#anon i LOVE kehlani

[domjaehyun]

PL4YG1RL IS LIVE…

“are you lonely? are you stressed out? you deserve some fun. get your headphones, lock up the bedroom door, log on.” — PL4YG1RL, LOLO ZOUAÏ 

PAIRING(S). na jaemin x fem!reader GENRE(S). thriller/suspense, yandere, smut, angst WORD COUNT. 20.6k WARNINGS. noncon, stalking, kidnapping, violence, mentions of blood, explicit smut (protected sex, unprotected sex, forced breeding, oral (receiving), nipple play (receiving), masturbation (male & female), defiling of a stuffed animal, fingering, i think that’s it)  SUMMARY. you’re an up-and-coming camgirl, and na jaemin is a loyal supporter of your work–that is, until jaemin decides to take things to the next level.  PLAYLIST. PL4YG1RL - Lolo Zouaï, ALL MINE - Brent Faiyaz, ALL UP IN YOUR MIND - Beyoncé, Can I - Kehlani, Menace - Dounia

NOTES. hello… don’t crucify me. this is for halloween :) *insert obligatory “i don’t think these people are actually like this” statement that will protect me from anon hate* *insert compulsory “read the warnings and don’t come for me about content i warned you about” statement that will also protect me from anon hate*

if you read this fic, you assume full responsibility for consuming the content below, whether you read the warnings or not.

Saturday night, and Jaemin has nothing to do.

He sends a text to his group chat to see what they're up to before remembering it’s well past midnight. Rubbing a hand over his face, Jaemin pulls his laptop toward his body and onto his stomach. His fingers move of their own accord, typing in his favorite adult entertainment website and waiting as it loads. 

Index and middle fingers lazily scrolling through the copious amounts of explicit videos, Jaemin sighs heavily before an ad for a cam girl website catches his eye. A moment of hesitation, then a click takes him to the webpage, the background a lovely shade of pink as all the elements of the page load.

Jaemin is met with thumbnails of pretty girls in various states of undress, but no one is scratching the itch he has which is building up inside of him. A banner drops down from the top of the screen, attracting Jaemin’s attention.

PrettyKitty345 is now live.

Out of curiosity, he clicks, and the screen buffers for a moment before loading up a pretty girl with dark brown hair gazing seductively into the camera. Jaemin lingers for a moment until she speaks, her voice a perfect match for the sultry look she’s giving the viewers. 

Jaemin’s not into that, really. He likes them a little less deliberate, more effortlessly pretty. He clicks away and another banner comes down as if enticing Jaemin to stay on the website just a bit longer.

FunBunny is now live.

Another curious click brings Jaemin to the live feed of another pretty girl with white bunny ears on, whose voice is high and soft, a blatant contrast to PrettyKitty345 from earlier. Her performance is a bit too…childlike for Jaemin’s taste, discomfort swirling in his belly as he clicks away. 

PL4YG1RL is now live.

Jaemin sighs. He clicks—out of boredom, he tells himself—to enter the live feed. The second the screen finishes loading, Jaemin freezes in surprise.

You are quite literally the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

Sitting up slowly, Jaemin moves the laptop to rest between his legs as he studies your setup carefully.

“Hello, pretty girl,” Jaemin whispers, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “Where did you come from?”

You’re sitting on your heels on your bed, wearing a lacy pink slip dress and a sweet, kind expression. Jaemin can practically feel the warmth radiating from your gaze, and he wets his lips as he sits forward, waiting for you to speak.

“Hi, everyone,” you say, and Jaemin’s eyes squeeze shut as he groans in ecstasy.

You’re perfect. Your voice is every bit as lovely as you look, and there’s something so genuine about the way you carry yourself on camera that has Jaemin falling rapidly.

“How is everyone doing? Have you all had a good day today?” you ask, and Jaemin scrambles to reply, a window popping up that blocks the chat. 

“‘You will need an account to participate in the live chat’—oh, fuck.” Jaemin mumbles, opening a new window and quickly signing up with the website. It asks for a payment option so you can send tips, so Jaemin brings his laptop with him to his coat pocket in the foyer of his house, fumbling single handedly with taking out his wallet and pulling out a card.

Meanwhile, you’re reading through the responses coming in from the chat. “You’ve had a bad day, NiceGuy19? I’m sorry to hear that,” you frown and Jaemin’s heart clenches at how cute you are. He finishes inputting his credit card information and the window preventing him from typing in the chat box disappears.

NaJaem13: had a good day

NaJaem13: was feeling kinda bored though

He makes his way back to his bedroom, climbing onto his bed and setting the laptop back down. 

“NaJaem13, you’re bored? I’m kinda bored, too.” you hum, and Jaemin feels a fluttering in his chest. “Maybe we could entertain each other,” you propose, a playful smile curling your lips, and Jaemin decides in that exact moment that he’s sticking around in this stream until it’s over.

NaJaem13: sounds good :)

Jaemin watches, content, as you make conversation with other patrons, and when you start playing soft R&B music in the background and swaying to the music with a pleasant smile, tips start to come in. 

First it’s 20 tokens, which, Jaemin quickly searches up, is barely anything. Your eyes light up, however, and you thank the tipper gratefully.

Next comes 50 tokens, and it’s almost as if it’s a competition between the bidders, Jaemin watching in silent awe as the numbers increase to 75, 100, 150, 200– You can barely thank the donors quickly enough, a delighted laugh tumbling off your tongue that has Jaemin’s heart soaring.

Jaemin thanks his lucky stars that he just got paid this Thursday, and with a few clicks of his trackpad, he tips you 350 tokens.

“Thank you so much, NaJaem13!” You smile widely, bouncing slightly in place with excitement. Jaemin’s heart clenches; he’d do anything for that smile.

NiceGuy19: how much to take your dress off? 

Jaemin can’t help but bristle at how forward “NiceGuy” is. Your brows raise in intrigue as you read through the chat, replying as best as you can to the messages coming in.

“NiceGuy19, if you’d like me to start taking clothes off, I have my goals for tonight on the display next to my feed,” you say politely.

Sure enough, Jaemin looks at the text to the left of your feed and sees that there are options to have you remove your dress, underwear, bra, dance around, play with a vibrator, dildo, or other sex toys, and Jaemin’s brain honestly fizzles out at the options asking you to do more. His mind is reeling thinking about his hands on your hips, moving you from position to position—

Jaemin’s hand finds his length before he even knows it, fingers gripping the thick base of his shaft and pumping his fist up and down.

Tips start escalating in value, the counter of tips received going up and nearing the numbers listed in your goals, and Jaemin hisses in delight when you run your hand up from your lap and over your breast to fix your hair casually. When you move to sit cross-legged on the bed, Jaemin catches a flash of your light pink underwear before you press your dress down between your legs and smile demurely. 

Jaemin’s hand speeds up, pumping his length in his fist rapidly as he daydreams about stripping you of your dress, running his hand over the lace of your underwear and toying with you until a pretty little damp spot appears in the seat of them. Then he’d pull them down your legs slowly, revealing your bare core, and tuck himself under your thighs, bringing his face level to your glistening—

Jaemin’s cumming before he even knows it, his release spurting out and landing on his shirt before the last drops dribble down his fist; he keeps going, however—fucking his hand slowly until he can’t bear it anymore and releasing himself with a shudder and a tensing of his abdomen that borders on painful.

Catching his breath, Jaemin watches you in a daze, eyes heavy-lidded as they drink in the sight of you. He studies your face, admiring your lips—

How he wishes to see those pretty lips wrapped around his fingers or his cock. How he’d love to watch them moan his name as he pleases you.

He watches your eyes—

So sweet and unsuspecting; he wants to watch those pretty eyes glaze over when he turns you into a pretty, drooling mess. He’d love to see your eyes all glossy with tears when he breaks you into the perfect little fuckdoll for him.

Your neck—

His hands itch to wrap around your neck, squeeze until you’re gasping for air, and release you not a moment too soon, lips littering kisses all over the heated skin as you desperately suck in fresh gulps of air.

He wants to fucking ruin you—destroy you, break you, make you his and utterly his alone. The desire is building, and it’s building rapidly—Jaemin has never felt this way before.

His gaze drops to your legs, lifts to your breasts, runs over your body eagerly—

His tongue gliding over the swell of your breasts, fingers digging into your thighs greedily, hot and hungry—ripping off your clothes and revealing you to him, raw, bare, vulnerable; he wants you utterly exposed so he can take you for himself. Ruin any other man for you, have his name on the tip of your tongue every time you climax, memories of his touch ghosting over your most sensitive places at any given moment—

The rest of your live is short—technical difficulties cause you to have to end the stream earlier than expected with a precious frown and sweet, sincere apology—but you promise to see everyone again at the same time on Tuesday night, and Jaemin already knows he’ll be there because he’s sure of one thing, and one thing only.

Jaemin wants you—and he wants you bad. 

You check your reflection in the camera one last time before sitting back and clicking the live button. Casually scrolling through your phone, you wait for viewers to come in, adjusting the light pink slip you’re wearing.

NiceGuy19: hi playgirl

“Hi, NiceGuy19,” you say with a smile, looking into the camera as you speak next. “Are you doing alright tonight?” 

NiceGuy19: doing so well now that you’re live

“Oh, thank you,” you chuckle bashfully. 

A few more comments start to roll in as your live picks up traction, and you do your best to answer each one, giving everyone the attention they’re requesting.

A familiar handle pops up and you can’t help but smile.

“Hi, NaJaem13,” you smile just a bit wider, wanting to really cater to the user who gives the most generous tips. “It’s nice to see you again.”

NaJaem13: couldn’t stay away from you

“You’re so smooth,” you laugh, amused by his boldness. “You must have broken a lot of hearts, huh?”

NaJaem13: maybe a few

“I missed you last week,” you pout at the camera, and several tips come in. “You left me.”

NaJaem13: won’t happen again

NaJaem13: i promise

He can promise anything he wants as long as the tips keep coming in. You smile at his response and proceed to give your other tippers attention—they paid for a show and you’ll give them one.

You’re still playing it up for the camera, answering a few more questions and thanking the tippers, when a hefty tip and a comment by NaJaem13 catch your eye.

NaJaem13: wish i could have you to myself

You can’t help but raise a brow in intrigue, silently hoping he’s as attractive as he seems. 

“NaJaem13, you can always book me for a private show,” you offer, pointing to the left of your screen at the drop down list of booking options. 

NaJaem13: my name is Jaemin btw

“Nice to meet you, Jaemin,” you coo, giving a small wave to the camera. 

A banner notification drops down on your screen and you read the words curiously.

NiceGuy19 has requested a private show.

You mask your disappointment—that wasn’t exactly who you were aiming for, but it’s still a good thing—and click ‘Accept,’ the time of the show taking you by surprise. 

You’re not sure if NiceGuy19 and NaJaem13—Jaemin, you think; his name is Jaemin—are in some sort of competition, but it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that he booked you for a show for the duration of the time you would be on live…right after you offered a private show to Jaemin.

You actually don’t fully care if they’re beefing or whatever—the money in your pocket is taking no sides—so you just flash a regretful smile at the camera, fixing your hair.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but I have a private show scheduled for right now; I have to cut the live short.” you frown apologetically, and several responses, ranging from sad to annoyed to understanding, flood the chat. “I know, guys, I’m sorry, truly. I’ll be here next week for sure, okay?”

NiceGuy19: see you in a minute ;)

NaJaem13: have fun NiceGuy

NaJaem13: have a good night playgirl :)

“You too, Jaemin,” you hum kindly, giving one last wave before turning off the camera. 

Things escalate the following week when Jaemin decides he isn’t about to let NiceGuy19 swoop in and steal you away again.

After a couple of moments of futzing around on the website page, Jaemin finds the link to book you for a private session and fumbles through the process with excited fingers. He books you for tonight, right after your public show, and sits back in excitement as he waits for his time alone with you. 

PL4YG1RL has accepted your request for a private show.

His phone lights up, likely a confirmation from his banking app that the transaction went through, and Jaemin can’t help but wince at the steep deduction his account’s going to be hit with.

It’s worth it, though, because he gets you.

After what feels like ages, your show finally ends and the display goes black. A buffering symbol appears on the screen, only heightening his anticipation for you. 

After a couple of minutes, your screen loads and Jaemin is practically blown away by your beauty. 

Yes, he just saw you, but he’ll never get tired of watching you. 

“Hi, NaJaem,” you hum, smiling. “My favorite viewer—how are you tonight?”

Jaemin’s mouth goes dry as he sits forward to type out a reply.

NaJaem13: i’m better now that you’re here

NaJaem13: how’s my favorite girl doing?

“Your favorite girl? Stop, you’ll make me shy,” you laugh, and Jaemin smiles widely even though you can’t see him.

NaJaem13: i like you shy

NaJaem13: it’s cute

“You’re such a charmer,” you giggle. “Is there something you’d like me to do for you tonight?”

Jaemin thinks for a minute; he didn’t fully have a plan—he just wanted you all to himself for a night.

You’re patient while he thinks, humming a soft tune to yourself, and Jaemin marvels at just how lovely you are.

His eyes land on something almost out of frame, and he smiles.

NaJaem13: is that a stuffed animal?

Your head cocks to the side in confusion and Jaemin coos affectionately, finding you adorable. You look around you, your eyes lighting up in recognition as you pull a large teddy bear onto the screen from out of frame.

“Yes, it is!” you chirp, and Jaemin wets his lips with his tongue before typing out another message.

NaJaem13: i want you to ride that teddy bear until you cum

NaJaem13: can you do that for me?

Your eyes widen as you look from the screen to the stuffed animal in your hands and back to the screen. Nibbling your lower lip pensively, you nod, and Jaemin could just burst with excitement. You bring your setup to your bed before lying the bear down and straddling it. You start to rock your hips against the tan plushie, your brows furrowing in concentration, and Jaemin watches you with hungry eyes, his hand moving to palm himself through his sweats.

NaJaem13: just like that, angel

NaJaem13: doing so good

You whimper as your eyes flick to the screen, and he groans in delight, squeezing himself harder and starting to stroke himself. 

NaJaem13: how does it feel?

“So good,” you exhale shakily, and he grunts, pushing into his boxers and gripping his length, hot and heavy, at the base. 

NaJaem13: you look so pretty right now

NaJaem13: can you say my name, angel?

“Jaemin,” you moan, rocking onto the stuffie more eagerly. Your hands move from the bed to graze up your legs and torso until they’re cupping your breasts, squeezing them and shuddering with pleasure. “Jaemin, I think I’m close.” Your words come out as breathy pants that have Jaemin’s hand eagerly speeding up as he pumps his fist up and down his cock.

NaJaem13: good

NaJaem13: keep going baby. just like that

“Jaemin, can I cum?” you ask, desperation all over your face, and Jaemin nods vigorously, feeling his own climax approach, before realizing that you can’t see him.

NaJaem13: you can cum, angel

NaJaem13: cum for nana

“Nana,” you plead in a broken whine, and Jaemin watches in awe as your rocking speeds up—he tries to match the pace with his hand—and your head tips back as your climax hits. Whimpers fall from your lips freely until you bite your lip to stifle the sounds—an action, Jaemin notes, that he wishes you hadn’t done. 

You are, without a doubt, the most mesmerizing sight he’s laid his eyes on in ages, and Jaemin’s climax comes rushing in without a moment’s hesitation.

Jaemin’s cock throbs in his hand and his eyes shut tightly as he thrusts up into his hand, cum spilling from the slit and dribbling down his fist, warm and wet and white.

“God, fuck,” he groans in delight, eagerly sitting forward to study you closely. You’re still straddling the stuffed animal, and your eyes are visibly glazed over even through the computer screen. There’s a beautiful lazy, content smile on your lips, and Jaemin wishes he could take you in his arms and kiss your smile over and over again.

NaJaem13: you are so beautiful

NaJaem13: you did such a good job

“Jaemin, please, all this praise is getting to my head,” you joke, grinning bashfully, and he can’t help but chuckle fondly.

NaJaem13: good

NaJaem13: you deserve it

NaJaem13: wish i could see that pretty smile in person

You look away shyly, smiling and there’s a moment that passes in which Jaemin realizes you’re debating on whether or not to say something.

NaJaem13: what’s wrong?

“Nothing, actually,” you say sincerely, and Jaemin hums in intrigue. “I just wanted to let you know that I have some in-person slots—”

Holy shit.

NaJaem13: i’ll be sure to book one with you

“Oh—awesome,” you reply, smiling sweetly. Jaemin’s heart could burst right now and he’d die a happy man. “The link is that way,” you explain, pointing to the left of the screen, and sure enough, there’s a series of links, one titled “Book a Session.” 

NaJaem13: found it

You shoot him a thumbs up before looking off-screen for a moment, whatever you lay eyes on making you frown cutely. “I’m sorry, but we only have about three more minutes together tonight.”

NaJaem13: don’t worry about it

NaJaem13: get some sleep

Jaemin sends you a generous tip, your eyes widening in surprise when it shows up on your screen.

“Thank you, Jaemin,” you say gratefully, a shocked but pleased smile on your pretty lips. “Hopefully I see you again soon.”

NaJaem13: you will

You wave for a moment, then the screen goes black and a message shows up on the screen.

Your session with PL4YG1RL has ended.

Jaemin doesn’t want to let you book with anyone else; not after having you all to himself. He clicks the link you pointed to a moment ago, impatiently drumming his fingers on the keyboard as it loads, and the new page shows a calendar with appointment slots highlighted. Jaemin books the earliest available appointment for Tuesday at 4:00pm and sits back excitedly as the confirmation page loads.

Your appointment has been booked. Please check your email for your confirmation and further instructions.

Jaemin navigates to his email and reads over the list of stipulations. They seem standard and easy enough—like submitting a clean and recent STI test update—and a set of rules during the session—like always wearing a condom—and Jaemin scrolls and scrolls and scrolls some more until he sees the address you’re supposed to meet up at, and he smiles widely, saving it to his notes.

Three days until Jaemin meets the object of his affections. Jaemin feels like a child on Christmas Eve—well, the eve of Christmas Eve’s eve. He can hardly wait.  

Jaemin sits in the hotel lobby, knee bouncing nervously as he waits for you. He scans the faces of everyone who enters the lobby curiously, his heart falling in disappointment when none of them are you.

You’re not late, Jaemin’s just early—and eager. 

As a matter of fact, you walk in right on time, more beautiful than ever in a cute blouse and skirt combination. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so excited in his life.

He stands up and walks over to you, smiling when you two lock eyes. 

“Jaemin?” you say curiously, and he nods, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

He is beyond handsome, you think. You got lucky.

“Hey,” he replies, stepping a bit closer to you.

“Hi,” you parrot, admittedly taken aback by how attractive he is. “Are you, um, ready to go up?”

“I was actually thinking we could…hang out, kind of.” Jaemin says carefully, scanning your face for any sort of negative reaction.

“Oh?” you ask. “Like a date?”

“Yeah!” he confirms. “Like a date.”

“Okay,” you agree, smiling at the prospect of a date with him. 

“We can go out to a café or restaurant, maybe? Only if you want. It’d be my treat.” he proposes, and your smile widens. He’s cute when he’s nervous.

“Sounds good to me.” 

He grins and offers you his arm, your brows raising in an impressed surprise at his manners as you take it, the two of you heading towards the front door.

“So tell me about yourself, Jaemin,” you say, raising an eyebrow curiously. You two sit in a café over drinks and pastries, Jaemin eager to get to know you.

“Oh, uh…I don’t know,” he answers with a chuckle. “I’m in college…I have a brother…”

“Ooh, college?” you ask. “What are you studying?”

“Photography,” he answers, and you let out an impressed hum.

“Very cool,” you say encouragingly. “And you mentioned a brother? Older or younger?”

“Older,” Jaemin replies. “He’s a cop, actually.”

“Oh, wow.” you murmur, intrigued. 

“Can I hear more about you?” Jaemin asks, sitting forward. “What do you like? What do you like to do?” 

“Hm,” you muse, looking up in thought. “I like deer,” you finally answer, “and bunnies.”

Jaemin thinks that’s fitting for you.

“I like my job,” you continue. “Meeting all these different people is interesting.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Jaemin’s thoughts won’t stay quiet, urging him to get them off of his chest.

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever fake it?”

“Fake…?” Your head tilts to the side in confusion.

Jaemin already regrets asking. “Um, I mean, like, when you’re with other clients, and you—”

“I know what you mean, Jaemin,” you laugh. “I’m just teasing.”

“Oh, thank God.” 

“Off the record? All the time.”

“No way.” Jaemin can’t hide his shock.

“I probably fake it more times than I don’t.” You shrug, and he sits back in surprise.

“And that doesn’t get exhausting for you?”

“I can’t lie, it’s kind of fun to play it up every time.” you murmur conspiratorially, and Jaemin laughs.

You’re playful. You’re letting him know things you don’t tell other people.

There’s definitely something here.

“How do you know they don’t know you’re faking it?” he asks curiously, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Jaemin.”

“Hm?”

“You really think they care if I finish or not?” 

“Oh,” Jaemin mutters. He hadn’t thought about that. “I would care.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you hum playfully, nudging his foot with yours under the table. “Well, thank you. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” 

Jaemin’s heart could give out right now. You’re flirting with him. 

“Next time?” he says hopefully. “So I can see you again?”

You give him a small but flirtatious smile. “That’s up to you.”

The first session ends as well as Jaemin could have hoped. You got a little beneath surface level with him, flirted with him, laughed with him—Jaemin thinks you might even be starting to like him. 

He saw the way you eyed him when you first met; you’re definitely attracted to him. 

So he books you again.

And again.

And…again.

Jaemin can barely keep his eyes off of you. All you’re doing is ordering a drink at the counter, but you’re a vision of beauty in a soft yellow flowing dress, your hair tastefully styled away from your face, and his mind is racing with everything he wants to do to you.

It’s your fourth time together, and Jaemin still hasn’t made a move. He wants you so badly but wants you to want him too, so he’s been trying to get closer to you. He thinks it’s working, actually, because you seem to brighten whenever you catch sight of him. 

And all of that is well and good, but it doesn’t solve the problem he’s having right now. The very sight of you has his cock stirring in his pants.

“Are you okay, Jaemin?” you ask curiously, snapping him out of his thoughts. You’re looking at him with furrowed brows of concern, and Jaemin almost feels bad for worrying you.

“I’m alright,” he assures you, leaning forward to pay for your drink, and your face relaxes, the two of you walking over to the other side of the counter to wait for your drink. He stands just behind you, scanning your frame with desiring eyes. When you shift your weight from one foot to the other, a waft of your delicate perfume drifts into his face, and he has to control himself to restrain the groan that builds in his throat.

He decides to make his move—this isn’t how he planned for things to go today, but fuck it—and place his hands on your hips, squeezing you and pulling you closer to him.

“Hi,” you laugh, craning your neck to look back at him. 

“Mm,” Jaemin nuzzles into your hair and breathes in the sweet scent of your shampoo. “Hi. You smell so good.”

“Thank you,” you chuckle, leaning back against him. 

“And you look even better.” His voice is lower now, more seductive, and you hesitate, his tone piquing your curiosity and stirring up arousal in your stomach.

“T-Thank you,” you mumble, feeling shy now, and it’s Jaemin’s turn to chuckle, nosing past your hair to trail his lips along the shell of your ear. You take in a sharp breath at the somewhat ticklish sensation, your head tilting of its own accord to allow him more access to your neck.

His soft exhale sends warmth fanning over the sensitive area of skin, and you squirm slightly, arousal building as his lips press wet, slow, purposeful kisses down your ear to the spot just behind it. 

“Jaemin,” you warn softly, your voice whinier and huskier than you expected it to be. “We can’t do this here.”

He peppers light kisses down your neck until he’s at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, where he gently bites the skin there, relishing the whine you let out.

“I have an iced chai latte with almond milk!” the barista calls, and you move forward to pick it up, only to find yourself restrained by Jaemin’s strong arm anchoring you against him.

“Jaemin,” you whisper, “I have to get the drink.” You can’t help but laugh when he shuffles forwards with you to pick up the cup before you turn around—not without difficulty—in his embrace to face him, your eyes drifting from his darkened, lust-filled ones to his lips and back up. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Do you have any idea how good you look?” he groans, and you blink twice, stunned by the wave of arousal that has overcome him. “That little dress is just tempting me.”

You cock an eyebrow curiously. “Tempting you to do what?”

Jaemin leans in so your lips are barely apart from each other and wets his lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “Rip it off of you.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, instead closing the distance between you two in a kiss—your first one together—that leaves you reeling. You suck in a breath of air when your lips part, Jaemin immediately pulling you back to him with a deeper kiss, his tongue playing almost lazily with yours. He sucks on your bottom lip and releases you from the liplock when you tap his chest repeatedly to get his attention.

“The hotel down the block,” you murmur against his mouth as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, “the one we met at. I have a room.”

“Let’s go,” he says immediately, linking his fingers with yours and tugging you after him.

You two manage to make it back to the hotel quickly, hustling into the elevator where Jaemin all but pounces on you, pressing you up against the wall as the doors slide shut. The rail behind you digs uncomfortably into your back, but Jaemin’s lips on your neck distract you enough to the point where you no longer care.

