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star-sim · 9 days ago

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show me how ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: jake didn't think his casual crush on you, his hot coworker at the local ice cream parlor, would flourish into anything. but one day, after a power outage during a shift, the two of you are forced to huddle up together to keep warm, opening up many, many, many doors into your relationship. ice cream was sweet and soft. and despite your appearance, so were you. ☆ genre: coworkers to lovers, fluff, a lot of bickering, alternative! reader, jake is kind of a loser, rock references, nonchalant crushes, summer romance, baddie reader, JAKE IS JUST REALLY DOWN BAD ☆ warning(s)? slightly suggestive? just tbh its js jake being really attracted to you LOL ☆ word count: 12.3k ☆ joining @bywons 1k event for "show me how" by men i trust. i had a little bit of a different approach to crushes this time. this is extremely late im so sorry enjoy!

"Can I get uhhhhh…"

Jake deadpanned for the 15th time in the past hour.

He was trying to be kind, to be understanding, to be loving in all ways possible… He really was.

But was it that difficult to order a mint chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles?!

Jake watched as the snotty child before him picked his nose, his eyes glazing over the menu. It’s been ten minutes and this kid was taking too long to order. For fuck’s sake, he was holding up the line!

For his summer job, Jake started working at the ice cream parlor near the pier. He thought it was a good idea, since the pay was above minimum wage and he liked ice cream.

Wrong!

It was horrible!

From rude customers to his asshole of a boss to his incompetent coworkers, Jake dreaded coming into work everyday.

It was another summer afternoon, where Jake slaved away for his corporate overlords. Summer was only kicking off, so the June gloom stuck like glue. This morning, there were already storm warnings, so imagine Jake's surprise when a whole bunch of people went to the beach today and the ice cream parlor next to it.

"Please take your time," Jake said with a tight-lipped smile. Translation: I’ve given you enough time, kid. Hurry up and order or I’ll actually snap.

The kid blinked at Jake, before picking his nose. "Can I get uhhhh…"

Jake winced, but forced a smile with a nod. "Would you like any recommendations?"

Translation: You better tip me, you little punk.

By now, he could see the angry mothers and kids at the back of the line, quietly complaining about the hold-up. All Jake could do was smile apologetically, hanging his head in embarrassment.

And to Jake's horror, as the snotty little kid was still deciding on what he wanted to order, Jake could hear the back door creaking open, followed by a "Bye, Jake!" before it slammed.

Did Jake ever say that he hated his coworkers?

Today wasn't even Jake's shift, but he had to cover three shifts, because his other coworkers couldn't give a damn. They loved to leave early because they knew that Jake would work his ass off either way. So here he was, now forced to run an entire ice cream parlor with already angry customers all by himself!

"Actually, I don't want anything," the snotty kid blinked at Jake. "Bye, mister."

With that, the kid left, oblivious to Jake's gawking face.

You've got to be kidding me.

If it weren't for the fact that his name tag had his name printed in big, thick letters and that there was already a line of impatient customers, Jake might have yelled.

As he put on his customer-service voice for the next customer in line, Jake could hear the back door creak open again if he listened past the generic pop music playing in the background.

And the moment that he heard a familiar voice, Jake nearly ascended into the sky.

"Jake, I'm here!"

There was only one part of working at this dinky little ice cream parlor that Jake liked.

And it was you.

His savior, you.

You were the only coworker that actually did your work. In fact, you went above and beyond. The only shifts that seemed to be productive on all ends were when it was you and Jake.

If he could recall correctly, today wasn't your scheduled shift either. You were probably covering someone's shift like him, too.

And plus, you were cute.

Really cute.

Jake never really thought he had a "type" when it came to girls. In fact, Jake couldn't even remember the last time he had a crush. But the moment he saw your smudged eyeliner, constant annoyed look, the multiple tassel and charm bracelets on your wrists, and your black nail polish, he knew that you were his type.

You looked like you could probably scare a baby with a single look. Honestly, you could make Jake piss himself with a single look, too. And for some reason, he liked it. A lot. Which was weird.

Within seconds of just arriving, you were already throwing on your apron, fixing up your work uniform before appearing at the counter, ready to do your fucking job.

Jake tried his best to focus on the group of middle schoolers who giggled over every word as they ordered their ice cream, but even from behind him, he could hear you cleaning one of the scoopers and getting the keys for the second cash register. Even though all you were doing was your job, Jake couldn't help but straighten up his posture and run a hand through his hair as you took the register beside him. Just in case you spared him a glance, he had to look his best.

"Hi, what can I get you?" you said chirpily, putting on your best customer-service voice, something that Jake could tell was not your forte. Although he didn't know you seriously, he's had conversations in passing with you, whether it be on slow days, during breaks, or as the two of you closed up the parlor together. You never sounded as enthusiastic as you did now, as you happily helped an old lady pick her order.

You were cool like that.

Actually, really cool.

Jake couldn't think of anyone cooler than you.

And you were pretty, and hardworking, and honest, and responsible, and cooperative, and a little bit scary, but that was hot. You were also very kind to customers, and even though Jake could see your lips— which were nice, by the way— twitch, he could tell that you were trying your best, which was good, and—

"Um, sir, can I order now?"

Jake snapped out of his daze, tearing his eyes away from you.

"R-Right!"

Completely missing the way you rolled your eyes at him, though without a little chuckle.

It wasn't always easy being the only competent worker at the parlor. While it meant you got paid more for covering so many shifts, you couldn't say it was fun working the late shifts.

The parlor closed at 11PM on weekdays, so here you were, working late into the night.

You yawned as you rang up the last customer of the night, using all of your last bits of strength to muster a smile, before saying, "Have a good night!"

As the door slammed shut, the building winds outside providing more than enough force to ring through the entire parlor, you let out a sigh.

"They're gone, Jake," you called.

From inside the break room, you could hear Jake groan something muffled but definitely, "Finally."

Jake Sim was the only coworker you could rely on. He was the only person your age, both of you were freshly graduated highschoolers working to prepare for college experiences. Despite his party-boy look, he was surprisingly diligent. You definitely noticed how he ended up picking up another person's shift, just like you. Unlike everyone else, he actually gave a damn, which you could appreciate.

Tonight was no different from any other.

It was just Jake and you, working the closing shift together.

The moment you entered the break room, you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning on the door frame. Jake, too, was slumped over on the table, his face buried in his arms.

Your shitty coworkers always tried to convince you that you should be happy to work extra shifts: extra pay, more work experience, have a good rep with the boss.

But what they didn't mention was how absolutely draining it was to work 7 hours straight in a short-staffed busy ice cream parlor.

"Why were there so many people?" Jake groaned, shoving his face deeper into his arms. If you weren't exhausted out of your mind, you would've thought the scene before you was a funny sight. Jake, in his silly white uniform designed to look like that of a sailor's and crooked worker hat, practically melting on the break room table.

"And why were there only two of us?" you added, letting your eyelids fall shut as you leaned against the door frame.

Though, you would say, you did like working for one extra reason: Jake Sim himself.

He was as cute as a button, and pretty easy to talk to.

Jake lifted his head, quickly checking his phone.

"No seriously," he rested his face on his fist. "It was cold and dreary all day— and wasn't there a storm warning?— Why would anyone want to get ice cream on a day like this?"

You shrugged. "Beats me."

The two of you stayed in the break room in silence for a few more moments, catching your breaths after a long day. "Let's get outta here, Jake."

Here was your favorite part of the work day: closing up. Not just because it meant that you got to leave, but you could do whatever you wanted.

Jake locked up the front door and flipped the sign, while you locked up front displays and cash registers. The two of you tidied up the breakroom (which was empty because your slobs of coworkers weren't here), before pulling out the mops and cleaning up the floor.

This was the fun part.

"Hey!" Jake cried as you splashed water onto the floor, your wet mop sludging up the water as it moved against the checkered floor. Looks like some of the water got onto his pants. "What was that for?"

You shrugged, with a sly grin. "No reason in particular— Hey!"

Jake shook off the excess water on his mop, pointed directly at you, the water droplets spraying all over your shirt.

"See?" he pointed to the wet drops on your shirt. "We're even now."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was being playful.

It was fun now because this was the time that you could play whatever music you wanted. Your manager always insisted that you'd play generic pop music during store hours, but now that it was closed, you could play any music you wanted. And it was great, because you and Jake had the same music taste.

"Really?" you whipped your head over to Jake as he passed your phone, which controlled the sound system, back to you. "Bon Jovi?"

You winced as loud vocals, strong guitar riffs, and a drum louder than you could imagine blasted through the speakers.

"Bon Jovi is good!" Jake shouted all the way from the freezers.

Maybe your taste was just a little bit different.

Jake was a cool guy. He really was. Very personable and someone that you could have fun with, even if you weren't that close to him. But sometimes his music choices were too much.

"You have no reason to be blasting hard rock at 11PM," you murmured.

"I heard that!"

You stifled a chuckle.

As you cleaned the floors, you nodded your head to the music. You could hear humming along wherever he was. It was all quiet, only the sound of mops, the freezers' buzzing, and your queued music playing in the background. It was small moments like his that made you want to keep working (other than the pay).

And plus, the parlor was very close to the beach.

At times like this, you could hear seagulls squawking overhead, with waves crashing against the shoreline.

Which... now that you thought about it...

Why couldn't you hear any of that?

Usually, even if Jake was blasting the hardest rock, you could still hear the sounds of the sea.

But now, all you heard was wind.

You glanced out the window.

Palm trees blew against the night sky. Wind whirled, creating a howling sound.

And before you could think anything of it, you heard two things: the back door slamming, and the sound of electricity buzzing.

One moment you could see everything, and the next moment it was completely dark.

Your blood ran cold.

The music stopped. The buzzing of the freezers stopped, too. It was completely dark, so dark that you couldn't even see your own hands, save for the single stream of moonlight leaking through the front windows.

You would consider yourself a calm person, you really would.

But in that moment, you felt panic set in.

Because here you were, working a late shift in a tiny little ice cream parlor in the middle of the beach, with no one but your teenage coworker. And now all the power went out.

And because you were afraid of the dark.

The mop in your hand dropped, clunking! against the checkered flooring.

Your heart pounded, so loud that you could hear it in your ears. You could feel it jumping out of your chest.

"J-Jake?" you called out.

No response.

Your mind did wonders to scare you, and now it was working over time.

What happened to Jake? Did he disappear with the lights too? You dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Were you all alone in the dark? Just you and this dark abyss, a dark abyss so suffocating yet so cold that you couldn't even tell if you were standing or curled up. By this time, your legs were feeling weak, so you wouldn't be surprised if you were on the floor, your knees to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

The howling of the wind sent chills down your spine. Realistically, nothing could get you. You were just at work, like always, but it was just dark. But you felt like something would jump out at you, something scary and from your worst nightmares. It would get you, maybe hurt you. Were you going to die? Why did you feel so alone? What happened to everyone? What happened to Jake—

"[Name]?"

At the sound of a familiar voice, your eyes shot open.

But instead of being met with a pure, unknown darkness, you were met with a tall figure before you, completely shrouded in darkness, save for the stream of yellow light coming to illuminate its face.

Terrifying.

You let out a shriek as you jumped back.

What the hell was that? Was that what got Jake?—

It took a step forward, and before you could scream again—

"[Name]!" it was Jake's voice. He reached out for you, his hand resting on your shoulder. "It's me, Jake!"

You heard a bit of clicking, and it was then that you realized that the scary figure that you saw was just Jake with a flashlight. You relaxed.

"You okay?" Jake crouched down to your curled up figure, the yellow light of the flashlight glimmering against the floor. Although your eyes had slightly adjusted to the darkness, you could see your hands now. "I think the power went out."

You nodded slowly, still with your knees against your chest. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You felt Jake's hand reach out for yours, interlocking fingers before giving it a squeeze.

Boom!

You jumped away from Jake, a small "eep!" escaping your lips.

Jake flinched, pointing the flashlight at the front windows.

"Thunder," he muttered under his breath. Although all the streetlights and signs had shut down too, he could see the lightning as it struck in the night sky.

He glanced at your startled form.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "There was a storm warning earlier."

You hid your face in your palms.

This was everything that you didn't want to happen.

It was completely dark, and here you were practically trapped inside. It was impossible to get home, because the roads were all dark, and there was probably an oncoming storm, too. It was cold, and it was just you and your coworker. You just wanted to go home!

Although he couldn't see your face, Jake could sense your uneasiness.

"C'mon," he tugged at your hand. "Let's go to the back."

Although Jake bumped into a few tables and counters on the way to the break room, he didn't mind. After all, there was you, who was clearly startled. He'd rather get a bruise on his hip than you.

He could hear your breath hitching, small whimpers of fear tumbling out as he led you through the dark abyss. Jake had to admit, it was much scarier when it was completely dark than when it wasn't.

The breakroom wasn't much better than in the middle of the floor, but at least there were chairs. Not that it mattered.

You and Jake decided to sit under the break table, shoulder to shoulder with the flashlight between you.

It was silent. You couldn't see Jake, but the feeling of him next to you relieved only some of your anxiety.

The flashlight only illuminated enough for you to see a few feet around you. Otherwise, everything else was a dark, bottomless void.

You knew it was illogical and practically impossible for something else to be lurking. But as minutes passed in silence, the thought of something—or someone— prowling in the dark and ready to jump out at you gnawed at you more and more. Goosebumps rose along your arms, the hair on your neck standing.

"I'm scared, Jake," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I'm so scared."

Thunder boomed in the air, lightning crackled, while heavy rain began to shower down. You jumped at the sound, your hands immediately shooting to grab Jake's arm and leaning into his touch. You squeezed your eyes shut, a scared squeak escaping your lips.

"I'm scared!" you squealed.

Jake's brows furrowed, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," he said into your ear, watching as you curled up against him, clutching his arm tight. "Hey, I got you."

Your hold on him only tightened as another round of thunder boomed through the night. "Open your eyes, [Name]. It's okay."

You shook your head profusely, your face pressed into his shoulder.

"Nothing's gonna get ya," he whispered, slowly rubbing circles on your back. "You're okay."

You shook your head again.

"It's so dark," you peeped. "Too dark."

"It's okay," Jake's voice was soft, soft as a cloud as he comforted you. "I'm here. I got you."

You nodded into his shoulder, but you kept your face pressed against it, not letting up.

Jake watched you, both with a soft heart and with wide eyes.

He wouldn't say he knew you too well. Even so, he'd spent a lot of time with you this summer so far, he had a few good memories with you. You were always so... cool.

Always on-task, always ready to fight a rude customer, always ready to speak up if you thought something was wrong.

It was weird. Seeing someone that Jake had always seen as a pillar of support one way or another completely drop that image of strength was… something that he never expected.

Here you were, so vulnerable in his arms.

Jake would have never expected you to be afraid of the dark, let alone some thunder, but he didn't mind. Even with your eyes closed, and even with his arms wrapped around you, you still jolted at each crackle in the sky.

If only he could do something to help you...

Jake let out an 'ah' sound.

He leaned into your ear, whispering right against the shell of your ear, "I'll be right back."

You let out another squeak as you felt Jake slipping away from you, yet he didn't take the flashlight with him.

"J-Jake—!"

"I'm still here," he said, yet you heard as he took a few steps. He was rummaging through his bag. He tried his best to feel for what he was looking for: a small, square case. "I'm with you, don't worry."

And as quick as he left your side he was back. Jake slithered his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your eyes widened a fraction as Jake fished for his phone from his back pocket.

"What were you—" you furrowed your brows— "Why’d you get up?"

You could feel Jake turn his head to look at you, and you could hear him grin.

"To get this." In his palm, Jake revealed a small, square case. His earbuds.

You blinked. "W-Why?"

"Don't worry about it." You watched confused as Jake took his earbuds out, jabbing it into the headphone port of his phone. Then, he handed you both of the ears.

"For you," he said simply.

As you were about to object, lightning striked again in the sky, yet another squeal coming from you.

You took his earbuds, jamming them into your ear.

Jake pressed the first song in his playlist.

And if you weren't scared out of your mind right now, you would have yelled at him.

Because really?

Bon Jovi?

At a time like this?

The music was loud enough that you could be distracted, but quiet enough that you could still hear Jake's voice. And when Jake noticed that you were relaxed enough, he opened his mouth.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to rip out my earbuds the moment you heard Bon Jovi," he said.

You elbowed him, yet you were still clinging onto him for dear life.

"Read the room, man," you muttered. "I'm scared shitless."

Jake laughed, and you rolled your eyes again. "This is the only time that I'll willingly listen to Bon Jovi."

"Hey!" Jake cried. "Bon Jovi is a good band."

You shot him a look. "Play some Pink Floyd, something."

You cursed Jake. Of course he'd let you listen to his music, because he got to control it!

"Nah," Jake said. "Bon Jovi is perfect for rainy nights."

You scoffed. "In what world?"

You could hear him grin again. "In my world."

What a loser.

You could see his phone screen light up, probably texts from his parents, but he ignored it. Jake’s phone was on the floor on the other side of him, the side that you were not on.

“Are you sure you won’t play Pink Floyd?” you asked slowly.

“Nope.”

Extreme times call for extreme measures.

Your arm reached across Jake’s lap, jerking to take his phone.

“Hey!” Jake yelped, squirming away from you in a way that blocked your hand from reaching his phone. “What the hell are you—“

“I’m changing the song!”

The two of you struggled like that for a few more moments, and then the next thing you knew you were on Jake’s lap, your arms pinned above your head.

“Let go of me!” you writhed, the earbuds in your eyes still blasting the hardest rock you’ve ever heard. Although you managed to take Jake’s phone, there wasn’t much you could do if he was pinning your hands above you.

“Then give me my phone back,” Jake ignored your struggling.

“Then change the song!”

“No!”

You huffed, continuing your attempt to wriggle out of Jake’s hold, but alas, he was stronger than you. “How are you so strong—“

Boom! Crackle! Thunder and lightning struck.

“Eep!” Immediately, you collapsed onto Jake’s chest, pressing your face into his shirt. You clung onto him, squeezing your eyes shut. When you could feel his chest rumble with a few chuckles, you punched his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Jake chuckled again, but he only pulled you in closer by the waist, allowing you to cling to him more comfortably.

As the storm raged on, any hope that the power would be back up was lost. Jake's phone still had service, but you could tell he was being polite and not going on his phone to not make you feel alienated. Your phone was somewhere in the front, probably on a counter or something.

"We really shouldn't have agreed to cover shifts today," you murmured, your cheek pressed against Jake's chest.

Jake hummed.

He wanted to get past the way that anytime you spoke to Jake, it was either about music or work. He didn't mind talking about these things with you, but he wished he could say more. He wanted to know what you were thinking, and hear about what you liked and disliked, what silly stories or memories you had to tell him.

He wanted to get to know you.

“What’s your favorite color?”

???

"What?"

Jake blinked. "What's your favorite color?"

You stared at him. "Why?"

He shrugged under you. "I dunno. I just wanted to get to know you better."

"Oh." What a simple reason. It made sense for such a simple question. "I like black."

Jake scoffed. "That's not a color."

"Huh? Then what is it?"

"A shade."

"Says who?"

"Says science!"

And then it was quiet again (at least on Jake's part, you were still listening to his music)

But not quite awkward.

Despite the compromising position that you were in, there wasn't any feeling of embarrassment or discomfort.

That's how Jake would describe how he felt toward you. It was an easy thing. You were cool and pretty, and he liked you. Nothing more, nothing less. No games to play, no extra calculations or hours of planning. He liked you, and he was just going to do what felt right. It was as straightforward as that.

"What are you doing after this summer?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

That's right. You and Jake had never discussed much about your personal lives, like where you went to high school, what your plans were post-high school, etc.

And now that the two of you were alone, in the dark, with virtually nothing to do, it was the perfect time to talk about it.

"I'm going up to Santa Barbara," Jake said coolly. "I'm studying biomed engineering."

"Oooh," you mused. "How exciting."

