#FUCK IT let's flood the dash ONCE MORE

[vellichorom]

I ALSO DID AN ART TRADE WITH THE FANTASTIC @purpleskelet0n !!! fuck it UP elvis

T'WAS AN ABSOLUTE PLEASURE TO TRADE WITH YOU EDDIE !!! THANK YOU SO MUCH! i'm so sorry i was such a slow pain in the ass on my end UHEUE

[miupow]

투모로우바이투게더 一 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐌。

★ pairing。txt x fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , pwp ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。dom!txt , unprotected sex , creampie mentions , men whimpering and moaning 🙏 , praise kink , dirty talk , pet names/name calling (bitch is used in bg’s sorry) , breeding kink if you squint | to library。

notes from lia。inspired by a skz post i saw on my dash teehee >_< a little drabble thingie to help me get back into the swing of writing ! hope you enjoy~ <3

수빈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

while soobin is a yapper outside of bed, he’s relatively quiet in it— that being said, that doesn’t mean he isn’t noisy. cute little whines and whimpers spilling out from between his plush bunny lips, staccato moans that grow higher and higher in pitch the closer he gets to his orgasm. but god he’s anything but quiet when his climax overtakes him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moans so deep and broken, a complete 180 from his falsetto hiccups from before >< he pants like a dog as he rides through it, hips stuttering and twitching like he can’t bare the thought of staying still. his big cock spills so much cum everywhere, thick and sticky, makes a complete mess wherever it lands (in your holes, on your face, on your tits, on his own hand and belly, etc..) immediately floods you with praise once he remembers how to speak again, he’s so sweet <3

“o-oh, fuck, bunny, i’m cumming—! t-take it all, that’s it, that’s a good girl…”

연준 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍

the prettiest porn star moans you’ll ever hear, pouty lips open in a perfect “o” <3 he gets so stupid on pussy he can’t even think straight, babbling complete nonsense cos he can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life !! his moans get so whiny and pathetic the closer he gets to his climax, his whimpers sounding almost like he’s crying as he’s chasing his orgasm <3 lets out one long, loud, shrill pretty whine when he cums, high pitched and needy, trailing off into broken little sobs as his hips keep thrusting like he’s trying to milk himself dry, he just can’t stop!! his face gets so pink when he cums too it’s so cute :( buries his face in ur neck to hide his embarrassment as he comes down from his high hehe huffing like he just ran a marathon

“oh god, baby, i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, i c-can’t— w-where do you want it? i-inside?! oh, fuuck…”

범규 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

throws his head back and lets out a moan so deep and broken it almost counts as a howl, so animalistic as his body shakes with his release. his pretty adam’s apple bobbing up and down his veiny neck, sucking on it will only make him cum harder <3 gets so loud you’re always worried he’ll wake up the neighbors, but if anything that’s what beomgyu wants— he loves letting everyone know how good you make him feel, how hard you make him cum with your pretty body beneath or on top of him ! won’t stop yapping even when he’s in the middle of the throws of his orgasm, stuttering out in his gravely low voice broken, nearly nonsensical dirty talk as he struggles to gain control back over his body <3 mixing up praise and degradation and everything in between, he’s just so cute you can’t help but giggle

“fuck, fuck, fuck! ‘m gonna cum, don’t fucking stop, shit—! fuck yes, take it, take this cum, that’s my girl, that’s my bitch!”

태현 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

loses all composure once his climax starts creeping up on him, suddenly all he can think about is how badly he needs to cum!! he’s always so focused on your pleasure over his own, but once his orgasm is close he becomes nothing more than an animal !! huffing and puffing like he’s in the middle of a serious workout, so poised and focused even when his head is all empty except for pussy teehee <3 he’s always on the quieter side in bed but he gets pretty loud when he cums, crying out all high and whiny as he spills hot thick cum everywhere, preferably in your pussy, he hates letting his seed go to waste ! <3 sucking his dick is the best way to get him to get really noisy , he loses his mind with his cock in a tight wet throat <3 always grits his teeth and bares them like a predator, sharp canines on display with his pretty face all screwed up ..

“i-i— oh, fuck, fuck! i’m gonna cum if you keep doing that!”

휴닝카이 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈

kai gets so lost in pleasure sometimes, he just can’t help but turn into a wild animal… and it’s even worse the closer he gets to his orgasm, the tightening knot in his belly all he can think about, focus on.. practically starts using you like nothing more than a pocket pussy , big hands grabbing tightly ahold of you and moving you against him however he wants, just lay still and take it!! <3 cums so hard he cries sometimes, pretty broken moans sounding like angel choruses, rendered completely unable to speak the closer and closer he gets! just grunting and moaning, slack jawed and cross eyed, pussy drunk and fucked stupid… his cry of relief gets so loud that sometimes he has to bite down on either a pillow or your flesh, just to keep from waking everyone up !! whiny, high pitched, almost a sob.. he sounds so completely broken when he cums, fat dick spurting so much cum it’s insane.. leaves the whole bed wet and messy with both yours and his release by the time he’s done with you <3

“i’m gonna cum, i’m— im cumming, baby, oh my god, please don’t stop! o-oh fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming—!”

[bitchiswild]

On The Court

GP Huh Yunjin x F! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Exhibitionism, Creampie, and others things probs 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Sorry if it’s bad 💃🏼 but enjoYyY

╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗

"Got the hang of it now?" Yunjin inquired, leaning against the fence surrounding her private tennis court. She had just finished an extensive session. As the girlfriend of a well-respected champion, she was teaching you what you needed to know when it comes to tennis.

"Yeah, I think I've got it. Let's try a game, shall we?" I replied, eager to challenge my skills and elevate them to the next level. I got into position, ready for the ball to come right at me.

"Love!" Yunjin's voice echoed across the court, a playful twinkle in her eye as she tossed the tennis ball into the air. With graceful precision, she brought her racket down, sending the ball gliding over the net, its trajectory aimed squarely at my side of the court.

As the ball landed within my court, I ensured it bounced once before my swing. "Keep it inside the lines," I coached myself, recalling every rule and fundamentals Yunjin had taught me. Mindful to avoid the net, I prepared to strike. With precise timing and just the right force, I sent the ball soaring over the net, a blend of power and control behind my shot. It zoomed past Yunjin after a single bounce on her side, earning me 15 points.

Excitement bubbled up within me,Yes!" I yelled out in sheer glee. "Ha! In your fucking face!" My triumphant outburst echoed across the court, a mix of elation and competitive spirit driving my words.

"Pretty good, babe," Yunjin said, initially shocked, but the surprise quickly faded, replaced by a smirk.

"Game on."

As the game went back and forth, the scores kept climbing until we reached this critical moment where every point mattered. The tension thickened around Yunjin and I as the final round loomed, signaled by the ball tossed into the air. I focused hard, determined to win. I wanted to prove a point—to show Yunjin that Y/n L/n did indeed grasp tennis, despite just learning it.

I was convinced I could pull off a win. Crushing Yunjin's ego seemed like a golden opportunity, and I was totally up for grabbing it.

Surveying her position at the far-right corner of the court, I seized the chance to smash the ball towards her opposite side. The ball raced across the court at a blistering pace, catching Yunjin off guard. She dashed toward the ball on the other side, attempting to keep up, but by the time she reached it, it was too late for her to make a hit.

A surge of realization flooded my face as I witnessed the ball whiz past Yunjin. I had won the game—yes, I had actually won! My body erupted with excitement, and I couldn't contain myself. "Yes! Hell fucking yeah! In your face! Did you see that, Jen!? "I beat you!" I exclaimed in pure triumph, relishing the victorious moment.

Yunjin's faint smile revealed a hit to her usually unshakable ego. It was clear that losing had hit her hard, especially since she's usually the one who dominates in tennis. "Congrats, babe," she conceded gracefully. "That was a good game."

I rushed up to her, unable to contain my excitement about the win. "Did you see that? The ball just sailed past you! Oh my goodness, that was too good! I wish we had cameras for a slow-motion replay!"

"Alright, Y/n, we got it, you won," Yunjin said, her tone beginning to carry a hint of irritation.

I pouted teasingly at her. "Aww, is Yunny Hunny Bunny’s ego feeling a little busted because she lost to her girlfriend?"

“It is not. My ego is fine.” She huffed,trying to maintain her composure.

"Hmm, sure, whatever you say... my little loser," I teased, a playful smirk on my face.

“Can you please stop calling me a loser? I get it already” She said looking even more annoyed.

"Is Jennifer Huh mad now?" I exclaimed, feigning shock with a playful grin.

“No… I'm not now, please shut up.” She said with an embarrassed, frustrated look on her face.

You leaned up to her ear and whispered “Make me.”

Once you leaned back you stared at her face. Lust clouded her eyes instantly. Immediately she grabbed your neck and pushed you over to the fence roughly. You stared at her, knees buckling, while she looked at you up and down knowing that you will always be on your knees for her. She leaned down to your ear and whispered “Look at you, always weak for me. Always willing to be on my knees sucking my cock like the slut you are.”

You started breathing heavily as she kissed down my neck. One hand on your neck while the other slowly itches down to your skirt. You lifted your head up to make room for her. Yunjin finally reached down to your covered pussy, rubbing it slightly. Tightening her grip on your neck. You held in a moan.

“I want to hear you scream while I fuck you senseless. Let the whole neighborhood hear you, got that baby?” She husked. Too turned on to utter a word Yunjin gripped my neck harder

“I said do you get it” She said once again .

“I will,” You whimpered.

“Good”

She spun you around roughly making sure you were facing the fence, pulling your skirt down to your legs, she started rubbing herself against you, making you even more wet. “Fuck, baby” she moans. You were holding on to the fence, looking back at her dry humping you. She then pulls her own skirt down to her legs whipping her cock out. You reached behind, and stroked her cock in your hands. Her hands slide along the outside of your thighs, then in between them, sliding against your slit. Fucking you with her fingers.

“Mmm fuck Jen.” You moaned out.

She coated her fingers with your juices, sucking them clean. Her cock slid through your dripping pussy. “Please no teasing” You whined.

She chuckled, gripping your hips tightly “Anything for you baby.” She then pushed her entire length into your pussy. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight every single time” She moaned out and started to thrust hard and deeply inside you.

“Oh my fucking god” You screamed.

“Yes that's it baby, scream for me. Scream so the whole neighborhood can hear how good I fuck you. How I can reach deep inside you and fuck you so hard, so you can feel me for days.” She husked. Thrusting into you hard, making your body and the fence move with each thrust.

“You feel so good, I'm so close.” You moaned out loudly.

“No. Hold it. Don't you dare cum yet” She said, slowing down her thrust .

“Please, Jen..” You whimpered.

Her hand goes back up to your neck and slightly grips it. “Who’s pussy is this?” Her thrust is still agonizingly slow making me ache to cum. “Yours! Fuck! It's Yours!” You whined tears threatening to run down your face.

“Please let me cum!” You cry out.

Yunjin smirked “That's my girl,” Her thrust quickens once again making you moan out loudly as you get closer to the edge. Yunjin felt your walls flutter around her, she knew you were very close to the edge. Her other hand reached over to your front to rub your clit. That is all it took to send you over the edge.

“Shit Jen I'm cumming,” You screamed out.

She kept up her thrusts “ That's it baby cum for me. Cum all over my cock, soak it.”

Euphoria washes over your body as you came. Gripping tightly onto the fence so you don’t fall down. Yunjin is still thrusting into you as you came over-stimulating your whole body. “Please no more,” You told her weakly.

Coming back to my senses she now pulled out of you and spun you around, you weakly faced her after being overstimulated. She rests her forehead against mine, breathing heavily, gripping one of my thighs and lifting it.

“One more baby I know you can do one more,” she says to you.

The head of her cock enters you again then her whole length causing both of you to moan. Her thrust starts slow then slowly increases. “Fuck baby I love you” She moans out. You felt her cock twitch inside you signaling that she is cumming soon.

“I love you too, I’m almost there” You moaned.

You bounced on her cock while she thrust in you. Our moans getting louder. You clenched around her cock as you came hard, making your whole body shake with pleasure. Yunjin's thrust quickens but it gets harder to thrust since your pussy is like a vice around her cock. Her hips stilled as she cums. Her warm thick cum fills your pussy and you moan at the feeling.

Holding on to each other as your highs came down, breathing heavily. Yunjin pulled out, making you moan now feeling empty. Her cum starts leaking out of you. She reaches down to swipe it up and shoving back inside your pussy. You moan at the contact.

She leans down to my ear “Just so you know baby, I let you win” she grins pulling up her skirt and walking back to the court, she turns around and stares at you while you were still leaning against the fence, catching your breath. “Now get dressed, we are playing another game.” she smirks.

╚═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╝

[milkzoro]

3D ★

portgas d ace -> ‘i wanna see it. in motion. in 3d.’

warnings: sexting, ft call, masturbation

☆彡

ace loved the curves of you, every angle he drooled over. his perfect princess was displayed everywhere.

he had you posted anywhere he could. his wallet, lock screen, on his cars dash, naughty pictures of you were always on exhibit. you were his girl after all, why wouldn’t he want to show you off whenever he got the chance?

these little memories were also there to remind him of you while you were away, he dreaded all those times.

he couldn’t even sleep some night because of your absence,, he wished you were here.

once those feelings registered, he couldn’t help it. fuck, was he so horny. he whined at the pressure growing in his lower abdomen, tightness filling his boxers.

he toyed with himself with the imagination of you but it wasn’t nearly enough. he craved you. he needed to hear you, talk him through it.

“pick up. pick up. — *click* ahhh y/n, babyy~” his voice rang lowly on the line, his sound alone sending flutters towards your core. “hi bae i miss you ♡.”

“fuckk, i miss you too.” his voice was heavy. by the sounds of him you knew he was torturing himself, slowing tracing along his leaky tip before deciding to call you up. “can you answer facetime?”

~

“you look so beautiful mama. let me see all of ya~” a blush crept on your face before extending your arms above to show all your body in frame.

you played into it, you began to feel that same heat rise in your tummy. you angled the camera a bit lower, showing your soft breasts. caressing them tenderly as you lowered your top even more. “like what you see baby?”

“mhmmm show me your cunt, i know you’re wet baby~ can see it in your pretty face.” his words played with your mind, you thighs squeezing around nothing trying to get some friction. he was right, you were so wet.

you had your camera propped up on a pillow, perfectly positioned to show you sitting upright with your legs parted for him. your fingers danced along the hem of your lacy panties. a sigh escaped your lips, you missed him so much.

“fuck princess— you gonna touch your self for me? let me help you, wish i was there for you angel, suck your pussy jus how you like it.” his words drew on. only making you more and more impatient. “take ‘em off y/n, let me see baby.”

you did as he said and stripped them off, teasing your man with your fingers covering most of your pretty cunt.

you heard muffled sounds on the line, his phone was positioned low, showing his toned stomach and his thick neck. he was laying on his back as he played with his dick.

“p-put em in for me— needa hear you babe.”

your fingers slipped between your folds collecting the juices from your arousal, they swirled between the entrance of your hole and your sensitive nub.

“ace—“ you purred for him, pretending your fingers were his own. he groaned with you. seeing your pretty face contract at the feeling of your own fingers, it everything to him.

