#and finance just got back to me and i swear to GOD
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so high school [rafe cameron]
i feel so high school, every time… i look at you <3
football player rafe and his artsy, creative gf. rafe is a finance major, frat boy, and football player at his college. when he started school, the last thing he ever imagined was being completely and utterly, enamored by the quiet creative girl on campus.
but now, two years into school and their relationship, he couldn’t imagine it any other way. she’s a film major and art history minor, dragging rafe to the cinema or the museum at least once a week. he acts like he hates it, but he secretly loves it and has grown an appreciation for the art and culture she surrounds him with.
it all started when he saw the pretty girl sitting in his literature class—which he was barely passing. he watched her work in class, noticing how smart she is. the next day, he goes to sit next to her, slowly scooting closer and closer throughout the class.
“did you need something?” she asks shyly, but slightly annoyed by the stranger invading her personal bubble.
she’s a bit of an introvert.
rafe smirks at her. “no, sorry,” he laughs. “you just looked so smart and i’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask for a tutor so..”
she furrows her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. she’s so shy, she can’t follow the painfully obvious hints he’s laying down. “uhm, do you think you could maybe.. tutor me? i could pay you if—“
“sure,” she shrugs. “no need to pay me, it’s no big deal, really.” she softly explains.
that evening at the library, they did anything but tutor.
rafe got to know everything about her, she got to know everything about him. she glances at her phone through laughs, “oh my god. it’s nearly 10, we didn’t even study.” she sighs, her hand resting gently on his and he swears he felt electricity run through his entire body.
“i’m sorry, come back to my dorm. we’ll actually study. i have a single, no roommates so it’ll be quiet and i can help you!” she grins excitedly, standing up and grabbing his hand, not even giving him a chance to respond. not that he was even thinking about saying no, anyway.
safe to say the next day, he passed the literature mid term exam with flying colors. she hugged him excitedly when she found out, “i’m so proud of you! we have to go to dinner!”
and that dinner turned into the first of many dates.
his favorite dates of all though, are when she comes to watch him at practice and when he gets to go to her film festivals. watching each other do what they love was their love language.
she sits on the bleachers, her eyes staying glued to number 43 on the field. when practice comes to an end, he pulls his helmet off, his eyes going directly to her designated spot in the stands. her cheeks beam pink with blush as she waves at him, a grin plastered to his lips.
or when they sit in a small theatre together, filled with her film peers, professors, and big industry names as her film is premiered at a huge local festival. when the credits roll, rafe is first to jump up, clapping, cheering, whistling loudly in praise as she blushes in her seat next to him.
no one’s ever had me… not like you.
#obx fic#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron fluff#rafe obx#rafe cameron blurb#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#outer banks#outerbanks rafe
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not to be That Person
but i didn’t have my coffee this morning and i swear to god
every other day i put up with my coworkers’ bullshit with a giggle & a smile on my face
today?
today i will tear them apart limb from limb
#personal#i think they’re definitely picking up on it#because i am being a lot more curt and succinct and not as goofy#but i feel full of rage lmao#and finance just got back to me and i swear to GOD#if they fuck up this week AGAIN#heads will fucken roll 💀#update: finance did not fuck up woohoo 👍#i’m ordering myself a coffee (with the company credit card huehuehue)#and maybe i won’t mass murder
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behind the lens | 🔞
; optional male lead smut | ☁️
w ; cam!au, semi-public sex, pillow humping, unprotected sex ... this story is 37k words so like prepare yourself before you go into it haha i finally got this edited and im really happy to be reposting it because its one of my FAVORITE stories i've ever written so i really really hope you like it! hehe
Your stomach twists and turns at the thought of another customer skipping out on tipping you when your finances scream that every penny counts in the moment. With a sigh of complete frustration, you swipe up the receipt they left for you on the messy table, swearing you will lose your head if you see another blank line above the total, or God forbid, another bible verse scribbled on the thin piece of paper with a pamphlet tucked beneath to promote a church.
“Another shitty customer?” The other waitress on shift Sara’s ponytail bounces as she makes her way toward you, smacking her gum with a furrowed brow. Not like she would understand what it feels like, realizing as much as you roll your eyes and shake your head because she is brighter, and bubblier, and always manages to get the tables full of high school students with their parents’ money or college boys wanting to flirt, while you get the tables with the senior citizens.
“Always,” you grumble, sticking the receipt in the apron tied around your waist as she pats you on the shoulder, causing you to press your lips in a thin line. The bus boy makes his way past the two of you to clean off the table while you make your way to the front to seat the next customer once the bell at the front door fills the small diner.
“I’ll give you the large group next time, okay?” She tries to help, but somehow it still manages to make you feel so small. You smile and nod regardless, knowing it’s not her fault, and knowing she only wants to look out for you. If only fall classes weren’t approaching so rapidly, needing a way to pay for your next semester while managing to not be late on your rent.
Luckily, the next customer at the front is a familiar face, smiling wide to let you know he is hungry, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Hey,” you sigh, shoulders slumped while your best friend makes his way toward you. “I can’t give you any free food. My manager has been on my ass about giving shit away. She is seconds away from putting your picture up on the bulletin to warn everyone else to not let you in.”
“What?” His smile fades in an instant, causing you to grin at the thought of him being banned after so many times of you sneaking him free meals. “But you know I can’t afford it.”
You huff, slipping into a booth in the back of the restaurant as he follows your lead. “Normally if people don’t have money, they don’t go to restaurants to eat. And you can’t get any free food from your own job?” You would think him working at the local supermarket would have its own benefits. Groaning, you realize just how sore your feet are from standing for nearly twelve hours straight, wanting nothing more than to soak in a hot bath when you get home, or rid yourself of the smell of fried foods under a steaming shower.
“Nah, my boss is a hard ass. And you know I am saving up money for my transmission.” His head falls to his hands. “Do you know how shitty it is to have to walk everywhere because you don’t have a car?”
You glare at him, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, because I don’t have one, either.”
“Yeah, but if I have a car, I could drive you around.” He perks up, as if this conversation will somehow give him food, forgetting it is all pointless babbling when the two of you talk about things you can hardly change. “Jaime will kill me if I am late on rent again.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “He probably will,” you tell him with a shrug. “But sorry, friend, I can’t lose my job over sneaking you food. You know classes are about to start again and I desperately need the money.”
“I know, I know,” he grumbles, leaning back in the booth with a sigh. “Why is it so hard being an adult?”
***
After arriving home and showering to cleanse your body of grease and regret, you still feel the tension in every limb, tossing and turning in your bed while failing to fall asleep. Which is unfortunate for you considering you have the early shift the next day, knowing you need to swipe up as many hours at the diner as possible before classes start.
Groaning, you roll over on your back, blinking between staring at the ceiling, huffing with your body aching. All until you give in to the one thing that never fails to put you right to sleep, rolling to the left to grab your shiny, pink toy out of the nightstand before positioning your back against the headboard. Luckily, your laptop is where you left it that afternoon on the floor after you managed to sign up for the classes you needed for the next semester, quickly grabbing it to place beside you before a few clicks takes you to your favorite, naughty website.
With a press of a button, your vibrator begins buzzing before you shove it between your thighs once your covers are pushed away, warming yourself up as the tip brushes over your clothed core. Clicking through page after page with your free hand, you try to find a video that suits your needs. Considering you’re not in the mood for anything too wild, you click on the first amateur couple’s video you happen to stumble upon.
As you watch the two on the small screen, kissing, groaning, and moaning before his hand dips into her panties, you slip the toy past the band of your own underwear while biting your lip. Your chest heaves in a deep breath as the scene continues, watching him venture between her legs while she stares down at him, both locking eyes as he gently grips her thighs and her fists latch onto the bed sheets beneath her.
Your hips begin to move as the two become more intimate, switching positions until he finally enters her from behind, holding her close with his arms around her as she moans and whimpers. The warmth fills your body from the toy between your thighs and the scene, teeth sinking harder into your lip to keep your own noises at bay thanks to your roommate sleeping in just one bedroom over. Your breaths deepen as the woman moans about getting closer, noticing the man’s hand dip between her thighs to bring her to climax, and just before she reaches her peak and just before the tension between your own legs snaps, the video fades to black, realizing it was nothing but a preview to the real video that you would have to pay to see in full.
Groaning, your head rolls back, aching between your thighs now to join the rest of your exhausted body, beyond frustrated and only wishing to sleep. With your eyes narrowed, you stare with a bitterness in your chest, though you will realize later how being so tired has you being just as ridiculous. Who pays for these videos these days, you think to yourself. Then you realize the quality of the video and the fact that it was doing just what it needed to get you off, so it’s no wonder.
Then a lightbulb flicks on in your mind. Your eyes grow wide, taking a deep breath as you press the button to turn off your toy and rest it beside you, quickly grabbing your phone from the nightstand where it had been charging. Reaching for your laptop, you skip back a few minutes in the video before snapping a screenshot of the scene of the couple making love, and your heart races as you find your best friend’s contact in your phone.
What about this?
You hit the button to send the message along with the picture before you have a chance to back out. Your insides begin to shake, and not just from sexual frustration as well as being overly tired, but from the idea that has raced across your mind to hit you like a ton of bricks. If only you weren’t in such a desperate need of money. If only you weren’t absolutely sick and tired of getting cheated on your tips when you work so hard.
Your phone buzzes as it rests against your chest, nearly startling a squeak out of your mouth as you pick it up with shaking fingers.
i’m more of a facial or cream pie guy myself
Shaking your head at his response, you roll your eyes at him totally missing the point. But you don’t blame him, not even believing yourself as you type the words to send to him.
That’s not what I meant…
You bite your lip, wrinkling your brow and scrunching your nose until you feel the buzz once again.
...are you saying you want to do porn?
Then your heart feels as if it will leap right out of your chest. You take a deep breath, hesitating only a moment before you’re tapping away at the screen again.
Imagine how much money we could make.
The two minutes that pass after you text him feel like forever, but you finally feel the buzz in your hands, racing to read his reply.
we? as in… you and me????
?????
hello???
All three messages come in at once, causing you to gulp as you read the words over and over, wondering if you have just stuck your foot in your mouth, knowing you would never actually go through with it. But you’re desperate, and it’s the only good idea you have had in a while as far as getting money. You close your eyes with a sigh, heart pounding against your chest, stomach fluttering with a million butterflies and uncertainty, then you send him a simple “yes” before clicking off your phone to rest against the nightstand to rush to the bathroom to clean up.
***
“Were you really serious?” You didn’t think he could storm into the diner any faster the following night, causing you to side eye him while you finished serving a table.
“What?” you ask through your teeth, head gesturing to the table of customers to your right.
“You know,” he begins in a whisper, leaning closer, “about making porn?”
You groan, narrowing your eyes before glancing down the aisle of booths and back again to see if anyone overheard. “Wait over there-” You motion toward a table in the back corner. “-I’ll be right back.”
He heads to the mentioned booth next to the glass windows, taking a seat while peering out onto the dimly lit street. All the while you make a stop at one of your customer’s tables to refill his coffee before muttering to Sara about taking your break. She nods to let you know she will cover your tables for the moment, and then you’re off to make your way to him, heart fluttering in your chest, stomach twisting, not wanting to have this conversation in public, but if not now, when?
Slipping into the booth, you don’t mutter a single word. He leans back, fingers drumming the table with his eyes low. There’s tension so thick between the two of you it can be cut with a knife as you nibble on your bottom lip to figure out a place to even begin.
“Think of it as a business deal.” His gaze rises when you begin to speak in a hushed tone. “It’s not for pleasure, but only for money. It’s no secret we are both struggling here.”
“Okay,” he says, the word lingering for a moment as he leans closer, resting his elbows on the table, “why not just be a camgirl on your own or something?” The mention of the word “camgirl” has your heart pounding twice as hard. Are you really having this conversation? You blink a few times, huffing, wondering if you have lost your mind within the last twenty or so hours. Lord knows you have been working nonstop. It’s possible.
“I think we could… well, we could pull a bigger audience pretending to be a couple.” His eyes pop, brows arched and now you realize just how absurd you sound, but you can’t back out now. The idea has been lingering for too long and the thought of an easier way to make money, a way that doesn’t leave you aching and exhausted and angry over no tips, has you not wanting to turn back. “People love watching couples together. It’s like spying on your next door neighbor that loves to leave the blinds open or something. It feels more real, and intimate, but still dirty like you’re getting away with something.”
Another waitress passes by your table before he can reply, causing you both to duck your heads, voices lowering even more. “What if someone recognizes us?”
“We can wear those masquerade type of masks to hide our faces.”
“And why me?” He gulps at the thought. “Why not find someone other than your best friend to do this with? Are we really going to go from best friends to… this? I mean, you are my closest friend and I don’t want something to come between us.”
“It won’t,” you immediately reassure him, straightening your back and raising your chin. “I am positive we can remain mature about this and plus, it’s just sex. We will be getting money for having orgasms. Who doesn’t want that?”
He tilts his head in thought before he grins. “I can’t argue with that logic.” Then he sighs. “What about… remaining safe?”
“We will use condoms. I am already on birth control. We can get tested if that would make you more comfortable.”
He raises his hand to protest. “No, I don’t mean-”
“I want it,” you interrupt, staring at him with certainty written on your face. “I want you to know how serious I am, that I mean this as a business relationship and nothing more. So we will do everything we have to do to keep safe. And, I guess…” You release a sigh, eyes lowering while piquing his interest.
“Hm?” he hums, brows raised and curious.
“I guess this is why I am asking you and no one else. I trust you, and this will be on both of our terms so we do this how we want to while remaining safe.” You bite your lip for a moment, thinking of how to explain it to him while trying to convince yourself it’s not the craziest idea you have ever had, even if it feels like it. “If you want to say no, I won’t push you, but as unbelievable as it sounds, I think we could make it work.”
“This is… a lot to consider.” He licks his lips, once again leaning back in his seat as he scratches his head.
“I know,” you whine, pouting a bit before continuing, “just think about it, okay? Tell me tomorrow.”
He nods with that, agreeing to come up with a decision the next day.
***
It takes him until nine p.m. the following night to finally text you. All day he has kept you waiting on edge, and if it weren’t for another busy shift, you would have been texting him like crazy to find out his answer. So when he sends a simple “call me” message right as you step out of the shower, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest while clicking on his number.
“H-Hello?” He’s already muttering and stuttering. Not a good sign.
“Hey,” you greet him, lingering on the first syllable too long, showing your nerves while your face twists. “H-How are you?” You await his hesitant reply as you rush to your room, attempting not to drip on the floor with your towel wrapped around you.
“I thought about your offer.” You perk up at the news, sitting straight up on your bed, holding your breath. “I’ll… I’ll do it.”
“Oh my god.”
“But,” he interrupts your celebrations, causing you to freeze mid lunge from the bed in your attempt at a victory cheer, “I want you to promise me this won’t come between us. I want to help because it’s you that is asking, and I need the money, too, but I don’t want us to ever stop being friends.”
“No, no, no!” you begin blurting. “It won’t! I promise! This is just business.”
“Alright, well,” he says with a sigh, “I guess… I guess whenever you’re ready.” With a grin, you hang up the phone, proceeding with your victory cheer at the thought of your plan actually working.
After the conversation on the phone, you don’t hear from him for a few days while you get everything in order. Checking your birth control prescription. Buying condoms. Dipping into your rent money to make your way to the nearest electronics store and purchase the cheapest camcorder you can find, then heading to a costume store to buy the masks. Even getting tested like he mentioned, while he did the same. He meets you at your place that following Thursday, and when you answer the door, his head hangs low as he rubs the back of his neck.
You would think nothing of it if you hadn’t texted him that morning, asking him to come over while explaining you wanted to get something over with before you start your amateur video adventure with. He would have thought nothing of it if you didn’t explain beforehand how you wanted to get the awkwardness out of the way between the two of you, wanting to have your first sexual encounter with one another off camera before the two of you began filming. You can see the embarrassment on his face due to your suggestion, already flustered and you decided it was a good decision to make. He sports a shy grin, so hesitant to look you in the eye as he moves past you. Luckily for you, your roommate is spending the night at her boyfriend’s apartment which gives you two the entire place to yourselves.
“Do you need a drink?” you tease as he takes a seat on the couch while you lock the door behind him, elbows on his knees and head in his palms.
“No,” he answers, then sighs, “I think that will make it worse.”
“Are you getting cold feet?” You settle in the spot next to him, knees pressed to your chest with your heart racing.
“A bit,” he tells you honestly. “I never thought we would…” He gulps, and his own nerves cause your insides to shake, knowing you will be seeing all of him, and he will be seeing all of you, for the first time since you became friends so many years ago. For a moment you consider backing out, and you consider yourself ridiculous for even coming up with the idea in the first place. But with the idea comes a light at the end of the tunnel which is payment for your school, and books, and money for his transmission. With a gulp, you tell yourself you can’t turn back now.
“I know,” you exhale, nibbling on your bottom lip for a moment. “Should we…”
“Uh, yeah.” He nods once with his lips pressed in a line, standing from his spot on the sofa as you do the same. “Let’s just get it over with.”
On shaking legs, the two of you head down the hall to make it to your bedroom, already having prepared a condom resting against your nightstand. He takes a deep breath while closing the door behind him, and you linger near the foot of the bed, waiting for him to move.
“Are you sure about this?” He steps toward you, taking his time as if his knees will give out beneath him at any second, but maybe his voice will give way to the shakiness first.
You nod, inhaling deeply. “I’m sure.” Then your eyes fall to the floor. “You can back out if you want. I won’t be upset.” Your heart hammers away inside your chest with every word, knowing once you take the next step, there’s no second guessing and no turning back. Even if you want to remain mature adults about the situation, and even if you both agreed it is only business, you know once you do this with him, it can never be as it used to be.
“I don’t want to back out.” He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can feel the way his hand trembles. “Should we… should we kiss?”
With a gulp, you tell him yes in a slow, hesitant nod. Then he leans in, raising your chin with a single finger before his lips press to your own, but not before your noses bump together, causing you to groan. He repositions his head, tilting farther until he is comfortable, but the nerves take over, and he doesn’t move an inch as he kisses you. The butterflies swarm in your stomach, keeping you frozen from feeling his lips against your skin for the first time, all until you scream at yourself to move, kiss him harder, do something to stop the way your heart flutters.
You lean in, attempting to deepen the kiss, but his own worries keep him stiff. Feeling as if you’re kissing a statue, you finally pull away with a sigh, giving up for the moment.
“Maybe we shouldn’t kiss.” It seems too intimate, you think. It’s only business, and you don’t need to kiss him anyway. He agrees with a nod, straightening his back as his arms fall to his side. For a few moments, you both remain still, quiet, allowing the tension between the two of you to build until you finally snap.
“It’s not a big deal,” you tell him, even if you’re trying to convince yourself, “it’s just sex.” Then you peel your shirt over your head, leaving you in a lacy, red bra that causes his eyes to grow wide. Before he has a chance to speak, you’re already unbuttoning your jean shorts, pushing them down your legs to kick off of one foot. He takes in your matching panties with a slacked jaw, before his tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip.
He follows your lead, even if he lacks the same, fake confidence you possess in the moment. He grips the collar of his shirt to pull over his head, tossing it aside, and then he tugs on the button of his jeans. As you reach around to begin unclasping your bra, you notice the prominent bulge beneath his black boxer briefs once his jeans fall to his ankles.
“Jesus, how can you already be so hard?” You study the outline, the curve of his arousal, and the thick tip at the end you just can’t miss, noticing it twitch the moment your eyes are on him.
“I’ve been hard since you sent me that pic,” he groans, clenching his jaw. “It’s been a constant state of arousal just thinking about everything we’re about to do.”
“Oh, be quiet,” you shush him, rolling your eyes just as the straps of your bra slip from your shoulders. His eyes pop at the sight, looking between each of your breasts with a lick of his lips, the sudden view causing him to freeze with his thumbs in the band of his boxers. His eyes fall over each of your hardened nipples, and your chest heaves from the fire igniting in his eyes.
“Don’t… don’t just stare at me,” you begin to whine, almost pouting, but not shielding your body. “God… maybe we should have had a drink.”
“I’m not…” He takes a deep breath, never pulling his eyes away, and then he gulps. “I’m not staring, it’s just…” Then he loses confidence, gaze lowering to the ground.
Just when you grip the straps of your panties to push the thin fabric down your legs, he slips his own underwear off, allowing his cock to spring free as your eyes grow wide, teeth sinking into your bottom lip from the sight of him so hard and ready. Gulping, you have to remind yourself to pull your gaze away because now you’re the one staring, as well as remembering how to breathe properly, before you take the leap to remove your panties, kicking them to the side to join the rest of your clothes.
Together, the two of you stand with shy glances toward one another’s body, taking each other in for the first time in a whole new light. Your body flushes as heat overwhelms you. He gulps, eyes drifting from your lips to your breasts to the sight of your mound, then back up again, and it takes a few moments for you to gather the courage to make your way to the bed. Resting on the edge, you motion for him to follow.
“Y-You can touch me… if you want.” Your peer up at him, noticing his eyes flicker with deep, dark desire. Even if you have lost all nerve, every ounce of courage you once had diminishing from inside while you scream at yourself it’s just sex, it’s just business, you guide his hand to your body with a grip of his wrist, placing his palm against your breast before urging him closer.
Your back falls against the sheets before he presses a knee to the bed to settle between your thighs. He begins exploring, caressing your breast with one hand before a thumb brushes over your nipple to send a chill throughout your body. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat, or it’s only you that feels it pumping so hard even up to your ears and throat. A split-second of courage has him leaning in again, lips finding your own and the second time isn’t as messy. His tender touches light a fire in you, body flushing with desire before his tongue swipes across your bottom lip.
“Do you have a condom?” he asks when he pulls away, nearly breathless.
From his hands on your breasts, it takes you a moment to reply. “I-I’m not ready yet.” You gulp, eyes closing so you don’t see the look on his face when you mumble the next few words. “Touch me down here and make me… make me wet.”
You bite your lip, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as ridiculous to him as it does to you. It’s just sex, you remind yourself as his hand dips lower, slipping between your thighs to brush fingertips over your slit. You inhale a sharp breath, brow furrowed, jaw slacked, hand reaching to grip his wrist and he freezes after feeling your body tense beneath him.
“Are you okay?” Then he begins moving again, sliding his two fingers up and down your slit with ease and care. “Is this okay?”
You nod, not daring to open your eyes. “Y-Yeah… that feels…” You don’t finish the sentence once he finds your clit, concentrating to have it swelling with arousal beneath his fingertips. A wave of heat washes over your body, feeling the room shrink around the two of you as the temperature rises.
Slow circles against your clit have your body tense, trying to control your heavy breaths in the moment and it’s not until the bliss begins to take over the embarrassment do you finally melt against the bed. Your limbs relax around him, eyes fluttering as he continues to massage the now swollen bud, and when he feels your hips beginning to move against his motions, he lowers his fingers to your entrance. Arousal begins to pool, allowing him to ease one finger inside of you.
“Does that feel okay?” he asks, watching you nod without opening your eyes, so he dares to insert another finger to join the first, receiving a gasp filling the room in return. “Was… that too much?” He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust with his fingers filling you up, but all you can do is bite down onto your bottom lip with a nod of your head, letting him know to continue.
He begins pumping his fingers in and out, keeping his pace slow and careful until he feels you moving with the motions. Your arousal coats his fingers the longer he works you up, and soon you can no longer think about performing such an act with your best friend for the first time, only concentrating on the pleasure he is giving you.
“That feels,” you exhale, “really good.” Quiet moans begin to fill in your throat even if whimpering his name in such a way has you feeling so unlike yourself, hips rocking against his hand to give him the courage to quicken his pace.
“Do you, um,” he hesitates, voice growing breathless from feeling you squeezing your walls around his digits, “like dirty talk?”
“S-Sometimes,” you reply honestly, thinking if he wasn’t two fingers deep inside you, you would have more of a mind to tell him it depends on the person. But he has the bliss filling your body and warmth spreading to every limb, and when he leans closer to whisper in your ear, you suddenly don’t feel like this is your best friend at all.
“You’ve gotten so wet for me,” he begins, deep and raspy, right in your ear before he nips at the lobe, sending a gasp spilling for your lips as you reach for him in an overwhelming burst of arousal. “Are you ready for my cock?”
God, you think, how is he so good at this? Maybe it’s his deep voice sending goosebumps flooding your skin or maybe his skilled fingers have gotten you so worked up, you don’t care what he says in the moment, but the words have your thighs shaking around him, walls squeezing his fingers so tight, ready for release.
All you can do is nod with a gulp, and then you are tempted to whine the moment he pulls his drenched fingers from inside of you. The moment takes hold, embarrassment returning in a wave of shameful heat, but you push it aside to position yourself in the middle of the bed to reach for the condom on the nightstand behind you. Ripping the foil packet, you toss the wrapper aside while sitting straight up to roll the condom on his length, aching between your thighs at feeling him beneath your fingertips for the first time. The sharp inhale you hear from his lips can’t be missed, causing your whole body to quiver with anticipation of having him inside of you.
You fall back against the bed. He settles between your thighs. And your arms wrap around his neck, allowing him to lean in once again to press his lips to you. The third time’s the charm, it seems like, finding a bit more passion within the kiss as he carefully moves against your lips with desperation, causing you to whimper against his skin while your hips press toward him, begging to be filled. He grips himself, lining the tip of his cock to your entrance while giving you one last look to make sure you’re alright. You gulp once again, giving him a reassuring nod, then he begins to ease himself inside of you.
“Wait,” you gasp, palms pressing to his ribs. He freezes, brows arching and eyes growing wide as he looks at you. “Go… go slower. Please” He exhales with a nod while you bite your lip, and then he makes his second attempt, taking his time to fill you up as the moment overwhelms every inch of your body. You tense, biting harder on your lip, but a slight whimper manages to fill his ears until he is completely inside of you.
“Are you alright?” He presses his lips to your temple, easing the tension from within. “I can stop, just say the word.”
“N-No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him, but your tone sounds less confident thanks to your head spinning from having your best friend inside of you. But you give yourself time to adjust, breathing in, exhaling deeply, squeezing yourself around him to cause him to groan, and he remains patient. When you pull him closer by your grip against his ribs, you give him a confident nod. “Okay.”
With caution, he begins to move his hips, and it’s clear the moment begins to get to him as well. Or maybe he has been good at keeping his composure until this point, where his lips part and heavy breaths spill from within. Where he grips the sheets tighter as he holds himself up with two fists by your head, and where it takes him a bit more control to remain slow and steady, wanting you to be comfortable first and foremost.
“F-Faster,” you mutter, a moan following the words and it takes him only a second to comply. His hips increase in speed, rolling against you as your body meets with motions with whimpers beginning to spill from your lips. Your thighs tighten around him, you squeeze his cock with clenched walls, and your nails dig into his skin, curses spilling beneath a heavy breath as the bliss fills your body. “God, that feels so… so good.” You’re breathless, eyes screwing shut, legs rising to give him better access to thrust his cock deeper inside of you, falling into the motions of pure ecstasy.
His thrusts quicken, deepen, and become more sporadic without warning. His jaw clenches as he groans from deep within his chest, becoming lost to the pleasure of being inside you and having you wrapped so tight around him. All you can do is hold him tighter with nails leaving marks for him to spot the following day, moans spilling from your lips louder than before, hips rocking to meet his motions.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” you cry out, hand rising to his neck before your fingers entangle in his hair, pulling his lips down onto your own. Your mouths clash, passion and fire snapping the tension between the two of you as you slip your tongue out, licking his lip before he parts them for you. Your tongues massage one another as you hold each other close, whimpering against his skin, tugging his hair, rolling your hips as his cock fills you over and over, and you can feel the tension threading tighter and can feel the warmth bubbling below, becoming completely lost in the moment, but you don’t want it to end, pulling away to look him in the face.
And when you do so, you spot his face twisted, brow creased, eyes shut so tight, jaw slacked before he releases a huff, hips stalling as he spills inside of you. With heavy breaths, he finds release as your body slacks against the bed, so close to finding your own end and suddenly beyond frustrated it is over so quickly. He collapses next to you a moment later, panting, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath as you rise from the bed. The situation takes hold, red hot embarrassment washing over you from what you have just done with him as you scramble to find your clothes.
“Really?” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, but he hears you regardless.
“S-Sorry,” he mumbles out of breath, “I didn’t expect you to feel so… wow.”
“Uh-huh.” You slip your t-shirt over your head before reaching for your panties on the ground. “Thanks.”
“Do you… want me to get you off?” He raises his head to ask, beginning to peel the condom off to throw in the trash. “I can go down on you.”
“I’m good,” you tell him, feeling your face flush while tugging your panties up your legs at the thought of his face buried between your thighs. You aren’t sure if you’re ready for that or the effects it will have on you. “At least we got that out of the way. That’s all I care about.”
And it’s true, thankful you got most of the awkwardness over beforehand as you make your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Maybe next time will be better, you think, praying your first video will go over smoothly, and that’s all you can ask for even if you’re aching with a desperate need to get off.
***
“I think we should start with something simple at first.”
You thought waiting a week would rid you of some of the embarrassment you felt for having sex with him, but it only seemed to create more tension between the two of you. Not to mention, you ended up having a session with your vibrator after he left, and all you could think about was the feeling of him inside you again.
As he stands before you in your bedroom, the tension and embarrassment is no longer from doing something new with your best friend, but from wanting to perform such acts with him. For a week he has been the only thing on your mind, beyond anxious to start your first video, but more than that, desperate to just be close to him again.
And maybe part of it is because you have always felt so close to him thanks to him being your closest, and nearly only, friend for so many years. You have always felt safe and comfortable with him, so you put the blame on him taking care of you as the reason why you’re itching to record with him, even if the ache between your thighs becomes unbearable at times when the memories of a week ago flood your mind.
“What did you have in mind?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the door after pulling the gray beanie from his head, allowing the soft strands of hair to fall over his forehead, sending your heart racing. Was he always this cute? You shake your head to ignore the thoughts, sighing while reaching for the camera on your bed before picking up a mask from your dresser on the opposite side of the room, leaving his in its place since he won’t appear on your first video. Then you slip the white mask trimmed in matching lace over your face, hiding the straps with your hair as it rests comfortably underneath the strands.
“Foreplay at first,” you eye him with a smirk, a bit more confident than the last time, even if your insides are buzzing at the thought of going down on him while you begin to pluck the buttons of your blouse, all before slipping it from your shoulders and moving on to removing your skirt. “I thought we could do a POV video, with me giving you oral sex.” You tend to the clasp of your bra as you speak, deciding to leave nothing but your silk, black panties on for the first video.
His jaw drops, from either the sight of you undressing or maybe your words, and you have to keep yourself from laughing. “I… am one hundred percent okay with that.” Finally, a soft giggle fills the room, happy he agrees with your idea. “So… that means next time, I get to go down on you?”
