#Comfortable cotton towels

[azzalaart]

This exquisite collection blends Tantric and Lotus mandala techniques, adorned in soothing green and turquoise hues that evoke nature's beauty. Ideal for personal use or as a thoughtful gift, this durable set includes a spacious bath towel, a hand towel, and a washcloth, all featuring vibrant sublimation printing that lasts through countless washes.

Dimensions: includes 30" x 60" bath towel, 16" x 28" hand towel and 13" x 13" washcloth

Material: front is a polyester blend, back is 100% cotton

Sublimation printing allows for vibrant printing designed to last

Machine washable, tumble dry on low

EXPLORE NOW HERE >>>

[hotelsuppliesus]

Why are Luxury White Bath Towels Important for Hotels?

Luxury white bath towels are key to a top-notch hotel stay. These towels are more than just soft and elegant. They are a smart choice that can make a hotel stand out and draw in guests who know quality. In this blog, DZEE Textiles sheds light on premium towels for hotels. 

Table of Contents

Key Takeaways

The Importance of Luxury Bath Towels in Hotels

Setting the Standard for Comfort and Elegance

The Small Details That Make a Big Difference

Luxury White Bath Towels for Hotels: Elevating the Bathroom Experience

Materials and Construction: What Sets Premium Towels Apart

Long-Staple Cotton: The Key to Softness and Durability

Choosing the Right-Sized Bath Towels

Absorbency and Quick-Drying: Essential Features for Hotel Towels

Durability and Longevity: Investing in Quality

Eco-Friendly and Sustainable Options

Luxury Towel Sets and Bundles for Hotels

Coordinating Bath Linens for a Cohesive Look

Caring for Luxury Hotel Towels: Washing and Maintenance Tips

Luxury Towel Brands and Suppliers for Hotels

Conclusion

FAQ

Why are luxury white bath towels important for hotels?

What materials and construction make luxury white bath towels stand out?

What should hotels consider when selecting the right size of luxury white bath towels?

What are the key features to look for in luxury white bath towels for hotels?

How can hotels ensure the durability and longevity of their luxury white bath towels?

What are some eco-friendly and sustainable options for luxury white bath towels in hotels?

Key Takeaways

Luxury white bath towels are essential for creating a spa-like ambiance in hotel bathrooms.

Premium cotton towels offer unparalleled softness, absorbency, and durability.

High-quality towels set the standard for comfort and elegance in luxury hotel accommodations.

Investing in premium bath linens can enhance a hotel’s reputation and attract discerning guests.

Selecting the right size, weight, and features is crucial for optimizing the guest experience.

The Importance of Luxury Bath Towels in Hotels

Luxury premium hotel towels are key to making a hotel stay special. They offer comfort and style, showing the high standards guests expect. Details like neatly folded towels make the hotel feel like a five-star oasis.

These hotel amenities turn a simple shower into a luxurious event. Using top-quality five-star hotel experience towels shows the hotel’s care. It makes the stay memorable.

Setting the Standard for Comfort and Elegance

Luxury bath towels create a feeling of luxury and relaxation. Their softness and great absorbency make guests feel pampered. This sets the tone for a high-end premium hotel towels experience.

The Small Details That Make a Big Difference

How luxury bath linens are arranged in the bathroom matters a lot. Neat towels and decorative touches add to the five-star hotel experience. Guests notice and appreciate these details.

“The small details, such as expertly folded and stacked towels, contribute to the curated, five-star oasis that guests desire when staying at a luxury hotel.”

Read: Best Bath Towels: Top Picks for Softness & Absorbency

Luxury White Bath Towels for Hotels: Elevating the Bathroom Experience

Luxury white bath towels are key to a spa-like experience for hotel guests. They turn the hotel bathroom into a serene retreat. This makes guests feel pampered and relaxed. High-quality bath linens match the hotel’s luxury and sophistication.

These towels are super soft and absorbent, making the experience comforting and indulgent. They’re made from the finest materials like long-staple cotton. This means they’re durable and comfortable. Guests feel like they’re in a spa when they step out of the shower or bath.

The look of luxury white bath linens also matters. They match the hotel bathroom’s design perfectly. This creates a cohesive and stunning look. Guests feel like they’re getting top-notch service and a special experience.FeatureBenefitExceptional SoftnessProvides a comforting and indulgent touch, enhancing the guest’s relaxation experience.Superior AbsorbencyQuickly dries the guest, contributing to a refreshed and rejuvenated feeling.Long-Lasting DurabilityEnsures the towels maintain their luxurious appearance and performance over time, delivering consistent quality.Sophisticated AestheticSeamlessly integrates with the hotel bathroom’s design, creating a cohesive and visually appealing environment.

Adding luxury white bath towels to the hotel bathroom experience makes it better. It creates a truly indulgent and spa-like atmosphere. These towels show the hotel’s commitment to a great stay for their guests.

Materials and Construction: What Sets Premium Towels Apart

Luxury white bath towels for hotels stand out because of their materials and how they’re made. These towels are made to be incredibly soft, absorbent, and long-lasting. This means guests get a spa-like experience every time they use them.

Long-Staple Cotton: The Key to Softness and Durability

The secret to these towels’ high quality is the long-staple cotton used. Unlike regular cotton, long-staple cotton has longer fibers. These fibers make the towels feel silkier and more luxurious.

This makes the towels not just soft but also very durable. They can handle lots of washing and use without losing their luxurious feel. This is why they’re perfect for hotels.FeatureShort-Staple CottonLong-Staple CottonFiber LengthShorter fibersLonger fibersSoftnessLess softSilkier, more plushDurabilityLess durableMore durable

Using long-staple cotton makes these towels great for hotels. They can handle a lot of use and still feel amazing. This makes them a key feature in any hotel bathroom.

Choosing the Right-Sized Bath Towels

It’s important to think about the size of bath towels and sheets. This ensures your hotel meets the needs of all guests. Offering different sizes makes the bathroom experience luxurious for everyone.Towel TypeDimensionsSuitable forBath Towel24 inches x 48 inchesStandard adult use24 inches x 50 inchesLarger/taller guests, luxury experience27 inches x 54 inchesExtra-large guests, spa-like ambiance

By offering a range of towel sizes, hotels can meet the needs of all guests. This makes the bathroom experience luxurious for everyone.

Absorbency and Quick-Drying: Essential Features for Hotel Towels

In the hospitality industry, luxury white bath towels need to be very absorbent and dry fast. The GSM (Grams per Square Meter) tells us about the towel’s weight and how well it absorbs water. This is key for hotels where many guests use towels.

Towels with a higher GSM, between 600 to 900, are plush and soak up a lot of water. They also dry fast. This mix of absorbency and quick-drying is vital for a great bathroom experience for hotel guests.

Durability and Longevity: Investing in Quality

Choosing durable hotel towels and long-lasting bath linens means focusing on quality over quantity. Premium towels can handle the daily wear and tear of a busy hotel. This choice helps keep the linens looking great and performing well for a long time. It’s a smart way to get more value from your investment.

The secret to lasting towels is in the materials and how they’re made. Long-staple cotton is key for its softness, strength, and durability. Adding strong edges and quality stitching helps towels last longer in a hotel setting.

Durable hotel towels that can withstand frequent washing and use

Long-lasting bath linens that maintain their luxurious appearance over time

Prioritizing quality over quantity in hotel linen management for cost savings

“Investing in high-quality towels is a smart decision that pays off in the long run. They not only provide a superior guest experience but also reduce the need for frequent replacements, leading to significant cost savings.”

By picking durable hotel towels and long-lasting bath linens, hotels show they care about luxury and comfort. They also improve their linen management and save money.

Eco-Friendly and Sustainable Options

Hotels are now looking for eco-friendly and sustainable options for their bath linens, like luxury white towels. These towels use organic or recycled cotton and are made in ways that save water and reduce waste. By choosing these green towels, hotels meet the demand for sustainable hospitality experiences and help the planet.

Eco-friendly hotel towels have a lower impact on the environment. They’re often made from organic cotton, grown without harmful chemicals. The making of these towels also uses less water and energy, making them better for the planet.

Organic cotton: Grown without synthetic chemicals, providing a natural and environmentally-friendly alternative to conventional cotton.

Recycled materials: Towels made from recycled polyester or cotton give new life to discarded textiles.

Water-efficient production: Manufacturing processes that minimize water consumption and wastewater, promoting responsible resource use.

Renewable energy: Harnessing solar, wind, or other renewable energy sources to power the production of eco-friendly hotel towels.

Hotels that offer eco-friendly hotel towels show they care about the planet. This attracts guests who want to help the environment. It also boosts the hotel’s reputation and supports a healthier planet.FeatureConventional TowelsEco-Friendly TowelsMaterialConventional cottonOrganic or recycled cottonWater UsageHigh water consumption in productionReduced water usage through eco-friendly manufacturingChemicalsSynthetic pesticides and dyesOrganic, natural dyes and finishesWastePotentially high waste in productionMinimized waste through efficient processes

By choosing eco-friendly hotel towels, hotels show they care about the planet. This appeals to guests who want to help the environment. It also fits with the industry’s focus on green hospitality initiatives and supports environmentally conscious hotel operations.

Luxury Towel Sets and Bundles for Hotels

Creating a luxurious bathroom experience for hotel guests means investing in luxury hotel towel sets and bath linen collections. These sets make the bathroom look better and feel more comfortable. They show the care and attention guests expect.

Coordinating Bath Linens for a Cohesive Look

Hotels can make a bathroom look stunning with a complete set of premium hotel bathroom amenities. This includes bath towels, hand towels, and washcloths. These bath linen collections make the bathroom look elegant and unified. They leave a memorable impression on guests.Towel Set ComponentsDimensionsBath Towel24″ x 50″Hand Towel16″ x 27″Washcloth13″ x 13″

Hotels can offer guests a set of premium white bath towels. This ensures a high-end look and feel in the bathroom.

“Offering guests a cohesive set of luxury bath linens is a simple yet impactful way to elevate the overall hotel experience.”

Must Read: https://dzeeusa.com/towel-pack-of-6-pieces-100-cotton-sequoia.html

Caring for Luxury Hotel Towels: Washing and Maintenance Tips

Keeping luxury white bath towels in top shape in hotels needs careful washing and upkeep. By following best practices, hotels can make their premium bath linens last longer. This gives guests a consistently high-quality experience.

Here are key tips for towel care and hotel linen maintenance. They cover washing luxury bath linens and extending the life of hotel towels:

Use gentle, high-quality detergents without harsh chemicals or bleach.

Wash towels in cool or warm water to avoid fiber damage from hot water.

Keep white and colored towels separate to stop color bleeding and keep linens looking new.

Don’t use fabric softeners, as they can reduce the towels’ absorbency and quick-drying ability.

Dry towels on low heat or air-dry them to keep them soft and prevent shrinkage.

Properly fold and store towels in a cool, dry place to avoid mildew or damage.

By following these simple washing and maintenance tips, hotels can keep their luxury white bath towels soft, absorbent, and looking great. This ensures guests have a top-notch bathroom experience.Proper Towel Care PracticesBenefitsUse gentle detergentsPreserves softness and absorbencyWash in cool or warm waterPrevents fiber breakdownSeparate white and colored towelsMaintains pristine appearance of white linensAvoid fabric softenersMaintains absorbency and quick-drying propertiesDry on low heat or air-dryPreserves softness and prevents shrinkageProper folding and storagePrevents mildew and damage

By sticking to these best practices for proper towel care and hotel linen maintenance, hotels can make sure their investment in luxury white bath linens gives long-lasting quality and value to their guests.

“Maintaining the quality and longevity of luxury white bath towels is essential for providing guests with a consistently exceptional bathroom experience.”

Luxury Towel Brands and Suppliers for Hotels

Hotels looking to offer a luxurious bath towel experience have many top choices. They can pick from premium towel brands and hotel bath linen suppliers known for their quality. These leaders use long-staple cotton and focus on details. They provide high-quality hotel bath linens that make the bathroom experience special.

Top luxury towel brands like Opal, Mikado, and Forte are popular. They are provided by hotel bath linen suppliers like DZEE Textiles. These brands make towels that are plush, durable, and look great. They bring a touch of elegance to any bathroom.BrandKey FeaturesOpal Preferred– 70% Cotton & 30% Polyester

– Oversized and ultra-absorbent

– Quick-drying and wrinkle-resistantMikado– 100% Egyptian-quality cotton

– Plush and lofty construction

– Highly durable and long-lastingForte– 100% long-staple cotton

– Luxuriously soft and smooth

– Generous size options

By working with these luxury towel brands and hotel bath linen suppliers, hotels can meet their guests’ high standards. This ensures a memorable and indulgent bathroom experience.

Conclusion

Luxury white bath towels are key to a top-notch guest experience at hotels. They show off comfort, elegance, and care. These towels are made from long-staple cotton, which means they’re super soft and absorbent. They also dry quickly and last a long time.

Hotels that offer these towels make the bathroom feel like a peaceful retreat. They can choose from matching sets or eco-friendly towels. This makes the stay unforgettable and leaves a strong impression.

Choosing quality towels is a smart move for hotels. It makes the stay memorable and fun for guests. This helps hotels stand out and gain loyal customers. So if you are looking for premium towels or other hotel supplies reach out to DZEE Textiles. 

FAQ

Why are luxury white bath towels important for hotels?

Luxury white bath towels make the guest experience better. They add a spa-like feel to hotel rooms. These towels are soft, absorbent, and last a long time, making showers feel special.

What materials and construction make luxury white bath towels stand out?

Hotels use long-staple cotton for these towels. This cotton type gives the towels a soft, absorbent, and durable quality. The towels stay luxurious even after many washes.

What should hotels consider when selecting the right size of luxury white bath towels?

Hotels should offer different towel sizes to meet guests’ needs. Standard towels are 55 inches long, but bath sheets can be up to 58 inches. This variety ensures a comfortable experience for everyone.

What are the key features to look for in luxury white bath towels for hotels?

Hotels need towels that absorb well and dry fast. Towels with a GSM of 600 to 900 are plush and absorbent. They also dry quickly, which is ideal for busy hotels.

How can hotels ensure the durability and longevity of their luxury white bath towels?

Hotels should choose quality over quantity for towels. Look for long-staple cotton and strong construction. Using gentle detergents and proper drying methods also helps keep towels soft and durable.

What are some eco-friendly and sustainable options for luxury white bath towels in hotels?

Hotels are looking for eco-friendly towels. Options include organic or recycled cotton towels and processes that use less water and waste.

For more visit: www.blog.dzeeusa.com

[shayerid]

Elevate Your Yoga Practice with Lilystinyeco's Comfortable Cotton Yoga Towel in Aurora

Are you tired of slipping and sliding during your yoga sessions? Look no further than Lilystinyeco's Comfortable Cotton Yoga Towel in Aurora. Crafted with your comfort and stability in mind, this towel is a game-changer for yogis of all levels.

Why choose our Comfortable Cotton Yoga Towel in Aurora? Let's delve into its remarkable features:

Ultimate Comfort: Made from premium cotton, our towel provides a soft and luxurious feel against your skin. Say goodbye to rough and uncomfortable yoga sessions.

Enhanced Grip: The textured surface of the towel offers superior grip, ensuring you stay firmly in place throughout your practice. No more slipping or readjusting poses – just pure focus on your movements.

Quick Absorption: Designed to absorb moisture quickly, this towel keeps you dry and comfortable, even during the most intense hot yoga sessions. Stay cool, composed, and confident as you flow through your practice.

Vibrant Aurora Design: Inspired by the mesmerizing beauty of the Aurora Borealis, our towel features a stunning design that adds a touch of elegance to your yoga routine. Elevate your practice both visually and spiritually with our eye-catching towel.

Versatile Usage: Beyond yoga, our towel is perfect for Pilates, hot workouts, or simply as a multipurpose towel for your home or travels. Its durability ensures long-lasting use for all your wellness needs.

Experience the difference with Lilystinyeco's Comfortable Cotton Yoga Towel in Aurora. Transform your yoga practice into a journey of comfort, stability, and style. Order yours today and embark on a path to a more fulfilling practice.

[dmitriene]

kind of continuation to this drabble

könig knows you're nothing like the other girls he was used to shag, and he's smitten by it, in the way you calmly agree and stay in his apartment, when after breakfast in bed he says that you're not going anywhere and gonna stay beside him, he's sure that you have some small job like as a charming waitress in a cafe, friends you would like to see, family after all, but you look at him through batting eyelashes and hum in agreement, stretching on the sheets beneath you.

he calls you his girlfriend as a test, and your eyes sparkle with naive adoration as you stretch your arms in his direction, making könig bend his whole body down to your level with rippling muscles, so you'll swipe your soft palms against his wide shoulders and loop your hands around his thick neck, pressing a smudgy kiss to his rough, stubbled jaw, nuzzling in his shoulder like some docile pet, only mewling adorably when he catches your lips into a sloppy, lewd kiss.

you really just stay, don't run away, don't call him a weird creep, use his bathroom to wash and wash loads of his thick, sticky cum out of your still aching, puffy pussy, without twitching when he suddenly decides to join you by snuggling up from behind, his bulky frame crowds almost all the space in the shower, shielding you from all the water that now drips down the broad expanse of his back, as his hardened, chubby cock presses against the small of your back.

könig is fisting the length with one of his free hands that aren't curled around the curve of your waist, creeping to paw at your soft breast, until you claw at his wrist when he guides his throbbing cock between your folds, and they're already slick with your tacky arousal, your spine arching delicately as you wiggle your supple ass, pressing back against his fat, leaking tip that nudges at your pulsing hole, letting him slip inside without a stretch, pussy comfortably loose as you whimper sweet, throaty mewl when he bottoms out.

you let him cream your cunt till it's leaking out of you again, oozing between your supple, wet thighs, legs shaking and starting to buckle beneath you as könig whines in your ear, biting at your lobe with hoarse moans, dumping load after load in your fluttering, gushy cunt, scooping you in his arms when your feet does give up beneath you, making him carry you out from the shower, and with hasty wipes of a towel against your smooth skin and between your legs, he carries you out to the living room.

könig makes you wear his clothes and just a pair of cotton panties beneath, and it's not a problem to you at all, you walk around his apartment just the way he wants, using his lap instead of a couch or a chair while in the kitchen, and you let him cum in your pussy even with your legs hoisted up on his shoulders as he rams in you with messy jerks of hips, sprawled on the kitchen table, so his cum would stain your panties and make you walk all oozing with his claim.

it's doesn't matter if your life now reminds one of a fleshlight, you ain't complaining, cuddling against könig's brawny chest for some head strokes and little rubs behind your ears, pressing kisses on his rough face, making könig grin in boyish, lopsided way, before moving his hand down to squeeze and grope at your round, doughy tits, calling you his albernes haustier, and like the obedient one, you just nod and smile adoringly.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[icejjfishesz]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ❞ 𓄼˚ ▍ E.E.

❛ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆             ━━  how days off are spent ❜

❛ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁                ━━  sex in the kitchen cause…why not ❜

❛ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁         ━━  1k+ ❜

❛ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲      ━━  emily is literally soooo fine ❜  

WRIST DEEP IN SUDDY WATER, scrubbing the life back into a blue plate as you hum a song to yourself. you glance up at the kitchen window above the sink, admiring as solar rays cast light on the leaves of the tree outside. 

while you admire nature…emily admires you. the way your shoulders roll back by virtue of their soreness, your allure is unquestionable. emily gazes your way from the living room, she just finished sweeping the hardwood floors until they are akin to the day you first moved in.

you’ve both settled into the new place comfortably, emily more than you. it’s clear by the way she slumps down in relaxation while you still get used to your surroundings. maybe you were a control freak, even slightly.

“do you think our neighbors are nice?” you hum, noticing the way the family next door walks out of their house. the question isn’t one that truly plagues you. it’s your way of making conversation.

she stands from the slump of the couch, long legs carrying her to the kitchen, she leans up against a wall just watching you. there is a sense of calm towards every emotion you bestow upon her, like a pill of tranquility –– an immediate nostrum to all her ailments. the love you deliver for her. she appreciates you in your most natural form, doing a habitual task such as washing dishes mid-day on a sunday. she venerates the simplicity of your beauty, greedy palms itching to be pressed against your skin. 

“i think they’re fine.” she hums, not truly giving your question very much thought either. she’s too busy staring your way. you’re so engrossed in the task at hand, washing the last cup in the sink. so when dual hands tighten around your hips, you jump. her silhouette looms over you, your heart beating rapidly at the unexpectancy of it all but quickly relaxing when you recognize her.

“jesus, emily.” you laugh off your alarm when you feel her chin press against the blade of your shoulder. “you scared me.”

“you scare too easily.” she mumbles, placing a kiss to the nape of your neck. she grips at your waist, desperate for your attention. “when will you be done?”

“just need to dry the dishes and clean the counters.” you reach for a gingham kitchen towel, drying off a plate. her hands press your butt against her pelvis: she latches onto you, pulling you close and then even closer.

“let me help…” she mutters, breath tickling the skin of your neck. “you’ll be done quicker that way.”

you hold the plate out to her wordlessly, she takes the now dry dish from your hands and puts it away in the cupboard. 

soon, all the dishes have been dried and put away. then onto the countertops which to emily, look clean enough as is. your hands wiping the counter down, until it’s practically luster. she makes her way back behind you, sighing audibly. 

“you could take a break, you know…” tattooed hands finding their way across your stomach to rest across your abdomen. 

“or…” you hum. “i could finish cleaning now so i don’t have to worry about it tomorrow.”

yeah, or…she presses against you, deviously. lean body flush against yours.

“babe –– ?”

“shhh…” she shushes, licking her lips as her eyes stay trained to the swell of your ass. “you can keep cleaning.”

it elicits a chuckle to bubble up from your throat. “what are you ––”

then tedious, implacable fingers make their way across your front, pressing against the inseam of your cotton shorts. the sudden pressure shocks you, body jolting to it –– leaving you bent at the hips across the kitchen counter. her sporadic fingers slip away from the inseam despite the squeeze of your thighs trying to hold her there, they move to the hem and then slowly rid you of them. down to cuff around your ankles.

“i have to –– ” 

“clean the counters. yes, i know. i told you, you don’t have to stop.” smug lips quirk up at your quickened breaths, your ass pushing into her despite yourself. “bet you’re already wet.”

ignominy spreads over you deliciously –– so familiar that it doesn’t even phase you. you reach for her wrist, wrapping your hands around it and leading it up to your abdomen before you let it go back down –– underneath your underwear. letting her feel for herself the mess she makes of you so easily. 

“damn, baby…” she breathes out another laugh, this one not from humor but as a release from the shackles of the intensity of this situation. she slides her hand out of your underwear and instead opts to push them to the side. and then, cocky as ever: “i knew it.”

and she did. you lick your lips, waiting for her to resume her allconsuming touches against your skin. you suck in a deep breath, trying not to rush her. 

your patience is rewarded when she slips a finger inside you, a second following within seconds just to have you clenching around her. desirous breaths, slipping from your mouth. all under her command. her long fingers push in and out of you with precision only a woman in love with your body could have. 

she revels in the artistry of making you feel this way. 

“come on baby, take it.” the hand that was free from the latch of your greedy pussy engaged in the sweet pursuit of rubbing at your clit in a circular motion. you suck in a deep breath as you try and gain a sliver of your composure. your brows furrow within the waves of pleasure she bestows upon you. 

“you can take it, i know you can.” she cooed in encouragement, eyes locked in on the swell of your ass, mouth parting as she darted her tongue out to lick her lips. “you love it when i have you like this, don’t you?” 

you nod, back arched as you press your front against the counter to push back into her hand. 

“what was that?” she muses, free hand leaving your waist to push against your spin, keeping you still –– holding you at her mercy. “tell me you like it when i make you mine.”

“i love it.” you breathe eagerly, desperate to please her as she pleases you. your autonomy serendipitously surrenders to her control. her, an angel with the way her devilish actions unfold you, commanding you to her attention. deliver you.

[rafedarling]

your last one shot about them being actors was so fun!! do you know how vogue or gq does those how well do you know your partner video? maybe they could do it? or the reader does a vogue beauty secrets video and rafe intervenes accidentally

oooooh that’s a great ideas anon, thank you for send in!!

𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐦

pairing: rafe cameron x actress!reader summary: vogue invites you to participate in their popular “secret beauty” series, where you’ll share your personal beauty routine on camera. filming alone in the comfort of your home, you’re deep into your routine when your husband, rafe, accidentally interrupts the shoot. what follows is a light-hearted and playful exchange between the two of you, filled with the kind of easy affection and banter that defines your relationship. rafe’s unexpected appearance adds a layer of fun and warmth to the video, showcasing not only your beauty secrets but also the loving dynamic between you and rafe. warning: english is not my native language. fluff au: like, reblog and comment are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. a sequel to “love, fame and the future” but can be read as a stand alone one-shot. taglist

Afternoon sun streamed through the windows of your living room, casting a warm glow over the sleek, modern décor that you and Rafe had carefully chosen together. The space was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional distant chirp of birds outside. You were alone-well, almost alone-getting ready to film a special “Secret Beauty” video for Vogue.

You’d been thrilled when the invitation came through. As an actor, you were used to being in front of the camera, but this was different. This was personal, an opportunity to share a side of yourself that fans rarely got to see. And doing it in the comfort of the home you shared with Rafe made it even more special.

The crew had sent over the necessary equipment the day before, but you’d opted to set everything up yourself. It felt more intimate that way, just you and the camera. You’d arranged a small vanity area in the corner of the living room, where the light was best. Your collection of beauty products, everything from skincare to makeup was neatly laid out in front of you.

You did a quick check to make sure the camera was positioned correctly, framing the scene just as you wanted. Satisfied, you hit record, flashing a bright smile at the lens.

“Hi, everyone! I’m Y/n Cameron, and welcome to my Vogue Secret Beauty video. Today, I’m going to be sharing my everyday beauty routine with you all. This is what I do to keep my skin looking fresh and my makeup natural, especially when I’m off set or just hanging out at home.”

You reached for the first product on your vanity, a gentle cleanser. “So, I always start with a good cleanse. It’s really important to make sure your skin is clean before you do anything else. I’ve been using this cleanser for a while now, it’s super gentle and doesn’t dry out my skin.”

As you explained, you began applying the cleanser, massaging it into your skin with gentle, circular motions. “I usually spend about a minute doing this, making sure I get every part of my face.”

Once you were satisfied, you reached for a soft towel, patting your face dry. “Next up is toner. This one’s great because it helps balance my skin’s pH and preps it for the rest of my routine. I just put a few drops on a cotton pad and gently sweep it across my face.”

You demonstrated, moving the cotton pad across your skin with care. “It’s really refreshing and makes my skin feel super smooth.”

You paused, letting the toner absorb, and then reached for your favorite serum. “Okay, so this is one of my must-haves. It’s a vitamin C serum that brightens my skin and helps with any dark spots. I just take a few drops and press it into my skin, focusing on areas that need a little extra love.”

As you applied the serum, you glanced at the camera, flashing a playful smile. “Rafe actually loves this stuff too, even though he won’t admit it.”

