#three ocs aren’t mine

[nproduction626]

Twst memes for @mangacupcake who’s OC is Mrs.Rosehearts and about the drama that I’ve helped created for Felicity Rosehearts, Asha Kingscholar belongs to @adrianasunderworld, and Polemicists Pisti agapi O gios tou posidona is my male twst OC.

[amrio]

i….enjoy the aesthetic of tattoos alr?

and with wormhole boy over here who can change expression like Void does, (ie they control the light being shown) i recon he could just as easily give himself tattoos if he wanted to. idk. i jus like tattoos and also Ure.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 17 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, mentions of OC thinking Jungkook was going to hurt himself in October, mentions of Hobi, explicit content: nipple/breast play, hickeys, praising, teasing, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, balls sucking, a bit of mouth fucking, hair pulling, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid)

☆word count: 9k

☆a/n: I don't want this to be the end no :') thank you for accompanying me on this journey. I hope you loved this story as much as I loved writing it, and I hope it stays in your heart like it will for sure stay in mine <3 thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, December 19th

It snowed for the first time of the year this afternoon. 

It had been forecasted for a week now, but you still smile as you walk out of the exam building along with Nabi, a blanket of snow covering the ground. Students are milling around, throwing snowballs and building snowmen as their cheeks turn rosy, and their breaths turn into clouds that slowly lift towards the cloud-covered sky. 

It’s not snowing anymore, but it’s supposed to start again over the night, which you reckon might disrupt your plans of driving home tomorrow with Taehyung, Ariane and Jungkook. You think your mother would be relieved - the apartment will be crowded for two weeks, and you know she likes her space.

At least she doesn’t have a boyfriend this year, and so it’ll only be the five of you. It’s not like you aren’t used to sharing a roof with the three others though - you’ve been good at it this semester, especially considering that you and Jungkook have been sharing a room, and Taehyung and Ariane another.

Which left your old room as a guest room for the nights Jimin and Sera get too drunk with you to make their way home.

Your relationship with Jungkook has slowly evolved over the weeks and months since you’d run home thinking that he was going to hurt himself. You’re now fully dating, or at least you tell so to everyone that asks you where you’re standing when it comes to Jungkook.

You know he does the same anyway, even if you haven’t really stated to each other that you are boyfriend and girlfriend yet. You don’t think it matters - your relationship with him has been going on for far longer than just a few weeks, and the absence of a label doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Not when you fall asleep and wake up next to him every day, his first and last words of the day always love confessions uttered against your skin.

It’s a side of Jungkook that you like. The way he’s demonstrative of his affection, not caring if your brother is watching whenever he hugs you or kisses you. Taehyung has cursed the two of you repeatedly for it, but there’s just some beauty in the carefree act of loving each other in front of the very person you thought would end you that you both can’t let go of.

Speaking about that, your relationship with Taehyung has been… strained, since October. You haven’t really been able to forgive him for what happened that night he threw Jungkook out of the apartment, and he hasn’t quite been able to forgive you for hiding your relationship with Jungkook from him. You think he’s a little hypocritical for it - he and Jungkook have had no trouble resuming their friendship despite the fact that you and Jungkook are now a thing. But you don’t mind. 

As long as Jungkook is happy, then you are happy too.

“You coming to Yoongi and Namjoon’s tonight, right?” Nabi says as you walk down the path, your shoes crunching on the snow.

You chuckle. “You think I’d miss Yoongi introducing his boyfriend?” you say. “Hell nah. Of course I’ll be there.”

Nabi laughs, slightly shaking her head. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them together at the gym.”

She’s got a point, but you still want to see gym guy - Mikey, you’ve now found out - out of his natural habitat, aka the gym. 

“Is Jungkook coming?” she asks.

You nod. “Later though. He’s going out for drinks with his friends, and he said he’d meet up around eleven.”

“That’s late,” she comments.

You playfully push her. “We’ll probably be going until three am, I think eleven is fine.”

She laughs, though her eyes sparkle as she looks at you, with excitement and amusement you know is reciprocated in your own gaze.

Tonight will be one for the books, and you just can’t wait.

You have to head to your apartment first, to take a quick shower and grab the drinks you’ve bought for the evening. Nabi tags along, chilling with Ariane in the living room while you get ready. You get out of the shower ten minutes later to see that they’ve been joined by Taehyung.

The absence of Jungkook brings a pout to your lips, even though you know he’s just with Jimin and Eunwoo at Jimin’s apartment, pre-drinking for the bar.

“What’s up?” Taehyung greets you. 

You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He takes it in stride, looking away from you to focus on Nabi and Ariane’s conversation while you make your way to your room to do your makeup quickly. Soon enough you’re ready to go, and you stop by the kitchen to grab the drinks - different flavours of lemonade with alcohol, like maybe it’s summer and the snow outside is but a mirage.

“Let’s go!” you say as you reach the living room next, and Nabi nods as she jumps up from the couch, meeting you near the door.

“I am so excited Y/n, you have no idea,” she says, and you laugh as you nod approvingly.

“Let’s go see what that Mikey is made of.”

Her laugh doubles up, and it follows you outside after you’ve put your coats and boots on. You’ve decided to walk to Yoongi and Namjoon’s place, and Nabi lets out a happy yelp when it starts snowing again.

“It’s so pretty!” she says, motioning to the fat snowflakes that are lazily falling from the sky.

You fully agree with her - there’s something magical about the first day of snow. It fills the air with excitement and joy and nostalgia for the days when you were younger and the first snow meant the beginning of the Christmas season, which you reckon might have always been your favourite season after all.

“It really is,” you agree with Nabi.

She nods wisely, and then throws you a look. “Did you know Ariane’s grandfather was French?”

You actually did. Ariane told you it was the reason why she’d decided to do a semester abroad in Paris, and that her grandfather had also been the one to name her. 

“Yeah, she told me all about it when we went out to the karaoke bar,” you say, referencing an outing that had taken place in early November, when your relationship with Jungkook still felt fresh.

Not that it doesn’t anymore. You reckon being with Jungkook will always be refreshing to you - he’s the oasis in the middle of your desert.

“Oh right,” Nabi lets out. “That time you lost your voice for five days straight.”

“I did not!” you cry out as she bursts out laughing.

You, as a matter of fact, did lose your voice, but it was only because you and Jungkook had gotten too drunk and you were screaming more than singing by the end of the evening.

You spend the rest of the walk to Yoongi’s apartment bickering with Nabi, laughing as you reminisce about the good times you spent over the last few months. And there have been many - Jungkook fits right in with your friend group, and you’ve been hanging out with all of them on multiple occasions, Taehyung, Ariane, Sera and Jimin even tagging along some of the time.

You get to Yoongi’s apartment at the same time as a flustered Seokjin, who admits he had to sprint to make it in time because Ria complained about his tardiness. He’s clutching two rosé bottles for dear life - Ria’s preferred alcoholic beverage now - and he explains he was late because of them. Though you know Ria probably wasn’t actually upset with him in the slightest, you still find it weirdly endearing that Seokjin ran.

It’s proof that he’s utterly obsessed with your friend, much like she is obsessed with him, too.

“Well then let’s get in,” Nabi says, and you follow her inside the building, and then up to the apartment in and of itself. 

The door is unlocked when you get there, and you walk in, taking off your boots in the hall before making your way to the living room, where your friend group is all gathered already.

The first person you notice is Mikey, and he politely smiles at you as Ria throws herself at you and Nabi, hugging you both tight to her chest.

“Congrats on finishing your semester!” Ria says. 

You thank her, and she takes the drinks you’ve brought from your hands so that you can take off your coat, putting them down on the coffee table where all available alcohol is waiting for you all. And there’s a lot - you would think a lot more people are coming tonight, but it really is just the seven of you, and Jungkook later.

You reckon it’s just another sign that tonight will be one for the books.

You start the evening by ordering dumplings, and you grab one of the lemonade drinks as you wait for the food to arrive, sipping from it as you talk with all of your friends. Mikey remains silent by Yoongi’s side, though you notice the way they’re holding hands, and you smile at the sight.

Yoongi is shining. His eyes are sparkling like you’ve never seen them do before, and he looks like the sun personified with Mikey by his side. He deserves the happiness, every single ounce of it, especially after what Hoseok put him through.

For some reason the thought reminds you of your old friend, and you wonder how Hoseok is doing on his side of the country. Has he found the solace he was seeking for? Though you’d long hated him for the way he’d ghosted everyone, tonight you reckon you forgive him.

You forgive him for what he put Yoongi through, only because it allowed Yoongi to experience this relationship now, a much needed relationship that’s been healing every jagged piece of his heart.

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of the sweatshirt you’re wearing - Jungkook’s shirt - and you pull it out, immediately smiling when you see that Jungkook texted you.

[5:57 pm] JK: am tipsy

[5:57 pm] JK: can’t wait to see you later

You laugh at his text, replying quickly to make sure to drink water, and then you put your phone away, focusing on the conversation again.

“That’s just because you’re jealous I can make good music!” Yoongi is saying, and Namjoon rolls his eyes, though the laugh on his lips tells you that they aren’t truly fighting.

“You say you make good music but none of us has ever heard your music, Yoongi,” Ria says, finger pointing at him like she’s scolding him. 

“You’ve never showed them your music?” Mikey intervenes.

Yoongi blushes, eyes falling to the floor. “Well, uh, I just never had the occasion to…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Namjoon says. “Pull out the receipts, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his head, looking around for salvation. He meets your gaze, but you only shrug your shoulders, a mischievous smile on your lips. You’ve been curious about his music too, so you certainly won’t be the one to encourage him to hide it for longer.

“I hate y’all,” Yoongi grumbles.

“I mean, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Mikey says next to him, resting a hand on Yoongi’s thigh as Yoongi grabs his phone.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Yoongi reassures him, and they look at each other for a few seconds.

It’s intimate, and you look down at your drink to give them privacy. A few seconds later, the living room fills with the intro of a song, and your gaze widens when the lyrics start, all in Korean. You don’t think Yoongi’s the one singing, and you’re proven right when a rapper comes in, and you recognize Yoongi’s voice.

“Bro, what?” Seokjin lets out.

“Shhh!” Nabi says, and Ria fake-glares at Seokjin, who just purses his lips, visibly holding a laugh in.

The song is good. More than that, the song is moving, the emotions running high all throughout it, up until the end, when the instruments all stop except the piano, giving a melancholy ending to the song.

“Yoongi!” you let out. “That shit is fire.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi says, his cheeks turning deep red.

Mikey is smiling next to him as everyone congratulates him, and before you have time to listen to more of his music, Namjoon receives a text saying that the food has arrived. He goes downstairs with Seokjin to bring everything up, and a minute later you’re all eating at the kitchen table, Ria sitting on Seokjin’s lap so that everyone can fit around the table.

The evening unfolds with more music that Yoongi composed, songs he claims he wants to put in an EP he’ll release next year. You’re reeling at the beauty of his talent, and though he still turns red every time someone compliments him, you know his smile means he appreciates it, and is probably relieved that you all enjoy his music. 

You reckon Mikey helps, encouraging Yoongi whenever he looks too embarrassed, and you’re so happy for your friend you feel like crying. Or maybe that’s because you’re on your fourth - fifth? - lemonade and the alcohol has started messing with your brain.

Time flies, and Jungkook texts you that he’s on his way while you’re playing Jackbox on the TV, the laughter so loud in the small living room that you’re convinced the boys might get a noise complaint by the end of the evening. You’re excited to see Jungkook, deadly so, and you decide to meet him downstairs, needing some fresh air anyway.

The snow is still falling outside when you make your way downstairs. The streetlights colour it in neon orange, and it covers the ground in a soft blanket. You wait in the hall of the building, watching the world outside and thinking about how everything has changed in a year.

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be dating your brother’s best friend now, you would have told them that they were crazy. 

Now you know there’s nothing crazy about you and Jeon Jungkook. It just makes sense. 

Jungkook arrives sometime later - it’s hard to tell if it’s been a long time or not when your head is swimming in alcohol. He smiles brightly the second he sees you, opening the door to walk into your arms.

You hug him tight to your chest, hiding your face in his neck as his arms snake around your waist. He smells of home - you’ve realized he’s become your home now - and you relax in his embrace, letting him sway you from side to side gently.

“Hey there,” he greets you with his softest voice, the one that’s reserved just for you.

“Hey,” you reply. There’s a silence as you tighten your hold on him, and then you pull away to meet his gaze. “I’m drunk.”

He laughs, pecking your forehead. “I’m tipsy. But I drank lots of water like you said.”

You nod approvingly and then return your head to his neck. Unable to resist, you lightly bite at the skin, and Jungkook yelps, jumping out of your arms.

“What was that for!”

You eye him up and down. “You look yummy.”

He snorts, grabbing your hand to pull you in. “Oh, you’re drunk drunk.”

“I’m not!” you insist, though you’re fully aware that you are.

It’s not like it matters - you know Jungkook will take care of you.

And he does - he gets you water as soon as you get inside, your friends greeting him in a chorus of hellos. He waves at them, forces you to sit down with the glass of water, and you sip from it as he grabs the beer Namjoon offers him. 

Namjoon and Jungkook’s friendship has blossomed over the last two months. They’ve gotten really close, often hanging out just the two of them, which you think is adorable. They apparently have more in common than you thought, Namjoon coming from a rich family as well.

Nothing like Jungkook, but still.

Jungkook sits in front of you on the floor, and you immediately slide down from the couch to sit behind him so that he can lean against your chest. You wrap your arm around his dainty waist, smiling softly as you peck the top of his head.

He glances at you, eyes gleaming with happiness, and then resumes his conversation with Namjoon.

This, you think, is happiness. This is the kind of scene you see in movies when everything is resolved after a long journey. It’s a coming of age - your coming of age, despite the fact that you aren’t a teenager anymore. 

You just know that, when you’ll be old and grey and reminding yourself of your college days, this is what you’ll think of. Jungkook’s presence amongst your friends, the gentle ambiance of the snow outside, the smiles and the laughter and the music filling the air. Everything - you’ll remember everything with vivid clarity when it’s time to go, knowing that this moment, and all of those related to Jungkook and your friend group, have forged the person that you’ll become.

The thought brings tears to your eyes - happy tears - and you blink them away as you hug Jungkook tighter. He looks back at you again, smiling softly, light filling those big doe eyes of his that you’ve been in love with since a certain power outage.

To think that your whole relationship with him started because of that outage - where would you be now if it hadn’t been for that?

“What?” Jungkook asks softly. 

“I love you,” you reply.

He grins, that adorable bunny grin of his that steals your breath each time. “I love you too.”

You know it - it’s been a law of your universe since you ran back home that October night, when you realized that your love for him was far more important than your brother being upset with him.

In truth, you think your love for Jeon Jungkook might have been the reason why you were put on this Earth - your purpose, if you will. Like the Fates weaved your story with his, until one can’t exist without the other.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tuesday, December 24th

Christmas Eve has been fun. You’ve been laughing around with Taehyung, Ariane, Jungkook and your mother, sharing way too much food at the dinner table. Good food - your mother has always been a good cook, whenever she finds the time to actually come up with a meal. Jungkook helped her too, and you haven’t missed the approving glances your mother has been throwing him all evening.

Ariane has received her good shares of those too. You can tell your mother is happy for both you and Taehyung, which makes you feel bad that you initially thought it was good that she’s currently single.

She deserves love, too.

You’re in the bathroom, sometime after midnight, mind swimming with the eggnog drinks that your mother made for everyone, when your phone buzzes in the back pocket of the mom jeans you’re wearing. You pull it out, blinking a few times, and your gaze widens when you focus on the text message you’ve received.

Mostly, your heart falls to your ass when you see who texted you.

[00:24 am] Hobi: hey, merry christmas! just wanted to text to apologize for dipping in april? that sucked of me and yeah, it’s christmas so i thought it was a good time to apologize

You reread the message a few times, wondering if you’re the only one that’s received an apology. You highly doubt you’re the one that needed it after all, and when your phone buzzes again a few seconds later, with a text from Yoongi, you realize you’re not.

[00:24 am] Yoongi: you’ll never believe who just texted me

You slide your phone open, ignoring the conversation with Hoseok to head straight to the one with Yoongi. You type your reply, worrying at your bottom lip as you send it.

[00:25 am] You: i know the fuck he texted me too

[00:25 am] You: how are you feeling?

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away, and you decide not to reply to Hoseok either, instead stuffing your phone back in your back pocket before washing your hands. You return to the kitchen after, where everyone’s been waiting for you to play your turn in the game of Ticket to Ride you’ve started at midnight.

You can’t believe Hoseok texted you. It feels like a ghost coming back to haunt you, reminding you that you’d been friends with benefits, albeit on a break, this time last year. Perhaps that is why Hoseok chose to text you too - you meant something to him to a certain extent.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as you frown, trying to remember what it is you wanted to do in the game.

You blink once, meeting his gaze. “Yeah.” You nod, repeating the word, and then you pick up two green wagon cards.

Jungkook lets it slide, focusing on the game too, and you all but forget about Hoseok’s text when your mother gives you another eggnog drink. You finish the game a little while later - Ariane winning grandiosely - and then you all head to bed after wishing each other a last Merry Christmas.

Jungkook plops down on your childhood bed as you walk into your room, and you close the door, leaning against it as you smile fondly. He props his chin on his hands, looking at you. 

“Tonight was fun,” he says.

You nod, smile growing wider. “It really was. But wait until tomorrow, that’s where all the fun is.”

Indeed, you’re going to visit your grandparents’ house tomorrow evening, along with all of your uncles and aunts and cousins.  It’s tradition every year, and it’s the first time you’re bringing someone. You’d be a little anxious, if not for the fact that you know your grandmother is already obsessed with Jungkook from everything your mother told her.

“I can’t wait,” Jungkook says, and the soft curve of his lips tells you he means it.

You cross the distance between you, lying down on the bed next to him. Jungkook shifts, opening his arms for you to slide into his embrace, and he holds you tight, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I mostly can’t wait to give you your gift tomorrow morning,” he adds, his mouth moving against you. He pulls away, rubbing his face to take out from his mouth the hair he clearly almost swallowed from talking against your head. “You’ll be so happy.”

“You really didn’t need to give me a gift,” you say.

“You think I haven’t noticed the suspiciously large box with my name on it under the Christmas tree?”

You shrug. “Maybe it’s from Taehyung.”

“It’s written from peach.”

You snort, laughing against his chest. “And what about it?”

“You’re allowed to get me a gift but I can’t get you one?”

You nod forcefully. “Yeah. You already got me that dress anyway.”

He laughs, rolling on his back. He pulls you with him until you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. “That was almost a year ago, it doesn’t count.”

“It does,” you mumble.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deeply in his chest. “You’re adorable, I love you.” He pecks the top of your head again. “Besides, what did you get me?”

“What did you get me?” you ask, gaze narrowed as you look up at him.

His next peck lands on your forehead. “Not telling you.”

“Well then, I’m not telling you either,” you smugly reply.

He laughs, tightening his hold around you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and then it starts again on a wilder beat you hear echoed behind his ribcage.

“I love you too, Kook.”