The word ‘get’ only has you hesitating for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of him wanting to perform oral on you as well. “If you want to.” Before he can reply, you make your way toward him, noticing his lips part to speak, but you cut him off. “So, how should we do this? How do men like to watch blowjobs? Should you lay on the bed, or do you want me on my knees?” The words begin spilling from your lips in a rush, losing the nerve with every syllable even though you’re trying to fake it while standing in nothing but your underwear and a cheap party mask.
He gulps while you drag him toward your bed. “Yes,” is all he says, nervous laughter erupting into the room. “Are you asking me how I want you?”
You bite your lip from the way his tone suddenly deepens, only nodding while staring at him through your lashes.
“On your knees,” he tells you, but with his deep, darkened tone, it sounds more like a command, causing you to obey by falling to your knees before him, then handing him the camera. He flips the screen to the side and turns the recorder on, and you swear your heart will beat right out of your chest at any moment from the way he looks down at you, darkened eyes and a smirk on his full lips.
“Tell me what to do.” Batting your lashes that can barely be seen behind the mask, you stare up at him, well aware the camera is rolling as he points it in your direction. You fall into the role, a bit more innocent, asking for guidance to have him playing his own part. “What do you want me to do?”
“Unbutton my jeans, baby.” He points the camera right at your face as he speaks in a deep, needy tone, reaching to brush a few loose strands of hair aside to tuck behind your ear while you reach for the button to his jeans with a gulp, trying not to let it show how much the pet name affects you. You take your time, staring up into the lens while tugging the button, then pulling the zipper, all before hooking fingers into his jeans to ease them down his legs. He kicks them off and to the side before you take in the sight of his forming bulge beneath gray boxer briefs, licking your lips from just the outline.
“What now?” A soft tone questions what is next, switching your gaze from the lens to his face, then back again. And if only to work him up further, you lean closer before you lose the nerve, staring up at the camera as your mouth connects with the bulge beneath his boxers, offering a few soft kisses over his cock just to hear him groan. You feel him twitch in anticipation as you do so, gathering up enough confidence to flick your tongue out once you reach the head, leaving a mark of your saliva against the material that you kiss a moment later.
“Pull my cock out,” is all he says, words strained against his tongue and followed by a groan when you reach for the waistband of his briefs. You peel the thin, cotton fabric down his thighs, allowing his cock to stand out straight, twitching when he notices your eyes on his thick, hard length. “You know what to do, baby.” Again with the pet name, you think, feeling the goosebumps flood your skin as heat rushes through you.
Your heart pounds in your chest, gripping his length with an unsteady palm before leaning toward him again. Your eyes never leave the lens he points down at you, kissing the tip of his cock a few times before your tongue flicks over his slit. Another groan deep within his chest has you shivering with nerves, not wanting to let the moment dawn on you so you don’t lose the courage to continue. Finally, your eyes close as your lips part, taking the tip into your mouth, which causes him to release a heavy breath he has been holding.
“Fuck,” he exhales, deep and heavy, “your mouth feels so good.” The praise gives you confidence to sink down onto his cock, taking him further into your mouth as your palm grips what you can’t handle. Your tongue massages the underside for a moment, then you pull away, tending to the tip while your hand pumps his shaft. He can’t help but to reach for you, allowing the camera to get a perfect view of a veiny arm and hand, fingers tangling between the strands of your hair, but he keeps his grip loose.
“That’s it, baby,” he continues to encourage you, groaning, words strained and deep and becoming so, so desperate. “Take my cock.” You look up for a moment to see the flicker of lust in his eyes, darkened expression to match his furrowed brow and parted lips. He looks absolutely sinful, yet stunningly beautiful as the bliss fills his body, encouraging you to take him in your mouth again.
The second time his cock thrusts deeper, nearly causing you to gag before pulling away, but you don’t stop there. You take him in again, and again, controlling your reflexes each time until you adjust to him. The grip around the base of his length tightens, earning a huff when your fingers press harder against his cock and your tongue teases the head before going down once again.
“God, that feels so fucking good.” The words become breathless as he struggles to speak, and now you aren’t sure if he’s talking for the camera, or the moment has taken over him. You don’t mind either way, beginning to bob your head up and down his cock while a tight grip of your palm tends to the rest of him, hearing his deep groans, heavy breaths, praises mixes with curses, and all of it has you dripping in your panties as you kneel before him.
“Fuck, I’m gonna… gonna come,” he begins muttering, and you feel his body tense as he does so. “Open… open your mouth for me.” You obey willingly, lowering your hand and pulling away just enough to part your lips for him. He grips his own cock with a stern fist, pumping a few times with conviction, grunting and panting until the first drop of his release hits your lips. He spills his load into your mouth, thick, hot ropes falling onto your tongue, some drops hitting your lips, and the camera catches every second of it, even down to the moment when he begins to come down and you swallow every last little bit of his cum.
Realizing he hasn’t pulled the camera away just yet, you look straight into the lens while licking your lips, making sure to clean every drop from your face with a smirk. Meanwhile, he catches his breath as his legs feel so weak beneath him, finally shutting the screen on the recorder before collapsing onto the bed.
“Jesus Christ,” he exhales, running a palm over his sweaty forehead. “That was… holy shit. I didn’t think that would be so exhilarating to record that but…” His mumbling causes you to giggle as you make your way to the bed, but not before finding your blouse to throw over your shoulders, covering yourself up.
“I have to agree,” you tell him, taking a seat next to his fatigued, flushed, and sweaty body.
“Do you need help?” he asks, finally regaining enough of his strength to sit up straight, hands covering himself as the moment takes hold. Embarrassment floods you just the same, grinning as warmth rushes to your cheeks. “I have got off twice now and you haven’t. I feel a bit guilty.”
You raise your hand, protesting with a nod to dismiss his worries. “I don’t need to get off,” you reassure him, though the ache between your legs says differently, and knowing he is willing to help even when you aren’t recording has heat washing over you all over again. “This is just business. I’m good.”
He nods once again, understanding as much as he reaches for his underwear. “So, how are we going to do this?”
You frown. “What do you mean?”
“Like editing, which site will we use? How much will we even charge people?” The questions have your eyes growing wide, realizing you have only thought as far as actually recording the videos, and not taking time to figure out anything past that. With a chuckle, he puts your worries at ease. “I have someone we can talk to about that.”
***
“So, let me get this straight,” the wide, sparkling eyed roommate of your best friend begins, “you two made a video pretending to be a couple, and you want me to edit and upload it for you to make money?”
“Yes,” you reply in a low tone, warmth flooding your face from just hearing the question as you sit beside him on the sofa in their small, crowded living room. Jaime has experience editing videos; it’s what he’s going to school for. When he told you his idea of who he wanted to help the two of you, you immediately began to protest, thinking there’s no way you could ever face him after he sees what is in the video. But it didn’t take long for you to realize you have no other options. Neither he nor you have much experience with editing, or adult videos, as Jaime does, and he is your only, and last, hope with this.
“Oh my God,” Jaime exhales, clutching your camcorder tight in one hand as his head leans back against the couch, fingers of the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the greatest day of my life. Thank you. Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Shut up,” he interrupts the celebrations, shoving his roommate's shoulder.
“So,” Jaime begins again, a devious smirk forming on his lips as his eyes bounce between the two of you, “Do I get a cut if I am doing this?” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, Jaime causes your best friend to smack his lips while you groan.
“No,” you inform him, wincing while expecting him to immediately reject the offer, “but you get to watch us have sex for free. That’s something… right?”
“Do I get to come from it?” His bottom lip protrudes, innocently asking such a painfully dirty question.
“Absolutely not.” His stern tone has the younger boy frowning.
“What about after it’s uploaded? Can I come then?”
“Then you would have to pay.” His is talking through his teeth by now, and all you can do is shake your head.
“Look, you can watch it and come to it if you do this for us.” He perks up at the words as you try to reason with him.
“Just… make it sexy, okay?”
He purses his lips in thought, then the wicked smirk returns. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
Jaime rushes to his bedroom with the recorder, leaving the two of you to sit on the sofa and wait in miserable anticipation for him to return. Lord knows what he is doing in the there, you think, legs bouncing from nerves because you just can’t sit still. He offers you a drink, food, even a massage to relax you, but you decline it all, stomach already twisting while waiting on the moment Jaime will tell you it’s uploaded. Then comes the dreaded hours waiting on the views to see if it’s even worth it, and the pressure begins to weigh down on you as you run your sweaty palms over your jeans.
“This was a mistake,” you suddenly blurt out, jumping up from the couch with a shake of your head, “I’m so stupid to believe this would work and suddenly all of our troubles would be gone. What was I thinking?”
“Relax.” He rises to his feet with a chuckle to press a gentle palm against your shoulder. “It’s kind of already too late to be thinking it was a terrible idea. I mean… we… after all…” His incomplete sentences have you frowning, face hot and eyes screwing shut in humiliation.
“God, I am an idiot for dragging you into this. I’m so sorry.” Your babbling fails to cease, tearing away from his grip to begin pacing. “I mean, what if someone finds out? What if Jaime tells someone? And what’s taking him so long, anyway? God, what did we do?”
“Calm down,” he tries to comfort you, but all touches and attempts at relaxing you are only brushed over by slumped shoulders and huffs and puffs. “It’s going to be alright. No one will find out but us three. Jaime can be trusted, even if he is a bit immature and obsessed with this stuff.”
His words fail to offer you solace, groaning and pouting and continuing to whine. “If anyone at my school recognizes me…”
“No one will.”
“What about my parents?!” Your eyes pop, freezing in your fifth lap around the tiny living room. “Dear God… my poor mother.”
“It’s alright,” he begins groaning, gripping you with two firm palms against your shoulders, “chill out for a second, okay?”
“We had sex!” Feigning confidence and playing pretend takes its toll on you, and jis jaw slacks at your outburst. You didn’t mean to yell the statement right in his face, but as your knees shake and your heart pounds in your chest, the realization of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks. All you can do is slump against him, cheeks squished into his chest as you whine. “Fuck, I am losing it here.”
“I can tell,” he chuckles, arms wrapping around you with his palm against your back to sooth your worries. “It’s going to be fine, okay? I actually think that was a pretty smart idea. Well, when we got past all the awkwardness and the weirdness of having sex with my best friend, I guess. But just try not to worry, alright?”
You pull away nodding, finding comfort in his reassuring tone that everything will be okay. He manages to calm you down enough to have a seat next to him, allowing you to cling to his hand with a shaky grip, and when your knee begins to bounce again, his palm on your leg settles you further.
When Jaime finally makes his way back to the two of you, the dumb grin on his face sends your nerves into overdrive.
“What’s wrong?” You hop up from the sofa. “What happened? What did you do? Why are you smiling like that?”
Jaime chuckles, running fingers through his hair as he takes a seat on the couch. “I have to say,” he begins, leaving both him and you on the edge of your seats, literally, “that was the hottest thing I have watched in awhile.”
Your body slumps into the couch while he groans. “So is that why it took so long?” He asks his roommate with angry, furrowed brows and a bite to this tone. “Because you were in there jer-”
“Hey,” you interrupt, calling his name through your teeth and shoving his shoulder. Then you turn toward Jaime, knowing he is the one helping and if you want your secret to stay safe, the two of you can’t be bickering with him. “So… is it uploaded?” Your tone lowers, but Jaime perks up.
“It is uploaded,” he confirms, causing your heart to sink in the pit of your stomach. And it’s not that you regret making the video with him, you only hate the waiting period, the fear of the unknown that will tell you if you made a huge mistake. “It will take a day or two to get proper results, but…” Jaime’s voice fades, but the smirk on his lips remains.
“But what?” He leans closer, hanging on to his friend’s every word.
“Well, judging from the material-” He clears his throat. “-it won’t take long to gain interest.”
At least he settles part of your nerves, knowing if anyone watching is half as entertained as Jaime was, it might not have been a terrible idea after all.
***
Racing to his apartment two days later after work has your exhausted legs shaking with every step. A busy shift left no time for texting him until after you clocked out, only sending him a simple message to let him know you were on the way before making your journey beneath dim streetlights. You clutch your coat closer to your body thanks to the chilly breeze, but you aren’t sure if you’re shivering from the wind, or the fact that you’re about to find out how your first video with him did as far as views and revenue.
He opens the door a second after you knock, meeting you face to face with a hesitant expression.
“So?” you begin to question, wasting no time with greetings as you push past him. “What’s the damage?” You spot Jaime settled on the couch, his own laptop resting against his legs as he grins toward you.
“Hello to you, too.” He shuts the door and follows you into the living room, and together you take a seat beside Jaime to wait on the news.
“Well, take a look.” He turns his laptop toward you, allowing you to see the website he chose to upload it on, reading the big, red words on the screen spell out XXX-Tube, before you notice the profile he made the two of you with your only video uploaded onto the page.
“Watch my girlfriend take my big, hot load,” you read the title of the video out loud, nose scrunching while he nearly chokes behind you. “That’s a bit… much, isn’t it?”
“I had to name it something to get people’s attention,” Jaime simply says with a shrug. He is the one with experience, after all, so you decide to trust his creative decision.
“Seventy-three views! Is that… good?” You tilt your head to the side with a pout.
“I don’t think it’s terrible,” he adds.
“But most of those are from the preview,” Jaime corrects, pointing out that there is a difference between actually paying to watch, and only enjoying a one minute clip to know what to expect. “Only one person paid, so considering the cut the website takes, the two of you are now two dollars and fifty cents richer. Congrats!”
Groaning, your body slumps back into the couch, knowing you have to be patient for things to take off, but classes start in a month and you’re well aware you don’t have time to wait out gaining an audience.
“What do the comments say?” he questions, causing you to straighten your back while looking toward the computer screen.
“You have three,” Jaime informs you. “One person thinks you’re really hot-” Heat washes over your face at the words. “-someone wants you to come on her ass next time, and the last person is telling you to call him daddy.” Your face twists at the last word, groaning.
“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to either of those things.” He grins as he speaks, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Really?” you question, eyes narrowed. “You want me to call you daddy?”
He shrugs. “Why not?” And you shake your head, reaching to pat his shoulder.
“Okay, sure, you hang on to that thought,” you tell him, thinking to yourself there’s no way in hell you’re calling your best friend “daddy”.
***
He stops by your place two days later for your next video. Considering you haven’t come since the night you first had sex (thanks to a session alone with your vibrator), your body is aching for him by the time you open the door, dying to be touched and already finding arousal dampening your panties at just the thought of him going down on you for your next recording session. Once again you’re thankful you picked a night your roommate is having a sleepover with her boyfriend, otherwise you wouldn’t be so sure how you would manage dealing with what is about to happen for the sake of the video.
Especially since there is something you’re keeping from him.
“Um…” And it’s something that has been weighing on your mind all day, causing a shaky hand to close the bedroom door behind the two of you, while your chest tightens and you nibble on your bottom lip.
“Hm?” He is already getting into position, removing his cap and ruffling his hair, then peeling his shirt over his head to toss aside.
“I have something I have to tell you.” You heave a sigh, lingering by the door for a moment, but the tremble in your tone causes him to freeze, brows arched and waiting impatiently on whatever you say next. “I have only had two boyfriends go down on me before.” You don’t bother to look his way as you speak, voice lowering, but it only causes him to chuckle.
“Okay?” He tilts his head one to one side when you gain the courage to look him in the eye. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’ve never… come from it,” you admit, then step forward to add onto your reasoning. “And if I don’t come, I don’t want you to think it’s because of you. It’s me, I guess because I get a bit nervous or whatever, and I will just fake it if it takes too long or something, okay?” The words are spilled almost faster than he can register, making sense of why you denied his request of oral the first time, and why you become so flushed with embarrassment when he mentioned recording it.
“You’re going to fake your orgasm?” He peers at you with wide eyes.
“Well, yeah?” You shrug. “We are fake dating. It’s not a big deal.”
“Alright,” he says with a sigh, picking up his black masquerade mask from your dresser and placing it over his eyes. “Just let me know if you are uncomfortable. I’ll stop immediately.”
You nod, the tension leaving your body thanks to his reassuring words as you grab the camcorder from the nightstand where you left it after leaving his apartment two days before. Tossing the recorder on the bed, you begin to remove your clothes, peeling your t-shirt over your head to toss aside, then unbuttoning your shorts to push down your legs. He makes his way to you to help with your bra, slipping it from your shoulders to join the rest of your clothes until you’re left in nothing but your thin, white panties already damp from picturing his face pressed between your thighs.
You don’t wish to be already so worked up in the moment. You wish your insides didn’t shake at the thought of him tasting you, but you feel yourself aching for it, so overwhelmed before he’s even started and part of you wishes the idea of him eating you out didn’t turn you on so much, if only so you would have a clearer head. You can already imagine the smirk on his lips before his tongue flicks out, gaining just a small taste. You can feel his hands on your thighs to calm your nerves, and you know your hips will be rolling against his face once the moment takes over, and every second of it will be recorded. Arousal drips from your center at the thought, heart fluttering, images of him licking up and down your slit flooding your mind to where you barely hear him calling your name.
“H-Huh?” You turn to him with a gulp, noticing he has the camera in his hand a second before he passes it to you.
“I asked if you were ready.”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” You take a deep breath before crawling onto the bed, resting with your back on the two pillows he’s prepped for you. Watching him crawl between your legs does nothing to calm your nerves, spotting the obvious bulge beneath his jeans and you know he is already imagining his tongue between your thighs as well. Knowing he is turned on from wanting to offer you pleasure has your thighs parting just as his eyes lower to take in the sight of the darkened patch of your arousal soaking through your panties.
The smirk appears on his lips, just like you imagined, seconds before his body dips lower to press his lips to your own, causing you to whimper against his skin from the suddenness of the kiss. Then his mouth trails lower, not bothering to linger in one spot too long, kissing your jaw, tongue traveling down your neck, until he peppers kisses across your chest.
“I-I haven’t started recording…” Your tone wavers, becoming so breathless the moment his tongue flicks across your nipple, causing your chest to heave. Glancing down, you notice his eyes staring straight into your own, the smirk on his face widening.
“Then start recording.”
He presses his palms to your hips just as you flip open the screen to the recorder, pressing the button once to begin your session. His mouth pampers your stomach with sweet, soft kisses, taking his time to explore your body with his lips and the gesture has goosebumps flooding your skin.
“Are you recording, baby?” he asks with a flick of his eyes in your direction, voice already so deep and raspy, knowing he knows you are recording from the pet name as he falls into his role.
“Mhm,” is all you can manage to whimper, pointing the lens his way as his tongue traces the band of your panties.
“You’re shaking, baby,” he informs you, but you’re well aware of the effects of his lips and tongue. “Do you enjoy me tasting your beautiful pussy that much?” Before you can reply, his mouth lowers to your mound, pressing soft kisses here and there until he’s aligned with your slit. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he moves his grip to your legs to keep them parted.
A soft gasp fills the room from his tongue pressing against your panties, pressing against your throbbing, aching clit, but he only lingers for a moment before lowering his lips to your entrance. Tasting the arousal seeping through the cloth, he groans at the sensation, earning a quiet whimper in return the moment his eyes lock with yours.
“Are you going to answer me, baby?” he questions again, and you aren’t sure if he’s performing for the camera or he enjoys knowing how worked up you’re getting, but you can only gulp to keep from whimpering once again.
“I-I do,” you admit, wanting to sound more confident than your tone and shaky words would suggest, “I love it. You... you know I do.” For a second you remember your own part, knowing you’re playing pretend couple and needing it to seem like this isn’t the first time he’s gone down on you.
Hooking a finger into the base of your panties, he tugs the thin fabric aside to get an eyeful of your swollen lips and glistening slit. You keep the camera on him as he leans closer to place open-mouthed kisses over your mound, directly against the skin this time, before lowering to your clit. Instantly, your body tenses, a surge of heat rushing from between your thighs to reach your fingertips and toes from feeling his tongue and lips on you. Your legs tremble with a million buzzing nerves, attempting not to shake too much so the camera remains steady and focused.
“Mm, you taste so sweet,” he comments, and for a split-second you imagine him actually meaning it instead of playing it up for the lens, “I love tasting you like this.” His tongue flicks out, eyes never leaving your face as he licks a stripe over your slit to have a gasp spilling from your lips. The motion is slow and steady, taking his time to taste, to tease, and to have you so worked up you’re aching for more.
A swipe of his tongue over the swollen bud sends a shiver down your spine as your thighs press against his palm, hips moving the moment his lips wrap around the hood of your clit. He sucks, lightly at first, and the camera shakes in your hand as his name almost slips from your lips. You know you have to be careful, not wanting to give away real names or identities, so you bite down on your bottom lip once his tongue flattens against your skin, massaging slowly, continuing to take his time in tasting you.
“That feels… so good,” you tell him in a breathless tone, reaching with your other hand to slip your fingers between the strands of his hair. “Don’t stop, please,” you whimper, hips rolling against his tongue and the words cause him to groan between your thighs to vibrate against your flesh.
The moment one hand lowers from your thigh to press two fingers at your entrance, your mind grows numb. No longer can you worry over the embarrassment, but only the thrill of him tasting you, not focusing too much on the camera or the fact that your best friend is between your legs, only the pleasure he is giving you. Your walls tighten and release in anticipation, feeling him coating his fingertips in your juices with laps around your entrance while his tongue massages carefully over your clit, and a second before he pushes the digits inside of you, you’re tempted to begin begging for them.
“Fuck,” you whimper, face twisting in pleasure from his long, slender fingers becoming buried so deep inside of you, “fuck, don’t stop, please.” You can’t stop the words before they spill from your lips, hand shaking as it holds up the camera higher to record the way his fingers begin pumping in and out of your dripping pussy.
“Does that feel good, baby?” When he pulls away to ask, the smirk is prominent on his glistening lips while already knowing the answer, but you whimper and nod regardless. Then his fingers curl, sending your thighs clamping around his hand, to which he has to press a palm to the inside of your leg to keep them parted. “Are you gonna come on my tongue?” With that, he licks between your soaked folds once again, and from the way his fingers curl to him massaging your clit in circles, the tension begins to pull too tight as the warmth bubbles between your thighs.
“Yes,” you gasp, chest and stomach heaving to give the camera a view of you beginning to lose your control. “Fuck, don’t… don’t stop, please,” you beg him, fingers finding their way to the strands of his hair again, tugging a bit tighter, holding his tongue to your clit as he presses on the spot inside your tightening walls that have you quivering. Your body tenses around him as the sloppy sounds as he fingers you and sucks your clit fill the room, mixing with the way you begin to whimper, cursing beneath your breath and crying for more.
He isn’t sure if you’re playing it up for the camera, or if he is really making you feel so close to the edge, but he doesn’t stop, tongue massaging back and forth while pressing harder inside your walls. When he feels your legs twitch around him, he continues his pace and the motions of his tongue, knowing he is hitting the spot to finally have your head rolling against the headboard and your back arching, nearly losing control of the camera and yourself. From the way your thighs shake around, to how you clench his soiled, wet fingers, he is now positive your reactions to his pleasure are genuine, driving him to suck your clit harder while pumping his fingers in and out of you, all before flattening his tongue over the swollen bud and caressing diligently to have you gasping for air.
“I-I’m getting close,” you whimper in the shakiest of breaths, hanging on to the bliss spreading from your thighs in a wave of heat while ignoring everything else around you. The tension spirals in the pit of your stomach, every one of his motions intensified as your hips roll against him, begging for more, begging for release. “I’m gonna… gonna…”
Your voice fades before you have a chance to warn him, the surge of pleasure erupting from between your thighs to rush to every inch of your body. Your back arches, hand falling from the strands of his hair and you have to remind yourself not to lose control of the camera as you come against his tongue, trembling as he continues to pleasure you through the high, and even as you begin to come down. It’s not until you begin whimpering once again does he pull away, easing his fingers out of you before wiping his mouth and removing his mask.
He reaches for the camera, clicking it off to stop recording while you lay there breathless from the bliss. A heaving chest signals to him you need a moment, and he takes the opportunity to make his way to the bathroom to clean up. When he returns, he holds a damp, white rag in his hand to help clean you up, reaching between your legs even though your body tenses from the sensitivity.
“Oh my God,” you groan, slinging an arm over your face so he won’t notice how the realization that your best friend just went down on you affects you. “That was…” You finish the statement with a sigh, causing him to chuckle while trying to ignore the way he remains hard and needy from performing such an act on you.
“I am glad I could finally return the favor,” he comments, causing your cheeks to burn hotter from the thought of him getting you off, expecting to have to fake it thanks to your own silly nerves preventing you from enjoying yourself.
And then the thought dawns on you just how much you did enjoy yourself, and how worked up he could have you, not expecting him to not only know how to get you off, but to take so much time and care to do so. Maybe he really did feel guilty, you think, and then you push the thoughts aside before you overthink the situation, knowing it’s nothing more than business and it will remain that way.
“Can you take that to Jaime to edit?” you ask him as he slips his shirt over his head before handing you your own in exchange for the recorder you pass his way.
“Sure, I’ll tell him to upload it tonight,” he assures you with a nod, then leans down to press his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss, taking you by surprise. “I gotta go. Got work in the morning. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
All you can do is nod, lips parted as you stare at his back while he makes his way out of the bedroom to help himself out, and once he’s gone, you try your hardest to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.
***
He calls the next day to confirm Jaime uploaded the video for the two of you, sending you into a whirlwind of jitters, shaking knees, and a fluttering heart while waiting to see if your second attempt has sparked any more interest. Thankfully for you, your shift at the diner offers busy table after busy table, keeping your mind distracted for most of the night and you become pleasantly surprised when you receive more tips than usual. At least it will cover what you took out of the rent money to pay for the camcorder.
Immediately when you get home, you stuff the spare change into your savings jar you keep on your dresser before making your way to peel off your clothes and hop into the shower. But not before hearing your phone buzzing against the nightstand where you left it, rushing to see it being none other than your best friend calling.
“A hundred views in one day!” he exclaims before you can even get a simple hello out of your mouth. “With six viewers actually paying to watch.”
Your heart skips a beat at the news, wishing you weren’t so exhausted to show your enthusiasm just the same as him. “That’s amazing,” you mutter, attempting to peel off your shirt with the phone still in hand, tossing it to the bathroom floor before reaching to turn on the water. “How much money is that?”
“Only fifteen dollars, but hey,” he begins to reassure you, hearing his breathy laugh over the phone as you continue undressing, “it’s a start. Maybe our next video will attract more views since we will be… you know.”
You’re tempted to laugh at the sudden shyness evident in even his tone, if only you weren’t so exhausted. “Hm, I guess so,” you hum, now naked and running your hand beneath the stream to see if the temperature is comfortable.
“Everything okay?” he asks, curious from your low tone and lack of excitement at the news.
“Just tired,” you say, a yawn following the words. “Plus, fifteen dollars isn’t going to do much for either of us. We have to make our next video count.”
“I agree.” You hear shuffling from the other side, wondering if he is already in bed like you will be soon. “When should we record again?”
“Tomorrow night?” you suggest, hearing him hum. “I am off for the day. Jenny is going out of town for the weekend with her boyfriend’s family, so no roommate here. We will have the place to ourselves again.” You’re thankful your roommate isn’t home very often, wondering how you could ever explain the situation to her if she were to find out.
“Sounds good,” he agrees before the two of you hang up the phone and you jump into the shower.
When the following night arrives, he knocks on your door with Jaime’s borrowed tripod in his hand, promising he will return it as soon as the two of you are done. He shuffles inside with a nervous huff, and you’re at least thankful he remains just as anxious as you. Considering this will be only the second time the two of you are completely together, and the first time recording it, you have felt the butterflies in your stomach fluttering away all day until the moment he arrived.
“Where should I set this up?” he asks upon entering your bedroom, and even though you’re completely alone, you still shut the door behind you with a click of the lock.
“At the end of the bed,” you tell him, a shaky exhale following the words as you run your hands over your skirt, then reach to grab the two masks from your dresser.
“Got it.” He begins setting up the tripod and readying the camera while you begin to undress, slipping your blouse from your shoulders and pushing your skirt down your legs.
“Point it downward a bit,” you instruct just as he tightens the screw holding the camera, “that way it won’t miss, you know… you inside of me.” Your cheeks burn as the trembling words slip from your tongue, but he flashes a cheeky grin.
“My fake girlfriend is so smart,” he teases with a wink while making his way toward you once he is satisfied with the angle, and you don’t think you can blush any harder, ignoring the way your heart skips a beat. He takes the mask from you with one hand, his other brushing against your hip as he slips past you, earning goosebumps over your skin that go unnoticed. Together the two of you adjust your masks over your eyes, making sure the straps are hidden by your hair, and he makes sure his own is comfortable. “Are you nervous?”
The question takes you by surprise as you reach for the clasp of your bra. “Why do you ask?”
“Here, let me,” he says, reaching from behind you to unhook the clasp before easing the straps from your shoulders. “And I was only curious, I guess.”
You nod. “A bit nervous, sure. Aren’t you?” You crawl onto the bed, pressing your back to the mattress with your knees bent and thighs parted, waiting on him. Watching him walk toward the camera to press the record button, your heart pounds in your chest to remind you you’re way more than a bit nervous, but you try your hardest not to let it show.
“A bit,” he admits, then presses the button on the camera before making his way back to you, peeling his shirt over his head in the process to toss aside. As he unbuttons his jeans, he takes his time, allowing you a moment to stare at the way the muscles in his arms tense, and the veins protrude to have you biting your lip. He pushes his pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles, full, hard arousal on display from just the thought of what the two of you are about to do.
He hovers over for a moment, one palm pressed to the sheets near your head, the other beginning to work his cock as his mouth lowers to your own. The soft kisses he presses against your skin have you relaxing beneath him, the tension disappearing each second that passes until he directs his attention to your neck. The whimper that slips from your lips tells him how much you enjoy his mouth on your skin, working you up, easing the worries, and by the time he reaches your chest, you’re already aching between your thighs for him.
“Your skin is so soft.” His fingertips brush your sides as his tongue circles your nipple. “I could kiss you all day.” From the way his eyes flick toward your face as he says the words, a chill surges down your spine before the heat begins to flood your body, starting from your parted thighs and working toward your fingers entangling in the strands of his hair.
As his kisses lower, he hooks two fingers into the straps of your panties, peeling them down your legs before his lips press to your mound. A shiver of anticipation surges through you, gulping with your eyes closed the moment you feel his thumb brush across your folds.
Knowing the camera is recording the both of you together for the first time has your body flushed, insides trembling, and heart racing. You know it is capturing every moment, from you laying on the bed, thighs parted for him, to him kissing your lips, your neck, teasing your breasts, and even to now when he begins massaging your clit with his thumb to prepare your body his cock. The pressure weighs down on you, but the thrill of the moment takes hold, not being able to stop the quiet whimpers that leave your lips, or the way your hips move to beg him for more.