Jake let out a chuckle. "You don't sound excited."

"I am," you deadpanned, and Jake couldn't hold back a laugh.

"What about you?" Jake asked. "What are you doing?"

Even though it was dark, Jake could hear you frown.

"I'm going to Davis for International Business." You paused. "I don't know."

"Whaddaya mean?"

You shrugged. "I dunno if it's really my passion. I just chose it because—"

You're interrupted by a loud bang! followed by buzzing. You jolted, tensing up in Jake's hold, whose hand shot to the small of your back protectively.

"Eek!" you cried, and the next thing you knew, all the lights were back on.

You and Jake stayed where you were for a few moments, long enough for the freezers in the back to start buzzing again. As if someone just snapped their fingers, everything turned back on. The bright lights hitting your darkness-adjusted eyes made your eyes water.

"Oh," Jake said plainly. "The lights are back on."

"No shit, Sherlock," you muttered, earning a pinch to your side. It was now that you and Jake really realized your current positions: you were on top of him, with your head resting on his shoulders, with his arms wrapped around your waist. And it seemed like the two of you realized this at the same time.

"We should—" Jake averted his gaze from you, finding the floor next to him very interesting.

"Yeah, you're right, we should—" you slowly pulled away from him, grimacing at the feeling of Jake's arms slipping away from you.

"Yup, and—" Jake trailed off, not fully completing his thought.

Awkward.

The two of you were back on your feet in no time, both with slightly-disheveled work uniforms, but hey, it was to be expected.

Together, the two of you inspected the parlor. Just in case something slipped in while it was dark (even though that was virtually impossible).

Everything was exactly as you left it.

The mop that you dropped on the floor, your phone on the counter, the keys to the freezer that Jake threw by accident, even the messy chairs.

"Are you scared right now?" Jake asked with a chuckle as you stayed close behind him, your fingers clutching his broad shoulders. From time to time you'd peek around him, but for the most part, you stared straight at his back, unwilling to look ahead. Just in case a monster jumped out!

"I'm not." Lie.

Jake laughed, but before he could poke fun at you more—

Boom!

Oh right, the storm.

Like a cat, you jumped almost immediately, gripping Jake's shoulders for dear life.

Jake peeked out the windows. The streetlamps and signs were illuminated again.

"Looks like all the lights are back up," he said. He glanced over his shoulder to you, who clung to him. "I think we can go home now. The storm's dying down already."

You nodded, and the two of you finished closing up in silence, before preparing to leave.

"Do you have a ride?" Jake asked you as the two of you packed up your things.

Shit.

"My mom was going to pick me up because she didn't want me driving late at night," you groaned. "I'll call her right no—"

"No," Jake shook his head, reaching inside his pocket. You watched as he really shoved his hands in there, like he was searching for something. At last, after digging through his pockets for what felt like hours, he pulled out a bunch of keys, with a tiny lego keychain dangling off of it. "I'll drive you home."

After that day, you weren't called into work again for a few days. In those few days, for some weird reason, you couldn't get Jake off your mind. Which you thought was weird.

You never really thought about Jake aside from work. And it wasn't even the fact that you were thinking about him! It was the fact that you felt weird for feeling weird about thinking about him. If that even made sense.

He's always been cute. Gentlemanly, too.

When he drove you home the other day, he insisted that you didn't need to pay him back for driving you home. In fact, he said that he'd rather use more gas than have you wait alone at the parlor to be picked up. He opened and closed the door for you, showed you how to control the heaters so that you could be warm, and even let you play your music!

He was reliable too, someone that you knew you could count on. And he was very kind, because no matter how many rude customers there were, he understood that everyone was human and served them with a smile. Unlike you, who always exercised that "we reserve to deny you service" right.

These were all things that you knew. It was no surprise. You knew these things.

But after that day, you couldn't help but feel like it was... amplified.

Jake was cute, but now he was cuter. Way cuter.

He felt even more gentlemanly and reliable and kind now. Him going out of his way to comfort you, even if it meant that you had to listen to his god-awful music, warmed your heart.

And that was the weird part.

It was just so odd. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And you felt all weird and mushy for thinking about him, which made you feel even weirder!

You didn't really get it.

Surely, it wasn't a crush.

It wasn't like you were all over the place, distracted and spacy and blushing now that Jake was on your mind. You weren't rolling around and kicking your feet, nor were you giggling.

But you would be lying if you said that the simple thought of his name didn't make you excited.

Meanwhile, Jake knew exactly what was happening to him.

And it was that his crush on you definitely deepened tenfold.

In the moment, when he was with you, whether it be the other day or any other day at all, he was always nonchalant. It was a casual crush, he'd say. Everything was straightforward with no games to play.

But that was a lie.

Because here he was, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling. He hugged his pillow, embarrassingly pretending that it was you. He felt like a weirdo, but he couldn't get the feeling of you clinging to him and in his arms out of his head!

Just the mere thought of that night made him have to roll around and giggle for a few moments.

Jake sucked in the scent of his pillows. Unfortunately, they didn't smell like you, just like laundry with a faint scent of his own cologne.

You were so pretty, and cool, and kind, and smart, and practical, and just everything good in the world. And then when you got scared and clung to him, it made his heart flutter, because who knew you could be so cute?

Jake let out a squeal into his pillow, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling.

For the first time ever, Jake actually wanted to go to work. Just to see you.

He couldn't wait for it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," you said for the millionth time today. "We don't have that here—"

Another day at work. Just when the idea of going to work didn't sound too bad, you're reminded why you hate it.

Apparently some kids on TikTok spread a rumor that your parlor had a special, limited-edition, summer unicorn flavor. And even worse, your damn social media manager was hinting at it on Instagram, too.

So here you were now, trying to explain to a hoard of angry customers that this limited-edition unicorn flavor was absolutely false. To think that your own social media manager would betray you and your coworkers like this just to attract more customers... You shouldn't be unsurprised but you were.

Diabolical.

It must've been the 90th time in the past hour that you had to explain that you had no fucking clue what a unicorn flavor would be, and if you weren't a tired and overworked teenager, you would've felt bad when a little girl bursted into tears in the middle of the store.

Cry about it, you thought, and you couldn't tell if that sentiment was towards your angry customers, or if it was towards upper management that were about to get multiple complaints about you.

Breathe, you had to tell yourself. It's not worth it. Where was everyone else anyway? You couldn't believe that you were left completely alone to operate the establishment on your own. And most of your coworkers were older than you anyway. Those bums!

You sucked in another breath, putting on your best smile.

"You're telling me that you don't actually have the limited-edition unicorn flavor?!" an angry father crossed his arms, upset with his children cowering beside him.

"No, sir," you said as politely as you could. "That was just a rumor. My apologies for the inconven—"

"Unacceptable!"

You winced, feeling your ears warm up. If everyone in the parlor wasn't already watching you like a hawk, all eyes were now on you.

"I had to drive two hours here," the father slammed his hand on the counter, leaning in so close that you could smell him. "I drove two hours here for unicorn ice cream and you're telling me that it was all a lie?!"

All of this.... for ice cream?"

"I apologize, sir," you hung your head low to appear genuine, clasping your hands together. "That must have been a long ride and—"

"Shut up and give me my ice cream, you bi—" Your eyes widened a fraction as you saw a big palm swinging your way... Was he about to slap you? In the milliseconds that you could even react, you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the stinging feeling of a hand against your cheek.

But instead, you felt nothing, only the sound of a few gasps and light chuckling.

"Hey, there, sir," you heard Jake's voice as you peeled your eyes open.

Jake was beside you, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist that was mere inches away from your face.

"J-Jake?!"

The man struggled in Jake's grip, attempting (and failing horribly) to pull his wrist out of Jake's hand.

"Let go of me, boy!" he yelled. Everyone's eyes were on the scene now. How embarrassing.

Jake narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip.

"Here at Layla's Ice Cream Parlor, we reserve the right to deny any patron service," he said plainly.

The man scoffed. "And are you about to deny me service? What are you, the manager?"

Jake only shook his head calmly.

"You were about to assault my coworker here," he motioned toward you, then to the man's still-raised hand. "I don't need to be any manager to realize that someone of that sort has no business here."

Jake shot him a smile, before roughly letting go of his wrist, letting it fall to the counter.

"Please leave, sir."

He glanced around the room, noticing the way everyone stared at him. Another tight-lipped smile spread on his face.

"There are no limited-edition summer flavors, so if that is what you are here for, I apologize for the disappointment. " Jake glanced at you. "Please help yourself to the flavors that we actually have."

With that, Jake took you by the wrist, pulling you into the breakroom.

"W-Wait Jake—!" you tried to pull out of his grasp. "There's still customers out there."

He gently pushed you down onto a chair.

Jake crouched down at your sitting figure, putting his hands on your knees. He squeezed them playfully. "You've done enough today. I'll handle the rest."

"But— But there's a lot of people today," you reasoned, placing your hands on his. "You can't run the entire place on your own...!"

But before the last syllables could even leave your lips, Jake was already retying his apron, fixing his dumb uniform hat. Before he slinked away through the door, he glanced over his shoulder, gripping the door frame.

"I'll prove you wrong," he said with a grin. "Just watch."

(You were right, he was wrong. Not even the most exemplary worker like Jake could handle an entire exuberant ice cream parlor by himself. The moment you saw his tired eyes you were already throwing on your apron. Though, you got a good laugh out of it afterwards.)

You deadpanned.

This was not what you signed up for.

It was Saturday, the day that you swore was your break day from work. And then all of a sudden you got an urgent call from your manager and you rushed to work immediately.

You thought that the parlor got robbed, or maybe something broke down.

Nope.

"You want me..." you blinked, "To wear that?!"

Lo and behold, before you was a comically large ice cream costume, with a brown waffled body for the cone and the most obnoxious white swirl reaching high in the ceiling, with only a circular cut-out to see your face.

Apparently, sales were dwindling, so your managers decided to try out some new advertising.

You were going to wear that godforsaken ice cream costume and hang outside the parlor to attract customers.

"Kid-friendly language only," your manager instructed you matter-of-factly. "No swearing, no saying mean words."

You tuned him out.

And if the walk of shame out of the bathroom in your ice cream costume wasn't bad enough, you were hit with the last thing you wanted to see: Jake Sim.

You were about to jump and shriek and let the ground open up and devour you whole... when you realized that he was wearing an ice cream costume too...!

"You too?!" you cried. Behold, in front of you stood your favorite coworker Jake Sim with an equally deadpan expression, clad in the ridiculous ice cream costume.

"Yup," Jake muttered, popping the p. "I guess we'll never be free."

And he was indeed correct.

There was truly nothing more mortifying than standing outside the damn ice cream parlor, holding an even more obnoxiously bright sign and trying to attract customers... all in your humiliating ice cream costume.

Kids laughed at you from across the street. Cars that passed by you probably did the same. Absolutely demoralizing.

"Come to Layla's Ice Cream Parlor," you said in a monotone voice, trying your very best to not burst into tears of sheer embarrassment. "We have ice cream... and... uh—"

You glanced at Jake, whispering to him, "What else do we have?"

"Ice cream." He said, absolutely no expression in his voice or face. Oh god, we must have lost him too! "Nothing but ice cream."

Poor guy, he looked like he wanted to disappear.

This must have been a punishment, or something. Maybe a humiliation ritual. But after a good ten minutes, you and Jake just decided to commit to the bit. After all, you were getting paid extra for this.

"Ice cream, ice cream!" you and Jake chanted as you paraded around the vicinity of the parlor. After all, there was nothing you could do but make the best of it. You went out of your way to speak to oncoming customers, advertising with the most energy you could. "Come to Layla's Ice Cream!"

But it wasn't always easy.

Like always, customers and children were rude.

"Hello, miss, are you interested in trying some of Layla's yummy yummy ice cre—" and then you got laughed at. Like actually. They just started pointing and laughing at you. Like you were some freak.

And then Jake tried to square up some little kids a few times, it was a mess.

And finally, after what felt like years out there trying to advertise to people, your manager finally called you guys back in. Apparently, you and Jake did such a wonderful job that you guys were needed back at the front. Your coworkers couldn't seem to keep up. Lazy asses.

You and Jake went back inside to change back into your work uniforms— those stupid blue and white sailor uniforms. Except, one of your coworkers was having an "emergency" in the staff bathroom (you were certain it was just Beomgyu sitting on the toilet with his phone and refusing to do his job), so both you and Jake had to change in the staff break room.

At the same time.

"Okay, you will change, and I will cover you—"

"Shut up!" you exclaimed. "Why can't we just change at the same time?"

Jake was being terribly awkward about it.

"B-Because!" he reasoned, unable to hide the way he couldn't look you in the eye. "Because.... you're a girl, and I'm a guy!"

"Aaaaand?" you drew out your syllables, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We can't possibly change in the same room?" Jake cried. "What if— What if I accidentally see your—"

Your cheeks warmed up. What was he on about? "You're not going to!"

Your boss was really annoying about punctuality, so you and Jake should probably change quickly anyway. You ignored Jake's fussing, raising your arms as you began to pull your shirt over your head.

"What are you—"

"Just change!"

In the end, you guys just did the easiest option: turning around so that you faced opposite directions while the other changed... which should have been intuitive for Jake (but he's a little slow).

When you two were both done changing, you turned back around to face Jake, about to let out your grievances about working.

Except, when you saw him, you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Because your work uniform was supposed to resemble that of a sailor, there were a few complex pieces, such as the sailor scarf draped over your shoulders and neck. Usually, you need a mirror to tie it properly. There was also the damn paper sailor hat that you had to wear.

Since you weren't changing in the bathroom, there was no mirror, so poor Jake's hat and tie were sloppily done, crooked on his person.

"Jake," you smiled, motioning for him to come toward you. And when he was close enough, you yanked him even closer to you by his shoulders, causing him to let out a yelp.

"W-What are you doing?" he asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

You giggled again. Your hands began to work on his tie, undoing his sloppy tie and neatly folding it. "Relax, you big baby."

When you were done with his tie, you fixed Jake's hat, oblivious to the way Jake's ears and neck turned a noticeable shade of red.

"There you go," you said with a grin. "All good!"

Jake looked at you with shaky eyes. You were close to him now. Close enough that he could feel your breath fanning his cheeks. Close enough that if he just leaned in a bit more, he could kiss you— Jake jerked himself away from you abruptly. His heart was pounding in his chest at an abnormal rate.

Don't think about kissing her when she's right in front of you! he scolded himself. You gave him a questioning look, before you just grinned again and left the break room.

Ah, Jake was going crazy.

Man, fuck you Beomgyu! you mentally cursed your other coworker. You were absolutely correct; earlier he was indeed hogging the staff bathroom so that he could shirk his responsibilities. According to Jake, Beomgyu did this really often, to the point that the staff bathroom ran out of soap too fast because Beomgyu was busy playing with soap and making dumb ass bubbles in there.

Of all times, it had to be now that the staff bathroom just decided to run out of soap?

It was getting late, so your manager told you to start cleaning. And just as you began, some little unsupervised middle schooler skateboarded right into you, spilling his three scoops of chocolate ice cream with layers of caramel and peanut butter sauce all over your white uniform.

And all you were given were a few measly napkins to wipe but the sticky sweet mess, only after you cleaned up the mess on the floor. Now as you desperately tried to clean the mess off your uniform in the staff bathroom, you were certain that your manager was going to yell at you later.

As you reached for another hand towel from the dispenser, you let out a groan as you realized that there were no more. Seriously, what was Beomgyu doing in here that he just used up all the soap and paper towels?

"[Name]," you heard a knock on the door. It was Jake. "You good in there?"

You groaned again.

"No!" you cried from the other side of the door. You were frustrated, how bothersome! Even if there were more paper towels, there still was a giant brown stain on your shirt. And you'd probably have to get another uniform. "It looks like a shit stain!"

You heard Jake chuckle from the other side of the door, before his footsteps retreated. After a few minutes, Jake came back.

"Can I come in?" he asked, knocking again on the bathroom door.

"Door's unlocked."

Except, instead of seeing Jake in his usual work uniform, he had a big black hoodie thrown over him, probably one that he was wearing before he changed into his uniform earlier. In his hands was a white shirt.

"Wear this," he said as he shoved the white shirt into your hands.

It was his own uniform shirt.

"But—" you tried to reason with him, but he put his hand up, silencing you.

"Can't have you walking around with a shit stain on your shirt," he said with a cheeky grin, earning him a slap on the arm.

"But you'll get in trouble," you breathed. Your manager was really particular about workers wearing uniforms, and for some reason not about workers actually doing their job.

Jake shrugged. "It's about time I did." And flashed you another smile. "And plus, I was going to get in trouble anyway. Apparently, defending my coworker from a rude customer is punishable."

Ah, the unicorn ice cream incident from a few weeks ago.

Was he really that willing to get in trouble for you?

As you closed the door to the bathroom, you could already hear your manager and another coworker making their comments about Jake. Although you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, it must have been the usual remarks about inefficiency. And probably about how he wasn't wearing work-appropriate clothes.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you listened to their muffled voices.

Jake was really getting in trouble all for your sake.

As you buttoned up his white shirt, you noted that it carried the scent of his cologne. It smelled good, and you instinctively brought the sleeve up to your nose to catch a better whiff. But then you felt weird and stopped immediately.

It wasn't fair. Everything about your job.

You and Jake had to do all the work, but even so, the managers were disproportionately harsher with Jake than they were with you. Probably because of some sexist bullshit.

And then there were rude and entitled customers.

Jake was taking the fall for you too much.

And you couldn't keep letting it happen.

As you made your way out of the staff bathroom, you could hear your manager berating Jake, with another coworker joining in.

"And why are you not in our employee dress code?" your manager chided. "This is unacceptable! A hoodie? What do you think will happen to our store's brand?"

Jake just hung his head low, but you could tell he was annoyed more than anything. "It was because [Name]'s shirt got ruined, and she was uncomfortable."

"And what business do you have with [Name]?" your coworker joined in lambasting the poor Jake.

"Look, man," Jake looked up at them. "I was just helpin' her out." Jake paused for a moment. "And plus it's closing hours anyway. It's not like anyone sees me out of uniform."

Your manager and coworker thought for a few moments, before your coworker said, "Well, you're still causing a hindrance for our parlor. I think we will cut you weekly pay—"

His weekly pay? Ridiculous. Your body moved on its own, and before you knew it, you had bursted through the door.

"I-It was my fault!" you blurted, your lips moving faster than you could think. "Jake was just helping me."

You ignored the way Jake looked at you with eyes big as saucers, surprised. You swiped your tongue over your lip. "I-It's really my fault. If there's anyone that should get their weekly pay cut, it should be me."

Jake's face visibly contorted, his brows crashing together. "[Name]—"

"That's enough," your manager finally spoke up. The older man sighed, before checking his wrist watch. "Jake, [Name], just forget about it. Don't make this mistake again. Just close up for the night."

And with that, you and Jake were left alone once more.

"What was that all about?" Jake asked you as the two of you closed up.

"What was what?"

Jake huffed, leaning on the mop. "You know, what happened earlier about uniforms?"

"Oh." You shrugged, not really paying him any mind. "What about it?"

Jake huffed again. "Y'know... Why did you step in?"

You finally looked at him, before blinking a few times. "Isn’t it obvious?"

Jake smiled. "No, that’s why I’m asking you."

You scoffed playfully. "Okay, smartass."

You paused for a few moments. "You’re my friend, Jake. You’ve protected me in the past, so I'm just returning the favor."

"Thank you," Jake replied, unable to hide the smile growing on his face. "That's very kind of you.

You just hummed in response, going back to cleaning up.

Jake teetered on his feet, back and forth, as he played with his fingers. His heart pounding in his chest, Jake chewed on his bottom lip.

He was nervous.

Just this morning, you texted him if he wanted to hang out with you, because as you said, you were bored.

Hanging out? With you? The hottest girl that he's ever seen? There was no way in hell that he'd say no to such a golden opportunity.