You laughed softly at the thought, your mind wandering to your husband. He was out at the moment, running some errands, but you knew he’d be back soon. Knowing Rafe, there was a good chance he’d come back while you were still filming, which could make for an interesting and probably hilarious outtake.

“Alright, now that the serum is on, I’m going to follow up with my moisturizer,” you continued, reaching for the jar. “This is super important, especially after applying a serum. It locks in all that goodness and keeps your skin hydrated.”

You scooped out a small amount of the moisturizer and began applying it in gentle upward strokes. “I like to use something lightweight during the day, so it doesn’t feel too heavy under makeup.”

You were just finishing up with the moisturizer when you heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized Rafe must be back. You kept filming, wondering if he’d notice you were in the middle of something.

Just as you were about to reach for your eye cream, you heard his voice from the hallway. “Babe? I’m back! You won’t believe the traffic out there—”

He appeared in the doorway, stopping short when he saw the camera. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then a slow grin spread across his face.

“Am I interrupting something?” Rafe asked, clearly amused.

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning to face him. “Just a little. I’m filming my Vogue beauty routine.”

Rafe’s grin widened as he walked over, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh, so this is the famous ‘Secret Beauty’ routine? I’ve been dying to know what goes into it.”

“Really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “You already know most of it. You’ve borrowed half these products at some point.”

He chuckled, moving closer to inspect the array of products on the vanity. “I might have. You’ve got good taste, what can I say?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Well, since you’re here, do you want to help me with the rest of it? The viewers might enjoy a little guest appearance.”

Rafe looked at the camera, then back at you, feigning a thoughtful expression. “Hmm, I don’t know. Do I have to do anything?”

“Not really,” you said, reaching for your eye cream. “Just look pretty and maybe pass me a couple of things.”

He laughed at that, pulling up a chair next to you. “Alright, I think I can manage that.”

You grinned at the camera, happy to have Rafe by your side. “So, where were we? Oh, right-eye cream. This is essential, especially on days when I haven’t had enough sleep. Just a tiny bit under each eye to help with puffiness and dark circles.”

You dabbed the cream under your eyes as you explained. Rafe watched with interest, occasionally glancing at the camera as if to check if he was doing it right.

“And now,” you said, setting the eye cream down, “we’re moving on to the makeup. I like to keep it light and natural, especially when I’m just hanging out at home.”

Rafe reached for the foundation, holding it up like a game show host presenting a prize. “This is the one, right?”

You laughed, taking it from him. “Yep, that’s the one. It’s really lightweight and gives just enough coverage without feeling heavy.”

As you applied the foundation, Rafe watched, leaning in occasionally to make funny faces at the camera behind your back, which you noticed only through the camera’s reflection. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help laughing.

“Okay, now for some concealer,” you said, reaching for the small tube. “This just goes on any spots that need a little extra coverage.”

Rafe nodded sagely, as if he were learning some deep, important secret. “You know, I’ve got a spot right here,” he said, pointing to a non-existent blemish on his cheek.

You playfully pushed him away. “Very funny.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to learn,” he protested with a grin.

“Sure you are,” you said, blending in the concealer. “Alright, now for a bit of bronzer to warm up the face.”

Rafe picked up the bronzer and handed it to you with a flourish. “Your bronzer, madam.”

You accepted it with a mock curtsey. “Thank you, kind sir.”

As you dusted the bronzer along your cheekbones and forehead, Rafe looked on, clearly entertained. You could tell he was enjoying himself, which made you even more relaxed and playful.

“Next, some blush for a bit of color,” you said, swirling the brush in the blush compact. “Just a little on the apples of the cheeks.”

Rafe tilted his head, studying your technique. “Looks good. You missed a spot, though.”

You paused, mid-swipe, giving him a look. “Really?”

He leaned in, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek. “Right… here.”

His touch was soft, and you felt your breath hitch slightly, caught off guard by the sudden tenderness. He pulled back with a satisfied smile, leaving you a little flustered, but in a good way.

“Thanks,” you managed, giving him a playful shove. “Now, let’s finish up with some mascara and a bit of lip balm.”

Rafe picked up the mascara, twirling it between his fingers before handing it to you. “Be careful with this one. It’s dangerous.”

You laughed, carefully applying the mascara to your lashes. “I’ll try not to poke my eye out.”

Once your makeup was finished, you reached for your lip balm, applying a quick swipe across your lips. “And that’s it! My secret beauty routine are simple, natural, and easy enough that even Rafe could do it.”

Rafe, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, feigned mock offense. “Hey, I might just take that as a challenge. Next time, I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, really? I’d love to see that.”

He smirked, leaning closer to the camera as if sharing a secret. “Maybe we should film a ‘Rafe Cameron Beauty Routine’ next. Show everyone how I maintain this rugged charm.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea, shaking your head. “I’m sure your fans would love that. You know, maybe we should actually do it. Could be fun.”

Rafe’s eyes lit up at the thought, clearly entertained by the idea. “You’re on. But you have to be my assistant. I can’t possibly do it alone.”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Deal. But only if you promise not to turn it into a comedy routine.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “No promises, but I’ll try to keep it professional.”

The two of you shared a quiet moment, your laughter fading into comfortable silence as you sat together, Rafe’s arm warm around you. The camera was still recording, capturing the easy affection between you, something that came naturally, whether the cameras were on or not.

Finally, you turned back to the camera, giving the viewers a warm smile. “Well, I think that’s a wrap for today. Thanks so much for joining me on this little behind-the-scenes look at my beauty routine. I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.”

Rafe chimed in, his tone playful. “And remember, if you want a real beauty routine, stay tuned for the Rafe Cameron edition.”

You laughed, playfully shoving him again before waving at the camera. “Thanks for watching, everyone! See you next time!”

With that, you reached over and hit the stop button, ending the recording. The red light on the camera blinked off, signaling the end of the shoot. You leaned back in your chair, feeling a sense of accomplishment and a bit of relief that it had all gone smoothly, well, almost.

Rafe stood up, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied grin. “Not bad, Mrs. Cameron. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a warm flush at the way he called you by your married name. “Well, I’ve had a bit of practice. But I think you might have stolen the show.”

He chuckled, reaching down to pull you up from your chair. “Hey, I’m just here to support my wife. And maybe sneak in a little screen time.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, letting him pull you into a hug. “You know, you actually made it a lot more fun. I’m glad you interrupted.”

Rafe’s smile softened as he looked down at you, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. “Yeah? I’m glad too. It’s nice to be part of these little moments with you.”

You rested your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear. “Me too. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

For a few moments, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside your home feeling miles away. It was in these quiet moments that you were reminded of just how lucky you were to have found someone who understood you so completely, who made every moment, whether big or small does feel special.

Rafe finally broke the silence, his voice soft and teasing. “So, how about we celebrate our first Vogue feature with some takeout and a movie? Maybe we can critique my on-camera skills.”

You laughed, pulling back to look up at him. “That sounds perfect. But I think you might just be a natural.”

He grinned, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Only because I have the best partner.”

With that, the two of you started to clean up the vanity, chatting and joking as you put away the beauty products. The light in the room was starting to fade as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything.

As you worked together, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. This was your life now, a life full of love, laughter, and the kind of everyday moments that made everything else worthwhile. And as long as you had Rafe by your side, you knew that every day would be an adventure, filled with more joy than you ever thought possible.

[nadvs]

cam girl (part ten)

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.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe is on your mind constantly. At this point, you’ve accepted it. There was something about the way he looked at you in his car last night. Possibly. Hopefully.

You stand in a quiet aisle, eyeing merchandise while you hold the charm on the necklace he gave you, the metal warm under your fingertips.

You’d never been in a sex shop before. The guys you hooked up with before Rafe were nowhere near as kinky as him and you bought all the stuff you needed to be a cam girl online.

But seeing all the possibilities makes your stomach twist with excitement. You want to try absolutely everything with Rafe.

You’ve been thinking about coming here throughout all your classes today with one thing in mind. Rafe loves to use toys on you, but you’ve never used anything on him.

With Rafe’s need for control, you assume he won’t be all that open to using a cock ring, but you want to do something special for him. Maybe you can introduce him to something for a change.

You find a vibrating ring that you know will fit him, then decide to send him a photo of the toys in the aisle behind you and text him: this is a great place to meet guys.

Before you’re even at the register, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: dont joke like that

Rafe: buying something for yourself princess?

He sends you $100.

You reply: something like that :)

You check out at the register and head home, already looking forward to tonight. Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: when can i come over?

You smile at your phone.

You: what about our cam session?

You get a notification that he sent $1000. The alert makes you wonder if he thinks you’re just doing all this solely for the money and gifts.

You’d do it all for free.

Rafe: i won’t wait that long

Not just can’t. He won’t.

You reply: like 8ish?

Rafe: ok

It starts to rain close to 8 and when Rafe arrives at your place, his hair is wet and his face and jacket are peppered with raindrops.

“Is the valet not working today?” you joke, knowing full well he had to find street parking on your busy road.

He breathes a chuckle, stepping into your apartment with his usual ease. You’ve noticed that he walks into every room like he owns it.

Rafe shakes off his jacket and places it on the back of one of your kitchen table chairs while you grab a clean hand towel out of your hamper.

“Sorry this towel’s not a million thread count,” you tease, meeting him to dab the towel over his face.

His blue eyes search your face with a hint of something new. Confusion?

You realize you didn’t even think about it; you thoughtlessly started to dry him off. It was such a mechanical response. Your impulse is to take care of him, make him comfortable.

It’s official. This man is not just a fuck buddy to you anymore.

“What?” you ask, knowing you need to crack a joke to break the tension. “I’m just drying off my seat.”

“Oh, my God,” Rafe groans, trying to act annoyed, but you know he’s not. You laugh and lower the towel, squeezing the cotton in your hands.

“What’d you buy?” he asks, clearly eager.

“I’ll show you later. I wanna hear what you have planned,” you say. “You always have something planned.”

“You first,” he says.

“Rafe,” you whine, dropping the towel to rest your hands on his firm shoulders. “Can’t I surprise you for once? What do you want to do to me tonight?”

“I wanna see what you bought,” Rafe solidifies.

You suck your teeth in frustration, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Please?” you breathe. “I’m always the one waiting. Why don’t you wait for once?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens and he shakes his head in disbelief like he can’t believe he’s giving in, but he gives in.

“You ever been tied up?” he finally asks, his voice so deep that it reverberates through you. The air is suddenly thick and any impression of humor that was floating between you has been dismissed by his words.

“Like… bondage?” you say in a short breath, mulling it over as blood rushes to your cheeks. “No. I haven’t.”

He closes the already minuscule distance between you, cradling your jaw in his cool hand.

“I want your hands tied up while I fuck you,” he says. Your mouth goes dry. Just when you think he can’t get any fucking hotter.

Rafe’s hand drops and you hear his belt unbuckling while his hot breath spreads across your cheek.

“Why the fuck are you still dressed?” he rasps. You’re reeling as you strip down to nothing but the necklace he gave you. You hear the clang of his belt buckle falling onto your kitchen table beside you.

Rafe’s hands drag over your hips, pinching down when he turns you to face the other way. He’s still in his boxers, his cock jabbing against your ass. His warm chest is pressed on your back, rising and falling.

“You’re always the one waiting?” he mutters. The belt buckle drags off the table top, and when you feel him roughly grab both your wrists and wrap the thick leather around them, the familiar need for him between your legs aches.

“You’re always waiting,” he repeats with a scoff. “I’m the one who’s always fucking waiting.”

You want to know what he means, but the belt is suddenly tight around your wrists, your chest jutting out. Rafe pushes you by the back of your neck so that your front is down on your table, your cheek flush against the hard plastic.

“Spread your legs,” he orders.

The muscles in your thighs are strained and your hips burn against the hard table from the way he has you bent over. He couldn’t even spare the few seconds to go to your bedroom.

You feel his tip press against you, making you wonder which hole he wants to fuck.

“Beg for it,” he orders. His fingers tighten around the back of your neck. Your arms are already burning from being bound like this.

“Please fuck me,” you moan, lips flanged from how hard your cheek is being pushed against the table.

“Say my fucking name,” he tells you.

“Please, Rafe,” you obey. He groans in response, hands settling on your hips.

He stretches your cunt out so fucking slowly that you want to scream. You push back against him, and you swear, he laughs at your desperation.

Rafe finally bottoms out in you, his hips against your ass. He puts his hand over your bound wrists, starting to drag out again.

“This pussy is fucking mine,” he says. As if you need the reminder. He owns you completely.

When he picks up the pace, driving into you, your breath hitches. With every thrust, your hips grind against the hard table, making you ache in pain.

“Ow,” you snip before you can stop yourself.

Rafe immediately pulls out of you, making you writhe in frustration.

“What hurts?”

“Nothing,” you lie, wanting him more than you want the pain to stop. “Keep going.”

“What hurts?” he repeats sternly.

“My hips,” you admit. “I’m fine, it’s just ‘cause of the table. Please just-”

“I’m not making you cry again,” he snaps. He cups a hand on your shoulder. “Go to your bed.”

“Rafe, it’s fine.” You feel oddly ashamed, like you’re not doing your job pleasing him how he wants you to.

“Go,” he mutters. His hand pulls you up and you have no choice but to let him push you into your bedroom.

Your wrists are still bound at your lower back when he bends you over your bed. You sink onto your stomach, feeling Rafe’s fingers spread you open before driving his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he relentlessly pounds in and out of you. Your arms strain against the constrictions of his belt, the sensations so fucking perfect.

“Shit, I’m…” he groans, and you know he’s close, so you try to tilt up your hips so he can get as deep as possible.

Rafe shakes through his orgasm and you think how you could never tire of this feeling, of being the one he finishes inside of and reaches this feeling with.

He’s panting when he pulls out of you. Your wrists burn against the belt as he loosens it. His hand smooths over your ass before he spanks you and collapses beside you.

“Show me what you bought,” he says. “It better make you cum.” You tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Have an open mind, okay?”

“Damn, what the fuck is it?” Rafe asks with a curious laugh.

You’re sore as you get up on your knees and shift to grab the white ring you already took out of the packaging and placed in your nightstand.

When you settle back on the bed and hold it out in front of him, his brows furrow.

“Is that…?” He can’t finish the sentence, his tone apprehensive.

“It might feel really good,” you say with a small smile. “I got a vibrating one.”

Rafe sits up, glancing down at your purchase before looking up at you again.

“Come on,” you laugh. “You surprise me all the time. I can’t surprise you?”

He clears his throat.

“I don’t know,” he says simply, blinking fast. It sounds like a hard no.

“Oh,” you say. You’re shocked he’s not at least a little open to it, considering how kinky he is. “Okay. Sorry.”

You turn to put the toy away, but his next words stop you.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Fine.”

“Really?” you ask, meeting his eyes again.

“You just look so fucking sad,” he groans.

“You don’t have to do it.”

“Let’s just try it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “After everything I do to you…” You smile in response.

Rafe sits up against the head of your bed frame and you straddle him, dipping your head to kiss him. It’s strange how with him, making out feels more intimate than sex does. As good as the sex is, nothing gets your heart fluttering quite like when his lips are on yours.

Your hands settle on his shoulders and you tug at the ends of hair as you kiss him passionately.

Rafe smiles under the kiss, your lips molding together, his tongue tumbling with yours. You feel him getting hard again.

You pull back to slide the ring down his cock and he sighs in a way that tells you he can’t believe he’s actually doing this before he takes you in to kiss you again.

Rafe’s hands roll over your ass, squeezing and kneading as you sit on his naked lap. This is the longest you’ve ever kissed. It feels crazy to realize that, considering everything you’ve done together.

“Shit,” he shifts beneath you. His cock is growing, the ring starting to squeeze around him.

“How’s it feel?” you ask.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes low. It makes your heart swell with pride. “Ride me.”

You sink down on him slowly, feeling the ring against you once you’re fully seated. You find the button at the top of it to turn on the vibration.

You both exhale in pleasure at the same time. He skims his hands up to your waist, looking at you while you grind on top of him.

In the dim light of your quiet bedroom, the toy buzzing against your clit, how deep he is inside you, the way his eyes are locked on yours… it’s all so perfect. Everything with him is so fucking perfect that it can’t be true.

The fact that you ended up here all because of a part-time cleaning job and a cam website feels insane.

Your palm is against his hot chest. He looks down at it and his dimples dip into his cheeks as he smiles smugly.

“Your hands are so fucking cute,” he teases. The non-sexual compliment sends you into a tizzy.

“Yours are huge,” you retort, trying to keep cool.

“What else is huge?” he asks.

“Your ego.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs.

“Okay,” you tease, starting to sit up so he’ll slip out of you. He roughly pulls you back down by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rafe mutters. You laugh and start to fuck him faster, your hips rolling in circles.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back. “I… Fuck, I need to get on top.”

You shift to let him settle over you, your head resting on your pillow. Rafe’s hand runs up the side of your bent leg and he grabs your calf to pull it towards him, silently inviting you to wrap your legs around him.

You hook your ankles together, your entire body hugging him.

You fuck for at least twenty straight minutes, both of you sweating and panting and shaking. You knew he’d last extra long with the cock ring tight around him, but this is unbelievable.

You cum twice underneath him in the span of the session, earning a string of “good girl”s from him. By your third orgasm, he starts to tremble, too.

When Rafe cums inside you, his name tumbles out in his groan. Not princess, not baby, not good girl, but your name, and it gives you a knotted feeling in your stomach that you haven’t had with him yet.

Maybe it’s because he’s elated over coming down from a new level. Or maybe it’s more.

He pulls out, still dripping.

“So… you like my present?” you ask when he falls in your bed next to you.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans. “That was…” He doesn’t seem to have the words, but neither do you. How do you even begin to describe something this unreal?

“I need water,” you say, unsure of how you’re going to even stand up. “Want some?”

He shakes his head in response.

You stand at your kitchen sink, leaning against the counter and swallowing down cold water. On your way back to the bedroom, you notice a lit up screen on your kitchen table.

Rafe must have left his phone here before you moved to the bed. Through pure instinct, you look at the screen. By the time you realize you’re accidentally snooping, it’s too late.

You don’t see the contact name in time, but you do see the message.

bro where are you? too many bitches here for just me lol

A chill rushes through your body. It must be one of his buddies waiting for him at a party.

Of course. It’s a Friday night and you’re pretty sure all the rich people on the island have to do is party.

You feel like an idiot. Expecting exclusivity from Rafe in the arrangement you’re in was ridiculous. Of course he’s fucking around on the side. Someone like him, with his sex drive, can’t be satisfied by one girl.

At this point, you just want him to leave, so you collect his clothes off the kitchen floor.

Thankfully, Rafe’s already sitting up in your bed when you reenter your bedroom. Surely eager to go.

“Here,” you say coldly, handing him his jeans and t-shirt. You don’t look at him when he takes his clothes from you. “Are you gonna head out?”

You realize when you ask the question, it’s like a secret test you’re putting him through. If he stays, he gives a shit about you. If he leaves, he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I should,” he says. He should. Yeah, he really should go look at and flirt with and fuck other girls.

“‘Kay.” You start to collect some clean clothes from your dresser, covering your body with them, feeling strangely insecure around him now.

“You pissed off or something?” he asks behind you as he gets dressed.

You clench your jaw. Honestly, you’re more hurt than anything. But are you even allowed to be? Just because he acts like your boyfriend sometimes doesn’t mean he is.

“No,” you reply. You swallow down the painful feelings and turn to look at him. “Just tired.” You think back to your texts yesterday about how often you’ve hooked up. “Lost count, right? I might need a break.”

You don’t mean it. At this point, you’re just defensive. Wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

Rafe’s face flashes in displeasure.

“What - why? What the fuck happened in the last fucking minute?” he asks.

“I’m not allowed to be tired?” you respond.

He dips his head, nodding as he buttons his jeans. He seems silenced by his own anger. Your eyes sweep down his muscled body, wishing he’d just hug you and ask you what’s wrong one more time and reassure you that you’re more than just sex to him.

You can tell he’s pissed off and you know you’re not being fair, but you let him leave without any more words exchanged between you.

After a long shower, you lie in bed and wish Rafe didn’t leave his smell on your pillow. You browse your phone, trying to distract yourself.

You tell yourself you’ll go to sleep in five minutes over and over again. You’re working at the estate tomorrow. You need to get up early. But you know the moment you close your eyes, you’ll be trapped in your thoughts. You don’t want to think about him.

It’s nearing midnight when a text comes in.

Rafe: princessssssdsssss

You look at your screen in confusion. Is this a drunk text?

Rafe: ur mean

Rafe: but ypur pussy is sooo niiice lol

Yeah. He’s plastered.

Rafe: ans you have cutehands

Rafe: you akwyas smell good how the fuck is fhat possibke

You hate that your heart warms at the fact that he’s clearly fucked up but his instinct is to text you.

You reply: i think someone’s drunk…

Rafe: yes iam

Rafe: idk what i’m gona do with yiu loool

You: what do you want to do with me?

You get an alert that he sent you $69.

Rafe: that

Rafe: looool

Sex. Of course.

You: are you going to make me do every position?

Rafe: you’r efreaky as fuck. i know youd like it

You: true…

Rafe: lowkey ur all i think about

Goddamn it. Your heart is pounding at this point. You try to play it off.

You: oh only lowkey. cool

Rafe: don’t be maddd

You: i’m pissed

Rafe: we should fuck aboutt it :)

You know the answer to your next question, that he sees you as a booty call and that’s all, but you know the confirmation.

You: is that all you want to do rafe? fuck?

Rafe: YES

Rafe: what if i come over again tonigjt lol

You: i work tomorrow. i need to sleep

Rafe: you need this dick

You: omg

Rafe: do you likw this skng

Rafe: song

You: ??? what song

You can’t stifle your laugh at how shit-faced he is.

Rafe: irs good

Rafe: u should giveme a lap dance

You: you’re drunk as hell. i’ll see you tomorrow, ok? goodnight

You think back to the way he looked when you snapped at him earlier and decide to send one more message.

You: sorry i was mean

He doesn’t reply. Maybe it’s better that way.

Your body is heavy the next morning. You barely make it to the Camerons’ estate. You don’t see Rafe at all in the morning. You’re guessing he crashed at whoever’s party he went to.

You wonder how many bitches, as he and his friends say, he talked to last night.

When it’s time to turn over his bedsheets, you take a moment to take in the familiarity of his bedroom. When you pull over a new fitted sheet, you realize just how exhausted you are.

There’s no reason for another maid to come into this room. It’s on your list only. And Rafe is gone.

So, what’s the harm in lying down to rest, just for a little bit? You’ll do a better job when you’re not exhausted.

You won’t close your eyes.

You lie on his pillow. Okay, maybe you can close your eyes for a minute. You’ll count to sixty then stand back up.

The numbers quickly melt away and you slip into a slumber.

When you wake up, nuzzling your face into the pillow, Rafe is in bed with you, his back to you.

It takes a moment to remember where you are. You sit up and he notices the movement, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

{ read part eleven here }

author’s note: shoutout to my readers for being so creative. thank you to this anon and this anon and to another reader (you know who you are) for your contributions to this chapter! ILY!

[featherandferns]

gamble (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | technically a sequel to risk (read here!) but can probably be read as a standalone too!

content warnings: physical v!olence; mentions of sex (fem receiving); kook assholes

word count: 22k. (get a warm drink and strap tf in)

blurb: you love JJ Maybank for who he is, but as more people find out, more secrets are uncovered, things start to feel different. Why does it suddenly feel like JJ's keeping things from you? And why does he never tell you that he loves you back?

You used to have trouble sleeping. It felt as though someone was always lurking in the background of your mind, passing through the backdrop of your dreams like an extra in a movie. Overtime, it came and went. You got used to the occasional insomnia. But after JJ, you slept soundly at night. It was such an eerie shift that you wondered if it was him. If JJ was the one that had been lingering in the back of your mind, as though the universe had saved space for him in your life before he’d even entered it. 

The Maybank name was infamous on Kildare Island. You weren’t oblivious to the reputation that was tied to it nor were you oblivious to JJ Maybank himself. He was like a comet shower: unpredictable and unavoidable. Girls were drawn to him the same way he was drawn to trouble, and you were seemingly no exception. But you admired from afar. You’d catch glimpses of him during Sunday service, back when JJ was practically forced to attend. Subtly trying to glance over your dad’s body, you’d make out his shaggy sun-bleached blonde hair, free from his usually caps, and the way that his creased dress shirt sat unnaturally on his ever-strengthening frame. Then, he vanished from the church. You think it had to do with his mother, come to think. You knew little of JJ’s family but you never took Luke for a big bible-thumping man. People no longer wanted to help JJ. No, they wanted to leave him to the fishes. He can make his own bed, they’d sigh, and he can lie in it. A twin of his father, they’d sigh. A lost cause.

You didn’t believe in that. JJ had changed the trajectory of your life. He was the sunlight beaming down on your days of grey. He was the throttle in your beat-down tin box car. He was the album that you never knew existed but never wanted to be without again. He brought colour to your bubblewrap Kook life. Blinding red and brilliant yellow and haunting blue. Adrenaline and lust and happiness. 

JJ squints his eyes open. 

“Quit it!” you scold with a smile. 

“Just wanna look at you,” he mumbles. There’s a dopey smile on his lips as his eyes close once more. You laugh quietly and roll your eyes and shake your head. You’re sat, straddled, on his lower stomach. In one hand is a tub of Clinique clay face mask, your other hand dirtied at the fingers. JJ’s hands are resting on your bare thighs, fingers rubbing mindless patterns, up and down, in hardly-there massages of the flesh. The cool, damp clay smears across his cheeks and you rub it in with the pads of your fingers. It’s a nice excuse to touch him - not that you need an excuse. The tips of your acrylic nails barely scratch the surface of his skin as you wipe the facemask under his eyes and around his temples, painting it along his cheeks and chin. There’s the faint scratch of his growing back stubble that poetically contrasts the soft peach fuzz atop of his boyish features. 

“Is it stinging?” you check. 

“No,” he hums. He sounds relaxed. He looks it, too, sunken into your bedding, head propped atop of throw pillows, a lilypad in a sea of comfort. You wipe your hands clean on an Egyptian cotton towel before leaning over and digging about in your make-up bag. You subject JJ to lip scrub, gel-cooler pads on the eyes, and even eyelash and eyebrow serum. JJ takes it all willingly. You think he secretly enjoys how doting you are of him. Enjoys the attention and the pamper and the care taken for such insignificant things. 

“For someone who washes, like, twice a week, you have incredible skin,” you murmur, a little envious. 

“Hey! I wash more than twice a week!”

“Going in the sea doesn’t count as a shower. You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

At your teasing, JJ squeezes your thighs. Not hard enough to hurt; enough to draw a giggle. A warm, damp washcloth wipes his skin clear. You treat him with toner and moisturiser and facial spray and lip balm. His eyes remain closed, blissful, as you go about the motions. He’s adorable like this. Nobody would believe you if you told them that you gave JJ Maybank a spa-like pamper treatment. This side of him was just for you. You could tell by the way it took very little convincing for him to allow you to do it. Leaning down, you plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Done,” you brightly announce. 