“Luckiest man alive,” he whispers, and it’s rhetorical, not asking for a reply. 

All you do is grin as you start tracing idle shapes on his stomach. You fall silent - the kind of comfortable silence you can only share with him - up until you remember Hoseok’s text. It makes you prop yourself up on an elbow, and you meet Jungkook’s gaze.

“You’ll never guess who texted me earlier.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Who did?” 

“Hobi,” you reveal.

Jungkook’s gaze widens. “The guy you used to fuck?”

You roll your eyes, pinching his side. “Yes. But mostly Yoongi’s… ex?”

“You did use to fuck though, I heard you guys.”

“Oh my God, Kook.”

He offers you a shit-eating grin. “What?”

“You’re annoying.”

He pulls you on top of him until you’re straddling him. “But you love me.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him. “But you’re annoying.”

His hands, now on your hips, tighten slightly, and your brain chooses this instant to zero in on the spot.

“Do you know how much it drove me crazy?” he says, and his voice is suddenly low, husky, shooting warmth right to your core. “I fucking wanted to beat his ass.”

You cock an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side as a smirk appears on your lips. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He forces you to circle your hips, and you’re not surprised to find him already getting hard. “I’d imagine it was me instead.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to smirk, and he sits up to kiss you, his tongue pushing into your mouth once before he lies back down. “And then when I was fucking Shelly and you were touching yourself?”

You’re turning molten, like you’re metal melting in a forge. “Yeah?”

“That’s when I knew that whatever I’d promised to Tae didn’t matter anymore.” He grinds into you. “I needed to have you, one way or another.”

You crash your lips on his so hard you taste blood. He’s quick to slide his hands under your shirt, and he fumbles with the fabric until you part to allow him to take it off your body. You’re only wearing a red bralette you bought before finals, and Jungkook’s gaze darkens at the sight.

“Shit peach, you’re always so fucking hot.”

“One way or another, you say?” you repeat what he said earlier.

He looks confused for a heartbeat, and then he nods. “Yeah. I was into you already then, as you know, but damn every time I touched myself all I could think about was you.”

“Outrageous,” you tease as you circle your hips once more.

He grunts softly. “Oh, peach, don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of me too.”

You lean forward, sucking on his lower lip, your tongue then flicking at his piercings. “Oh, you know I was thinking about you,” you say against his mouth.

You move down enough to find his neck, your teeth teasing the skin before you suck on it, yet you refrain from leaving a mark.

You don’t want your mother asking questions tomorrow.

Jungkook grunts as you lick at the spot, and then move back up to nibble at his jaw. His large hands on your waist caress up your flanks until he reaches your breasts that he shamelessly cups, his fingers immediately searching for your nipples. He pinches them, hard enough to hurt, and you moan out loud, hiding your face in his neck.

“Careful, peach,” Jungkook warns. “We wouldn’t want your family hearing us.”

You bite at his neck again and he hisses. “What did you just say?”

“Fuck,” he groans, and it sounds like a growl. “Now I want to fucking ruin you.”

You straighten, your hands landing flat on his chest to hold him down. “Why don’t you let me have my fun tonight?”

His dark gaze surveys you carefully as you climb down his body until you’re sitting on his legs. You grip his thighs and then slide your hands up to his clothed erection. You run a hand along it and then move up to push his shirt up, revealing the strong muscles of his abdomen. You graze them with your nails, and Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as your other hand returns to his dick.

“How should I please you tonight?” you ask.

You lean forward and, unable to resist, you suck a hickey on the spot right above the hem of his pants. Jungkook instinctively bucks his hips in response, and you smirk as you sit back on your heels again.

“Someone’s impatient,” you tease.

“Peach…” he warns.

“Be nice,” you say. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He takes a sharp breath, and then nods curtly. You bite at your lower lip, a smirk teasing the corner of your lips.

“Good boy.”

He groans, but then you’re ridding him of his pants and boxers, and his dick springs free, slapping his abs. He looks just as pretty as he always does, the large vein running up his dick begging to be licked. You don��t even resist - you immediately bend down, tracing it with your tongue up to his tip, which you circle once before pulling away just enough to grab the base of his dick.

You stroke him slowly, meeting his gaze. His cheeks are flushed with arousal, eyes shining with lust and desire, all of it for you. You feel powerful - you have him wrapped around your finger, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s with that thought that you finally take him in your mouth, not breaking eye contact. He clenches his jaw to hold a moan in, and you take him as deep as you can, your eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

You pull almost all the way out, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his tip, teasing his frenulum with your tongue. His dick twitches, but you’re holding him tight, keeping him in place.

You get to work, bobbing up and down, drooling all over him. You use your drool as natural lube so that you can jerk him off in time with your motions, and Jungkook grows infinitely hard in your mouth, so much so that you wouldn’t be surprised if he came.

You wouldn’t mind - he always tastes good for you, and the thought of it is making you soak through your panties to the point you think your pants might even be affected. But then again, Jungkook always makes you so wet.

No one’s ever fucked you as good as him after all.

You take him all the way in, and Jungkook thrusts up, grunting as you moan around him. His hands are in your hair, and he’s been guiding your movements, though always allowing you to pull away to breathe when you need it.

So when you decide to pull away so that you can suck on his balls, he lets you do it. You reward him by jerking him off quickly, your grip tight on his dick just the way you know he likes, and he fists at the sheets of your bed, fucking into your hand.

Right before you think he’s about to come, Jungkook pulls you away. He’s panting heavily, and you barely have time to breathe before he flips you on your back, climbing on top of you so that he can kiss you. 

The kiss is ravishing, languid, all tongues and saliva and his teeth digging into your bottom lip. You barely can contain your moans when he drives your legs apart with a knee he then presses on your clothed core, and you can’t help but grind on his leg, searching for much-needed friction.

Jungkook leaves your mouth to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck, and then on your clavicle. He sucks a purple mark underneath it, and you arch your back in his touch as he cups your breasts again, massaging them.

“Peach,” he says as he’s looking at your necklace where it lies between your breasts. “You’re so perfect.”

And then he’s pushing your bralette up enough to have access to your nipples. His mouth closes around one while he pinches the other between his thumb and index, and you lose your hand in his jet-black strands, pulling on his hair just a little by reflex.

His tongue circles your nipple, and then he licks at it twice. It hardens in his mouth as you hold your moans in, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he shifts to your other nipple, offering it the same treatment.

“Take this off,” you breathe, pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

Jungkook raises his head, meeting your gaze. His lips are glistening with his saliva, and he looks so devilish you think you’d be able to come just like that.

“Take it off for me,” he teases.

You roll your eyes despite your lips curving in a smile, and you pull his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. You rake your nails on his back - lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark - when he returns to your nipples, devouring your breasts like a man starved.

“I fucking love every part of you, you know that right?” he says when he pulls away.

You nod, but he’s already going down your body, reaching for your pants. He takes them off, and to your surprise, he takes your panties off too, leaving you naked and gleaming when he pushes your thighs apart to look at you properly.

“So pretty…” he praises.

You want to tell him to fuck you, that you don’t even need foreplay right now - you’ve been feeling your juices dripping out of your pussy for a while - but he doesn’t leave you time to speak, immediately diving in, lapping a large stripe from your entrance up to your clit. He swirls his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you put your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan.

“Silence, peach,” he reminds you, and then he circles your clit again. “I really don’t want your mother to look at me differently tomorrow morning.”

You don’t have anything left in your brain to say that she wouldn’t care, and maybe that’s good - you’re pretty sure she would, as a matter of fact, care.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

Jungkook shoots you a quick glance, and he pecks the inside of your thigh lovingly, miles away from the lust transpiring from this moment. “I love you,” he breathes against your skin, and then he’s back on your pussy.

He eats you out like he’s a demon come from hell, and soon enough he pushes two fingers inside of you, fighting against your tightening muscles. You take a deep breath to relax, and a few seconds later he arches his fingers, rubbing them on the most sensitive spot inside of you. It makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your mouth falls open on a silent moan as he starts fingering you, quick and hard, always rubbing your g-spot. He times his fingers with his tongue, and it’s no wonder he’s dragging you towards an orgasm at eighty miles per hour.

It’s no wonder it hits you like a slap to the face when he sucks on your clit hard, and your thighs close around his face as your back arches off the bed, your climax hitting so hard you feel like you’re swimming in the night sky, amongst stars and galaxies and nebulas.

You’re shaking, thighs trembling, as he milks your orgasm out for so long you think you’ll die, but eventually his fingers leave your pulsing walls, and he licks them clean. You watch him, your eyelids heavy with the ecstasy invading your bloodstream, and you feel fucked out, your mind like cotton as he positions himself between your legs.

“Have you had enough?” he asks, teasing your entrance with his cock. “Or do you want me to fuck you?”

You reach for him, fingers grazing his chest and abs. “Shit, Kook.”

He grins wickedly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeat. You chuckle lightly, and then you glance around. “I do want you to fuck me,” you whisper, “but my bed creaks a hell of a lot.”

Jungkook shrugs, picking you up in one swift motion that makes your mind swim even more. The room spins around you as Jungkook carries you off the bed, and then he sits you on the floor. He grabs a bunch of pillows, arranging them in a makeshift bed on the floor, and then he motions at it, a proud smile on his lips.

“Voilà,” he says.

You snort. “You’ll fuck me on this?”

He smirks, picking you up to lie you down on the pillows. It’s a little unsteady, but when he positions himself between your legs again, you forget all about it.

Even more so as he rubs his dick on your clit, and meteorites erupt in front of your eyes.

“Yeah I will,” he says. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

You gulp, your throat suddenly dry with arousal, and you nod your head. “Fuck me, Kook.”

He doesn’t need more to push in, and he sheathes all of himself inside of you. Or at least all that fits, and he’s quick to put a hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning. You bite at his palm, and he startles, moving his hand away.

“That was mean,” he says, a pout appearing on his swollen lips.

Fuck, you love him so bad.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

He narrows his gaze, bending down to steal a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. “No you’re not,” he says.

“I’m not,” you agree.

He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just an inch of him in. “And for that reason, I’ll fuck you until all you remember is my name.”

He pushes all the way in again, and you bite your lip to refrain from crying his name out. It becomes much harder when he starts pounding into you, and soon your room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and of the squelching your pussy makes every time he fucks into you. It’s clearly loud enough for everyone in the apartment to hear, but faint music is coming from Taehyung’s room, and you know your mother sleeps with foam earplugs in.

You can only hope they don’t hear you when you moan Jungkook’s name. He gently rests his hand against your mouth again then, though he’s quick to push a finger in instead. You suck on it, teasing the pad with your tongue, and Jungkook grunts as he jack-hammers you, so much so you fall off the makeshift bed.

You both don’t care - you don’t even think Jungkook realizes. He’s too busy rearranging your gut, and you’re too busy trying to not moan like you want to do. Jungkook keeps at it for a while, strands of hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, but his pace remains unforgiving, a reminder that he has a solid cardio from all the hours he spends at the gym.

Eventually, Jungkook gets bored of the position, and he pulls out. You get a glimpse of his wet dick before he flips you on your stomach, and he’s quick to fuck into you again, the new angle so good you feel like you’re floating somewhere between your body and the ceiling.

His forearm is next to your head, and you hold onto his wrist as he pounds into you. You know he’s nearing his high when his motions grow unfocused, slower, and soon he bends down, grunting against the side of your face as he releases his load deep inside of you, painting you white.

You hold onto him as he comes, circling your hips to prolong his pleasure, up until he stops you with a hand on your waist. He pecks the side of your face, and you turn your head to be able to kiss him properly. It tastes like the sweat that’s collected on his upper lip, but you don’t care. Not when it’s his sweat, and you are so obsessed with him you wish you were under his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He pecks your cheek again and then straightens to search for something to clean you up with. He reaches for the tissues on the night table, and he takes a bunch of them that he puts against you before he even pulls out.

You both manage to avoid making a mess, and Jungkook lets you go clean up first. You put on his shirt, as it’s long enough to be a dress on you, and then you head to the bathroom, where you take a quick shower. Jungkook goes next, kissing you deeply before leaving your room, and you wait for him under the covers of your bed, your heart still beating wildly from the sex.

As it always does when it comes to sex with Jungkook.

Jungkook comes back about five minutes later, and he slides under the covers with you as you’re on your phone, looking at the conversation with Yoongi.

He still hasn’t replied, and though that worries you, you know he’s probably just busy with his own Christmas celebration.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as he molds himself to your back, an arm wrapping around your waist.

You turn on your back, going in for a soft kiss that settles your heartbeat in your chest. 

“Yes,” you reassure him. 

You glance at your phone again and then switch to the conversation with Hoseok. “I don’t know what I should say.”

Jungkook blinks a few times like he needs it to focus on your screen, and then he reads Hoseok’s message. “I mean…” he lets out. “He seems genuine.”

“I know, but it’s weird no?”

Jungkook purses his lips. “Why?”

“Because I’m with you now,” you explain.

His eyes widen. “Oh, is that because of what I said earlier?”

You nod, worrying at some dry skin on your lower lip.

“Oh, peach,” he says, and he pecks your forehead. “I really don’t mind if you want to reply. I was only teasing earlier.”

You cock an eyebrow, not entirely believing him. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Were you?”

“Well…” he trails off, turning on his back as he looks up at the ceiling. “I was jealous, yes. But as you said, he mostly is Yoongi’s ex. What you guys had hasn’t mattered for a really long time.”

He’s right. He’s entirely right, and it reassures you, enough so that you don’t feel guilty for replying to Hoseok, right before you decide to turn off your phone for the night.

[2:37 am] You: hey merry christmas! no worries:)

You put your phone away, and then you turn to face Jungkook, wrapping your arm around his dainty waist as he wraps his around you, one of his biceps a perfect pillow for your head. You sigh in contentment, knowing that you are right where you’re supposed to be in the world - by Jungkook’s side. 

Home, wherever he is.

You fall asleep with love in your heart, shining bright on you despite the dark, winter night outside.  

Monday, December 30th

The restaurant is crowded, lively chatter and clinking utensils filling the atmosphere with the type of life only the holidays can provide. Taehyung sits at the head of the table, a bright smile on his lips as your mother explains to Ariane and Jungkook how you come to this restaurant each year when there’s a special occasion.

By that, she means your and Taehyung’s birthdays, as you spend hers on the camping trip.

“We started when you were what?” your mother says, looking at Taehyung. “Fourteen?”

“Thirteen,” he answers. “We came with a bunch of friends from middle school, and Y/n was complaining the whole time.”

“I was not,” you say, pouting slightly. “You were just ignoring me the whole time because I wasn’t cool enough.”

“You really weren’t.” Taehyung’s teasing remark earns him a slap on the arm from your mother, and Ariane telling him to shut up. “What! She was just obsessed with One Direction, it was annoying.”

“And what about it?” Ariane says. “One Direction was a good group!”

Horror inches into Taehyung’s gaze. “Not you too.”

Ariane rolls her eyes, but then the waitress stops by your table, taking everyone’s order. An easy conversation follows, your mother telling you about interesting cases she saw at the ER over the last few months. Jungkook looks appalled when she mentions certain of them, his eyes about to bulge out of his head.

“You’re good?” you let out, patting his thigh reassuringly. 

“We’re supposed to eat after she’s told us all of that?” he asks, his widened gaze sliding to you.

You snort. “Yes, we are.”

He sits back in his chair, folding his arms on his chest. “Damn.” You just laugh even more, and he looks at you again. “It’s not funny!”

“It is,” you insist. “You’re adorable.”

He glares at you, though his eyes are gleaming with too much amusement for you to believe he means it. “So are you.”

“Right right,” you say, at the same time as Taehyung fake-gags. 

“You guys are disgusting,” your brother says. 

“And you think you’re better?” your mother intervenes. “You all should listen to him when he calls me and gushes about Ariane.”

Taehyung flushes red as Ariane leans towards your mother. “Oh? What does he say?”

“Namely that he thinks you’re the love of his life, and that he wants to marry…”

“Stop!” Taehyung interjects. “Fuck, mom, this is not necessary.”

He’s so red he looks like he might pass out, and you can’t help but laugh at his expense. “Don’t worry, Ari, he’s always been a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not!”

Ariane laughs, and she rubs his back. “You are. I love that about you.”

Taehyung’s distressed features turn into a soft smile, and you roll your eyes teasingly. 

The rest of the dinner goes well, all of you eating your fill. Jungkook finishes your dish when you declare yourself defeated, and you speak with your brother without any animosity for the first time in months.

It’s relieving, far more than you would admit it. Or perhaps it’s because he’s invited you to the party one of his childhood friends is hosting, which he never did before. You know it’s because Jungkook is his closest friend now, but you still appreciate the invitation, and the party that comes with it.

Taehyung’s always partied the hardest surrounded by his friends, and tonight is no different. It’s a night of drinking and revelry and bright smiles, loud music to accompany the chatter and drinking games and everything that makes a party a good party. There’s a hot tub, and you and Jungkook spend far too long in it accompanied by Ariane, Taehyung and two of his other friends, taking turns rolling in the snow before jumping back into the hot tub.

The stars shine on and on above you all, and though it’s freezing outside you think they might allow you a piece of summer in the winter night.

You head home before Taehyung, walking hand in hand with Jungkook. You’re both tipsy, even maybe a little drunk, yet it doesn’t deter you. Not when the night is beautiful, and you have Jungkook next to you.

“I still can’t believe you got me that frame,” Jungkook says as he notices you looking up at the stars, your eyes going over the Orion constellation.

Indeed, you got him a star map of Valentine’s Day last year for Christmas. It’s beautiful, and Jungkook grew teary-eyed when you gave it to him, telling him that it was a map of the night you’d fallen in love. He promised he’d hang it in his room the second you returned to your apartment, and then he sheepishly gave you your gift.

Your reaction to his gift was… much less wholesome than his. You were outraged, telling him that he was crazy to spend so much money on you, and Jungkook just shrugged his shoulders, telling you you deserved it.

You still think he’s crazy. But over the last few days, he’s slowly convinced you that it’s going to be fun, that you truly do deserve the gift…

And who would say no to a trip to Bora Bora?

“I’m sorry,” you let out. “You fucking bought first-class plane tickets to go to Bora Bora. My gift looks like nothing compared to yours.”

“It’s not nothing!” Jungkook insists. “It’s the most sentimental gift I’ve ever received.” He smiles at you, his big doe eyes swimming with love for you. “It’ll forever be my favourite gift.”

You can’t help the smile that curves your lips upwards as your heart warms in your chest. “You deserve it,” you say, and you mean it.

Jungkook deserves every proof that people do love him. That his parents don’t know shit when it comes to him - you’ll try your best to shower him with all of the love your heart holds, every day of your life with him.

“And you deserve the trip,” Jungkook says. “You always work so hard in college, I just want you to relax for a while.”

“With you,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Obviously.”

He pulls you in, interrupting your walk, and he kisses your forehead softly. Your heart grows even warmer, so much so that you think flowers are blooming in your soul, like a garden bursting into life.

You get home together with him, your mother seemingly fast asleep in her room from the soft snores that come from behind her door. You make your way to your room, and Jungkook plugs in your old fairy lights, even though they’re so dim now you barely can make out anything.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says as he sits on your bed.

You sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What for?”

“For everything,” he replies, and he wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. “Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“Oh, Jungkook…” you trail off, looking up to see the silver lining his gaze.

“I love you more every day, peach,” he whispers. “It’s… it’s a gift.”

You cup his cheek, tilting your head backwards as you pull him down. The kiss is soft, gentle. The kiss is everything that makes Jungkook Jungkook, and you you. It’s the months of struggle that led to so much beauty, it’s the knowledge that, wherever you’ll go in this life, he’ll be by your side.

It’s the knowledge that he’s the one for you, and you’re the one for him.

When you pull away from the kiss, what seems like an eternity later, Jungkook pulls out his phone from his pocket. You watch him curiously as the device lights up his features, and a second later, your room fills with the first chord of Chasing Cars.

Of your song.

“Cuddle?” Jungkook asks.

You can’t say no to those big, doe eyes, and you lie down with him, your head on his chest.

“You know,” Jungkook says when the first chorus starts. “Ever since you showed me this song, it’s been my favourite.” He pauses, pecks the top of your head. “Not that I didn’t know it before. But it makes me think of you now.”

Just like it makes you think of him.

“It does?” you let out.

You feel him nod more than you see him. “When I marry you, I want it to be the song we dance to.”

Your gaze widens, and you prop yourself up on an elbow so that you can look at him. And despite the dim light in your room, despite the blurriness in your gaze from the happy tears he summoned, his beauty shines for you. So bright, a proof that he’s the Sun in your life.

He’s the astral body you were meant to orbit.

“When you marry me?”

His arm tightens around you. “Yes, when I marry you.”

You smile, brighter than a summer day. “You’ll be my husband.”

“And you’ll be my wife.”

You laugh, a crystal clear sound that heals whatever wounds were left from the months apart. From that night Taehyung punched him and kicked him out. From every time you thought that your timing didn’t align and that maybe you weren’t meant to be in this universe.

But you are. You’ve always been meant to be, haven’t you?

“Let’s start by calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, shall we?”

He pouts. “M’kay, then. Girlfriend.”

Another laugh tumbles from your lips, and you put your head back on his shoulder. He runs a soothing hand on your back, while you trace random shapes on his chest, and you think this is it.

This is a moment that will be forever engraved in your memory, to look back on whenever you have a bad day. A first moment - though it’s hardly the first - of a long line of events that will make up the story of you and Jeon Jungkook.

The song reaches its last chorus, and your heart, beating in sync with Jungkook’s, reaches the nirvana of you and him.

If I lay here 

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?

And you think, perhaps your story was already written in between the lines of your favourite song - a story of resilient love, and of promises of forever. Perhaps it was written between the first verse and the chorus, or perhaps it was written in the melody. It’s hard to tell - you just know it’s become a law of your universe. 

Now, you’ll lie with Jungkook, and maybe you’ll even forget the world. It’ll just be him, forever.

And you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing cars around his head.

Prev

☆☆☆☆☆

I am so emotional please do not touch me :') I can't believe this story is over. I hope you guys loved the ride - let me know what you think about this last chapter <3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[bloodlineslut]

Conjugal Visit | Roman Reigns

Images/GIFs aren’t mine, credits to rightful owners.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! oc

Warnings: flashback of threatening assault, smut, oral (female receiving), slight (a little more than slight) daddy kink, fluff

Summary: Jada thinks she’s just going to visit her man while he’s doing his time in jail for assaulting this man who wouldn't leave her alone. Little does she know, he has a surprise when she gets there…

Word Count: 1.9k words

A/N: Hey my baes! This is my first story/one shot so please take it easy on me lmao. I’m sure as I keep writing, it’ll get better. I am so open to constructive criticism though. Yall PLEASE go easy on me abeg. okay enjoy!! please comment if you like it :))

As Jada drove down the road that seemed to never end, she could hardly contain the nerves and butterflies that were erupting in her stomach. Before leaving her apartment, she decided to put on her pink Skims Long Slip Dress, paired with a baby pink bolero, and a pair of platform UGGs.

Every day Jada wishes that it was the day Roman was coming home. She would always tell him that he needed to go to anger management counseling or something, but he constantly shrugged her off. Then one day at the grocery store, this creepy older white man kept hitting on Jada, so Roman stepped in.

“Aye man. Who are you?” Roman firmly asked the older man, and looking down at him as he was much shorter.

The man confidently looked up at Roman and even puffed his chest out a bit. Before he could even get a word out, Roman grabbed him by his shirt collar with both hands and roughed him up a little.

The older man’s eyes widened, now in fear of this huge Samoan man.

“She’s my woman. Now, I heard her tell you ‘bout three times that she wasn’t interested. Are you hard of hearing?” Roman was getting more irritated by the second, as Jada could tell by him scrunching his face.

“Sir, I- I didn’t know.” The man pleaded to Roman.

Roman pulled the man closer to his face and tightened his grip on his shirt. “Oh you didn’t know? You really wanna get yo’ ass beat huh?”

As Jada looked away, a bit embarrassed, she saw two police officers looking at them. This included Roman clearly threatening this old man. “Umm, Roman?” She gently tapped his shoulder.

“What baby?” He asked, still staring daggers into his victim.

Jada just pointed at the officers and her silence prompted Roman to follow her line of vision. A sudden realization hits Roman and he smacks his teeth and drops the creepy pervert.

Long story short, the man pressed charges and Roman was sentenced to 90 days in jail.

Thinking about the whole process that happened, Jada zoned out and arrived at the jail quicker than she realized. She quickly found a parking spot in the visitors lot and made sure to only grab her keychain that held her car/house keys and a little card holder, leaving her purse and phone under the passenger seat.

She stepped out of her car and made her way to the building to get searched and to check in for the visit.

Jada was actually nervous to see Roman. They usually talk on the phone more than physically seeing each other in person. In a lot of ways, hearing his voice made her miss him even more.

“Ms. Williams, you’re up next to visit inmate Reigns. Follow me.” A guard’s voice rang throughout the waiting room. Jada quickly got up and walked up to him, expecting to go the same route as usual.

The guard seemed to be going a different way than usual. She didn’t want to be rude, so she politely asked him if they were going the right way. It felt shady.

“Um, officer? Is this the way to visitation?” She asked from behind his moving figure. The officer led them to a part of the jail that seemed deserted.

“Oh yeah.” He said matter-of-factly. They finally came upon a silver steel door with no window and the officer knocked three times before opening the door for Jada. She was so confused that she didn’t even recognize the 6’3” man with tribal tattoos in a khaki uniform sitting with his back to her.

“Roman?” She softly said. The sound of her voice made him perk up and he stood up to physically take her in.

“Jada…” He breathed out her name in awe, walking up to her. He quickly dapped up the guard who helped him get the private, “conjugal” visit. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. You only got 1 hour though.” The guard said, then left and closed the door before locking it.

Roman focused his attention back on the beauty in front of him. He picked her up in a hug and spun her around before giving her a deep and slow kiss.

Roman slipped his tongue into Jada’s vulnerable mouth and walked them both over to the bunk bed in the corner of the room, laying her down on it.

When he pulled away from her soft lips, Jada slapped his arm. “Roman, how in the world did you set this up? Can’t you get in troub-”

“Shhh. Don’t worry about that, baby. I’m good with that officer.” He tucked some of her curly hair behind her ear. The gesture made her smile. She missed his touch so much.

Jada’s hand went to Roman’s face, caressing it, and he smiled, showing his dimples and beautiful smile. “Roman, I miss you so much.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth and laid a kiss there.

“I miss you too princess. I think about you every day. Listen…when I get out of here, I’mma go to that anger management class. And I want you to be there with me.” He gently says to her.

Hearing Roman finally say that he would try to get help made Jada’s heart swell. Even though he was never violent towards her, she wanted to help him with controlling his anger towards other things and people.

“Babe…of course I’ll be there with you…” Jada says lovingly. Roman leans in for another kiss, their lips moving in sync. The kiss soon turned heated and sloppy. Roman’s lips left Jada’s and trailed to her jaw, then to her neck.

As Roman kissed her neck, his large hand went to her waist, feeling the curves he missed so much. He sucked on her neck, knowing there would be hickeys later.

Jada’s hands came to rest on his shoulder blades and tugged on his khaki shirt. He took this silent signal to take it off, leaving his white wife beater on, which seemed to amplify his tribal tattoo that ran up his arm and covered half of his chest.

She noticed that he seemed…bigger. She squeezed his arms, even more turned on and bit her lip. “Babe. Oh my-you’re so sexy.”

This made Roman chuckle. “Yeah? You want more?” His deep voice dropped an octave as he took off his wife beater, now completely bare up top. Jada ran her fingers over his well-defined abs that seemed to glisten even under the fluorescent lights.

His hands went to her feet and slid off her UGGs, placing them on the floor. Then he pressed kisses on her feet and saw that she had perfectly manicured white toenails. His hands went under her dress, sliding against her thighs, and scrunched her dress up to rest on her waist.

Jada spread her legs for him, feeling herself get more wet. Roman kissed up her thighs after placing each one to rest over his broad shoulders. He didn’t even take her panties off, just moved them to the side before licking a slow stripe up her wet pussy.

He sloppily made out with her pussy, mixing his spit with her juices. Jada was moaning, but Roman could tell she was holding back. He moved his mouth away from her core. “No, baby let it out. Lemme hear how good it feels.”

He placed his tongue back directly on her clit, flicking it tender and slow, then in long circles.

“Mmm…fuck Ro,” Jada moans out, louder this time as usual. Hearing her moans made his dick harder than steel. As he kept eating her out, he tugged the neckline of her dress down to expose her tits and kneaded them in his hands, rolling her hard nipples between his fingers.

She was so wet, it was seeping down her crack and onto the bed. Roman felt her legs start shaking a little. “Fuck, baby. Nut on my tongue, come on.” He told her then went right back to stimulating her clit, faster this time.

Jada chased her orgasm, feeling that knot about to burst in her lower abdomen. Her back arched and she sucked on her own fingers as she came undone on Roman’s tongue. He let her come down from her high, her juices all in his thick beard.

He kissed her, letting her taste herself from his mouth. Roman pulled his pants down just enough to free his throbbing, thick cock. One of his large hands went to it, slowly stroking himself as he looked at the love of his life.

“You gonna cum like that again on this dick?” His husky voice asked her. She wanted it so bad that it hurt.

“Yes Daddy..” She slyly said then giggled. Roman laughed and then rubbed the head of his dick up and down her pussy, and then forced out a long trail of spit that landed just in the right spot.

He slowly pushed into her tight, wet pussy, feeling her walls squeeze the life out of him damn near.

After Jada adjusted to his size again, there was no stopping them now.

She was now on all fours, back arched and her ass in the air. “Ooh Daddy, you fuck me so good!” She said in between moans.

Roman’s grunts didn’t go unnoticed. “Yeah? Tell me how good that dick feels in you baby.” He said and slapped her ass.

“Yesss! Fuck, it feels so good. It’s in my stomach,” Jada tells him, not ever wanting it to end. He changed the angle he was hitting it and found her G spot, stroking against it over and over with powerful thrusts.

Roman looked down at her ass that moved with each of his thrusts and saw her creaming on his girthy dick, and dripping down her thighs. “Damn. Yeah, cream on me just like that.” He threw his head back in never ending pleasure, trying not to bust too quick.

Jada started fucking him back, meeting his hips with her own, making her ass clap and the sound resonate through the empty room. There was an even bigger knot forming in her abdomen and she chased it again.

“Cum on Daddy’s dick, princess. Show me you want that nut.” Roman coaxed her and not even 2 seconds later, Jada’s legs were shaking, and she pressed her face into the bed.

That’s what Roman loved about Jada coming on his dick. She didn’t need a break. After her orgasm she was right back to taking his slow, meaningful thrusts.

“Mmm, Daddy please cum in me.” She looked at Roman over her shoulder. She silently applauded herself for taking her birth control before she drove here.

His hands tightened on her waist and ass while he focused on his pleasure. “That pussy gripping me so tight baby...” His moans got louder, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Oh fuck, I’m ‘bout to cum,” Jada feels his hot load inside of her and he moans in her ear. When he comes down, he slowly pulls out of her and flips Jada on her back. They were both glistening because of sweat. He gives her a tender kiss.

“I love you with all my heart, Jada.” He says, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love you, Roman.” She tells him and they cuddle, trying to enjoy what little time they have left before the guard comes knocking on the door to get them.

[inkk-tv]

[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ]

Chris plants his forehead on the table, taking a deep breath as he watches the astro turf. He’s well gone, but Lucy and Arthur, who is now just drawing shapes on the inside of her forearm, aren’t much better off. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin. 

in which: Chris attempts to not have another life crisis during a pub golf video and is failing miserably.

3.7k words [ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three, coming soon... ]

[oc x arthurtv x chrismd]

[warnings: Excessive drinking, sexual innuendos and light sexual content]

Chris is torn. 

Logically, he knows football pub golf is a content gold mine. It could easily be one of the best videos of the year, especially with the team line ups. On the other hand, the last time Chris filmed a pub golf for Chip's channel some eight months ago, it ended with him so fucked he'd uprooted his entire life twenty four hours later.

Mid to late twenties was not a good time to have a sexuality crisis - and Chris speaks from experience. Why it took 11 drinks and joking that he'd shag his best mate for space hopper-ing over a bollard to realise he genuinely wanted to snog him silly, Chris isn't sure.

In retrospect, he'd probably fancied Arthur way back in sixth form, sitting with him in every class, dragging the poor bloke to join his football team. The biting should have been a hint. 'Cuteness aggression', as a session of hungover googling informed him, is horribly common. Chris was so torn up about it all that he talks it over with Shannon the night after, when he's not sure if the urge to vomit is from nerves, guilt or the hangover.

He tries to tell her that it doesn't have to change things, that he still loves her. But she still calls it off.

He can't really be mad at her for that, so it's amicable. The two of them weren't built to last much longer anyway; if marriage was in the cards, Shannon wouldn't get snippy anytime her mother brought it up and Chris wouldn't feel nauseous every time he saw an advert for rings. If they were destined for 'forever', talk of marriage wouldn't sound like an expiration date.

Chris spends a couple of months sorting out all his shit and takes a long hard look at his own feelings.

Everyone is sort of weird about the break-up. For a while they all sort of act like it's temporary. Once he puts out a statement though, his friends take that as confirmation that it's actually over. Arthur -Hill not TV- and George take him out drinking a few times as self declared experts in heartbreak and the single life. Their ventures have the three of them planning to move in together when their leases expire in October. Harry corrals him onto a few dating apps and Chris humours him because how is he supposed to tell the guy that women are the last thing on his mind and that he's head over heels (and possibly in love with) one of their mates, who is noticeably a bloke.

At least this time the pub golf is for his channel, so if there's another earth-shattering life crisis, he can edit it out at the least. Save himself the embarrassment of seeing the clip every few weeks on TikTok. Luckily, Chris is not the kind of man who loses all impulse control when faced with a couple of pints.

He is admittedly two shots up already and they've only just settled at hole four. If anything's going to set their team back, it's this. Chris knows the moment he sees Jamie, his production assistant, walk out with a tray of wine-glasses all of which were bordering on over-filled with rosé. 

"Oh god," Lucy groans, her head pitching forwards to thud onto the table. Jamie just smiles as he places the three glasses around the halo of blonde hair. Her next complaint comes out muffled. "Why wine? I can't do wine."

"Come on, Luce." Chris grabs her shoulders to drag her back up straight, shaking them a few times for good measure. "Where's all that team spirit gone?"

"Come on En-ga-land, Score some fucking goals." She quotes, putting on the thick northern accent for it.

Seeing as Chris is a little too far gone to keep explaining the rules at each pub without hurling insults at his friends, Jamie's the one who does it this round, citing that each drink must be fed by a teammate.

"I got a great trick for this one," There's a bit of a slur to Arthur's words, but that could just be him and not the alcohol. Then again, he did do a shot when they got to the pub ‘for fun’ which will most definitely bite them in the arse. "We hold hands and squeeze depending on ho-"

Arthur hiccups halfway through his sentence and it's enough to get a snort out of Chris and devolve Lucy into giggles as he continues. " -how, how much you want."

Chris goes first, and Arthur’s hand is warm in his own as he pours the wine into his mouth. 

Although, when it’s Arthur’s turn and Lucy grabs the wine glass off the table, she frowns. “You’re too tall for this.”

There's not that much of a gap between them with her heels factored in but it's enough that to get her arm up and angle the glass right, it would certainly be uncomfortable for Lucy.

“Come on, tip toes surely.” Arthur says, but she’s already got a hand on his shoulder.

“On your knees, Television.” She says it so calmly, pressing lightly on his shoulder- not enough to push Arthur down, Chris knows he’s stronger than he looks, but he goes anyway.

Something that’s horribly aroused stirs in Chris’s stomach, watching Arthur drop to his knees in front of Lucy, mouth open as she leans down just slightly to press the glass against his lips. He grips her wrist instead of her hand and swallows every mouthful of pretty pink rosé so eagerly that there’s evidence of it left on her skin, little crescent indented where his nails had dug in.

It’s awfully sobering to realise that Chris might actually have to fight a semi while filming.

There’s been jokes about it, in the past few years as his content has matured along with his audience and those sorts of comments were left in the final cut. But Christ, watching Arthur lick his lips clean of wine, not even moving to stand until Lucy pulls him to his feet by the hand, that’s enough to make anyone sexually attracted to men a little off kilter. 

He’s never really had the ‘awkward boners’ at least not since his teenage years. Chris is pretty sure it’s something to do with the messy ball of crossed wires that is his sexuality, the fact he never really gets a hard on for someone he’s not head over heels for but he’s not really put much time into untangling that.

Although, he might need to do that soon. 

Something about the way Arthur looks at her, as if from the moment she put her hand on him, she was everything- the centre of his universe. 

Not that Chris can really blame him. Lucy’s always been captivating like that. He’s not a moron, Lucy’s attractive, objectively. She’s cute, green eyes, light tan to her skin that’s more from sunshine than genetics, and blonde hair that's half pulled back with a white ribbon, a couple strands falling in front of her face. Round cheeks that push up towards her eyes when she smiles, a little tip up to the end of her nose. She’s got the kind of features that would make Chris pause on those stupid dating apps he only swipes though when Harry’s looking over his shoulder. 

Arthur yields so easily for her, blinking at her with those brown eyes and chewing his bottom lip a little, hands still messily entwined together as Harry makes a poor sex joke. 

It’s an orbit that Chris has watched many men tumble into before, the gravitational pull of Lucy Bell. There’s something about the way she carries herself, a confidence that makes eyes drawn to her. On night outs, there’s mixed reactions. George and Arthur Hill love it, girls are more than happy to chat and linger at their table, eased in the risk of approaching a bunch of men in a club by the presence of a woman like Lucy. 

He thinks about all the dickheads he’s seen try and fail to make a pass on her, as Chris picks up the final glass of rosé.

