#Brisk Sliver

[transformers-bold-bright-brisk]

LETS GOOOOOO!!! I finished Slash! I finished drawing faer! IM DONE!!!

Soon…phase two shall commence…

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, friends to lovers, mentions of nudity, brief mention of masturbation (m). Basically, Eddie finds you sleeping naked in his bed.

A/N: Idk I've had this idea in my head for too long now and I need to exorcise it out of me with this little drabble or I'll never be able to get on with my life.

Forest Hills trailer park wasn't your usual stop after clocking out of work but after the day you’ve had you don’t have it in you to wait for the next bus back to your apartment. Your place is 30 minutes away but the journey is sure to take even longer in the current downpour.

Staying over at the trailer wasn't anything new. A spare key was entrusted to you years ago and you made use of it on days like this to crash at Eddie’s for convenience sake. The key came with the promise that you were welcome to anything you needed even if both Eddie and Wayne were away – shower, food, an extra change of clothes, what have you, and you needed them all today.

With Wayne out of town for a few days and Eddie due back in two hours you sink into auto pilot, weary down to the bone from your shift. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel as weird as it probably should when you started to undress in their kitchenette, hanging your work clothes over the back of a nearby chair, rummaging through the fridge in your bra and panties for a quick bite to eat before heading for the shower.

There wasn’t much in it besides beer since Wayne hadn’t been around to stock it. Eddie always preferred ordering take out over getting groceries – something you were going to nag him for again when you had the strength to do so.

Cereal it would have to be.

You located a box inside one of the cupboards, tipping the wheaty, sugary contents straight into your mouth without bothering with a bowl and spoon. It’s not lost on you how similarly you’re acting to Eddie right down to the unruly state of half undress, wiping crumbs off your lips with the back of your hand. If you finished off with a belch it'd be like he never left the trailer this morning.

The messy mouthfuls of cereal prove enough to silence the toad’s croak of hunger that'd been gurgling noisily inside your belly, putting the box away.

Traipsing through, feet dragging, you threw your clothes into the washer next along with your underwear, completely nude now in the Munson trailer as you made your way to the shower – but not before reaching out for Eddie's Garfield mug that sat on a nearby shelf, turning it around so that the cartoon cat's lazy smirk no longer faced you. For your modesty.

You try to keep the shower brisk, not wanting to use up all the hot water but with the way it sprays down on your aching body, the steam and heat combo soothing your poor sore muscles, it’s so blissful that you have to keep yourself from nodding off right there.

You did make use of Eddie’s body wash, some spicy, woodsy smelling thing in a jet-black bottle but you didn't dare use the two in one shampoo that sat in their shower caddy. It might have worked fine for Eddie and his wild mane but you knew better than to apply the stuff to your own hair. Fortunately, experience had taught you to carry a travel sized bottle filled with your own shampoo whenever you stayed over, working over your locks in a lather scented with cranberries and vanilla.

Stamina depleting by the second, toweling off and brushing your teeth takes the last sliver of energy out of you. Eyelids slipping, movements sluggish, limbs feeling too heavy for your own body to hold up – you’re shutting down whether you like it or not.

Dropping the damp towel on his bedroom floor, you intended to change, you really did. You’d even picked out one of Eddie’s washed t-shirts and a pair of boxers out of the laundry and set them down at the foot of the bed to put on before you made yourself comfortable but that’s not what happened.

Still nude, you crawl into bed, seeking warmth and soft comfort, numbed down to a kind of tunnel vision with rest being your one and only goal.

It feels all the more natural because you’re used to sleeping naked in your own bed, much too tired to remember that you’re not in your bed, draping a blanket that doesn't belong to you over your spent body, surrendering to sleep seconds after your head hits the pillow.

It'd still been raining when Eddie returns later. Dragging himself through the trailer, nearly as worn down as you had been, shaking the excess water out of his hair like a dog trying to get dry.

The smell of your shampoo still lingering in the air tells him you're there, finding you curled up in his bed, all bundled up to your neck. The sight makes him smile.

It doesn't take too long for him to join you, following a similar routine – a quick bite with the addition of a beer and then a shower, only he doesn't skip out on clothing himself in his PJ's first.

If he’d shared the blanket with you he might have found out about your lack of dress sooner but as the gentleman that he can sometimes be, he pulls out a spare blanket from the closet so as to not wake you, prolonging the discovery. Being friends for so long meant that sharing a bed was never awkward even after you'd became adults.

That was until the next morning came.

It’s not the stream of morning light brightening from a cool blue to a warm amber peeking in between the curtains that wakes Eddie, or even the tinny smack of his neighbor’s broken screen door gusting open just a few feet away from his bedroom window. It’s the warmth of your ass pressed flush against his crotch and his nose nestled in your sweet-smelling hair that pulls him out of a dream he wont be able to recall later if he tried.

He shifts closer, eyes cracking open, remembering the tiny bottle of shampoo sitting on the bathroom counter. Remembering the new toothbrush placed in the cup next to his own. Remembering the powder blue towel that neither he nor Wayne ever used laying on his bedroom floor.

And then he remembers that he’s not alone.

Oh...

And then he wishes that he was.

Panic snaps up like a beartrap around Eddie when he realizes he's hard – his thick, throbbing erection pressed right up against your body.

Growing clammy, cold sweat beads on the back of his neck but he’s in luck because you haven’t noticed yet, still sound asleep.

This close together, he knows the slightest movement could rouse you. But what was the alternative? Wait it out? Hope to hell his boner goes away? Fat fucking chance. Not when the soft swell of your ass and your body heat alone had him questioning how he could ever go back to his calloused fist after this.

Carefully, desperately, he tries to inch back without waking you but just as he feared, you begin to stir. Your back arches instinctively, seeking out his warm, solid frame even in your sleep.

Shit shit shit.

The covers slip as you shift, your bare shoulders coming into view, eyes starting to flutter open. With no other option, Eddie swiftly rolls on to his back, his hard on no longer pressed up against you but the problem persists.

“Oh, morning”, you greet him through a yawn, pulling an arm out to rub at your eyes, blanket slipping lower but the frantic boy hasn’t noticed yet, too busy whipping his pillow out from under him to place over his lap.

“Uh-hey. Shower’s free if you wanna go first”, he offers quickly, smiling hard, hoping to subtly usher you out because he's too afraid to get up and risk you getting a load of the tent in his pants if he were to go ahead of you.

“Thanks”, you yawn again, still occupied with rubbing at your sleepy eyes to notice your best friend's pale face turning beet fucking red in an instant as you clamber out of bed, blankets no longer concealing you.

Eddie doesn’t know where to look first. His eyes dart everywhere, every bare inch of you on display. So much soft, naked skin it’s making him short circuit.

His gaze eagerly travels over the slope of your breasts as they jiggle gently with your movements, taking in your soft nipples, moving down over your belly and hips, noticing a few new freckles and beauty marks there along the way to the soft curls between your legs.

His erection digs into the pillow, brain dangerously close to fizzing because he’d been pressed up against you like that all night and not even known it.

A shiver works its way through you, making you question why it feels so drafty in his room all of a sudden. You turn back to ask Eddie if there’s anything wrong with the heating, catching the shocked expression on his face.

Looking down, you're met with the sight of your nude body, breasts bare, no underwear. It's a good thing the occupants of the trailer park liked to mind their own business, even if sometimes you thought they did so to a fault because in any other neighborhood your piercing screech would have had everyone within earshot dialing up the cops.

The scream ricochets off the walls at an ear ringing volume, causing Eddie to jolt and lose his balance, falling out of bed while you leapt back in. Grabbing his spare pillow, you press one half against your chest and squeeze the rest between your thighs to shield yourself.

Now he slaps his hands over his eyes.

---

More than anything, you try so hard to push it aside. To pretend that it hadn't happened but it looms over you like a cloud on the brink of bursting with rain.

After three whole days of walking around eggshells around each other it's Eddie who breaks first.

"I can't stand this I don't know what else to do, Can we just talk about it please?"

“Eddie…", you sigh, a gentle warning.

"So what if I saw you naked? you saw my boner!...sort of. I mean, I guess that doesn't exactly make us even but it has to count for something, right? you're not alone in this"

You immediately set your wide eyes on the only other patrons in the diner to see if they’d overheard – two older women swapping pictures of their grandchildren over coffee and cheesecake. When neither of them take a pause in the middle of cooing about little Tommy's third Birthday or little Emily's first day of Kindergarten you redirect your attention back to Eddie.

“Eddie! Keep your voice down!”, you whisper shout at him from across the booth. "There are literal grandmother's here!"

He rolls his eyes. Not mean spirited, just unconcerned by the ladies and what they may or may not have overheard.

And then, even though no one’s paying either of you any attention, you lean closer over your half-finished key lime pie, one hand shielding the side of your face like you’re trying to avoid getting recognized by an ex who’s just walked in.

"I'm so embarrassed...please can we just drop it?", you plead, voice hushed.

He gives you this look of mild incredulity. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Trust me", and the inflection in his tone almost gives him away, prompting him to double back immediately.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel more uncomfortable than you already do. So he doesn't need you to catch on that he's got every moment of your unintended strip tease memorized. Or that he likes to replay what he's since thought of as the best 10 seconds of his life over and over again when he's fucking his fist in the shower.

“I just mean that it's nothing to be embarrassed by. It could have happened to anyone. Who among us hasn’t napped in just their birthday suit before, am I right?” he finishes with a slight wince, knowing none of this is exactly helpful.

And you know he’s only trying to be nice in his own, sweet, bumbling way but you still feel terrible.

"I don't know if I can shake this feeling", you cast your eyes down, looking too close to despondent for his liking.

"Listen I- I don't know how to fix this but I want to. Please just tell me what I can do and I'll do it, okay?"

God, he's sweet and it makes you feel a little flustered being on the receiving end of that gentle stare, needing to shift the mood lest you drown in all that earnestness pooling in his eyes.

It's moments like this that call for a bad joke to cut the tension, right? some momentary and well meaning deflection before you're ready to address the matter at hand again.

Letting out a half hearted laugh, you make your best attempt to inject some humor into the situation.

"I don't know. Maybe it might help if you got naked too", you nervously scraped your fork against the buttery graham cracker crust of your pie, dislodging a few golden crumbs.

It was so very clearly a joke. At least you had thought so. Eddie? not so much.

His brown eyes go wide, looking scandalized, his voice coming out a little more quite than you're used to.

"What?"

"I mean, I showed you mine after all", you tried again in a cadence that was wholly unserious but once again, he fails to catch on.

"You want me to get naked for you?"

You should correct him and you mean to but before you're able to do just that, something about the way he's staring at you makes you want to match his seriousness. The fact that he didn't say no right away strikes you as weirdly intriguing.

"You don't have to", you clarify, adding, "It's just that – well, you asked and I think it could maybe help? to really get us on even ground?”

The words that come out don't feel like you own – foreign to your ears even though they're said in your voice, with your own lips forming them and your own tongue curling around every syllable.

What the hell am I doing?

Eddie pauses. Seconds drag on like nails on a chalkboard as he taps a ringed finger thoughtfully on the edge of his empty plate smudged with faint traces of cream cheese and lime zest.

"Fine. On one condition", he leans back, arms crossing over his chest, smiling wide and megawatt bright.

Oh my god is this really happening?

“...Yeah?”

"You're going to undress me"

---

Part two? who knows. Certainly not I.

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 4)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3610

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Notes: Don't judge this part feels kinda meh.

Also in honor of being in Seattle tn and seeing the kraken play 😋

_________________________________________

Un-fucking-likely, indeed, your mind unhelpfully supplies on Monday night when Rhys barges into the study room looking like sex on legs.

His dark hair is damp from the shower he had to hastily take after practice. It’s disheveled as if he’s been running his fingers through it on his brisk walk from the arena to the library. There’s a soft pink to his tan cheeks that makes him look even more fuckable than usual, and you find yourself entranced as you trace the lines of his face.

The cut on Rhys’ lip has scabbed over nicely—you can’t help but notice—and the bruise setting in on his cheek is a mottled Picasso of green and yellow. The sight would make you grimace, but the wound only makes his violet eyes pop. The color draws you in, hypnotizes you as he stares back, until his bag slips off his shoulder and hits the ground with a loud thud that startles you both from your ogling.

You rip your gaze away from his, checking the time on your phone.

He's late. By twenty-two minutes.

“There’s no way.” You say when you manage to find your words. This cannot be happening. You don’t know if you’re struck more by the fact that he’s your tutor or because he looks utterly delectable in that tight black t-shirt that strains against every muscle packed onto his shoulders, arms, and chest. It’s almost as attractive as the gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the sliver of skin that calls to you like a siren. You carefully steer clear of that area and swallow harshly. “You’re my tutor?”

Rhysand’s eyes glitter when he tilts his chin to look at you. Normally, a man staring down at you like this doesn’t feel quite as heady as this, but the way that he’s looking at you makes your body tingle, and those tingles quickly converge between your thighs when he drags his fingers through his hair again and his shirt lifts, widening the peekaboo of skin you were eyeing only moments ago, revealing more of the cutting muscle of his hips.

You clutch your pen tightly in your fist because he looks like the king of Velaris University like this, all tall and handsome and knowing.

When he smirks, you consider shoving all your books and notes to the floor and spread yourself across the table, offering yourself up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Rhysand collapses into the chair across from you. It evens the playing field but not by much. He still towers over you, even when he begins leaning so casually in the chair like it isn’t the most uncomfortable piece of plastic you’ve has the displeasure of sitting on. His lap looks like a much more comfortable place to sit, you think, and immediately reprimand yourself for the thought. You mentally scold yourself, removing your gaze from him completely as you try to focus on keeping your mind from wandering to no-no land.