You'd told Jake to meet you at the pier, because there was a nice mall area around there. As you relayed in your texts, you were going on vacation in a few weeks, and needed to go shopping for it.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any ulterior motives. You weren't really sure how you felt about Jake. He was cute, and sweet, and you definitely wanted to get to know him better. And there was a part of you that desperately wanted to impress him.

Maybe today could be an opportunity for you.

You checked your reflection in the car window before you got out of your mom's car. Muttering a "bye," you made your way toward where you told Jake to meet you.

It was a sunny day. You chose to wear something breathable, a pretty pink sundress with a cardigan. You didn't dress like this on most days. You liked to opt for dark colors, but today you wanted to be... cute.

Pretty for Jake.

You spotted Jake pretty easily. Not because he had anything that made him physically easy to identify, not at all. It was more like... you simply could just spot him. It was like you had a newfound Jake-radar.

"Hi," you said with a smile. And for some reason, it seemed like Jake was startled, with his eyes widening as he caught sight of you. "Are you okay?"

Jake stared at you for a few moments, and you swore you saw the way his eyes looked you up and down. His lips parted, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he swiped his tongue over his lips.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment. You didn't wear light colors normally, was it obvious that this dress was not something that you usually wear? Did you look strange? Maybe you should've worn your typical black clothing, and—

"N-No," Jake stammered, his eyes still looking you up and down. Truth be told, he had to bite back a "damn." Because yes, damn, you looked hot. "You look— You look nice today."

Your cheeks prickled with warmth. "Oh. Thank you."

"You don't..." Jake continued, as if he was on autopilot. You were beginning to feel really shy when you realized that he was really staring at your chest area. "You don't wear pink often, do you?"

You averted your gaze. "You're right, I don't." How embarrassing! So he notices the things you wear... and he probably 100% knows that you don't wear pink at all. "Does it look weird, or—"

"No!" Jake blurted, before catching himself. He cleared his throat, his ears a warm shade of pink. "Not at all. I really, uh, meant it when I said— When I said you looked nice."

You nodded slowly. Was it normal to feel so warm? Maybe you should check the weather again?

"Really nice," Jake echoed himself. If you weren't busy feeling shy yourself, you would have noticed Jake checking you out for the 50th time already.

You murmured a brief "thanks," before you quickly changed the subject.

"Shall we go?"

It was unusual to feel awkward or shy around Jake, and vice versa. You knew for sure that Jake was a special person, but it never affected you. For Jake, he was determined to be calm and nonchalant when it came to you. And plus, your friendship was always casual anyway.

Which was why all of your shyness dissipated pretty quickly.

You took Jake along to all the spots at the pier's mall area.

"What are you looking for?" Jake asked as he trailed after you. Jake will never understand women. You've been to 4 stores already, and all you've done is touch things and say, 'Oh this is cute.' And then you'd leave.

You shrugged. "Cute things for vacation."

Jake looked around, through the store mirrors as you two traversed the mall area. "Any preferences?"

You shrugged again. "I like dark colors, but I don't mind brighter colors for vacation, yaknow?"

Jake hummed.

The two of you walked around for a little longer until you stopped in front of a store.

"What's this?" Jake asked.

You grinned. "A swimsuit store."

Listen, Jake wouldn't consider himself an easily-excitable guy. He wasn't pervy, either. Especially toward you! He was nonchalant!

But as he entered the girly swimsuit store, he couldn't help but redden at the thought of you in some of these swimsuits. Some of them were provocative and cheeky, making Jake's stomach do flips as his mind crept into places that made it hard for him to make eye contact with you. Other ones were cute and frilly, arguably making Jake's heart pound even faster as he imagined you in them.

"Hey, what do you think about this one?" you asked Jake as you took one of the suits off the rack.

On the inside, Jake was already drooling at the thought. But on the outside he simply nodded, giving a playful smile and a thumbs up. And really, he thought that if he could maintain that attitude for the rest of the time in this swimsuit store, he'd be fine.

But he was wrong.

"Okay, I'm gonna try these on, and I'll have you give me feedback."

What.

What?

And so Jake sat in the couches in front of the changing rooms, simply awaiting his death.

He's not weird, he swears. He doesn't want to be creepy or gross toward you.

But how could he not sweat and basically hyperventilate in these changing rooms when the hottest girl that he's ever seen (you) is about to ask him for his opinion on swimsuits?

Jake was certain that no matter what, you would look hot.

And he was proven correct when you slipped out of the changing rooms.

"Okay, first one," you said, in a voice that was a little too relaxed. You went on your tiptoes, doing a few turns here and there so that Jake could see the full extent of the suit on you. "What do you think?"

And oh.

Good lord.

Jake was really trying his best not to make you uncomfortable.

But there was absolutely no way that he could just sit there and not react. His jaw quite literally dropped the moment he saw you.

The way the suit hugged your body, the way the colors illuminated your skin, the way you were 100% feeling yourself in it— All of it was making Jake 2 seconds away from crashing out.

You must have been a goddess. Or maybe Jake saved a country in his past life.

"It looks— You look— I— You—" he stumbled over his words. There were no words to describe how you looked. You looked downright beautiful. Like, if Jake died now he wouldn't mind. And when you giggled at his reaction, he took a deep breath. Don't be a weirdo! he told himself.

"You look beautiful," he breathed, finally catching himself. His eyes flickered back up to your pretty, pretty face. "You look really beautiful in this one."

"Thank you," you smiled at him. You did another twirl, something that you definitely knew drove him crazy. And if you hadn't noticed him checking you out, Jake was certain that you definitely knew now.

And maybe Jake didn't know enough about women. Because he really believed that that one swimsuit was the only one that you were trying on.

And he was so wrong.

Because there were at least 3 more that you wanted to show him!

Oh, he wasn't going to survive this.

Well, Jake did survive.

After insisting on carrying your shopping bag full of your new swimsuits (Jake didn't dare peek inside because he thought he'd combust), you decided to do some more exploring.

You got some food to munch on, and went to all types of stores. And you took many pictures, too! Pictures together, of you trying on hats and sunglasses. Candid pictures of each other, many of which where you look pretty without even trying and Jake's mind is blown.

More exploring, walking, sitting down, walking, and then sitting for 30 minutes because both of your feet hurt. A lot of laughing, a lot of dumb conversations, and even more laughing.

And before you knew it, it was getting dark out. Suddenly, the sound of the waves crashing filled the air, the cool beach wind blowing against your cheeks.

"Let's go walk along the shore!"

And so you did.

The orange sky was fading into a dark blue, and yet, the sun still shone so brightly as it submerged into the horizon. The water gently rocked against the shoreline, while the scent of sea salt and seaweed filled your senses.

It was a cool evening, and you tugged on the sleeves of your cardigan to warm your cold hands.

By now, the beach was quiet. Many people had already left, as it was slowly becoming nighttime.

In quiet moments like this, you couldn't help but fully conceptualize Jake as a person.

He was a handsome boy your age. He was kind, sweet, responsible, silly, everything great in a person. And he had a similar music taste to you, too. And here he was, walking alongside you as the sun set.

Your eyes fluttered over to him. His eyes were trained on the sand below his feet, appreciating the way the wet granules covered his skin.

He was a straightforward person. Things went from A to B with him easily. No games, nothing to hide. And yet, you felt like there was so much to discover about him. There was an entire world undiscovered in his head. And you wanted to be a part of it.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked suddenly, interrupting the calm silence.

"You."

You?

You could feel your heart picking up speed, but you kept your composure. Meanwhile, you swore your skin was prickling with an uncharacteristic warmth.

"I-I mean—" Jake seemed to snap out of his daze. "I— I was just thinking about you, and work, and summer, and—"

You blinked, but your lips spread into a tight smile. You didn't know why you felt disappointed.

You sucked in a breath. "The water's really nice tonight."

"Mhm," Jake agreed. He wasn't blind. He could see the way your face fell ever so slightly. He could see when you felt flustered or shy because of him.

But what if he was misinterpreting things? What if his eyes were playing tricks on him?

But then you'd look up at him with those shiny eyes, almost like you were begging him to give you his heart.

Just go for it.

His eyes dropped to your hands, which were still tugging on your sleeves to keep warm.

Jake clicked his tongue. Boldly, he grabbed your hands, clasping them in yours.

"Hey!" you cried.

"Geez, your hands are so cold," he murmured, before locking his fingers with one of your hands. As if nothing happened, Jake just continued walking along the shore, this time with your hand in his.

You stared at your interlocked fingers for a few moments, before you swallowed all of your shyness and continued trailing with him.

The two of you returned to walking in silence, nothing but the sound of the water and your breaths filling the air.

Jake wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you, because he really. He always was. And just as he was about to fall back into thought, your hand pulled away from his.

With curious eyes, Jake watched as you silently pulled out a tiny plastic case from your purse.

Your earbuds.

You plugged them into your phone, before jamming one of the buds into your own ear. You looked at Jake expectantly, and he took the second earbud graciously.

You bit back a laugh as you turned on your music.

The second you pressed 'play,' a hardy bass and an unforgettable drumline played into your ears.

"Are you serious?" Jake immediately snapped his head at you. "Fleetwood Mac?!"

You laughed, throwing your head back. "I wasn't about to let you ruin the beach vibe and play Bon Jovi."

"I don't only listen to Bon Jovi—!"

And just as you and Jake were enjoying music, the beach, and most importantly, each other, Jake's phone rang. And of course, his ringtone was a Bon Jovi song.

You gave him a look as his lips spread into a goofy smile.

Not daring to tear out the earbud, he picked up his phone and listened with his other ear.

And even though it was nearly nighttime by now, you could still see how Jake's face morphed.

When he hung up, his face dropped.

"They need me to take someone's shift."

Oh.

This was really, very, genuinely, seriously annoying.

Because unfortunately, the truth was that if they needed Jake to work, then they probably needed you to work too.

Because they always needed you and Jake to work.

And so, here your (not-so official) date was ending.

Apparently, it was extremely urgent, and they insisted on paying Jake extra if he came. Not to worry, because he texted your manager to make sure that you'd get extra pay if you came along, too.

The moment that you stepped into the parlor, you could feel all the joy leaving your body. You swore that Layla’s Ice Cream Parlor had evil spirits in there, designed specifically to simply fill your body with dread.

You put on one of the spare work uniforms that the parlor had in the back. It was a little big, and a little itchy, but whatever.

When Jake got the phone call and explained to you the situation, you were fully expecting a packed parlor, with a line that went out the door and your incompetent coworkers couldn't handle it, or something. But now that you were in the parlor, you realized that that was just a load of bullshit.

"Empty," Jake muttered behind you. "There is absolutely no one here."

You hummed in agreement, equally deadpan.

Those lazy bums.

They just didn't want to work the closing shift. They just didn't want to do the cleaning or locking up. They just wanted you to take their shifts so that they could go home and relax.

And so here you two were, just lazing around in the breakroom, just trying to pass the time. You let your phone play some random playlist.

"I'm sorry," Jake said, with his cheek pressed against the breakroom table. "We were hanging out and I decided to take us to work."

"Nah, you're justified," you said lazily. "They're promising us extra pay, so it's fine."

The room went silent again, but you could tell Jake was thinking something. And indeed, he was.

Jake felt horrible! Although you did agree to come to work with him, he still felt back. Did he just fumble your first (unofficial) date? God, he's so stupid! Now you two were stuck in the worst place on earth.

He stared at your bored expression.

He couldn't let you stay bored.

Without a word, he got up from his seat in the breakroom and disappeared out to the front. You could hear some cluttering and buzzing.

"Close your eyes!" he yelled before he came back to where you were in the breakroom. And you complied.

"What are you doing, Jake?" you asked, but you couldn't help but smile. He was definitely up to some antics.

"Just close your eyes," he instructed you, before sitting down with you at the breakroom table again.

Jake clasped his hands together. "I have three cups of ice cream here. You will close your eyes and guess which one is which."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Jake laughed. "We can't get bored in here."

You chuckled. "Okay, fine."

Jake watched you intently as he spoon-fed you the first spoonful of ice cream.

The first flavor was strawberry, your personal favorite.

Maybe it was getting late, or maybe Jake was just too obsessed with you, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the way your pretty lips opened up for the ice cream. He was simply so mesmerized by the way you licked your lips, relishing in the way the sweet strawberry ice cream melted on your tastebuds.

"This is so obvious," you nudged him, kicking him from under the table. "At least make it hard for me!"

Jake rolled his eyes playfully. "Just guess!"

You huffed, mumbling something about him being stupid under your breath. "Strawberry. Duh."

"Woo hoo!" Jake cheered for you. "It was strawberry!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

The second flavor was ube. Which you guessed almost immediately.

"Next flavor, please," you giggled. "This game is too easy,"

But Jake wasn't listening to you in the slightest.

Just why did you have to start licking the spoon clean? The way your glossy lips wrapped around the spoon, your tongue wrapping around the smooth plastic, and now he was feeling all types of things, and—

"Seriously, make it harder for me!"

Jake gulped.

The last flavor he had was salted caramel. His own personal favorite.

He'd already taken a few bites out of it.

He glanced at your lips, then down at the salted caramel ice cream.

Even under the corporate light of the break room, you still glowed so prettily. And you must have been doing it on purpose, the way you were keeping the spoon in your mouth, with your lips wrapped around it so prettily.

Jake's eyes flickered back to your lips once more, then to the salted caramel ice cream.

His heart was already pounding in his chest. All the blood was rushing to his head and Jake thought that he'd faint.

Your lips were just so damn pretty.

It seemed like something was possessing Jake's body. While his mind was frozen on your lips, his body was moving on its own.

He reached out for you first, his large hand taking solace on your shoulder.

And in one, fluid motion, Jake leaned in, and closed the gap between his lips and yours.

Your lips were soft and sweet, like clouds. Jake's eyes had unconsciously fallen shut, and the moment that he realized that he was kissing you, they shot open. However, just as he was about to pull away, because oh my god he was kissing you, and he didn't even ask!, Jake felt your hand slither up around his neck.

You pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss.

Jake felt dizzy. It was the way your tongue dipped into his mouth when he let out a little gasp. Or maybe it was the way your fingers ran through his hair, almost as if you were desperate to keep his lips on yours. Your everything— your hands, your lips, your scent— they were all driving him insane.

Jake didn't want it to end, and if it weren't for his need for air, he wouldn't have pulled away. Ever.

The two of you sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. Jake's cheeks were red, his pupils blown out with desire. His eyes fell down to your lips.

"Salted caramel," you breathed, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. You squeezed his shoulders. "You taste like salted caramel— kiss me if that's the answer—"

And you didn't need to ask him twice, because Jake was already crashing his lips against yours.

There was something so addictive about your lips. The way you moaned against his lips, the way you clung onto him like you needed him, it was all driving him crazy.

Jake needed more, he needed you.

In his head, it was all just you, you, you.

"I want you so bad," Jake mumbled against your lips. "Please."

He could feel you giggle, but he simply just slides his hand around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved against his in ways that were too perfect to be real. Jake felt like he was in heaven. You were heaven. You were angelic, you were godly, you were—

"Um, excuse me, are you guys still open?"

!!!

You and Jake jumped away from each other.

Shit.

It was still store hours.

"Are we going to get fired?"

Now it was actually closing hours.

You and Jake started cleaning after you were so rudely interrupted, and now it was time to close up.

And it was awkward.

Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. It felt like forever since you shared your kisses with Jake. And now, you craved his lips once more.

But what if it was just on the whim? What if Jake just did it to do it?

You just wanted him so bad. You wanted to kiss him again, you wanted to feel him again.

"For what?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes refusing to meet Jake's.

"Kissing coworkers."

"No!" Jake's cheeks flared up. "Of course not!"

"Then..." your brows furrowed. Your face felt hot to the touch. You felt like you were going to get a heart attack. Seriously, you felt like you were burning up, all the while you felt frozen in time and space. You slowly looked up at Jake. "Then can we... you know... keep doing it?"

"I— I mean, if you don't mind— and if it's not something that we could get fired for—" you stammered— "Then can we... you know— can we keep kissing?"

Jake was already on it.

“Eek, Jake, lock the doors first!”

After a few more weeks of hiding in the storage closet to makeout, and honestly straight up shirking your responsibilities to kiss in the breakroom, you and Jake did the unthinkable.

"We resign!"

Your manager looked at you incredulously. "W-What?"

You and Jake smiled. "We quit."

You've never felt more free. With your boyfriend at your side, it seemed like the summer was endless.

BONUS

"Did I ever tell you that I liked you?" you asked Jake, in his car just moments after you quit your job.

"I don't think you did, babe," Jake laughed.

"Oh."

You should probably put that on your to-do list.

You glanced at your boyfriend. How his lips looked so kissable.

Sigh. You'll tell him what you like later. It's time to kiss!

note: please reblog n comment if you enjoyed! xoxo vanya >_<

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teaandspite · 5 months ago

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The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

#the diss list #book review #goodreads #tumblrarians #literary criticism #library #bargepole

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vivwritesfics · 8 months ago

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Hand Print

Carlos has these big strong sexy hands. He uses them to grip her ass in sex, leaves a hand print seen by Lando at the beach.

Warnings: smut, P in V, biting, marking

@biancathecool had the idea, I brought it to life lmaoooo

It made so much sense that he was strong enough for this, now. With all of the cycling he did, Carlos had been in the gym, working out his arms. Keeping his proportions the same.

She loved it. Loved the way it felt to have his strong arms wrapped around her. It was a turn on, actually. Cuddling with Carlos never lasted long when she could feel his muscles against her.

Fuck, she just wanted to bite him. Bite his strong, tanned arms. The joys of having an athlete boyfriend.

Where she liked biting her boyfriend, leaving gentle, consensual bite marks on his skin, Carlos liked to hold her ass.

Well, not just hold. His grip on her, on her hips, thighs, anywhere he could get a hold of. The way his tight grip left her skin with delightful bruises was just the cherry on top.

This time around, Carlos held her ass. He gripped the flesh as she rode him, her moans filling the room. "Fuck," he grunted and squeezed tighter, matching the way she was squeezing him, cunt gripping his cock.

It wasn't often their time away coincided with Lando, Carlos's best friend on the grid. They knew they were supposed to be going to the private beach with Lando and his new girlfriend, but the minute she put on that bikini, he had to have her.

And the feeling of her cumming around his cock was so fucking worth it. Even if she had to take a few extra minutes to fix her hair and makeup before they headed to the beach.

She didn't notice the handprint Carlos had left behind as she pulled her new bikini bottoms over her ass. Carlos just caught a glimpse of it as she pulled her beach skirt over the top. Damn, she was so fucking delectable.

Carlos held her as they made their way down to the beach. His big strong arms around her as he carried their things in his other hand. There was, quite literally, nothing better.

"Bit fucking late!" Lando called as they walked over.

Carlos sat their stuff down with a grin. "Got a bit... distracted," he said as she laid out the blanket. He watched as Lando rolled his eyes and she hit his chest.

The beach day started off normal. She laid in the sun, read her book and basked in the feeling of the warmth on her skin, as Carlos laid beside her, tracing patterns across her stomach.

There was no keeping this man away from his girl.

But then Lando had him up and playing football as she chatted to Lando's new girlfriend, getting to know her (it wasn't the first time they'd met, but the first time they'd met she hadn't been serious with Lando. So, Carlos's girl hadn't bothered).

She laid on her stomach as they talked and laughed, hand cushioning her head. "Oh, just wait until they try taking us golfing," she said and the other girl laughed. It seemed she had found a friend.

But this story isn't about friendship. This story is about Carlos and his big, strong hands.

After a good and probably unfair game of football in the sand (knowing the two of them, there was definitely some cheating going on), the boys wandered back over. "Here, baby," she said, handing Carlos a bottle of water. He downed it in one go.

"Thank you, Hermosa," he said as he leaned down to kiss her. It was pure bliss, just like every day with Carlos. But there is always something that interrupts that bliss.

