way for him. He walks past you, leaving a trail of his cologne wafting in the air that creates a sudden urge within you to grab onto him and sniff him like a dog.

Yeah, you have serious issues.

You follow him awkwardly as he looks around your small space.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee...water?" Somehow offering him wine right now doesn't feel appropriate.

"Tea, please. Black."

Why is he being so...nice? So normal? Is this the climax of his games? Murdering you in your own home after sweet talking you? After making you drop your guards? You shake your head at the possibility and watch the kettle as it heats the water, waiting for him to initiate a conversation which he doesn't.

This is suffocating.

When you offer him the steaming mug he murmurs a thanks and then asks, "Where's your setup? I'd like to see it."

Uh oh.

"Uhm," you fiddle with your fingers, suddenly nervous. "It's in my bedroom."

"Mind giving me a tour?" His face doesn't give away any malicious intent but then again, he has always been great at keeping a blank face. If anything, he genuinely sounds curious.

Sighing, you guide him to your bedroom. The room is decent size with your bed on one side and your setup on the other. It's nothing fancy, just your pc and your huge, comfortable chair.

"When I film I put up a screen behind me and turn on some lights, you know," you mumble trying to fill the void. He looks around carefully before casually taking a seat on your bed and sipping on his tea.

"It's pretty. Like you, little cherry." His eyes connect with yours and your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

He's so... attractive. Everything about him. His looks, his voice, his attitude, his low-key psychotic persona.

"Take a seat, I won't bite." He says, his signature smirk finally appearing as you shudder before tentatively sitting next to him on your bed, still keeping a few inches of space.

"How did you find my address?" You ask softly.

He shrugs, drinking his tea, "Did some snooping around."

Not surprising. Not unlikely of him either.

"Have you thought about what I said, little cherry? About what you really want?" He asks, his voice a deep timbre as he sets down the mug on your bedside table.

Oh boy, we're not beating around the bush.

"Are you seriously here to talk about that?"

"Answer my question." The way he says those words make you weak in the knees.

"Yes," you swallow, not breaking eye contact with him. A pleased smile graces his soft pink lips and you're hit with the sudden temptation of kissing them.

"And what is your conclusion?" He asks, leaning closer to you, his scent making your brain hazy. One of his fingers traces over your cheekbone and then past your jaw to your neck.

It's electrifying.

''W-what if I want nothing to do with you?" You whisper. He laughs quietly before whispering in your ear, "That is not an option because we both know that's the last thing you want, little girl."

Little girl. Your insides swoon.

His face is now inches apart from yours, his fingers caressing your cheek oh so softly as he watches you with those dark, seductive eyes of his.

It doesn't take a second for you to make your decision.

"Will...will you kiss me, Wonwoo?" You croak.

He arches a surprised brow before smiling in great pleasure as he leans back to watch you. "You are always a surprise, _____. Only if you say please."

"Please."

"Good girl," he praises and that's almost enough to make you come. He wastes no time, cupping both of your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours. Fireworks go off in your head. Your hands move to clutch his shoulders and a soft needy moan escapes your lips when you feel how solid they are.

Holy mother of gods, you need to get dicked down by him.

Immediately.

Wonwoo's tongue explores every bit of your mouth as his hands grab your jaw and neck tighter, his body shuffling close to deepen the kiss. You become a puppet and let him play with you as you melt in his arms, letting him lead however he wants to.

When you two break apart you're panting heavily. Wonwoo watches you with glinting eyes, his pink lips slightly swollen like yours as his thumb traces over your lips. You subconsciously open them and he pushes his thumb in, making you suck on his digit.

You do so eagerly, not breaking eye contact with him. Heat pools in your belly as his nostrils flare and he grunts. "You're a wicked little minx you know that, little cherry?"

I can be whatever you need, you inwardly purr as you give him a particular hard suck before he takes it back.

"You want my cock? Is that what you're trying to say?" He questions, standing up and tilting your chin to meet his gaze.

You can only nod, breathless with anticipation.

"I need words, ______. You're not mute." His voice is commanding, and scolding, which makes you even wetter.

"Please fuck me, Wonwoo."

He grins. An evil, victorious grin.

"Good girl. Stand up." You do so and he tugs the belt on your robe, making it fall open in a fluid motion. Your hands move to cover yourself but he glares at you in warning, making you stop halfway.

"Don't be shy now." He whispers, letting the material fall off your shoulders, leaving you completely naked. "I've seen this pussy on camera already, no?"

You swallow as his fingers trace between your legs and then easily slips one finger in due to your wetness. You sigh in pleasure while he lets out a satisfied hum.

"Tell me," he cups your pussy, thumb stroking your clit as you shudder. "How many men have touched this before me?"

You shake your head. "N-no one."

He tilts his head, a wry smile on his face. "Are you telling me I'm your first, baby?"

You nod, slightly shaking.

"Fuck, you just made me ten times harder. I'm gonna have much more fun defiling you now."

You gulp, stuck in a trance as you let him guide you back to bed with a hard push. You land on your back and watch Wonwoo take his tee off and boy, is that a sight. Your thighs automatically press together when his sculpted body comes into view and the sight of his broad shoulders makes you clutch the bedsheets in a tight fist.

However, something catches your eye; a patch of scarred skin right on his left abdomen, spreading from the front to his back and if you had to guess you'd say it is a burn mark. You don't get to think about it long because he's distracting you with a kiss.

"Like what you see?" He's cocky.

You nod, eyes settling on the bulge in his jeans, waiting for him to take it off so that you can see the object of your desires.

Alas, he has other plans for you.

"Open your legs, little cherry."

They fall apart on command as Wonwoo gets comfort between them, one of his hands trailing over your breasts and your belly while the other softly strokes your sopping wet core. It's embarrassing how easily he can slip two fingers deep inside you. "So fucking wet, you dirty whore." He muses with a smirk.

God, you love his voice.

Your moans rise in pitch as his fingers develop a rhythm, thrusting in and out of you in precise, perfect movements. Your release is so close you can taste it.

Automatically, your hips rise off the bed as your body tilts itself upward for a little stimulation on your clit. Wonwoo takes notice of it and laughs, "Aw, little whore is gonna come so soon? You want me to do this?"

The brush of the pad of his finger is enough to set you off as you scream and let your release wash over you. Your toes curl as you fist the sheets hard enough to almost rip them, riding out your high while he continues to plunge his digits in and out of you.

Once you finally get to catch your breath, he pulls them out and pops the fingers in his mouth, making a show of licking them.

You shudder, your body preparing for another round as moisture gathers between your legs once again.

"Fucking delicious." He grins, making you heat up all over. There is nowhere to hide, your whole body on display for him and he doesn't mask his appreciation as he drinks up every naked inch of you with a devouring gaze.

"Please, f-fuck me," you're not shy about begging as the need for his cock worsens.

"Oh I will," he promises, taking off his glasses and setting them down on your bedside table. Without much thinking your fingers trail over his chiseled abdomen and then down, over the tent of his pants as you fiddle with the button, trying to open it. Wonwoo amuses you for a while before batting your hand away, glaring at you. "Did I give you permission to touch me?"

You bite your lip and shake your head no.

"That's right." His voice is calm as he watches you for a few beats, hungry eyes trained on your lips before his right hand suddenly comes to wrap around your throat.

Your breath stutters as you watch him, wide eyed.

"Touch me again without permission and you won't be coming anytime soon." He threatens, tightening the grip on your throat as your airflow gradually decreases, making you feel fuzzy. You should be scared for your life, but you aren't, instead, the action only makes you wetter as you rub your thighs and mewl and beg with your eyes to ease the ache.

He listens.

Letting you go, he gets off the bed and takes off his pants and boxers, while your brain and lungs catch up due to the lack of oxygen. You blink and gulp when you see how blessed he is in length and girth, your breathing irregular.

Smirking at your reaction, he gets back on the bed and traps you beneath him, amusement and satisfaction dancing in his eyes. "I don't think you'll need any more prepping," he muses, trailing his fingers to your pussy and dipping one in the collect your arousal. You vehemently shake your head yes.

He laughs. "Hungry for cock, slut?"

"Y-yes." You whisper, breathless, wide eyed, needy.

Wonwoo leans down to nip on your jaw and your neck as he aligns himself with your entrance. Then, a thought comes to you.

"We... don't have a condom..."

"I'm clean, little cherry. Besides, there's no way I'd not take this virgin cunt bare." His words are vile and his smile is diabolical, sending shivers down your spine. It's alarming how attractive you find his insanity.

"Hold on to me. Bite my shoulder if it hurts too much." That's all the warning you get and not enough time to process as he shoves his cock inside you in one go. A loud wail erupts from your throat as tears burn your eyes, your nails digging into Wonwoo's biceps as you cling to him for dear life.

"So fucking tight." His voice is hoarse as he remains still for a few seconds, letting you catch your breath. The pain of the stretch doesn't ease up but the man on top of you isn't too bothered. He starts thrusting, slow, small thrusts at first as you rest your head in the crook of his neck and hold him tight, breathing harshly.

Soon, his pace increases, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes you see stars and your toes curl. Feeling you tighten around him, he chuckles, "You like that? You like it when I hit here?" He punctuates by thrusting you right there once again and you scream.

"Yes! Harder!"

He scoffs. "Such a slut. How did you survive so long without a dick shoved up inside you, huh?" He leans back, prying your body off of him and grabs both your cheeks in one hand, puckering your lips. "Want it harder? Say please."

"P-please," you manage to utter despite his strong grip on your jaw. Your cheeks ache from how hard he grabs you but you're once again surprised by how much the pain turns you on.

"Open your mouth," he commands, intense eyes trained on you, his pace never faltering. You are not going to last very long, you realize.

You follow his command and open your mouth as he eases his grip and stunning you, he spits right into your mouth.

"Swallow it, little whore." He orders, making your pussy clench deliciously. You once again do as you're told.

"You loved that, didn't you?" He scoffs. "You are a real treat, little cherry. You're fucking perfect." His hands wrap around your throat, almost as leverage as his pace becomes wild, driving in and out of you so fast, the bed starts shaking.

"I'm..gonna come." You whisper. The pressure building inside you is about to burst and you can't hold it any longer. Not resuming his pace or bothering to acknowledge your words, Wonwoo keeps on going while slithering a hand down to your core, where he flicks your clit before roughly pinching it.

You go off like a rocket.

The pleasure is mind-numbing, making you arch off the bed with a wail. It's like a tsunami of pleasure has crashed onto you and it only amplifies when you feel him swell inside you before releasing himself. Your pussy is coated with warm bursts of his cum as your body continues to shake, still riding the wave of your high.

You feel him pull out, his cum trickling out of your spent hole as you still float back down to earth and before you can let out a sigh of relief that it is over, he's spreading your legs as wide as they can go, getting you in a spread eagle position.

"Keep your legs like that, slut." He commands, leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and fierce that once again lights up the fire in your core.

What has this man done to you?

You're insatiable, riding a never ending lust filled high as you watch the insanely hot man on top of you. His hair is messier now and there's a light sheen of sweat on his body that only adds to the appeal.

You don't know if you want to devour him or be devoured by him.

"I'm not done with you yet." He murmurs, watching you with dark eyes as he strokes his cock. "Look at your blood on my cock, little cherry. Isn't that a sight?" He grins, flashing his teeth.

Goosebumps rake down your spine.

"I always loved blood but having you bleed on my cock? This is just incomparable, sweetheart." He pushes a couple of his fingers coated in your blood and his cum and shoves them into your mouth. You're all too eager to lick them clean without a second of delay.

Your tongue dances on his digits, licking them clean and tasting the metallic, bitter flavor before he pops them off your lips. Then, once again leaving you flabbergasted, he slaps you on the right cheek. It doesn't hurt bad but it stings and you're ashamed of how much you liked it.

The evil smile is back on his face. "You like that?" He smacks your other cheek and you nod eagerly. At this point you realize, there's nothing this man can do to you that you wouldn't like.

"You're an absolute fucking piece, little cherry. I'm so glad I snatched you up. Couldn't let any other man have you, could I?"

He kisses your jaw before moving towards your neck, sniffing as he goes. "You smell so addictive. So... mine." He muses as he sucks on the tender spot on your neck, making you sigh in pleasure.

"Please, Wonwoo..." You are desperate and your legs hurt from staying wide open. The plea reaches his ears as he sits back and puts his fingers in his mouth, wetting them before shoving them inside your sore yet throbbing pussy. He plunges them in and out for a while, pushing his cum back inside you and watching with a smirk how your mouth falls open in pleasure.

And then he thrusts himself in. You know this time it is gonna be quick with his extra fast movements as he holds your calves for leverage and pounds in and out of you restlessly. You're on the brink of losing your sanity with how good he feels, unceremonious moans and gasps continuously leaving your mouth.

Suddenly a smack graces you on the cheek, making your body jerk and pussy tighten. It takes a while to realize Wonwoo has slapped you again and once you do so, you eagerly wait for another. Unlike last time, your cheek heats up from the force and you can actually feel the flesh burn but gosh, do you not love it any less.

"Dirty fucking slut. Letting me treat you however I want. You love it, no? You love the pain?" He hisses, brows furrowed as his pace starts to falter. You nod eagerly moving your hips against his, desperately chasing your end.

Two punctuated thrusts on your g-spot and you come without any warning. Once again, you feel like you're launched into outer space as your entire body jerks, leaving you gasping for air. Wonwoo releases himself all over your stomach and tits this time, soft groans of pleasure falling from his lips.

It's addictive.

Everything about this man is addictive.

He is the sweetest form of darkness, here to drag you down to hell with him. And you have no complaints.

That is your last coherent thought before you fall into a peaceful slumber.

XIII.

The next day, Wonwoo sits next to you in class, acting like his usual self, like he didn't blow your back out last night. He stays mostly quiet and keeps to himself, focusing on the lecture and taking notes. However, underneath the desk, his hand holds your thigh in a possessive grip, his fingers dancing over your sensitive flesh.

It is safe to say you don't get to focus much on the lesson.

After the class, you and Wonwoo grab a cool drink and sit on one of the benches laid throughout the campus field.

You are still processing the events of last night and seeing how he hasn't mentioned it even once, you wonder if it was all your imagination.

No, it was all too real to be untrue.

As you sit next to him and chew on your straw, you wonder how you should approach the subject. Wonwoo, who has been silently enjoying his drink suddenly speaks, just as you get your thoughts together. It, however, is the last thing you expected him to say.

"Did I ever tell you about how I murdered a man?"

Your body turns into a block of ice as you whip your head towards Wonwoo, who sits with his elbows resting on his knees, an impassive look on his face. Silently, you blink a few times, waiting, just to make sure you didn't hear him wrong.

He is kidding.

Right?

He tilts his head to face you, a wry chuckle escaping his lips as he shakes his head at your expression. "Come on now, little cherry, don't look so shocked."

You cough and look away, a lame attempt to mask your expression. "I don't want to know anything I should not know." You murmur, looking down at the ground. "Besides, you're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not." He laughs a little, before exhaling loudly. "I also doubt you'd tattle on me. Who would fuck you so good like last night if I went to jail?"

His words make you squirm in your seat.

"Besides, it's a really interesting story. One I've never told anyone before."

Should you feel honored?

Wonwoo seems to take your silence as a yes because he starts narrating. "Once upon a time, there was a man. An alcoholic, pathetic excuse of a man who did terrible things to a woman, my mother. I was very young when it started. He'd beat the shit out of her for every little reason. It would only get worse when he got drunk, which was more often than not. Sometimes he'd lock her up in the basement and keep her naked and unfed. One time, when I was about ten years old, he broke every finger on her right hand just because the dinner wasn't served on time."

You have stopped breathing by now, as you sit in absolute silence, your limbs immobile as if you are paralyzed. You have a very good idea of where this story is going and how it might end. That should make you want to get up and leave but you just can't bring yourself to, as you sit mute and take occasional tentative peeks at the man next to you.

"That was the first time I stood up to him. My mother had passed out from the pain and I yelled at him and pushed him which made him take it out on me too. He hadn't hit me ever before. But that night, he kept on going till the dawn, as if making up for all the times he didn't."

He falls silent for a few moments and you take a chance to peek at him. As always, it's impossible to read him, his face an emotionless canvas and his eyes emptier than a desert, lost somewhere in his dark memories. You can't help but wonder if he feels any pain or remorse as he recalls his traumatic past. If he does, how can he mask it so well?

"Six months after that, my mother fell off the roof of our building. The police concluded it as suicide because they found out she was drunk. But she wasn't."

"The night before, as always, the pathetic loser came home drunk and smashed things around for a while. There was a ruby necklace that my grandmother gave to my mother when she got married. That night, he was asking for it because he needed immediate cash and my mother wouldn't give it. She probably had enough because that was the only night she stood up against him and she protested hard. I remember her smashing a bottle on his head. Of course, he wouldn't let that slide but something was different about him that night. He was more despairing, more evil. He slapped her around a few times before choking her until she passed out. I can still hear his words in my head.

I'll get rid of you tonight bitch.

I'll get rid of you for good."

He then took out a bunch of booze and ordered her to drink them, saying that if she resisted, I'd get the beatings. She obeyed him and I only watched, as I always did and he kept forcing her to drink till she couldn't utter a coherent word or couldn't even remain seated. Once she passed out from all the booze he came to me and patted my head. With the evilest of smiles, he said,

"Go to your room. You don't need to learn everything so early."

"Then he locked me in his bedroom and didn't let me go until the morning. By then the police had come and removed her body. Those imbeciles decided it was suicide and ended the investigation just like that.

I could have told them that it was a murder but I didn't. My mother's death stunned me so much that I couldn't speak for the next few months and the asshole used it to his advantage. He acted like the best father and husband in front of the police but then came and took out all his anger and frustration on me."

He finally pauses to take a look at you and your face must have been an open book because he chuckles, "Why do you look so pale already? I haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

You want to tell him that you look pale not because of the story but because you feel sad for the fucked up man sitting next to you and his fucked up childhood. Even though he has yet to reveal how his father died you have already convinced yourself that he deserved it.

"A year went by like that." Wonwoo continues. "My mother was gone and I was the new punching bag for the asshole. He'd beat me up almost every day but he wasn't that dumb. He would never hit me in the face because I went to school and people could ask questions. I endured it all, in fact, I might have even started to crave it. I started to think I deserved it and so I took it...until one afternoon. I had just gotten home from school. He was sitting in the living room, drinking and watching TV. He seemed to be in an okay mood so I showed him my report card and asked him to sign it so that I could submit it the next day. He was quiet for a while until he saw my marks in English.

He took a bottle of booze and poured it all over my report card, saying a loser like me is better off without one. Something snapped inside of me and I yelled at him. So he broke that bottle on my head and stuffed that wet report card into my mouth and started beating me up.

After he was done he told me to get him a glass of water and go out to buy more beer for him. There was a nearby store that knew us and let me purchase alcohol. At that moment I made a split-second decision. I went to the kitchen, grabbed some rat poison and mixed it in his water before giving it to him. When he passed out I went back into the kitchen and pulled out the gas pipe and turned the knob open, letting it leak all over. I then lit a match and watched as the entire house caught on fire in seconds. I got burned too, as you can tell from the scars you saw last night. I ran out and sat on the other side of the road, just watching the fire spread. The thought of him burning alive in there brought me so much pleasure that I forgot my own pain.

It was right after noon and we lived in a relatively deserted area so it took a while for people to find out and call the police. They never suspected me because why would a twelve year old set his house on fire? The neighbors also testified that the asshole was an alcoholic so the police concluded it as another accident."

He concludes with a loud exhale. Turning his head to face you, he smirks wryly, "And that's how I successfully got away with my first murder."

You are left with a loss of words so you just give him a shaky nod and stare down at your legs, trying to process everything.

A few beats of silence seem to pass before Wonwoo reaches for your chin and uses it to tilt your face up. He smirks, "Scared of me now, aren't you?"

You sigh, gently removing your chin from his grip. "No, Wonwoo, I'm not. You did what you had to survive. It's admirable how you held on for so long."

For the first time, you see an emotion vividly on his face; shock. His eyes widen and his lips part to a little 'o' as he gapes at you, stunned. His reaction evokes some sort of longing within yourself as you reach for his hand and hold it between yours. "I am not scared of you because there is nothing to be. You were a little boy and you had gone through so much. It's fucked up but you did it to survive and you've come so far-"

"I don't want your pity and I don't want you to psychoanalyze me." He hisses, cutting you off as he yanks his hand away from your grip. You can see the fierce anger in his gaze so you shake your head.

"I am not pitying you and neither am I psychoanalyzing you. Trust me, I am in no position to do that. Especially because I believe that that man was an absolute piece of garbage and he deserved what you have done to him, if not worse. I would have done the same, Wonwoo, long ago. You held on for so long. That makes you a survivor, not a bad guy."

Your words seem to sink into him as he remains quiet, watching you with careful yet wondrous eyes. You sigh, realizing that he probably isn't believing you so you decide to give him, and yourself, some space.

Just as you stand up, he yanks you down by your hand, making you fall awkwardly onto his lap. Then, before your brain can catch up, he kisses you, rough and fast.

His lips smash with yours as he holds a strong grip on your neck, angling your face to his advantage. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth, colliding with yours as your body goes lax and you give into him. It's like an aphrodisiac— his kiss, his touch, that makes you lose your guard as you fall deeper and deeper into an abyss.

When he pulls back, you are both panting heavily for air. "Do you realize what you just said?" He grunts, those fox-like eyes staring at you making your toes curl and your insides swirl. In a daze, you hum, "Hmm?"

"You'd make a great accomplice for a murder, no?" He chuckles, his thumb tracing your swollen bottom lip while you keep staring at his lips. All coherent thoughts and senses have left your body long ago as you find yourself swimming in the sweetest poison that is Wonwoo.

"More." You breathe.

He smirks, that evil, confident smirk of his that makes your panties wet. Once again, he starts moving before you can process anything, dragging you behind him and straight to one of the storage rooms in a nearby building. You follow him blindly and as soon as the door is locked, he pins you against the wall and between himself, effectively trapping you. Yet, there is nowhere you want to escape to.

"You are an enigma, you know that, little cherry?" He whispers, trailing kisses down your jaw as his hands work on unbuttoning your top. He quickly takes it off along with your bra before taking a step back and yanking your skirt down. The zipper on the waist lets out a groan of protest that falls onto your deaf ears as you remain too busy ogling the ungodly hot man in front of you.

"Take me out."

Your body is on autopilot as you immediately undo his belt and pull down the zipper.

"Put your hands over my shoulders and hold tight. Wrap your legs around me." He commands as one of his hands holds you below your thigh while the other positions himself on your entrance.

And before you can blink, he's inside you. The initial stretch of the intrusion makes you jolt and let out a loud gasp of pain but it's quick to dull. One of his hands covers your mouth, his dark eyes indicating you to remain silent while he starts to move in and out of you.

Oh boy, is it hard to remain silent.

Especially, when you can feel every delicious inch of him, moving in and out of you ruthlessly, making your body shake from the onslaught of pleasure. Your grip on his shoulders tightens as little squeaks escape from your lips and your legs wrap themselves around his body tighter when you start to taste your release.

"Gosh, you're such a slut, letting me fuck you against a wall, in a store room." Wonwoo grits, a twisted smirk on his lips as his gaze roams over your face leisurely. "What if someone comes in right now, huh? What if they see you bouncing your pretty ass on my cock?"

"Mmph," you try to moan, the image sending short circuits to your brain. Wonwoo chuckles, loving your reaction. "You'd like that, won't you? You're one filthy little slut, my cherry." He grins after giving you a particular hard thrust, that makes your toes curl.

"P-please," you pant, breathless trying to grind your clit against his pelvis. One touch on your clit and you're gonna come. "Please, touch me."

The man only smiles, a cruel, mocking smile as he grabs your wrists in one hand and pins them hard on the wall behind you before thrusting once, twice, so hard that your back starts aching. Though you can't bring yourself to complain because the next moment his release is filling you up, making you moan unceremoniously.

When you think he's now gonna help you get off, the man only releases you and starts fixing himself up leaving you panting against the wall awkwardly, with the worst ache between your legs.

"W-what about me?" You croak.

"Sluts don't get to come so easily." Wonwoo smirks, throwing a look your way before walking out of the storeroom. You slide down the wall, absolutely livid, the urge to punch something growing very intense.

Something like his face.

That goddamn infuriating man!

Maybe you should just get yourself off.

"And don't think about touching yourself without me. I'll know if you do and trust me, you don't wanna make me mad." His head pops back in as he opens the door to warn you before disappearing once again.

"Fuck!" You're screaming now. "Fuck you, Jeon Wonwoo!"

XIV.

Over time, you start to grow close to Wonwoo. Definitely closer than you'd expect to be with a person like him. It also doesn't help that you have a silly little crush on him and every little thing he does makes your heart flutter. Like the way he'd always put the helmet on you carefully before riding on his bike, brush your hair away from your face with soft fingers, and pull you closer to his body when you walk down a busy sidewalk.

Jeon Wonwoo was in no way boyfriend material but his little gestures, which he probably did thoughtlessly made you think he was the perfect man for you.

While things were going breezy with Wonwoo, a new problem seems to have appeared. Jacob Lee, a classmate of yours has been on your tail nonstop for the past few days, acting all friendly and touchy with you when in reality you've never spoken to him before, only seen him around the campus.

And speaking of the devil, he appears, just as you are finishing up your study session in the library one afternoon.

"_____!" His voice makes you sigh exasperatedly. "Hey! I was looking for you!"

You give him a fake smile and instead focus on packing your stuff, knowing Wonwoo will be here soon. He has asked you to stay overnight at his place for a class project but you doubt how much you'll be working on that project.

The thought of his hands all over you makes you embarrassingly excited.

"I sent you a friend request last night, didn't you see?"

Yes, and I'm not interested. You give me the creeps.

Which was the truth. You have heard a few rumors about Jacob, not good things for sure and the way he approaches you, invading your personal space like a bulldozer certainly makes you wary of him.

"Ah really? I'm not quite active these days. Projects and all, you know?" You try to avoid eye contact with him as he takes the seat right next to you, leaning much too close for your liking. "And...I don't really accept requests unless they're my close friends."

"Heyyy," he nudges your arm, a huge grin on his face. "How can we become close friends unless you accept my request?"

Oh god.

You sigh, internally rolling your eyes as you stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder. "You know, I'm in a hurry, actually. Wonwoo is waiting for me-"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"What?" You blink, albeit stunned.

"Are you dating Wonwoo?" He asks, his tone sharp, as he stands up and steps closer to you, brows knotted in a frown.

Seriously, what is up with this guy?

"Why do you ask?" You question instead.

He rolls his eyes. Instead of answering you, he speaks, "He's a boring dude. If you really need a man you should let me—"

"Yes, she's dating me." Wonwoo interrupts all of a sudden. You spin around to find him standing behind you, a very annoyed look on his face as he glowers at Jacob. If looks could kill he'd be dead by now.

His hand wraps around your waist, tugging you next to his body and you can't help but swoon a little as you melt in his embrace. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and sigh giddily.

The comfort and safety his arms provide are astounding.

"It doesn't really matter if you say I'm boring because she seems to find me interesting enough," Wonwoo says, his tone challenging, dark eyes focused on Jacob whose face now appears grim.

"Since we have established that she's mine," he emphasizes his words by tugging you even closer, "You should keep your hands to yourself and mind your business, hmm? Being nosy can get you hurt, you know."

Jacob's lips are pressed into a thin line as he glares at Wonwoo who ignores him and turns around, tugging you with him as you both walk out of the library.

As soon as you are outside, you step out of his arms and raise a brow at the man. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That? You were like...staking your claim or something."

"I was. You're mine." He says simply.

Heat blooms throughout your face. Butterflies run wild in your stomach.

Damn.

"Whatever," you try to play it cool by rolling your eyes and pushing past him. Wonwoo, however, grabs your wrist and pulls you into his arms and whispers in your ear.

"You don't seem to agree, little cherry. Let's go home so that I can show just how much you are mine." His knuckles trail over your jaw, then down your neck before grabbing it, a predatory glint in his eyes.

You can't stop the satisfied grin from appearing on your face as you scream on the inside.

XV.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about the last day." A voice says from behind you and you turn around to find Jacob standing rather awkwardly.

You are going through your notes in the library when you are interrupted.

Raising a brow of confusion, you blink at him.

Jacob scratches his head. "Uh...I overstepped that day, you know. You're obviously a couple and I was trying to overstep my boundaries. I'm really sorry about that."

Well, that's a development.

"It's alright." You give him a small smile. "And thank you for apologizing."

"It's all good if you've accepted my apology." He smiles. "Also, I was hoping you could do me a favor?"

"Sure?" You say, not quite sure.

"You see, I'm having a bit of a problem with the latest assignment. Could you help me with that, please? Just take a look at my draft?" He chuckles nervously, as if ashamed. "After all, the professor did say that you had the best research paper among all of us."

Ah.

"Yeah, sure I can help you with that."

"Great! Thanks a lot, ____. Could you perhaps come with me to my car? My notes are in there. Just take a quick look and I'll let you be on your way."

You nod as you pack your belongings and follow him to the parking lot behind the library. Once you two are in front of your car, Jacob holds the door open for you, motioning you to get inside. You raise a confused brow at him.

There is a shift in him as he suddenly produces a knife from his pocket and holds it against your stomach. He grits in your ear, "Now be a good girl and get in the car, ______. Try to do anything to attract any attention and ill fucking gut you."

"Jacob, please-''

"Get in the fucking car, _____. And lock the door once you are inside."

Shaking, you do as you are told and watch him get inside the driver's seat.

"Why are you doing this?" You whisper.

"Why do you think, cherry?" He spits. His words dump a bucket of ice cold water all over you as you come to the realization.

He knows. He fucking knows. He knows your secret.

"That's right, _____." The smirk on his face is cruel. "I randomly came across your channel one night. Of course, I didn't know it was you at first. But after a little bit of observing and putting things together, it wasn't hard to figure you out. And my suspicions were fully confirmed when your nerd of a boyfriend found your identity and started blackmailing you."

Oh my god.

A small, devastated gasp leaves your lips, making Jacob laugh. "Yeah. I saw you two that evening. I know everything, little cherry. All your dirty little secrets. But what I hate is that you let him have you, calling that dumb guy your boyfriend and whatnot, but you won't give me a chance? That's not fair, baby."

"You fucking stalker! You son of a-"

"Shut up!" He booms, holding the knife right in front of your eye. "You're going to shut the fuck up and let me have all the fun tonight, hmm? You're a slut, _____. Reading filthy things, showing yourself off on the internet and now you're acting like a prude in front of me? I can't tolerate that baby, I need a taste of you."

Oh god. You're going to throw up.

In a moment's decision, you try to attack him, reaching for his face and poking him in the eye while scratching his cheek. A struggle ensues while you try to writhe and kick out of his grasp but he's stronger, effectively holding you.

"Just go to sleep, little bitch. I'll take good care of you." He snickers, making your heart drop.

Oh no no no...

He smacks you in the back of the head twice with the butt of his knife, making your vision go blurry and your head spin. Your last thought is that you are doomed now.