He leans back with his knees pressed to the bed, aligning a single finger up to your entrance before easing the digit inside. A gasp fills the room as he begins pumping the finger in and out, taking his time with slow motions while his other hand works his own cock with a steady palm. The sloppy, wet noises begin to fill the room, arousal coating his finger the longer he thrusts the digit in and out, and it doesn’t take him long to insert another, curling the digits inside your tightening walls to earn a muffled whimper beneath a bitten lip.
“That feels… so good.” Your hips begin to move with his motions, becoming greedy for more all until he presses a palm to your thigh, raising your leg for the camera to get a better view of his fingers pumping into you. The new angle allows the juices coating his fingers to glisten from the bright, white lights from your vanity mirror, and the sounds grow louder as he thrusts his fingers quicker in your dripping walls. “I… I need you,” you whimper, the heat flooding your body rushing straight to your face from the way you beg him.
But with a deep groan, he pulls away, understanding you want him just as much as he wants you. He crawls over your body a moment later to grab the condom you laid out on the nightstand in preparation, ripping the wrapper open before tossing it aside. Rolling the rubber onto his length, he exhales a heavy breath, then presses a palm beneath your thigh once again to hold your leg against your chest.
With his other hand, he grips himself, lining the head of his cock to your soaked entrance before easing himself inside of you. “Fuck,” you cry out in a breathless moan, clutching the sheets beneath you the moment he fills you to the hilt. A fire ignites inside of you, needing him, and needing release, whimpering for more before you even have a chance to stop the words from spilling. “Fuck… fuck me, please.”
The words earn a groan building deep in his chest, and if he questions the pleas, you know you can always blame the sudden need on playing it up for the lens. But he only gives in, giving you what you need, pulling his cock from within your clenched, dripping walls, only to thrust inside of you with more force, earning a cry mixed with curses.
“How does that feel, baby?” The question is strained with every syllable spoken, repeating the motion of pumping his cock inside of you, hitting deep within your walls to have your back arching.
“So… so good,” you rasp, chest heaving and so overwhelmed from his words and his cock buried deep inside of you.
“Do you want more?” He falls into a steady rhythm of thrusting inside of you as he asks, reaching to palm your ass and spread your cheeks farther for the camera to get a better view of him inside of you. “Tell me how you want it, baby.” The request has heat washing over you, gulping before struggling to speak, and the words spill from your lips in the breathiest of tones.
“F-Faster… please.” Hearing you beg earns a groan from him, all before he reaches to press both palms to the backs of your thighs, holding your legs against your chest while increasing his pace, pumping his cock deeper, harder, quicker to have your head rolling back against the bed. “Fuck… don’t stop.” Your cries fill the room, mixing with breathless curses and the wet, sloppy sounds of him fucking you. All of it is picked up on camera along with the sight of him rolling his hips into you, switching his pace from short, quick thrusts like you begged for, only to tease with slow, longer strokes, driving you wild as your jaw slacks and your knuckles fade from clutching the sheets so tight.
“God, you feel so damn good.” He can’t help him when he leans forward, parting your thighs to settle closer to your body. He grips your wrists, pinning your arms above your head while his mouth cherishes your neck in the form of kisses, all before licking a stripe over your skin. The sensation has you shaking beneath him, thighs pressed to his waist as he grinds his body against yours, feeling him thrust deeper, fucking you with more conviction, more passion, than before.
Even if the camera can’t capture his cock pumping in and out of you, it does see the way he holds you, whispering naughty things in your ear that you wonder if the receiver can pick up. His teeth skim across your flesh before he eases the mark he left with soft, gentle kisses. He groans in your ear, but it’s drowned out from the moans you release, flooding the room with noises of pure bliss.
“Fuck,” he groans, deep and raspy to send a chill down your spine, “I’m gonna come.” He warns you with a hint of regret in his tone, as if he wants to make the moment last just as much as you, but when you squeeze your walls around his twitching cock, he can’t help but to huff, reaching the edge with you wrapped so tightly around him.
His jaw slacks as the pleasure washes over him, grunting once, hips slowing, brow wrinkling, and when his motions stop completely, you begin rocking your hips against him to receive every last drop from him. He then gulps, sweat beading over his forehead and his chest rises and falls, trying to catch his breath a moment before he collapses on top of you.
And you think that’s it. Even if your body aches for release, you’re satisfied with your third video being complete, knowing you can get yourself off later if you need to. But when he pushes himself off of you to press his lips to your own, lingering for a moment before his mouth trails lower, you wonder why he is still showing you so much affection.
As he tends to your chest in quick, soft pecks of his lips, he carefully peels the condom from his length to toss in the garbage can next to your bed without missing a beat. You don’t question his actions, only closing your eyes and concentrating on the feel of his mouth on your skin, his tongue licking a stripe down your mound, and when you feel his lips parts your soaked, dripping folds, your back arches from the bed with a gasp.
“Fuck,” you nearly slip up, turning an attempt at calling his name on camera into nothing more than whine as your voice fades. You can’t help your reaction when he begins flicking his tongue over your swollen clit, sounds of his saliva mixing with your juices to fill the room. Your own moans drown out any other noises after a matter of seconds thanks to the way he begins massaging your clit with his tongue, not wasting any time aligning two fingers to your entrance to fill you up.
He tastes you for the second time without giving you an option, wanting to get you off to leave you satisfied and you remember your words well from the night before, knowing he only wanted to make tonight’s video well worth it. But you can hardly focus on being recorded with his mouth buried between your trembling thighs. One hand holds you steady at your waist while he pumps his fingers into you, curling them, drawing out every little breathy moan and desperate whimper that becomes so well-deserved, you know you won’t last much longer.
“Gonna… gonna come,” you try to warn him, chest heaving and stomach tense, but he only groans against your flesh before pressing his mouth tighter to your slit. In a wave of pure bliss he has you barrelling over the edge, jaw unhinged as your cries go silent, warmth flooding from your center to your toes and head, before a desperate cry of absolute satisfaction fills his ears. Your hips buck while you clutch the sheets beneath you, gasping for air as the ecstasy rolls through you.
He doesn’t pull his tongue from your clit until he feels you quivering against his mouth, far too sensitive you almost cry out while pushing him away. With a smirk, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then presses his lips to your body once more. Each soft, gentle kiss over your stomach, your chest, your neck, to finally arrive on your lips has you melting beneath him, so beyond relaxed you don’t think you could possibly have a care in the world.
“That was so hot, baby,” he groans into your ear, a deep whisper sending a shiver down your spine until you remember the camera is still rolling. It’s only an act, you tell yourself, and so you open your eyes to grin up at him while he stares down at you, a soft giggle slipping from your lips while entangling your fingers into the strands on the back of his head. Pulling him close, your lips collide for the last time that night, lingering for a moment, whimpering in a second, enjoying the feeling of your best friend being so close.
A moment later, he pulls away to make his way over and press the button on the camera. The show is over, allowing both of you to release some of the tension that night has been building from being so vulnerable for so long.
“Are you okay?” he asks while peeling his mask from his face, then reaching to do the same to your own when you finally gain the strength to sit up.
“I need… a shower,” you say with a heavy breath, causing the both of you to chuckle.
“Well, come on, then.” He pulls you to your feet with a gentle grip on your arms.
“What?” You frown, eying him with curiosity.
“Let’s shower.”
“Together?” He grins at your hesitation, then shrugs.
“If you can’t shower with your fake boyfriend, who can you shower with?”
A giggle slips from your lips as you shake your head, covering your chest with your arms while slipping past him. “I can manage,” you tell him with a glance over your shoulder before walking into the bathroom. With a flip of the light switch, you take one peek at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. Your hair is wild, with your eyeliner smeared and your arms still cover your breasts. The only thing you can do is laugh at yourself in the moment, not wanting the absurdity of the situation to affect you.
“What about dinner?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, nearly startling you as you reach for the shower faucet.
“Are you buying?” You flash him a playful grin over your shoulder, noticing he at least has his jeans on by now. He presses his tongue to his cheek for a moment, then nods with a grin.
“I’ll buy.” He steps closer, leaning against the sink while you run a hand beneath the water cascading down to check if the temperature is warm enough. “How does pizza sound?”
The question has you bursting into a fit of giggles as you stand before him, naked, the situation finally clicking of just how ridiculous it seems. He hitches a brow in return, eyeing you with a grin on his lips.
“So, no pizza?”
You giggle harder, shaking your head. “No, pizza is fine. It’s just…” You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping your eyes of the tears that begin to well from the laughter. “It’s really just crazy, isn’t it? Like, only a little over a week ago you were coming into the diner for free food and I was pissed about shitty tips. Now I am standing here naked, in front of my best friend - the guy who used to tease me for my hair being too frizzy in high school and I would give you shit for not having a girlfriend - after we just recorded ourselves having sex. Like, holy shit… are we crazy or are we really just that desperate?”
He blinks, taking in everything you say until all he can do is gulp. Maybe he hasn’t thought about the situation as much as you have, or maybe he is having an easier time telling himself it’s just sex. Either way, a moment later a wide smile forms on his lips before he bursts into laughter.
“Both,” he says, “I think we are both crazy and desperate, but I don’t regret it.” Then he steps closer, cupping your cheek in his palm.
“No?”
“No,” he assures you, “not one bit.”
He leaves you to your shower after dropping his hand to his side, making his way to order your favorite pizza while you are stuck with a racing and butterflies in your stomach. Having sex with your best friend shouldn’t feel this good, you realize as much, but you can’t deny that it does.
***
The third video does the best so far, and he bursts with excitement while telling you. He barely gives you a chance to wake up a few mornings after the two of you had spent the rest of the night eating pizza and reminiscing about your high school days. When he left that night, he promised to call you with the news as soon as there were results, but as you roll over while grumbling to see the time is only a little after nine in the morning, you almost regret agreeing to the decision.
“Fifty dollars!” he exclaims as you mutter a hello.
“W-What?” You blink, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up. “Fifty?”
“Well, fifty bucks from all of our videos combined so far,” he corrects with a chuckle, causing your heart to flutter at the news. Of course it makes sense the more videos the two of you make, the more in profits you will see, and the thought only has you yearning to have your next recording session with him.
“That’s more than I expected,” you admit, yawning between the words. “How do these people even find our videos so quickly?”
“Jaime told me it’s something to do with proper keywords and titles, maybe tags or maybe we are getting dedicated viewers, um, I don’t know. I don’t really listen when he talks to me about the videos,” he tells you honestly. “I just try my best not to imagine him jerking off to them.”
Giggling, you sit up in your bed, realizing that’s not even a thought that has crossed your mind. Considering everything else happening between him and you while you figure the whole amateur video thing out, Jaime seems like the least of your worries.
“I guess we really did make that video count, then.”
“Yeah, all thanks to you.”
“Me?” Your cheeks burn at the thought as you sit up straight. “Why me?”
“I was reading some comments…” His voice lingers on the last syllable.
“And?” You lean forward in your bed, as if he can actually see you trying to get the words out of him. “What did they say?”
“Mm,” he hums, “there were a few mentioning how sexy you are when you come.”
The words shoot straight to your core with a burst of overwhelming heat, stomach twisting and heart flooding. “Please,” you squeak, burying your face onto your knees while your body squirms. “I guess… that would be thanks to you, yeah?” He chuckles, from either your correction or the way your voice lowers to a whisper.
“I think we make a good team,” he admits as your embarrassment settles. Even though you fail to mention it to him, you believe he is right. You couldn’t imagine getting yourself into such a thing with anyone else, happy to have propositioned him in the first place, and thankful that he agreed. “And speaking of, maybe we should try something more… adventurous.”
“Adventurous?” You hold back your groan. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll think of something. There’s a market for everything, as Jaime tells me.” His sigh spills through the speaker. “I’m not sure if he wants us to get kinkier to bring in more views, or if it’s only for his own entertainment.”
Giggling, you push the covers from your legs and stand. “Kinkier?” You hum in thought. “What, like… anal?”
You aren’t sure if he chokes on his breath from the other side of the phone, but the gasping would cause you to think so. “Anal? You would let me…”
“Nope,” you interrupt, chuckling. “No anal, but I wouldn’t mind trying something a bit more daring if anything comes to mind. In the meantime…” Your voice fades after making your way to the bathroom, readying your toothbrush with toothpaste.
“Hm?”
“I gotta take care of some things today before my shift tonight. Do you wanna join me?”
He happily agrees, deciding to tag along while you run errands for the few hours before work at the diner. He walks with you to your school, paying for at least two of your classes for the following semester after deciding to dip into more of your rent money. You assume you can make up the difference in time to give your part to Jenny, knowing if you can’t attend school as a full-time student thanks to your lack of funds, you can at least manage two classes until the videos give you some extra cash. If things continue doing as well as they are, you’re confident it won’t take long before you’re comfortable with paychecks from the diner, tips each night, and splitting the money you make with him.
After some of the weight is lifted from your shoulders for covering two of your upcoming classes, you head to the nearest mall to get out of the heat, making a beeline to the food court to purchase a frozen strawberry lemonade for the two of you. Considering you still have a while before your shift starts, he and you linger around the mall to window shop, pointing out this and that you swear you will buy when you have more money.
“Let’s go in here,” you exclaim the moment you spot your favorite lingerie store, dragging him along as he sips on his frozen drink. “What do you think of this?” you ask him, reaching to pick out the first sheer, black babydoll set you spot.
“On you?” His brow hitches and your cheeks burn, not considering him picturing the lingerie on you, only wanting his opinion on what a man would want to see in one of your videos. “I like it.”
With only a grin, you place the set back onto the rack to continue browsing, fingers skimming across the silk and satin patterns, shifting through a stack of panties with ruffles on one shelf before moving to lacy bras on the next. A store employee comes to you to ask if you need assistance only for you to wave her away, knowing you don’t have money to purchase anything, but browsing is nice to take your mind off of things for a while.
But when you feel him press his back to you, mouth lowering to your ear, you freeze. “I have an idea.” His voice is low, deep, and a bit raspy, sending a chill through your body. “Come with me.” He grips your wrist to guide you to the back of the small store, looking left and right to make sure none of the employees notice the two of you sneaking away to the fitting rooms.
You call his name with a clenched jaw, attempting to keep your voice low once he has pulled the long, black curtain to the one side, hiding the two of you, “you can’t be in here.”
“Who says?” He chuckles, taking a seat on the bench in the small dressing room before grabbing your frozen drink from your hands. He sets both plastic cups to the side, all before reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone and then pressing his back to the mirror behind him.
“What… what are you doing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you eye him.
“You said you would be willing to try something if I had an idea.” The devious smirk that forms over his lips leaves your legs shaking. “What if I film you getting off?”
Your eyes pop at the request, heart drumming against your chest and you begin shaking your head from side to side before speaking. “Here?” Leaning closer, your brow furrows and your jaw slacks, noticing him nod simply as if it’s no big deal. “I don’t even have my mask.”
“I won’t record your face.”
“What if someone hears us?”
“Isn’t that what makes it adventurous?” He has a point, and you know well enough you have watched your fair share of videos where couples would try to sneak away in public to get one another off. The thrill is what makes it sexy and you can only imagine the kind of views it could pull in. “What do you say?”
With a deep breath, you give in, nodding once before he presses his thumb to the screen of his phone to begin recording. You trust him not to get a view of your face, but you don’t trust yourself that you can remain quiet, especially if he is the one guiding you to your own release.
“Come here, baby.” It only takes him a second to fall into the character of loving boyfriend easing you in the moment. You step closer, allowing him to tug the zipper of your skirt until the thin fabric falls to your ankles, leaving the perfect view of the white panties beneath. Your heart pounds against your chest, feeling as if it skips a beat here and there while your stomach twists at the thought of getting caught. But it has a fire burning inside of you, warmth building between your legs from the rush of getting away with something.
“Part your legs,” is all he says, guiding you in the deep, husky voice that appears once the camera is rolling. You obey his direction, slipping your shoes from your feet before parting your thighs. When his hand rises to press two fingers to your slit, your insides begin to shake from the pressure. He eases the digits back and forth over the base of your panties, caressing your slit while the lens captures everything and he doesn't stop until your body flushes and the arousal pools at your entrance. “Do you wanna come on my fingers, baby?”
The question earns a fluttering heart and goosebumps spreading over your skin, hearing his dark, deep whisper fill the small dressing room. Fingertips apply more pressure to your entrance to allow your juices to soak through your panties, leaving your legs shaking from anticipation when he pulls away. Leaning closer, you're well aware the camera captures the sight of the darkened patch against the thin cloth, all before he hooks a finger into the waistband to pull the flimsy fabric down to your thighs, uncovering your mound.
“Yes,” you whisper in return after remembering to answer him. The moment takes hold, overwhelming your body with heat as he slips a finger between your folds with his palm facing upward. “I-I wanna come.” The heavy breath you exhale leaves your chest heaving, eyes closing as he teases your slit, the single digit reaching your entrance to dip his fingertip inside before drawing back to your clit to perform small, steady circles.
“How does that feel?” Just as he asks, he eases his finger back to your entrance, slipping inside to have you gasping by the last syllable. You reach for him, shaking fingers wrapping around his wrist while he begins pumping the digit in and out, taking his time as the camera captures him teasing you. Your juices coat his flesh, working you up to have heat swelling from between your legs.
“Feels so good,” you whimper in the smallest of voices, trying to be mindful of your volume so no one passing by overhears.
“Do you want more, baby?” All you can do is bite your lip while nodding in response. Your breaths deepen in an attempt to keep the whimpers from spilling from your lips, so beyond worked up from his touch and the thrill of getting away with it. “Turn around.”
For a moment, the request surprised you, but you can’t help but to follow the instructions. You turn with your ass toward him and your palms pressed to the wall. When he reaches to palm your ass with a firm grip, your folds part to give the camera the complete view of your glistening slit.
“Touch yourself for me,” he guides you with ease, deep, raspy voice filling the dressing room and he groans with the last syllable, “show me what a dirty girl you are.”
A rush of burning heat fills your body, and before you can even think about it, your hand slips between your thighs, ass rising higher to give him a better view of your fingers pressing to your clit. He groans once again at the sight, putting on a show for not only the lens, but for him as well, following his instructions while caressing circles over your clit. Your juices coat your fingers and your teeth sink into your bottom lip harder, the urge to cry out rising.
“God,” he exhales, “you’re so sexy, baby.” The compliment has the heat surging to your cheeks, burning red and hot and so overwhelmed from his words. Quiet whimpers begin to slip past your bitten lip when he presses two of his fingertips to your entrance, noticing you tightening your walls, needing more, needing him, and he leaves you trembling as he eases his fingers inside of you once again.
A moan escapes you, a bit louder than before as you feel him curl the digits, drawing out the noises to mix with the messy sounds of your juices coating his skin. You clench yourself around his fingers, increasing the pressure while continuing to caress quick circles against your clit.
“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, words strained against his tongue, breaths becoming heavier at just the sight. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He plays it up for the camera, even though the lens already has the perfect view of your arousal dripping down your slit, creating a mess even over your own fingers as he pleasures you.
“It feels so good,” you whimper in response, pushing your hips toward him when you become greedy as the bliss fills you to the brim. “Don’t… don’t stop.” The words are breathless as they leave your lips, already so lost in the moment, and you aren’t sure if it’s his skilled fingers or the fact that you’re doing something so forbidden that has you already flirting with the edge of your own release. You quicken your motions over your clit, overwhelmed and aching and hot, ready to come on his fingers just like he asked.
“You’re squeezing around my fingers so tight,” he teases you, burying the digits deeper, curling them, causing you to whimper louder than before without restraint. “Are you getting close? You’re making such a fucking mess.” Each time he pumps his fingers into you, the sloppy, wet sounds fill the small fitting room to confirm the words he speaks to leave you knees weak beneath you. He pushes harder, earning tightened walls around the digits as curses are whispered beneath your breath.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you warn him in a voice so breathless, he almost misses the words. You lean farther back onto his fingers, working your clit quicker, harder, drawing you near the edge as the tension twists and tightens seconds before snapping. Waves of red, hot pleasure wash over you, leaning your forehead against the wall, gaping, hips rolling, coming undone onto his fingers just like you wanted.
As you do so, he pulls away to part your soaked, glistening lips with a finger on each side of your slit, allowing the camera to capture the way your body trembles and your walls spasming in pure bliss. Drops of your juices trickle down your slit to coat your fingers that have now stalled as you begin to come down from the pleasure. Your breaths are the only thing heard in the dressing room until he pushes his two fingers inside you once more, showing the camera what a mess you made while pumping the digits in and out in the slowest of motions to capture the wet, sloppy sounds.
The sensitivity of your peak has you finally pushing his hand away, aftershocks of pleasure leaving your knees wobbling beneath you in an attempt to pull your panties up. He stops recording while you dress yourself in the middle of catching your breath, only able to eye him with darkened eyes and cheeks burning red hot from getting away with your recording session.
***
He calls the next morning, bright and early as ever, to confirm your video was a success. Maybe he does have good ideas. The thought crosses your mind even in your groggy state as you kick the covers off of your body with lazy attempts while listening to him ramble.
“We have triple the views now!” You’re barely listening to him as his voice bursts with excitement through the speaker, tempted to fall back asleep after an exhausting night at the diner. The tips were better than average, at least, so your current exhausted state isn’t for nothing. “I think we are really starting to make some progress here.”
“Mhm,” you groan, eyes fluttering because your bed feels the most comfortable when you need to crawl out of it.
“I think that last video sparked interest. I have another idea, if you’re willing. I think it can bring in more viewers.”
You allow him to ramble for a moment, struggling to wake yourself up until you finally drag yourself out of bed. “Hm, does this idea include anal?”
“Do you… want it to include anal?”
The question has a sleepy smile spreading over your face. “No, no anal.” You make your way to the bathroom, giving yourself a glance in the mirror above the sink before grabbing your toothbrush.
“We can record once you’re done with your shift today.”
The thought has you groaning all over again, wondering how you are even managing working until nearly midnight, only to come in first thing in the mornings. You know you need all the hours you can, and you wouldn’t complain if it weren’t nothing but senior citizens with lousy tips as your customers first thing in the morning.
“Sure,” you agree, sticking your toothbrush in your mouth to have your words mumbled, “if I’m not falling asleep on you by tonight.”
He chuckles to have you imagining his wide smile in your mind. “I think this idea will have you wide awake.”
His reassurance has your stomach twisting the entire shift at work. You try to take your mind off of it, and it becomes easier with busy tables, a few rude customers that somehow distract you with frustration, and your manager breathing down your neck, asking you to help check inventory before taking over another waiter's section and not even allowing you a proper break.
By the time you drag yourself home on tired legs and aching feet, he is waiting at your front door. Even if you are beyond exhausted and your head pounds with the day’s stresses, you’re happy to allow him in to record with him, knowing it will be your last night before Jenny is back in town, so you need all the time alone you can get.
“When do we even get paid for this?” you ask, watching him pop open the screen to the recorder as he leans against your dresser.
“I think Jaime says once a month,” he mumbles, clicking a few buttons on the camera to adjust settings. “You’re free to have the first check, if you want it.”
Frowning, you freeze with your hands gripping your white t-shirt with the diner’s name written in cursive over the front. “What? Really?”
“You need it more than I do.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal to him. “I can get my car fixed any time, but you can’t be late on rent and I know you took that money to pay for school.”
“Wow, thanks.” He smiles wide, noticing your genuine appreciation at his understanding. The sentiment has left you with a fluttering heart swelling to twice the size, nearly distracting you from what he is even here to do. “Let me shower, and then we can get started. Are you still not going to tell me your idea?”
His grin widens. “No, it’s a surprise.”
“Should I be worried?” Your brow furrows.
“I think you will enjoy it,” he assures you.
You’re less confident than him, but you ignore the thought for now to shower. The hot stream beating against your sore muscles manage to ease the tension just a bit, feeling a bit more relaxed, though even more tired, by the time you step onto the fluffy, pink floor mat. Attempting to not drip all over the bathroom floor, you dry yourself off as quick as you can manage before wrapping the towel around your body, tying up your hair once you make it to your bedroom and await on him to tell you what you’re in for.
“Our last video got a few more comments than before,” he tells you while rising from his position previously relaxed and comfortable over your bed. “I think people enjoy watching you get off while I guide you. So…”
“So?” Your brow hitches, listening to his every word as you drop the towel to the floor, noticing his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.
“If you’re okay with it,” he begins, reaching around you to grab two pillows from the bed to place on top of one another, all before guiding you to have a seat, “I wanted to film you, um, touching yourself and getting yourself off.”
The hesitation in the words fills you with warmth, heat flooding your face as you press your back to the pillows. “You think… people will like that?” Your own voice loses confidence, feeling the weight of his gaze until his eyes fall to the floor.
“I know they will,” he assures you, earning a heart beating twice as fast in your chest. But you only nod, biting your lip as he turns to grab your mask from the dresser. You allow your damp hair to fall around the white strap after adjusting the mask over your eyes, taking a deep breath only a second before he presses record after settling on the bed before you.
With a bitten lip, you attempt to hide the shy grin once the camera begins rolling. Even though you try to push your nerves aside, the thought of not only performing solo for viewers on an adult site, but him as well, has butterflies fluttering in your stomach as heat fills your entire body. But with embarrassment comes a new kind of thrill, causing you to part your legs as you tease your own nipples, lust filled eyes gazing into the lens.
“That’s it, baby,” he begins, his deepest, raspiest voice filling the receiver on the camera as he talks to you, “touch yourself for me.”
His choice of words has a surge of adrenaline rushing through you. It confirms your previous nerves of giving him quite the view, fingers pinching and pulling your nipples softly as your lips part and your head rolls to one side.
“Part your thighs for me,” he instructs, obeying him without question to give him and the camera a view of your slit, “let me see your pussy, baby.”
Your gaze focused on the camera switches to spot his eyes darkening as he speaks. Each sinful word is spoken with a strained tongue, groaning at the view between your parted thighs. Even though your insides shake with nerves, anticipation, and the thrill of him recording you, you gather up the courage to continue your show, hand lowering from your breast to slip between your legs to graze your mound. The touch sends a shiver down your spine the moment he groans at the sight, and you wonder if he is getting lost in the moment as well.
“Wet your fingers,” he guides you, causing the breath to catch in your throat, “and then play with that pretty cunt of yours.” Before you can move, your chest heaves and you gulp, his words affecting you with heat spreading from between your thighs to reach even your toes and fingertips. His words deepen, darkening with every syllable spoken as he guides you to have your core aching with the need to get off.
You follow his instructions, bringing two fingertips to your lips before easing them against your tongue. You play it up, wanting to show you’re just as into the moment, tongue swirling around the digits to coat them in your own saliva, and the camera captures it all.
“That’s so sexy, baby,” he groans, and the way his hand not holding the camera drops to the bulge beneath his jeans has you biting your lip when you pull your fingers away with a smack of your lips. “Tease yourself for me. Make yourself wet.”
His boldness leaves you shaking, sinful words spilling from his lips to guide you, but you obey the instructions. You aren’t sure if you’re performing more for the camera, or wanting to please him while noticing him palm himself through his jeans, but your fingers fall to your slit. In a slow, steady motion you drag your two fingers down your slit, reaching your entrance where your arousal begins to pool, then you move toward your clit. The sight earns a deep groan from him before he licks his lips, studying the way you tease yourself just like he instructed.
Your body is so hot, so flushed by the time you begin toying with your clit for him. Your fingers circle the swelling bud in the slowest of movements, biting your lip, batting your lashes, even allowing a few whimpers to build in your throat. For a few moments, you fall into the bliss of touching yourself, teasing your clit, putting on a show for him as the warmth builds from between your thighs. Then you dip your fingers to your entrance, gathering the juices that begin to drip, coating your own flesh before dragging the digits to your clit once again.
“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks, his deep, raspy voice filling you with red, hot desire. “Does it make you wet when I record you? Do you like being so naughty?”
You wonder where the peak in his confidence came from, but you don’t allow yourself much time to think it over before you’re biting harder on your bottom lip, only whimpering with a simple nod to answer the questions. Your fingers begin working faster, falling into a steady rhythm of pleasuring yourself as the moment takes hold.
“Show me how wet you’re getting.” The request has the warmth rising to your cheeks. “Stick your fingers in your cunt for me.”
You can’t help but to oblige, worked up, overwhelmed, obeying his every direction as your fingers lower to your slit. You ease them inside of you, only the sounds of your breaths and the digits pumping into your juices filling the room, finding yourself more aroused than you first imagined. The slick, wet sounds earn a heavy exhale from him, barely focusing on recording you while studying the way you pump your fingers in and out of yourself.
“That’s it.” The words release more breathless than the last. “Now, lick your fingers clean for me.”
He has you frozen for only a moment, wanting to make sure you heard him right. He stares at you with lidded eyes, parted lips, and desire in his gaze, waiting on you to follow his guidance. Taking a deep breath, you pull your fingers from your dripping entrance to bring the digits to your lips, staring him straight in the eyes while your tongue swipes over your skin to gather your juices. The view of you licking your fingers earns a deep, rugged groan, nostrils flaring as his breaths deepen, knowing the sight is getting to him.
“You’re such a dirty fucking girl,” he groans, peeling his grip from his rock hard cock to reach for you, brushing his palm against your inner thigh. “Can I touch you, baby?” To anyone else watching, it might seem odd of your boyfriend to ask, but you know he only wishes for you to remain comfortable, waiting for your whimper as you nod.
“P-Please.” Your legs part just a little more, leaning back a bit farther while awaiting his touch you have been so desperate for. In an instant, his thumb brushes over your slit, smearing the juices over your flesh, from your entrance to your clit, igniting the fire inside of you. Your hips roll against his motions, begging for more, whimpering so breathlessly it nearly goes unheard.
When he focuses his motions on your clit, performing slow, small circles with his thumb, your back arches over the pillows behind you, head rolling back while soft moans fall from your lips. You feel yourself dripping, body growing hotter with waves of heat and desire flooding you to every limb. The ache settles between your thighs, knowing you need release and wanting him to give it to you.
“Please,” you exhale, reaching to wrap shaky fingers around his wrist, “I-I wanna come.”
“I bet you do, baby.” His breathy chuckle sends a chill down your spine. “Do you want to do one more thing for me? I promise it will feel good.”
All you can do is nod, eager to please him, and so much more eager to get yourself off. He smirks, a fire igniting in his eyes that you notice a moment before he reaches behind you. Carefully, he grabs one of the pillows pressed against your back as you sit forward, only to fold it in half to press the bend between your legs.
“Wh-What do you…” You blink, gulping, aching, body burning hot from feeling the soft, cool pillow case against your swollen folds.
“Get on your knees,” he directs you with a gentle grip on your waist, allowing you to press your legs into the mattress as you rest against your knees. The pillow remains between your legs, brushing against your folds as you await his next command with your heart pounding harder each second that passes. “Move your hips. Ride the pillow until you come for me.”