"What the fuck is that on your ass?"

"Why are you staring at my ass, Norris?" She called back, immediately on the defensive. But, as she spoke, she was glaring at her boyfriend.

But Lando was still looking. Defensively, she pulled down her bikini bottoms to cover more of her ass, but in that moment, she only showed off more of the handprint on her ass.

"You guys are freaky as fuck," said Lando as he said beside his girlfriend.

"You haven't seen nothing, Norris."

It was only muttered as she pulled Carlos closer. "What the fuck is on my ass?" She hissed in his ear as she kissed the spot just beneath it.

Carlos flexed his fingers.

"You asshole, that's hot as fuck."

She ended up with a few more that night.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x reader smut #carlos sainz x you #cs55 #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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wdcbox · 25 days ago

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pancakes for dinner ⠀⠀⋆·˚ ༘ *⠀⠀lando norris.

pairing. lando norris x gn!reader.

word count. 4k.

summary. after siking yourself out on a long plane ride to london, you finally have the courage to confess your feelings to lando, even if it ruins your friendship. inspired by pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine.

warnings. mentions of a possible plane crash, hurt + comfort.

ellis’ addition. i am sososo proud of this. since lizzy is my brand, i of course wanted to use one of her songs as inspiration for a fic, so here ya go. once again, inspired by pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine. for the lovely @lechrts ♡

the hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin, steady and unchanging, but it felt louder than it should, pressing into your ears like static. you shifted in your seat, the vinyl sticking slightly to your bare legs as you glanced at the glowing seatbelt sign above you.

the plane was still climbing, the ground was long gone, and clouds had swallowed the view. all that was left was the pale blue light filtering in through the window and the uneasy flutter in your chest.

you weren’t afraid of flying. you told herself that again and again, even as your fingers tightened on the edge of the tray table. it wasn’t the height or the turbulence or the fact that the plane felt impossibly heavy for something that stayed in the air – it was something else.

no matter how hard you tried to claw the thought away, it stuck in the back of your mind, a looming idea that poisoned your brain. no, what scared you wasn’t the plane at all. it was the though of him.

you could see his face in your mind, as clear as if he were sitting beside you. the messy hair he never bothered to brush, the crooked smile that made you laugh at all the wrong times, and the teasing like it wasn’t a big deal that you had heard it in his voice and no one else’s.

you closed her eyes, trying to block it out, but it didn’t help. you could still see him leaning against the doorframe the last night you two had hung out, his hand in his pocket, his gaze holding yours for a little too long before he cracked a joke to break the tension.

lando was an enigma – sort of a fungus that clung onto you for dear life. through his teasing and his sarcasm, he was still your friend at the end of it all. yet barely at this point as you started to view him as more of a lover you pined for than a disease that would never leave.

your stomach twisted, and you opened your eyes again, fixing your focus on the napkin crumpled on your tray table. the airline’s logo was printed in cheap blue ink. you smoothed it out, your thumb tracing over the words, but your thoughts didn’t stop.

what if the plane went down? what if you never got to tell him? the question gripped you, sharp and sudden, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. your heart hammered in her chest as the idea rooted itself deeper, impossible to shake.

it wasn’t some grand declaration. you weren’t brave enough for that, not yet. but there were smaller things you wanted him to know. like how you had watched every single race no matter the timezone difference, how you had memorized the exact way he ordered coffee, or how you missed him when he wasn’t around, even when nothing in your life seemed to change.

you grabbed your phone, your fingers fumbling as you opened the notes app. the cursor blinked on the blank screen, waiting. you felt the need to type out your feelings if you could even somehow put them into words. you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with lando, ultimately resulting in him distancing himself if he didn’t feel the same way – you knew it’d happen. but you still couldn’t shake the looming thought as turbulence hit, causing you to quickly begin typing like you were shakespeare drafting his next play.

it was a dull confession compared to your grand feelings for him, and you knew you’d never even tell him these words as the pilot announced you’d be landing in london soon. the paragraph of word vomit information sat staring at you, and you let out a shaky sigh as you locked your phone and shoved it into your pocket.

the plane landed with a shudder that rattled your teeth. the sound of tires screeching against asphalt dragged you out of your spiral of thoughts, but it didn’t erase the tension sitting heavy in your chest.

you moved through the motions like an automaton, gathering your bag from under the seat, waiting for the line of passengers to shuffle toward the exit, stepping off the plane and into the chaos of the terminal. your head buzzed with exhaustion, but your thoughts refused to quiet. lando was there, waiting somewhere beyond the baggage claim, which only caused your head to spin even faster.

your heart thrummed as you approached the carousel, watching strangers reunite around you – families embraced, couples kissed, and friends called out in excitement. you scanned the crowd for lando, your palms clammy against the strap of your carry-on bag. and then you saw him.

lando was leaning against a column near the exit, his phone in one hand, his other shoved into his jacket pocket. his hair was messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to tame it before coming here, and his sneakers tapped against the floor in a distracted rhythm. when he looked up and saw you, his whole face lit up. his smile was lopsided, and he waved with his phone like an idiot. you wanted to laugh. you wanted to run. instead, you froze.

the car ride was quiet, quieter than usual. lando had turned the music on – some rap music with a fast rhythm – but you barely heard it over the thundering of your own heartbeat.

lando kept glancing at you. not obviously, just quick flicks of his eyes, like he could sense something, was off. normally, you’d make a joke, deflect, steer the conversation back into the usual rhythm. but now, you stayed quiet, staring out the window at the passing streetlights.

“you sure you’re okay?” lando asked finally, his voice gentle. the streetlights illuminated his face, showing every freckle and curve of his skin, causing you to grow sick all over again. he was perfect and it made your stomach reel, your heart doing backflips like some olympic gymnast.

you nodded quickly, too quickly, and tried to force a smile, “yeah, just tired. long flight – jet lag and all.” you forced out a laugh as if you were trying to pry back your friendly banter, but in the end, it was entirely useless.

lando didn’t press, but the furrow between his brows stayed. he knew something was wrong. lando could have his stupid moments, but he was far from dumb. you prided yourself on being a half opened booked, but lando had read the whole thing.

when you pulled into lando’s driveway, the motion of the car stopping felt like a jolt back to reality. the headlights illuminated the front of his flat, familiar and safe, but it felt different now, like the air had shifted.

“c’mon,” lando hummed softly, cutting the engine, “i’ll grab your bag.” you smiled softly at his kindess, but part of you knew he was doing it out of pity. lando knew something was up, and despite the fact he didn’t push for an answer, you knew he would as the night passed on.

you followed him up the steps to his flat door, your stomach twisting into knots. the closer you got, the more real it felt. you had been here a hundred times before, sprawled on lando’s couch or rummaging through his fridge, but this time was different. this time, you felt as if you were about to ruin everything.

lando unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you in first. the smell of the flat was familiar, some stupid cashmere candle he had bought that was practically nearly out of wax, but it smelt like home.

“you want something to eat? i bet you’re hungry after snacking on plane peanuts. i told you i would have bought you first class, but noo, you’re too good for that,” lando teased, setting your bag by the door before advancing into the kitchen, “or maybe a drink? i think i’ve got—”

“can we talk?” you blurted out, leaning against the kitchen island for some sort of support as you felt dizzy. you didn’t mean to interrupt lando, burt your mind was swimming a mile a minute, your skin itching at the fact you needed to say something.

lando froze mid-step, his hand hovering over the light switch. the easy smile on his face faltered, replaced by something softer, more cautious, confused at the fact you didn’t rebuttal his words or even laugh. “yeah,” lando spoke slowly, “of course. what’s up?”

you glanced around the living room, at the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, at the coffee table littered with takeout containers and a half-empty mug. everything about lando’s place screamed him. familiar. safe. but your chest felt anything but safe now.

“can we sit?” you questioned, your voice quieter now as you already started to make your way to the couch without even a nod from lando. your hands shook at your side, immediately resting on your lap and fiddling with one another as you took a seat, the plushness of the couch consuming you.

lando nodded and followed behind you, a nervous chuckle falling from his lips, “sure. you’re kind of freaking me out, though. is everything okay?” his body sat down on the couch next to you, his knee inches away from yours as his eyes began to search your face for any idea of what was going on inside your head.

you hesitated, your feet rooted to the floor for just a second too long before you let out a soft sigh. lando’s body sank down onto the couch, one arm draped over the back, as his gaze never faltered.

you inhaled slightly. if you didn’t say it now, you’d never bring yourself to try to convey your emotions to lando’s face again. the idea of what would have occurred if the plane went down played over and over again in your head, snapping you back into reality.

lando shifted on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his gaze still locked on your nervous expresion. the concern in his eyes deepened, and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“is something wrong?” lando questioned, his voice low and careful as his eyebrows furrowed, “are you okay? is it –” his jaw tightened softly, “is it your family?” his assumption shocked you at first, but it just came to remind you that lando cared despite what was about to happen.

you blinked, quickly collecting yourself, “what? no, it’s not –” “work, then?” lando cut in, his words coming quicker now, “did something happen at your job?” he tried to dig for answers, to push as hard as he could as if he was on track, and it barely gave you time to cool your mind.

“no! no, nothing like that!” you said quickly, your hands waving in front of you like you could physically push the idea away. lando exhaled a sharp breath and leaned back, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “okay, good. you were scaring me for a second there.” he let out a deep sigh, a chuckle interrupting his action.

you pressed your lips together, your stomach twisting. this wasn’t how you imagined this going – not that you had imagined it going smoothly, but still. “i’m fine,” you spoke softly, more to reassure yourself than anything else, “it’s not ... bad, exactly – it’s just hard to explain.”

lando tilted his head, studying you with that same careful expression he always wore when he was trying to figure something out, “alright, take your time, i guess. i’m listening.” the sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. of course, he was listening, he always did. that was part of the problem.

you looked down at her hands, twisting your fingers together, your palms damp as if you were having a stroke. you felt lando’s eyes on you, steady and unrelenting, like he wouldn’t look away until he knew you were okay.

“you’re sure you’re okay?” lando asked again, softer this time – he was beginning to genuinely worry. you nodded, but the motion felt hollow. your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

“i just need a minute,” you murmured, and like he had in the car, he didn’t press on. instead, he leaned back into the couch, giving you space, but his gaze stayed fixed on your frame. the silence stretched between the two of you, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.

finally, he let out a quiet laugh, breaking the tension just enough to make you glance up at him with a hint of confusion. “you know,” he spoke, his tone light but his smile nervous, “if this is you telling me you’re moving to antarctica or something, i might actually cry.”

your lips twitched into a smile despite yourself, “what?” “i’m serious,” lando spoke, raising a hand in mock solemnity, “you can’t just drop a we need to talk bomb on me and expect me not to assume the worst. if you’re planning to disappear or something, at least give me some notice.”

you shook your head, a small laugh escaping her before she could stop it, “i’m not moving to antarctica or running away or anything – at least not yet.” your second attempt to bring back the usual friendly banter had began to work as you let out another chuckle. “good,” lando hummed, his grin softening, “because i don’t think i’d survive that.”

your heart twisted at the words, even though you knew he didn’t mean them the way you wished he did. lando was feeding into your jokes, trying his hardest to pry the confession out of you slightly, and you found it working as you let out another nervous sigh.

your sigh faded, leaving the air thick again. lando was looking at you, the teasing edge in his expression softening into something warmer, more patient. he wasn’t going to let this go, and you knew it. he never did.

you took a deep breath, your fingers now curling into the fabric of your shirt. “it’s not about antarctica,” you spoke, your voice quieter now, “it’s about you.” lando’s brows furrowed slightly, the easy grin slipping from his face, “me?” confusion filled the air and you couldn’t tell if he was oblivious or plain stupid.

“yeah,” you spoke, your gaze nervously dropping to your lap. you couldn’t look at him, not yet. “i’ve been thinking a lot about us. about all the things i want to do. not just, like, big things, but .. little things too.” the room felt impossibly still, your words hanging between the two of you. you pressed on before your courage dissolved completely.

“like .. i want to watch dumb movies with you – the ones you always tell me about but i never get around to watching. and i want to sit on your couch and argue about whose turn it is to pick dinner, even though we both know we’re going to give in and order pizza anyway.”

your voice trembled, but you forced yourself to keep going, “i want to have pancakes for dinner, just because we can, even though you’ll probably put too much syrup on them and make a mess. i want to watch a tv show together and if we’re too exhausted, we can watch it in bed.”

you glanced up at lando, your breath catching at the way he was looking at you. his expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide like he didn’t dare blink as you began. “and i want ..” your voice wavered, but you didn’t stop, “i want all those things with you because they matter to me. you matter to me. more than i ever thought someone could.” the words felt like they had been wrenched out of you, leaving your chest hollow and aching. your hands gripped the couch cushion, waiting for lando to say something, anything.

for a long moment, he didn’t. lando just stared at you, his brows furrowed like he was trying to process what you had just said. “you want .. pancakes for dinner?” he asked finally, his voice so soft it made your heart ache.

you laughed, the sound weak and trembling, but it felt like a release. you couldn’t fathom that out of all of that, that’s what he was confused about. “yeah,” you spoke softly, “i want pancakes for dinner. with you, and everything else.”

lando’s lips twitched, and then, slowly, a smile broke across his face. a real one, not the teasing, lopsided grin you were so used to. this one was softer, warmer, like he was looking at you for the first time.

the smile on lando’s face lingered, but it quickly gave way to a softer, almost uncertain look. he took a breath, like he was trying to gather his thoughts, but he still didn’t break eye contact. “you have no idea how badly i want to say that sounds perfect,” lando spoke quietly, his voice carrying a weight of honesty you hadn’t expected. your heart skipped, but you swallowed the hope rising in your chest, unsure where this was going.

“but ..” lando hesitated, the hesitation enough to make your stomach drop, “but i’m not great at this kind of thing – saying my feelings and shit,” he continued, his gaze flickering away briefly, his hands fidgeting. “i’m a mess with timing, and i’m not always around, and, you know, i can’t be that guy who just shows up whenever, especially when we’re not always in the same place. it’s easier to say i want all those things, but actually ..” he trailed off, his words fading, and you saw the conflict in his eyes, the worry.

you bit your lip, your chest tightening. lando feels the same way, but he's scared. the realization hit you like a wave, pulling you under with the weight of it. you opened your mouth to respond, but lando beat you to it.

“i know it sounds like an excuse, and i don’t want to make it seem like i’m backing out of anything, but i’ve got this tendency to overthink everything,” lando spoke, his voice thick with vulnerability, “i don’t want to promise something i can’t follow through on, and i hate that i’m not better at being here – at being present. and i hate how much i want to say yes, but i’m scared.”

your heart clenched as lando looked at you, the rawness in his gaze making your heart ache for him. your heart was beating as fast as it possibly could as you tried to hide the overwhelming emotion on your face. you tangled your fingers together again, taking a deep breath.

“i just don’t want you to think that it’s you, or that i don’t care because i do – so much, too much,” lando reached out then, his hand hovering between the two of you for a moment before he placed it gently on yours. the contact felt like an anchor, grounding you in the storm of his words.

“i want all those things with you too,” lando whispered, his thumb brushing over your hand like he couldn’t help it,“pancakes for dinner. arguing over pizza. nights in – all of it, but i don’t want to let you down.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat, the mix of relief and uncertainty flooding you all at once. the long distance, the uncertainty, the timing – it all felt so complicated, yet here he was, laying it all out, just like you had.

you squeezed lando’s hand gently, your heart full of more than you had expected. “i don’t need you to be perfect,” you spoke softly, your voice steady now, as your confidence grew, “i don’t need every moment to be planned. i just need to know that you want it too – that you want me. even if it’s messy, even if we’re not always in the same place.”

for a moment, the two of you just sat there, the quiet between each other not awkward, but comfortable. your hand in lando’s, the soft weight of his fingers against yours grounding you, soothing the chaos you had been carrying.

“i want you,” lando spoke up, his voice so certain now it made your heart flutter, “more than anything. i just ..” he took a deep breath and squeezed your hand back, “i guess i was just scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

your breath caught, and you smiled, a soft, genuine smile that spread slowly across your face. “i do,” you hummed, your voice filled with the kind of certainty you hadn’t known you were capable of, “i feel the same way.”

the silence between both of you deepened, but this time, it wasn’t filled with uncertainty or hesitation. it was filled with the space where everything unspoken lived – the things you both knew, but hadn’t dared to say out loud until now. lando was still holding your hand, but now there was something more in the way as his fingers curled around yours. it wasn’t just comfort anymore. it was a promise.

“i don’t know how easy this is going to be,” lando spoke softly, his voice more vulnerable than you had ever heard it. “i don’t know how many times i’ll mess it up or how far apart we’ll be soemtimes, but,” lando paused, gathering his thoughts as if the weight of them were settling in, “but i know i don’t want to keep walking away from something that feels this real.”

your heart skipped once again. you didn’t realize how much you needed to hear him say that until the words were out. the words seemed all too poetically beautiful for lando, but you knew he was speaking his mind, even though his thoughts were complex.

“me neither,” you murmured, squeezing his hand tighter, “i don’t care how messy it gets, i just don’t want to keep pretending it’s not there.” lando’s smile was small but genuine, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “yeah,” he agreed quietly, “pretending just doesn’t work anymore, does it?” “no,” you spoke softly, “it doesn’t.”

the both of you sat there for a moment longer, both lost in the gravity of the decision you had just made – realizing that, despite the complications, despite the distance and uncertainty, you were choosing each other. even if it was hard, even if it didn’t make sense.

“you know,” you spoke up again, your voice hesitant but growing steadier with every word, “i think i’m okay with things not being perfect. in the end, nothing is really perfect, and i like it that way.” lando nodded slowly, a small smile christening his face, his hand still holding yours, “me too.”

you looked at lando, and for the first time, you didn’t see the nervous, unsure guy who’d been so cautious before. you saw someone who was ready to take that leap, even if it scared him, even if there would be highs and lows.

“i don’t want to waste any more time,” lando spoke, his voice breathy, “so, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. no more second-guessing. no more running away. no more hiding our feelings.” your heart swelled at his words, the promise behind the two of you feeling like everything you had ever wanted, but thought you couldn’t have. “yeah,” you whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “no more running.”

lando leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against your forehead in a soft, slow kiss. it was simple, but it felt like everything. the weight of all your unspoken feelings was there, in that moment, and you knew it wasn’t just about what you had said, it was about the choice you were both making.

“i don’t know what comes next,” lando spoke after pulling back, his voice still soft, “but i know i don’t want to do it without you.” your chest tightened in that familiar way, the warmth spreading through you like sunshine, “me neither.”

#ellis' works #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando imagine #lando norris smau #ln4 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #lando norris smut #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic

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lilreidgirl · 1 month ago

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Where do I sign?

Summary: You have a tattoo that you`re teased for by others but when it`s just you and Spencer, you realise that it`s all worth it.

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, tattoo, smut/sex briefly mentioned, swearing, alcoholic drinks, ownership kink??, English is not my first language

WC: ~1.2k

A/N: Came up with this a few weeks ago but only now wrote it, hope you enjoy!!

You knew, deep down, when you first got the tattoo that it would raise eyebrows. If anyone found out about it, you could already imagine the reactions: weird looks and perhaps a few teasing comments. You were prepared for the judgment. You understood that most people would likely think it was strange and that was okay.

What mattered was that you liked it and that Spencer did as well. After all, you are the one who has it permanently engraved in your body and he’s the one who’ll be staring at said print on your body for the rest of your lives.

As soon as Spencer mentioned the idea, you were obsessed. Not a single feeling of hesitance found itself into your body the day you got the tattoo. Only pure excitement made shivers run down your spine as you walked into the tattoo parlour, which Spencer had deduced was the best one courtesy of tons of hours of research on online reviews, distances and health department tattoo regulation inspections.

_________

The team had organized a little get together at a bar; family, friends and all, so naturally Spencer brought you.