Sighing, JJ blinks his eyes open and sits up onto his elbows. His hands slide down from your thighs to your knees. As he wakes up his muscles and joints from their hour long break, you reach for the mirror that lies on the comforter of your bed and hold it out before him so he can see his reflection. JJ pulls a face as if impressed by the glow of his skin and you grin. 

“Feels nice, right?” 

JJ runs a finger along his jaw as if admiring your handy-work. “I’ll say,” he grins. 

His hands suddenly land on your hips and JJ tugs you down towards him. Giggling, the mirror flops back onto the plush duvet as you gladly fall into his hold. You catch yourself with a hand by his head and another on his firm upper chest. God, it’s not fair. He’s so pretty it hurts. Your lips slot against his. The combination of oils and scrubs and balms taste sweet and tangy. JJ’s greedy with his touch, his hands slinking around to your backside, palming leisurely at the flesh. Pulling apart for breath, JJ’s hooded eyes flit between your damp lips and shining eyes. A telling smirk grows on his handsome face. 

“What’d you say I give you a facial too, huh?”

“You’re gross,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes. JJ sniggers and you can’t take the distance much longer. You quiet him with your mouth. He sinks into your kisses like he sinks into your bed. It’s like a dance, the way your lips move together. The push and pull: hard then soft. It’s like he’s Jekyll and Hyde, debating how to be. Whether to savour it or take it. His fingertips tease at your skin and you sigh contently against his lips. Like a fire, it simmers to a warm burn then sparks up again with newfound kindling. You rock against him, feeling him under his shorts, trying not to smirk at the ego boost of knowing how much you affect him. It’s not like it’s one way though. Nobody had ever had you like JJ Maybank did. 

JJ’s fingers slip into your hair. It’s still damp from washing it, unstyled and untamed atop of your head. Before, you wouldn’t dream of letting someone see you so unkept, but with JJ it was different. He saw through all of that anyway. The glitz and glamour was a part of you but it didn’t make you. His lips draw away from yours and he’s breathing heavy, hot against your skin, as he chases your jaw and your neck. You sigh at the lubricious kisses against the tender skin. The toe-curling sensation of his teeth scratching the surface just-so, never enough to break, never enough to hurt. 

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against you. He inhales as if he wants you in his lungs like vapour. You pull his lips back to yours, alight once more. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

“You talk too much,” you tell him against his mouth. He sort of chuckles. 

“Like that’s ever bothered you.”

“Shush,” you hurry out, kissing him harder, deeper. His tongue lewdly brushes yours. 

Neither of you can keep your hands to yourself. Neither of you can keep still. There’s no thought safe from JJ. No desire or wish. He’s everything, all consuming, as if he’s brainwashed you. 

“Prettiest girl in Kildare County.”

“Prettiest boy in North Carolina.”

“Always gotta one up me,” JJ sniggers. 

Hands and lips and tongue and teeth. Your heart races in your chest, lungs short of air. It’s giggly and erotic and romantic and there’s nothing else in the room, in the world, than JJ and you. His fingers finally find the lace fringing of your panties and your lips smile instinctively at the promise of what would follow. You go to decorate his jawline with hickeys as if painting a Monet. The sounds he makes are your favourite. Some whining-type groan, mixed amongst sighs and heavy breathes. Incoherent praises through mumbling lips. 

“Ew!”

Like a sledgehammer to an ice sheet, the moment is shattered. You pull back with furrowed brows, staring down at a cringing JJ. 

“Ranger! Get off!”

Your head whips around to find your darling geriatric golden retriever licking the fuck out of JJ’s feet. JJ keeps trying to kick his foot away but Ranger is obsessed, following after it. You laugh. 

“Ranger, I don’t think you wanna do that. God knows the last time he washed those dogs.”

“Hey!” JJ protests at your reasonable comment. You turn back to him with a playful grin. He leans up and kisses you fleetingly on the lips. “It’s a good thing you’re hot,” he jokingly tells you. 

“Could say the same thing to you.”

“Ranger! Seriously, man!” 

You’re gently tossed off JJ’s body, tumbling into the sheets with a laugh, as JJ gets up and frees his feet from Ranger’s affection. Rolling onto your side, you smile as you watch your boyfriend fuss your dog whilst he tries his best to discipline. The bracelet you made him sits safe on his wrist: seashells and blue and white and silver beads framing the two letters JJ. It’s a sister bracelet to your own which JJ rather persistently requested you make: seashells and blue and white and silver beads framing your own initials. 

“You know,” you start to say, “I sometimes wonder if you’re with me for my dog.”

“You’re crazy.” Looking over to you, his grin is his tell. “I’m with you for your money.”

Gasping, you grab for one of the many, many throw pillows and toss it at him. JJ bats it away with a laugh. You continue your onslaught with JellyCat children and cushions and through your combined laughter, JJ crawls over to you, coaxing you onto your back, looming over you. You smile up at him. He’s pretty like this. No, he’s pretty whatever way you look at him. It’s like he’s the night sky. No matter where you are, when you are, how you view it: it’s breathtaking. 

“Hi,” you giggle. 

His blue eyes held so many layers of emotion, fragile like the casing of a bomb. They peer into your soul and you feel seen, truly seen, by him. 

“Hi.” 

His eyes glance down at your lips. This kiss is different. It’s slower and languid. He takes his time as if he’s mapping every muscle in your lips to memory. Sighing as he pulls away, you gaze up at him. The words fall out of some corner of your mind and topple out your mouth. 

“I want you to meet my parents.”

JJ’s smile flickers like a dying lightbulb. “What?”

“My parents,” you mumble, lifting a finger to stroke dotingly at the apple of his cheek. “I want you to meet them.”

“What? So you can see my execution up close?”

“JJ!”

Laughing, he rolls off you and lands by your side with a gentle thud. Rubbing at his face, he says, “babe, your parents are not gonna like me.”

“You don’t know that,” you say. He gives you a look that reads as ‘really?’ “JJ, my parents aren’t some stuck-up snobs.”

The look intensifies. 

“What? You think I’m a stuck-up snob?”

The look reaches its limit. Rolling your eyes, you gently bat at his face and he snorts. “Come on! I want you to meet them. And I know they want to meet you.”

Panic flashes across his face. “You told ‘em about me?”

“No, not fully. Just that I’m dating someone,” you say. “But the church is full of gossips so...”

“Pretty sure the bible frowns upon that,” he mumbles. 

“Well, tell that to Mrs Dulamy. But only if you want to lose a limb.”

JJ stares at the ceiling and you stare at him. You can hear Ranger at the foot of your queen-sized bed, sighing as though his life is filled with stress before he settles down to rest. You reach out and rest your hand on JJ’s chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. His eyes slowly look over to you and you smile smally. 

“I just want them to meet the guy that I’m crazy about,” you quietly say. 

“You really think they’re gonna like me?” he asks you after a moment’s thought. 

“I think they know me well enough to know I wouldn’t fall in love with the wrong person,” you reassure him. “So, yeah, I think they’re gonna like you.”

JJ sighs and contemplates the offer. “When would this be?”

“Tuesday? They get back from their cruise Monday afternoon.”

“One dinner?” 

“One dinner.”

“What happens if I say no?” JJ wonders, his tone almost joking. 

The truth? You’d never force JJ to do something he didn’t want to do. You know this wasn’t his world. Family dinners and expensive parties and bible study-groups. He dipped his toes in as much as he felt comfortable when with you but you wouldn’t push him in, head first in the deep end. For now, you were more than happy to settle for the occasional pamper night and meal at the Wreck. Besides, his life was always more exciting than yours. As long as you got to keep your jewellery and make-up, you would happily be a Pogue. 

But for now, you pretend to seriously consider his question. “I won’t put out for a week.”

His mouth drops open in horror. “What?”

Shrugging, you roll onto your back. “Those are my conditions.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“No, it isn’t,” you say casually. “Blackmail is when I have something on you that I decide to hold against you.”

“Alright, well then it’s jus’ mean,” JJ replies. Giggling, you look at him. He begins to smirk. “Like you’d be able to go that long without it anyway.”

Quirking a brow, amused, you say, “you certainly think a lot of yourself.”

“I’m just goin’ off what I’ve heard,” he grins. Scrunching his eyes up, his voice goes up an octave as JJ mimics you. “Oh! Just like that, JJ! Feels so good!”

“Hey!” you laugh, lunging over and playfully attacking him. “I do not sound like that!”

“Harder, harder!”

JJ catches your wrists easily, stalling your lazy so-called hits. You shake your head, smiling down at him. 

“You look good like this,” he says. 

“You look good all the time,” you reply. 

“Damn straight, princess,” he grins, pulling you down so your lips meet his. Between kisses, he asks, “but really? What’s in it for me?”

“Apart from a nice meal?” you say. “I’ll let you take me fishing again.”

“Meh,” he shrugs. 

You look down at him with a small, sultry smile. “And I’ll let you do that thing you like.”

A grin slowly unfurls on his face. His kiss is overly hard and passionate and it makes you laugh against him, as he somehow spins the two of you so you’re on your back once more. Before JJ can do things that will make you forget your own name, he gives his answer. 

“Sold.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The musty smell of aged wood and cold stone floors somehow compliments the overpowering notes of designer perfume that exudes off the girls you sit between. They sit in their Sunday bests; hair styled to perfection without a single strand out of place, their  heads hung in prayer. The wooden pews are uncomfortable and your throat is dry from the air conditioning. Your lips move absentmindedly through the prayers that you’ve been saying for as long as you were able to form words. 

“In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen,” you say in unison with the others. Lifting your head, you watch Father Jude walk up to the ornate podium. There’s a peaceful, friendly smile on his weathered features. 

“Father Jude talks like it’s going out of fashion,” Bethany mutters. The girls snort and giggle under breath and your own lips twitch in a small smile, not necessarily disagreeing. 

“He’s kind of a DILF though, don’t you think?” Ashley whispers. You cringe. 

“Ashley, that is so gross,” Daisy sniggers. 

Bethany, Ashley and Daisy. The Bible Bitches, as JJ had lovingly deemed them. 

“And we ask, Lord, won’t you guide us to be truthful? For is it not the teachings of the bible - is it not the word of Jesus Christ himself - that we should be truthful to ourselves, not only to others?” Father Jude preaches. 

“Psst.”

You look to your left and meet Ashley’s gaze. Her eyes are doe-like but they aren’t innocent. They fit well on her love-heart shaped face. In hushed tones, she asks, “is it true that you and Maybank are, like, official now?”

You nod. An unfamiliar smile appears on her face. It prickles you like a thorn. “How do you find him?”

Brows tugging, unsure of her meaning, you shrug. “Usually at his friend’s house.”

“No, no,” she sighs. “I mean, how do you find him in bed? Is he kinda freaky with it or…”

Your temper ticks just enough for a sharp rush of adrenaline to wash through your veins. Saving you having to catch your tongue. Bethany leans over to whisper, “Ashley, are you seriously talking about sex in the church right now?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Daisy giggles, thumbing her pearl necklace. 

“What! I’m just asking the important questions!” Ashley replies, grinning like there’s some great joke at play. 

Your face contorts in disgust and disapproval. 

“Just as Ephesians says, 4:25. Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbour, for we are all members of one body.”

Her brows twitch up as she licks leisurely at her teeth. Before she speaks, you know you won’t like whatever she’ll say next. “Just trying to get a group census for her boytoy.”

“Shush!”

Startling in your seats, you all turn to meet the eyes of one of the longtime church attendees. Her elderly features are downturned in disapproval, probably much like your own. 

“Sorry, Mrs Dulamy,” Ashley whispers, turning back to the front with the others. The girls erupt in barely stifled giggles and you do your best not to roll your eyes. You don’t want to feed into unnecessary drama which would circulate for the next week. It’s easier to pretend like you enjoy their fraudulent friendship. They were the kind of kooks JJ hated. The kind that thought Pogues were bred to mow lawns and buss tables, and the kinds who would borderline emotionally abuse their boyfriends to get gifts out of them. Daisy would console you in one moment and then recount the story with fabricated fill-ins within the next. Ashley would pick and choose who was her favourite depending on who had the best social footing. You trusted Ashley as far as you could throw her. Bethany was the most bearable of the trio. You’d confide in her the most, though only bits and pieces which would do no harm if they were to make it into Figure Eight. Before, you settled for their questionable morals to have company, but now you have the Pogues and have experienced real, true friendship, and it was as if you saw the Bible bitches in a whole new light. The rose coloured glasses were off. 

Father Jude smiles lovingly at the gathering of people. “So, I ask of you all, to live life in truth, and encourage others to live truthfully too. As the Proverbs say: an honest witness tells the truth, but a false witness tells lies.”

Hums and approving nods occur across the room like an unnatural current. The girls stay quiet for the rest of the service and the conversation doesn’t pick up until after closing prayers. As the bells chime for midday and everybody rises to leave, Daisy speaks first. 

“So, my parents are out on Thursday night. I was thinking about a bible study?”

Bible study was code for girls’ night. Someone would sneak their parent’s wine and you’d all drink and bitch and occasionally glance down at your bibles. 

“I’m in,” Bethany nods. 

“Sure,” Ashley agrees. She looks over her shoulder at you and flashes you this Cheshire cat grin. “I wanna hear about Pogue boy.”

“I’ll see if I can come,” you say, shooting a not-so-subtle glare at Ashley. “My parents get back tomorrow so they might want some family time.”

It was a half-truth. You would much rather spend your time with JJ, either with or without the added company of the Pogues. The pair of you were a little attached at the hip. As Daisy and Bethany discuss the latest episode of the Bachelor, you follow the stream of people out into the streets of North Carolina. The sun beats down hard on the concrete. Fans appear to manifest out of thin air as church goers fan themselves. Your eyes search the space for JJ and you find him waiting for you across the street, looking like some James Dean heartthrob from the fifties. He leans against his red dirt bike; toned, sun kissed skin delectable under a white t-shirt. Dressed in cargo shorts and combat boots, as if his beauty wasn’t enough to have him stand out from the others. You smile at the sight of him, smitten all over again. 

“Damn. He looks good in white,” Ashley mutters. 

Despite your jealousy, she isn’t wrong. Turning to them, you say, “I’ll see you guys later” and then gladly cross the street to meet JJ. 

“Hey,” you smile. You close the gap between the two of you and loop your arms around his shoulders. Mostly for yourself but partly to remind Ashley who JJ belongs to, you push up onto your toes and press a kiss to his lips. They’re salty from the sea and grainy from the sand. He smells like aftershave and sunscreen and a hint of weed. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Well, you have a promise to keep,” JJ reminds you. His fingers toy with the fabric of your dress. The length of it sits just above the knee, the neckline shy of being too revealing for a Sunday service. You garnished yourself with jewellery: earrings and layered necklaces and a thick bracelet. “You look pretty.”

Your cheeks grow warm at the easy compliment but you try to play it cool. “You helped me get dressed.”

“Think helped might be a strong word,” he grins. It was true. If anything, he hindered the process. Looking over your shoulder, he gives a slight nod. “Your pack is watching.”

Glancing over, you make out the Bible Bitches ogling with the rest of the gaggle of church attendees. Mr and Mrs Mantash stand out in their cream yellow attire, murmuring to one another, eyes trained on you and your boyfriend. Rolling your eyes as you look back to him, you change topic. “Fishing?”

“Fishing,” JJ confirms. 

You take your usual spot behind JJ on his bike. Arms looping around his waist, you tether yourself to his firm middle. You can remember the first time you rode on his bike. The adrenaline spike and the hammering heart as JJ raced the two of you down the roads. Now, it’s as second nature to you as hopping on a bus. JJ revs the engine to spite the spectators and you giggle. Then, the two of you take off down the road, away from Figure Eight and out towards the Cut. You watch the scenery zip past you as the wind creates a dull sting in your eyes. Under his shirt, you can feel JJ’s stomach tense at every dip and corner. The stifling nature of the kook bubble you’ve lived most of your life in fades with every yard and as it does, you feel as though the air gets lighter and your lungs get wider. 

The two of you park in a small lot beside a walkway. It leads down to a wooden pier that's immersed in a scenic marsh. The greenery spans across the water and expands out as far as you can see, perfectly outlining avenues of water that house gators and fish. JJ’s fishing gear is already set up. It’s a quiet spot that few know about aside from locals and it seems JJ has a good enough relationship with the regulars to trust his rig won’t get stolen. Besides, he’d probably just steal it back. His hand is clammy in your hold, the metal of his rings warm against your fingers. Then begins the dance of prepping the rods. You watch over his shoulder as he messes with hooks and lines. 

“You remember how to do this from the last time I showed you?” JJ asks you. His fingers work meticulously at the hook as he fastens it to the line and rod. You’re mesmerised by his intricacy, thoughts happily wandering towards the gutter. 

“Sort of,” you mumble, not fully present. 

“A’right,” he hums. “Pass me the bait.”

You do as he asks and retrieve a small, pink shrimp. Your mind immediately makes the connection and at your dawdling, JJ turns to look at you as you begin to giggle. Gently puppeting the shrimp, through your laughter, you imitate in a strange, high-pitched voice: “and the other thing is, my sister had a baby and I took it over after she passed away, and the baby lost all its legs and arms and now it’s just a stump but–”

Rolling his eyes, grinning, JJ takes the shrimp from you. “Such a dork.”

You laugh and wipe your fingers on his shirt, drawing another chuckle from him. 

“You watchin’, baby?” he checks. You nod and calm yourself and watch as he hooks the shrimp onto the hook. Holding the rod out to you, you take it with your free hand and wait as JJ sorts out his own rod. Soon enough, you’re guided on how to throw the line into the water. Then, your favourite part: the waiting. Rods lying against the railing of the pier, you and JJ stand side by side, your head resting on his chest. He’s vaping a dab pen and the mango-infused vapour pleasantly scents the air before the two of you. Your feet are turned in towards him like tree roots searching for safety. Birds coo and call in the distance, sweeping over the water and teasing the fish below the surface. The sky's spotless blue and bright with daylight. You feel a little guilty for breaking the serenity of the moment. 

“So…You going to finally tell me why Rafe and his gang of fairies wanted to kill you and Pope the other day?”

JJ’s breathing stutters, though you wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for your ear against his chest. “Like they need a reason to be dicks.”

“They don’t,” you hum in agreement. “But neither do you, so.”

“So?”

“They don’t pick fights for absolutely no reason.”

“Hm,” JJ says, clearly not in full agreement. 

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right? Like, I’m always going to be on your side,” you remind him quietly. JJ’s hand finds your hip easy and he squeezes. 

“I know,” he mutters. “Jus’ don’t want you thinking less of me.”

“Less of you how?”

“I don’t always make the right decisions,” JJ says, almost embarrassed. Snorting, you glance up at him. 

“Like I didn’t know that?” JJ’s bemused furrowed brows prompt you to continue. “JJ, we went to Sunday school together. I think you hold the record for being kicked out of class.”

“Fair point.”

A breeze comes and it’s a nice excuse to inch slightly closer. Rafe’s threat to you hasn’t escaped your mind. Knowing that the gang still had their aims set on yourself and JJ, and the other Pogues too, obviously didn’t thrill you. But that came with the gig. Avoiding an obnoxious asshole was a pretty small side-effect to a drug like JJ Maybank. So, to lighten the mood, stepping away from him, you plant your hands on your waist and jut your chin up. “Well, I’ll protect you if anything else happens. I’m an armed woman now.”

Raising a brow, smiling, JJ says, “you gonna protect me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“But then who’s gonna protect you?” With that, he grabs at you and tosses you over his shoulder. Screeching, giggling, smacking lightly at his back, JJ wanders over to the railing. 

“Put me down, Maybank! Put me down!”

“Can’t hear you princess!” JJ loudly remarks. “Maybe you ought’a pray for help.”

“I’ll scream!”

“Knock yourself out,” JJ smugly says. But you don’t. You just laugh and continue to natter for him to put you down and after he pretends like he might throw you in, he relents. You gaze up at him, your limbs still tethered. 

“I’ve got your back,” you say, breath now caught, laughter contained. “I trust you.”

“I know,” JJ nods. He’s visibly uneasy by your brazen honesty. You get the feeling that he’s not used to someone being so openly in love with him. So carefree in their affection. So willing to show it.

“I love you," you smile.

A smile come fights onto his face. As he dips his head and your eyes slip shut, anticipating the familiar feel of his lips on yours, he pauses. Then: “yo! Yo! You got’a bite!”

“Huh?” you ask, opening your eyes. 

“Fish on!”

You swiftly turn to your rod to see it twitching, telling of a bite. Gasping, you rush to grab at the handle and awkwardly manoeuvre your hands in the way JJ taught you. He hovers by your side, his larger hands shadowing yours. 

“You remember how I showed you right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” you mumble, brows furrowed in concentration as you try to reel in your catch. But your arms start to ache and you feel as though the line is endless. “I can’t do it, JayJ.”

“You can, you can,” he encourages. “Reel it in faster, baby.”

“I can’t!” 

“A’right, give it here.”

JJ’s hands are warm as they encase your own. You let JJ do most of the work as he pulls the fish in, and the grunts of effort beside your ear should not be as erotic as they are given the moment and your saintly Sunday start. Soon enough, the line reaches its end and a fish emerges through the water, hanging from the hook. You giggle excitedly at the sight. 

“That’s what I’m talking ‘bout, baby! Woo!” JJ whoops. “Get the net, get the net!”

You scramble and do as he says, ducking under his arm. You hang the net just below the fish and help JJ guide your catch onto the pier. There, JJ tactfully removes the fish from the hook and holds it up. The grin on his face is like a schoolboy who just scored his first goal. He’s radiant like this. You smile wider, prouder. 

“Hell yeah! That’s a flounder right there baby! Hell of a boy too!” JJ gloats. Laughing, body thurming with excitement and adrenaline, you watch as JJ preps the catch for the cooler. Once everything is squared away, JJ strides over to you and captures your cheeks between his hands. His lips press to yours in a short kiss and you giggle and groan, trying to squirm out of his hold. 

“Ew, JJ, your hands are all fishy,” you carp. “S’gonna ruin my make-up.”

“Bite me,” JJ grins, kissing you again. It’s a good way to quell your complaining. Good way to derail your thoughts, too. 

Later, after John B has picked the two of you up (JJ riding the bike home), the two of you find yourselves shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen counter of the Chateau (though JJ is a good head taller than you). The pungent smell of fish makes you feel as though you’re fifty feet below the ocean’s surface. The flounder is squishy under your fingers, soggy from the cooler it had been kept in. When JJ’s knife makes a small incision by the fish’s eye, you gag and look away. 

“Oh my God, JJ, that’s so gross,” you mumble. 

He sniggers. “Jus’ nature.”

You hesitantly glance back down at the fish to see JJ make another incision with the blade. And then, the fish twitches. You shriek and JJ jumps, thankfully not slicing off any fingers in the process, cussing up a storm. 

“It’s alive!” you exclaim. 

“Barely! It’s just a reflex,” JJ loudly replies, shaking his head. One of his hands (slimy with fish guts) reaches for yours and guides your fingers back to the body. “Come on. You said you wanted to do this.”

He wasn’t wrong. You, in fact, insisted. He warned you that he didn’t think you’d like it but you hated being thought of as incapable, even if that wasn’t how he meant it. Stubbornness was a family trait. You could wear pink and talk about politics. You could plie and prepare a fish…maybe…

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you mutter, alternating between swallowing and gagging. Your acrylic nail slips under the top layer of the creature’s skin. JJ laughs, guiding your fingers as if puppetering. 

“You’re fine,” he sniggers. 

“I didn’t think it’d be so…gruesome.”

“It’s a fish.”

“It’s disgusting,” you mither. At the feel of something squishy and spongy under the tip of your finger, your hand comes flying out and you practically dance away from the fish as you squirm. “No, no, nopity, no.”

Laughing, JJ shakes his head and turns back to the fish, finishing the job. You head to the sink to clean your hands. “You kooks crack me up. Bet you think theses things come outta the water already baked and broiled, huh?”

“Har har,” you sarcastically quip, scrubbing at your hands. You study the underbeds of your nails to find fish gunk all up them. Whining, you say, “these are a fresh set of acrylics, JJ.”

“Hey - you’re the one that wanted me to have dinner with your parents,” he says with a shrug. 

Wiping your hands dry on a questionably clean dish towel, you lean your back against the counter and watch your boyfriend. “I didn’t know how much I’d have to sacrifice, clearly.”

You take the few steps towards him and wrap your arms around his middle, cradling his back against your front. You press a kiss to his shoulder blade. One of JJ’s hands lands atop of your own and squeezes softly, and it’s so sweet that you can’t even be annoyed that he just got fish slime all over your freshly washed hands. You lean against him as he continues to work on prepping the fish: the muscles of his back rippling and rolling with the movement of his arms and wrists. This close, the indescribable smell of JJ washes away that of the flounder. It somehow calms and turns you on all at once. Here, like this, you’re happy. Being with JJ was like stepping into a secret oasis, free of prying eyes and callous whispers. You knew introducing JJ to your parents was going to shift things slightly. It would set it in stone: you’d made your choice, and your choice was a Pogue. You were ready for that change but you worried that maybe JJ wasn’t. I guess only time would tell. 

The front door to the chateau creaks open and you glance over to find Kiara walking in. 

“Sup guys,” she greets. 

“Sup,” JJ replies, not bothering to turn. 

��What’re you guys doing?” she wonders, walking over. You untangle yourself from JJ and lean against the counter. 

“JJ’s showing me how to prepare a flounder.”

“You guys go fishing?”

“Yep.”

“This one caught her first fish,” JJ chimes in proudly. 

Scoffing, you shake your head as you look at Kie. “Barely. It bit my rod and JJ’s the one that pulled it in.”

“Under your supervision,” JJ adds. “Officially a fisher girl now.”

“A flounder’s a pretty decent catch, too,” Kiara praises, glancing over her friend’s shoulder. “Nice one, princess.”

Yes, it seemed the princess nickname had stuck with everyone. It didn’t bother you all that much. You were rather prissy compared to them. You hated getting dirt under your nails and would see red if there was a beer stain on your shirt. Any excuse to wear heels and often dressed in skorts or skirts. No matter how late, you had to do your full skincare regime. At first they teased and poked fun but they never insulted you. It was just part of your personality. 

“You guys eating here?”

“Actually, I should head back soon,” you say, glancing to the clock on the wall. “My parents should be home by now.”

“Dutiful daughter duties call,” JJ remarks. You poke him and grin at his squirming. One of your favourite discoveries of JJ Maybank? He was insanely ticklish. 

“We should probably head to Heyward’s soon, too,” Kiara says. “Promised we’d give them a hand with deliveries, remember?”

“Damn. I forgot 'bout.”

You take that as your cue to leave. Reaching a hand up to JJ face, you turn his head towards you and push up onto your toes. 

“See you,” you say, kissing him quick. 

“Later,” he replies. You wave politely to Kie in farewell and head to the door. Just before you pass through it, you call JJ’s name and wait for him to turn and face you. You point at him. 

“Tomorrow. What time?”

“Six.”

“On the dot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, waving a hand, turning back to the fish. You look at Kiara and she grins. 