“when you get home baby— g-gonna treat you so good, fuck- ma- you’re so pretty-”

you couldn’t help but reach your free hand up to squeeze your breasts, the feeling heating up the entirety of your body, you missed his warmth so badly.

your cunt was so achy, you needed something. hearing aces moans and whines on the other line made you squirm. his sweet nothings made the heartbeat in your core pound harder.

“haah— such a pretty girl mama, go ahead, ride your fingers.” instantly your fingers pushed into your plush walls, breathy moans flooding your empty room. “ace— miss you s-so much ahhh~♡”

ace adored you in this state, leaning forward for him, grinding pathetically on your hand, fuckk how he wished he was there. his phone eventually fell out of his hand, lazily placed on his blanket, he was barely in frame anymore.

your dirty pleads drove him crazy, he missed your pretty lips. he wanted to suck on them as he filled your weeping hole. he choked the base of his cock and stroked his shaft. he hasn’t touched himself in days, sticky precum was spilling everywhere, he was filled with so much fucking cum.

his motions grew faster as he pleaded your name. “fuck baby needya here~”

“ace haah- fuck! baby move your camera, wanna see you cum.” the little corner of your boyfriends face wasn’t enough. the way his cock twitched after he came made your tummy do flips. he fixed the position of his camera to show you all of him, he was a panting mess. sticky and disgusting, you loved it.

you rolled against your fingers as the tips pushed against your g spot, your moans consuming you. pumping in an out stretching yourself in all the right ways. “mmm baby i’m so c-close.” your legs trembled as your orgasm sparked within your cunt. aces filthy words edging you on, “fuck baby, just like that. you can do it haah- cmon~ for me?” his chest rose and fell with each pump of his fist. as he was close to his own, he talked you through your high. “cum- cum for me princess, get your clit baby.”

following his orders, you removed your fingers and rubbed circles against your nub swiftly. “aceee mmuuhhh ah~ gonna cum baby!”

your hole tightened round nothing as the wave in your stomach flooded your core, you rubbed faster.

ace was moaning loud on the line. his cock was so so sensitive, pretty veins decorated the sides. he grabbed his phone and flipped the camera to give you a better view. his moans were loud coming through your speakers, they were so sexy. he bit his bottom lip as he choked his throbbing cock.

“fuck y/n!- gunna cum! babyyyyy haaah-ha”.

his moans send vibrations to your cunt, pulsing with each breathy pant. you quickly put your fingers back in your sopping hole, pumping quickly. hearing him call out your name had you gushing around your trembling fingers.

you saw ropes of cum spill from your boyfriend pretty dick, pooling in the crevasses of his abs.

“such a pretty girl ma~ made a mess of me.” he giggled on the line as he flipped the camera back to his freckled face. seeing his reddened cheeks made you fall in love all over again. you giggled with him.

you hurried to clean up your hands and grab your phone. “my handsome boy~ i miss you ♡.”

“i miss you too princess. i love you.”

xxx

i would like ace as a bf please.

[lucygxybaird]

follow-up to this (sorry again) where the reader lives tw: injury, blood, near death

There is panic clawing at Billy’s throat like a wild animal, trapped in his lungs and desperate to get out. Where — where — where — where — he doesn’t realize he’s muttering the word, feverishly, over and over, until he catches sight of himself in the remnants of a shattered window and sees his lips moving. He looks like a madman, smeared with blood and and soot gunpowder residue, his collar torn and flapping like the broken wing of a bird.

(When did that even happen? How?)

But he can’t bring himself to care, because he can’t find you. He tries to will himself to calm down, but it’s like trying to recall the details of a dream even as they slip away — futile, no matter how much he concentrates. He has to find you, and he has to find you soon, and more importantly than anything, he has to find you alive. There’s just no other option. 

He won’t let things play out any other way, even if he has to tear time itself apart with his bare hands and his teeth, just to go back to a moment when you’re safe. 

(Last night, for instance. When you lay there with your head on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist, one leg nestled in between his. He remembers idly playing with your hair, listening to your breathing deepen and even out as you fell asleep. He’d watched the shadows play on the floor for a while after that, thinking that if there’s one person left in this world that he can’t afford to lose, it’s you.)

You aren’t anywhere in this house, he’s sure of it. Where — where — frantically, he stumbles outside, neglecting a coat in his desperation to find you. The day is still and crystalline cold, the sun bouncing off the churned-up snow, and it’s because of this glare that he almost misses it. 

At first, he thinks some kind of small animal, crouched near the roots of a tree at the edge of the yard. He squints, trying to make sense of it, trying to figure out what it could possibly be, and then he understands. Billy starts to run, boots throwing up sprays of snow, clumps of earth, and he almost trips once, twice, and then a third time, but it doesn’t matter because he would crawl on his hands and knees to get there. 

“No,” he whispers, falling to his knees beside you, ignoring — or trying to ignore — the fact that the snow around you is rose red, the vibrant hue of his nightmares, of the sin that splashes across the images his mind dredges up when he’s vulnerable in sleep. “No, no, no, no…”

You are so fucking still, your face the same slate-grey color as the sky, your eyelashes laying like ashes against your cheeks. He pulls you into his arms, and your head lolls into the crook of his arm. “Baby, what happened?” he asks desperately, like you can answer him, and then your lips part. 

It’s beautiful, that little twitch of your mouth, and Billy pulls you closer, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. You swallow, your forehead crinkles, your lips part further. You groan, barely more than a croak, but Billy thinks he’s never heard a more angelic sound. “Baby?”

Your hand grasps at the dirty crimson snow beside you. “Billy…”

“I’m right here,” he says. “Honey, I’m right here, I’m right here, just open your eyes and look at me…please…”

You groan again. “It hurts,” you whisper. “I hurt.” 

“I know, my sweet girl, I know.” Billy watches as small, round gray stains speckle your shirt, spreading, one after the other other, and he reaches up with his free hand to angrily dash the tears away. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m right here — I got you, okay? I won’t let…I won’t let you…”

“Cold,” you whisper, and he nods, swallowing.

“Let’s get you back insi—”

But as soon as he tries to lift you more securely in his arms, so he can stand with you, you start sobbing, color flooding in your cheeks as more of it stains the snow, poppies blooming against the dull white. “No! Stop it, Billy! It hurts!”

He feels like he’s going to choke on the effort of not crying out himself. “Honey, I gotta, we gotta get you back inside — you’ll freeze to death out here — ”

You let out a fragile, ragged giggle. “I don’t think being…” You cough, ruby slick appearing on your lips. “I don’t think being out here or inside is gonna…” Another cough, more red. “Make a damn bit of difference.”

“Don’t,” he whispers. “You’re not dyin’ on me. You’re not. We have too much to do.”

For the first time, your eyes open. Billy dabs at your lips with his thumb, wiping the blood away. “Like what?” you say.

Slowly, carefully, like you’re made of spun glass, Billy lifts you more securely into his arms. “Kiss,” he says, and you offer him the tiniest laugh. “Kiss and kiss and kiss. I’m not done kissin’ you yet, or makin’ love to you, or holdin’ you in my arms every chance I get. I’m not done bein’ your man. Not by a long shot.”

As he speaks, he finds his feet, easing upright and looking into your face all the while. He takes one tentative step, then another, another, and he keeps talking.

“I wanna marry you, you know that,” he says. “I want babies, as many babies as you’re willin’ to give me. I want a lifetime with you, I want birthdays and Christmases…” Step, step, step. He’s close enough to the house now to smell woodsmoke — Manuela has started a fire in the hearth, to boil water for bandages. “I want days where nothing happens. Where the sun comes up and the only thing that matters all day long is that I love you, and you love me, and we have tomorrow and the next day, and every day after that to be together.”

Your hand clutches at his torn collar. “Billy…”

By now, he’s got you inside, and Manuela appears as if out of nowhere, although Billy is so focused on you that he doesn’t know up from down right now. “My God,” she whispers, and when she reaches out to touch your face, Billy has to fight the urge to bare his teeth and twist away so she can’t touch you. 

It’s ridiculous, he knows, but he feels like if anyone else lays a hand on you right now, he’ll lose you. It’s   his responsibility to save you, not anyone else’s — he failed to protect you in the first place, but he can’t fail in this. He can’t. 

“Billy,” you say again. Your grip tightens on his collar, widening the tear. “Please…” Your breath hitches in your throat, tears dribbling from the corners of your eyes and into your hair. “Please. Make…make it stop…”

“Here.” Billy looks around, and sees Charlie, gesturing to a bed. It’s your bed, the bed the two of you share, the only one that’s free. Billy knows there are other people hurt, people that he cares about, but none of them — he feels a drop of self-loathing fall into the pit of his stomach at the thought, but it’s true — matter as much you do.

He lays you down as carefully as he can, but you cry out again, your grip tightening on his collar so intensely as you writhe that you tear his collar completely away, leaving his throat exposed. You clutch at the piece of cloth as you twist and turn, crying, begging him to make it stop. 

“Okay, okay, okay” Billy says helplessly, reaching, laying his hand against your forehead like a mother feeling for a fever. “Baby, shhh, shhh, please — just lay still, I’ll make it better, I promise. Just…just don’t go, okay? I’ll make it better. I’ll fix it. Just don’t leave me.”

You quiet down by degrees, your sobs turning to wracking moans, turning to whimpers, and finally to silence punctuated by rough breathing. Billy doesn’t move away from your bed, not even when the doctor comes, digging the bullets out. He says that you’re lucky, that if this bullet or that one was an inch to the left, or if it had entered here instead of there — Billy wants to believe you’re lucky, but it’s hard when he can still hear you screaming like it’s carved into every breath he takes, when you’re the color of a corpse and he has your blood on his hands, his shirt, and it’s staining the sheets.

Finally, you’re bandaged up and sleeping, and the doctor says they just have to watch you to see if fever sets in. Billy takes his task seriously. He kneels by your bed, refusing a chair because the floor driving itself into his knees keeps him awake, and because he knows he deserves the pain. 

He should have done better by you. 

“Billy, you need to sleep,” Manuela says.

He shakes his head. 

“Then at least — !”

“No.” 

It doesn’t matter what she’s going to suggest. Anything that breaks his attention on you just isn’t important. 

He doesn’t know how many hours pass, except that fingers of pale winter sunlight are starting to creep toward him by the time your eyes open. Billy sucks in a deep breath, leaning over you. “Honey?” 

You squint at him, wincing. “My…my throat…”

“Here,” he says at once, reaching for the pitcher of water sitting on the bedside table. He pours you a cup and helps you sit up just enough so you can drink without choking. “Here, is that better?”

You nod, and he lays you back down. 

“So I guess I didn’t…” You cough again, but this time, your lips aren’t stained cherry. Billy feels a little sliver of relief. “So I guess…I didn’t die, huh?” You cast a look around the best you can with your limited mobility. “Unless…” You swallow. “Unless heaven looks…a lot like our house.”

He laughs weakly, and you crack a smile, clearly pleased with yourself. Billy takes your hand and presses it between his. “No, you didn’t die,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your fingers. “You’re still here.”

“With you,” you say. 

He feels a swell of relief, tainted by the shadow of grief in waiting that hasn’t left him yet, that may never leave him, along with a rush of love powerful enough to the breath out of him. When it returns, it comes out in a sob so forceful it’s like someone has driven a stake into his heart, pushing the sound out without his permission. He buries his face in the coverlet by your side. Your fingers find his hair, stroking soothingly with what strength you have, which only drives the stake deeper into his chest. 

“Hush, hush,” you keep saying. “Hush.” 

He’s supposed to be comforting you, but he can’t stop crying. When he finally lifts his head, you pat the mattress beside you. His knees are stiff and bruised from kneeling so long by your bedside, but he scrambles up as quickly as he can, carefully curing his body around yours like a bulwark. 

You stroke his face. “You…you…need to sleep,” you say.”And I’m…” You sigh, your eyes drifting shut. “So tired. Just…lay here with…with me. Hold me.”

He’s afraid to hold you, lest he hurt you somehow, but you crack an eye open and fix him with a remarkably baleful glare, considering your condition. “I said…hold me, Bonney.”

He manages another laugh, and slips his arm under you, pulling you against his chest. You lay your head against his shoulder and sigh softly. 

The two of you fall asleep like that. Someone — Manuela, probably — covers you both with a fresh blanket. As Billy drifts off, feeling your breath rushing over his neck in a warm, soft caress, he knows you’re not out of the woods yet. It’s going to take time for you to recover, for everyone to recover, but that’s fine with him. 

It just means you have time. 

[junedenim]

dance in my underpants

the consequences of destroying bras

warnings: smut, age gap, fucking & stuff

word count: 2.7k

It was a trip to the mall. Two people who are having fun. The guidelines of your relationship haven't been outlined yet. Neither of you have raised any complaints about it. I mean, how could you complain when he looks like that and he fucks like that. 

You had fucked in a bed finally. Like a proper fucking. A couple of times now actually. Usually at his place because it was gargantuan in size and he had no one living with him in that villa. You fucked at your place once, last night, when your roommate was away for the weekend. During foreplay before the aforementioned fucking, he ripped your bra. Now you're at the mall after a promise to replace it that you are making sure he upholds. 

"I don't know why you need a bra," Alex says. "You look much better without one. You don't even need a shirt." He's got his arm wound around your waist. Your body touches his side and you walk in sync without even noticing.

"You'd like for me to walk around topless all the time?" You question. The mall is mostly bare. It's a Wednesday before noon. Something Alex is deeply annoyed by but you've got plans later today and you don't need this guy ghosting you over a bra, especially when you've seen what his house looks like. You can milk this sucker for the prettiest, priciest bra imaginable.

"I think society would like you walking around topless all the time. You'd get the key to the city or something." He's dressed differently today. Most of the time he's got that suit jacket on that looks like he just came from investing in the stock market or fucking your mom. Now, he's got a leather jacket on that makes it look threatening and burns holes through you, especially when his hard exterior dissolves into a chuckle.

"I think I'd be put on a sex offender list if I did that." He laughs at that and tightens his grip on your waist. You like how hard he presses into your skin. Fingernails indents found on your thighs. He isn't only in this practice. A fair share of clawing at his back has been demonstrated.

"Isn't that like your First Amendment right to do that? It would be freedom of expression. Your boobs are like a special art form or something. Like the Venus de Milo or something." He's cute with his sunglasses, his admiring gaze peeking through, that smirk that threatens his lips, that chain that hangs from his neck.

Inside the store, his eyes dash around the room with wonder like he is a kid in a candy store. You let out a huff of laughter. "You look like you're about to make love to the bras. You sure you want me walking around topless?"

He leans and whispers close to your ear, "No, I'll just rip every single one off of you."

You snap around and look him in the eye. "You will not be ripping any more bras of mine."

He nods with a tight smirk. "Yeah. And who is buying the bra again?"

"You're replacing what you broke."

"In that case, I'll buy you as many as you want as long as I can tear them off you." You giggle to distract yourself from the heat that rises from your core and floods through your whole body. You walk over to the push-up bra section. 

Alex comes behind you holding up a red lace balconette bra. "Already found you a winner." He is talking in a hushed tone because he knows exactly what it does to you. Rings of fire flush your cheeks. He reaches around you and picks up another one, a black push-up number. "Ooh, this one too."

You accept the bra with a laugh. "What is this? Project Runway?"

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Does that mean I get a fashion show?"