Lucy has, and will continue to, drink Chris under the table, but she is under or just about five foot six. And There's only so many miracles a liver that size can facilitate. Maybe she’s a little further finished than he thought, because when he holds the wine glass up to her, and clasps their palms together, she just isn’t taking it like she was earlier.

“Come on Luce, down in one.” He murmurs, “You got it.”

A little dribble of it runs down her chin and into the curve of her throat, but no one calls her on it and Lucy is left gagging on the taste of rosé that she’d downed. She’s squeezing his hands tight as she recoils and pulls a face. Chris rubs her back and gives it a couple of pats as she leans into his side. “I hate rosé.”

Arthur reappears with three glasses of water, precariously balanced in his hands and he deposits one in front of each of them. It’s the best drink Chris has been given all day and he can’t help the words that slip out. “Oh my god I love you.”

No one blinks at it though, not Arthur, not Chris. He’s said it before, there’s no reason for anyone to think it means anything more than it used to. 

Lucy doesn’t bat an eye, just gives Arthur this awfully soft look before guzzling down half the glass in one go. Until Stephen drops a balled up napkin on the floor and kicks it between her feet, nutmegging her.

Honestly, Chris had sort of forgotten about writing that rule into the video and he sort of feels bad now. Lucy’s probably going to be the only victim of it for the afternoon, because everyone else is far enough gone that they’re a little fuzzy on the rules too.

She and Stephen do shots of baby guinness together (because apparently he just wanted to?) and Chris has to stare into his water glass, tracing patterns on the condensation with his thumb so he doesn’t stare at Arthur and imagine him at the foot of his bed, on his knees for Chris. Complacent and content. 

Chris kind of wants to curl in on himself. 

Beside him, Arthur’s hand slips down from Chris’ shoulder and along his back, stepping around both him and Lucy, hand slipping to her waist and along the curve of it as he ducks back inside the pub. 

There’s jeers from the German team and Cal follows Arthur inside to make sure he’s not chundering in the bathroom. 

“Chris, I’m not gonna lie,” Lucy leans into whisper, “I don’t think I’ll be standing by the end of this video.”

She looks utterly gone. Her eyes are wide, and there’s a little sheen to the column of her neck, maybe from the wine she’d dribbled or the haste to skull the water she was handed. This close, he can see the lines of her makeup, where the eyeliner is a little shaky right at her lash line and the few eyelashes that are clumpy with mascara.

It’s the drunkest he’s seen her in a while, and she’s probably only one drink off of ‘cartwheel Lucy’- the stage of intoxication where she feels the urge to display her impressive coordination that she, annoyingly, never loses no matter how much alcohol she’s ingested.

Chris tips his head forwards and bites her deltoid. Teeth sinking softly into the fabric of her jersey until he can just feel the solidness of her shoulder underneath. Lucy startels, a little, whines then swats at Chris until he retreats half a step.

She looks at the bite mark on her pristine England Jersey, wiping at Chris’ spit as she scoffs and scrunches her nose up a little. "I’m going to catch diseases off you at this rate.”

There’s about half a second where he considers making an STD joke, but there’s a camera sitting on them and it feels a little disrespectful to suggest something like that. 

Lucy frowns down at the black line on the inside of her wrist. “Where’s Arthur, I need a tally mark.”

And the man of the hour is dragged from the Pub’s entrance, clinging to Cal, looking significantly more gone than he had five minutes ago. The wine must have been hitting hard. 

Supposedly, there was no puke, but for the antics Arthur received a red card, putting the English team even further down the hole they’re stuck in. It doesn’t help that the other team all get their drinks down in one.

Not that Chris was really paying attention, he was too busy watching Arthur poke at Cal, enjoying pressing his buttons. 

“How many holes do we have left?” He asks once he’s settled back into his stool.

Chris snorts. “Me after five drinks on a saturday night, am I right?”

Arthur holds his hand up for a high five, but Chris has his arms crossed and his brain is working a little slow to catch it before the palm is descending into a playful smack on his face. He grabs Arthur's hand with both of his and licks a fat stripe up his palm, tongue feeling the roughness of calluses from the gym and the faint taste of beer. 

The reaction is immediate. “Noooo!”

Arthur recoils and wipes his hand of spit on Chris’ jersey. 

Lord, Chris must be so much further gone than he thought, because he just devolves into giggles, even after fully licking his best mate’s hand. It’s only when Jess, his production manager, starts herding them down the footpath to the next pub that Chris finally gets a handle on his giggles. 

Somehow, when they make it to Pub number five, everyone- including his own employees- goads Chris into climbing the tree opposite it. Which earns them two points deducted, so they’ve almost worked off the red card from Arthur’s endeavours with a toilet bowl at the second pub.

The Vodka Oranges are, mercifully, only one standard drink. Although, Lucy’s still looking a little queasy at the prospect of downing it. “I hope this doesn’t have pulp.”

Arthur frowns and holds his drink up in the light to get a better look. “I don’t think so.”

“If there’s pulp I might actually throw up. I can’t do the texture.”

“Can’t say I’m a big fan either.” The downwards tilt of Arthur’s lips is painfully cute and Chris kind of wants to lean over and bite at him, but he’s not supposed to be doing that today. Instead he huddles them closer together, like was in the plan for pub five and they have their half-time strategy meeting. 

“If either of you puke, I swear to god I will never forgive you.” Chris says, focusing very hard on not slurring his words. “We can’t lose to Stephen Tries. He already carries this channel enough.”

“Come on- I’ve done plenty.” Arthur complains. “I got Harry three shots deeper.” 

Admittedly, an impressive feat, but it’s still about thirty less shots than Harry WroeToShaw needs to start feeling the effects of Alcohol and far from enough to recover from all the penalty points he’s been earning. Chris tuts “Only one of us has climbed a tree so I really think that you guys need to step up to the plate at this point.”

The pair just stare at him, and for a moment, Chris sort of loses the plot in Arthur’s eyes. “You’ve got very nice eyes.”

They are. A nice dark brown that sort of looks like pots of honey, mesmerising while Chris blinks into them, with a sort of depth that makes it impossibly easy to sink into them. He’s better at it now, remembering to look away, but the alcohol’s got him a little slower to catch it.

“Christ, they are nice eyes.” Lucy agrees leaning in to get a better look at Arthur, who’s blushing a little from the attention, then towards Chris. “You’ve got good eyes too.”

Arthur nods eagerly. “He does have lovely eyes.”

“Lucy, your eyes are great.” Chris pivots, hoping to save his brain from malfunctioning, onto Lucy, planting a hand on her shoulder to lean in close and study her eyes. 

They’re more green than blue, wide as she processes how close he’s gotten to her. He’s heard people say the grass is greener on the other side, but looking at Lucy’s eyes, it might just be true. It’s almost like staring at the overgrown grass of his childhood football pitch, some streaks a little darker than others, and the underlying feeling that there’s something to be found there, if one cared to look a little deeper than surface level. 

“Oh, they are.” Arthur agrees, squinting a little as he peers at her. 

All three of them have completely lost the whole ‘strategy meeting’ plot that was supposed to be their halftime regroup and by the time Chris untangles himself from their eyes, it’s time to down the vodka oranges that have been sweating condensation down their wrists.

Cal corrals both teams into a cheers and miraculously, everyone manages to get it down in one. 

Thankfully, they’d figured people would be a bit gone by pub five, so a nice lengthy walk proceeds pub six.

Chris just about hangs off Arthur the whole time, who at first is a little distracted by texting George Clarkey in an attempt to convey how ‘sober’ he is, but eventually slings his arm over Chris’ shoulder and lets him stay there. He tries to not stir things, lest he be shoved away, instead basking in the bloody amazing smell of Arthur cologne as it mixes with his deodorant. Chris couldn’t name what either of them smell like, but it’s a scent that’s so uniquely Arthur he wouldn’t be able to associate it with anything else.

“George says he’s gonna come pick me up from the last pub.” He declares, shoving his phone into Chris’ face. It’s a little too close to read, but he squints and tries anyway. Arthur only gives him a few seconds before pulling the screen back and pocketing it. 

At one point in their walk, Chris bites at his wrist where it hangs next to his face but it’s not enough to chase him off. 

“Next pub golf, it’s twenty quid per bite.” Arthur grimaces, whipping the back of his hand of spit down the front of Chris’ jersey. “Lucy had the right idea.”

“I think you owe her a tally mark. Maybe.” Chris frowns, trying to recall if they’d added the last nip. 

“Luce!” He calls. “Did we add the last tally? From Pub four with the rosé?”

She’s about ten meters ahead, tangled up with Stephen as he tries to wrangle her into some kind of hug or headlock, it’s a little unclear which. For a moment the pair of them freeze, and Lucy does that little frown and nose scrunch she does whenever she thinks particularly hard on something. “No!”

Then she kicks Stephen’s sneaker and he bowles over, caught off guard. 

“Yellow card! Yellow card!” Arthur shouts, pointing so obnoxiously that Chris almost wants to tell him it’s rude. “Ref, that’s diving!”

Cal dishes out a Yellow card and Stephen goes back to trying to deck Lucy, via bowling her knees out from under her. But by the time they make it to pub six, he’s managed to weasel a piggy back out of her and the two of them pause by the gate to point out where ‘live music: ChrisMD Diss-Track cover band’ is written in neat print of the blackboard. 

The two of them are gone, and it’s probably lucky that Lucy isn’t the kind of drunk that gets clumsy, otherwise the two of them would never have managed to make it through the beer garden benches without knocking into one. Arthur isn’t as lucky, knocking his shin against one on his way over to the tables his production team has claimed. 

“Ow.” He whines as Chris gets his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, shaking him until they’re at the seats and he’s shoving him off in fake annoyance. “Get off you leach.”

He digs the pen out of his shorts pocket, and bites the cap off, keeping it wedged between his teeth as he calls out to Lucy. Her name comes out muffled around the cap but she deposits Stephen and collapses next to Arthur, who grabs her wrist. There’s an awful lot of concentration on his face for something as simple as drawing a line. 

Chris plants his forehead on the table, taking a deep breath as he watches the astro turf. He’s well gone, but Lucy and Arthur, who is now just drawing shapes on the inside of her forearm, aren’t much better off. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin. 

They fall into their own little bubble as they start up a series of naughts and crosses games. Chris has to kick them under the table to gain their attention when Cal starts explaining the pub-quiz rules. The aim was to guess the cocktail themed pun based on the footballer’s name. 

Chris wasn’t expecting greatness to begin with. He knows his footballers, but Arthur and Lucy don’t really know them by name and face- unless they play for the teams they support. There’s a much higher chance of a Man United player showing up than a Brighton player, so Lucy might be completely out of her depth. 

They manage to break even only because the German team are shouting out the footballer’s names and failing to relate it back to a cocktail, so the three of them can steal the point out from under them By the end of it, they’re left with a martini, a strawberry daiquiri and a rum punch. 

Chris gets the easy way out and is handed the martini, Lucy recoils once she finishes her rum punch, a shiver racking her spine and Arthur struggles to drink his daiquiri that is filled with ice, though a piss-weak paper straw. 

But it’s down in one for all of them, even the other team.

As he hauls himself to his feet, the gin hits him like a truck. Enough that he stumbles half a step back. Chris knows, as he catches the worried look his production team are giving him, that his hope of ending the afternoon without puking, was a lost cause. 

[ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three, coming soon... ]

ink note: part two! poor christopher's got it bad. this is our last chris chapter for a while, so pray for the poor lad.

[ if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 25. Give Them Hell

Summary: Squad Battles are here, and its a tight battle for first. With the final challenge laid out for them, who will come out on top?

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

Today had been an intense day, all of us pushed to the limit. But for our squad it had been worth it. Today Squad Battle’s had started, something we had all been looking forward to for weeks now. And honestly we’d been killing it today. We’d come second overall for the Gauntlet Sky Race, and so far we were on track to win the Sparring Challenges. The only match standing in our way was Garrick and Xaden. Xaden and Garrick who were both very shirtless as they circled each other on the mat.

It had been a few weeks since my interaction with Garrick in the gym after my challenge against Dain. We’d interacted here and there, but I was yet to be alone with him after the interaction. Though I’d caught him starting at me multiple times since then. And I couldn’t deny I’d been caught out by him when I’d found my eyes wandering to him.

I’d replayed that night in my head multiple times, mainly when he’d asked me what would happen if there was no one else in his stable. I was yet to see Garrick actually commit to it. Though it wasn’t like I was sitting outside his room or following him around to see if he was still sleeping around. I was in this strange tug of war with him. Part of me wanting to see if he would and if he had, the other part of me not wanting to care. I shouldn’t care. Maybe the part of my mind that knew my father and brother would lose their shit over it is what had caught my interest. Though I’d already toed that line before with one of the infantry cadets I’d had a short thing with prior to coming here. It honestly wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would have been. But with the mark that extends up to his shoulder, I know I’d get a far worse reaction from them.

As if sensing my eyes, Garrick turns his head as he circles Xaden, wiping blood from his nose as his eyes lock with mine, his signature smirk gracing his lips for a few moments before focusing back on the fight.

"Did he just smirk at you?” Austin asks from next to me. She was as observant as me sometimes.

”Who?” I ask, pretending I hadn’t noticed Garrick’s smirk. She rolls her eyes at me.

“You damn well know who I’m talking about.”

”There’s plenty of girls in this room he could have been smirking at. I doubt it was me.” I reply, trying to sound indifferent as Bodhi tries to hide his laughter from next to me.

I elbow him in the side to shut him up, sending him into a coughing fit as he clutches his side. He’d been the bane of my existence since Garrick and I had started to get along to some extent. He was always the first to jump on any change in our interaction, trying to turn it into something it wasn’t.

”From what I hear he hasn’t been with another girl in a number of weeks. Not since you two started actually getting along and not yelling at each other.” She says as she elbows me lightly, catching my attention as I turn to look at her. “I hear a lot of girls aren’t happy with the new found friendship with you.”

”Add them to the list of people who already hate me.” I reply with a shrug, turning my attention to the mat just as Xaden pins Garrick to the mat, wrapping his arms around his neck as Garrick flails beneath him in an effort to get out.

For a while he resists, but after a few more moments he reaches out and taps the mat three times, the crowd roaring and cheering as Xaden wins. Bodhi whistles and cheers the loudest at his cousins win, pumping his fists into the air before draping an arm across my shoulders in a half hug. I shove him off me, pretending to be angry, but as usual he sees right through it and ruffles my hair before turning and celebrating with some of the others from our squad.

Xaden walks over and the boys jump on him immediately, clapping him on the back and congratulating him. The smile on his face seems so genuine and also out of place. I’ve seen him smirk and smile here and there over the last few months, but this one seems completely genuine. A warmth behind it I’ve never seen before. Like he’s completely happy and giving into the emotion, especially as Bodhi pulls him into a hug.

”Everyone quiet down!” Commandant Panchek calls out as he steps on to the mats, the room falling silent as we all turn to face him. “Quite an interesting out come, two squads going into the last round head to head.”

I look over to Garrick and his squad, who we are now tied with. They’d just clutched first ahead of us in the flying portion, while we had clutched the win from them in sparring. Garrick looks over as if sensing my gaze, smirking as he catches my eye.

”Your final challenge will start tomorrow, but you will plan and travel tonight to the location.” Panchek continues as we all fall silent.

I’d never seen the Squad Battles be carried out, but I knew they were mostly held on sight. But this year it seemed we were going off site, and a hum of excitement fills the room at his words.

”Half of the squads will defend a makeshift out post, while the other half will attack. Those defending will leave in two hours time to prepare their outpost and get a lay of the land. The attacking squads will remain here and travel to their starting points in the morning.” I can’t help but also join in on the excitement of the Quadrant. It’s clear they’ve never done something like this before, and everyone is keen to prove they’re the better squad.

A scribe steps forward, unravelling a scroll which most likely has the list of what squads will be paired up for this battle. Those defending will have an advantage. We will have all afternoon and evening to get a feel for our outpost and the land surrounding. Part of me hopes we’re defending, but I can’t deny there would be some satisfaction in attacking and being successful.

”And lastly, Third and Second Squad from Tail Section in Fourth Wing. Third squad will defend, Second Squad will attack.” The scribe calls out, another Scribe I hadn’t noticed rushing out to hand Xaden a scroll.

Now this would be interesting. Both squads tying for first and well ahead of the others going head to head. Essentially whoever won would be victorious. And seeing as Garrick and Xaden were best friends, they were both going to be highly competitive.

”You have your assignments. Defending squads, you will leave within the next two hours. Attacking squads, you will remain here till then.” Panchek announces before turning and walking from the room, the Scribes rushing behind him.

Xaden turns to us a sinister smirk on his face as he clutches the scroll. “Flight field in one hour. Lets give them hell.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01

[therealslimshakespeare]

How are poly Austin, Calum and OC doing ???

Ooooh how are they indeed? It is such fun to be asked about them, aaaah!! Like..:people remember them. You want more. That’s so fun for me, I love them and @ab4eva and I totally have plans for still more of them.

The Three of Us Update ✨

That more being- how they are now. Which is pretty grand but far too busy. Or at least, Austin is, workaholic that man and you knew that he was dedicated and in a very crucial stage of establishing himself as one of the most respected and in demand actors of his generation but, the fact of it is, the holidays find you about as worrisomely detached from his hectic set-life as Cal is from the both of you an ocean away. There is FaceTime and the group chat and gifts sent back and forth and avid interest for each other’s success and fits of glumness, but the long stretch between last time all together has begun to wear, it’s a melancholy sort of missing of both of them and you long for the closeness. The easy way everything is so right when together.

Your mother and your girl friends are making proclamations these days, general platitudes about how a man who was serious about you would make this something more official after a year and a half of “casual” dating. And they’re right, if that’s what was still happening. To be fair, dating doesn’t seem to be what you’re doing anymore, you and Austin are so far beyond that despite the recent distance and added to it, Callum is as solidly a part of that seriousness that your head spins with what sort of talk is even needed to solidify something so utterly unorthodox and yet so crucial for your world to make sense. No one can know, no beyond the occasional snicker over espresso martinis about “the boys” and double innuendos about sharing that you can always laugh off in the sobriety of the morning after.

In this funk, which would be no funk at all if the ones you love were simply near and life didn’t move too fast and work too slow- you find yourself in London in December. A work trip, but feeling indulgent and more than mopey at another fairy light snow dusted early December spent alone despite ostensibly being able to claim a boyfriend, you stay over. You museum stroll, you enjoy your favorite tea houses, explore the garden exhibitions, try your hand at photography on the various bridges. Get a text from Callum asking if you really came to London, stayed a few days, posted it on your Insta stories and “didn’t say shit” to him about it.

Chastened, and no longer deterred by the three avatar bubbles denoting each member of the group chat, you fire back apologies, a string of demure and pitiful emojis and inquiries as to how to make this slight better.

There’s barely five seconds of typing ellipses before your sentence is declared.