“I’ll make sure he gets there on time.”

“Hey!”

“Thank you,” you smile, satisfied. With that, you make your way home. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You pace the hallway of your house. Your eyes glance to the clock that hangs on the wall, crowded by framed pictures of yourself and your family. He’s late. Ten minutes late. Sighing, nervously twiddling your fingers, you glance from the front door, to the sitting room door (where your mom is lounging), to the office (where your dad is thankfully occupied by a business call). You knew your boyfriend wasn’t very timely, but surely tonight he would know the gravity of it. The importance of it. 

“Come on, JJ,” you mumble, glancing to the front door once more as if manifesting for it to knock. 

Ranger slowly trundles into the hallway, his tail wagging slowly, half-asleep. He rubs against your leg asking for pets and, as if sensing your anxiety, gives a sympathetic whine. Scratching as his head, you sigh. 

“I know, boy. He’ll be here.”

As if on cue, the door cracks open. JJ eases it open and steps in cautiously, and your head lolls back as you exhale in relief. 

“Finally!” you say to the ceiling, eyes slipping shut. Walking over to him, you press the door shut and grab his wrist, tugging him behind you through the house. “I thought you knew I was serious when I said you needed to be on time, JJ. This is a big deal, alright? You’re lucky my dad has been on a call for the past ten minutes!”

At his silence, you take pause at the bottom of the staircase and look at him. 

Your mouth parts in horror at the sight. 

“Oh my God,” you breathe. 

His lip is cracked, the half-heeled, ruby red cut from his last scuff up broken, now accompanied by a second fresh wound. His face is discoloured. Cheeks a muddy brown and plumish purple, with bruising on his cheekbone encircling a cut. There’s another impressive bruise by his brow, and a third near his mouth. His eyes are what sadden you the most. The hollow, gaping impression of them, as if he’s retreated somewhere inside of himself, the brightness snuffed out. His teeth and clenched and jaw tight. You immediately feel guilty for chewing him out. 

“Oh my God, JJ. What happened?” you ask, reaching a hand up to cup at his face, as if needing to confirm he isn’t some kind of apparition. He bats your hand away dismissively. 

“It’s nothin’, a’right? Let’s get this fuckin’ thing over with, yeah?”

You frown, keeping your hands to yourself. “JJ. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what? I’m here, ain’t I?”

Sighing, shaking your head, you take his hand in yours and guide him up the stairs and to your bedroom. Ranger sneaks in before you close the door. He lingers by JJ’s legs as JJ takes a seat on the edge of your bed. It seems Ranger calms him, nuzzling his head into JJ’s palm, demanding affection. Leaning against your door, folding your arms across your chest, you study JJ a moment. He’s shaken up but trying to hide it. It reminds you of how he was after Rafe and his gang jumped him. You wonder if that’s who is responsible for these injuries, too. There’s some anger that lingers, hovering around him like a smoke, not yet to dissipate, and it worries you for the gravity of the night. 

“We don’t have to do this tonight, if you don’t want to,” you say gently. 

He shakes his head immediately, eyes trained on Ranger’s panting face. “It’s a’right. I’ve been through worse.”

“Funnily enough that isn’t particularly reassuring, JJ,” you sigh. “I’m sorry for tearing into you like that. If I’d have known–”

“--I just wanna forget about it, a’right?” JJ says, almost snapping but not. He looks at you and nods, and tries a smile that looks queasy. “I know how important this night is for you. I don’t wanna use this as a get out.”

“It isn’t, though,” you say, crossing the room to him. Ranger makes space for you to stand in front of JJ, and he rests his head against your stomach. Your hands rub reassuringly at his upper back. “I want you to meet them when you’re ready for it, y’know?”

“I know,” he says against your dress. “You look pretty by the way.”

Rolling your eyes, smiling, you say, “thanks, JayJ.”

“I'm sorry. I wanna meet them,” he says. Pulling away, he looks up at you and gives a sheepish smile. “You got some sorta magic potion that can fix me up.”

Grinning, as if you’re a nineties movie character who has just been granted the permission to give a makeover, you eagerly nod. JJ chuckles at how you rush for your make-up bag. Taking a spot beside him on the bed, you use every trick in the book to help cover up JJ’s wounds, careful not to be too brutal in your craft. 

“Don’t tell John B about this,” JJ mumbles as you blend out the concealer. 

“God forbid a man wears make-up,” you sarcastically murmur back. 

“I’ve got a reputation to keep, y’know?”

“Mhm. Think you lost that reputation when you started dating a kook,” you giggle. 

He grins. “Nah. Just made me even more of a staple, really.”

Rolling your eyes, amused, you say, “be quiet so I can finish this off. We’re already late for dinner.”

“You want me to get changed?” he asks. “You’re dressed up all nice.”

“I’m always dressed up all nice,” you tell him. It’s true: you’re wearing a new dress that you got in the sale from Miu Miu; your hair styled to the nines; the brightest, bestest jewellery you own; and, of course, JJ’s bracelet. JJ sits in his usual attire: a graphic t-shirt that reps one of Kildare’s many local establishments, a pair of shorts that are kissed with dust and seasalt, and his combat boots. 

“You want me to, though?”

“No,” you say. “I want them to meet JJ. Not JJ.” 

At the pompous accent you put on the pronunciation of his name, JJ laughs and nods, and bows his head almost bashfully, as if holding your eyesight is too intimidating for a moment. 

“We should probably go and face the music,” you quietly tell him. 

Taking a deep breath, JJ nods and juts his chin up. “How’d I look?”

“Handsome as ever,” you smile. Careful not to hurt his wounds or rub at your work, you pinch his chin in your hand and guide his lips to yours for a quick kiss. 

“Promise me this won’t change anything between us?” JJ whispers. 

“I promise,” you reassure him. 

Nodding, JJ gets to his feet with a grunt and encases your hand with his own. Ranger perks up at the sudden spike in energy, eagerly guiding the way to your door, then down the stairs and into the hall. As you pass the doorway into the sitting room, you feel JJ free his hand from your hold. 

Your mother and father sit like something from a Victorian portrait. They’re in an armchair each, on either side of the fireplace, a haunting orange glow illuminating the sides of their profiles. Your mother is drinking coffee from a fancy glass-mug; her hair hung in such perfect, symmetrical ringlets around her face, it’s as if she slept with coca cola bottles in them. Your father is the picture of success: dressed in a Gucci suit, not a wrinkle or crease in sight, his grey hair stark but not unflattering. They’re not making it easy to be unintimidated by them. 

“Darling!” your mom croons. She beckons the two of you over. “We were wondering where you two got to!”

“Sorry, mom,” you smile, crossing the room to her. She presses a kiss against each of your cheeks. Then, she ushers JJ near. 

“Yeah, sorry, Mrs T,” he says, clearing his throat. “I, uh, got caught up at work.”

“Well, there’s worse things in life than a boy who knows the importance of work,” your dad says. 

Your mom smiles dotingly at JJ, extending out a hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, JJ.”

“You too, Mrs T,” he says, shaking her hand. 

“Oh, don’t call me that! Mrs T was my heinous mother. I’m Pam,” she light-heartedly tells him. 

“Well, alright, ma’am,” JJ nods. He turns to your dad next, who feels the need to rise from his seat as if Jesus Christ himself has demanded him to. A hand is thrust out like a bayonet. 

“Pleasure, JJ. Good to put a face to the boy who caught our daughter’s eye,” he says. JJ takes his hand and gives a firm shake, and you’re weirdly proud of how well he’s holding up. He must be terrified. You know how much he hates Kooks. Feels stifled when he’s around too many of them; judged and belittled, despite their charity and kindness. You can’t ever empathise, but you can certainly sympathise. “Call me Patrick.”

“Well, I think it’s time for some dinner, how about it?” your mom says. 

“Oh, I think that’s a wonderful idea, darling,” your dad agrees. They lead the way out of the room to the dining room, and you linger back with JJ. 

“You okay?” you check. 

“Could definitely do with a drink after this,” JJ only half-jokes, nervously smiling at you. 

You smile. “You’re doing amazing. They already like you.”

“Don’t give me false hope. Now come on,” JJ says, following after your parents. 

The table is set as though it’s Christmas dinner, or perhaps even the last supper. Impressive candles stand in even more impressive candle holders, and the runner is pure satin. The fancy china is out alongside the fancy wine glasses. JJ takes the seat beside you, opposite your father, and yourself opposite your mother. 

“Wine, JJ?” your dad asks, pouring himself a glass. 

“Oh, no thanks, sir. I’m seventeen,” JJ politely says. You have to hide your smile behind your own glass of water, taking a sip to walk down the humour. JJ drank like a fish. 

“Good man,” your dad says, winking at him. Another test passed. 

The door opens and the chef brings through the loaded plates. He places them in front of everybody one by one. 

“We’ve been told steak is your favourite,” your mother says to JJ. 

He glances at you, slightly surprised, then recovers and smiles. You’ve never seen his spine so straight before. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. Um - I mean, thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles. You look down at your plate. Medium-rare steak, of the finest cut, smothered in peppercorn sauce and accompanied by steamed vegetables and homemade garlic butter. It smells delectable, mouth-wateringly attractive in its layout. Hands are interlocked, grace is said, and then everybody begins to eat. In the corner of your eye, you see JJ wince as the cut on his lip stretches too wide. 

“So, JJ. You say you have a job?”

“Uh, yes sir,” JJ says. “Usually odd jobs but I have a pretty steady gig at the golf club, which is nice. I busboy there.”

“Honest work, that is,” your dad says, tipping his glass in approval at him. “Honest and good work. I think it’s important people learn the importance of working, don’t you darling?” 

“Oh, absolutely, darling,” your mom agrees. 

You see JJ stiffen in your peripheral and instinctively your hand reaches for his leg, hidden under the table. You squeeze his knee reassuringly. They don’t realise how tone deaf they sound. How backhanded it is to say such a thing whilst eating a dinner that cost at least sixty dollars, dressed in nothing but designer threads. 

“Our little pumpkin tells us you’re pretty good with your hands though,” your mother says oh-so-innocently. 

Your face feels hot as a boiling kettle and your eyes shoot down to your plate. You can imagine JJ’s smirk perfectly: the picture of coy and cocky. 

“Oh, really? Little pumpkin, said that, huh?” JJ says. 

“Oh yes,” your mom says, blind as a bat to the innuendo. “She says you’re good with all sorts of mechanical mumbo-jumbo.”

“I’m pretty good with it, yeah. My dad taught me everything I know. He’s the better one at fixing up motors and stuff like that,” JJ says, his voice taking on a weird sort of edge, the thought of his father brings up a strange myriad of emotions. 

“Your father, eh? That’s, uh, Luke, isn’t it?” your dad says, swirling his wine. 

“Yes, sir,” JJ eventually says. 

“Ah. I went to school with him, back in the day. He always had a knack for getting caught up in the wrong sort of thing,” your dad absentmindedly says. 

“Dad,” you lowly say, shooting him a look. He seems to remember himself. Clears his throat and shakes his head. 

“I apologise, JJ. I didn’t mean to offend,” your dad says. 

“Not at all sir,” JJ replies, but it’s stifled, like the lid on a shaken bottle of fizzy pop. Desperate for a hand, you look to your mom. She brightens up and chimes in. 

“Oh! The midsummer’s ball is right around the corner! I imagine it’s been all hands on deck at work, getting things ready for it, hm?” 

“Oh, you better believe it,” JJ chuckles, nodding. Then, your mom makes a noise like an elephant trying its first toot of its horn. It alarms everyone, catches their attention. 

“Darling! I just had the most splendid idea!” your mom bursts out. Your head shoots up, mouth full of half chewed food. “You should take JJ along with you as your date!”

You chew and chew. Swallowing, glancing at JJ, you nervously laugh. “Oh, um, I don’t know if it’s really his kind of thing, mom.”

“Come now! Some nice food and nice music. An excuse to get all dressed up. What’s not to like?”

Dressed up? She clearly doesn’t read JJ very well, sat in his well-worn t-shirt, hair an enticing mess (cap begrudgingly abandoned). Just to put the matter to rest, you oblige, placing a hand on JJ’s leg as you do in hopes he’ll track the secret message of, ‘don’t worry - you don’t have to!’

“Maybe, mom. Maybe we will,” you say. 

The rest of the dinner passes with little hitch. If anything, it’s almost mundane. Your mother tells embarrassing stories that have you cringing and JJ laughing; your father recalls anecdotes from the office that are only mildly boring. JJ even starts to share some of his own tales. A car he helped to fix up, which prompts your dad to tell him about his classic car collection - offering JJ a tour some day, and even a drive around, which certainly appeals to your boyfriend. Another story about you, from when you went cliff jumping. Your parents are visibly taken aback. They can’t seem to imagine you hurling yourself off a cliff, down and down into water. Your mother even says something like ‘good grief’ when JJ recounts the tale. 

“Will you be staying for dinner, JJ?” your mom asks as you all depart from the living room, full and fed. 

“Uh, I should get going,” JJ says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Got people to see and things to do, y’know?”

“Busy, busy,” your mom beams. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down. The make-up has started to fade, teasing at the bruise that’s likely only worsening on his handsome face. 

“Well, it’s been wonderful to meet you, JJ,” your mom says, meaning every word. 

“Likewise,” he says. “Y’all have a lovely home. And thank you also, for the dinner. It was fuc– Uh…It was freaking amazing.”

“You keep that good head on your shoulders,” your dad tells him, sticking out his hand once more, though this time far less threateningly. “And take good care of our daughter. She’s pretty taken by you.”

“Dad,” you grumble, embarrassed. 

“I will sir. I’ll keep her safe, I swear,” JJ assures, shaking his hand. The four of you stand a moment before you speak. 

“I’m gonna walk JJ out.”

With that, the two of you make for the front door, leaving your parents in the sitting room with their bids of good will and safe journeys home. He’s a stride or so ahead as you pass the hall. His toned back enticingly sways under his shirt. The two of you linger on the doorstep, outside the closed front door. The summer evening air is muggy and morish. JJ retrieves his vape and takes a hit or two to calm any persisting nerves from the dinner. 

“How you feelin’?”

“Like I just survived a mugging,” JJ says, making you laugh. He seems to like your laugh. He starts to smile. 

“They liked you.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, certain. “My dad especially.”

“Your dad’s scary as fuck.”

“He is not!”

Shrugging, disagreeing, JJ takes another drag of his vape. He looks down at you then, smiling to himself, sleepy. “You sneaking out to the chateau later?”

“You want me too?”

“Is that even a question?” he asks, quirking a brow. Grinning, playful, you reply: 

“Well, a girl likes to feel wanted.”

Shaking his head, amused, perhaps even smitten, JJ leans against the wall of the cove of the entryway. He watches you for a moment. 

“You gonna tell me who banged you up like that, then?” you broach, eyeing his just concealed injuries. They’re more obvious, gleaming through, in the doorway light’s fluorescent. 

“Why? You gonna go vigilante on ‘em?” JJ smirks. 

Rolling your eyes, you say, “don’t kid, JJ. I don’t like seeing you all black and blue.”

“Well, knowing me, you’re gonna have to get used to it, little pumpkin.”

“Oh good. That’s catching on,” you mumble. Laughing, JJ clears the gaping gap between the two of you with two shuffles of the feet. 

“It’s a cute nickname.”

“It is not becoming your new nickname for me.”

“Mm. We’ll see,” he says. He dips his head and kisses your lips, and it tastes like salt from the dinner in the most divine way. “Come to the chateau tonight, yeah?”

“Okay,” you murmur against his mouth, never being good at saying no to him. Another kiss, too short and too fleeting for your liking, and JJ steps away. Then, the matter comes back to you. You grab at his hand and stop him in place. “What my mom said, about the midsummer’s ball - you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I mean, of course it’d be nice if we went together, but I know that isn’t really your scene so…”

JJ winces, not quite torn but off put in disappointing you in some kind of way. Maybe your smile is reassurance enough for him to be honest. “I just can’t handle being around that many kooks, y’know? And the penguin suits and the blind ignorance? It’s just–”

“--I get it,” you assure, nodding, smiling. “It’s tone deaf.”

“People on the Cut still don’t have power from Aggie,” JJ says, “meanwhile Figure Eight are wasting their power on fairy lights. No offence.”

You shrug. You like midsummers: you weren’t going to lie about it. The dresses and the costumes; the community and the music; the sneaking drinks and the gossip that sparked. Most of kook life was lonely and insufferable but the party felt rather fun, most years. You imagine JJ would be delectable in a suit. His muscled-up arms brimming under a white dress shirt; legs hugged in the black iron-pressed trousers; hair combed and quiffed, still swooping over his forehead…But he wasn’t a ken doll. No, he was G.I. Joe. You weren’t going to wrangle him into a suit to play dress up and parade him around something that would only make him feel like he’s lost at sea. Besides, there was something magical, almost, in the way he was with you, out of the eyes of others, or in front of the Pogues - worry free of judgement. You liked that JJ, not the one that looked like he practised sitting with a ruler and waited for a misstep in conversation to casually degrade his entire family and upbringing. 

“That’s okay, JayJ,” you soothe. “You’ll just have to make peace with the fact that I’ll be looking fine as hell in front of those dumbass kook boys.”

“You already look fine as hell, every Goddamn day,” JJ chuckles. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, his voice dipping as he says, “and those dumbass kooks will know who to answer to if they forget who you belong to, huh?”

A thrill trickles down your spine. Giddy, you bite back your smile as JJ pulls away. There’s a knowing look on his face, as if he could hear the effect his words had on you. You hang onto his hand for as long as possible as he slowly backs away, down the front door steps. You give him a small wave farewell as he wanders over to his bike, and as he starts down your drive, you step back into your house. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ’s skin is warm against your cheek. Your body shifts up and down with the steadying rise and fall of his chest. You’re both clammy, probably more so being cuddled together under the tousled sheets, and his skin smells of sweat and sex and seasalt. A finger toys with the shark tooth necklace that rests just shy of his heart. The mattress is uncomfortable so you prefer JJ's stomach. You can feel every spring pushing through the thin material and you contemplate buying him a mattress topper, sneaking it on when he's out surfing or working. But you know he'd tell the difference: know it'd upset him in a way that would come out as frustration. 'Charity'.

One of JJ's hands leisurely rubs at your bare thigh and whilst the action itself isn’t necessarily erotic, it keeps a gentle humming buzz through your bones like someone keeping an engine running in a car out front. 

“How many girls have you been with?” you wonder. 

JJ barks out a laugh. “Why'd you ask?"

“Just curious,” you say, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile. “I wanna know how I rank.”

He peers down at you through half hooded eyes. “Dumbass question. You know where you rank.”

“At the bottom, right?” you joke, raising your brows. 

Laughing, he shakes his head and gazes up at the ceiling. His hand squeezes at the flesh of your leg, somehow lovingly, somehow telling you, 'no, not at the bottom'. 

“Just gimme a ballpark figure.”

“C’mon!” JJ laughs. “You know I ain’t gonna do that. This is one of those traps you girls set to catch guys like me out.”

“No it isn't! I just want to know, I swear! May God be my witness.”

His laugh tells you that he’s not going to fess up anytime soon. Smirking, aware fully of your teasing, you say, “well, at least tell me if I’m the only Kook you’ve been with.”

“Baby–” He cuts himself off with another chuckle, but the way he looks at you this time gives you room for answer. Your mouth parts in an aghast smile, giggling as you point at his face. 

“I knew it! You’ve slept with another Kook before me!”

“Oh my God,” he says, shaking his head, amused, not denying. 

“Who was it!? Maybe I know them,” you ponder, curious. 

“Nobody special,” he tells you. “Nobody as special as you, anyway.”

“Aw. You passed the test,” you kid, pressing a kiss to his lips.

One of his hands captures the back of your head, his fingers sinking into your hair like fingers into bread dough, and he deepens the kiss. Licks lazily at your lips, his tongue brushing against yours. He tastes like the joint he was smoking when you made it to the Chateau (successfully sneaking out of your house), and the flavour maps itself into your memories so it will forever be tethered to the name JJ Maybank. Insatiable in bed, as if his hunger is contagious, your cunt throbs at the implication of JJ’s wandering hands. You part your legs just enough to let him slip a finger through your wet folds, stimulated and sticky from the last round. Lips parting from his, your head rests on his collarbone as he pushes through your already used hole. Soft moans slip through your lips like the susurrus of the wind. JJ kisses at your ear, nibbling at your earlobe, kitten-licking the helix. The sweet gentleness to his kisses juxtapose the way his fingers fuck into you. 

“So fuckin’ wet, baby,” he murmurs in his crooning, southern accent. “So fuckin’ wet for me, huh?”

“Just for you,” you dumbly breathe against his skin. Your body rocks against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure that has your vision going mushy. The metal of his rings against your swollen walls, just cool enough to push the buttons of your stimulation just right. His fingers curl and brush against you and it hits that spot that has you gasping out, practically humping his hand. It’s crazy that your man could make you feel this way. 

“That’s it, baby. Gimme one more, yeah, baby? Gonna gimme one more?”

“M’close,” you whimper. He doesn’t relent. Keeps his fingers pumping in and out, the lewd sounds feeling as though they echo in your head. You push out the thoughts of sin and blasphemy from your mind, recalling JJ’s own words when you confided in him about your worries of wronging the Lord. If he ain’t want you to feel good like this, he wouldn’t have given the human body the right. Instead, you choose JJ as your alter. 

A new pace sets in, merciless as he pounds his digits into you. Your eyes are sealed shut, noises that feel foreign falling into the abyss of the room. Praises drive you on, fed into your ear in a voice as sweet and thick as Tennessee Whiskey. 

“That’s it, baby. Be a good little girl and come for me, huh? Come on, I know you’re close.”

You clench around his fingers with a gasping whine. Feel yourself leak out pleasure, dribbling down your thighs, drunk on the dopamine. He softens his rhythm. Kisses pleasantly at your ear and neck, whispering sweet nothings in the way your fellow church goers mumble out their prayers. And as you feel yourself return to your body, a smile grows on your face. You were lovestruck: it had gone straight to your head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rolling slopes and green of the country club are perfectly trimmed; not a single blade out of sync. The smell of cut grass, recently hydrated from the hurricane the other week, seeps naturally into the aroma of the party. Liquor and juice mixers; fried clams; flowery fumes from the decorations. Amongst that is the perfumes and colognes of the guests, your own probably only adding to the fragrance of the Midsummer’s party. Wooden beams form rectangular archways, organised on the lawn, with wisteria and baby’s breath and lavender twirled around it, dangling down like something from a fairytale illustration. You glance around the gathering and search for familiar faces. There’s the Bible Biches, gathered with their parents. You spot Pope with his father at the food pop-up. Kiara’s talking to him. You like to think they’re your friends too - not just JJ’s - but something in the way they stand and talk, it seems personal and private. You decide not to pry. 

“You look beautiful, little pumpkin,” your mom tells you, catching your attention. You smile at her and let her fiddle with your hair, correcting some strands. “It’s a shame JJ couldn’t come.”

“I know. He’s busy though. Had to work,” you lie. 

“Well, I think it’s good that the boy knows priorities. Working is the world,” your dad nods. Your teeth grit. You know he means well when he says things like that, but working for JJ is synonymous with living. He didn’t have a choice. Still, you wish there was some truth to your words. JJ didn’t want to come to Midsummer’s but he never told you what he’d be doing instead. You feel the gap of his presence beside you and wonder if maybe you’re too joined at the hip. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” you say to them. They nod and catch eyes with the Mantashs, and you part from them. As you venture to the bar, you wedge yourself between people. 

“It’s just downright disrespectful,” a woman says. You glance curiously to your right and recognise Topper’s mother. “I mean, sinking someone’s property. It’s disrespectful.”

“It’s illegal, is what it is,” another woman agrees. Kelce’s mother. Their headdresses are ridiculous and over-the-top. 

“It isn’t surprising though. Those Maybank people are trouble with a capital T,” another woman remarks. That has your attention. You dip your head and listen in. 

“Still. Strange that he’d sink your boat without rhyme or reason,” Kelce’s mom says. 

“Like those delinquents need a rhyme or reason to cause chaos. That John B beat your son black and blue the other day, and then the Maybank kid had the nerve to pull a gun!”

“Well, I’m just glad we pressed charges. They arrested the Maybank kid just the other day, thank God. He owes us a restitution,” Topper’s mom gloats. “It’s about time they learn some consequences.”

You suddenly feel very, very sick. Your mouth is so full of saliva that a drink seems frivolous. You step away from the bar as if you’re already tipsy. The words arrested and restitution rattle around your head like a ping pong ball. JJ was arrested? When? She said only the other day, so it can’t have been that long ago. Why wouldn’t be tell you? Why didn’t he call you? You could have bailed him out; helped him cover the restitution. Is that why he was beaten when he came to your house the other day? Did the cops do that? No, no, they wouldn’t. Surely? Maybe Topper, again? But if Jj was arrested, that would be revenge enough, surely? The bombardment of questions doesn’t help the nausea so you step outside. Beneath the worry and the confusion is a sting of betrayal. He lied to you. Right to your face, several times. Hell, even last night, tangled in bed with him at the Chateau, he had the gall to look you in the face and omit all of it. You grip the railing of the porch and look out across the way. Kie and Pope are still talking. Do they know about all of this? You wonder about going over to ask but maybe they’re not supposed to tell, or maybe they don’t know themselves and you spark more drama. 

“You alright, pumpkin?” your mother asks, wandering over to you. You plaster on the smile you wear for dance recitals. 

“Mhm. Just a little stuffy in there, is all,” you say. More questions troop through your head. Does your mother know about this? Your father? You imagine not, given their earlier remarks about JJ. But will they? This town is small and this community is full of gossips. They liked JJ enough at dinner last night but you imagine that to change if they hear he was arrested for destruction of property. What did Topper’s mother say? ‘Sinking’? It must have been a boat that he sunk. You can’t imagine your dad to be willing to show his classic cars to a known convict. Your spiralling thoughts are interrupted by applause, and your head turns like everybody else’s to watch the Cameron family stroll through the doorway and onto the porch. The guests of honour. Rose is in a hot pink dress with a headdress that could poke somebody’s eye out. Sarah follows behind in a darling satin gown. You envy her hair and flower crown. Beside her is Rafe and your blood immediately turns cold. His baby blue suit does little to quell his intimidation. You’re gonna regret this, you know that? Better keep a fucking eye out, princess. JJ’s absence - despite his secrecy and lies - has never felt so gaping.

The night twinkles on as the daylight dwindles. In the far distant, amongst the clouds are streaks of pink and orange and tangerine. The rest of the world is cast in a dusk-like blue. It’s so beautiful you can almost begin to relax. Almost. Kiara is with her parents and Pope with his father, and you feel as though you’ve been spending your night avoiding people. You nurse a glass of ginger ale and watch people under the warm glow of the fairy lights, dancing to the music of the live band. You wish JJ were here. He was a good dancer, when you got him going. 

“Hey! There you are!” Bethany giggles, rushing over to you. She grabs your hands in hers as Daisy and Ashley follow behind her. “Why are you all on your own?”