For a moment, you only blink, making sure for the second time you heard him correctly. When you meet his gaze, his eyes darken, flickering with lust as a devious smirk spreads over his lips. Then you inhale, holding your breath, and you don’t release the air from your lungs until your hips begin rolling, grinding your core against the softness of the folded pillow. Your hands press forward to allow shaky fingers to grip the edge of the pillow, steadying yourself as the moans begin to spill from your lips.
“That’s it,” he encourages, pointing the camera down to capture your entire body. His other hand rises to cup your cheek, forcing your eyes to meet the lens while his thumb brushes against your lower lip. “Does it feel good?”
All you can do is nod, managing a quiet whimper before your eyes shut. Never did you think grinding yourself against your own pillow as he records you would bring you so close to the edge, your swollen clit caressing the fabric and your juices soaking the pillow case. But the tension begins to tighten, warmth swelling to every part of your body, from your curled toes, to your clenched fingers, and even your face, jaw finally slacking as he eases his thumb over your tongue and you begin sucking the digit without question.
“Come on, come for my baby,” he instructs you, following the deep, raspy words as your hips roll quicker and you press yourself harder against the pillow. “Let me see you make a mess on the pillow.”
The sinful words leave you trembling, whimpering with his thumb against your tongue. Shaking fingers grip the pillow tighter, feeling the tension coil before snapping, following his guidance and coming undone to create a mess between your thighs. Your body leans forward, quivering in the rise of your own pleasure, growing silent before gasping for air as the heatwave of pure bliss washes over you. Your hips slow in the wake of your orgasm, continuing to tremble, breaths heavy until your body eases against the bed.
He continues to record, capturing the messy, wet stain against your pillowcase, all before reaching to part your legs as you lay on your side. Two fingers brush over your dripping center, causing your body to tense and your legs to jerk from the sensitivity. He coats his flesh in your juices, sloppy sounds filling the room to signal just how worked up you had gotten, and just how hard you came, all before he finally makes his way to press the button on the camera to stop recording.
“Are you alright?” he asks as he makes his way over to your side, eyes scanning down your limp body, then back up to your heaving chest, your eyes shut tight, and he doesn’t miss the slight grin on your lips. “You did great, babe.” His hand presses to your back, and it takes a bit too long for you to catch your breath, nearly missing the newest pet name he calls you, and if you weren’t so spent, the fact that the camera isn’t rolling as he says such things would have your stomach flipping and heart fluttering.
“That was…” You take a deep breath, eyes opening to see him look down at you. “Wow. My legs are still tingling.” A tired giggle slips from your lips, earning a chuckle from him as he grips you by the arm to pull you closer to him.
“I knew you would like it,” he boasts, and the fact that he is right keeps you from smacking your lips or rolling your eyes. Your limp body manages to press against his, allowing him to soothe the after effects of your pleasure with small circles of his palm against your back, allowing you to relish in his care for a moment before he pulls away. “C’mon, I’ll help you get cleaned up.”
***
You’re thrilled to know he was right. From your last video getting twice as many views than the one before, along with an increase in paying customers and loyal viewers, it’s clear he has a knack for guiding you in your videos and you can only enjoy getting to feel the pleasures of each recording session you spend with him.
The two of you continue your amateur video adventure for weeks, planning times when your roommate isn’t home, and spending nights at his place when she is. You record an assortment of videos to watch the views increase each time Jaime uploads them for the two of you, capturing you giving him a handjob, the two of you fucking on a bathroom countertop, and even you riding him in his living room while keeping quiet so neither of you disturb Jaime’s slumber.
And it seems the two of you grow closer every time, more comfortable, finding every sliver of awkwardness gone and every doubt or insecurity erased. You kiss without mishaps of bumped noses, and you no longer shake in anticipation while hoping you don’t look silly or just plain crazy. The views and revenue rise just like your confidence, and it all puts your mind at ease while noticing the light at the end of the tunnel becoming brighter.
“How was work today?” he asks you in a whisper as you enter his apartment, slipping your shoes off at the door while you both try to keep your voices low.
Previous worries of stopping by too late after your shift ended well past your normal time diminished after he assured you he still wished to record no matter the time, only needing to keep quiet so you didn’t disturb a sleeping roommate. Your past attempts at doing such proved to be a success, so it was all the convincing you needed.
“I’m so… fucking… tired, and pissed,” you groan, plopping onto his bed as he watches and chuckles. “I am surprised I even had enough energy to walk over here.” Though the smell of his lingering body wash and shampoo fills your nose as you lay against the soft sheets, thinking how lovely it would be to just close your eyes and doze off. The dull lights from a nightstand lamp make it cozy enough, and the moment he rests beside you to brush his fingers over your face and push away loose strands of hair is the moment you deeply consider the idea of drifting off to sleep.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” you groan once again. The last thing you want to recall is lousy tips and customer after customer becoming rude, demanding, and wishing to have their orders sent back while blaming you for every last thing.
“We don’t have to record if you aren’t feeling up to it.” His touches drift from simple brushes to push away your hair to begin caressing your shoulder, coaxing a moan from your lips as the tension disappears from your body.
“It’s okay, I want to,” you tell him, voice softer than before thanks to him easing the anger and frustrations. “I might have to starfish it, but I want to.” A smile forms on your lips once you hear his soft chuckle in response.
“Fine,” he simply says, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead, causing you to grin wider before he whispers in your ear. “Then let me take care of you.”
While giggling, you allow him to help you from the bed to your feet. “Aw, my fake boyfriend is too good to me.” Then you consider the fact as he reaches for the masks you left on his nightstand the last time you recorded together. “Now that I think about it, you’re better than most of my previous real boyfriends.”
He grins while helping you adjust your mask over your face before tending to his own. “Only the best for my fake girlfriend.” Before you can come back with a witty reply, he turns to grab the tripod from the other side of the room, setting it up along with the camera at the end of the bed while you begin undressing yourself. You toss your too-big t-shirt to the floor before your shorts follow, waiting in your bra and panties on him to finish setting up and undressing. When he is down to his boxer briefs, he presses the button on the camera to begin recording, then makes his way toward you.
“Are you ready, baby?” His chest presses to your back, never hesitating to wrap arms around your body, but his affection, from his touches to his kisses to his words, have become so familiar at this point, you find yourself longing for him when you’re not together. You nod in response, resting your head against his shoulder while his hands begin to roam your body.
His lips fall to your exposed neck just as his hands cup your breasts. The smallest of whimpers slip from your mouth, eyes closing and even a grin forming over your lips from the way he takes care of you. It's as if the camera isn't even rolling, paying no more attention to the fact that the two of you are being recorded and only focusing on how he eases the tension from your body. The moment a single hand dips into your panties is when your mind completely drifts from the frustration and your body forgets to be exhausted. His fingers part your folds as his mouth brushes along the curve of your neck from behind. He is patient like he always is, taking his time to work you up until your breaths deepen and you hold back a whimper of his name.
When he pulls away from your breast, you reach behind to unclasp your bra for him, allowing it to slip to the floor while giving him better access to your erect nipples. As he teases between your thighs with steady, yet diligent fingers, he reaches again to cup your bare breast. Your chest pushes into his hold, asking for more, and when his fingertips brush over your nipple before he tugs and pinches in a careful motion, a soft moan spills from your lips.
“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispers into your ear, not bothering to wait on your reply before he swipes his tongue over your skin, then kisses the spot with soft lips. “Are you getting wet for me?”
From his fingers circling your clit to his hand palming your breast, all you can manage is a whimper before you bite down on your bottom lip. The arousal drips from your entrance to soil your panties, body flushing with heat as the moment takes hold of you. He accepts your noises of pleasure as confirmation he is keeping his promise of taking care of you, daring to venture farther as his fingers ease down your slit, causing your legs to spread wider. You're already squeezing your walls in anticipation as your thumbs hook into the straps of your panties, easing the flimsy fabric down your thighs to give him access.
The pads of his fingertips circle your entrance to coat his flesh in your forming arousal, earning a grip of your shaking hand around his wrist. Your jaw slacks and your brow wrinkles beneath the mask, heat rising to spread through your body due to his mouth on your neck, a palm over your chest, and his fingers pushing into you. The moment he pushes the digits in, your thighs press against his hand while a gasp slips from your lips. The overwhelming pleasure sends a surge of warmth to every inch of your body, starting between your thighs where he teases you by easing the fingers in and out, to reach your toes and fingertips.
“That feels so good,” you whimper, breathless with your eyes fluttering from the blissful pressure of him pushing his fingers inside of you. “I-I need you.” The desperation in your strained tone gives him the assurance he needs to go further. When he pulls his wet fingers from your walls, he brushes over your slit until he reaches your clit, circling a few times in a slow, steady motion to leave you gasping, then he pulls away from your body.
“Dammit,” he curses beneath his breath after he opens the drawer to his nightstand. You give him a curious, wide-eyed look over your shoulder when he turns to face you, not bothering to worry over the camera still recording thanks to Jaime being able to edit out any hang ups or issues. “I don't have any condoms here.”
Then the last time you were with him comes to kind, remembering telling him you would be in charge of bringing the condoms thanks to having a half-used pack at your place. You bite your lip, watching him rub the back of his neck with one hand while he grips his erection straining against his boxers with the other. Gulping, you think about what it would be like to be with him without condoms, feeling flesh against flesh and allowing him to fill you up fully for the first time. Heat washes over your face to fill your cheeks with embarrassment, finding a racing heart agreeing with the idea.
“We… don't need them,” you whisper, eyes falling to the floor.
He hesitates, before beginning to mumble, “Are-Are you sure?”
You thought the two of you had already gotten over the awkwardness, but experiencing something new with him has him stuttering while you become hot with embarrassment. Though, you trust him, and he has taken care of you while making you more comfortable than you ever imagined yourself with someone else, so the thought of trying something new also has your body aching, needing him and needing to feel him fill you up.
“I’m sure,” you say while turning to face him, gripping him by the hips to pull him closer, then gripping his boxer briefs to push the fabric down his legs. His hard, thick arousal springs free, causing you to lick your lips before tearing your gaze away to look into his eyes. “I want to. I… want you to come in me.”
He continues to stare for a moment, looking into your eyes to see the sincerity matching your words. Then he leans closer, connecting his lips with your own, holding you close with an arm wrapping around your back, and when you whimper against his skin from the comforting way he takes care of you, he deepens the kiss with a groan filling in his chest. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip as your hands press to his chest, feeling his flushed, hot body against your own to have the room spinning around you.
When you pull away from him, you turn to press knees and palms against the coolness of the sheets, curving your back a moment later to raise your ass for him. He can only groan at the sight of you bent over and spread open for him, and a chill rushes down your spine from being so exposed, and vulnerable, yet so comfortable in your own skin when you’re with him. He reaches for you a moment later, pressing a palm against your ass to spread your folds farther, gaining better access and a better view of your glistening slit.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers low enough you nearly miss the words, but they still affect you in the form of goosebumps and a fluttering heart. The warmth never leaves your body from the thrill of being with him as you feel the tip of his length press to your folds. Your eyes close, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he teases your slit with a groan, coating his flesh in your juices a few moments before he begins to ease inside of you.
The gasp that leaves your lips as he fills you up releases much louder than you anticipated while it drowns out the strained curses he spills, but you can’t be bothered with controlling your volume when you become dizzy from the pressure and the bliss of him inside of you. He enters you deeper than any other time thanks to the position, yet he allows you a moment to adjust to the sensation as his palms caress your hips and he repeats over and over how good it feels when you’re wrapped tight around him.
When you lean into him, fingers digging into the wrinkled sheets, he begins easing out of you, only to thrust inside of you with rising desperation. His grip on your hips tightens, repeating the motions to hear each and every whimper, every moan, and every cry that begins to pour from your lips. The sounds of skin against skin and your slick, messy wetness he pumps into fill the room, mixing with your noises of pleasure and his own groans until neither of you bother with keeping the sounds down.
“Faster,” you beg him in a breathless whimper, all before your teeth sink into your flesh, brow wrinkling, moans filling in your chest. “Please,” you gasp, and it only takes him a second to comply. The thrusts of his hips creates a loud smack, keeping a firm hold on your body to keep you in place and allow his cock to drive deeper inside of you.
The moment takes hold in a flood of heat rushing through your body, the bliss swelling to every inch as you tremble in his grasp. Your clit throbs for attention from feeling so full of his cock, only needing an extra push to reach your end, and as you become seconds away from slipping your hand between your thighs, he eases an arm around your body to scoop you closer, pulling your shoulders almost flush to his chest, back curved, and your ass pressed so tight against him.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans in your ear, having the proximately to tell you the dirty, nasty things on his mind right in your ear. His lips brush over your neck as his hips twitch against your ass, and your head falls back to give him access. “I love fucking you like this.” The deep, raspy tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, only being able to reply in whimpers the moment his other hand eases between your thighs. His fingers find your clit, never hesitating to press quick circles against the swollen, aching bud to have you crying out, begging him not to stop.
“I-I’m getting close,” you warn him, voice straining and struggling to speak from him leaving you so breathless, so worked up, and so close to the edge your mind grows hazy. “Please… don’t stop-” You gulp with a brief pause. “-it feels so good.”
His fingers quicken in pace and his cock hits deep within your walls with his hips pressed against you. His grip tightens around your body, fingers digging into your ribs and your hands fall to his arms to leave marks from your nails against his flesh. You can’t help but to cry out, curses and whimpers, overwhelmed from the pleasure, squeezing yourself so tight around him, feeling the tension tighten in your body as the warmth bubbles to take its place.
“God, I love feeling you like this,” he continues to whisper in his desperate, gruff voice, earning goosebumps on your quivering body.
“Don’t stop,” you beg him, voice cracking between the words. “I’m so close.”
“I love being with you like this,” he continues to admit in your ear, fingers never slowing as he groans between the words. “I love feeling you so close.”
“Fuck,” you cry out, body weakening with his every word, forgetting to keep his name off the camera as the moment consumes the both of you, flooded with bliss, and emotions, and neither of you worry over being recorded or playing pretend. “I-I’m c-coming,” you cry out one last time, body tensing as the pleasure swells and the heat of pure bliss takes hold, nearly missing his final confession in your ear just before toppling over the edge.
“I love this so much,” he groans between you gasping as the first wave of pleasure surges through you, “and I love you.”
Your body falls against the bed, hips rolling against him, becoming greedy in the moment as your fists clutch the sheets beneath you and you quiver in pure bliss. Your head spins from the warmth filling every inch of you and from the words whispered in your ear, and he grips your hips and continues his thrusting inside of you, fucking you through the pleasure until you’re crying out his name all over again. And he never slows, huffing and groaning and holding you tighter, until he reaches his own peak, releasing inside of you, filling you up, and coming down from the high of being with you before he collapses next to you.
You feel the aftershocks of his pleasure. Your legs feel too weak to move, knowing you shouldn’t even attempt to make your way to the bathroom to clean yourself. He catches his breath next to you, body glistening with sweat and when you lift your head to look at him, you notice his closed eyes and parted lips, finding your heart fluttering as the words he spoke race through your mind again and again. Gulping, you stare for a few seconds too long as your heart swells, trying to make sense of the things he said.
It’s just for the camera, you remind yourself as you pull your eyes away to remember you’re still being recorded.
The heat of the moment causes the both of you to do and say things you normally wouldn’t, you’re well aware, but the desperation in his tone, along the way he held you so tight as he whispered in your ear, has you tempted to admit to yourself, deep down inside, you wish his words were sincere.
The moment he catches his breath, he makes his way to the camera to end the recording. You bite your lip while watching him slip his underwear on, afraid to question him on the intention of his words in fear of making something strictly for the camera seem like a bigger deal than it is. It’s only for the camera. You tell yourself again and again, and maybe you’re scared of bringing it to his attention because you aren’t sure you’re ready for the answer if it was something more.
Regardless of the words or his meaning behind them, you ignore the way your chest feels significantly heavier as you stand from the bed, thighs clasped together to keep the mess he made from shifting, and grinning when he reaches for his t-shirt to tug over your head.
“C’mon,” he says with a nod of his head, taking you by the hand, “let’s shower.”
The two of you tiptoe to the bathroom without a word, keeping the noises to a minimum so Jaime isn’t disturbed. He turns on the water and you undress, and when the temperature is just right, he helps you step into the tub. He washes your hair and helps you clean up, and you allow him to spoil you with care for the moment as the exhaustion from work and his pleasure kicks back in. By the time you’re drying off, you admit to having a hard time keeping your eyes open, and with a chuckle, he realizes as much.
“You can sleep here,” he offers, and the heaviness worsens on your chest. The words he spoke, his care, his gentleness, and even paying attention to your mood and knowing you need rest, all weigh down on you to earn a confused heart beating twice as fast. And you’re not sure why he affects you so much without warning. Maybe it’s your situation of recording with him, or maybe it’s things you have always felt, but never noticed until he spoke those words. Or maybe it’s a mix of everything that has you giving in, too tired to question him, his words, or your own hopes of wanting it to be true, only falling asleep next to him as his arms find their way around you and you snuggle a bit closer to his chest for warmth.
***
When you get your first payment deposited into your account only a few days later, you quickly call him up to give him the good news. It gives you an excuse to call him after spending the night together and hearing his confession you’re still not sure his meaning behind. Being busy from work and him planning for Jaime’s birthday party has left neither of you time to record, and part of you is thankful you don’t have to feel the tension between the two of you from seeing his face and remembering the way he spoke those three words that have had you on edge ever since. Part of you misses his touch, his smile, and the way he holds you, and the biggest part of all still wants to admit how much you wish it all were real.
He doesn’t hesitate to share your excitement as you tell him your plans of putting a portion toward rent you owe Jenny, and the rest will be stored for your classes. His voice sounds tired, but excited, and it doesn’t take long for it to feel like it used to. Even if those taunting words pop in every now and then, you try your best to push the feelings aside thanks to just wanting to be near him again.
“We should celebrate!” you suggest. “Jenny will be out for the night, so bring a bottle of your cheapest, shittiest wine and come over.” He chuckles at the idea, knowing he will at least get a discount on the wine from the store he works at.
“Fine,” he agrees, and the sound of his voice has every ounce of tension in your body disappearing as you lay against your bed in your pajamas, “it’s a date.” Once again, you lack the courage to question his choice of words, quickly hanging up after telling him a rushed goodbye.
He shows up at your place after his shift at the grocery store a few hours later, giving you enough time to shower, dress, and put a bit more effort in applying makeup, spritzing your favorite perfume and wondering why you felt the urge to impress him. You open the door after a few knocks, noticing him with a bottle in his hand and his work’s red apron still tied around his neck.
With a grin, you shake your head at him forgetting to leave the apron at the store while trying to ignore the way your face fills with warmth due to him staring.
“I… brought the wine.” His smile widens as he lifts the cheap bottle of white wine in his hands. You step to the side to allow him to enter and close the door behind him before making your way to the kitchen. He is settled comfortably on the couch after taking off his apron by the time you scrounge through your cabinets for glasses neither Jennyor you have used since New Year's, as well as a corkscrew, returning to him to have a seat by his side.
“Fill ‘er up!” you tease, watching him struggle to pop the cork before tipping the bottle to fill both of your glasses. Then he pops the cork back in to set the wine on the coffee table, grabbing his glass and raising it to cheers. Giggling, you clink your glass to his, feeling far too fancy as you take a sip of the wine as the cheap, bland taste hits your tongue. “Wow, you spared no expense.”
He frowns, pretending to be offended. “You said buy the cheapest wine!”
“And the shittiest,” you giggle. “You really nailed it.”
He takes another sip of his drink before sighing, setting his glass against the coffee table. “It's fitting for what we are celebrating,” he jokes, earning a shove against his shoulder.
Though, he isn't wrong. The entire situation has seemed a bit absurd since the moment you propositioned him. When you stop to think about it, even in the moment it seems unbelievable. “I really can't believe we are getting paid for this,” you admit, before taking a much larger sip of your wine, wanting to feel the carefree effects before the reality of it all truly sets in. “Isn't it odd to think about, about two months ago, you were hungry and I was pissed about my job. Now we get money to have orgasms… as promised.”
He chuckles with a shake of his head. “I have to admit, I am surprised we even gained interest in the first place.”
“Please,” you huff, “I assumed no one would want to watch us. I had my fears of failing miserably from the beginning. Or I would end up looking stupid and become some internet joke that's passed around on those troll websites.”
“Well, clearly you have never read the comments under our videos.” He snickers while pulling his phone from his pocket, earning a furrowed brow and slacked jaw from you.
“Read comments?” you groan. “I don't think I could ever even watch the videos.” While thumbing through his phone, he sports a wide grin, one that has your heart racing because you know what's coming next.
”So, you're never curious? Of how the videos turn out?” His eyes flick up to meet your gaze, a spark igniting within that sends a rush of heat through you.
“Well… sometimes, but I couldn't bear to see myself.” Your face twists in disgust, earning laughter in return. “Ugh, even hearing myself on camera moaning or even just talking. I probably sound ridiculous.”
“You could never sound ridiculous,” he is quick to correct you, the smile fading from his lips and you note the sincerity in his tone. “Look, even this comment says how sexy you sound.” He turns the phone your way, giving you a glimpse of the thumbnail on the screen and beneath, in white text, a comment babbling about how “hot” the two of you are together.
“Ew! No!” Turning away, you shield your eyes with one hand, but you peek between your fingers to spot his smirk. The other hand grips the wine glass tighter, all before raising it to your lip to take a swig. If the heat from embarrassment wasn't getting to you, the alcohol surely begins to. “I'll be traumatized if I look at it!”
Though you're only half joking, he gets the hint before turning his phone away from you. “Fine,” he admits defeat of you not wanting to look for yourself. “Then I will read some comments to you.”
“No!” you protest without hesitation, but can't help but to giggle. “No, that's just as bad.”
“Aw, c’mon!” Quiet laughter slips from his lips as he scrolls through the comments, and all you can do is brace yourself with finishing off your last gulp in your glass. “This one mentions you having a nice ass. And this one compliments you on the way you ride my-”
“Stop!” you squeak, reaching to snatch the phone from his hands while attempting not to drop your glass. “I can't hear anymore of those ridiculous comments!” You giggle through each word while setting your glass against the coffee table before it’s dropped to the floor, and he bursts with laughter right along with you.
“I have to say I agree with them.”
“Oh, God, shut up!” You turn away from him before he can notice the way your face twists in embarrassment, heat filling your cheeks while trying to hold back your giggles.
“Especially the one about your lips and how sexy they are.”
Your gaze shifts back to him in a matter of seconds. There's no sign of a smile on his face, no hint of joking any longer. Your heart flutters and your chest swells hearing him say the words, gulping before gathering the courage to reply.
“You… think so?” Blinking, you watch his lips curl in a soft grin, a bit more shy than before as his eyes fall to his lip.
“You have the softest lips I've ever kissed,” he admits, and you feel as if your heart will jump right out of your chest. “It's not like I haven't thought about kissing them before.”
“Excuse me… what?” Your jaw slacks, finding it hard to breathe while making sure you heard him correctly. “You… you have?”
The moment his hand rises to cup your cheek, feeling the warmth against your skin as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, blood rushes to your head. From his touch, and the way he stares at you with soft eyes, your heart flutters in your chest, all before beating twice as fast and swelling to what feels like double the size. All he can do is nod, and smirk, and chuckle a breathy release in a fit of shy nerves before he leans toward you. As if the world stops, the only thing you focus on is the way his eyes close seconds before your own follow suit, and a moment later he presses his lips to your skin, confirming his words with the softest, sweetest kiss that has you buzzing with nerves and a pure rush of affection for him.
When he fails to pull away, only deepening the kiss as he leans closer, you grip him with a fistful of his t-shirt. A whimper against his skin and your breath ghosting over his cheek has him groaning, savoring the feel of your lips he swears are so soft, so sweet, and so delicate against his skin. A moment later his body presses to your own when you tug his t-shirt to bring him in. The kiss is electric, igniting the desire in you as a hand becomes lost with fingers entangling in his hair and his touches fall to your thighs.
Before either of you can come to your senses, he’s between your legs and your back is flat against the couch. The effects of the kiss press hard between your thighs, feeling his arousal forming as his hips roll against your body, earning another whimper until his lips are lowering down your jaw.
He groans from the taste of you, the feel of your skin, and the noises you release. The desperate way you grab him, with nails leaving marks and your hips rising to meet his motions, have him lost in the moment, groaning once his mouth finds your neck. You lose yourself to him, in your own little world thanks to his words, his touches, his lips and his hands, forgetting that this is your best friend that is kissing you, teasing you, making you whimper. You forget it all, and you forget it was never supposed to go this far - it was only business, a simple way to get money.
The realization dawns on you, and as much as you hate yourself for it, you finally open your eyes as you begin to speak. “W-wait… the camera.” The words are strained as they fill his ears, and no matter how much you want it to be real, the fear of finding out the truth has you cowering away from finding out. “We-we don't have the camera.”
Finally, he hears you, pulling away a moment later with swollen, red lips and fire in his eyes. He gulps, and huffs, and he remains a bit breathless as he stares down at you.
“The camera,” he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, then crawling away to fall back against the couch, “right.”
“We, uh,” you begin mumbling, adjusting your shirt and taking fingers through your hair as you sit straight up, “we left it at your place last time.”
“Yeah,” he says beneath his breath, running fingers through his hair and making it painfully obvious he is avoiding even glancing your way, “yeah, we did.”
“We could…” Rolling your eyes up, you hum in thought. “Record tomorrow? Jenny will be here, so if your place-”
“Nah, not gonna work,” he turns down your idea, shaking his head. “Jaime has friends staying over that are in town for his birthday. My place is no good for a week.”
All you can do is bite your lip while noticing his dry tone. Maybe it's disappointment or maybe the reality of what almost happened is weighing down on him just as hard. You assume the latter when he stands from the couch, grabbing his apron he tossed aside earlier before he begins mumbling.
“I should get going, got an early shift tomorrow.”
You only nod, rising to your feet while attempting to ignore the way the heaviness from uncertainty turns into regret. And maybe a bit of guilt, as well as longing. If you are honest with yourself, you would admit to not wanting to stop him. But you also have to admit the reasons why, and it's not something you're ready to come to terms with yourself.
So you smile, and you say goodnight, and you watch him bounce down the steps of your front porch before finally releasing the breath you had been holding just to keep yourself from asking him to stay.
***
He can tell from Jaime’s furrowed brow and pursed lips something isn’t quite right. He assumes his younger roommate will be thrilled for his birthday party in the evening, and he worked a little too hard setting up food, drinks, and even going out of his way to place a banner and some balloons. But when he enters Jaime’s room to find him settled at his desk with his eyes trained on the screen of his laptop, he gulps before exhaling.
“Everything alright?” he asks, and normally his voice wouldn’t threaten to tremble if he was staring so hard at his computer, assuming without a doubt it has to be something related to the videos he and you record. Was there an issue with the last video? Did it not do as well? Did Jaime even manage to upload it? A million questions race through his mind as Jaime remains silent. “We only have a few hours before your other friends arrive. They should be back soon with the cups we forgot to pick up.”
“Yeah, I’ll be done by then.” Jaime clicks a few buttons on the mouse before finally tearing his gaze away, meeting his eyes as a slight smirk forms on his lips.
“Done?” He clears his throat, eyes falling to the floor while his arms cross over his chest. “Is it… the last video we recorded?”
Jaime nods, humming an “mhm” and his heart beats twice as fast due to his roommate. Once again his mind begins racing with the possibilities of what could have gone wrong, but Jaime continues before he has a chance to become too carried away.
”I noticed something,” is all Jaime says, and he swears his heart will leap out of his chest. He rubs the back of his neck, beginning to stammer while thinking of excuses, but Jaime cuts him off. “Actually, I’ve noticed a few things different, from your first video to your last.”
“Okay?” He eyes him, wondering why he is beating around the bush and won’t just come out with it. “What’s the problem? Is it not worth uploading?”
“Nothing like that,” Jaime tells his roommate, leaning back in his chair with his fingers intertwined over his stomach. “It’s just… the two of you. You have become… closer?” It’s clear Jaime chooses his words carefully, but it does nothing for your best friend’s racing heart and the heat that fills his body.
“I guess… yeah. It’s become easier to record. It was awkward as hell as first.” A hesitant chuckle slips from his lips, hand rising to rub the back of his neck, but Jaime’s eyes narrow.
“Easier to record?” His roommate’s smirk widens, and he tries to ignore the lump in his throat. “Is that your excuse?”
“What?” He frowns, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“God,” Jaime groans with a roll of his eyes, “you told her you loved her. Love! Don’t think I didn’t hear it because I did.”
“And?” His tone deepens, darkens, falling into defense mode with his brows wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. “It was just for the camera. This whole thing has been for the camera, pretending we’re a couple, pretending we’re in love.”
“Pretending?” Jaime snorts. “Okay, sure, whatever.” His roommate turns away from him, clicking the buttons on his keyboard to close out of the video he had been editing. Meanwhile the steam begins to pour from his ears thanks to his roommate questioning him.
“You don’t believe me?” And he doesn’t drop the subject, feeling as if he has something to prove as he steps closer, and Jaime rises to his feet. “Why would I lie?”
“I’m not saying you’re lying. dude.” Jaime’s voice lowers, softening with the words before he sighs. “But there’s no faking what I saw. It’s clear how much you care about her, you have shown it more as the videos progressed and, fuck, I just wanted to give you shit you about it because I thought it was clear. I didn’t know you would get so pissed off. My bad.”
With that, Jaime raises his hands in defeat before pushing past. And all he can do is allow the words to sink in, wondering how it could be so obvious when he has done such a good job of denying the facts to himself the entire time.
***
With one simple text, you realize he isn’t in the best mood. Which is unfortunate for you since it’s the night of Jaime’s birthday party, where you know no one but him and his roommate, and you already promised to attend. When he begins to reply with the shortest of answers to your questions asking what time you should leave, if he needs you to bring anything, and even sending him pictures of possible outfits, you’re aware something is bothering him. Thanks to the two of you being friends for so long, it’s easy to notice when he isn’t himself, and though you want to find out what’s bugging him and possibly fix whatever that may be, you already know it’s going to be difficult with so many people around all night.
Maybe if I get him alone I can see what’s bothering him, you think to yourself, taking a final glance in the mirror at your hair, your makeup, and the black halter dress you adorn to make sure everything is in its place to head to his apartment. Maybe he will like the dress. You giggle to yourself at the thought, finding butterflies fluttering in your stomach picturing his expression when he sees you. You hope your presence will put him in a better mood. The last thing you want is for your best friend to be down in the dumps during a party, so as you head out of the door after slipping on your heels, you make it your mission to figure out what is bothering him, if only to cheer him up and get him in the mood to party.
You send him a final text to tell him you’re on your way, debating on whether to send him another picture of the dress you picked out, but you decide to let it be a surprise, sticking your phone back in your clutch as you make your way down the streets. In your mind, you can already picture seeing his face light up at the sight of you. At least, your mind hopes that is the reaction you receive, and you can’t deny the way your heart flutters from getting to see him again.