Spencer wore a white button-down shirt, but it wasn’t a pure snow white—more of a faded off-white, as if time had softened the fabric just a little. The shirt was messily tucked into a pair of black slacks. His hair, which was even messier than the cloth he tucked under his belt, lay unruly and untamed in tousled waves on his head, as if he had just rolled out of bed and let them fall where they may. It was the usual look for him, and you couldn’t help but love how effortlessly charming it seemed.

You chose a pair of blue low-rise jeans, the ones Spencer had always said were his favorite. You paired them with a light grey shirt with three little buttons at the top. You deliberately left two of them undone just enough to catch Spencer`s eye without being too revealing.

The bar was cosy but packed with constant laughs and conversation crossing the table you sat at. Unaesthetically pleasing lights shone from the ceiling a few flickering with the same rhythm as the nostalgic party songs that were played from the big speakers spread out all over the room. Rossi announced the first round be on him, no surprise there.

He and Emily had left to get the drinks, disappearing into the crowd for a few moments, only to return a short while later, their hands full of glasses. Rossi’s arms were loaded with tumblers filled with alcoholic beverages, while Emily was gripping a few more in her grasp. The sight of them juggling so many glasses brought a smile to your face as you watched them make their way through the room.

“Oh, you guys need some help?” you called out, already rising from the stool you’d been sitting on, eager to lighten their load. You moved swiftly, offering your hands to take a few glasses from their arms. He smiled, looking grateful for the assistance.

“Thank you, you`re the fucking best,” Emily praised, a soft chuckle leaving you at the sweet thank you involving such unfitting, vulgar language which infected her to let out a small laugh as well.

After you took a few drinks off their hands, the three of you started moving around the room, weaving through the different people and their conversations, delivering the drinks to their designated drinkers. Each time you made your delivery, you shared a brief exchange with the person before turning to pass the next drink along.

“Okay, last one! Who ordered a bud light?” Your eyes studied the different faces, landing on Derek’s as his voice announced, “Me, pretty girl.”

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, matching to your boyfriend’s, you made your way to the smirking man, placing the bottle in front of him. “Hear ya go.” You smiled sweetly before turning around, looking to walk back to your seat but being stopped by Penelope’s voice.

“What’s that? Is that Spencer’s signature?” She asked, confusion and a giggle present in her tone.

You stopped dead in your tracks, the ones you had barely made your way down, the sneakers you were wearing making a slight squeaking noise against the friction of the sticky bar floor.

The rest of the teams and their companion’s faces turned to you, more specifically your back, even more specifically, the little sliver of skin revealed between the blue and grey materials of your jeans and shirt. The skin clad with a tattoo reading “Spencer Reid” in his finest handwriting.

Slowly, you turned around, an awkward expression on your face before you met your boyfriend’s eyes and widened your own as a bit of a distress beacon.

“Oh- um…” for a guy with an IQ of 187, he probably should have been able to come up with something to say in that moment, but god was it hard in that stuffy room with countless expecting eyes peering at him.

“Didn’t know you guys were… that. Gee…,” Emily chuckled, her black hair gliding over her shoulders as she turned to look at the both of you one after the other.

“What is that-…,“ You tried to speak up but the rest of the words never even made it past the stage of being formed by your brain cells, the ones you were now hoping would explode so you could die before the situation got any more embarrassing. Defeated by your own inability to speak you looked down, gaze falling on the spotty floor of the bar.

“My man,” Derek grinned proudly, giving Spencer an encouraging pump of his prominent eyebrows as he laughed.

Spencer’s eyes met yours, both of your guys’ cheeks burning different shades of rosy and peach out of embarrassment, but the eye contact between the two of you communicated what you both knew.

It was worth it.

It was worth people thinking you were weird, every time Spencer laid his large hand on your lower back in public where his name lay written in the crevices between your skin’s atoms, reminding you what lay there, reminding you who you belonged to.

It was worth the embarrassment, every single time Spencer’s slender fingers, warm and delicate, gently traced the intricate pattern of ink that adorned your skin. Whether you were in the shower, the steam clouding the air around you, or snuggled up together beneath the soft sheets, his touch was always so tender, almost reverent, as if the tattoo held some hidden meaning only he could understand.

It was worth the teasing and the giggling, every time his eyes, barely hazel anymore because of his blown out pupils, stared intently at his signature, his mark, his claim, dug deep into your soft skin and your even softer soul as he fucked into you relentlessly.

It was worth it because it was proof you were his. Forever. The black ink sewn into your body that is immortally yours, always there to convey how no one could ever love you like he could and how you would never even have a trace of the same love for some other person that you feel for Spencer.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid one shot

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hoshifighting · 4 months ago

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rockstar!reader x church boy & bestfriend!joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua and you had this contrast, you too embedded in the electric guitars, the polemic rock band shirts, and Joshua deeply focused on taking care of the church activities. He has no idea of the after-parties of your concerts, but after so much insistence of him, you bring Joshua to meet your wildest side, the side you never let him meet before. — Genre: Best friends to Lovers — WC: 11.05k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, slight angst, groupies showing tits references, alcohol, smoking and drug references, religious imagery—mention of a cross necklace, faith-based inner conflict. penetrative sex, rough sex, public make out, fingering, nipple play—reader have nipple piercings, face-slapping, mentions of boy fluids; cum/precum, cock riding, clit stimulation, dirty talk, post-sex care.

The neighborhood kids were a patchwork of personalities—there were the loud ones, the shy ones, the troublemakers, the saints. And then, there was you and Joshua. From the outside, it made no sense. You, the devil-may-care rebel with ripped jeans, always two seconds away from an argument with someone who couldn’t handle your attitude.

And Joshua, with his pristine shirts buttoned all the way up, soft-spoken voice, and the kind of calm that came from growing up in a house where every wall had a cross and every Sunday had a sermon. He was the kid who never missed a single morning of church, and you were the kid who never missed a single rehearsal with your rock band, banging out chords in your parents’ garage so loud the neighbors had to invest in better windows.

But here’s the thing: despite everything that set you apart, you were inseparable. You’d been friends since you were both knee-high, back when you didn’t even care about music or God or any of the other big things that defined you later. Joshua was the kid you trusted with everything. The one who’d patch up your scraped knees when you wiped out on your bike, even if you yelled at him for fussing too much. The one who never let you feel alone, even when the world felt like it was coming down around you.

You’d look at him sometimes—like now, when you two were sitting on the curb outside your house, him in one of those stiff, white shirts with the collar high enough to strangle someone, and you in your old, faded Black Sabbath tee—and wonder how the hell this worked.

“I don’t get why you always button that thing up like that,” you mutter, side-eyeing him as you light a cigarette.

Joshua looks over, raising a brow. “You sound like my mom,” he says, smirking. “Besides, it’s comfortable.”

“No way. You look like you’re ready to choke.”

“Yeah, well, you look like you’re ready to summon a demon or something in that shirt,” he fires back, glancing at the witch printed on the front of your tee. “You couldn’t find something uglier?”

You snort, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re just mad ‘cause you know Sabbath’s better than that crap you play.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Hey, I like Coldplay, alright? Not everything’s gotta be power chords and screaming.”

“I don’t scream,” you retort, half grinning.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Do not.”

“You screamed at the last gig.”

“That was—” You pause. “That was for effect.”

Joshua chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure. For ‘effect.’”

The thing is, Joshua could have roasted you to dust if he wanted to. But he never did. He’d always laugh it off, always find a way to turn the conversation into something lighter. And no matter how different you were, there was this unspoken respect between you. Like how he showed up to your gigs in high school wearing one of your band’s shirts, plastering flyers in the school hallways and sneaking some into the church bulletin board when no one was looking.

And how you showed up at his baptism, cross necklace and all, standing there in the back, quiet but present. You never took the necklace off after that. The church boy who wouldn’t dare wear anything less than holy had given you a symbol of his faith, and you’d worn it ever since. You believed but weren't dedicated to it like Joshua, you used it because it was from him.

Joshua notices it now, the silver cross resting against your chest, slightly crooked. He reaches out, straightening it with a soft smile. “You still wear this?”

“Never took it off,” you admit, taking a long drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t mean I’m converting, though.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he replies, leaning back on his palms. “I like that you wear it.”

You glance at him, a little surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says, turning his gaze toward the sunset dipping below the houses. “It’s…nice, y’know? Like, no matter how far apart we get, we’re still connected.”

“Connected, huh?” you murmur, tapping the cigarette ash onto the ground. “You’re getting sappy again, dude.”

He laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Shut up. You like it.”

“Yeah, but your world’s so boring, Josh. All hymns and Jesus. You should come to the dark side more often.”

“Pass,” he says with a smirk, but there’s warmth behind it. “I’d rather keep watching you make it big as a rockstar. Somebody’s gotta pray for you when you’re out there corrupting the youth.”

Maybe that’s the thing about you and Joshua—no matter how much you rag on each other, how different your lives look on the surface, there’s a connection you can’t explain. You’re fire and he’s ice, but somehow, you keep each other balanced.

“Hey,” you say, suddenly serious, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “Thanks for, y’know…showing up. For all of it. I know I’m not the easiest person to be around.”

Joshua’s voice softens. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve always been there for me too.”

You glance at him, your heart doing this weird flip in your chest. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” you tease, though the words come out gentler than you intended.

Joshua grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Too late.”

You take another drag, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence, the kind only years of friendship can create.

You weren’t trying to change him, and he wasn’t trying to save you.

The gossipy aunts on the block could speculate all they wanted—Joshua didn’t convert you, and no, you didn’t lead Joshua down some reckless path. You two were just… you.

He’d brought you to church bazaars, where the smell of fried dough and barbecue sauce clung to your clothes long after you’d left, but he’d never pushed you to step foot into one of the more serious services. The ones where the hymns stretched on forever and people lost themselves in prayer. You didn’t do that, and he never asked you to.

And you? Well, you dragged Joshua to your gigs. He always stood at the front, close enough to feel the vibrations from the speakers, his clean-cut figure looking hilariously out of place in the sea of ripped jeans, leather jackets, and band tees.

But no matter how much he begged—and he did beg—you never brought him to the after-parties. The kind of chaos that erupted once the amps were off and the guitars were packed up. You’d drive him home, drop him off with a playful slap on the back, and head to the wildness he’d never see.

He didn’t need to know about the after-parties. He didn’t need to see you in your shortest leather mini skirt, the one that barely passed as clothing, as you downed beer after beer straight from the bottle, while the groupies flashed their tits at the band.

Joshua didn’t need to witness the wild shit that happened when everyone was too drunk or high to care about who was screwing who in the corner or the endless river of alcohol. That wasn’t his world, and you didn’t want him to see you like that. It was one thing for him to come to your shows, but seeing you let loose in a way that would make even your bandmates blush? No. He didn’t belong there.

Except… now Joshua was sitting with you in your garage, tuning your guitar like he always did before a big show, and he’d overheard you talking about the after-party.

“It’s the ten-year gig, huh?” he said casually, fingers sliding over the strings, adjusting them with that stupid focus he always had. “Big deal.”

“Yeah,” you replied, not thinking much of it. “It’s gonna be insane.”

Joshua’s head tilted, his lips pursing slightly. You recognized that look. It was the one he got when he was curious about something, when he was too polite to ask outright but dying to know more. He glanced at you. “You doing anything after? Like, after the gig?”

You paused. Shit. You hadn’t expected him to actually ask about that part. “Uh… yeah. There’s an after-party,” you said slowly, not looking at him. You fiddled with one of the tuning pegs on your bass, trying to look busy. “Same old stuff. You know.”

“I don’t know,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’ve never let me go to one.”

You glanced up at him, already feeling your cheeks heat up. “That’s ‘cause it’s not your scene, Josh.”

“I want to see it,” he said, leaning forward a little. His voice was soft, but there was a determination there you weren’t used to. He wasn’t backing down from this one. “I’ve seen you perform. Why not let me see the rest?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see the rest.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, studying you. “Why not?”

Why not? Why not? How were you supposed to explain this without getting even more flustered? You could feel your palms sweating just thinking about it. The thought of Joshua witnessing that version of you—messy, no filter—made your stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“It’s just… different, okay?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “Like, the crowd’s wilder. Things get… crazy. I’m not the same up there as I am here.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers, and you think I can’t handle ‘crazy’?”

“You’re not getting it,” you insisted, your voice a little sharper than you meant it to be. “This isn’t just a few beers and hanging out. People get wild, Josh. There’s stuff that happens that you probably don’t want to see. Hell, I don’t want you to see it.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he serious right now? Joshua, the guy who got anxious if someone said a cuss word too loud around him, was asking to see the madness that was your after-party?

“Why the hell would you want to see that?” you finally asked, genuinely confused.

“Because,” he said simply, leaning forward on his knees, “I’ve always seen one side of you. The side you let me see. I wanna see the whole picture. I want to know who you are when you’re up there, when you’re with your band, when you’re… being yourself.”

You felt your heart thud hard against your chest. Shit. This wasn’t just about the party, was it? He wanted to understand you. All of you.

“I don’t know, man…” You trailed off, looking anywhere but at him.

“I can handle it,” Joshua said, voice gentle. “I’m not a kid. I know what goes on. Just because I don’t live like that doesn’t mean I can’t handle seeing it.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. He was stubborn, and you knew he wouldn’t let this go easily.

“Alright,” you finally said, sighing. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joshua smiled, wide and a little too innocent. “I’ll take my chances.”

[...]

The van sat parked in front of your house, baking in the morning sun, loaded with amps, guitars, and a drum kit that had seen better days. You were supervising the guys hauling the last of the equipment into the back, hair still wrapped in rollers, trying not to sweat through your shirt before you even made it to the venue.

And then, you saw him.

Joshua was walking up the driveway, and for a split second, you didn’t recognize him. The button-up shirt, the clean-cut image you were so used to—it was all gone. Instead, he was wearing one of your shirts, and not just any shirt.

It was from your solo album outside the band, the one with the wild, scrawling letters across the chest and the cover art below. The cover art that featured your bust, as your tits were covered by an electric guitar. Skin covered in smeared kiss marks, lips of all colors pressed against your skin in a way that had been raunchy enough to make your bandmates whistle when you first showed them.

The album cover had been controversial, to say the least, but it sold like hotcakes. And Joshua—Joshua—was strutting around in it like it was no big deal.

You almost choked on your own spit.

He had black jeans on, hugging his legs in a way you didn’t expect, and he’d thrown on a couple of leather bracelets that looked suspiciously like the ones you’d worn on stage a few times. And the sunglasses perched on his head? Definitely not his usual vibe. He looked like someone who belonged backstage, maybe even on stage, and not at some church picnic. Worse—he looked like the kind of guy you could moan just from looking at.

Your brain short-circuited. You could already imagine the girls from your staff catching sight of him and drooling. Hell, you were almost drooling.

But then you caught sight of that shirt again, and all you could think was, out of all the merch I’ve got, why the fuck did he pick that one?

“Josh…” you called out, your voice full of disbelief as he approached. You gestured at the shirt. “Did… did your parents see you before you left?”

Joshua burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? No way. My mom would’ve had a heart attack. I snuck out before they were even awake.”

You groaned, clapping your forehead. “Oh my God. You realize you’re walking around with a picture of my tits on your chest, right?”

He grinned, glancing down at the shirt like it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s bold, right?”

“Bold?” you repeated, eyes wide. “It’s fucking obscene! You wearing that is obscene. Jesus, I can already hear the aunties in the neighborhood clutching their pearls.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Relax. No one from church is gonna be at the venue. I’m good.”

You gave him a hard look, still half in disbelief. “I’m not worried about church people, I’m worried about all the other people.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think I can pull it off?”

You blinked. Was he pulling it off? The more you stared at him, the more your brain started to fry. You didn’t know how to process this new Joshua—the one standing in front of you like he’d been born to wear that shirt. Born to make you lose your goddamn mind.

Joshua noticed your silence and raised an eyebrow. “What? You embarrassed?”

“I—no!” you shot back, though your cheeks were burning. “It’s just… fuck, you couldn’t pick a more normal one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, flashing a grin that was a little too cocky for your liking.

“I can already see the crew girls drooling over you.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Let ‘em drool.”

You had to laugh at that.

“You know what? Never mind,” you muttered, waving him off. “Let’s just get to the venue before I lose it.”

Joshua chuckled and followed you to the van, casually tossing his sunglasses onto the dashboard as he climbed into the passenger seat. You took one last glance at him before slamming the door shut. He was leaning back, arms crossed, looking totally at ease in a way that was both infuriating and… kind of hot. Shit.

You could feel Joshua’s presence next to you, his knee brushing yours whenever you hit a bump. It was distracting as hell, but you did your best to focus on the road, on the gig, on anything that wasn’t Joshua in that damn shirt.

The ride was filled with the usual chaos—your drummer tapping out beats on the seat in front of him, your guitarist tweaking pedal settings on the floor, and the bass player scrolling through social media, barely paying attention. Joshua sat next to you, quiet, but you could tell he was absorbing everything. The energy, the vibe. This was the part of your life he’d never seen before.

When you finally pulled up to the venue, you felt the familiar buzz of expectation in your chest. The stage crew was already setting up, speakers being wired in, lights being tested. You hopped out of the van, gesturing to the others to get moving.

Joshua followed close behind, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The venue was bigger than the high school stages he was used to seeing you on. It was packed with people running back and forth, instruments being tuned, sound checks echoing in the air.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the stage. “This is...bigger than I expected.”

“Told ‘ya,” you said, grinning as you grabbed your bass and slung it over your shoulder. “Welcome to the real deal.”

Joshua nodded, clearly impressed. You could see the awe in his face, and a part of you felt proud that he was seeing this side of your world. The chaos, the noise, the energy. It was all part of the life you lived—the one he’d never been fully exposed to.

As the band started running through sound check, Joshua found a spot near the back, watching quietly, tapping his foot along with the beat. Every once in a while, you’d glance back at him, half-expecting to see him overwhelmed, but he wasn’t. He was nodding along, sunglasses now perched on his nose, looking like he fit right in.

You could hear the low murmur of the crowd outside, getting louder as more people settled into their seats. Joshua was still talking with Rob, your drummer, which gave you just enough time to pull the rollers out of your hair and finish your makeup in front of the cracked mirror in the dressing room. You rushed through it, swiping on your signature dark lipstick, when the door creaked open, and in walked Joshua.

Of course.

He stopped mid-stride, eyes darting around the room, then finally landing on you—and your outfit. You were wearing a black, lacy top that was just sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, especially when it came to the piercing you knew he had seen before. You’d never made a big deal out of it, but every time Joshua caught a glimpse, he’d get that uncomfortable look on his face, like he wasn’t supposed to be seeing something so private.

“Eyes, Joshua. Eyes,” you could almost hear him coaching himself. His gaze flickered up to your face, but it was too late—you’d caught the quick dip to your chest, to the black leather pants hugging your hips like a second skin.

“Uh, hey,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly trying to act casual, but his voice came out rougher than usual. “I was, uh… just letting you know I should probably get to my seat. The crowd’s filling in.”

You smirked, finishing the last swipe of lipstick and tossing the tube onto the makeup table. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and adjusting the top slightly. “You’re not sitting in the crowd anyway.”

“What?” His brows furrowed in confusion, still trying hard to maintain eye contact, which was almost comical at this point.

“You coming up for the encore,” you explained, crossing your arms. “VIP section, side-stage. Didn’t I tell you?”

Joshua blinked. “No. You didn’t mention that.”

You grinned, seeing how flustered he was, and it only made you want to push him further. “Guess I forgot.” You winked, loving the way his mouth opened slightly, the words stuck in his throat. “Go get settled. We’ll call you up when it’s time.”

He mumbled something under his breath and awkwardly nodded, backing out of the room with a half-hearted wave. As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath, grinning to yourself. Good luck keeping your eyes up there, church boy.

[...]