“Just not feeling it tonight,” you mumble, smiling smally. 

“Well, that’s silly,” Daisy says, hiccuping. You quirk a brow. She’s been on the sauce. “You should come dance with us!”

“And have some of this. It’ll perk you right up,” Ashley says with a coy smile, holding her glass out. You take it and have a sip. The taste of vodka hits your nose like cough medicine. You wince as you swallow, laughing as you hand it back. 

“Jesus! What the hell did you put in that?”

“Just that good stuff,” she grins. She was intolerable at times, but had her perks. Taking your now spare hand, she sways your arm. “Bethany and Daisy are right. Come have fun with us.”

Your eyes dart to Pope - busy at work with his dad - then at Kiara - hovering around her parents, almost sulking. You’d lost track of Rafe and his gang, but being enveloped with friends made you less of a target, you supposed. Besides, you could do with a pick-me-up after being blindsided by JJ’s apparent arrest. With that thought, you happily let the girls drag you out onto the ‘dance floor’. You sway to the music, hips moving to the beat, and laugh with the others as you take turns busting moves. Ashley passes around her drink and you’re happy to indulge, giggling at Daisy’s squiffy nature, and finally the night starts to brighten. 

Come on and hold me. Just like you told me, the singer belts. 

Bethany takes your hand and twirls you under her, the two of you laughing. Your dress swirls around your feet, the fabric moving like liquid, and you correct your flower crown that’s perched dainty on your head like a halo. Then, in your peripheral, you see a familiar silhouette. You slow your dancing, your brows tug together, and your eyes fall onto JJ. He’s dressed in a white button-up, covered by a waistcoat and bowtie. It doesn’t look ugly on him but it certainly is foreign. His hair is as untamed as always; face still healing from the mysterious bruises. The bracelet that you gave him is on his wrist and for some reason - maybe because of the alcohol - this infuriates you. Why is he here? To appease the girls and save their suspicion, you pretend to continue to dance, keeping a watch on where JJ goes. He approaches Sarah Cameron. Taps her on the shoulder, presses his finger to his lips at her confusion, dances whilst conspicuously handing her a folded note. Why the hell is he here? Jealousy trickles into the infuriation and confusion. You think back to last night, how he’s slept with another kook before you. Was it Sarah? No, surely not. 

Then, you spot him. In his baby blue suit, Rafe strides over to JJ. Your boyfriend turns to come face to face with him, backed by his posse. Your body stills with panic. You try to eavesdrop into their conversation but it’s impossible over the girls’ chatter and the music. Every noise starts to deafen like cicada buzz. Rafe has his hands on JJ’s arms, holding him in place, as Kelce talks to them. You think to the arrest, to Topper’s mom, to the outdoor movie altercation. JJ manages to break apart and backs away, and your body instinctively follows like a magnetic pull as he takes off running into the building. Your hands grab at your dress to lift it from the floor as you hurry after them. Inside, you see JJ in the far distance race through the building, shadowed by Rafe as his gaggle. When they filter into the men’s facilities, your panic peaks. Standing dumbly in the centre of the room, you look around and think of what to do. What to do? Do you get Kie? Pope? Your dad or mom? No, no, they’ll ask too many questions. Think! 

A security man hovers in the corner like a CIA agent, dressed in a black suit and tie. Yes! You rush over to him. “Sir! Sir! I need your help!”

“What’s wrong, miss?” he asks, brows tugging together.

“I need your help, please,” you jabber. You grab at his wrist and drag him after you, ignoring his mass of questions. “Somebody’s in danger!”

There’s a commotion behind the door of the men’s changing room. You follow behind the security guard as he strides in. You look around his arm to find JJ in a headlock by Kelce, Rafe looming in his face. Your breath catches in your throat. The security guard flickers the light of the room and they suddenly become aware that they’re not alone. From their distraction, JJ is able to shuck himself free. Kelce lends a hand chivalrously, shoving him away. 

“Gentlemen! Is there a problem?” the security guard asks, sauntering into the room. You stand just to his side in clear view, arms folded over your chest in a way that you hope looks intimidating, despite the anxiety that overrides every emotion in your body. 

“Oh. Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue,” JJ chatters, still panting. “I just– actually, yes. No, there is an issue.” He runs a hand through his hair and his eyes finally catch yours. That betrayal chips hard at your resolve when you lay your eyes on him, face to face. Maybe it reads through your gaze because he’s quick to look away. “Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in, right? Blatant disrespect for private property.”

“Yeah,” Rafe nods, scratching oh-so-casually at his ear. 

“I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir,” JJ tells the security guard. You can feel the guard’s temperament changing and your concern shifts for the millionth time that night. What the hell? JJ was the one getting beaten up? How is that fair? “But these young gentlemen…”

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce snaps, batting JJ’s hand away from his bowtie. 

“...uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do, escort me out of here,” JJ says, raising his hands as if to be placed in handcuffs. The security guard wastes no time in walking over, grabbing harshly at his wrist and dragging JJ. You want to protest but can’t seem to find the words. Your eyes survey the scene once more and Rafe catches your eye. A smirk shadows his menacing face. JJ glances after them as he’s pulled away. “All right. Fix that tie, son. You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun.”

“Tell your little girlfriend there that she looks pretty hot for a Pogue,” Rafe quips. Your stomach churns in disgust at the comment. JJ breaks free with that, a newfound anger overcoming him, and he strides over to break even. You dart forward with the security guard, trying to hold him back, and Kelce comes between them too, though with far less innocent intentions. Finally, JJ begins to leave. You follow after them, gnawing your lip in anxiety, and spare one last glance at the room of Kooks. Rafe catches your eye and winks. You quickly look away. 

“Hey! Be gentle with him!” you say to the security guard as he practically manhandles JJ through the room. Your boyfriend is rattled, high on adrenaline, and only seems to lean into chaos now. “Hey!”

“Look– Look, man, I can walk by myself. I got legs. Can you see that, brother?” 

“Come on.”

Outside, people look and leer. You follow after them both, protesting at the security guard, your worries melding into JJ’s taunts and complaints, all of which fall on deaf ears. JJ then swipes a drink from Mr Dunleavy which doesn’t help his situation, and you glance worriedly at the gathering of people who are watching everything unfold like a daytime drama. You wonder if your parents are watching too. 

“It’s okay, everybody! Do not panic!” JJ announces loudly to the room, raising his hands in mock surrender. You take pause on the stairs, watching it unfold, aware that you’re past the point of being able to help. “...Let’s hear it for them! Rose! Looking like Lady Liberty! It’s good to see you again.”

You think back to the other day, fishing on the dock, before you knew all that you know now. I don’t always make the right decisions. You feel as though you’re getting a first person demonstration of an example. This side of JJ is new to you. It’s hard to decipher how you feel. It’s like trying a new food for the first time; trying to worm your way through the flavours and textures, and coming to an impasse. 

“Let go of him!” Your head darts over to Kiara. “You can’t boot him! I invited him here.”

You don’t know what’s true anymore. Did she invite him? Didn’t you invite him also? But then why did he sneak over to Sarah? Your head hurts and it isn’t from the vodka. JJ takes advantage of the destruction and shoves the security guard away, with a hasty apology. He points at Kiara then. Talks as if you don’t even exist. 

“Hey! Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie,” he says. “Pope, you as well, all right?”

You watch it all unfold, invitation-less, and it feels isolating and dismissive. You stand like a ghost on the stairs and watch the Pogues gather together at the outskirts of the party. JJ doesn’t even spare you a glance as Kie runs over to him. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he takes her in his arms, spinning her around. Jealousy rears its ugly head yet again. They take off into the darkness, laughing and hollering, and you stand, forgotten and forlorn. And JJ doesn’t even spare you a glance. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ranger’s tail wags as you walk. He’s got a barely-there tug on the leash, guiding the way on your mid-morning walk through Kildare. It’s glorious today; the sun glad to shine after the storm last night. You wish you were more awake to enjoy it but after Midsummer’s, you barely got any rest. At first it was the mass of questions from the Bible Bitches. What was that? Why was he here? Why didn’t you go with them? Next, from your parents. Just created a scene. I wonder what the fuss was about. I thought you said he was at work. Finally, your own. The worst part? You had answers for nobody, including yourself. JJ hadn’t texted or called. The service was still dodgy after the hurricane so it wasn’t entirely his fault. Still, it didn’t sit well with you. None of this did. It felt the more time passed, the more you were left on the outside, looking through a window that was being concealed, one blind at a time. 

Ranger suddenly takes a diversion that has you frowning. You try and tug him back onto your main course but he’s insistent, leading the way down towards The Wreck. Well, you could do with a lemonade. You relent and let him do his thing. The Wreck is closed but you can hear voices from inside. You catch some phrases like 'Royal Merchant' and 'sweater vest', and before you can contemplate going in, JJ comes out. He’s in a muscle tee, showing off his muscular and slim frame. It’s not fair for him to look good when you’re mad at him. He seems surprised to see you there just as much as you are him. 

“Hey,” he says. “What’re you doing here?”

“Ranger must’ve heard you,” you say, nodding down to your joyful pup. As JJ approaches, his tail starts like a propeller, swinging back and forth. JJ fusses him and murmurs loving compliments at Ranger, and eventually looks up at you. You quirk a brow. 

“Is this about last night?”

“What’d you mean? Oh! You mean how you randomly showed up to Midsummer’s, gave Sarah Cameron - of all people - a secret note, got chased by Rafe and his gang, saved by me, made a huge scene and ran off without even saying thank you or goodbye?”

JJ cringes, caught in a corner. “...Maybe.”

“Talk. Now,” you say, unimpressed. 

Sighing, he stands tall and runs a hand through his hair. He glances back to The Wreck. “It’s complicated, okay? It’s a long story and I don’t wanna bore you with it.”

“I’m not bored,” you flatly reply. 

JJ walks over to you and grabs your hand. You’re unwilling to meet his gaze, desperate to stay disgruntled. He kisses you and you try to dip out of reach, but he just opts to kiss your cheek after. “I’m sorry, okay? I should have thanked you for saving me.”

“Damn right you should have,” you mumble. You finally relent and look up at him. He’s playing the part well: remorseful and abashed. It feels a little pathetic when you admit, quietly, “I didn’t like being left out, JJ. I felt so embarrassed just stood there watching you all.”

JJ nods, dipping his gaze. “I didn’t think of that. I should’ve said something to you. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“What was the meeting at Rixon’s even about?” you ask, narrowing your eyes slightly. “And why did you give a note to Sarah?”

“Oh, you spying on me now or something?” JJ jokes, a playful glimmer on his face. When you fail to be amused, he sighs and knocks it off. “Look, it’s not really my business. It’s a Pogue thing, okay? I promise it isn’t anything that you gotta worry about.”

That doesn’t make you feel much better. It’s like applying a bandage to a bruise. JJ seems to sense this. His finger hooks at your chin and guides your face up to meet his. The kiss he plants against you is like an apology rewritten. You feel your anger melt away the longer he kisses, and you want to smack yourself for being so easy to appease. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you don’t need to worry. It might just be a silly thing. But silly things feel hard to believe when things like ‘arrest’ linger in the background. It’s a slippery slope from a prank to a crime. 

“There’s nothing goin’ on with me and Sarah Cameron, a’right? You’re the only girl I’m mackin’ on, I promise you that,” JJ reassures you. You’re grateful for that. The image of him hugging Kiara still has you a little green on the edges but you’ll chase that monster away on your own. Like he told you from day one: he didn’t want Kie. He wanted you. 

The moment is short lived though. JJ pulls away, takes a step back, and you realise he was leaving to go somewhere. The wounds are healing well on his face, so at least that’s a relief. You want to ask about the boat, and the arrest, and press about the meeting at Rixon’s cove, but he’s already backing away before you can. 

“I gotta go, baby. But I’ll see you soon, a’right?”

“Wait, where’re you going?” you wonder, disappointed. “I thought we could spend the day together.”

“Uh…I gotta go to work, y’know?” JJ says. It’s his tone that has you taking suspicion. 

“To work?”

“Mhm. Duty calls and all that,” he says in his upbeat, energetic way. “I’ll see you later though, baby!”

“Wait, wait,” you blurt, rushing over to him, Ranger in tow. He does as you ask, if anything looking mildly concerned. Once in front of him, you push onto your toes and press a fleeting kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

You open your eyes to meet his. They’re a little wide; his lips parted, damp from your barely-there spit. The corner of his mouth twitches, maybe with a smile, maybe not. Clearing his throat, JJ nods, smiles tightly down at you, and then he reaches down to scruff Ranger’s neck in farewell. You watch him walk away, rounding the corner, taking off down the road in a hurry. 

He didn’t say it back.

Ranger barks again then whines, and he looks up at you. 

“I know, boy,” you mumble. “Something doesn’t feel right to me, either.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hello!? It’s your turn,” Daisy sing-songs. 

You blink yourself into the room and look blankly at her. “Huh?”

“It’s your turn to read,” she says, nodding down to the bible in your hands. It was Bible Study with the Bible Bitches, hosted at Ashley’s house for a change. They were indulging in the blood of Christ (red wine that they’d snuck out of Bethany’s parent’s cellar) but you decided to steer clear. There were enough emotions lining your mind that alcohol would only pull out of you. The four of you were sitting on her plush, pink duvet, cosy in her canopy bed. Music played from her speaker and a candle burned on the bedside table. You look down at the open page of your book and nod. 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” you mumble. Tucking your hair behind your ears, your eyes focus on the dancing words. “The Lord himself goes before you and he will be with you…Uh…”

“Everything okay?” Bethany asks at your lack of presence. 

Sighing, you close your book and hang your head. “Just hard to think, is all.”

“Is this about JJ?” Daisy wonders. You glance at her and your lack of answer seems answer enough. She nods and purses her lips. 

“What’s new? Boys are liars. We knew this,” Bethany says, unimpressed by his actions from Midsummers, no doubt. 

“Especially JJ,” Ashley snorts. You look at her. There’s something irritating in her glee, as if she’s glad he lied to you. 

“Look, you guys don’t know him like I do, alright,” you say, jumping to his defence. He might be acting a little shifty right now but that didn’t mean you loved him any less. Ashley quirks a brow. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” you say, tone steady like stone. “He’s been through a lot, okay?”

“That might be true but he still sunk Topper’s boat,” Bethany says. 

“Topper’s a douchebag,” you remind them, “they were probably getting even for something Topper started.”

“Still. Getting even to me is like egging a house, not sinking a twenty-thousand dollar boat,” Daisy tells you. You look down at the comforter, agreeing if only slightly. It certainly doesn’t help to deescalate a situation, by sinking a boat. 

“What makes you think we don’t know him like you do?” Ashley randomly asks. You frown at her. 

“Because you don’t.”

“But what makes you say that?”

“You don’t see the kind of JJ I see,” you impatiently reply. You knew JJ inside and out. You knew his fears and his anxieties; his insecurities and his ego; his pet peeves and his pleasure. Except, did you? Did you know that he sunk Topper’s boat? That he pulled a gun on Topper at a kegger? That he was arrested for both? That he was going to sneak into Midsummers? That he was going to hand a note to Sarah Cameron?

It’s as if Ashley can see these questions run through your mind like a teleprompter. That same smirk teases at her lips. It reminds you of a change in wind, warning of a storm. 

“He did tell you about us, right?” she says, quirking a brow. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” you mutter, unamused. 

“Well, I just want to check. Since you know him in a way nobody else does, I’m guessing that means you know everything about him, right?”

“Of course,” you immediately reply. 

Her ruby red lips grin unscrupulously. Her head cocks like a cat, askew to the left. When she speaks, her tone is innocent, as if she’s telling you the weather or relaying an order for a table. 

“Well then, you know that we slept together, right?”

The air in your lungs gets stuck. You feel as though you could start choking from it. Everything else fades away: the hazy music, Bethany, Daisy. It goes mute and fuzzy like you’ve hit your head. Ashley’s figure becomes hyper focused. The flawlessness of her skin, the immaculate placement of every strand of her hair, the recalcitrant personality that she hid so well under prayer and pretty bows. She was everything you weren't. And as if you’re on a hideous psychedelic trip, your mind conjures haunting images that flash through your thoughts like a high speed slideshow. JJ’s lips on Ashley’s. His hands on her body, the way they laid on yours. His mouth pressed close to her ear, mumbling the intimate things that he said to you. The things you thought were only for you. It blinds you. Consumes you. Something about it all, something about the way that you didn’t know, had no idea, feels like betrayal. 

Ashley slowly lets her smile transform into something mocking concern. “Wait…Did you not know?”

You swallow the bile that churns in the back of your throat. It burns as it runs down into your body and it’s as if it sets your body aflame with anger. A strange sort of anger. A quiet, secret anger. Your jaw tenses. 

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell Ashley. You get up from the bed and stride out the room. There’s murmurs between the girls as you leave. What the hell, Ashley? What? She deserved to know. Someone is coming after you as you walk down the landing. 

“Wait, wait,” Bethany says, hurrying over. You wave her away. 

“I’m leaving,” you say, starting down the stairs. You feel like you’re floating. Like your soul is grappling to stay inside of your body, maintain some autonomy. 

“She didn’t mean anything by it–”

“Oh my God!” you snap. You laugh, unable to hold it back, far from amused. You spin on the step and glare up at her. “You can’t seriously believe that!”

“She was just doing what she thought was right,” Bethany fumbles. You hold her gaze for a long, long moment. The silence drips down the walls. Shaking your head, you take a tense inhale through your nose. Do not speak ill of others. 

“I need to talk to JJ,” you lowly say. Bethany doesn’t follow after you, then. You make your way down the stairs and out the door. The air is uninviting. If anything, it’s muggier than inside, soothed by the AC. The humidity feels like sweaty hands grabbing at your throat, choking you. The world is off its axis. The July evening air does little to alleviate the flurry of emotions racing through you. They’re all hitting at once, mixing into a confusing mess, as you struggle to process Ashley’s words. What they mean. What you feel. What you should do. The sickness sits. You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your text message thread with JJ. Read the last one he sent.

Have fun tonight bby

Had JJ called her that, when his dick was buried inside of her? Had he whispered it into her ear as he fucked her in the very bed you were just sat on? Or was it the Chateau’s bed? The one that you contemplated buying a mattress comforter for so he could get better sleep at night? Did she know what it felt like to have every spring scratch at her spine as he rammed into her, over and over? The sickness swirls in your stomach. 

You need to talk to him. 

He must be at the chateau. Where else? He said he was hanging with the Pogues tonight. You don’t know what to believe anymore, and that is maybe what hurts the most. You climb into your car. The drive flashes by as your mind flicks through haunting mental images. An abhorrent collage of JJ and Ashley tangled together, intermingled with memories of you and JJ, giggling, gasping, grinning. The chateau’s driveway is pitch black, as is the house and the yard. You park your car and sit, and try your best to piece together the fragments of feelings and thoughts. The yard is empty, as is the pier, and after walking the house, nobody is home. You sit on the porch steps. You wait as though you’re a phantom, a strange echo of the Midsummer’s party. You wait and wait. The thoughts flatten into nothing, become apathetic to the pandemonium of emotions, and you only focus on the sound of the water and wind. You wait and wait. 

The Twinkie turns up the driveway. You can hear the Pogues. They’re loud in their chatter as it bounces off the interior of the van. You don’t bother turning your head. You feel like you can’t. JJ’s voice floats above the others and it sparks the mental images again. 

JJ’s mouth on Ashley’s tits. 

They clamber out of the van. They sound happy, elated even, and you wonder what that feeling is like. It feels so alien now. So far away. They’re talking over one another. Their voices get louder as they approach. 

“Hey!” Kiara says, happy, spotting you. “What’re you doing here?”

Your head turns and your eyes fall on JJ. He’s in cargo shorts, a black long-sleeve, and a slate-grey blue t-shirt over the top. A bandana sits around his neck. His hair is dishevelled in a way that hints at trouble. In this lens, he almost looks like a different person. He almost looks like the JJ Maybank everyone talks about. The lady killer, the delinquent, the liar. He is a liar. He lied to you.

“Hey,” he says, smile wavering when he notices you. “What, uh…What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

He glances at his friends then back at you. Licking his lips, nodding, he takes another step over. “Alright, yeah, we were just gonna–”

“Alone, JJ,” you say sternly. “We need to talk alone. Now.”

The Pogue’s excitement simmers down and they share looks. You know how you look, how you sound, but you don’t care. JJ clears his throat and nods. He looks at John B (who is head to toe in dirt and mud, and you don’t have the energy to wonder why let alone to ask) and an unspoken conversation seems to unfold, and John B recommends to the others that they should go hang on the pier. 

Ashley’s mouth around JJ’s dick. 

As they make their way over to the water, you rise to your feet and venture inside. You’re suddenly restless, desperate for a thing to do. JJ isn’t ever far behind. He flicks on the lamp as you mindlessly wander to the kitchen. You fill a glass with water and chug about half of it. You stare at the window, unable to make out anything through the reflections of light against dark. Instead, you watch JJ hover nervously in the room. He’s fiddling his fingers together, rocking slightly on the heel and ball of his feet. Taking a slow, steadying breath, you place the glass down on the counter and turn to face him. Head hung, eyes slipping closed, you find your voice. 

“I’m gonna ask you this once,” you say, “and I need you to be completely honest with me, okay?”

JJ’s quiet for a moment. Then, “okay.”

You take another breath, hoping to ease the nauseous but only making it worse. Raising your head, opening your eyes, you meet JJ’s gaze. 

“Did you sleep with Ashley?”

JJ’s brows twitch. “What?”

“Just answer the question, JJ, please,” you reply. 

But JJ shakes his head, defensive. “Why the fuck would you ask me that?”

“You said you’d answer–”

“--No, no,” he says, taking a few steps towards you. He points accusingly. “Why the fuck would you ask me something like that?”

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” you sharply ask. 

“Because it’s none of your fucking business,” JJ snaps. 

Your lips part, eyes widening, genuinely taken by surprise. You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You have no right to ask me something like that,” JJ snarls, eyes narrowed as if you’re the one at fault. 

“I have every right to ask you something like that,” you argue. “I’m your girlfriend, JJ. I’m entitled to know that.”

“Entitled? Entitled? Jesus - you’re fucking entitled to everything, you kooks," JJ sarcastically derides.

It stings. Salt in a wound. He isn’t the one that gets to be angry right now. That’s not fair. You stare at him, lips parted, and despite the stray bullet, you can’t help but keep focus. Shaking your head, you hopelessly say, “why can’t you just answer the question, JJ?” 

He lets out a tense exhale. He turns away from you, paces the length of the room. Takes his cap off. Messes with his hair the way you like to. Stands, back to you, hands on his hips, for a long, long, minute. Another sigh fills the quiet and yet somehow, this one feels different. Your heart cracks. 

“It was before we met.”

“How long before?”

“I don’t know–”

“Yes, you do,” you interrupt. “How long before, JJ?”

“Jesus, I don’t–” He snaps, spinning back around, but then he stops himself. Meets your eyes. Realises something, perhaps. Sighing, shaking his head, hanging it, he says, “maybe a week. Two, maybe.”

A week. 

One week. 

Your eyes slip shut as that same, awful, agonising pain slices you in half. Cuts every neuron, every nerve, every cell. The tissue and muscle tear apart from one another and the pain finds solace in your heart. 

One week. 

Lips grimacing in an ugly frown, the tears finally fall freely. 

JJ’s steps echo as he crosses the room to you. His hands try and hold yours but you wriggle them free, shaking your head. A sob slips past your salt-slicken lips and you try to stifle it with your hand. 

JJ’s fingers inside of Ashley.

“Baby, please just…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you blubber. When you look into his eyes, the pain just worsens. More sobs come and you gasp for air. “Why didn’t you tell me that, JJ?”

“I didn’t think there was any need to! I…” He scrambles for reasons, explanations, but there are none. 

You cry and cry. You’re not even sure what is causing the hurt. All you know is that whatever it is, it hurts so fucking bad. 

Your hands cup over your mouth and you shake your head, trying to steady your breaths but to not avail. Slipping past him, needing some room, you begin to pace the room now. 

“It was before we met, Y/N,” JJ tells you. 

“That’s not the point, JJ,” you say, wiping your cheeks. 

“Not the point? It’s entirely the point,” he argues. His defensiveness has come back, always quick to shield and deflect. JJ was raised in a house of arguments: it was his way. “I didn’t know you then.”

“But you did after,” you counter. “You did after and you never told me.”

“Because why would I?” he shouts. Catching himself, he visibly tries to calm himself. Tone normal, he repeats, “why would I? I figured my past didn’t matter.”

“But that’s the problem, JJ,” you loudly say. “You always just assume things and you don’t tell me anything. Ever. I feel like I’m always the last one to find out.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The Royal Merchant, JJ!”

“Oh my…”

“The arrest! The boat! Everything! What? You think I didn’t know? That I wouldn’t find out? You were arrested, JJ! You should have told me!”

“I’m trying to protect you!” he shouts. 

“I don’t need protecting!” you screech. 

The words hang in the air. You hate hearing your voice like that. Shaking your head, you rub tiredly at your forehead, unbothered by your already ruined makeup. 

What a fucking mess. 

“I knew this was going to happen,” JJ mumbles. 

You frown. Looking to him, you ask, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“This. All of this. It’s too much for you,” JJ says. He gestures between the two of you. “We’re too different. I knew you’d get tired of it and you’d find a way to–”

“Oh!” you exclaim, quick to catch on. “Oh! I get it! This is about me being a kook again, isn’t it?”

“Don’t say it like that!” JJ argues. 

“Like what?”

“Like it doesn’t matter when you know it does!”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “I can’t believe we’re having this fight again.”

“We’re too different, okay? We keep trying to act like it doesn’t matter but it does.”

“It doesn’t matter, JJ, unless you make it matter,” you disagree. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” JJ laughs humourlessly. 

“You don’t tell me anything that happens in your life: you didn’t tell me about the boat, about the treasure hunt, about the arrest. I mean, did it cross your mind that I could have helped you? Bailed you out?”

“See! That! That right there!” JJ’s finger points as if singling you out in a courtroom for a jury. “I’m not your fucking pet project.”

“Pet project?” you gape, bewildered. 

“I don’t need your charity. I don’t need your fancy meals and your fancy parents and your fancy dumbass parties.”

“Oh, you’re so right,” you say sardonically. “I’m so sorry that I made you eat a five-fucking-star meal when you met my perfectly polite parents. I mean, how wicked of me! The horror!”

“You don’t get it,” JJ mutters, shaking his head. 

“You know what I don’t get, JJ? I don’t get how you can leave me out of so much. I don’t get how you sleep with one of my friends and not even tell me!”

“She’s not even your friend!” JJ laughs. “What? Do you want me to invent a time machine or something? Go back in time before I met you and not sleep with anybody? I didn’t know you yet! And I’m sorry that it happened, and I’m sorry that it hurts, and I’m sorry that I can’t take it back, but I can’t change my past, a’right?”

“I don’t care that you slept with her, JJ!” You snap. “I care that you didn’t fucking tell me!”