He looks exhausted, like he’s run himself into the ground during practice. Rhys releases a hearty sigh, rubs his eyes, and winces when the bruises protest under the pressure of his fists.

“You know, I pride myself in my knowledge of psychology, but I can’t tell if your shock is from the fact that I’m a very attractive man or if it’s because you think I’m a jock and can’t hack being smart, too,” he says, as his gaze trails you slowly, stopping where the table hides your thighs that are clenched tightly together from his slow perusal.

He’s looking at you like he also wants you laid out before him, and when he meets your gaze again, those violet eyes are hot, playful. Paired with the wink, he seems very pleased with himself. “I can assure you, it’s both.”

Your cheeks flush. He is hot, even more so with those bruises painting his skin and the tight-fitting clothing that leaves little to the imagination. You ache to reach across the table and dust your fingers across his wounds, press an ice pack to them and nurse him back to health. All while straddling his lap.

Woah, girl. Keep it the fuck together. You’re not that desperate.

“Wow,” you scoff, and it gives you the chance to clear your tight throat when Rhys leans over to pluck a few books from his bag. They thunk against the table, filling the room with something other than your erratic heartbeat. He glances at you as he begins to flip through the pages. “For someone who’s twenty-two minutes late to their tutoring session, you sure are cocky.”

Rhysand winces, shooting you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You’re stunned silent. There are no excuses. It’s a blunt, honest apology and a promise this isn’t going to be a reoccurring thing. He cares about his commitments as much as he cares about his sport, and it surprises you so much that you’re unsure of how to answer.

You don’t need to anyway, because Rhys continues swiftly, firing off questions in a way to catch up on what he’s missed. “What are you learning right now? What are you struggling with the most? We’ll start there and work our way back to the stuff you feel more confident in, so we don’t waste any more time.”

“We’re learning about behaviorism right now,” you note, looking down at the page your textbook is open to. You don’t catch the heated look Rhys pins you with, and there’s a fleeting thought that crosses his mind at your mention of behaviorism, an explicit one, because he can think of many hands-on approaches of how he’d like to teach you about conditioning and reinforcement, positive and negative reinforcement.

He hums noncommittally, flipping through his notes.

You tap the back of your pen against your textbook. “I have a quiz on Friday afternoon and a test two weeks after.” You sigh, returning to the same paragraph you’ve read three times tonight. You tried highlighting what was important according to the hand-out your professor gave you, but the entire paragraph is a block of yellow. “I can’t seem to keep it all straight.”

“Well, that’s because you highlighted the whole book,” Rhys’ eyes widen in disbelief as he cranes his head to look at your psychology textbook. “Seriously, did anyone teach you how to take notes?”

“I thought you were supposed to help me,” you huff, tossing your pen into the spine of your book and crossing your arms over your chest. You pin him with your most unimpressed look that transforms into a harsh glare when you see his gaze flick up from your chest.

Rhysand doesn’t have it in him to look ashamed. He’s fucking exhausted, and his two-a-days are catching up to him quickly. But he has his own psych paper to write by Wednesday night, right before they head out the following afternoon for a game against the Stags.

“Here,” Rhys says, and flips his book around so it’s facing you. He slides it across the table, shoving all your markers and poorly made flashcards with it. With a scowl, you lift the book and drape it over your own, drinking in the marks he’s made.

The lines are drawn neatly, not too many words highlighted, especially not paragraphs like you’d done in your own book. Your eye easily follows the words, picking up the important words covered by a bright blue.

“Holy shit,” you’d whistle if you could. “Color me impressed.”

Rhysand laughs, and your stomach flips. “See? Pretty and smart.”

The man wasn’t wrong.

You quirk a brow, resisting the urge to pull out your phone and snap a few photos of the excellently organized notes. And maybe a few of the boy who’d taken them himself. That preening smile gracing his lips and glittering eyes is something you want to commit to memory, but if you had the picture of it, late nights might not be so lonely.

“Oh, it’s pretty, now, is it? Describing yourself as hot was too…” You trail off, mulling your words in amusement. Rhysand’s smirk cracks wider, showing off his pearly white teeth, perfectly straight, and all the words you were trying to fumble for melt into a puddle of want.

“Spot on?” Rhys offers, waggling his brows. You carefully tuck your lip between your teeth, smothering a smile of your own. You shouldn’t be amused by him at all, especially since he all but demanded you weren’t to flirt with any of his players.

Rolling your eyes takes some force, but you manage. “Try pretentious.”

“Pretentious or not, it’s true.”

“Alright, Mr. Self-centered,” you roll your eyes.

Rhys cuts you off, “Actually, I’m just a regular center. And captain.”

 You blink at him, the joke almost falling as flat as your empty practice test taunting you on the table. Rhys cracks a wry grin when you shake your head. “Can we get to the important stuff now?”

“Right,” he nods firmly. “Behaviorism. Where should we start?”

You blush heavily. “The beginning, please.”

Rhys’ eyes widen and you groan in acknowledgement. You’re in desperate need of help. You weren’t kidding.

“No problem,” Rhys says, slipping his phone from his pocket. He types quickly, and you only wonder what he’s doing for a moment because he says aloud, “We’re going to need some coffees, it’s going to be a long night. What’s your order?”

Hours later, when you break for the night, you’re in much better spirits.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Rhys curses frantically. His violet eyes don’t meet your confusion, instead he’s looking around as if the small bushes you’re walking beside are big enough to hide a 6’3” hockey player with both his bookbag and his gear bag.

“What? What’s wrong?” His suddenly frenzied energy is rubbing off on you. You search your surroundings, your heartbeat drumming in your chest. It is night out, but you’re not seeing anything except the occasional student making their way across campus or the headlights of a car passing by. You have no idea why Rhysand is freaking out.

He turns to you so abruptly you stop in your tracks.

“Hide me,” he pleads, and you pull a face of confusion.

“What?”

“Hide me, please.” You catch the way his eyes flicker toward the path back to your dorm and you can’t help but follow his line of sight, ignoring his hiss of disappointment when you do.

There’s a girl walking your way, but she’s entranced in her phone. Her dark hair is braided long over her shoulder. It stands stark against her snow-white skin that seems to reflect the moon beaming down onto campus tonight. Her full lips are painted stark red, and the color does nothing to improve her color.

As if she can feel your gaze on her, she looks up. And when she notices Rhys, he goes still beneath her stare.

“Rhys?” She asks in surprise. He doesn’t answer, but she confirms it herself, a huge smile forming on those lips. It looks scary, evil, almost.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and you don’t have the chance to question him before she’s striding towards the both of you like a viper personified. The look in her eyes is sultry, lethal, and the smirk on her red-painted lips has the hair at the nape of your neck standing on end.

“I thought that was you,” she purrs. You frown, and then it deepens when Rhys slides his arm across your shoulders, tugging you tightly into his side.

The girl’s gaze drags to you and the way that she’s looking you in up and down doesn’t make you want to cringe and fold yourself into Rhys’ arms like a shy girl. No, it makes your spine straighten, and you lean further into Rhys’ side, even going so far as to wrap your arm around his waist.

You think you hear him release a breath or relief.

“Amarantha,” Rhys greets, and there’s no warmth in his tone. There’s no anything in his tone, her name is spoken with the inflection of a brick.

You bite your cheeks to hide your smile.

“Where have you been?” Amarantha asks, stepping closer. Rhys’ body coils beneath your touch, and you can tell he’s fighting every urge not to step away from her, even though you think he maybe should. “I haven’t seen you around tri-delta much lately.”

Ah, a sorority girl, you think. That checks out.

Of course, a hockey player would have tried his chances with a sorority girl. You’re sure she’s not the only one either, and the thought of the amount of women Rhys has slept with has a knot forming in your stomach. He’s an athlete for fuck’s sake, and athlete’s always score.

“That’s because I’m off the market, Amarantha,” he says, and you think there’s more to that story that you want to know. If this whole tutoring thing works out, maybe you can hassle Rhys into telling you later. “This is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

You almost don’t understand that he’s talking about you until he tucks you closer. You stumble and plant your hand against his chest for balance, glaring up at him. It’s exactly what Rhys wants.

Your mouth all but drops in shock. You open your mouth to protest, but Amarantha cuts off any complaints sitting on the tip of your tongue. “Your girlfriend?”

Her tone is pure acid. She almost spits the word, like you’re trash beneath her feet. Your mouth snaps shut with an audible click, and you tear your glare off your “boyfriend,” shooting her the most tooth-rotting, sweet smile you can conjure. “Hi. Amara, was it?”

Her teeth grind and the sharp look she offers would melt you into the pavement if you weren’t immune to bitchy girls who think they deserve what they don’t. Especially when that thing is the gorgeous hockey player at your side.

“Amarantha.”

“Right,” your giggle is fake. “Oops.”

Rhys’ body shakes with laughter and you can’t help but to preen a little. It feels good and his body is warm. The lightning zipping under your skin and the look on his ex-girlfriend’s face lights you up.

“Well, I was hoping maybe we could talk sometime, about what happened with us?” Amarantha finally says, turning her gaze to Rhys. Her face transforms from hatred to innocent in the time it takes you to blink, like Rhys might just feel bad enough for her to give her what she wants.

Rhys hums thoughtfully, like he might actually agree to finding the time to meet and speak with her. Amarantha’s eyes sparkle. She must be thinking the same thing you’re thinking. You don’t like the thought of them alone together, of all the things they already have done together, but Rhys isn’t you boyfriend. No, he’s hardly your friend at all. Actually, he’s your best friend’s cousin, and your mind should not be wandering towards Rhys’ actions in the bedroom, let alone be acting like this with him.

“I’ll think about it, Amarantha,” he finally decides, and you don’t think you like that answer at all, but you shove your thoughts deep, deeply inside of you.

Amarantha steps closer, bats her eyelashes up at him. “I could send you some things for you to think about,” she says sultrily. You scrunch your nose up in distaste. Forward, much?

Rhys gives her that some noncommittal hum he gave you earlier in the night. “We’ve got to get going now,” he answers, tugging you around his clingy ex. “Lots of studying to do.” He lets the innuendo hang in the air. “See you around.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, dragging you in the direction of your dorm.

You think you wait an appropriate amount of time before you’re shoving his arm off your shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

Rhys groans and runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t know what that was, not really. All he knows is that he’d do whatever it takes to get Amarantha off his case and scrubbed from his memory, and he used you to do it tonight.

He feels like shit for doing that to you, especially when he barely even knows you.

Mor would have a fucking aneurism if she’d seen that.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, staring down at the sidewalk. “I panicked.”

“I’ll fucking say,” you scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. It’s a balmy night out, but without the heat of Rhys’ body beside yours, a chill sweeps over you.

“That won’t be the last of her,” he sighs long and forlorn. It almost makes you feel bad for him, if the next words out of his mouth didn’t make your entire world flip. “I might need you to pretend to be my girlfriend again.”

You’re pretty sure your jaw hits the ground so hard it cracks the concrete beneath your feet. You halt so abruptly, Rhys doesn’t notice for a few steps, too lost in the idea he just blurted out and how perfect it might be. He could rid himself of Amarantha for good.

“What? No way!” You protest, and you’d really like to stomp your foot like a petulant child, but it seems your soles have melted into the sidewalk.

Rhys frowns, and you find you don’t like that look on his face. “Why not?”

What does he mean why not? There are a trillion reasons why this is a bad idea, but you blurt the one that bubbles to the surface first. “I can’t have your team, what makes you think you can have me?”

Rhys’ entire demeanor changes. He straightens his shoulders and stands taller, every muscle going taut with your words.

He raises a single brow. “How many of my teammates do you have your eye on?” He asks, prickling with jealousy. He shouldn’t be, except for the fact that he quite literally ran into you first, and if he can’t have you, then neither can his teammates.

Your cheeks flare with embarrassment. “I—what?” You stutter.

“How many of my teammates do you have your eye on? Or do you need me to rephrase.” Long gone is the cheeky tutor from the library. Now, he’s transformed into some sort of angered jock, like you just told him he’d be on the bench for the rest of the hockey season.

And it hits you, his words. Why would he care if you had your eye on one player or more? He doesn’t own you; he doesn’t even know you, and he’s making assumptions that frankly, are far from fucking true.

“I don’t have my eye on any of them, asshole,” you spit back your lie because it tastes like shit on your tongue. You have your eye on one. Or should you say had your eye on one. Knowing what you know now, you would happily go back in time and run into someone else.

It would never end well, you and him. And it’s the ultimate best friend betrayal.

You glare at Rhys, and he glares at you. You’re sure he’s used to people taking orders from him, but you’re not one of his teammates, and you’re too stubborn to back down.

When it’s clear that you’re not going to entertain his lewd questioning, he rips his gaze away. “C’mon. I have shit to do tonight and it’s getting late.”

“I can walk myself,” you grumble, shoving past him.

You hear his strides before he appears in the corner of your vision, catching up easily with you. Neither of you speak as you continue the last few blocks to your dorm. When you see the tall, looming building, you almost sigh in relief.

Until, of course, Rhys opens his mouth and spouts of another one of his stupid ideas.

“What if,” he starts, and you’re already rolling your eyes. “I help you with psychology, and you pretend to be my girlfriend, so Amarantha gets off my back.”

“Um, no.” You protest, because what the actual fuck is happening right now? “That’s what you agreed to before we ran into Amarantha.”

He shrugs, and it takes all your remaining willpower not to sprint the last block to your dorm. “My terms have changed.”

You scoff in utter disbelief. The nerve of this man. “Fine.” You haul ass to your dorm, more than done with tonight.

“Fine?” Rhys echoes. He sounds shocked. Which he should, because you know he’s taken your reply the wrong way. “You’ll do it?”