XVI.

The back of your head is throbbing when you wake up. It takes a good few moments to get your brain and eyes to function and when you are somewhat coherent, you realize your wrists are tied together behind you, as you remain in a half laid position. Your whole body feels sore and taut as if you've been thrown around roughly.

"Finally, you're awake baby." The dreadful voice speaks. You tilt your head, despite the pain, to look at Jacob who is looming over you, smiling, a sick kind of excitement dancing in his eyes.

Your throat which was already parched, goes even drier.

"You're fucking sick." You croak, a jolt of pain going through your ribs as you try to move your body.

A slap lands on your cheek from nowhere, forcing you to fall on your side as you whine in pain.

"I told you to shut the fuck up!" He's yelling. "Do you know how hard it was to carry your body all the way here? I had to put you in the trunk, for fucks sake!" He complains, making you roll your eyes. "It would all have been fine if you'd just shut up and complied with me!"

He then grabs you by your hair, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. "I had to wait for the last hour for you to gain consciousness, baby. Despite my thoughts, I just couldn't get hard when you were lying still."

He says those words with a mock pout as if that's the most unfortunate thing in the world and your blood boils. "Fuck you, dickhead. I doubt your thing gets hard at all."

That earns you another slap, and another, followed by a lot of screaming and cursing from him.

You tune them out, trying to conjure a way out of this hell. The first person you think of is Wonwoo and your heart starts to ache. His classes should be done by now. Is he looking for you? Is he worried? Given his possessiveness, he definitely should be looking for you by now.

You only wish you had your phone somewhere nearby.

You look around the place, trying to spot anything that may distract this sicko and aid you with your escape. Unfortunately, this feels like an abandoned building and the only thing lying around are pieces of wood, splinters and a few metal rods. Which would serve as a good weapon, only if your hands were untied.

An idea forms in your head.

"I need to pee." You grunt, making Jacob raise a brow.

"Well then, do it." He shrugs before smiling. "You'll need to take your pants off anyway for what I'm about to do to you. Want me to help you with them, baby?"

So that definitely backfired.

Jacob approaches you, hands reaching for the button on your jeans as you writhe in protest, trying to crawl away from him. Your sore ribs protest heavily but you struggle against his grip, which only tightens the harder you protest.

You are so fucked.

"The more you fight, the harder I get, baby." He snickers in your ears, making you want to throw up.

Jacob manages to unbutton your jeans and as he is pulling down your zipper, you land a kick on his shin, making him fall on his ass with a grunt. His eyes flash dangerously at you.

"Maybe I should tie your legs too, huh? Just let me take these jeans off."

"Get your hands off of her. Right. Now." There's a sudden voice.

You both turn your head to find Wonwoo, to your utter relief, standing there, a menacing look on his face as his eyes bore into Jacob.

"Let her go." His voice is quiet.

To others, it may sound flat but you know Wonwoo and you know the look in his eyes very well. A shiver rolls down your spine and you try once again to loosen the ropes tying your wrists. If you aren't free soon, things are gonna get messy.

"The big bad boyfriend is here to save the day, no?" Jacob scoffs, swaying the knife around in his hand. "Whatcha gonna do, boyfriend?"

"You wouldn't wanna know." Wonwoo gives him a cold smile that gives even you, goosebumps. You try to mediate the situation. "Jacob, please, listen to me. This doesn't have to be like this. Just let me go and we can pretend this never happened."

"Shut up, you whore! I'm getting a taste of you today and I don't care whether it's next to your boyfriend's rotting corpse!" He screeches, pointing the knife at you.

Mentally, you shake your head.

This really isn't gonna end well.

A grunt echo through the air and it takes a few seconds for your fuzzy brain to realize that Wonwoo has punched Jacob. The latter tumbles onto the floor, groaning loudly, "You fucking asshole! You broke my nose!"

Wonwoo's face remains blank as he repeatedly keeps kicking Jacob's torso, not even letting him get up. When he's gasping for air, he steps back to take a good look at him before walking to the side and picking up a metal rod.

In the meantime, Jacob manages to stand up on wobbly legs and his eyes widen when he sees Wonwoo pick up the weapon. "You fucking psychopath. You really wanna die today, huh?" He scoffs before charging toward Wonwoo, the knife in his hand aiming for his face. Wonwoo dodges it by leaning back and just as Jacob is passing by him, he grabs his other arm, twisting it roughly before clutching the hand holding the knife.

Jacob yells in pain but doesn't back down and there is a struggle as they both try to overpower each other. Amidst that, the knife in Jacob's hand manages to cut a thin line on Wonwoo's cheek, making him release Jacob and take a few steps back.

Jacob chuckles, his smile looking exceptionally evil as blood runs down his nose and coats his teeth. "I'm gonna have so much fun carving up your pretty face, nerd."

Wonwoo watches him with calculative eyes, a wry, slight smirk on his face as he tilts his head on both sides, popping the veins in his neck.

You watch with bated breath, knowing it's gonna get ugly and it does as Wonwoo charges for Jacob, hitting his head in the first strike with the metal bar. Jacob falls to his knees, cupping the side of his head as a gush of blood flows out. Before he can stand back up, Wonwoo hits him again and again and again, three more times on his head before his body slumps onto the ground, passed out.

But that doesn't make Wonwoo stop as he continues with two more hits and you start yelling. "Wonwoo, stop! Stop it! You're gonna kill him!"

He stops and his eyes meet yours. They are absolutely cold and empty, laced with an expression of that's-what-I-was-about-to-do and for a moment you think that he's gonna kill him right in front of you but he doesn't.

Surprising you, he drops the bar on the ground with a loud echo before calmly walking towards you and kneeling down to untie your wrists. You pant heavily, relieved and grateful as your eyes become teary when one of his hand cups your cheek tenderly, his eyes trained on the cut on your lips and the bruise on your cheek.

And to think that this man was being so violent seconds ago.

"Does it hurt badly?" He asks, eyes narrowing on your bruises. You immediately shake your head, not trusting your voice to speak.

You croak, "How did you find me?"

He scoffs. "Little cherry, you should have figured out by now how possessive I am of you." He tilts his head, giving you an isn't-that-obvious look. Yet, you're confused.

"You...you didn't actually put a—"

"Exactly," he smiles, almost proud. "I downloaded a tracker on your phone."

Holy shit. There's a lot to unpack but for now, you are totally grateful. So you just nod and clutch his arms tightly.

Your heart thumps loudly as the man wraps an arm around your waist, supporting you to stand up. The bruises on your body make it hard to do so but you manage with his help and gently he guides you out of the warehouse, picking up your scattered items lying in a corner and putting them in your bag before moving past Jacob's still body.

You turn your head back to observe if he's breathing and you notice the slow rise and fall of his chest, making you sigh in relief.

Wonwoo walks you both out of the compound before coming to a stop underneath a large banyan tree, right where he parked his bike.

"Call a taxi." He says as he hands you your bag. "Go to a hospital. I'll be there soon."

Your heart falls.

"W-what? W-where are you going?" You croak, hands immediately clutching the sleeves of his jacket. His hands gently hold you by the arm, a stark contrast to the look on his face, malicious, ruthless. "You don't leave loose ends, baby."

You almost choke on your saliva.

"Wha-what? No! You-"

His lips press against yours, effectively silencing you. One of his hand cups your cheek while the other laces around your waist, pulling your body next to his. Blindly you follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his neck as your tongue intertwines with his into a passionate kiss. It tastes like temptation, lust and a little bit metallic— from the blood on your lips and even though in the back of your mind you know how wrong this is, it feels like the most right thing of all time.

A while later Wonwoo pulls back as the haze of lust disappears from his eyes, replaced with seriousness.

"Do as you're told, ____. This isn't a request."

It isn't. It's a command.

Yet, as he turns around to head back into the warehouse, you cannot bring yourself to call a taxi. But you also cannot muster up to follow him back inside and watch him finish the job.

Blissful ignorance, as they like to call it.

Besides, there is no crime if there is no witness.

You try to tell yourself that you're staying in case Jacob manages to run away or worse, hurt Wonwoo or in case somebody comes around here.

So you make yourself comfortable underneath the tree and take a seat, even though your sore body protests in pain.

Seconds turn to minutes as they fly by and just like that half an hour is gone. The sky is now overcast with thick clouds, indicating an impending downpour that makes you worry.

There is no sign of Wonwoo yet.

When the first few drops of rain hit the ground, you manage to get yourself up after a little struggle and despite your ribs protesting, you start to take small steps towards the building.

Something must have gone wrong.

But you don't have to go too far because you see a tall figure approaching you from the other end and you realize it's Wonwoo. Your breath stutters as you stay still in your spot, waiting for him to take notice of you and come to you. He seems to be walking while in deep thought as his focus remains on the ground so you call for him.

"Wonwoo!"

His head snaps up as he regards you with wide eyes, standing still for a moment. Then he's running towards you, stepping on little puddles along the way.

"What are you still doing here!" His tone is sharp but you ignore it. Instead, your eyes scan his body for any injuries. He seems to appear fine— disheveled really, but still fine. There is a new cut on his forehead and there are specks of blood all over his face, neck and hands, especially his hands which are completely wet and coated in crimson.

You highly doubt it's his own blood. Still, your hands reach out for him and you find yourself asking, "Are you okay?"

Wonwoo glares at you. "You should have gone to a hospital by now, ____. You're hurt." You shake your head and instead cup his cheek, thumb brushing away the little specks of blood that are yet to wash away despite the pouring rain.

His eyes visibly soften as he sighs and shrugs off his jacket and puts it over your shoulders.

"You're gonna catch a cold." He whispers as his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body next to him.

"J-Jacob?" You whisper.

His eyes go empty for a few seconds before he gives you a small, evil smile, "I took care of him."

Your heart falls and you swallow, the gravity of the situation dawning on you.

"B-but the body-"

"Lot of wolves in that forest.'' He says, indicating the woods right behind the building. ''They'll finish the body."

He smirks, giving you a look. "I believe Jacob came here drunk and passed out and the wolves took him." He pins you down with a look that makes you shudder.

You're now an accomplice to murder.

Gripping your chin with his thumb and index finger, he tilts your head up. "Hey. Nobody will know...unless you tell them."

That's right. Nobody will know.

With a jerky nod, your eyes meet his and even though your limbs are sore, you lean on your tippy toes and pull his lips onto yours by cupping his cheeks. His lips taste like rain and blood, full of danger but oh so tempting. Your tongues dance in a haze of fiery lust and passion and by the time you two separate, you're a little dizzy.

You should really get to the hospital.

"I won't tell anyone," you whisper, stroking the nape of his neck.

"Because I have nothing to tell. Jacob got eaten by the wolves. It was just an accident, after all." You state, surprised at how calm you are.

A grin spreads across Wonwoo's face, evil, satisfied and proud. You can't also help but smile a little as he captures your lips for a quick kiss before murmuring, "You're perfect, you know that little cherry?"

You swoon. "Maybe you can remind me when we are home. After taking a trip to the hospital, of course."

"Let's go." He holds out his hand and you take it as you both walk to his bike. Blood still stains his fingertips but you don't care as they transfer on your hands too. Instead, you let him slowly guide you away from the building, from that sick asshole who isn't breathing anymore, thankfully.

When you look down your hands entangled with his, a sense of odd comfort settles over you.

Sure, this man is completely unhinged and dangerous but he's also perfect.

Perfect for you.

You're both a little unhinged and that's fine.

What matters is that you are safe now. With him.

Smiling in contentment, you bring your intertwined hands up to your lips and press a kiss on his bruised knuckles.

You are bloody, yet safe.

a/n: and hence, I chose the name Bloodily Safe! I know it isn't that good but istg I couldn't think of anything else😭. this is, undoubtedly, the darkest fic I've written yet and somewhere in the middle I started questioning whether it'd be a good idea to release this. but the urge to share psycho Wonwoo with y'all won in the end lol. I blame pledis for this, we need an actor Wonwoo in a villain role immediately!!! I've left it as an open ending so I'm here to announce that yes, I am planning on writing another part of this, something like an extended epilogue where we focus more on Wonwoo. their feelings for each other also remain vague here and I've kept it so purposefully. it's up to each of your own interpretation. if you'd like to hear mine, do send an ask. I'm all ready to analyze and discuss our fav psycho wonwoo. also, I've yet to proofread this thoroughly so there might be some errors. that's it from me for now, thank you for taking the time to read this! have a lovely day!

taglist: @exocommunicado-03 @becauseiloveyunho @seyoungparkk @shuabby1994 @reol-0 @therewillalwaysbearainbow @sdoulc @nadiaarzu @dinosolecito @sweetiepiezz @vernonmabae @jejuboo-s @fairy-jojo @babystarcandykookie @kawaiimusiccollection @read2lips @yunhokami @knife-scream @just-here-to-read-01 @unwanted-15 @bldelaine @sysymei @joonsytip @freakinthesheesh @moonfloweronmars @simpinghrs @unicxrnblood @manamiyx @tara-drabbles

#seventeen #seventeen smut #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #kpop smut #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst

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nhlclover · 2 months

Text

sun to me | jamie drysdale

word count: 1.19k

summary: attempting long distance makes it clear to you and jamie that you need each other

warnings: loneliness, sad jamie, kissing, tiny bit of cursing

notes: loooove this one

Jamie was sprawled out on his bed in his cramped apartment in Philadelphia, staring blankly at the empty walls. He hadn’t decorated yet, let alone had the proper furniture. His bed was simply a mattress on the floor, his coffee table doubling as a kitchen table.

Jamie had been in Philly for about a month now. You’d think a month was enough to adjust to a new city, and while he had settled into a routine and gotten comfortable with all of the city’s quirks, something still felt off.

It was you. He missed you deeply. Your laughter, your presence, your comfort. You were his anchor. But you were tied to your job over 2,000 miles away in Anaheim. You guys had discussed this before he left, that 3 months wasn’t that long and you could withstand it. Then, at the season's end, you’d talk about your future together.

However, here you both were, on opposite sides of the country, distance putting a strain on the both of you.

Jamie did his normal pre-game routine with you on his mind. He thought of the fact that you were probably at work right now, wrapping up final tasks, before heading home and putting on the Flyers game. It was a miracle he found someone as supportive as you, willing to put up with the long days and stress that being a professional athlete could bring.

Each game he played knowing that when he got home he wouldn’t be coming home to you made them harder and harder. The facetimes and calls were not enough anymore and the strain on Jamie was starting to show in his gameplay. Today’s game was horrible. Jamie was benched for almost the entire third after he gave up 3 separate turnovers. Amidst the rowdy Philadelphia crowd, upset that their team was losing, his mind wandered to you. It was always you.

Jamie kept to himself while getting changed and showering, truly wanting to go home just to call you. After an unbearable 5 minutes with the media, Jamie trudged out of the locker room, shoulders slumped and spirits in the basement. Walking down the hall, Jamie feels an arm hook around his shoulders.

“Why the long face?” Cam asks.

Jamie shrugs off Cam's arm, his mind still reeling. "Just had a rough game, man. Ready to get out of here."

Cam flashes him a sly, knowing grin. “It’ll pick up soon, bud.” He says.

Jamie ignores his teammates' words, continuing down the halls of the Wells Fargo Centre. As he turned the bend, greeted by a myriad of voices, there you were.

Jamie could’ve sworn he was seeing things, maybe reaching a point of delusion. But there you were, standing with his teammates' girlfriends. Jamie’s heart lifted upon seeing you, the weight of a thousand worlds falling behind him as he headed straight for you. When he reached you, his arms enveloped you in a tight embrace.

The world around him fades away leaving only you two suspended in this moment. His touch is firm yet gentle, a silent declaration of his need for your presence, your comfort.

“Hi, James.” You say softly into his chest. Your delicate tone nearly sends Jamie over the edge, the reality of everything catching up to him, tears threatening to prick at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says softly. You guys stay there for a few more moments before you force Jamie to walk to his car with you.

Deciding you had so much to talk about, Jamie drove you to a park to walk around while you guys spoke. You intertwined your fingers with Jamie's, drawing strength from the reassuring warmth of his touch. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the struggles you had endured during your time apart.

“So, what are you doing here?” Jamie asks, his grin having still not faded since first seeing you.

“I had to see you…” You tell him. “So I took two weeks off.”

“You did what?” Jamie asked.

“Jamie, I missed you so much, it was almost unbearable.” You confessed, your voice conveying the pain it had truly caused you. “With the time difference and our weird, conflicting schedules… I had to come and see you.”

Jamie's expression softened, his gaze filled with empathy as he listened to your words. He understood all too well the pain of separation, the relentless tug of loneliness that pulled at his heart with every passing day.

“Y/n, I missed you too. I’ve been fucking miserable.” Jamie said, a small chuckle escaping as he recounts the past couple of days. “It's like… no matter how many times we talk on the phone or text each other, it's never enough. I need you here with me, physically, emotionally… I just…”

Jamie suddenly stops walking, turning to face you.

“Marry me.”

The words were out of Jamie’s mouth before he knew it, the both of you sharing the same shocked reaction to his words. The unexpected proposal makes you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Despite them being blurted out, Jamie knew that they were real feelings.

“W-what?” You ask. It felt as though time stood still as you processed his words. Jamie takes both of your hands in his, his eyes glimmering.

“I’m serious. Marry me.” He says again. “These last couple of months have been…fucking hell on earth. I’ve been miserable. And for a while, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. At first, I thought it was the lack of sun… or maybe it was taking me a little longer than I thought to adjust to a new city. But it was you. I couldn’t bear not having you with me.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, jaw open slack as you were processing his words.

“I want you here in Philly, with me. And whatever it takes.” Jamie says. “You can get another job here, in Philly, I’m sure the guys of their wives have connections here and they could help. Or don’t work! I can support you, I don’t care. What I’m trying to say is-”

You cut off Jamie’s rambling, pressing your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. Your lips melded together, picking up as if you had never been separated. As you parted, a small smile graced your lips. Jamie’s eyes scanned your face, desperate to read what you were thinking.

"Yes," you said, your voice steady with resolve. "Yes, I will marry you. And yes, I will come live with you in Philadelphia. We can figure everything else out later.”

Jamie let out a huff of relief before scooping you up in his arms and spinning you above the ground. You squeal, your laughter ringing like a melody in Jamie’s ears.

“Oh my god, I have a wife!” Jamie cheered loudly.

He leans down pressing a kiss to your lips, holding you close once again. As you held each other close, the weight of loneliness lifted from Jamie's heart, replaced by the comforting certainty of your presence.

“I love you so much.” Jamie whispers against your lips.

#jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #philadelphia flyers #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl #flyers hockey #hockey #hockey imagine

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

Note

Heyyy

So I really liked the Damian Wayne x reader platonic friend thingy your wrote. I really feel like there should be more of those.

Anyways, k cam where to respect something similar. Can u maybe write hc on what it'd be like to be friends w him? Like bantering n stuff and maybe u can focus a bit on how Bruce feels abt it? Oh and bonus points if the reader is awkward.

Toodles!

Being friends with Damian isn’t easy in the slightest, mainly because he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him in the first place. So the fact that you managed to accomplish that was a major achievement already.

However that didn’t mean anything afterwards was made any easier for you just because you managed to make the impossible become possible. No. Why? Damian is one hell of a dry conversationalist if Titus or animals in general weren’t involved.

He’s basically an extroverts worst nightmare given a human form. For no matter how hard you tried to bait him into giving more then a one word answer out of him, it always ends with Damian not taking the bait and allowing a air of awkward silence to befall you both while everyone else was having a better time then you.

You: hey Damian.

Him: hello l/n.

You: how have you been?

Him: in peak condition, why?

You: it’s because I don’t see you that much outside of school, it’s almost as if your allergic to social interaction.

Him: Tt. why should I go out of my way to do such a thing? I have you as an acquaintance don’t I?

You: I mean yeah I guess-

Him: then I have no need to expand my friend group, for they’ll only disappoint me. Now is that all?

You: I mean there’s not much else to talk about at this point.

Him: good.

*cue to the pair of you sitting in utter, awkward silence*

When Damian says one friend is all he needs, he genuinely means it. One is enough for him. He doesn’t need anymore because he knows that he doesn’t have the time for them. Plus he might not say it out loud but he does appreciate your friendship, even if your both awkward individuals within most social situations, but he is happy that someone finally gave him a chance to be a friend.

So even if you were to ever ask why you were friends it’ll probably go something a bit like this;

You: why are you friends with me?

Him: you aren’t an idiot, plus you’re the only one who isn’t insufferable.

You: is that meant to be taken as a compliment or…

Him: take it as you see fit.

You: okay…

Damian as a friend would be protective i’d like to think? I mean you are literally the first friend he’s made so naturally he’s going to feel something when he sees you being friends with anyone else that wasn’t him.

Was it insecurity that you not day might not want to be his friend anymore? Possibly.

Will he ever admit to it though? No. This is Damian we’re talking about, of course he won’t.

Also being friends with Damian would best summed up as being two people who shouldn’t work but ultimately do either way, kind of like an ‘against all their differences they’re the best of friends’ type of duo because nobody and I mean nobody saw a friendship between you two ever happening. Ever.

Not even the great Bruce Wayne.

Speaking about him. If you ever got to visit the Wayne Manor and meet his father aka THE Bruce Wayne. Take it as a sign as you’ve made it as Damian’s best friend.

Would you shit yourself upon meeting quite possibly the most powerful man in Gotham? Yes and your sweating buckets on top of that, all the while Damian would be stood next to you completely unfazed as he introduced you to his father as his best mate.

Damian: father.

Bruce: Damian.

Damian: *points to you* this is my best friend and I expect that they get treated with respect during their visit here.

You: hi- hello it’s an honour to meet you M-Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: tell me how you’ve come to befriend my son?

You: we were in the same art class and I noticed that he had no one to sit next to, and so I offered for him to sit with me, keep in mind I’m not that well liked and practically had a whole table to myself, and I’d like to think our friendship started with that small act of kindness Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: and had Damian been kind to you?

You: in his own unique way sir but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bruce: *smiled* you’re a good kid l/n and you can go ahead and drop the formalities and call me Bruce instead. I shall go and tell Alfred to add another plate at the dinner table tonight.

Bruce, upon hearing that Damian had made a friend, wanted to meet you within immediate effect and see whether or not his son made for a good judge of character and he wasn’t disappointed.

Given the fact that you were awkward aside, you were defiantly what Damian needed for a friend, and Bruce was happy to see his son finally get to be normal for once as he watched from the window as Damian practically dragged you out to the spacious backyard with an excitable Titus on your heels as the Great Dane tried to get up and personal with you.

Alfred: they are certainly a pair, aren’t they master Bruce.

Bruce: an odd pair they may seem but they even out the other perfectly. Besides when was the last time Damian looked genuinely happy?

Alfred; can’t say that I recall sir.

Bruce: neither can I. At first I was sceptical but I’m glad being wrong. I can only hope that a friendship like theirs will stand the test of time because there will be times that will test their limits with one another. But if they’re as good a pair as I think they are then they’ll be perfectly fine.

Alfred: couldn’t have put it better myself sir *smiles alongside Bruce as they watched you and Damian act on your own within the others presence while in comfortable silence as Titus fell asleep at both of your feet.*

Yeah you’ll both be alright. You’ve got each other after all and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

#damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 3 months

Text

know me the way you know your childhood scars, like breathing; i wasn't running but if i was i'm glad it was to you.

tz11 x reader: a small town, a fresh start, a shared heart.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, thigh-riding (this is newish), dirty talk (if you're new, welcome!), mentions of previous relationship being awful, i know i'm forgetting stuff but all my typical things. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: my favorites - i think jd6 getting traded was exactly what i needed in order to write a tz11 character who is actually a nice guy. i call that the best-friend-getting-a-new-best-friend-who-is-named-cam-york effect. anyways, this is long as hell (14k, anyone?), because i have recently been absolutely so over law school guys. i just want a guy who likes to get his hands dirty and actually has friends. too much to ask? okay. obviously, i got so insanely carried away here, as you will be able to tell. we've got about a million side characters, some of which you will recognize, some of which you will not, because i made them up (tell me why i'm so into the matt/bridget dynamic. could write about just them. maybe i will). you guys know that there will be plot holes and dialogue issues and the likes, but you love me anyways, and i love you for that. tz11 should enjoy this, because i know he will inevitably be back in my bad graces soon enough. next up is someone new (!) because i miss when people used to write about tyson jost left and right. hm, what else? tell me what you think, what you'd like to see. my one year anniversary since my first post is feb. 2 (i actually can't believe how fast it went by, and i'm so grateful for you for sticking with me). so, so much love to you and your snakes. go canucks. until next time.

this was probably a terrible idea, you thought, with your suitcases beside you, your head in your hands at the foot of the bed that would be yours for the foreseeable future. one bed of several at a local inn - local to this town, at least, not local to you.

no, you thought, jittery with unknowing and chance and uncertainty, none of this was familiar to you. not this town in the middle of nowhere, hundreds and hundreds of miles from your hometown, your university. not any of the few people you had interacted with, not the uber driver, the inn keeper, the housekeeping staff.

not one part of this place, this experience, not one part was familiar. but that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it? that was the whole point?

you'd wanted to find yourself, wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself, exist on your own, thrive outside of the bubble that was university.

you wanted a fresh start, away from ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, their betrayal still fresh, a wound scabbing over on your heart. you wanted to breathe deeply and not worry about who was watching you exhale - a place where nobody knew you, where nobody could whisper about the girl whose boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend. for three years. she's so stupid, how could she not have noticed?

well, here, you decided, that's what you would get. a humble job as a diner waitress lined up to start tomorrow, a booked room with no check-out date, not a laugh you'd recognize for miles and miles.

this is what you'd wanted, you told yourself, now, loneliness settling in your mouth the way the powder on sour candy does. this is what you have.

completely exhausted from travel and emotional havoc, you passed out that night amidst dreams of fresh starts and trees too tall to see you behind them.

such a lovely image did not last nearly an hour into the next morning, the first day of your new job, just a block or so from the inn you were staying at.

this was part of the reason you had chosen this place for your self-discovery journey, after all - the urgent hiring, competitive wage, amazingly low price for room and board.

you had worked in your university's coffee shop for a year or two to help pay your tuition, so, honestly, how different could it be?

very different, you realized, almost immediately. they were hiring urgently for a reason, which meant there was practically nobody there to train you. one of the line cooks, of all people, just threw you an apron and a name tag to wear over your uniform-compliant black skirt and shirt, mumbled something about a welcome, enunciated something louder about table three needing service.

and so your self-proclaimed new life began completely unceremoniously, with a name-tag that misspelled your name, the smell of waffles and western omelets permeating the air like some grandmother's perfume in an old living room.

at the very least, the business made the time pass quickly, as you paced from table to table, only pausing briefly to introduce yourself to the line, the host, the several curious patrons who asked about you.

"new girl," some impossibly old man husked, "they not have hot coffee where you're from?" he grimaced as he took another sip. "cold as a winter's -"

"okay, that's enough," his companion said, a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair chopped short. she gave you a sympathetic look, like you two were sharing some inside joke. you liked her immediately. "he's had about twelve cups already. don't mind him."

you felt your mouth tick up in a smile for what might have been the first time this morning as you introduced yourself to her, and her father, who you learned everyone affectionately called "old man peters." you learned that the young woman's name was bridget, and she insisted on giving you her number, in case you had any questions, or wanted to get together, or needed anything at all.

your day was already looking up, you thought, as you lifted your sulking ponytail from you back, loose strands curling at the nape of your neck, around your ears. bridget and old man peters bid you goodbye, and then the young host, a boy who stuttered so much over his name that you still didn't quite know what it was, sheepishly alerted you that he had seated a group at the booth in your section.

your flipped to a new page in your notepad as you walked back to the booth, your gaze quickly being tugged up by a drawl-ish voice blurting out "dibs! i call dibs!"

such as exclamation was followed by several groans and one "not fair, you're the only one facing the door."

your brow was slightly scrunched in confusion when you stood at the head of the group's table, four pairs of eyes faced to you in a way that made you feel like a politician about to give a speech.

you cleared your throat, not quite looking anyone in the face. "good morning," you said, "can i get you guys started with some drinks?"

you looked up from your notepad, clicking your pen against the surface of it, taking in the table of - well, you weren't really sure. construction workers, maybe? craftsmen? the four of them had on heavy canvas-like jackets, worn and worked in, highlighter-bright shirts underneath, callused hands that your observant eyes took note of immediately. they were young, too, probably about your age, which made you blush, only a little. these were not the kind of guys you had met in college, the kind who you would have taken a class on freud with, the kind who thought everything with a woman's hand around it was a phallic symbol.

"just coffee," one of them said, short. he tacked on a please when one of his friends smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

you motioned with your pen around the whole table. "for everyone?" you asked, but the question stumbled out of your mouth when your eyes caught on the last of the four, the one on the bench on the right, closest to you.

that sharp face, high cheekbones and cut jaw, should have been so serious, you thought, like some kind of statue, the kind your art history friends would have fawned over in a museum you didn't really want to go to. he should have been so serious, angular like that, but he was anything but. mirth danced in his eyes, so bright they almost sparkled. his full mouth was fixed in a sort of perpetual smirk, so ready to laugh that he was already halfway there. he had the lines around his eyes that told you his full smile would tear you in two.

you were probably staring at him, you realized, flushing deeper as his smirk broke free into something wider, all over his face.

"see, guys," he spoke, that goofy drawl you had noticed on your way over, nothing like the pretentious academics who spoke in circles. he leaned back in the booth. "doesn't matter that i called dibs. she likes me best anyways."

your face scrunched up in some combination of disbelief and hidden delight. "wait," you began, "when i was walking over here, when you said something about dibs," you fixed him with what you hoped was a glare, "you were calling dibs on me?"

he shrugged off his jacket, drawing attention to his wide shoulders, arms thick even through his bright long sleeve. you snapped your gaze back to his eyes, which shimmered, telling you that you'd been caught. "what's the big deal?"

you scoffed, blew a stray curl from your eye line. "you don't call dibs on people," you said.

"yeah, trevor," one of his friends teased, "what's wrong with you?"

"where to begin?" one of the others said, almost lost in thought.

"c'mon, sugar," trevor said, tilting his head, "'s a compliment, yeah?" his gaze rolled down your frame, almost gelatinous, meeting your eyes again reluctantly. "only 'cause you're so pretty, hm?"

you rolled your eyes, fixed your gaze on the one across from him, the one who looked the least engaged. "but, trevor," you whined, stretching out his name like salt-water taffy, "what if i wanted-" you paused, looked down at the blonde just below you.

"matt," he said, practically bored. you nodded your thanks.

"what if i wanted matt?"

his posture grew even more relaxed as he shifted his knees wider under the table. "oh, what if, sugar?" he mused, his eyes so expressive, never off of you for a moment.

"she's gonna spit in your coffee," matt said.