“Wanted to do this for so long,” he grunts, sucking at the base of your neck and dragging his teeth along the patch of skin, making you gasp. “You’re so fucking tempting.”

“Jaemin,” you moan, your fingers sliding up his back to curl in his hair at the nape of his neck and tug. “That feels so good.” Desire blooms between your legs, warmth radiating out from your core to the rest of your body as you feel arousal start to leak from you. 

“Yeah?” he hums, moving back up to kiss your lips. “Gonna make you feel even better.” 

As if on cue, the elevator dings and the doors open on your floor, the two of you quickly making your way down the hall to your hotel room. Jaemin chuckles as you fumble around in your purse for the room key card, finally managing to catch it between your fingers and pull it out victoriously. 

You swipe the two of you in, and Jaemin barely lets the door shut before he’s pressing you up against the wall, his thigh slotting between your legs with ease. He threads his fingers in your hair, thumb caressing your jaw, and tilts your head towards him for easier access. His free hand slides around your waist, resting on the small of your back and pulling you closer to him.

“Jaemin,” you pant, pushing at his jacket to get it off of his shoulders and finally discarding it on the floor, “the bed.”

“Can’t I play with you a little bit right here?” he hums teasingly, his hand dropping from your back to hike up the hem of your dress. He strokes up the smooth flesh of your inner thigh and you hiss in pleasure, parting your legs wider for him. 

“Yeah,” you exhale, and he grins.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yes, Jaemin, please?” You sound impatient, and Jaemin smiles at the thought of you as desperate as him.

“Okay, angel,” he acquiesces, slipping his hand up higher until they’re stroking the lace of your underwear. His fingers push the garment aside until he’s taunting you by stroking at your folds which are now slick with arousal, and the whine that spills from your lips is well worth the wait.

“More,” you whisper, and his fingers dip into your wetness immediately, eager to give you everything you want and then some.

“How’s that?” he muses, a playful smile on his lips as two of his fingers push into you, and you cry out in pleasure, gripping his shoulder with one hand to brace yourself as he curls his fingers and starts pumping them inside of you.

“S’good,” you whine, your head tipping back against the wall, and Jaemin presses his lips against yours firmly, startling you.

“I don’t want you faking it,” he urges, and your eyes widen as you nod, having forgotten you told him about that. 

“I won’t,” you promise breathlessly, and he smiles, his fingers speeding up inside of you. “Just like that, oh, God—”

“You’re so wet,” he hums, the tip of his tongue flicking at your bottom lip teasingly. “You must really like me.” When your only reply is a plaintive moan, he grins proudly and kisses down to your collarbone, biting it gently as his fingers continue to thrust into you. It’s not too long before his fingers fuck directly into your g-spot and your hips start unconsciously grinding down to get more of him inside of you.

“Jaemin—”

“Nana,” he corrects, suddenly overcome with the need to hear you call him by his nickname.

“Nana—” you moan, “I’m close, I’m so close—”

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum all over my fingers, angel?” he’s practically taunting you, and the anticipation builds in your chest just as your pleasure builds in your lower abdomen.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, yes, please?”

“Cum for me, baby.” Jaemin watches in fascination as you ride his fingers to your climax, your chest pushing into his as your back arches, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight in his life.

When your climax finally subsides, you look at him with pretty, glazed over eyes and a shy yet beguiling smile that has Jaemin wanting to pin you down and make you cum over and over again.

But first, Jaemin has something else on his mind.

“Angel?” Jaemin asks carefully, and you cock your head curiously, waiting for his next words. “Can I feel your mouth around me?”

You don’t say anything, but your smile widens and you sink to your knees, opening his pants teasingly slowly, eyes locked on his until your hand wraps around the thick base of his length.

“You’re so big,” you hum in delight, and Jaemin smiles fondly, the expression dropping off his face abruptly when you exhale warm air over the head of his length, a small laugh falling from your lips when he shudders and he twitches in your hand.

You lay your tongue out flat, blinking up at him before dragging your tongue up his length slowly, swirling it around the tip before wrapping your lips around him and starting to bob your head up and down, your hands stroking at what you can’t yet fit in your mouth.

“God, fuck,” Jaemin grunts, his brows knitting together as you suck him off. You pull off of him and look him directly in the eyes as you let saliva drip off your tongue and onto his length. The wet warmth sliding down his cock only makes Jaemin hiss in pleasure when you resume your actions of sucking and stroking, using the spit as lubricant.

“So good,” he croaks, thrusting forward unconsciously. His cock hits the back of your throat and your throat constricts as you gag slightly, the sensation feeling like bliss to Jaemin. “Shit, sorry,” he apologizes, and you shake your head, pulling off of him.

“Do it again,” you urge, and his brows raise up so high they practically disappear into his hairline. 

“You want it, yeah?” He’s breathless, his hand wrapping over yours and aiding you in stroking him. “Angel wants Nana’s cock in her pretty little mouth?” 

“Yes,” you say, pouting, and Jaemin feels like his heart could just explode. “Please, Nana?”

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles, awestruck and in heaven. “Anything for you, angel. Open up.” He taps his cock against your lips, grinning when you part them and let your tongue loll out of your mouth. He rubs the head of his length against your tongue for a moment before slowly pushing into your mouth and starting to thrust. The faint wet gagging noises only add to the ambience, Jaemin’s grunts and pants helping to create a lustful soundscape.

“You like when I fuck your pretty little mouth?” he asks, and you nod, whining around him and sending vibrations all down his length. “You are so perfect,” he murmurs, infatuated with the sight of you on your knees for him. 

His thrusts speed up until he’s fucking into your mouth with sharp pumps, low groans leaving his lips freely. 

You’re taking it like a champ, Jaemin thinks, watching in fascination as your eyes go glassy, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes before they start spilling down your cheeks. You are the prettiest thing he has ever seen, and the realization and wave of adoration he feels has him pulling out of your mouth abruptly.

“On the bed,” he urges, and you oblige, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. He hovers over you, encroaching on your space until you’re on your back, a playful smile on your lips as you look up at him. “Let’s get these off,” he murmurs, hiking up your dress to hook his fingers in your underwear and pull them off your legs. When your glistening core is exposed to him, he groans, pumping his cock in his fist slowly as he adjusts you further up the bed. 

Jaemin fishes out the condom he brought from his pants pocket on the floor, ripping the package open and rolling it on impatiently, before he presses his cock against your core, the head nestling between your folds to rest just before your entrance. 

He pushes into you slowly, a whoosh of relief leaving his lungs, and you clench around him, mewling at the sensation of him filling you up.

“So big,” you moan, and he leans over you again to capture your lips with his, kissing you sweetly to distract you from the discomfort as it ebbs away. 

“You’re so good,” Jaemin mumbles in a daze, silently praying you adjust soon so he can fuck you. “Doing so well.” 

“You can move,” you urge him in a soft voice, and he presses another kiss to your lips before straightening his back, draping one of your legs over his shoulder and pulling out to the tip before burying himself in your walls once more. 

He quickly builds up a pace that has broken moans falling from your lips and grunts from his, the sounds of skin slapping against skin resonating through the hotel room.

“Feels so good, angel,” Jaemin practically babbles, losing his sensibility the longer he fucks you. “So tight and wet, shit—” 

You respond with a flex of your walls around his length that draws an uncharacteristic whimper from him, and he can feel the beginnings of his climax stirring just behind his navel. He brings two fingers to his mouth and withdraws the now spit-slicked digits to bring them to your clit, massaging circles into the sensitive bud. 

You’re in bliss as Jaemin stimulates your clit with skillful strokes. He thrusts into you at a different angle than before and your nails dig into the bedspread as his tip kisses your g-spot.

“Oh, my God, right there!” You cry, and he grins smugly, complying and thrusting into the sensitive patch of nerves over and over again as your climax approaches rapidly. “Jaemin—” you plead, rocking back against him desperately. 

“Are you gonna cum again, angel?” he coos sweetly, and his grin only widens at your eager nod. “Good; cum for me, baby. Cum all over Nana’s cock.”

Pleasure washes over you in waves as your orgasm rushes through your body, and all you can do is whimper Jaemin’s name over and over as you ride out your high.

“Hang in there, baby, I’m close,” he groans, his thrusts speeding up as he focuses on getting himself to finish. He cums not long after you do, releasing into the condom with a shudder rippling down his spine. He hangs his head as he catches his breath and slowly pulls out of you, tying off the condom and heading to the garbage bin by the side of the bed. “Are you okay?” he asks, and you smile blissfully, nodding.

“I’m great,” you assure him, and he sighs in relief. 

“Good,” he replies. “Hold on one second,” he murmurs, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment and returning with a damp washcloth and you giggle as he cleans you up and then himself.

“You’re such a gentleman,” you say, smiling, and he shrugs bashfully. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he answers softly, lying down on the bed beside you after he’s pulled his boxers back up. “Was that good?” His voice sounds more worried than he planned to let on, but there’s no taking it back now.

“It was amazing, Jaemin,” you reassure him, and he nods, smiling shyly. 

Jaemin really thinks this could be something special. He’s sure of one thing—he’s definitely booking you at every available opportunity.

“Girl, where are you headed today?” Yuna laughs incredulously as you start packing up your things.

“I have an appointment.” You smile secretively, and Ryujin sits up from her spot on the couch, a skeptical furrow between her brows.

“With that same guy from earlier this week?” She asks, and you nod. “You do realize that he’s booked you literally every day this week, right?”

“Of course I realize that,” you snort in amusement. “More importantly, my bank account realizes that.” 

“You see that guy more times in a week than you do us,” Yuna huffs with a pout, and you mirror her expression sympathetically.

“You’re being dramatic; there’s no way I’ve seen him more than you guys,” you reply, and Yuna rolls her eyes, Ryujin sighing in mild frustration.

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Ryujin exclaims, and you shoot her a look.

“Be for real,” you say flatly. “Think of it like…I work in a diner, and I’m picking up extra shifts.”

“Things must be getting real heated in that diner if he keeps coming back.” Ryujin teases, and you throw the nearest item—a pillow from Yuna’s couch—at her, laughing when it hits its mark.

“You know, he’s actually really good in bed. It’s kind of crazy that he’s single,” you muse thoughtfully. “Besides, sometimes we don’t even have sex.”

“Really?” Ryujin raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Does he ask you to do kinky fetish stuff, like walk on his back in stilettos?” Yuna asks curiously, and you and Ryujin look at her, bewildered.

“Wh—Where did that even come from?” Ryujin laughs.

“You know, I have actually done that before…but, no, not for him.” You wave off Ryujin’s and Yuna’s intrigued spluttering and continue on with, “I mean, sometimes we just…go get coffee, hang out, watch movies.”

“These just sound like paid dates.” Yuna points out, and you shrug.

“I mean, if he’s paying, he can ask me to do damn near anything, really,” you laugh, and Ryujin snickers.

“Well, we won’t hold you up, okay? Go get that bag!” she chirps, and you blink at her slowly.

“…Stop picking up lingo from TikTok,” you say as your final words before you bid them goodbye with a wave and head out of Yuna’s apartment to go meet up with Jaemin.

“Whose pretty pussy is this?” Jaemin coos at you as he fucks into you, your legs over his shoulders as he presses you into the mattress.

“Yours, Jaemin,” you gasp loudly, and he shoots you that winning smile of his, turning his head to kiss your calf.

“No one fucks you like I do,” Jaemin grunts, cupping your chin with one hand and making eye contact with you. There’s an almost crazed look in his eyes, a wild energy that thrills you to your core. “No one could ever treat this pussy as good as I do.”

“No one,” you whimper in agreement, your mind slipping away as he thrusts into you. “Only you, Jaemin.”

“Love this pussy so much,” he mutters almost to himself, biting down on his bottom lip so hard you can see the pink skin of his lips surrounding his bite turning white. “Wanna keep you for myself—you’re all fucking mine.”

“‘M yours,” you mumble, slurring slightly as the pleasure clouds your brain. “Jaemin, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, angel,” he urges, and you fall apart around him without waiting another moment, crying his name out loudly as your nails scratch uselessly at the bedsheets. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, his head tipping back in ecstasy before his thrusts grow more erratic and finally come to a stop as he releases into the condom, ragged breaths leaving him. 

Jaemin looks down at your figure, bare skin glistening with sweat, your hair all mussed up, and a fucked-out look on your face, and thinks to himself that this must be heaven on Earth, the male never having felt luckier than he does right now.

He pulls out of you carefully, quickly discarding the condom in the bedside trash can, and collapses beside you on the bed, a silence falling over you two as you catch your breath and get your bearings.

As you’re lying there, Ryujin’s and Yuna’s words from earlier come back to you, and a question begins to itch at your throat, begging to be asked. After moments of debating, you bite the bullet and ask.

“Hey, Jaemin?” 

“Yeah?”

“How are you affording all these sessions? Aren’t you, like, a college student?” you ask curiously, and the silence that meets your question has you backtracking immediately. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business—”

“I don’t mind answering,” Jaemin speaks up, and you turn your head to see that he’s already done the same, brown eyes studying your face. “I have money stashed away in my savings, pretty good credit, and my job doesn’t pay too badly.” he answers, and you nod slowly in understanding.

“I hope you’re not blowing your savings on me,” you chuckle, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the notion of him spending his savings on you.

“Don’t worry about me, angel,” he hums. “Besides,” he continues, nudging you gently with his elbow, “I think you’re worth more than every cent.”

Your face warms up at the compliment and you mumble a bashful thank you. “I just don’t want you to land yourself in hot water because of me.”

“Trust me, angel,” Jaemin assures you, “I’m doing perfectly fine.”

So, Jaemin may have lied a bit.

A lot, actually.

Since meeting you, he’s fully blown through his savings—all $5,000 of it—royally fucked up his credit by maxing out his credit cards, borrowed far too much money from his older brother, and has now resorted to…is this embezzlement? Can you even embezzle a mom-and-pop shop? 

Jaemin has to admit that he feels a bit guilty, Mrs. Kim’s kind face flashing in his mind as he pockets several bills from the cash register. 

But it’s you, with those eyes, and that smile, and that laugh, and it’s you, with that sweet voice and the way you say his name, and—

It’s you.

And Jaemin would do anything for you. Even if it means making some fiscally irresponsible choices and committing a few reprehensible actions, he thinks as he navigates your booking website expertly and schedules another meeting with you for tomorrow afternoon. 

Maybe, Jaemin thinks, he’ll take you shopping. He saw you eying a pretty silver bracelet in the window of a jewelry shop when you were walking around together the other day. Maybe he’ll get it for you as a gift.

The first time was an accident. Or at least that’s what Jaemin’s going with.

When he left the hotel room he’d rented for you two, he didn’t expect to see you still in the lobby, the picture of perfection as you look down at your phone, tapping at the screen. 

Jaemin conceals himself behind a passing bellhop and his cart when you lift your head up to look around, and it’s almost like a magnet pulls him after you when you exit the building. He makes sure to keep you at a distance, not wanting you to catch him watching you.

Jaemin watches as you walk down the street, slowly following after you. You’re so sweet, so innocent…so unaware.

Someone could just snatch you up and have you at their mercy in a second. 

So he’s protecting you. Or, at least, that’s what he’s going with.

Jaemin “protects” you on your walk, not even sure where you’re headed, but when he watches you fish out a set of keys and enter an apartment building, his body lights up with a thrill. 

You’re heading home. 

Jaemin very tentatively follows you into the large building and practically collapses with relief when you go to the mailboxes and take your mail out. He doesn’t find a way to justify following you up to your apartment, so he just…waits until the doors close on the elevator and walks over to your mailbox, looking at the unit number.

“Found you,” He sighs dreamily. If he inhales deeply enough, he can still smell your light fragrance in the air.

Now, the first time was an accident. The second time was a coincidence. 

The third, fourth, and fifth times were anything but. 

Jaemin follows you home after every single meeting you two have, evading detection every time. He swears up and down he’s protecting you, making sure no harm befalls you as you travel back to your place.

Sometimes, however, he catches himself entangled in a dark fantasy consisting of you and him and the lovely element of surprise and he can’t help but think that maybe he’s exactly who you would need protection from.

But he’s different, Jaemin thinks. He cares about you. He adores you. He…he loves you.

Plus, you make it too easy, he thinks. Never straying from your usual route home, never sparing a glance over your shoulder; it’s almost like you know he’s watching. Like you know he’s following your every move.

It’s almost like…you want him to follow you. Want him to engage in a little game of cat-and-mouse as he follows you—his prey—back to your place of safety and lies in wait to pounce. 

You’re playing with him, Jaemin thinks, because you must have feelings for him too. Hell, you might even love him back.

Jaemin makes up his mind the eighth time he follows you home; nothing is going to stop him from being with you.

“Huh.” You pause when you step out of the elevator, the doors quietly shutting behind you.

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin asks, attempting to follow your gaze. “Oh, you have a package!”

“I don’t remember ordering anything, though,” you mumble, heading down the hallway to your front door. You check the package and sure enough, your first name is written on the small box.

“Well, are you gonna take it?” Ryujin watches you turn the package around in your hand.

“I mean…yeah, I guess.” You agree slowly, unlocking your door and heading into your apartment, Ryujin following after you. You set your bag down and immediately turn your attention to the package in your hand. You carefully and gingerly open the brown paper wrapping to reveal a small white box. You take the top off, revealing its interior, and gasp.

“What is it?” Ryujin asks, by your side in a moment as she looks into the box. “Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“That bracelet is beautiful,” Ryujin stammers, “not to mention how expensive it looks.”

You carefully take the silver tennis bracelet out of the box’s protective foam and stare at it in wonder. “It looks so familiar.”

“Put it on!” Ryujin encourages you with a nudge, and you nod dumbly, letting her fasten it around your wrist. You stare down at it in bewilderment, still having a hard time processing. “It looks so pretty on you,” she compliments, and you nod distractedly. It looks so familiar around your wrist—almost like you’ve worn it before. Your mind flashes with a memory and you freeze, staring down at the bracelet with wide eyes.

“Oh, my God.” You remember where you’ve seen it.

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin presses, looking from the bracelet to you.

You drop the box and step back from it as if it might bite you.

“I saw this during one of my appointments with Jaemin. We went to a jewelry store.” you recall slowly, apprehension trickling down your spine like ice cold water.

“Oh, okay! Why are you so nervous—wait a minute.” Ryujin goes still, and you nod encouragingly, hoping she makes the same deduction you just have.

“Do you think Jaemin bought it for you?” she asks, and you nod again, raising your eyebrows for emphasis. “But how did he get it—to your—oh, what the fuck—”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” you exclaim, and Ryujin waves her hands around as she silently tries to make sense of everything. “Does he—does he fucking know where I live or something?”

“How would he know where you live?” Ryujin asks in disbelief.

“I don’t know, but it got here somehow!” you whisper-yell, and she nods, her gaze drifting from your panicked eyes to the floor.

“There’s a note,” she points out, and you follow her gaze to the small slip of paper sticking out from under the foam in the box. You stoop to pick it up and blink down at the note.

“It’s just a heart,” you mutter, and Ryujin purses her lips thoughtfully.

“Damn. Was kinda hoping it’d have some sort of identifying information,” she mumbles, and you sigh.

“Me too,” you grumble, your mood souring. “Maybe,” you say hesitantly, “I should stop seeing Jaemin so much.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Ryujin agrees, “at least until you figure out what’s going on.” 

You sigh in resignation. “Yeah. I hope this doesn’t end up blowing up in my face.”

Something is off. 

Jaemin hasn’t seen you or spoken to you in eight consecutive days. When he looks at your booking website, your usual appointment slots are grayed out and unclickable. Every time he gets close to scheduling an appointment, it’s miraculously canceled and his money refunded, stating that there was a schedule conflict.

If that wasn’t enough, Jaemin has been attending your lives, and you haven’t given him any attention at all. He knows lives probably get overwhelming, especially when you have a large audience, but he doesn’t even get more than a thank you and a smile—a polite one, not the smile he’s come to adore—when he tips you.

He has no idea what’s going on, but his mind is reeling with possibilities, each more disastrous than the last.

You could be ignoring him. Avoiding him, possibly. 

You could be scheduling with other people. Letting other clients touch what’s his.

Jaemin bristles with anger. The thought of another person’s hands on you, their name leaving your lips in a moan of pleasure, your beautiful smile directed at someone that’s not him drives him into a fit of rage.

Thoughts and images of you with another person flash in his mind, tormenting him, and he clutches his head, pressing his fingers into his skin as hard as possible to offset the emotional pain he’s feeling with a more manageable physical pain.

You can’t be with anyone else. Jaemin loves you. He fucking loves you. He would do anything for you; he’s landed himself in financial hot water tipping you and booking appointments with you, he’s completely fucked academically from skipping classes and not turning in assignments in his attempt to spend as much time with you as possible, and this is how you treat him? Do you even care about him?

Jaemin cannot fucking breathe. He places a panicked hand over his heaving chest and struggles to regulate his inhales and exhales as he tries to calm himself down. His chest feels tight, constricted as he pants and he can feel his racing heartbeat pounding in his ears as his world caves in around him.

No, Jaemin thinks, that’s not possible. You wouldn’t do that to him. Not with what you two have together. 

Maybe it’s just a simple misunderstanding. Maybe you’re taking a break from in-person sessions for a bit. 

Repeating the words in his head like a mantra, Jaemin can finally breathe again.

He misses you, though. Thankfully you’re going live tonight, and he can see you that way.

Sure enough, you go live at midnight like clockwork, a vision in a pretty pale blue dress, and Jaemin feels his heart swelling at the sight of you. A glance at your wrists has his heart about to burst with joy; you’re wearing the bracelet he bought you.

“Hi, everybody,” you greet sweetly, waving at the camera. “How is everyone feeling tonight?” 

Responses start coming in the chat and Jaemin just sits back, waiting for a lull so he can send his message and not have it swept up in the flurry of rapidly incoming messages and ultimately ignored.

As he expected, the replies taper off in a moment, and he sends his message.

NaJaem13: lonely. bored.

He watches your eyes scan the replies as you respond to individual users, his heart rate picking up in excitement when you read the response right above his. 

“Sorry to hear you’re bored, NaJaem13,” you hum softly, and hearing your voice say his name—well, part of it—and watching your lips shape the syllables has his heart soaring. “Hopefully I can change that!” 

He tips you 100 tokens, and the smile on your lips as you thank him is more than worth it.

NiceGuy19: r u seeing anyone? boyfriend, girlfriend, etc

You read the question out hesitantly, and Jaemin’s chest swells with pride as he’s confident you’ll allude to what you two have going on—

“No, NiceGuy19, I am very much single.” You smile, the expression not quite reaching your eyes, and Jaemin freezes.

You’re single? What the fuck?

Loverboy01: haha so i have a chance

You let out a small laugh at the comment as you read it aloud before giving a small nod. “You do,” you agree. 

Jaemin’s eye twitches. Maybe you’re keeping what you two have private…out of respect for the relationship. There’s only one problem with that.

Jaemin doesn’t want you to keep it private. As a matter of fact, Jaemin’s not so sure he wants to share you with anyone anymore.

His fingers trace along the trackpad, a few clicks, and he’s booking you for a private show. There’s a moment in which nothing happens, Jaemin waiting with bated breath for you to accept.

Your eyes drift away from the camera, looking distracted for a split second, and Jaemin smiles.

You saw his request.

You clear your throat and click something before fixing your hair slightly and continuing to read comments. A window pops up on Jaemin’s screen and he reads it eagerly.

PL4YG1RL is not available for a private show at this time.

Jaemin’s smile drops. 

You saw his request…and declined it. There goes that tightening in his chest, that feeling of his throat closing up, and he can’t contain his frustration.

He has to talk to you; he has to see you in person and get an explanation for all of this. He’ll wait until your live is over, then he’ll go see you and figure out what’s going on because, honestly, Jaemin feels like his heart’s about to split into two.

You’re startled awake by three insistent knocks on your front door, not expecting any visitors at this hour. 

What even is “this hour,” anyway? What time is it? 

You look over at your clock on your dresser and your eyes widen at the displayed time of 4:17 that blinks back at you.

Who the hell could be knocking on the door at this hour?

You get out of bed, donning the robe on the back of your bedroom door and wrapping the fabric around your body, and make your way to your front door as three more knocks sound out.

You peek through the peephole and your blood runs cold at the sight of Jaemin standing there, an unmistakable frown on his face.

You open the door and stare at him in disbelief, saying nothing. His eyes widen when he sees you and he sighs in relief, a smile beginning to curl his lips.

“You answered,” he exhales. 

“Jaemin?” You ask carefully, and his smile slowly drops in favor of a distressed expression as he starts to speak.

“I saw your live tonight and—”

“Jaemin?” 

“You said you weren’t seeing anyone—”

“Jaemin.” 

“You’ve been avoiding me too, I know you saw my private show request—”

You just blink at him, in disbelief.

“What about all the time we’ve spent together?” He looks like he wants to say more, but holds his tongue at the last moment. Looking into his eyes chills you to your core; past the hurt swimming in his dark irises, there’s something desperate and unnerving about his gaze. You don’t miss the way his eyes rove over your figure with an unmistakable hunger, his gaze no longer exciting you like it did before. Now, you feel vulnerable, wanting to shift your weight to your other foot but not wanting to show your discomfort.

“Are you done now?” You ask slowly.

He nods.