Coffee and baguettes at Burhams, 4:00, Mumford and Sons playing at the Carlton at 7:00, so wear something sexy under the coat. But bring a coat, it’s going to be frigid. I’ll schedule an uber if you give me your hotel address. Why the fuck aren’t you staying at mine? See you tonight. Xx

To your credit, between the giddy smile on your face in anticipation of seeing him and the butterflies in your belly of having an evening that’ll finally match the jollity of everyone around your sad little self, you feel a tiny slither of doubt. You like his message, biting your lip in worry over how to reply, not that you don’t know what you want to say to him and how enthusiastically you intend to agree with his hijacking of your evening, but rather, an uneasy awareness of Austin’s presence in the chat. That very same presence that erases all the guilt of such a conversation, not that there should be any anyway, you’re all friends, but you find your fingers stall when you go to gush in approval of the plan as warmly as you intend.

Five whole minutes go by. Just your solitary and very unappreciative thumbs up lingering there. It’s making it weird, you’re making it weird. This is how you’ve been all this season and you’re sick of it.

Then another row of little dots appear, texting in progress. You hold your breath, melancholy and fond in expectation of Callum’s predictable ribbing over your moderation.

But it’s under Austin’s name when the grey chat box slides into delivered. It’s simple, easy, a pink cheeks smile emoji at the end.

Yeah, and wear tights with that coat, I know you. Tights can be sexy. Pneumonia isn’t ☺️.

God you miss him. And it seems you’re going out with Callum tonight. You should overthink the pulsing bravery and excitement that takes over then, but you don’t. Because that’s a thing to be left behind with the loneliness at Christmastime when you’ve got people to love you.

[reidslovely]

That's Just When You Happened

Chapter One: Red in the Face, Shy All of the Sudden

Summary: After the death of his life partner and mother of his child Tobias finds himself lingering through life with just the intent of taking care of their daughter, and teaching her everything he knows. However, one shockingly sunny teacher, will change the course he has planned for himself.

Pairing: Tobias Durand x OC/Reader

Content Warnings: Reader has a name but is given a nickname at the end of the chapter that she'll be known as for the rest of the fic mostly. There are mentions of grief and parental loss. Other than that it is pretty digestible.

Only posting this because I cannot wait for the wide release, and it'll inspire me to write chapter three.

We Live in Time spoilers ahead

Please as always reblog and comment.

Parent teacher meetings were never easy. 

He was very much used to doing this with his other half…his better half if you asked him. In the last year and a half this was not a thought that crossed his mind, what was he going to do with meetings that used to involve the both of them? 

He never considered having to do this part alone. 

Yes, he considered the implications of being a widow and a father. He discussed it in therapy as soon as he could fathom it, he even brought it up to the others in his grief group. No one had a right answer to his questions. 

‘When do I stop buying food at the market for three and start focusing on just two?’

‘When do I stop laying out her clothes in the morning? Or bring myself to put up her toothbrush?’

This parent teacher stuff though? That was not a topic he thought about till the school year started. 

Eleanor clung to Tobias as they walked down the tiled floors of the primary school. He’d put on his nicest white shirt and jeans, having been working from home in his sweats most of the day, he liked the occasional excuse to dress up. He’d dawned Ellie in her panda sweater that matched the bear she’d been so lovingly clinging to for the last year and a half. It was the last thing Almuthad bought her, and Tobias would never ask her why suddenly panda’s became her favorite animal. 

“You aren’t in trouble are you Ella?” He taunted playfully, swinging his hand that was still enclosed in his daughters as they neared the end of the hall. 

The little pigtailed girl shook her head with a laugh, whispering a small ‘no’ dragging out the last syllable. Tobias laughed nodding his head, he never knew with her, she was so much like her mother.

“I’m good in Ms. Poole’s class. She’s nice, and has a very nice story time voice.”

“Better than mine?” 

There was no response as they neared the brightly decorated door. Tobias took the smile and silence from his daughter as a quiet yes. His face feigned fake offense as he knocked on the open door. “Hello?” He asked, pushing it open slightly, revealing a younger woman sitting on the floor organizing a bookshelf. She looked over her shoulder smiling at the two of them, the brightness of her smile contrasted the dark clothing she was wearing. 

His eyes raked over her appearance against his own will. She was wearing a gray sweater tucked into a long black skirt and boots that complimented the weather outside. 

“Hi Ella! How are you hun?” 

“Goood.” Ellie smiled hugging the teacher, the panda hanging loose in her hand. It was the first time Tobias hadn’t seen her death grip on the plush, he thinks. 

“That’s awesome.” Ms. Poole smiles, patting Ellie’s back. Her eyes find Tobias’ as she stands up, Ella still hanging on her skirt. “Hey honey, why don’t you help yourself to the toy box while your daddy and I talk, yeah?” 

Ellie smiled and ran over the corner of the room, practically dumping out the box of toys. Tobias stood awkwardly at the door taking in the classroom, he could understand why his daughter loved this teacher so much. 

The room was decorated in a mix of soft greens, with dusty blue accents. It was colorful and the stars hanging from the ceiling gave a sense of whimsy to the room. “You must be Mr. Durand, it’s nice to finally meet you.” The voice pulled him out of his admiration for the room. He smiled reaching his hand out, shaking her freshly manicured hand. 

“You’re american.” 

A brief silence fell between them, before he laughed it off awkwardly. 

“Sorry, sorry. I just heard it and couldn’t..” 

“You’re fine. I am yes.” 

They were talking over each other, their voices merging together. Ms. Poole dropped his hand, standing back. “Have a seat.” She grinned, motioning around them. Tobias looked around, squatting his six-foot frame down onto the chairs mean for the year one students. Matching his movements, the dark haired teacher sat across from him in the bright white chair crossing her legs. Tobias looked over her shoulder, making sure Ella was still good and content. She smiled at him, as she curled up on a bean bag chair reading a picture book. 

“Your daughter is quite brilliant for her age.” 

Tobias slowly pulls his eyes to her face again, she’s younger than him. Somewhere between twenty-five and thirty, but he doesn’t ask. It’s rude. Besides, why should he care? 

“Thank you my..partner and I, we worked hard teaching her young. She lives to read, and art. She loves art.” 

“I know.” Ms. Poole smiles, flipping through the stack of papers. “It’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you.” She slides a picture over to Tobias, the blank white of the back could have never prepared him for what he saw. 

“Eleanor drew this after, what I’m guessing was maybe a particularly bad day. We had a couple moms come into the class to help out with the art for the day. It seems she, maybe, felt sort of left out.”

The teacher's voice shook slightly as she talked, like she was nervous for a reaction. “I didn’t..I wasn’t aware of the situation, and had I been.” She was fighting for words, and Tobias’ hand shook as he held the paper in his. A small girl crying in what appeared to be a field of sorts. Nothing above average for what a small child of seven could do. But it broke his heart all together. 

“She’s in therapy twice a week.” It came out blunt and forceful, almost that he was pushing it off. 

“It’s good, art is a good vessel for grief. I just wanted to make you aware of that first.” 

“Why do you care? Did you like, give her a failing grade for expressing how she fel-”

“No sir.” Ms. Poole “In fact I passed her, the assignment was to draw something about your mother, and she followed the assignment.” Her calm tone eased his passive aggressive one, he’d been to quick to jump to anger when the topic was brought up lately. One of those silly stages of grief he guessed. He let his shoulders fall, almost feeling Almunt’s hand on his shoulder easing him into the conversation telling him to hear her out. 

“I lost both of my parents young, to an extent I know what Ella is going through, Mr. Durand.” She tapped her brown manicured nails on the table top. “If you guys need anything, I’m more than happy to help out. Ella is a brilliant girl, I’m sure not unlike her mother, you should be proud.”

A shaky breath left Tobias, he hadn’t been aware he was holding it. “I am.” His eye casted down to the folder that held what he could assume was more drawings. 

“Oh yes, so the reason I wanted to bring you here is outside of making you aware of..” Her eyes casted down to the picture in his hand. “We are having a art showcase and I need to pick a student from my class to submit and I wanted to put some of Ella’s art in there.” 

Tobias flipped through the drawings, some more well done than others but noticeably better than that of most kids her age. Tobias smiled, nodding his head. “Did you hear that Ellie!?” 

Eleanor ran over, her stuffed animal in one arm and book tucked in the other. She stood on her tip-toes as she listened. Tobias smiled as his daughter stared at Ms. Poole in fascination as the teacher explained what the showcase would be, and how many pieces Ella could put into it. Ella picked out what he assumed were her top three favorites. One was of their dog, the little wolf-hound mutt he and Almuthad picked out towards the end of her last treatment. Birdie, as Ella had affectionately called him.  Second was a drawing of Ella and him, at the ice skating rink, with writing above it that read “Saying hi to mommy.”. Tobias smiled as she proudly showed them to her, patting her back. Something in him told him to look up, catching Ms. Poole stared at him, seemingly admiration in her eyes. Tobias smiled back, nodding at her. 

“Oh!” Ella “This one is when Ms. Lucy was pushing me on the swings!” Ella says, handing her last pick to the dark haired teacher. 

“Whose Ms. Lucy?” Tobias laughed looking at his daughter. Ella pointed at Ms. Poole, who was laughing with a raised hand. 

“That would be me.” She laughs “I go by either, sometimes the first name is easier to pronounce than the last.” 

Lucy..everything about her was so bright and inviting, except her clothes and color pattern, he could see why kids loved her. Ella ran off back to the storytime rug. “You know for such dark clothes, you are an awfully bright person.” 

She blinked at him, almost in shock before laughing. “Well I work with little kids, I’m not that morbid, these are just the colors I feel most comfortable in Mr. Durand.” 

Tobias nodded his head, all these years later he still couldn’t talk to people. He followed her over to her desk, he looked around noticing framed pictures of her and seemingly her friends. A gold framed wedding photo of who he could only assume was her parents. Tobias watched as she picked up one of those squishy fidget balls, turning it over in her hand as she printed off some consent forums. 

“How’d you..get into teaching?” He asked, sitting in a more comfortable cushioned chair in front of her desk. “If you wa..want to tell me that is.”

She smiled at him, flashing her teeth giving him a real laugh. “I got my undergrad in psychology, I worked in child psych in my very early twenties and decided I didn’t want to experience anymore compassion burnout. But I loved working with kids, so I went back and got my masters in primary education. Moved out here with my friends about two years ago, and…” She shrugged, like that was the end of the story. She pulled the papers out of the printer, they were still hot. She signed her name verifying that she asked and gained consent before handing the warm paper over to Tobias. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to make such small talk, he should just sign these papers, get Ella and go home. 

“It’s okay it was a long time ago, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for it.” 

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

She nodded her head in agreement, smiling sweetly at him pressing her cherry colored lips together. He had to stop noticing these things. 

“It does, sometimes it still feels fresh. I’m sure you understand that.” She hums, looking at Ella trading out books again. “Listen, I know what it’s like to be a little girl with no mom, if you ever need someone to talk to her..I’m fine doing that.” 

Tobias looked at her, he was sure his big brown eyes were not hiding the tears well. He nodded his head quickly and pushed the paper back towards her after he had finished signing. “I appreciate that.” 

“Ms. L!” Ella yells running over holding two books to her chest. “Can I have these this weekend” 

“Ella those are he-”

“Of course you can honey!” Tobias looked over at Ms. L, who was smiling, made a note of it, putting it on the top of her planner. She passed a smile over at him, shaking her head letting him know it was okay. Tobias took Ella into his lap, holding her close as he slid the books into the bag. “Can Ms. L, go get ice cream with us?” 

Tobias was taken back for a moment before looking at the teacher who sat in front of them. “You’re more than welcome to..come. If you’d like.” 

The dark haired girl in front of them smiled and checked the computer in front of her. She took a minute and Tobias sat still, almost feeling any movement he’d take would change the outcome of her answer. 

“As much as I would love to Ellie, I’m afraid I have to get some work done. But I’ll see you on Sunday at the showcase, and you can tell me how yummy it was.” She laughs patting her leg. Tobias felt his shoulders slump again, as he stood holding Ella on his hip. 

“It was so nice to meet you, Ms. Poole.” 

“Please call me Lucy.” She smiled, shaking his hand. 

He nodded, but he’d already given her a nickname in his head. ‘Sunny.’ he just thought it fit her better. “Sure, Ms. L..” He laughs letting go of her head waving an awkward bye as he walks out, his daughter on his hip. 

“You think Ms. L is pretty.” Ella said as Tobias wiped the ice cream off her face. He furrowed his brows, staring at his daughter. 

“That is none of your business, little miss.” 

He laughed, why was his six year old reading him like this. He took a bite of his ice cream sundae looking at the time on his watch. Ella was truly, too much like Almut for their own good. “But you stare at her..you only ever stared at mommy.” 

“Well, yes she seems very nice. I was just shocked is all.”

Ella giggles and fists more ice cream into her mouth watching the kids in the play place play. “Ready to go?” He asks, starting to pack up their stuff as Ella finishes her last couple bites.  She nods her head reaching her hand out, wrapping it in Tobias’ as they walk towards the car. He let out a soft sigh, loading her up into the car seat and walking towards the driver seat. A head of dark hair catching his eye, for a minute he looks up hoping to catch a glimpse of the sun.

[seabreeze1969]

Strawberry Pancakes

Summary: Gator Tillman meets OC stripper. She is reluctant to give him a dance, but ends up enjoying it a little too much. He is more than happy to break some rules with her.

Tags/Warnings: strippers, thigh riding, lap dance, power dynamics, paid intimacy, dirty talk, teasing

Chapter One

~Gator

It was the second Friday of May. Every other Friday he found himself sitting in the back of The Tender Trap, a local strip club, with an envelope in his pocket as he waited for a militia man to collect the hefty support of Sheriff Roy Tillman, his father. It was an easy job. That’s why his father gave it to him. At least it was supposed to be easy. But things never came easy to Gator.

As his lazy gaze glossed around the small club, his heart caught in his throat. He wasn’t met with Roxy or Crystal, the usual dancers who would throw him winks every now and again. He saw a young woman he’d never seen before. He was sure if she had been there any of the other Fridays he would’ve known.

Her legs were toned, but covered in stockings forcing him to imagine the bare skin underneath. As his gaze slithered further up skipping over her bare stomach to her breasts he started to feel his pants tighten. The white laced cups pushed up her small tits and had them spilling out over the low top. And finally he reached her face. Her bouncy brown curls framed her soft face, and he couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open as he caught her big doe eyes.

He knew he must’ve looked like a moron sitting there with his jaw on the floor, but he couldn’t help himself. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in person. Something straight off of one of those raunchy old bikini posters he tacked behind his bed.

Before he could stop himself his feet carried him over to the seats closest to the stage where she was entertaining two other men. The closer he got the more her eyes narrowed at him and she suddenly seemed familiar, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the doc’s kiddo? Miss Grey?” He’d seen her only a couple times when he had to visit the local clinic after a job went sideways, and she looked vastly different in layers of clothes and thick rimmed glasses. But she had given him that same narrow look.

“No, sir,” she shook her head, her full lips turning into a pout, “My name is Candy.”

“Hah, yeah sure it is,” he huffed a laugh, “Anyways, aren’t you a little too smart to be dancing around half naked?”

And then it was her turn to laugh, “If smarts had anything to do with it you’d be the one in heels up here, sheriff.”

“Ouch, sour Candy. You trying to hurt my feelings, girl?” Gator mocked hurt feelings, putting his hand over his heart.

“Were you trying to hurt mine?” She shot back.

“No. How about you make it up to me with a dance?”

“Aren’t you on duty?”

“Nah, I just dress like this for fun,” he hooked his thumbs into the bulky sheriff’s vest, showing it off.

“Won’t it be a bad look for your father?” It was true his father’s election was going to be up soon.

“He’ll be alright. You running out of excuses?” Gator checked.

“I could just say ‘no.’ If you don’t want to take a hint,” she condescended, and that just made him want her all the more. No way in hell was she gonna say ‘no’ to him. He had all the power he needed in the envelope, who would even notice if a couple of the hundreds were missing? Taking less than a second to decide he pulled out the envelope and started counting out the hundred dollar bills that he definitely should not be spending at a strip club.

“Are you deaf? Or just dumb?” Candy frowned, but as he continued to count them she changed her tune, “Holy smokes, where’d you get all that?”

He waved three hundreds at her, “How bout that dance?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling with the decision, but then she nodded in defeat, “Let’s go.” She hopped off the stage, and took his hand in her own. Her hand was trembling, until she squeezed him a little harder, and he pretended not to notice it. Pretended he was far too preoccupied with the way her ass swayed back and forth in her little white lace underwear.

In the private room there was one lone chair in the center with dark velvet couches surrounding it. As she stepped into the room her white undergarments turned dark red with the lights. She led him to the chair in the center of the room, shoving him down roughly. He made a show of it for her, collapsing into the chair even though he was barely moved from her hands pushing his chest, “Take it easy, baby.”

She ignored him, sliding her hands across his chest into his leather jacket, to slip it off, taking his vest with it. She hooked it on the back of the chair, which still left him in his bulky hoodie.

“That’s more like it, sweetheart,” he grinned as she walked in front of him again. He drank her in once again now that he had her all to himself. Her slim ankles wrapped in the white plastic straps of the clear high heels that were giving her an extra half foot at least. She looked a little unsteady as his gaze raked up the stockings, lingering on the smooth bare skin of her upper thigh. He imagined for a moment how her legs would wrap around him, how he’d grip her hips. The swell of her hips was accentuated as she took a small step toward him, shifting her weight. As his eyes moved up he found her chest rising and falling in quick breathes, her breasts spilling out of the wired corset cups on every intake. Her blush went all the way down her neck, and when his gaze flickered up to her eyes she cast hers to the floor.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” he admonished half-heartedly, pleased with her little show of innocence. It was charming.

She took another deep breath, drawing his attention back down to her breasts once again, and unballed her fists, starting to undo the bottom of her corset top. He watched her struggle with the little wire clasps that ran up the front for a long minute before he finally huffed a little laugh, “You need a hand?”

She looked up at him with those big brown eyes, and he wondered if it was more than just a show. Then she frowned and gritted, “Shut up.” And he knew it wasn’t. And that made his cock twitch in his pants. She finally got all the clasps undone and then tossed the offending garment on the couch beside her, unable to hide her pride at getting the damned thing off. She locked her arms in front of her, covering up her exposed nipples. He barely caught a glimpse of the pink skin. And then she seemed to realize what she had done and forced her arms behind her back, sticking out her chest.

“I’ve never done this before,” she finally confessed, but he had gathered that.

“I can tell,” he chuckled, “This might be the worst strip dance I’ve ever seen.”

That seemed to set something off in her. He was good at setting people off. Her cheeks were puffed out in anger as she slowly sank down to her knees, not bothering to hide her disgust at the old tile floors. And then she crawled on her hands and knees to him, swaying her hips and holding his stare like it was a challenge. He kicked his boots out on either side of him, making room for her between his thighs. Then he locked his fingers behind his head and reclined a little, the picture of unbothered, indifferent to her. And he saw exactly what he wanted. That angry determination swirling in those narrowed eyes as she let her cheek rest on his inner thigh.

She ran her hands up his shins, to the expanse of his muscular thighs. He felt the heat of her palm reach the bulge of his hardening cock, straining under his cargo pants. Her brow went up in accusation, “For the worst dance you’ve ever had, you seem to be enjoying it.”