"how about we cut out the middle man and she just spits in my mouth?" he chirped, smirk so telling it made you flush pink.

you mumbled something about decorum before walking away in a flurry of annoyance and excitement. you couldn't really tell the difference, you realized, as you gave the poor host a pot of coffee and asked him kindly to drop it off at the back booth.

you were not something to be called dibs on, that was for sure, and you were here to find yourself, not anyone else, certainly not some guy. even if some guy had soft-looking hair and a witty mouth. even then.

you took a stabilizing breath and got back to work, noting that the back booth only got coffee, only stayed for about twenty minutes before making to leave, heavy jackets loud as they shrugged them back on.

three of the guys called out their thanks and headed out, leaving only a standing trevor there when you approached to settle their bill. thumbing through his wallet, he grinned down at you when you finally stood in front of him again.

he was taller than you thought, you realized, as he now stood at full height. you had to crane your neck slightly to look him fully in the face.

"thought you'd be shorter," you said, honestly, hoping to knock him down a peg, however mean that might have been. but of course he only smirked.

"get that a lot," he drawled, selecting a bill, putting his wallet back in his pocket with hands you had to force yourself not to stare at. "been told 've got the personality of a short guy in the body of a tall one."

you shook your head. of course someone had told him that.

you couldn't really ruminate on that, though, as he stuck the twenty in the front pocket of your apron, as well as something with a slight weight to it, urging an angry pink to the tops of your ears, the feeling of his wide hand warm, so close to you.

you peered up at him, sucked on your teeth as he pulled out his hand slowly, that ever-present smirk almost faltering at your gaze.

"thanks for the service, sugar," he said, and you probably imagined the way the end of his words sounded strained. "see you around, yeah?"

you didn't break eye contact, only let yourself smile back at him before turning and getting back to work, letting the push and pull of waitressing lull you into a rhythm during which it was practically impossible to think too heavily about bright eyes and broad shoulders.

by the end of your shift, you had been officially tired out. you were sure your hair reeked of coffee, and your ankles ached from standing all day.

going to empty your apron, however, right before you left, your hand settled on the bill from earlier, but also several wrapped butterscotch candies. your face contorted as you stared at them, wondering why trevor had put them there.

exhaustion won over curiosity though, as you thanked everyone for your first day and walked the short block back to the inn.

this won't be that bad, you were thinking to yourself as you walked up the stairs. you already had the phone number of a maybe-friend, after all, and as far as jobs went, this one could be a lot worse. good money, good way to meet new people, maybe even something pretty to look at -

as if summoned by your thoughts, when you turned out of the staircase to your hallway, there trevor was, standing on a ladder, looking into the ceiling, some box of tools on the floor.

you narrowed your eyes, bag suddenly feeling heavy on your shoulder. the presence of a new figure drew his gaze to you, and you had to scold your heart, the way it beat like a teenager at the way he looked at you, then. you didn't know him, after all, and you weren't here for anything romantic.

"you followin' me, sugar?" he asked, stepped down from the ladder, making his way over to you. his voice was slow and tired, from whatever he had done that day. you were shocked at the fact that you wanted to know what that was. his gaze shone as he gently took your bag from your shoulder and slugged it onto his own, fell into step beside you. you let him. "tell me you're following me."

you rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face wasn't going anywhere. "this is where i'm staying," you explained, "so, if anything, you're following me."

you stopped in front of your door, leaned back against it, suddenly in no rush to lock yourself behind it, alone. not when he was on this side of the door, looking like this.

almost weary with hard work, but not weary enough to sour him, just enough to make his movements and expressions slightly slower, lazier, more indulgent, like they were drenched in chocolate ganache. not when he was here, looking at you like this, like you were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

after years at some preppy, pretentious university, at which ingenuity was the most valuable currency, one you felt you lacked so disgustingly, was it really too surprising that you softened under his gaze? that you wanted to stay in it, just a little bit longer?

"sugar?" he asked, head tilted, and you realized he had been talking.

"sorry, what?" you asked, your voice soft like sponge cake, willing your eyes to focus, your mind to focus harder.

he didn't tease you too badly, though, only let his smile grow sharper with a smirk. "i said that 'm sorry if i hurt your feelings with the dibs stuff," he said, and you were almost confused at his apology. you weren't even upset, and when was the last time someone had apologized to you so quickly after doing something?

your memory cut hazily to your ex, somehow trying to convince you it had been your fault that he cheated on you, that it was something you were lacking that had inevitably led him to do that. you practically shivered, then internally scolded yourself for comparing trevor, whom you had met today, you reminded yourself, to your ex-boyfriend.

"'s fine," you said, waving him off, your back softening further into the door. "didn't really hurt my feelings."

his eyes flashed. "didn't really or didn't, sugar?" he asked, searching your face.

you swallowed, acutely aware of his attention, how it slid down your nose, your cheeks, your jaw, slow and thick as sludge. "didn't."

he gave a nod. "'m sorry anyway," he said, and it came out low. "if you really want to go for matt, i won't stop you."

and part of you wanted to blurt out i don't want matt!

but it was your first day in this place, and honestly, you were still kind of hung up on his apology, and the way it sounded from his chapped lips, and you knew to correct him would be exactly what he wanted.

so you just said "thank you," and were shocked at how gentle it sounded.

"jesus christ, distracted, are we, trev?" the voice of the young inn-keeper called from the end of the hallway. he seemed awfully chipper as he approached, hands in his pockets. "i came up to check on your progress," he said, "or lack thereof, i guess." he looked between the two of you. "now i see who's stolen your attention."

"i'm on my legally-required fifteen minute break," trevor said, half-smiling, turning back to you. "sugar, you know my brother, griff?"

you nodded, suddenly clocking the subtle ways their appearances drew from each other. trevor was taller, griff had a wider face, bigger features. but they had the same eyes, same strong nose, mirroring grins. "he owns my room," you said, dumbly, tiredly.

griff only smiled. "she's had a long day, trev, leave her be."

trevor searched your face again, seemed to find all the proof he needed - your heavy eyelids, drooping shoulders. he gently handed your bag back to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, sugar," he said, as soft as you'd heard him. so soft it startled you. "sweet dreams."

"goodnight," you said to both of them, shutting the door behind you. sleep came easily that night, again, with dreams less so of hiding behind trees and more so of rough hands and laughing eyes.

you were surprised, pleasantly so, at how quickly you fell into a routine in your new home. surprised at how quickly you let yourself call this place that.

maybe it was the way that bridget wasn't just being polite when she had given you her phone number, as she had quickly set up dates to show you all her favorite hiking spots around. your weekly hikes with her became a highlight as she told you more about the town, about her young daughter, about book club, about anything and everything. she was so kind with you that you found yourself so comfortable confiding in her. it felt so easy calling her a friend.

maybe it was the way the town seemed to accept you as one of their own so quickly and genuinely. the line cooks flirted with you in the way only line cooks do (in ways that would not be acceptable outside of a kitchen). they made you food to take home, kept you from starving. the host, harry, began to trust you enough that he asked for your help on homework. the regulars began to recognize you, know your name, ask how you were doing. griff checked in on you, asked if anything was wrong with the room, said you should feel free to use his kitchen anytime (as your room was the simplest kind, and didn't have any cooking appliances). you began to know the names of the streets, the stores, the store owners. your fresh start was starting to feel like just that - a start.

or maybe it was that same group of guys who came in every morning, at the same time, who ordered only coffee and then left in a flush of waves and heavy jackets and called-out salutations. you learned that the one with the curly hair, alex, was the quietest, probably the smartest. his closest friend, cole, was the shorter one, who had the loudest laugh. and matt was warming up to you, you thought. the more you made fun of trevor, the more he seemed to like you.

it was that same group, every day, who came in loudly and left louder, who had paint and dirt smudged on their shirts, their hands. who drank coffee like it was water. who laughed like it was easy as breathing, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

and, of course, there was trevor, who, the more you got to know him, the more trouble he became. every day, his "good morning, sugar," would reverberate through your chest, and you would drop a pot of coffee at their table, ask how they were doing, listen for their answers.

some comments about how old man peters' roof is caving in, and he should have told them about it probably a year ago, or about how the police chief's plumbing is fucked, or about how they were going over to fix bridget's sink that day. and, if it was the last one, matt would flush, which would make your eyes widen, would make you pepper him with questions about his crush.

and then, at some point during their morning break, trevor would ask something about you, about how you were, about the way you were wearing your hair, the shoes you were wearing, the book you had been reading the week before. and then, as he left, without fail, he would slip a bill and several butterscotch candies into your apron pocket, each time his hand growing heavier, more significant as it settled so close to you.

it didn't particularly help your small crush that you saw him everywhere. he was always fixing something - in the diner, at the inn, in the park downtown. you couldn't escape him and his deft hands, his working mind, his strong frame and easy laugh and addictive smile.

he was everywhere, so of course he would be here, at the grocery store, after your shift one day. you were roaming the isles, looking for a specific kind of vinegar, your basket hoisted up onto your hip, when a low whistle made you turn. you were met with that lazy smirk, your favorite one of his, the nighttime one, the tired one. he approached you, his work boots heavy on the ground.

"you followin' me, trevor?" you asked, repeating what become something of an inside joke between the two of you.

"maybe," he said, looking down at you, shimmering eyes framed by long lashes. "do you want me to be following you, sugar?"

you hummed, noncommittal, some harmony between the fluorescent lights above, the whir of the fridges the next isle over. you turned back to the shelving, resumed your survey of the contents. "your brother offered his kitchen for me to use while he's out tonight," you said, not looking at him.

"did he?" trevor mused, an almost undetectable bite in his tone.

you nodded, eyes alight with excitement. "been eating pancakes and chicken noodle soup for weeks now," you said, referring to what the line cooks sent you home with. "swear my mouth's watering just thinking about something different." you ran a thumb along your bottom lip, as if checking for spit.

if you had been looking at trevor, you would have see his shallow swallow, the way his eyes tracked your movement, how his gaze hung from your mouth like lacy ribbon. he cleared his throat.

you finally located the vinegar you wanted, on the very top shelf. pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, you reached the tips of your fingers for the bottle, only just out of reach.

trevor only chuckled as he grabbed the bottle easily, took the basket from your hip and into his own hand, dropping the vinegar into it.

"i can carry that, you know," you said, suddenly wishing you had something to do with your hands.

"i know," he said, smug.

you rolled your eyes, huffed a thank you, anyways.

"so, what're you making?" he asked as you led him from aisle to aisle, loading your basket with ingredients.

you explained to him how, in college, this one salad had been your absolute favorite to make when you needed something that made you feel good. something about the combination of arugula, kale, chickpeas, sweet potato, whatever other vegetables you had on hand, sometimes chicken, if you were feeling fancy, something about the simple dressing of oil and vinegar - it was perfect. no meal left you feeling as good as this one did.

and it was how you had made it entirely on your own, too - it wasn't some fancy steak dinner your ex had buttered you up with after a fight, it wasn't boxed brownies shared with your old best friend the night before you found out - no, this was all you.

when you looked back at trevor, there was something molten in his gaze. "sounds amazing," he said, low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear.

you tilted your head, let your smile slant across you face, scrunched up your nose, teasing. "would you want to join me for dinner, trevor?"

his face split into a grin. "i would," he said, "i would want to, please."

and so you found yourself fumbling around someone else's kitchen with an audience, washing kale and peeling sweet potatoes with fingers that twitched towards the figure across the counter, practically irritated that they weren't touching him.

you scolded your hands to behave, which became easier as the night went on, as conversation flowed like cranberry juice, the flavor of it lingering in your mouth just the same.

he might ask you about how the diner was going, to which you would look around as if to make sure no one was there. his eyes would flash. you would miss this.

"harry's been making some real progress in precalc," you would say from behind your hand, speaking of the host, whom you had come to view very fondly. "and you didn't hear it from me, but i think he's going to ask his friend jason to the school dance next weekend."

you would be flushed with excitement and pride, and trevor wouldn't be able to get much beyond that, honestly, the way it lit you up from the inside out.

but then he would clear his throat, and lean forward on his hands, and tell you that if harry needed help asking jason to the dance, he knew exactly the best crew for the job.

"don't tell me you're talking about your rag-tag group of misfits," you would say, cocking a brow as you dressed the kale and arugula.

and he would feign offense, place a broad hand over his heart. "i'll have you know that this group of misfits went 16/16 in high school dance invitations," he would say. "all four of us, all four years."

you might roll your eyes. "real band of heartbreakers, were you?" you would say.

and laughter would shine behind his eyes like christmas tree lights behind store windows, and he would stretch his arms above his head, lazily, comfortably. "'course not," he would say, his voice the sort of raspy that comes with stretching, "only alex."

and this would pull a real laugh from you, as you tossed everything together, the kind of laugh that rung in his ears, that made him pleasantly dizzy.

as the night passed on, time moving altogether too fast and the kind of slow that oozes, you would learn about how he grew up in this town, how he went to trade school, how he had had the same friends his entire life. you would ask questions about if he ever felt the desire to leave (not really), how he got into manual labor (he never really felt like he was that good at anything else), what his family was like (close, but not overbearingly so).

and, in turn, between bites and sips and laughs, you would tell him about how you grew up (humbly), what school was like (hard, but rewarding), how you ended up here (cheap housing, good job, close community). and maybe you would actually tell him about the ultimate betrayal you had faced before you left, why that made you want to be somewhere, anywhere else, somewhere where you had no choice but to make a life entirely for yourself.

at the mention of your ex his jaw might clench, his mouth twitching ever so slightly. he would mutter something about nonsense, and you would smile.

he would ask questions about your family (just your dad and you), your favorite parts of your life here (hikes with bridget, homework sessions with harry, bickering with old man peters).

and he would pout, at that, his bottom lip looking so positively delicious it stole your breath. "'m not your favorite, sugar?" he would plead, joking.

maybe you would really look in his eyes, then, find something hot, tilt your head. "you wanna be?" you would ask, breathier than you intended.

and he would smirk, somehow flipping the dynamic on its head entirely with only a single expression. "you know i do, sugar," he would tell you, low and so loaded you would blush.

it might scare you how easily you let him in, how quickly you were warming up to him. his pretty face might scare you, because pretty faces had hurt you before. there had been no one prettier than your old best friend, after all, and look how that turned out.

so, when the night grew viscous, and the meal was long over, the dishes done, a portion for griff packed up in tubberware on the counter, when he walked you upstairs to your room, both of your steps slow, reluctant, when his gaze lingered on your lips and the smell of him grew distracting, the height of him all-consuming, even then, even though you wanted to, you didn't kiss him. you only bid him a gentle goodnight.

"thank you for tonight," he would say, instead, looping his arms around your neck, hugging you close to his chest. this was so much worse, you thought, as you breathed him in, wrapped your own arms around him and squeezed. the way he held you like he was afraid what would happen if he let go. his hair so messy and his tone so genuine it almost hurt. "sweet dreams, sugar," he said into your hair before pulling away.

even though, that night, you might have dreamed about how his rough hands might feel as they held your soft cheek, how his chapped lips might slot against your glossed mouth. even if you woke up, that next morning, practically sweating. not the sweetest of dreams.

today was your day off. you had plans later with bridget, but you decided to book a haircut and blowout at the salon downtown, since you had the whole morning to yourself. the salon was one place you hadn't been in, yet, and you hadn't had a haircut in months, so you figured now was a good a time as any.

the bell above the door rang when you stepped inside, but no one seemed to notice over the shrill thrum of hair dryers, sinks, and the steady stream of gossip that you appeared to have walked in on.

"she told me her trevor went on a date, julia," one of the stylists said seriously, her eyes expressive as she sectioned her client's head of long curls. "won't stop rambling on and on about her, she says."

your heart jumped in your chest at trevor's name, sunk accordingly. he had been on a date? you weren't sure why you had assumed you were the only girl in his life at the moment, but it stung, nonetheless. you pulled at a thread on your long sleeve, eyes down.

you can't be upset, you told yourself, don't you dare be disappointed-

"oh, honey, how long you been waiting?" one of the stylists called out, making her way over to you and the front desk. "swear you have to throw somethin' at one of us when you come in or we'll never stop talking." she had such an easy way of speaking, a comfortable posture, a genuine face.

"sorry," you said, looking around, still recovering from what you'd overhead.

she just waved you off with a smile. "it's us motormouths who should be apologizing," she said before introducing herself as ginger. "now, what name is your appointment under?"

you told ginger your name, and as soon as you did, her eyes sailed up to meet yours again, wide and bright. she snapped her fingers, getting the room's attention. "you're the doll who stole our baby trevor's heart!"

you blushed furiously, felt the words in your mouth twist and tangle like a toddler's hair. "me? no, that can't be right," you said. there's no way last night counted as a date, you thought. there's no way he's talking about me.

the other stylist just squealed as you were led to a chair. "of course it's you! look at her, julia," she said to the woman in her chair, practically elated, "what a treasure!"

your blush wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"that boy's been talkin' to 's mama 'bout you, honey," julia said from her chair, her expression knowing. "he's just about smitten, she says."

"and a mother always knows," ginger said, emphasizing her words with hairbrush gestures.

so you spent your appointment getting a couple inches off, hearing about the trouble trevor used to get in when he was younger (apparently alex used to be the biggest troublemaker, though), hearing about how trevor just went around fixing whatever anyone needed fixing.

"swear that sweet boy wouldn't charge a dime if this town'd let him," ginger said as she worked long layers into your hair, "we have to sneak payment into his pockets, and even then he tries to give it back!"

your cheeks burned, your heart heavy with affection as she blew out your hair, leaving it soft and smooth. you paid, said goodbye for about ten minutes, found out just how hard it was to escape salon conversation.

"now go show off for our baby, honey!" someone called out the door after you, making you laugh. you guessed that all the stereotypes about small town hair salons were true.

you went on your weekly hike with bridget, who gave you that understated grin when she saw you. "looking good," she said, bumping her shoulder into yours. "trev doesn't stand a chance."

you rolled your eyes. "didn't get my hair cut for him."

she laughed. "i know," she responded, "but all anyone can talk about this morning is your date last night."

you couldn't help but scoff good-naturedly. "i can't believe people already know about this," you said, "it was literally last night, and it wasn't even a date."

she waved you off. "nobody cares about the logistics. even my girl was moping to me about it. she's got a little crush on her skating instructor."

"trevor teaches your daughter how to skate?" you asked, having never heard of this.

she nodded. "he's the highlight of her week," she said, her eyes soft, picturing her daughter's unabashed smile.

"get in line," you mumbled, covering your face with your hands.

why was everyone so intent on revealing adorable information about trevor to you today? didn't they know he already took up enough of your daily headspace?

"can't somebody tell me he hates animals, or something? or that he's really pretentious about art? or that he has, like, some weird fetish?"

bridget laughed. "sorry, babe," she said, "he's the town's sweetheart."

you were still reeling with all of this information when you got back to the inn, your face rosy from the outside chill, your body pleasantly awake from your walk.

you began up the stairs, humming to yourself, ready to collapse onto your bed, maybe catch up on some reading.

"you followin' me, sugar?"

you looked up, immediately, feeling your pulse in your neck, in your teeth.

there he was, of course, there he was, painting the railing in the stairwell, the sharp smell of paint faint in the air.

all dirtied up from the day, that slouch that only appeared in the late afternoon, that crinkly smile, all of it made him almost too good to be real.

"maybe," you said, like second nature now, after all those times before, his face forcing a tiny smile from your mouth.

you stood just in front of him now, held your breath as he reached up, twirled a strand of your hair around a finger. he let out a low whistle you felt in your stomach.

"lookin' awful pretty tonight," he said, not much more than a whisper as he thumbed the soft ends of your freshly-cut hair.

his words settled like thick caramel on your tongue. "thank you," you mustered, your mind spinning with all of the wonderful things you had heard about him, today.

he bent down to one knee in front of you as you collected your thoughts. "um, what are you doing?" you said, strained, dumb.

he looked up at you through those girlish lashes, smirk heavy on his perfect face. he tugged your foot closer to him. "shoe's untied," he said, gesturing to your sneaker. "may i?"

you blinked at him before nodding, because what alternate universe was this? you tried to imagine any other man you'd known willingly getting on the floor for you, just to tie your shoe. you couldn't.

he tightened your laces with nimble hands.

you cleared your throat. "heard something funny today from the ladies at the salon," you told him, trying to focus on something other than his proximity.

he hummed. "nothin' good, i'll bet," he mused, "ginger loves a good story."

"it was a good story," you said, reveled in the way his expression softened, giving you the courage to press on. he began to tie a double knot. "'bout how you're tellin' your mom we went on a date."

he pulled the bow tight, looked up a you for a second, a guilty, childish grin on his face, caught red-handed. you extended a hand to him, helped him back to his feet.

"oh, yeah," he said smugly, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall, easy, comfortable. "like how you asked me to dinner, and then cooked for me, and how it 100% was a date-"

you laughed, shook your head. "it was not!" you said, "i never said it was a date!"

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "call it wishful thinking, then, sugar."

and you couldn't focus too much on what he meant by that, so you just shook your head again. "you're too much," you said, wanting it to come out teasing, but instead there was a breathy sort of desperation behind it.

"yeah?" he asked, that smirk present as ever. you had grown so close to him without realizing it, now just a step away. him leaning back against the wall, you right in front of him, looking up at him.

you nodded, swallowed, your blood hot, your skin prickly, alive.

his eyes fixed you in place, teasing. "too much for you, sugar? can't take it?"

you bit your lip to stop any sound from escaping you, because everything seemed entirely too loud, then. you could hear your heartbeat, you swore you could hear his, the radiator could have been screaming at you. you didn't dare think about just how much you wanted to take.

to stop yourself from doing something much more serious, you simply reached your hand forward, swiped at a spot of paint on his face with your thumb.

your touch against his brow bone felt like an exhale, like melting wax. you could feel his warm breath on your hand as you pulled it back, but then he was looking at you, like that, like you were so, so special, like he would have doused his face in paint just to have your hands wipe it all away, and were you imagining the way his gaze grew fiery?

"trev! old man peters says his sink's still leaking!"

griff's voice rattled down the stairwell, smothering the flames in your eyes, if only just. just enough to break the spell, to pull away, to tell him you'd see him tomorrow for his coffee break, for his hungry gaze to follow you up the stairs until you were out of sight.

and so the routine continued, more butterscotch candies slipped into aprons, more pestering his friends, more slyly asking bridget what she thought about matt (she was deflecting, you'd observed, delighted). more helping with homework and reading in bed and cooking and snapping at old man peters to stop leaving his watch behind.

more stolen touches and longing glances and sideways smiles, backwards hats and work gloves stuffed in pockets, damp hair sticking to your neck, the hem of your skirt brushing against your thigh. more flame and softness and sweetness drenching your frame as he said hello, and goodbye, and sweet dreams, and anything else. that coil inside of you twisted tighter and tighter as you wondered what exactly was holding you back, what exactly you were waiting for.

one day, after work, there was a knock at your door. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit disappointed when you opened it.

"you coming?" griff said, "town hall meeting starts in 5."

you scrunched up your nose. "town hall? what, is it required?"

he smiled, kind. "no, but they're usually a good time," he said, "and trevor's going to be there."

you had your jacket in your hand already. "he's not the reason i'm coming," you said, following him out the door and down the street.

"i won't tell anyone," was all griff replied, his smile understanding and gentle.

you had never been to a town hall meeting before. you'd guessed that the closest thing you could imagine was a student government meeting, which you'd been a part of in college.

this seemed much more laid back, though, taking place in the middle school gymnasium. it looked like almost everyone from town was here. you noticed old man peters, sitting with bridget, her daughter buzzing around from person to person. the salon ladies were talking to pretty much everybody. there was harry, sitting next to his mom. you approached bridget as griff went up to talk to the fire chief, one of his close friends.

soon enough, the meeting began, the first issue on the docket being the prospect of a stoplight on the intersection of drysdale avenue and york street.

bridget yawned, "same issue every meeting," she whispered to you. "always divided down the middle." this time was no different, you observed, the parents in the crowd seemed completely for the stoplight, the older crowd significantly against.

"next issue, a write in from the community, quote," the representative began, reading from notecards, "should the implementation of the 'dibs' rule be observed seriously, unquote." he cleared his throat, looked up to the crowd. "thoughts?"

you stifled an embarrassed laugh, held your face in your hands as bridget rubbed soothing circles in your back. "is this actually a real-life discussion topic?" you asked, incredulous.

"just let them have their fun," she whispered in a way that made her smile evident.

"i think 'dibs' is outdated and juvenile," a woman said, "sets a bad example for the kids."

the man up front was taking notes.

"i think it's cute," bridget piped up from her chair.

"me, too!" her daughter giggled, jumping into her lap.

"alright, i've got two for cute, one for bad influence," the man said, "anyone else?"

"i think it's lame," a very matt-like voice said, gruff, short.

"one for lame," the scribe said aloud.

"well, i think you're lame," that goofy drawl called out, making you pull your head up, look around until you spotted him, near the front. he was swatting matt on the back of the head. "and i learned it from alex, so take it up with him."

his curly-haired friend hid a smirk. "it's a high school move," he explained to the crowd, before turning to face trevor. "we haven't done it in years."

"until now," trevor amended, "but you guys understand. you've seen her. you've talked to her."

ginger put her hand over her heart as if swooning.

someone coughed. your face was burning up. bridget nudged you gently.

"she's here, trev," griff said, to which the fire chief let out a hearty laugh.

"really?" he turned to face the crowd, his voice excited, hopeful, searching. "where are you, sugar?"

you raised your hand, of all things, immediately wanted to smack yourself. "hey," you said, mousy.

"hey," he parroted, mocking, but of course not maliciously. his smile broke you apart.

and then you were having a conversation with several rows of people in chairs between you, on a gymnasium floor.

"you're the only one with the dibs curse on you," he said, "so what's your take on it? should we abolish the practice for good? is it outdated?"

you swallowed, were looking only at him as the scribe sat at the front, pen at the ready. "well," you began, "it works, from what i can tell." his smile put you together again. "so it can't be that outdated."

his eyes shone, only for you. "you heard her," he said, "case closed."

"are we actually still talking about this?" old man peters asked, to bridget, but much too loudly.

the rest of the meeting passed, absolutely delivering on laughs and nonsense, as promised.

"last thing before we go," the man said, "does everyone have a ride to the away game tomorrow?"

you leaned over to bridget. "what's that?"

"the rec hockey team is away this weekend," she whispered.

"rec hockey?" you said, confused, "like kids?"

she shook her head. "like kids, yes, but not kids."

"sugar, do you have a ride?" trevor's voice rang clear against the mumbled chatter of the room.

you looked up, met his eyes again. "uh, i don't think i'm going?" you said.

there was a collective gasp, followed by silence. your eyes widened. "babe," bridget whisper-screamed at you. "everyone goes."

you cleared your throat, realizing your grave error. "well, then i don't have a ride."

"you can ride with me, honey," ginger said, sweetly, with a warning in her eye.

"trevor has to go super early since he's playing," bridget whispered from next to you. you nodded, signaling that you had heard her.

"thank you!" you called out.

rides were sorted, the meeting ended, everyone saying their goodbyes, folding chairs scraping against the waxy floor. trevor and his friends caught up with you and bridget on your way out.

trevor slung a heavy arm around your shoulders that you couldn't help but lean into. he smelled like sawdust and something citrusy. "i didn't know you played hockey," you said, looking up at him curiously, not letting yourself ruminate on how good he felt slotted against your side.

he shrugged.

bridget scoffed. "he's good, too," she said, "i hate to pump his tires, but only the best teacher for my baby girl." she pressed a kiss to the cheek of her smiley daughter, whom she had hoisted up onto her hip. "all of them play," she said, a vague gesture to the group. "lit it up in high school."

"not all of them are as good, though," trevor said, which caused some annoyed groans.

"what about heartbreaker alex, over here?" you teased.

"heartbreaker alex has grown up since junior year," alex said, soft spoken. "and it's not my fault my hair looks like this."

the shortest friend of the group, cole, the one with the loudest laugh, whom you had come to rely upon for book recommendations, put a hand in line with his brow bone, as if blocking out the sun to search for something.

"what are you doing?" alex asked.

"oh, me?" cole said, "just looking for all the girls you must be getting, since you've still got all that hair."

alex rolled his eyes, the group laughed.

"what about you, matt?" you asked as trevor held open the door, all of you stepping out into the night air. "i've heard the team's got a perfect record for dance invites. any high school stories?"

matt didn't say anything for a second, but bridget laughed. "you're really telling people that, trev, as if i didn't ask him freshman year?" she nodded towards matt, who was actually blushing, you thought, but the dark made it hard to tell. "was a tough sell, eh? he was so quiet when i asked i thought he pretending that i wasn't there."

"oh, we remember," cole said, tone alight with understanding. "funny how we grow up, but so much stays the sa-" he blew out a breath when matt elbowed him in the gut.

you smiled to yourself. "i'll see all of you tomorrow, for the game, then?" you said, the inn now steps away.

goodbyes rang out, and you made to remove yourself from trevor's embrace, but he only spun you back into his chest, pulling you close, his arms now wrapped around your back, your nose against his breastbone. you breathed in, melted into him, squeezed him back.

"did you mean it?" he said, soft, so only you would hear him.

you mumbled your confusion into his chest.

"when you said it was working? did you mean it?"

your heart jumped, his words so vulnerable you couldn't look at him. "i meant it," you whispered into his bright shirt. "you're working on me, trevor." you felt his lips brush against your hair, featherlight, before he let you go.

"sweet dreams, sugar," he said, and you walked back to your room with wobbly legs and an overactive heart.

the following day, ginger graciously gave you a ride to the next town over. she, of course, chatted you up the entire time, which you welcomed.

"i know i must be super late to the party here," you said, carefully, picking at your nails, "but what's the story behind bridget and matt?"

ginger tsked. "we're a bad influence on you, honey," she said, taking a right. "you're gonna be a big mouth like me in no time."

you laughed. "it's only 'cause matt's so obvious about it," you told her, "they've known each other forever, and i learned yesterday that she asked him to their freshman dance." you trailed off, hoping that ginger would take your cue.

she nodded, smiled fondly. "our bridget was always such a spitfire," she said, "always going for what she wanted. smart as a whip, too, but you know that."

you nodded. you did.

"and she could have had anyone, but she wanted our matthew, and he wasn't a sight for sore eyes then, like he is now."

is matt good-looking? you'd thought to yourself. you surely hadn't noticed. perhaps you were distracted. perhaps your gaze always wandered.

"but bridget marched right up, asked him to the dance, and the poor boy was so stunned it took him a full minute to say yes." she shook her head, lost in the memory.

"did they ever date, like for real?" you asked, enraptured.

she frowned. "no, i don't think so, at least. bridget was always bouncing around flings, trying out guys for a few weeks, then cuttin' 'em loose." her smile grew wistful. "then she had her darling girl, middle of senior year. dad booked it, never looked back. don't think she's been with anyone since."

you frowned, too, hating the thought of someone abandoning your friend, as lovely and wonderful as she was. what a privilege it would be to be a part of her family.

"and matt?" you asked, as the car pulled into the parking lot. you ran your palms up and down your jeans.

ginger whistled. "that boy's been starry-eyed over her since grade five," she said, "but me and the girls aren't surprised he thinks he doesn't have a shot. his self-esteem's never been the highest, not like the rest of 'em."