“Jaemin,” you say, making sure to keep your voice level, “how do you know where I live?”

He balks at your question, only worsening your nerves as you swallow what feels like a thick lump in your throat.

“What about us?” he croaks out, and you can’t hide your incredulity quickly enough.

“Jaemin,” you sigh, “there isn’t anything going on between us.” Jaemin flinches like you’ve slapped him, eyes wide and wounded. “I do this for a living.”

“What about that time I asked if I could see you again and you said that it was ‘up to me,’ with that teasing little smile?” he presses, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing deeply.

“I meant that literally.” you explain, in awe at how far away from reality his mind has carried him. “If you wanted to see me again, you would have to book me.”

“But—I—I love you,” he confesses, stepping closer to you. He doesn’t miss the way you step back slightly, shrinking further into the safety of your apartment.

“Jaemin, I’m so sorry, but…” you say sincerely, feeling bad for him despite your apprehension about the whole situation. “I don’t feel that way about you.”

The way his face crumples into devastation has you wincing internally, your sympathetic nature pushing forward as you struggle with whether or not to comfort him. He hangs his head for a second and you look away to give him some privacy. 

You remember, taking in his broad frame and how it practically fills up your doorway, that he never did mention how he found out where you live, and you slowly tense up again, also recalling how he’d blatantly dodged the question.

Just as fear trickles down your spine as you realize Jaemin knows far more about you than you’re comfortable with, he sucks in a ragged breath and jolts you out of your thoughts. You look back at his face and he slowly lifts his head, revealing an expression so deeply hollow that you wish you’d never looked in the first place, let alone answered the door. 

You’re regretting every interaction you’ve had with Jaemin, frankly, because clearly he’s gotten the wrong idea, and now this emotionless, dead-eyed man in your doorway is honestly scaring the fuck out of you.

He sniffs once and when he speaks, his voice is every bit as flat and hollow as his face, completely impassive. “So you don’t feel anything towards me.” 

You hesitate, nibbling your bottom lip nervously as you try to smooth the situation over. He raises an eyebrow expectantly, and you can feel your heartbeat pick up in pace as he stares you down with growing impatience.

“No,” you finally eke out, and he sighs, anger briefly flashing on his face before the hollow look returns, only to be replaced with a dazzling smile that doesn’t reach your eyes as he nods in understanding. “I’m sorry.”

He holds a hand up to silence you, nodding in understanding. “It’s alright.”

“Are…we done here?” You ask tentatively, not trusting your voice to conceal the tremble past a whisper.

“Yeah.” He smiles, waving you off dismissively. “Have a good night.” 

“You too.” You wave cautiously, and he starts walking away from your apartment. You watch as he calls the elevator and gets in, waiting for the doors to slide shut before you practically collapse in relief, quickly closing your front door, locking both locks, and leaning against the door as you try to control your racing heart.

You’ve never seen Jaemin’s smile so void of any sincerity—it looked more like he was baring his teeth at you than actually smiling. Reality sets in, crushing your shoulders as you come to terms with two unnerving truths.

The first truth being that Jaemin knows where you live.

The second being that you didn’t tell him.

You’re heading out to the grocery store from Ryujin’s apartment, having decided to stay with her for a while until you feel safe returning home to your place. 

Looking into your purse for your shopping list, you hear footsteps behind you, your senses lighting up in panic, and you whip your head around to look behind you only to see a woman and her child walking past you. She shoots you a friendly smile, and you return it, relief coursing through you. 

“You’re being paranoid,” you mumble to yourself, grabbing the shopping list and looking it over briefly. As you walk to the store, you can’t help but notice the sense of danger your body’s picking up on. 

Something feels off, and you don’t know what it is.

Now jumpy with nerves, you pick up your pace, glancing over your shoulder periodically as you practically speed walk to the store. 

The first glance, you see nothing but the road behind you.

A car pulls up behind you and you whirl around, but the car pulls up to the curb and parks. A breath of relief escapes you, and you keep walking.

The third glance behind you rewards you with nothing, and at this point you’re pretty sure you’re jumpy for no reason, half-chuckling to yourself. 

Almost out of habit now, you look over your shoulder for a fourth time, still finding no one, and you turn forward only to collide with someone’s chest, apologies immediately spilling out from your lips.

“So sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you stammer as you steady yourself, and the chuckle you hear makes you freeze, your heart gripped with terror.

You know that chuckle.

You look up in a panic, a loud gasp escaping you at the sight of Jaemin’s wide smile. He doesn’t stand still for long, swiftly moving behind you and clamping a rag over your mouth and nose as you wriggle in panic, letting out muffled shrieks and screams. 

Your mind races—how could he get away with this in the middle of the day? Where is everyone?—and whatever’s on the rag fills your lungs with every panicked inhale you suck in. 

Hold your breath. Fight back.

You reach to claw at Jaemin’s arms, but his jacket sleeves block your every move. As he holds the rag to your face, he works to lock your arms behind your back, his actions hindered by your defensive attacks as you reach behind you, praying your nails can make contact with his face, neck, something—

One of your blind swipes collides with the side of his face, a low grunt leaving him, and you move to hit him again, this time aiming with your nails— 

You can’t hold your breath any longer, adrenaline coursing through you and making your breathing pick up.

The rag is soaking wet, the smell of the liquid slightly sweet as it drips down your neck and onto your shirt. Jaemin dodges your attacks directed at his face and manages to catch one of your wrists, aided by the rag over your mouth which makes every one of your limbs feel like it’s filled with wet sand.

Your free hand drops uselessly to your side, and Jaemin grabs it, a faint sound of metal clinking before cool metal rings—handcuffs?—close around your wrists.

The fabric of the rag is coarse against your face, and it’s one of the last things you can focus on as you feel your composure slipping away, your muscles going slack, eyes drooping shut—

“You should be more careful,” Jaemin murmurs, starting to drag your limp body with him. As your mind finally slips away, your body losing its fight, the last thing you hear is a chuckle from Jaemin, the sound far more sinister than earlier, and his final words. 

“You could get hurt.”

When you open your eyes, you see a white ceiling. 

A look to the left of you, and you see a window, moonlight painting the floor in streaks.

To your right, you see a mahogany dresser, a matching nightstand, and a door, cracked open to reveal an en suite bathroom.

Your mind is swimming as you try to piece together everything going on—you were walking to the store—you ran into someone—Jaemin, you ran into Jaemin. You remember something cold, wet, and sweet on your face—and then, nothing. 

Your arms and shoulders ache, and you wiggle your fingers experimentally, numb digits digging into your lower back—are those handcuffs? 

Panic sets in as you realize that you’ve been abducted—in the middle of the day, no less—and you have no idea what’s going on.

What does Jaemin want with you? 

Where are you? What time is it?

Has Ryujin noticed that you’re gone? Is she looking for you, perhaps?

Hell, can she even find you?

How the hell are you going to get out of—

“You’re awake,” Jaemin’s voice from out of nowhere makes you yelp, your eyes darting around to find him until you look straight ahead to see him standing in the doorway. 

“You fought back more than I expected,” he hums thoughtfully, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, people don’t tend to like being chloroformed and dragged away.” You can’t help but be bitter and, really, who could blame you?

“You made it difficult,” he defends himself, frowning. You stare at him incredulously, saying nothing. “Hiding at your friend’s house—do you know how confused I was when you weren’t coming into or out of your building?” 

“You waited outside of my building? How did you find out where I live?”

“I may have followed you home a couple of times,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You—a couple of times—oh, my God. Did you send this bracelet?” you splutter, shaking your wrist holding the piece of jewelry.

“I did,” he announces proudly. “And you’re wearing it; it looks so beautiful on you.”

“Jaemin,” you say slowly, “what was the purpose of kidnapping me? What do you want?”

Jaemin frowns. “I just want us to be together.”

“Jaemin, how many times do I have to tell you that all of our interactions were because of my job?” you complain, yanking uselessly at the handcuffs binding your wrists. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way.”

“You will.” His reply is simple but unnerving in its simplicity. He leans over you and unlocks the handcuffs restraining you, smiling when you tentatively rub your wrists. “Better?”

“W-Why did you do that?” you ask, half-hoping he’s had a moment of guilty conscience, but his response chills you to the bone.

“I want you to struggle.” 

The worst part is how bright his eyes are when he says it. He’s eyeing you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world, his gaze dropping to scan your body for an uncomfortably long moment, before he looks back up at you, his gaze now hungry and desiring.

“Jaemin—Jaemin, please, you don’t have to—” You stammer, scooting back against the headboard as he moves closer to you with his head cocked curiously.

“I know, angel,” he replies, leaning closer with a widening grin when you have nowhere to go. He wraps his fingers around your ankle and yanks you—hard—so you’re pulled closer to him. “I want to.”

“Jaemin—” Your voice cracks as tears sting your eyes. “I don’t want—”

“You will,” he shushes you, having the audacity to sound comforting. “It’s gonna feel so good,” he purrs, unbuttoning your jeans and pulling the zipper down. He peels your jeans down and off your legs painstakingly slowly, the sound of the garment hitting the floor making you flinch. “So jumpy,” he snickers, and you have half a mind to send your knee crashing into his jaw. 

You refrain because, ultimately, it won’t do anything besides make him angry. Even if you managed to run away, you have no idea where you are and he’d probably catch you before you had a chance to get your bearings.

“Screw you,” you spit out instead, and Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows with a suggestive grin.

“You will.” He stares you down with darkened eyes, evoking a shudder from deep within your body. The corners of his lips quirk upwards in a smug grin, and he slides his hands up your bare legs, slowly parting your thighs with ease even though you fight to keep them closed. “Let’s play a game,” Jaemin hums excitedly. “We’re going to play together for a bit and then we’re going to take these,” he muses, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin and relishing the way you jolt, “off. If your body likes what I’m doing to it, we’re going to keep playing.”

“Oh, God,” you whimper, closing your eyes tightly. Jaemin’s hand cups your chin hard and he shakes your head from side to side roughly, forcing you to look at him with an affronted glare.

“Look at me.” Jaemin demands, his eyes hard as he arches a brow in warning. You balk under his stern gaze. “Don’t look away from me. Understand?”

You nod tentatively. Jaemin smiles, the disapproval from earlier gone without a trace.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises you warmly, and your stomach curls in disgust.

He’s sick. He’s lost his fucking mind.

You watch Jaemin cautiously as he moves to sit beside you on the bed, propping his back up against the headboard. He pulls you until you’re straddling his lap, your face burning with shame as you struggle to keep your eyes on him like he ordered.

His hands glide and down up your sides and he squeezes your hips with a low groan, guiding your movements so you’re rocking back and forth on his lap, your clit occasionally rubbing against his clothed erection through the thin fabric of your underwear and the thicker fabric of his sweats.

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?” Jaemin coos sweetly against your lips, pushing forward to kiss you. It takes everything in you not to bite his lip or his tongue when he pushes it into your mouth. “Kiss me like you mean it.” His voice is still light, but the warning in his tone is evident, and you whimper in defeat when he swirls his tongue around yours, pulling it back only to suck on your tongue. 

He’s drawing all your attention to your mouth and your core as he stimulates both, leaving you so disoriented that you don’t even notice one hand sneaking up your shirt until his cold fingers graze your stomach, making you jolt away from his touch.

“So cute,” he mumbles fondly into the kiss, and you could almost swear you feel bile rising in your throat. 

You’re not sure if you’re angrier with him or with yourself as your body reacts to the sensations of Jaemin kissing down to your neck and sucking at the sensitive skin there. It’s hardly your fault, you think—Jaemin’s advantage is that he already knows how to please you, and you’re defenseless against his touch.

His hand under your shirt slips to your back and unclasps your bra, returning to the front and worming its way under the lacy fabric to pinch your nipple, tweaking it between his fingers. You jerk away from him, and his free hand clutches the back of your neck, his iron-clad grip pinning you in place. He pulls back from your neck to shoot you a warning glare that chills your blood before slowly returning his lips to your skin, sucking and licking as he traces circles around your stiffening peak.

His lips trail kisses, hot and wet, down your neck to your collarbones and both hands tug your shirt over your head, discarding it to the side and returning to your body to cup your breasts. You flinch at his touch, Jaemin chuckling with sadistic amusement before groping your breasts freely, tugging and squeezing your nipples until you let out defeated moans of pleasure.

His lips kiss lower and lower still until he’s leaning you back so he can angle himself forward to envelop your nipple in his mouth. The sucking sensation is regrettably arousing and it takes all of your focus and willpower not to make any noises. Your hands push at his toned chest, firm muscles unyielding under your touch, and Jaemin just laughs, the vibrations sending another pang of pleasure down between your legs. 

Your pushing grows more and more determined until you actually manage to push hard enough to detach his mouth from your chest. Jaemin, it seems, grows tired of your retaliation and forces your hands behind you, gripping your wrists in one large hand and pushing them into the small of your back so you’re forced into a deeper arch. He nuzzles in the space between your breasts and leaves sloppy kisses along the skin there before moving to swirl his tongue around your nipple, flicking it with the tip and grinning when you inhale abruptly, your breath hitching when he nips at the bud with his teeth.

He alternates between your breasts, kissing, sucking, and licking to his heart’s content as you whimper in protest, incapable of wriggling away from his mouth. 

After a moment of Jaemin’s relentless mouth on your nipples, he looks up at you, releasing your nipple with a wet pop, and reconnects your lips, squeezing your wrists together hard when you refuse to part your lips for his tongue.

He smacks your ass once, the flesh stinging from the impact, and you yelp in pain, Jaemin’s tongue slipping into your unprotected mouth and playing with yours languidly, leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

“You know,” he mumbles, still kissing you, “what I want?” When you don’t answer, he sighs, almost in disappointment, and smacks your ass again, ignoring your pained cry. “Answer me.”

“What,” you mutter bitterly through gritted teeth, “do you want, Jaemin?”

“I want…to feel you ride my lap,” he answers with a wicked grin, and you groan in complaint as he grabs at your hip with his free hand and guides you into a repetitive rocking motion against his clothed cock, which you can feel hardening with every drag of your hips.

His lips attach themselves to your neck, his hand leaving your hip and massaging your breasts, flicking at your nipples lightly. Your movements halt almost instantly, and he raises an eyebrow up at you expectantly, looking pointedly at where your bodies meet.

When you stubbornly refuse to move, his gaze hardens and he grips your jaw, squeezing hard enough to evoke a whimper from you.

“Keep. Moving.”

You two stare each other down for a moment and Jaemin raises both eyebrows as if to say, “is that so?” You falter at the thought of whatever punishment he has in mind and slowly resume your grinding motions, averting your gaze. It feels like your soul withers when you hear his satisfied hum and his lips return to your skin, kissing and sucking at where your neck and shoulder meet.

His head lolls back for a moment, eyes shutting as he lets out a low groan of bliss, and your movements start to slow again as you feel the insuppressible tugging sensation of pleasure in the pit of your belly.

He opens his eyes to stare at you through a heavy-lidded gaze, silently ordering you to keep moving, and you start to panic, knowing all too well that when he goes to check if you’re wet, he’s going to see that you irrefutably are.

“Jaemin, can we please stop—”

“No.”

“But—but I’m gonna c—” 

“Of course you are.” Jaemin speaks to you slowly, as if you’re stupid. “What do you think the point of this was?”

Your heart falls at your realization that he probably intended to make you climax this whole time, rigging the “game” he’d set up. You can’t help but feel stupid for not knowing that this was his plan the whole time; he kidnapped you and you really expected him to keep his word?

His lips drag you out of your spiral of hopelessness when they drag against the spot just behind your ear, and you keen desperately, wishing for anything at all to save you from this.

Of course, no such miracle comes, and your body curls in on itself as you climax, your hips bucking against his lap. You bite your lip so hard to keep from moaning that you’re surprised you don’t bleed, but Jaemin’s gleefully satisfied expression is every bit as disappointing as any noise you could have made.

He waits until your body has calmed down from your climax, watching with fascination as you both succumb to the pleasure and try with all your might to ignore it, to speak.

“You know, I think we’ve been playing for long enough,” Jaemin hums, snaking a hand between your bodies and inching it painfully slowly down your stomach.

He’s prolonging the inevitable just to torture you, and you sigh in resignation, the sound catching in your throat as you hold back defeated tears.

After what feels like ages, his hand finally reaches its destination, long fingers stroking over the damp spot of your underwear as he gasps ostentatiously. “What’s this?” His eyes flicker between his hand between your legs and your face with a devilish grin, and you let out a broken whimper.

“Nothing,” you lie, and he raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“Oh, yeah?” He slips his fingers into your underwear and you reluctantly hiss at the sensation, angling your hips away from him. “Doesn’t feel like nothing,” he teases, grinning as he strokes along your slick folds. 

You move to argue, but he presses his lips to yours, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth even as you whine in protest. Jaemin grins against your lips as he withdraws his fingers from your underwear and displays them to you proudly, the digits glistening with your arousal.

“Looks like we get to keep playing, angel,” he murmurs, and your heart falls. “C’mere,” he urges you, dragging your reluctant body off his lap and lying you down on the bed on your back. 

“Jaemin, please? Please don’t—oh, God—” you stammer as he parts your legs, reflexively clamping them shut again, and Jaemin raises an eyebrow in warning.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” His voice is low and threatening, and a chill runs down your spine as his grip on your knee tightens noticeably and his eyes lose the playful glint. When you relax your muscles, Jaemin smiles brightly and spreads your legs apart. “Good girl. Now relax,” he purrs, running his hands up your inner thighs and chuckling at the tremor of revulsion that travels through your body, “Nana just wants a taste.”

He pulls your underwear down and off your legs painfully slowly, as if he’s rubbing the moment in your face, and you can’t help but let out a choked sob of defeat, wanting so badly to look away but fearing his reaction if you do.

“Sound so pretty when you cry,” Jaemin coos, spreading your legs wider once the thin garment covering your core is tossed carelessly onto the floor. He tucks himself between your legs, and you inch away from him as subtly as possible, crying out when he wraps one muscular arm over your hips and yanks you towards his mouth with ease. “Don’t run from me.”

You’ve been holding back tears for so long, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but when he leans down and his tongue makes contact with your core, the dam breaks—tears, hot and fat and wet, trail down your cheeks, and you can’t help but sniffle pathetically.

“That’s it, just let it happen, angel,” Jaemin hums, licking up your folds, his tongue collecting your arousal, and he looks you directly in the eyes when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud and flicking it back and forth with the tip of his tongue. “Taste so fucking good…and it’s all for me.”

His tongue flicks and swirls around your clit languidly and your core drips arousal as he teases his fingers at your entrance, pushing two in slowly to the first knuckle, and you cover your face in an attempt to muffle the reluctant moan of pleasure that slips out from his attentive actions.

“Come on, Playgirl,” Jaemin taunts, “I wanna hear you moan like you did all those other times we’ve been together.” He pushes his fingers into you and you gasp, one hand leaving your face to clutch at the bedsheets, and you shake your head vigorously.

“Jaemin, that was my job,” you desperately explain, but your futile attempt to save yourself falls on unsympathetic ears, and he looks up from between your legs, his lips glistening with a mix of his saliva and your wetness.

“Well, now your job is to convince me to let you live.” He raises both eyebrows as he regards you, but an ice cold panic takes over your whole body at his words. 

Would he seriously try to kill you? 

You don’t even notice how your breathing has picked up until your chest is heaving with panic and Jaemin reaches up, pressing between your breasts to flatten you to the bed.

“Relax,” he sighs, “I won’t hurt you if you’re good for me.” He watches you intently as resignation settles in your chest, cold and heavy, before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl,” he praises. He returns his attention to your core, curling his fingers inside of you and pumping them in and out of you as he wraps his lips around your clit and hums contently, sending vibrations through the sensitive bud and making your back arch.

A moan forces its way out of your lips, your face burning with shame as you feel your body succumbing to the pleasure. 

“It feels good, yeah?” Jaemin asks, continuing when you don’t respond, “I know it feels good,” he coos teasingly, “because your pussy keeps clenching around my fingers.”

You refrain from swearing at him, instead shuddering with unwanted pleasure when he angles his fingers just right and his fingertips press into your g-spot, and Jaemin’s eyes light up with glee.

“Gotcha,” he mumbles, a triumphant grin on his face as he thrusts his fingers into you, repeatedly stimulating your most sensitive spot along your inner walls, and moans spill from your lips uncontrollably, the pleasure too much to bear.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, angel?” Jaemin asks with a smug grin, and you shake your head vigorously even as your eyes roll back into your head and your back arches off of the bed with another skillful thrust of his fingers. “Yes, you are,” he says, ignoring your denial and reattaching his mouth to your core, rapidly flicking your clit with his tongue. 

To your dismay, you are about to cum, your impending orgasm building up in your stomach even as you desperately try to will it away. Broken pants escape you as the pleasure grows, and when you finally climax, you whimper loudly, your eyes shutting tightly as fat tears force their way out and down your temples to melt into the pillow under your head.

“That’s a good girl.” Jaemin presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs, his lips traveling higher up your body until they’re pressing against yours forcefully, the taste of your arousal on his tongue as it slips between your lips. His kiss is all-consuming, Jaemin emitting grunts and pants of desire while his hand reaches between you two. After a moment passes of his hand not touching you, you move to break the kiss in confusion, only to feel the head of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, collecting your arousal.

“Jaemin—no—fuck, Jaemin, please—” you plead, putting all your strength into pushing him away from you. His eyes light up with excitement at the new challenge you’ve presented and he swats your hands away with ease as you push and shove at his chest, a growing smile on his face as you push yourself out from under him, scooting up towards the headboard.

“That’s it, angel,” he coaxes you, nodding encouragingly as you push his shoulders to get him away from you. “Push a little harder, yeah, just like that.” He’s coaching you through fighting him off, you realize, and what little hope you may have had all but drains from you as you let out a choked sob and close your legs as tightly as you can. 

“Jaemin, at least put a condom on—” you manage to get out through panicked breaths, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“Why would I do that?” Jaemin snickers, placing one hand on your leg and forcing his hand between your knees, yanking your legs apart with a grunt and shoving himself between your thighs once more. “I want us to feel every inch of each other, angel.”

Before you can protest again, he tucks your knees to your chest, draping your legs over his shoulders, and drags you back down to him. He pins your arms above your head and coos down at you in mock sympathy as he pushes into you slowly.

“Oh, my God,” you gasp, your body trembling under the weight of your yet-to-be-shed tears. Jaemin bottoms out inside of you with a low, content moan and turns his head to kiss your calf before leaning down to bring his lips to your ear.

“Love filling you up with my cock,” he purrs in your ear and you can only hiccup from the force of trying not to cry. “Does that feel good, hm? Having me fill your tight little pussy up?” When you shake your head vigorously, Jaemin tuts disapprovingly. “Lying isn’t going to help you.”

The worst part of it all, you think, is that it does feel good. He’s been with you enough at this point to know exactly what you like as he pulls out and thrusts back into you, slowly, making sure you feel every single inch and ridge of his length.

He fucks into you slowly but with powerful snaps of his hips, moans falling from your lips whether you like it or not, and he presses your legs against your chest even harder, uncaring about the ache it sends shooting up your legs. 

You can’t even dwell on the discomfort because he keeps driving his hips into yours, fucking you into a stupor that you couldn’t snap out of if you tried.

“I know you love when I fuck you,” he coos, and when you cry out in protest, he just laughs. “Your body won’t lie to me.” He pouts. “I can feel you clenching around me and you’re so fucking wet, I could almost slip out. I bet you’re about to cum already, aren’t you?”

He’s right, unfortunately, and you can only nod and whimper, not sure if you’re asking him to release you or let you finish.

He reaches between you two and massages your clit in quick circles, eyes flashing with triumph when your back arches and you climax with a breathless whine and repeated moans of “No, no, no.”

“Gonna cum, angel,” he pants, his brow furrowing as he speeds up his thrusts. “Gonna fill you up with my cum,” he grunts, and your eyes widen as the fight returns to your system. You writhe under him in an attempt to free yourself, but Jaemin just laughs uncaringly and sits up slightly to grip your squirming hips and push you further into the mattress. 

He’s stronger than you could ever manage to overcome, and his actions render you immobile, your legs still flailing under him as your hands push at his chest.

“Jaemin, don’t cum inside of me,” you plead, bucking your hips uselessly, but he just moans, fucking into you harder.

“Gonna make you mine,” he purrs, his grip on your hips tightening uncomfortably as he ignores your every protest. “All fucking mine.” His thrusts become slower and almost impossibly deeper before he bottoms out in you with a low groan and releases into you, a pleased shudder leaving him as his length throbs within your walls.

All you can do is cry bitterly at how betrayed you feel by your body and how shame burns in you like an inferno, and you cover your face with your hands in resignation, not moving them even when Jaemin attempts to pull them away. 

He sucks his teeth in annoyance and his grip tightens around your wrists as he wrenches your hands from over your face, his lips on yours immediately as he tastes the salt of your tears, a delighted hum rumbling in his throat.

“You’re all mine now, angel,” he breathes into the kiss. “No one’s ever going to separate us.”

“I want to go home,” you whimper, and he shushes you with the demeanor of a comforting lover, despite the truth being far from the situation.

“You are home,” Jaemin coos.

Being abducted is, as you probably could have guessed, a nightmare.