“I’m easy,” he shrugged. Then her tongue was licking a stripe over the outline of his dick and his mouth fell open as he was unable to maintain his cool attitude toward the half naked woman between his legs. That had to be against the rules.

Before he could recover she was swinging her hips to the low vibrations of the bass that penetrated the room. She came up to her full height, giving him an eyeful of her breasts, making his mouth start salivating. Maybe he had just fallen for an act of innocence. Massaged them in his face, letting her head roll back as she let a small moan slip past her lips. His hands were moving on their own, in an attempt to assist her, when she slapped them away, “Hands by your side, deputy, or I’ll use your stupid cuffs on you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled out slow, gripping the sides of the chair to keep them there, but her threat just turned him on even more. Having her handcuff him sounded like a damn good time to him.

She swung one leg over his so her back was to him, and crawled down the slope of his leg, leaving her ass high in the air, and his hands squeezing the sides of the chair as she bounced a little on his leg. And then in time with music she was snapping back to sitting upright and grinding her hips just an inch above his thigh, letting him see that she was actually getting wet. Then she stepped out again, twisting to face him and kicked one of his boots so his legs came together before she sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with his hair just enough to make his head lull back and seek her fingers. He hadn’t felt a touch like that in years, something intimate and gentle. Hell, if he knew a strip dance felt this good he would’ve started skimming money a long time ago, but he had a feeling it was just her making him feel this way.

She bit her lip, trying to contain a grin, and he felt like he was losing the game he had set up. But she made losing feel good.

Then the song switched from fast paced to a slow jam and she lit up, standing to dance in front of him once again. She was familiar with the song, mouthing the words as she ran her hands up her body and tangled them in her hair the way his hands wanted to. While she mouthed the explicit lyrics, he imagined her in his ear whispering filth only he would ever hear.

Her body rolled in time with the slow beat and she ran her hand down between her breasts, over her flat stomach and dipped between her legs for just a second before she pulled her hand back and ran her tongue over them, her tongue that was nearly on his dick when he had ticked her off. “You want a taste?” she asked, tilting her head curiously, and only then had he noticed his mouth had fallen open in want. He only nodded, sticking his tongue out as she stepped closer to him again with her outstretched hand. Her fingers were glossy from her spit as she brushed them gently over his upper lip, avoiding his tongue, and then pulled back, leaving him running his tongue along his lip trying to taste her. He thought maybe she was wearing some kind of strawberry chapstick as he savored a distant artificial sweetness.

He hummed his approval, and when he caught her eye again her pupils were blown wide. He could nearly see himself reflected in them. He was in a similar state. And then she stepped one leg between his and slowly lowered her hips onto his thigh, grinding on him in time with the music. Her skin was hot, like her entire body was blushing. It gave him goosebumps under his jacket where her warmth couldn’t reach.

And then she made a noise in the back of her throat that had him choking on the air in the room, which was suffocating him with a palpable heat. It wasn’t an over the top moan like from the porn he usually watched, it was a whine she had tried to hide but it slipped past her lips anyways. It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life.

She bit her lip and looked at him apologetically, “Hah, sorry.” And the weight of her lifted up, before his hands flew out to stop her.

“No, don’t stop,” he lifted his knee in a jerk response, applying more pressure to her clit. He pulled and pushed her waist back and forth over his thigh, making her breath quicken. She was so sensitive, shaking like a leaf as he pushed his thigh up hard against her, with intention. He wanted to give her that friction which clearly affected her. His eyes traveled down her body to find a wet spot on his camouflage, “Gonna make a mess on my trousers, girl.”

She looked away in embarrassment as he looked up at her in awe. Her lower lip trembled as he leaned forward, bringing his hand to cradle her cheek. He was completely entranced in her glowing red face. He wanted to stop the anxious tremble of her lip, soothe her embarrassment away however he could. But he found no words, instead leaning in, and letting his eyes slip closed as he brushed his thumb down her bottom lip. He could feel her sharp intake of breath nearly against his mouth. He can’t remember wanting something as simple as a kiss with such an intensity before.

She shoved at his chest and stumbled backwards, catching herself on the edge of the couch. His head was spinning from the whiplash as he watched her catch her breath moving as far away from him as the couch would allow.

“No kissing the clients,” she finally spoke after a few beats of heavy breathing.

“No? Just everything else?” He joked a little, trying to recover his own breathing and will his raging erection to go away. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she started clipping the corset back on.

He stood and slid back into his leather jacket and vest, slicking his hair back which had gotten a little disheveled when she played with it earlier. Then she awkwardly put her hand out and he remembered what he had promised her for such a nice private dance and handed her three hundred, “That’s some technique for your first time.”

“I’m a quick learner,” she nodded, gripping the cash like he was going to snatch it back from her and run. She led him back out into the main room without so much as looking at him and then ran back to the locker rooms, still a little unsteady as his eyes followed her out.

“I’ve been waiting out here for nearly a half hour,” complained Henry, getting up from the bar when he saw Gator. He barely understood the words, too busy thinking about how there was no way in hell he could wait another two weeks to see her again. She gave him a high he knew he’d be hooked on until the day he died. He figured he’d be a married man and still jerk off to her.

“Boy! You hear me? When your daddy hears about you fucking around--” Henry started to threaten, finally pulling Gator’s attention away from the girl. The shove of the white envelope into Henry’s chest cut him off.

“My daddy ain’t gonna hear about it, unless you want me burning this money up and telling him you fucking backward ass hillbillies lost it,” he said it softly with a half smile, contrasting the shouting of the older man who got even angrier as he lost his power.

“We’ll see about that. Don’t make me wait while you’re getting your dick sucked. If you’re daddy don’t make you answer to him. I’ll make you answer to me. Understand, son?”

“Maybe if your wife was better at it you wouldn’t have had to wait so long,” Gator leaned into the man, his hand hovering over the gun in his thigh holster.

“Alright, your time's coming, boy. Your time’s coming.”

“Whatever you say, Henry,” Gator grinned at him, “I’ll see you later.” He waved himself out and hopped into his truck.

He reached for his vape in his pocket, taking a long drag reigniting the buzz in his head that was worked up in the back room of The Tender Trap. He was trying to remember the way her face looked when she moaned, but his memories weren’t coming out right. He needed to see her again. And soon enough he was hard again as he drove back to the Tillman Ranch. The road was lonely and dark that night as he started to touch himself.

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Twenty-Three

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: A little fluff, some very vague Sexual References, a handful of Unfortunate Scenarios, Anxiety, Mentions of Vomiting (super brief and non-descriptive) Anger, Description of a Panic Attack, and.. a lot of crying.

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: It's the day before the anniversary and something is in the air.

Author's Note: ... I'm so sorry. 😔 The emotional turmoil this chapter has put me through- we all knew something would happen and I just.. we're all in this together, guys 😭🤧🖤 Love you all so much 🥺

Leaving My Love Behind - Lewis Capaldi "Could you tell me is it all a waste of time? Are you leaving my love behind? Baby, say the word and let me know."

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“Are you sure you need to leave now?” I ask her, squeezing her hand gently as we walk towards her car. 

“Yes, sadly,” She sighs. “I need to get a little work done and pack up some stuff for the weekend.”

I look over at her, forcing a slightly disgusted look on my face, “I guess that makes sense.. I don’t like it, though.” I wasn’t able to keep the look on my face, laughing the second she looked at me. 

“Maybe.. If you’re not still busy doing things later, I can come back?” She asks, raising her eyebrows at me. Like, I’ll say no? 

“You can come back even if I am busy,” I tell her. “It might motivate me to get shit done.” 

She turns to face me, giggling as she leans into me, “I’m suddenly feeling like a reward.”

“A very pretty one,” I whisper, kissing her gently. “The prettiest, actually.”

“Now you’re just trying to kiss my ass,” she laughs, gently hitting my chest.  

“Honey, I don’t think I need to try that hard for you to let me do that,” I say quietly, wiggling my eyebrows at her.  

“Jacob!” 

“What?”

“You know what.” 

“Am I wrong?” I ask, my eyebrow pops up, knowing that I’m absolutely correct.  

“I’m mad that you’re not,” she pouts for a moment until she looks back at me with a devilish little grin on her face.  “You could kiss wherever you wanted, babe,”

“You can’t say things like that,” I tell her, pointing at her when I quickly follow it up with,  “Don’t say anything else.”

“Oh, is Captain a little–” she starts to taunt me, but I cut her off. 

“Char,” I say sternly. “Unless you want anybody who walks by to know what I have going on, shut up.” She throws her head back with laughter, like the little shit that she is. 

“Okay, go do things so you can come back to me,” I pull open her car door for her, watching her plop herself into the seat. Her hands grabbed mine and tugged me down to her, the cute little smile she had on her face. I know what she’s waiting for. Leaning in to kiss her again and mumbling, “One more.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“I heard that things must be going well with Ms. Charlotte,” Josh says under his breath. 

“Oh?”

“I guess she seemed pretty flustered when they asked about you,” he tells me. “Also, you two took pictures together, and you didn’t show me?” Oops. 

“Here,” handing him my phone to swipe through the pictures. 

“Oh, well, aren’t you two just precious?” He has a grin plastered on his face. “Look at both of you, just smitten.”

I can feel my face warm as he says it, admitting, “She is pretty great.” 

“Are you going to try and turn it into something?” He asks. 

“I’ve been trying to figure out how,” I tell him. “I feel like she’s starting to lean that way too.” 

“Well, maybe you should mention it,” his voice is filled with excitement. “I can’t imagine she would turn you down. I mean look at her?” He points at her face in one of the photos; her beaming at me before she had turned to the person taking our picture. 

I stare at her for a second before looking back over to him, “Maybe I will after this weekend.” 

Josh takes over with any customers who wander in so I can get everything organized. Thursday is going to be such a good day off after all this. 

I spend a few hours cleaning behind the bar, just trying to get rid of any random empty bottles or trash that have found a way to stay here. It’s helpful that there’s typically only a couple of us back here, so it’s never really terrible to pick up. 

In the middle of pulling some bottles to wipe down, I feel my phone start to vibrate against my leg. 

Why is she calling me? 

I flash my phone screen to Josh before walking down the hall to get away from the noise. I answer, a bit panicked,  “Mum, is everything okay?” 

“Well, our flights got delayed,” She tells me, which instantly makes me feel a bit better. “We won’t be able to stop by tonight. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She sounds disappointed, which I hate. 

“No, it’s okay.” I breathe out. “As long as you get here, that’s what matters.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to squish your little face,” she says, already back to her usual self. 

I sit in the chair in my office, letting out, “I’ll be excited to see you tomorrow. I miss you.”

“And I miss you, sweets.” 

“Just let me know when you land?”

“Of course.” She says. “How’s everything going today? Are you excited for tomorrow?” 

“I think I’ll be more excited once everything’s done.” I breathe out, knowing I still need to do inventory before the night is over. 

“Josh said that you’ve been in a better mood lately..” the inflection in her voice tells me she’s up to something when she asks, “Who is she?” 

Of course, he told her. They gossip like two teenage girls, I swear. 

“It’s complicated,” I tell her, my voice quiet. “I do really like her, though.” 

She quickly asks, “What do you mean complicated?” 

“Uhh..” I hesitate.  I can’t tell my mom we’ve just been sleeping together. 

“Jacob Thomas!” She scolds before making me more uncomfortable.  “Please just don’t get her pregnant if that’s what you’re doing.” 

“Jesus- MOM,” I say, my hand flying up to cover my face. This can’t be happening right now. 

“I know you’ve had a rough go at dating, but sweetie, I don’t know if just hooking up would be good for you. I-.”

“Mum, please,” I cut her off. I’d rather chew on cement than listen to her talk about my sex life. “I actually really like this girl.” 

“Is she going to be there tomorrow?” 

“I think so,” I know I sound timid, but with the luck I’ve had in the past— it’s hard to sound confident about anything in the dating department. “Please don’t scare her, though. She’s still getting used to everyone.”

Her laugh radiates through the phone, “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but you better point her out.” 

“I can send you a picture so I don’t have to awkwardly point her out.” 

She yells, “You have a picture?!” 

My face is going to be permanently red at the rate I’m going, but I laugh quietly at her. “Yes, I’ll text it to you.” 

“Okay, well,” she starts, “Tell your brothers about the delay so they don’t worry.” 

“I will.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll let you go, but.. don’t forget to send that picture. I love you!” 

“I won’t,” I giggle quietly. “I love you, too.” 

I quickly pull up my texts with her sending one of the pictures; otherwise, she’ll never leave me alone. I see the typing bubbles pop up a little too quickly. 

Mom: OMG 

Mom: Oh my she is BEAUTIFUL!! 😍

Mom: I love seeing you smile, sweetheart! 

Me: she is haha 

Me: thank you 🖤

I slide my phone back into my pocket, grab my notebook, and walk back out into the bar. Sam sat in his typical barstool when I came around the corner behind the bar. 

“Hi bud,” I look over at him, “What are you doing here?” Glancing around and not seeing Willa anywhere. 

“So..” he starts. “Remember how I took all those pictures for you?” He anxiously draws little figure eights on the bar top as he looks at me. 

I just hum back, “Mhm.”

“Well.. they’re gone,” his face cringing. 

I let out a long breath before dryly saying, “Wonderful. Did you come here just to tell me this?”

He snaps a picture with flash close to my face, and I just blink slowly at him a few times, “Okay— what are we doing here?” 

“I’m going to try to get new ones for you if that works,” he stares at me with a questionable smile. 

I look around at all the things I need to get done and back at him, “Uh, sure. Just do what you need to.” 

“I’ll try to be quick, promise!” He says, hustling off to take whatever photos he wants. It’s okay; he’ll get everything taken care of. 

I’m elbow-deep in doing inventory behind the bar when I suddenly hit a speed bump; it’s in the shape of my twin brother. 

“So, I think Quinn and I will try to get decorating done in the morning,” he tells me excitedly. The two of them really are the ones who planned the entire night because they love nothing more than celebrating things, apparently. 

I mumble back, “That’s great.”

“They made a bunch of things for the anniversary–” He continues on his tangent about the party. “We also decided to come up with a little specialty menu for you!”

“Mhm.” I don’t want to ignore him, but good god, I just need to get this shit done. 

Hearing him ramble on further, “And we thought this would be good because of–”

“Sure, Josh, whatever you want to do,” I know my tone probably sounds irritated, but he’s slowing me down with all his thoughts that he could have told me before I started this. 

My phone vibrates several times against my leg; what else could be going on? 

Danny: hey, I’m gonna be a few minutes late

Danny: this kid will not chill out. I think she’s just overtired and is refusing to lay down.

At least it’s not really his fault. I can’t blame him for that. 

Me: it’s okay, just get here when you can

What is in the air today? Seems like nobody can catch a break. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I try to focus back on getting everything accounted for back here so I can escape to the back room. Which that part should go more smoothly.

I grabbed the receipt from the order that came in today, browsing through it to discover that one of the Downeast flavors we tried to get is back ordered. Sick. Slowly stocking the bar and bringing the rest of it to the back, I find another mistake. 

“What the fuck is going on,” I mutter to myself, as I’m moving the extra beer that we didn’t order in the back room to get it out of the way. It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll just call the distributor on Monday and figure it out. 

Grabbing my notebook again, I start writing down everything we have in stock in the backroom. Thankful that we didn’t have to order too many things for tomorrow because it’s looking like it wouldn’t have mattered. 

“I think I got enough shots to make up for the lost ones,” Sam’s voice rings through the room. 

I sigh, looking over at him, “I’m glad.”

“You okay…?” He asks sheepishly before whispering, “You seem mad.” 

I stare at him again for a moment and then let out, “I’m not. Just a bunch of dumb shit has happened, but it’s okay.” Running my hand through my hair when I remember. “Oh, by the way, Mom called. Their flight got delayed, so they’ll be here late.” 

He pouts his bottom lip slightly, “Are you supposed to be grabbing them from the airport?” 

“Yeah,” I breathe out. 

He taps his fingers against the doorframe a few times, “If I can borrow your car, I’ll pick them up.”

That would make my life a little easier.. 

“Sure, that’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll get you my car key in a minute if you don’t mind hanging out.” 

He nods, “I’ll go piss off Josh until you’re done.” Disappearing into the hall, I close my eyes for a minute. Okay, there’s just a few more things, and then I can at least just be upfront until Char comes back. 

Once I finally finish doing inventory, I drop my notebook on my desk, grab my car key, and then walk out to find Sam. 

“Here you go, bud,” I say, handing it over to him. “Please, just don’t crash.”

He salutes with a quiet, “Got it.” 

We both turn to see a girl stumble out of the bathroom, somehow making it back to her group, which is sitting over in the corner. Sam looks over at me wide-eyed, and I just return the look with a slight smirk. 

“Wanna do me a favor and run some water over to her?” I pat Sam’s back a few times. He just nods and laughs, standing up from the barstool he claimed earlier. 

I walk over, pulling open the door to the bathroom she came out of. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I say out loud. Can something else stupid happen? Please, I love that everything is going wrong today of all days. I glance around for a second, taking a deep breath; well.. not that deep of a breath. Turning around and waving Josh down quickly.

He raises a brow at me, taking a few steps closer. 

“That girl just threw up everywhere..” I tell him, a disgusted look on my face.  “I will be cleaning this up for a minute. Are you good?”

“Yikes,” he lets out. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“It’s the blonde in the corner, don’t let her order any more. I sent Sam over with water already.”

I grab our mop, as many towels and sprays as I can physically hold in my arms. Thank god this doesn’t happen too often, I think to myself, locking myself in the torture chamber. It’s an unfortunate thing that comes with the territory, so I’ve gotten better at cleaning up when it does happen. 

At least Char should be back here soon, I hope. I daydream about how I wish I could bring her with me on Thursday, I believe that full well that my parents would love her. But, knowing that she is already looking forward to texting me the whole day makes my heart swell. One day, I’ll get to bring her ‘home’ to my parents.

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I hear the door chime ring, even with the music and everyone talking. There she is. It’s embarrassing how excited I get when she walks in, but after the day I’ve had, thank god. I see her linger near the door, holding her phone up to her ear but hanging up after not even a minute of being inside. 

I wander towards her until she looks up and notices me. I let out a quiet, “Hey you.” I reach my arm out to hug her, but the moment I start to pull her in, she backs away from me. 

“What are you doing?” laced with an attitude from her. 

“I-” hesitating at her tone, whispering,  “Honey, what do you mean?” 

Her eyebrows pull together, “We’re in public, Jacob.” 

“Okay? Why is that an issue?”

“Nobody is supposed to know?” She snaps, fully with a scowl on her face; her words feel harsh for some reason. 

I don’t know what’s going on, because she seemed fine earlier today. Did I do something?

I calmly tell her, “I’m..sorry. I thought we were kind of past that.” My eyebrow raises at the look on her face. 

“It’s fine,” she sighs. Her head shakes a few times, and she looks down at her shoes, her arms crossed.  

“What’s wrong then?” I ask, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

She avoids eye contact and mutters, “Nothing.”