Even if the two of you left things in an awkward state from the last time he was at your place, finding yourselves kissing, touching, and holding one another without even thinking of missing the camera, the situation has you admitting how much you need to see him, how much you miss him, and how much you desire to feel his touch once again. Though it’s hard to understand exactly how you feel, and it’s hard to make sense of the signs he gives, you can no longer deny there being something between the two of you. It’s frightening, yet thrilling, and it sends a rush of butterflies and jittering nerves through your body whenever you think of it.
The bass from the music playing in his apartment can be heard as soon as you step into the hall. A grin forms on your lips, hoping the neighbors won’t call to report the disturbance as you knock twice on the door. A few seconds pass before the music pours into the hall, coming face to face with a grinning Jaime, red eyes half-lidded and you wonder how much he has already had to drink even before the party started.
“Hey!” he nearly yells, gripping you by the shoulder to pull you inside before the door slams behind you. “Come in, come in! Do you want a drink? Food? A round of beer pong?”
Your face scrunches at the thought of downing beer everyone’s fingers have dipped into, so you shake your head in an instant while giggling at his slurred words. He must be terrible at the game, you think, but you keep your comments to yourself. “I’m fine, thanks,” you tell him with a polite smile just as his friends begin calling him back to the table lined with red cups of beer set up in the cramped living room. “Hey, where’s…?” You scan the room as the words fade, spotting too many unfamiliar faces, mostly boys with a few girls between them, but no signs of your best friend.
“Uh,” Jaime begins, eyes squinting as he scratches his head, “I think he might be on the balcony.” Jaime offers one last, wide grin before making his way back to his friends, joining in with the game, and the cheering, yelling, and trash talk.
You can’t help but to grin at the sight before pushing between the small crowd of college kids. Once you push back the curtains to slide the glass door to the balcony open, the cool night’s air hits your skin, giving you a break from the heat of the apartment with the crowded, tipsy bodies. But the break lasts only a moment before you spot your best friend leaning against the wall that separates the balconies from next door, eyes focused on the girl in front of him pressed against the railing.
You frown without realization, and once both sets of eyes turn to gaze at you, you force a smile even though the sight sends a bitter chill of jealousy down your spine. He takes one look at you, from your head, to your toes, and then back again, licking his lips before offering a single nod as if you were any of the other friends inside.
“Hey, you made it,” is all he says, feeling the weight of both of their stares on you. The chilly air does nothing to stop the warmth from spreading to your face, insides shaking and you shouldn’t have such a reaction to seeing him with someone else, and you aren’t sure why you even care, but the situation has you mumbling, and stuttering, and debating whether to turn around and pretend as if you never saw him.
“Yeah, I… did you not get my message?” You glance between the two of them, trying not to notice her sparkling, wide eyes beneath dark shadow and thick liner, her dimple that shows when her lips turn in a nervous grin, her smooth skin, or the dress she wears that offers the right amount of cleavage. She’s cute, you think, totally his type. Your eyes turn to him before the weight of jealousy, so heavy and angry bubbling in your chest, weighs down too hard on you in the moment.
“Oh, I haven’t paid much attention to my phone,” is his excuse, and you couldn’t be more relieved you decided not to send him that picture of your dress. With hesitation, you wait to see if he is going to introduce you to his new friend, but after a few moments, you realize he doesn’t see the point in bothering. His hand rises to the back of his neck, and the girl folds her arms over her chest as she looks between the two of you. “Well, there’s drinks and food inside if you want it. Jaime can help if you ask.”
Clearly you’re not wanted. The realization settles in the pit of your stomach with a heavy weight, allowing you to see you’re being dismissed as if you were a child. All of your excitement disappears in a flash, once so eager to find him, cheer him up with whatever was bothering him, and even guess his reaction to seeing the dress you picked out, hoping he would like it. Now you understand the reason he had been so short. It’s evident in the way he brushes you off he feels none of the things you have felt, and neither of you are on the same page.
Without a word, you nod, purse your lips, and head inside, leaving the two on the balcony to do whatever they had been doing before you barged in. The music, the laughter, and the cheers flood your ears as you push through the crowd, but it sounds dull in comparison to the thoughts racing through your mind. How could you be so oblivious? How could you think he actually felt something for you?
You should have left it at believing it was all for the camera, cursing yourself beneath your breath at the thought as you step into the kitchen to get away from any peering eyes or anyone watching to see you biting down on your lip while searching the fridge for a bottle of water. You chug half the bottle in a matter of seconds in hopes of cooling off, feeling hot, worked up, and finding anger filling your chest in waves of heat coursing through you, so embarrassed in yourself for thinking there was something between the two of you.
“Hey, you okay?” A voice fills the kitchen, taking you by surprise and nearly causing you to jump out of your skin. You turn to see Jaime’s grinning face as he makes his way to the trays of appetizers spread out over the small space on the kitchen counters, popping something in his mouth before you can even realize what he is eating. “Thirsty? Want me to mix you a drink?”
Raising your hand in protest, you shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”
His bottom lip protrudes as he steps closer. “Aw, c’mon, you’re no fun,” he teases, and in the moment it at least distracts you from hating yourself so much. “How about a round of beer pong?”
“Please,” you snicker, “I would be terrible at that.”
“Then come watch me play.” He’s already grabbing your wrist and pulling you along before finishing his plea. “You can cheer me on. It will be fun.”
“Says who?” you ask, giggling and allowing him to pull you into the living room where a few extra bodies have joined the party. “Plus, you’re already too drunk to even be any good.” Your words drown out by the end of the sentence as Jaime makes room for you on the sofa next to him, awaiting his turn.
You’re thankful for the distraction, at least. Jaime cheers for one of his friends, assuming they are teammates, and even though you wish him and your best friend weren’t the only ones you knew at the party, after a while you’re grinning at the sight of the enthusiastic players. Jaime takes his turn, and fails miserably by missing all the cups, to which his teammate feigns anger in the moment for the sake of putting on a show. Jaime can only giggle, and he ends up having to down another cup once the opposing team takes their turn.
Then he settles next to you once again, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed as he nudges your arm and grins. “Are you sure you don’t want to play?” he asks once again, earning a shake of your head and a giggle thanks to his drunken persistence. Maybe he feels sorry that it’s obvious you’re an outcast in this situation, or maybe he is being nicer than normal thanks to getting to watch the videos you record, but it’s something, and you find yourself not minding either way. At least he makes you feel welcome, you think, and it’s more than you can say for your best friend in the moment.
Then your eyes scan the room, wondering where he ended up. Not that you should care. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, but you’re only lying when you try to convince yourself it’s no big deal as you spot him in the corner of the room, his arm linked around the girl’s waist and her hands pressed to his chest. He smiles down at her as the two talk. She giggles at him in return, causing your chest to feel as if it will cave in on itself at the sight.
Jaime begins mumbling something in your ear, but the words drown out with the music and the conversations as you stare with wide eyes at the couple in the corner. You bite your lip to keep your mouth from falling open, stomach hardening as a lump grows in your throat at watching the two together, and though you have no right to react in such a way, the jealousy creeps up your spine the longer you stare, turning your hatred for yourself into red, hot anger for your best friend.
The moment he catches your gaze is when you finally turn away to mutter an excuse to leave. You rise to your feet, feeling your legs become weaker than you want in the moment before you rush down the hall and into the bathroom to get away from the party. With a click of the door, the music turns into nothing but bass vibrating the walls and the voices lowering to muffles.
You finally take a deep breath, back pressed to the door as your eyes flutter closed, grasping the clutch in your hands with a tight, yet shaking grip. As the air spills from your lungs in an unsteady exhale, you step toward the sink, pressing your palms against the counter with your head lowered and your bottom lip trembling.
You won’t cry over him, you tell yourself. You scream it again and again in your mind. There’s no reason to. You try to sound convincing even in your thoughts, but the heaviness in your chest contradicts what you tell yourself. You’re not together. It’s only business. It’s only sex.
So why do you feel as if your heart is shattering? Why does seeing him with someone else have your stomach twisting and your knees weak? And why do you feel ashamed and stupid, embarrassed for actually convincing yourself it was okay to feel this way about your best friend?
You gulp and close your eyes before the tears can begin to build. Then you take a few breaths, inhaling deeply, slowly exhaling, steadying your trembling bottom lip, slowing your heartbeat, and keeping your twisting stomach from turning into nausea even though the situation weighs down on your chest and you can’t get the image of him with someone else out of your head.
You aren’t sure how long you are in that bathroom before there’s a light knock on the door. The thought of texting Jenny to pick you up from the party crossed your mind just as the sound of someone’s knuckles fill the bathroom to pull you from your thoughts, wishing only to sneak out unnoticed. If you’re going to cry, you might as well do it in the comfort of your own bed sheets and pajamas.
With a glance in the mirror, you make sure you don’t look as if you were about to have an emotional breakdown before reaching for the door. When you answer the knocks, you come face to face with him seconds before his eyes fall to floor. The heat washes over you again, except now it’s not in anger. Now it’s a mix of desire, watching him rub the back of his neck with one hand before noticing his bitten lip. Now it’s the need you have felt for him, mixed with the overwhelming emotions of trying to understand your own feelings, his feelings, and whatever is going on between the two of you.
“S-Sorry,” you sutter, head falling slack, “I was just leaving.”
When you try to push past him, his hands grip your waist, guiding you back into the bathroom before he shuts the door behind the two of you. You gasp in surprise, body pressed against the sink and his palms rest against the counter behind you. He comes dangerously close, lips an inch from your own and you even smell the hint of alcohol on him. Though he’s not drunk, noticing his eyes trained on you, but they're not red, or glossy, and his face remains unflushed and you wonder how being so close doesn’t affect him in the same way it does you.
You gulp once again, body so hot and it feels as if the tiny bathroom shrinks around the two of you. The weight of his gaze has your knees threatening to buckle, wishing you didn’t yearn for him so badly, wondering how you got to this point. Why does your body crave his affection? Why do you miss his tender kisses and soft, caring words so much? Why does your heart ache so painfully for him?
“You look beautiful, baby,” he whispers, deep, and raspy, as he runs the knuckle of his index finger of your cheek.
And even though his words send your heart fluttering, you push him away with two palms against his chest. “Stop,” you tell him with a shake of your head, “don’t call me that.”
“What?” He chuckles, and it’s then you realize you missed his laugh, too. “I can’t call you beautiful, or baby?”
“Neither.” There’s a pout to the words, which makes him grin, but you find the situation anything but funny. “And you could have fucking fooled me.”
“What do you mean?” He takes a step back, frowning, and it causes you to huff and narrow your eyes.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know how you treated me in front of that girl.” With a roll of your eyes, your arms cross over your chest. “And where is she, anyway? Shouldn’t you be getting back to her?”
He shakes his head with a raise of one hand to dismiss your question. “She’s not important,” he tells you, then he steps closer. He erases the gap between the two of you, reaching to press his thumb to your chin to cause you to look into his eyes. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
For a moment, you believe him. The deep whisper of the words fills you with a different kind of heat, rushing from between your thighs to the rest of your body and you consider giving in to him. With how you long for his touch, it would be so easy to forget the situation earlier if you can have him now, no longer picturing him with another girl to render you into an ugly, green monster. No longer feeling your knees weak and chest heavy with heartache, it would be easy to allow him to kiss you to feed your body the affection you crave from him.
But you simply turn your head away from him, allowing his hand to fall from your face and a sigh to slip from his lips.
“You’re just tipsy, you don’t really want to kiss me.”
“I’m not even tipsy,” he chuckles with a shake of his shoulders. “And all I have been thinking about for the last few days is how much I want to kiss you.”
“Don’t.” Your eyes flick toward him in a piercing gaze. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. Don’t do that to me right now. It’s not funny and there’s no camera recording us, so there’s no point.”
And he leans close once again, hand reaching to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. “Why would you think I don’t mean it?”
It’s hard to resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Because you’re here with another girl.”
“She doesn’t matter to me. She’s out there flirting with someone else as we speak.”
You nibble on your bottom lip, wishing it wasn’t so easy to believe what he says. Then you take a deep breath, eyes falling and brow wrinkling as you speak. “And do I matter to you?” The courage to look him in his eye returns a few seconds later, wanting to know the truth, and wishing you didn’t have to wonder about the feelings the two of you share. “Does this, whatever is going on between us, matter to you?”
His lips part, and you assume he’s going to reply in an instant, as if he already knows the answer and he has been eager to tell you. But then his mouth closes, and he releases a heavy breath through his nose. Once his eyes lower to your mouth, he licks his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue, leaving his jaw slacked before he whispers his next words.
“Can I kiss you?” And the request has the butterflies returning, warmth filling every inch of your face and you wish more than anything it was easier to deny him.
But all you do is nod before your eyes fall shut, lips parting to brace for his skin against your own and when he presses into you, your body grows weak against him. His hands grip your waist to hold you close, lips colliding with lips and skin flushed against skin as you whimper into the kiss. God, did you miss the feel of him, holding you, kissing you, and it’s a feeling you swear you’ll cherish for the moment if you can’t have it forever. Your palms press to the broad expanse of his chest, fingers tightening seconds later to grip a fistful of his t-shirt and his muscles tense beneath your touch a moment after.
“God, you’re incredible,” he gasps the second he pulls away, the gruff way he speaks the words from swollen, red lips sending a shiver down your spine. Then he kisses you again, desperation in the motion with trembling lips and a groan filling in his chest. The noise vibrates against your fists, earning a wave of heat washing over you, pure desire racing through you as an ache settles between your thighs. His breaths deepen as each exhale ghosts over your skin, the two of you already so hot, so worked up that it’s clear the distance between the two of you since the night he left your place, having left so much unsaid, has taken its toll on you both.
You whimper his name the moment his lips trail down to your jaw. His kisses are quick and desperate, yet full of the affection you crave, the softness you miss, and the desire you once wondered if he felt the same as you.
“I need you,” he groans, so deep, so raspy, and so full of desperation it resonates deep within your core. His fingers dance beneath the hem of your dress, brushing over your thighs to earn a whimper slipping through a bitten lip from you. His tongue traces the curve of your neck, tasting your skin and you give him better access to your body the moment you tilt your head away from him.
“You’ve been drinking,” you tell him in an attempt to coax the honesty from his lips. Did he only say such things in the heat of the moment? Does he want you with or without the alcohol, or is he saying the things you want to hear? The questions race through your mind one after another, confusion mixing with doubt that fights with the hope that he means what he says.
“Only a little,” he corrects you, insisting it’s not because of the alcohol that his need to have you grows with each second.
“Your girlfriend is waiting for you out there,” you taunt him with a bite to your tone just as his teeth nip your flesh, seeing how far he is willing to go, either continuing with playing pretend so well it nearly hurts, or actually being honest in that you mean more to him than he lets on.
“Don’t be like that, you know she’s not my girlfriend,” he groans, irritation in the words and you’re not sure if it’s from the statement you made or only due to how much he wants you. “I only care about you. I only want you.”
And even though there is confusion in your heart and hesitation in your motions, you finally give in to him. Your hand lowers, fingers skimming down his stomach before a palm presses to the bulge in his jeans, and the action has him groaning from surprise in return. Pulling away from your neck, his lips collide with your own once again, passion and pure need in his every motion, dying to have you just as much as you have needed him.
When his hands push the hem of your skirt higher, he wastes no time hooking his two thumbs into the band of your panties, beginning to push the thin fabric down your thighs until you assist him in peeling them off your legs. Once your panties pool around your heels, you kick them to the side seconds before he grips your thighs, lifting your body onto the sink with your dress bunched around your waist.
There’s a knock on the door by the time you begin plucking at the button to his jeans, but the sound drowns out between groans and whimpers and the sound of a zipper being yanked down in desperation. He struggles with pushing his jeans and briefs down, uncovering his cock the moment he gathers enough coordination, and the sight only causes you to spread your legs wider for him.
You whisper his name, too afraid of the tremble in your own voice if you speak any louder. “Touch me.” Wrapping your fingers around his wrist in an unsteady grip, you pull him closer, guiding his hand between your thighs. A gasp fills the small bathroom the moment his fingers brush over your folds, easing his touches down your slit and back up, finding your clit a moment later with his thumb to give you what you need.
The heavy breaths between the two of you are the only sounds heard other than the muffled voices and bass from the music on the other side of the door. The moment he lowers his touch to your entrance, another gasp spills from your lips, causing your teeth to sink into your flesh to keep the noises low. He circles your entrance, gathering the arousal that begins to form as a surge of heat rushes through your body from between your thighs.
Once he eases a single finger inside your walls, all hope is lost for remaining quiet. A whimper slips from your lips louder than you anticipated, head rolling back and jaw slacking. You reach for him to keep a grip on reality, nails digging into him before you gather fistfuls of his t-shirt at his shoulders. Easing his finger in and out of you, he warms you up, hotter than you already were for him, soaking his flesh in your arousal as you clench around him. When he adds another digit, your thighs threaten to close around him, but he steps forward to keep your knees parted with his own hips.
His mouth meets your neck as he buries his two fingers deep within you. He curls them, drawing out quiet whimpers and moans, curses beneath your breath, and a moment later you begin rocking your hips against his hand. Your juices spill onto his skin, getting lost in the moment and no longer caring about the noises you make, or how pathetic you look rutting against him in desperation.
A disappointed whimper escapes your lips the moment he pulls away. Your body aches for him, and each second that passes without feeling him close feels like torture. Your legs widen as he grips his length seconds before brushing the head of his cock against your folds. The sensation earns a bitten lip, furrowed brow, and hips maneuvering to feel more of him, quickly becoming greedy.
With a palm against your waist as the other holds himself steady, he aligns the tip with your entrance, and you take a deep breath before he eases himself inside of you. In an instant, your head begins to spin. The noises drown out around you, so lost in the moment with him as he thrusts himself deep inside of you. Your body remains hot, bliss filling every inch as soon as you adjust to him filling you up, and as soon as you rock your hips to let him know you need more, he pulls out of your walls only to thrust inside of you once again.
The second time is quicker, much more desperate, earning a sudden gasp from you filling the bathroom as a groan builds in his chest. He grips you by the hips with both hands now, tightening his fingers against your skin as he repeats the motion to have you squeezing yourself around him. The sounds of him pumping into your slick, wet arousal becomes louder the quicker he thrusts into you, zoning out the rest of the party to give you the pleasure you had been so desperate for.
“You feel so fucking good,” he mumbles between kisses against your lips, and it causes you to hold tight against him with your eyes closed and your jaw slacked. “God, I missed you.”
With each word, your heart thumps faster against your chest until it rises to your throat, wondering if he means what he says or he is only lost in the moment, just like you. The pleasure he offers gives you only a second to consider the thought before you whimper his name once again, so full of him, so overwhelmed with bliss. He thrusts into you harder, faster, the greed overtaking him as he grunts, and huffs, and groans from feeling you tightening yourself around him.
“Touch yourself, baby,” he guides you with a strained voice, forehead pressing to your own just as your hand falls from his shoulder. You listen to the words, fingers finding your clit in a seconds to begin pleasuring yourself, bringing yourself closer to the edge as the world around you shrinks and the bliss surges through your body in waves of electric heat. The addition of your fingers against your clit offers pressure building between your thighs, cursing beneath your breath to mix with his groans from the way he buries his cock so deep inside of you, over and over, drawing out the gasps and the whimpers and even his name from your lips.
There’s another knock on the door. It’s louder than before, more urgent, and only has him hesitating for a moment before you tell him not to stop. “Please,” you beg him, voice breathless, face hot with a sheen of sweat on your neck, “it feels so good. I’m so close.”
He has no issues ignoring the sounds from the other side of the door, thankful he twisted the lock when entering. His hips begin to pump faster, thrusting his cock deeper, and in return your fingers quicken, caressing circles into your flesh to leave you gaping with your head rolled back.
“Come for me, baby,” he encourages, grip on your waist tightening, lips pressing to your skin between words. “Come on my cock.” The choice words send a shiver down your spine as the heat bubbles between your thighs. The tension is thick and the pressure doubles to leave you trembling against him.
“Fuck, it feels so good,” you whine, brow creased, nails of the other hand digging into his shirt to leave marks against his skin. The words earn his hips thrusting quicker, sporadic and wild. The noises of your skin against his fill the bathroom, mixing with the sounds of him entering you, mixing with your moans and his groans, and all of it has you dangerously close to the fragile line of coming undone. “Fuck…” Your voice fades in a harsh gulp, trembling beneath the waves of heat as the bliss bubbles and you squeeze yourself so tight around him.
“You’re so amazing,” he whispers in a single breath, “so beautiful.”
And the words bring you that much closer to the edge. You gasp his name, overwhelmed with bliss his offers, the emotions that drive you, the confusion that leaves your heart pounding, and as the heat rises and begins to surge to every inch of your body, you can’t stop the spill of words that has been on the tip of your tongue since you first heard the same from him. “I-I love you… I…”
The first wave of pure pleasure washes over you, swallowing the words with a burst of warmth as the tension uncoils. Your hips rock against him, hand falling from between your legs to allow him to thrust into you quicker, harder, urging the moans from your lips and encouraging you to cling tighter to his body. A gasp fills the small space between the two of you a moment later, thighs tight against his waist, trembling with bliss, walls tightening and relaxing around his cock, and once the pleasure settles and your toes begin to tingle, he grips you tighter.
You have no time to register the slip of words or the fact that he says nothing in return before he’s overwhelming your sensitive body once again. He continues to thrust, eyes closed, brow creased, lips parted. He says nothing, only pants and huffs spilling from within and he leaves you shaking from the force behind each pump of his hips. You clutch him tighter, holding onto him as the whimpers begin filling in your throat once again.
The moment a heavy exhale leaves his lips, his hips slow and his cock twitches, signaling the pleasure filling him as he releases inside of you. His hold on your waist loosens and his head falls back, jaw slacked as he pants through the bliss. He fills you up, and you cling to him in relief from him pleasuring your already overwhelmed and sensitive body. When his forehead presses to your own once again, the two of you linger in the moment for a few seconds too long, breathless, hot, sweaty, and tired, and once he finally pulls away from you, the emptiness isn’t missed.
He says nothing while he adjusts himself in his jeans as you reach for your panties on the floor. Words fail you as well, only being able to replay the shaky tone of your voice as the three little words with such a heavy meaning slipped from your lips. You wait for him to acknowledge you, to say something, anything, but his eyes remain low, his lips remain shut, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.
“We should get back to the party,” he mumbles, never meeting your eyes to give you the courage to confront him over his sudden change in mood. As he reaches for the door, the only thing that crosses your mind is how you were right, and no matter how much you hate it, you realize he only says the things you want to hear when in the moment.
So you let him go back to the party after you spend a minute checking your appearance in the mirror. You say nothing else to him for the rest of the time you’re there, faking smiles with everyone else, pretending your heart isn’t crumbling into pieces from him ignoring your confession. And then you walk home alone, each step heavier than the last as the tears well in your eyes before the first drop hits your cheek.
***
A few times the following day, you’re tempted to reach out to him. Though your pride prevents you each time you pick up your phone, and recalling the way he avoided your eyes after you told him you loved him the night before has you tossing the device to the side in a fit of embarrassment and anger.
And you know you can only blame yourself for being so down in the dumps over him. Even if you want to stay mad at him, you’re the one that insisted on getting the two of you in this situation in the first place thanks to your troubles with money. You’re the one that promised nothing would come between the two of you, that you could remain friends as well as mature adults, and you’re the one that is angry at him for not telling you how he feels, when you only did the same in return.
Weeks passed as emotions piled on, your heart ached for him, and never once did you want to admit the feelings that began to surface from his care, his gentleness, and his affection while slowly falling in love with him. Each time with him became better than the last, growing more comfortable, falling more in love though you denied it to yourself as well as him. And when he let those three words spill in your ear in the heat of the moment, your heart took it and ran, hoping for something you promised him would never happen.
Now the realization has you in bed all day, moping, huffing and puffing, picking up the phone, tossing it to the side, wanting to call him, but being scared you have already ruined everything. As the day goes on, it’s clear he isn’t going to make an effort to reach out to you. Each time you think you hear the faint buzz of a new message only returns no new notifications along with disappointment. You find it hard to eat, though you manage to at least shower, and you go to sleep with him on your mind.
When you wake up, he remains in your thoughts that seem to run a mile a minute as you get ready for your shift, and the memories of the last few weeks weigh so heavy on your heart it becomes almost impossible to fake smiles and politeness during the day.
How could you screw up this much? How could you possibly think the two of you could have a physical relationship without consequences? The questions pop into your mind one after another, missing the orders of a few customers when your thoughts begin to wander. And on your breaks you check your phone in hopes that he wants to talk to you. The temptation to message him rises the more your heart aches, and misses him, and wishes you could go back and change things. There’s no doubt the dormant feelings for your best friend would eventually rise and it’s clear it’s why you were so quick to even proposition him in the first place, but at least you could go about it in a completely different manner if there was a chance to change things.
By the time you arrive home that evening, your feet ache to overpower your broken heart just a bit, but not by much. Jenny wanders in your bedroom to see you plopped over the sheets, head buried in your arms and voice muffled when you decline her offer of ordering take-out for the two of you. She insists she wants to have a much needed girls’ night, and you know she senses your bad mood enough to want to help, but isn’t sure how to go about it without pressuring you to talk. Even if you know she cares, you brush her off all the same, only wanting to be alone.
You sit in the same spot until your eyelids grow heavy. The memories of the last few weeks play on your mind to torture you, from the beginning until the night of the party. You recall the frustrations over money, the light bulb above your head when you came up with your idea, and the moment you propositioned him to leave him wide-eyed with surprise. The night crosses your mind where the two of you pushed all the awkward nerves and butterflies out of the way under the basis that it would make recording easier, having your first time with one another where the butterflies doubled and your heart fluttered for the first time when you thought about the two of you together.
Each time with him pops into your mind, images flood your thoughts of the experiences you shared. Your stomach twists at the thought of growing more comfortable in your skin thanks to him, hearing his encouraging words spoken deep and husky, the cute pet names that made you smile beneath a bitten lip, and the way he called you beautiful to the point it felt nothing but natural. Whether it was for the camera or not doesn’t matter to you in the moment. He said it, whatever the reason, and the thought has you grinning to yourself though your heart still aches as you lay across your bed.
The memories of two nights before take over the good thoughts, butterflies diminishing in a matter of seconds. Picturing him with another girl has your stomach twisting, and the way he brushed you off as if you didn’t matter to him has the red, hot anger bubbling in your chest. It tightens with each thought of him from that night. From the way he allowed her to touch him to the moment he snuck into the bathroom to find you there replays like a bad dream until nausea sets in, and you don’t know if you’re sick with anger, jealousy, or maybe it’s a bit of both.
Though you still admit you have no right to be jealous, and you have no right to expect him to feel the same as you, the embarrassment of hearing nothing but his silence after you told him you loved him makes it all the more difficult to reason with yourself. The outburst was so unlike yourself, having to admit all the times spent together where you swore you only saw him as a friend was nothing but denial over the years, and even as the realization sets in that getting yourself into the situation made you see him in the way you were always meant to, you begin to shift the anger toward yourself, knowing you can’t blame him anymore than you can blame yourself.
The confusion takes hold as the memories blur and your head begins to ache. Before you can stop yourself, you reach for your phone you previously tossed to the side, tapping your thumbs to the screen until you type out your message to him without thinking twice.
Did it really mean nothing to you?
You stare at the words on the screen, reading the line once, and twice, and three times until you toss your phone to the side once again. As the minutes pass without a word from him, you get the answer you were dreading. Though you knew it was a possibility, as you finally gain the strength to shower, brush your teeth, and slip on your pajamas, the weight of the confirmation that everything he said was only for the camera settles with a sharp pain in your chest. You don’t bother looking at your phone again before drifting off to sleep, hoping by morning the thoughts of him will become less frequent, and the ache in your heart lessens just enough to get through the day.
***
Your head and your heart hurt no less than the day before. Thankfully you have the pleasure of your manager keeping you busy with table after table and steaming hot plates to distract you only enough to get through most of your shift. You have to admit the harder you work, the more you sweat, and the more your feet ache, you can only think of him and what seemed like a good thing going on.
As the time nears closer to your last break of your shift, you find yourself thinking of how nice it would be to go back and do things differently. Whether you would think nothing of his sudden confession for the camera or turn your heart to stone so it didn’t bother you either way, you’re unsure, but thanks to lousy tips and a tired body, you wish it didn’t all come crumbling down before you had a chance to really make a difference in your situation.
And as you check the clock to see it’s five minutes until break, a familiar face strolls through the glass doors of the diner. The bell echoing throughout the place earns your attention, spotting him with eyes scanning each waitress until his sights set on you. And maybe it’s not the money that you’re upset on missing out on, but him as well. After not seeing him for days, the sight of him should anger you, maybe even sadden you a bit, but all it does is earn a pounding heart and stomach full of butterflies.
His eyes fall to his sneakers as he takes his time making his way toward you. You refill your customer's coffee with a forced smile, then take a deep breath before turning to make your way toward him.
“I can’t give you any free food,” is all you say while pushing past him, brushing his arm to cause him to freeze. As if the icy tone of your words hasn’t been bad enough, being so standoffish and on guard has him gulping and scratching his head before following you.
“I don’t want food,” he admits, stumbling behind you as you make your way to the front to replace the coffee pot. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I’m busy.” You whip around with two new plates in your hand, not bothering to meet his wide, desperate eyes while he follows you to another table.
“Can you go on break?” he asks, the urgency growing in his voice to cause a pang in your heart, but you push the ache down to the pit of your stomach, raising your chin with a clenched jaw. The moment you get to your customer’s table, the forced smile returns, handing the older couple their food and asking if they need anything else, happy when they shake their heads with a “no, thank you”.
“Please, just talk to me,” he begins to beg the moment you walk away from the table, following behind like a lost puppy. You say nothing, crossing the diner to gather the tips your previous customer left you, and only until he begins muttering the words you were so scared to hear do you freeze. “I meant it… what I said to you.”
“What?” You finally look his way, eyes meeting his own, heart sinking to your stomach.
“When I told you I loved you.” He gulps, not being able to hold your gaze for too long. “I meant it.”
For a moment, you want to believe him. His voice, the words, the sincerity in his tone has your ice-cold heart melting just a bit, but the memories flood your mind of the night of the party. The way he pretended not to hear what you said when you told him the same, confiding in him something you had kept to yourself since the moment the two of you started playing pretend for the camera, and the thought has you scoffing while shoving the tips in your apron.
“You don’t love me, you just enjoyed having sex with me. You’re confused.” The words release beneath your breath as you glare at him, but the moment he begins to chuckle and shake his head, he catches you off guard.
“That’s funny.”