“No,” you spin on your heel and almost run face-first into Rhys’ chest. He catches you around your waist, steadying you. You didn’t hear him trailing you, and you don’t know how someone so large can move so silently. You clear your throat, ripping your focus from the tingles on your arms that seem to be coming from his touch, trying to reignite the flare of annoyance that he just smothered. “Not fine as in ‘I’ll do it.’ ‘Fine,’ as in, ‘I’ll find another tutor.’”

“What do you want? Please,” he begs, and he sounds good doing it. His violet eyes are soft, pleading, strands of his black hair falling across his brow. You want to reach up and brush them back for him.

“I want you to teach me how to pass psych,” you answer simply. “Without an ultimatum.”

Rhys’ shoulders fall, but one of you must relent, and it’s not going to be you. Over your dead body. “Fine.”

“Fine as in yes, or?”

He shoots you an unimpressed look. Too soon. You wince and smile apologetically.

“Fine, I’ll help you.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry

[jjsfavgirl]

Pool days

.・゜゜・・゜゜・． ౨ৎ ・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

.・゜゜・・゜゜・． ౨ৎ ・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

This is a blurb of the kook!girlfriend character I wrote!!

summary: JJ and his kook!girlfriend spending a day at her pool with the pogues.

warnings: none just pure fluff like always

-

laughter filled the brisk summer air as John B hoisted Sarah off her feet and jumped into the clear fresh waters.

"Don't even think about it ,Jayj." you threatened your boyfriend, pointing your beer bottle at the blonde and staring him down through the tops of my pink shades.

"I would never!" he gasped, faking his hurt as he placed a tan hand across his bare chest in a counterfeit shock.

"You did it on the HMS Pogue like last week!" you laughed from beside him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, baby." he defended, knowing damn well every single pogue has seen the video of your blonde boyfriend throwing you fully clothed into the freezing ocean.

The two of you laughing at the fond memory as JJ slivered his arm around you and the two of you lay your bodies down on the now warm beach towers.

"You guys want any?" You both glanced up as Kiara emerged from the screen door, a plate of cut up watermelon sat in her hands.

"Yes, please!" you smiled giddily as you squealed, reaching out grabbing hands at the brunette girl as she passed you the plate with a grin.

"Gimme sum'." you heard JJ request from beside you, sitting up to join you as your freshly manicured nail carefully picked up the red fruit and placed one in your boyfriends mouth with a giggle.

Placing a piece of fruit in your own mouth you caught a glimpse of Kiara, Pope, John B and Sarah all splashing each other in your pool.Smiling at your group widely' JJ noticed your distraction and took the chance to pull you bikini covered body onto his lap.

Breaking you away from your thoughts, your arms linked behind JJ's hair as your hands played with the blonde hair on the nape of hid neck as his hands traveled to meet your ass.

"Beautiful woman." he murmured, ocean blue eyes traveling down your body and onto your slightly burnt face.

"You know i hate when you call me that." you laughed lightly smacking his also burnt shoulder s he hissed at the contact.

"I know, still true though." he responded cupping your now rosy cheeks a mix of sunburn and pink blush before placing a loving kiss on you lips.

" You love birds gonna get in or what?" you heard Sarah yell from the poolside, spotting the long-haired girl leaning on the edge of the pool.

"JJ, you're so pussy-whipped man!" John B yelled from beside Sarah as you both smiled at the couple.

-

Just a little thing for my lovelies<33 hope you enjoyed!!

Also I am only five followers away from 100 followers!! TYSM!!

love, ivy 🎀

[redr0sewrites]

If Only... (Adam angst fic pt 2)

🥀Pt 2 to THIS post!!!

ive been in such a HUGE lute and adam phase its insane

🥀Cw: angst, major character death, hallucinations, dreaming, overall mourning

you weren't sure how long you had been aimlessly wandering the streets of heaven. the sky had long since lost its luster and the streets were barren and unoccupied. the moon glimmered above you, illuminating the familiar path ahead. each of your steps step echoed against the smooth, pearly marble floor. the air was brisk, and a soft thum of anticipation filled the air, brimming with something yet to come. each step forward was a grim reminder of the bleak reality that you so desperately needed to face. it had been nealry a week since the news, and the hole in your heart seemed to writhe and tear even deeper as the time passed. life was excruciating, just getting out of bed was just another task to complete. mornings without his arm resting over top of you, his stubble ticking you face as he pressed slow, sleepy kisses to your forhead to wake you. afternoons without him crashing at your apartment, bringing you a new cd of his favorite album and sharing a bag of chips and greasy pizza as you both watch shitty romcoms in the comfort of your home. evenings that weren't spent wrapped up in his arms, his soft wings engulfing you both as he tickled you, making you snort and wheeze with laughter until your sides ached and a smile was plastered across your face. you felt as though you had lost half of yourself, as though there was a gaping hole in your life that adam used to fill. 

the streets of heaven were rarely quiet during the day, but after nightfall, there were few who would leave the safety and comfort of their home to traverse the city. who in their right mind would walk around on a cold, lonely night when they could be at home, wrapped up in their lovers' wings? thats what you had told adam the first time he'd suggested it, but he had insisted that you came with him on an evening stroll. at first you were apprehensive, but you soon realized how beautiful the city was at night. ever since, it had become a shared tradition between the two of you to partake inn long walks late at night, with no responsibilities and no one to disturb you. you were alone together, and in a sense, it was the only time for you both to truly be yourselves. on these walks, you were no longer talking to the first man, nor gods favoured creation, but to adam, just adam. heavens' judgemental gaze prevented you both from being truly free during the day, but when you were alone with eachother, it was like a breath of fresh air after being suffocated for years.

mist furled across the edges of your vision, and water droplets formed on the back of your neck as you continued walking. a rush of cold wind made you shiver, curling into yourself. a sliver of gold catches your eye, and you whirl around only to be met with a wall of fog. apprehension soaked into your skin as you took a tentative step towards where you had seen the sliver of gold. you saw it again, a little flurry that shimmered just out of reach. a feather. you knew who that feather belonged to, it just had to be him. it had to. you took a step forward, then another, and then another, until you were running towards the feather. it always seemed just out of reach, and the fog only slowed you down and made your movements sluggish. the wind whistles in you ear, yet you barely seem to be moving at all. you could hear the rhythmic thump of your own heart, and you raced forward. the fog tightened around you, as though trying to pull you back, yet you push on. suddenly, a silhouette begins to form up ahead. your heart skips a beat when you recognize the looming wings and curved, horned mask. 

"adam!" your shout is swallowed by the fog around you, yet you refuse to give up. your joints are aching and you're panting for breath, yet you scream his name like theres no tomorrow. "adam!" your voice is shrill with anticipation, and the noises surrounding you reach a deafening climax. the fog tightens so much you can barely breath, your head is spinning yet you call out one last time. the world spins, and in the span of a few unclimatic seconds, everything dissipates. you gasp for breath, free of the excruciating fog, and the figure before you appears clear as day. you can see your surroundings, and it's quiet enough to hear a pin drop. "adam...?" you whisper, not daring to believe your own eyes. "is it really- i thought you were-" you struggle to form any words, and take a step forward. it has to be him, you think, internally begging for this to be real. for him to be alive, that his death was all just an accident, a wrong report, anything at all. soon, your face to face with the mask that you've memorized, each sharp feature and sculpted horn etched into your mind from when adam had mearly been courting you. his mouth opens, yet closes almost instantly, as though even he can't think of what to say. you reach out to cup his cheek with your left hand, tears welling in your eyes as you slowly remove the mask. fear coils in the pit of your stomach, yet dissolves twice as fast as it arrived. never before had you been happier to see his face- the rugged stubble and shimmering eyes you had grown to love. the grief and rage and pain you had felt in the past week reached a boiling point, and you let out a whimper as he cracked a genuine smile.

"adam..?" you asked, voice cracking as you fought back the inevitable onslaught of tears that was welling up inside you. you reach out to cup his cheek with your other hand and he smiles at you, soft and loving. he rarely smiled so gently, even around you, but you cherished the slightly crooked, toothy grin with all your heart. "i'm here, doll. i'm home now." tears cascade down your face as you pull him in close. sobs erupt from the very core of your soul as you lurch forward, melting against him. "i missed you- i missed you so much!" your body shivers as he swallows you in an embrace. adam's golden wings seem to glow even brighter than usual as they envelop the two of you, yet he gently pulls your hands away from his face and presses a kiss to your fingers. "i know, i know. i love you, toots." he whispered, pulling away from your hands to press a gentle kiss to your lips. his eye hold a strange, uncharacteristic sadness that startles you. "i know", he repeats, his amber eyes focusing on you. "and because of that, i need you to wake up". confusion floods your body as you try to process his words, but the rushing in your ears is returning. "wha- what the fuck are you talking about? adam?" your voice grows higher and higher as the world around you begins to blur. the feeling of his hands in yours is slowly slipping away, like sand between your fingers. adam doesn't respond, still smiling sadly at you. "adam? ADAM?" 

you wake with a start, chest heaving as sweat dripped down your face. your blankets were tangled around your body, and the weight of your dream causes a dry sob to escape past your lips. tears bloom and soon become unstoppable as you gasp for breath. the feeling of his warmth against you was still so fresh in your mind, so close and yet so far. as you continue to sob, you lament on everything that had happened in the past week. just two weeks ago you had been deeply in love, enjoying the presence of your lover, your equal. now he was gone, the only thing that remained were his scattered belongings left around your shared home that you refused to remove, and the overwhelming dreams of him that plagued you every night. if only he had never gone to the extermination that day, if only, if only...

I DID NOT KNOW HOW TO END THIS PT IM SORRRYYYY😭 im prob gonna make a happy ending pt 3 so stay tuned!!!! ALSO PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEASEEEEE SEND IN MORE LUTE REQUESTS I LOVE HER SM!!

[mrk236547789]

A servant boy to a rich family has been the Eldest's son's little toy ever since he was hired, he would bring him to his own room for some 'privet cleaning' and he would be up there for hours. After one cleaning the servant becomes pregnant and the son find out and wants to help him, one night he goes into labor but survives until his shift is over. The son drags him to the living room thinking his parents are going upstairs to bed, to their horror the parents come down and they have to hide in the closets. The Son uses his phone as light and they pull down the servants pants to find the heading crowning, The son has to cup his hands over the crowning head to keep it from coming out and his parents finding out in fear that they'll punish both of them. They have to stay like that for another 2 hours until his parents finally leave and go to bed. The whole time the servant is pushing, unable to stop himself and the son has to was him suffer as he hold the head in place to keep it from being born.

In the bustling kitchen of the grand estate, the servant boy, Jasper, scrubbed pots with a brisk rhythm, his thoughts drifting to the quiet solace of his tiny room above the stables. It had been a long day of polishing silverware and dusting chandeliers, and his hands ached with the promise of a blister. The rich aroma of roasting chicken wafted through the air, a stark reminder that his meal would be the cold, leftover scraps from the Eldest son's plate.

The Eldest, Charles, had always treated Jasper with a peculiar mix of entitlement and affection, often inviting him to his private quarters for "special" cleaning duties. Jasper had learned to dread those moments, his stomach tightening as he approached the opulent chamber. But tonight, a strange sensation grew within him, a heaviness that was more than mere exhaustion.

As Jasper finished up the dishes, the kitchen staff had already retreated for the night. He took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, the burgeoning secret in his belly feeling heavier with each step. Upon reaching Charles' room, he found the door ajar, the light within casting a sliver of yellow across the hallway's gleaming floor.

Charles looked up from his desk, his eyes widening in surprise. "Jasper, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. Jasper swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I... I think it's time," Jasper managed to croak out. "The... the baby."

Charles' expression shifted from confusion to horror as realization dawned. He had noticed Jasper's changing shape over the past few months, but he had hoped the servant would find a way to deal with it without his interference. Now, it was staring him in the face—or rather, about to emerge from between Jasper's trembling legs.

"Ok let’s go to the living room my parents are sleeping now," Charles whispered urgently, his eyes darting to the staircase that led to the family's private quarters. He knew they couldn’t risk his mother and father discovering Jasper in such a compromising state. The living room was a safer bet, with its plush couches and thick curtains that could muffle any sounds of distress.

The journey was an eternity, Jasper's painful steps echoing through the silent corridors as he leaned heavily on Charles for support. The chandeliers cast dramatic shadows on the walls, making the grand paintings seem like silent judges watching their frantic passage. They reached the living room and Jasper collapsed onto the floor, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his cries.

Then they heard Charles parents coming into the living room, their voices muffled but unmistakable. Jasper's eyes widened with panic as he gripped the edge of the couch, his body convulsing with the effort of keeping his baby inside. "Quick, into the closet," Charles hissed, his own heart racing. They stumbled towards the large mahogany wardrobe, the Eldest son's collection of fine coats and tailored suits hanging like a barrier between them and discovery.

Jasper's water broke with a soft gush as they tumbled in, the cold floorboards against his bare skin offering no comfort. Charles fumbled in the dark, his hand brushing against Jasper's distended belly, feeling the baby's head pressing against the world. He cursed under his breath and pulled out his phone, the screen casting a bluish glow over the cramped space. The servant's pants were soaked and he knew they had to act fast.

"We can't stay here," Jasper whispered, his voice strained. "The baby's coming now."

“Wait till hey leave, okay?" Charles pleaded, his voice strained with fear. He knew his parents’ wrath would be severe if they found Jasper like this. With trembling hands, he shone the phone light on Jasper’s exposed hole, the baby’s dark hair peeking out. Jasper nodded, gritting his teeth as another contraction hit.

“Stop pushing," Charles whispered, his voice laced with desperation. "Just hold it in."

Jasper's eyes squeezed shut as he bore down, the pain unlike anything he had ever felt before. The pressure was unbearable, and his body seemed to have a will of its own. Each contraction felt like a monstrous wave trying to drag him under.