Jaemin has the audacity to be sweet and kind to you by talking to you sweetly, serving you (admittedly) good food, and telling you sweet nothings everyday—while he has you handcuffed to the bed. He lets you wear his clothes, although you suspect that’s more for him than it is for you. Sometimes, if he’s feeling generous, he’ll attach one of your handcuffs to a chain so you can roam the room as freely as one can in an eight foot radius.

He hasn’t touched you since the day he abducted you; he says he’ll wait for you to get adjusted this time. He also leaves you alone a startling amount, but you figure that would track for a normal college student; however, nothing about this is normal, so there’s that.

Your chance comes when he leaves you to go to work one day—you think it’s Tuesday, but the days are honestly starting to blur together so you’re not sure—and leaves a drawer open in the nightstand in his haste to get there on time. 

Your cursory peek into it reveals a few unimportant items but one stands out to you. 

A paperclip. 

You don’t know very much about lock picking apart from reading one WikiHow link on it a while ago, and there isn’t a lot of room for trial and error, so you really only have one good shot at it. 

Today Jaemin felt kind enough to use the chain as opposed to handcuffing you to the bedpost, and you thank the universe that you have just enough room to reach the drawer, jostling its contents so the paperclip can slide closer to you.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you mutter anxiously.

The paperclip slides towards your hand and you snatch it immediately, sitting up and bending it into the shape you vaguely remember seeing in the WikiHow article. Unfortunately, your mind blanks after that one step, so you just feed the end of the makeshift lock picker into the keyhole for the handcuffs, carefully twisting it this way and that. 

It takes a grueling amount of time in which you fear the paperclip might break, but the small metal utensil thankfully stays intact the whole time, and you could cry with relief when there’s a click and the pressure on your wrist loosens considerably. 

“Oh, my God,” you half-gasp, half-laugh. You spring to your feet, wobbling slightly as you get acclimated to standing up and moving again. You don’t have much time, you’re sure, so you sneak out of the door and steal down the hallway and stairs, rushing out of the front door and not caring to lock it behind you.

You’re not wearing shoes, clad only in socks, and the concrete of the pavement feels cold and rough under your feet, making it harder to run away as you would have preferred.

You’re walking down the street, praying to see a landmark that helps you get your bearings, when you hear the blip of a police car. 

You’re saved.

You’re running before you even realize it, the impact of your poorly covered soles on the concrete sending sparks of pain up your legs, waving your arms wildly at the car as it approaches, and it slows to a stop, a relieved sob escaping you as you run up to the cop’s window. 

“Officer, please help me—I’ve been kidnapped—I don’t know where I am—I don’t know where to go—” you stammer breathlessly, and the officer raises a hand to silence you, looking at you with curious eyes.

“You’ve been kidnapped?” he murmurs, brows knitting together in a confused sort of surprise. 

You nod vigorously. “His name is Jaemin,” you explain in a rush of words, “Na Jaemin.”

“Okay, let’s head to the precinct and I can get your report there,” the officer explains. He’s got a very handsome face, you can’t help but think. He smiles for the first time, and you feel at ease instantly, his smile kind and warm with two dimples to go with it.

“Okay,” you agree immediately. 

“You have to ride in the back of the cop car,” he explains, stepping out of the vehicle and opening the back door for you. He’s fairly tall, and his badge glints in the sunlight, making it hard for you to read his name. “It’s policy.”

You nod in understanding and get into the backseat, strapping yourself in and scanning the car curiously. There’s a clear divider between the front and backseat and you watch the cop’s side profile as he starts the car and drives off. 

You’ve been riding for a while before you realize.

“Um, officer?”

“Mm?”

“Is this the way to the precinct?” you ask carefully, studying the side of his face for any sign of a tell.

“We’re going exactly where you need to go,” he answers, and you can’t help but notice with an unsettling jolt that he didn’t answer your question. As he speaks, he passes a house you definitely remember passing when you escaped, and all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You think frantically about what could be going on, and it hits you all at once.

Jaemin mentioned having a brother. Who’s a cop. You found this officer in the area of Jaemin’s place. 

“Officer, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He doesn’t answer, only heightening your suspicions. The coincidences are too much to let slide, so you quietly reach for the door handle when he pulls up to a red light. There’s a muted click as the door handle fails to open the door, and the officer speaks.

“You can’t open the back doors from the inside.”

Which, yeah, makes sense, but the way he sounds when he says it takes you by surprise. He sounds smug almost, almost teasing.

You sit back quietly, your voice dejected when you speak next. 

“We’re not going to the precinct, are we?” 

“I think you know the answer to that,” he replies easily, and you rest your cheek against the cold window in defeat, trying as hard as you can not to cry; you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

When the car finally rolls to a stop, you look out the window in resignation, your gaze dull and broken when you lock eyes with Jaemin, who’s standing on the sidewalk in front of his house.

“You should lock this one up more carefully next time,” the officer scolds Jaemin lightly, and Jaemin nods with a smile at him before looking at you with a hurt frown. 

“I was being so nice to you,” he complains, and you scoff under your breath, sliding your gaze away from him. He opens your door and, when you don’t move, sighs before he reaches in to unstrap your seatbelt and pull you out of the car. “Oh, by the way, this is my brother Jaehyun.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jaehyun replies dryly, raising his eyebrow at you.

You don’t reply.

“Same mother, different fathers,” Jaemin goes on to explain. “Hence the different last names.”

“Jaemin, I really don’t care,” you say honestly, and he frowns at you.

“Don’t hurt my feelings.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him, kissing the top of your head. “Thanks, Jaehyun. See you!”

Jaehyun raises two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute before he’s driving off. 

“I think I’m going to have to revoke your roaming privileges.” Jaemin hums with an air of disappointment as he leads you back into the house.

You wish you could revoke his life at this point.

It’s another day being held in Jaemin’s room and you’re lazily watching the television that Jaemin put on for you before going to work, eyes practically glazing over with boredom before you change the channel. It’s harder to reach the remote with your hands zip tied in front of you, but you manage to make it work.

You flip through channels absentmindedly, but stop immediately once you hear your name coming from the screen.

You flip back a couple of channels until you land on the local news, which is in the process of going through your Missing Person report. 

“Holy shit,” you say breathlessly, watching as they display a picture of you on screen. “They’re looking for me.”

Your best friends Ryujin and Yuna come on screen next, Yuna in tears and Ryujin looking pissed as she talks to the newscaster.

“She doesn’t just up and disappear, something happened to her, I know it.” Ryujin says vehemently. She looks directly into the camera and you feel goosebumps raise on your body at how determined she looks. “We’re going to find you. Don’t worry.” 

“I love them,” you mumble sadly before sitting up slightly. Knowing that someone is looking for you fills you with hope and a resolve you didn’t have before. 

You’re getting out of here.

You stare down at the zip tie around your wrists and think about how to get out. You bring it to your mouth and start to nibble at the thick plastic, praying this works. Your jaw aches as you work away at the zip tie, but you can feel it starting to separate, giving you more hope.

You have no idea how long you have so you stop nibbling halfway through the tie and sit up as straight as possible, twisting the tie around and yanking your wrists apart forcefully. It takes several tries and you’re just about to give up before you yank one last time with all of the frustration and anger you have in your body and the tie snaps apart. 

“Holy shit,” you sob in relief, quietly moving to get off of the bed before realizing— “fuck, my ankles.”

You can’t reach them to bite through the zip tie so you fiddle with the locking mechanism, pushing the small plastic latch this way and that with your fingernail until it gives way and loosens enough for you to slip out.

You look around for shoes, not about to make the same mistake as last time, and finally find them under the bed, slipping them on as quietly as possible and heading out of the door and down the stairs.

You’re almost out, freedom just out of reach, when keys jingle in the lock of the front door and you freeze for a moment before running to the hallway closet and hiding in it, holding your breath for dear life amongst coats and various household items. You peek through the slots and fear seizes your heart when you see Jaehyun walk past the closet and up to the second landing.

You don’t waste any time, immediately slipping out of the closet just in time to hear Jaehyun swear loudly, footsteps thundering down the stairs, and the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking has you panicking as you rush towards the front door.

“Don’t…move.” Jaehyun’s voice sounds out from behind you, and you turn slowly to face him. He’s got the gun pointed directly at your chest and your eyes widen and your breathing picks up as you realize the very real possibility that you might get killed. “Jaemin picked a difficult one, I see.”

��Jaemin wouldn’t want me dead,” you say desperately, shifting in panic each time Jaehyun moves to the side, not even realizing that he’s been slowly and subtly maneuvering you both so he’s blocking the front door and you’re forced further into the house.

“Jaemin wouldn’t mind you incapacitated.” Jaehyun points out, instead aiming the gun at your knee. 

“Please don’t,” you beg, tears welling up in your eyes, and he raises one eyebrow skeptically.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Why are you helping him, anyway? You’re a cop; surely you know they’ve been looking for me.”

“He’s my brother,” Jaehyun answers your question like you’re stupid and you hide the way it makes you bristle with anger. “He makes dumb choices, yeah, but having his back is what family’s for.”

“I have a family, too,” you sniffle, and he blinks at you impassively.

“I really don’t care.”

Jaehyun’s face is frighteningly emotionless as he points the gun at your leg. You’ve got nowhere to run, and your hope is almost entirely snuffed out. You close your eyes and wait for the unimaginable pain to come with a bullet to the leg.

You flinch violently at the loud thud that startles you, and snap your eyes open at the familiar grunt, praying you’re not imagining things. Could it really be—?

Sure enough, Jaehyun is staggering from Ryujin’s powerful blow to the back of his head with a baseball bat. His grip on the gun slips and it hits the floor, making you flinch yet again as you pray it doesn’t go off. You dive for the gun at the same time Jaehyun does, but Ryujin kicks him hard in the side, the larger male groaning loudly in pain as one hand goes to clutch his side. You take the opportunity and snatch the gun off of the floor, quickly clambering to your feet and aiming the gun at his pained form on the floor.

“If you even think about moving, I will blow your fucking brains out.” You seethe, holding the gun with both hands and, truthfully, you’re surprised you’re not shaking, chalking it up to the shock and adrenaline.

“You don’t know how to shoot a gun.” Jaehyun sneers at you and you just smile, aiming at the wall behind him and pulling the trigger. The gun jerks back in your hand as a bullet tears a small hole through the wall, and Jaehyun’s face goes gray, much to your satisfaction.

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” You smile humorlessly down at him and you watch as he swallows thickly. “We’re going to leave now. I’m going to keep this gun. And if I ever see you again—I don’t care if it’s at the goddamn supermarket—I will put a bullet through your thick ass skull,” you promise, your voice low and trembling with poorly restrained rage (and fear—definitely fear). 

Jaehyun’s furious yet dead-set gaze on you is beyond unnerving, but you shake off the jitters as best you can.

You and Ryujin slowly inch towards the door, never moving your eyes away from Jaehyun, and right as Ryujin inches by him, he lunges for her ankle, making her jump away in surprise and barely get away. You and Ryujin both scream and you point the gun at his legs, not even thinking before you pull the trigger.

A loud gunshot rings out, your hands jerking back once more from the gun’s recoil, and Jaehyun practically roars in pain, grabbing his wounded thigh and squeezing hard in an attempt to slow the blood loss.

“I hope I hit a fucking artery.” You spit, taking the opportunity while both of Jaehyun’s hands are busy to lurch forward and kick him in the side as hard as you can.

“Fuck—you fucking bitch—” Jaehyun’s words come out in pained gasps as he grasps his side with one bloodied hand, gritting his teeth in agony, and you and Ryujin make a run for it. You’re in absolute shock and disbelief as you stumble out of the house you’ve been held captive in for weeks. 

You could faint from joy when you catch sight of Yuna’s car waiting outside the house, the car still on and running as you two rush to the car, climbing in the backseat. 

“Let’s go, go, go—” Yuna yells, not even waiting until Ryujin is done shutting the door to drive off as quickly as possible, her tires screeching.

There’s a moment of silence in the car where you and Ryujin look at each other and as you two lock eyes, she leans over to you and pulls you into a tight hug, trying her best to soothe you as you shake and tremble in her arms with the force of your crying. Your shoulder feels damp, you realize when you finally compose yourself enough to pull away, and you see that Ryujin has tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

“We thought you—that he—” Ryujin hiccups, and you hug her again tightly as she takes her turn to cry. “We never stopped looking for you.”

“Thank you,” you gush, the two words feeling embarrassingly inconsequential compared to the absolutely overwhelming relief and gratitude you feel. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you—”

“Don’t even mention it.” Yuna weaves through traffic precariously, and you’ve never been so relieved to be in the car with your haphazard driver of a friend.

“How the hell did you find me?” You can’t help but wonder.

Ryujin sags in relief and exhaustion against the backseat, her free hand not holding the baseball bat gripping your free hand not holding the gun. “We just had to figure out Jaemin’s name and address and the other day I got lucky and spotted him in the grocery store, so I followed him home.” Ryujin says, her words stumbling out together in her rush to speak. “It was like a miracle.”

“You’re telling me.” You laugh for what feels like the first time in ages, relief flooding through your body as the sight of the police precinct comes into view. 

It’s over. It’s finally over.

“So what brings you to therapy?” The woman sitting in a large gray armchair watches you over the rims of her glasses. Her gaze is intent but kind, and she crosses one leg over the other. 

Her navy blue blazer and skirt are a cute combination, you think. The color brings out the warm brown of her eyes, and the slightly lighter shade of blue on the wall behind her only helps you feel a bit more at ease.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you speak.

“About two months ago, I, um…I was stalked and kidnapped.” You exhale slowly. “Or abducted, I guess—you can’t kidnap an adult—but, um, yeah.”

You chance a peek at the woman across from you to see her eyebrows raised in surprise, a concerned frown on her face.

“That must have been terrifying.” 

“Yeah, for sure. The guy who did it is in prison now, thankfully, but it’s definitely changed a lot of things in my everyday life, y’know?” you mumble, and she hums thoughtfully, nodding.

“Can you tell me a bit more about that?”

“Well, um. I ended up moving out of my apartment because I just didn’t feel safe there. I live in a different building now with a great security system.”

“That’s good.” She encourages you to continue speaking with a small wave of her hand.

“I also quit my job because that’s how J— …my stalker—found me. Now I work as a waitress.”

“I see,” she muses. “How is that working out?”

“It’s good,” you say with a shrug. “Meeting all those people every day is kind of nerve-wracking, but maybe it’ll get better with time.”

“I believe it will,” she assures you, and you can feel yourself relaxing a bit more. “How have you been sleeping?”

“Not very well,” you chuckle humorlessly. “I’m so…jumpy nowadays that any sounds at night wake me up instantly.”

“I can imagine.”

“And then there are the, um…the nightmares.” She seems to be waiting for you to elaborate, but a lump rises in your throat, rendering you silent for the time being. 

Avoiding her gaze, you scan the room for something to ground you and stop the tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. Your eyes land on the placard on her desk, your eyes tracing over the embossed letters of her name—Dr. Jiyoon Choi—and you envision what the nameplate would feel like under your fingertips. 

It’d be cool to the touch, you think; it’s metal, after all. Smooth, too. You mentally run your fingers over the ridges of the letters of her name, and—

“Nightmares are common for people who have been through traumatic events like your situation.” Dr. Choi’s voice is gentle but brings you out of your dissociative state nonetheless. 

“I figured,” you mutter with a nod.

“It will take time to work through everything you’ve been through.” Dr. Choi explains, and you nibble at your bottom lip as you listen to her. “Nightmares and flashbacks are common in people with PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” 

“Yeah,” you echo lamely.

“As is dissociating at times,” she continues, and you think back to the several times you’ve spaced out in the thirty minutes you’ve been in her office. “It’s your brain trying to protect you from the memories.”

“I need it to try a little harder,” you sigh, and her lips quirk upwards into a fond smile.

“Be easy on it, hm? And yourself; you’ve both been through so much.” There’s something so deeply affirming about her confirmation of your situation, a professional signing off on your trauma, that the dam breaks and you take in a deep, shaky inhale before bursting into tears. 

The only other sound to be heard apart from your crying is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Tick, tick, tick.

The sureness of the ticking, the reliability of the sound, is somehow calming to you, your ragged breaths slowly starting to sync up with the clock.

Tick, tick, tick.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you manage to compose yourself once more and look up at Dr. Choi—who, you now notice, has passed you a small blue tissue box.

Tick, tick, tick.

“That was embarrassing,” you mumble, slightly chuckling as you try to play it off as a joke.

“That was expected,” Dr. Choi corrects you, sitting forward in her seat and adjusting her posture. “May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Was that the first time you’ve cried since everything happened?”

Tick, tick, tick.

“Yes,” you admit.

“I think that’s a good sign,” she encourages you. “You’re starting to make progress by processing your emotions.”

“Yeah?” Your voice sounds small but hopeful.

Dr. Choi nods reassuringly. “Yes.”

There’s a small beat of silence and you look down and run the pads of your thumbs over the smooth surfaces of your fingernails.

“Is there anything else you’d like to share today?” Dr. Choi asks gently, and you shake your head. “Okay. In that case, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for our session today.”

“Thank you.” You stand up and take your bag, smiling feebly as you head for her door.

“Of course.” She smiles. Your hand is just wrapping around the doorknob when she speaks again. “Will I be seeing you next week?”

You don’t say anything for a moment, your fist squeezing the cool metal of the doorknob. 

You want to get rid of the dark cloud that feels like it’s been following you around for the past two months—you want to be able to walk down the street without looking over your shoulder every three seconds—you want…you want to feel better. 

“Yes,” you answer, turning back to look at her with a small smile. “You will.”

“Wonderful. My secretary can set you up for our next appointment. Take care and get home safe.” Dr. Choi bids you goodbye, and you nod again before exiting her office.

It’s a start, you think. A pretty good one, at that.

Jaemin lazily thumbs through the pile of magazines in the pathetic excuse for a library the penitentiary has to offer, biding his time until the guards switch out their shifts. The clock ticks on endlessly, driving Jaemin closer and closer to insanity with every tick, tick, tick—

The air is uncomfortably warm and smells faintly of bleach and stale breath.

Tick, tick, tick—

The guard on duty yawns and looks at his watch.

Tick, tick, tick—

Another inmate in the “library” asks for permission to use the computer. Jaemin scoffs, wondering if his fellow prisoner is going to entertain himself with a game of Sudoku, Solitaire, or Minesweeper, seeing as how they have no access to the internet.

Tick, tick, tick—

Jaemin stands up slowly, so as not to draw too much attention to himself, and walks between the bookshelves holding barely anything worthwhile. He browses through the book selection, slender fingers stroking the spine of each hardcover book, before he finally finds what he’s been looking for. 

He brings the book back to his seat and angles the spine up so the cover is easily visible to anyone who may look at him. Feigning a pensive expression, Jaemin flips to the middle of the book. The back half of the pages have been meticulously hollowed out in the shape of a rectangle and there, in the makeshift pocket, lies a smartphone. 

Jaemin smirks to himself, smoothly pocketing the phone, and busies himself with looking through the pages of the book that haven’t been carved into. Hardcover books are typically off-limits, barely even allowed in the penitentiary, but Jaemin’s been getting some special perks due to “good behavior.”

To avoid arousing suspicion, he closes the book and gets up to put it back on the shelf, instead picking up a random self-help softcover book and leafing through the pages idly until that glorious tick, tick, tick—

There’s a brief sound of shuffling as the guard on duty stands up and offers his seat to the new guard about to assume his post. The first guard leaves, and the new guard sits down in the seat, leaning back to get comfortable. 

Jaemin waits.

Tick, tick, tick.

The guard sighs, already bored with his assignment, and Jaemin enacts his plan. Scrunching his face up in discomfort, he stands up and, clutching his stomach, makes his way over to the guard, who sits up in his seat immediately, apprehensive upon Jaemin’s approach.

“Can I help you?” The guard asks, his voice rough like sandpaper, and Jaemin groans once for effect.

“I need to use the bathroom. I think I’m gonna be sick.” He moans, and the guard’s eyebrows furrow as he appears to think about it. Jaemin can only hope this guard isn’t on a sick little power trip and won’t feel like denying him the bathroom just for the hell of it.

To really sell it, Jaemin lurches forward, doubling over as he mimics the sounds of poorly restrained retching. The guard’s face contorts into disgust, and he waves at the hallway in admission.

“I knew there was something fishy about those Sloppy Joes for lunch.” Jaemin hears the guard muttering to himself and masks his smirk with another discomfort-borne twisting of his lips.

He staggers past the guards in the hallway, walking past one tall, burly guard Jaemin has a feeling he shouldn’t piss off and a thin, almost lanky guard who could probably blow away if the wind got too strong, and makes his way into the bathroom, locking himself in a stall and dropping to his knees. As he hunches over the toilet bowl, he fishes out the sleek black rectangle from his pocket and powers the phone on, quickly opening up the internet browser and typing in what he’s looking for.

Jaemin fake retches loudly to keep up appearances, fingers of his free hand drumming impatiently on his lower thigh, and sighs in relief when the familiar page loads.

FunBunny is now live.

“Not now, FunBunny,” Jaemin mutters. “I have someone in mind.”

He types in the username he’s had swimming around in his mind for the past three months since he’s been locked up and when the page buffers, no doubt due to the shitty internet connection in the prison, Jaemin sucks his teeth. 

“Come on, come on, come on.” He’s alight with a buzz, the jitters settling in as the page finally loads, only for his heart to drop to the bottom of his stomach.

User ‘PL4YG1RL’ does not exist. Please try a different search term.

Jaemin stares at the screen incredulously, anger and frustration building slowly but steadily and now he swears he really can feel bile rising in his throat.

“Impossible.” He spits through gritted teeth, now dangerously close to losing his composure. He’s waited three months—three fucking months—to see you again, and you’ve managed to slip through his fingers.

He refreshes the page in a refusal to accept the situation, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turn white, and has to restrain the urge to slam the phone down on the grimy tiles in defeat when the page finishes loading to show the same screen as before.

“Fuck, shit, fuck!” Jaemin slams his hand against the wall of the bathroom stall before growling, his tethers to sanity starting to slip away the further he spirals into his thoughts.

“Inmate, what’s going on in there?” One of the guards from the hallway calls out, the bass in his voice snapping Jaemin back to reality. 

“Got sick from the Sloppy Joes,” Jaemin grunts back, running his fingers through his hair and barely restraining himself from yanking the locks out at the root. 

“Those always seemed odd to me, y’know.” Another voice, a thinner, more mousy voice sounds out, presumably the less imposing of the two guards. “Always thought they smelled kinda funny.”

“Yeah.” The burly guard is dismissive at best, and whatever the mousy guard says as a follow-up comment goes unheard by Jaemin as he refocuses his attention on the disappointing sight on his phone screen. 

Jaemin stands up finally, shutting the phone off and pocketing it once more. He flushes the toilet with his foot and exits the stall, washing his hands. He stares himself down in the dirty bathroom mirror, at the dark circles that have formed under his eyes since his time in prison began, the scowl Jaemin’s mouth is unwaveringly twisted into, and he grits his teeth. He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands, and heads out of the bathroom and back to the library with a building resolve in his chest.

Jaemin will find you again—no matter what it takes.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed :) tips are greatly appreciated!

SUPPORT ME?  VENMO !!  CASHAPP !!  KO-FI !!  WISHLIST !! (why?)

#jaemin smut #nct smut #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #tw noncon

[ilwonuu]

Hi. Can I please request a jeno and noona/older woman - wherein he surprises her how good he is in bed. Overstimulation/dom jeno is hot too. 😊

um YES. this man is ROTTING MY BRAIN SO BAD. I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!! thank you for ur request!!!! i hope you enjoy😇😇

ˑ  𖥻 ִ ۫  ּshow me. l.jeno

summary- the boy you’ve been seeing surprises you with a couple things when you come over to his house for the first time.

warnings- kinda quick paced (as always), unprotected sex, creampie(duh), overstimulation, fingering, mirror sex, multiple orgasms, kissing, dom!jeno sub!reader, dirty talk (mostly jeno), pet names (baby, pretty, love) jeno is called baby , cum eating, lmk if i missed something

authors note- sorry if the age gap wasnt what you wanted i kinda just did something random so lmk if you want me to change it anon!! 💖happy hoeing (i need him)

you and jeno have been dating for a few months now. you meeting him through one of your mutual work friends. he was a little bit younger than you. your friend mark always joking about you being a cougar.

jeno was being 22 and you being 29… you don’t mind jenos age because he has always acted mature. he was a responsible man for his age. you really liked him. he had invited you over to sleep at his house since you both are free from work that day.

you have never been to jeno’s apartment. you two always agreeing to spend time at your house. you were excited to see his house for the first time. getting ready to go excitedly.

you quickly make your way over to the address he gave you after getting ready. making your way to his apartment door knocking slightly. he opens his door shortly smiling as soon as he saw you. “hi beautiful.” he says pulling you into his apartment. “hi baby.” you smile at him as you look around at his space.

“damn! it’s nice in here.” you laugh slightly feeling him pull you close to him. “thank you love.” he smiles at you before grabbing your jacket and bag from you. “i cleaned before you got here. i was making sure it was perfect for you.” he sets your things down pulling you towards his room. “okay this is my room. you want to watch something?” he sits down on his bed, you slowly joining him after. “yea baby we can watch something.” he pulls you closer to cuddle into him. “or we could do something else.” he says with a innocent face. “and what is that?” he face shifted into a smirk so quickly.