You slap the bra in your hand on his chest playfully and turn away from him, the uncontrollable smile spreading on your face. You search through the store more. Alex, of course, has more suggestions and, well, if he's going to pay for it, who are you to deny trying them on?

When you head to the fitting rooms, Alex tells the employee working the section, "I'm gonna help her out."

Past the employee, you turn back to him with an accusing smile and an agape mouth. "You wanna fuck me in the changing room."

He pulls a shocked face as if it could be the most unaccepted thing ever. "You and your dirty mind. Shush."

You enter the fitting room with him following behind as he locks the door and rubs your hands over the fabric of the bras in your hand. It simulates a feeling in you. That one that's becoming familiar with him rubbing his hands all over you. Over your body. Over your breasts. Over your nipples. Your eyes stare at him, specifically his ass in those pants.

"You gonna make me?" You tease. He turns around to look at you. Quickly taking his sunglasses off, he looks at you smug. 

Alex is strange. An anomaly. He eyes you up and down, smirking the whole way, and then he sits on the little chair in the corner of the small room, crossing his legs. He could be Vito Corleone right now if he had a cat on his lap. A really hot young Vito Corleone, a young Marlon Brando. Or something or other, you're too horny-drunk to think of proper figures. He rubs his chin and says, "Maybe. Try on the black one first."

"Turn around," you joke.

His eyes widen and he lets a chuckle. "You know I've seen you naked before. Like fully nude, right?"

You nodded assuredly. "Oh, yeah, I know, but I'm afraid you'd get too turned on and cream your pants."

Alex gives a half-ass laugh because, yeah, you've turned him into a completely horny pervert that he is definitely going to cream in this fitting room but he's hoping it will be in you and not his trousers. "Shut up."

It's your turn to look smug. A flirty look with batting of your eyelashes is the quickest way to get him turned on. You undo the bra you were wearing and answer his request for the black bra first. It's cute, but not quite your style. However, it's definitely Alex's as he is practically drooling over himself. "I don't like it," you announce, reaching back to undo it.

"I fucking love it. Don't take it off yet."

You indulge him, standing there in your panties and bra. There wasn't much need to take off your pants but it will definitely quicken the process when he does fuck you. You furrow your brows and taunt him, "Weren't you supposed to be a cool older guy? You're more horny than my high school boyfriend."

"I fuck you better than your high school boyfriend." There's the smug bastard.

You huff and undo the bra. "You'd have the be a corpse to fuck worse than my high school boyfriend." 

"When was that? Last year?" 

"And you went to school when log cabins were a thing, right?"

He scoffs, "Funny." You both do that a lot. Tease the other about their age. The age gap isn't much of an issue because you're two adults and you're just fucking. Literally all the time fucking.

You slip on the red one, mainly because he picked it and you want to quicken the process and just have him fuck you already. Fingering, blowjob, penetration, you don't care, you just want him to get to it already. 

"I like this one." You fiddle with the straps. You're a temptress, snapping one strap back on your skin and letting the other one hang off your shoulder.

"I like this one too." He is, of course, staring at your boobs and not at you.

You hum. Staring into the mirror, you ask, "Are you sure it's not too sexy?" You're just waiting for his next move, trying everything to entice him. You look at him through his reflection in the mirror.

"I don't think too sexy is a thing." He is still sitting in that chair.

You sigh loudly, poking at the cups. "Then maybe it's not sexy enough."

"Not sexy enough is definitely not a thing."

You turn around. He's leaned back in the chair, showing no sign of movement. You're desperate and he is too, even if he isn't showing it now. "Prove it?" You request.

He wags his finger accusingly. "See, I knew you wanted to fuck in the fitting room."

You hold your hands up as acting defense."Whoops. You caught me. But you can't be looking arrogant in that leather jacket and not expect me to want to fuck you."

He's pleased by this, his grin growing into a shit-eating one. "Well," he stands up, "you are very hot in that bra. I just might have to."

You laugh. "Don't make it so procedural. Just get over here—"

With the go-ahead, he is pretty quick to interrupt with a hard kiss on the lips. "I'm worried you won't be able to be quiet though," he baits.

You rub your nose up against him, both breathing the same hot air. "I do have enough control over myself, unlike some other people."

"Shall we put it to a test?" No response is needed. He has his mouth on you in an instant. Like him admiring you in a bra but wanting you desperately naked, you push his leather jacket off in an instant. It splashes on the floor into a pile of black sludge. His boot kicks it back out of the way around where your clothes lie.

Hungry kisses on your neck and down to your chest. He devours every bit of your skin. Your belly, your thighs; his lips, his teeth. Every part of you is drawn to him, every inch waiting for his touch. When his fingers brush near the lacy edge of your underwear, you find yourself growing antsy, aching to be touched right there. To be touched by him and he's so close with one hand squeezing your ass and the other skimming your hemline but he just won't.

Suddenly he turns you around and the kissing doesn't stop there. Soft kisses over your ears, rough ones on your neck. You're helpless, unable to take control like you desperately want to—or pretend like you do. The feel of his weight on you and his hard-on pressed against your ass. Your breath comes in short bursts as he pushes you up against the wall. He's grinding against you and you're grinding against the wall, looking for some release.

Alex unhooks your bra and slips his hands under you. They're not cold, but you still shiver at the touch. The roughness of his grasp and the featherlike flick of his thumbs against your nipples. He murmurs into your ear, "Much better without the bra."

The throbbing between your thighs grows stronger as he pushes you against the wall, positioning himself at your knees. He slides your panties off, followed by his pants. He grabs your hips with one hand, pulling you up against his cock. You tremble, and you think he notices, because he teases, slowly rolling his hips against you, and you push back. He gets the hint and slips two fingers inside you, just barely, before pulling them out again. A frustrated gasp leaves your mouth, and you turn your head as if to say hurry the fuck up, but he just smirks and focuses his view on your pussy.

You're desperate and he knows it. He fucking enjoys it, keeping you in a holding pattern and grabbing your hips hard, like he's afraid you'll slip away, rubbing his cock against you like he's waiting for permission or really for you to beg. But you refuse to be the first to crumble and the next thing you know he's burying himself inside you, slowly but surely, like he wants you to feel every inch to the fullest. You gasp, just like he was hoping. A satisfied grunt leaves his lips, which not only gives you full satisfaction and pleasure of getting noise out of him but adds fuel to the fire and as he slowly pulls back out, you sway your hips a little, inviting him right back. His next thrust is harder and more brutal, but you're so ready for him that he pounds into you with ease.

"Oh, fuck," you moan and he is picking up the pace, trying to urge more out of you. You cover your mouth out of fear of capturing the employee—who is only a handful of feet away—and her attention. The aching becomes too much to bear, and you reach for your clit, but he slaps the hand away and holds it behind your back.

You whine, pushing against his thrusts, but he only slows down, murmuring into my ear, "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes," I whisper. "You're so—you're so fucking good."

"Uh-huh."

Once again you're left frustrated as he pulls out and flips you over. You arch your back against the wall as he expertly glides his hands around the curves of your body.

"A quickie is usually quick," you note.

He leans in closer, getting right in your face, gently raking his fingers through your hair. The look on his face is wanting, but soft. The slight part of his lips and his downturned eyes looking into yours. It's a jarring feeling, suddenly being the subject of his tender affection, but you're unable to look away or grab him and say we're here to fuck, not fondle. 

The taste of Alex's morning cigarette lingers on his lips. The tip of his nose bumps into yours as you allow yourself to sink into the kiss. His kisses are long and slow, matching the rhythm of your bodies as you begin to move again. You drink in all the groans and grunts you get out of him.

When he places his thumb just over your clit, the intensity catches you by surprise, but he steadies you. He holds his other hand over your mouth. Your moans muffled and hopefully quiet enough. He holds his thumb over your clit and you quiver at the touch. Your breath comes in shorter and shorter bursts. You're redder than ever, you're sure, and he looks so fucking pleased with himself, his arrogance driving you crazy in more ways than one. He picks up the speed a little, rolling his hips in rhythm with yours. The pressure on your clit and the throbbing of him inside you causes the sweat on his skin and your breath to shatter. As the orgasm overtakes you, you bite down on his shoulder, collapsing against him like you have no bones left in your body.

His chest rises and falls with yours, he holds you there until you detach. Before you can say anything, he holds you up in the air and fucks you, hard against the wall. His thrusting becomes erratic, unrelenting, and with a mess of strangled grunts and groans that he tries to hold inside.

"Wouldn't it be really funny if she knocked on the door now?" You joke.

Alex laughs causing his pattern to be even more fucked up. His smile drops as his breath develops heavier and warmer against your ear. He bites the lobe softly and whispers, "I'm gonna come in you, okay?"

You nod the best you can and his breath becomes strangled and choked-up. He lets out a noisy exhale before his cum floods into you. He nuzzles into your neck and he lets out a moan into your skin hoping to cover it. You stroke the back of his head, scratching your nails soothingly across the surface.

"Shall I try on the rest?" You whisper into his ear.

He lifts his head and chuckles, "Oh, fuck." He shakes his head, still out of breath, he says, "No, I'll buy all of them for you. I don't care if they don't fit. We need to go back to bed."

You giggle at how exhausted he looks. "I have plans."

His cock is still hanging in the air. He has done little to clean himself up, still staring at you. You feel him ooze out of you but you shockingly like the feeling. "Come over after. I'll fuck you in the hot tub."

*

a/n: submit your bald alex photos for more, well, bald alex (fucking in public, of course).

[lady-of-tearshed]

Mother knows best

Nessian & Platonic!OC!Nessian's daughter (Briana)

Cassian Week 2024

Day 3: Family

@cassianappreciationweek

Sumarry: When Cassian encounters a hair issue with Briana, he can't help but wonder through his despair in this situation: "What would Nesta do?"

Warnings: None. Really, pure fluff

Word count: 804 words

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

“Bri… I’m trying so hard…” 

“But it huuuuurts!”

Cassian pulled the brush away from his daughter’s hair. He didn’t have a fucking clue how she managed to get that much fir sap in her long shiny hair, so much like his. He kept staring at the nest-like mess her hair was in right now, and sighed, trying to find any inch of remaining patience left in him. 

When he became a dad, Cassian thought nothing could ever test his patience more than the dashing Illyrians recruits he had to train every once in a while. This exact moment he was in just proved him the opposite. He was exhausted, Briana was too, and mama was away to enjoy her girls’ night, the first she had in a good while. She deserved it, and Cassian could handle it here for once.

What would Nesta do… 

“We won't chop them off, right daddy?” Briana whimpered, her eyes shined with tears as she looked up at her dad, and escaped them to roll down her perfectly rounded cheeks. 

“Of course not sweetheart… Daddy won’t let it come to that. Huh… here,” Cassian said matter-of-factly while he picked her up into his arms, not missing to notice how big and tall his baby girl was getting. He kissed her tear stained cheeks, and filled the tub with warm water and vanilla scented oils, in hope it would help dissolve the sticky substance from his daughter’s beautiful, yet currently very tangled, curls.

“You’re going to sit and soak in a nice, warm bath and relax for a while, sounds good?” Bri nodded quickly and shimmied out of her dirty Illyrian leathers before jumping, inheriting all of Cassian’s grace, into the bath. The water splashed everywhere, covering Cassian from head to toe before he could even think of protecting himself from the splash. 

He wiped a hand across his face, and caught his daughter's amused glance. “Ha.Ha. So funny,” He rolled his eyes, sitting beside the bathtub to dip a finger, making sure the temperature was okay.  

An amused grin formed on his lips when his daughter attempted to roll her eyes at him, too. “Funnier than you and your “We don’t bite unless you ask us to” boring joke.” 

Sassy, just like her mother.

“You and your mother just don’t have any sense of humor,” “What did you say?” Cassian jumped a little, Briana followed the movement as their head pivoted to the bathroom door. Cassian threw the dirty leathers in the laundry basket, trying to hide the evidence, although the biggest one was currently sitting in the bath, of their wild and quite messy adventure. “Nesta! My love, I… uh…” 

Cauldron, Nesta looked like the Mother herself. A pure, raw, enticing beauty emitting from her.  

And he fucking missed her. 

He rose up to his feets, quickly closing the distance between him and his mate, and captured her lips into a searing kiss, flooding the bond with his relief of having her here now. 

“Mama, my hair…” Briana's pouty lip wobbled, and her whimpering tone made Nesta quickly pull away from her mate's arms.  

She walked up to her daughter and offered her an amused, yet reassuring smile. Nesta stroked Briana’s cheek and looked up at the mess her hair was in. “I assume you and daddy had lots of fun tonight?” 

Briana nodded, her eyes closing in content as her mother’s way more skillful fingers threaded through the knots and spread shampoo to melt the sap tangled in her long locks. “Yeah, we went flying!”

“Near the snowball fight field?” Nesta guessed, since there were lots of pines and firs there. 

“Yup! We made a gigantic snowman, we raced through the trees…” Her hands were flying everywhere, splashing water on every wall of the bathroom, and Nesta struggled to keep working on the knots on top of Briana's hair.  “Oh oh! Guess who won the race?!” 

Nesta chuckled “From how excited you sound princess… I'm going to assume you did.” 

Cassian faked an outraged expression, his hand snapping to his chest as if he'd been stabbed, and Brianna smiled widely. “Yeah, I did!!” 

Nesta smiled, thinking to herself how lucky she had been to be blessed with such a mate. She could never express how grateful she was for Cassian to fill her and their daughter's head with those joyful memories. 

“I'm proud of you Bri.” Nesta kissed her daughter's soapy forehead, then rinsed off the excess of soap covering her hair with water. “All done! No more big knots.” 

Briana launched into her mother's arms, hugging her tight, not caring that her movement made the water spill over the side of the bathtub. “Took notes to know what to do next time Dada?” 

Cassian laughter booming through the small bathroom. “Yeah, baby. I took notes.” 

A/N: Short Lil one, but I love it sm 🥹💕

Acotar Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

Cassian Taglist: @acotar-lover @ladybookstan

[mountainficss]

hi lovely!! i’m so sorry if this is annoying but may i please req hard dom kwan and creampie/cumplay? with a dash of exhibitionism?