Again, another quiet. In arguments like these, it’s like navigating rapids. A lazy river tumbles into a violent rapid, and voices raise and things are said in desperation for clarity that could never result from such, as if throwing a life ring blindly into the waves. Your cheeks are uncomfortably tacky and sticky from your tears. Your nose is clogged and sniffly and the lump in your throat lingers. Your chest heaves, throat dry, from the shouting. JJ’s hair is sticking every which was from his restless pulling. Then skin inside his mouth is probably ripped to shreds from his anxiously gnawing. And here, stood opposite him, the two of you illuminated in the barely-there lamplight that desperately tries to expand across the room, you know you love JJ. Nothing could change that. 

Have you dug yourselves in too deep?

Shaking your head for the millionth time, you brush your fingers through your hair. 

“You never say it, y’know?”

“What?”

“You never tell me you love me,” you quietly say. 

JJ shakes his head. “Of course I do.”

“But you don’t say it,” you emphasise, meeting his gaze. “I mean…Are you ever going to be able to let go of me being a kook?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” JJ admits in a sad, defeated sigh. 

You let out your own. Sniffing, you glance away from him, eyes fixating on some random aspect of the room. Your fingers rub your lips restlessly. It was all too much, too fast, too quick. 

“Maybe we rushed into this too fast,” you mumble. “Maybe…Maybe we just need some space to think. Not a break or a break-up, or anything like that. Just some time and space.”

JJ sniffs. He clears his throat. “Maybe you’re right.”

Sighing, suddenly tired, you glance at your boyfriend. His hands grip the edge of the counter that he leans against; the muscles in his arms taught and flexed. Head hung, eyes trained on the floor, his teeth gnawing on his lower lip. He’s so fucking pretty it’s unfair, especially when the two of you are in a fight. Crossing the room to him, unable to help yourself, you wrap your arms around his middle in an embrace. He doesn’t hesitate to return it. His face buries in your hair, inhaling deeply, and you do the same to his shirt. You’ll miss this. The feel of him and the comfort. The smell and the warmth. The two of you stand like that, intertwined, neither wanting to break it. 

“I really do, y’know,” JJ mumbles at one point. “Love you, I mean.”

“I know,” you say quietly into his chest. “I love you too.”

Gently easing apart, inevitably drifting like fault lines, you look up at him with a pained, smiling expression. “Just…what if that isn’t enough?”

JJ swallows. He bobs his head as if contemplating something, like you spoke to something inside of him. “Yeah, well. I guess that’s always the problem, ain’t it?”

Before you can try to think of what that might mean, let alone ask, JJ’s pulling away completely. He grabs his cap and his keys as he walks to the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he shucks his head in the direction of the van. 

“Come on. It’s late, I’ll drive you home.”

You nod and comply, following him out the chateau and into the truck. You keep your distance again but now for entirely new reasons. You don’t talk. Somewhere in the journey JJ’s hand reaches across the bench-like seat and finds your hand, and you interlace your fingers, squeezing reassuringly. You don’t let go until you’re getting out of the truck. JJ leans against the driver’s door and you walk around to meet him. You stand in front of him and linger. Neither of you want to leave. 

“How, uh, long is this space-thing gonna last, then?” JJ wonders. 

You shrug. “I don’t know. I guess as long as we need to make a decision, really.”

“A decision about us?” JJ checks. 

You shrug again. “I guess.”

Nodding slowly, JJ licks his teeth. You raise a hand to his face, your fingers gently resting on his warm cheeks. The peach fuzz of his hair tickles your skin. It’s like your nerves are hyper aware of him now that you have to leave. A small smile blesses JJ’s face and you mirror it. Pushing up onto your toes, JJ dips his head, and the two of you share a kiss. It’s slow and abiding, sensual and bittersweet as your tongues only just brush against one another. Breaking apart, you purse your lips and try not to cry again. Arms coiling around yourself in a hug, you awkwardly take a few steps backwards, away from JJ. You wonder if you should say something but JJ seems to understand your struggle, and he gives a reassuring yet queasy smile and nod farewell. You take in the sight of him and sink it deep into your memory - slate grey t-shirt; black long sleeve underneath; cargo shorts; combat boots; dirty blonde hair; swollen, damp lips; dreamy eyes; shark tooth necklace; your friendship bracelet around his wrist; silver rings - before you turn away, walk up to your door, and never look back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

There’s a gentle knock on your bedroom door. You don’t bother moving from your spot in bed, buried under your comforter, amongst throw pillows and jelly cats. You hadn’t washed your pillow yet and it still smelt like JJ. You were slightly angry at yourself for how attached to it you were, how scared you were for the smell to fade. The doorknob twists and your mom slowly walks in. She sits on the far side of the bed, your back facing her. 

“Are you going to join me and your father for dinner, little pumpkin?” she softly asks. 

“I’m not really hungry, mom,” you hum into your pillow. Your voice is croaky from want of use. Her hand sweetly lays on your head. Her fingers stroke lovingly at your hair and you press your eyes shut to ward off the tears it elicits. 

“I know we’re not always home much,” your mom says. “But you can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?”

“I know mom,” you whisper. Then, you force yourself to roll over and face her. The sympathy on her face is so blatant that it makes you cry, and that only makes it worse. 

“Oh, pumpkin,” she murmurs. She pulls your bedsheets up and climbs in, kicking off her slippers. You crawl into her warm company and let her cradle you like you’re eight years old all over again. Vague memories fizzle into thought of how she used to hold you like after a bad dance recital or a failed piano exam. She smells of Channel and Chardonnay as you nuzzle against her sweater. “I know it must hurt.”

“He lied to me, mom,” you cry quietly. “I love him so much and he lied to me.”

“I know, darling, I know,” she soothes. The two of you stay like that for a while as you cry. It feels cathartic, letting it all out. Eventually, you pull away. You wipe at your blotchy face and sniffle loudly, and it’s so comical it makes you both laugh. Your mom shifts to sit up against the mass of pillows and you do the same, laying against her. She continues petting at your hair. “What exactly happened, darling?”

“A lot,” you say quietly. “He’s a good guy, mom. He really is. He just doesn’t always make the best decisions.”

“Mm. Like the boat?” Your head darts up and you meet her gaze. A knowing smile comes to light. “What? You think I didn’t know? Us mothers know everything, darling.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Of course I’m mad! He sunk someone’s darn boat!” The way she says it has you both laughing, yours still wet and soggy. “But your father and I did a good job raising you to know that you know a good person from a bad one. And JJ is a good person.”

“He is,” you sniff, agreeing. 

“Your father was right. We went to school with his father - it was before the academy was even built, back then. There was only the one school. We know his dad well enough to know that your boyfriend wasn’t given an easy life. When you grow up like that, it makes it harder to make the right call every time. It doesn’t excuse it - and I certainly don’t want you to go sinking boats with him - but it does explain. And the Lord told us to give grace, did he not?”

“He did,” you hum. “He just gets angry sometimes. Not at me, but just at the world, I suppose. And I can’t really blame him.” Your mind ventures back to the security guard; how quickly he turned from a hero to a villain, just because of who JJ was. 

“But I’m guessing that isn’t the reason why you’re so upset, hm?” she gently presses. 

You don’t particularly want to divulge your sex life to your parents, nor JJ’s for that matter. You don’t imagine them to believe you were a virgin - they weren’t those type of Christians - but admitting this aloud wasn’t on your bucket list. “He used to date this girl who I know, and he kept it from me. And it wasn’t just that. He keeps me out of a lot of things, mom. Like the boat, and the arrest, and some other stuff, too.”

“Ah,” she says. “I see.”

You sink against her and want to hide in the labels of her sweater forever. It feels safe here, in your cocooned bedroom. Not as safe as being with JJ, wrapped in his arms, but safe enough. 

“Did you know that I used to date Ward Cameron.” You bark out a laugh, taken aback, and look up at your mom. She’s smiling, nodding, as if to say, yes, it’s true. “Your father didn’t know, though. He found an old love letter from him in the attic from way back when and nearly saw red. I’ve never seen him so upset, if I’m honest. I suppose he’s like your boy in that way - just gets really mad, when really it’s just pain. The thing is, I never told him because I figured, ‘what did it matter?’ I loved your father and Ward was just a skeleton from my past. Sometimes we don’t always make the right calls in things out of trying to protect the ones we love. I’m sure JJ didn’t mean to keep it from you in a hurtful way, darling. He probably just didn’t want you to know because he knew it would upset you.”

“It only upset me because I didn’t know,” you grumble. She quirks a brow. Your mother knew you better than anyone else. Because she was right. Underneath that - the lie and deception - was the truth. You were jealous. You hated the thought of someone having been with JJ in that way. All the other girls were just faceless figments, as hypothetical as Schrodinger's cat. But Ashley - Ashley you knew. Ashley made it real. Real that JJ had a history, and that his history didn’t include you. Sighing, you bow your head. 

“Your father managed to look past it after a few days. We sometimes joke about it now, at things like Midsummer’s, and it’s just a little blip. People aren’t perfect, darling. You’re not and JJ isn’t. We have to give ourselves and others grace to make mistakes.”

You cuddle against her and let your eyes slip shut. She strokes at your hair the way she might pet Ranger’s fur. The tiredness creeps in and takes over silently, like day turning to night, and you finally get some sleep since the argument with JJ.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

You startle awake, shooting up in bed like you’ve been electrocuted. It’s one of those feelings when you don’t remember where you are or when you fell asleep. As you rub at your eyes and let them focus on your surroundings, illuminated by the soft glow of your bedside lamp through the darkness, you remember. You’re in your bed, in your room. Your mom must have left you to sleep after you nodded off, finally at some semblance of peace to get some rest. The sleep you fell into was dreamless and well-needed. 

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

Blindly reaching for your vibrating phone, you squint at the bright screen and make out Kie’s contact picture and name. You swipe to answer. 

“Hello?” you mumble, half-asleep. 

“Hey! Can you hear me okay?”

“Yeah,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes again. “What time is it?”

“I don’t remember. Like ten, maybe? Eleven?”

“Hmngh.”

“Are you busy?”

“Not really,” you sleepily reply. 

“I think you need to come over,” Kiara says. Something about her tone has you awake like a shot of espresso. You push the covers down off you. 

“Is everything okay?”

She sighs and that does little to ease your worries. “Look, I know you and JJ are in a bit of a fight-thing right now - I don’t know, maybe that’s why he’s acting the way he is, at least partially but–”

“Kie? What’s going on?” you interrupt. 

“I just…” She sighs again, then finally says, “I just think JJ really needs you right now.”

“I’m on my way,” you reply, hanging up. You climb out of bed and don’t bother getting dressed past pulling on a sweatshirt. The clothes on your body are three days old; you changed once since the conversation with JJ. A pair of mac and cheese stained sweatpants and an old tank top. Ranger wakes as you make your way down the stairs and you decide to let him join. It’s disorientating as you sneak out the house into darkness, considering that you fell asleep in the daylight. The two of you load into your car and you’re leaving your house in record time. In the rearview mirror you check your hair and cuss, trying to smooth it down. Your skin is makeup free and body empty of jewellery, save from the bracelet that twins JJ’s. It makes you feel somewhat naked. As if he heard the whole conversation, Ranger whines from the passenger seat. You murmur reassurances and pet his head as you drive down the deserted roads. The Chateau beams into sight from your headlights. But there’s something else. Some other light, bright and illuminating, from the yard that wasn’t there before. You park your car and climb out, Ranger quick to follow, and walk into the yard. Your eyes widen as they land on a hot tub. 

“What…the…fuck?”

“Oh, thank God,” Kiara exhales in relief, appearing in the doorway of the porch. She rushes down to you and wraps you in a hug, and you’re happy to return it. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to get involved in whatever it is going on with you and JJ, and I never really know if we’re friends or just circumstance friends but–”

“Kie! It’s fine, it’s fine,” you interrupt with a small laugh, a tad concerned. You pull apart, hands on her shoulders, to meet her gaze. Your smile melts with unease, eyes heavy with worry. “What’s going on? Is JJ okay?”

She sighs and shakes her head. She takes a step away from you and rubs at her head. “He got in a fight with his dad. Some stuff went down after you two had your…talk. I don’t know…It might just be better to ask him.”

You purse your lips and nod slowly, contemplatively. 

“He’s inside,” Kiara tells you. With that, you make your way up the porch stops. At the front door, you falter and stop. Would he even want to see you? Was this somehow breaking the rules of your ‘non-break’; not giving him the space he needs to think and function away from you? You recount the past three days of your side of the non-break. How you’ve spent them hiding in your bed, crying at the oddest moments, feeling the lack of JJ’s company like you lost a limb. Ranger rubs at your leg, whining, and you decide to trust your gut. If he wants you to leave, all he has to do is say, but you’re certain Kiara wouldn’t call for just any old thing. 

The spare bedroom door is shut. Ranger whines and whines and scratches at the door. Your hands wrap around the handle and you take a steady breath in. The rickety handle creaks as you slowly push it open, the hinges protesting loudly. One of your hands leans down to grab at Ranger’s collar to keep him by your heel. On the bed is JJ, slumped as he sits, his back to the door. 

“Kie, I told you to jus’ leave me alone, a’right? I’m fine,” he mumbles. His voice is thick like he’s been crying. You swallow. 

“It’s not Kiara,” you quietly confess. JJ whips around. His lips part and eyes gape and he stares at you as you stand awkwardly in the doorway. You probably look just as much of a mess; days-old clothing, unruly hair, make-up free and irritated skin. Funnily enough, a diet of purely Reese’s Pieces is not the best for keeping spots and blemishes at bay. 

“What are you doing here?” he says in a tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“Kiara called me,” you reply, shrugging as you add, “she’s worried about you and thought I should come over.”

“Oh, uh, right.”

His head slumps and he stares at the blanket atop of his bed. You purse your lips and feel the awkwardness and unease consume your entire body. Contemplating leaving, you glance behind you, into the silent hallway. But then Ranger somehow manages to slip from your hold. He races over to JJ like a rescue dog in the mountains, clambering onto the bed, ambushing JJ. He laughs at the onslaught of slobbery kisses, letting Ranger imitate a lap dog. His fingers scratch into the coarse fun on Ranger’s neck and he chuckles. 

“I missed you too, boy,” he murmurs. You smile at the sight. JJ glances over at you. 

“I figured you might need a puppy-pick-me-up. He missed you like crazy.” You then take a shaky breath as you go on to admit, “we both did.”

A look flashes across JJ’s face then. His smile lessens as if in thought, and he nods. “I missed you too.”

“I can leave if you want me to leave,” you tell him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“No,” JJ blurts, quick like a cat running from a loud bang. “No, don’t…don’t leave. Please.”

You nod. You’d stay forever if he asked you to. You’re not sure there’s many things JJ could ask of you that you’d protest to. Closing the door behind you, you wander over to the bed and sit sort of opposite to him, on the side nearest the door. Ranger settles half laid in JJ’s lap, appeased now that he’s in the company of perhaps his favourite person in the world. Your eyes survey JJ’s face for new injuries and am relieved to find none. The old have healed completely now too, thank God. That’s a relief at least. He’s unharmed. Or so you thought.

“Do you, uh…Do you remember when we went fishing, just last week? I don’t know, it feels like a lifetime ago now but…” you cut yourself off nervously with a laugh. JJ nods vaguely. “D’you remember what I said to you?”

“That you’re an armed woman, now?” JJ wonders, quirking a brow, that cute, playful smile trying to break out. 

You laugh quietly, shortly, and dip your head for a moment. “Not just that though. D’you remember that I told you that you can always tell me anything, and that I’m always gonna be on your side?” 

JJ nods again. 

“It’s kinda ironic cause I think that’s when you started putting up these walls,” you say. Another small breath in and then you continue, “and I don’t blame you for it, JJ. In fact, I think I understand it.”

His brows tug together, unclear, and you’re not sure you’ve ever known him to be this quiet before. 

“I can’t relate to you, JJ. I have my own struggles with silly, trivial kind of things but I don’t know real struggle. Not like you do. So, I don’t blame you. Why would you let a rich, stook-up Kook into that?”

“I ain’t mean it like–”

“--No, no, I’m not mad. I’m not saying that to be all ‘woe is me’ or whatever. I mean it. Like…I get it,” you interrupt, fighting to hold his eyesight. “It just hurts, y’know? Cause the thing is, I love you. I love you no matter what. No matter the ‘bad decisions’ and the stupid choices, like the Midsummer’s fiasco or whatever. But I can’t love you, JJ, if I don’t know you. If I don’t know these things about you. I don’t like being left on the outside. It makes me feel like I don’t matter to you, and I don’t know if I can take that feeling, y’know?”

JJ licks his lips nervously and clears his throat. He nods, glances around the room, uncomfortable by your candidness. You got the feeling he didn’t come from a place where conversations like these were encouraged or common. As if to reassure, your hand finds his on the blanket and you softly envelope it with your warmth. He stares at that small gesture for a long while. 

“I just don’t want you to think less of me,” JJ confesses quietly. “I’m a scumbag, a’right? I make dumbass choices and get myself into dumbass situations and I’m not good for you.”

“Yes, you are, JJ. You’re a good person.”

“No, I ain’t,” he quickly dismisses, meeting your gaze once more. And he means that. It hurts you so bad because he means it. “I ain’t a good person.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re a good person to me, okay? I don’t care about all that other noise–”

“--Well, you should, alright?” JJ snaps, losing his tether. His hand slips from your comfort to flail out into the air in a wild gesture. “I mean, Jesus! I just fuckin’ robbed a drug dealer and blew the money on a hottub, for Christ’s sake - and you’re sitting here telling me I’m a good person?”

You look down with that. JJ catches his anger and sighs, shakes his head, disappointed. “I’m sorry, I just…This is what I mean. I can’t let you get that close to me.”

“I get it,” you mutter. “You don’t love me, JJ, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.”

“No, hey - what? I never said I don’t love you.”

“You never tell me you do,” you whisper, eyes stinging with tears yet again. You look at him and offer him a shaky smile. “I don’t want to force someone to be with me, JJ.”

“I don’t want you to tie yourself to me,” JJ out-right states. As if surprised by his own truthfulness, he’s spurred on. “I don’t want you to say you’re okay with these things now and then look around in three months time or whatever, and realise just what a fuck-up you’re with.”

“I’m never gonna think that,” you tell him. “I’m never gonna think you’re a fuck-up.”

JJ looks unsure of whether to believe you or not. Your hand finds his again, the other landing on his thigh. “I mean it, JJ. I’m in love with you. I don’t care what batshit, crazy stuff you get yourself involved in, as long as I’m in it too. I’m in, okay? All of it. I’m in.”

JJ shakes his head slowly. But he’s easing up, coaxing open like a conker from its spiky shell. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you say, smiling sweetly. “But I’m your baby.” 

He smiles at that. 

“So, will you tell me? All of it? Please,” you request. And he does. It’s hard at first, like he’s forcing the words out syllable by syllable, but then it gets easier. The stories. The reasons. The motives. It starts with the hurricane - hurricane Agatha - and then with the white boat that they found. That’s where he got that gun - the same gun that you used to save him from Rafe and Topper - and you distantly recall his story. Then bits and pieces continue to crop up surrounding the Royal Merchant: the compass, the package…Then comes the grocery run and the jump on Pope, and the revenge. How Pope sank the boat, not JJ. That’s when the scruff up happened at the outdoor theatre, with you wielding the gun and saving their asses. Soon after came the arrest, originally intended for Pope but JJ gladly taking the fall. The pictures in the interrogation room of those men, bludgeoned and killed with a fishing spear before being left for shark bait. How JJ was terrified of that happening to John B and, more importantly, to you.

So he started to shut you out of it. Wanted to keep you at arms length. Safe. Unaware. You couldn't get wrapped up in the Royal Merchant madness if you knew nothing about it.

"Cause I have to keep you safe," JJ mumbles, gazing into your eyes. "You're the most important thing in the world t'me, y'know? If something happened to you...and it was because of me..."

His voice trails off as if he can't bare the thought. Your heart swells. He returns to the story. To how his dad beat him when he came to pick him up, and that’s why he was black-and-blue when he came to your house for dinner with your parents. God, if only you knew. After, with Midsummers, with John B dating Sarah Cameron (hence the secret note) and the meet-up at Rixon’s surrounding the Royal Merchant and the gold. How you weren’t invited because above everything else, JJ had to keep you safe. Then, they found it. They actually found the gold, under the Crain house, and they were going to be rich. Stinking, fucking, stupid rich. That brought them to today.

“So we melt the gold down,” JJ recounts, petting Ranger’s sleeping head. “And go to this pawn shop, a’right, way up town in like dodge-ville. I’m the one who’s gotta pawn this hunk of crap ‘cause I’m the best at bullshitting, so I go in and spin this whole yarn about my dementia-crazed mom or some shit. The pawn broker sends us out to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, and we get jumped by this random guy with a gun. He held it to our heads and made us give up the gold, but John B got the upper hand, right? You following? And I lost my shit, okay? Like things just felt…With you and the whole ‘break that isn’t a break’ thing, and the gun…I lost me shit, and I wanted to get even. An eye for an eye and all that crap - I mean, you know, you’ve read the bible. So we go to his shitty ass trailer and I steal the twenty-K that I owe for that boat Pope sank. But the others weren’t, uh…they weren’t super cool with that, so I went off alone, a’right? Cause I don’t need anybody but me, yeah? And I go to my dad and give him the money to settle up with the cops. But…But he don’t wanna do that. So this whole…thing starts and…”

JJ loses his momentum. His lower lip starts to tremble and this infuriates him. Huffing, he presses his hand over his mouth. You frown, worried, brows so closely knit they might as well be one. A shuddering breath that’s so deeply unfamiliar to hear in JJ lets slip. A tear trickles tellingly down his cheek. 

“Oh, JJ,” you murmur. 

“I nearly fuckin’ killed him,” JJ gasps. More tears fall. He stares you down as he repeats, “I nearly fuckin’ killed him, baby. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take it–”

You throw your arms around his shoulders and pull his shivering body into you. JJ rests his head on your shoulder, burying his face in your collarbone, and he sobs. Your own eyes well at the feeling of his pain leaking onto you, and you press your nose against the collar of his shirt, breathing in the only smell that can bring you calm. Your own personal brand of nicotine. His arms raise to cradle your back, holding you close just as you do him, and you let him cry. With every tear, it’s as though another brick has been pulled free from the walls he’s been building in the past two short weeks.  

Even when the headfirst sadness has passed, you hold him. It’s safe here, in this corner of the world, once again lapped in moonbeams and darkness. 

“I do love you,” JJ says against your skin. His breath is warm as it fans across the flesh. “It’s jus’...my family, we didn’t do the whole talking thing. I’m not used to really tellin’ anybody anything, let alone how I feel. It’s easy enough saying it to my friends but with you, like that…It scares the crap outta me.”

“Why?” you breathe, pulling back to be able to meet his gaze. Your head shakes as you gently say, “why is it so hard when I say it to you all the time? You know I’m never gonna turn you away or shoot you down for saying it.”

“I don't’ know,” JJ admits. “I don’t know, I guess I just have this thing that tells me I shouldn’t eve tell anybody.”

“In case you ever wanna take it back?” you wonder. 

JJ swallows thickly like taking medicine, and he shakes his head. His eyes look so sad you could weep as he admits, “No. In case you ever want me to.”

Lips parting, something clicks in your head. You think about the past two weeks. How your parents welcomed JJ into their house with open arms, whereas JJ is lucky if he can stay in his for a week without a blow-up. How you lean into your mom for comfort, whereas JJ can only find that in the bottom of a bottle. You’d only ever been met with love and grace and forgiveness. JJ? He knew betrayal and abandonment and disdain. You said you understood before, the first time he told you that he loved you, way back after the fight at the outdoor movie, but you didn’t. Not until now. 

You feel yourself begin to smile. Your eyes lose their squint like the light’s eased up, and your body feels lighter from the epiphany. Now. Now you know everything about JJ. 

“JJ. You took me from my world of grey and gave me colours that I’ve never seen before. The kind of colours I can’t see with anyone else. I’m never going to stop loving you, just for that,” you profess. 

JJ’s eyes gaze into yours, The universe sighs. Time smiles. Like spring, there’s suddenly change. His lips find yours like a migrating bird returning home, and you feel as though you can finally breathe right for the first time in three days. Your fingers slip into his hair, combing through the strands, and JJ’s palms and fingers caress across your figure, as if tracing your body back into his mind. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I love you.”

There’s still some things, some tangles to smooth out, so you’re both walking the same map in the same way, but those can wait. It can all wait. Because, right now, for maybe the first time, you finally see JJ for who he really is. And as the two of you kiss, you realise that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was JJ. Wonderfully, recklessly-imperfect, Pogue through-and-through JJ. 

read the alternative ending to gamble here!

[zvdvdlvr]

I was wondering if I could ask you to possibly write my idea

Imagine being Gregory House's wife and him seeing you doing a million steps nightly skin care routine and just laying under the covers and waiting for you to be done and come to bed already and slowly getting frustrated

Maybe a little toddler cuddling in bed with him and house complaining to them about you

"Mommy is taking a long time huh?"

good night ✩ gregory house

i miss greg house :( 🤍

Music played quietly from your phone as you took your time doing your nightly skincare routine. You sang along to a Fleetwood Mac song, tossing a cotton ball into the trash can.

“Hurry up!” Your huband called from the bedroom. You heard a little giggle followung Greg’s voice.

“‘Urry up, mama!” Your precious baby girl repeated. You heard Greg talk quietly to her, plotting something devious.

Greg’s plotting, however, did not deter you from the task at hand. You smeared moisturizer onto your face and started rubbing it into your face. You heard little footsteps by the door. Pretending not to hear them, you continued your movements.

Suddenly, you felt your little girl jump up and cling to your leg. Clementine shrieked in laughter as you squealed in fake-surprise. She buried her face in your leg and you felt her tight grip through your pajama pants.

“Sleepy, mama!” Clem informed you through her laughter. “Daddy and I sleep without you!”

You gasped. After rinsing your hands clean and drying them on a towel, you reached down and scooped little Clementine into your hands. “You can’t go to sleep without mama, silly girl! Did daddy send you in here?”

Clementine giggled again as you grab your toothbrush and tickle her little belly with your finger. “Daddy said you take too long,” she tells you seriously. “We go sleep without you, mama.”

After putting a bead of toothpaste on your toothbrush, you click your tongue. “You can’t go to sleep if mama’s holding you, can you?”

Clementine sighs and rests her head on your shoulder. Her bright, watery eyes watch you closely through the mirror as you brush your teeth.

“I’m going to die of hypothermia!”

Your little girl giggles when your face lights up. “Daddy’s so silly,” you say, rinsing your toothbrush off one more time. “Are you ready for bed, Clem?”

On cue, Clementine yawns so hard her hands shake. You chuckle. After pausing your music, shutting off the light, and adjusted Clementine in your arms, you pad back to the bedroom.

“Finally.” Greg groaned, pulling back the blanket for you and your daughter. “I see our plan to get mama in here worked, kid,” he muses, opening his arms to the girl. She just sighed tiredly and nuzzled into him. Her chubby hand held tight to your finger, though. After reaching over to turn off the lamp, you yourself make yourself comfortable in your husbands arms.