I fold my arms over my chest; my heart starts to pound as I tell her, “Try again.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she practically spits out. The way she’s speaking to me makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst through my chest. She’s never been like this around me. I nod my head towards the hallway, getting out of the main part of the bar. 

“What’s going on?” I try to stay calm, though my hands are shaking.  

She snaps again, “I told you, I’m fine.” A pain shoots through my chest at the sound of it. 

I lowered my voice when I finally asked, “What do I have to do, Charlotte?” 

“What do you mean?” she responds, her eyebrows pulled together, seeming genuinely lost. 

“For you to just let me in. You make me think that we’re onto something, and now you’re acting like this?” I can’t stop my voice from slowly rising, letting a ‘fuck’ slip out.

“Babe-” she starts, but I cut her off quickly. 

My voice is stern when I ask,  “No— what did I do wrong?” My heart aches, and it’s causing the anger to take over. I feel myself starting to shake, tensing my muscles to try and stop it. 

She reaches for my arms, her voice sounding more panicked now, “Baby, just listen to me-.” I pull back from her like she already did to me; my heart hurts at the pet name, only adding fuel to the fire. You can’t just call me that when you’re acting like this.    

“That’s all I’ve been trying to do,” I spit out. “You gotta give me something, Char.” She stares quietly, her expression blank. I watch her swallow before I continue, “You’ve been fine telling me things for the last few weeks. Why not now?” 

It was the first time in my life that I should be the one who stopped talking, but the panic is winning;  I lay into her more, “What could have happened, Charlotte? I just saw you this morning. What is it?”

Her expression changed at this point; she looked scared, her voice shaking when she started to say, “It’s just.. It’s–” 

If you’re going to leave me, just fucking do it. 

“If I did something, just say it.” 

Her voice was laced with panic when she told me, “Jacob, it isn’t your fault if you would just let me-” 

I cut her off, my voice raised, and I finally snapped at her, “Then who fucking died for you to be acting like this?” 

I’ve never regretted saying something faster in my life; the moment it left my mouth, I knew I fucked up. I watch the tears instantly flood her eyes. Fucking hell, why would I say that– 

“I— No, I didn't mean that,” I try to recover as fast as I can; the anger I felt disappeared, realizing I just shoved my foot fully down my throat with that comment. But she shakes her head at me before quickly turning and walking fast down the hall towards the back door. “Char, wait-“ No, no, no, no.

She’s absolutely crying by this point, rightfully so, and walks out the back door. I might as well have run out of the bar, the cold air making it painful to breathe. A new type of panic is taking over. 

“Charlotte,” I pick up my pace, “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” I’m practically out of breath just walking behind her. “Please, hun, stop.”

 “No, Jacob, you stop!” she yells, turning to face me. We can’t be back to ‘Jacob.’ I can’t. “You didn’t want to listen before; why am I going to waste my breath now?” The pain is clear on her face, the waver in her voice. God, I’m so fucking dumb.

“Honey, I-“

She cuts me off, “No, that wasn’t fucking fair,” her voice and hand shakes as she points at me and my heart breaks more seeing her cry. She sobs out, “And you know that.” The tears rolling down her face make my own throat tighten up. 

“No, I do. I do,” my own voice shakes this time. My chest feels like it’s caving in. The tears welled up and threatened to escape any second. I step closer to her, wiping her tears away as mine start to fall. Her sweet face just barely leaned into my hand; please don’t leave me. 

My other hand comes up to wipe my own face, but I can’t hold it back anymore, “Char, I’m so sorry,” comes out in a sob as I pinch the bridge of my nose, and I feel her close the gap between us. Wrapping her arms tight around me, my hand moves to hold the back of her head. I rest my face against her and close my eyes as I feel her body shake in my arms.  I can't lose her. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean that, I swear to god.” I manage to quietly let out as I hold her close to me. I hate myself for hurting you. 

After a minute, pulling back to look at her, holding her jaw in my hands, the saddest kiss I’ve ever experienced. The feeling of her tears rolling over my thumbs as her lips press into mine, and I'm trying to hold it together long enough to get through it. Everything about the moment feels like this is ending, and we’re both just avoiding saying it. 

“Please don’t leave,” I manage to choke out, leaning my forehead against hers, “please.”  

 “I’m so sorry, Jacob,” she whispers back. “I just- I think I need to go.”

“No,” Slips out. I can’t stop the sob that comes out with it, feeling pathetic. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.” 

She shakes her head ‘no’ but reaches out, wipes my tears, and whispers, “One more.” She leans in, kissing me softly as both of our lips shake. I hold her close for as long as she’ll let me because I don’t know when or if I’ll get to again after this. I love you, Charlotte. I hope you know that. 

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 I watch as her car pulls away and drives off, doing everything in my power not to scream. My body hurts from choking back the heartbreak. 

“God damnit,” falls from my mouth. Trying to swallow the sob that’s sitting in my throat, more tears fall as I’m trying to blink them away. How did I fuck this up so bad? 

I lean against the wall, around the corner from the bar, sliding down until I’m sitting on my feet. Everything just comes out; a hard sob comes out a bit louder than I would have liked, but at this point, I can’t stop it.

 “Oh my god– Jake,” I hear Josh’s voice.  

His hands wrapped around my shoulders, forcing me to stand, and my head hung low. 

“Hey, what’s going on? What happened?”

I  look up at him finally, red-eyed, tears falling down in full force. My chin quivers, and I can’t stop myself from falling into him. Gripping the back of his shirt, I’m practically yelling into his shoulder. She can’t be gone. 

“She left,” I struggle to get out. 

“Charlotte?” 

“Yes,” my voice shakes, “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Ope, oh god, no,” he whispers; I can feel his breathing change a little. He backs up to look at me, wiping the tears off my face. His eyes also welled up, looking all over to try and find an answer.

“Jake, you need to take a breath for me,” his voice shakes as he does his best to instruct while tears start to fall down his face. 

I pull my hands up, covering my face, knowing I can’t look at him as I finally admit the truth, “I’m in love with her, Josh. God, I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” I cry; hearing it out loud just makes it more real. My stomach turning as I think about her.  

“I know you are,” he whispers, rubbing my arms to keep in contact with me. “I have no doubt in my mind— she loves you too.”

Hearing Josh sniffle loudly, I look up to see him standing there, one hand on my shoulder and the other covering his mouth as he watches me. 

“I can’t lose her,” I say shakily. “I– I can’t.” My chest is heaving as the panic comes out, shaking my head at the thought. “Oh god, I feel so stupid. I—”

“Jake, breathe.” 

I feel pathetic as I struggle to take a deeper breath, hearing the jagged sounds as I inhale and slowly let it back out. Fighting the urge to cry with every long breath. I just want her. My voice is practically a whimper when I let out, “Josh, my heart fucking hurts.. I don’t know what to do.”

He goes to say something but pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight back the tears that are sitting in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I hate seeing him upset, even if it’s unintentional. 

He quickly waves his hand at me, “Stop, stop, just give me a second. This isn’t at all how I wanted to help you.” He looks up at the sky, sucking in a deep breath before finally looking back at me. 

“I need you to just go home, okay?” he tells me. “I’ll close the bar down; just go take a hot shower or go crawl into bed, but you do not need to be back in there right now.”

“Okay,” I give in easily; I don’t think I could compose myself enough to be there. 

“I know you are going to want to talk to her, but you need to give her the space she wants–,” he starts. I just nod along, knowing he’s right but wishing he wasn’t. He whispers, “Oh, I'm so sorry, Jake.” He pulls me into another hug, rubbing my back for a minute as I just let the tears flow into his shirt.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It’s taking everything in me not to slam every door behind me and throw my boots across the room. Why did I say that? I sat on the end of my bed with my head in my hands for a few minutes. I raked my brain for anything that I could have said this morning that maybe was too much or if she had mentioned something, that would have made more sense as to why she was so upset.

“I need to work a little and then pack my stuff for the weekend.” 

The only thing she said that I feel like could have put her in a bad mood, but even then, is she just upset about having to spend the weekend with her parents? She never really brought up what her plan was outside of that. She did come into the bar on the phone, maybe one of her parents pissed her off, and I just made it worse? 

My phone lit up next to me, pulling me out of my head for a second. 

Charlotte: I made it home

Immediately, feeling tears sit in my eyes again. I stare at the message for a minute, debating on how to even respond without just spilling all my feelings to her. 

Charlotte, I love you. No- I’m so fucking in love with you. Maybe I messed up by letting myself fall for you when you said we could just be friends with benefits, but you’re more than I could have imagined. I just want to go back and actually shut up so you could talk. I don’t know why I didn’t just let you tell me what was wrong. That’s a lie. I panicked because I thought you didn’t want to keep me around anymore. I would never intentionally hurt you like I did; I honestly didn’t mean it, and god- I wish I never let that come out of my mouth. It was wrong and disrespectful, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do to you. I want to keep you to myself forever. You’re so beautiful and kind and everything I could have dreamt of. I want to spend forever showing you how special you are and giving you the love that you deserve because, my god, you deserve the sun, the moon, and everything in between. 

But– I can’t say that. 

Me: 🖤

I set my phone back down, knowing she isn’t going to say anything else. It’s hard to believe that I even have anything left in me to cry at this point. The tears land on my screen as I stare at it, waiting to see if she opens the text. The screen dims, and just before it would have locked, I see it change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read.’ The typing bubble pops up, and I flip my phone over. I’m not ready to read whatever she’s going to say. 

I feel the slight vibration from her text coming through, and I just leave my phone there. I grab one of my pillows and tuck my arm underneath it as I lay down. Closing my eyes, I try not to think of what she could have said. 

My heart aches as I lay there, doing everything in my power to think of anything else, but she plagues my mind. Her laugh, how she looks at me, the way her hands feel in mine. This can’t be over– I can’t let her go. The tears just continuously fall into my pillow as I try to fall asleep. Honey, I need you. 

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“Jake?” 

Josh’s voice startles me awake as he’s sat on the edge of the bed. I look up at him as he reaches over, tucking my hair behind me. 

“Why don’t you at least get comfortable, huh?” He whispers, gesturing at the fact I’m still completely dressed from earlier. “I’ll grab you a sweatshirt. It’s a bit chilly.” 

I unbutton and slide my jeans off, tossing them on the floor next to me before moving under the comforter. 

“Here,” Josh says quietly, handing me the sweatshirt and taking the shirt I had on from me. I pull it over my head and then immediately lay back down. He pulls the blankets up to cover me, sitting back down. “Do you want me to stay for a few minutes?” 

I just nod. His hand runs down the back of my head a few times before he just holds my shoulder, scratching gently to try and help me fall back to sleep. We sat there in silence for a while, having him in the room was enough to help keep me calm. I eventually drifted off, long enough for him to finally leave. I wouldn’t say that I slept well by any means, but I slept some. I tossed and turned relentlessly throughout the night, having to convince myself to sleep again. 

I grab my phone to check the time. 5:32 a.m. glows back at me. I don’t know if it’s curiosity or if I like to torture myself, but I unlock my phone, click on my messages and tap on her name, reading the message and setting my phone back down. I close my eyes, feeling a single tear run down my face before I drift back off to sleep. 

Charlotte: Goodnight Jacob

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Four

FDOG Master Post | Masterlist | Playlist

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[nproduction626]

Part Two of Twst memes for the Headmistress Rosehearts au, remember that Felicity Rosehearts belongs to @mangacupcake, Asha Kingscholar belongs to @adrianasunderworld, and Polemicists belongs to me.

Disclaimer: Yes I will do this for every meme post that I make and remember it’s all about having fun, while reminding which OC belongs to who.

[liebgottsjumpwings]

AUGUST AFTERNOON | FAYE FISCHER | MASTERS OF THE AIR

Summary: Faye Fischer and her newly acquired friend Ken Lemmons spend a sunny afternoon at Thorpe Abbotts, Faye thinks about the past few years and is then (not so) rudely interrupted by a certain curly haired pilot. Who had managed to make her blush several times some days ago.

Warnings: general war violence, implied minor (and not canon) character death.

Word count: a bit over 2500

Note: this was meant to be a little less than 1k word blurb, turned into way more. I hope it isn't too boring as most of it delves into Faye's experiences before the mota canon. That is also because I use my ocs to study certain historical events, so this really is just self indulgence. Please pretty please let me know what you think of it! (This fic is also posted on AO3)

AUGUST 21, 1943, 16:32 

“What kind of name is ‘Just-a-Snappin’ even?” Faye Fischer wondered out loud, only half expecting an answer from the man in front of her as she came to sit up from her lying position in the grass. She squinted, just about able to make out the text on the B-17 Ken Lemmons was working on. Her squint disappeared as he came into her sight, blocking the warm ray of sunshine she had been enjoying moments prior, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You’re gonna have to ask Blakely that one,” answered the curly haired man standing in her sun. Looking at him, she wondered why he would hide those curls under that beanie. Probably so all that working grease wouldn’t get into it. 

Faye shrugged, letting herself fall back into the grass. “Whenever I ask Blakely a question, the man answers with a goddamn riddle,” she let the end of her sentence continue into a sigh. Ken just laughed, his hands firm on his hips. The sun made the edge of his curls shine, almost like an aureole. Visually, him standing in her sun wasn’t so bad, it looked quite pretty. Her skin was starting to miss the warmth of the sun rays, though. Faye’s fingertips tapped on the cap of her camera lens, the Contax II had been laying on her stomach, under one of Ken’s work rags, to shield it from the sun. “Keep standing like that,” Faye ordered him as she removed the cap from the lens, turning on her camera. 

“Aren’t you only supposed to use that for… you know… work purposes?” she heard him ask as she fiddled with the exposure settings. A scoff escaped past her lips as she lined up the viewfinder with her left eye. “Shut up, they made me pay for my own film rolls when I arrived in England, so they’re mine technically anyway” Faye deadpanned in response, snapping a photo of Ken. “Besides,” she continued, putting her camera back under the rag again, letting her head fall back into the grass, “don’t you think the photo I just took wouldn’t go over well with all those war bond leaflets?” She held up her hands, reading an imaginary leaflet “Purchase a war bond so our curly haired cuties can maintain our bomber planes!” she sarcastically called out. It earned a belly-laugh from Ken, who then turned around, readying himself to get back to his maintenance work as he continued laughing, “I hope to God not.” Faye smiled in response, “Yeah, well, I’ve taken more leisure photos on this camera than the OSS would be comfortable knowing. It is only fair because nearly all film rolls were mine anyway,” she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the warm August sun blanketed her. 

The warmth took her back to August, nearly three years back, 1940. To the emerging hills behind Mulhouse, in the occupied region of the Alsace in France. Back then, she too had snapped a photo that the OSS would turn their noses up at. She couldn’t help it, though, the sleepy little cottage the, back then, above ground resistance she was attached to used as their base of operations was too pretty against the sunny hills. Plus, the whole rule against taking photos that do not directly aid the war effort was bullshit anyway. They increased her morale, no? Surely a heightened sense of morale would aid the war effort. Just like her friend, and resistance member Isidore was aiding the war effort by developing the photos Faye had taken recently. His girlfriend, Julienne, a distant cousin of Faye’s neighbors back in Louisiana, the Klotz family, laid next to her in the grass, yelling at her sweetheart to stop working so hard and join them in the warm sum. She still remembered the minty smell of the Ground Ivy that tickled against her cheeks in the field near the cottage as she watched Isidore exit the cottage, some of the successfully developed photos under his arm, he dropped them above the two women. The photographs whirled softly down onto them, like those propaganda leaflets that had recently been dropping from planes over the region. The association made her chuckle. She much preferred these photographs over those leaflets. 

Oh, how she longed back to be in that sleepy little field just behind Mulhouse. Unknowing and indifferent to what was about to wash over her. Over her dear friends. Over her distant relatives, up north in Sélestat.  How she wished to gain that sense of unknowing and indifference once more. The fleeting feeling of walking back home from the shul on those warm August evenings, taking the train from Mulhouse towards Sélestat, being greeted by her grandmother’s second brother, the one who stayed behind in Alsace. Being taken in to his family, learning about their extensive history and connection to this land. It made her feel proud, like her family here. All of that despite the impending feeling of calamity. That feeling grew more and more with each news item about the Germans inching closer. Forcing themselves back into the territory they’ve claimed as theirs for eras. This time, it came paired with a terrifying venom against a group of people so deeply rooted in this region. 

After the annexation of the Alsace into Nazi-Germany, the resistance group Faye had been attached to by the OSS was forced to go underground. Her work, instead of reporting back to the OSS on current events in the border region between France and Germany, became a high-risk operation that aided the Alsatian resistance in its activities against the Nazi occupier. When it happened, the OSS had forbidden her to associate publicly with her family and the community she had built up. They deemed it ‘too riskful’. And because Faye had no choice, she listened to those orders. And just like that, her growing connection with her ancestral home region, her family, the core of her very identity was snapped away. Just as quick as it had flourished. She watched the treatment of her people become more and more dire every day. She watched and she could do nothing but watch. Nothing outward anyway. In secret, she was doing more than she ever had done. Risking everything to make it harder for the Nazis to spread their hatred and evil. In return, she got the gnarly gift of having to distance herself from the recently cultivating bond with her family that lived halfway across the world from her. 

Yes, she still had Isidore, Julienne and the rest of their group. Though, as they were forced to become underground, a painful strain started to form on their friendship. Understandably so, tensions were high, risks were always there and the imminent feeling of doom never stopped looming over the group. 

Which ended up being for good reason. Come the early February days of 1943, Faye found herself with her left cheek pressed into the cold ground where the minty Ground Ivy once grew. The barrel of a Karabiner 98A straight against her right cheek. She still wasn’t sure who gave up their activities to the SS. She wasn’t sure if she cared enough by then either way. Or now, for that matter. In the two and a half years that spanned from that first summer in Alsace to February of 1943, Faye had grown disillusioned to the point that she wasn’t even sure if she cared about living, or dying. Maybe it was for the better that death seemed so close. That it came to her in the form of a German rifle. 

That was until she remembered why her family decided to migrate to the United States. Back in the late 19th century, the Jews of the Alsace were already facing hardships. And it was those hardships that made her grandparents decide that from there on out, their family line would not suffer under those hardships anymore. So they set sail to Louisiana, because their children, and their children, and their children (and so on), deserved a life of flourishing. So it was there, February 1943, with the cold barrel of a Karabiner 98A pressed to her face, that Faye decided that she would honor that wish. She would not die at the hands of those who wished her dead. 

She wasn’t sure how, but she ran, she ran until her feet gave out and Isidore made them duck into a dense shrub. His face stained with dirt, much like hers. And through the dirt on his face, tears traced their paths. Then it dawned on her that Julienne hadn’t made it out with them. Faye hoped with everything she had in her dear friend wasn’t left out, alone in that cold field. But there wasn’t much time for hoping. They had to make it to safety. To a place where they couldn’t be reached by those who were looking for them. 