!! mentions of: hard dom!seungkwan, jealousy, cum play, exhibitionism, creampie, marking, biting, degradation, orgasm denial, rough sex

babe you’re never annoying!!! i love hearing everyones requests. tbh i feel like my writing for doms is so POOR because i don’t write them often omg i’m so sorry 😭

i feel like seungkwan would be a very jealous person. i honestly just get that vibe from him. he wouldn’t like sharing your attention i think. you’d be hanging out with him and the boys, maybe just playing games or talking. seungkwan would be a little bitter if you’re not focused on him or forget about him for too long. he’d notice you laughing with mingyu, shooting daggers at the both of you (you’d be oblivious of course). he’d let out annoyed sighs when he sees seokmin feeding you a bite of his food, envy flooding through him as he watches you grin at seokmin. he’d be pissed off after all of that, but his breaking point would be while you’re all sitting in the living room watching a movie together. you and seungkwan would be sitting together on the couch peacefully, your head leaning on his shoulder. peace doesn’t last long when you’re under the same roof as seventeen though. you’d feel jeonghan squeezing next to you on your opposite side, claiming he “doesn’t want to sit on the floor” and it’s “more comfortable here.” he’d hear jeonghan softly muttering to you while the movie plays, trying to pay attention and drown out the hushed voice of his hyung. and oh your quiet giggles would make him mad. he’d catch jeonghan leaning in out of the corner of his eye, whispering something in your ear like he was telling you a secret. after seeing that he’d be fed up, snatching your wrist and dragging you off to the nearest bedroom. a few heads would turn in your direction, but seungkwan would already be slamming the door before any questions could be asked. “seungkwa—” he’d cut you off with a rough kiss, backing you towards the large bed until you fall back on the mattress. “what the fuck is your problem?” he’d snap, tugging and peeling off your clothes until you were completely bare beneath him. “does it turn you on having other people’s attention instead of your own boyfriend’s?” he’d fume, groping your thigh harshly and leaving bite marks on your shoulders and neck. he wouldn’t even wait for you to answer, shoving two of his fingers into your mouth and coating them in your spit. he’d drag his lubricated digits down to your core, pushing them in and fingering you at a fast pace. you’d clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling your filthy sounds with your palm before he yanks your hand away. “let them hear,” he’d command, thumb circling your clit as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. “they already saw us leave. you might as well give them a show since you want to so bad, slut.” it would all be so much for you, the dirty squelching noises of your heat and the knowledge that the members can probably hear you causing your climax to approach quickly. you didn’t even know who’s fucking bed you were in right now, but none of that mattered when seungkwan was fucking you so good. he knew you were close by the way your hole tightened around his fingers, so instead of letting you finish he’d pull them out slowly. you’d whine and squirm underneath him, begging him to let you cum. he’d ignore all your pleads, untying his sweats and fishing out his hard cock. “spit,” he’d order, holding his hand beneath your chin and watching your spit trickle out of your mouth and pool in his palm. he’d use it to stroke his length, twisting his hand around it a few times and never once breaking eye contact with you. he’d yank you to the edge of the bed by your ankles, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders and pushing in slowly. you’d let out a yelp at the stretch, the feeling of him bottoming out sending chills up your spine.

“you’re so loud,” he’d scoff, his thrusts speeding up as he grips your waist tightly. “bet you want them to watch us, huh? want mingyu to walk in here and see you like this? or seokmin?” he’d taunt, the lewd sound of your skin colliding with his filling the room. you’d mewl pathetically beneath him, shaking your head quickly. despite your protests, he’d feel you tighten around him at the mention of being watched. he’d snake a hand down to circle your clit, laughing meanly as you cry out. “i bet you’d love it if jeonghan just barged in and watched you get fucked dumb,” he’d bite, pounding into you harshly as the headboard banged against the wall. you were almost positive the force would leave a dent. you’d feel your orgasm bubbling over, clawing at the sheets below you in a weak attempt to ground yourself. “c-cumming…” you’d babble, eyes rolling back as his cock hits your sweet spot continuously. “cum,” he’d urge. “show me how bad you need me, slut.” he’d fuck you full of his cum as your walls tighten around his cock, loud moans and heavy breaths reverberating through the room. he’d pull out slowly, a whimper escaping your throat as his cum flows out of your hole. he’d gather his release with two fingers, reaching up to smear some on your lips and shove his coated fingers into your mouth. you’d be a mess, his seed leaking out of you and your mouth and tongue gathering what was on his fingers. once you’re dressed again he’ll drag you back to the living room and seat you on his lap, completely ignoring all the weird looks from the other members. they definitely heard everything, seokmin’s red face and jeonghan’s new spot on the floor telling you everything you needed to know <3

[infinite-orangepeel]

CW: perv!virgin!eddie/camboy!steve, virginity kink, degradation/humiliation, eddie’s lowkey a creep (again), dirty talk, steve’s dick is tiny lol, religious imagery in a sexual context (brief)

thinking about virgin!loser!simp! eddie who gets zero action and has never been touched by anyone else’s hands but his own.

thinking about him rushing home from work each night to make it on time for steve’s camboy livestream.

he speeds, runs a red light or two. doesn’t pause to consider the consequences bc who the fuck cares? his cock strains against the zipper of his jeans bc he only has one thing on his mind and it’s certainly not avoiding run ins with the law.

“can’t wait to fuck you, pretty boy,” he whimpers as he turns left.

he doesn’t know the object of his affection’s real name, of course. only his username which is @prettyboy86. these days, eddie only ever cums with that name on his lips.

fuck, he’s sick in the head.

eddie’s getting more pathetic and whiny by the minute. he makes tiny little thrusts against the inner seam of his jeans to try to find some form of friction. though he has no intention of getting off before he watches steve’s show.

the zipper makes it painful and pinches the head of his weepy dick but it’s better than nothing. somehow he keeps his hands on the wheel and doesn’t get in a multi-car pile-up. somehow.

he’s so desperately in love with this boy he’s never even met, this boy who has no idea that eddie munson exists.

and to an extent, that’s part of the allure. pretty boy’s powerful. he commands an audience of thousands. people from all over the world pay $25/month just to eye a piece of him.

he never shows his face, but sometimes he’ll suck on a dildo and his lips will be visible in the shot. they’re usually slicked with sparkly lipgloss and look like they’d taste like candy.

eddie knows he must be beautiful though if the rest of his body is any indication. he’s an angel, he’s a saint. eddie worships him, prays to him with a level of devotion he’s never been able to find in organized religion.

once in the driveway of his uncle’s place, eddie throws his van in park, grabs the keys, and makes a mad dash for his bedroom. locks the door behind him as is tradition, cracks open a PBR, and logs onto his laptop.

pretty boy’s site is bookmarked, favorited, and left open in a tab from last night.

eddie navigates to the livestream waiting room and moments later, steve settles onto his haunches onscreen.

a flood of messages from similar admirers clogs up the chat quickly as eddie starts in on his own barrage of thirsty compliments:

@ethebanished: looking so cute tonight, pretty boy. i’d do anything to have your cock in my mouth.

there’s no response. steve’s not even looking at the camera or the screen. he’s adjusting something on his lower half that eddie can’t see.

maybe a cock ring or vibrating toy??

eddie’s bought him so many toys from his personalized wishlist and the one time steve took the clear glittery dildo on camera, he came in his pants instantly. didn’t even have time to stroke his cock once.

it felt intimate. it felt like steve was sending him a message, confessing his mutual love.

eddie sends a few more messages while steve holds up a finger to the audience to let them know he needs a second.

he types rapidly, without though, follows his depraved intentions and lets them run wild into the ether.

@ethebanished: i’ve been watching you since the beginning. i can’t cum to anyone else’s videos. did you know that?? you’re so special, pretty boy. no one else takes cock like you. i’d treat you so well. i’d never let you go, i swear. don’t waste time on the other boys.

@ethebanished: when i save up enough money, i’m gonna buy a custom video from you. i’m gonna make you say my name while you fuck yourself on the dildo i bought you. it’s the clear one with glitter. how does that sound?? would you like that baby?? like some dirty stranger making you cum for him?? i’m saving my virginity for you. waiting for you every day. one day we’ll fuck and you’ll thank me.

@ethebanished: i had to jack off in the storage room at work this morning. almost got caught by my manager but it was worth it. woke up so horny from a wet dream about you. you’re perfect. i have to fuck you. have to.

steve smiles. professionally whitened teeth blinding the camera. eddie convinces himself easily that it’s meant for him despite the thousands of other commenters.

he and steve have something special. sure, they’ve never directly interacted, but if they do—when they do—steve won’t be able to resist eddie’s charms.

“sorry for the delay, everyone. we had a few technical difficulties but thanks to my friend, tommy, we should be all set.”

tommy is the bane of eddie’s existence. public enemy #1. steve’s always running his mouth about “owing credit to tommy” and how “the show wouldn’t be half of what it is without tommy’s support.”

apparently, he’s steve’s camera man, editor, and resident tech guy. but eddie’s worst nightmare is steve ever including tommy in a video or stream.

eddie fantasizes—often—about replacing tommy, himself. he’s got a bunch of editing experience, owns all the fancy software, and knows how to operate a camera. plus, he’d do it for free. he’d do it just to be in the same atmosphere as steve for a fraction of a second.

fuck, his dick is leaking all over his black denim. just another pair of jeans to toss out bc pretty boy’s caused him to stain them.

if pretty boy were here, in person, eddie would have lick them clean to prove his devotion.

his attention snaps back to the screen as steve starts talking again.

“i’ve been wanting to challenge myself, lately to get a bit more up close and personal with my fans,” steve sticks his tongue out slowly and flicks it in the direction of the camera, “y’know to show my appreciation. so if it’s okay with you, i’m going to try something new today.”

eddie’s curiosity sparks. warmth spreads through his thighs, abdomen, and chest.

steve’s speaking directly to him (in his mind) and with all those pretty moles on display, eddie’s free hand wanders to tease his own pierced nipples.

he tugs at them and swirls the buds with gentle fingers. his hips buck in response. he’s always been sensitive. knows he’d cum so easily, so constantly, if pretty boy touched him.

“so one of you sweet angels sent me this adorable teddy bear,” steve nibbles on the ears of the pink plushie and eddie’s instantly jealous of whoever sent it to him, “i love how soft and cute he is, don’t you? his fur just feels perfect on my skin.”

steve lightly grazes the fluff of the bear over his inner thighs as he backs up on the mattress to display his full body for the camera. glossed lips in view. eddie gasps sharply and bites down on his knuckles to muffle the sound. he doesn’t need his uncle to know what a fucking freak he is.

“ohhh. see, that’s nice,” steve’s naked except for—and this absolutely annihilates eddie on the spot—a delicate pink ribbon that he’s tied around the base of his wet cock and a pair of thigh-high white socks.

flesh spills over the tight band of the fabric and eddie yearns to feel the squeeze of those perfect muscles around his head.

“here’s how this is going to work—i’m going to fuck my plushie like a pillow while reading comments aloud from you guys. whoever’s comment makes me cum will get a free five-minute video call with me tomorrow night before the regular livestream begins. there’s only going to be one lucky winner so do your worst, angels,” steve giggle to himself and tightens the bow on his dick, “let the games begin.”

“fuck,” eddie murmurs as he realizes how high the stakes are, “fuck. i have to win.”

the chat ramps up with lust and thrill as the audience observes steve taking the medium-sized plushie to the center of his bed. he fondles his balls, waves at the camera, and straddles the pink bear. his cock twitches in the confines of his ribbon and eddie wonders if it’s real silk. what it might feel like.

“bet you can’t wait to see my little cunt squirt on live, can you? poor teddy isn’t going to knows what’s hit him,” steve strokes the cheek of the bear apologetically and begins slowly rutting, “let’s see if he can handle me.”

it’s important to mention that pretty boy’s cock is small and that this appeals to eddie like nothing else.

eddie’s not huge, himself, but in terms of girth and length—he’s slightly above average. on the other hand, pretty boy’s dick is about three and a half inches hard. his balls are tucked right up against his body and he’s always well groomed. he’s muscular. clearly works out. has toned abs, large biceps (much larger than eddie’s), toned thighs and calves, and his ass is round like a summer peach.

eddie thinks it would taste even better on his tongue.

steve’s a seasoned professional which means he knows damn well how to put on a show. he arches his back expertly, tugs at the long brown tendrils of hair that dip towards his collarbones, and moans wantonly.

“okay—@yourgayestfantasy765 says, ‘pretty boy, you’re so fucking hot,’” steve smirks, fucks his teddy slow and precise, takes his time, “that’s so sweet. thank you!”

his words are kind, but his tone is bored and bone dry. the fact is he reads hundreds of comments like this all the time. it’s nothing new, doesn’t catch him off guard. his hips roll into the plushie’s tummy without stuttering.

it’s hard to concentrate, but eddie’s determined to stand out. racks his brain for something interesting to comment. something that will catch pretty boy’s attention.

he has to be the one to make steve cum. he has to win that five-minute video call. it would change his life to have that chance conversation with the love of his life. the only person he’s ever really wanted.

maybe he’d finally get out of bumfuck, indiana. maybe he’d finally lose his virginity and film videos with pretty boy all the time once he got some tangible experience under his—currently—un-notched belt.

eddie spies the signature tramp stamp—a row of three butterflies—between the dimples above the swell of his ass. he’s spent many long showers with his cock in his hands as he imagines sinking his teeth into that exact spot.

steve rambles off a few more copycat, lack luster comments as eddie types. he theatrically yawns midway through one to show his disinterest. the bear looks equally unimpressed below him.

“aw. you think i have a pretty cock? thank you so much, @daddydicklvr!” he blows a kiss, “but i think you can do better than that.”

eddie’s nervous. he wants this so badly. his palms are clammy. there’s chip crumbs littering the keys of his computer and it occurs to him that he should probably clean up the place when pretty boy inevitably comes over for a date.

he presses send.

“hmm—oh i recognize this username! you’ve been a longtime subscriber, haven’t you ethebanished? let’s read your comment,” pretty boy smiles genuinely and slows his movements to read, licking over his lips carefully, “‘this is going to sound crazy but sometimes i think i’m actually falling in love with you even though i’ve never met you. you’re amazing.’”

the rest of the audience immediatley thumbs down eddie’s message. the replies are even worse:

@kissmyaxx7: fuck off the stream, perv!

@nottaken_: guy thinks he really has a chance lmfao. pretty boy doesn’t date fans. you must be new here.

@titsandtats: smells desperate af in here…

@yoyostar6000: are u even trying to make him cum?

he cringes inwardly, worries he’s royally fucked up his chances, and hovers over the ‘x’ on the tab to click off.

but as he moves the mouse, pretty boy moans high in his throat and eddie finds him shivering with pleasure. his own cock jumps at the sight and suddenly he’s back in action, stroking himself from root to tip as he waits.

“in love with me, huh? i can work with that. tell me more, @ethebanished, i’m listening.”

steve’s a fucking temptress, sucks on his fingers as his thighs start to shake from effort. he’s sloppy with it—shows off his missing gag reflex and doesn’t clean up the spit the dribbles down his chest.

eddie can’t look away. doesn’t want to. his body is on fire with want and he types furiously one-handed:

@ethebanished: idk…it’s everything about u. ur smile, ur voice, ur cute little cock, ur attitude. i just feel like we’d get along great.

other audience members try to compete for steve’s attention, but he ignores them. lets their comments disappear into the chat as he reads eddie’s aloud.

“oh i’m sure you say that to all the girls and boys, cutie. there’s probably a line at your door right now,” steve’s dick is milky at the tip and he’s pressing it between his tummy and the bear. ends of the ribbon peeking out.

eddie sucks in a breath. pulls hard on each nipple for….confidence?? he can’t believe he’s about to admit this to the hottest guy he’s ever seen.

send.

@ethebanished: not quite. i’m a virgin. never had sex before let alone a boyfriend :/

pretty boy’s face—or, what eddie can see of it—lights up at that. his grin widens, reaching around to toy with his rim while he thrusts faster.

“holy shit. i gotta admit that’s hot—ah.”

eddie responds quickly:

@ethebanished: thx. no one else seems to think so. i’m kinda a loser but i promise i’d be so good to you. i’d do whatever you asked of me. idc. only have eyes for you.

steve’s little cock rabbits forwards. he pins the teddy with one hand and edges one finger into his ass with the other.