“i can make you feel good.” he pulls your legs over his lap. “oh really?” he nods quickly. “if you’d let me.” he smiles at you. “yea…show me.” he kisses your lips quickly pulling your pants down. he runs his fingers over your clothed pussy slowly. he grabs you to shift you both so you are now facing the mirror on the wall from the bed.

“gonna watch me finger this sweet pussy okay?” he pulls you into a rough kiss. “yes-“ you nod quickly at him through the mirror. he rips your panties off ,you never breaking eye contact with him in the mirror. “look at you baby. responding so well?” he smirks at you and your sub state.

you don’t understand how he got you to submit to him so quickly. you’re used to being in control during sex but seeing jeno like this was so-

he interrupts your thoughts as he slides two fingers inside of you. “so fucking wet hm? listen to that. my fingers are sliding right fucking in.” he laughs at you playfully. moving your head so you can see his movements in the mirror better.

“look at you squirming under my touch.” he fucks his fingers deeper into you. watching you in the mirror. “fucking look at me y/n.” he moves your head again so you making eye contact with him in the mirror. “jen- fuck fuck.” he curls his fingers slowly adding another as soon as you try to talk.

“yea? what’s wrong?” he asks mockingly. him not breaking eye contact with you. “feels so f-fucking good.” you manage you moan out.

“yea? you gonna cum pretty?” his thumb immediately going to your clit after his words. “jeno- oh fuck im gonna cum.” you start to wiggle out of his arms. he holds you tightly in place moving his fingers faster. “look at you. you are so fucking gorgeous.” he whispers into your ear. he keeps fucking you with his fingers.

you see stars cumming hard onto his fingers. “yea baby. you are so fucking sexy.” he milks your cum out of your pussy slowly. “you see yourself? so dirty for me.” he smirks at you through the mirror.

“jeno- oh my god.” you gasp feeling his fingers start to fuck into you again. “you can cum again right? let me fuck you with my fingers again before i fuck you on my cock huh?” he looks at you for a response.

you are unable to form a sentence with the pace of this finger. “jen- fuck.” is all you manage to get it out. you moaning at his sweaty body. you’re watching his focused expression on you in the mirror. “you gonna cum already? you’re clenching so tight on my fingers.” he says into your neck while watching your legs try to shut to fight the pleasure.

“keep your legs fucking open.” he grabs your thighs with his other hand forcing your legs open. allowing his fingers to go deeper. “fucking creaming all over. fucking filthy.” he spits at you. you’re moaning uncontrollably at this point. he looks so sexy through your hazy eyes. he hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.

“jeno im c-cumming!” you legs shaking under his grip. “cum for me pretty.” you’re cumming all over his fingers. he murmurs into your neck kissing it softly as his fucks you through your high on his fingers. he watches you with sweetly.

he slowly pulls his fingers out of your cunt. bringing them up to your lips. “suck baby.” he orders you with a stern voice. you open your mouth for his fingers feeling them slowly being pushed into your mouth. “good hm? taste so good always.”

you are shocked at jeno’s behavior. not seeing this side of him until recently. you liked it a lot. maybe too much because you’re already begging jeno to fuck you already. “fuck me please jeno.” you squirm in his arms causing him to laugh at your pathetic state.

“okay. ill give you what you want since you did so well.” his breath against your skin making you shiver. he lifts you up easily turning you over onto your knees. “you’re so wet my love.” he leans into your ear. “keep these legs open okay?” he demands. you nod quickly.

you hear him shifting behind you. he takes off his shirt quickly. pulling off his pants and boxers immediately after. “condom or?” you shake your head no. “please no condom just fuck me jeno please!“ he smirks at you. he rubs his dick gently over your folds teasingly. “so fucking wet hm pretty?” he slides his tip in just to immediately take it out. “f-fuck jeno.” you hear a deep groan come from him as he shifts again behind you causing you to look behind you confused. “just let me have a little taste.” his head moving in between your legs. you feel him lick a thick stripe up your slit. you push your ass back into his tongue.

he sucks on your clit roughly. then he suddenly pulls away. “i need to be inside you right now fuck.” he moves back up to line his dick up with your pussy. he pushes his dick in quickly. immediately fucking you into the mattress. “so fucking t-tight.” his hips already speeding up. “je-jeno fuck.” you feel him grab your hair pulling you back against his chest. him now fucking you at a deeper angle. “so fucking good.” you moan out. “yea baby? haven’t been fucked this good before?” he suddenly remembers the mirror turning you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“look at this. my dirty girl.” you try to keep your eyes open. “gonna cum inside this perfect cunt hm?” he grips your hip tightly watching you closely in the mirror. “jen-i can’t too much-“ you say through tears. jeno is fucking you so good you are sobbing at this point. “i know you can take it.” he smiles at you innocently. you moan in response. “you are so fucking sexy im gonna cum.” he moans into your neck.

“im cumming jeno!” you see his pleasured face causing you to immediately cum. “f-fuckk baby.” you watch him fuck his cum into you slowly. your cum mixing with his inside you. it slowly oozing out of your pussy when he pulls out. your knees finally giving up on you. “oh my god.” you breathe out looking back at your boyfriend. “you okay?” he laughs quietly. you nod in response. “i haven’t came that hard before.” you laugh closing your legs. “yea? im glad it was good baby.” he smiles at you.

“give me a kiss.” he lays next to you suddenly giving you a quick kiss. “you have any more surprises?” he nods his head. “what really jeno?” you chuckle at his expression. “we’re gonna go to dinner so get ready!” he says slightly shouting it. “if i can walk.” you add. “ill help you baby.” he smiles kissing your head before getting up with you to get ready for the sudden dinner.

#nct #nct x reader #nct jeno #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct dream #nct smut #nct u #nct scenarios #jeno #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno imagines

[inmyheadimobsessed]

I Don't Play Nice

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: don't fuck fans. this was your rule. unfortunately though, the development of this rule came only after you'd done just that. and now, you cannot seem to outrun your mistake.

word count: longg <3

contains: singer!reader, obsessed!fan!riri, mean!reader, semi mean!riri, possessive!riri, jealous!riri, ooc riri, tbh riri herself is a warning, toxic dynamics, some darkish themes?, mentions of stalking, smut (18+), dom!reader, sub!riri, bratty!riri, riri is mouthy & very unhinged, oral, choking, knife play (riri loves her knife), light nipple play, mentions of blood, car sex, public sex?, strap!reader, fingering (riri receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, spanking, crying, biting, pain!kink, masturbation, strap sucking (barely), use of drugs (pills), rough sex

tags: @verachii @venusdraco @quintessencewrites @cjariot @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @marsolgy @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @shuriri4life @cafehyunji @yunhofingers @yamsthoughts @iseebeautyinwords @ihearttish @vampzxi @sapphicvqmpires

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: uhhhh, just stay with me, walk with me!!! see it the way i’m seeing it first!!! the car scene/smut is heavily inspired by ohmami by chase atlantic & maggie lindemann, i've had that song on repeat for weeks just sitting in my ideas. i would suggest listening to it to understand some of the references lol. other songs that inspired this fic: misunderstood - kodie shane, don't fight it - kodie shane, f&mu - kehlani, triggered - chase atlantic, off my head - kodie shane and then ohmami last. also this is dedicated to that anon who was screaming in my askbox for sub!riri for like a month, i saw you fren. i had too much fun writing this even though it killed my brain, i didn't even think i was gon post it fr. but anywhoo, hope y'all enjoy! mwah, mwah!!

Bright neon lights illuminated the stage, your crimson-hued silhouette resembling that of a deity from where you stood, bathing in the crowd’s continuous chant of your name. There were distinguishable cracks in the voices rushing you, throats more than likely sore from the ear-piercing screams bellowing out of them, yet still, they endured, glazed eyes stalking you in sheer adoration. Your audience clung to your every lyric, your every move down to the bounce of your sweaty curls as you pranced around the stage.

You were in your element, entrancing their minds with a power you had yet to grow used to.

In your chest, your heart gained life, its thump a deafening pound resounding in your ears; if the beating were any louder, the microphone clasped in your fist would surely pick it up. But it was yours to hear, just like the sensation of your stomach in your throat was yours to feel — the absence of your mind yours to know.

Calling your love for performing an addiction would be an understatement. You were your most authentic self on stage, every surge of adrenaline dosing the high you were jonesing for. Your confidence blossomed, not as a mirage, but as the most corporeal entity your body could conjure up, differing greatly from your branded media persona of an arrogant, entitled, asshole.

These were titles intended to condemn following the very messy breakup with your now ex-girlfriend, renowned actress Syla Slate. Gorgeous, talented, beloved by all of America; she was their sweetheart, so naturally, she won the public’s favor in the split. But your resilience had been a thing miscounted, and woefully so; you wore your scarlet letters with honor, refusing to clear up rumors surrounding your infidelity.

If there were words to be said, feelings to unpack, you would express them on the stage before the thousands of people holding your word as bond, which happened to be the exact thing you did now.

“London!” You commanded the audience with outstretched arms, your very presence eliciting a thunderous uproar. “I ain't think y'all could get any louder.”

The drove of onlookers read your disbelief as a challenge, shouts climbing the arena walls as the sharp octave punctured your eardrums.

You popped out your in-ears, unable to halt the slow smile stretching across your features. You were proud, proud that they risked the health of their voices just to hear yours. “Well alright, I guess y’all could get louder.”

They chuckled as a collective, making you follow suit, “I got one more song for you lot. That's what y’all be saying over here, right? You lot? Shidd, my southern ass wouldn't know,” They laughed again at your terrible rendition of a British accent. “Anyway, like I was saying, I got one more song, y’all cool with that?”

Just as you expected, shriek after shriek bled into one another, melding to create a boisterous sound that expanded around the O2 Arena, and you let your smile broaden as you secured your microphone back into its stand. “Ooh, y’all sound excited!”

The slowed tempo of your closing track began its waft, filling the speakers, the ears of your admirers, and your system all at once. They recognized the beat within seconds, the bass now competing with their cries.

A little bit of that arrogance you chose not to refute came peeking through as you adjusted your mic stand, “Oh y'all know this one, huh?” And they yelled again, satisfying you.

You shut your eyes, expiring a shaky breath into the grille of the mic in preparation, allowing the music to seize hold of you. Your digits trembled around the mouthpiece, and your rings scraped the surface.

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.

Instinctively, the lyrics vacated your mouth, and instinctively, your sockets began to well. You fought the tears, keeping your lids tight in protest of the tumble they threatened.

But, every time I try to up and walk away,

You come around and start to love me, love me better.

Your emotions and your wet eyes were both the epitome of irony. How many shows had you closed with this very song? Why were the waterworks threatening to spill now?

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way

Perhaps they were due to the truth stewing inside you. Tonight wasn't just the last show of your tour, it would be your last live performance for a while. You would be leaving your heart on this stage tonight. A difficult decision made, but a necessary one nonetheless. Perhaps this was your body attempting to accept this fact.

Every time I try to up and walk away,

You make a promise that you'll love me, love me better

Love me, love me better

After a moment, your eyes fluttered open and the tears swelling your orbs rained down, fogging your vision. You loosened your strangle on the mic, only now realizing how tight you held to it. As you gazed at the sea of bodies, you noted their red eyes and damp cheeks. They were screaming your song back at you, your lyrics dragging through the air.

It wasn't uncommon to witness your fans crying at your shows; your music overwhelmed them; their connection to you overwhelmed them, and the vulnerability birthed from this emotional exchange overwhelmed you.

I think I'd rather just be misunderstood,

Found out your love ain't no good.

You took in the masses, scanning their dazed smiles as you continued to sing, and that's when you saw her.

Through the mist in your eyes, she emerged out of nothingness. Clad in lace, sporting that devilish smirk that curdled your blood, wearing those dark irises brewed to the brim with mischief. You could always pick her out in any crowd, which looking back, had been the commencement of your own undoing.

Had me at hello, got me with a kiss, left me in abyss.

She swayed to the music, mouthing the words with those dangerous fucking lips. Lips that could ruin your life with a single utterance, lips that did ruin your life, your relationship.

When you finally let your eyes meet, she bared her white teeth, taunting you in that way she often did. You were seething and she knew it, her swift little wink a testament to her knowledge.

You should turn away, rip your gaze from hers, focus on the tear-stained faces in the audience. You should ignore the abrupt shift in your heart’s thump, how it rattled in rage now at an uncomfortable rate. You shouldn't allow her to get to you just by simply existing.

Don’t want my heart cold, so I took it off of my neck and my wrist.

But, in an arena sculpted to house twenty thousand, a lone Riri Williams faded your performance high just by being.

God she was maddening, and inescapable it seemed, no matter the continent you ventured to. To the rest of the world, it'd look like you were serenading her in a bubble where just the two of you existed, but you both knew better. Your anger was palpable to her alone, something she counted on; you’d played this game of hers long enough to hone certain skills, like how to bury your building fury. Your muscles tensed, your knees locked in place as you returned to choking the mic yet again, sizzling under your elevating temperature.

You sang through your irritation though, spitting your venomous lyrics directly in her face as she watched, amused. She wouldn't ruin this parting performance for you.

Found out it was mostly lust but not love.

You kept your eyes on her for the duration of the song, earning jealous stares from the other girls rallying around her, their own hopes of soliciting your gaze made obvious. They were shoving, and yelling, yanking the barricade aggressively, yet still, all your focus lay on Riri. It's what she hoped for, to ensure chaos, to make it obvious she did not need to vie for your attention, she just… simply had it.

You were strengthening her pride, the last thing you sought to do, but looking away from her proved to be impossible.

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.

But, every time I try to up and walk away,

You come around and start to love me, love me better,

Love me, love me better…

Confetti raining from the heavens emulated her skin's shine, golden and distracting, the showers causing you to rip your stare away from her briefly. When the dust settled, she’d vanished, disappearing like she'd never existed, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself with a head shake.

“London, thank you, I love you. I’m gonna miss you!”

With that, the lights dimmed, giving you time to evacuate the stage swiftly and stealthily. Off you went, mind still muddled with the smugness she wore on her features as she gawked at you with feral eyes.

Riri being in town meant trouble, and you wanted no fucking part in whatever she had planned.

•••

After leaving the venue your entire body felt numb and fatigued, so you instructed your driver to take you straight back to your hotel. Typically, your routine concluding a performance would involve saying hello to fans who stayed behind after the show, you'd done it countless times, but not tonight. With Riri on the loose, you couldn't chance running into her anywhere, not in your current state of exhaustion. If she was to meet you this way, you were ashamed to admit that it would take zero effort on her part to coax you into doing whatever she wished.

You weren't too tired to be furious though, allowing the emotion to take precedence over your shame; you intended to use said fury to venture as far away from Riri Williams' deranged ass as you could manage.

The length of your silent car ride was spent with your head propped on the cool window, pondering her being in London. You didn't have to question her why; Riri fought valiantly to be wherever you were, but her how, that remained somewhat of a mystery.

How was it plausible for her to be in Europe right now? Her finals should be consuming the majority of her time, clashing with the schedule for the last leg of your tour. You knew this because you planned this.

For the first fifteen stops, there were no tour buses broken into, no dressing room locks tampered with, your shows remained uninterrupted, and you hadn't had to suffer through your usual internal battle when facing off with your biggest weakness. All was fine until tonight, your final concert.

How convenient, you thought, though you supposed her powers should in no way surprise you anymore. You knew the things Riri was capable of, experienced the fate of her actions.

Which was why you decided a quiet night in your hotel would be your chosen way of decompressing. When you pulled up to where you were staying, you shot your manager a text informing her you would not be attending the after-party thrown in your honor. Parties meant paparazzi and their intrusive questions about your relationship, or rather, the lack thereof. But most annoyingly, parties meant Riri, and her covert ways of always weaseling past security at events she presumed you to be at.

And you would pass on dealing with either scenario tonight.

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open on your floor and you stepped out, trotting swiftly toward your suite with a hot shower in mind, one that would rinse away your stressors.

Upon unlocking the door though, there was an immediate sense of something being off, the instinct an acquired habit after your colossal mistake of intertwining your life with Riri's. Every day since you'd been made to look over your shoulder. You stalked deeper into your room, eyes trailing to your rumpled white comforter pulled back as though someone had lain in your sheets.

Before you left that morning, you'd made your bed, another acquired habit, this one drilled into you by your grandmother growing up, and one you practiced diligently when sleeping in threads that weren't your own.

So naturally, with the sight laid out before you, your mind ran straight to the only person you knew could be responsible. The pillow on the right side of the bed was dented, and one of your silk button-ups from a previous concert sat in a pool on the carpet. You bent over to pick it up, pulling it to your nose for a deep inhale to find that you were indeed correct; the intoxicating aroma of Riri's perfume misted the fabric, forcing an unintentional smirk to crack across your lips. You battled against its appearance and lost, as usual.

She was here, in your room, in your bed, wearing your clothes. And recently too, her floral scent still lingering on your linens serving as proof. Your eyes rolled on command, but you decided to ignore the knowledge you'd just gained, mind still set on that well-earned shower. You figured you could still get to it, if Riri had still been around, her presence would've been made known the moment you stepped through the threshold.

Her absence indicated one thing though; she wanted you to come find her, but you wouldn't play into her hand. You were far too tired, and far too over her games.

You began a leisure strip, stepping out of your leather pants and dressing down to your undergarments before making your way to the bathroom. You stopped short when your toes met the tiled floor, gawking at the scene awaiting your attention.

Scarlet petals floated atop long departed waters, blanketing the bath that had now run cold. They were scattered across the floor as well, and the lasting whiff of outed lavender candles filled the air. A discarded bra hung off the side of the tub, matching panties too, and you sighed, stepping on the torn roses as you walked further into the bathroom. She sure knew how to make herself at home.

When you stood before the sink, your eyes dropped instantly to the counter, glued to the promiscuous polaroids littered across it.

Every last one of Riri, every last one taken in your bed. Your shirt draped her body in some, the golden shade making her skin pop beneath the material, mimicking the confetti from earlier. But she was fully naked in most, bare breasts and nipple jewelry exposed with her perfectly manicured fingers playing in her pretty cunt. You picked them up one by one, examining the images further.

The angles were impressive, you couldn't lie, and you appreciated her effort. Like her position in the picture your thumb grazed now; Riri was bent over, ass high in the air, her dripping folds glistening in the perfect shot.

The more time spent gaping at the photos, the stickier your underwear became, clinging to your own saturated cunt. Riri's effect on you wasn't some unknown thing, you were aware of it, she was damn sure aware of it, and these polaroids displayed below you were her version of a reminder, but you chose to stare anyway, reveling in the building throb at your center.

In the final one, her locs cloaked her shoulders, slightly shielding her nipples from your view. But your focus did not lie there, instead, the hefty-looking purple toy rammed into her tight hole stole your attention. It stretched her wide, the pleasure causing her head to sling backward, and those pretty lips to part, forming the most pitiful little 'o' you'd ever seen.

It was this shot that compelled your hand's betrayal, your shower partially forgotten as you slipped your digits beneath the waistband of your panties. One stroke of your swelling clit had your throat craning, imitating Riri's in the photo, a rugged moan slipping free as you splashed around in your wetness, eyes fluttering in response to the sensation.

Before you could really delve into pleasuring yourself though, you glanced at the mirror, reading the words written on it, words you'd somehow missed upon entry.

You rolled your eyes and freed your damp hands from your pussy, arousal on a mission to flee your body. It was replaced instead, by your previous rush of agitation as you reread her cheeky message.

“Did you miss me?” Scribbled across the glass in ruby-red lipstick, the question enclosed in her literal kisses.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

•••

In an interesting twist of events, you'd found yourself in the hotel bar nursing a rum and coke with your thumb looming over a poorly typed text message, those photos still weighing heavy on your head.

Under steaming streams meant to wash her likeness away, your pussy had a vastly different idea in mind, wrangling your fingers in on the plan against your will as you fucked yourself to the thought of her. You came harder than you had in weeks, though the orgasm did nothing to relax your spinning mind.

That's what the alcohol was for, or, what it was supposed to be for anyway.

You’d wandered downstairs in disgrace, desperately needing to drink your actions away. But rather than the escape you chased after, you were met with only more shame at the bottom of your glass. It was your single drink that prompted the idea of texting Syla. A risky move, and a cliché at that, texting your ex the second a drop of liquor kissed your lips. But, you’d done worse things, quite literally moments before drafting the unsent message you still stared at.

You supposed it was the guilt of your shower excursions truly driving your choice. She deserved an explanation for everything, a proper one, and providing that hadn't been an accessible opportunity over the past few months. She was busy on set, and you were on tour, battling the everlasting presence of the demon at fault for your parting.

Riri Williams.

You'd met her a year and a half ago, when your career was on the climb, and the line of girls willing to do whatever you wanted on the promise of a good fuck and a shot at being your next video vixen was unending. You never delivered on the latter part of that promise, but after experiencing the former, they hadn't the capability to mind much.

It was a routine you developed, sleeping with girls after every show, slutting them out, then sending them on their merry ways immediately after. So when the girl with full lips and sinful eyes caught your attention in a Chicago crowd, you knew immediately she was to be your next conquest.

She was alluring, unsettlingly so as she bopped to your singing with a smirk hanging off her blood-red lips. Danger lurked beneath that smirk, lying wait, and you took notice. It should've been your first sign to steer clear of the menacing beauty, but, you were stubborn by nature, and evidently your own worst enemy. So you stooped on the stage, extended your hand to meet hers, laced your fingers together, and sent the audience into a frenzy when you dedicated your celebratory ode to the soul foretold to doom your life.

Riri was the first of your plethora of playthings able to keep up with your stamina. She was fucking feral, and insatiable, hell-bent on riding your strap off of its harness. You weren't ashamed at the time to admit she was the best you’d ever had, and that was only after one night together.

You hadn't even questioned her appearances at multiple gigs and events afterward; you were way too gone off the sex to notice the sprouting problem. Much like performing, you were developing an addiction to her, and the heat between her thighs. Submerging your tongue deep within her wet walls provided the same jolt of adrenaline you received from being on stage, if not more. Bending her over to demolish her from the back got you higher than the chants from thousands of fans ever would.

When you finally did come up for air long enough to acknowledge your predicament, it had been far too late. You began to pull away, wanting to wean yourself off of the drug that was Riri. But she wasn't going for that.

Where you tried dousing your addiction into a dwindling flame, Riri's obsession flourished like a forest fire.

Denying her access to yourself was possibly the worst decision you could have ever made. It didn't stop her from finding your studio, damaging your car engine and conveniently being nearby to help fix it, she even went as far as getting jobs at the venues you played just so she could see you, only to quit directly after your set.

Her ways of maneuvering were mind-boggling, frustrating you to your very core because no matter the effort you poured into it, leaving Riri alone was a task you found to be formidable. She'd show up, and you'd give in. Every. Single. Time.

All of that came to a crashing halt when she obtained your home address, deciding to break in as some grand romantic gesture to “win you back.” You didn't read it that way, obviously, and you branded her a lunatic who had no part in your life. You fucked her like she was nothing and sent her packing, threatening a restraining order if she didn't leave you alone from then on.

Dating Syla forced you to make good on that threat. Your relationship was fairly new at the time, but you liked her enough to want to keep Riri miles and miles away from her. You were at a place of contentment in your career, the need to collect a harem of women washed from your system after the nightmare of your last encounter, and peace seemed like an obtainable thing, or at least some semblance of it, with Riri gone for good.

It's what she allowed you to believe anyway, until she'd apparently had enough of watching you be happy with a woman who wasn't her.

You'd received a text composed of the same words signed across the mirror upstairs.

Did you miss me?

And it wasn't much longer before Syla was on the line, screaming obscenities at you through the phone.

“Lying bitch.”

“Cheating ass hoe.”

“Fucking slut.”

“We're Done.”

She hung up without letting you get a word of defense in, leaving you more so angry than heartbroken. Because it was undeniable that the cause of Syla's unrest and the text on your screen somehow coincided. A truth confirmed when your phone started dinging off the hook.

Riri liked to take flicks.

“To commemorate the moment.” She'd say, and it had already been discovered that telling her no wasn't a thing you could do, so you always let her pull the camera out, far too turned on by the idea of your own personal collection of home movies with Riri in your phone.

In hindsight, you should've guessed they'd come back to bite you in the ass eventually, despite Riri's accomplished skill to manipulate. How she'd managed to convince you the tapes existed in your phone alone was embarrassingly beyond you.

Because there they all were, coming through one by one as you sat on the edge of your bed, dumbfounded.

Syla had forwarded every piece of incriminating evidence that backed up her accusations to you. There were dozens of photos, dozens of videos, all of you and Riri over the year she spent in and out of your sheets. None of them recent, but that ceased to matter. Your girlfriend had seen images of your strap down Riri's throat, watched videos of her back arching impressively for you. And your words; her ears were exposed to the vulgar phrases you hissed as you fucked Riri senseless, phrases you'd never once mouthed to her in the bedroom.

Which was why your conscience scolded you so, because the hurt dampening her words that day was unmistakable for anything else. Yet, you ignored that fact in the shower, huffing Riri's name as you permitted a climax brought on by her image to rattle your bones.