You frown, wondering what he could possibly find humorous, but you don’t give him a chance to explain. “I’m taking break!” you yell to Sara in the back of the diner, spotting her smile as she nods her head in confirmation she will check on your table. You spare no glance toward him while making your way past the bathrooms and pushing the swinging door open to step into the alley at the back of the restaurant, but he follows without a word.
“What is?” you finally ask, turning your body to him before folding your arms over your chest. “What is so funny?”
“That you think I only started to feel this way since we started this whole thing.” He steps closer while your heart drums against your chest from the words, and you almost expect him to touch you, grab you, hold you, and you hate yourself in the moment for wanting him to. However, he only shoves his hands in his pockets before releasing a sigh, and then he continues. “That you think I haven’t been in love with you for so much longer than that, and that I was only too afraid to admit it. Why do you think I agreed to start this whole thing in the first place? Why do you think it was so easy to get closer to you?”
Now you’re the one gulping, heart aching, chest weighing so heavy from his words, but something inside pulls at the need to trust him again. Something holds you back. It’s either fear, or worry, or your own insecurities that don’t allow you to believe what he says.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have been flaunting another girl around me. You wouldn’t have dodged the question when I asked what I meant to you and you wouldn’t have said nothing when I told you I loved you. You made me feel like an idiot.”
“I know.” He rubs the back of his neck, brow furrowed and you’re aware how difficult it is for him to come to terms with the situation. And it’s hard to blame him, knowing the two of you were the closest of friends and now you’re so unsure why your hearts ache for one another and why you miss him so damn much. “I fucked up. I was scared of how I felt. I was scared of losing what we had and even more scared of scaring you off because of my own feelings for you, and I fucked up. Hearing you say the words made it so much more real than I was ready for and I… I panicked.”
“Sure,” you tell him, but the words aren’t as cold as they were before. You gulp, knowing you need more convincing, and knowing you’re too afraid to give in only to feel like an idiot once again.
“Do you know what it’s like to have such a thing only be a fantasy for so long, and when it comes true it’s so much more than you can handle?” You say nothing, but from your silence he’s aware you understand. “God, I was so stupid and such a coward, and I’m so sorry, but I meant what I said the last night we recorded together. I love you. I’m in love with you, and I have been for such a long time it’s actually pathetic to think about how good I was at hiding it from you, and even from myself.”
“I…” Your words fade, leaving you with a slacked jaw as your arms fall to your sides.
“And I miss you.” He finally steps closer, grabbing you by the hips to lean toward you, lips nearly brushing over your own as your eyes flutter and you inhale the comforting scent of him. “I miss spending time with you, and I miss getting close to you and feeling you so close to me. I miss hearing your laugh, and sometimes when everything else felt terrible with our shitty money situation, the only thing that seemed right was being with you, and I miss that, too. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner and confusing you, but I’m not afraid of how I feel anymore. So, please, baby, please forgive me.”
As his words sink in, taking each and every syllable to heart, your palms press to his chest, cherishing how it feels to have him so close to you once again. The string tugging on your heart to hold you back from believing his words snaps, chest swelling, unraveling the emotions you kept behind the wall the moment he walked into the diner. Your eyes close, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and the words he speaks linger on your mind long enough to keep you silent as he begins to mumble once again.
“I-I’m sorry,” he exhales, pressing his forehead to your own. “Please… say something.”
But all you can do is chuckle now, pulling away to shake your head, leaving his wide eyes full of curiosity. “We are really stupid, you know that?” It takes him a few seconds to register the softness in your voice before he grins. “Stupid for hiding how we feel and probably stupid for getting ourselves into this mess in the first place, but… I don’t regret it.”
“You don’t?” His brows arch and you don’t think his eyes could widen any more, causing you to grin and shake your head.
“I don’t,” you sigh. “There are probably a million other ways we could have went about this, but I don’t regret what we did. I don’t regret getting close to you, or allowing you to get close to me. And I-”
The words stall to leave his jaw slacked, until he hums for you to continue.
“And I love you. I do love you, and I was just as stupid and just as much of a coward.” Your eyes close as you speak, and he holds you tighter against him. “I was scared, too. I was scared of my own feelings, and scared of breaking my promise that nothing would change. That’s why I got scared when we kissed without the camera that night. I didn’t want to let you down, or change things, and I was scared of not having you in my life anymore because of a mistake. But more so than that, I was scared you really didn’t feel the same way while thinking I was imagining everything in that moment.”
A moment of silence passes as he takes in your words. Then he exhales, pulling away just enough to press a finger beneath your chin, earning your eyes on him. “You don’t have to be scared of that,” he tells you with a grin, eyes shifting from your own to your lips, and back again. “I love you,” is all he says a moment before leaning closer, pressing his trembling lips to yours waiting to feel his soft skin after missing him. A whimper builds in your throat only he can hear, and he wraps an arm around your body to hold you against him. Melting into him, you forget your worries for the moment, his kiss ridding you of the insecurities and the doubts, and you relish how it feels to be so close to him once again.
The sound of the diner door bursting open startles the both of you, causing you to push him away before smoothing your hands over your apron. Spotting Sara with a smirk on her face as your stomach twisting as you begin mumbling your apologies for taking so long on your break, and his eyes fall to the ground.
“I’ll be right in,” you tell her, noticing her narrowed gaze switching between the two of you. Then she nods with a grin that tells you she’s going to be asking you all about it and heads inside, leaving the both of you chuckling as the realization sets in. “I… uh, gotta go back to work. We can talk about this more afterward, okay?”
He nods, grin still plastered over his lips at the idea of getting a chance to express what he’s been holding in for so long. “When is your shift over?”
“In two hours.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
Your brows arch, head tilting just a bit to one side. “You’ll wait around for two hours?”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a shrug. “If you can get me some food.”
Scoffing, you nudge his shoulder before turning away from him, getting back to your tables and, much to your surprise, he decides to wait around until your shift is over, catching his eyes every once in a while and feeling the burn of his gaze fill your cheeks. Knowing that you have fallen for your best friend that is in love with you as well fills you with butterflies, heart racing whenever the realization clicks and a smile forms over your lips at the thought of getting to spend your days with him just like you have been. Except now, you know everything you feel for one another is completely real.
#bts smut#nct smut#got7 smut#monsta x smut#stray kids smut#harry styles smut#bts scenarios#stray kids scenarios#ateez smut#ateez scenarios#the boyz smut#the boyz scenarios#ateez imagines#seventeen smut#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#svt smut#bts x reader#stray kids x reader#ateez x reader
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ok there is a very real chance i’ve sent an ask about this before but i cannot remember soooo baby getting R tattooed on her somewhere as a surprise and roman dropping dead when he discovers it
"What's that?"
Baby's smiling at her smiley little girl. She presses her chubby finger against the small R on her mommy's bicep.
"It's a surprise for Daddy."
Baby Jr tilts her head. "For Daddy? He wants letters on you?"
"It stands for his name, silly. Roman."
"...I forget his name isn't Daddy. But what?! Is it there forever?"
Baby smiles a bit more. She combs her fingers through Baby Jr's soft hair as she rolls up her sleeve a bit more.
"Forever. And maybe...the first letter of your name can be right next to his. I bet he'd like that, but I won't tell you when I'm getting you tattooed, that would spoil the surprise."
Baby Jr breathes in hard, she's much too excited so suddenly and she doesn't want Mommy to make her use her inhaler, so she's trying to calm down - but Daddy is gonna go crazy for this, and Mommy get her name too? It's so much. She sits criss-cross-applesauce, rocking until she needs to sit in her Mommy's lap cause biting is good, biting is love, but she'll bite herself and that hurts, so Mommy's the next best thing.
"Daddy is gonna go coo-coo."
The front door swings open, a groan coming out through the room.
"I call death to the film industry. People are fucking - the risks they take is about the size of their assholes. Or...maybe not, maybe their anuses are huge and that'd explain the sticks they're able to stuff up there."
Baby Jr giggles. It's because of her Daddy being funny, but there's a secret on Mommy's skin and she don't know if she can hold it.
"Don't swear, Daddy - buttholes is also good word to use."
"Well everything's perfect when you say it, nobody is going to go anywhere near a middle aged man who uses the word butthole. Hug."
She's so giggly and Baby tries to hide her smile, elbow under her head. Baby Jr goes running off to Roman, hugging his legs. He takes her up into his arms in this obnoxious, smug happiness. But he blinks quick at how his daughter seems to just, heave. Cutely heave with laughter.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing!"
And Baby takes to standing.
"I think she'll be more excited than you are for this."
"...What?"
"I just had an impulse, nothing too regretful - I don't think you'd like me to call it that but...I got a tattoo."
Roman looks to his daughter and blinks slow, a glaring turn back to Baby.
"Oh. Ew."
The ew is dragged out, Roman rolls his eyes and puts Baby Jr down. He rubs his face. To soothe, to show just how much he thinks that that is a stupid idea.
"A fucking tattoo? You wanted to go cool and ruined your skin? It's gonna be a fucking butterfly, or something like fu....like warrior. No, no - I married you, I would like to think you wouldn't get your skin etched with something as fucked as that. Please tell me it's somewhere that's not that noticeable."
Roman almost goes off, but he covers Baby Jr's ears. Baby crosses his arms.
"We don't do doggy, so like, if it's your back, whatever."
"Mm. Bicep."
Her voice is casual as his eyes widen.
"Are you kidding me?! I have my mouth there all the tim-oh my god. Next time you have a impulse, walk three blocks and kill a finance guy or a labor worker. Don't do this to me."
"Daddy. Stop being silly, please please - you are gonna love it!"
"I'll accept it eventually, Honey. Sure, but-"
Baby takes steps to Roman, rolling up her sleeve, pleasure under the casual, relaxed features of her face. As Roman's soften at the sight of the R.
"I could always get it removed. It's pretty small, so I assume it'll be easier than most. I thought you'd like it. But tattoos are permanent, I should've just bought a necklace or something."
Roman stares. He doesn't blink. Baby Jr giggles.
He swallows and does this almost cough before he scratches his head.
"Why did you get it so small?"
"...I think that'd be a good thing considering I'm just gonna get it removed-"
"No! Shut the fuck up - I just didn't kno-I didn't think it'd be this...me. For me. You're for me. Cool, it's..."
Roman blinks hard before his eyes just go small. Baby Jr makes hand motions for Baby to pick her up and when her mommy does, she's the one holding the sleeve in her little fist to look at her daddy's initial.
She mwahs a kiss on Baby's tattoo.
Baby smiles before her brows curve in confusion at the look of her husband, Roman's flexy and shifty hands as he keeps staring.
"Roman, you okay?"
"...Uh-huh."
He takes her arm, a face serious and Baby Jr can't understand why because it's so cute. Cute things don't need serious faces, but she won't question her Daddy.
"I literally...this means I can never get you for anything now. Seriously. Fucking one-upper."
"No, it doesn't. You really don't like it-"
"Shut up. I do! You kno-God, I do. But you don't even own enough tank tops to show it up so whatever, and you've one-upped me with the hottest blot of ink..."
Roman breathes...wrong, Baby's brows bend lower.
"Roman, breathe."
"Daddy, you can use my inhaler."
"I'm fine. I'm...it's just-"
It's just that anything about her and her love for him can ruin him, make him feel sickly in such a perfect way. He shudders. It's pathetic. Roman wants to be normal about this, but his heart's never been in the right place to be...regulated. But fuck, who fucking cares? She's perfect and she loves him enough to be branded with his initial.
So, he's going to feel like he's going to die because he could die happy right now. How many people get that moment?
Roman kisses Baby Jr's cheek.
"Why didn't Mommy get my whole name?"
"Be grateful, Daddy. Please."
Baby snorts. Roman's brows raise, it's a "Right, sorry."
Baby knows it went as expected when Roman mwahs his initial on her skin, just twice over before he nips.
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Welcome to Just This Once: when Harry and Jade reconnect after spending four years and thousands of miles apart on the most special night of their best friends lives.
There is smut of course.
Hope you enjoy!💋
—————————
Thursday June 2nd
I swear to god, if this cab driver gets turned around one more time I'm going to lose my shit. He's been driving in circles for over an hour, completely lost and getting more and more frustrated. I didn't want to be even more late to this gathering than I already am. I called Tatiana and Niall letting them know my driver was a complete dipshit and I'd be there as soon as possible.
The car turns sharply into a parking lot and comes to a halt. Huffing out of my nose, I pipe up. "Um sir. Do you need me to pull up a map?"
"No, no I've got it." I waves me off and reverses the vehicle, turning left back down the way we came. I sigh heavily, and his eyes glance at me in the mirror, so I shrink down in my seat.
I could've walked from the airport and gotten to the resort faster.
After about 15 minutes, the car pulls down a winding dirt drive. The old oak trees creek as a wind gust whips through the area, the mix of freshly fallen rain and salty air hits me and I grin staring out the open window. Tatiana picked the best venue for a weekend away to celebrate her and Niall's big day: an all expenses paid resort with room and board for all of their guests. It was an exciting day, but nerve racking as well. The closer we got to the hotel, the more nervous I became to see him. "We're here. So sorry for the delay! I haven't driven over here much."
Passing him some money for the fair, I shake my head. "Don't sweat it. Thank you!" Of course I was beyond pissed I was an hour late, but I don't have it in me to take it out on him. I'm a bit of a passive person when it comes to confrontation, and quite honestly I didn't have the energy. The trip was long and I was not about to use up the last bit of energy I had on being upset, but in being the best maid of honor for my best friend.
Grabbing my suitcase from the trunk, the driver gives me a nod and sets it down on the cobblestone driveway. I wave politely as he pulls away, still trying to stall some. I turn and make my way up the brick stairs to the front door, heart racing and palms sweating. I knew that I'd see him, especially since he's the best man, but now that this day is here, I was beginning to panic.
But no matter how this reunion goes, I was going to make sure I enjoyed every minute of this trip. I never take time for myself, let alone take an actual vacation. Working as much as I do is how I was even able to afford this trip, so it was going to be amazing regardless.
I bet it'll be fine, right? We don't hate each other, and I mean we're Facebook friends, so maybe I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill.
Following signs that the one and only Tatiana hand made for this weekend, I end up back outside underneath a cabana adjacent to a massive pool.
"Jade!" Her voice sings through the chatter of about 50 people clustered around with drinks in their hands. Dropping the handle of my suit case, I race over to her, colliding into a heart wrenching hug. I could tell that she'd already started crying, which brings my own tears to my eyes. It's been so long since I'd seen Tatiana, a year to be exact. Ever since I'd moved to Northern California for a teaching job, it's been damn near impossible to make time to fly back out east to see her. She opted out of a bachelorette party to save money, understanding 100% that not everyone has the time or finances to disappear for a weekend getting shit faced.
Pulling back, fresh tears in her eyes, she kisses my cheek. "I'm so glad you made it in one piece!"
Taking her in, she looked absolutely breathtaking. She really went all out with the whole bridal vibe, dressed in the most adorable white feather crop top and high waisted trousers to match. I on the other hand had on a camel colored blazer, black body suit, and fucking jeans. "I'm so sorry I'm so late, the driver got lost and I'm fresh off a plane looking like a complete slob."
"Jade, stop it. You look amazing, don't even worry!" Linking her arm with my own, she walks me over to a group of people drinking and talking. I can see Niall cackling at something someone said, eyes crinkled so much you couldn't even see his gorgeous blue eyes. As we approach them, that all too familiar lock of curls comes into view. It's a bit longer now on the sides, and his shoulders looked broader. His shirt was quite colorful, covered in what looks to be food and condiments. Good to see he's still just as silly as ever.
He wasn't the same lanky 23 year old boy anymore, but a full grown man. My heart races the closer we get, so I chew on the inside of my cheek to calm my nerves. "Ni! Look who I finally found!" He turns, forest green locking with gray blue, and visibly stops breathing. I do my best not to stare and look past him, waving at Niall. "Hi loser."
"Jade! Finally!" Niall pushes past Harry and wraps me in a bear hug. "Thought you got murdered."
"Nope, just super lost." Niall pats the top of my head playfully. "Did you give the guy shite directions?"
"Hey!" I scoff. "I offered to help him, but he insisted he had it figured out." Shifting my eyes over, Harry's already fiddling with his rings.
"Well I'm glad you're here, wanna drink?" He asks.
"Mhm. Vodka cranberry?"
"Typical." Niall teases. "Babe, come with me and help." I go to protest, not wanting to be left alone with my ex so early on into this weekend, but Tatiana jumped at the chance. "Yeah! Uh I gotta go say hi to Grammy anyways." Tatiana takes Niall's hand and disappears into the crowd. Exhaling, I decide to go ahead and get this over with and center my body to face Harry for the first time in over four years apart.
"Hey there." He croaks. Harry's gaze does a once over of me, and the tiniest smile twitches at the corner of his lips.
"Hi there." His eyes meet mine again and he takes a step forward. "So do I get a hug or are we going to pretend we hate each other."
The stifled giggle comes out full fledged. "of course you idiot, come here." Wrapped in his embrace, he squeezes me tight. My heart stopped pounding the moment I pressed into his chest.
Harry and I may be exes, but we didn't end on bad terms. We just... wanted different things. He wanted to be married young and pop out a few kids, whereas I wanted adventure and no other responsibilities other than myself. We'd decided after college with him moving back to England to work in finance and I moving to California to teach, we parted ways. It was difficult, but we knew it was best. We were young and needed to figure out life on our own, and trying to force one to conform to what the other wanted would have broken us.
I'll always have love for him and I'd hoped he'd done well for himself over the last four years.
"So," I cleared my throat. "How have you been?"
"Good, good. Great actually." He answers quickly. His voice wavered, indicating he wasn't being truthful. Clearly things weren't good, good great and in typical Harry fashion he masks the truth with a broad dismissive answer.
I arch my brow at him, "Harry," he chews his lip nervously . "What."
I step closer, looking dead in his eyes. "You know I still know all your tells." He stares at me for a beat until his facade finally fades. Groaning, he throws his head back. "God dammit I forgot you can do that."
"Tell me, truthfully, how are you?"
Pushing his hands in his pockets, he sighs. "Well, I moved back about 6 months-"
"Oi! Styles move!" Niall's boisterous voice interrupts our conversation as he reaches around Harry's frame to hand me my vodka cranberry. "There ya go, love!"
Harry shoots daggers at his best friend, but Niall misses it completely. "Follow me, dinners being served." The two of us follow Niall to be seated by waiters dressed in all black suits at a long table overlooking the sunset over the ocean. Centerpieces filled with peonies, roses, gardenias and cosmos decorate the table top. Little tea candles placed in vases filled halfway with water illuminate everything in a soft glow, setting the perfect ambiance of romance and whimsy. Everything was so over the top and glamorous, very much a reflection of Tatiana's character.
To my surprise, I wasn't seated next to Harry. Tatiana always gave me shit for being nervous to see him again and swore up and down she'd have us seated next to one another the whole weekend and yet, I'm sat four seats down from him and on the opposite side.
Maybe she finally came to her senses that this was going to be a very strange weekend for the both of us.
Seeing him now though, all sense of insecurity and angst disappeared. He was my person for so long and breaking up really did do a number on me, but there was zero tension between us right now. Glances were exchanged throughout the meal, and each time the looks lasted longer than the one prior. We ate, we laughed, and told embarrassing stories of our two wonderful friends, it was a perfect night.
Once we'd finished eating, everyone began to disperse and retire to their prospective rooms. Before heading back inside, I catch Niall before he gets too far from me. Tapping his shoulder, he turns quickly. "Hey doll face."
"Hey, um." I looked around hoping no one was within earshot. "Is Harry ok? He said something about moving back?"
Niall's shoulders slump a tad. "Um yeah, he's been staying with us while he saves up for his own place."
My brows pinch, "did something happen?"
Niall stays silent, looking anywhere but my face.
"Did something happen in England?" I press.
"Let him tell you." Shutting down the conversation with that, I concede. "Okay, sorry. Just, he clammed up a bit earlier." I glance over my shoulder and see Harry seated with a few guys from college underneath a tree, laughing and hollering at one another.
"Look, I can tell you this. He's had a rough go, but he's doin' better. Just a delicate topic that's all. Let him come to you, yeah?"
"Ok. I will. See you tomorrow." I hug my dear friend and meander up the steps, glancing back once more and see Harry already watching me. I give him a wave with my fingers, and mouth goodnight and he does the same. The halls were empty and my room was immaculate. With a view of the garden below from the balcony, I couldn't wait to wake up with a cup of coffee and enjoy the sunrise. Trying not to dwell too much, I shower and get ready for bed with a face mask and a poetry book. I wasn't sure how I was going to get Harry to tell me what happened while he was gone, but I just hope he's doing alright.
*****
Friday, June 3rd
With the sun high in the sky, I made myself comfortable on my hot pink beach towel laid out next to Tatiana's white one. Adorned in a wide brimmed straw hat with wifey stitched into it, Tatiana sprays tanning oil onto her already bronze skin. "Don't over do it, Tati. Don't wanna look like a lobster tomorrow for your big day."
Tatiana flips me off and closes the cap. "I'm fine, there's an umbrella."
Laid on my tummy and adjusting the baby blue string bikini top to cover me properly, I flip through my book and roll my eyes at her. "Yeah, for now. But in a few hours when you're three margaritas in, you'll end up out in the water burnt to a crisp."
A flip flop comes flying at me, hitting me in the butt. Rolling over, I see Tatiana leaning back on her hands smirking at me. "Talk shit again and the next one will be aimed at your face." I flick sand at her causing her to shriek. "You know I'm right." I deadpan.
"Fuck off, i know." She utters.
Turning my attention back to my book, I immerse myself into the world of rupi kaur. But it doesn't last long. The men were playing sand volleyball right in front of us so that means it took no time at all for the ball to land right in front of me, sending sand flying into my face. Slamming my book shut, I sit up agitated. Before I can chastise whatever idiot let it get this far from the net, Harry stands before me golden brown and panting. "Sorry, Niall's a fucking idiot who got too drunk before hand." Harry squats down in front of me, bright yellow trunks pulling up over his thighs. My eyes hoan in on his tiger tattoo and my mouth begins to water.
Thankfully I have massive black sunglasses on, so he can't see me salivating over the ink on his skin.
"It's fine." I utter. "I'll sit back to avoid getting hit."
Harry grabs the ball shaking his head, "nah, stay comfortable. I'll make sure to block it next time." With a wink, Harry jogs back towards the rowdy group of boys hooping and hollering, wanting to continue the game.
I couldn't help but watch him the entire time, poetry book long forgotten now. His physique has changed quite a bit since we were together, and I gotta say I'm impressed. He'd spike the ball for a point, dive for a save, or jump serve with every ounce of strength he had, and every muscle contracted and rippled with each move. He just gets sexier with time. It didn't go unnoticed that his attention was half in the game and half on me while I sunbathed. His lips would roll into his mouth when he glanced over at me, especially when I needed to re-apply sunscreen.
Not that I needed to do it as often as I was, but this was a fun little game we were playing. Where's the harm in that, right?
He was doin' something to me too with the way his shorts stayed perfectly hiked up over his tattoo. Fuck head knows how much I loved that one, second to his butterfly on his abdomen. I'd kill to run my hands over it again, and with his newly formed six back it'd feel even-
"Earth to Jaaaade." Tati's voice snaps me out of my daze, "hey stop drooling over your ex and get in the water with me!"
"I wasn't drooling." I lie.
"Yeah, and I'm the queen of England."
"Isn't she dead?" I quip.
"Probably." She tuts. "You know he's single again." Gesturing her chin to Harry, I follow her line of sight to see Harry stretching his arms over his head, exposing his fern tattoos... god I hate him right now.
I sit up and cross my legs, turning to my friend. "Again?"
"Oh yeah." She confirms. "He had some girl back in England he was with for about two years. They got serious super fast, proposed and everything. Then, it all went to shit." Tatiana fans herself with her hat, and continues. "She ran off with some yoga instructor from France. Called off the whole thing."
"Wow, that's fucked." I look back at Harry who's now wrestling with another guy for the ball. He looked like he was living his best life you'd never know he was probably still hurting inside. "Niall said he's staying with you guys."
"Mhm. But he's looking to buy a place in Boston to stay close to us. He really needed his friends." She proclaimed. "Ya know with you coming home, too, he could really use someone to talk to."
My heart drops. "Tati, no one knows about that but you." I scold. "Don't even think about telling-"
"Hey hey!" She raises her hands in defense. "And that's still the case. But if you wanted to tell someone... You've got the prime opportunity here. Now, I'm sweating like a whore in church and need to cool off. Are you coming?"
I place my book in my bag and brush off any excess sand from my body as I stand. "Yeah, yeah ok. I'm coming."
Taking my hand, Tatiana and I race towards the crashing waves, kicking up water with every step. Diving into a wave, I emerge feeling refreshed. The beach has always been my happy place, Tatiana's too. Ever since we were kids we spent as many hours out in the water as possible until our parents had to bribe us with ice cream to get us out.
Like a magnetic force, I feel eyes on me. Turning around facing the shore once more, there stood Harry mid game gawking at me. His tongue darts over his bottom lip until the ball slams right into his chest. Snapping him out of his daydream, he diverts his attention from me to the drunken angry men. "Oi!!! Winning point!" Profanities from his team could be heard over the crash of the waves around me.
"Looks like you just lost the game for him, missy." Tatiana teases.
Well worth it.
*****
Saturday June 4th
I'd never been one for weddings. But the entire day devoted to my longest friend and her adorable husband made me realize they were something truly special. Having divorced parents who despised one another made me very anti marriage, but Niall and Tatiana exude pure unconditional love, and the fact that they chose to share that love with us made my heart burst with joy. Watching my best friend make her way down the aisle brought tears to my eyes and I'm not too much of a crier.
She looked radiant.
With a strapless lace dress hugging her body, her golden skin shimmered in the setting sunlight.
Niall was a complete mess which I know none of us will ever let him live down. Watching Harry try and not laugh out loud while his best friend is sobbing was probably the highlight of the ceremony. The officiant spoke of everlasting love and thanked us for joining to witness the union of two people who loved each other so much that "they decided to get the government involved."
That got a good laugh outta everyone.
Tati proceeds with her vows, but I can't focus on anything other than Harry's deep green eyes watching my every move. The majority of the ceremony was spent shooting each other looks and smiles, winks and giggles. I was so worried about things being weird or hard this weekend, and they've been quite the opposite. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him again. Very friendly, light and easy. After the beach, the wedding party went bowling together, then somehow ended up at a karaoke bar. The longer the night went on, the easier it was to be near him. Almost too easy.
Wrapping up the ceremony, Niall takes Tatiana into his arms and dips her into the sweetest giggle filled kiss.
"Please welcome for the first time, Mr. And Mrs. Niall and Tatiana Horan!"
Lavender seeds go flying from the crowd as the happy couple makes their way back down the aisle. Cheers, tears, and laughter erupt as we follow suit, the rest of the wedding party walk back down the aisle, and of course Harry and I are the first to go. We lead the way, arms linked, and I swear electricity shoots through me. His arm felt firm holding my own as I try and walk in my heels down the grassy path towards the reception hall. Harry glances down at me, smiling. "I wanted to tell you that you look absolutely stunning."
"Thank you, you clean up well."
"I do alright." Making our way to the bar, Harry orders himself a whiskey neat and me a vodka cranberry.
"So tell me, how's life." He asks leading me to the assigned tables. Glancing down I see his name card placed conveniently next to mine. I guess I'll let Tatiana get a kick outta this one thing.
Pulling out my chair, I take a seat. "Well I've been teaching fifth grade math in California. I really liked it. Worked for a good school district, great time off, the works." Sipping my drink, I knew I'd need liquid courage. "But..."
Leaning forward, Harry listens intently. "But?"
"Umm, my moms not well. So I'd decided to come back east to take care of her." Harry's hand gently holds mine, squeezing it slightly. "Jade, m'so sorry." Soft green glimmered a little less at the news. "It's ok, she's doing ok. But there will come a time she won't, so I decided to come back." The words struggle to come out, but Tatiana was right. I needed to be more open about what's going on in my life. I can find a teaching job anywhere, but I'd never get back any lost time with my mom.
Harry's lashes fluttered at my words, and he exhales. "For how long?"
Rubbing my thumb across his knuckles, I couldn't help but grin. "For good, my friend." Leaning back he toys with his half empty glass. "Friends, huh?" His jaw tightened as he watches me shift in my seat. "Yeah, friends." I confirm. "We always got along, so I think friends is what we are."
Darting his eyes across the room, he chuckles. "Mhm. If I recall, we were very good together."
I smack his knee, "Get your mind outta the gutter, Styles."
"But that's it's favorite place to be, especially when it comes to you, peach."
Chills cover my skin and my breath catches in my throat. His pet name for me slips from his lips like it was just part of his vocabulary. Like he said it every day. Eyes wide and not sure how to respond, I sip on my drink and turn away from him. "Did I unlock a memory?" He quips. Crossing my leg over the other, I ignore him.
We've been toying with one another all weekend, but now we're about to cross over that line that we may not want to cross.
He leans over and whispers in my ear, "doin' ok there? Do I still make you nervous?"
Rolling my lips into my mouth I squint at him. "What do you think? Like you said, we were always good together. In more ways than one."
One single finger grazes my bare knee, making me twitch. "Glad to know I still got it." He teases. His hand finds home on top of my knee, so I take another long sip. The lights dim while people mingle and dance, leaving the two of us alone at the table.
Bad idea.
I take another gulp when his hand travels up my leg further. My skin felt like it was on fire the higher his fingers danced along my skin. He watches my micro reactions to his touch as it traveled underneath my dress. He massaged the fleshy part of my thigh, making me feel like I was going to bust. I did my best to keep my composure, but when his middle finger grazed the front of my underwear, I audibly sigh. the room is dark enough and the tablecloth long enough that no one can tell what's going on underneath it. Steady circles are drawn around my bud, and I shoot him a look.
"Harry."
"Jade."
He didn't even look my way. Just slowed his pace, but continued once I looked away, adding pressure this time. I glance down and realize my drink is now empty and I was definitely going to need more alcohol if this is going to continue.
I gasp when his thumb slides behind the thin material, finally touching me properly. My eyes flutter shut, and I turn my face away to avoid making eye contact with any passerby in the room who has no clue what's happening. The lights now fully dimmed to darkness aside from the spotlight on a set of double doors.
"Welcome for the first time! The Horans!" The room erupts into cheers and Harry's hand returns to its rightful place, clapping and cheering. Brushing off the newly found flustered feeling, I join in and stand, clapping and tearing up as the two most incredible people enter. The room dies down when their first dance song begins to play and I can't help but tear my eyes away from them and look at the crazy man sitting next to me. Harry shoots me a wink and slides his pointer finger past his lips, shaking me to the core. The action stole any words I had left in me.
Harry pops it out of his mouth and grins. "Mmm, still so sweet."
That was it for me.