“fuck. i wish this was your cock, @ethebanished. my fingers just won’t do. i bet you’d be all messy your first time. probably cum inside me before you’d even gotten two inches in,” he whines—going deeper into the fantasy, “i’m mean, though, baby. i’d trap you inside me. i’d ride you until you begged me to stop, honey and then i’d suck you dry. how’s that sound, perv? you wanna stretch my cute cunt on your cock? i’ll teach you how to be a good boy with my pussy.”

pretty boy sticks a second finger in his ass and his balls smush against the fuzzy leg of the teddy as he grinds. his hips move in tight clockwise circles. humping the plushie with primal desire.

what eddie would do to have him rut on his face in the exact same way—

eddie’s getting close. he’s thumbing his cockhead roughly and biting down hard on the hem of his shirt. it’s almost painful to be this turned on. if he doesn’t cum soon he might just pass out or implode.

he sends one final message before he spills onto his hand and keyboard:

@ethebanished: so you gonna make me your bitch or what??

“@ethebanished says—oh fuck my pussy’s so wet, i’m not gonna last—he says—ah—oh my god,” steve shakes, groans like he’s been mortally wounded, and shoots cum all over the body of the pink plushie, “fuck yes—yes—be my bitch. gonna fucking ruin you, sweetie.”

steve humps himself through the rest of his orgasm and slowly withdraws his fingers. the little silk ribbon is somehow still attached at the base of his cock but it’s drenched. he unties it and licks his own release from the soft pink fabric.

eddie’s brain is fried. he’s still horny. he’ll likely jack of at least twice more before bed to prerecorded videos of pretty boy but he’s content.

he won.

he has a chance.

pretty boy smiles into the camera, kisses the lens with pink gloss as is his trademarked move, and squeezes the soggy teddy to his chest.

“alright that’s all i’ve got in me for tonight. but congrats to my horny little virgin @ethebanished. teddy and i look forward to meeting you on our call tomorrow! i’ll dm you the link. everyone else, good luck next time and have a slutty saturday! mwah.”

the livestream ends, eddie can hardly breathe, and his uncle knocks on the door.

“eddie, dinner’s ready! i made lasagna!”

instinctively he covers up his body.

“be out in a second! i’m—i’m working on a song!” he yells back and then pulls up a pre-downloaded video of pretty boy to prepare for his big day tomorrow.

THE END.

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @shrimply-a-menace, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @lordrrascal , @jjoesjonas , @malachitedevil , @anxiouseds, @feraleddiekinninghours, @gay-little-bitch, @jhrc666, @pinkdaisies98, @mcneen, @perseus-notjackson, @eiddets, @corroded-coffin-groupie, @three-possums-playing-human, @stevesbipanic, @plutoshelm, @arkenstoned, @indiearr, @they-reap-what-we-sow, @gleek4twd

[blueraineshadows]

Love Me, Love Me Not - Part 2

Link for Part 1

Last time we saw Sebastian and MC, they were getting rather and hot and steamy. Let's see how these idiots handled that 😂

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC 🌶 Spicy/Angst

For @applinsandoranges

Dawn was a cruel intruder. MC groaned into her pillow at the sounds of Imelda getting up and preparing for her early morning Quidditch training. How the fuck could she get up and do that so early after last night?

Oh, Merlin, last night!

Colour flooded MC's cheeks hotly and she cringed into the pillow. Fuzzy memories, pulsing with heat, flashed through her mind. Sebastian's hands on her skin, his mouth...oh, fuck, that mouth! Her thighs clenched tightly at the memory of him searing her neck with his kiss. She could have died! Her soul had floated up and out of her body, seeking out his so they could entwine in a swirl of fierce passion.

Had she really rubbed herself shamelessly against his dick? She slapped her hands over her face, mortified! How was she going to look him in the eye ever again?

She frowned, vaguely remembering him holding her hand, walking her back to the castle. She had moved to hold his arm, needing to feel him closer. And then, once they had arrived at the door for her dormitory, she had so desperately wanted him to kiss her. She tensed. Had she asked him to? Oh, fuck, had she? She couldn't remember!

Her hands slid from her face, her head hammering a tad from the loaded punch she had downed all night. She was alone. He wasn't in the bed beside her. She was strangely grateful. If he ever was in her bed, she wanted to be able to remember every damn moment of it.

She sat up, throwing the covers back, her bladder was screaming for release. She padded quietly towards the bathrooms feeling a bit ropey. She passed a younger student in the corridor, their gaze one of shock as she passed. She gave them a rueful grin, running a hand through her hair. She must look a right sight, hung over and bleary eyed.

Once in the bathrooms and washing her hands, she glanced up at the mirror and froze in shock. No wonder that student had been gaping.

"Oh, mother of Merlin, no!" She swore. She gingerly brought her fingers up to her neck, the whole right side of it blooming with bright red and purple bruising. She touched the tender flesh and winced. Fuck, he had devoured her!

From her ear to her collar bone were Sebastian's mouth marks, violent in colour and incredibly evident. She was stunned, but also, throbbing with utter need. There must be something very wrong in her head to be so turned on by such a sight. And, worse, she wanted more!

Flustered, her heart hammering as fiercely as her head was thumping, she hurried back to the dormitory. She gathered her things, including a soft, silk scarf, quickly showered, and made a dash from the common room. She did not want to risk running into Sebastian this morning.

A walk down to the lake cleared her head a little, but it still felt like a little soldier was marching from one temple to the other with big boots on.

She sat on a rock and thought about where this might leave her relationship with Sebastian. Did this mean they would continue on this path? Or would they become distant and awkward with each other? The fear of losing him completely made her stomach clench tightly. She looked up at the sky, the clouds thin and moving swiftly on the morning breeze. Nothing fluffy and peaceful to draw comfort from today. Just confusing reality.

But sitting here wouldn't get her any answers. She could only get them from him. With a sigh she headed back indoors. Maybe some food would help.

The thought of coming to face to face with Sebastian made her cringe. The most important thing was to save their friendship. This could not ruin that. Her heart would truly break.

As she walked towards the Great Hall she spotted Poppy and immediately remembered the conversation they'd had on the way to the party. Oh gods, if Poppy found out Sebastian had done this to her neck she would be crushed! And after Poppy had been brave enough to confide in her too. MC felt like an awful friend, cringing again at her shameful behaviour.

MC quickly pulled her hair around to cover that side of her neck as an extra measure over the silk scarf, shamefully hiding until Poppy had gone in to the hall before following. MC kept her head down and walked quickly to the Slytherin table. It was still early and the Hall hadn't filled yet, the older students especially had not arrived in their droves, preferring to remain in their beds after last night.

Ominis was in his usual spot, sipping tea and reading a book. MC took a deep breath, grateful he wouldn't be able to see her little disguise, and climbed into the seat beside him.

His head turned towards her. "Good morning, MC. How's the head?"

She groaned. "Was I that drunk?"

He smirked. "Sebastian said he had to practically carry you back to your dorm."

MC felt her cheeks warm. "What else did he say?"

Ominis tilted his head curiously. "What else was there to say?"

"Nothing," she said, quickly. "Where is he? Has he already eaten?"

Ominis still had curiosity written all over him when a familiar mop of brown hair appeared and Sebastian climbed onto the bench opposite them. He looked right at her, his smirk as confident and charming as ever. "Good morning. I'm surprised to see you up and about so early."

MC flicked her eyes nervously towards Ominis, then back to him. "I...erm...I am a bit tired," she swallowed hard. "Can we...er...can we talk?"

His eyebrows twitched playfully. "What about?"

"Oi, oi," Leander called. He came up behind Sebastian, followed by Garreth and Everett, and gripped Sebastian by the shoulders. "Alright, lover boy."

Sebastian frowned up at him, shrugging his shoulders free. "Get off," he grumbled. "What are you on about?"

Leander chuckled and gave MC a cheeky wink. "Nice scarf, MC," he said. "What you got hiding underneath that then, eh?"

MC felt her cheeks burn and she put tentative fingers up to her neck. Sebastian's gaze swung back to her, his eyes a little panicked.

"What's going on?" Ominis asked.

Leander laughed. "Didn't you hear, Gaunt? Everyone is talking about it. Sebastian and MC got down and proper dirty last night, in front of everyone."

Ominis gaped, his head turning immediately towards MC. She sucked in a horrified gasp, her eyes darting around the Hall to see that people were indeed looking their way, whispering behind their hands. She was vaguely aware of Ominis reaching out a cool hand, hunting out one of hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Sebastian's cheeks were as flushed as hers felt, he was eyeing where the scarf covered her neck.

"Fuck off, Prewett," MC muttered. She clambered to her feet, legs shaking. Everyone was staring.

Garreth took hold of Leander's arm and tugged him away. "Come on, mate. Leave it."

"Excuse me," she muttered.

She could hear their voices behind her, could feel the eyes on her back as she practically ran from the hall, running blindly for the doors. Once again, she was hot gossip, her name on everyone's lips, and this time Sebastian's name was being dragged through the mill too.

She had always tried to be discreet, ensuring boys never left a mark, but Sebastian had been a different story, with him all her control had evaporated. How had she let herself get so out of control in front of everyone like that?

She swore she was never going to drink another drop of alcohol ever again. Drowning in her need for him she had thrown the drinks back, Poppy's words haunting her. She had watched every girl at that party, her claws ready to maul if one of them so much as touched Sebastian. The hypocrisy of it was bitter, which had her reaching for more drink, trying to drown away everything.

And then she had seen him, alone, seemingly searching for someone, and she had wanted to be found. Oh, Merlin, she had thrown herself on him! And now the whole school knew!

....*....

Sebastian had launched himself up off the bench, shoving Prewett aside, and he ran after MC. The way her face had fallen hit him like a thousand hexes.

She was a swift little thing, darting through groups of students, and making for the Viaduct Courtyard at a decent lick. He sped up, bursting out into the cool morning air. "MC!" He called. "MC, wait!"

She darted to the side, her robe flicking out as she dashed behind the columned walkway. He chased her into the shadowed walk, catching up to her and seizing her arm. She went to pull away, stumbling a little, but he steadied her with his other hand. She looked up at him, a whole range of conflicting emotions flickering across her pale face. Then her bottom lip began to tremble and he felt a crushing sensation in his chest. This was all his fault.

He moved to pull her in closer, desperate to comfort her, but she held him at arms length, shaking her head. "No, don't," she gasped. She glanced around them, eyes wide. "People will see."

She may as well have cast a basic hit to his chest. He let go of her immediately and stepped back. "I'm sorry."

She stared at him, a small sigh escaping her lips as her shoulders sagged. She brushed back strands of hair from her face and took hold of his hand. "Not here, come on."

They hurried down the long, winding staircase to the boat house, the Black Lake a choppy, grey mass before them. Heavier clouds were drifting in and it looked like rain. Sebastian held tightly to her hand, fearful to let her go. Was she going to tell him to back off from her? Was this the beginning of the end? Damn him and his lack of self control. When would he ever learn to think before acting? And why was it always her that ended up getting hurt in the process? He couldn't blame her if she dumped his sorry arse. Who needed a friend like him?

The boat house was deserted at this time of day, the boats bobbing on their ropes, knocking gently into each other. MC led him inside and closed the door before releasing his hand.

"Prewett is a prick," he said.

She huffed a humourless laugh. "Would you have not done the exact same thing to him?"

His mouth tightened. "That's not the point."

"No, the point is we are the juiciest gossip in the whole school," she sighed.

Sebastian eyed her neck. "Is it bad?" He pointed awkwardly at his own neck. "Did I hurt you?"

"See for yourself," she said. She tilted her head back and to the side. The scarf slipped a little and he winced at the bruises under her ear. He stepped forward and with gentle fingers, brushed her hair back and tugged at the simple knot of her scarf. The silk slid away from her throat and she swallowed hard, her eyes flicking up to his.

His breath hissed through his teeth at the sight of her neck, the smooth flesh a colourful canvas of his lust. "Fuck, MC, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It doesn't hurt," she said. She attempted a small smile. "Next time, eat something before dancing."

His eyes widened. "Next time?"

Her face flushed crimson and she took a step back, reaching to tug the silk scarf back from him. "I mean, erm...you know, next time you find yourself in a situation like that."

Oh, so not necessarily with her then. He pushed a hand through his hair and nodded, trying to smile, his heart flipping madly.

She hesitated. "Did we...did you...I can't remember much about getting back to the dormitory. I didn't embarrass myself further, did I? I mean, I didn't do anything inappropriate."

"No, you were just intoxicated. Imelda took over once I got you there. I thought she was going to skin me alive when she saw the state of you."

She nodded, relieved. "Well, thank you for getting me back safely."

"Of course," he said.

An awkward silence fell between them. Thoughts and feelings twisted and turned inside of him. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold her. The depth of his heart was on the tip of his tongue, tingling. He could just tell her, like Ominis had told him to.

"Things aren't going to be weird between us now, are they?" She asked. "You're my best friend, Seb. I'd hate for something so foolish to ruin that."

Foolish. Everything that had been balanced on the tip of his tongue vanished. He swallowed it all down, tucking it away next to his crushing disappointment. He was beginning to wonder if there would ever be a right time to tell her, maybe he should try to let it go.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured her. He covered his tortured heart with his best smirk. He leant in and tweaked her nose playfully. "I mean, what's a hot dance between friends, right? It would take a lot more than that to get rid of me."

Relief made her face sag, and her eyes shone with tears. She stepped forward and buried her face into his chest, and of course, he wrapped her up tight, his hand gently smoothing her hair.

He would always be there to hold her when she needed him.

....*....

Instead of waking up from terrible nightmares, she was now plagued by hot, breathless dreams of Sebastian biting her neck like some kind of erotic vampire. She made a mental note to stop reading gothic fiction.

Although, stopping the gothic fiction wasn't going to stop her getting hot and flustered over Sebastian apparently. She found herself staring at his mouth more often now, and even worse, she would catch herself eyeing his trouser area, remembering the feel of him, hot and hard against her body.

One afternoon, she found herself alone with him in the Undercroft. They were quietly studying, quills scratching away on parchment. She paused to watch him, admiring the way his hair fell across his forehead. He sighed, brows drawing together, lips pursed as he read his text book. Now she knew what those lips felt like on her skin, but how would they feel on her mouth? He pushed his hair back with long fingers, the strands falling softly against each other, the firelight glinting on the streaks of gold lightened by the sun.

What was going to happen when they graduated? What if she hardly ever saw him again? It was a sobering thought.

"What are you staring at? Do I have the remains of lunch around my mouth or something?"

His eyes swung towards her, his smirk delicious. She bit back her smile, and failed. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

His gaze turned curious. "About?"

She took a steadying breath. "About what happens when we leave here," she said. "After graduation. I have no idea what I am going to do. I mean, I've finally found a place where I feel I belong, and all too soon I will have to leave it."

Sebastian put down his quill and leant towards her. "Have you any thoughts on where you want to go?"

She shrugged. "Not really," she admitted. "I don't really have anywhere to go. I suppose I could try and get my old job back at the cafe, stay there until I decide what I want. What about you?"

He frowned, thinking. Her heart clenched a little. For some reason, it was important for her to know what he was going to do. It was almost like panic, what seized her, fear of him slipping out of her reach.

"Well," he said. "I did think about applying for the Auror program, however I'm not so sure now. I'm a fair hand at research, I know my way around a library, so perhaps something along the lines of that. Either way, I don't want to farm fields for the rest of my life."