"not like cole, who swears he could land a plane, if it came around to it?" you said, grinning.

ginger laughed. "exactly. and not like alex, who was never without a girlfriend, and not like your trevor, who's never needed anyone to tell him how great he is."

you sucked on your teeth. "but we do, anyways," you reminded her.

"that we do, honey," she finished, putting the car in park. "let's go cheer on those knuckleheads, shall we?"

the rink was colder than you thought it would be. the walls were practically made of aluminum foil. you wrapped your arms around yourself, blew out a foggy breath, followed ginger to the away section, absolutely packed with everyone you recognized.

as you settled into the stands, your eyes immediately searched for trevor.

"he's number 11," bridget said, coming to stand next to you.

you rolled your eyes. "and what number is matt?"

she shoved you, playfully, but when spoke, it was bashful. "12," she said. "cole's 22 and alex is 39. police chief is 8, fireman spence is the goalie, and griff is the ref."

you furrowed your brow. "isn't that a conflict of interest?" you asked.

she huffed in a laugh. "if anything, it's a disadvantage for us."

the game started, and you realized very early on that maybe trevor hadn't been lying when he said not all of them are as good. he practically flew around the ice, graceful, mesmerizing. and it was obvious that he wasn't looking to show off, either, that he was just playing to have fun, and if he really wanted to, he could run the scoresheet up into oblivion.

you could feel bridget smile beside you. "yeah," she sighed. "it's pretty crazy."

"he could play professionally," you breathed.

she shrugged. "he's happy," she said simply.

cole scored twice, the other team clawed their way back in. griff threw alex in the box for boarding, which old man peters, even with his granddaughter in his lap, would not let go, keeping a one-man ref, you suck! chant going long after the power play was over.

"does he know it's griff?" you asked bridget.

"of course he does," she said. "he'll buy him a beer after this."

such was small town life, you supposed.

in the end, fireman spence made some crucial saves, keeping it tied late into the third. with about a minute left, trevor made an unreal, practically magical pass to matt, who finished it off in a one-timer that sunk into the back of the net.

the crowd erupted. you and bridget jumped up and down, holding each other as the goal horn sounded.

the team went through the line in celebration, then skating by the away section before the next face off.

trevor blew you a kiss. you shook your head at him, but couldn't wipe the smile off of your face.

the game ended in a win, and the town migrated over to the local bar. you busied yourself with harry's mom, telling her that no, she had nothing to worry about, yes, harry was quiet, but he was kind as anything, and that was most important.

everyone cheered when the team walked in. you clapped along with them, feeling a smile tug at your lips as soon as your eyes locked on trevor.

his eyes found yours immediately, that lazy grin following as he squeezed past people to get to you.

you met him halfway, a hazy neon light over your heads, making color dance in his eyes like starlight. his long hair was damp, curly at the ends in a way that made you want to reach up and tug at them.

"speechless, eh, sug?" he teased, shrugging one shoulder with exaggerated arrogance. "i know, my play tends to evoke that reaction from people. i-"

you scrunched your mouth to the side, smacked him lightly in the chest. "god forbid i try to think of something nice to say to you," you said, smiling. you made to pull you hand back, but his warm, wide palm came up to cover it, holding it against his chest.

you exhaled, looked up at him, unsure.

"what was your favorite part?" he asked, those shining eyes careful. "did you like cole's between-the-legs? or maybe my last assist?" he winked. "always a crowd favorite."

suddenly confidence welled up inside of you, a vault. but we tell him anyways, you had said. that we do.

tell him, the overhead lights whispered.

"when you blew me a kiss," you said, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, textured under your touch from his five-o'clock-shadow. "that was my favorite part."

flame crept into his gaze abruptly, suddenly, shockingly. he settled his other hand on your hip, pulled you closer to him, his grip making your breath catch. "was it?" there was a roughness to his voice that felt tangible.

you nodded slowly, speaking to his mouth. you weren't scared. you weren't running. you weren't stalling. your skin was humming, your blood felt hot. he was so perfect against you, his hand over yours somehow the most intimate touch you could remember.

he ducked his head to yours, just a breath away, so you could see the gold in his eyes. "let me do you one better," he rasped, waiting for your single nod before finally crushing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like early sunrises, slow and meaningful and only the beginning.

you pushed up onto your tiptoes, looped both of your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, closer, as he kept one hand on your hip, the other grasping the back of your neck, keeping you from collapsing into him.

kissing your ex had felt almost robotic, scientific, stiff in an endearing way at best, stiff in an awkward way in reality.

there was nothing stiff about this, nothing scientific about him. this was all feeling, all malleable, all calloused hands and chapped lips. he kissed like someone who had to work for it, like someone who didn't have to prove anything to you but wanted to, anyways.

just that was enough for you to sigh against him, the fact that there were other people around the only thing stifling your soft moan.

he smiled into your mouth, like a low-spoken secret between the two of you. "taste like butterscotch," he mumbled against your lips, pulling away only just enough to make sure his words didn't disappear unheard down your throat, almost drowsily. "you like those candies i give you, sugar?"

your chest rose and fell against his. the low music in the background roared in your ears, the neon light making him look like some stained glass thing worth kneeling for. "like 'em because you leave 'em for me," you said, your fingertips tracing the top of his spine.

his eyes shimmered. "can i tell you something?"

you nodded.

he hummed, gave a guilty sort of smile. "gave 'em to you because i didn't like the taste of 'em," he started, smirk growing wider. "and i wanted to convince myself to hold off on kissin' you. not to rush you, you know."

you understood, and your swollen lips quirked at the story, but your eyes flashed with something like hurt. "you don't like the way i taste, trevor?" even if it was his own doing, you suddenly wanted to brush your teeth.

"that's the thing." he ran a steady thumb along your hairline. "think my plan backfired, 'cause butterscotch's my new favorite flavor." his thumb reached your chin, tilting it up to his mouth again. "can't get enough of it," he murmured, a man possessed, barely audible as he kissed you again, this time with a softness that cut like a dagger.

you swore your head was still spinning the next day. what was supposed to be just another shift at the diner quickly turned into a flurry of questions, of neighbors looking for a side of gossip with their french toast, of line cooks swearing there was something different about you.

it was hard to answer anyone, to do anything, honestly, when it felt like you were floating, like your head was far, far away, up in the clouds.

harry gave you a fist bump when he saw you. old man peters told you in a stern tone that public bars were no place for fornication, to which an ecstatic bridget patted his shoulder and reminded him that it was only a (sort of) innocent kiss.

she pulled all the details out of you, lit up as you flushed and stumbled over your memories.

the police chief made some joke about that boy being a bad influence when you accidentally brought him whole milk instead of soy milk for his coffee.

ginger and the girls were like some insatiable beast that only let you be when you reminded them that if they kept you much longer, the diner would go hungry.

of course, your heart instinctively fluttered when that tell-tale gust of loud laughter burst through the door, along with the drag of heavy work boots, the shuffling of canvas outerwear, the shoving of gloves into back pockets.

you made your way to the table with their regular pot of coffee, met trevor's dancing gaze almost sheepishly.

"morning, guys," you said, smiling at all of them.

they chimed their chorus of good mornings, pouring their coffee into mugs themselves, as they always insisted on.

"so, what's new?" cole asked, his head resting on his fists. "probably nothing, right?"

alex and matt hid their laughs.

you rolled your eyes, smiled nonetheless. trevor had a hat on, today, making his hair curl out from the bottom of the brim. you tucked a curling lock behind his ear, ran your nails soothingly along the hair at the nape of his neck.

anyone watching would have seen the way his gaze melted like milk chocolate, how his shoulders softened, his posture relaxing completely into your small touch.

he looked up at you, eyes so soaked in affection it spilled down his face like mascara-stained tears. "i missed you," he said.

his friends groaned, as if they'd heard this a million times. suddenly, with a blush, you had a guess as to what his morning had been like. perhaps he had been just as distracted as you.

"i missed you, too," you said, because it was the truth.

"he almost dropped a crate on my foot this morning," matt said, bitterly.

you put a hand over your heart. "how tragic." you looked up, making eye contact with your friend across the diner. "hey, bridge! matt almost hurt his foot this morning. has science found a cure for that, yet?"

she huffed a laugh as she approached, shook her head at matt when she stood in front of the table. she held the back of her hand to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. "are you sure you're okay, sweet boy? this sounds serious," she joked.

matt had paled. trevor pulled you into his lap and you hid your laugh in his collarbone.

"'m fine," matt bit out, to which bridget smiled.

"thank god, that was close," she said. her gaze wandered, landed on something out the window. she squinted. "did somebody dig up some of the flowers outside?" she asked.

"dig?" alex mused, "maybe rip is a better word, eh, trev?"

"right. almost forgot." trevor held you in his lap with one hand, reached the other to the side. suddenly several flowers were being held in front of you, thin, spidery roots still intact. "sugar, will you go to the valentine's day skate with me?"

you smiled, wide and toothy, touched one hand to his face as the other grasped the humble, earthy bouquet. "of course i will, handsome," you said, "what's the valentine's day skate?"

"pta event, tomorrow," bridget said, looking on with interest. "whole town shows up."

"this town shows up for everything," you replied.

she smiled fondly. "heart-shaped balloons and fruit punch and ice skates. what's not to love?"

you turned your neck to look back up at trevor. "'m honored to have been on the receiving end of one of your famous invitations," you teased, "even if it's not for a dance." his delight rumbled into your shoulders, the back of your thighs, firm and warm.

cole yawned, stretched. "duty calls, fellas," he said, making to get up.

you reluctantly pushed up from trevor's lap, quickly pouring his untouched mug into a to-go cup. the team filed out with their typical string of thank yous and goodbyes, matt's extra glance at bridget met with a returning smile.

then it was you and trevor, as the morning break always ended, like clockwork, like a bedtime story that was comforting in its predictability. he tucked a bill in your apron, several candies, the weight of them alone making you smile.

"did i tell you how pretty you look today?" he told you.

"no," you mused, your hands clasped behind your back, shifting on your feet.

he hummed. "so pretty, sugar, never been so nervous to ask someone out," he admitted, that smug smile lazy across his face.

you tilted your head. "don't be nervous," you told him. "you're the easiest yes i've ever had."

at your words he ducked his wide shoulders down to you, flipped his hat backwards on his head so as not to impede you in any way, kissed you with a rough palm on your soft face, your hands still behind your back as you met him up on your toes.

a different kiss, one so lovely, still, soft and beautiful, drenched in daylight.

would your head ever stop spinning, when it came to him? would you ever come down from the clouds, again? even if you did, would there not be cumulus tufts in your hair, wisps of cirrus in your lashes?

he was proving it difficult, especially that next day, the fourteenth of february.

you had the morning to yourself, existing slowly and methodically, reading and running errands, finally starting to get ready for your date in the late afternoon.

before you knew it, there was a knock at your door, just as you had swung your jacket on. you swung it open to find him leaning against the doorframe, the picture of ease, shoulders drooping the way they always did after a working morning.

"ready to go?" you asked, making to close the door behind you before pressing up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. he caught your face in a hand before you could, though, steering your lips towards his mouth instead. you laughed against his lips. "greedy," you taunted, pulling away, letting yourself lean into his warm side.

"got no idea, sugar," he admitted, voice twinged with a day of speaking. you walked together to the high school ice skating rink, only a few minutes away, the brisk february air biting at your nose, your ears. you caught up on the morning, what book you had finished, how annoying ginger's husband was being about the state of his rain gutters.

when you entered the rink, finally, pushing forward the old doors, you couldn't help but smile, and trevor couldn't help but watch you.

everyone was here, of course they were. balloons hung from the top of the glass, streamers decorating every archway and spare inch. a massive table of themed refreshments was just next to the bleachers.

it looked like something out a ninety's film, mixed with the unique small town charm and wintery love you had come to know so personally.

you and trevor quickly got your skates on, all lingering touches and knowing smiles, and headed for the ice.

you were shaky at first, but his hands were so tight on yours, you knew there wasn't a chance he would let you fall. he spun you around the rink easily, twirling you like a ballroom dance floor, ever the show-off, anything to make you laugh.

"hey, harry!" you called out, at one point, noticing your host-friend helping a taller, skinner kid his age onto the ice. he waved, his eyes glittery in a way you recognized. is that jason? you mouthed. harry nodded, smiled shyly. you gave him an impressed thumbs up, trevor whistled.

you asked trevor how he got into hockey, watched how his mind waltzed behind his eyes when he talked about outdoor rinks with his friends in elementary school, how even piled-on scarves and hats and puffer jackets didn't stop that flying feeling.

significance would gather in your stomach, butterflies morphing into something much more serious, the kind of flame you'd find in a living room fireplace, in the hearts of teenage lovers.

you skated by cole, scooping up the snow he had made with quick starts and stops, and alex, whose neck was becoming the new home of said snow.

alex grunted, immediately breaking into stride to catch a fleeing cole, whose bright and clear laugh echoed under the roof like church bells.

the fire and police departments had started a relay race, ginger and her girls had formed a circle close to the hot chocolate.

old man peters held his sleeping granddaughter in his lap, bouncing his knee gently, both of their smiles blissful.

trevor's hand found your far hip, pulling you into his warm side. you sighed, looked up at him as you let your fingers trace along his jaw.

"touchy today, sugar, hm?" he said into your hair, a rumble to his tone that told you he liked it.

you hummed, nodded. "you just look so..." you trailed off, in thought, thinking about what, exactly, you meant to say. he looked what? practically edible? like an ocean you wanted to drown in?

how could you tell him you'd been avoiding looking at his hands, for fear you'd blurt something out about wanting them around your neck?

you just swallowed, cleared your throat. his smirk was a flash of teeth.

"you feelin' okay?" he cooed. "should i take you home?"

you found yourself nodding, even though you hadn't been at the rink for long.

"yeah?" he mocked, taunting, his hand on your hip suddenly firm, burning.

bridget's laugh cut through the sizzling air like a stream of cold hose water. you both turned to look at where she now sat, having obviously fallen onto the ice. she peered up at matt through her blonde bangs. "some teacher you are," she laughed, "i knew trev was the right choice for my girl's lessons."

matt shook his head, a barely-there smile on his thin lips. he offered her a hand, steadily helped her to her feet, an almost undetectable shake in his breathing as bridget grabbed onto his forearm for extra stability. "alright, smart ass," he mused, "no help for you, then."

he made to drop her hands, to leave her on her own, but she latched onto him tighter. "yeah right," she said, "you're not going anywhere, sweet boy."

cole's laugh sparkled at matt's flush.

you and trevor were already on the way out, bidding your short goodbyes, half-assed excuses about not feeling well given and taken with knowing eye-rolls.

he walked you back to the inn, up the stairs, his hands on you ever-so-distracting, his voice a careless rasp, your heart beating heavy in your chest.

you finally made it to your closed door, your back against it as he looked down at you with that heated gaze, his frame boxing you in.

"well, get some rest, sugar," he said, slowly, smiling. "since you're not feeling well." he twirled a strand of your hair around a finger.

you sputtered. "what? trevor-"

his eyes widened in mock-surprise. "oh, is there something you want?" he asked.

you clutched at his shirt with your fist, pulled. "please."

"please, what, sugar?" he asked, so smug you wanted to punch him. "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

"you," you whined, but that wasn't enough.

"oh, is that it?" he drawled, ducking his head down to you, so close, but not close enough, not even a little.

you worked your jaw, so frustrated. "just," you tried, "just please, touch me, trevor, i just wanna feel you."

he smiled, held the side of your face in his palm. "am touchin' you, sugar," he said, "tellin' me this isn't enough?"

you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, groaned at his feigned confusion. "shut up," you breathed, his mouth an inch from yours.

"make me," he bit back, and then you were kissing him. you swore your lips would be charred, later, as if in proof. you reached a hand behind you, twisted open your door, while the other rooted in his hair, tugged him inside your room as he moaned against your lips.

one of his hands grasped the back of your neck, the other a bruising grip in your side, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees felt the blunt edge of the bed.

you barely registered as he reached under you, flipped you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he sat down on the comforter, far too caught up in this kiss, somehow still so different from ones you has shared before. so charged you felt the air might combust at any second, that, despite his relentless repairs, there was no way this inn could withstand the way he was kissing you, now. surely, the roof would cave in under the weight of your want, water would sear straight through the pressurized pipes.

he smiled against your mouth when you started to rock your hips back and forth across his lap, just so desperate for something, anything.

your exhales came out short, little pants as you reveled in the little friction you were getting against his firm thigh, covered in his heavy work pants, nothing close to what you really wanted, but something, at least.

mercifully, he moved your clothes aside, rocked you more forcefully, making the sensation practically blissful. you dropped your heavy head to his neck, moaned into it.

"oh, sugar," he cooed, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "so greedy for it, hm?"

you nodded into his neck, the tough texture combined with the heavy weight of his thigh catching you in just the right spot, urging a whimper from your throat.

"makin' a mess of me, yeah? could cum just from my thigh?" he said, almost like he felt sorry for you, but you could hear the smile in his voice. you bit down gently on the space between his neck and shoulder, your small retaliation, smiled at his groan.

you slowed your rhythm, picked your head up, let your chest rise and fall as you looked at him in the face, searched his eyes.

his face was slightly flushed, his eyes only just a bit glassy, but he looked at you like you were a wonder, like some divine power had made her way into his lap.

you pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, loved the way you could feel his smile crinkle and widen under your lips.

"please, trevor," you whispered, your touch so soft around his neck. "please just give me what i want."

you shifted on his lap until you felt him, hard and hot and heavy underneath you. his voice came out with a strain. "anything, sugar," he told you, "just tell me."

you lifted your hips up, could feel how wet you were, could tell you had probably left a trace of yourself on his pants. "wanna cum on your cock, trevor," you breathed, couldn't help your sly grin when he immediately began to tug his clothes aside. "please, please let me. i know i'm so greedy-"

he was nodding like he understood as he angled your hips up higher, shifted you so that you sat right above him as he pumped himself up and down, once, twice, so obviously ready for you. "you are, sugar," he said, so eager it almost sounded like a whine, "but i'll give you anything you want, swear it." his hands found your hips. "just promise you'll only be greedy for me, hm?"

you sank down onto him with a nodded promise, bit your lip at the slow, scorching pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulled at your middle, that you felt in your toes. you blinked, trying to get used to the sensation, trying to muffle the groan in your mouth.

"fuck," he moaned, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like you might float away if he let go, "all the way, sugar, 'atta girl." you huffed a short breath when he was all the way in.

words felt far away, suspended in bubbles that whirled around your head.

"speechless, eh?" he teased, and you had a sense of deja vu. "don't worry, sugar. common re-"

and you could have growled at him for alluding to the fact that other girls had felt this, that there were other people in the world who knew what this felt like, so you fitted a delicate hand over his mouth and rolled your hips up and back on him until he was the speechless one, moans falling from his mouth, his brow pinched in pleasure.

"don't worry," you breathed, your mouth an inch from his ear. "common reaction."

you began to move your hips up and down faster as the stretch gave way to something dizzyingly good, as he began to thrust back up into you. so hard and fast, but he held you like something precious. his rhythm built until your mouth fell open, until sweat shone on the high points of his face, until time melted away, until you were reminded of what you'd mistaken him for when you'd first seen him, all that time ago - some ancient sculpture. a work of art.

he cursed as your clit caught on his pubic bone, the friction so overwhelming, and you clenched down on him. "give it to me, sugar," he said, but the strain in his voice made it sound like a plea. "fuck, let me hear you, yeah?" his tone grew gentle. "been wantin' to hear you for so long."

you tightened around him further at his small admission, let your nails rake down his neck, probably a little too hard. he grunted, thrusted harder, shifted you closer to him.

you moaned his name at the new angle, one you felt in the tips of your ears, your hairline, your tongue.

you were so close, so impossibly almost there. "please make me cum," you whined, "please, need you so bad." your exhale was practically pained as you ran your fingers over the red marks on his neck your nails had left. "don't i deserve it, baby?"

he grunted, and it was different. you felt his stomach and thighs clench, his hips sputter as his head spun with the fact that you'd gone right to begging him, skipped the asking part. he pressed his hand to your lower stomach, let his thumb catch against your clit, sending you over the edge in moments. "'course you deserve it, sugar," he rasped, gravelly, in your ear as you rode out your high, his thrusts growing wild. "been so good."

you clenched down on him, forcing his own orgasm, fast and all-consuming, the smell of him everywhere, mixed with your perfume. your exhales were warm and heavy, transparent clouds that settled on the floor of your room, making it every bit the dreamland it had become in your mind.

he held you so close to him as he pulled you to his chest, leaned you both back on your bed. you stared up at the ceiling.

about time, one of the tiles whispered, holding a crisp fiver.

couldn't have waited another week? the losing tile muttered bitterly.

you smiled as his rough hand found your face, tilted it towards him. he was smiling. your stomach fluttered as you felt your own mouth pull wider.

"what?" he asked, his voice rough, drowsy with use.

you shook your head. "nothing," you said, "just you." your eyes crinkled under the weight of your happiness. "i'm callin' dibs on you."

his eyes lit up as he pulled you in for another kiss, slow and overflowing with meaning. he hummed. "butterscotch," he whispered against your mouth. "my favorite."

fin.

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earthtooz · 1 year

Note

rin kiss cam absolutely a masterpiece, i loveeee it so much <3 but i got an opposite idea. since you are very damn talented writing for sae, perhaps where you and sae had an argument which upset you so much, you have been ignoring him. then the following day, sae has a football match. after the match which of course they win, all the cams are on you and he said “please give me another chance to fix this, us” THEN THEN he held a massive bouquet of roses DJOWJDOSHDJSJDJ

for @limitlesshq - changed up the storyline a little, anon, sorry! your ask gave me inspiration for this, i'm sorry if you don't like the alterations, but i hope you enjoy nevertheless! this is VERY unedited.

sae, who has a sharp tongue and an even sharper attitude to match with that blunt personality of his. sae, whose words burn and singe your skin, leaving searing pain behind that you try not to show, especially when the venom drips onto your skin and brands you with shame, humiliation, and wrath. sae, who has never talked to you like he had in the argument you had two nights ago.

since then you hadn't talked to him, cringing at the thought of messaging him and reaching out. your friends tell you that you should try and mend whatever has happened, that knowing the two of you, sae's probably feeling the same and misses you too. your heart agrees but your conscious is still a little scarred, wincing when you recall the words that were thrown around.

sae had sent you a few posts here and there- like he sometimes does on instagram (they're hardly funny and you're still trying to find a way to tell him that), and you would only respond with a double click of the message instead of a proper response. other than that, he hadn't reached out in any other way.

the problem was that tonight you had a match to attend, with tickets that sae personally booked for you so it'd be a little harsh to not go.

just because you were still... upset at him doesn't mean that you didn't love him.

but did he want you there? what if he doesn't want to see you? what if he's still mad? that's probably why he hasn't made any attempts to try and talk it out and lord knows that you're still too busy fighting your own thoughts to make the first move.

pathetic really, it is, but when itoshi sae is your partner and the person who you have to apologise to... it's a little hard...

nevertheless, you go. your eyes lingered on the jersey he had given you, debating on whether or not you should wear it.

you decide against it, walking out of your apartment with a sinking feeling that it was a decision you'd regret. at least you still looked cute.

arriving at the stadium, you occupy your seat quite quickly especially since you were watching solo today. it's always daunting to be alone, especially in an environment like this, but you don't want any of your friends to witness how rocky you and sae are right now, so just purchasing this one ticket was a good idea.

even if that meant you had to cure your own boredom by scrolling on your phone whilst waiting for the match to start.

despite your indifferent front, your stomac was doing somersaults from where you jittered with anxiety. was showing up the right move? what if he didn't want you here?

then the stadium announcers begin talking, shushing everyone almost immediately as the teams are introduced. each running onto the grassy field when it's their turn, basking the roars and screams of the crowd that came to support them.

when real madrid comes out, your eye immediately lands on the figure of your boyfriend. although you can't see him all that clearly, it's not hard to identify him from his magenta hair and build; one that you see practically all the time (excluding the last three days).

he's scanning through the crowd, whipping his head around as if in search for someone, and when he finds the vip section for real madrid, his eyes land on you. you can't see him clearly, but there's a shift from his figure, his aura darkening as he slows his steps a little, falling behind from his team.

a fellow teammate has to push sae a little to snap him out of whatever funk he was in and a part of you twists uncomfortably at this weird behaviour of his.

all because he saw you. maybe it wasn't the right choice to come tonight. what if you impact his play?

the kickoff begins before you can think too much about it and the match officially starts, the players scrambling around the field.

90 minutes are over before you can count, the victory going to real madrid (to your relief because thank goodness you didn't affect their precious midfielder).

however, where you thought you would head home immediately after the match, it seems like sae has other plans as he runs towards the barriers separating the audience and the field, eyes locked on you the whole time. he beckons for you to come over and with a little hesitation, you do, weaving through exiting crowds in anticipation for what he'd need.

"congrats for the win," you say in greeting, plastering on a smile to give him the false perception that you were okay. he didn't need a victory to be soiled. that'd be a rough way to end such a pleasant event.

he doesn't meet your smile. instead, his eyes seem troubled, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he looks you up and down again and again, as if his eyes are deceiving him.

"you're not wearing my jersey," he says finally, looking back up at you with turmoil clear in his eyes.

"oh," you look down at your own outfit. "yeah. i decided not to."

"why?"

"well after our argument i didn't know where we stand," you confess shyly. he frowns further before stepping back.

then he takes off his jersey- the one he was wearing, and fiddles with it until it's facing a certain way. he had a long sleeve shirt on underneath but without the jersey, you can see that he's wearing the couples necklace you got for your anniversary.

he then threads the jersey on over you and despite being shocked at his abrupt actions, you comply nevertheless, weaving your arms through the holes.

sae hums in approval and you feel a little gross wearing his sweat-sopped shirt, but he looks content and happy. a stark contrast to the troubled expression he was wearing previously.

you open your arms for a hug. he accepts it, winding his arms around your torso as yours go around his neck. the athlete breathes you in, relishing in the feeling of being so close to you after so long.

"are we okay?" he asks, voice muffled as sae hugs you a little tighter.

"yeah," you respond. he takes his head out of your shoulder, indifferent eyes glossy. you think they're tears, but you're not going to give yourself such high credit.

"missed you. i hate it when you're mad at me."

you chuckle, pressing a kiss to his nose, causing him to scrunch his face at the sensation. "i wasn't mad, sae. i thought you would be."

"me? why?"

"i don't know. you're kind of scary, y'know. especially to those who have wronged you or you don't care about."

he softens before bringing his head to your shoulder again, finding solace in your touch. "but you're neither."

"noted," you laugh, running your hands through his hair. everything feels okay again.

you only find out after the match that sae was hoping you'd come all along and that he even brought gifts for you as a way of apologising after the match.

#sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ earf's ideas that i'll never write #for limitlesshq merry christmas #earf's sae rambles #earf's inbox hours ✌️

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abbyromanoff · 9 months

Note

hi can you do an intersex scarlett with fem reader where they go out to eat for their anniversary and the reader teases scarlett for acting needy and being all flustered, then they go home and have passionate sex which ends up with reader having rose, with praise, daddy kink and back scratching (r to scarlett) i’m kind of a slut for back scratching lol. ps: i’m the same anon who asked for the wanda cam girl fic, the mommy reader fic and the mechanic nat!😁)

LOVERS ANTHEM

PAIRINGS: Scarlett Johansson x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,247

WARNINGS: smut, Scarlett has a dick, fingering, breeding, teasing, public sex, car sex, blowjobs, scratching, praise, degrading, daddy (S), jealousy, possessiveness, pet names (baby, sweetheart, my love, darling, etc), mentions of blood, crying, think that’s all! :)

Grammarly wasn’t working so I had to do this with no spelling-check, ignore any mistakes!!

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Happy anniversary, my love,” Scarlett murmured against your hands, her lips lingering on the backs of them as you didn’t pull away. You only smiled, your cheeks turning red as did hers.

“You look beautiful tonight, so beautiful.”

“As do you, Scar.” Before she could respond, you both were greeted by the waitress serving you. She kindly asked for your requests before returning to the kitchen, grabbing your drinks, and dropping them off when she came back only minutes later.

“I still can’t believe you took me here, this place is fancier than the Met Gala.” You joked, your eyes roaming the building while your wife let out a short chuckle. You two had known each other since you were teenagers and had been together for nearly six years now. Although, it was your first year being able to call her your wife. Scarlett’s job made it nearly impossible to have relationships, or successful ones at least. But somehow, you two made it work. It wasn’t easy seeing her leave for months at times, but it was all worth it because, at the end of the day, you’d always have her.

“What can I say, you have the princess treatment.” She shrugged, leaning back in her chair to take a small swig of her wine. She watched you do the same, eyes trained on your lips when you slightly parted them to allow the liquid in. You then licked your lipstick-covered lips as a small moan escaped you when the drink hit your tastebuds.

She cleared her throat after a moment too long of staring, adjusting herself in her seat and mentally thanking all gods that the food came just in time. The waitress placed your plate in front of you carefully, then handed Scarlett her own. She quirked a brow as the lady turned to you, asking if there was anything you might need and leaving a moment later when you refused.

“Looks like someone has a crush.” She said before taking a bite out of her food, nearly choking when she realized how hot it was.

“Oh, please, she’s probably like ten years younger than me.” She nodded, clear signs of jealousy that tried to hide making way to the surface.

“Hey, look at me,” She did as you asked. “I’m yours, okay? I wouldn’t be wearing this ring if that wasn’t true.” You showed off the expensive piece of jewelry adorning your finger, the crystal shining under the light hanging from the ceiling.

“Well, I would hope so, or else I’d have to ask for that ring back.” The rest of the dinner went smoothly, at least in your eyes. The waitress checked on you two often, sending obvious signs your way that you acted oblivious to. Scarlett was grateful for that, but she wasn’t grateful for the tent in her pants. She tried hiding it with her hand purse, but that quickly failed when you picked up notice of her actions.

You had been teasing her the entire time without even knowing. First the lip-licking, then the small moans when you’d take a bite of your food or a sip of your wine, and then with the way words seemed to ease out of your mouth like it was nothing. She’d watch you bite your lip with a small smile after a joke she’d tell or a funny memory you’d make remembrance of, it drew her in from day one.

Your outfit wasn’t helping either, she had to help you zip up the back of your dress before placing the necklace she bought you earlier that day around your neck. She could still smell your perfume lingering on your skin, and the fact that it was her perfume you stole made it even better. Her girl, wearing her perfume, with the necklace she bought you, and the ring she proposed to you with; nobody would ever be able to have you the way she did.

“Scar? You okay?” She had been trying to focus on what you had been saying, but she was too attentive to your dress that hung low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage, the rest was left to the imagination. Anyone’s imagination. She quickly came to the conclusion in her head that she wasn’t the only one able to see you like this, your server and many others dining in could. They could all see her girl, her wife, in all the ways she didn’t want them to.

“Scarlett!” You snapped your fingers in front of her face, making her whip her head back up to direct her eye line back to your own. You playfully scoffed, making her gulp nervously.