“I can’t," Jasper whimpered, his knuckles white as he gripped the edges of the closet. The pain was too intense to ignore.

Charles put his hand on the bay’s head to hold it there the best he could, his heart racing as he felt the warmth of the baby’s skin and the sticky wetness of Jasper’s body. Jasper's cries grew more desperate with each contraction, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The light from the phone cast eerie shadows on their faces, highlighting the sweat that beaded on their foreheads.

Outside the closet, the muffled sounds of Jasper's labor were almost drowned out by the ticking grandfather clock. The plush carpet muffled the occasional thump against the closet door as Jasper's body protested his confinement. They could hear the murmur of his parents' voices, the clink of ice in their drinks as they settled in for a night of leisurely conversation.

Charles rubbed Jasper's back in a clumsy attempt to soothe him, his mind racing with the gravity of the situation. He had to think of something, anything to help Jasper without alerting his parents to their secret. The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an hour. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent scream trapped in the confines of the closet.

Finally 2 hours later the parents went to bed. Jasper felt the last wave of contraction subside and took a deep, shuddering breath. The relief was momentary as the next wave began to build, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. With trembling hands, Charles helped Jasper out of the cramped space, his own legs feeling like jelly from the strain of the last two hours.

They moved quickly to the couch, the soft cushions offering a modest reprieve from the cold floor. Jasper lay down, his body already pushing the baby out. "You're doing great," Charles whispered, trying to keep his voice steady as he hovered over Jasper, the phone still casting its pale light. "Just a bit more."

Jasper's face contorted with pain as the baby's head began to emerge. The sight of his son, born in the quiet secrecy of the night, filled Charles with a mix of fear and a strange, protective love. He knew he couldn't let Jasper go through this alone. "You can do this," he murmured, his hand hovering above Jasper's trembling thighs, ready to offer support or comfort where needed.

The baby's cry pierced the quiet of the night, echoing through the cavernous room. Jasper's eyes rolled back in his head, his body trembling with the effort. "It's a boy," Charles said softly, awe in his voice as he caught the tiny, slippery body. He quickly cut the umbilical cord with a piece of string and a knife from his pocket, tying it off with trembling hands.

Jasper collapsed back onto the couch, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The baby squalled, a healthy sound that filled the room with life. "We have to clean up," Charles said, his mind racing. They couldn't leave any evidence of the birth. With swift, efficient movements, he gathered up the dirty towels and the afterbirth, stuffing them into a plastic bag he had brought from his room.

Jasper's eyes met Charles' in the dim light, a silent plea for help. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We'll take him to your room," Charles decided, his mind racing with the logistics. "I'll bring some blankets and hot water." He placed the squalling baby in Jasper's arms and rushed out of the room. Jasper held the newborn tightly, his heart swelling with a love that washed away the pain. The baby's tiny fists waved in the air, and Jasper couldn't help but smile through his tears.

When Charles returned, Jasper had managed to sit up, cradling the baby against his chest. His eyes searched Charles' face for some sign of what to do next. "We'll figure this out," Charles assured him, placing a gentle hand on Jasper's shoulder. "But for now, let's get you cleaned up."

They moved quickly and quietly, Charles supporting Jasper as they climbed the stairs to his small room above the stables. The cold night air hit them like a slap as they stepped outside, but the urgency of the situation kept them moving. Jasper's room was sparse, with a single bed and a wooden cradle that had been hastily assembled from a pile of discarded crates. The clean, soft blankets Charles brought were a stark contrast to the rough wooden floor.

The moon cast a silver glow through the small, dusty window, illuminating Jasper's exhausted face as he lay back on the bed, the baby still in his arms. Charles hovered over them, a mix of emotions playing across his features—fear, excitement, and a fierce determination to keep this secret safe. "What do we do now?" Jasper asked again, his voice weaker than before.

"We can't let anyone know," Charles said, his voice low and serious. "We'll say you fell ill and I brought you to your room. We'll have to keep the baby hidden." He glanced at the cradle, knowing it was hardly suitable for a child born into such a precarious situation. "We need to think of a plan, Jasper. One that keeps you both safe."

[nectardaddy]

'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

epilogue | again

masterlist

final track. . . arkansas diamond

spinoff -> serendipity, a collection of random situations and insanity between kitayn because I'm too in love with them to let them go

check out these mood boards : '88 Ford | yn | kita

cw/notes: they do be smooching in this, this fic (this chapter in particular) is my magnum opus, deadass believe I astral projected while writing this, this is it :') but serendipity is soon to come! we will never truly be done with '88 Ford ❤️

There was a chill in the air that bit at his exposed arms; absentmindedly forgetting his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and giving his jacket to the woman beside him. An old, worn work jacket; seams fraying and an earthy smell lingering on it but clean nonetheless. Wrapped around her like a blanket to fight off the brisk weather; although, she told him before 'I don't need a damn jacket, I'll be fine.' But he knew, always, that she would ask for it anyway, and he would always give it to her. 

They laid in the old truck bed, her father's farm use ‘88 Ford, the cool metal touching every sliver of exposed skin they had. Though he didn't feel the cold air nip at his arms, nor the bite of the harsh metal. A recovered missing piece of his soul burning right through every chill he ever felt. A latter emptiness in his heart, that was once hollow and echoed, was now filled to capacity, jam packed and overflowing with adoration and intimacy. And all they did was look up at the sky. Content and happy - in love.

“That one's Orion," spoken softly as he pointed up towards a cluster of stars. Tiny specks forming a prominent figure of a man holding a bow amongst the inky sky. "My grandmother said he symbolized celebration and joy,” a forethought before a smile pulled at his lips. “You're my joy.” He turned his head to look over at her, pleasantly surprised to find she was already looking at him. He chuckled. "You weren't even lookin’, were you?”

"I was,” she chuckled, “earlier at least.” Earning another chuckle in response, “I like lookin’ at you more, Shin, you're handsome.” He felt her hand leave his, once having fingers interlocked, and move towards his face. Brushing small pieces of gray away from his eyes, she smiled. “You're my handsome man with pretty brown eyes.” 

He felt himself melt right then and there, becoming a lovesick puddle of a man as he locked eyes with her. “I'm so in love with you.” Voice quiet in comparison to the night air, crickets and frogs noisily filling up the silence the nighttime offered. 

“Say it again.”

A soft command, and he wholeheartedly complied. “I'm so in love with you. I don't think I'll ever stop fallin’ for you either, I'll fall until I die I think.” It wasn't a quiet love, nor was it soft. It was loud, exclamatory, sharp, and lurid. He would offer her the world if she asked, figure out how to give her the stars - one word and he was utterly hopeless.

A lull in conversation at his words, he heard her take a breath and watched as her smile faltered ever so slightly. Taking in eyes that swirled with an emotion of pure, unbreakable devotion. A love that was fiery and untamable within the woman; felt it scorch his very skin as her fingers still brushed hair from his eyes. But it would never leave a mark, it was a love that was made for him, and him alone - it didn't hurt to fan such flames and set her ablaze.

“Again. Say it again.”

He took her hand within his own, the gentle touch on his face halting as he held it a moment. His smile turned to a grin as he leaned closer to her, centimeters away from her that made her breath catch in her throat. Staying there only briefly, brown eyes flickering over the features of her face. 

“I love you,” spoken before he kissed her.

“‘Love you s’much,” said through a breath as his lips smiled against her own. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” voiced between kisses.

She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled from her throat, grinned after each kiss until it wasn't possible anymore. Giggling to the point he had to pull away, a cheesy smile on his lips once he did.

“I love you too, Shinsuke, 'til my last dyin’ breath.”

-> love notes by @causenessus hinted at in the texts !

taglist under cut (open for serendipity)

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @zumicho

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

@jaynawayna @aliensstolemyheart @le000xxgrd @cherrypieyourface @theycallmenanamisgirl

@softpia

[fieldsofwriting]

A Day in the Life with March!

Summary: What a typical day looks like with the world’s grumpiest guy looks like.

Warnings: None!

Based off this request!

Life on the Farm was peaceful. Hardwork for sure, but peaceful nonetheless. Being your own boss certainly had its perks. The ability to change up your days and to run around to get things for people in need. It all made for very satisfying work. But the most satisfying thing about being able to run around the beautiful town of Mistria, was seeing the beautiful blacksmith every morning. As you rushed along, you made it a point to stop at the forge. Smiling as Orlic sees to notice you first, “Heya Y/N! How are you?” He asks, ever chipper even for a brisk Spring morning.

“Not to bad.” You reply, giving him an easy smile. “You?”

Orlic sighs dramatically, “Y/n you would not believe how much complaining i’ve heard from just March today!” He frowns, leaning over to you as he whispers. “We got another nail order.”

“Ah.” If there was one thing that March hated making more than anything it was nails. He was happy to help Mistria how ever it needed but did they really need so many damn nails?! But both you and Orlic knew the cure to this grumpy mood. You. Since you and March had become official- it didn’t stop him from being a grump. But you could still get him to relax more than others. Stepping over to the Anvil where March was begrudgingly hammering away, you clear your throat. “Marchy…” You hum.

His frown deepens, “Don’t call me that.” He grumbles, “And go away i’m busy.”

Sighing, you gently put a hand on his forearm. “March.” You frown, watching as the grumpy demeanor starts to fade. As he looks over at you it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to talk about the nails right now. “I’ll see you later right? At the Inn tonight for dinner?”

He gives you a fraction of a smile. “Yeah. I’ll be there.” And you nod back, reaching up to kiss his cheek. His face starting to bloom red, but despite his shyness he leans over and kisses your cheek back.

“Don’t have too much fun working on the nails, okay?” You teases before March scoffs and waves you away.

———

And a few short hours later, you’re sitting in the Inn. Across from your boyfriend with a big smile as you start to recount your day telling him about everything that’s happened and how much you’ve sold or donated to the museum. “Wow, sounds like you had quiet the day.” He mumbles as he eats his soup.

“Yeah! It was packed full.” You grin, “What about you?”

He sighs, “I worked on that stupid nail order all day. When what I really wanted to do was figure out how to make that belt buckle Dell was talking about.” He grumbles, “All I ever do is make stuff for the town…before the earthquake I could make cool metal pieces…” He sighs longingly. Reaching over the table you take his hand and offer a gentle smile.

“And one day soon, we’ll get there again. I’m working hard on getting our town rank up so we can afford the capitals prices for nails and you can get back to making pretty things- like a ring. For me.” You wink.

March’s eyes widen, “A-a ring?” He stammers out. Not that he would mind marrying you- I mean you’re reliable, sweet, caring. You always made him smile even when he was mad about dumb stuff like nails. He could feel himself getting redder at the prospect of it all.

You nod quickly pulling out a sapphire you found today, “Yeah! Look at what I found today! I think it be cool to have it in a ring that I could wear around- or I could sell it..” You hum looking at the gem. March could scream at you for doing that to him. Looking so innocently at the gem like you didn’t just give him a heart attack.

Once March’s heartbeat stops racing he smiles and takes the gem from your hands. “I can make you the best sapphire ring you’ve ever seen.” He says confidently. He notes the way your eyes light up, and maybe it makes doing all the damn nails worth it.

“I’ll bring you the sliver for it!” You nod confidently. March sighs, shaking his head as he pockets the sapphire.

“Don’t worry about it, I think I owe you.” He says with a shrug. “For all you do around here.”

“March…” You flush looking away from him. “I don’t do as much as you or Ryis-“

“You literally have raised our town rank by like- four ranks since you’ve been here. You’ve donated half of the museum, your crops help fill the general store, and you opened back up the mines. Shut up you’ve done more than enough to earn this stupid ring.” He rolls his eyes, but as he compliments you there’s a blush growing more and more evident.

You giggle, walking around the other side of the table to kiss his cheek. “You’re too sweet to me, March.” His arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you into him.

“Whatever, shut up.” He grumbles as he pulls your bowl of soup over to his side of the table so you can continue to eat. “What are you doing later?”

You hum in thought before looking over at him. “Maybe some late night fishing? Or I bet the water would feel super nice tonight given how hot it’s been.”

He rests his head on your shoulder, wrapping both arms around your waist. “…we could go swimming.”

“Yeah?” You grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and playing with his hair. “And then we can go back to the farmhouse and watch a movie…?”

He blushes more, nodding. “..and…I could stay the night?” He asks quietly. You nod, tilting his head up to kiss him quickly.

“You could stay forever but whatever your heart wants.” You muse playfully.

He snorts and holds you tighter. “Hurry up and eat, we’ve got a date.” And so- you oblige happy to sit in your boyfriend’s lap until you’re finished eating.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!! I struggled a little on how exactly to write this without just making it my farmer so I hope it works well!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I can see your wrist when you point, sensei... How indecent, kyaa.

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

Crewel cast his gaze down at you. At this angle, you could admire how his dark lashes shadowed the silvery blue orbs he called eyes. They were cool, yet possessed a fire that you couldn’t place anywhere else but him.

His sleeve fell when he lifted his pointer, revealing a sliver of flesh where his red glove ended and his sleeve started. He indicated you, and the entire room fell silent.

“You’re focusing more on my bare wrist than on the course material,” he chided with a disapproving click of his tongue.

It was as though he was telling off a puppy that had had an accident on an expensive new rug. Disappointed but somehow not surprised.

Crewel lightly prodded your cranium with his pointer, as if knocking on a door. “Do you care to share your ‘indecent’ commentary with the rest of the class?”

A part of you shriveled up and died when all of the eyeballs in the classroom bore into you. Ace smirked, Deuce looked sympathetic. (Grim was busy attempting to snack while using his textbook as a cover.)