"Even though it looks good on you?" She smiled.

He chuckled. "Want a closer inspection?"

MC had to clench her thighs at the naughty gleam in his eye. "This conversation is becoming rather improper, Mr Sallow." She spoke primly but he wasn't buying any of it.

"You started it," he grinned.

She sighed, rolling her eyes, and flipped the page over in her book, but she wasn't really paying much attention to it. Her smiled slipped a little and she fixed her gaze on him. "Whatever we do after graduation, I do know that I will miss this," she said. She indicated the two of them sitting together. "I will miss being able to do stuff like this with you everyday."

He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. She resisted the urge to twist her palm up and clasp it properly. "Don't think you'll be getting rid of me that easily," he said. "You won't be the only one missing this time we have together. I'm not going to just walk away and leave you behind."

"You promise?"

"I promise." His warm, brown eyes were earnest, his expression soft as he looked at her. He brushed his hand lightly over hers and a riot of goosebumps spread up her arm.

"Careful, I might hold you to that," she said.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

....*....

As the term moved along, MC threw herself into her schoolwork to distract herself from Sebastian, and soon the weeks slipped by and Christmas was upon them. She had kept her head down and worked hard, no booze, no boys. She was feeling more in control than she had in a long while. Perhaps they could have a nice, normal Christmas. Their last here at Hogwarts.

After a gift shopping trip in Hogsmeade, MC sat in the Three Broomsticks with Poppy and Natty. She took a long sip of her butterbeer and smiled at her friends. "Did you get all your gifts?"

Natty gave Poppy a nudge. "Poppy even got one for Leander," she grinned.

Poppy flushed. "It's just a little thank you for all the help he has given me at the beast pens," she said.

"And the rest," Natty giggled.

"Oh, what's this? What have I missed?" MC asked, sitting up straighter.

Poppy squirmed a little, but a little grin won out on her mouth. "We may have had a little kiss."

MC gaped. "Poppy! You go girl. Was it nice?"

"It was...wet?" Poppy screwed her nose up a little. "Not much like how you read it in a romance novel to be honest."

MC snorted into her butterbeer, coughing a little as she choked back a giggle. "Give it another go, practise makes perfect. If not with Leander, then perhaps someone else."

Poppy's face lit up with curiosity. "Yes, this is what I need. Got any other tips? What's it like when things start moving under the clothes?"

MC gasped. Her cheeks blushing a little. "What makes you think I know about that?"

Poppy hesitated, blushing herself. "Oh, sorry. I thought...well, you are a bit more experienced at these things."

Natty grabbed up her butterbeer, interested eyes flicking between her two buddies.

"Kissing perhaps," MC admitted. "But I've never, you know..." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I've never taken a boy to bed."

Natty looked surprised. "Not even Sebastian?"

MC swallowed and twisted her drink on the table top. "Not even him."

Both Poppy and Natty sighed in disappointment at the same time. MC looked at them both, a furrow on her brow. "What?"

Poppy squeezed her hands into little fists and thumped them down on the table as she said. "But, you love him, right? You must do!"

"He...he's my best friend!" MC spluttered. Shock made her mouth drop. Where had that come from?

Natty reached out and put her hand over MC's. "It's alright, MC," she said. "You can tell us. But, it is fairly obvious. The way you two look at each other, everyone wants someone to look at them that way. I think it's all rather lovely."

MC stared at them both. Her heart sped up a bit. "What do you mean, how do we look at each other?"

"Infatuation," Poppy said firmly. "That's the word I would use. And, as for the Halloween party..."

MC held her hand up. "Nope, don't even go there. This is getting a bit out of hand now."

"Why, did we hit too close to home?" Natty smirked.

MC snatched up her drink, her whole body burning at what they were suggesting. It was nonsense. It was wishful thinking. It was waking up everything she had buried away, deeply away, over the last few weeks. She drank down some more of her drink, her blood flowing fast and hot.

Infatuation. She took a shaky breath. And she didn't miss the little knowing smirk shared between the other two girls. Dare she believe it?

....*....

Most of the school had gone home for the Christmas holidays, but a few of the 7th year students elected to stay and make the most of the school in their last year.

Sebastian finished wrapping the Christmas gift he had bought for MC. He fiddled with the bow, knowing that he had spent far too much money, and he hoped he hadn't gone too over the top.

His guilt over what had happened at Halloween still clung to him. Her neck had been a masterpiece displaying the loss of his self control. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had blanked him after what he had done. But she hadn't.

She hadn't come back for more either.

His restraint around her was now on a tight leash. He was nothing but a gentleman, aside from a little playful flirting, but then they had always done that.

Seeing her being mocked like that in the Great Hall had cut him deep. He had pounded Leander for the little bitch he was at duelling practise for that.

He was also glad to notice that she didn't seem to have a boy hanging around her anymore. He had been sick of listening to the gutter talk in the Quidditch changing rooms. She had a taste for Quidditch players it would seem. It made him feel sick, and the Undercroft had taken some real punishment in the effort to ease his jealous fury.

However, things had been quiet lately. Ominis had dropped a few hints about confessing how he really felt, but he brushed him off. She had been so scared of ruining their friendship after Halloween, and he didn't want to do that either. So, he kept his mouth shut. All he wanted was for her to be happy. It was what she deserved.

Once wrapped, he hid the gift in his trunk, ready for when he could give it to her on Christmas day. Then, he went to the common room in search of Ominis.

"Where is everyone?" He asked.

"MC said that she was meeting Poppy and a few others in the Clock Tower," Ominis said. "Did you want to go along?"

"Sure, why not? I'm feeling sociable."

....*....

MC was on her third glass of mulled wine, her cheeks rosy, and eyes bright as she sat and chatted with her friends. Snow was falling gently outside, but the frigid Highland air was being kept out by a rather impressive warming charm.

There was a large Christmas tree in the corner decorated in the latest Victorian fashion. MC was starting to feel rather in the spirit of the season and was glad she had opted to stay at the castle.

As the evening wore on, the lads brought the firewhiskey flasks out. MC declined, sticking with the mulled wine that Garreth's mum had given him the recipe for. It was actually rather good.

She found herself sitting in a circle of her friends, chatting and telling jokes. Sebastian, Ominis, Poppy, Natty, Everett, Garreth, Leander, Imelda and Amit. They were trying to come up with a game to play, something for the adults, as Imelda cheekily put it.

"Truth or dare?" Garreth suggested.

"Hmm, that could turn dangerous very quickly," Ominis said.

"That's half the fun," Sebastian chuckled.

"It's got to be something at least a little risky," Imelda said. "Come on, are you winners or are you wimps?"

"It's not bloody Quidditch," Leander grumbled. He shot the girls a sly grin. He tugged his wand out of his pocket and gave it a rather skilled twirl. "How about a game of Spin the Wand?"

There was a jumble of groans and giggles around the circle, the boys looking a lot more keen than the girls, although Poppy was flushing a lovely shade of pink.

MC flicked her gaze towards Sebastian, he caught her eye and smirked. She licked her lips. This could prove more dangerous than truth or dare. She looked at Ominis, waiting for him to shoot this game down too, but he didn't. If anything, he looked curious.

"Okay, let's do this," Leander said. "We all take turns spinning our wand in the centre of the circle, whomever the wand points to, you have to kiss them under the mistletoe. Who's in?"

Everyone glanced around the circle, and nobody was backing out. MC felt her heart begin to thump a little faster.

"What kind of kiss?" Amit asked, timidly.

"At least a minute," Imelda said promptly. "No quick pecks, and it has to be on the mouth."

They all nodded, expectation thick in the air. Natty lifted her wand and charmed a little sand timer to time the kisses, and Poppy charmed a large bunch of mistletoe for them to kiss under, throwing MC a little smirk as she did so.

"I'll go first seeing as I suggested it," Leander said. He leaned in to spin his wand.

"Can't wait to get a snog more like," Garreth sniggered.

Leander grinned and spun his wand. Everyone watched it, spinning round and round, finally slowing to a stop. It was pointing at Imelda. Leander looked a little bit scared and MC covered her mouth with her hand, smothering a chuckle.

"Come on then, Prewett," Imelda said. She got to her feet and moved under the mistletoe. "Pucker up, bitch."

Everyone laughed as Leander moved to join her. He didn't quite know what to do with his hands, all flustered and awkward. Imelda sighed and grabbed his face with both hands, planting her mouth firmly against his.

Poppy gasped, her face falling a little as she watched them. Again, MC debated the risk this game posed. Garreth pumped his fist in the air as Natty flipped the timer. MC watched them kiss, a steady flood of colour darkening Leander's face.

Wow, a minute felt like a long time.

MC glanced around the circle wondering what it would be like to kiss any of them for a minute. Sebastian was obviously the one that made her heart pound, but then, she didn't want to kiss him for the first time in front of everyone. She trusted Ominis, and Poppy, and figured they would feel safe. As for the others, she felt a bit nervous.

The minute was up. Imelda broke away, cool and unflustered as she retook her spot in the circle. Leander was blushing madly, a stupid grin on his face. He gave Garreth a nudge as he sat down next to him. "Go on then, mate. Your turn."

Garreth clapped his hands together, rubbing them as though warming them up, before taking out his wand. He leant forward to spin it.

"No cheating," Everett warned. "We know who you want it to land on."

Leander chuckled, his eyes darting towards Poppy. She didn't notice, she was too busy watching Garreth, her own wand already out and ready for her turn.

Garreth's wand spun quickly, the wood grating against the stone floor. It slowed and stopped and MC felt her cheeks bloom with warmth. It was pointing at her. Her gaze lifted to Garreth and he too was blushing a deep red.

Leander gave a delighted laugh and slapped Garreth on the shoulder. "Fucking hell, Garreth! Nice catch!"

Everett leant in towards Amit. "I knew he would cheat. So obvious."

Everyone looked at MC and she managed a smile. Her gaze flicked towards Sebastian and she was surprised to see his expression tight, his jaw working against the clench of his teeth. He did not look happy. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, more about Sebastian's reaction than the thought of having to kiss Garreth.

She stood and moved towards the mistletoe. She took a steadying breath. It was just a kiss. She had kissed a boy before. Nothing to it.

Garreth came up towards her. He was taller than she expected up close, and his eyes were actually a very pretty green. He gave her an awkward smile. "I apologise in advance if this is rubbish," he said.

She felt her nerves slip away at those words. She noted the eager faces of Leander and Everett, poised and ready to make a joke out of this. She knew how it felt to suffer that kind of mockery. She felt a pang of empathy for Garreth and decided to make this easy for him.

She leant in towards him. "Don't worry, just follow my lead," she whispered.

Fully aware that Sebastian was watching this, she reached out to grab the front of Garreth's jumper, tugging him closer. He gave a little squeak of surprise and she smiled before going up on tiptoes to press her mouth against his.

His lips were warm, soft, and he tasted of firewhiskey and chocolate fudge. She could feel his nerves, but he was gentle, taking care not to take advantage. She deepened the kiss, the sand slipping through the timer as she swirled her tongue against his. He gasped softly, his hand moving to press against the small of her back. Her hand moved up to cup his face. He was good, very good.

If she had been looking down at her circle of friends, she would have seen the gaping mouths of Poppy and Natty, the look of surprised wonder on Leander's. She would have also seen the curious tilt of Ominis' head, and the quiet, dark fury on Sebastian's face. Poppy glanced at Sebastian, saw his expression, and gave Natty a quick nudge. She nodded for Natty to look, and when Natty saw, she looked at Poppy, biting her bottom lip in knowing concern.

The sand ran out, Garreth and MC continued to kiss, oblivious that their time was up. Natty noticed. "Erm, times up guys," she said.

Everyone glanced around the circle at her words, and then looked back at Garreth and MC as they continued to kiss. In an instant, Sebastian was on his feet. He grabbed Garreth's sleeve. "Hey, she said the time's up," he bit out. "That means stop."

Garreth jumped, released MC, and she quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She met Sebastian's gaze and flushed under the intensity of his glare. However, she had not forgotten about Garreth's own nerves and she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. He looked at her uncertain, and she smiled. "That was nice. Thank you."

Garreth looked dazed, flushed, and then he grinned widely. When he went to sit down, Leander clapped him on the back again. "Nice one, mate. Not going to lie, I'm a little jealous."

Imelda threw him a scowl at that comment.

MC's heart lurched for Poppy, and caught her little frown of disappointment. Prewett could be a real arse sometimes, his mouth moved before his brain could kick in. His words were starting to slur together a little, clearly he'd had a few too many gulps of firewhiskey.

Sebastian took hold of MC's arm and led her back to the circle, clearly wanting her to sit with him. She felt tense, poised, as though this was about to go very wrong. Sebastian was coiled tight like a spring, just waiting to be released.

Leander clapped his hands. "Right then, who's up next?" He gave MC a little smirk. "You never know, maybe you can tick another lad off your kiss list, MC."

Gasps sounded around the circle. Poppy looked furious. "Leander!" She cried.

Sebastian was instantly on his feet, wand out, aiming it right at Leander's face. "Watch your mouth, Prewett," he snarled.

Leander scrambled up onto his own feet, wand out. "What's the matter, Sallow, did I hit a nerve?"

MC leapt up next and grabbed Sebastian's arm, she knew that look on his face. "Leave it," she hissed.

Everyone was on their feet now, not wanting to get caught in any cross fire.

"You need to learn some bloody respect," Sebastian growled.

"It was only a joke," Leander said. He gave MC a sheepish look. "I didn't mean anything by it. And it wasn't exactly a lie. MC has kissed a few of the lads."

"And you're just jealous because you weren't one of them," Everett chuckled. "Come on, Leander. She isn't going to want to kiss you after this. I reckon the game is over, sadly."

"Oh, the game is definitely over," Sebastian snapped.

"At least I can admit it though," Leander said. "I'd kiss her, of course I would. Unlike you, Sallow. You've been giving her the eye since 5th year but you're too much of a pussy to do anything about it. I thought you'd finally cracked it at Halloween, but it would seem not. What's the matter, did she knock you back?"

Silence. The only sound was the soft swish of the pendulum above their heads.

MC could see the stunned faces of her friends, the softly falling snow through the doorway, the flicker of candles and festive baubles. It was so still though, as if the room was holding its breath.

She took every detail in, but most of all, she was keenly concentrating on Sebastian. Her own shocked heart thudding madly against her ribs. This was the second time this week that someone had pointed out that there was something between her and Sebastian. She stared at him, but he couldn't even look her way.

Sebastian was shaking with his fury, and MC knew all of his tells, he was about to cast the first strike. She leapt forward, knocking his wand arm sideways, just as a spell shot from the tip.

Two things happened at once. The Christmas tree exploded, shiny trinkets and sparks flying in all directions as Sebastian's spell hit it. The second thing was Leander, flying backwards, hitting the floor with a thud before sliding to a stop against the black metal fence.

Everyone had jumped backwards, shouting and calling out. MC spun, confused. How had the tree and Leander both been hit?

The answer was Poppy. She was standing just behind MC, her wand pointed towards Leander, her face set in ferocious determination.

"Poppy!" MC gasped.

Poppy scowled and lowered her wand. "He deserved it." It was scary how calm she sounded.

"Could someone please tell me what in Merlin's name is going on?" Ominis demanded.