“Seriously? You’re horny in the middle of a restaurant?” You gave her a smirk and she nearly jumped in surprise when she felt you brush your leg against her own. You could practically feel her cock straining against her suit pants and you could see how hard she was trying to not bend you over in front of everyone right here, you almost felt bad for her.

“Let’s go, we’re leaving.” She left two one-hundred-dollar bills on the table and rushed you both outside, keeping her mini purse over her crotch. You were immediately swarmed by a large number of paparazzi shining their cameras in your faces and asking questions you were too out of it to hear.

Once you got to the car you were pushed into the passenger door that Scarlett had opened for you before she sped over to the driver's side. You were shocked she didn’t drive over any of the cameramen with them crowding around the car and her frustrated self.

Finally, she was able to pull out of the parking lot and start her way to your shared home quickly. Her hand was resting on your inner thigh, rubbing small circles with her thumb as she was getting closer to your core. You shivered in anticipation, eyeing her large bulge with hunger.

Your wife looked over at you when she heard your seatbelt unbuckle. It was a red light, and it felt like it had been taking forever just for the next intersection to go.

“What are you doing?” You leaned over the dashboard, unzipping the fly of her pants and setting her cock free from the confinements. She gave you a hazy smile that you didn’t get to see as your mouth pressed against her length. Small lipstick stains were left on the skin as you teasingly pecked all over.

“Baby, someone could see us.” She frantically whispered, looking out each window for anyone who may have caught sighting of you.

“Aww, is someone a little camera shy? Don’t act all innocent, we both know you’d love to have someone catch us.” You watched as her cock twitched at your words and laughed, letting your tongue brush over her tip and reveling in the breathy moan she let out from above you.

“Does that turn you on, Scarlett?” She nodded. “Yeah? Of course, it does, you just want everyone to see that you own me, don’t you?” Again came her nod, this time with hesitation. You knew it was nearly impossible for her to speak in the moment, so you gave in and let your mouth wrap around her tip, your tongue licking the drops of pre cum oozing out of it.

The GPS had alerted you both that you were minutes away from arriving at your destination, the new information causing you to lower your head and take more of her in your mouth. Your tongue licked over the veins adorning her length, a whimper escaping from deep inside of your wife’s throat when you gagged around her.

Tears pooled in your eyes as the head of her cock hit the back of your throat, your hand finding its way around the rest of her that couldn’t quite fit. You stroked her slowly, letting your head go up and down as you felt her free hand traveling across your back and landing on your nearly exposed cunt. The dress had ridden up enough to show off the panties you had worn just for her and she ran her finger along them, feeling your wetness seeping through the fabric. It didn’t take long before she pushed them to the side, letting her digits slowly seep into you in order for you to adjust to the newfound feeling. You instinctively pushed back into her, the bumps on the road causing her to nearly jolt inside of you. The vibrations sent from your mouth and to her length only encouraged the coil in her stomach waiting to snap.

“That feel good, sweetheart? Yeah, you love daddy’s fingers, don’t you?” The car pulled into your driveway and she quickly stopped and turned off the car. She adjusted her seat to lean back for more room, her free hand previously on the wheel now resting on top of your head. She guided you up and down while her digits slid in and out of you quickly with no remorse.

“Oh, baby, daddy loves hearing you choke on her cock. That’s it, good girl.” There was no warning besides the thrust of her hips when she came down your throat, chanting your name rapidly and squeezing her eyes shut. There were a few drops that oozed down her length, but you tried swallowing every little bit you could. She quirked her lips when watching you, desperate to feel and taste every part of her.

You were finally able to breathe as you disconnected from her cock, a small string of spit following suit. Your tongue instantly landed on the drops of cum that had escaped from your mouth, making her erection rise the more you suckled on the sensitive area.

“You’re such a cock-hungry whore, milking me fucking dry.” She muttered through gritted teeth, letting her fingers ease out of your warm walls as you went to sit up.

“Did I do good, daddy?” You asked with faux innocence, knowing just how much it drew her crazy. She groaned, pressing her lips against yours as she tasted herself on your lips. Her tongue slipped through your mouth while her hand rested on the side of your face to pull you in closer.

“Oh, you did so good for me, love. I’m so, so proud of my girl.” She muttered against your lips, letting her fingers that were covered in your juices replace her mouth. You sucked on them without hesitation, staring at her through hooded eyes that had her bucking into nothing.

“Stay here.” She quickly left the car after zipping her pants back up, walking to your side of the car and, once again, opening the door for you. She didn’t give you time to move as she quickly grabbed you by the waist, tossing you over her shoulder and giving a small smack to your ass before rushing inside the house. You couldn’t see much in the rooms full of no brightness, that was until she entered the bedroom and switched the light on.

You felt yourself being tossed on the bed as she quickly unbuttoned her shirt and removed her pants, leaving her in just the undergarments she had chosen for the night. She quickly did the same to you, eager to see you naked and open for her.

“Come on, pretty girl, let me see you.” Her arms were at either side of her head as she leaned down to kiss you passionately, leading a hand to her crotch where she palmed herself.

“You see that, baby? You’ve made me so fucking hard, I just need to be inside you already.” You looked down and noticed her cock straining in her boxers.

“Please take them off, I want to see you…all of you.” You murmured, hooking your fingers on each of the straps on her bra. You pulled them down her shoulders and let them rest loosely on her arms while you then ventured to her back where the clasp was the only thing keeping you from seeing her breasts. You silently asked permission which you were granted and then let the clothing fall, sucking in a deep breath when you eyed her bare chest.

While you were too entranced in toying with her hardened nipples, you hadn’t noticed her length prodding at your hole. She didn’t bother to slip on a condom, there had never been an issue where she couldn’t pull out in time.

“Ah! Wait, it- it hurts, a lot.” She bit her lip to suppress any sounds that could escape her when she felt your warm walls clamping around her with a strong hold.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, baby girl. Is this all for daddy, hm?” She asked, gathering your wetness on her fingertips only to lick them off moments later. She moaned at the taste, acting like a starved animal with how hungry she was for you.

It wasn’t long until you gave her the okay to move and you soon after felt her slowly deepening inside of you. The intrusion had you whining, but she was quick to shut you up with her own.

“Just- just a little more, you can take it.” She leaned down to rest her face on your shoulder blade, her nostril placed against your neck where she could still smell residents of your perfume.

“You’re taking me so well, baby.” She pecked your neck softly, smiling when you giggled at the sensation.

“Is it okay to move?” She asked after a minute of silence. She was so deep inside of you, you could feel her pelvis bone hitting yours.

“Yeah…yeah, you can move.” Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the movements inside of you start back up again. It wasn’t as painful as it was pleasurable, but there were still small swabs of discomfort as her tip pressed against your womb repeatedly.

“Only I get to fuck this pussy, you got that?” You nodded in response to her question. “You belong to me, you belong to daddy, baby.”

“I- fuck! I- I belong to you, daddy.” Her hips quickened in their pace as you tumbled into spews of nonsense and jumbled words. You wrapped your legs around her waist as they pressed onto the skin of her ass, your breathy moans and pants only further turning on the blonde.

“Aww, is your daddy fucking you that good, darling?” She mocked a pout, watching the tears slip down your cheeks, ruining your mascara. You didn’t wear makeup often, but you wanted to make this one day special, and, god, did you exceed your aspirations.

She grasped your hips in both hands and lifted you up ever so little, smirking when she realized how badly the angle affected you.

“Yes! Right there! Right fucking there, Scar!” You yelped out when feeling a slap against your skin, the pain only causing an even higher-pitched moan to leave you.

“That’s not my fucking name.” You apologized weakly as your hands grasped onto any part of her they could find. They went to her shoulders and soon traveled down her back with your sharpened nails leaving claw-like marks. She hissed in pain when she felt blood being drawn, but it only made her harden her thrusts.

“Who would ever think such a sweet, innocent girl like you could be such a dirty little slut?” She sunk her teeth into your neck and felt your legs shaking around her body.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?”

“Yeah, need to cum so badly, daddy.” You whimpered, grinding your teeth together in order for some sort of blockage to your loud noises, you knew there would be complaints later on if you didn’t.

“You think you deserve to cum?”

“Please, daddy, I’ve been so good, been such a good girl for you. I- I made you cum already, and- ah!” She licked over the bruising areas on your neck to soothe the pain, hoping it would cause some sort of relief.

“And what, sweetheart?” You struggled to let the words out, but they came pouring out of you before you could stop them.

“And I want you to cum…inside me. Please, daddy? Will you make your little girl a mommy?” She moaned at the title you gave yourself, her hips stuttering in their movements. She knew she was nearing her breaking point, and your pleas weren’t helping her from preventing it.

“You want daddy’s cum, huh? Oh, I bet you’d look so beautiful carrying my child.” You were both about to snap, the dirty talk only seeming to quicken it.

“Let me have your babies, daddy, cum inside me.” You begged in a quiet whisper, almost instantly after feeling warm spurts of her release coating your walls.

“Fuck, I’m- I’m gonna make you a mommy, baby girl, I promise.” The coil in your stomach snapped as you came with a silent scream, your nails once again digging into your wife’s skin.

Scarlett felt your juices coating her cock while hers continued to unload deep inside of you. She knew there was no chance of you not getting pregnant after this, the lifetime goal and dream shared by you two finally being fulfilled.

“You just needed me to fuck some sense back into you, huh?” You chuckled breathlessly and felt her length slowly departing from you. She watched as cum oozed out of you, only for her to collect every last drop with her fingers and push it back inside the best that she could. She smiled to herself when imagining a few months from now when you’d both soon be mommies.

“Happy anniversary, pretty girl.” You heard being mumbled into your neck, the sensation tickling your skin and causing you to giggle. The woman smiled from behind you, the blanket being the only thing to cover your naked bodies.

“Happy anniversary, Scar.” You held onto her arms that were wrapped around you, finding her warmth to be a sense of comfort. You both let out content sighs and held one another close, hoping to bask in every second of this moment.

“Mommy! Momma! Wake up, it’s pancake day!” Your three-year-old daughter yelled, bursting through the door to your bedroom. You internally groaned when you felt her jumping on top of you, poking at your face, and laughing when you grimaced.

“C’mon, mommy, I want pancakes!” You wished to have her type of energy at nearly eight in the morning, but you assumed it would leave her system in a couple of years.

“Baby, it’s me and mommy’s day today, just give us five more minutes, okay?” Your wife murmured, clearly upsetting the younger girl who gasped in shock. She climbed over to her already snoring form and let her knee dig into her ribcage.

“Don’t hurt momma, Rosie.” She looked back over at you, giving you her best glare that was a mix between anger and her puppy dog eyes. You always said she looked just like your wife.

“Don’t be on her side, mommy.” You sighed and, within only ten minutes, which was surprisingly fast for you, made a compromise with your daughter. She’d let you two shower and get dressed while she could help herself to some more playing time with her dolls.

The moment your daughters' footsteps echoed away, your wife turned to you, kissing up your arm and reaching to your neck where she whispered, “You think we have time for a quickie?”

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lustlovehart · 1 month

Note

since reqs are still open i have a thought,,,,

scara/wanderer falling in love with reader all over again after he forgets them and everything else after the attempt of becoming god feel free to ignore those

A/n: For the sake of this request, he forgets who he is for months instead of just a day.

Summary: He’s had no name for so long, maybe his salvation is the voice that has remained in his head. Though, it seems that voice has turned to reality.

Warnings: Told from his perspective, Wanderer without his memories, but bonus is when he does get them back, Spoilers for Sumeru, Scara wants to kill Dottore, Jealousy, Kinda corny

Puppets are meant to have strings, and yet he is forced to lift his limbs on his own. Puppets have puppeteers make them do what they must yet he has to think for himself.

It makes sense, yet why is he left to walk without a purpose.

It feels like he's forgotten something from his past, yet there is no past for him to remember.

"Kuni... Have you... that isn't my... Huh...? You're just embarrassed I... pictures... Didn't hide... Okay... Think it's sweet... from you...!"

It's like his brain only had memories of some broken past he could no longer recall. Yet, he still finds some worth in the broken words that echo in his head.

"Uhm sir...? Can you please hand me that sunsettia? I have the Mora for it."

His trance is quickly dissipated as the voice in front of him is sounded. It feels familiar yet he doesn't have it saved in his brain.

"Huh...? Oh sure."

With no sure background on himself, nor any real idea of how he came to be, he's stuck working many jobs. His finger tips quickly brush against the hand in front of him, it felt like static rushed up to his chest, though he lacked a heart it felt as if there was one there.

"Thank you, I'll be taking my leave, so, have a good day." Familar...

"Sunsettias and Bulle fruit are kinda different huh? In fontaine, there's this certain candy made out of it, have you ever had it Kuni? No? I'll bring you some when I go back! You wanna come too...? Wha?! Don't act like you didn't say that! Hey don't walk away from me!"

Before he could reach out and ask for your name, you had already walked away from him. It didn't feel like the first time it had happened either.

A week later, all he could remember was that single interaction. His fingers still tingling whenever he remembered you.

It's as if he had some third sense for you, the moment you step into the bazaar his eyes quickly looked toward the direction you had cam in from.

"What is your name" his hands cling onto your wrist, even though you weren't planning to leave any time soon, almost like he felt as if he let go you would disappear once more.

"Wha...?" You're still not too caught up in what it is exactly he's asking so your don't answer, only quirking your eyebrow at him.

"Name?"

"Mine? It's [Name]...?" He quietly whispers it under his breath, like a mantra, a prayer. When he says your name again it's like it melts off his tongue.

Like you belong there on his lips.

"Am I in trouble? I promise i didn't steal anything from the stand sir!"

"What? No no, It's not that." He pauses before he speaks, a little hesitant while he thinks of his wording to dish out, how does he ask without coming off as weird? "I think... You're... You seem familiar."

"Hm? Well I do get supplies here often so maybe that's it-"

"Can we have dinner later?"

"Wait wha? Well, I mean we can, but I only know you as the vendor here, so that's kinda sudden is it not...?" He takes what you say into consideration, but only shrugs his shoulders.

"It probably is but, I wanna talk to you more." He couldn't let the opportunity slip between his fake fingers, for such a long time since he had awoken, it's like your voice had been in his head for such a long time.

No, not like... Your voice has been with him.

------

Months had passed by in such a hurry, yet he still had no title to go by. He didn't have anything attached to his person, so he told you the name he remembers feint whispers of.

"Kuni...?"

He can tell in your expression the name is familiar on your tongue, but does not hold any memories in your head. He doesn’t mind though, it's nice to hear you adress him, even if if the name you speak isnt one he remembers.

It doesn't take long before occasionally meets up turned into daily hang outs. There wouldn't be a second where you two weren't attached by the hips.

The two of you sit on the highest branch of the tree located at port ormos, your head rested on his shoulders while the wind calmly brushes by the two of you.

"Kuni." He doesn’t give you an answer but you can feel his eyes bore into you.

"I have to leave next week. Something urgent came up and… My job needs me to leave sumeru for some time, i’m not sure how long though." His expression doesn’t give too much away, but when you lift your head to look at him, the slight squint in his eyes is all you need to know he’s upset by it. “Don’t give me that look, it probably isn’t gonna be for more than a month anyway so i’ll be back soon.” He turns his head away from you, presumably to hide whatever look he has splayed on his face.

“Don’t be like that, besides, it’s my birthday soon. It’ll give you time to prepare for when I get back.” He still doesn’t answer you. A sigh leaves your throat before your hand reaches up to his face, pulling it closer to your lips as a quick peck is placed on his cheek. It’s enough to stun him a bit, watching his brain short circuit in real time while a smile cracks on your mouth.

“What would you want anyway? You’re not too open about your wants.” It’s nice to know he cares. Though you don't give him a straight answer, once again deciding to mess with him.

"Who knows, maybe I want you-" it doesn't take long before a palm pushes your face mid sentence. "Wha?! I was gonna ask for food."

With the way his face is turned, you'll never notice the way his face is warmed. He's sure if he had one, his chest would be beating sporadically.

He hopes the two of you can last.

------

Bonus:

It had been awhile since he had last seen you, 2 weeks maybe? At the time, when you had told him on your little date, he didn’t think much of it, he had only the memories of the clothes on his back to stick to, so he really believed it was for a simple job.

But with his memories back, he knows what your "job" truly is. Formerly, you were his assistant back in his harbinger days, but now that he is no longer the ballader, he can only seethe in silence at the thought of you being a differnt harbingers aid.

He might even go insane if he finds out you're to be working under The Doctor.

God Forbid, he finds out that man has been messing with you, he'll gladly become a god once more if that means he can protect you, or better yet, destroy him.

Instead of his hiding spot being a place to relax, he's now left with the thought of Dottore in his mind, it makes his hands curls into balls, grassblades ripping apart at how tight he's clutching his fists, he's sure if he was human there would no doubt be blood pouring out-

A sudden weight had jumped on him from behind, arms quickly tightening around him, a familar head coming into view.

"I finally found you." His eyes are right in front of your own, like your eyes are locked onto his and he can't look away from you. "I was worried, about you, ever since I had come back yesterday, you weren't at the usual spot."

Of course he wouldn't be. He had finally remembered his past sins, he no longer felt worthy enough to lay by your side.

But he still had some sense to at least protect you from the shadows.

"I just felt like changing the scenery is all."

"Hm? You've never wanted to do that before. Did something happen?"

His fingers... His fake fingers, tightly grip onto your very real arm.

"Maybe I've grown a hatred for doctors, is that not reasonable?"

"Huh...?? It's certainly random to change a spot for that reason that's for sure."

"If a certain doctor had any copies of himself, I would've loved to rip him to pieces."

"Okay future serial killer..."

He doesn't answer, maybe... Maybe it's best you don't remember his past atrocities with him.

"Perhaps you're one too [Name], who knows, maybe you're just as bad as me."

Your head leans forward, resting your chin on his shoulder while he talks.

"If that's the case, we really are meant to be huh?"

He let's a laugh escape his throat, not the usual one he lets out, filled with joy, it's filled with something more sinister, menacing? Yet it's still filled with some love for you.

"Yeah, that might be why we're together again."

"Again? Did you date a doppelganger?"

"Just sit down."

" Oh wow, that's some new attitude."

---

Wanderer before he got his memories back would probably be really awkward so I tried to incorpate that. (I wrote this really sporadically, so there's probably a lot of mistakes and really rushed I'm so sorry 😔)

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scara #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #vesperwrites #askves #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff

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macfrog · 8 months

Text

hits different cowboy like me chapter twelve

oh, my, love is a lie! are we all ready? do we have our coping strategies in place? have we prepared ourselves for impending doom? then gather round, my dear children, for i’ve a tale to tell. and it’s a SORE one

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: still reeling from your fight with joel, you seek out an effective way to deal with it: a night of sambuca shots and no second thoughts

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) alcohol + drug consumption (reader gets hammered), heartache, angst, unwanted touching, intended sexual assault, drink spiking, descriptions of blood and bruising, protective!joel gets into a quick barfight, more discussion of cheating(?), joel won't admit feelings, pain pain and more pain, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 10.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your – “You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.” The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

Of course he went to see Lois. He’s probably been seeing her for some time now. A nice lady, his own age, his line of work. You’re pretty sure she has a son, too. And your dad would love her, would love to think Joel was shacking up with some plant hire receptionist. She could turn your life around, son, he’d said. They fit together like a couple of jigsaw pieces. What the fuck would he have ever seen in you, past some young, tight thing for him to fuck? Just a placeholder. Just a time-waster.

A twenty-three-year-old; enough energy to keep him on his toes, cure his boredom. Fill his summer with something to do. And close enough to him, too, that he reeled you in with minimum effort. One stupid look at you – one stupid, stupid glance and you were hooked. High as a kite on him. All the touching, all the whispering. That fucking – the fucking bottle. The video. All of it, every second he ever spent near you – it all makes you cringe now.

And then, once the embarrassment of being played by your dad’s best friend passes, there’s the hurt. The aching. Fuck, the aching. The way your chest swells, feels like it might rip at the seams and burst open. The sting behind your eyes anytime you picture his smile, the way he’d look at you. The feeling of your throat closing up whenever you go to speak, windpipe constricting around any words that aren’t his name, and using them to choke you.

And it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it. Can’t have a heart-to-heart with your dad, have him make you a tea and sit him down by your window, ask for advice on heartbreak and getting over his best friend. You’ve been excusing your reclusiveness by telling him you’re on your period. That’s why you haven’t left your bed in four days.

It was just all so fucking believable, wasn’t it? So good, you thought you were dreaming the entire time.

And here he’d just proven you right. You dreamt it all up.

Has he fucked her yet? Lois. Is she one of the ten he told you about the other night? Has she touched him the way you have? Has he touched her, the way he did you?

Does she know how he sounds when he comes undone? How he looks? How he feels? Does she do it for him the way you do it? And what does he call her? Baby? Darlin’? Or something different entirely?

Now you’re wondering when he started seeing her, and then, if they have slept together, when the first time was. Whether or not you cross over with her. Maybe he went and fucked her after you argued. Let off some steam over at her place, while you sat in his house, smelling his shirts and reading his stupid fucking Alcatraz books. While you paced around, practicing the words you’d say to him when he came back.

All you wanted was for him to come back. You wanted him to come find you upstairs, take the book from your hands and lean his head down on your chest, mumble an apology into the material of your shirt and then kiss you, and kiss you again while he pulled the clothes from your body, and kiss you while you were naked underneath him, and kiss you while he rocked his hips into yours.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You think you hate her. You don’t even know her. Don’t know what she looks like, only heard her voice. She’s probably gorgeous. Probably a really sweet woman, helps out on the PTA, the type that stops to read missing dog posters so she can keep an eye out for them. Probably knows Joel well enough that she writes Sarah a birthday card every year. Just a real nice, Southern lady.

And you fucking hate her.

That’s not fair, though, and you know it. She didn’t do anything wrong. Joel’s the one who screwed you over – screwed you both over. Really, you and Lois are one and the same.

Except that she’s taken away the only thing to put a real smile on your face since you got home, and for that, you fucking hate her.

What had he said again? That night he drove you home from Sal’s, the night your dad asked him to stay for pizza. …said she’d like to go for a drink. I said maybe sometime. Maybe he’d organized that drink, in the midst of whatever you two had been doing. Thought nothing of it – you said it yourself: you were just messing around. Said it, like, three times to him. Good fucking job.

And that adds to the hurt. That neither of you seemed to care enough to call it anything more. Because now, sitting alone in your room, desperately checking your phone for a missed call or a text message from him, ears pricking at every sound your dad makes downstairs in case he’s answering a call from Joel or welcoming him in through the front door – you wish you had called it something.

Wish you had just fucking said it. Told him outright about the feelings you had. You were thinking about them enough – the thought circled your mind any time there was a moment’s silence between you.

Sometimes, the way he’d glance over to you, the way his hand would brush against yours, the way he’d say your name…he felt like…

Yours. He was yours. He was so fucking close to being yours.

You almost said it, once. Almost admitted it to him. Couple times you saw it flash behind his eyes, too. And it’s a damn good thing neither of you did say it, because it would’ve been a mistake. Would’ve been lies.

You don’t love him. You never did. You were in some fantasy, built by Joel. There ain’t no love between you. None from your side. And definitely none from him.

Definitely – none – from –

him.

----------

Anna’s been at you all week. She text you on Monday night, but you were about four layers of blanket deep in your bed, weeping into a box of dry cereal and listening to some sad girl playlist on repeat. You fished your cell out from under your mattress the next morning. Your dad had to call it to help you find it.

Anna: Frank’s again on Friday? Rodeo night round 2!!!

Tuesday, it was Please?? It was so fun on Sat. Cmon, Kara’s coming again. Sam’s working but that means free shots so.

On Wednesday, she tried a new approach. I’ll cover any shift you want.

Any two shifts……

Ok three????

Thursday, she started to get desperate. I’ll spill all your secrets to my dad if you don’t come. And you know he’ll tell them all to your dad lol

By Friday morning, though, she’d decided you had no say in the matter: you were going, and you’d be happy about it. And you didn’t have it in you to fight back.

She’s standing at the side of the mirror, scanning you from head to two.

“All black? Again?”

“I look good in black.”

“You look good in anything,” she agrees, turning to sift through your closet, “so why don’t we go for…?”

“No,” you clip, holding a finger up to the red dress in her hands. “No.”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s hot. C’mon.”

“Why do I gotta be hot?”

“I mean…is Mr. Miller gonna be pickin’ you up again, or…?”

You lob a previously discarded dress at her and she snorts, turning to slip it back onto a hanger.

Even his fucking surname sends a pang of pain through your body. Your heart jumps at the sound of it, like its hopes had risen for a second, but then it plummets with the realization that it’s not really Joel, and he’s still really gone.

You’re in a plain black slip dress, black denim jacket slung over your shoulders. Black lace-up boots, too. It’s like rodeo night, except without the fun and excitement of Joel waiting for you at the end of the night. It’s basically rodeo night’s funeral. And good fucking riddance.

Anna – always glittering, always in some sparkly getup – leads you out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Your dad agreed to drop you guys off, seeing as he’s out working later on.

He’s sat in his armchair, glasses on the tip of his nose, squinting down at the instruction booklet to that fucking Garmin he’s still wrestling with. He looks up and claps his hands once.

“Ready, girls?”

Anna nods eagerly and you lift your eyebrows, thinking about how Joel would laugh at the sight of his buddy still fighting a very obviously lost battle to a GPS. Then you think about how he’d tell you quietly, You look beautiful, darlin’, and ask you to text him when you got home safe.

And finally, you think about how much of an ass he is, and you blink the tears from your eyes before following the two blurry figures out to the car.

Anna snaps a couple selfies as the car winds out of the neighborhood, angling her phone to pull you into shot. The sun setting over the roofs of the houses dazzles your eyes. She tuts, tells you to Look like you actually wanna be goin’ out, and sends them to Kara, letting her know you’re on your way.

You’re watching her reply to a text from some boy she’s seeing when your dad’s ringtone echoes throughout the car, the name on the tiny digital screen the very last name you want to see right now.

Or maybe the very name you’ve been waiting all week to see. Just, on your screen instead of your dad’s.

“Hey, Joel,” your dad calls, and your body instinctively leans in to listen better. Drawn in like a magnet to just the sound of his voice.

“Hey, bud,” he replies. It’s like a punch to your chest. Hands around your throat. Salt behind your eyes. “I just got off the phone with Clark’s, they just dropped that equipment off at the site. Said there wasn’t nobody around to sign for it, so they just left it at the gate.”

“It’s a manned site, what do they mean there wasn’t–?”

“No idea,” Joel says, cutting across him. “Just said there wasn’t anybody to take the delivery.”

Anna’s head slowly turns in your direction, likely to take another dumb selfie or to ask some random question about your outfit, but you turn away, refusing to meet her hazel-eyed stare. Refusing to let her take your attention away from this phone call. From Joel.

Your dad sighs, runs a hand down his cheek. “I hope it’s still there when I get to it. Sure you gave ‘em the right address on Monday?”

“I wrote it down exactly how you text me it.”

Joel’s voice sounds flatter than normal. Less trademark Joel grumbly and more tired, deflated. A little irritated. It bruises your heart hearing him and not chiming in, not teasing him for potentially getting the street name wrong or something. Not letting him know you’re here.

Your dad does that anyway, though.

“Well,” he sighs again, hitting the turn signal, “I’m on my way to Frank’s – girls are havin’ another one of their wild nights out. I’ll head straight from there to the site ‘n make sure everything’s in place. Thanks, Joel.”

“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”

The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

No. He was talking to you. He knew you’d be listening. Knew that conversation would mean much more to you than it ever could to your dad. And he knew you’d be hanging on to every word he spoke.

He’s home all night, which translates to: he’s only ever fifteen minutes away if you wind up needing him. If you end up wanting him.

You’ve spent the last four days purposefully stopping yourself from wanting him. Your thumb has hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d care to admit. Mostly at night, when your dad goes to bed and there’s eight hours of quiet – quiet you’d usually fill by annoying Joel, striking up a conversation at midnight when he’s about to sleep.

What the fuck would you even say if he did pick up? Would you be mad? Would you yell? Or would you just break down, sob a few incoherent sentences down the line to him and pray that he doesn’t hang up?

But then – would he even pick up? It’s not a thought you want to entertain much. That sound of ringing and ringing, and no gruff, Hey, baby, at the other end.

Your chest hurts. You take a gulp of air.

You’d happily have him never touch you again if he’d just come the fuck back.

Anna slaps your arm and Joel’s face is wiped clean from your mind. “C’mon,” she chirps, and nods out of your window.

You turn to see the faded blue brick walls of Frank’s, clusters of people outside clutching cigarettes and glasses, holding hands up to shield their eyes from the sunlight and tipping their heads back in laughter at one another. Kara stands among them, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. She waves when you catch her eye, stumbling out of the car in a daze.

Anna’s arm links through yours, almost violently, and she skips along the sidewalk to Kara, who joins your chain. The three of you stroll into the bar together and over to Sam, who smiles genially in welcome.

“Hello, ladies,” he sings, leaning in. “What can I do ya for?”

“Get us drunk, Sam!” Anna exclaims, rapping her knuckles on the bar top, and, for the first time tonight, you find yourself nodding in agreement with her.

Get me –

fucking –

hammered.

----------

You get your wish. Sam hands you a cold beer, and within twenty minutes you’re ordering a second. Anna and Kara opt for cocktails, some bright pink concoction that you don’t even bother to ask the name of, you just lean over the bar and tell Sam to make up a third.

And then there are the shots, two each, which are a hysterically terrible idea. You know it as you tip your head back, sickly taste of sambuca spilling down your throat and taking with it the very last of your good sense, apparently.

All the while, that phone call rattles through your head. Joel’s voice swings between your ears like a pendulum. His dry tone, the borderline contempt he spoke to your dad with. The thought of who he’s been with and what he’s been doing either side of that call burns like the drink in your belly, and forces you back up to the bar for another to wash him away with.

You rock against the dark wood, sticky with alcohol, and hoist yourself up onto a stool. “One peer, blease, sir,” you garble to Sam, one finger in the air. “Oh, wait…��

You throw your hand down onto the bar with a roar of laughter and lean back, forgetting there’s no back to your chair. It tilts back, and your hands fumble to grab the edge of the bar, but it’s too far, too late, and you land on the solid floor with a clatter – metal leg of the stool digging into your own.

“Fuck,” you hiss, dragging yourself back to your feet. A thin line of dark red blood cuts from halfway down your calf, streaming down into your boot.

“Are you okay?” Sam yells, stood frozen with the beer and bottle opener still in his hands.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, clambering to your feet. You don’t even convince yourself.

Sam doesn’t let go of the bottle when your fingers curve around it. He looks you dead in the eye and asks, “What’s goin’ on?” and you know he won’t let go until you answer him.

“Nothin’. I’m fine.”

Until you answer him truthfully, that is.

“I’m…It’s just…I got a lot goin’ on up here.” Your shaky finger draws a circle against your temple, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I can see that. Is this really a good ide–”

“Well, howdy, clumsy!”