“N-No, sir,” you stuttered truthfully. “It was just a cheeky joke. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

Since you’re always dressed to the nines in that suit and fur coat…

“Keep your jokes to yourself. You may engage in whatever crude humor and barking you wish to after class,” Crewel tutted. “I understand that you pups are easily excitable, but there is a time and place for these things. I expect proper conduct in my class.”

He turned away, addressing the rest of the class. The heat, finally taken off of you—though your cheeks still burned with embarrassment.

“And that goes for all of you! Staring is also in poor taste.”

At once, everyone averted their gazes. Some looked at the walls, others, their shoes.

“Eyes back on the passage!” Crewel commanded, leaving your spot and resuming a brisk stroll around the classroom. “We were just discussing the union of the mermaid princess and her human prince…”

[starphasedd]

Ghost receiving his first Christmas gift.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader one-shot. (slightly nsfw at the end, but mostly fluff.)

Dunno why, but I headcannon that Simon hasn't received a Christmas gift since he was like five years old.

___

The holidays were never really a big deal in the 141. There were no decorations, no Christmas music--nothing. Except for the Christmas dinner.

If the squad was lucky enough to be home on Christmas Eve, Price would throw a small party and require everybody to attend. It wasn't anything special. He would order chinese takeout for everyone. You and the rest of your squad members would gather at a makeshift dinner table and eat chinese, taking time to relax and enjoy the evening off.

Soap and Price would be sitting back in their chairs, feet propped up on the table. Idle chatter would fill the empty warehouse, voices echoing off each other in the brisk winter air. Soap would occasionally look over at you and laugh when you failed to pick up a piece of chicken with your chopsticks. Those utensils weren't part of your culture and it was evident.

Ghost sat across from you, the lid still sealed on his serving of takeout. He's sitting back in his seat, strong arms crossed over his chest. From here, it looks like his eyes could be closed--maybe he's getting some well-deserved rest.

You're becoming slightly nervous the longer you look at him. Ghost has been your close teammate and superior for over two years now. The two of you have been through so much together. Endless nights and days you have spent by his side, admiring his techniques and laughing at his terrible jokes. You've seen the best and worst in him, loving both for what they are.

He was comfortable with you--you'd like to think. One cold night on a mission not long ago, he divulged some of his past to you.

It had been a particularly tough mission where both of you had gotten injured. When helping you patch a wound, he found an old scar just under your collarbone. You've never been one to dredge up your past. You never wanted your colleagues to pity you. But when he asked, you answered--for some reason. You told him the gruesome story behind the scar, pouring that part of your torturous past out before him. Making yourself vulnerable to him.

He listened in silence as he patched your wound. When he was done, he sat down next to you and sighed. That's when he gave you a sliver into his own past. Maybe he admired how open you had been for him--having absolutely no obligation to tell him when he asked. Maybe he felt like for once, he wasn't alone. Maybe he wanted to make you feel better. Regardless, that night he told you a few stories about his life growing up.

You felt incredibly upset for him, wondering how anyone could treat a little boy like that.

The stories he told you in confidence made you like him even more. For a man who grew up in such awful conditions to devote his entire adult life to bringing down people like his farther to make the world a better place--it was absolutely astounding to you. You always admired him. But something changed that night when he sat there with you. You started to see him differently.

You started to fall in love with him.

Your hand rubs over the outside of your thigh, where a small gift sits in the pocket of your jeans.

After a few more minutes, you see Ghost get up from his seat and make his way out of the large warehouse door. Your heart pounds as you watch him leave.

A small gift for Ghost burns a hole in your pocket as you hear his heavy footsteps recede. You watch his shadow start to disappear. For a moment, you space out. You glance down at the bulge in your pocket. All you can hear now is your own breathing as you consider getting up and chasing the lieutenant down.

Now or never.

Your legs drop and push, scooting your chair back from the table. You stand and proceed to follow Ghosts footsteps out of the warehouse. When you reach the door, you glance to your left and see him leaning up against the side of the building. He hears you coming--you get a glance of him pulling a cigarette out of his mouth and pulling his mask down.

You turn on your heel and start to approach him slowly.

"Those are bad for you, ya know." You say with a gentle, teasing smile.

His head turns, and he watches you approach slowly until you're right next to him. He towers over you, neck craned down to look at you. A scoff leaves his lips.

"How are your arteries feeling after eating all that greasy chicken, sergeant?"

You laugh, both hands coming back to slip into the butt pockets of your jeans.

"I know you'll scarf all yours down when nobody is looking." You say.

He chuckles deep from within his chest, head turning away from you to glance up at the night sky. His large hands slide into the pockets on his jeans.

You move to rest your back on the building next to him. Your hand reaches into the pocket with his gift inside and pulls it out slowly. A red hue dusts your cheeks as you glance down at the gift. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

"I have something for you, sir." You say in a soft tone.

His head turns to look down at you, eyes half lidded. Probably from lack of sleep.

You bring the gift up and cradle it in both hands for a moment before handing it over to him. One large hand sneaks from his jean pocket to grab the object from your smaller hands. He inspects it quietly.

"It's not much. But I thought you might like them."

The gift is not wrapped. So he can tell what the item is right away. In his palm rests a pair of gloves. Thick, leather gloves. He brings his other hand up and pulls the gloves apart from the packaging.

"They're heated. And water proof--" you say softly. "--that night. When we...talked. Your hands were freezing and damp. That must have been uncomfortable for you."

He glances down at you through the hard part of his mask for a moment and then back at the new pair of gloves in his hands.

"I hope these help." You whisper.

He doesn't speak, and that makes you anxious. Your face is still bright red, and your fingers start to fidget nervously with the zipper on your jacket. For a moment, you think you may have overstepped. But then you hear something quiet come from underneath his mask.

"Thank you."

You huff a small breath of relief and smile. "It's no problem, sir."

He continues to examine the gift in his hands--like he hasn't received anything like this in a long time. He takes a few moments before he glances back down at you.

"Can I give you something in return, sergeant?" He asks, his english accent complimenting his deep baritone.

Before you have time to answer, his back is coming off the building. He turns to stand tall in front of you. His large form is cornering you against the cold metal siding of the warehouse.

Your eyes catch his and they stay locked as he steps closer.

"Close your eyes." He whispers.

You don't argue. Slowly, your eyes flutter closed for him. You can hear him shuffling, the sound of fabric being moved. A soft moan escapes your lips when you feel a large bare hand cup your jaw. His thumb strokes your chin and he leans forward, hot breath fanning over your lips.

Your knees almost buckle when you feel his hot tongue come out and graze over your lower lip. Your hands come up to rest on his chest when his lips finally connect with yours. A groan falls from his mouth to yours at the contact. His tongue invades your mouth with vigorous intent to dominate yours.

He brings his body closer to yours, his massive thigh sliding between your legs to hold your squirming body still. One large hand stays on your neck, while the other ghosts around to your middle back and arches you towards him. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his black hoodie as you share this intimate moment with him.

You could be caught at any moment, but you don't care. And neither does he. He twists his head to the other side to kiss into your mouth slowly and sensually. You stay submerged in the depths of his lips for what seems like forever, only coming up for desperate gasps of air.

When you come up for the second time, he groans when you arch closer to him.

"Simon--" you moan softly. "--can you move that gun? It's poking the shit out of my leg."

A single, breathy laugh leaves his lips. He gives you another deep kiss before dropping his head to your right ear.

"That's not a gun, love." He whispers.

[liminalpebble]

Between the Lines, Chapter 4

Masterlist link

Minor DNI

Chapter 4

The words leave your mouth in a breathy hiss before you can possibly reel them back in.

“What are you doing?”

He releases his teeth from the soft skin between your neck and your shoulder to offer up a breathy chuckle. It fans over your skin like a brisk breeze and you shiver.

You're beginning to hate the sound of his laugh, and the sight of his smile; so haughty and superior and false. His mirth is a lie that doesn't fool you. The dark prince is deeply, terribly, alone, which might just be the key to unraveling the knots he's bound you in.

“I think we both know what I'm doing, my dear. The real question is, 'do you want me to stop?'.”

You hesitate, disoriented by his teasing and depleted from the vigilance his game requires of you. Your concentration truly enters its death throes once his graceful hand skims over your calf, up your thigh. His path lightly parts the delicate curtain of emerald fabric until he coaxes out a sliver of skin in his wake.

You gasp aloud, unable to silence or resist it, but still manage to say, “I wasn't aware I had a choice.”

“I'm not a barbarian. I want you to desire what I'm offering.”

As if to emphasize exactly what he's offering, Loki tilts his slim hips ever-so-subtly to press against you more firmly. His knuckles skim further up to the swell of your bare hip, then he cups it in his wide palm, kneading the supple flesh he finds there.

“I...I don't know. I can't...think. I'm so tired, Sire.” You delicately move the velvet back over your flesh, hoping it won't anger him.

It almost does, but as soon as the tide rises it recedes. The Prince is not accustomed to being denied exactly what he wants, exactly when he wants it. At first, Loki's eyes squint and lips harden into a firmer line, but then you turn to face him.

He hadn't braced himself for that; the way your doe eyes implore him for mercy, for some humanity, for empathy. He wasn't prepared to feel the way he does when your hand settles on his chest, directly over his heart where it drums hidden beneath his leather shell.

Flustered, Loki scolds himself with distaste, flustered and blushing like a bashful school boy, not a prince.

It's becoming unnerving...

It's becoming unnerving, the way those aquamarine eyes bore into you while he contemplates. He stares inscrutably. Yet, here, so close, the nearness makes him seem more like a real man and less like an archetype, or a god, or a prince. Simply a man.

His thin lips are chapped with a pale pink blossom; evidence of a nervous habit of biting his lip. There are faint lines of worry around his eyes and mouth, not at all unattractive, just telling.

You fight the sympathy away, forcing yourself to remember that this is an ancient troubled deity holding you in his arms; a dangerously exhausted god, slowly losing his brilliant mind from lack of companionship.

You vacillate between terror of the god and sympathy for the man.

To your own surprise, your sympathy wins. Before you know it, before you can stop yourself, your hand cups his cheek and strokes softly, thumb traversing the severe contour under his cheekbone. His skin is so cold, like a marble statue standing untouched for years.

.First the prince flinches, then leans gingerly into your warmth. The muscle of his jaw relaxes as you graze it. He releases a tensely held breath and his shoulders lower. You suddenly feel as if you're taming a very ancient, dangerous, and reclusive animal. You have a wolf in the palm of your hand.

Loki preoccupies himself with rationalizing. It's alright..she's here for my comfort and enjoyment after all. This is the whole point, I suppose. And it is...so...comfortable.

You swallow hard and your breath turns baited. You resist a buzzing tremble which threatens your limbs. How long can this truce last before his jaws snap shut around you?

“You're so tired, too, aren't you. It's alright to rest,” you finally say, meeting his eyes.

It's sincere...so sincere that Loki feels his heart burst like a supernova for you, and he scrambles to hide it. He clears his throat and sits up straighter.

“Ah...yes...tired. It's been a long day for us both, hasn't it?”

You nod in relief. He smiles and his laugh lines reveal themselves with some genuine warmth..finally.

He stands and takes your hand, enveloping it with his own. He leads you to his bed, but not at all in the way you assumed he would when you knocked on that door so many hours ago.

-----

In the dark plush chamber of his bedroom, a fragrant fire burns. The golden glow, the heat, and the sweet, earthy incense of burning cedar and sandalwood lull you further towards slumber.

He glides up to you and whisks your hair from your shoulder with a graze of his knuckles. As his fingertips touch down, a fizzle of green luminescence ripples over your body. His almost-comically large robe transforms into a cozy nightgown.

His eyes flick between you and the floor as he bites his lip and taps his fingers where they still rest on you shoulder.

“I hope this is satisfactory?”

“Yes...thank you, Sire.”

He winces, still looking away.

“Please, stop doing that. Use my name.”

“Thank you, Loki.”

Finally his eyes meet yours and he smiles bashfully as he says, “Make yourself comfortable.”

You settle into a nest of the plushest bedding you've ever felt in your life; satins, silks, and warm furs in a symphony textures, serenading you in the most perfect tactile lullaby.

He smirks, watching your lashes flutter shut and your breathing slow almost immediately.

What a precious little creature.

He hovers his hand above your head, about to stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, and wish you sweet dreams...but he stops. He yanks his hand back and rolls his eyes.

He ruminates and shakes his head as he withdraws to removes his leathers, piece by piece.

What am I doing with her? And why do I care? This isn't what I planned.

His coat drops, shed like snakeskin. The long lean muscles of his torso and arms undulate as he peels the rest over his head. It feels pleasant when a draft cools his bare skin after hours in thick formal clothing...pleasant, but vulnerable.

Even though you're already fast asleep, he feels oddly exposed by dressing for bed with you in the room. What would you think of the cold hard edges of his body? The iron rigidity of his spine? The battle scars etched in faint pink across the alabaster skin of his broad shoulders and rib cage? There's a reason why he dresses the way he does, surrounded by bronzed, golden-haired warriors with bared arms like tree trunks...

Warriors like my brother, he thinks bitterly.

The thought makes him hurry to cover himself again, this time in lusciously soft nightclothes. He turns to watch you again and the bitter taste in his mouth turns sweet as honey.

The fluid amber light suits you, sweet and soft, reclined in his bed.

He can't stop thinking about you.

How your fragrant hair felt, flowing between his fingers.

How your voice danced over the words while you read. How he ached to taste those delicious words directly from your mouth, your lips, you tongue.

How your trembling body fell gradually under the spell of his touch.

The taste of you, gods, the taste of your hot pulse beneath his lips and tongue and teeth, and now you've left him ravenous and incinerating.