Switzerland. Within a few days of frantic fleeing, both of them somehow made it to Basel, just over the border. Isidore’s previously tear-filled eyes had turned empty by then. And Faye feared for him. She feared for everyone they had to leave behind. The fear didn’t leave her when she walked away from the hospital she had helped Isidore to, so his wounds could be looked at. Not caring much for her own, and after the OSS had been made aware of her whereabouts, they had arranged a route to England for her. To ‘escape’ the risk she found herself in, according to the OSS. She still scoffs at the mention of ‘risk’, the OSS would never fully know. And so, after a goodbye ‘for now’ and a promise to keep in touch, she departed for the train station of Basel, on towards Bern, and from there, hopefully England. She watched the fields roll by, they were barren, empty of life. She tried to not let it remind her of Julienne too much. Hoping that her friend had somehow made it to safety, like her sweetheart and Faye.

Her memories were disturbed by the warm sun once again being taken away from her. This time, it wasn’t because a certain crew chief by the name of Ken Lemmons was standing in between her and her blanket of warmth, it was because Faye hadn’t noticed the time pass by and the sun having moved behind the officer’s buildings on the air base. She let out a groan at the feeling of her back cracking as she sat up, her camera falling into her lap. Slowly opening her eyes, to her surprise, ‘Just-a-Snappin’ had been exchanged for a different airplane. Though, her eyes were too blurry from the sun shining onto them, to make out the name. These damn pilots and their airplane names. 

What she did make out was Ken and what seemed to be a pilot, standing by the plane as Ken pointed out several things on the wing. The pilot nodding, seemingly intently listening to Ken. Faye, after rubbing her eyes intensely, was able to make out more of the scene in front of her. Her sight darted towards the plane again, reading. ‘Rosie's Riveters,’ she mouthed the words. Way better name for a plane than whatever Blakely was thinking with his one, Faye thought. Her gaze moved over to Ken and the still unknown pilot again. Squinting, she could make out the brown curls, kept small and neatly arranged on top of his head. The 100th and their tendency to hide their gorgeous curls irrationally annoyed Faye to no end. She eternally cursed Ken for hiding them behind his beanie, too. She looked back to the nose of the plane, ‘Rosie’s Riveters.’ Oh. Robert Rosenthal. The man that had made her blush the other night without even knowing he had. Robert Rosenthal had arrived at Thorpe Abbotts some two weeks after Faye herself did. She had been sitting with Helen and the other women as she watched him come into the officers’ club, his feet carrying him, dancing towards his crewmates. It was his little twist and the way his jacket moved in the air flow created by it; itt had been the first time she smiled that day. And Helen noticed. Sending Faye a teasing look as she dug the nose of her shoe into Faye’s shin. The action made Faye’s cheeks turn bright red, sinking deeper into her seat, disappearing into the shadow of the curved wall as she let out a soft, intoxicated giggle. 

It wasn’t much later, after Nash had successfully achieved a dance from Helen, that Rosenthal’s eyes locked with Faye’s. The same red from before creeping up from her throat to her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile. His returning smile was beaming, like a direct ray of sunlight across the room. She would receive a few more of such smiles from him throughout the night.

Now, with his pilot’s hat snug under his arm, Faye could see him smile at Ken, a thankful smile. And who wouldn’t be thankful for Ken Lemmons. The man worked tirelessly to send them up safely into the air. But, oh she was sure it was Robert Rosenthal standing there, alright. Yeah, that smile, of which she had been on the receiving end several times now, she recognized it. The familiar, uneasy yet welcomed feeling creeped up in her stomach again. She could feel the flush in her throat. Combined with the hours of direct sunlight she had received over the afternoon, remembering their shared looks made her slightly lightheaded as she rose to her feet. Hoping to quietly leave, as to not gain the perception of both men standing some feet away from her. 

Mission unsuccessful, though, damn it. “Fish!” she heard Ken call her. Her arms dropped beside her body as she turned around, her camera swinging with a little delay. She caught it, so it wouldn’t hit her on her stomach. For some stupid reason, her breathing increased in frequency as she watched the two men walk over to her. She had to consciously try to not take a step backward everytime they took one forward. She tried to keep her eyes strictly on Ken.“You think that is a better name for a plane?” he asked, pointing towards the B-17. Her eyes followed his pointing, reading the text on the nose of the plane for a third time. Before she realized, she already voiced her opinion. “I think naming anything but a pet or a human is a weird thing anyway,” she retorted, eyes dead set on Ken. Next to him, she heard a chuckle. “I’m actually quite proud of ‘Rosie’s Riveters’” she heard the curly haired brunette next to Ken say. There was no fighting it anymore, she had to actually look at him now. And she was sure you could compare the color of her cheeks to the apples they served in the breakfast hall, bright red. Still, like she always did, she came up with a retort; “Well, it’s better than Blakely’s, I guess,” she said, a sly, yet slightly shy smile appearing on her lips. The brunette in front of her let out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. It tugged at Faye’s heartstrings, “Yeah, I’ll take that.” he said. And there it was again, that goddamned smile.

[vide0-nasties]

THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME EMILY @lemon-bats 🥰🥰

1. Were you named after anyone?

To the best of my knowledge no, at least for my real name! My internet name, Rags, I actually just ended up snagging from one of my OCs - a washed up rockstar named Cosimo Ragatz, who was a recovering drug addict that founded an indie record label with his wife.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Oh god, it was some time last week?? So much real life stuff had piled up and I think it was honestly some kind of mini-break or smth, god only knows. But I’m feeling better now lol.

3. Do you have kids?

ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY NOT LMAO. My mom passed when I was young and I raised my younger siblings, I’ve done my time in the child rearing mines and I’m never doing it again.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

For a really long time I rode horses and I was a really good three day eventer. I also really loved archery and swimming. I also rode dirt bikes too, and I’d love to get back into it!! 🥰🥰

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yes indeed!! But I’m not sure that I use it as much as I used to. Not for any particular reason, I don’t think dgheh.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I’m boring and predictable and I pretty much always notice height first 😂😂 I do also notice face shapes and noses, though!!

7. What’s your eye color?

Dark brown that leans pretty close to black dfhjd.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Each have their own benefits and negatives!! A time and a place for everything 👏👏

9. Any talents?

I’m a good writer, and I’m pretty good at accents! I also like to think I’m the funniest asshole in any given room at any time 😂😅

10. Where were you born?

Commonwealth of Virginia babeyyyyy 🦩 there aren’t cardinal emojis, but I’m still barely south enough to be southern lol.

11. What are your hobbies?

I like posting video games, writing, playing dnd, a lil bit of digital art. Painting my nails. Dfhjd. Running outta stuff here, uhhhh. Panicking trying to remember my meds, but that’s more a full time occupation lol.

12. Do you have any pets?

Four dogs (a cocker spaniel, a border collie, a pit bull, and a boxer lab 🥰🥰), some barn cats, and a little grade paint horse named Rooster who’s a complete ASSHOLE.

13. How tall are you?

5’6” or 5’7”, it depends on how tall I want to feel that day dghjd

14. Favorite subject in school?

History and English!!! I really wanted to be a historical researcher for a career when I was in school and I still think about it. I would’ve liked to study Appalachian history from pre-Civil War to present.

15. Dream job?

LOL 😂😂 historical researcher, possibly an author, or a rare and antique jewelry shop owner siiigh. I really fell in love with fine jewelry at my last job, and I would DIE to be able to do it again, but in a much more niche fashion.

No Pressure tags: @smoggyfogbottom @brilliantblasphemer @dotcie @kastlequill @skinnyazn @snail-eggs @lunarvicar @siriusleee 💖💖

[jellalism]

Noel x Reader: Taking care of his sick darling (Erotica)

Headcanons of what Noel would be like when you're sick.

Word count: 864 words

Genre: Comfort/horror (depending on the reader), erotica

Reader’s gender and sex: Gender neutral. Sex neutral.

Content warnings: Yandere and all that that entails; sexual content.

Notes: Noel is an OC of @devotion-disorder. The art in the banner is also by them! I didn't originally mean to write smut, but it turned out that about a third of the fic is sexual. Whoops.

Read below or on AO3.

When you’re sick, there is a part of Noel that secretly enjoys it. Although he doesn’t want to see you suffer—unless he’s the one inflicting the pain—he loves getting to take care of you, all frail-looking and weak. He makes sure you stay in bed all day, and only get up to go to the bathroom. When he’s not with you, he locks the bedroom door from the outside, so that you can’t walk around the house without his permission.

Food and drinks, he’ll bring to you. He makes eating as easy as possible for you: he doesn’t just bring you fruit, he cuts it into bite-sized pieces first. He also feeds you. At first, you tell him that you can handle that much yourself. But he insists: “No, you need to rest, and you need to stay warm. So keep your hands under the blanket, honey.” You don’t have the energy to argue with him, so you just let him. Part of you doesn’t even mind. You feel miserable with this sickness, so maybe it’s not that bad being doted on…? Just for a little while, at least.

Noel’s feelings about you only grow stronger every day that you’re bed-bound. He thinks you’re adorable, all bundled up in the blankets; so vulnerable, so delicate. More than ever, he feels that only he is allowed around you; other people are dangerous. It’s for your own safety, of course! “I’ll keep you safe… just trust me,” he mutters, sitting by your bedside as you are asleep. He desperately wants to play with your hair, but he doesn’t want to wake you. So, he stays his hand as he keeps watch over you for hours while your unconscious body is fighting the disease.

A bonus for you is that he does not want to have sex as long as you aren’t feeling well. That said, if your sickness takes more than three days, he needs to let off steam somehow. So, during one of your daytime naps, he’ll sit at your bedside and start masturbating to your defenseless figure. God, how he’d love to fuck you hard again, and see that sweet, innocent, and delicate face beneath him. Fantasizing like this, he cums hard.

One time, his cum shoots out so hard that some of it ends up on your face. He sighs in relief when he realizes it didn’t wake you. But when he wipes the sperm off with his finger, your eyes flutter open. That’s when he loses it. You had his cum on your face, and now your sleepy, defenseless face is looking up at him while he’s naked. He lays down next to you and starts masturbating. When you want to look away, he forbids it and forcibly makes sure you keep facing him. “Look at me. See how hard I am for you? God, I wish I could wreck that little hole of yours again. When you’re all better, you’re in for a real treat.” Noel allows you to close your eyes, but you can’t close your ears. Seeing you so close to him and knowing you can hear all his dirty talk turns him on even more. He changes his position: now, he’s sitting on his knees with your body in between, his crotch close to your face. “You can sleep if you want, y/n,” he says with a grin. You close your eyes and try to sleep, but it’s difficult when you hear his fapping so close to your face. After a few minutes, he starts breathing heavily; he must be getting close. With a moan, he ejaculates, and you feel his cum all over your face. “You look so good right now. You’re mine, baby.”

While he would prefer to stay by your side every second of the day, he still has to stream—it is how he earns money, after all. He does it a little differently from usual. As long as you’re sick, he only plays single-player games, so that he can pause whenever he likes. He placed a baby cam in the bedroom, which he keeps an eye on during the stream. Whenever you call for him, he will immediately go to you. Sometimes, seeing you on that little screen just isn’t enough, and he’ll pause to check in on you physically. He needs to know for sure that you’re still asleep, and if you’re not, if you need anything. He knows you won’t call for him unless you really want something or need to go to the bathroom. So going to you on his own accord and checking in with you tends to be more effective; after a little encouragement, you’ll admit that, yes, you would like some tea, fruit, or crackers.

Noel mentioned on his stream that he will go AFK every so often to check in on his beloved partner, who is sick. The chat thinks it’s adorable that he is such a doting boyfriend, and some people even express the wish that Noel was their boyfriend instead. However, Noel is resolute: “I love you all, but none of you stand a chance. y/n is the only one for me.”

[bumblebee-chimera]

Well hello, you wayward sinner!! Do you enjoy self indulgent fics, daddy issues cured through oc interactions with comfort characters, and lots of queer demons chilling?

No? …. Well too bad because that’s what this is announcing- keep, keep scrolling, there you go, see you next time!

Now that the people who are interested are here….

Hi!!

My name is Bee - well, I go by lots of names, but you guys can call me Bee! And I’m working on a purely self indulgent Hazbin Hotel AU comic with a friend of mine; @cloud-spotted !!

We’ve got most of the rough framework and plenty of character art done, though the first bits and bobs of the comic proper aren’t done yet, I’m simply advertising!

Ive yapped a little too long, so here’s some art to keep things interesting! I’ve redesigned some characters to fit the idea of the comic taking place roughly three years after the series proper!

Apparently tumblr doesn’t want me putting text below my images so now this is gonna be formatted weird god damnit-

Anyway, you may be wondering; “Who the fuck is Eab?” and the answer is…. They’re the purely self indulgent part! Yes the comic includes ocs. Leave us alone. We’re having fun. Also it’s pronounced Abe because I think I’m hilarious

Aaaanywaaaayyy, we don’t know when we’ll be uploading, but we’re super excited to show you guys!

Keep an eye out for;

Angels, Demons, Et cetera(ADE)!

and maybe consider sticking around? 👉👈

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 10. Keeping Tabs

A little study time (well, an attempt at it) with Bodhi one night in the quadrant in the lead up to Presentation Day.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

As per usual the library is quiet as hell. The only noise is the crackling of the fire next to me. It wasn’t quite cold enough for a fire, but the temperature had definitely dropped in the last few weeks as we’d entered September and I welcomed any chance to sit by a fire. It was one of the few things that had brought me comfort back in my room.

Most winter nights I would sit in the chair by the fire in my room reading. Something I had missed due to leaving all my books behind when I’d come here. And sadly the small library in the riders quadrant and the scribes only had historical texts. Something I really needed to change as soon as possible if I could. I’d even debated sneaking back to my room to grab some of them, but knowing my father my stuff was long gone.

The door to the library bangs open, followed my some muffled curses as I am pulled from my thoughts. As I scan the bookshelves behind me, I note the footsteps getting closer and closer to where I sit in front of the fire. A few moments later the familiar curly black hair of Bodhi peeks around the edge of one of the bookshelves, a grin forming on his face as his eyes meet mine.

”Knew I would find you here.” He says excitedly as he steps around the bookshelf heading over to me.

”Don’t you usually go to the gym with your two shadows on Wednesday nights?” I ask as I return to my book as Bodhi starts pulling out his from his pack as he sits next to me. ”Watch out Dahlia, someone might think you actually care.” He teases before I throw my pot of ink at him, which he catches easily. Lucky for him it was closed. ”I don’t care.” I say with a smirk as I look up at him.

Over the last few weeks Bodhi had wormed his way through my walls, and I actually did consider him a friend along with Austin and Liz. Between having all our classes together and training together a few days a week after classes, we’d easily fallen into our own little friendship group. Something I had told myself I wouldn’t do and wouldn’t need to get through the quadrant. Something I hadn’t had since that day my mother had died. But here I was two months later, and I couldn’t deny I enjoyed having friends again after all these years. ”You sure? Seems like you’re keeping tabs on me. Or maybe you’re keeping tabs on someone else?” He mocks as he wiggles his eyebrows at me, handing the pot of ink out to me. ”I promise you, I am not keeping tabs on anyone. You three aren’t exactly hard to spot wandering around the Quadrant. Especially with that giant lumbering oaf walking around with you.” I throw back as I take the pot of ink from him. Bodhi just sighs and shakes his head at me. It wasn’t the first time I’d made a stab at Garrick. He’d barely said more than a few words to me since that first round of challenges where I had very much proven him wrong. Something I knew infuriated him. Here and there he’d made jabs at me before I walked onto the mat, or when I’d come to grab Bodhi for training. All of which I had ignored. If he wanted to hate me for my name, then so be it. I wasn’t going to bend over backwards to prove him wrong. I knew my name came with a reputation, as did his. But clearly he didn’t want to overlook it. Bodhi had tried to convince me a few times to give him a chance.

”He’s really not that bad Dahlia.” Trying yet again to convince me to give Garrick a chance. ”Well he has done little to prove otherwise. So unless he wants to pull his head out of his ass, then I will continue to call him whatever comes to mind.” I tell him sternly before turning back to my book.

”You did well on the Gauntlet today.” He says, changing the subject with ease, clearly getting the hint I did not want to talk about Garrick. ”Barely. I fumbled on those damn balls again.” I say as I recall the moment my heart had dropped when I’d nearly lost my grip on one of the balls today. ”And yet you still had the fastest time today. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Easier said than done. Despite Bodhi getting through the walls I’d built up over the years, I hadn’t told him what had happened all those years ago. Why I was the way I was. And why failure was not an option for me. Any slip up was a failure in my fathers eyes, and I prayed no word got back to him today of my slip up. As much as his opinion didn’t matter to me, I wanted to prove him wrong. ”You know I can’t do that.” I say back in what I hope passes as a joking tone. I breathe a sigh of relief when Bodhi shakes his head and laughs at me. “Oh trust me I know. One day you wont though. I’ll make sure of it.”

I can’t help but feel emotional at Bodhi’s words. Just like Garrick he should hate me. Despise me for my father and what he had done. But he didn’t. Since he’d stood next to me in the Rotunda, he had looked right through that. Been able to accept me as someone besides the weight of my last time. Hell even Xaden had somehow. Though it still felt like he was a little cautious of me at times, but I put that mostly down to Garrick who was always by his side. ”Let’s get through Presentation Day and hopefully Threshing first, then you can work on that.”

Presentation day was only two days away. Meaning we were four away from Threshing. Just four more days and I would hopefully bond a dragon. Bond a dragon and become a rider like I always wanted. The last time I had been close to a dragon was that day. Father now allowing me anywhere near one since then. Would I panic and run like I should have done immediately that day? Or even worse, would I meet the fate that was nearly my own that day? No. I would bond a dragon. I would do it.

”I feel like getting you to be not so hard on yourself is going to be easier than that.” He says with a sigh before leaning back in his chair and staring at the roof. “You scared?”

I close my book, finally giving up on studying now Bodhi was here. Which was a regular occurrence if he found me. “You’re probably expecting me to say no, but honestly I’m scared shitless.”

Which I was. Mixed with not knowing how I would react, I was also terrified I would come face to face with a dragon and panic. Become frozen to the ground with fear and become a pile of ash on the floor just like….

”You’re right.” Bodhi says cutting my thoughts off. “Nothing seems to phase you. But I’d probably think you weren’t human if you weren’t scared of facing off with a dragon.”

If only you knew Bodhi.

”What colour do you think you’ll bond?” I ask as I try steer the conversation away from facing a dragon.

”I don’t know. Never really thought about it I guess. I seem to be drawn to Green Dragons whenever Kaori talks about them. What about you?”

”Blue.” I say without missing a beat causing Bodhi to glance over at me. “I’ve always been drawn to Blue Dragons. But they’re incredibly rare to bond with.”

”Xaden said he was the first one in a few years to bond a Blue and the only one in his year as well.”

I nod in agreement. They were very hard to bond with. Blue Dragons had the highest fatality rate for cadets during Threshing. Even Kaori had advised us to run instead of try bonding a blue. Meaning if I wanted to bond a Blue, I needed to be certain of the one I approached.

”Well here’s hoping we bond the colours we want and come out victorious in a few days time.” I say as I look over at Bodhi who is already smiling at me.

”Don’t worry, we will Dahlia.”

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