The owner of whatever fucking annoying voice just shrieked through your ears slaps his hand down on your shoulder, almost toppling you for the second time in five minutes, and you twist around to find a pair of red, blotchy cheeks and almost equally red hair to match, stood before you.

“Hi…?” You squint your eyes to get a better look, the figure swaying with the room behind him.

“Hi.” He’s still smiling. Two huge front teeth, like a pair of overgrown Tic Tacs. “You have no idea who I am, do you? That’s…embarrassing for me.”

“Zack!” another voice screams over the bassline of the music. “Are you fucking coming or not, dude?”

A pale, jittery guy with a dark green t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame barges into the red-haired boy’s side, and a few seconds after his mouth stops moving, you register what he’s said.

“No – f-fucking – way,” you breathe, staring him up and down. His red flannel is tucked into his jeans, sealed by a brown leather belt. There’s a longhorn head on the buckle. “Zack? From Costco? What the fuck’d you do, stalk me?”

He laughs awkwardly, looking from you to over your shoulder, where Sam’s still holding your beer.

“Sorry–” you mutter, shaking your head. “I’m not at my best right now.”

“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning. “You look like you’re having a good night. I’m out with my buddies. This is Eric.”

Eric gives you a nod – his blond fringe jumps, and he jerks his head to sweep it back out of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, before rounding again on Zack. “Seriously, bro, he says he’s not waitin’ around this time. C’mon!”

“We were gonna head to the rooftop if you wanted to come?” Zack raises his eyebrows, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as Eric and another two figures make off for the stairs at the other end of the bar.

“Sure.” You blindly reach for your beer and Sam relents, letting it slip from his grasp. He calls your name as you trot off, and you turn for one second to give his worried stare a thumbs up, before swirling back toward the stairs. No second thought.

This isn’t the night for second thoughts.

The rooftop is quieter, less crowded. Background noise made up of passing cars, a siren in the distance, and the muffled music from downstairs. You wander over to where Zack stands with Eric and a couple others: a short guy with wireframe glasses, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and someone you think you almost recognize.

His black V-neck looks like it might burst at the seams around his chest, swollen with muscle. Thick neck, holding up a square jawline, and a face heavy with features which mirror the broad body below.

And a thick smell of marijuana which follows his every move.

Zack shuffles to the side to let you into the circle. You shimmy in between him and Eric.

V-neck pulls a small metal case from his back pocket and fishes a cigarette out of it. Eyes start to shift around the group, the boys glancing over shoulders to check who’s watching.

“Are we…? Is that weed?” you blurt out.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eric hisses, jabbing his elbow into your ribcage.

V-neck eyes you down quickly. It’s the first he looks at you, and it puts a sickly feeling through your body. Sends the alcohol hurtling over itself in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows and wrap your arms around yourself, your beer bottle against your lips. “Sorry, jeez…”

“This is Knox,” Zack mutters, as Knox lights the cigarette.

He takes one hit, inhaling deeply with his chin in the air, and passes it to the boy in the hoodie. Another cloud of smoke joins Knox’s, slowly dispersing above your heads, and then it’s Eric’s turn. With a cough, his fist against his lips, he passes it to Zack. Soon, the air around you is thick and white, and Zack’s handing you the joint.

You lift it to your lips and inhale. The feeling hits you instantly; your body feels light, your face warm, your eyes blink in and out of focus, watching as a blurry shadow begins to follow your hand when you pass the joint back to Knox.

A couple more circuits, and the roach is pressed into the ground by Knox’s boot. The group separates; Zack and his friends fall into some metal chairs around a table, sparking up a debate on the best Lord of the Rings film, and you float around nearby.

“You a friend of Zack’s?” Knox asks, downing what’s left of his whiskey.

“Hm…Not really. We met at Costco, ‘cause I was there to get some party stuff for my dad’s friend’s daughter’s– Well, she’s my friend, too, and she wanted this garden party, and my dad’s friend was like, What the fuck is a garden party? you know, so I had to go help ‘im get stuff for it, with my dad, who was kinda a buzzkill, but anyway…Z-Zack helped me lift some sodas into my cart.”

Knox nods once. Fingers locked tight around his empty glass. He’s staring you down like you’re fresh meat.

You purse your lips and stare back, but quickly get bored when he doesn’t speak, and you miss Anna and her selfies and her sambuca shots. As you’re about to wander back to the door, though, Knox steps in front of you.

“So, you’re here often, then?”

Your shoulder knocks into his. “Huh?”

“Saw you last week. You were pretty spaced, don’t know if you remember.”

The memory whips past your eyes quicker than you can catch it, frames lingering only long enough for you to see Knox’s thick arm linked with yours outside Frank’s, the smell of weed in your nostrils, and the bright lights of Joel’s truck. And then it’s gone, before you can get a good grip of it.

“I’m…I remember now. Yeah. No, I’m not here much, I just…Rough week.”

He nods again, and you suspect he hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said since he got you alone. “You want another drink?”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel more and more nauseous. Makes you want to turn and run back downstairs, slot in beside Anna and Kara, bury yourself between their shoulders and stay there until they decide they want to go home.

It makes you feel the way it felt last week, when he halted you outside the bar on your way to Joel. And suddenly the memory is soaring in front of your eyes again.

Your hand on Joel’s elbow. The frown on his face. Whitened knuckles around the steering wheel. ‘s go, pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.

“Yeah,” you tell Knox. “Yeah, I do.”

You follow him downstairs where he nods to Sam at the bar.

Sam ignores him, instead glares at you. “Can we talk…?” he asks, but Knox cuts across him.

“Beer, right?” he checks with you, and you nod. “And another whiskey.”

Your friend hesitantly grabs the drinks, glancing up at you every five seconds in a question. You respond by nodding slowly, feeling your head bounce each time you do.

You lazily scan the room for Anna and Kara, who you spot in a booth over by the window. The spotlights overhead reflect in the sparkles of Anna’s dress; Kara’s holding the straw of her drink between her lips, bobbing her head to the music. You saunter over, twirling on your way.

“Where have you been, baby?” Anna calls, giggling when you fall against the booth, palms flat on the wooden table.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, and then feel a tap on your back.

“Forgot this,” Knox says, pushing the beer into your hand. “You wanna go dance?”

Anna’s face twists into one of worry, and you give her an apologetic smile and spin off, following the wide frame to a dark corner of the bar where he takes your wrist and pulls your body against his.

He’s not doing much dancing, rather, he’s just keeping a solid grip on your waist, watching as you rock side to side, taking a couple shallow sips of your drink. You pull on his arm, Fucking move, dude, but he only leans further back, until he’s shrouded in shadows and pulling you into them with him.

When he leans into your space and snakes a drunken arm tight around your neck, you don’t retreat. You lean in, too, and plant your lips on his.

It’s messy, it’s a little gross. He tastes sour, weed and alcohol on his tongue, and it makes you wish you’d never started kissing him. Still, you take it further. You open your mouth more, letting more of him in, soak your own tongue, wet your lips. You barely even feel it when his hands move south and cup your ass, and it’s only when he squeezes that you wriggle out of his grip.

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking hold of his sleeve to steady yourself. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, says something short that you don’t hear, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s smaller, much shorter than Joel. Your shoulders almost match the height of his. But he’s more built, he’s bulkier, in an uncomfortable way. Like trying to put your arms around a giant balloon or something. There’s no softness, no enclosing feeling when your weight presses against his. Just the huge surface of his chest, the hollow feeling of two mismatched bodies unwillingly pushed together.

Not strong. Not safe. Not secure. Not him.

But you’re kissing him again, because it’s the first time in five days you’ve felt something other than your aching chest and heavy head. You’re kissing him because you feel unwanted and unloved and, even though he seems almost as hammered as you are, it feels good to have someone want to be on you.

You’re kissing him because you’re trying to pretend it’s Joel.

Only he tastes…well, disgusting, and he smells different. He’s sweating from the heat in the bar, and his arms aren’t placed somewhere to make you feel wrapped in his grasp, they’re placed anywhere that he can pinch, squeeze, or otherwise fondle.

Joel’s face swims in and out of your head; a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss, a smirk when he’s telling you off, soft eyes when he’s listening to you talk. It makes you want to throw up.

That might just be the drinks.

Someone taps you furiously on the shoulder, and you push Knox off your body.

When your eyes fail to meet Sam’s, he takes your wrist and drags you behind the bar, ripping the beer bottle from your grasp and almost launching it into the sink. It smashes, and the liquid pours down the drain.

“Hey, what the f–?”

“I’m gonna call your dad,” he yells, deafening to your numb ears.

“Do not fucking call my dad,” you slur, laughing a little. “I’m fine! I’m having fun.”

“You’re fucking wasted. And that guy – he’s bad news.”

“Does it matter?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Who even are–? What the fuck is up with you right now? Yes, it fucking matters!”

“Not my dad,” you repeat as you back away, staggering over to the booth where your friends sit.

Anna storms over to meet you, slipping her wrist around yours and bringing you to a halt. “Did Sam find you?” she asks. Her hands plant on your shoulders, and she dips her head until you’re eye to eye.

She’s blurry. She’s nothing but shapes, and movements, and noises. And she’s fucking pissing you off.

“Can everyone just – get the fuck off of me?” you groan, stumbling backwards, and Anna links her hands with yours to stop you from collapsing.

She pulls you back upright, leaning in close. Her head shakes, you can see that much. But her expression is cloudy, and her hands don’t let go of yours so easily when you try to pull away. The orb-like shapes in front of you mutter your name, only it’s not Anna’s voice, it’s his.

Anna’s babbling, panicked tone drives through your skull. “She’s been drinking, like, a lot, and I think she might’ve had some weed upstairs. But Sam said he saw –”

“C’mon, kid,” his voice says again, and there’s a heavy arm pulling you off to the door.

“Get – off – of – me.” You struggle in his grasp, pushing his body away from yours, fingers expecting to find the V-neck collar of a black shirt and instead finding –

Buttons. The edges of a green flannel shirt. And a soft cotton tee underneath. And then his scent washes over you: warm, sweet, earthy. Grounding.

“Joel…” you whisper, thick with fear and intoxication and need.

His jaw angles down, you catch one fleeting glimpse of his chin, graying beard, tight lips hidden beneath it, and then you’re shoving his chest again, attempting to push him as far away from your own body as he’ll go.

Only he doesn’t move.

“Fuck off,” you seethe, palms flat on his pecs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He says your name in a hazy blur, says, “We’re goin’ home,” and you almost laugh in his face.

“I don’t f-fucking think so.”

“Yeah? Well, I do. Thanks, Anna, I got her.”

“Hey,” a fourth voice joins the chorus, “hey, you know this guy?”

Knox pushes past Joel’s arm, unlinking your fingers from his, and takes your shoulder with one rough hand. All your anger, all your rage at Joel, and yet, the second you’re separated from him, the only thing on your mind is having his hand back around yours.

Joel’s upper lip twitches, he stares at the back of Knox’s head and then scoffs, reaches by him again to take your wrist. You let him have it. “Come on,” he says.

Knox is rounding on him, holding Joel back with a palm flat to his chest. “I ain’t too comfortable lettin’ her head outta here with some random old man, dude…”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the –

Joel’s jaw ticks. His expression falls blank, narrowed eyes looking up and down Knox’s frame as you tremble behind it, Anna’s steady arm around your shoulders.

“Take your hand off of me, and move aside,” he snarls, voice dangerous. You can hear the threat, and at the same time, the desperate attempt from within himself to hold off.

“Hey,” Anna reaches forward, tapping Knox’s shoulder three times with a glittery nail, “she knows him. It’s fine. He’s fine.”

“Nah, man,” Knox hisses back, “who the fuck even are you? You ain’t takin’ her anywhere.”

You step forward, putting yourself between the two of them, hands clumsily landing on each of their shoulders. “He’s a f…my dad’s friend,” you slur, eyes unfocused.

Knox isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened the entire fucking night. His eyes are set on Joel’s as he wraps a tight fist around your free arm, trying to pull you closer to him. Only he’s hurting you, and your fingers struggle to pry yourself free, so you look up at Joel.

You couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Couldn’t make out the worry on her face that her voice clued you in on. You could barely even see Sam, when he dragged you out of the dark corner of the bar.

But you can see Joel. See the shadow his brows cast over his glower, see his thin lips, see the tightening of his jaw. See the rage inside him like it’s an alarm beacon, flashing red from behind his eyes.

Knox tugs angrily on your wrist. “You just gonna let this asshole ruin your night?”

“Let go of m-me,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the bar’s eyes on you. Your face reddens with heat from the alcohol, doubled by your embarrassment.

When he hears you, Joel’s face contorts into one you’ve never seen on his face in your life. Fury, disgust and fury, twisting his lip and tugging on his brows. He leans in and rips yours and Knox’s hands apart, pulling you free and shifting you behind his body with as much effort as it’d take him to click his fingers. Your weak hand reaches out to take a fistful of his shirt, holding onto him at his spine.

The men square up to one another, Joel at least four inches taller and, despite Knox’s built form, far broader. Knox takes a step forward and Joel matches.

“Joel…” you whisper, catching Anna’s gaping stare over his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Miller?” Sam edges in from behind Knox. “I’m gonna have to ask that you…don’t…do this, but if you have to, can y’all maybe move it out to the street?”

“Do I gotta do somethin’?” Joel asks Knox. You pull in closer to his back, trying to hide your face from the spotlight cast on you by what feels like thousands of drunken eyes staring directly at you.

Knox thinks it over for a moment. You can see Zack watching like a deer in the headlights from behind his buddy. He’s seen Joel before, and you know from the way his eyes stick on him that he recognizes him. Remembers how briskly he swept you out of the soft drinks section, how blunt he was about it.

The V-neck swells with the deep inhale its wearer takes, and then he shakes his head, sighing. Smug smirk thick across his lips.

“Nah, man. I didn’t think she was gonna be worth the fuck anyways, so.”

Joel clicks his teeth, gives his head one quick shake, mutters a resigned, “Alright,” then reaches back, and nudges you gently by the stomach until you’re safely out of reach.

And then he swings.

Once, catching Knox across the corner of his jaw, sending his face skyward. The crowd around the three of you gasps. Knox’s burly chest twists, and he staggers backward. His hands come up to clutch his face before Joel’s taking the collar of his shirt in his fist, reeling him in and holding him steady.

“Joel!” you yell, but he doesn’t fucking hear you.

His second blow lands square on Knox’s nose with a crack loud enough even for your numb ears to hear over the thudding music. Blood sprays from his nostrils and floods down into his mouth, smearing across his cheek as Joel’s knuckles ricochet off the square face. The crimson pours down his chin, spattering onto his shirt, bright and shocking against the stretched black material.

Joel lets him drop and he collapses onto all fours, coughing blood and spit and whatever the fuck else onto the dark floor.

“Fuck!” Knox screams, fingers trembling over his burst nose – thick, dark droplets running down his hands. “You motherfucker, you broke my fucking nose!”

Joel stoops down, takes the back of Knox’s shirt in two rough hands and hauls him up until he’s limp on his knees.

“I ever see you around here again,” he growls, “I ever find out you’ve been anywhere near her, as much as looked in the same fuckin’ direction as her, I’ll do worse ‘n break your Goddamn nose. You hear me?”

Knox whimpers, more blood dribbles from between his lips, and Joel throws him down. He turns back to you, massaging his knuckles with his thumb, and grabs your hand.

Your voice is weak with shock. “What the f-uck was that?”

“Just – come on,” he says, dragging you out of Frank’s without another word.

He leads your wobbly form down the street, past chattering crowds toward his black truck, opening the door for you and helping your unsteady limbs up into the passenger side, before he closes the door over and strides around to the driver’s side.

When he shuts his door – more of a slam – he sighs, head leaning back. His hand clenches and then relaxes, loosening his knuckles, hissing anytime the quickly-darkening skin stretches.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“What you sorry for?”

You shrug. Your mouth trips over words. “…gettin’ you into a barfight.”

He doesn’t look over at you. Just Hms and switches the ignition on, pulling away from the busy curb.

“Where’s m-my dad?” you slur.

“Work. Site inspection, remember?”

You nod, turning back to the road when you start to feel motion sick. Your eyes feel like they’re spinning in their sockets, your stomach flips with the slightest turn. “He get that delivery?” you ask, letting Joel know you heard the phone call earlier.

His jaw turns in your direction. Letting you know he knows you heard it. “Yeah. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“Did Sam c-call him?”

“No. Why?”

You lean your head against the passenger window, the cold distracting your brain from the ache in your head. The streetlights sail by in a blur. The engine rattles through the glass.

“Asked ‘im not to.”

“Yeah? ‘n why’s that?”

Your head rolls back onto the headrest as you decide on an answer. I didn’t want him seeing me drunk and high. I don’t care about you seeing me drunk and high. I just wanted to see you.

“’s never seen me drunk.”

“Or high?”

You snort. “I’m not…”

When your head slants to the left to look at Joel, his face turns from yours. He was just looking at you, and you missed it. Probably had that look on his face, that Nice try, kid expression.

“Okay…” you admit, spiritless, “a little high, then.”

“Anna was the one who called,” Joel says. “Said you were hammered, some guy was all over you, ‘n Sam watched him put somethin’ in your drink. They couldn’t find you anywhere. She was fuckin’ hysterical.”

Your head bobs with the moving truck. “When’d he put someth…?”

Joel shrugs. “I dunno. But I believe it.”

So do I, you think. Knox was on you from the minute he saw you. Tight grip around your waist, your wrist, drawing you into him with beer and weed and whatever else he had in his pockets. The comment that had warranted him two bone-breaking punches from Joel all but confirmed the intentions he had in mind. And now you feel fucking stupid.

“I didn’t really…I only had a couple sips of it,” you hear yourself saying, head heating with embarrassment – an attempt to convince him, or maybe more yourself, that you’re not as dumb as leaving your drink to be roofied.

Your voice sounds pathetic, though, and Joel doesn’t say anything to make you feel better. Doesn’t say anything to make you feel worse, either – the silence does that by itself.

You bring your knees up to your chin, nestling a little into the seat. It could almost feel like nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed, except you’re intoxicated, and Joel’s hands are firmly by his person. Not on your thigh, or tangled between your fingers like they usually would be.

You study him. Stare at every part of him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see it, until the gentle curve of his nose and the glint of his watch face are burned into the back of your eyelids when you close them over. Face lit red from the brake lights in front, right hand sitting idly on his thigh.

He looks like your Joel. Almost. Just a little closed off. Distant.

But he came to get you, right? Damn near punched Knox’s lights out, took you by the hand, led you back to the safety of his truck. He came straight to Frank’s as soon as Anna called. And he’s taking you home. He’s looking out for you.

So why doesn’t he feel like your Joel?

Well. You can wager a pretty solid guess. It starts with L and ends with comma, Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire.

The dark silhouette of your house looms overhead as Joel pulls into your drive. Sure enough, your dad’s not home.

The engine cuts and your head drops, eyes fixing on your hands clasped in your lap. You know Joel’s watching you. What the fuck is he thinking about?

Fuck that. Don’t think about that. Let’s not dive into that pool of imagination.

“Well, thanks.” You do your best to smile, without really looking at him. Your fingers find the door handle and you tug on it, pushing it open and spilling out onto your driveway.

You hear Joel sniff behind you. “Need a hand?”

“I’m good,” you call back, only just managing to stay on your feet.

The cold air helps a little to waken you up, sharpen your senses, but the world around you is still a whir of dull color and shapelessness, and you wobble across to the house in a route of zig-zags, boots almost tripping over thin air as you go. When you reach your front door, you hear his truck lock and the shadow of him appears by your side.

“I said I’m good.”

“I ain’t leaving you, kid. You’re hammered.”

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but then he’s taking the keys out of your hand and unlocking the door himself, hand on your back as he ushers you into your own house.

“I’m f-fine,” you repeat, tripping over the doorway.

“Look it.”

You meander over to the stairs, and when your foot manages to find the first step, Joel says your name. Your gaze sweeps across the floor until it meets his boots, travels up his legs, and finally rests on his outstretched hand.

“Water,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you say, the word losing meaning the more you utter it. “I wanna go – to bed.”

He shakes his head, and then tilts it in the direction of the kitchen.

You groan, mumble something about him being such an asshole, and walk straight by his hand.

Joel doesn’t react. Just follows you and hits the lights, which burn your eyes when they flicker to life. You wince and point up to them.

“Off,” you bluntly order, and he grunts, stepping back to oblige. You’re plunged straight back into darkness.

You’re holding yourself unsteadily against the edge of the kitchen island, whole body swaying. The room is fucking spinning, the lights out back swirling with it in a blur of white motion before your eyes. You swallow dryly and turn around to focus on Joel.

He’s filling a glass over the sink. “What happened to your leg?” he asks over his shoulder.

You turn your knee, examining the dent in your calf where the stool leg cut into you. The dry burgundy stain like a backwards seam line on your skin, emerging from a bright red bruise slowly fading to deep purple.

“Fell off a stool,” you mutter, angling it in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Joel Hms again. “You got anything to cover it?”

You shrug, having lost any and all energy to barter back with him. He slides the glass across the countertop to you, followed by a bottle of painkillers, then turns back to the open drawer he pulled them from and begins rummaging for a band-aid.

Your shaky hand lifts the glass to your lips. It’s cold and slippery in your grasp, drops of condensation running over your fingers like the blood from Knox’s nose had run over his. The more you tighten your grip, the harder it becomes to hold, until it’s sliding from your clutch.

“Easy,” Joel murmurs, appearing at the side of you and placing his hands over yours, holding the glass still.

“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you say, eyes focusing and then unfocusing on the marks at the base of his fingers, the dabs of dark red where the skin has burst.

He slowly lowers your hands until the glass is safely back on the counter, and then pulls away from you, drawing his swollen knuckles in to his body.

“They’re bleedin’,” you repeat, looking up at him.

“I know they’re bleedin’.”

“Let me see,” you step forward, “Joel. Let me–”

He catches your hands in his. Pushes them back down. Stares at the counter, sighs instead of replying.

Your eyes sting, filling with tears that crowd your already-blurred vision. The punch you feel to your gut brings you to your senses as if it drains you of every substance in your system all at once.

It’s like he’s broken up with you all over again. And it pisses you the fuck off.

“Fuck you,” you whisper into the dark, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, so much.”

You’re staring him down, what little you can see of him in the pale light cascaded onto him through the shades. The crease between his brows, more prominent with the frown on his face; the line his lips form with the tight clench of his jaw.

Fucking look at me, you think. He can say something back – anything. You can stand and hiss horrible words at one another, yell at each other if that’s what he wants to do. Argue until you’re blue in the face, until the alcohol’s all dried up and the moonlight on his chest is replaced by sunlight. Just fucking look at me.

“You’re an asshole and a liar, you know that?”

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Just stringing me along this whole time.”

You blink away the tears before they can fall, making room for more. They’re forming rapidly, each time heavier, and thicker, and angrier. But fuck it, right? This is over. He’s done, and you’re done. Just ignore the pain of it, stick your finger in the wound and keep pushing until you hit bone.

“That guy you punched? He was all over me. All fucking night.”

Joel’s voice is toneless. He’s already over the conversation before it’s begun. “I know he was, kid.”

“We kissed.”

“I know that, too.”

“Had his hands all over me. ‘n if it hadn’t been him, it woulda been literally any other guy in there.”

The words are starting to bleed into one another in your inebriated state. Anger turning to rage turning to fear turning to shame turning to hurt turning back into anger.

“Woulda kissed any one of ‘em. Mighta let them take me home, mighta let them fuck me.”

His head gives an involuntary shake and he blinks. Like he’s trying to wash the thought away. The image of you under someone else, moaning someone else’s name, pulling someone else into your body.

“That piss you off? It make you hate me?”

And then he looks up. Finally, his gaze locks with yours. And his eyes are just as glassy, just as fucking full of tears as yours. He replies with the worst thing he could possibly come up with. It forces the breath from your lungs in a painful exhale.

“There ain’t a thing in this world that you could do that would make me hate you, you know that.”

And then your tears start to fall. Your façade breaks. Stone crumbles. Dam bursts. They fall onto your cheeks, searing on your heated skin, rolling down onto the front of your dress in dark splatter marks.

Through a sob, you choke out another, “Fuck you, Joel,” and then, when you catch your breath, “you don’t get to – to sleep with someone else, and make me feel like the idiot for it.”

He looks up at you with a dark expression, lips locked tight like he’s refusing to let something slip. He shakes his head, and then says, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”

You scoff. A drunken, angry scoff. “You don’t wanna talk about her? When’s a good fuckin’ time, then? When suits you and f-fuckin’ – Lois?”

He falls quiet. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Sighs. “Baby,” he says into his palms.

“’m not your fucking baby,” you whisper between your teeth.

“Baby.” He drops his hands. Looks you dead in the eye. “I did not sleep with Lois.”

You’re frozen to the spot. Your lips fall apart, coated in salty tears. You’re holding your breath, though you’re not sure what for. The room stops spinning for all of ten seconds until he speaks again.

“I didn’t. I know what that message sounded like. Know how you musta heard it. But nothin’ happened, nothin’ has ever happened. Nothin’ would ever happen,” he says, a little more animated, tossing his hands in the air.

You stare between his eyes. He’s still enough that your fucked brain can focus on them, can see plain as day – even in the dark kitchen, even through your cloudy tears and all of the poison in your blood – that he’s telling the truth.

“Ex-plain,” you say dryly, looking down to his lips.

Joel sighs again. “I told you I had work to do. Had to head over to Clark’s to order that stuff for your dad. Saw her there, said hi. ‘n that’s all.”

Your eyes slowly close over, wet lashes on hot, dehydrated skin. Your ears are ringing, your body aching. You breathe a sigh as what he says sinks into your slow, throbbing brain, and then lull to one side, slumping against the counter.

“You didn’t…you didn’t think this was worth tellin’ me on Monday?”

“Tried, baby. You were gone. You were so angry; thought it’d be better if I let you cool off.”

“You’re – a fucking – idiot,” you seethe, shaking your head. It’s starting to pound again, sharp pain right behind your eyes like they’re being tugged backwards.

“Well, tonight, I guess that makes two of us.”

You grimace at him. “Lettin’ me go for four fuckin’ days thinking that –”

“– thinkin’ that I would actually cheat on ya? ‘s that what you think a’ me?”

“What did you ex-pect? You didn’t exactly try to – c-clear it up.” You step back, lifting a hand to cup your forehead with a groan. A mix of frustration, pain, and exhaustion in the form of a slow-moving ache hauls its way from one temple to the other.

“Baby, I gotta get you to bed,” Joel says, stepping forward. “We can talk about this when you’re able to see straight.”

“I’m fine,” you whimper, but it’s the least convincing you’ve sounded all night.

“Kid–”

“Don’t fucking call me kid. Like it’s some pet name, like you give a damn about me–”

“You think I don’t give a damn about you? You think I don’t care?”

Your head wobbles in response. It sends the room hurtling again, Joel’s figure swimming in and out of your vision. You grab the countertop again in attempt to freeze him in place.

He tuts and turns his jaw. “You know how much sleep I’ve had these last few days? Not a fuckin’ minute. I ain’t slept a single night, worryin’ about you ‘n what’s goin’ through your head. Like I give a damn about you. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you, baby. Make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Then, show me. Fucking prove it to me.”

“Prove it to you how? Break some asshole’s nose in a bar? Take you home when you’re wasted?”

Yeah. And also, no. Not just that.

You seethe. “You know what the fuck I mean. Do something about it.”

“I can’t,” he says, raising his voice. “Can’t take you out on dates, can’t put my arm around you, can’t kiss you ‘less there ain’t nobody watchin’. I can’t do none of what I wanna do. This is – it’s fuckin’…”

“…impossible,” you breathe, thick and slurred.

Joel lifts his head then, sees the look in your eye. He sniffs. “’s pretty damn hard, yeah.”

You tip your head back, feel the weight of your tears and your eyes and your brain slap against the back of your skull, a nauseating pull at the nape of your neck. You’re defeated. Nothing left in you to argue, talk, even so much as breathe.

Your words drag between one another, each one beginning with the remnants of the one before it.

“Just - take me to bed.”

He’s standing inches from you, hands hovering over your own, hesitant or unwilling or fucking afraid to touch you.

You ball your fists against his chest and give him one tiny, ineffective shove. But he’s bigger, stronger, sober. He doesn’t budge. Accepting defeat, you breathe one last, “Fuck you,” and brush past him, staggering out of the kitchen.

Joel – water and painkillers in hand – watches you like a hawk going upstairs, arms braced for you to lean on anytime you begin to tumble backward. When you do, his hand brushes your elbow, and you whip it out of his reach and reel it back in to your body.

He settles you on the bed just like he did six days ago, after your rodeo night. Only he doesn’t kneel, doesn’t take your boots off. Just walks away, grabs a tee from your chest of drawers and hands it to you to slip into by yourself.

You don’t even have to open your eyes. You know which one he’s given you. Can tell from the feel of the material, the cracked lettering on the chest, that it’s his Rangers shirt, the same one he put on you the first night you slept together. Smells more like you than it does him these days, but feels just like he always does. And as he waits a safe two-feet from you for you to change, no hands reaching out to help, to fix your hair, to stroke your cheek – you think the shirt will just have to do.

Everything he does is close enough for you to recognize him as Joel, and yet distant enough for him to be someone totally different. Every move he makes is pre-determined, all outcomes already analyzed and mapped, all risks carefully averted. It’s like he’s walking a minefield.

He hands you a couple of pills and helps with lifting the water to your lips. Then he sits at the end of your bed and applies the band-aid while you drag a makeup wipe clumsily over your face.

His thumbs linger on your fucked leg, rubbing over the padded dressing a few times after it’s stuck on, gentle and slow. Eyes never leaving the spot your skin broke open. And then, when you’re done with it, he takes the makeup wipe and quickly runs it down your calf, cleaning the dry blood from your skin.

Touch as delicate as though he were holding a rose – fingers brushing over your body like you might tear or fall apart at the slightest movement. When he’s done, he makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed.

“There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet if you’d rather take the floor,” you tell him, rolling back and pulling your knees to your chin.

“Nah,” Joel says with the groan of a near-fifty-year-old man, kicking his boots off and propping his pillows up. “We’re close enough by now.”

He pulls the flannel from his shoulders and tosses it to the end of the bed, then slips in under the covers beside you, clasping his hands on his chest. His entire body a perfectly polite distance away.

Your wrist lifts, weak and limp, and your fingers ghost across his red wine knuckles. He winces a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you trace the curves of his hands, surfing the valleys where the bone drops, then back up to the peaks where the blood breaks from his skin.

“You didn’t have to…” you whisper. “He was just some dirtbag.”

He sniffs. Replies to you in his head, translated through the look in his eye. Wasn’t all about the dirtbag.

And you know it. Knox was just an asshole who took the hit for the last four days. Sure, he deserved it. But his big, ugly face and the uglier words which happened to tumble out of it were simply a punchbag full of sand; Joel’s fist hammering into it was as much about defending you as it was about punishing someone, anyone, the first fucker who wound up on the wrong side of him, for everything that had happened.