“Good night my loves,” you murmur, feeling Greg lace his fingers in your free hand. After the wedding, he had gotten more comfortable initiating physical comtact with you- not that you were complaining.

“G’night, mama,” Clem whispered back to you. “G’night, daddy.”

“Good night Clem,” Greg murmured, brushing one of her little curls back. “Good night y/n.”

[hxltic]

i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.

The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.

He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?

Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.

Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.

Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.

“Holy- shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.

It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion (like embarrassment) you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.

He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.

Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.

You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.

“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.

“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”

He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”

Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.

“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”

Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway—not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open—and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.

While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.

“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.

“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”

Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”

“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.

“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”

“They probably already are.”

He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face; but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too.

Nothing compared to the sheer size of his legs, but still up there. They had to be the size of your head. By photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake when he takes the uniform off.

Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.

You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”

“Right… just like how all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”

Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with shame that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.

You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”

He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.

“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”

Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a declaration you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck—the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I- uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.

Of course, to add to the fucking humiliation, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.

“Is that all you read?”

You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”

He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”

Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.

“N-No,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.

“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”

To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.

This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.

You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses, but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.

“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”

Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”

You look him up and down. “So?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.

“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”

You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”

He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah—I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.

“Which part were you reading?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway—she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”

Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.

“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”

You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.

“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”

You finally halt at the words. He was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”

So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.

You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and lean in. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.

This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.

“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”

The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.

“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”

You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.

The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.

“Poor thing was up here by herself. If dick was what you really wanted, you know you could have always asked.”

“Hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.

The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.

He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.

“Fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his head for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.

You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.

“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”

You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts.

He commands, “Again.”

“Y-Yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.

How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.

“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”

“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

Godammit.

Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did want to, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.

Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”

“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”

Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.

“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”

He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.

“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.

And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”

You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”

You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.

“No. Come here.”

You stare at him dumbfounded.

“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.

“My face, baby.”

Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”

You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.

“Sit.”

“Are you sure?” You clarify.

“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between your thighs. The only thing visible is his damp hair.

Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.

You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.

Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”

You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.

Shakily, you call out, “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.

“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.

“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him at all.

“Hmphh?”

“I’m close…can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.

To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.

this was kinda rushed

©️hxltic

[ellastone-olsen]

Plush-Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: GP!Natasha Romanoff × f!reader

Summary:After a long, difficult mission, Natasha come back home. It's been the most exhausting week of her life and you, as her sweet loving girlfriend, decide to take care of her.

Warnings: NSWF, bottom!Nat, top!reader, dry humping, blowjob, breeding, dirty talk, praise, aftercare, little fluff and hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.6k

AN: I remembered my love for Natasha and especially for the bottom Natasha, I promise someday I will write a fic without smut

In the silence of the spacious apartment, the front door slammed. Something seemed to fall on the floor, then there was the sound of running water in the bathroom. You became wary and got out of bed, putting the book on the nightstand. The door was only closed and you quietly looked through the crack where the light was coming from to understand who had just climbed into your and Natasha’s apartment.

A shock of red hair flashed and you relaxed. Natasha got back, but... something was wrong. You knocked and quietly entered; the woman was sitting with her back to you in the bath, her arms wrapped around her knees. "Babe? Hi, I missed you so much, did something happen?...” You fell silent when you got a better look at her back. All covered in bruises and scratches. Natasha turned her head and smiled at you over her shoulder, it seems her face suffered no less. "Hi дорогая (sweetheart)" She said quietly, “I brought you a small gift, it’s in a bag in the hallway..”

You cut her off and walked over to take her face in your hands. She was covered in dirt, her lip was clearly broken. Natasha looked like a beaten kitten. “Oh my god baby what happened to you?” Fear settled in your eyes and she turned her head to rub her cheek against your palm and then kiss it. "It's been a terrible week." She wheezed. “I just want to take a bath and go to bed please.”

You nodded and rubbed the pad of your thumb over her slightly sore cheekbone. “Should I help you?” She shook her head in protest and directed the shower stream onto her sore back. "Okay, then I'll wait for you in the room." You walked out and closed the door behind you.

After 20 minutes, the sound of the water stopped and Natasha came out with only a towel on her hips. Her chest didn't look as bruised as her back, but there were still yellow bruises on her abs. She sighed and found clean house clothes in the closet. “Wait, I’ll treat your back, don’t get fully dressed.” The woman pulled on loose sweatpants and sat on the edge of the bed. You took out the first aid kit and moistened a piece of cotton wool with an antibacterial agent, barely touching it, wiping her wounds.

“Everything didn’t go according to plan. I should have already left there, but I was delayed and I got the worst of it because I was protecting the weight.” You listened to her without stopping your work. “Damn, it hurts.” “Shhhh I know my love, I know.” You applied healing ointment. When you finished, your hands rested on her shoulders, gently kneading her tired muscles. "I'm so happy you're with me again." A small moan escaped Natasha’s lips in response to your actions. The hands moved to her neck and then dropped back down. “You did great, let me take care of you.” You bit your earlobe and your hands slid to the redhead's breasts. Natasha’s breathing quickened as you played with her nipples and squeezed her soft breasts.

“Oh damn Y/N.” The woman's hips jumped up and you noticed the bulge forming in her pants. You grinned and turned her head towards you for a soft kiss, but almost immediately Natasha's tongue begged for permission to enter your mouth. "No no, I'm in charge here today." You said as you pulled away and grabbed her rock hard cock with your hand through the fabric her house pants. She sighed noisily, the woman's head leaned back on your shoulder while you stroked her length, watching as a small wet spot appeared on her pants. Your lips touched her neck, your teeth biting the sensitive skin. Whining began to come from Natasha. "What do you want baby?" Your hands were stroked wherever they could reach. “You..” The redhead’s thoughts were confused. "More concrete." You said sternly and squeezed her balls. It was so good, so good the redhead thought that she would cum just from this. "Fuck...Y/N please. I need your mouth, your hands, your pussy on my cock."

You moved to the floor between her legs and slowly pulled the gray sweatpants down her legs. Her throbbing cock jumped out and hit Natasha's stomach. The tip was leaking pre-cum and looked red and sensitive. She could hide it, but when you took the initiative into your own hands, it turned her on more than being on top, she went crazy when such a cute little thing like you did whatever you wanted with her.

You collected her pre-cum starting to stroke Natasha's length, obscene squelching sounds filling the room. She began to push into your hand, but you held her back, prohibiting any action on her part. "I told you. I'm in charge." With that, you wrapped your lips around her tip and took every inch of her cock into your mouth until your nose touched the woman's stomach. The redhead's head fell back from this sight, her hands clutching the sheets so as not to start fucking your mouth. "Fuck oh god baby." You continued to suck, looking into the green eyes from above, one of your hands fell between your legs, starting to rub your swollen clit through the fabric of underwear. Not only Natasha enjoyed this, you liked sucking her dick even more than fucking her. You realized how sensitive you both were now and before at least one of you came, you stopped and stood up.

"Lie on your back." You commanded and the redhead climbed to the head of your shared plush bed, taking the desired position. The woman watched as you took off your panties, but left your light housedress on and took out the lube from the cabinet nearby bed. Cold thick liquid dripped onto her length and she twitched, you quickly warmed and rubbed it, and then pressed your soaked folds against her length to slide and rub. "Please baby. I can't take it anymore." She felt that she would cum at any moment. With every movement, your clit hit her red tip, making you even wetter. Your nails dripped into her shoulders as you processed what she said. Your hips began to move faster. “That’s it Natty don’t hold back, cum for me.” Her hands flew up to your hips, helping you move against her. Her hips still began to jerk involuntarily and within seconds ropes of her cum fell onto her flat stomach. "Fuck Y/N oh god." You were still grinding her cock prolonging her orgasm, your hand reached out and the tip of your finger gathered her release. You put it in your mouth, tasting it as if Natasha was the most expensive dish in the world. The redhead's eyes darkened at this sight and her dick twitched, she so needed to be inside you.

"Mmmm I didn't even have to try to make you cum. And you're still so hard." You leaned down and press your lips onto her, licking the stinging wound. “Do you want another round Natty? Although your dick speaks for you..” You stood up to finally line up the tip with swollen folds, rubbing your clit with it a little.

In one motion, you sank down Natasha’s cock, taking the entire length at once. The feeling of your warm wet walls around her made her ready to explode instantly, she was still so sensitive. Your hands grabbed hers and pinned they to the bed as you began to ride her quickly. "Oh yeah Fuck baby I love your big fat cock so much." Your thighs slapped against her, wetness flowing between your bodies. Her tip hit the sensitive spot inside you every time. "Do you want to cum in me Natty? Fill me up to the brim. I'm going to love it so much." The redhead nodded quickly and buried her face in the pillows, you grabbed her and turned her back. "Look at me when I fuck you." From the fast pace and your rude words, Natasha’s orgasm was approaching at breakneck speed. One of her hands moved away from your grip and her thumb rested on your swollen clit. "Oh fuck fuck cum with me baby. Come on, can you do it for me Natty?"

She did it, how could Natasha upset you? The feeling of her cum inside you made you see stars and your pussy milked her cock dry. Your legs shook and you fell into Natasha's arms, her hands rubbing circles on your back as she fucked you through your orgasm.

You lay together in this position for a few more minutes, after which you slowly got off Natasha and her cum immediately flowed out of you, dripping onto her stomach. The redhead reached over to the bedside table and grabbed wet wipes to clean herself and you. "Thanks babe." You kissed her gratefully and lay down next to her, resting your head on her shoulder.

You both closed your eyes and began to fall asleep when Natasha suddenly jumped up and walked towards the corridor. "I forgot about my gift." Her voice came muffled. She walked back into room holding something behind her back. You sat up, taking an upright position. "What do you have there?" Natasha pulled out her gift from behind her back and you laughed. "Plush seal? Oh my God, he has such a funny face." The redhead frowned. "What don't you like?" "Oh I really like it, give it here." You lay down again hugging a new toy. “Are you going to sleep with it now and not with me?” The woman feigned offense and lay down with her back to you.

[actuallybarb]

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗣𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗬𝗣𝗦𝗘

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris takes care of Y/N after they make love.

WARNING: Mentions of sex, insecurities (?).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The room was immersed in a comfortable gloom, lit only by the soft light from the aromatic candle next to the bed. The air was filled with a post-orgasm stillness, and the soft sound of Y/N and Chris' panting breaths was the only thing that broke the silence. They were lying on their backs, side by side, their intertwined hands resting between them as tingles ran through the limbs of their bodies.

Chris turned his head slightly, taking in Y/N's profile. Her face was slightly flushed, and her body still exuded warmth and satisfaction. With a low sigh, Chris slowly turned onto his side, resting his head on his hand, the sound of cotton sheets moving echoing briefly. His blue eyes roamed Y/N's body, tracing every curve, every line, taking note of the way her breasts, still slightly reddened by stimulation, rose and fell with each breath.

The boy couldn't contain himself and extended his free hand, letting his fingertips slide gently over her exposed shoulder, feeling her skin slightly sweaty and warm under his touch, a trail of goosebumps following right behind.

He began to silently count the moles on Y/N's collarbone, a soft smile curving his lips, he already knew the exact quantity and locations by heart, but he would never get tired of recounting them. Each dot was a constellation on her skin, each a unique mark that he adored.

Chris remained like that for a few minutes, just caressing and bathing in the sensations that the moment gave him, enjoying every second of the intimacy they shared.

"You're so pretty." He muttered silently, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. Chris couldn't believe how lucky he was to have her by his side. "My pretty girl."

Chris can not seem to ever get enough of Y/N, no matter how many years they were in a relationship and how many times they had sex. The way her taste flooded his mouth when he got on his knees between her legs or the way her tight little pussy feels as she's wrapped around his cock always led him to feel new sensations.

Chris felt an almost obsessive fascination for her.

The boy leaned over and kissed Y/N's shoulder, a gesture of silent adoration, his still swollen and pink lips brushing her skin in a lingering caress.

"I'm so lucky." The brunette whispered again, feeling a shiver of pleasure run through his body when he felt her skin against his own. Every touch was a reminder of his love for her, a love that seemed to grow stronger every day.

Y/N finally turned her face towards him slowly, smiling a drunken smile, her eyes with dilated pupils and slightly reddened from the tears of pleasure shed minutes before observed him intently. She tilted her head down, sealing her lips over Chris's messy strands, breathing in the scent of sex and men's shampoo.

After long minutes, Chris slowly pulled away, touching the tip of his nose to his girl's, caressing the area in an eskimo kiss, before moving back and getting up from the bed carefully, not wanting to break the tender moment, smiling in amusement at the whine that escaped Y/N's throat with the lack of heat.

He headed to the bathroom and returned with a damp pink towel in hand. Sitting down next to Y/N, he used his free hand to snake the sensitive skin of her right leg, gripping her knee firmly - but carefully -, spreading her legs apart before beginning to gently clean the expanse of skin from her legs and between her thighs, with each movement an act of affection and devotion.

His eyes never left her face, watching her eyelashes caress her cheeks with each lazy blink.

A moan of complaint escaped Y/N's throat as the damp towel pressed against her sensitive core, her legs acting on automatically as they tried to close around Chris's wrist.

"Shh, I know, dove. It's almost over. 'Need to have you nice and clean, huh?" Chris murmured softly, his fingers sliding over the warm skin, pushing her legs apart again.

Y/N let out a small sigh, her body reacting to Chris's soft touch and words. He continued his work, his voice a tender whisper, muttering words of love.

Chris finished cleaning her and set the towel aside, leaning over her upper body between her still open legs, slowly lowering himself to place a soft kiss on her abdomen, his warm breath against the sensitive skin causing goosebumps to form in the area.

He stood up again, stroking the instep of her right foot with his thumb before walking slowly towards the bedside table, retrieving the bottle of water he always left there in case one of them woke up thirsty during the night.

"Come on, drink some, petal." Chris asked, turning back to Y/N and helping her sit up slightly, using his free hand to keep her in position. He brought the bottle to her lips, pressing the straw into her smooth, pink skin, watching her fondly as she took a few sips. "You need to hydrate."

Y/N looked up at him, her orbs shining with gratitude and love, innocently.

"Thank you, baby." Y/N spoke for the first time since her last orgasm, her voice soft and slightly hoarse from constant use. Chris smiled softly before turning around and placing the bottle back on the table.

"Can you walk?" He asked in a low tone, turning back to her and watching a small pout form on her lips, already knowing that she would fight against getting up from the bed at that moment. "I know you're tired, petal, but you have to pee. I'll carry you there, hm? It's gonna be quick, I promise."

"Okay."

Chris smiled satisfied, passing one arm under her straight knees and the other arm around the back of her shoulders, pulling her up, pressing their naked bodies together again.

His steps towards the bathroom were quick but careful, afraid of shaking Y/N's body too much and causing some discomfort. He raised his left arm, pressing his elbow awkwardly onto the light switch, illuminating the room before taking small steps to the toilet, carefully lowering Y/N onto the seat.

"D'you want me to get out, pretty?" The boy's soft, husky voice echoed through the bathroom, the echo making it sound louder than it should have been.

"No, stay here, please." Y/N shook her head, tilting her upper body tiredly so that she laid her head on Chris's exposed abdomen, resting her elbows at the base of her bent knees and resting the palms of her hands on her boyfriend's thighs, caressing the milky skin covered with small hairs with her fingers.

It didn't take long for her to finish, moving away from Chris momentarily so she could clean herself properly with the intimate wet wipe, watching from the corner of her eye as her boyfriend's arm reached for the toilet, the sound filling the room next to the running water in the bathroom faucet in the sink where Y/N washed her hands.

"C'mon, sweetheart, let's get you to bed." Chris whispered against the back of Y/N's head, sealing the area quickly before resting his right hand on the small of her back, guiding her back to the bedroom, making sure that she felt more comfortable walking, even though slowly.

Soon, the two found themselves lying on the double bed again. Chris adjusted his body on the mattress before gently pulling Y/N close, allowing her to snuggle into his chest, pressing her head against his bare chest and closing her hands in a gesture of prayer between her stomach and his.

The boy waited for her to stop moving and stabilize herself in a comfortable position before finally hugging her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his left hand where they shoulders met while his right one found home on her hair, his fingers stroking the strands calmly and tenderly.

"Was I good?" Y/N's voice sounded muffled against Chris's chest, her tone suddenly small and vulnerable.

"What?" Chris stopped his caresses on her hair abruptly, frowning and pulling back slightly, searching his girl's eyes.

"Was I good tonight?" The serenity of the moment seemed almost ethereal, but, inside Y/N's eyes, a storm of doubts was beginning to form. The feeling of vulnerability after such intimate moments always took her by surprise, making her question whether she had been as good to Chris as he had been to herself.

"Baby, what- Of course you were good, amazing actually! You make me feel loved and wanted in a way I never thought possible. It's no wonder that if you hadn't stopped me after the fourth orgasm I would have continued for hours on end." A smirk grew on Chris's lips as he saw a reddish tone take over Y/N's cheeks in seconds, her twinkling eyes shyly lowering and focusing on his neck, playing nervously with her fingers against his belly. "Hey, I love you, okay?" Chris murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "More than words can express."

Y/N lips formed a pout, an embarrassed laugh escaping her lips as she felt Chris's hand that was on her back snake around her shoulder, caressing her cheek before having her snuggle closer to him.

"I love you more, Chris." She replied, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. "Thank you. For taking care of me."

"Always."

They stayed like that, hugging each other, the heat of their intertwined bodies filling the space around them. Chris continued to stroke Y/N's hair, each touch filled with love and care. He couldn't imagine a more perfect moment, a fuller feeling.

Finally, Y/N closed her eyes, feeling safe and loved in Chris's arms. He watched her for a while, admiring the serenity on her face before closing his eyes as well, letting the darkness fill his mind.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @annamcdonalds67 @always-reading @slutsformatt

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[gloomwitchwrites]

Kitchen Quickies (1 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, breeding kink, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, established relationship, married couple

Word Count: 948

A/N: part of the Imagines & What If series

So what that you already have two kids? John wants to make a third.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // kitchen quickies masterlist

The early morning sun filters through the kitchen window and illuminates the sink full of soapy water. Reaching in, you remove the drain plug. The water begins to recede, and you flip on the faucet, rinsing off the plug, clearing it of soap suds. Sighing, you place it on the edge of the sink near the window.

Without looking, you reach for a dish towel, glancing out the window as your two children play in the yard. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, but then it turns downward as your hands only find counter and not the towel.

Frowning, you turn to the left and immediately laugh.

“Give me that,” you chide, snatching the dish towel from John’s grip.

As you dry your hands, John steps into your space, his hands falling to your hips. “Good morning,” he croons, those large fingers of his curling around the bone to pull you flush against him.

“John,” you breathe, a little surprised. “The kids are outside.” Through his sweatpants, you feel the hard outline of him.

“Good,” he murmurs, his head dipping towards you.

When his lips touch yours, you smile against them, and then squeal as John twists you around to press you against the counter. John’s hand slides over your hip and beneath the oversized t-shirt. It’s one of his old shirts he always worked out in. You wear them all the time because they smell of him, and his scent brings you comfort when he’s away for work.

John’s fingers find the edge of your cotton underwear. He pulls them to the side, revealing you to him. His mouth presses against your throat at the same moment his fingers slide over your sex and begin to play with your clit.

Your hips jerk backward, as if trying to pull away from his teasing hand. But you only end up rubbing your ass against his cock. One of his fingers slides lower and circles your entrance.

“You’re fucking wet, love,” groans John against your throat.

“You do this to me. You know that, John.”

His grip on your hip intensifies. John is always insatiable when it comes to you. He releases your hip to push up on the shirt, pressing on your lower back, bending you forward slightly over the counter. The position is a little uncomfortable, and you have to shift onto your toes to match what John is asking for.

Then his hands are on your hips again, shifting them up to give him easier access.

“We’ve been talking about having another. I think we should start trying.”

“John—fuck,” you groan as the head of his cock starts to push in.

“Right. Fucking. Now,” groans John, lightly thrusting into you with each word. He rolls his hips, and another inch slides in. You both moan, and he turns his face into your neck, breathing in your scent.

“Do you want that? You want me to breed you?” John’s presses his hand against your stomach and you whimper. “Hm? I need an answer, love.”

Rarely do you ever say no to John, and in this, you won’t ever say no. You love him. He is your oxygen and your anchor. You’ll give him everything he asks for without question.

“Fuck me, John. Please.” Your voice breaks on please. The groan that he makes goes straight to your pussy.

He slides in further until he bottoms out. He holds himself there for a moment with one hand between your legs to play with your clit while the other rests on your lower back. Against your throat, John’s lips mark a line from the curve of your shoulder to your jaw.

“Hold on to the counter,” he murmurs into your ear.

The moment your hands find the counter, John retreats, slowly sliding from your warmth before he thrusts forward again. Hips meet hips in rapid succession. His strength behind each thrust pushes you against the side of the counter, the edge scratching at the spot it makes contact with.

You might have some marks there afterward but you don’t care. John’s cock is too good, and his fingers swirls around your clit in perfectly slow movements that have you fluttering around him. He’s an expert with your body. He knows every sensitive spot, and every move to help you find your end before he does.

Every thrust of his hips is a desperate one, and it is so different from how his fingers play with your clit. They are opponents and yet effortlessly working in tandem until you squeeze around him, causing his hips to stutter and faulter.

John’s breathing is ragged when he speaks. “Fuck,” he moans. “Fuck.”

Another swirl of his finger sends you into a shiver, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out.

John thrusts a few more times, and then he’s holding you flush against him, his face buried against your throat. The rush of his release floods your womb, and he doesn’t pull away until he’s emptied himself. The moment his cock slips free, John presses his palm against your pussy, keeping his cum from leaking out of you.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmurs against your neck. You twist into him and wrap your arm around the back of neck, kissing him with all your love behind it.

“Think we made that third?” you tease.

John grins against your lips. “Not sure. We’ll have to do it again tonight after the kids have gone to bed. Maybe the next night too. And the next—”

You playful smack his arm and John adjusts your underwear back into place before lightly smacking your ass.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado

[latenightdaydreams]

König x Cockwarming!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

>CW: fem/afab reader, weed smoking, cock warming, p in v, slight pee but not a major focus

1.9k word count

For more: Master list

.

.

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König walked through the front door of the house and started to take off his boots followed by his gear. He can hear coughing in the house, he knew you were smoking weed. You’re his little stoner baby. He began to walk to the stairs before climbing them and making his way to the bedroom. He saw you sitting on the bed crisscross with a pink bong in your hands. You’re taking a long hit before you look up and let out a slow stream of smoke.

“Hey Kö,” You smile at him. Your eyes red from smoking for the last twenty minutes. You were wearing only one of his shirts that fit like a dress and a pair of red cotton underwear, his favorite color. The TV playing in the background on a show you’ve already watched a hundred times before.

“Hallo Liebling,” He pulls his mask off, showing his scarred face and messy blonde hair. The black eye make-up smudged across his face as he smiles at you, his sharp k9s showing.

Your eyes follow him in the room as he goes to the bathroom and begins to wash his face. You can’t help but to smirk as you watch him, wondering how you got so lucky.

“How was your day today?”

König lets out a low groan when you mention work, “It was hell. I had a group of new recruits come into my team. All so stupid, no one listens!” He complains as he turns to dry his face off on the towel behind the door.

“I’m sorry baby,” you say with an adorable pout on your face. König can’t help but to smile when he sees you.

Leaving the bathroom, he walks towards you on the bed and kneels on the ground beside you. He reaches out and grabs one of your hands and kisses it over and over again, “How was your day Schatz?”

“I cleaned and read some. Now I’m just relaxing.” You can’t help but to giggle from the way he looks at you with such loving and intense eyes. His touch is warm and tender.

“I noticed, thank you for that baby.” He kisses your hand some more before looking up at your red eyes and smirk on your face.  König slowly reaches his hand out and begins to rub your thigh, his eyes glued to the beautiful color of your soft skin. “You always look so amazing.”

You know he is wanting something as you look down into his eyes smirking, “What are you wanting?” Your tone is playful as you eye him.

A small smirk appears across his lips, “Nothing crazy…”

“Tell me.”

He climbed on to the bed slightly as you placed your bong on the bedside table. His lips kissing your thighs, “I just want to put my cock in you. I need to feel your warmth after the day I had.”

“You want to fuck?”

He gives you a look, “We make love Schatz, such vulgar vocabulary.” König laughs while he continues to kiss your legs. “I just want to relax, just sit with you on me while I read and you can keep smoking...” He wanted you to keep smoking. It was his favorite thing. When you would cock warm and smoke, your already tight pussy would clench around his cock each time you coughed and give him a small burst of pleasure.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Königs eyes light up as he stands up off the bed and begins to undo his belt before undoing his pants. You can already see his boner through the fabric of his olive-green cargo pants. He has been thinking about coming home and doing this all day. König has his gaze locked on your panties as you reach for them and pull them off.

Stepping out of his pants and boxers, he kicks them to the side. His hand instinctively goes to his cock and lightly strokes it, pulling his foreskin back and exposing his pink tip. König opens the night stand and grabs his book before getting into bed.

“Take the shirt off too Liebling.” König says as he moves pillows around so he can sit comfortably against the headboard.

Your hands grab the hem of the shirt before pulling it over your head and exposing your breast to him. His eyes instantly glued to them as he gives you a smirk and nod of approval.

“Komm her, Prinzessin,” he slaps his thick muscular thigh as his eyes glaze over your body. His cock began to twitch with anticipation.

Your eyes go to his thighs to his cock as you crawl over to him, lowering your head to kiss his cock. His eyes watching you intensely as your lips kiss the tip, watching as you open your mouth to suck his cock. Königs hand comes down to stop you, his hand on your chin.

“Not yet,” he chuckles, enjoying your enthusiasm.

You smirk as you continue to crawl to him. His hand moves to your waist as he helps guide you to him. He turns you around so that your back is facing his chest. You reach down to grab his dick and help guide it in. A soft groan leaves his mouth as he feels your warm hand grabbing at him. Every time you touch him it feels like the first time he has ever been touched.

Slowly, the tip of his dick enters your pussy. Both of you letting out a soft moan at the same time. His fingers slightly digging into your hips slightly harder as his body reacts to yours. Relaxing more, you lower yourself more on his lap.

König closes his eyes and drops his head back against the headboard as he feels the tightness of your cunt begin to squeeze him. His hands push you down until his balls hit your clit and he can hear you let out a sudden moan.

Instinctively, you want to grind back and forth. You move your hips forward slightly when Königs grip tightens, “Nien, sit still Schatz.”

König leans over to grab your bong back for you, any slight movement making you whimper softly. It brings a smile to his face.

“Here, just relax, okay Liebling?”

You grab your bong from him and agree. He grabs his book and begins to read. You lean back softly on his broad chest and continue to watch your TV show.

König takes a few deep inhales, getting a mix of weed and your natural scent. Leaning in and kissing the side of your neck once before leaning back again and opening his book to where he left off.

You light the bowl and begin to inhale a big hit. Too big.