Violent, animal need finds him easily again, and he groans softly as he storms into the other room. As soon as the heavy oak door closes, he touches himself in the darkness, imagining your hands gently teasing the head of his cock instead of his own.

Yes...gentle...you would of course be so gentle. Your fingers would slide up, then circle around his shaft, tracing the calligraphy of raised veins before you move, rubbing from base to tip rhythmically, spreading the liquid already seeping as you move faster and faster.

He stifles a pathetic moan with his free hand over his mouth. His Adam's apple bobs with a strained swallow as he comes back down into his body, panting. Loki is flooded with relief, followed immediately by a strange unfamiliar shame.

Pathetic, he thinks, The god of mischief, prince of Asgard, who has ordered others to kneel for centuries...brought to his knees in the dark by just the thought of this woman.

All the while, you, the sweet little librarian, sleep deeply and dream richly.

@lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @peaches1958 @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @muddyorbs @mischief2sarawr @icytrickster17 @goblingirlsarah @sweetsigyn @unlucky-number-13 @mochie85 @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @ladyofthestayingpower @mischiefmaker615 @loopsisloops @sailorholly @coldnique @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @gigglingtiggerv2 @anukulee @azula-karai-27 @eleniblue @marcotheflychair @litaloni @gruftiela @literatureatthebowofnails @meowmeow-motherfucker

[sacredwrath]

P1. Three days

This is part 1 of a long oc whump fic I've been working on. Check the masterpost for possibly triggering themes to come later.

Torture for information, nonbinary whumpee, male whumper, breaking whumpee, vauge military setting, beating, broken bones mention, negative self talk

Jesse watches a faint sliver of sunlight creep under their cell door. It illuminates their surroundings just enough to see the dim outline of their hand laying against the cold cement. Their fingers are broken on this hand and look like gnarled twigs soaking up the pale sunlight.

With each passing second, the light grows brighter, and their heart picks up speed. Dread sits heavy in their gut, pinning them to the floor more effectively than the chain around their neck.

Soon.

Jesse groans, pain lancing through them as they wriggle their unwilling body further into the corner's illusion of safety. Part of them is disgusted at their own futile desperation, but a louder part just wants to be as far from the door as they can get.

Pathetic

Give up. The traitor in their head prods.

“Shut up.” they hiss back. What's happening to them?

Relax, they remind themself. Stay calm. Be patient, the others will come for you.

If they wanted to, they would've come by now. The traitor whispers back. As always, it sounds like Morgan's voice.

As if conjured by the though, the lock rattles and their cell door swings open.

"Morning sunshine!"

Jesse tries to scramble back, but their body is already pressed up against the stone wall. Officer Adrian Morgan closes the distance in a few brisk strides, grabbing the chain around their neck and hoisting them from the floor.

"Miss me?" He drives a punch directly into the mass of dark bruises covering their ribs eliciting a cry of pain.

A month ago Jesse would have fought back. Weeks ago they would have hid their pain under a blanket of snarky defiance, but now it's all they can do to keep from dissolving into hysterics. Pathetic

Morgan hurls them to the ground. On instinct, they try to catch themself, but only manage to land on their bad hand, sending burning jets of pain blazing up up their arm.

They're screaming before the beatings even started.

Each kick targets their injuries. Morgan's steel toed boots hitting cracked bones and untreated gashes. They want to sob, but can only manage whimpers as the air is driven from their lungs again and again.

Stop, please stop, please!

Jesse begs silently, not letting the traitorous words past their lips.

When it's over, Morgan speaks to them. They can't understand his words.

Desperately, they try to calm themself. Slowing their panicked breaths, letting the sensation help draw them back.

Morgan is dragging the cell's only piece of furniture, a low wooden stool over to where they huddle. It's pointless, but every fiber of their being screams at them to run.

To disappear

"Good, now you're awake, we can get going." Morgan's voice is cheerful, as always. As if they're old friends on their way to lunch. As if his boots weren't stained with their blood.

Jesse can only manage a groan.

"Oh stop being so dramatic!" Morgan chides. "I've barely touched you."

Jesse draws a trembling breath, trying to form words through the pain.

"Clearly." They snap.

Morgan rolls his eyes. "Oh please, you entitled little shit! Trust me, it could be a lot worse."

Jesse doesn't trust him.

"Which I'll happily show you unless you start talking. I'm not asking for much, not even names. Just give me the location of your base. If you're lucky your little band of idiots will be gone by now. They'd have to be morons to stay after we caught you." He pauses, “which is possible, I guess. After all, they did let you join up.”

He pulls a long knife from his belt and carefully begins paring his nails. For a long moment neither say a word.

Jesse stares at the ground, trying to avoid looking at the knife in their enemies hands. They've been through this before. At this point, more times than they can count. It's not an option, they can't give up the others. They won't. No matter what.

Morgan won't go easy on them, the thought alone makes their blood run cold. But there's nothing they can do. They just have to pray someone comes back for them. Betraying their location wouldn't be as simple as letting slip a base or safe house, their base is their home. Most of the team grew up there. Even if they did abandon it, the location would give away several of their identities and that would be fatal. For years they've managed to keep it secret, not just from AQUA police, but from the entire world. That secrecy is precious and hard won. Not a single soul outside their family knows where to find them, and Jesse refuses to be the one to screw that up.

Something small and sharp hits their face, interrupting their thoughts. Morgan flicks another piece of fingernail at them.

"You're not going to hold out much longer." He observes. "You're almost at breaking point already."

"You're wrong" Jesse wishes their voice was a little less shaky. Morgan grins

"Am I? Look at yourself." He gestures with the knife and they can't hide their flinch. "You realize you're almost completely unbound now? Any competent rebel would have grabbed that chain and used it to choke me out by now. Hell, even you would've tried some stupid shit like that a few weeks ago. But what happened?" He pouts. "You were always pathetic, but now..." he gestures to them again, huddled shivering at his feet. "How much longer do you really think you'll last?"

Despite themself his words hit home. Jesse wonders the same thing. Every agonizing second that passes in this place kills another piece of them. How long till there's nothing left?

Morgan lowers his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. "I bet you lay awake at night so scared it feels like it's eating you alive. You worry the fear alone might kill you. I bet you wonder why your precious crew hasn't come to get you yet. What if they forgot me?" Morgan whines in a mocking sing-song. "It's worse than that though. They're glad you're gone."

The words hit like a gut punch. It's not true. Their friends love them, they would never abandon them. especially not to a fate like this. Their friends love them. Don't they?

"That's not true! You won't convince me to betray them by pretending to know us. I won't betray them." Jesse spits back. They sound confident, angry, but their tormentors lips still twitch with barely contained amusement.

"Sure you will." He looks thoughtful. "Just give it time. You already have, in the little ways. When you got here you trusted them completely, but the longer it takes for them to save you the more you wonder. Was any of it real? They were pretending to care about you the whole time. Pretending you matter. Lucky for you, I'm here! Here to remind you just how worthless you really are.” He kicks out lazily, making contact with a burn on their shin eliciting a gasp of pain. “Eventually you'll realize how stupid you were to think anyone could care about something like you. You'll remember what it feels like to be nothing." He spits the last words, watching them flinch as he articulates the very thoughts the traitor whispers in their head. “Maybe you never really forgot…” he trails off, watching them. Fresh tears well in their eyes. They want to disappear.

They can't take it anymore

"I give you three days." He stands, casually flicking the knife closed and glances at his watch. "Damn. Wasted all our time chatting again! Lucky you." He winks, dragging the stool carefully out of reach. "Don't miss me too much.'' He gives a little wave and strides from the cell.

Masterpost | Next

[dewdrop-writes]

Blood of Ambition - Chapter 3: Where Paths Cross Once More

Dio Brando x Reader (Reader is implied to be female)

<<First || <<Previous || Next>>

Days passed with few notable events since your chance encounter with Dio, yet your mind remained restless. Dio had changed considerably. Naturally, he’d grown over the years spent apart—that much was to be expected. His air of superiority, though unsettling, wasn’t entirely surprising either. He had always been ambitious, and given the life of luxury he now led, it made sense that he would carry himself with even greater pride.

Yet something about him felt… off. It could have easily been your mind playing tricks on you after all this time apart. Still, in brief moments, you caught glimpses of the boy you once held dear, small slivers of his old self peeking through.

With a frustrated sigh, you wiped your hands on your apron. It had been so long since you’d thought of him in this way, yet here you were, cursed once more by his absence. By mere accident, he had dipped his toes back into the depths of your mind, only to withdraw, more likely than not, never to return.

You banished thoughts of him to the depths of your mind once more as you prepared for another busy day. Rising before dawn, you had already been baking and cleaning for hours before the shop would open. At first, the routine had been a challenge to adjust to, but now you found comfort in the rhythm. The brisk pace of your days kept you engaged, and at night, you usually drifted off the moment your head touched the pillow.

“(Name)!”

Startled, you turned to see Mrs. Haverford poking her head into the kitchen. Recognizing your employer’s wife, you relaxed and offered a sheepish smile.

“Yes?” you asked, facing her fully.

In her hand was an envelope, and even from where you stood, you couldn’t help but notice the elegant, flowing cursive gracing its surface.

“There’s a letter for you, dear,” she said warmly, her eyes crinkling into a kind smile.

You were taken aback. No one had ever sent you a letter before. Anyone who wished to reach you could usually take the time to find you with ease. Blinking away your bewilderment, you stepped forward and accepted the envelope, brows knitted together in confusion. 

The envelope was heavy, made of sturdy, cream toned parchment. Despite never having received a letter of your own, you knew this was no ordinary one. The sender had even sealed it with brilliant red wax. Running your fingers along the edges of the object, you could make out details that had been embossed into it.

This envelope was nothing ordinary. Had it been addressed to the wrong person?

Your suspicions faded as soon as you flipped it over to check the sender’s name.

It was addressed to you, without a doubt.

From Dio Brando.

You nearly dropped the envelope in shock, only just managing to catch it before it could fall to the flour-covered floor.

Dio had sent you a letter?

You couldn’t help but wonder if you were dreaming.

Palms sweaty, you cautiously opened the envelope, curiosity thrumming through your veins. The writing on the letter matched the elegance of the envelope, each stroke as refined as it was intricate. It was a level of formality and flair you weren’t accustomed to, and you found yourself squinting slightly, trying to decipher the words woven through the dizzying, graceful script.

Dear (Name),

I am writing to amend the brevity of our last encounter. It seems we were not afforded the chance to catch up as fully as I would have liked. As I shall still be in London for the next few days, I would welcome the opportunity to speak with you again before my return.

Please meet me at the address provided below, promptly at 7 p.m. this evening. You needn’t trouble yourself with a response; I will be waiting.

With warm regards,

Dio Brando

Your brows furrowed as you absorbed each meticulously crafted sentence, unsure what to make of it. Part of you bristled at the arrogance seeping through Dio’s words.

“You needn’t trouble yourself with a response; I will be waiting?”

You scrunched your nose. Quite presumptuous of him to assume you’d agree to meet. Still, there was no denying a part of you wanted to. You chewed your lip, deliberating.

The address listed was nothing grand—just a modest pub a short walk away. You were surprised he’d pick such an unassuming place, given the luxury he clearly embraced now. But after another moment, it began to make sense.

Of course he’d arrange to meet you somewhere simple, far from the haunts of nobility. He wouldn’t want anyone seeing him with you, after all.

You took a shaky breath, trying to banish the thought. Dio had changed, but was it fair to make such assumptions about him? Your encounter with him had been brief, yet there had been unmistakable glimpses of the boy you once knew peeking through this new, polished persona.

Perhaps, in that sense, Dio had been right to assume you would accept. Curiosity had always been a part of you, after all, and for all you knew, this might very well be the last time your paths would cross.

The crisp evening air caressed your cheeks gently as you made your way towards your destination. You’d done your best to tidy up, discarding your apron and kerchief, and dusting off as much flour from your woollen dress as possible. Before leaving, you’d thrown on a shawl for warmth, hoping to keep the chill at bay.

Your eyes drifted across the facade of the pub nervously. You could feel your heart stammering against your ribcage violently, threatening to break free from its confines. You chided yourself for the hesitance. Despite everything, you were only meeting an old friend.

With a shaky breath, you stepped inside, feeling your body relax as the warmth of the pub greeted you. The cosy interior was thick with mingling scents of food and drink. You scanned the room, almost ready to resign yourself to the idea that he’d played a prank, when you spotted him at last.

He was no longer donning the extravagant clothing you had last seen him in. This time, he had picked out something much more simple. He would have easily blended in with the crowd surrounding him were it not for his striking features. Your gaze was met by his and his lips curved into a subtle smile. Gathering your nerves and swallowing your apprehensions, you approached him. 

The noise and scents that had briefly overwhelmed you blended into a quiet simmer in the background as you sat down at the table Dio had seated himself at. He’d picked out a more secluded area, nestled away in the corner furthest from prying eyes. It did little to ease your suspicions regarding your meeting.

“Good evening,” Dio spoke smoothly, his guarded smile never wavering. You returned it with a slight nod and a tight-lipped smile of your own.

“Evening, Dio.”

“Are you hungry? Order whatever you like—I’ll cover it,” he offered, his tone cool and detached, yet there was something almost childlike in the gesture. Was he trying to flaunt his wealth?

You bit back a retort, holding onto the faint comfort of familiarity in this strange, newfound distance between you both.

You were seated in tense silence as you hesitantly picked at your food. Dio had not said much since ordering your meals and you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to do so yourself. You could sense this was weighing down on Dio as well, picking up on the subtle shifts in his expressions.

“(Name),” he finally broke the suffocating silence, his voice losing some of the coldness it had held. Your gaze snapped up to meet his expectantly.

He seemed to be carefully weighing his words before he spoke again, his voice hushed. For a brief moment, you saw flickers of a temperamental child with whom you had shared your happiest memories.