He's angry. At himself and at you and at this entire fucking mess. And you’re angry. At yourself and at him and at the very same thing. The two of you lie side by side in the dark, both broken and bruised and bleeding. You let out a small, pathetic sigh, and Joel echoes it.

His eyes close over and you stare at him. Stare at the faint lines on his face that slowly fade as he relaxes more, falls closer and closer to sleeping. Watch his chest slowly rising and falling, and his hands moving up and down with it. His entire body is still. Like it’s the first calm he’s had in a while. The first time he’s been able to settle.

And you stare at him. For hours, feels like. You stare at him until sleep, or alcohol, or something stronger coats over your vision and sweeps him out of focus.

----------

The wall opposite your window is lit with a single stripe of bright, nauseating orange, the sunrise staring in between your drapes. There are birds screaming outside. Your head is still throbbing and your throat feels like splintered wood and the other side of your bed is empty.

He can’t have left long ago. The mattress is still warm under the sheets he’s folded back over. His shirt is sat folded on the pillowcase.

You grab it and haul yourself out of bed – head still spinning, you trip out of your room.

He’s gotta be in the kitchen. He’ll be standing at the counter drinking a coffee, he’ll mumble a Mornin’, then pull you in and kiss the top of your head. He’ll ask how you’re feeling and if you want some breakfast. He’ll be Joel again.

“Joel…?” you call, rounding the bottom of the stairs toward the kitchen. No response.

The clock on the oven reads 5:57. The kitchen is deserted. When you loop around the island – as if he’d be crouched behind it or something – you notice an empty mug sitting in the sink, trails of black coffee at the bottom.

Your shaking hands cup around the ceramic. It’s cooling, but it’s warm.

He’s been in here.

“Joel!” you yell. Come out, now, this ain’t funny anymore.

You hear the squeak of wheels rolling to a stop outside and flee over to the living room windows, daybreak burning your eyes when you peer through the shades.

You’re frantically searching, going blind with the bright rays singeing your corneas, pacing back and forth between each window to get an angle on the street that will show you his truck. Show you him.

You don’t even notice the sound of keys in the door, or the rattle it makes as it pushes open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You whip around. The owner of the voice lifts a hand to his puffy eyes and rubs them, yawning.

“H-hi, Dad.”

You look fucking insane. Hair all over the place, makeup haphazardly removed, Joel’s flannel shirt hanging from your fist. Wearing nothing but a long tee, a blood-seeped band-aid on your calf.

“Good night?” he says with a sleepy chuckle. “I am pooped. You want anythin’ before I head up to bed?”

You shake your head, but he’s not looking. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Alright, I’m gonn–”

“Where’s Joel?”

Your desperation has reached a new high. Your pride, a new low. You just want him back, don’t care who knows or thinks or suspects what. Just come back.

“Huh?”

“Joel? He brought me home and I woke up and he’s gone.”

“He – Well, I…I suppose he’ll be at work, hon. He can’t stick around here all day.” He smiles weakly, and then swivels on his heels.

“He text you?”

He sighs, his back still turned. “What has gotten into…? Here.”

Your dad twists and throws his phone toward you. It lands on the carpet at your feet. Then he turns back and begins climbing the stairs.

“See ya in a few hours.”

When he turns the corner on the landing and his footsteps fade out of earshot, you bend and your fingers clutch his phone.

He has one unread text from Joel.

You unlock the phone with a click and open up the message thread. Your half-drunk, half-sleepy eyes flit across the screen, leaning back against the arm of the couch to read every word he ever sent your dad.

Joel: She’s in bed. Sat with her for a bit to make sure she didn’t roll onto her back. She’s a little worse for wear. I got a job up in Waco I need to be at in an hour, so I gotta head.

You scroll further back.

Joel: She okay?

Joel: Sarah says she hasn’t heard from her in a few days. We can come over for dinner tonight if you reckon that might help?

Further back still.

Joel: Sure, not doing anything anyway. Sarah in Nashville. Tell her to text me when she’s ready to be picked up. Hope she enjoys her rodeo night 🤠

Joel: Table booked for 6. Get you both at 5:45. Looking forward to it.

You scroll until your eyes hurt.

Joel: No answer. She’ll be home soon I bet.

Joel: You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Pretty good TV

Joel: Your daughter available tonight to help me put up stuff for Sarah coming home? I fear what might happen if I attempt it myself

You read the final message, the first thing he sent your dad after you got home. Six days in. He’d driven you home from work.

Joel: No problem, wouldn’t have her walking home in the rain. Was nice to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.

You’re laid back across the couch, your legs hanging over the armrest. You drop the phone to your chest and stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.

She’s a sweetheart.

Your throat tightens around a sob. Like a fist clenching around your neck, crushing your breath to nothing. Your eyes well, tears slowly flood across your vision and then spill over, running rapidly down to your ears and seeping into the fabric of the couch. You’re still silent. Still unable to open your mouth.

You’re doing everything you can to hold back. To stop it from happening. But your chest feels like it could burst, and your eyes are screwing shut tighter and tighter, and your body curls up like an animal succumbing to a mortal wound, and then –

Then, you break.

It forces its way from your throat, hammering against the sides of your mouth before it’s escaping, tearing away from your lips and hurtling skyward. A deep, violent exhale. Broken, and painful, and heavy.

There’s no one to hold back for. Just you, sat in your living room, clutching the flannel of a man who doesn’t want you anymore.

Your breath stammers, shudders against the palms of your hands as your fingertips massage your eyes. You’re crying like a little kid, and it’s not making you feel any better, but no matter what you do, it won’t stop.

And you don’t know why. You tell yourself that: I don’t know why I’m crying. Almost laugh when you think it through to yourself: sobbing at 6AM over someone you were sleeping with, for all of, what, four weeks? I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying.

Except – you do. You do. And you’re totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

You sigh and close your eyes.

You are – fucked.

----------

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xorafe · 2 months

Text

cam girl (part five)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You were too tired to wake up to your alarm. You snoozed for an extra hour under a mountain of blankets, drifting in and out of consciousness.

When you finally feel ready to start your Sunday, it’s almost 10, and your mind slowly pieces together everything that happened last night.

Rafe has become your sugar daddy. There’s no doubt about it, no other word for it. At this point, you’re sure he’s given you almost ten grand.

You remain lying in bed and pick up your phone to see he texted you five minutes ago. After the $3000 transfer last night, you had quickly saved his number.

Rafe: sore?

You reply: as fuck.

Rafe: you loved it

You roll your eyes. Of course you loved it.

You think of the way he spoke to you, mumbling that you’re beautiful and praising the sounds you made. The way he thrusted into you and called your pussy so fucking perfect. The way his skin slapped against yours with his rough jolts. Remembering it makes your stomach twist with arousal.

You reply: so did you

Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: send an ass pic

You: are you always horny?

Rafe: pretty much. woke up hard

You: and i’m the needy one… lmao

Rafe: are u sending it or not

You smile to yourself at how bad he wants you. You push the blankets off your body. You had fallen asleep in a cold room, your radiator refusing to come back to life no matter how hard you tried, so you’re covered head to toe under fleece pajamas.

The way Rafe reacted to your heat being broken replays in your mind. He seemed so dumbfounded by the idea that you couldn’t just fix something without worrying about the cost.

Then he sent you the exact amount you need to fix it. The fact that you can ask for however much you want and he’ll probably send it without hesitation still throws you for a loop. It’s an odd feeling not having to worry about money.

Thankfully, the morning sun has warmed up your bedroom. You pull your pants and underwear down in one smooth movement, turn onto your front and angle your phone camera.

You can smell Rafe on your pillow. The aroma of his cologne is so unbelievably nice, memories already connected to it.

You lie on your back again, pulling the blanket over you, and send him the photo, a low angle image of your naked asscheeks. You gaze at your screen, anticipating what he’ll say.

But he doesn’t send any words. Just a picture. Your eyes travel over the bulge making a tent in his black boxer briefs. You can see the trail of soft, light hair that leads down to his cock.

Your body tightens at the image. He felt so damn good last night. You can’t wait until the next time he’s inside you.

You text: wish u were here?

Rafe: i’d fuck u even harder than i did last night

You: you wouldn’t make me wait hours for it? wow…

Rafe: you’re so wet right now aren’t you

You can imagine the way he’d say that. He’s so smug. And so right. You dip a hand below the blanket between your legs, your soft folds drenched.

maybe, you reply.

Rafe: you took my cock so good

You bite your lip reading his words. The photo of his covered erection isn’t enough. You need more.

You: show me it

Rafe: you’d like that huh

You: i can just find some porn if you won’t do it

Rafe: don’t even fucking joke about getting off to some other guy’s dick

You smirk. You got to him like you hoped you would.

You: what? i can’t tease you too?

Rafe: no

You: send me a pic then. u know i deserve it

Rafe: only good girls deserve it

You: idk if good girls play with their pussies on camera… maybe i should stop doing that

Rafe: shut up. ur doing it for me every night

He’s so damn worked up that it’s funny. You shrug to yourself, opening another app, letting him sweat.

Your phone buzzes moments later, a notification from him dropping from the top of your screen.

Rafe: ???

You reply: you told me to shut up. i’m listening

He only texts your name.

You: rafe :)

A picture finally comes in. You take in the image of his dick, glad you finally have a chance to appreciate him in brighter lighting. The other photos that he sent over the cam chat were so dark, but now you can see the veins that run down his shaft, the swell of the tip, his large hand gripping the base.

You don’t think you could ever get tired of it.

You: am i allowed to touch myself?

Even through the power struggle between you two, you love giving him the control of when you can orgasm.

Rafe: if you promise me something

You: what?

Rafe: i can watch you play with your asshole tonight

Jesus. He’s unhinged. When he sent that message telling you that you’ll be doing a lot of new things with him, he wasn’t kidding.

The thought of doing this for him is stirring. None of the other guys on cam ever asked for anything like that.

You: i can do that

Rafe: get the toy i bought you. text when ur ready

You drop your phone and rush to find the vibrator, feeling like you’re throbbing now. When you’re all adjusted, you text him: ready.

Your breath hitches as the toy starts to buzz at a brutalizing intensity. You cross your legs, squeeze your chest, and groan as you think about him.

You orgasm within a minute. It feels good, but not as good as when Rafe is actually with you. With him, it’s a new level of ecstasy. Fuck. He may have ruined masturbation for you.

You pick up your phone.

You: might have to go back to sleep after that…

Your phone flashes a notification of $100 being transferred into your digital wallet.

Rafe: order breakfast for yourself

The amount he sent is ridiculous. What kind of place does he get breakfast from?

You doze off again, waking up half an hour later. After ordering food, you send Rafe a screenshot of the confirmation receipt and text: thanks baby <3

Rafe: did u call about the heat yet

You reply: i will

Rafe: do it now

You: bossy

Rafe: now

God, does he love to be in control. You follow his instructions and find the repair place you called last time and make an appointment to get your radiator replaced tomorrow afternoon.

It’s an unreal feeling - your problem being solved in the snap of a finger. This is a little taste of wealth.

You know not to read into it. Rafe’s not doing any of this of the kindness of his heart. Spoiling you is obviously one of the many things he gets off on. But you’re happy to go along with it. Especially considering $3000 is pocket change to this man.

When breakfast is dropped off, you notice a box addressed to you sitting in front of your door. You open it to find a new webcam. Rafe mentioned he’d buy it yesterday. He moves fast.

The day feels long and at 10 pm, you finally log on with the hope that Rafe will do what he did last night and come over instead of making you crave him throughout your session, leaving you to fuck yourself while fantasizing about him.

You’re wearing the ‘princess’ top you bought with his money, matching with pink underwear.

He joins the session and lust fires through you already.

“Hey,” you purr. “How’s the new camera look?”

figure8: much better

figure8 tipped you $100.

“What’s that for?” you giggle.

figure8: for looking so pretty

“Thanks, baby,” you say. “Is this pretty, too?”

You immediately turn onto your knees, looking back at the camera at the sight of your lace panties stretched over your ass.

figure8: goddamn

You smile.

figure8: you get me hard in a fucking second

“Yeah?” you coo. “Did you like my ass pic today?”

figure8: fuck yes. you ever done anal?

You laugh at how direct he is. You never have to wonder what Rafe’s thinking.

You hadn’t gone into that territory, but something about Rafe made you feel adventurous. “No, but maybe I’d try it with you.”

figure8: maybe?

“Depends on your mood,” you say.

figure8: the fuck does that mean

“I had to cum three times for you the other day. But yesterday, you wouldn’t let me do it for fucking hours.” You shrug. “If you make me wait that long again, you’re not getting anything.”

figure8: its honestly really fucking cute how you think you make the rules lol

“Shut up.”

figure8: im not getting anything… sure. i didnt let u cum all day but you were still begging me to fuck you last night

“I hate you,” you laugh.

figure8: you love me and this dick

figure 8: let me see you squeeze your ass

You’re so turned on already, resting your hands on your ass and kneading the flesh. You roam over your skin, fondling and grabbing, then move your fingers to the back of your thighs and bounce your asscheeks for him with your hands.

figure8: fuckkk just like that

“You like these panties?” you ask. The lace leaves nothing to the imagination.

figure8: i wanna see them ripped off

“These were expensive,” you pout.

figure8 tipped you $500.

figure8: there, you can buy more

“God, how much do you think they cost?” you laugh.

figure8: rip them off right now

You dip your fingers beneath the frilly border of the underwear and try to pull them apart. The lace digs into your skin and you finally hear a tear, the fabric giving way.

You watch your image in the screen, the pink lace pulling apart over your asscheeks.

figure8: shake ur ass

You oblige, arching your back, imagining him sitting behind you, big hands on your waist while you writhe and bounce for him.

figure8: let me see ur asshole

The request is probably the most obscene thing he’s ever asked of you. But you like that he does this, that he pushes you into new experiences.

You’re shaking with arousal as you watch yourself obey his orders, spreading open for him.

figure8: holy fucking shit

figure8: i know you’d loooove it up the ass

figure8: get close so i can see you suck on your finger

You’re puzzled at the request, but you obey anyways, turning to face the screen. You shift closer to your laptop and seductively stick your forefinger into your hot mouth, sucking it with quiet moans.

You’re reminded of how he shoved his finger in your mouth last night. Shit, last night was perfect.

figure8: is it nice and wet?

“Mhm.”

figure8: wanna put that finger in your ass for me?

You bite your lip, apprehension inching up your skin. He seems to notice your nervousness.

figure8: nice and slow, baby. you can do it

You nod, turning to spread your ass for him again, then slowly push your digit into your tight hole. You breathe through the pressure, dipping each inch of your finger in with caution, finding pleasure in the new sensation.

figure8: hows it feel?

“Good,” you breathe. You sit up to grab the lube in your nightstand that you bought when you started camming and sit in front of the camera, opening the bottle.

“You want me to try two fingers?” you ask.

figure8: fuck yes

You squeeze the slippery liquid onto your forefinger and middle finger and get onto all fours, angling your ass towards the camera.

When you slip both fingers inside, you arch your back and breathe shakily. Your eyes squeeze shut as you enter your body in a new way for him.

As hot as it is to be doing this for him, now that you’ve had a taste of what it’s like having his body melt into yours, you need him. This just isn’t satisfying enough anymore.

figure8: u like that?

“Mhm,” you moan. “Maybe it’d be better if I try with the dildo?”

You get the reaction you were hoping for.

figure8: the first dick in that ass isn’t gonna be some toy. it’ll be mine, you understand?

“Okay,” you say, brows furrowed, a tone of disappointment in your voice.

figure8: you want it tonight, don’t you?

“Yeah, baby,” you whimper, writhing in anticipation. “I want it tonight.”

figure8 tipped you $1000.

figure8 has left the session.

You smirk to yourself. It seems like this’ll be your and Rafe’s special version of foreplay. Maybe you’ll always begin with a cam show he pays you for, the same way you two started this wild affair, and then he’ll race over and have his way with you.

You decide to pull off your shirt so you can greet him fully naked.

When you hear his knock at the door, your skin prickles with anticipation. Rafe comes in frenzied, slamming the door behind him, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you back into your bedroom.

“Already naked for me,” he rasps, standing in the middle of your bedroom, holding you, towering over you. “My needy girl.”

“Don’t make me wait any longer, then,” you whisper.

Rafe guides you onto your bed, hovering over top of you, his lips hungrily kissing and sucking on your mouth over and over.

With your back against your sheets, you roll your body beneath his, the sensation of his jeans and t-shirt rubbing on your bare skin wildly sexy.

You swear you can feel his cock jerk under his jeans and you breathe out a contented sigh.

“What?” he asks, pulling back with his forehead still pressed against yours.

“Your cock is twitching,” you tease, slipping your hand under his shirt to feel his hot skin. You pull his shirt off and toss it onto the floor.

Rafe lifts his body slightly and dips his hand between your legs, making you sharply inhale as he spreads your lips apart.

“And you’re so fucking wet,” he replies, like he’s trying to one-up you. You shudder as his fingers run up and down your slit.

He brings his hand up to suck on the tips of his fingers, hard eyes on you, and you feel like you might lose your mind over how hot the shared moment is.

“You taste so good,” he says, voice rough. He comes back down to kiss you hard, then shifts to put his mouth on your tits.

You jerk when he grazes a nipple with his teeth, a moan spilling out of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling him pinch and grip you.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk,” Rafe says against your cleavage. “You want that?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“My good girl,” he praises. You hear him fumbling with his jeans, the zipper slipping down quickly, and he plunges into you with no warning, with such a rough blow that you whimper.

You feel your body swallow his thickness, stretching to adjust to his size. He curves into you so perfectly.

Rafe pulls back and rocks into you again, your body jolting with his pressure. His chest is pressed against yours and he shifts to the side to put his hand at your throat, long fingers around your neck.

He squeezes gently, still pounding into you.

“Tighter,” you whisper.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says with a breathy laugh, like he can’t believe that you exist, that you’re taking him like this.

His fingers tighten on the sides of your neck as the sound of smacking flesh fills your bedroom. You grunt with every heavenly pump he gives you, his balls swinging against your ass.

“You take it so good,” he breathes. You tilt your head back, letting his big hand grip your neck better. You’re so grateful he didn’t torment you by making you wait this time.

“Get on top,” Rafe groans into your ear, drawing out of you. “I wanna watch you ride me.”

His hands find your hips as he helps pull you over him. With your palms against his firm pecs, you sink onto him, his cock hitting a new angle.

“Fuck,” you choke out. “Oh, my God, Rafe.”

“You like that, huh, baby?” he says, dimples framing his cocky smile.

You start to bounce with your legs bent and framing his torso, leaning forward so your clit rubs around the base of his cock. The feeling of him filling you and the friction against your sensitive spot makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Your heart starts to pound harder as you massage yourself with his dick, grinding at the perfect pace. You look down at him, meeting his blue eyes, as you roll your hips so you can feel him in every possible way.

You dip your head, panting and moaning as he grips your hips. You’ve never wanted to scream from pleasure so badly.

“I know, princess,” he drawls. “I know it feels good.”

The waves of pleasure are so damn nice that you moan and cover your mouth with your hand so your neighbors don’t hear how loud you’re being.

Rafe roughly grabs your wrist and pulls your hand down.

“Don’t do that,” he instructs.

“My neighbors-“

“Let ‘em hear how much you love this dick,” he says. You feel like you could cum from his words alone.

“F-fuck,” you stammer, grinding faster and harder. “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum?” he teases. A part of you is afraid he’ll push himself out of you, delay your orgasm.

“Please let me,” you whine, “please, baby.”

“I’ll let you,” Rafe says with an amused chuckle. “God, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

The pleasure spikes in you so damn high that you feel your limbs go numb. You cry out as you dissolve into pleasure in its purest form, continuing to ride him as the orgasm hits you, tightening around him in pulses.

“There you go,” he says soothingly, encouragingly.

You bend over on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, hearing his heart in your ear. Rafe’s warm hand strokes up and down your back as you spasm on top of him.

As your gasps slow down, his hands find your ass. He jiggles your cheeks in his hands and you giggle breathily.

“You gonna let me cum in that ass?” he asks you.

“You can cum anywhere you want,” you breathe, feeling cockdrunk. Rafe’s chest rumbles with his laugh.

You sit up and slowly pull yourself off of him, his hard cock bobbing once it’s out of you.

Even though you’re sure you already made his cock wet enough, you hand him the bottle of lube before getting on all fours on your bed. You look back at him to see him slathering his cock with lube.

“I’ll go slow, princess,” he promises. “I’ll stretch you out first.”

You squeeze your pillow and place it so that you can sink your face into it as he fucks you. With your head dug into the soft cotton, you feel Rafe’s big hands grope your ass.

He spreads your cheeks apart and groans.

“Every part of you is so pretty,” he huffs. “You gonna take my cock in any hole I want, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, muscles still weak from your orgasm.

You feel a finger slowly enter you and you arch your back, eyes squeezing shut. It’s so new but so fucking nice. The pressure is higher than when you did it on camera for him, his finger bigger than yours.

“There you go,” he coaches as he pushes deeper inside of you. “Shit, it’s so fucking tight. I’m gonna cum in a second, baby, I know it.”

“Fuck, Rafe,” you mumble. “It feels amazing.”

He adds a second finger, working in and out to stretch you out some more. You push back against his fingers to encourage him to go deeper.

“I want to fuck your ass so hard right now,” he groans on the verge of a whine.

“Do it,” you say. “I’m ready. Do it.”

His fingers pull out of you and you feel him spit on you, warm saliva dribbling over your opening. Finally, you feel the tip of his cock start to push into your ass.

The pressure stings as he buries into you and you try not to slump, you try to stay firm for him.

“Oh, my God,” he moans as he fills you. “Fucking… Oh, my fuck…”

His raw, untamed rambling gives you a sense of willpower to stay still and ignore your body’s impulse to pull away from the unfamiliar pain.

Rafe finally presses his base against your ass, filling your hole up completely.

He retreats, giving you some relief, then pounds into you again. The feeling is a good pain as he starts to thrash in and out, his fingers so tight on your hips that you know he’ll bruise you.

He pulls away a hand and you suddenly feel a hard smack on your ass that makes you gasp. He keeps fucking you hard, plunging in and out with a frenzied pace.

“You like it, princess?” he says between breaths. “You like it up the ass? I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” you groan, the feeling pleasurable now that you’re getting used to it. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“It’s not just your pussy that’s mine, is it?” he taunts. “It’s your ass. Your mouth. Your tits. All of you. Fucking all of you.”

His claim of ownership on you is so fucking intoxicating that you almost forget all this is supposed to be is hot, casual sex.

You push away the thought, refusing to let it ruin things. This is just fun. This is all this is.

“Goddamn, and you were just…” he groans as he keeps fucking you. “You were just… fuck, just always around and looking so fucking hot. I never thought I’d get to fuck you.”

You bite your lip at his words, lost in the feeling of a man wanting you this bad. Of Rafe wanting you this bad. You knew he loved to tease you, but shit, he was yearning for you this much whenever you came to clean his house?

“Oh, fuck…” Rafe’s deep voice gives out as you feel him pulse his hot cum into you, his body jerking against you.

He eventually slowly pulls out and you feel his hand slowly rub over the curve of your ass.

“Stay like this,” he says. “I wanna watch my cum drip out of you.” Just when you think he can’t get any filthier, Rafe surprises you. Every damn time.

Once he’s satisfied, you feel him plant a kiss on your ass before he shifts away to put on his underwear.

Your smile is slack as you drop onto your side, hand resting on your forehead. You feel utterly fucked out. He didn’t lie. You won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You watch his chest rise and fall when he lies down next to you.

Again, Rafe surprises you that he’s staying, even if it’s just a little while. He seems like such a fuck and chuck kind of guy. It’s what you expected. Kind of what you welcomed.

He looks at you, amused by how hard you’re gasping for breath.

“Damn, you won’t even need your heat on tonight, huh?” Rafe says. “Gave you a whole fucking workout.”

“If it’ll be like this every night, I’ll cancel,” you joke lazily.

“Cancel?”

“Mhm,” you say tiredly, eyes closing.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

He says your name stern enough that you pop open your eyes.

“I’ll cancel the appointment,” you clarify.

“They didn’t already fix it?”

“Tomorrow was the soonest they could do.” His brows furrow in what looks like anger. You can’t help but chuckle a little. “What’s the big deal?”

“So, you spend another night cold?”

“It’s not that bad,” you say. “I have lots of blankets… and…” You yawn. “A space heater… and… my pajamas…”

You realize you’re lying on top of a thin sheet completely naked but you’re too exhausted to care that you’ll wake up cold. It’s like Rafe fucked the energy out of you.

“I have to lock the door behind you,” you remember. You sit up, rubbing your eyes so you stay alert. “I don’t know if you realized but this isn’t a gated community.”

“Should I… uh, do you want a hotel room or something?” Rafe asks.

You look at him, his head on your pillow, his hair a mess, and offer him a confused smile.

“Hotel?” you repeat.

“If it’s gonna be cold in here.”

“Oh, that radiator has broken a million times,” you say. “I’ve survived a lot of cold nights. I don’t need a penthouse suite.”

Rafe gazes at you with an indistinguishable look.

You feel a bit awkward now. You know he’ll leave eventually, but if he doesn’t do it now, you’ll pass out and he’ll leave the door unlocked.

You stand to keep yourself awake, finding a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt.

“Same time tomorrow?” you try to joke.

“I can stay and…” he says. He sits up, his hair falling over his forehead, his stomach flexing. “Uh, I can… hold you. If you want. So you’re not cold.”

You stand in the middle of your small room, looking down at Rafe, and can’t help but notice how out of place he looks. His large, half-naked frame on your small double bed, his expensive clothes drawn out on your squeaky, scratched up floor, offering to cuddle you to sleep.

This is supposed to be purely sexual. You’ve been having fun and adding to your bank account, while letting him live out his fantasies to sexually and financially dominate the help. That’s all you are to him: a depraved cam girl who cleans his house. Right?

But now, he’s acting… well, nice. Like he’s not just a fuck buddy who gets turned on by giving you money and buying you things. And it’s unexpected.

You’re not sure what to do.

{ read part six here }

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muwapsturniolo · 15 days

Text

✯CYBER SEX 2✯

THEE MUWAPGUCCI COLLAB

IN WHICH… Matt and Chris Sturniolo are just two inexperienced losers.

Trust me when I meet him, I'm fucking him on sight

Warnings: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD! NO ACTUAL SMUT BUT MENTION OF PORNOGRAPHIC MATERIAL AND BODY PARTS.

MPT 1, GPT1, GPT2

"Next...Next...Nex-Oh he's cute!" Y/n gives Mika a dirty look. The two girls were currently in Y/n's apartment, going through the submissions for the contest. The contest ended two days ago and the girl had gotten around 1k submissions. She had already gone through 10 submissions alone, now she has her friend with her and they are trying to go through the rest together.

Mika didn't want to go through the submissions with her, but with the promise of free food and one hundred dollars, Mika caved.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you know he's ugly." She points to her laptop which has a picture of a guy. "Come on he's not that bad! Ok let's look at his entry form!" Mika snatches the laptop and starts reading things out. everything about him seems normal until they get to his sexual interests.

"Ok, so it looks like he enjoys bondage, roleplay, sla- WHAT THE FUCK!" Y/n looks at Mika with crossed arms and a raised brow.

"He's into weird shit isn't he?"

"What the hell is a slave kink?! Like does he want you to call him Massa and tell you to take his conservative dick?!" Y/n falls out in laughter at Mika's disturbing words. "Yeah immediate no! I'm deleting this submission, fuck that!" Mika does just as she said, and deletes the entry, closing the laptop right after.

"That's enough for today, let's go get something to eat." Y/n groans and shakes her head, "Mika come on! I have to get this done!"

"And we will! But you promised me food and after that slave shit, I need some food. Let's go to Randy's and get a burger or something!"

The two girls leave the apartment, making their way to Randy's. The diner wasn't that far from her apartment, with it being a college town and all it was easy to travel on foot.

They make it to the diner pretty quick and walk to their usual seat. As they are walking, Y/n gets a phone call from her mom. “Hold on, I have to take this.” She walks back towards the door, completely missing Mika accidentally bumping into someone, "oh shit my-Matt?" Matt smiles awkwardly seeing the girl from the library.

"H-Hey Mika, how are you?" He adjusts his glasses and his backpack, putting more of his weight on his right foot rather than his left. "I'm good! Hey, did you ever send that girl the picture? you never updated me and everyone else on it." He laughs shyly, rubbing his neck.

"I uh yeah I did…I actually sent a video." Mika claps excitedly.

“That’s great! What did she say?! Are you guys going out now!? Did you have sex!?” A few people give them weird looks making Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red. He gives the guests of the diner an apologetic smile before turning back to Mika, “I-umm. Y-yeah she liked it… and no we haven’t gone out yet but s-she did like it.”

He does his best to make his lie believable. It’s not like he could tell the girl that he submitted a video of him drunk and jerking off to a cam girl. She would probably call him a weird loser…or maybe even an incel.

“Well, at least she liked it! Hopefully, you get a girl soon!” She playfully nudges him making him laugh.

“Sorry, it was my mom asking me how school is going.” Y/n walks up attempting to put her phone back in her purse. Matt’s eyes widen seeing the girl approaching them. He feels his body run cold and he quickly looks down, “S-sorry Mika I-I have t-to go!” He rushes past the two, bumping shoulders with Y/n as he darts out of the diner.

"Well, he was weird." Y/n mumbles, eyeing the boy through the windows. She watches as he climbs into a sleek black car. Mika gently hits her arm, "Shut up! He's not weird he's just really shy. He's actually a really nice guy. He's supposed to go out with me and the girls soon." Mika explains as they sit down.

They order their food and it’s soon brought to them.

"What were you talking about with Matt anyway?" Mika finishes chewing before answering the question.

"Sasha had asked him randomly if he ever took a dick pick after Jordan sent her one-Wait Jordan sent her a dick pic? Even after he cheated on her?-Yeah and it was a shitty one too! Made up for nothing! Anyway, Matt said he never took one but he had the opportunity to send one to a girl. So we decided to help him, teach him the best way to take the best picture."

Y/n scrunches her face up, "Wait, you had to help him take a picture of his junk? Is he like a virgin or something?'' Mika shrugs and dips her fry into her shake.

"I'm pretty sure, I mean don't get me wrong, he's cute, but he's super shy and awkward. I'm surprised he even wanted to send a dick pic considering he seemed really interested in his studies." Y/n hums and plays around with her food, her mind stuck on the boy with glasses.

Y/n huffs for what seems like the thousandth time. She's been home for about two hours now since going out with Mika. Her time was spent still going through all the submissions. She found a few people she would choose so she wrote their names down before continuing.

"Why did I do this to myself?" She mutters as she fixes the blue light glasses on her face. She feels her mouth getting dry, so she exits her room to grab a glass of water. When she walks back, she sees her cat walking along the keyboard of her laptop.

“You’re so annoying,” she grumbles walking to her bed. She sets her cup down on her nightstand before moving the brown cat. She goes to close her laptop, wanting to deal with the entries tomorrow, but stops in her tracks seeing a familiar face on her screen.