By the time you hit the stage, the crowd was electric. You could feel the vibration in your bones, the pulse of the drums and bass weaving through your body. The lights were blinding, sweat already starting to drip down your back within the first few songs. You scanned the crowd, catching sight of Joshua standing where you told him, off to the side, eyes glued to you like he’d never seen you before.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You weren’t just some girl with a guitar tonight. You were in it, the music flowing through your veins, your hands sliding over the neck of the guitar like they were made for it. The band was tight, every note hitting harder than the last, and you felt alive in a way you couldn’t describe. The crowd roared, hands reaching out as your bandmates, already stripped of their shirts, threw them into the audience like trophies.

Joshua’s eyes were wide, watching the sweat drip down your arms as your muscles flexed with every chord change. You were lost in it, mouth slightly open during one of your solos, head thrown back as you pulled the guitar into your body like it was an extension of you. You could feel his gaze, heavy and unblinking, and it only pushed you harder. You let your voice growl into the mic, letting out the kind of raw, strong energy that got you here in the first place.

His mind must’ve been racing. He’d seen you play before, but never like this. Never with this much heat, this much intensity. You weren’t just a rockstar tonight—you were a sex symbol, and every single person in that venue, including Joshua, could feel it.

It hit him then—this was why you didn’t want him to come to the after-parties. It wasn’t just about the chaos or the booze. It was because, in this space, on stage, with the lights and the music and the crowd screaming your name—you were untouchable. And so, so fucking hot.

He’d always known you were beautiful, but this? This was something else. Watching your body move in rhythm with the music, the way your fingers slid across the strings, the sweat glistening on your skin—fuck. Joshua couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every part of you was dripping with confidence, sexuality.

The crowd erupted as you launched into the final solo, the room swelling with the sound of your guitar. Joshua’s gaze lingered on your body, on the way your leather pants clung to every curve, on the sway of your hips as you moved, and on your lips, slightly parted as you leaned into the mic. He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face as he watched your muscles tense and release, every move planned, every note flawless.

His thoughts ran wild, and as you finished the set, throwing your head back in a final roar of victory, he couldn’t help but think, So this is what she didn’t want me to see.

The show ended in a blur of cheers and flashing lights, the energy still pulsing in your veins as you stumbled off stage, half-drunk on adrenaline. When you spotted Joshua at the back of the room, standing there with that wide-eyed look of disbelief, you couldn't help but laugh.

You walked over to him, sweat still glistening on your skin, a tired but satisfied grin on your face. “Well?” you asked, chest heaving. “What’d you think?”

Joshua blinked, forcing his gaze up from the floor to meet yours. He swallowed thickly, that guilty knot tightening in his throat. “It was… amazing,” he admitted, his voice a little hoarse. “You were—fuck, you’re incredible up there.”

His compliment was genuine, but there was something else in his eyes. Something conflicted, like he wasn’t sure how to feel about what he’d just seen. His best friend—the girl he’d known since forever—looked like this. Played like that. He felt sick about it. Sick because his heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons. Sick because seeing you like that—half-wild, sweaty, powerful—it wasn’t just admiration anymore.

You grinned, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Told you it was a rush.”

Before he could respond, the two of you heard the unmistakable sound of feet pounding the floor. Fans. A whole wave of them was running toward the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band before they left. You didn’t even think, just grabbed Joshua’s hand and yanked him with you, sprinting toward the van parked outside.

You were laughing as you ran, your grip tight around his wrist, and Joshua couldn’t help the way his heart raced—whether from running or from being so close to you, he didn’t know. He could hear you breathing hard, could see the wildness in your eyes. And for the first time, he got it. The thrill. The chaos. The rush that came with living your life like this.

By the time you both reached the van and slammed the door behind you, you collapsed onto the seat, letting out a long, relieved moan. Joshua just stood there for a moment, chest heaving, eyes wide. He felt it now—the thrill, the electric hum in his blood. But also something else, something that made his stomach twist.

When you caught his eye and smiled that lazy, satisfied smile, he felt like he was losing his grip. You looked like a sexy mess, hair tousled, lipstick smeared, eyes sparkling. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, and it was doing things to him—dangerous things.

“The after-party’s at a club,” you said, glancing at him as the van roared to life. “Private for tonight. Just the band and our friends.”

Joshua nodded, his mouth dry. He had no idea what to expect.

[...]

The club was another world entirely.

The moment you stepped inside, Joshua was hit with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something that might’ve been smoke, but wasn’t just cigarettes. The bass was pounding, vibrating through the floor, and there were bodies everywhere.

The first thing he noticed was your bandmates already surrounded by a small crowd of girls—half-naked, some practically sitting in their laps. One of them was making out with the guitarist, her hand slipping under his shirt while the others just laughed, already drunk and messy.

Joshua’s throat tightened, his eyes wide as he took it all in. It was chaos. Absolute chaos. People were drinking, smoking, making out in dark corners, hands wandering under clothes with zero shame.

And then there was you.

You didn’t miss a beat, grabbing a drink from the bar and downing it like it was water. When you turned to face him, leaning back against the bar with your leather pants clinging to your body and your shirt barely covering anything, you were a vision. A sexy, disheveled vision, your hair a mess, lips wet from the drink, and eyes hazy from the adrenaline of the show.

You were the kind of person that people wrote songs about—the kind of person that people lost themselves over.

“You good?” you asked, voice low, almost drowned out by the music.

Joshua blinked, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” But he wasn’t. He could barely keep his head straight with everything going on around him.

You grinned, holding out your drink. “Here. This’ll help.”

He hesitated for a second, but then grabbed the glass, taking a long gulp. The burn of alcohol felt good, grounding him for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to block out the heat in his chest, the strange attraction, the strange guilt swirling inside him.

You chuckled, watching him down half the drink. “Easy there.”

Joshua wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling hard. He shook his head, swallowing again, trying to focus. But then you were close—too close—and he could smell the combination of your perfume and sweat, and suddenly it was all he could think about. You were so casual about it, so relaxed in this wild mess, like you were born for it.

Joshua stared at you, watching the way your body moved with the music, the way your hips swayed slightly, your hair falling in your face. And he couldn’t help it—he wanted you. Wanted to pull you close, to taste the sweat on your skin, to feel the heat of you pressed against him.

But he couldn’t. You were his best friend. You’d been through everything together. But right now, in this moment, you weren’t just his friend. You were a fucking rockstar. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Joshua took another long drink, trying to drown the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. You watched him, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto your lips as you leaned in closer, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“You feelin’ it now, aren’t you?” you whispered, voice just loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Because yeah, he was feeling it. The rush, the heat, the want. And it was all because of you.

Someone in the crowd—a guy with a half-buttoned shirt and lazy grin—held out a blunt to Joshua, smirking. “Want a hit, man?”

Joshua froze. His mind blanked for a second. “Nah, he doesn’t smoke. Leave him alone.” The air suddenly felt too heavy, the idea of it too real. Before he could even answer, you were at his side, grabbing the guy’s hand and pushing it back with a casual laugh. “He’s too saintly for that.”

Joshua froze, the word saintly cutting through the noise. You were teasing, of course, but that single word twisted in his gut. He didn’t need you looking at him like that—like he was too pure, too clean for this world you thrived in. He hated it. Hated that you saw him like some untouched, pristine version of himself that didn’t even exist. That look you gave him, all amused and lighthearted, made his skin crawl because it only reminded him of how distant he felt from you in that moment.

You grinned at him, eyes gleaming. “Come on, Josh. You’re way too neat for this shit. Leave the bad habits to me.”

He clenched his jaw, hands in his pockets, trying to keep his cool. The thing was—you had no idea. You saw him as the same old Joshua, the one you grew up with, the guy who kept his hands clean while you dived headfirst into the chaos. But fuck, that wasn’t him. Not really. Not anymore. You thought he was some perfect church boy who’d never done anything wild, who probably still had his V-card, for God’s sake.

If only you knew.

The way you laughed about it, as if the thought of him doing anything wild—anything sinful—was so absurd it was hilarious. And that burned. More than it should’ve.

Joshua swallowed, trying to keep his cool, but your words dug in deep. Saintly. Neat. Like you didn’t know. Like you couldn’t even imagine him doing anything like that. He wasn’t a fucking saint. He wasn’t clean like you thought. He’d done things—felt things—that would wipe that smirk off your face. But you… you never saw him that way. Not Joshua.

“You’re lucky, y’know? Not everyone can pull off that whole saintly thing,” you teased, brushing a hand through your messy hair.

He clenched his jaw. “I’m not a fucking saint,” he muttered under his breath. But you didn’t hear him—or maybe you didn’t care.

Joshua felt his pulse quicken, the alcohol buzzing in his system, loosening up the tension in his limbs but doing nothing to calm his mind. He hated how you looked at him. Like he was too clean, too good for this world you lived in. He hated how you never saw him as anything more than “good ol’ Joshua.” The guy who had never gone off the rails, the guy who probably never even had his dick wet before.

That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?

And fuck, he couldn’t stand it. The truth gnawed at him, because you had no idea who he was outside of your little bubble. You didn’t know about the times he’d stayed up too late, desperate to cum, the fantasies he’d let himself get lost in—half of them about you, goddammit. You didn’t know about the nights he’d spent grinding against someone, hands buried in their hair, feeling the warmth of their body pressed against his, the messy nights where he lost himself entirely.

You looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

His breath caught. You were joking—you had to be—but something in the way you said it, so casual, so sure that he wouldn’t… it broke something in him. The club around him blurred as he focused on you, standing there all relaxed, your lips still slightly parted, that familiar teasing glint in your eyes.

He couldn’t stop himself. “You really think I’m that fucking innocent, huh?” His voice was sharper than he intended, the words cutting through the thrum of the music.

You blinked, pulling back slightly, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What? No, I just—”

“You think I’ve never been with anyone? Never had my fuckin’ cock wet before?” He didn’t care how crude it sounded. Didn’t care that it was probably the first time you’d ever heard him talk like that. He was sick of it. Sick of the version of himself you’d created in your mind.

You feel the heat rise in your chest, a compound of anger and something else you don’t even want to admit. The way he said it—rough, out of character—like he was someone else entirely. Part of you wants to slap him for it, for breaking the image of the Joshua you knew. The good one. The clean-cut guy who’d never even raise his voice, let alone tell you he wasn’t so fucking innocent. But the other part of you… it liked it. The tension, the bite in his words, the way he stood there, all riled up.

You narrow your eyes, smirking just a little.

His jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. For the first time, you see his eyes darken—none of that usual light. No soft Joshua anymore. His face shifts into something harder, almost dangerous. It catches you off guard, and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re playing a game you can win.

“Don’t push it,” he warns. It sends a cold lick from the beginning of your spine to the end, but you tilt your head, still smirking, testing him.

“What? Gonna do something about it?” You lean in closer, just inches from his face now, daring him. “C’mon, Joshua. Show me.”

And then it happens.

He’s on you so fast, you don’t even have time to process it. His hands grab your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you feel it—the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly. Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, testing the waters, your body instinctively reacting to the sudden heat between you two.

His mouth crashes onto yours, rough, almost desperate, all that pent-up tension is spilling out at once. His lips are soft but demanding, like they’re asking for something, but also taking it without permission. You kiss him back just as fiercely, a messy clash of teeth and tongues, the taste of alcohol on both your breaths mixing as you struggle for control.

His hands slide down your back, grabbing your ass with a roughness that makes you gasp, and he pulls you tighter against him, grinding into you just enough to let you know exactly how turned on he is. “Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, barely pulling away to speak. You can feel the frustration, the years of him being the good one, bubbling up in every kiss, every touch.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him even closer, your nails digging into his skin through his shirt. It’s messy, frantic, and the sound of it—the heavy breathing, the low growls coming from him, the way your lips smack together—fills the small space between you like the only thing that matters is how fast and hard you can make this happen.

And god, it’s wrong. So fucking wrong. You can feel it in the back of your mind, the thought lingering, telling you this isn’t who Joshua is. Not the guy you grew up with. But right now, he doesn’t feel like the Joshua you knew. He feels like someone who’s been hiding this side of himself for too long, someone who’s finally letting the mask slip.

And the worst part? You like it. Maybe too much.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his eyes—fuck, his eyes are almost black with craving, his chest heaving as he stares at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You can see it on his face—how much he wants this, how much he needs to prove to you that he’s not as clean as you think he is.

“You sure you wanna keep pushing?” His voice is raspy, breathless, and his grip on your hips tightens. “’Cause I don’t think you can handle what happens if you do.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down. “Try me,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

And just like that, he’s on you again. This time, rougher. His mouth moves down to your neck, teeth scraping against your skin as he kisses you there, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and you feel the hard press of his cock grinding into your stomach as his hands roam over your body, touching, grabbing, pulling. He’s all over you.

You’re backed into the wall of the van now, his body trapping you there, and for a second, you think about the others. Your bandmates. The people who know Joshua—the real Joshua. You can almost feel their judgment, the silent “what the fuck” looks they’d give you if they saw this. If they saw how you’re fucking with his head, breaking him down until he’s someone else entirely.

But right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s kissing you like this, touching you like this. Not when his hand slips under your shirt, fingers grazing over your bare skin, making you shiver. Not when he’s showing you this side of himself that you never even thought existed.

And fuck, you realize. You’ve been wrong about Joshua. So, so wrong.

And he’s not done showing you just how wrong you’ve been.

Joshua’s hands slide under your top, squeezing your waist, his thumbs teasing your skin, brushing against the underside of your boobs until they find your nipples, flicking at the piercings. The sensation makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you fold under his touch. You clutch his arm, your breath heavy against his neck, before you moan right into his ear. You feel him twitch, nearly stumbling in front of you, his control unraveling.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking it back to force his eyes on you. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you can see the hunger there, the intensity, the rawness of it. “We need to stop,” you breathe, trying to sound firm, but even to your own ears, it’s weak.

Joshua’s mouth presses back against your neck, and he mutters between kisses, each one punctuating his words. “No. You don’t. Want. To. Stop. Do. You?” His breath is hot against your skin, each word hitting you harder than the last, unraveling your willpower.

“I’m serious,” you insist, but it’s pathetic, because the way he’s touching you—like he’s memorizing every inch of your body, like he’s known this moment was coming—makes it impossible to think straight.

He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, checking if you really want to stop. His expression softens, as if he’s giving you an out.

“We need to stop, or we’re gonna end up fucking right here in front of everyone.”

For a second, you both pause, glancing around. The crowd is still buzzing, everyone too lost in their own world to notice what’s happening between the two of you. You could, technically. You could fuck right here, and no one would bat an eye, but that last shred of morality keeps you in check, pulling you back from the edge. Barely.

Joshua was imagining just how much worse things could get. But honestly, he liked every single one of these thoughts.

He grabs your hand, pulling you toward the club’s parking lot, and rushing toward the van.

The heavy door of the van slides shut behind you, and Joshua locks it with a rough click, sealing the two of you inside. The second the door’s closed, it’s like the floodgates open. His hands are everywhere—grabbing, pulling, needy. He kisses you harder now, more frantic, his body pushing you against the side of the van, and your back hits the first seat with a thud.

You stumble, the both of you crashing into a pile of boxed-up instruments. Your knee hits a guitar case, his ass bump on the drum box, but neither of you care. Joshua’s hand slides down to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you into him, making sure you feel every inch of him pressed against your thigh. You’re practically panting, the need between you both building, burning.

You push him back toward the last row of seats, hands fumbling at his belt as you go, your teeth grazing his jaw, his neck, tasting the sweat and the heat from the show earlier.

He moans down in his throat, a sound that rumbles through his chest and straight into yours, and you swear it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. His fingers dig into your hips as he backs into the seat, pulling you down on top of him, your legs straddling his lap, the hard press of his cock straining against his jeans beneath you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grinding against him, and his head falls back against the seat, eyes rolling shut for a second as you move. You take advantage of it, your lips finding his neck, your teeth scraping his skin just enough to make him hiss.

The leather of your pants is sticking to your skin, but you barely register it as Joshua leans down, kissing you again, his hands slipping under your top and pulling it up, exposing you. His mouth moves lower, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and then lower, until his lips are at your chest. He doesn’t hesitate—his mouth finds your nipple, and he flicks his tongue over the piercing, making you arch your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

The leather pants cling to you, slick with sweat, and you can feel every inch of them suffocating your skin. You groan in frustration, hands fumbling to yank them off. In your hurry, you knock your elbow hard against a nearby box, hissing in pain. Joshua’s hands are on you immediately, steadying you as you finally peel the damn pants down, tossing them aside like they personally offended you. He takes the opportunity to shove his own pants down to his knees, and as you glance up, he's yanking his shirt over his head.

You’re back on his lap before he even realizes what’s happening, grinding down on him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers. It’s a hell of a lot better than the rough leather, and you feel the instant response—his hands grip your thighs so hard it’s like he’s holding on for dear life, his head falling back with this breathless, whiny moan.

His fingers slide down the front of your panties, finding you soaked, and he’s instantly wrecked. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he growls, his voice ragged, eyes dark and hungry as they lock onto yours. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

The dirty words coming from him feel so wrong, so foreign, but god, it’s making your head spin, red flags of danger flickering in your mind, and you can’t stop.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble, still grinding against his hand, but then he pushes a finger inside you, and your whole body jolts. A hand flies up, palm slamming against the fogged window for balance, leaving a print there as you rock forward, riding his thick, calloused finger.

His finger feels huge, and the stretch of it makes you dizzy. You’re thankful for the seat behind you, giving you the support you need because you’re practically sprawled back on it, grinding on his hand like your life depends on it.

He’s watching you, eyes locked on every twitch of your face, every moan spilling from your lips, and then he slides another finger in. The stretch makes you gasp, thighs trembling as he moves them inside you, fingers curling and hitting that spot that makes your vision go blurry.

“Talk dirty to me,” he suddenly demands, voice low and gruff.

“You… don’t like it when I curse,” you manage, barely coherent as his fingers keep moving inside you.

“Fuck that,” he growls, fingers curling deeper, making you whimper. “Call me whatever the fuck you want. Call me a motherfucker, I don’t care. Just talk to me, let me hear it.”

Your body’s trembling, eyes rolling back as you grind harder against his hand, desperate for more.

You moan, feeling his fingers pumping inside you as his thumb brushes your clit. You’re teetering on the edge, and words are spilling out before you can stop them. “God, Joshua… Always acting so pure. I bet no one would believe how fucking hard you are for me right now, huh?”

His breath stutters at your words, his fingers thrusting harder inside you. “Keep going.”

“Is this what you’ve wanted?” you gasp, rocking your hips against him, feeling that coil tightening in your belly. “You want me to ride your fingers like a fucking slut, huh?”

He groans, low and deep. "Fuck, yes”

Your body’s trembling, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer to the brink. “You’re such a motherfucker,” you whisper against his lips, your voice breaking. "You feel that? Feel how close I am? You're gonna make me—shit!—cum all over your fingers.”

Your head falls back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed as his rough, calloused fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your entire body tense. You're whimpering, struggling to keep the dirty talk going, but it's hard to form words when every nerve in your body is on fire. "God, Joshua, your fingers... they’re so fucking big," you manage to choke out, voice shaky.

He smirks, eyes dark, watching the way your body responds to him. “If you think my fingers are big,” he breathes, thrusting them deeper, faster, “imagine how you’re gonna feel when it’s my cock inside you.”

The thought sends another wave of heat pooling between your legs, and you grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin as he moves his fingers faster, relentless, pressing into your sweet spot over and over. Your walls clamp down around him, and a broken cry escapes your lips, your body trembling as the tension snaps, pleasure ripping through you in a rush.

"Fuck—Joshua!" you moan, your voice high and desperate as your orgasm hits you hard, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tight you can barely think. Your slick coats his hand, and he watches you fall apart, eyes locked on the way your body writhes against his, chest heaving, face twisted in pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, and you can feel him watching you, his expression mirroring your own without even meaning to. His lips part in a quiet curse, like he’s just as lost in it as you are, completely captivated by the way you cum on his fingers, riding the digits until you curl up on him.