Finally, he spoke, the crease between his brows deepening.

“Life’s been somewhat dull without your company.”

You fell silent, your undoubtedly wide eyes staring straight into his. Something simmered underneath the surface that you couldn’t quite discern. You forced yourself to look away, resisting the pull of his gaze.

“Somewhat dull…,” you finally replied with a hint of wistfulness in your tone as your fingers traced idle patterns into the top of the table. A tightness rose in your chest. His words should have lifted your spirits, yet here you were, reading into them far too deeply.

Somewhat.

Had Dio always spoken this way? Or were your memories of him tinted by a rosy hue?

You managed a strained smile.

“I suppose I could say the same, although now that I work at the bakery, I don’t mind the repetitive days so much.”

Something in Dio’s smile tightened, his eye twitching just slightly at your words.

“So…Mr. Joestar treats you well?” you asked, taking another bite and hoping to lighten the atmosphere by steering the conversation elsewhere.

He nodded, and just like that, a more relaxed expression settled on his features once more. “Better than my father ever did,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. His gaze shifted back to you, quietly assessing. You could still recall how he’d sometimes pause to observe people, studying every detail as if searching for hidden meaning. You never understood his fascination, though you’d always enjoyed hearing his theories on perfect strangers.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you, Dio.”

He tensed at your words again, though you couldn’t fathom why. You cleared your throat, breaking the tension.

“And his son? Jonathan, I think his name was? Do you two get along?”

His lips curled into a smirk for a fleeting moment, his expression darkening. “We didn’t always. But I’d like to consider us friends these days.” His tone carried an air of mystery, as if hiding something unsaid. As well as you had once been able to read him, you doubted you could still do it now.

You hummed noncommittally in response, unsure what to make of his response yet again.

“Are you content working for the baker?” he asked, gaze nailed on you.It was the first question he had posed all evening. You responded with a polite smile.

“Yes. He and his wife treat me well. It certainly beats stealing for a living,” you sighed, reminiscing on times you and Dio had done just that. “My wages are modest, but I have my own room, and I never go hungry.”

He fell silent once more, his eyes roving across your face curiously. It almost seemed as though he was looking for something—something that might contradict your words. Did he doubt your sincerity?

“What about friends? Do you have any?”

That stung a little. 

You worked to keep your face neutral. “I don’t have much time for friends. I suppose I have a few regulars I could call that, though.”

Dio’s demeanour shifted. “Charles,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes.

You smiled, raising your brows in mild surprise. “Yes, he’s one of them. You have a good memory, Dio.”

“You knew that already, (Name).” His response drew a lighthearted chuckle from you.

“Do you have any plans for your future?” he questioned, his gaze locked on you, mesmerising, unsettling. He almost reminded you of a hunter stalking prey. There was something off about him.

You considered his words briefly. Did you?

“I’m quite happy where I am. There’s not much else out there for me. With any luck, I can keep working for Mr. Haverford as long as he’ll have me.”

“Hm.” Dio sounded unimpressed.

“What about you? I assume you have something much grander planned for yourself?” your words were coloured with a tinge of sharpness. If Dio noticed it, he concealed it well.

“I’ll be studying law soon. Both Jonathan and I are set to attend Hugh Hudson Academy.”

You smirked. “I suppose I could see you as a lawyer. You are rather conniving.” That earned an amused eye roll from Dio. “Will Jonathan be following in your footsteps?”

There it was again—a twitch of his hand, a crack in his composure.

“No. He plans to study archeology. I suppose he has no need for a real occupation, so he’s free to study something so…frivolous.” The bitterness in his tone was barely concealed, seeping through his words.

You lowered your eyes, focusing on your cooling meal. The distance between you and your old friend seemed greater than ever. You couldn’t put a name to the feeling that overwhelmed your senses. 

Was it longing? Bitterness? You couldn’t make sense of it.

To your surprise, Dio offered to walk you home once you had finished your meals. Seeing no reason to protest, you had agreed. The walk was mostly silent, with only a few strained words exchanged between you.

“(Name),” he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush against yours as you reached the bakery. Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He withdrew his hand quickly.

“I will write. When I get back home, that is,” he said, his voice bold but his expression stony. You raised an eyebrow.

“I trust you will respond?”

You chuckled dryly. “You want to keep in touch with me?”

His brows furrowed ever so slightly. “I believe that was what I implied, yes.” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Very well, then. I will respond.”

He offered the barest hint of a smile, and, for a moment, you could see the friend you once knew. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Goodnight, Dio,” you spoke softly, fishing out your key and heading for the door. You could feel his intense gaze on you as you fit the key into the lock. With a final glance over your shoulder, he gave a short wave and turned to walk away.

That sure was something.

As you clad yourself in your nightwear, your mind buzzed with the night’s events. You had him, but now that you had encountered him once more, you were feeling wary. Things between you felt strained, the warmth between you had cooled over the years. Still, the boy you had held dear was there, just, different. 

And he had insisted on writing.

The frostiness surrounding him was unsettling, but the lonely child within you was eager to push that feeling aside. 

Maybe it would be worth it. 

Even with the undeniable differences in your standings, you found yourself longing to rekindle your bond. A part of you, the younger self that still wanted to understand him, stirred hopefully.

As you tucked yourself into bed, your thoughts raced until, eventually, you drifted into a restless sleep.

[milkgemini]

Down The Hall II

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT! minors DNI. 18+ only. marijuana use, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), anal play (m&f receiving), slight spit play. A/N: i write so much better after i smoke. enjoy. shout out to Whitney for inspiring this ily

You loved Sundays. 

Especially ones in the spring. Where the sun was shining powerfully by the time you had stumbled out of bed. Bonus points if there were no clouds in the sky. 

This particular Sunday, you had your blackout curtains pulled shut. Only a sliver of light peeking through. 

The seasons were changing. Each day became warmer. Summer was so close you could almost smell it. 

Your schedule for the day was perfect: to do absolutely nothing. 

You pulled the covers from yourself, the brisk air hitting your bare skin immediately. Your bedtime attire consisted of a washed out t-shirt you purchased at the beach last summer, about 3 sizes too big for you. The shirt fell to the middle of your thigh. For bottoms, your favorite pair of sleep shorts from Walmart. You know, the white pair with red kisses all over them. 

You sat up, placing your bare feet on the vinyl wood floors. Last night you decided to treat yourself to some self care. An “everything shower” you’d like to call it. You ran your hands down your freshly shaved, soft legs. 

Sliding on your fuzzy bunny slippers, you trudged over to the small mirror hanging on your wall. You checked your appearance, rubbing the sleep from your eye and smoothing down the hair on the crown of your head. 

In the background, you heard the soft rumble of voices coming from outside. The balcony doors in your living room provided beautiful lighting to cascade against your living room. Perfect for days like this when the sun shone through just right. 

Curious to who your roommate had over, you peaked your head out the door. The voices were muffled, and the living room was vacant. 

They must be outside. You thought to yourself. 

As you walked closer to the sliding doors at the end of the room, the voices became nearer. Their bodies still not in view. 

You wrapped your fingers around the handle of the heavy white door and gave it a good pull. The heat of the day hit your legs first, followed by the intense scent of weed traveling through your nostrils. 

Josh had sat on the lawn chair. He wore a t-shirt from the local brewery, cuffed at the sleeves. Paired with gray sweat shorts. It was just warm enough for him to bust out the birks. He had a straggly red braid tied around his ankle with string. 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Jake spoke, his voice gravelly from the smoke. 

Jake’s back rested against the opposite side of the balcony. His legs were crossed at the ankle. He wore a pair of black jeans that had natural tears in them. On top, he had on a light washed denim shirt, frayed at the bottom from his DIY crop. No matter the temperature, the faded boots were always paired with his outfit. 

You grinned to yourself, leaning on the balcony. You peered over the edge, looking side to side down the ends of the street, taking in the morning rays. 

As you stood on your tippy toes to look over the railing, your shirt and sleep shorts lifted, the cuff of your cheeks peeking out the bottom. 

Josh’s eyes flicked to your tan skin the moment he saw the fabric rise. 

“Meow.” He turned to his twin to see if he noticed it too. They chuckled to each other under their breath. 

You spun against the railing, leaning your back to it. 

“What’s on the agenda today boys?” You glanced back and forth to them, Jake taking a hit from the joint first. 

“I could think of a few things I’d like to do with you.” He exhaled the smoke and passed the joint across the table to Josh. 

He accepted, and snickered at his brother’s innuendo. 

“Oh yeah?” You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Good thing I’m free today.” You reached over the table, plucking the joint from between Josh’s fingers and bringing it to your lips. He watched you as he exhaled his own smoke up into the air. 

The heels of Jake’s boots clicked against the concrete of the balcony floor. He sauntered towards you, stopping at your side, curling his finger under the hem of your t-shirt. He lifted the shirt slowly to peek at the skin of your hip bone. A tan line stretching across the bone from your bathing suit bottoms. 

“I can imagine you’d clear your schedule for us anyway.” The pad of his pointer finger ran against the skin above the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

His nose nuzzled into your hair, inhaling the smell of the shampoo from last night. Fresh green apples. His favorite. 

“What do you say, Josh?” Jake used the knuckle of his index finger to angle your head up to him. “You want a taste?” He called over to his brother, but his eyes were trained on yours. 

Josh was not as outgoing in this department, compared to his twin. He lifted himself from the chair, joining you against the railing. He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he placed a quick soft kiss on your cheek. His eyes were warm. They looked like they were filled with love. His grin was tight against his face, but sincere. 

Jake took his last inhale from the joint before squeezing your cheeks together to form an “O” shape with your mouth. He formed a tight circle with his lips, exhaling the smoke into your mouth. You sucked in a breath, inhaling the smoke and letting it burn in your throat. From the other side, Josh chuckled to himself, the high starting to creep up on him. 

Jake stubbed out the last of the joint in the ashtray on the table, looking over his shoulder to you. 

“Coming?” He called for you. 

You answered by following him through the sliding door, extending your hand out behind you for Josh to grab onto you. His palms were soft and had a sheen of moisture to them, never feeling dry. The skin of his palms anywhere on your body was your favorite feeling. 

In front, Jake ran a hand through his hair, leading the way down the hallway to your bedroom. 

You and Josh giggled behind him as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his palms splaying across your stomach as you tried to walk with him clinging to you. 

Jake kicked your door open with the toe of his boot. You and Josh waddled together as he pecked kisses to your cheeks, his arms tangled around your waist. 

“Let me see her.” Jake spoke. 

Half of your room was dark, the light pouring in from the living room. He stood before you, his hands grabbing either side of your face. His thumbs swept across your cheek bones. He gripped your face, bringing it up to his direction. Jake scanned every inch of your face. You watched his eyes as they traced over your features. The pad of his thumb ran over your cupid's bow. His line of vision now locked on your lips. 

“So beautiful, you know that?” Before you could respond, Jake attached his lips to yours. The kiss was slow. He was in no rush. He wanted to feel every second of your skin pressed to his. 

You felt as if time had slowed down. Your brain was foggy and the world had stopped as Jake opened his mouth into the kiss. You felt his wet tongue lap over your own, tasting the inside of your mouth. He sent a groan into your mouth, you felt the vibration against your tongue. 

He pulled you away from him by your cheeks. His eyes immediately find your swollen red lips. 

“Feel how soft her lips are, Josh.” He called over to his brother. 

Jake playfully tossed you to Josh’s direction. His big palms wrapped around your biceps, he lightly squeezed the muscle as he took in your eyes. You made sure to put on your most innocent face as you looked up to him. The one corner of his mouth began to curve up, his top row of teeth peeking out from under his upper lip. 

His four fingers rested tangled in your hair behind your ear, while his thumb ran against your jaw. He brought your face to him before he pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was more needy than Jake’s. His lips, eager to feel your tongue slide against his. The room filled with panting breaths from you and Josh, as the kiss turned sloppy with desperation. 

You took in the warmth of Jake’s body as he pressed into your back. They surrounded you from every angle. The tip of his nose brushed alongside the shell of your ear. You felt his fingertips snake up into your hair from the nape of your neck. He traveled up to the crown of your head and tugged your hair, causing your head to tilt back. Exposing your neck, Josh left open mouth kisses against your skin. 

You whined in pleasure at the harsh pulls from Jake in your hair. 

With gritted teeth, Jake growled into your ear, “Hear that, Josh? She likes when it hurts.” You tucked your lips between your teeth, trying to bite back your high pitched moans. 

Taking you off guard completely, Josh slaps a palm against the outside of your thigh, the skin tingling where his hand once was. 

They were both the perfect balance of gentle and rough. Sweet and sour. 

The back of your head laid against Jake's chest, his fingers remained tangled in your hair. 

With his free hand, he trailed down your chest, slowly running his fingers over your hardened nipples, hidden by your shirt. He reached the waistband of your shorts, where he slipped his fingers behind. He slid his hand down, running the pad of his fingertips over the soft skin of your lower lips. You arched your back, you ass pressing into his crotch, begging for his touch with your actions. 

Josh’s hands found your face, bringing your mouth to his once more. You moaned into his mouth as his brother spread your lower lips apart with his index and ring finger. Jake used his middle finger to swirl around your sensitive clit. He played with it slowly, feeling the swollen bud move from side to side. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut as your jaw fell open. Josh mirrored your actions, groaning right back to you. 

As Jake rubbed between your lips, you stroked Josh’s hardened length over his shorts. You wrapped your fingers around him and lightly tugged over the gray material. He pushed himself into you, begging for your touch. 

“Touch him.” Jake whispered into your ear, referring to his brother's hard cock resting in the palm of your hand. 