I grip his suit jacket and pull him away towards the back door that backs up to the main part of the hotel.
He begins to slow his steps, causing my dramatic exit to halt. Coming to a complete stop, I turn and stare him down. "Harry, you're gonna get us in trouble." I tried to sound stern, but it's kinda hard when he got me all worked up. He steps up to me, tilting my chin with his knuckle. "Thought you liked it."
"I did. That's the problem." I stand firm.
"Didn't really seem like it was one five minutes ago. Come on, peach. You know I can take care of that little problem of yours." His voice was husky and low, only loud enough for me to hear him. I know jumping into bed with him right now is not the smartest idea, but I was aching and he could easily fix that for me, especially since it was his fault.
"Just this once?" I offer.
"Mhm."
Crashing my lips into his, Harry's hands cup my jaw. The kiss was rushed and needy, and exactly as I remembered him. It was a teeth clashing, heaving panting encounter that made my head spin. Pulling apart, we stare intensely at one another, silently contemplating what the fuck we are doing. "Jade. I...."
I let out a shaky breath as I bring my lips to his once more. "Just this once." I whisper.
"Fuck it." He groans.
We race into the hotel, scramble to get the elevator button while devouring one another, and stumble into an elderly couple exiting the doors. We apologize profusely until the metal doors shut and allow us to pick up where we left off.
Thankfully the elevator ride was short, and the hall was empty when we stepped off it. I refuse to let any obstacles interrupt us, and we'd have to make it quick before Tatiana notices we aren't there. Unlocking the door, Harry leads me into his hotel room. I walk around taking a peak at it, trying to calm the nerves. Harry was only a few steps behind me, placing his hand on my lower back and kisses my shoulder. "You sure about this?" I ask.
"Never been more sure of anything."
Unzipping the back of my dress, his lips ghost my sun kissed skin. Once at the nape of my neck, then twice atop my shoulder. His feather-like touch down my spine makes me shiver, and he chuckles. "Nice to know I remember what makes you tick."
"Do you remember how I-" suddenly his grip on my locks tightens and twists around once, then twice, pulling just hard enough where my neck leans back to look into his forest green lust filled eyes, "mmm like a little pain with your pleasure? Of course I do. Never forgot."
The thin straps of my cobalt blue midi dress slouch, exposing the top of my chest. Harry's hands gravitate to them, massaging them as I feel his lips suck the sensitive part right behind my ear. The tiniest of whimpers leave my lips when his thumbs begin to toy with my nipples over the material. He definitely remembers how to make my body do what he wants it to, and I will always remember what makes him tick too.
My hand reaches around his neck, lightly scratching his scalp just before I tug at the unruly locks. Harry gasps and sighs, "fuck, do that again."
Turning in his embrace, body flush with his, I shoot him a sly look. "Only if you say please."
"M'not sayin' please."
"Oh come on, you know you like to beg." My free hand slides down his pants, toying with the button. "I'll let you come in me if you say please."
When I tell you I'd never seen his expression go from sweet and boyish to animalistic and feral in 2.5 seconds, I mean it. Hooded eyes and bottom lip tucked between his bunny teeth, he groans. "Please do that again." Tugging harder this time, Harry's jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would crack. Hunger takes over him as his lips engulfs my own, tongues fighting for space in each others mouths. He was always one to dominate, that I knew well, but this time it was my turn.
Maybe something's do change.
Wasting not even a millisecond, his hands grip my hips, tugging my dress all the way up past my belly. I have to break from him to yank it all the way down my body, leaving me in nothing but a nude thong and heels. Harry's knees visibly go weak. "my god," he sits down on the edge of the bed. "You are more beautiful than I remember."
Taking a step towards him I kick off my heels one at a time as he palms himself over his dress pants. I couldn't help but feel powerful seeing him like this, sitting and waiting patiently like a good boy, all for me. I place my hands on his shoulder and dip my lips down to his ear, "Now did I say you could touch yourself?"
Pulling back, shock flashed in his eyes, "N-no, you didn't."
"Then wait." An idea flashes through my mind, so I proceed to unbutton his trousers, pulling them down to his ankles. Now left in a half buttoned dress shirt and black Calvin Klein briefs, I straddle his thigh right atop his tiger tattoo. Harry's arms wrap around my waist, holding me snug against his chest. Open mouth kisses litter my neck and my hips begin to roll back and forth.
He chuckles, "missed it, huh?"
I couldn't help but giggle. "You know it, babe." Panting harder and harder as I chase the high, Harry holds my thong to the side, making it far easier to get off. I know me on top of him like this is torture, but I needed this. All I could think about was his tattoo after we spent the whole day on the beach yesterday. He caught me staring a handful of times, and if I didn't know any better, he made sure to have his swim trunks kept bunched up enough for the tiger to be visible.
Well, fine by me.
"Had me thinkin' about it all fuckin day yesterday, you made sure of that didn't you." I chastised.
"Mhm, it's your weakness." His tone laced with arrogance made my heart jump. I always loved how cocky he was, and he's never been cocky in a disrespectful way, but more self assured. He always knew what he wanted and stood firm on what he brought to the table. And right know, I'm wondering why we never gave long distance a shot. He's carnal in the bedroom, but adoring and sweet all other times. No other man has giving me the best of both worlds, until Harry.
One last roll of my hips and the band in my belly snaps. Pure pleasure courses through my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I couldn't have been more satisfied. My moans mixed with happy laughter and tears of joy. I haven't had an orgasm that intense in years. Harry watches me unravel before him, and he looks fond of himself. "Didn't even let me touch you yet and look at ya, makin' a mess." His arms tighten as he picks me up and lays me onto the duvet. " filthy girl tonight."
Blissed out and dizzy, I simply nod.
I lay back with my eyes closed and head spinning when I hear the sound of Harry's pants hitting the hardwood floor.
I could feel the shift of the bed as he climbed over me, hovering inches from my face.
I could smell his tobacco vanille cologne engulf my nose. It smelled so much like home to me.
His lips connect with mine, tasting of red wine and spearmint.
I was in literal heaven once again.
Soft lips travel down my throat and land on my sternum. Peeling open my eyes I see him nestled between my legs, making himself comfortable gazing longingly at me. "What's on your mind?" I ask.
He shrugs, "nothin'. Just taking this all in."
I couldn't stop the smile that creeped in, "me too." I peck his forehead, then his nose, lifting his chin I plant a kiss with a loud mwah! "Missed you."
"I've missed you, too, peach."
Harry's large hands graze my sides and land on my hips. "You still on the pill?"
"Of course."
"And you're sure you wanna do this?" He asks.
I roll my eyes and wrap my legs around his waist, "yes. Please, I want this."
"Just this once, okay?" He uttered.
"Just this once." I echo.
Discarding his briefs and my thong, we were chest to chest, flesh to flesh, once again after four long excruciating years apart. But it was as if no time had passed when his hips rolled into my slowly, how the familiar groan he makes when he fills me to the hilt rumbles inside his chest. No one has ever come close to him, and they probably never will.
"You ok?" He pants. I nod, "move, please." He pulls further out of me and rolls back in dangerously slow, eliciting quite a long moan out of me. He doesn't stop kissing me for even a second, and neither do I. It's like we wanted to drown in one another, one last time. Hitching my left leg up, Harry pulls back and anchors my ankle atop his shoulder. A devilish smile peers down at me, "Is no one takin' care of you properly?"
Before I could answer, a hard thrust forward knocks the wind out of my chest. He does it again, again, and again, the best combination of pain and pleasure. Feeling his hand grip around my neck, Harry leans over my body, changing the angle, "baby, I asked you a question."
"No, no one has. Not since you!" I cry.
"Tsk tsk. That's a damn shame." He tuts. "Don't you worry, peach, I'll get you there."
Dropping my leg abruptly, he leaves me empty and leans back on his knees. I sit up on my elbows, leering at him annoyed. "Ok, that right there is not-"
"Hush and turn around."
I sit up, wanting to push him a little and fold my arms over my chest. "And what if I didn't wanna turn around?"
Cocking his head to the side, he glares playfully at me. "When did you get so bratty?"
I shrug and move closer to him, now seated on my knees, eye to eye, soft green and icy blue, "ever since I had to fuck shit men since you. No one knows what I like. And right now, I don't feel like turning around. That ok with you?" His eyes bounce between my own, mouth agape in surprise. "Anything you want."
"Then lay back."
Before I knew it, we were at it again with me taking full control. Sinking down with minimal effort, his eyes roll to the back of his head. He did always enjoy me on top, glad that hasn't changed. No other man ever lets me ride them, and it was my favorite position. Harry on the other hand has always been considerate even though he prefers to be more in charge.
His hands guide my hips back and forth when my body becomes sweaty and tired. That all too familiar feeling at the base of my spine was creeping in, and from the flushed look on Harry's face underneath me, he was on the verge of coming undone as well. "Come here."
He orders, so I lean forward allowing him to take over. Every thrust that hits that sweet spot, the bubble expands, until it finally pops. "Fuck Harry, please do stop, I'm-". Words escape me as my body goes rigid, the bliss I felt was un-fucking-imaginable. It was like the never ending orgasm, and he fucked into me to make it last even longer.
"Fuck, Jade I can't hold it." he was breathless, panting uncontrollably as he released everything he had inside of me. Its been four years, and he still gives me the most satisfying orgasms.
His thrusts grow sloppy and ragid, dropping his knees flat. The energy now simmering down, I begin to sit up to get to the bathroom and take care of business. Harry cocks a brow and tightens his arms around me. "And where do you think you're going."
"Gotta take care of that." I gesture with a nod where he's still buried inside me.
"Nuh uh." Pulling out, he flips me over and buries his face between my legs. The sensitivity was so overwhelming it hurt, but I revelled it. Pleasure with pain. I couldn't help but watch intently as Harry devours every last bit of our climax. Almost forgot how good this feels. Eventually I had to push his face back to prevent a third orgasm from happening. I was far too tired for another. Harry disconnects his lips from me, grinning like the greedy little shit he is. "Always so good."
Harry scurries over to the bathroom and grabs a damp towel, aiding me in the remainder of the cleanup. Once I'd made myself semi decent, I wrap myself in a sheet and pick up my discarded clothing. Looking at the clock, the reception was already halfway over.
Tatiana is going to kill me. I check my phone and see a message from her of nothing but emojis: a heart, a boy, a girl, and an eggplant.
Well, I guess we aren't in trouble after all.
I could feel Harry watching me from the doorway of the bathroom. Glancing up, I see his arms crossed over his broad chest and a saddened look in his eyes. "Hey, you ok?" I ask.
He nods quickly, "mhm."
"It may have been four years baby cakes, but I still know when you're fibbing."
I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling. "It may have been four years baby cakes, but I still know when you're fibbing."
Harry rubs the back of his neck nervously, "well, I don't know if this is appropriate… but. Do you wanna just… stay?" His shoulders looked tense, like he had been holding onto that question all night. Dropping my wadded dress, I walk over to him. I take his arms into my hands, forcing him to unfold them. "Harry, don't feel weird about asking me that. I'd rather stay here with you than sleep alone."
"Really?"
I shrug, "of course." Harry brings my hands to his lips and peppers my knuckles with a million kisses, his scruffy face tickling the sensitive skin. "I'm gonna shower then?" I prompt.
Harry guides me into the en suite, turns on the shower to the hottest possible temperature, and leaves me to do my business. I felt pretty guilty for a moment for running off and boning my ex during my best friend's wedding, but I know Tatiana is going to be dying for details tomorrow, totally overlooking that the best man and maid of honor disappeared before the cake was even cut.
Feeling squeaky clean, I find a t- shirt and pair of shorts folded nicely on the bathroom counter for me. He always takes such good care of me. Once I'd made myself decent, I wandered into the bedroom feeling completely wiped. Harry was nestled in a large armchair, flipping through a book, rubbing his tired eyes. Gravitating to him, I curl up next to him, wrapping myself around his torso. "M'so tired." I mumble. "Read to me?"
"You still love that, huh." He comments, holding me close.
"Of course." I answered. "It was one of my favorite things."
"And tomorrow, if you're lucky" Harry turns to kiss my forehead, "I'll order breakfast in bed, how's that sound?"
I hum and kiss his shoulder, "And maybe you'll wake up with your cock in my mouth, if you're lucky."
"What happened to just this once?" He added.
"We were never very good at following the rules, now where were we?"
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Osamu is the mighty boss of Onigiri Miya, resourceful, confident, efficient, a leader who takes no shit from horrible customers and will face unexpected problems head on. But sometimes, running a restaurant is so stressful. He was having a bad day, plagued by stress and pressure of servicing customers, keeping track of products and finances and employees on time. Even on his mind, he wonders and calculates and thinks how his business can be more successful and how to avoid losses. The next day, he broke down upon discovering he forgot to wash his laundry.
He woke up early, before Suna. As usual, before making breakfast, he would check his chores and the state of the house. Not that he didn't complete them the day before-
A basket of 2-weeks worth of dirty laundry, which he had promised himself to deal with yesterday.
God, was he so stuck up with dealing with restaurant problems? How could he forget such an important chore? Now how would he have clothes in store to wear? He already woke up hung-over with light sleep, and his forgetfulness of yesterday might just kill him.
He doesn't cry, he swear. Atsumu only saw him cry when they were kids. Osamu would shrug it off and move on, solving the problem as quick as possible before having a quick lunch and open Onigiri Miya on time.
And it feels so difficult. Waking up at 5, driving one hour to the city center, and opening the shop at 6, then go home at 11 to his husband at 12. His employees wonder how the boss could keep up such a scary lifestyle, and right now, Osamu wonders it too.
Meanwhile, Suna found himself lacking Osamu's warmth in the bed, and got up to find him. It was no surprise Osamu would wake up early and leave Suna completely in deep sleep. But he'd always kiss him before going to work silently.
Suna went outside, to see Osamu sitting and staring at the laundry. Chests heaving. Osamu was distressed. As he got closer to Osamu, he realized the man was crying silent tears. He wouldn't look up at Suna, but Suna knew.
But Suna was terrified too. For the first time Suna could recount, Osamu cried. He had never noticed him crying before, even though Osamu often asks him for comfort when he's down. Suna had doesn't know how to comfort someone when crying, and he's afraid he might hurt Osamu. But he has to do something, because he cannot let him cry like that.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I have to get ready for work."
"No. Really what's wrong? If it's about the laundry then I can do it for you. No need to beat yourself over that."
Suna shook his shoulders. Voice full of confidence. Not what he often does to comfort Osamu. Even holding Osamu's hands in his to maximize the effect.
"Fine. It's stress. Running the restaurant's hard, you know?"
"Then take a day off. Relax. I don't want you to cry again. Go to sleep, and you'll feel better after that."
"Promise?" Osamu looked up at him in teary and weary eyes.
Suna wasn't sure what he said was true, but he has to go through it. He wants to believe in it too.
"Promise."
"Thanks Rin, but I gotta go to work. They need me."
Suna guess he couldn't keep Osamu with him for too long before he'd be back at the restaurant, his work, his passion.
"But come back early, yeah. I want you to have a good night sleep." He said, dejectedly. He thought Osamu could stay with him and relax and take a day off work.
"Promise." Osamu wiped his tears, simply smiled and kissed Suna on the forehead as usual before leaving work. Now that's the familiar kiss before he goes to work. Suna went back to bed and tried to continue his sleep.
Osamu cries few tears, and for a few times. But he knows how to bounce back and carry on, with the right support. And one day, when the business gets better, he could allocate more time to his home and Sunarin.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons#suna rintarou#miya osamu#sunaosa#established relationship#they live in the same house#idk what I'm even writing#I'm so sleepy rn#got this idea from twitter even though twitter does it better than me#so credits to luxrayfics I guess#mini fanfic#I guess
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sitting here saying I am in incredible pain, saying the pain I have every single day, while my mom patronizingly says "that's rough" or pats my knee sympathetically.
My dad jokingly says "you're too young to have problems" or "it only gets worse from here" or "welcome to being 65."
I am 21 years old. 3 years ago I demanded to see a doctor because my knee pain was making it difficult to walk. I have had pain since I was a child and it has only progressively gotten worse. My parents are in charge of getting me appointments (with my help since I'm over 18) because of my autism, overwhelm, mutism, and shutdown and severe anxiety and avoidance. They handle finances as I have about $10 and that's it and can't work.
Getting the patronizing "sorry you're in pain :(" when I have made it clear when the issues started years ago and got written off as annoying and complaining and it progressed to the point where I barely leave my bed or get up at all and I try my best to do things to ease the pain pisses me off.
I demanded to see a doctor. My mother said she would. She didn't. And now getting these jokes and patronizing stuff pisses me off. You are literally metaphorically spitting in my face. My knee and back issues have only gotten worse to where I struggle to even do the bare minimum of myself.
And I am mad. Because it NEVER had to get this bad. And doctors now overlook my issues for my weight. I had bad blood pressure ONCE and it was immediately chopped up to my weight/exercise even though they know I have diagnosed anxiety and I was literally getting a vaccine that day, I have a fear of needles! Since then, no blood pressure issues cause I am blessed with perfect blood pressure apparently.
I just. Am so fucking mad. And over these past 3 years? I have seen my parents work hard to be healthy, go to the gym, get medical help for every tiny issue they have. While I am sitting here, just trying to eat right to keep my IBS from killing me and to prevent low blood sugar problems. It's apparently been my responsibility since I was like fucking 5 to make my pain known, but it only got written off. And even when I state clearly what I want and experience, it gets overlooked.
I can't wait to move in with one of my close loved ones cause they not only believe me, but they help me. Ray helped me get an OBGYN and without his help, I probably wouldn't be on birth control and have gotten diagnosed with PCOS. My friend who is literally my age is the reason I got diagnosed with PCOS and got help for it at all.
I just...am so fucking frustrated. Like actually fuck so many adults in my life. And stop blaming child me for not "letting you know." I was a child, it was my normal, I made it clear I was in pain and you didn't once think "maybe we should get this checked on."
When I move out, I'll be with people who believe me and can help me stand up for myself. I'm no good at facing doctors especially with my trauma and mental blocks and disorders. But I have hope. It's just living with the every day annoyances until then, the ones that make me just wanna scream or fight. I swear to god.
#disabled#disability#chronic pain#chronic illness#chronic fatigue#neglect#child neglect#furious#actually traumatized#actually disabled#actually autistic#semiverbal#situational mutism#i fucking cant#rant#vent#personal#angry#traumatized#disabilties#spoonie#tired
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Sliding in the DMs Part VIII
WARNING: 18+ CONTENT AHEAD
(also there is likely a few typos and mistakes. I'll go through and clean up on a later date.)
Joey was on the phone talking with Nick about recovery for an upcoming game when his phone pinged. “Yeah I mean I’d try that…” He trailed off as he saw the notification that Arty had just posted on her Instagram stories.
“Yeah I’m thinking of maybe trying water-based workouts in the off season. We could hit up Mike when we’re back in Fort Lauderdale and -” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Joey suddenly snaps.
Nick pauses for a few moments and said, “Dude it’s just water workout. What’s the fucking problem?”
“No - not that. Fucking Arty with her fucking shit..” Joey bitched.
“The girl you’re dating with the hot sister?” Nick asked.
“Yes - wait - how do you know she has a sister?” Joey asked.
“Not gonna lie - I looked her up when you mentioned Arty’s real name. Wasn’t hard to find since you followed her. Then, I found a pic of her sister tagged in it and did a follow request. She’s a real hotty.” Nick drew out.
“That’s a conversation for another time. Why the fuck is she out with this dude? She must really want me to fucking show up there because I told her I’m not playing these fucking games.” Joey rages.
She shared an additional video in her stories of a tiktok with the sound "Ladies unless he asks you to be his girlfriend you're single."
“Did she tag the location?” Nick asked, suddenly more animated again in the conversation. “I’d show up if I were you.”
“No she fucking didn’t. I’m texting her now.” Joey said.
After a string of angry texts he sent her, he told Nick he’d call him back and quickly tried her cellphone. After the third ring, he got her voicemail. He hung up and tried again two more times. By the fourth try he decided to leave her a message. “Artemis Thermopoli - you think this is fucking funny? Do you really want to play games? I fucking warned you not to go with that fucking guy tonight and you did anyways. Drop the fucking address because I swear to god that I’ll call every goddamn restaurant in the LA radius that’s open this late until you fucking answer me back. I told you I’m not fucking playing this game with you - you’re my goddamn girl.”
He hung up and flung his phone on the couch, panting heavily as he suddenly got up and paced the floor. The nearby decorative vase his mom picked out was sticking out to him in a way that somehow managed to enrage him further. He picked it up and chucked it across the room, watching it shatter into pieces on the floor. He paced some more before dropping back down onto the couch, this time face first and cussing into the throw pillow beneath him.
Just as he was about to make good on his word about calling every restaurant open at 10:30pm in the LA area, his phone pinged again. He quickly snatched it off the coffee table and opened the Instagram app again.
Arty was sharing to her stories again. This time, a picture of a dinner plate with the caption, “Pi on Sunset is one of the best mediterranean restaurants in West Hollywood 🥙.”
Joey felt a mix of anger burst in him and then excitement. He was for sure crashing this date. Without a fucking doubt. Opening his contact to her in imessage, he saw that she had read his texts 5 minutes ago, choosing to leave him on ‘read’. He’d get her back for that too.
Snatching his keys off his kitchen table, he ran out the door, stopping for just a moment to lock his door and text a quick “omw” to her before getting in his car and taking off down the street.
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“So… what do you do other than work in finance? Any hobbies?” Arty asked with fake interest.
The man sitting across from her, Jared, was ok… he seemed like a decent guy overall. He had a good paying job, was well-educated, polite and not inappropriate, conventionally attractive… he just wasn’t Joey. And that bothered Arty that since meeting Joey Bosa, there had been no other man that compared to him and how insane her attraction was to him.
Prior to seeing Joey, she didn’t ever consider the athlete type. Her ex-boyfriend from a few years ago was a skinny guy who did graphic design part-time and worked at Starbucks. And prior to that she dated a guy that worked as a nurse who was also of average build.
Joey had an impressive physique, an addictive personality, and Arty had never experienced such an attraction to anyone else before that she was experiencing with him.
Just as Jared was listing off his hobbies (golfing being one of them - no surprise there), Arty felt her phone vibrate on her lap. She discreetly peaked down at her screen and saw a text from Joey saying, “omw” and suddenly, with the burst of excitement and elation at the idea of him coming there for her, she stared back at an oblivious Jared with all the attention in the world.
She just hoped the LAPD didn’t arrest Joey who was likely speeding to get there from his place.
“You know, Jared, it’s been a great night getting to know you, but I know we’re both expecting an early morning tomorrow. I’ll flag the waitress down for our bill.” She said sweetly, painting a kind smile, hoping he’d say ok so she could just wait for Joey outside.
Jared, oblivious to her internal turmoil, waved his hand dismissively. “No, that’s fine Artemis. I’m going to order us dessert before we go.”
Arty’s smile slipped slightly and her brow twitched in annoyance. She didn’t need his permission to do so, she was telling him she wanted to get the bill and end the date. “Well, I think -”
Just then the waitress walked up to them, “Will you two be ordering anything else?”
“No, we’re go-” “Yes, please” Jared interrupted her.
Arty shot him an incredulous glare that he’d do so, but he wasn’t even looking at her as he picked up the tiny dessert menu next to him and was perusing the menu. “That’s not needed.” Arty said kindly, “I don’t want any.”
Again, Jared ignored her and told the waitress, “Two slices of the New York style cheesecake, please.”
The waitress looked at Arty curiously for a minute, who was too busy staring irately at her date to notice the confirmation.
Jared nodded at the waitress who thanked them and walked off to get their order. “You seem like a cheesecake girl.”
“Oh?” Arty asked flatly, no longer pretending to give a fuck about the date after he rudely interrupted her and ignored her. “I’m more of a cannoli or baklava girl actually.”
“I don’t know what the second one is.” Jared said, “Is it Indian or something?”
Arty stared for a moment - caught off guard by his remark. This guy after all told her he loved Greek food, but yet didn’t know the most popular dessert dish in not only Greece, but the Mediterranean. “No, it’s Greco-Turkish food. Super popular in the Mediterranean.”
“Never heard of it.” He took a sip of his wine. “So, I was thinking we could do this again sometime if you’d like.”
“Well, honestly -”
“She can’t because she’s already got a boyfriend, buddy!” Joey called as stomped around the corner, a nervous waiter following after him, trying to get him to stop.
“Joey!” Arty perked up.
“Joey?” Jared stared in confusion at her before looking at the hulking figure of the 6’5” outside linebacker stomping their way. “What - I mean.. Wait - Joey Bosa?” He pointed at Joey.
“Joey I’m on a date!”
"It's over. Tell your boy you're in a relationship." He demanded
“Sir - I am going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police. We are not only getting ready to close, but you also have no reservation here.” The waiter buts in, reaching his hand out to stop Joey from approaching any further.
“I’m here for my girlfriend and then I’ll be out of your fucking restaurant.” He said rudely. “Arty, I told you that I’d be on my way. Let’s fucking go.”
Arty smiled at him and said, “Girlfriend? I don’t see a girlfriend here. I think you’ve mistaken me with someone else Joey.” She was very coy about it, hoping he’d take the bait.
“Artemis Thermopoli. We will do this one of two ways: we walk out hand in hand or I carry your ass over my shoulder and out the door. You decide and do it quick. I’m over this shit.” He snapped.
Arty pretended to think for a moment before turning to Jared and saying, “Sorry, Jared. But I think for your sake and that poor waiter’s sake,” Who of which was heading to the front desk to call the police while a nearby hostess was watching their scene unfold with rapt attention, “I’ll be heading out with my good friend here.” She tossed a fifty on the table to cover her portion of the meal. “Enjoy the cheesecake.”
She got her coat, draped it over her shoulder and walked towards Joey.
“Can we do this again sometime?” Jared called.
“I think the fuck not unless you want a visit while you’re in the hospital, dude.” Joey answered for her, shooting a murderous glare at him.
“Woah - no problem dude. I got it. She’s your girl,” He laughed nervously, “I had no idea she was taken. Big fan by the way. Go Buckeyes!” He stuck both hands up in surrender.
Joey made an unimpressed ‘hmm’ sound and started walking back the way he came. Arty following after him.
He stopped at the front and asked, “So, you call the police yet?”
The hostess, who had since made it to the front, answered, “Nope. Do you need a private room to speak? What can we get you?” Her eyes darted to Arty curiously.
“No need. I got what I was here for.” He said and waved in thanks at them.
Joey walked out the door and turned towards Arty who was still walking behind him. He reached his hand out and she swatted it away. He grunted and tried to grab her hand, only for her to once again swat it. “Knock the shit off, Arty!”
“Nope. Only boyfriend and girlfriend hold hands.” She said pointedly. “I’ll get an Uber and meet you back at my apartment.”
Joey chuckled darkly. “Again with this shit.. And the fuck you are. I’ll give you a ride back to my place for the night.”
Arty ignored him and got on the Uber app. She slipped her jacket on and was searching for a driver when suddenly she was up in the air and facing downwards, with a loud grunt from beneath her, she found herself over the shoulder of Joey, her head facing the rear of him as he walked in the direction of his car.
“Joey - are you fucking serious? What the fuck?” She shouted, taking her free hand and slapping him on the ass. Her palm stinging from colliding with nothing but firm muscle. “Put me down.”
“We’re almost there. Stop yelling.”
“Seriously, if you drop me, I’m going to be so pissed and I’ll never talk to you again.”
“You’re not even half my weight. I lift weights heavier. You’re fine.” He stopped walking and gingerly put her down on her feet, being sure to steady her as she was wearing heels. He paused to look her over from head-to-toe. “You look beautiful tonight, babe.”
Arty blushed and was flustered at the compliment. “Thanks.. But I’m still mad at you!”
“No you’re not.” He rolled his eyes. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have been teasing me all fucking night. I swear you like seeing me lose it over you.”
“I do not!”
“You do.” He stared in amusement at her, “I fucking know you do. You get some type of sexual kick from this? You make me so mad I just want to fuck the brattiness out of you.”
Arty felt the heat in her stomach pull at his words. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Joey nodded in amusement and opened the passenger door for her, “Alright. Get in.” He looked at her expectantly.
She begrudgingly did so with him closing the door after her. He slid in on his side and buckled up, starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot onto the glitzy West Hollywood streets.
On the drive back to his place he suddenly says, “Artemis Renee Thermopoli.. you just love to piss me off, don’t you?”
He’s gripping the wheel in a vice grip and not looking at her. He’s pissed again, radiating anger. Arty is squirming in the passenger seat with excitement and happiness. She knows what’s coming.
“Sometimes.” She says innocently.
Joey was a block from his house when he turned towards her at the red light and said, “Any plans you got tomorrow are going to need canceled cause there is no way you’re walking after tonight.”
“Is that a threat?” She asked.
“Nope - a fucking promise.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arty was crying out loudly as she lay with her head pressed against the bunched up comforter beneath her. Joey was railing her from behind with so much force, she had to grip the corner of the mattress to keep from moving forward with each thrust.
Joey had his hand pressed into her back, keeping her back arched a certain way that he knew she liked and the other gripping her waist tightly to hold her in place. Even in his ‘punishment’ for her he prioritized her pleasure. Nothing beat seeing her this way, so raw and vulnerable to him.
The second they made it in the doorway of his house he had her dress up and over her head, legs around his waist, and her back pressed into the wall as they made out.
At some point, after fucking on the couch and the island in his kitchen, they made it to his bedroom.
Something Joey had never experienced before Arty was sex with someone with just as high of a stamina. He once asked her if she was a nymphomaniac and she unabashedly said, “yeah. If it’s good sex, I love it.” And he wouldn't lie that it for sure boosted his ego a bit to know she enjoyed it so much with him.
Just as he felt his sack tighten, he felt Arty’s hand push against him, letting him know to stop. He did so immediately and pulled out. “You ok?” He gasped, “Too much?”
“No, no.” She gasped and sat up. “I wanna ride you.” She was panting, her makeup smudged and her face flushed with red. Joey thought she looked beautiful. “Please, Joey.” She broke his daydream.
Joey nodded and sat back against the pillows towards the headboard. Arty mounted him, pressing her hand on the center of his chest, toying with the chest hair growing there, before gasping as she sunk down on his cock. “Fuckkk.” She moaned as Joey dropped his back in bliss at the warmth the enveloped his member. “It’s so big..” She breathed into his ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“All for you.” Joey panted back.
“All for me?” She asked breathily, looking into his eyes as she bit her lip and increased her pace.
Joey nodded and said, “And you’re all for me? My girl?” He asked hopefully.
Arty grinned at that and nodded. “All for you, baby.” She gripped his hand in hers and pressed it against the part of her chest where her heart was.
Joey smashed his lips into hers as he picked up the speed and pistoned into her from below.