You sighed, finally hitting send on the message just as the bartender approached you, “Oof, you look like you could use another one of those. My shift ends soon, but I could make you another if you'd like.”

Her name tag read Esperanza. Pretty, you thought, a pretty name for a pretty girl. Almost pretty enough to tempt a yes out of you, “Could you ask me again, preferably in an accent that isn't as attractive as yours so I can say no? Because I really, really wanna say no.”

She laughed when you groaned in frustration, rewarding you with a blinding smile that unexpectedly heated your cheeks, “I mean I could, my Swedish accent is pretty terrible, that might work. But I won't, seeing as it's in the job description to seduce guests into buying more alcohol with my voice.”

“Is it?” You questioned with a small smirk.

“Yeah. Especially the pretty American ones like yourself.”

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to retort with something equally as flirtatious, but then your phone buzzed in your palm, capturing your attention as your eyes fell to the device in hopes of seeing Syla's name lighting the screen, only to be met with disappointment.

You wanna fuck that bitch or something?

The number unknown, but the sender was far from.

“Would you excuse me?” You spoke finally and Esperanza nodded, returning to her business of cleaning the counter down.

You stood up from the stool with darting eyes, scanning the bar for any signs of her presence but to no avail. When your phone rang, you answered it without a second thought.

“Where are you?”

Soon, Riri’s permanently teasing voice chimed in your ears, “Hi baby, you miss me?”

She giggled, and you imagined her somewhere twirling her hair around her finger, smiling innocently to herself.

You huffed into the mic, already beyond irritated with her antics, “Riri, where are you?”

“Ugh, baby, why you always so hostile?”

“I told you to stop fucking calling me that.”

“Don't be mean to me. I'm sensitive, baby.” You could hear the frown in her voice, the way her tone took a dive indicating she'd been truly hurt by your words, which only annoyed you more.

“No, you're fucking crazy.” She paused, just like you'd anticipated, and you listened for her intake of breath, smirking when the faint sound of her gasp blessed you. You knew her eye twitched like it always did, you just wished you had the pleasure of witnessing it for yourself.

“I don't like that word.” Her declaration blew through the speaker cold as ice.

You dragged your hand over your face, losing the patience you barely had to begin with. “Riri, what do you want?”

“Did you see my pictures, baby?” Just like that, she did away with the chill lacing her voice, returning it to its usual chipper pitch. “Did you like them? I figured you'd need something to… relax you after your big performance. You did so well by the way, I’m proud of you.”

The thrill that shot through you from her praise would have to go ignored, because you weren't trying to deal with any of your conflicting emotions for the psychotic girl on the other end of the call. “What do you want from me?”

“You and Esperanza looked cozy flirting at the bar. Can't say I wasn't jealous, you never talk to me like that. But if you like her, I could help get y’all together, give you a helping hand and shit. Now that you single.” She giggled slightly after finishing her last sentence.

You turned, eyeing the bar once again. It was mostly empty, save for the three girls in a corner booth, the security guard posted at the door, and yourself. Esperanza had left it seemed, clocking out like she promised, leaving you alone with the ghost of Riri on your line.

You rolled your eyes, remembering how you still suffered the ramifications from the last time she felt inclined to offer a helping hand, “Your crazy ass blew up my fucking relationship and you think I want your help?”

She remained silent for a lengthy amount of time, almost tricking you into believing the line went dead. It wasn't until you were lowering the phone from your ear that she cleared her throat, and you braced yourself for impact. “She could never satisfy you and you fucking know it. You ain't even like her for real, you just wanted a new bitch laid up under you after I stopped giving you access to this pussy baby.”

If the word delusional existed as a person, her name would be Riri Williams.

“You're fucking insane do you know that? Like something is genuinely wrong with you if you think–”

Riri cut you off, “Let's not forget I wasn't alone in our little movies baby. You can't blame your fuck ass relationship failing all on me, because if I remember correctly, you was the one holding the camera while you was blowing my shit, wasn't you?”

Your throat dried, your vision reddened, and your phone shook inside your fist. You couldn't speak because there were no words to be said. “Ri–”

“You know what? I change my mind, I won't help you with Esperanza after all. I like having you to myself anyway. You still want me, and with ole girl out the picture, we can go back to how we used to be.”

“Tell me where the fuck you are Riri.” There was a thud on her end, one that you also heard inside the bar. She was definitely somewhere close.

She tsked, “Nuh-uh baby, you gotta come find me. I got a surprise for you.”

And she hung up the phone, the beep forcing an exasperated sigh from your lips as you stood hopeless in the middle of the bar.

•••

For as long as you’d known Riri, she'd always been obsessed with the never-ending game of hide and seek she trapped you in, forcing the role of being it on you every time. She wanted you scouring the hotel for her while she waited, sitting pretty in whatever cranny she'd made herself comfortable in. She wanted you to do what you always did when you inevitably smoked her out of hiding: punish her for her bad behavior.

Fuck what she wanted.

You wouldn't give in, not this time, and what better way to ensure this case than leaving the hotel entirely? It was late, the night breeze dry as the valet pulled your brand new Ferrari GTC4Lusso around the front, the street lights reflecting off its bold cherry tint. A destination was the furthest thing from your mind when you climbed inside the car, but truthfully, you didn't require one. Driving was merely a ploy to put some distance between you and Riri.

The car’s rumble when you pulled off wasn't one loud enough to drown out your screaming thoughts, much to your dismay. You’d hoped, at the very least, that the revving engine, and the openness of the endless motorway you were now zipping down recklessly, would be enough to dampen your anger. But alas, vexation was an ever-present emotion whenever you found yourself in proximity to her, or rather, when she forced proximity between the pair of you, and it didn't emerge for the reasons you wished it did.

Your adrenaline was rocketing, heart rate spiking in tandem with the numbers on the dash as your toes pushed into the pedal, but despite all this, your sour mood remained. Because you could not discredit Riri's infuriating claim; you wanted her still. You'd endured months without her, abiding by the useless lies that failed to convince you otherwise. That lust for her taste lingered, that lust for her feel, all of it.

Lust that Syla could never satiate, and you often got the sense she wasn't heedless to that truth.

“Fuck!” You cursed aloud, eyes flickering to your dinging phone screen colored in her text messages.

You almost reached for the device resting in the mount, crippling guilt once again driving your decision-making. But you reminded yourself you were behind the wheel, just as an identifiable sensation against your bobbing larynx sent a chilling shiver down your spine, and molded you still in your seat. Briefly, cautiously, you allowed your eyes to leave the road, causing the car to swerve unintentionally into another lane when your gaze became acquainted with the object pinning you down. Beautiful, black, and blinding; the razor-edged blade tacked to your flesh was accompanied by the sweetest pain, and a deeply sultry voice. “We don't text and drive, baby. Leave the bitch on delivered.”

When she spoke, it irritatingly settled your breathing, but not enough to assist you in regaining control of the steering wheel clutched in your fists. There were other cars on the road honking at your continued shifting, but what could you really do when there was an insane girl holding a knife to your throat as you drove? “Riri...”

“I told you to come find me and you didn't.” She spat harshly. Just your fucking luck, she was upset.

“Riri, Ima crash this fucking car if you don't move that shit from my throat.”

She ignored you of course, opting to press the knife in harder. If it were her goal, she could break through skin, the choking pressure indicative of the power she wielded, and in any other circumstance you'd probably be enjoying her lethal way of incapacitating you. “Why didn't you come find me? I was waiting for you.”

“I'm not finna play this game with your psychotic ass tonight Riri. I said fucking move that shit.”

Once again, your cry fell on deaf ears. She kept her hand looped around the driver's seat, knife firm in her fingers as she tightened her grip on the decorative, golden handle.

You listened to her airy exhale, flinched beneath its warmth when it plowed into your expecting cheek, and it was then that you allowed your glare to capture hers in the rearview mirror. Her lips, pouty and red-stained, twitched at the corners, morphing into a foreboding smirk that traveled straight up to her smoky eyes. Eyes that were deep, eyes that were dark, and exceedingly dangerous; like a void you were destined to forever fall victim to.

Riri launched her body forward, nibbling on your bare earlobe. “You're being mean again baby. Real mean for somebody with a knife pressed to they throat right now.”

The sting from the blade began to heighten, building into a burn so glorious, it shot through your limbs, and you found yourself inadvertently tilting your head backward to relish in the hurt.

“I could slit your fucking throat right now and you wouldn't even be quick enough to stop me.”

Words of your own were difficult to come by, you were entirely consumed with combatting the violent throb increasing in your pants, all amidst your efforts to keep you both alive in the drifting Ferrari, but it seemed your soul was the only one inside the car yearning to live another day. “Ri–”

“Just kidding!” The dagger levitated, undoing its imprint in your flesh, and you coughed, one hand instantly flying up to your bruised throat while the other remained on the wheel, regaining full control of the vehicle.

She planted a long, sloppy kiss on your cheek before climbing over into the passenger seat, giggling all the while.

“Jesus fucking Christ Riri, what the actual fuck?!” You spared her a glance, of course she was grinning.

“Were you scared for your life, baby?” She giggled again, biting her lip as she tried reaching for your phone, but you smacked her hand away before she could get to it. “Rude!”

You sighed, “How the hell did you get in here, Riri?”

“Mmm, semantics.” She huffed, seemingly bored.

You relaxed, eyes fixed back on the road now that you were somewhat confident Riri wouldn't be slicing you open. Your muscles loosened and you fell into a leisure position, tossing an irritated scowl her way. “What are you doing in London? You should be at school. Don't you have finals and shit?”

“Aww, look at you all concerned about my studies. You're so cute, baby.” You tried your hardest not to cringe at the pet name and the heat it churned inside your abdomen. “But, obviously I had to see you. You all single now, your tour just ended, and you announced that hiatus, I didn't know when I'd get the chance again. Aren't you happy I'm here?”

“Not at all.”

She frowned, “That's not funny.”

“I wasn't tryna be fucking funny, you shouldn't be here.”

You hadn't needed to see her face to know a smirk played in her features. “You didn't think that lil restraining order was gon stretch all the way across the pond did you? They don't got jurisdiction over me out here baby. I can be as close to you as I want.”

You groaned inwardly, unaware of who you were truly annoyed with; Riri and her actions, or yourself for being so damn turned on listening to her insane logic. She was correct, because you knew that her stunt with Syla wasn't a one-off, and you'd eventually be seeing her again.

Riri was immensely smart, so it made sense that she waited until you were no longer on American soil to corner you, and making you think you'd finally escaped her by being in Europe had to certainly be part of her plan as well. Fuck, why was her conniving nature so damn sexy?

“How did you get in my car?” You asked again.

“I'm not that big, and you should know by now that I'm very…” Riri paused, deliberating on the word she wished to use. “Efficient, when it comes to getting into places I probably shouldn't be in.”

“Yeah, cause you're crazy.”

You could see Riri's body turning towards you in your peripheral, she bent her knees in the seat, eyes locked on your form as she skillfully maneuvered her knife in between her digits. “You like your tongue, baby?”

“What?”

She sneered, “Your tongue. Do you like it?”

“The fuck are–”

“Cause I like your tongue. When it's inside me, when it's rolling over my clit. Yeah, I actually kinda love your tongue, and I really, really want you to keep it.” She surged forward with a quickness, almost diving the point of her ebony dagger through your jugular. “So Ima suggest you stop fucking calling me that shit, I'd hate to have to cut it out.”

All you could do was roll your eyes. “Dramatic ass.”

“And you love it.” She plopped back into the seat with a satisfied smile, extending her legs so they now rested in your lap, to which you did not protest.

Riri giggled, reaching into the bosom of her dress to retrieve a small, clear baggie harboring those circular blue pills that she loved so much. Her wet tongue awaited the tablet's arrival, extending out of her mouth in preparation for its landing. And you turned, one hand on the wheel as you watched a gradual cerulean bleed cover her tastebuds. “Want one?”

“No.” All your attention shifted back to the road and your lack of destination. You'd left the hotel to get away from Riri, yet here you were, essentially taking a fucking joyride with her after she broke into your brand-new car.

“Ugh, lame.” She stashed the pills back inside her titties, once again reaching for your phone, and this time you didn't stop her. “Can I put my song on?”

Your brow quirked, “Your song?”

Riri nodded, “Yes, my song. The song you wrote for me!”

“You think I give enough of a fuck about your deranged ass to write a song about you?” You did, write a song about her that was, a couple in fact. All of them about your reprehensible escapades with the groupie who wouldn't leave you alone, the groupie who you couldn't leave alone.

Your entanglement with Riri had managed to bypass public perception, the only thing you executed correctly when it came to her, so her name had never been in the running when the speculations of who your last album could've been about arose. You knew she'd figure it out though, because of course she would.

She kicked your thigh, causing you to smack her ankle in retaliation. “You do. I'm your muse.”

You bellowed a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "My muse? Oh, you're very unwell, Riri." She pointed the blade your way as a warning, causing you to grin triumphantly. "And which song you think I wrote about you?”

“Don't play dumb baby, you can't pull that shit off.” Riri placed your phone back into its holder, her lips curling into a bashful smile when your voice drifted from the speakers, and her song coasted the car's air.

We done played all these games,

Only now I can't wait, I want you now, I can't wait, oh yeah.

The track she chose had indeed been one she inspired. It was also one you avoided entirely, purposefully leaving it off the set list for all of your shows. But again, here you were, subjected to listening to Riri's painfully off-key rendition of the lyrics that symbolized the relationship you two shared.

But she just wanna off my head, I just want the neck instead.

She just wanna fight in bed, I wanna get high instead, oh yeah.

“You think this is about you?” You teased, only seeking to rile her up. “This could be about any of the other girls I done fucked.”

“You know I can't leavе you alone? You know I could never tell you no? Hmm, definitely sound like this is about me. Cause I know you wasn't running back to none of them other hoes like you was running back to me, let's be for real.” She continued to sing, spreading her legs in the process.

It was muscle memory that had your hand descending to her ankle perched in your lap, making you squeeze it before you began to massage it in the way only you knew she liked. And the smile that you failed to disguise when she whimpered was one of instinct, not intention.

“How many girls have you f-fucked on tour, baby?” The question straggled out of her mouth behind a breathy moan.

You hadn't wanted to award her inquiry with any sort of answer, largely in part due to the answer being one that would please her, so you elected to lie.

“A few.” You retorted with a sanguine smirk you deemed sharper than the blade she flaunted, but when your gaze panned her way, the sight awaiting you dulled your smile into a flaccid frown.

She was bunching her dress, thumbing the fabric of her underwear once the hem circled her waist. “Mmm, that's a l-lie.”

Riri made you weak, downright helpless and impotent whenever her authentic huffs of pleasure gained volume. So it wasn't the least bit surprising when her whines from beside you nabbed your attention from the freeway, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything apart from the wet sounds emitted by her dripping center.

Your eyes drifted, and you stifled a moan of your own when you realized she'd graduated from touching herself with her fingers. Riri had the blade locked in her fist, dragging the handle up, down, and around her throbbing clit above her panties.

“Riri, what are you doing?” You bit your lip, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

She slipped her sticky panties to the side, finally bridging the gap keeping the hilt of the knife apart from her eager cunt. “If you was fucking bitches I would know. Sticking to your rule I see.” You watched the tip of the handle orbit her hole, just before it slowly sank in, getting swallowed by her grip all the way up to the bolster. “F-Fuck baby, I guess this p-pussy really changed your life, huh?”

“I don't want your fucking pussy juice all over my seat. This car is new.” Your scolding tone was feigned, only in an attempt to express a fragment of restraint, but truthfully, every ounce of it slipped swiftly away from you the second you bore witness to that molly hitting her tongue.

You weren't even sure if you were driving on the right side of the road, far too fixated on keeping your composure as your fibers mastered the art of persuasion. They insisted you pull over and allow your fingers to replace the knife, have your tongue relieve the shiny gold hook of its lewd duty of fucking Riri's cunt.

She was thrashing, pumping the back end of the blade in and out, in and out as her squishy pussy sang to you. “Am I the f-first g-girl you let r-ride in your new 'Rari, baby? Ooh, I feel so special.”

“I'm not letting you, your crazy ass broke in. And I mean it, close your damn legs.”

You did the only thing you could think of to get her to stop: you pushed the pedal to the floor, the speed sucking you into the seat as the car surged forward. But beside you, Riri remained a moaning, giggling mess. It was like your accelerated driving, and your admonishments motivated her to fuck her cunt faster as she slicked the knife, making herself wetter. “Hear h-how wet this pussy is for you b-baby? You haven't even t-touched me and I'm fucking drenched. Oh, oh! Shit!”

“Do not fucking come on my seat Riri.”

“Or what? You gonna p-punish me?” She used her free hand to rub coaxing circles into her twitching clit, biting down on her lip as the tool dove deeper into her stretched hole, prodding her sensitive spot just right. “Fuck! It f-feels so good! I'm close!"

You took your eyes off the road, watching her lids droop from the pleasure building deep within, tuning in to the cry clamoring from her tightening stomach.

“Don't.” But you knew she would.

“I can't baby. I-I… Oh fuck!” She groaned, long and breathy, her back arching inward, chest bouncing rapidly from the build-up. Riri screeched the second her orgasm knocked her down, and it was the sexiest sound you'd ever heard. Droves of bliss pillaged her frail body, and she shook violently next to you. “I'm s-sorry... I-I c-couldn't.”

“It's okay.” You were soothing her as she declined from her climax.

The handle glided out of her used pussy, dragging out strings of her oozing cum with it, and the hilt glistened brighter than it did before her hole consumed it. Your quick glances from the knife to the road, from the road to Riri’s seeping cunt weren't enough, you needed to taste her, and it was apparent that she read your mind. “Wanna taste?”

You tried for reluctance, at least your brain did, your body not so much. A steady nod was your only offer, eyes never leaving the road ahead, and you could sense Riri’s grin after receiving your answer. She was excited, pleased, surprised that you gave into her off the first ask, usually she'd have to work harder to earn your compliance. She was on her knees seconds later, left hand propping her up on the center armrest while her right carried the glimmering dagger to your mouth.

She smeared the tip across your full lips, her slickness coating them like gloss, and out came your tongue, drinking in her juices like a parched animal. As always, Riri's cum tasted fucking fantastic, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of moaning. “You like?”

You remained silent, and she smirked, “You love.” She beamed, tapping your mouth, “Open wide baby.”

She was taunting you, this you knew. You were also aware that you were on the verge of doing exactly as she requested without a lick of shame, and you glared at her, unimpressed.

“Please? For me?” She whined.

You couldn't resist her pout, you couldn't resist her, not anymore. So immediately, you promptly parted your lips, offering the stem of the dagger a seat on your watering tongue, your saliva mingling with Riri's sweet, sweet nectar.

This time you did moan, and loud too, fueling her fire just like she wanted, just like you always did. You twirled your tongue around it, sucking and licking every last drop of her creamy cum off the knife handle.

“Backseat. Now.” The only words out of your mouth when she pulled the hilt free, and she clapped, climbing over you as you smacked her ass before pulling the car over on the side of the highway.

•••

“Bend over.” You tried tearing your lips from hers as you spoke, but Riri snagged your bottom lip between her teeth, biting fiercely while her cunt brushed your lap. She kept her eyes on yours, smirking, wanting you to behold the peril swallowing her pupils when she slipped the point of her blackened blade between the buttons of your shirt. She dragged it down, the sharp knife popping each one clean off until your top flew open under her swift slicing.

Your own eyes twinkled encouragingly; you were far too into this; you always enjoyed those seldom moments when you permitted Riri's belief that she held the upper hand.

The tip of her pointed dagger grazed the valley of your unbound breasts, their exposure earning her marvel as she used the bountiful view to aid her desperate humps against your thigh. And you could hear her pussy, you could feel the sticky puddle created by streaks of her first climax seeping through her thin underwear. Her moans were so broken and docile, it almost seemed criminal to make her stop, but you needed her splayed across you.

“You gon make me say it again, mami? You know how I like you.”

With fogged-out eyes, she nodded, stealing one more kiss and shoving the knife into your palm before stretching her small body across the extended center column. Her plump ass elevated to eye level, and you sat back to enjoy the view presented to you.

Lace complimented her skin's deepness far too well. The material embraced her curves, molding to her hips like a second skin, and you nearly let guilt get the better of you for the actions that followed. Your movement was one of speedy precision as you slashed through the bottom half of Riri's dress with the blade she awarded to you, making her gasp.

“This good baby? This how you wanted me?” She backed up a little, seeking some sort of comfort and it clicked then, that this position must be an awkward one for her with the armrest slanting her, and jabbing right into her abdomen.

You bit your swollen lip, moaning from the sweet pain left behind by Riri’s incisors. “Mhmm,” The blade's handle trailed her sticky crotch, “Just like this mami.”

In seconds, you were cutting her cunt free from her messy underwear, kneading and jiggling her exposed ass cheeks in your hot hands. But your pace wasn't up to her liking, and Riri never shied away from voicing her opinion. “You moving too fucking slow. If you gon hi–”

Before her complaint could force its end out of her mouth your palm collided with the meat of her ass, hitting her with unruly force. Her body jerked on top of you, and she yelped, the fragile screech music to your ears. “What you was saying, mami?”

Riri groaned under the rush of pain, then exhaled, and you took this as your opportunity to slap her behind again.

As you ran your hand along her bare skin, you absorbed the heat drummed up from your two hits alone, chuckling. You skimmed the area with your nails, growing more excited watching her twitch. You'd almost forgotten how hopelessly responsive her body was to your touch, even under the faintest brush of it.

“You're a fucking problem.” You slammed an open palm up against her right cheek, smiling at the ripples the collision created in her skin. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

Of course she knew how her actions dictated your decisions, how her guise plagued every divot in your brain. Riri understood her power over you, and it was this very knowledge that had you spanking her again, and again, and again.

“H-Harder!”

Her ass was hot, sore, and damn near swollen. Her tears were heavy streams rolling from her eyes and into her gaping mouth, yet still, she desired more. A resilient little thing she was; you admired her moxie. With every lash, her sopping pussy called on your digits, needing them to plug the dribbling hole expanding the wet patch already existing on your thigh.

“You like that shit don't you? Being in pain?” Your handprint painted her butt cheek, pulling a guttural scream from her throat. “That scream wasn't an answer to my question mami.”

She was full-on bawling, blubbering in your lap when your fingers forced their way inside her cunt unexpectedly, and she lurched.

She sniffled. “Yes! I l-like it!”

“Then shut the fuck up and stop fucking crying.” You smacked her tired ass for the umpteenth time, sliding your fingers through her soaked folds, coating them with all the slick you could collect before ramming them back within her welcoming walls. “You asked for this shit, and you gon take it like the slut you are.”

“Y-You hit like a b-bitch.”

You spanked her once, twice, three times, four times, five; each hit reprimanded her unacceptable behavior as she sobbed with the brown seat leather aching between her shaking fingers.

She wiggled in your grip, wanting desperately to escape the hurtful blows that just kept coming, smack after smack after smack echoing throughout the car. “Not you tryna run Ri, thought I hit like a bitch. Nah, bring that ass back here.” You laughed.

“Please!” Each of her screams made you fuck her pussy faster, encouraged you to slap her ass harder just to revel in her burning skin as Riri cried herself to the edge of her second orgasm.

You pushed up against her nerves, thumb swatting brashly against her swollen clit. “You squeezing my fingers real tight mami, that must mean you finna come.”

“I'm, I'm…” Riri kicked her feet, whining around the deepness of your digits. When she glanced back at you your heart softened just a little. Her big brown eyes were blown the fuck out, leaking fat tears and mascara that seemed never-ending, and she chewed on her lip hoping the action would alleviate some of the hurt. “C-Com…”

Your thrusts slowed, and your hits morphed into a massage as you groped her cheeks tenderly. “Yeah, give it to me, come on my fingers, come all over them.”

“Ooh, baby you f-fucking me s-so good! I’m coming for you!”

She poked her ass out, twisting from side to side as she permitted spasming shocks of pleasure to surge throughout her body at a rapid pace, still backing up into your digits that had yet to depart her hole. “That's it, fuck yourself on my fingers Ri. Show me you can be a good girl, fuck yourself through it.”

It was a difficult thing you’d tasked her with, but luckily for her, Riri thrived off hardship. When the aftershocks subsided, her movements halted and she sighed, moaning low in her throat at the gentle pace in which you extracted your digits from inside her.

“Sit up and come taste it.” You commanded, rolling your eyes when she looked back at you weakly.

With your hand inching toward the hair hanging over her sweaty back, you looped the ends in your fist, yanking her body up until she shifted, then you turned her so her sore ass could plummet right onto the slim storage compartment she was just bent over. “I said sit up.”

Her naked cheeks being forced against the car’s leather prematurely earned you a painful cry. But you didn't care, the reaction only adding to your arousal. You used her parted, wincing lips as an opportunity to stuff her swollen mouth full of your cum covered fingertips, and she gagged from the intrusion before beginning a light suckle. “That's my good girl. Suck them clean for me. You like how you taste?”

“Mhmm.” She hummed around the digits you thrusted in and out of her mouth.

“I know, mami.” You moaned, feeling your clit jump in your pants. “Open your legs, lemme taste that pussy I just made come.”