MC looked to Sebastian, his face was flushed, his eyes flashing with fury. He locked gazes with her, his eyes softened a little, but he was wound up so tight, his chest heaving with his breaths.

She took a step towards him, hand outstretched. "Seb..."

"I can't do this," he muttered.

She frowned in confusion. "Do what?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

He turned and ran for the courtyard. MC stared after him for a moment, stunned. "No, wait!"

"Where's he going?" Poppy asked.

MC didn't know, but she was going to find out. She took off after him, her heart in her mouth. They had to talk. There was too much up in the air now, a swirl of emotions tumbled in her gut, and she needed some answers.

She could hear her name being shouted, but she ignored them, sprinting after Sebastian as he disappeared onto the covered bridge. His feet thundered across the wood, hers desperately chasing after him.

"Sebastian, wait, please." She panted. He was too fast, she would never catch him.

She pulled out her wand and flicked it towards his back. "Arresto Momentum!"

He slowed right down and she ran past him, spinning to a stop so she stood facing him. She gripped the front of his woolen jumper before releasing the spell. He staggered right into her, the pair of them stumbling chaotically into the barrier fence of the bridge.

She yelped as he crushed her, but she refused to let go of him, not wanting him to start running again.

"What the fuck?" He yelled. He gripped her wrist where she held him, straightening. "Let go."

They had fought before, many times, she wasn't afraid to bite back.

"You don't get to run away from me like that," she growled. "We need to talk."

"Okay, let's talk," he bit out. He thrust his face up close to hers. "Enjoyed kissing Weasley, did you? Didn't even hear the timer had run out."

She gasped and then scowled. "I didn't chase you down to talk about Garreth."

He pulled a sickening face and mimicked what she had said. "Oh, thank you, Garreth, that was nice!" Then his face twisted into something feral. "Beautiful bit of feedback. I bet you made his fucking night."

"It was just a game!" She protested.

"What about Halloween, MC? Huh? How did that feel? Was that nice, too? Or did I not live up to your standards? Maybe that was just a game too."

She gulped. His face was so close, his eyes blazing, the fury seeping from him in waves. Her waist was crushed up against the wooden railing behind her and the wind whipped freezing flakes through her flying hair.

"Seb..." She said, breathing so hard it hurt her lungs.

His fingers gripped her shoulders, shaking her a little. "Well? Tell me the truth. How did I make you feel?"

He looked desperate, wild. If she was honest, his intensity did scare her a little, and yet her body was firing up, heat exploding through her veins at the way he was pressed up against her. The memory of Halloween night made her lick her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, his expression morphing into something darkly ravenous.

"You're..you're jealous," she gasped.

His hand gripped her face, his freezing fingers almost soothing against the burn of her cheeks. He dragged the pad of his thumb downwards over her lips, parting them. "You have no fucking idea," he groaned.

He trailed his thumb back along her lower lip, his eyes following the movement. "Watching him kiss you like that..." His own mouth moved lower, dipping towards hers. "I wanted to kill him, blast him right out of your arms."

Her fingers tightened their grip on his jumper, her heart felt like it was going to hammer its way right through her rib cage, and her mouth was tingling with anticipation at the thought that he was about to kiss her.

"You still haven't answered my question," he asked. His eyes lifted to hers. "How do I make you feel?"

She swallowed, the movement making her lips brush against his thumb. She whimpered a little. "Like...like my skin is going to burst into flame if you touch it," she admitted.

He slid his hand from her face, fingers trailing over her jaw and down to the column of her throat. "Like this?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, her throat working as he teased delicate finger tips up towards her ear. Her hips fidgeted against him. "Seb..."

His face moved even closer, the tip of his nose brushing against hers, his breath hot on her cold skin. She could smell the firewhiskey, the scent of his skin, her lips were hungry for a taste. Impatient, she moved to kiss him, but he pulled back from her a little, his lips twisting into a satisfied smirk.

"Hmm, you really want me to kiss you, don't you?"

"Isn't that what you want, too?"

"Aren't you scared about what that might mean? If we cross that line, MC, could we ever step back over it?"

"Since when have you ever paused before rushing in to something?"

He pulled back a little, the cold air rushing in to replace the warmth of his breath on her face. His face was conflicted. "I can't lose you," he whispered.

MC was done going over the same thing in her head and in her heart. He was going to send her crazy if they kept going round and round in circles like this. One of them had to take that leap, dive into the unknown and hope to Merlin that it wasn't an empty cloud, and they wouldn't tumble down to a nasty end.

She reached up to touch his face, finger tips trailing across his eyebrow and down to sweep across his cheekbone. How many times had she looked on this handsome face? She knew every line, every dip and curve. She knew his smile, his sadness, his fury, his determination and his pain. Just now, she had caught a glimpse of his desire in the way he had looked at her mouth. It made her tremble, ache sharply in places that needed a release she was sure only he could ease. She traced his freckles, sliding down to his lips. They were soft, inviting.

"You're not going to lose me," she promised.

He stared at her, eyes darkening, his head lowering down towards her again. He hesitated, a mere breath away from her lips, but she was done waiting. She pressed her mouth to his, lips tasting lips, a soft teasing taste.

They both paused and smiled. His body seemed to relax, moulding softly against her, like he was letting go of something that had held him in a tight grip.

His next kiss was firmer, hungrier, his hands holding her in a desperate grip. He moaned, deeply, his mouth parting and MC didn't hesitate. She claimed his mouth, so much pent up hunger pouring out of her as their tongues slid together. She moaned into his mouth, reaching up to grab his hair. She didn't think she would ever be able to stop. She had waited so long for this, finally, finally, she was getting what she really wanted.

She had taken the leap, dived head first into this with him, and he seemed to be right in it with her. If she fell, then she fell, as long as he was holding her like this, she reckoned she could take the hit.

To be continued... Part 3

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

An Acquired Taste | Jake x FReader

Synopsis: You bring Jake to Long Island's Oyster Fest

Tags: Voyeurism if you squint, with a light dash of angst; Alcohol consumption; Smoking

Words: 9.3K

And thank you to @ursulaismymiddlename who deals with my Jake fixation with nothing but grace.

Link to AO3

There’s not much of a fully formed memory left over from the previous night, except for the little inconsequential detail that it was meant to be an early one. 

It had been a typical Saturday evening shift. Fast-paced, stressful, and with the forever presence of snobby clientele. Though, in the restaurant's defense, most of the work week flowed with a similar rotation. But last night was the first Saturday in years you wouldn’t dare keep track of where the Sunday that followed was a day off, and apparently that translated to being amenable to the notion of getting fucked up.

That wasn’t the plan originally. Originally, you were meant to call it immediately after closing. You didn’t even dare to attempt partaking in shift drinks, simply vanished to the lockers to stuff any dirty laundry in a bag because dammit you’d get an early start to said day off and be able to freely partake in a chore and the event you had taken the day off for in the first place. 

That was until a certain bartender asked if you’d be going to Home Bar, and fuck if he didn’t have a face you could say no to. 

You’re sat next to him now, feeling like a teenager as the pair of you among a crowd of strangers get crammed onto a school bus headed for downtown Oyster Bay. 

“Is someone a little too hungover?” he murmurs into your ear. And maybe it’s not just the bus that makes you feel like an adolescent girl. The seats are too narrow, meant for literal children. And Jake is practically on top of you in the small space.

When you glance up at him, the rim of your sunglasses brush the sharp-edged jut of his cheek and, in your stupor, you try desperately not to stare at his lips. 

You grin reassuringly, even if the chatter surrounding you seems a little too loud at the moment. It’ll get better once you’re let outside and don’t have the odor of pervasive burning rubber and oil combined with the heady scent of him flooding your senses, you’re certain. “I’m fine, came and got you didn’t I?” 

He tilts his head back in appraisal, lips slightly parted as he considers his response. Unlike you, sunglasses don’t cover his eyes, so the striking blue hue of them is a perfect sea struck by sunlight anyone could drown in. 

“Good,” he settles on. Then somewhat reluctantly adds - “Because I uh -” there’s a huffing noise akin to a chuckle that hones your attention more than anything thus far. It’s sheepish, almost. “I’m actually. I’ve been looking. Forward -”

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say anything.”

You bite your lip to temper the expression growing on your face. “Is - is Jake excited about something?” 

“No,” he says quickly. But his voice is soft, so soft in fact that you can barely hear it over the sliding doors of the bus slamming to a close and the engine revs, beginning its departure from the local train station. Jake shifts in the seat; consequentially pressing you closer to the window and his eyes dart around and he can deny all he wants but it’s weak and you don’t believe him in the slightest. You can’t help but wonder when was the last time he’d gotten out of the city. Away from the restaurant, or had maybe done something he truly enjoyed that goes against the fucking thick facade he dons daily.

But when his gaze seeks out yours once more, it’s almost like he can read your thoughts. Get the gist of your own excitement for him, the hangover actively taking a steady backseat to the fact that you’re treating him to something with such good effect. He visibly relaxes, eyes flitting about your face. 

“Don’t talk.” 

You’ll take that. Perfectly content with spending the ride watching the town pass by through the window with him comfortably pressed against you. A win’s a win.

~

It’s right in the middle of October, and as much as you love living in the city, one of the few things you actually miss about Long Island is witnessing the more flush change in season. Summer weather is a thing of the past, bleeding into the picturesque full bloom of autumn. What was green is now vibrant yellows and luscious reds. When it’s bright and sunny like today, the temperature is just warm enough that one doesn’t need a coat, and then fades into cozy crisp air under the blanket of night. 

IIt’s your favorite time of the year, and just so happens to coincide with Oyster Fest. 

The annual festival practically shuts down the entire town while thousands of people flock in attendance. Traffic is barely more than a halted complete stop, there isn’t a lick of parking for miles, and sidewalks brim with activity as bars, restaurants and shops all remain open for business, and the swarm only thickens once the bus deposits its passengers between a clearing of town parks and baseball fields located directly beside the Bay. 

To the immediate right are typical fair attractions; cheap fried foods and beer, a Ferris Wheel among other classic yet suspiciously rickety rides, including a Funhouse and the Zipper. Scattered snugly among them are grids of carnival game stations and - at this early hour of the afternoon - it is entirely overrun with families and groups of teenagers. 

But straight ahead lies the main attraction. Metal barricades form a path that leads the crowd, and you with Jake in tow, to the cleared out lots ahead. Except it’s not so clear now, quite the opposite. The heads of dozens of booths stick out atop the throngs of people. Each one ran, you know, by various vendors from all over the tri-state area, and each one selling anything from varieties of food, to homemade goods and trinkets. 

The layout is roughly the same as you remember and the medley of aromas make you salivate. Being hungover is a bygone thing and instead, your stomach growls with a not so subtle rumble thanks to opting against breakfast that morning. You pass a knowing look over your shoulder, eyeing Jake with interest, only to find delight in the way he surveys the landscape of food, drink, and the sparkling view of the Long Island Sound posing as a charming backdrop to it all.

“Oysters for days, but I’m assuming you want to hit that first?” 

The hint of a rare, genuine smile is nothing short of chuffed before he’s even looked at you, and when he does, it’s as he draws on a pair of shades.

“Desperately.” 

Maneuvering through the herd of people is no easy feat. It’s all high energy and excitement; even at a distance from across the lot, the voice of a miked up emcee booms from the main stage and an audience roars over an oyster eating or shucking competition. Queues are nearly indistinguishable as you pass through a section dedicated to gumbo and jambalaya, clam chowder and lobster bisque. You almost trip over a leashed dog and instinct makes you reach a hand out behind you, not wanting to get separated, and Jake takes it without question, letting you steer him ahead. 

The soft weight of it feels so natural tucked around yours that it barely becomes a distraction like it might’ve in any other circumstance. Not until you reach the tented area closest to the pier. There’s a swirling assembly line of people waiting to approach it like they would a ride in a theme park and you sidle in once a gap reveals itself. Only then do you fret over having to let his hand go because - well - you don’t particularly want to.

"Uh, hello?"

And just like that, the moment is over. Both of your heads simultaneously turn toward the sound of the annoyed voice and find a group of boys behind you. The one in front gestures vaguely, eyebrows raised as he huffs impatiently.

"There's like, a line going on here? You have to wait in line."

The snappy intrusion was annoying on its own, but now you're fucking hungry and mere moments away from delicious relief; you stiffen at the accusation with a flood of irritation.

"The fuck's it look like we're doing?" you snap back without hesitation. 

Jake snorts at your outburst, but otherwise it appears to be effective as the guy's body language seems to relax.

"Shit, alright. My bad."

You scoff and turn back around to catch up to the pace of the line ahead, and when you stop, Jake presses close enough to your backside that he can lean down to speak subtly along the rim of your ear. 

"You're either very confident, or you just totally cut the line without realizing."

"Hm?" His deep voice makes your skin tingle, a sensation you’ve well practiced to endure over time. "Wait. What?"

"I mean, I don't fuckin' mind. That was kind'a cute. I think you scared him."

"Are you serious-?" 

You chance a glance back, grateful for wearing sunglasses so that you can look around inconspicuously. And sure enough, the line continues much farther back than where you started. Significantly farther.

"Oh my god, I swear I had no idea-"

"Shhh.. Just keep walking," Jake's hands are on your shoulders with a gentle nudge forward, not remotely trying to contain his amusement while you flush with mortification. "We're committing now."

Indeed you are, but quite frankly - and yes, cutting is bad, it's rude, you'd tell anyone off for doing the same - it ultimately works out for the best and with very little regret because a moment later, you're blanketed by the shade of the expansive tent.

Beneath it lie rows of picnic tables, one after the other, and dozens of volunteers flit around in a blur of quick movements as oysters come piling in on trays by the (literal) boatful. They work in practiced motions, cleaning and shucking and plating the morsels, while others working the counters tend to visitors and shuffle around whole wads of cash. 

It's a five for five deal, and the operation is so speedy that before you know it, you've handed over a ten dollar bill and come away with two plates and a lemon slice each. There’s a condiment station just outside the tent’s perimeter, and while Jake walks past it - you know he prefers his oysters straight up - you stop for hot sauce and a dollop of horseradish, some napkins and a fork just in case. 

He meanwhile moseys over to a space out of the way of foot traffic over by the pier, making for quite the sight. And by it, you definitely don’t mean the water. Jake is dressed in his usual attire, a leather jacket and jeans combination. But today he surprised you with a button up-shirt printed with a variety of colors woven into wild patterns that somehow manages to actually work, and it’s up for debate if it’s because of the shirt itself or because it’s him. When you’d arrived at his apartment earlier, you’d done a triple take, unable to recall ever seeing him wear color at all - which of course was received with a smartass remark. 

But the sunlight reflected off the surface of the water casts Jake in a perfect halo as if he’s being showcased. Skin opalescent in its brightness, throat bare to the mild air as he tilts his head back and raises an oyster to his rosy-pink lips. 

You were fucked, but you save face as you approach, content to be happy with how he appears to be enjoying himself while he too balances two plates on one hand.

“They meet your exceptional standards?” you sass.

“Yes,” he states, simple and firm, and you finally take the pleasure of digging into your own. 

With the slice of lemon, you squeeze a healthy trickle of juice over the shells, poke a morsel with a fork to be sure it’s properly shucked, then pick the first one up. Your mouth is already watering by the time it reaches your lips and you knock it back with a gentle slurp. It greets you at once with a flavor both briny and sweet, mingling with the spicy tang of the hot sauce, lemon and horseradish, all wrapped up with a pleasantly refreshing chill that resonates deep within your gullet. 