Arty moaned against his lips and pulled away suddenly. “I’m gonna cum again!” She cried as she felt the familiar knot build in her belly.
“Come on, baby. Let me see you.” Joey reached down and rubbed furiously at her sensitive nub.
Arty opened her mouth with a silent scream as her vision blackened at the intensity of her orgasm.
Joey followed a few moments after, the gush of her cumming and the tightness enveloping his cock being too much for him.
He laid back spent as Arty leaned into his chest, equally soaked in sweat, body sore, and sated in her appetite.
Joey chuckled and said, “I just realized that I never really did ask you to be my girlfriend. So, to make sure what we just said earlier counted.. Will you be my girlfriend, Arty?”
Arty smiled bashfully at him and nodded. “Of course. It’s all I’ve wanted since day one.” She admitted.
Joey smiled lovingly at her and said, “I fucking love you.”
Arty stared in absolute shock at that. Too stunned to speak.
Joey, finally realizing what he admitted, said, “Shit. That’s too soon. I’m sorry. You’re not expected to say it back. I wasn’t fucking thinking and I’m such a fucking idiot -”
“I love you too.”
“I mean - wait - what?” He asked dumbly.
“I love you too.” She smiled adoringly up at him, still laying against him in their post coital bliss. “I am pretty fucking crazy about you in a way I’ve never been about anyone else. I love all of you.”
“Nose and all?” He joked weakly, his eyes stinging a bit with tears.
“Nose and all.” She confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
They made out languidly before Arty lifted off of him, separating with a hiss as he slipped out of her.
“You want to take a bath?” Joey asked her.
She nodded and held her hands out. “You’re gonna have to carry me there, caveman. You broke my pussy and my legs for the next day or so.”
Joey chuckled and lifted her up, carrying her towards the bathroom. He sat her on the toilet as he got the bath ready.
As the water was warming up, he felt Arty staring at him. Finally, he turned and asked her, “What are you staring at?” He was playful.
“Just a man I love deeply who is also my boyfriend.”
“Wow - sounds like a real winner.” He joked.
“Oh, he is. He also has a big dick.” She said bluntly causing Joey to cough loudly at that. “Which I love because -”
Joey held a finger to her lips. “We are literally taking a bath to help you with being sore from almost four rounds of sex. Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
Arty winked at him mischievously, “My mouth and hands are working just fine, baby.”
Joey groaned at that and said, “What am I going to do with you?”
Arty shrugged, “Love me, feed me, and fuck me.”
“A way to a woman’s heart.” Joey said sarcastically.
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Any recommendations for Soft Romantic stories (books or movies) featuring Black Women?
I hope I don’t offend anyone and this is not meant to be a rant against all white women or anything. I also don’t expect every creator to create specifically for me, how can they if they don’t all get my experience? I’m just tired, y’all.
I recently finished the Normal People limited series. I liked it at first but towards the middle I was really unimpressed and the end left me cold. No, I will not read the book. I think the thing that struck me most is how much I just don’t want to engage in any more romantic story lines that involve privileged white ingenues. I just can’t for the love of humanity watch a self absorbed girl rocking the nonchalant French girl aesthetic and strain to find her relatable. I live in Brooklyn. I know these girls. I just can’t relate. But they are not someone who’s inner life I need to get to know better. Maybe this is why I had no desire to ever watch Girls. I have a few white girl friends, they are not like these girls, like. at. all. I also recently watched The Boy Downstairs and The Worst Person in the World. See a theme here? Basically, I have Hulu and was struggling with finding modern romance to watch, thus this losing streak of irritating protagonists. I think Rory Gilmore is perhaps the archetype of this girl? I didn’t make it through the first season of that show. I just didn’t get the hype.
Anyways, this got me thinking that I really, really, really would love to have some GOOD romantic entertainment that features someone that looks like me. But what I don’t want is a soap opera or a typical romance novel formula. ( I can get down with a good telenovela style epic drama, but I want a different flavor here). I think the appeal of genre of films I mentioned is that they try to go deeper, they try to be smarter, nuanced, layered. I get the draw. It’s just none of these characters are that interesting to me and people seem to fall at their feet for no discernible reason. But I want the fluff, the softness, the allusions to great literature and art, the camisoles worn ever so gracefully, travel, and promise. I just don’t want the sense that no matter what these girls are going to be ok and land on their feet. Maybe they have some trauma, but honestly I have trauma, too and I still have to be a Black woman that is still struggling to be valued in relationships, in the work place, in society at large. So no, one shitty parent and sibling is not the totality of my lived experience and the extent of my angst. There is a whole lot of other shit going on. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on that can also finance all the self care, elite higher education, and travel I desire. I also still live with roommates. See what I’m saying? If you get it, you get it, if you don’t, you don’t.
I’ve been writing a fanfic based on Carmy and Sydney from The Bear. It is so fluffy, but also deep, sensual, witty (at least I think so). Sydney is coming into her full womanhood, defining her career, loving a man who is wounded, and guess what, she’s broke ass fuck but still looks cute and has fun. I need that, but someone else to write it so I can enjoy. Props to all the other fanfic writers! Can we get something like this published or on the screen? FYI, I do not care if the romantic interest is Black, white, Asian, whatever. It does not matter to me. I want intelligent writing and a protagonist who is not aloof, who is vulnerable, delicate, actually works a challenging job, and inspires adoration not just because, but because she is seen. I swear if I have to sit through one more scene of a boring white girl in a perfect messy bun take a half bite of a pastry in slow motion I’m going to scream. Or watch a racially ambiguous girl get fawned over because of course she would because she’s slightly exotic and safe. AKA, she cannot be light skinned or mixed for the love of God!
Side note: I do recommend Good Luck to You Leo Grande (the ending was a bit meh, but the rest excellent and my goodness Emma Thompson always makes me cry) and Enough Said (who knew James Gandolfini was a great romantic lead). Maybe middle aged and older white women are better viewing than millennials and Gen Z?
Anyways, who has recs for my rant?
Edit: I think I found the vibe of what I’m looking for. Imagine all of the love songs from The Sea and the self titled albums from Corinne Bailey Rae. That’s it.
#the bear fx#carmy x sydney#syd x carmen#the bear fic#normal people#gilmore girls#rory gilmore#girls#marianne sheridan#the boy downstairs#good luck to you leo grande#emma thompson#james gandolfini#julia louis dreyfus#enough said#romance#novels#film#black women#black romance#women of color#the worst person in the world#hulu#black literature
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Set-Up: 🔅In the land of sunny El Paso, It is a beautiful 100 degree weather day and the studio is DEFINITELY feeling it. Fans are running on max, all the ice in the water coolers have melted, and no matter how many times the producer sticks his head into his mini fridge, there’s no sign of relief anywhere. I guess it’s the price you pay being the new show on the block! Repairs and renovations must be reserved only for the cash cows of the company, hence why being forced to shoot in a studio lot last updated in the 30’s was no surprise at all. No need to install A/C if the building can’t support it structurally, the finance department would say! Luckily for you though, being the lead of a children’s television program had some perks. One of the crew members was able to find a lone, oscillating fan to sit in front of your folding chair, but it didn’t do much except blow more hot air around. The production team promised official actor chairs with their names embroidered on the back once the Sunny Time Crew Show took off, but for now, you had to settle for the static clinging variation found at small events and birthday parties. You are reading through the latest episode’s script, noticing a few changes made last minute by the writing staff that made your brow lift. There were characters you’ve never briefed on before. The Sun and the Moon? How’d that work? Sure, they were early in the production process and have only aired the pilot so far, but you’d think you would’ve at least met the person by now. You hear a number of hurried footsteps echo off the vinyl flooring.🔆
*My heels clack loudly against floor as I scour the premises for any sign of life or people. I had already met so many dead ends that there was a part of me that refused to believe this studio is actually shooting anything at all. It didn’t help when the people I did run across didn’t even glance in my direction as they scurried off. Finally reaching an entrance much larger than any of the small offices I rushed by, I took it as a sign that I might be on track. A panicked look is plastered all over my features as I scan the area for anything that hints I’m going in the right direction.*
Oh god, I’m absolutely going to be late at this rate! I knew I should’ve came three hours early instead of two! Where in the world-
*That’s when I spot you flipping through your script in the distance. No one else was around and you didn’t seem like you were rushing to get anywhere, so maybe you’d help!*
OH! Excuse me! Sir!
*I lift an arm up, securing the black binder more tightly against my chest as I lightly jog over to you. My hand instinctively grabs my knee for support once I reach you. Taking a deep breath, I straighten myself up and tuck a long strand of dark brown hair behind my ear. My bangs cling to my forehead for dear life. With how old the building is, people would assume that I’m a ghost or someone who just walked off a princess set with how out of style my puffed sleeve dress is. The bow clipped behind my head becomes more crooked and a relieved smile graces my face*
Oh thank goodness you’re here! You’d not believe the day I was having! I swear I thought I had the plague or something with how much I got snubbed today.
*I let out a breathy laugh, my free hand emphasizing my emotions. I bring my arm back to meet the other along my binder and squeeze it tighter against my chest.*
I’m sorry for interrupting what you’re doing, but my agent set up a vocal audition for me for the…Sunny Time Crew Show? I think that’s what it’s called?
*My brows furrow in thought before I wave a hand dismissively.*
I don’t even know! My agent says it’s the beauty of last minute auditions, but not being able to study up makes me feel more anxious than anything! Anyways, I was hoping you’d know where they’d be at. I’m not really used to being on a film lot since musical theatre productions is more of my thing, but I didn’t think that they were THIS big. Memorizing directions is not my specialty as you can tell.
(OOC-Hi! I’m sorry this is so long, I just wanted to set up the scene! I love how you portray Joesph and I hope I can RP with you!)
-🧜🏻♀️
OOC// okay, to start this off, I legit was trying to think of shit all day for this, but got busy with work (ask my s/o they offered help when I saw the absolute NOVEL you had written /positive ) however, it's time for my brain to go back to 2012-2014 (my peak roleplay years)
Joseph looked over at you, his white tank-top both slightly see-through and stained from his own sweat, soon fanning himself with his script.
well, you came to...I guess the right place. Though, it feels more like hell right now. No damn clue why the idiots higher up decided the new show would get the worst building in the area.
He stands up and stretches a bit, if you looked over you'd notice his jeans sitting on his chair, the man in a pair of fitted shorts instead.
If I knew it'd be this hot I wouldn't have even bothered to come nicely dressed.
He offers his free hand to you, it obviously very sweaty.
I'm Joseph, I guess I'll be the main part in this children's show. But, I'll warn ya, some of these actors? Serían mejores para los espectáculos nocturnos, if you get my drift. (translation: they'd be better for the late night shows,)
He gives a very half-caring smile.
What position are you here for? So far, I know about....3, 2? other actors, and none of which have given anyone any hospitality other than the manager and director.
#sunny day jack#somethings wrong with sunny day jack#sdj joseph#sunnydayjack#swwsdj#joseph cullman#sdj jacktor#jacktor#joseph haberdae#roleplay account#ooc
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𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃
💠🤍🦋💫 On the new trend 💫🦋🤍💠
What are your dream person placements? I would love to know! 🥰🥰
𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃
𝔖𝔲𝔫:
Cancer
Scorpio
Libra
Leo
𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫:
Cancer
Leo
Scorpio
Taurus
Pisces
ℜ𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤:
Pisces
Aries
Libra
Taurus
Cancer
(Leo, but as I am a Leo Rising and I feel one of our angular axis is so fucking painful, I dont know if I would like to share the pain with such person 😅)
𝔐𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔶:
Gemini
Scorpio (I have Mercury in Gemini, and this is by far, apart from mine, the Mercury I most deeply cherished and appreciated so far, might as well be my Child asteroid and IC in Scorpio 😅)
Leo
Cancer (it is so cute, feelinglishy, loving, thoughtful and caring)
𝒱𝔢𝔫𝔲𝔰:
Leo (as me, we are awesome bitches 😌💅💅💋)
Libra
Scorpio
Cancer
(Pisces? - I dont know how much I would like that 😅😅)
(Virgo - I do love the classy, neat, high-value way they dress, with lovely colours and other neutral colors, good choice of fabrics, pure, soft and good material,
but I think that is all 😅)
𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔰:
(Aries - I dont know what to do or can handle all of that energy 😅😂)
Cancer (like me 😃😃)
(Leo - I dont know about all of that power that person holds within and around them 😅😅)
(Scorpio ? 🤔🤔 - think can definitely be interesting)
𝔍𝔲𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔯:
(Aries)
Taurus
Cancer
Leo
Scorpio (all of these sex partners and occult and sex discoveries, stories and all gets me so damn intrigued, I just want to know more and feel a bit more of it)
(Pisces)
𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫:
Taurus (for some reason I looooove it in here, all that talk about materialism and possessions and stuff just make me go nuts 🤯🥵🥰🥰)
Leo (a good life of the party, celebrity like as time goes by ... who doesnt want that? Especially as a partner? 😮😮🥳🥳👯♀️👯♀️👯♀️)
Scorpio (You not only know what you want, but you don't stop until you get it - bring all that sweet sweet divine ambition embrace to me 🤤🤤)
(Pisces ? because they are broken in society and within, resort to drugs and other escapisms, and 🥺 my Venus in the 12h just wants to help them and to fix them 🥺 🥰 ?)
𝔘𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔲𝔰:
Aquarius (to me, the only right place to put Uranus in, is in its domicile - you are original, you are creative, you are independent in your endeavours, youre bold, you have got it all ❤❤ perfect and PERIODT)
Aries (revolutionariousness, like ughh that pleases my Aries Lilith 🥰🥰)
Taurus (it might seem like a paradox, because Taurus is so comfortable with no changes whatsoever, while Uranus is about big sudden original changes, I just love the uniqueness they bring to the table, the skinny aesthetics, the beauty, all of it, despite the bad, seems an ethereal bubbly dream ahahahahahahah)
Gemini (who does not like a good "old" flexibility? 😂😂)
Cancer (bringing a new element of genius to it all 🤗🥰)
(Libra)
(Scorpio)
Pisces (bring that idealism back baby 🐋)
(Does it show by the big list that I am Uranus dominant? Does it? 😃😃 Does it? Ok 🥰🥰)
𝔑𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔢:
(*cof* I have it in Aquarius, but honestly, in practical terms I know shit about what it means, so obviously: *cof*
***drums playing in the background***
Pisces (in domicile - the right place to dream is inside of a Pisces Neptune head 🥰🥰)
𝔓𝔩𝔲𝔱𝔬:
Cancer (I swear I dont know if this is from a past life or someone I knew in another life that was a Cancer Pluto, something about it draws me in so much, I think they are made to be the cutiest pies of the cosmos 🥰🥰)
(Scorpio - I mean I love them, I do, there are so many fucking things interesting about them and their souls and all, but that thing about wanting to be single forever, no kids until a late age and having finance struggle, ehhh not for me babe)
Sagittarius ( UHUHUHUHUH 🥳👯♀️🥳👯♀️🥳😎 we are here baby 😎, I fucking swear my generation, gen Z, is just so fucking good, I swear I cant deal, we are perfect, we are literally sons and daughters of gods, I love our revolutions, our love, our chaos, our I am not going to work type of mentality, we rockin this shit up, 🥰 our positivity 🥰, our social media, our influencing. Chefs kiss 👌👌
𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔥:
Aries
Taurus
ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔬𝔫:
Scorpio
𝒱𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞:
Cancer (🥰 as me 🥰)
Pisces (similar energy to my Pisces Eros 🥰)
𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔬:
Virgo (my own Juno sign and the best I ever feel with anyone)
Cancer
Libra (both of the two latter are caring, loving, sweet, soft, even can be kinda home and marriage driven and in case of Cancer, children driven)
(But I am a bit suspicious, because as a Libra Moon, I tend to be very romantic and marriage driven, adding 🤭 my Leo Venus to the equation 🤭, I tend to appeal to people, I think, of all Juno signs, like in a way that can please them and fulfill their marriage needs.)
𝔑𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔑𝔬𝔡𝔢:
Leo
Pisces
Cancer
Libra
Taurus
Gemini (so I can finally have a buddy on my side on this crazy ride towards fixing myself in one same place and find a community 🥺🥺😥😥😥 or better have to live in a community 😅😅 doesnt feel like grace but more of a cosmic obligation)
Sagittarius (maybe it is because it is my SN but living that (again) is HOT 🥵🥵🥰 AF)
I will see how this evolves through the years,
as our perspectives evolve and the influences of our progressed charts also change - they change how we operate and what is better for us to attract,
So I might make an update in some time in the future 🤍🤍
❤ Dont forget, if you sticked this long: What are your dream person placements? I would love to know! ❤
#soulmates#astrology#spiritual community#astro community#astro placements#astroblr#leo#cancer#scorpio#libra#pisces#virgo#sagittarius#aquarius#gemini#aries#taurus#manifestation#glow up#vision board#level up#glow blog#it girl#aesthetics#astro planets#natal placements#dream life#love#romance#attraction
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Drake - 8AM in Charlotte Lyrics
Drake - 8AM in Charlotte Lyrics
Intro
In God's hands (Conductor)
Be grateful
That He was there
Glory (Yeah)
I'm out here on the road
You can hear it in the voice (Glory)
Still get this shit off, though
Look
Verse 1
The money speakin' for itself, I call it fortune-tell
Fire top from a bitch that work at corporate sales
Chinchilla ushanka, we skiin' out in Courchevel
Breakin' news, they tried to kill him, but the boy prevails
I leave for tour and my niggas fuckin' go to jail
Preachin' to the dogs 'bout wantin' more for themselves
It's weighin' heavy on my moral scale
Knowin' they gon' sell another citizen 'caine, they think they Orson Welles
Walk in Chanel, they like, "How the fuck you need more Chanel?"
I got these cats tuckin' tails on fourth-quarter sales
I'm used to seein' tears drop over enormous meals
The restaurant clears out, faint echoes of Lauryn Hill
I say, "We gotta talk about us," I feel like Jordan Peele
Could tell I'm gettin' under your skin like a orange peel
'Cause your words don't match your actions like a foreign film
And now it's silence in the Lamb' like the horror film
Things get quiet after me statin' the obvious
Things get kinky after fifteen years of dominance
That October sky is lookin' ominous
The money is autonomous
Shout' to Oliver North, he out in Rome doin' Toronto shit
And Jeremiah the watchdog, you niggas know what time it is
I'm in and out of Houston Hobby so much, I'm a hobbyist
Hoes waitin' on Cench in the lobby, that boy a lobbyist
Savage got a green card straight out of the consulate
Where I go, you go, brother, we Yugoslavian
Formal is the dress code, dawg, so many checks owed
I feel Czechoslovakian, nigga, what the fuck?
Interlude
Nah, I'm movin' different right now, for real, like
I feel like if Mike switched out the glove for the pen, like
This shit just too enticing right now, you know?
Look
Verse 2
Diamonds do the silly dance, I raise up the wine glass
Metal detectors beepin' and security bypass
The numbers goin' up, someone pull up the line graph
The days are goin' by, it's like I'm livin' in time-lapse
Been talkin' to Adel like he majored in finance
Shania Twain, notepad, I'm makin' it line-dance
You tryna rob me, and it's gon' feel like you sittin' at your favorite restaurant 'cause, nigga, that's where you dyin' at
Mob ties, I swear we like a bitch with fine sisters and fine cousins, the family all bad
I'm preachin' to the dawgs about cleanin' they images
I swear I'm like a young T.D. Jakes to my menaces
Long-kiss goodnight, PDA for my nemesis
Three hunnid acres, PGA on the premises
That's what's really brackin' like this verse in parentheses
I'm givin' hits to niggas on some, don't even mention it
Interlude
Like, don't even worry about it, like
You can hit me back whenever, or
Or don't, you know?
It is what it is, I guess
Yeah, hm
Look
Verse 3
You young boys take some of that money and set it aside
Not havin' enough to pay your tax is a federal crime
You niggas obsessed with me, and it's not on no hetero vibe
Handle beef so quiet, you think that I'm lettin' it slide
Next thing you know, we tip-toein' past enemy lines
Diss me so long ago, we making your memories fly
Conspiracy theories start floatin' 'round like the Kennedy guy
I'll prolly hold a grudge against you guys 'til I'm seventy-five
Ayy, niggas lyin' for a livin', I couldn't relate
We all gotta lay in the bed we make, but that couldn't be Drake
You forced a lot of fake love when real ones stood in your face
That's why you got deserted by your niggas like puddin' and cake
I got you on camera bowin' down, but the footage is safe
Thank God, another USB to put in the safe
Thank God, at the crib, dippin' my foot in the lake
I swear that y'all turned me into the villain, I couldn't escape
Not sayin' I'm the best at what I do
I'm just sayin' that it's me versus whoever wanna lose
Pick any one of the Who's Whos, I got .22s for new crews
R.I.P. to the DJ from Houston, we loose screws
Helicopters, cop lights, and news crews
Niggas steady cryin' to my daddy, well, boo-hoo
You prolly heard a lot about the boy, well, true, true, haha
Outro
(In God's hands) Yeah
(Be grateful)
(That He was there)
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C
Never going back there again...ever
I am an easygoing person. I try to see the best in everyone, and I am big on forgiveness, but when I am done with you, I am done. There is no going back, ever!
I will give you the shirt off my back, I will be your friend through thick and thin. If I am in love with you, I will be your biggest cheerleader. You will never have to think about if I have your back, because I do!
If you break my trust, if you purposely hurt me, then it's over, done, finished. I am a one and done girl, just like my idea about tattoos. For me, it's one and done. I don't need to feel that pain again.
I got one tattoo that expresses all I feel, so I'm done.
Yes, I will forgive you but sorry I don't need to learn the lesson again.I'm good, thanks. When I finally had the courage to leave my abusive marriage, that was it. There was no going back. I've been there, done that, and I knew the results would continue to be the same, so why stay?
When my ex-boyfriend cheated years ago, I threw him out in the street at 1 am. on Christmas Eve. Oh yes, I was done, Christmas Eve or not. Sorry, not, sorry.
Just like Mr. Con Artist who was leading a double life. I threw him to the curb at 2 am (Wait...there's a pattern here…don't piss me off in the middle of the night if you need a place to sleep)
It's over, done, no explanations. No, I'm sorrys, I don't need a repeat performance, I got it loud and clear the first time.
I don't understand people out there who let "others" hit them, then make excuses for their behavior. Then, after the second or third time, they are still there. Why? Do you really expect a different result? The definition of insanity is doing the same things and expecting different results. He's cheated on you a dozen times. Do you really think if he does it 13 times, that will be enough for him? Do you think he will stop there? Come on, be real!
Is a no good man better than no man? Are you afraid of being alone that you will put up with anything? He's lied about his past, his finances, and his exes. You've caught him in more lies than you have fingers and toes, yet you believe the next thing he says that comes out of his mouth, really? I heard that the Brooklyn Bridge is pretty cheap, and I can get you a good deal on it. Come on, do you actually believe that bullshit?
He's promised he would quit drinking, gambling, doing drugs, yet he comes back to you again, broke and drunk. And there you are cleaning up his puke and lying to the landlord yet again, why?? Why do you think this time will be different?
I am not saying that people don't make mistakes. Read my blog. I am far from perfect and have screwed up plenty of times, but there has to be a line, and if you cross it, it's over. I like myself way too much to be treated like that anymore. You should like yourself that much. Believe me, being alone is so much better than being with someone you can't trust or has hurt you over and over again. I swear to you, you will be okay.
So today, my friends, my message is to have some self worth, and know your value. You need to know that you are a queen or king and by God, you will be treated like one or there is the door, don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out! Period!
Learn your lesson, take it, and move on. Be determined that you will not repeat that mistake twice. You will see it coming the next time, you will lay ground rules on how you will be treated, and if they do not, then it's over and mean it
Dr. Phil always says you start a relationship the way you want to be treated. So stand up and know your worth and take nothing less! You will be amazed at how good that feels, and let me tell you that you are worth it. Stand up and don't look back. You can't drive your car looking at the rear view mirror. Don't go back there ever again.
"Be the change you want to see,"
@TreadmillTreats
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Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace
But did I stop? Hell no.
Ended up cooking pork chops and doing a bit more cleaning.
And yeah. I'm paying for it today. Not bad, but my fucking a my arms hurt. Back shoulder blades, too, when I do things.
Which I am. I shouldn't be, I know this, but ... I can't stop. Can't not do it. Swear to the Gods this pill combination is like speed. Or maybe it's just the lack of inflammation making me feel like Wonder Woman.
Today's project:
I've already made headway on it - that pile of linens has been folded and put away, recycle has been taken care of (as well as trash), and J moved his juice.
Had to do this one, though - it was refill the pill box day, and all the pills were buried under that pile.
I know I should be an absolute slug today. My arms/muscles need the rest. I need the rest. But I'm just so desperate, you know? The state of the house absolutely plays into my state of mind and peace, and it has been so very long since the idea of cleaning house has even seemed feasible.
So yes I should rest but first I'll finish the table and bleach the countertops. And maybe try to fix something nice to serve The Heart Collector for hearts day.
~:~
But wait! There's more!
So the whole flooring account thing that's been getting more and more fucked as the months pass and my bank account keeps dwindling - finally bad enough that they had to give me a collection call this morning. And instead of hanging up and hiding in the corner from it (because finances and collection calls are triggering as fuck), I took the call and dealt with it.
And then when I went online to pay the small amount we negotiated to get my account back to not late - I got the option to close the account and make minimum payments until it's paid off. Payments are half what they were at the beginning, and it's interest free.
The floor situation (physical as well as financial) has been such a stressor, and while this doesn't fix the actual problem with the floor itself, it does help mitigate the anger at having to pay wasted money. And helps me worry less about my monthly budget. It gives me a little more breathing room in case the Asshole decides to not pay the child support. My credit score will only take a hit from the closed account.
Good thing I was planning on looking to the credit union for either a credit card, or a small loan to just pay the account in full. Either might be an option to start padding my credit score again.
Stg even that seems possible right now. I don't know how to deal with all this/
~:~
You know, I've never watched The Office, but thanks to Tumblr I do have proximate knowledge of many things, including the clip where Jim(?) pranks Dwight with the weight in the phone handset.
That's just what this feels like. I got so used to each day being heavier and heavier that I stopped noticing, and now every time I breathe I punch myself in the head the the lack of weight in my hand.
It is speed, or simply a lack of pressure?
#recovery#the chronic#chronic illness#myositis#ptsd#unfucking the habitat#bills#stress#recovery as an act of hope#recovery as an act of defiance
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out of my league - knj | 01
you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums
✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.
✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw
✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader
✹ word count- 6.6k
✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy
✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff
✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!
MASTERLIST
Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.
You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.
You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.
You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.
“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”
The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’
Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.
You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.
As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.
You don’t understand where things went wrong.
( one month ago )
It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.
The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.
The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.
You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.
You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.
You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.
Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults.
Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-
“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”
Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.
“It’s fine!”
“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”
He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.
Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.
You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.
Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.
Jimin quirks an eyebrow.
“What’s got you so perky this morning?”
You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.
You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.
You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”
Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.
“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.
“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.
Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”
You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead.
“Why?”
Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.
“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”
“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”
He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”
You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”
Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.
It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.
jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!
You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.
Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.
“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.
“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.
“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.
You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”
Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”
You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?
“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”
Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness.
“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.
“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”
What an asshole.
“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”
Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”
At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.
“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”
You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”
Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.
Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”
You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”
Jungkook snorts.
“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”
“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.
“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”
Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.
Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”
You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.
“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”
Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag.
“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”
You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams.
“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”
Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.
Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”
Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”
Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.
( present day )
The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.
You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.
A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.
“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”
Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.
You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.
“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”
It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.
They will suffer.
“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”
You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words.
“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”
Jimin sighs and shakes his head.
“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.
He growls and balls his fists.
“Jungkook knew.”
You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.
“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”
You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.
“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”
“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”
Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.
You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.
You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares.
Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.
You could do this.
You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.
At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.
You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.
The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.
No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.
Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.
“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”
You swallow and search for an answer.
“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”
Namjoon grimaces.
“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.
“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”
Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.
“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”
It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.
“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”
For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.
“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”
“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.
“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.
Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.
The next few days aren’t much better.
Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.
Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.
You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.
“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.
You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”
He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”.
You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.
He continues.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”
You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.
“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”
He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.
“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”
He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”
You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”
Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.
“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”
You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”
“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”
“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.
“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”
He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.
“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”
“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”
He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.
“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.
“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?”
His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”
“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.
With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.
A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.
Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.
It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.
The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.
You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.
There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.
Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.
You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.
"Look at her," the voice states.
You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.
“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”
Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches.
Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.
“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”
Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”
The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.
“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”
Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.
You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.
“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”
The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic.
Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help.
His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.
“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?”
You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply.
“Yes, I would l-love that.”
His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away.
“I’ll email you the details, okay?”
Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.
The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.
“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.
The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.
Email from: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 3:06 pm
Subject: Hey good lookin ;)
Hey!
Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.
I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.
Let me know!
Xoxo, Joon
You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.
The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.
You re-read the message, over and over and over.
The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.
Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.
As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.
The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.
Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.
“Oh, shit,” you gasp.
The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”
Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.
“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”
Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”
You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.
“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”
Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”
“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”
Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.
“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.
“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”
Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.
“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”
Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.
“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”
Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.
“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.
Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.
“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”
“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.
Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.
“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?”
Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes.
“I’ll find out, baby.”
Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.
Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.
Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.
He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.
“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.
Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.
“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.”
“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”
Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.
Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.
Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.
Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.
He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off.
By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.
All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.
It’s what fuels you through work.
You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.
The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.
Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.
He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.
He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.
“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.
Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.
“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”
Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.
Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.
Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.
“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”
Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.
“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.
“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.
Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.
“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”
Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.
“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.
Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.
“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”
tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer
#kim namjoon smut#kim namjoon#bts smut#bts fics#namjoon smut#out of my league#knj#knj smut#rap monster smut#JOOOOOOOOOONie
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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14
Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.
@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare
Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse
You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.
It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.
You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.
"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"
"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."
You leaned against the door. "Oh?"
"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.
"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."
"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.
"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."
"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"
Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."
You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.
"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"
Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."
"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."
"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."
You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."
"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."
"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.
"Hm?"
You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
Max returned the smile. "Of course not."
You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.
"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.
"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.
Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.
"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."
"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.
"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.
"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.
"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."
Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."
"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."
"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.
"Hannibal-"
"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."
"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.
Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."
"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."
You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time.
“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember.
“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.”
You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.”
“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].”
You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found.
“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.”
Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.”
“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.”
“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story.
“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.”
"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."
You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"
"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."
"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."
"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.
"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."
"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.
"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."
Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."
You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.
"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."
"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."
"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."
"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"
"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."
"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."
"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."
You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.
"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.
"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."
"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."
"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.
"I know." You conceded.
He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.
"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."
You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."
#hannibal lecter#hannibal x you#hannibal x reader#hannibal nbc#cult girl#more cult girl#cult girl doctorate#cult girl 2#tw death#tw family#pregnant reader#hannibal x pregnant reader
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