Riri giggled, separating her sticky legs to grant your salivating tongue entrance. They made a loud squish when she spread them apart, and you could hardly contain your grunt when presented with her messy, bare, pussy lips; your drug of choice. Her cunt's shine danced like diamonds, entrancing you with a beaming glow that could not go ignored. “Shit…”

You reached out for the lever on the driver's side that pushed the seat forward, never once denying yourself face time with her spilling sex. And then you were dropping to your knees, licking your lips before burrowing open-mouth kisses into her sprawled, wet thigh.

Easing her into it failed to make your list of priorities, you wanted her wriggling, squirming with her legs trembling around your face as you slurped her folds. You were also on a mission to feed the starvation gnawing at your gut; it'd been too long since you last feasted on her, and you didn't plan on letting a single drop go to waste.

Your tongue nudged her pulsing clit, licking firmly before you wrapped your thirsty lips well around it, and Riri screeched. “W-Wait baby, wait… Ooh shit.”

And so it began, her pleas for a pause, for you to slow down and allow her to regain her strength. But sadly, her wants were of no importance to you. You trudged on, running your famished tongue around her sweet hole before slipping it all the way in. Riri tapped your head aggressively when you began a slow thrust through her aching walls, and you laughed when your eyes drifted up to see her scrunched face.

“Fuck! Oh.. w-wait..”

“What I'm waiting for Ri? You getting soft on me?”

It was apparent that your comment struck the nerve you intended it to, her huff of annoyance lighting a smile across your face. You refused to let up, licking and sucking the length of her leaking core as she jerked in between broken grumbles. “Ain't nobody s-soft. Eat it r-right and I won't have no c-complaints. Fuck!”

You simply shook your head before diving back into her pussy, rolling her clit in your tongue once more. She whined, the drugs in her system clearly heightening her stimulation, but she took it like a champ, moaning your name breathlessly from above you with her head thrown back.

Riri fisted your curls as you sucked her watering cunt, whimpering where she sat, hips rolling hard into your already stuffed mouth. “Yes! Yes! Just like that!”

“Fuck, I missed this pussy so much.”

“Yeah?” She huffed, tugging your hair to detach you from her center so your stares would align.

Wild eyes scanned your drenched face over, then she tilted your chin, boring straight through your soul with her hopeful gaze. “You missed me?”

You knew what she wanted, and you were fully prepared to give it to her.

“Yes.” Your answer elated her. It didn't matter that in your mind you were admitting to missing her cunt and the way it drooled cum right onto your accepting tongue, to Riri you were confessing to something far more intimate; to Riri you were confessing that you missed her.

The one word, the yes, was enough to bring her to the brink of her third orgasm. But she wouldn't win that easily. You stopped then, just as she was about to fall over the edge, and you let her saturated labia fall freely from your lips before smirking up at her through plotting pupils.

“The fuck are you doing? I was about to come!”

“Ion know, it don't seem like you want it enough.” You teased, making her whine in annoyance. “Need you to beg.”

You'd learned fairly early on that Riri Williams was not a girl easily deterred. With your refusal to allow her release, the job fell on her to complete. Carefully, Riri began to drag her puffy pussy along the lid of the storage compartment she was perched on, hissing in both pain and pleasure as she attempted to make herself come.

You watched her, forever wonder-strickenn by her fortitude. You should stop her, she’d already undergone one orgasm that didn't come from your hands or mouth, and you didn't want that happening again, but the image of her working through the pain brought on by her sore ass cheeks creating friction against the leather was a sight to behold.

“I’m so c-close! Please can I come?!” Her hands found her erect nipples, the standing nubs threatening to rip their way out of her dress. “Please, let me come!”

Her pussy sloshed against the column, her hip jolts splashing her wetness everywhere. Granting her permission would be easy, considering how badly you wanted to enclose her clit in between your lips again, have her juices course your veins like your own personal brand of ecstasy as she convulsed from the shock waves you caused to ripple throughout her body. But you weren't looking for easy, not tonight, not after her behavior.

Your fingers located her waist, holding her still and making her groan in frustration when your strength prohibited her humping. “Mm, do you deserve it?”

“Yes I fucking deserve it!” She yelled, irritated, “Let me fucking come oh my god!”

“That mouth mami. How you gon talk to me like that and think Ima let you come? Hmm?” You parted her thighs, nuzzling your face back into the sweaty space before planting a kiss on her hot skin. “Say you're sorry.”

“No!”

You'd predicted her protest, and you took it as your opening to sink your teeth into her pretty waist. You didn't stop amidst her wails, instead, you dove deeper, biting her flesh with more ferocity. “Say you're sorry Ri.”

Still, she shook her head, standing her ground.

Fuck, you loved how stubborn she was, but you'd never admit that out loud. Luck had been on her side it seemed, because she gave in merely seconds ahead of you puncturing skin, weeping through her words. “I'm s-sorry! I'm s-sorry, baby pl-ease let me come!”

Truthfully you were in awe of how long she held out, surprised by even your own restraint with her pussy lips shoved directly in your face. You were spitting on her bud soon after, suckling her bundle of nerves harshly as you hummed into her quivering sex. “Come in my mouth mami.”

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Within seconds of your go-ahead, Riri was gushing onto your face, your seats, squirting on everything in her vicinity with a scream so powerful, the hairs on your neck rose to attention.

“Shit Ri, you made a mess all over my fucking seats. I told you this car is new.”

She awarded you a weak chuckle, on the edge of collapse before you steadied her frail body. “You think I give a damn, baby? You can clean all that shit up with your mouth if you so bothered.”

Her smirk was a thing contrived of pure, unbridled deception, and she sported the smoky eyes to match. These were reasons to incite terror, but for you, they only bustled your intrigue.

•••

The blade danced beneath the strap of Riri's dress, leisurely cutting her shoulder free and you watched from in front of her as the frayed fabric fell gracefully away from her skin. “You putting a lot of power in my hands right now Ri.”

“Mhmm. What you gon do with it baby?”

You moved to the other, repeating your destructive motion before finally positioning the gold-trimmed point at her clavicle, gliding the jagged dagger down her chest. Thread after thread bursted under your descent, doing away with everything left of her torn gown, exposing more of Riri's tender flesh.

Riri watched, bewitched by the way you skillfully maneuvered the blade she'd entrusted to you. “You so fucking pretty mami.”

Words that made her brazen, words that bestowed upon you the power to control her body without the need of a weapon. But you used it still, grazing the edge up her bare stomach as she twitched beneath its scrapes. You stopped once you met her bra, slicing it clean down the middle with your lust-filled eyes glued to hers. Riri gasped, startled by your abruptness and the twinge of danger you knew she caught swimming in your irises when her boobs bounced free, and the small baggie of pills fell from its warm hiding spot.

“You sure you don't want one?” She waved it in your face, and you began to contemplate her question. Riri was no stranger to a pill or two, so her enthusiasm hadn't been a surprise. She always offered, and you always declined, more than content with the natural high you floated on from merely making her come undone for you.

Tonight though, something about the tension building in the car was about to coerce a yes right on out of you. But, something else thieved your attention just as you were about to offer her an answer.

Letters. A word. A name. Your name.

Inscribed into her flesh, squarely below her left breast sitting gorgeously in your face, was a tattoo illustrating your name. You blinked, believing you'd somehow imagined the ink and its placement. Unconsciously, you hoisted the knife up toward the tattoo, running the dagger along each and every letter in amazement.

“Do you like it, baby?” Meek words leaving generally poised lips.

Riri had marked herself in your name, in you. And you decided you did indeed like it, you loved knowing that no matter where she ventured, no matter whose fingers wandered her skin, your claim on her would still exist. Permanently. “This my surprise? Cause yeah, I do like it mami.”

You let your lips replace the blade, kissing the tattoo that exemplified your ownership of her body as she giggled from the heat your breath blew onto her.

“Not your main surprise, but I guess it's a s-surprise.”

Soon your lips were latched to her poking nipple, your tongue swirling and tugging on it. She was moaning, a sound that intensified when she felt the sharp jab of the weapon you wielded circle her other bejeweled nub. “Shit… that hurts so damn good baby. Keep it right there.”

Her whimpers traveled directly to your sopping pussy still locked away in your pants. You were swimming in your own wetness, floating atop a wave that threatened to crash down on you the longer you dragged the same knife she held to the column of your throat around her responsive tits. “Yeah? It hurts?”

“L-Love when you make me hurt baby.”

After letting go of her spit-covered nipple, you flattened the sharp tool against it, watching her hiss under the cool contact. You scuffed the steel bar poking through her pebbled nipple with the knife, humming on key with the scraping sound of metal on metal. “I can keep hurting you, or you can give me that surprise I know you want me to have so bad.”

You aligned the pretty dagger with her sweaty neck, and she grinned menacingly. Before the chance to process her guile even arose, Riri regained control of the knife, using it to assist her in widening your mouth. She wiped the back against your tongue, swiping it down the length of your wet muscle. “Your surprise is up next, in the meantime I need you to stick this tongue out for me before I cut it clean off like I promised.”

“You're cute.” You laughed, but you did as she said. Your tongue extended out, and Riri leaned forward, plopping one of her little happy pills directly in the center, waiting for you to swallow it.

“Extraordinary.” She smirked. And then her lips were on yours, kissing you roughly as she sat her naked form in your lap.

•••

Riri attacked your lips with gusto, kissing you like the air you expelled into her was the very breath she desired for survival, and every one of your pecks matched her intensity. “Baby, lemme make you feel good.”

She broke the kiss slowly, tentative in her release of your hot, wanting mouth. But you refused to let her go, holding and compressing her throat amidst her hand fumbling around on the floor. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm…” A second attempt to pull away made you curious as to what she could be searching for. Usually, her main method of action would be to eat you out until your quaking knees detained her head in their hold, and even then she'd still refuse to let up. But that didn't seem to be her intention here.

You groped her boobs, trying your hardest to pinch one of her sparkly nipples, but yet another threat was tossed your way. This time it was your fingers in jeopardy of severance, so you let her go with a deep chuckle. She leaned to the side, pulling her backpack free from under the front seat and you looked at her inquisitively.

Riri upheld her silence, unzipping the bag from her perched position in your lap.

“What–”

Your question hadn't the chance to escape your lips, because soon the lavender glint of the sizable toy Riri used in the photos dispersed across your bathroom counter reflected in your curious eyes. “Tada!”

“Riri what is that?”

“Um, the fuck does it look like?” She tossed you the harness, worming out of your lap and onto the floor in between the driver's seat and the one you sat in now. Your eyes raked the dildo, examining its shape and the intricacies put into its creation. It looked more… advanced than the ones you were used to, an observation that awakened your fascination.

Riri on the other hand, appeared beyond excited. She fumbled with your belt impatiently before deciding to hack at it with her sharp tool. She popped your button open, and mechanically, your hips levitated so she could guide your bottoms down your legs.

“You this wet and you was talm bout some you not happy to see me. Just be lying for no reason baby.” She laughed, tracing a finger over your pulsating clit and you sighed. With all the straining, and all the buildup you'd been suffering through, that lone stroke could've been enough to do you in, a fact Riri was privy to when she smiled up at you. “Strap up baby, need you inside me.”

You wasted no time assembling the strap and securing the toy in place, and with Riri’s help, the harness was adjusted to your body. She positioned herself across the center console for a second time, sticking her ass out as you kneeled behind her in the seat, admiring the display of her used hole. She backed up onto nothing, trying, and failing to get the tip inside on her own. “You're taking too long! Please, I need you!”

Fuck, you supposed by now Riri's unwavering stamina shouldn't be a thing that caused bewilderment, but it would forever be an entertaining sight. She was sexiest like this; eager; desperate for you to destroy her. “You need it so bad, don't you mami?”

“Yes! Please fuck me!”

She needed not to state her demand again, so you snaked your palm around the tip, pumping it gently before invading Riri's soaked cunt.

The instant you bottomed out, Riri trapped the strap inside her narrowing walls, restricting your movement at the same time your eyes began to roll to the back of your mind. Her wetness, her constricting tightness, the heat derived from stretching her velvety cunt wide; you could feel all of her. It was way too overwhelming, the stimulation weakening your muscles.

You hadn't even gotten a single stroke in and you were already fighting off an orgasm, gripping firmly to her hips in hopes of stopping your collapse. “W-What– Why can– Ri, I can f-feel you. Shit…”

You remained still for a few beats, wanting, needing to savor the snugness of Riri’s warmth before drilling her as she deserved. Her squeeze was intense enough to make your eyes well just a little, and you were certain whenever you did allow that pleasure rush to stifle you, the tears would be unavoidable.

“Surprise! You like it, baby? I made it special for you.”

Of course she made it. You pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, still consumed by the sensation, barely able to keep a steady rhythm as you rocked into her dribbling pussy. “Fuck Ri, this is…”

“Shit! Tell me how good my pussy feels, I'm tight, huh?” Your stamping fingers dented her skin as you began to create a rapidly growing pace of stuffing her full of the faux dick she craved so much, and your thrusts had her quaking around you. Feeling every divot in her pussy walls had only ever been a fantasy, one that existed now as your reality, because you unknowingly chose to fuck a super genius who just so happened to be a little off her rocker.

If you thought you were addicted to her cunt before, this strap just changed the game entirely.

You were fucking her with abandon once completely adjusted, snapping into her again and again with an unrelenting grip on her hips; you’d be admiring the marks you left behind later on. Each thrust sent Riri’s small body forward on the armrest, her cries meshing with your breathy moans that fogged the car windows. “Ooh mami, you so fucking tight. Your crazy ass really made a strap so I can feel this pussy, god.”

Your hips crashed into her bouncing ass cheeks, the impact forcing rushed whines out of her throat. You couldn't tell if the sounds were intended to be words, but truthfully you didn't care, far too enraptured by the feeling of fucking her obnoxiously loud cunt.

Every thrust caused her seeping pussy to squish louder, every squish making your clit thump faster as your high began its heightening.

“Your desperate ass always so damn wet for me, I bet you don't let nobody else fuck you, huh? You know I’m the only one who can treat this pussy right.”

She groaned, attempting to speak through your abusive jolts, “Don't f-flatter yourself, I let plenty of other people hit. This ain't y-your p-pussy.”

It was a trap, an obvious one designed to rile you up, but you chose to fall victim anyway, using the molly floating in your bloodstream to control the power dives you took into her tired little cunt. “Oh it ain't?”

She couldn't even speak with the tip of the strap bludgeoning her sensitive nerves, but she still shook her head defiantly. Riri’s hole gobbled up the girthy toy impressively as you leaned back to marvel at the way it disappeared, then reemerged from inside her convulsing walls.

“Why she leaking this much then? Messing up my fucking seats. So damn wet mami.” You slammed into her cervix. “You make special straps for all them other bitches? You let them slut your nasty ass out on the highway like this? Who else you let use your needy little pussy like this?”

Riri was sobbing, loud and boisterous, almost able to give your screaming fans a run for their money with her pitiful little sounds. A few cars honked on their drive past your parked vehicle, certainly aware of the goings on inside. The Ferrari rocked in tandem with your jabs into Riri’s g-spot, the back and forth motion assisting you in pushing deeper into the smaller girl's sex.

“You hear me talking to you don't you Ri?” A deliberate slap met her welted ass cheek, forcing her to scream. “Why you so quiet? This wet ass pussy louder than that fucking mouth right now. You hear that?”

You fucked her harder, grunting loudly into the air when she squeezed your shaft; she was close.

“Pl-ease!”

“This dick shutting you up or something? Pl-ease what?” You mocked, spanking her again, and rattling her entire being.

She pushed back on the unrelenting curved member digging her out, a whimpering mess when she glanced back at you, catching your eyes with her helpless ones. “Wan– Wanna c-come! M-Make this pussy come for you!”

You tsked, “Thought this wasn't my pussy though. Can't make you come if this ain't my pussy.”

Her broken voice made your cock twitch deep inside her, something you hadn't expected and couldn't control.

“M’sorry, it's yours! M'sorry, it's your pussy b-baby, pleaseee!” She cried, squirming as you rammed into her special spot.

“Fuck… What you sorry for Ri?” You tugged on her locs.

You freed one of her hips, looping your hand under her sweaty abdomen so your digits could press into her clit. God, it was too much for her, the endless pounding, the swift flicking of her bud, the jarring hair pulling. You were barely able to move inside her contracting cunt, but you weren't letting her off that easily. “Tell me what you sorry for.”

“All of it, baby all of it! Sorry for s-sending those videos to y-your girlfriend, s-sorry for breaking into your room, your car, s-sorry for hurting that girl at the bar! I'm sor–”

Your thrusts stopped, “You did what?”

“I didn't mean t-to…”

Cautiously, you pulled the strap from inside her reluctant cunt, falling back into the dampened, sticky seat in disbelief.

And Riri followed you, outwardly panicked when she dropped into your lap. She hung her head in shame as she rambled, wanting to explain herself. “She was just flirting with you and you were flirting back, and I didn't like that, cause you're mine, and–”

You thought back to the bar, to Esperanza, to the thud you heard when you were on the phone with Riri earlier, and you tilted her chin so she could look you in the eyes. “Riri… what did you do to her?”

A sound you hadn't expected, but most certainly should've anticipated rumbled out of her: a chilling chuckle. Gone was her frown, in its place stretched a smile that accentuated her unruly eyes. And of course, her seductive response to your pressing question was not an adequate answer. “Put it back in baby, or I’ll fucking bleed you dry.”

You smirked, teasing her clit with the head of the strap. “Crazy girl.”

Damn her, you shouldn't be enjoying this, but you became smitten with the idea of her hurting someone all because she wanted you to herself. It was sick, you were sick, maybe just as sick as her.

Her pussy was dripping onto your dick, coating the length of it with each grind meant to coax you back into fucking her, and it was certainly working.

Riri brought her trusty blade back up to your throat. She pressed in harder this go ‘round, threatening to drag it along your skin, and you were prepared to let her. She leaned in, her breath a warm ghost kissing you instead of her lips. “How many times do I have to tell you I really, really hate that fucking word. Stop saying it.”

“Would you prefer insane?” You clipped back, spitefully teasing as Riri quite literally held your life in her hands. You should be terrified, the bitch was deranged enough to kill you, but the feeling coursing through you was more akin to fear's distant cousin — thrill.

“I'm not crazy,” You could feel the knife's indentation, and your throat bobbed beneath it. “I'm not insane.” She was gliding the dangerous tool against your neck now, and you felt your skin tear, small streaks of warm blood rolling down your tilted neck, catching Riri's wild eyes.

“I just know what I want, and I always get it.”

You moaned, still rubbing up against her overly used clit, head spinning as you reveled in the heat of your crimson liquid staining your chest and Riri's.

Riri lowered the knife, pecking your cheek lovingly before extending her tongue to the shallow little cut she drew into your neck, running it along the length and licking the beautiful blood decorating the area. “And right now I want you to let me ride you, want you to slam into me and punish me for all the bad things I’ve done. I deserve it.”

The head of the toy was still trapped in your fist, twitching from Riri’s every word. You glided it through her crying folds, brushing her hole but not quite shoving your way inside, and she whined.

“Don't p-play. Please just f-fuck me baby.”

And that was all it took for you to slam up into her hovering hole, bullying your way inside her walls as she screamed from the intrusion. “Fuck! Just like that! Keep fucking this pussy like that! Go deep baby, make me take it!”

“This how you want it Ri? You want me to fuck this greedy pussy like this?” Your violent pumps shook her, and she slapped her open palm up against the window to keep herself upright, the knife clattering to the floor. “Use that nasty mouth and answer me when I fucking speak to you.”

But how could she?

Your hands needed something to grab onto as her addictive heat consumed every inch of your dick yet again, nearly rendering you unconscious, so naturally, they gravitated to her neck.

Your fist was strangling her throat, blocking her airflow and her ability to say words. You used her neck to pull her down onto the throbbing member ravaging her tight wetness, enjoying the melody performed by her pussy far more than any of your own.

Shit, you were going to come, and from the feel of things, you were going to unload inside her. An unfamiliar sensation began to brew inside your abdomen, a tightness you knew well, but tucked behind it was something far more rattling, and you weren't prepared for it at all.

“Ooh mami, I'm finna– I think I'm–”

She tapped your stifling fist, unable to breathe and you let her go so she could cough. “I-Inside… do it ins-side!”

And oh fuck, you felt it, the hunger that Syla had never once been able to truly feed. Riri could though, her strangling pussy walls could do that and more.

Your vision went white, and you were quite certain every star in the galaxy resided behind your welling eyelids. Ropes of your release spilled into her accepting cunt, filling her so much, everything that didn't fit leaked right back out and onto your already filthy seats.

“Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck!”

“Tell me you love me.” She continued to bounce on the strap. You were so sensitive, you could barely take it, but you tunneled your fingertips into her ass cheeks anyway, aiding her as she rode you through your orgasm.

Riri leaned in, kissing your dry lips, “Say it. Tell me.”

“I love you…” You didn't mean it, not in the way she hoped you did. You never meant it when she made you say it, but it made her happy in the moment, and it made her flood your dick, so you always obliged.

With her pussy drowning in cum, hers and your own, she gingerly eased the strap from inside her, slithering onto the floor to wearily envelop your twitching dickhead in her swollen lips, but your ringtone stopped her.

“It's your girlfriend.” She chuckled jeeringly when she turned to read the name flashing your phone screen in the front.

“Let the bitch go to voicemail.” Your final words before you felt Riri swallow you whole, slobbering on the dildo as she permitted your second load to trickle down her throat.

•••

Serenity swaddled you while you lay there, helpless, following Riri's skillful performance with her mouth and jaw. You were still as the unbound night outside the steamy car windows, watching through drooping, fucked out eyes as Riri climbed into the driver's seat. She revved life back into the Ferrari's engine, stealing you, and driving you off to a destination unknown.

#riri williams x black!reader #riri williams x reader #riri williams fanfic #riri williams x black!fem!reader #riri williams x y/n #riri williams smut #mcu riri williams #riri williams x fem!reader #riri williams #ironheart x black!reader #ironheart x reader #ironheart #ironheart x y/n #ironheart fanfic #dominique thorne #dominique thorne fanfic #lyricswriting #my works #riri x black!reader #riri smut #Spotify #riri x reader #riri x you #riri black panther #black panther wakanda forever #bpwf #sub!riri #bottom!riri

[earthtoharlow]

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter

yourinsta just posted to their story!

THESHADEROOM

liked by 478,085 users

theshaderoom: #TSRBreakups: Looks like things may be over for #Drake and #Y/N Y/L. According to @tmz_tv, the two have separated after almost two years of dating. The former couple share a child together.

view all 6789 comments

user: ok maybe she’s the problem

user: probably because she’s fucking that Urban guy

user: we been knew she never keeps a man

user: Y/N just wakes up one day and be like “unhand me, get out.”

user: She really hasn’t been the same since Jack

user: what if Jack is her soulmate

user: she just needs to focus on herself and be the best mom she can be

user: Jack is unusually quiet during all this

THATGIRLSTACEY

liked by jackharlow, cassie, iamkaylanicole, joiechavis, diddy, ladylondon, meekmill, djdrama and 697,368 others

thatgirlstacey: “Willow darling, go grab daddy’s Amex and tell him you’re going shopping with mommy cause we have some celebrating to do” 🤣❤️‍🔥

view all 9,578 comments

user: your karma is coming bitch just wait

user: nasty individual

user: teaching your daughter how to be a hater and a weirdo….?

user: Y/N put her through hell and now she can celebrate her downfall????

user: caption crazy 🤣

user: anyone scared of how Jack is going to react

user: notice how you asked Willow to get Jack’s card and not yours, cause you’re broke!!

YOURINSTA

liked by urbanwyatt, flomillishit, summerwalker, saweetie, kehlani, druski, 1dessdior and 789,468 others

yourinsta: Broke up with em and a bitch just got badder

view all 12,688 comments

user: um

user: so tmz was right damn

user: don’t tell me Drake fumbled!!!

user: the baddest 🔥

saweetie: love you sister ❤️‍🔥

user: well that explains why she didn’t publicly wish him a happy Father’s Day

user: damn well anyway it’s my turn

user: you can not keep a man to save your life on god

user: man fuck all that noise!! You look fine af

user: single looks good on you

user: that momma weight 🥰

CHAMPAGNEPAPI

Liked by neelamthadhani, icespice, partynextdoor, chubbsview, ayeshacurry,nemoachida, thedanielclark, druski, and 1,425,116 others

champagnepapi: There’s no ribbon givin’ to anyone that you dealt with. No badge of honor, no ceremony or benefits, I gotta start us up a support group with a membership.

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URBANWYATT

liked by yourinsta, selenosunni, joeywagner, cozane, yungmiami305, SZA, dojacat, jharlowupdates, and 467,086 others

urbanwyatt: when you convince your best friend and god daughter to leave Canada and move in with you in Kentucky >>>

view all 7,679 comments

user: Jack still hasn’t said anything y’all, I’m scared

user: Y/N back in Kentucky???? Stacey and Jack are going crazy I’m sure

yourinsta: don’t know what i’d without you 🥹

user: Stacey will be commenting in…

user: 3…2…1

thatgirlstacey: you got a lot of nerve! this exactly why Jack isn’t speaking to you…what kind of friend are you

thatgirlstacey: glad you’re out our lives

thatgirlstacey: never liked you

user: that didn’t take long

user: oh the karma that’s gonna hit Stacey is going to be amazing

urbanwyatt: won’t engage with the foolishness going on in my comments but I will say this. I’ll go to war for @yourinsta and if you got a problem with her you have a problem with me. Don’t need anyone in my life that doesn’t love or appreciate her

user: FINISH HER!!!

user: I know she’s sitting there gagged 🤣🫵

user: GET HER AGAIN FOR ME!