Trying to maintain composure, you slowly begin to exhale. This doesn’t work as you begin to cough hard. Behind you, König is biting his lips together so he doesn’t let out a loud moan. His eyes slightly fluttering as every cough your sweet cunt bares down around his cock that already has no room. A slight bouncing movement your body makes too drives him wild. Once you stop coughing, he speaks up.

“You okay Maus?” His voice slightly hoarse when he asks it, his free hand lightly rubbing your back.

Giggling, you nod and let out another cough. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” his free hand leaves your back and snakes around your waist to hold you back against him. Slowly he moves his hand up to your breast where he begins to lightly tug at your hardened nipple. Gently caressing the area in a slow circle motion before pulling his hand away to turn the page.

Time passes as the episode you’re watching ends. You light your bong again to take a hit. König notices and gets excited, hoping it’s too much and you cough again.

You take a deep inhale and feel that burning sensation as you let the smoke out and begin to cough hard.

König moves his free hand to caress your thigh, feeling the warm and soft flesh. Your pussy clamping down tightly around his cock sent small shock waves of pleasure down his spine. All of the sudden, a new sensation happened. A warm strickle flows over the sensitive tight skin of his balls, exciting him even more.

Your face turns red as you realize with all the hard coughing, you’ve accidentally peed a little. You lean over and place your bong down on the bedside table as you prepare to get off of him.

“I’m sorry” you laugh half from embarrassment and half because you’re high and can see the humor in the situation.

König snakes his arm around your waist while letting out a soft chuckle, “Where do you think you’re going? Hm?” He kisses your neck softly as he pulls you to him.

“To clean up-”

“I’m not done yet.” He cuts you off with a soft tone as he continues to kiss your neck. “Don’t worry about that, it’s natural. I’ll clean up later.” He reassures you as he picks up his book again.

You relax back against his chest again, feeling very high now. The show you’re watching is entertaining you anymore. All you can feel is full. His fully erect cock stuffed deep in your pussy, twitching occasionally making you want friction. Your hands find themselves busy as one goes to one of your breasts and begins to play with your nipple and the other begins to make light circles over your clit. The sound of your wet pussy beginning to catch König’s attention.

“What are you doing Liebling?” He leans forward to catch a glimpse.

“I need more,” your voice sounding pathetic.

“More? You don’t like just relaxing with me?” He teases you as his hand goes around and pushes yours away from your clit. He pinches the little bud in between two fingers and gently begins to roll it back and forth. “Suck your juices off Maus,” he demands, “You’re so wet.”

You bring the tips of your fingers to your lips as you begin to lick them before softly sucking on your fingertips. A look of pleasure washes across your face as you start to rock your hips back and forth. König doesn’t stop you. Instead, he takes a deep breath and enjoys it.

You lean forward and grab his muscular thighs as you begin to slowly bounce. König removes his hand from your clit and leaning back to watch your ass bounce with every movement. He reaches his hand out as caresses the curve of your body.

“God you’re beautiful,” he moans.

König bends his knees slightly as he leans you back towards him. His hands moving down your legs, grasping your thighs and holding them up as your back lays flat against his chest. He begins to buck his hips upwards, rapidly.

The wet sound of your pussy and your pathetic whimpers are all he can focus on. His eyes close tightly as he rests his head back against the headboard.

“Fuck!” You moan out loudly as he begins to fuck you as you’ve been desperately wanting. “I’m so close.”

“Ja, cum on my cock.” König moans breathlessly. He keeps the same motion until he can feel you begin to clench around him and your legs begin to tremble. A white ring forms around the base of his cock as he feels you get wetter. He can’t hold on anymore.

“Oh Liebling,” König whimpers as he begins to slow his pace as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your walls with his seed.

He slowly let’s go of the tight grip he has on your thighs as he lowers your legs. He kisses your head and neck softly as you both begin to relax. His big arms wrapping around your waist tightly to hold you in place, keeping his cock in you using it like a plug to keep all of his cum in.

[aw1tht33tha]

Feeling feral enough, darling?

Astarion gets turned into a delicious whimpering puddle (and a bit of a feral animal) with the powerful magic of sensual femdom, pegging and lots of love. Just the way this man deserves.

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Pairing: Spawn Astarion/F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags/Warnings: 18+, BDSM, femdom, power play, bondage, dirty talk, teasing, edging, cunnilingus, blowjob, pegging, rough PinV sex, body worship, sensory deprivation (sight/touch), praise kink, sensitive elf ears, orgasm denial, biting, scratching, blood drinking, high heels, fetish, fluff and sass, two horny sadistic assholes in love, established relationship, more or less cannon compliant, cat in the end

Read on AO3 or indulge right here:

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Astarion’s mind is spinning these instructions on repeat as he opens the front door and enters your deceivingly quiet home:

Take a bath.

Enter the bedroom naked.

Kneel next to the bed.

Put a blindfold on.

Wait.

Surrendering control wasn’t novel for a vampire spawn. However, giving it up fully and willingly for shared pleasure with his lover felt deeply alluring, but a little intimidating still. Astarion is too used to lavishing others with attention and keeping his grip tight on the reins out of necessity, rather than his own desire. But it should be different now. The newfound safety of your relationship gifted him a chance to learn letting go and truly enjoying himself for the first time in what seemed like a fucking eternity.

He feels slightly anxious as he undresses and discards clothes on the floor, crimson eyes locked on a steamy bath with bubbles, prepared lovingly in time for his arrival.

It’s been almost a year since both Cazador and Netherbrain fell to their deaths. The bond you’ve built together since then felt stronger than ever. No masters to serve, just following your own hearts. And yet, worries that pain and disgust may flood back from the depths of his past again gnaw at the back of his mind. He wants this to be perfect. To take a leap of faith and feel good and present, blissed out with you tonight. Free of his demons. For good.

“This is what I want, isn’t it?”

Take a bath.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a few seconds trying to settle his nerves, then steps into the bathtub to clean off blood, sweat and dirt of his last bounty kill. Warm water embraced his cool body and relaxed sore muscles almost instantly, freeing his mind to reminisce about more pleasant things from the recent past.

Being an adventurous “hero” proved to be a surprisingly fun and profitable pastime, quite deliciously filling too if you happen to be a vampire. “Turns out nobody really cares about the murder… as long as you murder the right people.” Astarion recalls his joke at a party with your group of weirdo friends and it turns the corners of his lips up a little.

He starts making quick and thorough work of getting himself clean with fragrant soap, shampoo and conditioner. Pleasant as it is to soak and indulge in a self-care routine, it seemed just a bit cruel to make you wait for this perfect body for too long.

A few minutes pass and Astarion is out of the tub and sufficiently dried off - damp silver locks falling charmingly out of order and white towel wrapped scandalously low around his hips. He grabs the bathroom door handle confident enough to proceed with the next step.

Enter the bedroom naked.

“Right, naked” – he freezes. With one swift motion towel flies off his lean body to join the pile of its cotton siblings stacked in the corner. He crosses a dark corridor, anticipation starting to build up in his chest. Your shared bedroom reveals itself in all its intimate glory and comfort.

Closed heavy blinds, fresh dark silken sheets on a spacious bed, fluffed pillows arranged in an unusually orderly manner and almost ridiculous amounts of candles bathing the room in gentle warmth, pleasant scents, and dancing lights. So very you and him. The top of the bedside table appears busier than most days, displaying a carefully lined up selection of sex toys and ropes. All quite familiar to Astarion, yet he doesn’t know when and how exactly any of those are going to be used tonight and it is positively intriguing.

The only sound in the room is produced by candle wicks softly crackling in the background. Astarion takes a moment to sink in the atmosphere and looks around.

Kneel next to the bed.

His gaze stops at a big red pillow invitingly laying in the middle of the room close to the bed. A simple black blindfold is resting on top. He circles around and slowly lowers himself down on his knees. No one is commanding a vampire to do so except his own little voice. He yearns for your presence already and picks up a blindfold.

“Curious how we got here,” Astarion thinks as he gently runs his fingers along the soft black fabric, grateful for all the time you’ve spent together up until this moment. How it literally turned his undead life around and made him experience everything he thought was impossible or unreachable. Everything he thought wasn’t meant for him – freedom, salvation, friendship and… love.

Especially love. Somehow, he found himself not only caring deeply for you, but slowly nurturing some love and acceptance for himself. A truly unexpected turn of events.

Put a blindfold on.

The blindfold slides over his beautiful eyes and Astarion finds himself depraved from one of the prime senses to rely on. An exciting image of you invades his mind and he starts wondering if you are going to wear anything at all tonight.

His brain naturally shifts focus to what he can hear, touch, taste, and smell instead.

Your voice. What are you going to ask of him tonight? Will you let him make you scream his name?

Your skin. So soft and warm, he craves to glide his fingers all over your body right this instant.

Your scent. That unique blend of indescribable “you” with a hint of perfume or whatever fragrant skin care you just couldn’t stop stealing from his shelf like the adorable fetishist you are.

Your blood. That sweet life essence you are kind enough to share, keeping him hopelessly addicted from the first bite.

And wait.

Wait for your arrival and then dive into the unknown. Well, not that unknown since you both discussed your desires a few days prior, leaving just a touch of mystery on the details. “Gale of Waterdeep” was chosen to serve as your shared safe word, cause who else possessed an ability to kill the mood faster than a walking encyclopaedia?

This is, without a doubt, the sweetest torture for Astarion so far in the night. Just kneeling still and ready, wondering which of the obscene scenarios generated by his mind in your absence was going to become a reality. He did exactly what you asked him to do already, and he couldn’t wait for more.

It isn’t too long before his head instinctively turns towards the sound of steps approaching the room. A measured, confident pace accentuated by an unmistakable clack of heels meeting wooden boards sends a little shiver up his spine.

Finally.

You open the door without haste and your eyes are met with probably the best sight you could ever imagine:

A devastatingly beautiful elf is kneeling at your mercy, exposed and blindfolded, his perfect marble skin bathed in candlelight. Soft silver locks allowed to arrange themselves with less restraint than usual. His cock is hard for you already, twitching and leaking precum as you take your time to shut the door and take a few steps closer. His chest is heaving in anticipation, those beautiful tender lips parted slightly, both arms digging through his own thighs not daring to touch himself where he is dying to be touched right now.

Astarion looks properly riled up by his own imagination already. Letting him marinate and fight against his own impulsive nature worked even better than you anticipated. You shake off a strong temptation to sabotage the whole scene and dive down to devour him right where he is. It would be a crime to end the session so soon and you find the strength in yourself to stick to your plan of taking him completely apart piece by piece.

“Hello, my sweet,” your flirty voice is barely above a breathy whisper, and he can tell you are saying it through a wide smile without even needing to see your face.

A raspy “I missed you so much,” is all Astarion can manage to reply as his nose catches intoxicating mix of pulsing blood in your veins, arousal building up between your thighs, and surely his own perfume you’ve stolen again as you position your hips mere inches away from his gorgeous face.

“Did you? How about a proper greeting, then?”

You gently raise his chin with a curled index finger and run your thumb across soft parted lips making him gasp and desperately lean into your touch. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his own fingers lightly grazing the pillow, crawling their way towards your feet in the darkness.

“No touching until I say so.” Your warning makes him slightly raise his hands in defeat and put them back on his thighs. He manages to behave while your thumb invades his mouth to meet with a hungry vampire tongue, even when your other hand caresses his neck and jawline in admiration. It’s the feather light tracing of his pointy ear from earlobe to the tip that makes Astarion shudder and send his seeking arms forward again.

No, he won’t be able to keep his hands away from you or himself at this rate, so you stop and take a step back as soon as his fingers make contact with the tips of your shoes. Astarion lets out a soft disappointed moan, his body leaning forward craving any attention you would graciously descend upon him.

“Please, I’m burning to touch you, my love.” He is on the steady path of falling apart already.

Delightful.

“You’ll have your chance if you’re patient enough. Wrists together behind your back.”

He reluctantly obliges your command. You reappear behind him with a short red rope to lean down and restrain him with a simple double column tie. That should take care of his mischievous rogue hands for now and you circle around to face him again.

“Now, where were we?”

Before Astarion has a chance to come back with anything at all, your right foot lightly grazes against his left knee and you drag the blunt nose of your pump up his leg, ghosting over the aching length of his cock almost as if by accident. His abdominal muscles clench and he lets out a shaky sigh, baring his fangs. Observing this man’s reactions to teasing is quickly becoming your new favourite form of entertainment. You rest your foot on his upper thigh applying just enough pressure to make the heel sting slightly, keeping him sitting low.

“You may worship whatever you can reach with your lips.”

He eagerly leans forward, and his mouth starts travelling up your inner thigh kissing, licking, nibbling on your smooth skin like a starved man. Payback time, darling, Astarion thinks reaching that place where your leg connects to pelvis and caressing you agonisingly slow with his firm tongue, so close to your sex you almost wobble. You run your fingers through his white curls gripping firmly to find stability.

Astarion quickly realises you are not wearing any panties, so he keeps on leaving tender kisses and passionate licks all around your folds and clit, never giving you more than his hot breath over the very centre. He knows exactly how to drive you dripping wet and desperate, pussy clenching over nothing. Difference is, he is not really in control this time, so you intend to serve him a reminder and tilt his head back, pulling hard on silver locks.

“I think you’re missing a spot,” you manage in between intensified breaths.

“Sorry, darling. If only I could see what I was doing,” he sounds almost convincingly apologetic, but a tiny smug smile gives him away. Astarion knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He won’t be getting away with anything easy tonight, though… despite his impressive arsenal of ways to melt your body and mind into a whimpering puddle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.” You cup his perfect face gently before adding, “stick your tongue out for me, gorgeous.”

Your confident yet warm tone makes him obey before even thinking. This feels refreshingly fun and liberating - not having to think much and simply relying on you to lead this dance to ecstasy however you desire.

You bring his face closer and roll your hips forward forcing his tongue to part the folds and finally get to the most sensitive parts of your sex. A much anticipated sensation hits you almost like a jolt of electricity and you have to dig your fingers in his neck and shoulders to keep your balance.

“Now, be a good boy and make me come.” You push the words out quickly before starting to lose yourself on Astarion’s skilled tongue. He is lapping your cunt devotedly, flexing muscles against the restrains, moaning softly. No toying around, witty remarks or aiding with fingers, just completely lost in eating you out with passion.

It doesn’t take much time for him at all to tighten up the coil of pleasure in your lower belly and for you to release it, holding on to him firmly as your legs dangerously give in to the weakness. Gods below, these damn heels don’t help either and you barely manage to ride out your orgasm not collapsing down.

You take a few moments to unwrap your arms from Astarion and steady your breath a little. “You did so well, my love… giving me exactly… what I asked for.”

As a reward, you take off the blindfold and carelessly toss it on the floor, the elf below you then greedily drags his gaze up your body. You are wearing nothing but high heels and one of his slutty black shirts you shamelessly snatched from his wardrobe earlier. Unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, fabric loosely dripping down your back and ass, it’s not really covering anything in front. His burning eyes meet yours. “Anything for you, beautiful.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Stand up.” 

You take a small step back and let him rise on his feet. Usually, Astarion would tower over you being a few inches taller, but the heels keep you almost the same height letting your eyes level with his. He finds himself enjoying this new perspective.

You let your nails and fingertips gently explore under his jaw, down his neck and over the clavicles. Then you close the gap between your lips inviting Astarion for a heated kiss, tasting your own deliciousness still lingering on his tongue. With his arms still tied he can’t do anything but struggle against the rope and desperately try to melt his whole naked body against yours seeking familiar warmth or any form of friction you would allow.

You decide to give in to this sweetness and lower your hands to pull your lover closer by the waist. Astarion uses this opportunity to push into the kiss even more and grind himself against you, leaving trails of sticky precum all over your belly. It’s too easy to get drunk on his eagerness and you have to peel yourself away before you’re too far gone. There is much more to do after all.

“A good little vampling like you deserves a treat, you know?” You whisper in his ear mischievously as you nudge him to take a few steps back towards the bed.

He sits down watching your every move through a haze of lust. You circle the edge of the bed and sit behind, brushing your lips against his ear as you half-whisper a new command. “I need you to get on bed fully and lay down on your back for me. Can I trust you to behave well and not touch anything you shouldn’t?”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you hear sincerity in his reply, and set his arms free for now. Astarion wastes no time doing what he was asked to. You ditch your shoes and crawl on top of him straddling his waist. He tentatively lifts his forearms from the sheets anticipating you to restrain him again.

“Well, look who’s finally playing along,” you smile, playfully drawing random patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “Being tied up growing on you?”

“It’s you. Surrendering to you like this is growing on me,” his soft breathy confession travels right to your core. You bring his right wrist up to your lips and kiss it gently.

“Oh, I think you will love what I’m about to do next,” you give him a smug look and stretch the arm you were holding towards the upper corner of the mattress. Reaching under the pillows at the headboard you produce a thick leather handcuff connected to the bedframe with a rope. 

Astarion lets you close and secure it around his wrist with an excited sigh. “Gods, you really planned everything out.” 

You throw him another confident smile and repeat the same steps with the other wrist.

There is now a beautifully splayed vampire on your bed and it’s time for the main course. You shuffle back slightly, spread your thighs and press his legs down with your shins making it much harder for him to move his hips. You lower yourself down and start worshipping his exquisite body, letting your hands and mouth freely explore and trace all his lines and curves. Broad chest and shoulders, sensitive neck and nipples, firm abs, narrow hips – no part is left without your thorough attention. You deeply enjoy discovering every possible reaction he can give you while you caress and scratch, kiss and nibble, lick and breathe down his flawless ivory skin.

His hitched breaths and hisses gradually evolve into soft quiet moans the longer it continues and further down you go. When your arms and hot tongue leisurely reach his hips, your hair and the collar of the shirt start lightly brushing against his aching neglected erection. He can't stay more or less composed anymore.

"P-please, love," his urgent plea makes you raise your head and catch his longing gaze, pupils blown wide.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, waiting for more elaborate begging.

Astarion doesn’t wait for you to nudge him further. “Please, I need you. Your hands, your mouth, anything...”

"Like this?" You position your tongue at the base of his hard girthy cock and glide it up, savouring his taste, feeling it twitch against your touch. You pay extra attention to the pale pink tip, suckling on it gently and cupping his balls with your hand.

"Mhmm... yes, please… more," his purring approval reaches your ears, and you dive down on his length, taking in as much as you can on the first go before sliding back up and releasing him with a little pop. Astarion is quickly becoming a writhing mess as you repeat the pattern a few more times.

Your movements are slow and deliberate as you alternate between hand strokes, sucking or just teasingly kissing all around his delicious cock and balls. You are not being consistent with your pace or type of stimulation on purpose, attempting to drag out his pleasure as long as possible. It only works somewhat effectively as he is obviously on a steady ascend towards his climax no matter how chaotic you are in toying with him. There is just too much pent-up energy aching to burst out.

His head is slowly tilting back, erection almost rock-hard, and erratic exhales start breaking into moans. This is your cue. The perfect timing. You drop everything you were doing at once and pull yourself up into sitting between his legs, watching him break apart groaning and throwing his hips up in the air, finding nothing to help him finish. He was oh so close and you just denied him the much-awaited moment of bliss.

“Why must you be so cruel?” He loudly whimpers, shutting his eyes and rubbing his feet against the sheets in frustration.

“Cruel, my dear?” You climb over him and slide off the bed to pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher. “I’m merely serving a fantasy. You know the words if it’s getting too...”

“No!” He interrupts and his wide red eyes meet yours. He adds a much softer, “please continue.”

You take a few sips of water and rest the glass back on a bedside table, inspecting the toys on display. You go for a small bottle of thick lube, a girthy glass butt plug and a strapless strap-on.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? As I recall…”

You theatrically clear your throat to proceed with your best “Astarion” impression as you climb back on a bed armed with new tools to ruin him.

“I want you to torture me with pleasure, darling! Tease and edge me to your heart’s delight. Make me go feral for the sweetest release by the end of it…”

You prop one of the pillows under his ass for extra comfort and position yourself in between his slender legs. Then you gently tap him to spread wide open, knees bent high in the air. You generously coat your fingers in lube and start teasing his entrance and continue quoting him almost word for word.

“I know it may not be easy to achieve, unless you are, well, a seasoned professional like me,” you pause to imitate his high-pitched giggle. “But please make your best attempt.”

Astarion is taken aback by the sheer audacity of you mocking him like that, and can only watch your performance with his jaw open. You bend over and place the weight of your body on his chest getting your lips closer to whisper in his ear:

“…or something like that.” 

Your index finger effortlessly slips inside, earning you his sweet gasp.

There is no rush as you slowly curl your digit inside him, kissing his neck and playfully nibbling on his earlobe. Soon enough, second finger joins the first and you feel Astarion’s calves brushing against your backside as he relaxes into the feeling of being stretched out. You raise yourself on one elbow to find his lips and start kissing tenderly, noses brushing together. You are eager to share just how much you’re pleased with him without any words.

He hums sweetly and wraps his legs around your waist when you carefully add a third finger in and push a little deeper inside. His cock is leaking precum on his abs, twitching against your lower belly.

“I’m so ready for you,” he rasps quietly, and you feel a rush of wetness, igniting your desire to give him everything you can. What did you do to deserve this world-endingly beautiful man melting under you like this?

You raise up and slide your fingers out carefully. While giving his shaft lazy pumps with one hand, you are fitting in the strap-on with the other. Even though a strapless variety is harder to keep in place, you appreciate extra feedback and pleasure it can provide. One more coat of lube for good measure and you are ready to invade his body again.

Taking it very slowly you line up the tip of your strap with his hole and dive in inch by inch, sending shivers up his spine. You give him a couple of seconds to adjust and then push under his knees encouraging Astarion to practically fold in half as you choose your preferred angle. Time to clench your pussy and get to work.

You are rolling your hips in rhythmic deep thrusts and manage to snake one hand in between your bodies to stroke him as well. The end of the strap within rubs deliciously against your tense walls. Sweet praises leave your lips as you fuck him gently.

“Such a good boy, taking me so well.”

“You look breathtaking just like this.”

“I love making you feel good.”

Doesn’t take too long until Astarion is reduced to sweat and loud whimpers, eyes shut and completely lost in his own world of rapture. He is about to fall over the edge at any second, arms grasping at the ropes that hold him in place, legs wrapped around your waist. You are not too far behind yourself and it's extremely tempting to just keep on going until it shatters you both into pieces.

You listen closely to his telltale signs not to miss the right moment. And then you pull out and break away from him. Again. This time he almost flies off the sheets after you. The whole bed frame shakes at his attempt to escape his restraints and chase you.

“Feeling feral enough, darling?” You pant heavily and toss aside the strap, brushing away strands of hair stuck to your face. A growl and flash of fangs is all you get as a reply.

“Shhh.. shh.. I just want to feel you inside me as you come undone.” 

It almost feels like you are approaching an injured tiger as you try to get through to whatever humanity is still lingering in his brain.

“Allow me?” You show him the glass plug and he stills just enough for you to glide it inside, giving him at least some feeling of fullness back.

“Last thing I’m going to ask you to do…” You reach to free Astarion from leather cuffs while he practically burns holes in your face with a smoldering stare. “...is to fuck me however you want.”

You free up his right arm and he grabs your shoulder immediately, scrunching his own shirt roughly. Before you can even process what happened, you are pinned down on your back and have to somehow reach your arms from under him to get his other wrist. He is pushing your thighs apart urgently, lining himself as your fingers clumsily fiddle with the buckle on the other cuff.

Astarion shakes the damned thing off and holds you down in a squeezing embrace as he drives himself into your dripping wet pussy with a single powerful thrust, burying himself up to the very hilt. That hip-slapping entrance makes you see sparks and hold on to his back for dear life. Right away he sets a fast and punishing pace that makes the corners of your eyes water from intensity. His head drops to nuzzle your neck and send hot shaky breaths into your bare skin.

There is no holding back. Nothing, but pure animalistic lust as he rails you with vengeance. The sensation of being fucked helplessly like this is overwhelming and you feel him all over your sensitive spots, stretching you deep and to absolute capacity. Your legs start trembling and you are digging nails into his scarred back as he bites down on the curve where your neck meets the shoulder. And this mutual exchange of piercing pain is all it takes to finally finish you both.

You’ve never felt or heard either you or Astarion come so violently until tonight. Waves of orgasm hit you both like a screaming tsunami. If his undead vampire heart was still beating it would surely leap out of his chest right there and then, as he was spilling everything you made him hold back inside you, arms gripping even harder, fangs sinking deeply.

For a few moments it seems like you have merged into a single entity – one body and soul in a state of absolute incomprehensible mess, riding high on your climactic waves. When it’s over, you both are slowly coming back to your senses. Astarion carefully retracts his sharp canines from the wounds that guarantee to leave bruises and starts gulping your blood. His grip also softens, and you both enjoy the intimate closeness of him feeding on you for a bit, steadying your breaths. He laps and licks your puncture wounds, drawing just enough blood to make you feel a little dizzy, while satisfying his own urge to taste you.

“You alright, my love?” He is the first to check in, searching your eyes with a smidge of worry as he realises he may have been a little too wild, even by his own unhinged standards.

“I am great. This was incredible,” you manage a tired but happy smile and lazily run your fingers through his unruly curls while he pulls out of you, gets rid of the plug and tosses all the toys back on the bedside table. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not even sure how to put it all into words yet. It was liberating? Intense? Ecstatic? Certainly fun! I’ve never experienced anything like this before. You were amazing, thank you“ Astarion melts your soul with the softness of his gaze. A little pause and then it turns a little naughty. “And I will be asking for more. Although, we have to do something about your cute obsession with stealing my things before it gets out of hand.” He slightly tugs on the collar of his shirt you were wearing this whole time and smirks. You chuckle at his glowing review and pepper his face with small kisses.

Next few minutes are spent side by side cuddling, joking and whispering sweet nothings to each other, refusing to let go just yet.

“Darling, just how many lovers did you have to go through to get this good?”

“Not as many as you had to. I’m a natural, you see.”

“Oh, are you now?”

He purrs the question in your ear and playfully rolls on top, caging you with his limbs only to freeze a mere inch away from your lips, his face looking like he just remembered something mildly concerning. 

“Where is His Majesty?”

“Oh shit, I locked him in the kitchen to spare us his judging gaze.”

“You did what?!”

“Hold on, I’ll let him out.”

You almost jump out of his embrace and quickly disappear to free the forgotten cat. A few loud disapproving hisses later that smug hairless bastard enters the bedroom like he owns the place, you are merely trailing behind. His Majesty gracefully leaps on a bed wasting no time to curl up next to his favourite elf. Astarion may be the only person in the entire Faerun, you are convinced, who somehow found a way to tame that ball of absolute feline sass.

“Natural, she says. Can you believe that woman?” He coos and kisses the cat's forehead.

His Majesty throws you one last glance before melting into Astarion’s hands as you crawl back under the blanket. You can’t help but adore these two cuddling in the most sickeningly sweet way possible. Even when these brats are seemingly plotting against you. 

The last candles are blown out and the sunrise is fast approaching as all three of you settle to rest in one pile of blissful comfort, saving any worries, big or small, for later.