“There’s no way.” She thinks to herself.

She snatches the laptop and stares at the entry infront of her.

There’s no way that’s him…Right?

She sits down on her bed, analyzing the picture. It looks just like the boy from the diner, glasses and all. Granted she wasn’t able to get a good look at him due to him rushing past her with his head down but she had to admit,

He was attractive.

He had a bit of a beard, not a burly one but one that enhanced his jawline. He had brown hair that looked as if he ran his fingers through it multiple times. His face was adorned by a pair of oval brown glasses, complimenting his facial features well. His eyes were a dull blue, looking as if he was tired when taking the picture.

If Mika’s claims are true with him being into his studies, it was most likely he was studying when taking the picture.

She opens up his application and begins to read his answers.

She finds herself smiling when she reads about his hobbies, finding it interesting that he’s majoring in film. She begins to wonder what his favorite movies are. She reads that he loves Lego sets and looks over to the unopened boxes of Legos on her desk.

Wanting to know more about him, she continues.

“Triplet? Jesus Christ his mom had her hands full.” Her curiosity is peaked and she grabs her phone and opens up Instagram.

She searches for his name and clicks on the first profile. Sure enough, it’s his account.

He only has 100 followers, most of them being family and the few people he met in school. She scrolls through his pictures and comes to the conclusion that he has a simple life.

Lots of pictures of him and his brothers, some of him and his parents, and some with a dog.

She throws her phone down and goes back to his form.

She gets to his sexual interests and to her surprise, she finds that he doesn’t have any, stating that he doesn’t know of his interests but is open to almost anything.

Most guys his age would know their kinks and what they prefer in bed by now.

“Maybe he only has had vanilla sex.” She looks at her cat, waiting for the animal to answer.

When the cat doesn’t answer, she looks back at the screen.

There’s no way he’s a virgin…Right? He watches her streams, he couldn’t be a virgin.

She wants to text Mika and tell her about Matt's entry, but she doesn’t want to put Matt’s business out there, especially if he’s as shy and closed off as Mika makes him out to be.

She reads the rest of his entry before getting to the first video.

She adjusts the way she’s sitting and takes a sip of water before pressing play.

“Take five,” she giggles hearing the annoyance in his voice.

She watches the video and is surprised to hear his words. Most of the entry videos have been people saying that the reason they should win is because they have money, or they will give her the best dick of her life. They were cocky and Y/n found that unattractive.

She didn’t grow up with a lot of money, so people flaunting it and spending it like crazy rubbed her in all the wrong ways.

Matt on the other end was a bit more soft spoken and actually treating her like she was human, admitting that none of the other contenders should be able to take her out due to her being too good for them. He also didn't flaunt his money, granted he was a college student so he was probably broke anyway but,

It was a change of pace that she loved.

She knew what she was getting into when becoming a cam girl, being treated like she was an object rather than a human. His words made her feel,

Good.

The video ends and her heart races when she scrolls down. She was expecting to see a picture of his dick, not a video that’s 10 minutes long.

The thumbnail is of Matt in bed, getting ready to pull his pants down.

She hesitates as she presses play.

The video starts with shuffling being heard before Matt’s body clumsily falls onto the bed.

She notices the only sources of light are purple LED's and a sunlamp casting a warm glow onto the bed.

She finds herself attracted to the setting, it was almost cinematic. The way the lights cast a spotlight on him, an aura of orange, yellow, and purple covering his body.

She watches his tattooed arm pull his laptop closer, noticing an old stream of hers being pulled up. He hooks his fingers into his sweats, before releasing his hard and aching cock.

Y/n’s mouth waters.

He seemed to be about a good 7 inches, having a mushroom top. It wasn’t that girthy, but she knew that it would feel mind-blowing, especially with the thick vein running up the side.

He presses play on the video and begins to jerk himself off, spitting on his own cock.

She feels that familiar ache in between her legs.

His moans and whimpers sound like music to Y/n.

“Fuck Y/n.” She clenches her legs hearing him moan her name, loving the way it rolls off his tongue, piercing her ears and making her slick worse.

She quickly pauses the video and grabs her cat, setting the animal outside of her room and closing the door. She rushes back over to her bed and grabs the vibrator from her nightstand, quickly stripping herself of her clothes.

Usually, she would do a bit of foreplay, but she couldn’t wait. She could feel the slick between her folds, the mound between her legs aching and pleading to be touched.

She lays back on the bed and presses play on the video, immediately pushing her vibrator in between her wet folds.

Her eyes roll back at the relief, letting out a deep sigh.

She looks back at her laptop and sees Matt’s head is thrown back, his hand working hard to chase his impending orgasm.

“F-fuck Matt!” She moans hearing him moan her name once again.

“P-please let me cum m-mommy, I’ll be a good boy!” His submissive pleas do something to Y/n, unlocking a part of her that she didn’t even know was there.

She never found herself interested in guys calling her mommy, thinking they had some type of mommy issues and wanting her to baby them. But for some reason, she loved hearing Matt call her mommy and beg.

She could tell that he was close by the way he sped up his hand and the way his chest moved up and down quickly. She’s close as well, the urge to “pee” only getting stronger as the vibrations go on.

“Fuck fuck fu-“ she watches as his head hangs low biting his lip, his stomach clenching as white ribbons spurt out, some landing on his chest and face.

She yelps and arches her back as she makes a mess on her sheets. She swipes the vibrator back and forth, prolonging the orgasm as her body shakes.

She closes her eyes and swallows harshly as she tries to catch her breath, turning the vibrator off and throwing it to the side.

She opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling her mind fuzzy and filled with images of her and Matt and what a night together would look like.

After a few moments she sits up and grabs her laptop, drafting and email.

Y/e/[email protected]: hello Matt, I wanted to email you personally instead of through Chaturbate! This email is letting you know that you are the winner of the competition 💕 If you would no longer like to participate and would like me to choose another winner, please respond to the email stating so. Otherwise, respond to this email with the days you are free, and where you would like to meet for our date.

Can’t wait to see you again, maybe this time you won’t be as shy and you will actually look at me 💕

Xoxo, Y/n

She sends the email and smiles to herself, standing up and throwing on her robe.

She opens the door and sees her cat looking at her, “sorry miss lady, momma had to handle business. Let’s get dinner started.”

She walks into the kitchen and begins cooking dinner, her mind still on Matt.

PT 2 BABYYYYYYY!!!! IM SO SORRY THAT IT'S SHORT BUT I COULDN'T THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE TO WRITE😭 MAKE SURE YOU READ MY POOKIE @guccifrog POSTS AND GET CAUGHT UP CUZ NEXT WEEK IS THE LAST PART OF THE COLLAB!!!

XOXO PEACHES🍑

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @teenagetrash00 @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid

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heavyhitterheaux · 4 months

Text

Ghost Part 1

AN: everyone ignore the fact that it took me almost a year to finish this lol

Synopsis: You're an OnlyFans model that gets pregnant by none other than Jack Harlow, who runs at the first sign of taking responsibility for his actions. But soon enough, his responsibilities get to be too much for him to ignore

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

'I'm a good girl'

At least that’s what you told yourself

But good girls didn't go to school by day and were a cam girl at night.

However, you were

It was only for a little while

Just until you finished school

You needed a way to pay for it somehow

Besides the money was good and it kept a roof over your head

You admit that this wasn't your first choice in a career path obviously, but you had to do what you had to do in order to survive.

You had been in foster care since you were 9 because your parents and brother passed away in a car accident while you were the lone survivor

Your grandparents were older and they couldn't take care of you so that's when you went into the system

Your aunt which was your mother's sister and your mother didn't get along and she said that there was no way in hell that she would take you and that you were someone else’s problem

I mean she did have five kids of her own to take care of, but to be that cold hearted to a nine year old?

You admit that you had survivor's guilt and would do anything to have all three of them here with you. But you knew that they would have wanted for you to have the best life that you could possibly have and that you were going to make sure of it.

But if they were here, then maybe just maybe, your current life would be different.

You had dreams of becoming a preschool teacher since you were diagnosed at 15 with PCOS and you were told that your chances of getting pregnant were slim to none. It definitely hurt because since you didn’t have any immediate family left, that you wanted to have as many as you could.

But you figured if you couldn’t have any of your own that you would teach them instead. If you could plant little seeds into their minds that will be able to set them up for greatness then you were all for it.

You put on your newest lingerie set that was gifted to you by one if not your favorite supporter you would say who went by the name Mr.Missionary and was setting up your camera in order to get the perfect view.

One thing about you is that you never showed your face

Only thing they could see was from the neck down

You did that on purpose because the last thing you wanted was for someone to know what you looked like.

It wasn't the fact that you were embarrassed of what you did, but you wanted to remain as anonymous as possible so for the future, your career wouldn't be impacted. You could only imagine what would happen if someone found out what you had done in college when you were teaching their small children. It probably wouldn’t be good and the next thing that would probably happen is you being out of a job.

You saw time and time again that happening to different people and that's one thing you did not want to deal with.

But, back to Mr. Missionary

He was a sweet talker and knew exactly what to say.

It all started with a message from him asking you if you were comfortable showing your face to him.

Since he had been supportive of you since day one, you figured why not. But also told him not to share any of the photos that you sent him to anyone else.

So your jaw definitely dropped when you answered the incoming facetime call and was staring back at no one other than Jack Harlow.

The two of you would talk every week and you mentioned one time how you had never been off the east coast before and would love to go. Only Fans did pay well now that you had a lot of subscribers, but it hadn’t always been that way. However, you really only used the money for school and to make sure that you had a place to live.

The semester had just ended and you weren't taking any classes during the summer so Jack offered to fly you out to L.A. to spend a week with him while he was recording new songs and you quickly said yes.

This would happen periodically, him flying you out to different cities to meet him all summer long and soon you found yourself getting ready for the new semester to start.

You had about another year to go at Howard University in D.C. until you graduated with your degree in early childhood education while your friend Nadia was majoring in business administration.

The two of you met your freshman year and had been close ever since when you had to take a few prerequisite classes together.

She was from Louisville and was a big fan of Jack, but you didn't bother telling her what had happened between the two of you.

You signed an NDA anyway.

And since she had gone home for the summer, she had no reason for the thought to even cross her mind.

But when you just so happened to go to your OB/GYN appointment you had gotten a huge surprise.

You were pregnant and apparently had been for three months.

Your period was irregular and you would often go for months without getting one so you thought nothing of it.

The first thing you did when you got back to your apartment was call Nadia and couldn’t help but to blurt it out.

"I'M PREGNANT!"

"Well first of all hello to you too and WHAT?!”

"I can't get pregnant! At least that's what I was told. They told me that when I was fifteen!"

"Well apparently you can. How far along are you?"

"Three months apparently and I had absolutely no idea. I wasn’t craving anything, no morning sickness, no nothing. None of the usual symptoms."

"Oh so when the semester ended, those legs were open for business, huh?"

"NADIA! BE SERIOUS PLEASE." You said while pacing around your bedroom.

"Well, who's the father? Did you tell him?"

"Sooo, this is probably going to sound really bad." You muttered while pouring yourself something to drink.

You couldn’t see Nadia’s face, but you could just imagine how it looked.

"I mean, how bad? You're an adult who can do what you want."

"Ummm…. He’s one of my supporters for my cam show."

"Y/N!!!! IS THAT WHY YOU WERE FLYING EVERYWHERE THIS SUMMER!? YOU WENT TO SEE HIM DIDN’T YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN?"

"Um, maybe and well, I didn’t die."

"What do you mean maybe?! It's either yes or no! And you didn’t die, but now you came back pregnant!”

"Uh, then yes."

"You need to tell him NOW. It’s his responsibility as much as it is yours."

"I will and then I'll call you back." You said while sighing.

You didn't have enough courage to call him, but you needed to. It was better to get it over with sooner rather than later.

You knew he was busy and decided to text him first.

You- Hey, call me when you get a chance

Jack- I will right before I go to sleep tonight. Hopefully I can get another private show 😉

You didn't even bother responding and just waited for your phone to ring while working on assignments you had to do for class instead.

Another thing you had to worry about now was graduating on time since you were now pregnant and would be due at the start of the last semester before you graduated.

It was around 11:52 pm when your phone finally rang indicating an incoming facetime call from Jack.

"Hey pretty girl. I'm sorry it took me so long to call you.”

"Hey. It's okay, I was just studying while I waited.” You quietly said and Jack was immediately eyeing you knowing that something was wrong.

"You okay?" Jack curiously asked while looking at your solemn expression.

"No, not exactly." You quietly responded while starting to fidget as you closed your textbook that was in front of you.

It was now or never.

"What's going on?"

You took a deep sigh before the words left your mouth. Might as well get it over with.

"I'm pregnant."

Jack immediately went quiet and pinched the bridge of his nose before he said anything.

"I thought you said that you couldn't get pregnant and I always wore protection every time just in case."

"I thought so too and obviously you didn't."

"How do you know it's mine?" You immediately rolled your eyes.

"Didn't I spend basically the entire summer with you?"

"Some of it, not all of it. I don't know what you were doing when you weren't with me." Your jaw had hit the floor. He had some nerve.

"Don't do that. Why would I lie?"

"I'm being honest. Don't get mad at me for telling the truth. And why would you lie? Because I’m a millionaire the last time I checked, that’s why. Sounds like you tried to trap me."

"Look, I just want them taken care of. AND EXCUSE ME? TRAP YOU? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

"I still don't see what that has to do with me and yes trap me, you heard me the first time."

"Seriously? How could you even say that? I have given you no reason to think that about me."

“Well people can surprise you, everyday. Until I get a paternity test, I'm not believing anything."

That was about three years ago and nothing has changed since then.

You were basically a single mother and Jack popped in occasionally when he wanted to.

Which wasn't often.

You were struggling living on your own with no support system in D.C. and Nadia had convinced you to move to Kentucky to be near her so she could help out as much as she could. Her business was finally taking off and she told you that you could find a teaching job at one of the elementary schools since they were hiring for preschool teachers.

When Jack found out that you had moved to Louisville he was not only convinced that you trapped him, but now you were stalking him too.

He had no idea that you were in this by yourself, literally. No help from family or anything.

You could count on one hand how many times Jack had seen Ace since birth and you came to the conclusion that you were probably going to be a single mother and stopped asking him for anything. The last time that he had talked to you was almost two months ago. During that three minute conversation he didn’t even ask how his son was and he only lived less than fifteen minutes away from you.

After the paternity test was done and Jack was proven to be the father, he had accidentally left the paper out on the table and no one other than his younger brother Clay found it. He had questioned Jack about it and because Clay was holding the obvious proof in his hands there was no possible way for him to back out of it. Clay then took it upon himself to reach out to you because he wanted to meet Ace. He met him when he was a month old and at that time Jack had only been to see him once. Because of how he acted, you knew early on not to put his last name on Ace’s birth certificate.

After moving to Louisville, you met two of Nadia’s close friends, Blaire and Liv. Blaire was a baker who had her own bakery and would have breakfast waiting for you every day for you and Ace before you dropped him off at daycare and went to the school to teach while Liv taught kindergarten at the same school where you were. All four of you had become extremely close, but none of them knew who Ace’s father was.

Because you signed an NDA, all you ever told them was that he really wasn’t a part of his life and that you were doing this all on your own and they accepted that as an explanation, but it was only a matter of time before they found out the truth. You knew that they would all look at him differently because they were such big fans of him. Plenty of times they had asked you to go to his concerts with him, but you steadily declined, but they never questioned why.

All Jack did was send money to help with daycare and that’s when he actually remembered to do it. You got a discount since it was actually in the same school as where you taught, but it was still expensive. Especially on the salary that you got.

It was currently almost four in the afternoon and Jack was supposed to pick Ace up to spend time with him and you were hoping that they would be able to spend more time together. You knew that his career was demanding and he was at the height of it, but you just wanted Ace to have a relationship with him. He told you that he would be coming around 2 and that he would take Ace to the Louisville basketball game later with the rest of PG and spend the weekend with him.

From what you knew, Urban was the only one who knew about Ace and was guessing that this would be his opportunity to tell them. You sighed as you looked at your baby waiting at the door with his little backpack on wanting to see the moment his dad was going to come through the door.

After a while, he just sat down and sighed which made your heart break.

“Mommy, daddy not coming is he?” He quietly asked you and all you did was sigh.

“We just have to wait and see, bub. Maybe daddy got busy and got caught up with doing something.” One thing that you were tired of doing was making excuses for Jack.

“Does daddy love me?” He looked up at you with tears in his eyes and you quickly sat down next to him and slid him into your lap.

It took everything in you not to cry right then and there, but immediately pulled out your phone to call him.

“Of course he does. Here, baby. Let’s call him to see where he is.”

You didn’t know if you were trying to convince Ace or convince yourself.

You put the phone to Ace’s ear and Jack actually picked up on the third ring which you were surprised by.

“Hello?”

“DADDY! Where you at? Still coming to get me?”

“Oh, hey little man. Um, something came up, but I promise to get you another day.”

“But you promised you were coming today. You said that last time.”

“I know, bubs but I’ve just been so busy.”

Not wanting for the conversation to go on any further, Ace handed the phone to you with tears in his eyes, threw off his backpack and ran down the hallway into his room.

“Ace!” You called after him, but he continued down the hallway.

“Are you…..? Are you serious right now?! You made him cry because all you do is fucking lie to him and to me!” You took a deep breath before letting him have it.

“Y/N, please don’t fucking start.” You heard him say before sighing and you could hear cheering going on in the background indicating that he was already at the game.

“Oh, I’m going to fucking start because he has been excited for this all week! Why would you bail on your son like that? You did the same shit last time. You begged me to come and see him and when I told you what time would work best, what did you do? Not even bother to show up. Either you want to be in his life or you don’t and you need to make a decision. Tired of my child constantly being disappointed in his father.”

“Look, I’ll talk to you later.” Jack said and then hung up without another word leaving you fuming from your conversation.

You simply got up while grabbing Ace’s backpack and made your way to his room. Once you opened the door, you found him laying down with his head resting on his hands just staring off into space.

“Ace….”

“Mommy, can we just go to the park?” He asked not even mentioning what Jack had done.

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want. I also think that it’s a perfect day for ice cream. What do you say?”

At the mention of ice cream, Ace immediately perked up and eagerly nodded his head.

“Can I get chocolate chip cookie dough?”

“Whatever my Ace wants, he gets.”

Upon hearing this, he immediately smiled and you were happy that you could take his mind off of what his father had promised him, at least for a little while.

Two weeks had passed and you were rushing to get both of you out of the door and to Blaire’s bakery for breakfast so that the two of you would at least have something on your stomach for the busy day ahead.

You had sent a text last night to Jack asking him to send you money for daycare for the month of October, but he never responded leaving you frustrated because you literally now only had 24 hours to come up with the money otherwise you weren’t quite sure what you were going to do.

Your Only Fans was still active, but that was a last resort.

While driving to the bakery, Ace fell asleep in the backseat when you decided to call him.

“Yes, Y/N? What now? I’m busy.”

“Good morning to you too. Did you get my text last night?” You asked after rolling your eyes at how he greeted you.

“Didn’t I just give you money for daycare? Why do you need more already?”

“You see, Jackman….”

“Don’t call me that.”

“That’s your name isn’t it? Given to you by your parents?”

“Look, what do you want? I’m in the studio.”

“No need to be rude. I need more money for daycare. I have to pay it every month.”

“Why the fuck is it so expensive? Got damn a round trip to L.A. is cheaper.”

“I don’t know, but I already get a discount and I have to pay it by tomorrow so can you just send it to me?”

“1600 dollars?!? That’s the discounted price? You have got to be fucking kidding me. They act like you have six fucking kids. He’s one person.”

“Just… can you do it or not? I wouldn't ask you unless I absolutely had to.” You asked, hating that you even had to do so.

“Yeah, I’ll send it and you better be using it for daycare and not something else. Because if I find out you did, you better not ask me for it again. Anything else you want to bother me about?”

“Ace is in the car. Do you want to say good morning to him?”

“Not really. I’ll call him later. Bye.”

“I-....”

Jack hung up without another word and all you did was shake your head at him and how your three year old is more well mannered than he is.

Once you pulled up to the bakery, Blaire met you outside on the curb and immediately ran to your window with a bag of food as well as two drinks. A hot chocolate for Ace and her specially made coffee for you. You swore that she put jet fuel in it and as many times as you asked her for the recipe, she never told you.

It literally allowed for you to stay energized throughout the day and didn't even want to know how much caffeine was in it.

She handed you yours, while she opened Ace’s door and handed him his.

“Thank you, Auntie Blaire.” He quietly said before taking it and you looked back at him to see that he was pouting and Blaire immediately asked him what was wrong before you could.

“Daddy didn’t say good morning to me when he talked to mommy.”

Oh.

So he was awake.

“I’m just sure he was really busy. You can try calling him later once you get home, yeah?” She said to try and get a smile at him, but all he did was nod his head.

So much for getting a good start to the day.

Ace had been upset the entire time he was in daycare even when you went to go and check on him and brought a cookie as a peace offering which he wasn't excited by and thought that making his latest favorite dinner might take his mind off of it.

You never in a million years thought that Ace would love to help you cook, but here you were. He told you that he wanted to be a chef when he grew up, so you obviously set him up with everything that he might need.

He told you on the way home that he wanted to make chicken parm with noodles so you stopped by the store to grab the ingredients.

Ace was wearing his apron that you had gotten him as a gift for his birthday which said Chef Ace on it and standing on his step stool to add salt to the boiling water for the noodles while you were finishing cutting up the chicken and about to start making the breading for it.

He didn't bring up for the rest of the day what had happened with Jack earlier, but you had a feeling that it was coming and more than likely it would be around bedtime. But for now, you were simply going to focus on spending time with your little one.

“Ace, do you want to grab the Italian seasoning for mommy to use?”

“Yes!”

He promptly moved his step stool to be in front of the spice cabinet and climbed up when there was a knock on the door.

Ace had handed it to you and stepped down before going to get a sip of juice out of his sippy cup.

“Be right back, bubs. Remember don't touch anything without mommy being in here with you. We don't need you getting hurt.”

“Okay, promise.” He quickly answered before taking another swig of his juice as you went to answer the door to come face to face with Nadia, Blaire, and Liv.

“Heyyy. Blaire told us baby daddy troubles this morning sooooo…. We brought wine and lemon cake that Blaire made for Ace.” Nadia said as she held up the wine and Liv held up the cake and all three of them were smiling back at you.

“You guys didn't….”

“Shut up and let us in. Yes we did and what is our little chef making tonight?” Liv asked as you moved to the side and let them in while closing the door behind you.

“Chicken parm and salad and Blaire’s cake can be added to that now.”

“HI AUNTIES!” You heard Ace as he ran full speed towards the four of you.

“Auntie’s baby!” Nadia exclaimed as she opened her arms to engulf him into a hug.

“Food should be about done in another thirty minutes.”

“Well until then, we have the wine to keep us occupied.”

After gushing over how good the meal was along with Blaire’s lemon cake, Nadia pulled out her phone and shoved it towards you.

“What am I looking at?” You asked her as Ace had climbed into your lap.

“Jack Harlow and his No Place Like Home concert. I thought I would get tickets for all of us to go.”

Ace then peered at her phone and got a confused look on his face.

“Oh, that's daddy!”

Silence.

Looks of shock.

Looks of disbelief.

Nadia, Liv, and Blaire knew how intelligent Ace was so they didn't think that this would be something that he would lie about all while trying to wrap their heads around it.

When no one said anything, Ace turned to look at you.

“Are we going to call him before I go to sleep?”

“Um, sure bubs. We’ll call him. Do you want to go and pick out a book for us to read tonight before we do?”

He eagerly nodded before hopping down off your lap and heading to his bookshelf in his bedroom.

All you did was sigh and wait for the interrogation to begin.

Nadia was first.

“Y/N!!!!! I…. WHAT!?”

“Do not say anything because the last thing I need is him finding out that other people know.”

“He is a literal ASSHOLE to you and Ace. The mother of his son and his actual son. All the shit that you’ve told us he’s done!?! Or hasn't done for that matter.” Liv exclaimed as she poured herself another glass of wine.

“So that's who was flying you out that summer?”

You simply nodded.

“Y/N…..”

“Look, I don't need the looks of pity. I’m fine, my son is fine and that's all that matters. We’re going to be okay with or without him.”

Blaire who had been quiet the entire time simply shook her head.

“I can always call my brothers to jump him.”

“NO, BLAIRE!”

“The offer still stands. Just say the word.” She replied while shrugging.

“I know how you three love his music so get the tickets and have fun. Me and Ace will be okay.”

“No. One band, one sound bitch. If you have beef with Jack Harlow, so do we.” Nadia said while crossing her arms.

“Come to think of it… Ace does look an awful lot like him.”

“All I can do every day when we go out is pray that no one notices. I have to protect him and it’s sad that I actually have to do it from his father.”

It was around 7 PM when you had finished giving Ace a bath and had finished reading the book that he picked out earlier to him when he asked to call Jack.

“Can we call daddy now?” He asked looking up at you hopeful and all you did was give him a small smile.

“Of course we can.”

You grabbed your phone and attempted to call Jack on facetime while handing it to Ace.

All it did was continuously ring and you saw the pout on Ace’s face become more pronounced.

“Maybe, he’s just busy, bubs.” You quietly said before you took your phone back and the look of disappointment across his face broke your heart.

“He’s always busy, mommy.”

“But, at least you get to spend the day with him tomorrow! That’s something to be excited about. Do you have any idea about what you want to do?”

Jack had begged you to come and get him tomorrow to make up for not taking him to the basketball game with him and as much as you felt that he was going to go back on his word, but you were willing to give him another chance. But the chances were slowly running out.

“No, I’m just sleepy.”

“Okay, let’s get tucked in so we can sleep.”

Once you had gotten Ace settled, you went into your room and logged onto your banking app to see that Jack in fact did send you the money to pay for daycare and you let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize that you had been holding.

Ten minutes later, you got a text from him.

Jack- I’ll come and get him tomorrow. Be there around nine.

Hopefully this was a way for him to redeem himself for not showing up the other day and prayed that he would follow through.

You were tired of seeing your child disappointed.

The next morning after getting Ace ready, Clay came to get him and you would say that you were surprised that it wasn’t Jack, but that would be a lie. Ace was still excited to see Clay, so the last thing you wanted to do was upset him. You got to have a full day to yourself which you hadn’t had in a while.

Your time was spent going to the mall, seeing a movie, and even going to your favorite restaurant by yourself.

You made sure to soak this all in because you didn’t know the next time that you would be able to get another opportunity to do this and spend your time and money on yourself.

It was around 5 PM when Clay dropped off Ace who you could tell was still on a sugar high since he was running around the apartment and not able to keep still for three minutes when you got on the topic of Clay’s brother since you knew that it was inevitable.

"Clay, I have given him chance after chance to do right by him and he literally disappoints me and him every time."

"I know and I'm…."

"No. Do not apologize for him. If he could have just seen his face when he promised to come and get him to go to the game with all of you and to have a cooking date and he didn't show. Like my baby was bawling with tears running down his face and asked me does daddy even love me? Clay my heart can't take too much more of this. This has been going on for way longer than it should have. My son is my entire world and he deserves a father in his life that wants to be consistent and be there for him. I don't think Jack will ever get there."

"So I guess I shouldn't tell you that he still hasn't told our parents about you or Ace?" Clay asked while scratching the back of his neck.

You then looked at Clay in disbelief as Ace came up on your left side and lifted his hands up to indicate he wanted to be picked up by you or his uncle and Clay quickly did.

"Your brother is just full of surprises isn't he? You're more of a father to him than he is."

"Reality hasn't hit him yet."

"It doesn't take three years. It's just crazy how you were the only one who welcomed him with open arms, but then again you had already saw the DNA results so you had no choice but to believe me. I guess Jack never thought in his wildest dreams he would sleep with a cam girl and end up with a kid."

Just then your phone went off indicating a text from the man of the hour.

Jack- Y/N, I know you're mad at me but I promise to get him next time.

You- Don't even worry about it. Once again your little brother is stepping up and doing what you should have done. So much that he actually called him dad the other day. Think about that.

You saw Jack would start texting and then stop indicating that he didn't have a good comeback for that one.

How could he?

It had been a quick slip up a few weeks ago by Ace, but Clay simply brushed it off and thought nothing of it. You remembered him saying to Ace, ‘Well we do look alike, don’t we?’ And he quickly agreed.

And just then your phone went off indicating Jack was calling you.

"What?" You asked as you rolled your eyes.

"I'll be outside in 20 minutes and I want to see my son."

Once you hung up, Clay turned to you and asked you what he said.

“He said that he wants to see him, but my thing is that if you really did want to see him then you would have gotten him earlier. The last thing he better do when he comes in here is make a scene.”

Twenty minutes didn’t even pass before you heard knocking on the front door and you immediately rolled your eyes before getting up to answer it.

Once you did, Jack was clearly annoyed and was looking right past you to see where Ace was.

“Where’s my son?”

“Oh, so now he’s your son? Are there certain days of the week that you claim him or?”

“Y/N, I’m not doing this with you right now, where is Ace?”

“He’s with your brother in the kitchen if you must know and you better not go in there and make him upset.”

“Now, why would I make him upset?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Since all he knows you’re good for is disappointing him.”

Jack didn’t even bother to respond as he walked past you to come face to face with Clay playing with Ace.

Once Ace saw him, he quickly ran to hide behind Clay.

“Bubs, it’s me, daddy. No reason to be scared.”

All Ace did was peek out behind Clay’s leg who was trying to also tell him that it was okay.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come and get you today, but I promise that I will next time.”

This led to Ace shaking his head no and holding onto Clay’s leg tighter.

“Ace, what’s the matter?” Jack asked seeing as Ace had never acted this way towards him before.

“Daddy, you forgot about me….. Again.”

“I… I didn’t forget. Daddy’s just been really busy, but I’m here now.”

“Maybe if you actually showed up when you were supposed to this wouldn’t be happening.” Clay snapped at Jack as Ace quickly ran to you and you picked him up as he hid in the crook of your neck.

“Clay, I already get it enough from Y/N, I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

“Well obviously you do, because hearing it from one person obviously isn’t enough! Now, why is your kid calling me daddy? Oh, right. Because his real dad actually ignores him.” Clay said while raising his voice at his older brother.

“I DON’T IGNORE MY SON!”

“WHEN IS THE LAST TIME YOU ACTUALLY SPENT TIME WITH HIM? I’VE SEEN HIM MORE TIMES SINCE HE’S BEEN ALIVE THAN YOU HAVE!”

At their heated exchange, Ace began to cry and you knew that you needed to put a stop to this immediately.

“Okay, you two, we’re done. Jack, get out.”

“If I leave, I’m taking Ace with me.”

“You are not taking MY son anywhere. Can’t you see how upset you made him? And I told you once you step foot in here not to upset him and you did the exact opposite. Just leave. You've done enough.”

Jack had let out a frustrated sigh as he was contemplating his next move. He stepped towards you, but was immediately blocked by Clay stepping in front of you.

“Just do what she asked you to do and leave.”

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