***

An: hated breaking them up i really did, I promise :) Who leaked the voicemail any guesses??? 🫣 Months ago an anon gave me the idea of a voicemail leaking, kisses to you anon 🫶

also a bitch just hit 900 followers that’s insane!!!! thank you all so much I can't believe this 🥹🫶 thanks to everyone who reads, comments, likes my work. It means so much to me

Tag List:

(message me if you’d like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @toocriticalharlow @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @comehomeimissyou @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @blossomluvv​ @fdl305 @khiyah @kkrenae

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #social media au #toxic #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt

[jeonbunnie]

love language

pairing: reader x taehyung

anon requested: “If requests are still open, can you do love language by kelahni with idol taehyung? Bonus if the reader is a American (or just a foreigner) living in Korea with okay proficiency in Korean. ”

summary: Taehyung’s willing to learn all the ways to love you.

genre: slight angst; fluff

soundtrack: love language — kehlani

content/warnings: pg 13, established relationship, boyfriend!AU, inexperienced!reader, consent talk, mutual pining

word count: 1.3k

♪ Said I wanna be fluent in your love language. Learnin' your love language ♪

Taehyung was still learning how to love you.

There’d always been a language barrier between you, and you often failed to understand each other’s language.

Most of the time, it was easy to read between the lines. To pick up on your silent cues, the way you leaned in when you were interested in what he had to say. How you lowered your gaze when you were feeling shy or bit your lip while fighting back a shy smile.

It’s the same smile you’re wearing now, draped across his couch, cheesing over a romantic drama. He loved you like this: lighthearted and carefree. But lately, it’s a side to you he’d been missing.

And he hated breaking you out of your happy bubble, but Taehyung needed to speak to you to clear up something weighing on his heart.

“Can we talk?”

There’s hesitation in your eyes now that the questions have been asked. Taehyung waits for the tension to melt, patiently observing as you look him in the eye and nod.

“Are you not attracted to me?”

You blink, frozen in time for a second. And then burst into laughter.

“What?” You said the sounded light, letting Taehyung know you’re not exactly laughing at him or being rude, but he can still feel a slight blush creep up his neck.

“I’m serious,” He said, voice a bit more taunt.

“Wait?” You said, growing serious. You turn away from the TV to face him on the couch. Your brows pulled together in a way Taehyung’s learned to read as ‘concerned’ on your face. “Really?”

By now, Taehyung basically knew how to read you down to a science.

Some things were easier to learn than others. Early on, he figured out you weren’t a morning person. He found it cute that you were always so grumpy during the early hours and that the little scrunch between your brows meant you weren’t ready to talk before having caffeine. He quickly learned you appreciated him bringing you a cup of coffee more than a good morning call.

It took a little longer for him to learn you didn’t care much for gifts. Over time, he began to understand that you valued his time over his money. You never cared about the wrapping for a gift—you’d rather be wrapped up in his arms, spending sun-soaked days together in the park

And the little things, of course. Taehyung knew your favorite color and how to make your smile. He was fairly certain your love language was quality time (acts of service a close second). There were still parts of you he was desperate to know more—soul, mind, and body.

Taehyung cared more for physical touch. You, however, never seemed all that interested in being intimate. Whenever he tried to initiate something more than a kiss, you almost always slipped from his grasp, muttering a vague excuse.

“Lately…” He started, “It seems like every time I touch you, you pull away. So I just thought?”

He knew something was wrong. It had to be him, didn’t it?

You sent him a timid smile. “Taehyung, I’m beyond attracted to you. It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

A pause. “I just—I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You feel…” Taehyung licked his lips, searching for the right words. “Distant. Like you’re holding back.”

“Do you not like me anymore? Is that why you don’t want me to touch you?”

“What? No, of course not!”

“Then?”

“It’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-I think I like you too much, and I’m scared to be close.”

Taehyung often misunderstood the meaning behind your words. Usually, it was because you were using your own language or talking too fast.

This time the mixed message felt deeper than anything google translate could solve. Because you were speaking a language he understood, and he still couldn’t make sense of what you meant.

“I don’t understand.”

You sighed, covering your face with your hands. “Never mind. It’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

Gently, Taehyung reached out and pulled your hands away from your face. “It’s not stupid. I just don’t understand yet. Can you explain it to me?”

It was quiet for a minute, but Taehyung didn’t rush you. He rubbed his thumbs against your hands, hoping to calm your nerves enough.

“I’m not that experienced….” You said finally, unable to look him in the eye. “So the idea of being close to someone like that…it feels..overwhelming?”

Taehyung felt his heart soften. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said softly.

“I want to! It’s not like I mean to pull away. I get nervous. There’s so much I don’t know sexually, and I get in my head about things. Wondering if I’m making the right move or what I like and what you like? I want our first time to be perfect, and I just-”

You stopped, burying your face in his chest. “This is embarrassing. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Taehyung laughed. He could tell you were mortified to reveal this information like you wanted to sink into the couch hide. But he found you to be adorable. “You’re so cute,” he said.

It all made sense now. Your shyness, the awkward pauses. The way you seemed to want more but backed off every time things got heated between you. Relief coursed through him. All this time, he was worried for nothing. It felt good knowing you wanted him the same way he wanted you.

He took your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “We can go slow…whatever pace you need. There’s no rush.”

The furrow in your brow fades, and Taehyung knows he’s said the right thing to calm your nerves. Still, there’s doubt in your eyes.

“You don’t think it’s weird that I haven’t…you know?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. But I think it’s weird that you didn’t tell me.”

You try to look away then, but Taehyung doesn’t let you, taking your chin in his hand until you make eye contact again.

“Hey. I wanna know everything about you,” said Taehyung. “Your thoughts and your feelings. Even the things that make you nervous, even the embarrassing things you think you should hide.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I don’t mind if that takes time,” Taehyung continued. “I can be patient. But I need you to be open with me moving forward. Can you do that?”

“I can do that,” you said, finally giving him a real smile. The one he loved so much that made your eyes sparkle and shine.

Taehyung scooped you up into his lap, happy to know the two of you were back on the same page. “So, is this okay? Me holding you like this?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I like it when you hold me.”

“And when I kiss you?” He asked, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I love it when you kiss me. And not just on my forehead. . .”

“Here?” He said, kissing your cheek.

“Taehyung…” you whine.

“Yeah? So you like this?” Said Taehyung, peppering you with kisses all over your face.

“Taehyung,” you giggled. “You know what I mean. Kiss me for real.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. “Define real. You’re going to have to be more specific.” He knows what you want but can’t make it easy for you now, can he?

“You’re gonna make me ask?”

“Well, the last time I went in for a kiss, it didn’t go so well.”

You rolled your eyes, and Taehyung’s sure he would have to tease you a bit more, but then you surprised him, closing the distance with a kiss. It’s languid and sweet. Slow, saccharine goodness that has his mind running wild with possibilities. There’s still so much he wants to learn about you: how to calm your nerves, how to show you that you’re safe with him, how to love you, and how to make love to you. How to please you. What turned you on, what drove you wild…

And he knows it’ll take some time for you to be vulnerable with him. But if going slow means more perfect kisses like this, he doesn’t mind the wait.

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #bts fic #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #bts scenario #taehyung scenarios #song fic #my fics.🍪 #req fill.📦 #taehyung x reader #After a billion yearssssss #hi

[wlntrsldler]

okay question, we’ve established that almost all of pm’s second album is about/dedicated to five star from luke, but what about clarisse from chris??!!!! also i would LOVE to see more group dynamics i love them so much 😭😭😭

no anon listen. i think about pm chris and clarisse on a daily basis (almost as much as i think of five star and luke) because i think their relationship is SO different but SO SO SO CUTE!!!!

like between the pm boys, travis and luke are the songwriters so i don't see chris (or connor) really writing music as much BUT BUT BUT that doesn't mean that he can't. (pan to kiss her you fool!) so i do think chris has written a few songs about clarisse (that probably won't see the light of day until luke finds the lyrics tucked away in a notebook or something) or at the very least, helps luke/travis write a few lines that are inspired by clarisse.

if pm ever released an acoustic album (with a whole new tracklist) here are some songs i think chris helped write on that album:

glue song by beabadoobee

fall in love with a girl by cavetown ft. beabadoobee

around by niki

17 by pink sweat$ ft. kehlani

bloom by the paper kites

j's lullaby by delaney bailey

off my face by justin bieber

new year's day by taylor swift

#frances replies #poisoned mercury chats

[hazyhae]

HAZYHAE!!! HELLO! hope u are doing well 😚, i'm here curious again 🤓👆

do you listen to any other k-artists aside nct? and do you like other kind of musical genre? even a favorite artist if you have one.

anon!!!! hello! thank you so much and hope u are also doing well, welcome back 🫶

all of the above!!! even tho i only write for nct, i am a big multi listening wise :)) i listen to so many different groups but my top ones to listen to at the moment besides nct are ive, p1harmony, new jeans, exo (group and baekkai), red velvet, aespa, kiss of life, nmixx, and day6!!

aside from kpop some artists i love are sza, faye webster, umi, victoria monet, cleo sol, thuy, laufey, mitski, kehlani, boygenius, and beabadoobee! i usually like rnb or chill indie type stuff 🫶

#coco asks

[evansbby]

Have you seen the tiktoks that zionists are posting making fun of Palestinians? I honestly felt sick to my stomach seeing them. They have no sympathy for whats happening, and the fact that hundreds of innocent children are getting killed. I’m the anon who was also at that London protest and I haven’t heard from my family in a few days. I’ve been crying nonstop and seeing those tiktoks makes me so mad. They’re showing off how they still have water and electricity, yet they’re still getting funds from the US??? Where are those fundings for Palestine?? They’re the ones getting bombed left and right, have no water, no electricity, no safe space to go to yet they’re the terrorists?? How does that make sense? How can people see whats happening in Palestine yet still stand for Israel? How is bombing hospitals where CHILDREN and their families are staying at called self-defense? They see families with no homes and food and then ask “But do they condemn Hamas?”. This is honestly disgusting.

The fact that Bella Hadid had her number leaked and got death threats by speaking about Palestine yet Amy Schumer can keep her instagram post about saying that “Gazans are rapists”. The Israeli government is also literally threatening Gigi Hadid, who has a child, shows that they can say whatever they want and still get thousands of people in their side.

Celebrities like Kehlani and Bella Hadid who are constantly speaking up about what’s happening in Palestine right now is what we need to see more people doing. Spreading REAL news instead of all the fake news the west is spreading. And also, remember to boycott!! On tiktok there’s a girl with a whole list of brands to boycott, There are so many brands that support genocide. Instead of spending that money on them, donate it to a fundraiser for Palestine. Even if it’s 4 bucks. Every little help they can get counts! Or spend that money on brands that DO support Palestine.

I’m sending all the love to you and people who constantly help and speak up about Palestine. I ask to please have my family and all the other families in Palestine in your prayers 🇵🇸🩷

My heart literally hurts so much for you, I hope your family and everyone in Gaza is okay. I mean, I know they are not okay or safe in their circumstances but we can only hope God is protecting them 😢😢😢

You can’t argue with Zionists. They are brought up and brainwashed into believing that the Palestinian people are animals and less than human. They are brought up to learn a false version of history in their education and they fully believe it. Making fun of people who are being bombed with no electricity or water??? What kind of humanity is that??? It literally hurts my heart how cruel they can be and then in the same breath they play victim. Members of the IDF posting TikToks of them doing dances, perfect nails, perfect makeup and yet they are the ones under threat?? You literally couldn’t make this up…

#anon

[dear-indies]

hi cat, hi mouse! i hope your day has been lovely! i'm working on a mw queue for my rp, and i need more non binary fc's with resources! could you help me out? <3 thank you so much in advance!

Sara Ramírez (1975) Mexican and some Irish - non-binary, queer and bisexual (they/them) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha (1975) Tamil Sri Lankan, Burgher Sri Lankan / Romani, Irish - is non-binary transfeminine and autistic (they/she).

Ser Anzoategui (1979) Argentinian, Paraguayan - is non-binary (them/him/she).

Andrew Gurza (1984/1985) Jewish - is non-binary (they/them) and has cerebral palsy.

Asia Kate Dillon (1984) Ashkenazi Jewish / Unspecified - non-binary and pansexual (they/them) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Pidgeon Pagonis (1986) Mexican and Greek - is intersex and non-binary (they/them) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Janelle Monáe (1985) African-American - is non-binary (has said "pronouns are free-ass motherfucker—and they/them, her/she.")

Elliot Page (1987) - is trans non-binary (he/they).

Jonathan van Ness (1987) is non-binary (they/she/he) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Poppy Liu (1990) Chinese - is non-binary (she/they) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Olly Alexander (1990) - is non-binary and gay (he/him) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Vico Ortiz (1991) Puerto Rican - non-binary (they/them) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Jacob Tobia (1991) Syrian - is non-binary (they/them).

Alok Vaid-Menon (1991) Malayali and Punjabi from Malaysia and India - is gender non-conforming and transfeminine (singular they) - has spoken up for Palestine!

E.R. Fightmaster (1992) - is non-binary (they/them).

Alex Newell (1992) African-American - is non-binary and gay (he/she/they/all pronouns).

Emma D’Arcy (1992) - is non-binary (they/them) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Theo Germaine (1992) - is non-binary (they/them).

Jesse James Keitel (1993) - is a non-binary trans woman (she/her).

Olive Gray (1994) Zambian / White - is non-binary and queer (they/them) also has ADHD dyspraxia and dyslexia.

Dua Saleh (1994) Tunjur Sudanese - is non-binary (they/xe).

Bilal Baig (1995) Pakistani - non-binary, queer trans-feminine (they/them).

Mason Alexander Park (1995) Spanish and Mexican - is non-binary (they/them).

Emma Corrin (1995) - is non-binary (they/them).

Kehlani (1995) African-American, Blackfoot, Cherokee, Mexican, Filipino, Choctaw, and White - non-binary womxn, lesbian and polyamorous (she/they) - has spoken up for Palestine!

James Majoos (1996) Black South African - is non-binary (they/them).

Aida Osman (1996) Eritrean - is non-binary and queer (she/they).

Quintessa Swindell (1997) African-American / White - is non-binary (they/he) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Blu del Barrio (1997) Argentinian - is non-binary (they/them) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Misha Osherovich (1997) Russian Jewish - is non-binary (they/them).

Celeste O'Connor (1998) Kenyan - is non-binary (they/them) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Ryan Simpkins (1998) - is non-binary (they/she).

Chella Man (1998) Hongkonger and Jewish - is deaf, trans genderqueer and pansexual (he/they) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Sabrina Wu (1998) Chinese - is nonbinary (they/them).

Alin Szewczyk (1999) - is non-binary (they/them).

Pedro Vinícius (1999) Brazilian - is non-binary (she/her).

Sivan Alyra Rose (1999) Chiricahua Apache / Afro-Puerto Rican, Creole - is genderfluid and pansexual (they/them).

Lizeth Selene (1999) Mexican [Black and Unspecified Indigenous] - is genderfluid (they/she).

Zoe Terakes (2000) Greek - is a trans-masc non-binary guy (they/he) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Ari Notartomaso (2001) - is non-binary (they/he) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Lachlan Watson (2001) - is non-binary (they/them).

CG / Queer as Folk (?) African-American - is non-binary (they/them).

Hey anon! I have a masterlist of non-binary faceclaims here too but I've copied them here for ease.

#fc help #rph #rpc #nonbinary fc

[resident-gay-bitch]

This is gonna sound stupid, but I’m genuinely confused about something 

You’re queer right? Does that mean you like all or just girls? I’m asking because the singer Kehlani is queer but she had a baby with a man and people got onto her about that not being queer so I’m confused as to what queer is does that mean you like whatever you like? Does that mean you like mostly girls but sometimes guys like I don’t know

hi anon, this doesn’t sound stupid at all! it’s actually really good that you’re asking, rather than just assuming. i love when people ask these questions out of curiosity. and yes! i’m queer :)

to a lot of people outside of the queer community and those who are not, i suppose “up to date” with queer culture and what not, the term “queer” often means what “lesbian” or “gay” often means, to them.

but actually, the label “queer” can be whatever you want it to be!

it used to be a slur, back in the day, but the LGBTQ+ community has reclaimed it and turned it into a positive thing; to express queerness is to love yourself and others.

“queer” is kinda an umbrella term, which is why people use it in so many different ways, and if you’re not “educated” or in the know about queer difference, than you may interpret it it be a different thing than it is.

for me personally, it’s changed over the years. i don’t like the concept of labels, and i know that no one is entitled to knowing my sexuality except my self and the person i intend on pursuing; however, i do love to express my queer identity to the right people :)

for me, back in highschool i connected with “queer” because i didn’t connect with terms such as “bisexuality” or “pansexuality”, but i did connect with queer. it was aloof and no one had to know what was going on in my head whilst i was still figuring it out, but it also let the people around me know that i definitely am in the LGBTQ+ community and i’m proud to be.

now, i still identify as queer, even though i have a strong preference for women and also comfortably identify with the label “lesbian”, both feel comfortable and right to me in different ways, and i’ll express that in different ways with different people.

i know nothing about this singer kehlani if i’m being honest and i certainly know nothing about their baby, but the way i’m interpreting this, is similar to biphobia or erasure.

just because someone’s queer, bi, pan or whatever, doesn’t mean that they “lose” their queerness when they are romantically or sexually involved with a person of the opposite gender. there are plenty of women out there with multiple kids and a loving husband that are part of the queer community, or vice versa.

just because you’re involved with a person of the opposite gender, does not mean your queerness is invalid.

thank you for taking the time to ask this question and learn something you’re not aware of, it’s great to see people trying rather than assuming!

as i said, being queer means different things to different people, just like every other term you’ll find in the LGBTQ+ community.

different people + different experiences = different meaning to the label you identify and feel safe with :)

if kehlani has expressed publicly that they are queer, then they are queer. just because they’re involved with a person of the opposite sex and having a kid with them, doesn’t mean they aren’t queer anymore! they probably just like people of any gender :)

(usually, based on personal experience and the people around me (so this is not factual), when someone identifies with the label “queer” it generally means they like people of multiple genders, or regardless of their gender. but people that also prefer one singular gender can identify with this term too, if it feels good and safe to them)

thanks for the ask! i hope this cleared some things up for you <3

#jay answers #queer #kehlani

[rafeslutt]

I'm sorry that anon is wrong about the dates. The what's poppin remix was released in January 2020, that was before the incident with Megan and tory, which happened in the summertime. People were telling Jack he should Tory Lanez off the song due to the controversy but he refused and said "I don't have no room to judge anybody. I wasn't there when this and that happened, I don't know anything." And that there is "three sides to every story" link: https://www.complex.com/music/2020/12/jack-harlow-tory-lanez-whats-poppin-remix-response I believe he originally stated that because there was no information about what happened yet and there was a bunch of rumors going around. So it was bunch of "he said", "she said". Jack recently said he doesn't support Tory and that he wishes Megan the best. "...I’m being forced to answer for other people’s actions. It doesn’t feel right as a grown man to speak for other grown men all the time. … One thing’s for sure, is that Megan got shot. And I wish her nothing but love and respect.” link: https://www.complex.com/music/jack-harlow-sure-megan-the-stallion-got-shot-addressing-2020-tory-lanez-collab

I think people were telling Jack to take them off the song because Kehlani and Jojo made alternate versions of their songs that originally had Tory Lanez for fans to stream as a way to support Megan but those songs with Tory are still available on platforms and also on their albums. Another example is that Bhad Bhabie made a song with Kodak Black (sex offender) and fans were mad so she made another version with Megan Thee Stallion but the one with Kodak is still avaliable. Anyways Jack already has a version without Tory Lanez (again it's a remix) which is just "What's Poppin'". Tory, dababy, etc, already have credits and rights to the song, he can't just take them off even if he wanted to (unless he went to court or something). I hope that explains the situation better because people just be talking about stuff they don't even understand.

Theyy said the last person was wrong so here y’all go and they have proof

#jack harlow #jack harlow instagram au #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow reader #megan thee stallion #tory lanez #fuck tory lanez #court case

[shurismainbxtch]

Bruh what that anon said just reminded me of a lady idk if they talking about the same person. She was posting all kinda shit tryna prove that tish it straight like we supposed to care.. and the shit she was posting was from years ago 💀. But what really pissed me off is the fact that she was being homophobic towards people in the comments talking about tish isn’t gay she’s “regular”. I was so glad when her bum ass deleted her page as soon as that situation with Kehlani happened.

These bitches lives be so fucking boring LMFAOO it’s like they get off to this shit trying to prove that someone’s straight so bad as if we give af. What these people don’t realize is that we love Tish and we think she’s fine asf that’s it. Idk maybe some people care but I don’t gaf what she is and at the end of the day that’s my wife🥰

Anyways she needs to put that energy towards a job or a hobby

[hellavile]

same anon btw, but continuing on about his music taste it’s like that half and half shit depending on his mood. like half his playlist is like that steve lacy, tyler the creator, the internet, frank ocean, childish gambino, kendrick hip hop/alt then the other is like sza, jhene, summer walker, kehlani, the weeknd, pnd rnb soul artist then the other half is straight yeat, carti, destroy lonely, ken carson & uzi rap genre then you got the travis scott, drake, j cole, lil wayne hip hop genre right? THEN you got the paramore, radiohead, hayloft, arctic monkeys, the smiths, max demarco punk rock/alternative maybe even a lil dash of hard metal rock. basically he’s just like me fr

HOW TF YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I ADDED!?? eren stans are the bestttttt omg. literally most of the artists you named i added to his playlist NAJSJSSN. i’m so glad somebody agrees. his music taste is so versatile. that slow rnb to hip hop to alternative is tewww real! he loves it all!

#✉️ ❛ mail !

[husbandhoshi]

vernon train anon i am back hello ok ok going to whatever the nearest Big train station is with vernon and picking a number between 1 and 10 and going to that platform and getting on the next train leaving to wherever. getting off somewhere completely random, a suburb you’ve never been to before that’s just far enough outside of your understanding of the city, but close enough that you can get back home at a civil hour, to spend the day walking around stuffing yourselves full of whatever your heart and stomach desires. vernon huffs and puffs sarcastically as you drag him in out of gift shops and bakeries until the two of you eventually come across a hole in the wall record shop (that probably has a cat, and the two of you spend the better half of your time there sitting on the floor making friends with the cat and whoever is working the register). you follow each other around while you browse before one of you splits on a mission. vernon probably stumbles across a copy of a vinyl you had been wanting for a while and hides it among his stack of purchases to be (070 shake, tyler, kehlani, the internet) and you distract yourself with the cat while he pays (you didn’t want him to, but he insisted (“it doesn’t matter, because you wanna share custody of that frank record with me soooo bad.”)) slips it in between two of your selections in the bag and smiles coyly when you’re sitting against him at the train station and fawning over your picks, confused because “did you…?” he shares his (wired) headphones with you on the way home and you probably fall asleep. definitely rushes to put it on when the two of you get home and stretches himself over your bed while you go about your bedtime routine and sing to yourself. he probably sings/hums you to sleep as well. idk the idea of vernon just being quietly heart eyes makes my heart swelter i’m running out of words but he’s kind of everything to me

STOP............ i let this sit in my inbox for a little bit bc whenever i read it my brain started literally spinning

i can picture this SO well. vernon is the type of bf who likes when you take him places because normally he'd just chill at home with you (which he enjoys too!). and the record thing...that is so freaking cute :( his music taste is immaculate LOL i love the records you chose for him. and the little smile he has when he pays for another souvenir you want to pick up from one of your adventures </3

i do think vernon is the type to b quietly heart eyes for his partner! kissing the top of your head, tucking your hair behind your ear, playing your favorite music when you're around. he texts you memes and things that remind him of you, even when you're apart a few hours. and his favorite place to sleep is in your lap. he's genuinely your ride or die and you wouldn't have it any other way

#VERNON SIMP AGENDA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #ask #anon #vernon

[montgomery-moods]

Clare Devlin inspired playlist with some wlw songs for Anon!

Had to pick some soft cutesy songs for her, with some lovely wlw tunes.

• girls - girl in red

• Cupid's Chokehold - Gym Class Heroes

• Honey - Kehlani

• Out Of My League - Fitz and the Tantrums

• Helium - Glass Animals

• Sports - Beach Bunny

• I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend - Ezra Furman

• Make Me Feel - Janelle Monae

• Cherry Bomb - Julianna Joy

• Like Real People Do - Hozier

• could this be love? - saturn 17

Hope you like these songs! I tried to make sure it wasn't just the same artists repeated, so I threw in some chill/non specific songs too. Let me know if you need anything changed!

#{and make it double} | request complete #playlist #derry girls #clare #clare devlin #clare derry girls #wlw