You slipped your hand underneath the waistband of Josh’s shorts. You clenched around nothing at finding out Josh wasn’t wearing anything underneath. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, slowly pumping around him. He tilted his head back, his lips slightly parted as he huffed choked breaths through them. 

Your thumb swiped over his tip, gathering the pre-cum that had leaked out and swirled it around the sensitive skin. 

Josh whimpered at the feeling. His brother trailed two fingers down your wet skin, circling your entrance before pushing his fingers inside of you. A guttural moan bubbled from your throat at the slight stretch. Jake pumped his fingers into you faster, your arousal beginning to leak around his fingers as you tugged at Josh’s cock with more force. Josh sucked a sharp breath through gritted teeth, fucking into your fist. 

Jake's fingers curved into your walls, flexing them inside of you. You couldn’t contain the sobs from the way his fingers were making you feel. He continued these motions until you felt your cum trickle down the side of your leg. 

“There it is. Keep going baby. Make a mess on the floor.” He growled into your ear. 

He wiggled them faster inside of you, every so often tearing them from you to rub into your clit. 

Your hand around Josh’s cock stilled. You squeezed his length in reaction to Jake playing with you under your shorts. 

Your knees began to wobble, your orgasm taking over you fully. You felt the rush over warmth flow through your body, under your skin. Josh intently watched your face contort in pleasure as Jake held you upright around your waist. 

He swirled his fingers around your sensitive bud, slower each time bringing you back to him. 

The 3 of you panted in unison. The air in the room began to feel hot and sticky. 

Jake patted his hand on the bed in front of you. 

“On your knees for us.” He instructed and you followed. 

In the middle of the bed, you arched yourself for them. Your ass in the air and your head resting on your folded arms in front of you. 

Josh slid himself underneath you. Your arms slotted next to his head as you leaned down to slide your lips against his. 

Jake situated himself between your legs from behind. His fingers wrapped around the waist band at your lower back, before bunching the fabric in his hand and yanking the shorts over the curve of your ass. He tugged them down until they were at your knees. 

In front of you, you used one hand to untangle the knot of Josh’s shorts. Your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you looked to him for permission. 

The sound of Jake’s belt buckle rattled from behind you as his pants dropped to the floor, stepping out of them one foot at a time. You felt the bed dip from Jake’s knees pressing into the mattress between your legs. His fist wrapped around the base of his cock, he flicked the tip through your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it around. 

You whimpered softly each time he rubbed over your clit with his head. 

Josh helped you pull his shorts down over his hips. His cock bobbing in the air from being free of all confinements. He pumped himself fully, his fist rolling over the tip completely. He thrusted his hips up into his own touch. 

You wrapped your lips around the sensitive skin at the top, swirling your tongue around the curve. Slowly, you sunk your mouth down onto him as Jake pushed himself into you. Your moans vibrating around Josh’s cock. 

Jake rammed himself into you hard. You felt the burn of his girth stretching your walls. He gripped your hips for leverage. Quick grunts spilled from his lips as he pounded you from behind. 

Jake’s hard thrusts encouraged you to take more of his brother down your throat. Hesitantly, Josh placed his palm on the back of your head. He lightly pressed down against it, showing you he wanted you to go deeper. 

From behind his toes curled as he felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You came back up his length, sucking tightly until you reached the top, where you met his eyes while you flicked your tongue through his slit. 

 He threw his head back in pleasure as his eyes shut tight. 

Jake placed a flat palm on each of your cheeks, spreading you for him. A trail of saliva fell from Jake’s tongue, landing directly on your other hole. With his thumb, he swirled the spit around your rim before pushing the finger inside of your ass. 

The sudden sting of pleasure caused you to squeal around Josh’s cock. You left open mouth kisses down the side of his length until you reached his balls. You ran a flat tongue over them as you flicked your eyes up to meet his gaze. His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration, watching as you crept further down with your tongue to a place no one had pleasured him before. 

You spread his thighs farther apart as he scooched himself down the mattress. With his heels digging into the bed, he spread himself for you, welcoming your tongue lower. Jake pressed his thumb deeper into you as he watched you explore Josh farther. 

Josh’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as the tip of your tongue rolled over his hole. You flattened your tongue, sliding it against him as he pressed into the back of your head with his hand. He arched into your touch as you swiped kitten licks against him. 

“I’m gonna-“ Josh panted out, unable to finish his sentence. 

Jake yanked your hair, jerking your body upright, pressed into his chest. 

“Where did you learn something so filthy?” He grumbled in your ear as his cock slid in and out of you slowly. 

With your arms no longer at his sides, Josh slid off the side of the bed, his cock bobbing up and down as he walked himself behind his twin. 

“My turn, yeah?” He playfully slapped a hand against Jake’s shoulder. 

Jake walked over to the side of the bed, stripping himself of his shirt. He stood next to you, stroking himself, watching you watch him. 

“Turn around for me, pretty. Wanna be looking at you when I cum.” Josh called to you and you followed, flipping yourself onto your back. You laid your back against the bed, propping yourself onto your elbows and spreading your thighs for Josh to slot himself between. 

With your elbows pressed into the mattress, you wrapped your fingers around Jake’s length, tugging at the skin. He inched closer to the bed. The tip of his cock bobbing in front of your face. You opened your mouth for him. Sticking your tongue out, he slapped the underneath of his cock against your flat tongue. 

Jake slid his length into your mouth and you tasted yourself on his skin. 

From below, Josh pressed his length between your folds, sliding himself through your wetness. You felt the curves of his cock run over your clit. Your hips twitched at the sensation, moaning around Jake’s cock. He pressed his hand to the back of your head, pushing you further down onto him. 

You felt the tip of Josh’s cock push into your entrance. He pressed himself into you, stretching your walls in a different way from Jake. He fucked you slow, feeling your slick wrap around his shaft. Josh was more vocal with you, letting out drawn moans. 

His thumb flicked over your clit as he thrust himself into you. He felt your walls quiver around his length. Your second orgasm bubbling to the surface. 

What you couldn’t reach with your mouth, you used your hands to rub up and down Jake’s cock. Swirling your tongue around the tip each time you pull your mouth back. 

With each thrust, Josh swirled another circle into your clit. Gradually picking up the pace until he heard your high pitched whimper carry out. He found that sweet spot for you. The hot pleasure began to form under your skin. Your legs went  numb as your hole quivered around Josh, sucking him back in. 

Jake pressed both palms flat into the back of your head while he thrusted his length against your tongue to the back of your mouth. 

You loosened your throat, inviting him down further. 

His cock twitched in your mouth as he felt his tip brush past your uvula. Jake was losing his grip. Before he could even warn you, his cock began to pump his cum into your mouth, shooting to the back of your throat. He lazily thrusted himself between your lips a few more times before slipping away from you with a pop of your lips. 

Josh snuck his hand up under the hem of your shirt, plucking at your hardened nipples as he fucked into you. 

Jake knelt to the side of the bed and smoothed your hair down. He leaned to you, placing a soft kiss to your lips. He tasted the saltiness of his cum against your tongue and sent a moan down into your throat. 

You felt as Josh’s cock twitched inside of you, signaling he was close. 

You detached your lips from Jake to find Josh’s eyes. You opened them wide for him, tilting your head down to look up at him through your lashes. 

“Fill me up. Please, Josh.” You begged for him. 

Those 5 words, coming from your plush lips, were enough to push Josh over in ecstasy. 

He pumped his warmth into you, coating your walls. He fucked you through it, pushing his cum further up inside of you. You whined as you felt how slick your walls were, your cum mixed with his. 

He slid in and out, slower and slower, until he pulled from you for the last time. 

You whimpered at the loss of him. 

With your legs still spread apart, Josh placed his palms against your knees, pressing them into the bed. He leant down until he reached your wet core, placing a soft kiss to your sensitive bud. 

Jake ran a hand over your hair once more, before stepping away to allow his brother in. 

Josh picked your head up from the bed, straightening your posture. He pressed his lips against yours, breathing deeply through his nose against your cheek. You felt the pure passion behind his kiss, tangling his fingers into the hair behind your ear.  

He pulled from you to gaze into your eyes, getting lost in them for a few more moments than usual. 

Jake clapped his hands together loudly, breaking you and Josh from the trance you were both in. 

“Change of plans!” Jake explained across the room.

The two of you turned your heads into the longer haired twin’s direction. Confusion written all over both of your faces. 

“It’s the Lord’s day,” he chuckled, “and we just committed about 10 sins that need to be confessed.” 

Taglist: @gretasimp @writingcold @wowkakashi  @spark-my-nature @gretavanbear

[kaylarenee98]

A Land of My Own by Kayla Renee

I long to be somewhere terrifically tranquil

where it is misty on the mountains as the crimson birds fly by

All is untouched and natural

A sliver of gold in the sky

I tremor at twilight- Such beauty!

The soft pale moon speaks stories

In this land I find myself free of duty

There are none here striving for glory

In ancient caves with crystalline waters

I watch the life below its depths dance dreamily

Of this world- I am its daughter

Of all its magic and inconceivability

Honey colored trees- delicate and aged

rustle sweetly in the brisk breeze

No longer crazed- No longer caged

Here I've escaped my destiny

[jmagnabo92]

First Prince Week 2024 - Day 2 - New Year's Gold

@thebrownstone

Prompt - Silver/Gold

***

“Do you think I could win a gold medal in dick sucking?”

Henry nearly chokes on his drink that he’s holding in his free hand (tea to warm him up) while he’s holding hands with Alex on their walk.

or

A conversation about dick sucking leads to the happiest New Years, yet.

AO3

***

“Do you think I could win a gold medal in dick sucking?”

Henry nearly chokes on his drink that he’s holding in his free hand (tea to warm him up) while he’s holding hands with Alex on their walk. 

Despite being with Alex for five years, the man still manages to surprise him with the way his brain works.  They been out on perfectly normal date, and walking home in the brisk winter air, chatting about Alex’s desire to stay home rather than go out and party tonight (they had completely forgone the White House Trio’s New Year’s Eve party the same year that they’d been forced out because Alex hadn’t wanted any more attention and it stuck for Ellen’s second term).  Still, they’d been invited to Pez’s party (he’s promised that he would take on the attention just to have his best mate and Alex there), but they hadn’t decided if they were attending as of dinner tonight.

“How… how did that thought arrive from our discussion on if we’re going to the party tonight or not?”

Alex hums.  “Well, I was thinking… you’ve had a lot of men suck your dick, and I was just wondering if I’ve gone from adequate to gold medalist?”

He’s still uncertain about how that thought had come up in his head from discussion about a party in which none of the men Henry’s shagged would be invited, but he does note that his teasing about being adequate the first time he’d even blown someone is clearly on his mind.

“Alex, dear, I may have had many a man suck my dick, but none of them could ever compare to you,” he says, sincerely as they reach their front door and he pulls out their keys.

“See now, you had a chance to say something like ‘of course you’re a gold medalist, sweetheart’, and then, I would say that I’d rather be sliver because then I’d match your ring and then –”

“Ring?” Henry asks, suddenly turning back to Alex so see him down on one knee.  There’s a ring box open in his gloved hands with a gorgeous silver ring inside… clearly an engagement ring. 

“I’ve been trying to ask you all night, but I couldn’t think of the best way to do it –”

“– so you thought bringing up your dick sucking abilities would be an excellent lead-in?”

“I mean – yeah.  I’ll be sucking your dick forever if you say yes, baby.”

Henry chuckles, barely keeping himself from nodding yes, and manages, “You haven’t asked yet.”

Alex grins.  “Henry, baby, you changed my life for the better five years ago with a magical kiss in the snow on New Year’s Ever, well, technically five minutes into New Year’s Day, I love you so much and I wanna change your life for the better, too.  So will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Absolutely, yes!”

Henry lets his thermos fall to the ground as he pulls Alex to his feet and kisses him passionately. 

A magical kiss in the snow on New Year’s Eve is definitely everything he needed tonight. 

He pulls back slightly as Alex pulls off his glove to place the ring on his finger.  It looks perfect. 

Henry smiles and pulls a box out of his coat.  “I, too, have been plotting to propose, but you just had to go and beat me.”

“Of course, baby,” Alex says, grinning. 

“So, not to be outdone…”  Henry kneels on the stoop of their home, the home that he never believed that he would ever get to have with the man of his dreams and opens the box.  “… Alex, while I do happen to think you have gold-medalist dick sucking abilities that I would enjoy for the rest of my life, I love you for so many other reasons, including that you have given me the courage to be out and proud and do something with my life that I could be proud of and happy with, rather than something I would look back on and regret.  You’ve been a light in my life that I never knew I needed, and I would definitely want nothing more for you to make me the happiest man alive by marrying me.  Will you marry me, love?”

“Yes.  Yes, absolutely, yes,” Alex says, excitedly.  Repeating Henry’s actions of pulling Henry to his feet and kissing him passionately. 

This kiss takes a little bit longer break apart and they’re panting a little. 

Henry pulls off Alex’s left glove and slips the ring onto his finger.  He’s lucky he chose silver as well since their rings actually match. 

“Perfect, right where it belongs.”

They both smile down at their rings for a second before the wind picks up around them.

“Well, love, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to go inside and celebrate with my gold-medal in dick sucking fiancé and skip the party tonight, just celebrate me and you.”

Alex is grinning.  “Absolutely, agree.”

***

It’s hours later when the clock strikes midnight.  Henry and Alex are all cuddled up in bed, legs tangled together, admiring each other and their rings.  Kissing lazily when admiring isn’t enough, and if he’s honest, Henry can’t believe that he’s going into 2024 with a male fiancé and someone he actually loves rather than some woman that his Gran wanted… but here he is, happy and in love with the man of his dreams. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” Henry hums against his lips.

“Love you, too, baby, now and forever.  Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”