His fingers slip out of you, slick and shiny, leaving you empty. Your breath catches in your throat when his hand dips down to his own cock, still hard and straining under the thin fabric of his boxers. He grunts softly, shifting, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of it through the fabric—big, thick. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

He’s moving fast, lips already on you again, his mouth latching onto your nipple. You gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive bud, his tongue swirling over the metal of your piercing like he’s obsessed—after all, besides seeing it through your blouses, now he has them in his mouth. His grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer, almost like he’s trying to devour you.

“Fuck, Joshua,” you rasp out, voice shaky, still buzzing from the orgasm he pulled from you with just his fingers. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He pauses for a second, teeth scraping your skin as his mouth moves up to nip at your collarbone, smirking. “What, you think just 'cause I look all neat and clean, I don’t know how to make a girl cum?” he leaves a wet hickey on your chest. “Trust me, babe, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You arch into him, head tilting back as his tongue flicks against your other nipple, but this time, he looks inside your eyes. “Could’ve fooled me… always acting like a saint.”

His hand tightens on your thigh, sliding up between your legs again, brushing against your soaked panties. He smirks against your skin. “You’re the one who’s been driving me fucking crazy. Always teasing me. You know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

You’re about to reply, but his fingers are pulling at the waistband of your panties, dragging them to the side. The next thing you know, he’s pushing his boxers down, freeing his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of it—he’s big, thicker than you expected, the tip already slick with precum. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder how many girls have seen this side of him, but then he’s guiding you back onto his lap, hands firm on your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, feeling the thick head of his cock brushing against your folds. The feel makes you hold your breath, the heat from his body and the sheer wrongness of it making your pulse race.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a brief second, there’s conflict there—like he’s torn between the best friend who used to crash on your couch, and the guy who's about to fuck you. He’s barely holding himself together.

He guides himself inside you slowly, inch by inch, and you can feel every stretch, every pulse of his cock as it fills you up. You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as you sink down onto him, his size making your head spin. "Jesus, Joshua..." you groan, head falling forward, overwhelmed by how full you feel.

His cock feels impossibly big, filling you up completely, and for a moment, you wonder how the hell you’re even taking him.

His hands tremble slightly on your waist as he pushes the rest of the way in, a throaty moan slipping from his lips. “Fuck, this is so wrong,” he mutters, voice shaky, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re my fucking best friend, I shouldn’t be doing this—” His voice breaks off into another moan as you start to move, your hips rolling against him.

You watch him, grinning at the conflict flickering in his eyes, the way his face contorts with each movement of your hips. His best friend—the girl he’s never even crossed boundaries with—now stretched out, tight around his cock. It's almost too much for him, his mind clearly buzzing with how wrong it is, but his body craves more, needing the way you feel wrapped around him.

His moans meld with yours, louder now, whiny. "You're making me fucking lose my mind."

You lean in close, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “Then lose it. Let me fuck you like no one else ever has.”

He growls low in his throat, his control slipping completely. He thrusts up into you, harder, deeper, and you moan, head falling back as your body rocks against his. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls you down onto him again and again, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.

You press both hands to his chest, halting his frantic thrusts, pinning him back against the seat. “Whoa, slow down,” you say, eyes locked on his as you adjust yourself, shifting until you find the angle that makes you gasp. His cock twitches inside you, and you bite back a smirk. You know you’ve got him right where you want him now.

You flick your hair to one side, leaning back a bit, and start riding him slow, dragging it out, making sure he feels every inch. His mouth opens to say something, but you change the motion, circling your hips instead, and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. You scoff, half laughing, half moaning. “What? Why so quiet now?”

His hands fly to the armrests, knuckles turning white as he grips the leather for dear life. You know exactly what he’s doing—trying to stop himself from grabbing you too rough, like you can’t handle it. Like you don’t want him to. But you take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, his palm practically engulfing your head. You lean into his touch, biting your lip before saying it. “Slap me.”

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“Come on,” you grind down on him again, slower, teasing. “You’ve never slapped anyone before? Right on my face. Do it.”

He looks torn, breath hitching as you ride him harder. You can tell he’s struggling to even think straight, his stomach clenching, his abs flexing under your hands as the pleasure hits him hard. But it’s your pace that’s driving him insane, the way you bounce on his cock, taking him deep, then slowing down just enough to drag it out. He’s barely hanging on.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks, “Fuck… I don’t—” He gasps when you clench around him on purpose, his hips flinching up into you, reflexive. His hand tightens on your jaw before he lets go, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can—”

“Shut up,” you whisper, eyes burning with challenge. “Slap me.” The way you’re looking at him, daring him, makes his heart pound in his chest. He hesitates for half a second, but when you grind down on him again, harder, his control snaps.

He slaps you, hard. Harder than he intended.

The sound of it rings out, followed by his shocked gasp. But you’re already moaning, your pussy clenching so tight around him that he almost loses it. He watches in disbelief as you react, the slap turning you on even more, your walls fluttering around his cock, soaking him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, staring at you, wide-eyed, as you keep riding him like nothing just happened—no, like it made everything better.

Your body jerks with each bounce, the slap leaving a burning sting on your cheek, but all it does is fuel the fire between your legs. “See?” you taunt. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He groans, the sound low and desperate. “Fuck… you’re fucking insane.” His hands find your waist again, but this time he doesn’t try to hold back. He grips you tight, fingers digging into your skin as you grind against him, circling your hips just to watch his head fall back, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

Every time you clench down on him on purpose, his whole body flinches, like he’s trying so hard not to lose control. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, voice ragged. “I can feel… fuck, I can feel you squeezing me like you want me to fucking break.”

You bite your lip, eyes half-lidded as you meet his gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Joshua's thumb strokes the still-hot skin of your cheek where he slapped you. You bounce hard on his cock, the slap only making the tension between you snap tighter. His thumb lingers, gently caressing the mark like he’s making up for what he did, but you grin, biting your lip through the pleasure and ask for more;

“Slap me again.”

It’s the same voice you used when you asked him to push you harder on a swing—excited, impatient, full of that rush of adrenaline. He sucks in a breath, brows furrowed like he’s torn, but the way your pussy tightens around him makes his decision for him. His hand raises again, and this time, it lands with purpose.

Your face turns to the side from the force, cheek burning red-hot, and fuck, it burns even better than the last one.

Your pussy tightens around him instantly, and Joshua groans. He can feel the way your body responds, how you pulse around him every time he does it. You moan, “Fuck… I think I’m gonna cum again.” The whine at the end of your sentence makes his cock twitch, and it sparks something animalistic in him.

Joshua grabs your hips, lifting you just enough to pin you down on his lap, grinding his pelvis into you so deep that your vision goes hazy for a second. You roll your eyes, barely hanging on. Before you can catch your breath, he’s flipping you onto the seat, his cock never leaving you as he lays you down, spreading your legs up and grabbing the backs of your knees.

The new angle has you arching your back immediately, hands scrambling for purchase on the seat. He starts thrusting, and it’s so hard and deep you swear your body is melting into the seat. Each snap of his hips sends a sharp lock of bliss through you, his pelvis slamming into yours, and you know anyone outside can hear the van rocking, but you don’t fucking care.

You don’t care about anything except him, the way his thumb circles your clit just as he slips it down, thumb circling the base of his cock, spreading your slickness over the throbbing nerve. Your body jerks, an involuntary sob escaping your throat.

Joshua’s never seen you like this—ruined, makeup streaking down your face, thick tears rolling down your cheeks. His grin is huge, his breath ragged as he stares down at you, fucking relentless in his pace. “Aw, look at you. You’re crying on my cock,” he coos, his voice laced with sweet mockery. He presses harder on your clit, making you squirm, and he chuckles low, shaking his head. “Such a good girl, crying for me like that. You can’t even handle it, can you?”

You let out a strangled gasp, your body writhing under him as you feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, everything inside you winding so tight. “Fuck,” you choke out, “Josh, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby,” he growls, leaning down, his mouth right by your ear now. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, gonna make a mess of me?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your head tipped back as your body reaches its breaking point. His thumb circles your clit faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over, and your whole body shakes uncontrollably. You feel the coil snap inside you so hard that you almost black out, your pussy clenching around him like a vice as you cum, the orgasm ripping through you with inhuman intensity.

You scream his name, tears streaming down your face as you sob through it, your body trembling violently as your release floods out of you, soaking his cock and thighs.

Joshua watches, mesmerized by how fucking ruined you are beneath him, and he leans down, whispering against your lips, “That’s right. Cry for me more, baby. Show me how good it feels. Look at you… soaking me like that, dripping all over me.”

Joshua's hips stutter, and you feel the unmistakable swell of his cock inside you, growing thicker, pulsing as he teeters on the edge. He pulls out suddenly, leaving you breathless as he grips his cock, jerking it against your slick stomach. His hand is tight, desperate, moving fast as his chest rises and falls in ragged breaths.

His moans are a mess—whiny, high-pitched, slipping from his throat like he can’t control them. He bites his bottom lip hard, but the sly little whimpers escape him anyway, each sound more desperate than the last. His abs tense, his whole body trembling above you, muscles tight as a cord about to snap. His eyes flutter shut, head falling back slightly as he loses himself in the feeling.

“Fuck—” he gasps, his voice breaking as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His grip falters for a split second, and then his cock jerks hard in his hand, spilling hot ropes of cum. It spurts in thick, messy streams, splattering across your belly, sliding up toward your chest, even reaching your chin. His knees buckle slightly, and he has to grab the back of the seat in front of him to keep from collapsing, his whole body shuddering through the force of it.

He’s panting, still jerking himself through the aftershocks, and his cum keeps dripping from the tip, mixing with the sweat that’s already covering both of you. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, falling to the side as your body finally gives out, utterly spent. The van feels suffocating, the air thick and humid, making it hard to breathe as the windows fog up completely now.

Joshua’s hand is still braced on the seat for support, knuckles white, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes flicker open, and when he looks down at you—covered in him, eyes heavy, body limp—you can see the disbelief, the satisfaction, and maybe even a little guilt.

But neither of you moves, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the humid silence of the van, your breaths slowly returning to something like normal.

Joshua settles into the seat next to you, staring down at you like he’s trying to make sense of everything. You both stay silent, like the weight of what just happened hasn’t fully hit yet. Neither of you moves; it's as if you need this stillness to process, to figure out what the fuck this was and where it might lead. Was it the alcohol? The adrenaline? Or maybe the tension between you two, the one you both never admitted but always felt.

He suddenly stands up, his voice breaking the silence. “Where’s your necessaire?” You barely register the question, too lost in thought, so you just point lazily toward the front of the van, your limbs too tired to follow his movements.

You hear the zipper open, the soft rustle of him digging through your things. Your legs ache from the awkward position they’re in, but before you can shift, Joshua is back beside you. Without a word, he gently lifts your legs, folding them in a more comfortable position, almost cradling you. You catch his eyes as he pulls out makeup remover wipes.

He starts with your face, wiping away the tear-streaked makeup, his touch as soft as it’s ever been. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek tenderly—the same cheek he slapped earlier, his movements extra gentle now, like he’s trying to undo any mark he left.

You close your eyes, feeling his hands glide across your skin. “You’re lucky I know how to clean this up,” he teases lightly, the sound of his voice strangely comforting. “You always were a mess after shows.”

You hum, half-laughing. “You should see me after the after-parties.” The humor doesn’t land quite like it usually does; there’s something too real now, something too intimate that makes the joke feel heavy.

He uses a fresh wipe to clean the cum from your body, starting at your chin and working his way down your belly. His touch lingers, but it’s not lustful—more like he’s making sure every part of you is taken care of, like you’re something precious. “Lift your arm for me,” he says softly, and you comply, feeling the coolness of the wipe brush under your arm and along your ribs.

When he finishes, his hand slips to your necklace, the little cross with the rhinestones—one you wear mostly because of him. His fingers fiddle with it for a second, the small gesture almost grounding, like it’s pulling him back to reality.

“You good?” he asks finally, eyes scanning your face, like he’s not sure if he went too far, if maybe you’re more hurt than you’re letting on.

“Yeah,” you breathe, and even though you’re wrecked, there’s something warm in your chest. “I’m good.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, his touch featherlight. “You sure? You need anything else?”

You smirk a little, exhausted but still yourself. “Yeah, I need a nap.”

Joshua chuckles under his breath, still holding your necklace. “Alright, you take that nap. I’ll watch over you.” There’s something sweet in his tone, a promise hidden in the words, something you know he means more than he’s letting on.

And as you start to drift, you can’t help but think that despite everything—despite the wild shit that just happened—Joshua is still Joshua. Sweet, caring, a little too good for this world, and somehow, still your person.

[...]

The nap you took wasn’t just any nap—it was wild, like the kind where time feels like it disappears. When you finally blink your eyes open, groggy and confused, the van’s already moving, and you hear muffled voices. Your crew is in the van now, going about their business like nothing happened. Instinctively, your hands fly to your chest, covering yourself, but you’re already dressed—the same clothes from the show.

Relief floods through you, though you’re not sure why. Then you realize where your head is resting—not on the uncomfortable seat like before, but on Joshua’s lap. His thick thighs beneath you are surprisingly comfortable, his body warm against yours.

You feel him stir beneath you, his body shifting as he wakes up too. His hand brushes against your arm, and you glance up, meeting his eyes. His hair’s a bit messy, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but there’s this soft smile on his face, one that makes you feel like everything’s okay.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep, his hand absentmindedly stroking your arm.

“Mornin’,” you echo back, your own voice low and hoarse.

There’s a moment of quiet between you, the rest of the van oblivious to the weight of everything that passed between you two last night. You shift a little, feeling his thighs under you, and the memories flash through your head—the heat, the sex, the things you said and did. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

“You slept through everything,” he teases, his smile widening, though there’s a hint of something unspoken behind it.

You chuckle, adjusting slightly but still keeping your head on his lap. “Guess I was tired, hm?”

“Tired? You passed out,” he grins, his hand moving to gently fix your hair. “Had to dress you. Can’t have the crew thinking… well, y’know.”

Your face flushes a bit, imagining him trying to carefully dress you without waking you up. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” he says, his tone playful but gentle. There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make you wonder what’s next, what happens after this.

You glance around at the others in the van, but it’s like they’re in their own worlds. No one’s paying attention, no one’s noticed how close the two of you are, how your head’s still in his lap, how his fingers are still brushing through your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can get used to it, can't you?

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kismetlotts · 3 months ago

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Kinktober 🎃 day one: Thigh riding!

cw: thigh riding, dry humping, reader is bratty, mention of food and eating, mentions of spanking, mentions of oral sex, public sex, mention of horror films, mention of male and female masturbation, dominant Simon, breast play, reader and Simon have banter (he isnt just a nob)

Simon Riley who had never really cared or enjoyed going out to the cinema. So what a new movie you want to see has come out- are you that impatient, you can’t wait and watch it home but instead spend a stupid amount of money on overpriced popcorn and drinks just to be in front of a big screen? And not only that but surrounded by other people who are chewing- rustling sweet packets and slurping on their straws- laughing loudly at moments that aren’t even funny and sitting way too close to each other? No, he absolutely hated it.

“Simon please! I’ve been wanting to watch this horror film ever since they revealed it was being made! Please can we go?” You’d asked him, eyes almost glossy with tears from how hard you’d been begging him. Your shoulders slumped and eyes full of hope when he throws his head back with a sigh, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

It was date night after all, the two of you usually did something romantic together. The idea of date night was perfect at first, you’d gone bowling, star gazing, played card games, you’d even roped him into a karaoke night somehow- but now it was usually a nice meal out before coming home and fucking for hours. Now don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t complaining about it, the food was usually good and the sex was incredible but it could get a bit repetitive. A change could be nice- even if he hated it.

“Fine but get a seat in the corner at the back. I don’t want to be near people.” He grumbled as he opened up his phone, finding the website and passing it over for you to book. You whined, throwing your head back in annoyance like a spoiled fucking brat and Simons jaw clicked. If he wasn’t so irritated by the fact he was being forced to go to the cinema, he’d stand up and make you lean against the wall. His hand spanking your behind so hard it would leave a hand print because you know better than to act like this. You know better than to act like a child.

“But Simon! We won’t even be able to see the screen! No one ever sits at the back!” He looked up at you, his eyes darker than the sky outside, as he crossed his arms, biceps pretty much spewing out of his t-shirt as he stared, coldly, at you.

He was already pissed off you were wasting money to go see something you could watch together. Curled up on the sofa, in a warm blanket as he passes you a warm hot drink he’d made. There was no way you could convince him to sit in a middle seat surrounded by other people. He blinked slowly, waiting for you to speak but you just turned away.

Huffing as you booked the seats in the far left corner, last row and turned back around. You passed him his phone back before you ran upstairs to slip on some decent clothes. Changing out of your pyjamas and into something comfortable, pulling your hair up and out the way before rushing back down stairs to find your shoes. Simon looked you up and down, his eyebrows furrowed at your outfit and you froze.

“What?” You asked but his eyes remained on your body before slowly looking up and locking eyes with yours. It was clear there was something on his mind from how focused he was on you, how he was trying to read your every move, looking away quickly and back to his phone.

“You not going to get ready?” He asked and you let out a small laugh. Was he actually serious? Did he think that you were going to come running down the stairs in a long red cocktail dress, makeup done to the nines, heels and a matching handbag to watch a horror movie in a cinema? You shook your head, slipping into your trainers as you spoke.

“It’s a cinema Simon, not a formal event. You need to be comfy in order to enjoy the film. Do I nod look good?” His eyes fell down you again and fuck, how could he allow you to go out dressed like this? Your thighs looked perfect in your tight black leggings, they sculpted and shaped your figure so well and that baggy grey hoodie which was originally his made you look incredible. As much as you suited long beautiful dresses, makeup and hair, you dressed so effortlessly made it impossible for him not to chub up in his jeans.

“Yeah, you look stunning. How’s about we get goin’ then?” His voice was gruff as his body emerged from the chair he was dominating, his figure towering over you as he reached for his car keys and headed out. You let out a smile before following him to his car and sliding in the passenger seat as he drove.

When you’d arrived, you’d managed to talk him into letting you buy a large box of popcorn and two drinks, despite him saying how much he didn’t want one. The two of you had found your seats, sat in the corner as you began to tuck into your snacks already, grinning like a happy little girl while Simon sat beside you, sulking- scrolling on his phone. You frowned at him about to tell him to ‘Grow up’ when the movie started.

You’d gotten about halfway through and the popcorn and your drink was already gone, and instead of eating you sat anxiously watching the film. The jumpscares making you leap out of your seat meanwhile Simon just laughs. You were impressed how little he flinched, figuring it must have been the fact he’s used to loud noises in the military, but actually it was because he wasn’t paying attention the film. The light from the big screen shined down onto the material of your leggings, his body warmed with hunger.

He wanted to be between your legs right now, he wanted you to trap and squeeze his face between your thighs as he devoured you. Hoping you wouldn’t let him breathe or let his face go until you came on his tongue, his little bratty baby who can use him however she wants. He’d spoil you, he’d spoil you so good.

His eyes traced up the curve of your tits in his hoodie, it was only a subtle little curve due to how big it was on you but fuck, it was enough to get him throbbing in his underwear. His hand instantly palming himself through his jeans before a grumble of annoyance left your lips.

A pair of two, a woman and a man, had just snuck in, squeezing by people watching the movie before sitting down in the seats in front of you. The man’s head was quite tall and blocking a heavy portion of the screen for you and you groaned leaning in next to Simon.

“I cant see.” You’d whispered and Simon snorted, looking back at the screen with a smirk, hand now placed at his side despite his urge to start stroking his cock.

“Well you’re the one who wanted to come.” He teased, the back of his head hit the top section of his seat, his eyes glued to the screen, just to let you know he had a perfect view and you bit your lip in rage. Not only could you not see the film you’d wanted to watch for months, the guy who you dragged along and begged to come had a perfect view. He didn’t even want to be here!

“Well you’re the one who picked where we sat!” You spat back out to him, keeping your voice quiet as you sunk back into your seat, watching what you could of the screen because the more you bickered, the more of it you missed. Simon laughed as he remained in his position, eyes flickering from the screen to you and despite the banter, his heart tugged slightly.

You did want to watch this film, as much as he hated cinemas he knew how much you loved this film franchise and it was a shame to spend all this money on the both of you not having a fun time. His arm swooped around your waist tugging you towards him, up and over the arm rest between you and into his lap. Your eyes went wide, head turning to face him him.

“What are you-“ But before you could question him, he kissed your lips, a smile on his own as he looked into your eyes, leaning in again. His mouth found your ear as he quietly whispered.

“Just enjoy the movie, love.” And with a deep breath you smiled, turning your attention back to the screen and getting lost in the film again. It was easy for you to just sit back and relax, eyes running over the screen as you watched it softly. Perched up in Simons lap, completely obvious to how hard Simon was fighting for control. How hard he was fighting the urge to push you back over to your seat and fuck the living hell out of you.

Your ass was pressed nice and neatly against his length, he was sure if you decided to move a slight bit, that you would be able to feel it and it was making him a madman. His hands rose to your waist slowly, diving beneath the fabric of your hoodie, feeling the smooth warm skin in his hands, squeezing it and rubbing it slowly. His head fell to your shoulder, watching the moving from there but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.

“Simon?” You’d whispered as that was his limit reached. Hearing you whisper his name back to him had him breathing heavier, his hands digging into you as he pushed you back against him. Your eyes widening when you felt him under you, feeling his body brush against yours sent sparks to your pussy. The movie was a distant memory all of a sudden as you moved your body forward and against him. Rolling my hips in subtle movements.

A groan left his lips but instead of keeping you on his cock he lifted you slightly, placing you on his thigh. Bouncing his leg a little underneath you, wanting you to please yourself, as your skin flushed in the dark. You shouldn’t be doing this; not here. There was over 20 people in the room and here you were, riding against his thigh like a whore but it felt heavenly. The friction was addictive against your clit, warm, melted- like drowning hot honey. Your head flew back and Simons hands raised to your tits, pinching your nipples through the bra and squeezing them tightly to keep you needy.

“Keep going, be a good girl and hump my thigh.” He whispered, watching in awe as your hips rocked faster. Your eyes unfocused and hazy, while your mouth hung agape. You could feel your pussy throb inside your panties and the urge to stuff your fingers down your leggings was unbearable. It was so wrong- but it felt so fucking right.

You rutted against him faster and faster as one of his hands left your tits and instead grabbed your cunt through your clothes. His thumb finding your clit instantly and he circled it through the fabric: watching your orgasmic expression while your body twitched. When he withdrew his hand you flipped around facing him, grinding against him while looking deep into his eyes.

Suspenseful music played through the speakers of the cinema, and a laugh left your mouth at the timing. The louder it got, the closer you felt. Simon picked up on this gripping your waist eagerly, helping you rock against him while he praised you. People clutched their popcorn buckets and closed their eyes in fear while you threw your head back, until screams echoed the room and a moan left your lips.

Collapsing back into Simon as your chest rose and fell, your cum gushing out your hole and dampening your panties shamelessly- you probably leaked through your leggings too either how wet you were. Simon smiled to himself, kissing your neck long and hard as he held you close, his touch comforting and sensual as he calmed you slowly. Letting you come down from the high he gave you before chucking.

“Maybe cinemas aren’t the worst thing ever..”

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rhysazriel · 3 months ago

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Kinktober Day 12: Overstimulation

A/N: have a very busy day tomorrow but I’m hoping to find time to make sure I have tomorrows blurb ready. 18+ only!! Includes sexual themes and overstimulation!!

Your entire body was still convulsing. Legs shaking and heart hammering, but Azriel didn’t stop. You didn’t want him to.

Your legs were on his shoulders, knees pressed to your chest as he leaned his body on the backs of your thighs to kiss you feverishly.

“Az!” Your words came out as a shriek of pleasure, his thick cock plunged deep in your cunt.

He pushed his hips harder, teeth grit tight as he fucked into you. “You can take it, baby. Give me one more.”

The coil in the pit of your stomach was strung tight and you had no idea if you’d be able to recover from another orgasm. But Azriel was relentless, your legs pinned to his liking as he ravished your pussy.

“One more big one, baby. Come on, give it to me.”

Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, skin flushed and burning hot. The pleasure he rolled into your body was indescribable, something nothing else could ever amount to.

You’d already came three times tonight, your nipples raw and bruised from his assaults, your thighs littered with nail indents and finger prints marred into your skin.

You come hardly think straight, hardly comprehend anything that wasn’t him. Shadows swarmed you, kissing your flesh and caressing you softly. Coaxing you to orgasm, comforting your aches.

“Come on my cock, my love. You can do it.”

A final gasp tore through your lungs as you shuddered and came around him. Azriel’s own pleasure erupted as he spurted his own release. His body collapsed on yours, pinning your knees to your ears as he struggled to catch his breath.

Your entire body felt spent, not a single ounce of energy left in you to even lift a finger. You panted, desperate to regulate your breathing, to come back down from where ever the fuck you’d floated off to.

“You did so good, my love.”

#kinktober #azriel #azriel smut #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar smut #azriel imagine #azriel angst #azriel oneshot #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar oneshot #acotar fic

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

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Jersey

masterlist ko-fi ao3

College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Natasha’s idea of getting a jersey with Bucky’s name turned out to be much better than you expected.

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: smut, established relationship, college, football player bucky is a biggest warning tbh, he's so in love, locker room sex, nat is good friend, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

Author's note: honestly one of my favorite fics because college athlete bucky is my biggest weakness (I should probably write about him more often)💘

It’s been another game for the "Avengers", where your boyfriend Bucky Barnes was a quarterback. Today was one of the most important games against "Hydra" – their biggest enemy. Obviously, you couldn't miss the game, and Natasha, your best friend and roommate, will be with you as always. And right now, she has convinced you to do something that has been on your mind for a long time.

"C’mon, It’ll be fun. He’ll like it, I promise!" She said as you two stood near the place that made custom t-shirts with any prints. And at this moment, Natasha wanted you to order a jersey with Bucky’s number and his name on it.

"I don’t know, Nat. I mean, I want to do it, but what if he thinks that it’s too much?" You nervously played with the hem of your skirt.

"Now stop it." She stood before you and put her hand on her hips like a mother who was scolding her child. "You’ve been dating for more than a year, and his guy loves you so fucking much that he can’t even tear his eyes from you every time you two are in the same room. So when I tell you that he’ll love it, I mean it." You silently looked at her for a few minutes, but when she questionably raised her eyebrow, you finally gave up.

"Fine, you won. I hate you."

"I love you too, baby." Nat chuckled and dragged you to the store.

It seemed like there were thousands of people because everyone wanted to see one of the most important games of the season. People were already taking their seats, but you and Nat went straight to the locker room to wish the guys good luck. Trainer Fury was very strict about this, and it was forbidden for people not from the team to go there, but for some reason Nat always found a way to solve this problem.

"Guys!" Natasha loudly knocked at the door. "Are all of you already dressed up? I’m not in the mood to see somebody’s ass today!"

"Come in!" You heard Thor’s loud voice.

"Oh, I see our support group is here." As soon as you two walked in, Sam ended up between you and Nat and threw his hands over your shoulders, leading you deeper into the room. "Barnes will be here soon; don’t worry."

"Okay. Are you guys ready to beat their asses?" You smiled and looked at the almost entire team that had come to see you and Nat.

"Don’t worry, Sweets, we’ll win, as always." Tony answered you while he was cleaning his helmet. "But you should tell your boyfriend to stay away from Rumlow, or else he’ll be suspended again. By the way, is that jersey with his name?" You quietly nodded as the whole team made an impressive ‘woo’ together.

"You two are disgustingly sweet, you know that?" Sam rolled his eyes, and at the same time, the door slammed. "It’s him; go give him some kisses for luck."

"Shut up, Samuel." You laughed and left their little circle to find Bucky looking at his phone. "Don’t you want to say hi, James?" He moved his eyes to you, and his face immediately lit up with happiness.

"I just wanted to text you." He threw his phone on the bench and came closer to wrap his arms around you. "Hi, doll. I missed you so much today." He mumbled into your neck.

"I missed you too, Buck." You smiled when your heart filled with all the love you had for that man. "But wait, I have to show you something." You slipped out of his hands, excited and nervous at the same time. "Look what I’ve got!" You happily turned around to show Bucky your back and flipped your hair to the side so he could see everything better. "Do you like it?"

You had a big red jersey on you, to which Bucky didn't even pay attention at first. But when you turned around, his mouth went dry and his whole body became fuzzy. You had his number 17 and the word "Barnes" on your back. You were wearing his last name on your back.

For a few seconds, he was silent. He didn't answer your answer either, so with confusion written on your face, you faced him again, only to see a weird look on his face.

"What? You don't like it? Should I take this off? I'm sorry…" You started to apologize, only to be interrupted by his low voice.

"Don't you dare take this off, Y/N." He suddenly came closer to you again, and the next thing you knew, your back was slapped against the metal lockers when Bucky’s lips attacked you. He kissed you passionately and deeply, pressing his body against yours as if he was desperate to touch you and feel you closer. You couldn’t hold back the quiet moan that escaped your mouth when he tilted your head with his hand, helping his tongue slip into your mouth.

You thought that you heard the screams of the boys on the other side of the room, but they were really muffled when your head was filled with the thought of your boyfriend’s soft lips and warm skin. Bucky finally broke the kiss, leaving you two catching your breath while he put his forehead on yours and closed his eyes.

"You don’t understand what you’re doing to me. You look so fucking hot in this jersey, I want to fuck you right now." He whispered so only you could hear. "You made me hard, doll." To prove his words, he pushed his hips a little bit closer to you so you could feel the hardness.

"‘M sorry; I didn’t know that you would react like that."

"Hey, Buck, we should already go." Bucky’s grip on your waist became only tighter, when he heard Steve’s voice, and he nuzzled into your neck.

"Give me a minute."

"The game is gonna start soon."

"I said, give me a minute, Steve!" He said it louder. Bucky deeply inhaled, and it was obvious that he just needed some time to calm down.

"Shh, it’s okay, James." You put your hands through his hair because you knew that it would instantly relax him. "You're gonna win this game, right? And without fights."

"I’ll do everything for you. I just love you so much, doll." He whispered into your neck when his body finally relaxed and he was able to move away from you.

"I love you too, James." He quickly kissed you again before turning around to face the team, who had knowing smirks on their faces.

"You two should get a room." Sam had an annoyed look on his face.

"Don’t worry, Birdbrain, we will. Are you ready for the game, or are you gonna stand here and complain all day?" Bucky winked at you and went out of the room without waiting for the answer from Sam.

"So…" Natasha suddenly appeared near you. "Did you make The White Wolf hard by just wearing a shirt with his name on it?" She grinned, as it was her original plan that worked.

"Oh, shut up!"

The game was tough. Hydra played dirty as always, and Bucky almost got into a fight with Rumlow during the intense moment. You almost jumped out of the seat during the last few minutes of the game, and when "Avengers" finally won, you and Natsha screamed at the top of your lungs.

As soon as the team was done cheering and hugging, Bucky looked at the seat where you were supposed to be but saw only Nat, who pointed at you already standing near the rim. He ran to you with the biggest smile on his face, and when he finally reached you, he crushed his lips into yours.

You didn’t care that many people looked at you, even though you knew that some particular groups of girls would gossip about it for the next week because… well, everyone wanted your boyfriend. You just wrapped your hands around his sweaty neck and pulled him closer to you as far as you could with a fence between you two.

"I’m so proud of you, baby." You whispered into his lips. "You were amazing as always."

"Thank you, doll. I'm happy that you’re here with me." He looked into your eyes as his right thumb rubbed your cheek.

"You know I couldn’t miss your game, especially if it’s that important."

"Mhm, can you… come to the locker room in like twenty minutes?" Bucky nervously licked his lips.

"To the locker room? I thought we were going to celebrate it with the team as always."

"Maybe later, but I’m thinking of something, so come, ‘kay?" He started to go back to the field, but not before giving you another sweet kiss on the lips.

***

You sat in the cafeteria for about twenty minutes, passionately waiting for the appropriate time to go to the locker room because you really didn’t want to see another naked man that wasn’t your boyfriend. One such experience was enough for you. You asked Nat to come with you, but when you repeated Bucky’s words to her, she just gave you a mysterious smirk and patted you on the shoulder, saying that you better go there alone.

When you finally got there and knocked on the door, you heard only Bucky’s voice, who told you to come in.

"James? What’s going on?" You asked as you came further into the room. It was empty except for Bucky, who came out of nowhere and locked the door. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t answer you; he just crossed the room, kissed you, and pushed your back into the metal lockers, just as he did it a few hours ago. He was greedy, passionate, and a little bit too rough, so you couldn’t keep the moan from escaping your mouth. Bucky’s hands squeezed your hips and then went higher under your jersey.

"Bucky…" You pulled away from the kiss, but he took advantage of it and started kissing your neck. Your eyes rolled back as you squeezed his shoulders and completely forgot everything you wanted to say. He sucked your soft skin into his mouth and even bit you. It was obvious that he desperately wanted to leave dark marks on your neck, but, honestly, you didn’t care. He smelled too good fresh out of the shower, with his bare chest and low-rise gray sweatpants, and his mouth… God, you knew what his mouth could do. "Baby, we can’t do it here."

"We can, and we will." He left your neck and looked at you, leaving only a few inches between your faces. "You can’t imagine how hard it was for me not to bend you over the closest surface when you showed me that fucking shirt. With my name on it? So everyone could see that you’re mine?" Bucky licked his already swollen lips. You pressed your thighs together, feeling how wet you were. He definitely felt that motion because his eyes became darker, and he looked like he was going to devour you at that same place.

"James…" You quietly whimpered, not being able to hold yourself anymore.

"Baby, fuck– doll, I love it when you call me that. You drive me insane." He decided not to lose any more time, so his hands went straight to the button of your jeans. He helped you get out of them, not losing a chance to touch your bare legs. "Now turn around, baby." You heard a deep moan, probably when he saw the back of the shirt again.

"Bucky, please." You whispered when you felt that more juices came out of you. You loved when your boyfriend became needy and possessive.

"Look at you, doll. You're already ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet." He said that when he put his hand over your pussy, he probably felt the heat and pulse. "I would’ve eaten you out, but I need you too fucking much, so I promise to do it when we get to my place."

"O-okay, just do something, please." You pushed your ass back and heard a loud, deep moan as soon as you touched Bucky’s hard cock through his pants. You put your hands behind your back to try to push down his clothes, and at the same time, Bucky removed your black thongs.

You felt his hard cock on the bare skin of your ass, the tip already leaking with pre-cum. Bucky squeezed your ass with his hands and moved his hips. His perfectly shaped cock grinded against your wet folds, and you couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping your throat.

"Please, don’t tease me–" You didn’t even finish the sentence when Bucky moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. The mixture of pain and pleasure washed over you, and you didn’t even realize that you moaned too loudly. He was too perfect, filling you completely and stretching you around him in the most delicious way.

"Sh-h, sweetheart, you don’t want other people to hear you, right?" One of Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt and laid on your stomach, and the other one covered your mouth, pulling you closer to his chest. "Good girl." He mumbled into your ear when you shook your head.

Bucky pulled away from you, still staying deep inside of your heat, letting you adjust to his size. He put one hand from your mouth on your back, which made you lean forward toward the lockers. The cold metal cooled your hot skin, but it still felt like you were burning inside.

Bucky finally started moving his hips, and the filling of his dick coming in and out of you made you almost faint. You two had sex a million times, but it still amazed you how full and satisfied he made you feel.

"That’s right, doll. You’re so greedy for my dick, huh?" He started to go faster, and you tried to move your body to his rhythm. "Was this your plan? Showing me that fucking jersey, so I could fuck you like a little slut you actually are?" His hand went over your back, tracing letters on your shirt with his fingers, and his motions became harder. In fact, it wasn’t your idea, but you should definitely thank Natasha because you really didn’t expect your boyfriend to become even more obsessed with you.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, and you clenched around Bucky’s cock, making him moan. "I feel how you’re clenching ‘round me. I know that you like it when I call you my slut. Only mine."

"Yes, Bucky– James, please." A sudden slap on your right cheek pulled another moan out of you, and Bucky just chuckled, knowing that you’re always loud with him.

"Please what, baby?"

"Let me cum, please– James! I’m so close." You felt too overwhelmed with pleasure, not even realizing that you started crying when his fingers moved to your clit, drawing little circles there.

"Fuck, one day I’m gonna make you Mrs. Barnes, so you will have a well-damn reason to wear this shirt." He deeply chuckled, moving harder and harder into you. More nasty sounds of skin slapping into skin and your not-so-quiet moans filled the room. "Can you imagine that, baby? Being my cute little wife, who likes when I fuck the shit out of her? Poor doll, crying. Can’t even handle my cock deep inside your pussy, can’t you?" He moved even deeper into you, and that was it.

"God– James!" You slammed your hands on the metal near your face, trying to find something to hold onto, as the wave of heat and extreme pleasure covered your whole body and mind. Your legs trembled, and the only thing that kept you straight was Bucky’s strong hands. He felt that you were over the edge, that you couldn’t stand on your legs, and he definitely felt more juices coming out of you. He looked down and saw how his shiny cock was coming in and out of your pussy that was particularly choking him, and that sight threw him over the edge. With the last movement, he pulled your body into him, wrapping his hands around you and releasing his hot seed deep inside of you.

You both moaned at the feeling of you being so full of his cum that it had already started dripping down your thighs.

"That’s it, baby." Bucky whispered into your ear. "You did so well. Are you okay?" He left light kisses on your cheek.

It was too intense; not a single thought came to your head, and for a few seconds you tried to put yourself together.

"Mhm." It was the only thing that you were able to answer because your body was still trembling with the leftovers of your intense orgasm.

You two stayed in that position for a few minutes until Bucky realized that you had become too sleepy. He tried to pull out, but you grabbed his hand.

"‘m too sensitive." You almost cried.

"I know, sweetheart, but now I have to clean you and take you home." Bucky gently came out of you, and your body got goosebumps at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you. It took him all the strength not to shove it back into you with his fingers, but you were obviously too tired, and he couldn’t properly take care of you since you weren’t at his or your bedroom.

Bucky fell on his knees, quickly took a towel from his bag on the floor, and carefully cleaned the mess between your thighs. He reached for your panties, helped you put them back, leaving a soft kiss on your leg, and then helped you sit on the bench.

He looked at your sleepy and tired face while putting on his clothes.

"Hey, doll? You’re too quiet. Is everything okay? Was I too rough?"

"I’m ‘kay, it was just as intense as when you make me come many times in one night. Just help me with my jeans; I can’t feel my legs."

"Of course, sweetheart." He helped you with your pants and then fixed your messy hair. You couldn’t imagine how you must’ve looked right now. "I love you so much. Thank you for being here today. You’re truly the best thing that ever happened to me." Bucky kissed your forehead and wrapped his hands around your body, standing up with you.

"I love you too, Buck. So so much." You happily buried your face into his neck, knowing that your boyfriend was going to take care of everything.

He picked up his bag and keys for the locker room and came out of there. Bucky didn’t even close the door when he heard a familiar voice.

"Do not tell me that you two did what I think you did!" Sam was standing there a few steps away with disgust and shock on his face. "I didn’t expect that from you, Y/N/N." He joked.

"Sorry, Sam." You moved away from Bucky’s neck and tried to give Sam your best apologetic smile.

"Well, I’m not. Since you’re here, close the door, Birdbrain; we hurry."

Sam stood there for a few more moments after Bucky left with you in his arms.

He decided that the headphones that he left in the room could wait until another time.

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