“Better than the restaurant,” he continues; your mumbled agreement is unintelligible as you rush for seconds. “Better than the Cape, though?” You peer up at him suspiciously, slowly chewing around your next mouthful. He’s starting to reek of mischief and tilts his head in mocking consideration. “I don’t know, can’t make up my mind.” 

“Is someone sounding a little competitive?” 

Jake grins and you’re relieved his eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Of course not.”

“This is because of the clam chowder, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, bound to have seen the booth.

You mull over a response and suck down another oyster. “I suppose a lobster roll is out of the question?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He suddenly steps closer; you need to crane your neck a little higher to look up at him, and then his hand closes the distance between you. His thumb grazes somewhere below the curve of your lip, swiping at some wayward remnant of lemon juice or briny moisture or who cares what, only to draw it back to his mouth where he flicks at it with the tip of his tongue. “I’m still hungry.”

~

Not a single coherent thought graces your mind with its presence, and if possible he seems further delighted by this. He lights up with a smile before grabbing your hand, and it’s a struggle to find your footing and keep the rest of your oysters upright when he drags you along. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once some proper food is in your stomachs, it’s decided that splitting up is the best option to cover more ground. Oysters may flow constantly throughout the weekend, but historically it’s not unheard of for other vendors to sell out of supply before the day is over. And as the crowd only peaks as the afternoon goes on, Jake is surprisingly up to task and it is.. Nice.

When it comes to the restaurant, there is no doubt that with the long hours, post-shift late night outings, and occasionally the spaces in between, that those you work with consume the majority of your life. But Jake is.. Different. Admittedly, he’s an asshole, with a wickedly dry sense of humor and a passing dislike for the general public. Things you aren’t necessarily opposed to. Things that, admittedly, you have in common. You like him. He’s an actual friend. It just so happens that sometimes you want him a little bit more than that. 

It is a fact that you are more than content to deal with, even if today makes it more of a challenge. Today is more than the shared cigarette breaks and the moments of hiding out in the walk-in, and it feels a far cry still beyond those late night outings with the rest of the crew. This is proper fucking bonding and perhaps it would be less daunting if Jake didn’t appear to be enjoying it so fucking much.

You take turns holding a place in line while the other will wander off in search of something else, only to reconnect immediately after to split the reward, sharing quite literally, whether it be off the others’ plate or via an outstretched hand. The strategy sees you through to the aforementioned clam chowder (a satisfying win as Jake - who adamantly refused to approve of the creamy soup - wound up stealing the last ounce of it by snatching your wrist to guide the final spoonful toward his greedy mouth), grilled scallops and octopus, steamed mussels, and eventually a lobster roll.

At other times you merely stand aside and watch as Jake schmoozes with vendors. He asks questions with an uncharacteristic interest, oozing enough charm that they inevitably offer up a small sample of something to taste for free. 

The oyster tent remains a frequented spot. The queue has grown; has more than doubled in size since your initial stop, even as it manages to maintain the assembly line pace. Two pints of locally brewed beers are cradled close to your chest as you depart what’s considered the designated alcohol tent. It’s separated from the rest of the festival, an enormous setup that requires a stamp on the wrist to gain entry. Inside is cold beer on tap, a limited selection of Long Island wines, and a projector screen that will air this week’s Sunday night football. The crowd packed inside is far from small.

You bob and weave your way back to where Jake waits, ready to purchase another ten or so oysters (you both lost count after thirty), slipping through a thicket of people so dense that you focus on keeping the drinks upright, and don’t so much as notice the two young women chatting him up - until you’re just a few arms lengths away and come to an abrupt halt.

Well, fuck.

It’s being too used to seeing this type of scene play out that makes you check the time, a part of you wondering if Jake’s about to bail and disappear with the both of them. In your defense, it wouldn’t be the first time; his reputation precedes him and it certainly isn’t unearned. His ability to attract may sometimes seem beyond the point of his own control - you’ve often wondered if it comes with the territory of being a bartender - but he has never been above easily taking what’s thrown his way either.

Their appearances likely mean little to Jake, he’s nondiscriminating that way. But upon second glance, you are all too familiar with their type. One of them is a tall brunette, the other a softball-built-yet-petite blond. Both clad head to toe in yacht club gear: pleated shorts and polo shirts, brown leather boat shoes. Even their headbands practically match in bright elastic shades of pastel. 

They’re North Shore girls. And a guy like Jake tempts in the form of parental rebellion and a potential connect for drugs. Whatever reservations you briefly experience are brushed aside, and now there’s little hesitation as you sidle up beside him, interrupting their conversation with a light nudge against his elbow. 

“Your beer,” you announce, with eyes only for him. 

Jake looks down at you, head cocked with a knowing grin. There’s something soft there too, difficult to see through the sunglasses, but you can sense it nonetheless. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says, voice a gentle rumble. He takes the beer and before you know it, his arm is wound across your shoulders and he leans in, ducking down until those rosy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. 

There are few times you find yourself grateful for drunken mishaps of the past, and this split second happens to be one of them. For if you hadn’t kissed Jake prior to this, hadn’t felt the silk of his lips caught in a suspended moment of pleasure, perhaps the effect could melt you to your knees. As it stands, your lashes flutter across the tips of his cheeks. Without bidding, your mouth responds, drifting along the seam of his, and it’s lucky he moves with it even if it’s smugness you sense that drives him. 

For a second you almost manage to forget what’s brought this on, but then there’s that prickling sensation of being watched. By a pair of ogling stares, specifically. You force yourself apart from Jake and clear your throat, grateful your voice is stronger than you could’ve guessed as you survey his current company. “Making friends?”

The girls emit enough dismay at your arrival to stroke an ego, but not without a glare and a roll of their eyes. The brunette crosses her arms under her chest with a drawl of - “We were just talking,” while the blonde ignores you completely, focusing on Jake with an accusatory - “You didn’t mention -”

“My girlfriend,” Jake finishes smoothly, and you resist the urge to balk at him. “She’s showing me around her hometown.” 

“Close enough,” you retort dryly. Your actual hometown is out farther east, a little detail that matters to precisely no one at the moment. Apart from your arrival, your presence is barely acknowledged. The twin glares stay trained on Jake, put out and bitter as they half turn to catch up with the rest of the line. “Maybe we’ll see you around.” 

“That was salty,” you snark once they’re out of earshot. Though not quite out of sight, as you both trail slowly behind them. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He doesn’t outright laugh, but from being nestled against him (his arm has stubbornly stayed in place), you can feel something close to it as he mulls it over.

 “Consider us even.”

You scoff and sputter immediately. “That was one time!” The time in question being at a disco, of all places. A creep had been harping on getting your number and then some. Everyone was too busy dancing to notice except for Jake who - thanks to his antisocial tendencies - was reliably stationed at the bar. He was more than welcoming to your advances, and the strange man left you alone after that. 

“Works pretty fuckin’ well though, huh?”

He’s not wrong, you admit, and relent a little at that. “Fine. I’ll allow it.” And if you feel emboldened by both the title of endearment and the public display of affection, well, you will simply refuse to look at it much more deeply than that… Even if, admittedly, your voice comes out a little flirty when you go on to add - “But if I’m your girlfriend, then that makes this a date and -”

Jake’s pained groan echoes inside his cup as he takes a long pull of beer. 

“And we’re at a festival which means you have to win me a prize at one of those shitty carnival games.” 

He stops short, forcing you to stop with him, and fixes you with a glare. It lasts a breath too long, but you stand your ground, refusing to give under the weight of it, when eventually -

“I fuckin’ rock at shitty carnival games.”

Your face splits with a grin, and a smirk tugs at his. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”

~

But before any games, there is one last stop that can’t be missed: a lobster dinner for a measly twenty bucks. No such deal would exist anywhere either on Long Island or back in the city, and anyone who deemed themselves a lobster lover would be foolish to pass up on the offer. One that likely wouldn’t last much longer this late in the day.

So when you manage to anxiously outlast the line, you’re grateful once you both walk away with a plate each in hand, and for the last iota of room in your belly that still has an appetite. 

The both of you assume a spot at a picnic table - few and far between, and shared with a trio of friends who occupy the opposite half - with Jake perched on top of it, and you sat on the bench beside his legs. In near silence now as you chow down as if eating hasn’t been the sole productivity of the day. The lobster is perfectly steamed, not dry, an error all too easy to make, and with a half-ear of corn and quarter-pound cup of melted butter as accompaniments.

There is a nagging thought, though. One you’ve been mulling over since parting ways with the two obvious up-to-no-good snobs. You peer up at Jake while you finish chewing, already moving on to cracking open a claw, having an inner debate on whether it’s worth it or not to bother mentioning. Jake is.. Well, private isn’t exactly the correct term. In the time you’ve known him, he can be almost too open with certain topics once you get him talking. But it’s rarely too personal, the deep down nitty gritty. And depending on what mood he’s in, he’ll either shut down completely, or bite your head off.

But the day so far has turned in a direction you hadn’t predicted. It’s gone better, much better than you could’ve hoped for when you first took the plunge in inviting him to come with. And in any case, his mood is as good as you’ve ever seen it. His fingers work the lobster tail apart, lips pursed in concentration, an oily sheen to them from the butter and eventually he pauses to take a few gulps of beer. 

He looks fucking gorgeous and you can’t stand it and fuck it -

“So,” you start, noncommittally at first. And you can only tell he’s listening by the raise of his brows. “I.. can’t help but notice that. Y’know.. You didn’t run off with those girls.” 

There’s little reaction to that. The upraised brows drop, he lets out a small huff before forking a couple of bites into his mouth. “You thought I was what - that I was gonna leave you here? Have a fuckin’ coke bender with them? Get laid?” 

“Oh, I knew it!” you snap a tad overzealous. “Sorry. I fucking knew they wanted drugs. Anyway.”

Jake snorts, unbothered by the outburst. “Yeah, I’ve seen the type. They fuck you for drugs, and then their frat sized boyfriends just happen to show up. Conveniently in time to kick the shit out’a you. Rob you, obviously. I like my asshole where it is, thanks.”

You hum around a mouthful of lobster. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

“Or maybe I just know a thing or two about a thing or two,” he sasses back. He takes a bite of his corn on the cob, an act that has no business being attractive and yet -

“People like that over there too, huh?” you ask out of curiosity, and he nods slowly.

“Starting to think this place isn’t too different from the Cape.” 

“Aw, I can see why you miss it so much...” Another thing you have in common; you both happen to share a resounding hatred for where you’re from. The sarcastic remark draws his attention, fixing you with a stare so amused you actually wish he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, simply to see the sharpness of his blue eyes. 

“And I, uh.. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He speaks slower now, enunciating his words as if it might almost pain him to admit, and eventually he looks away. “I’m actually - enjoying myself. With you. Today. And I don’t feel like pretending.” 

His phrasing sprouts about a dozen or so other questions at once, spurring sudden whiplash in your mind. Interest piques to the point you have to forcibly temper the urge to press him for more, likely to ruin the moment altogether. And in any case, more importantly, lies the admitted sentiment. It's, dare you say, heartwarming. Surprising. 

But you also know that if you acknowledge it aloud, he’ll tell you to fuck off. 

You smile at your plate instead. There’s just the one claw left now. It’s your favorite part, one you would normally savor, except you realize you’ve been slowly picking it apart with your fingers into little tiny unrecognizable pieces, distracted. 

“I wasn’t gonna let you wander off with them anyway. So.”

“Is that right,” Jake asks, and you glance up at him again just to find he casts down an unnaturally bright smile. He’s teasing you. “Feeling jealous?”

“Terribly,” you drawl, but the feigned glare hardly sticks once you can hear him chuckling. “No, I just - I guess I fucking hope that’s not your type, but either way I could tell exactly what they wanted from you. And I didn’t. Want that, I mean.”

“You were protecting me.” Jake muses, and a retort is ready at your teeth that he requires no such protection. But then the fleeting image of a certain tall blond floats to mind like an old bad dream, and you have to stomp it down before it can rise to the surface. Focus instead on quelling the angst that worries at your food. At the more pleasant low timbre of Jake’s voice, not quite done talking. You realize he’s in the middle of a thought you’ve missed the first half of only to catch the tail end. “So why haven’t we?”

“Haven’t what?” you ask cluelessly, in the midst of losing said stress to several healthy swigs of some Long Island pale ale. 

“Why haven’t we had sex?” 

It’s asked so casually, so passive and without hesitation that you choke mid-gulp. There’s a split second of panic, a flashing image of splattering beer all over yourself, and somehow you force yourself to swallow. Nothing more than a few dribbles pass the corners of your lips, and you smear them away with the back of a shaky hand. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you wheeze.

Jake doesn’t laugh at you, not out loud anyway. But there is a noticeable bounce to his shoulders. “Cool. If that’s the term you prefer. Why haven’t we fucked?” 

The glare you send him this time is real, even if it’s less impactful over the rim of your cup. You chug the rest of its contents to ease away the scratchy rasp in your throat. It’s not like you’ve never discussed sexual things with him before, being friends for a time and well - him being him, it’s sort of inevitable. It’s just never been directed toward you, or rather, the two of you together. To the point where on more than one occasion, you’ve been referred to as the girl he ‘skipped’. Equally frustrating and weirdly resonating inadequacy when you feel -

Nope. Not doing that. You slam the empty cup on the table and take the first normal, deep breath you’ve had in recent minutes.

“You’re not available,” you finally tell him.

“I’m not,” he says, clearly disagreeing. 

“Not in the way I need.”

He hums in consideration. “The way you need… That’s what - emotions? Romantic shit? How stimulating.” 

Also exactly the opposite of how he maneuvers through his own entanglements, and so begs the question how it could possibly pertain to you - if that really is something he’s contemplated before. You cock your head at him, absolutely mystified while he’s predictably nonplussed. He drops his plate next to your empty cup, bare to the bones, before gathering the collective trash, and climbs off the picnic table to toss it away. And when he returns, it’s with an outstretched hand, beckoning.

“Let’s go. We can’t leave until I win you something.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on you as you take it, and once again let him pull you along.

~

As it happens, Jake was not kidding when it came to being good at carnival games. 

It starts at the bottle toss booth, a simple enough concept that when he wins the first round on a single throw, you assume it’s a fluke. But then there’s the second round, and the third, and a fourth for (showing off) good measure - and each time without fail, Jake knocks out every bottle on the first throw. He moves on to balloon darts after that and to your (and the booth operator’s) astonishment, Jake is an image of poise, sipping his beer while popping any balloon he aims at. 

“What.. the fuck?” is all you can say as you watch in awe. Of course, you’ve done miserably; haven’t landed any darts, and you could barely even keep up with the bottle toss. But Jake simply looks pleased with himself, providing no explanation to this hidden corner of his personality. Instead, he peruses over the strung up stuffed animals that make up his winnings.

“Which one do you want?” he asks. When you have a hard time finding your voice to answer, he picks out an oversized teddy bear and shoves it into your arms. And for a moment, he doesn’t quite let go. He blinks down at you and you curse the removal of his sunglasses, something about concentration. The icy blue practically glitters beneath the multicolored flashing lights of festival attractions, and all you can do is stand there, dumbly transfixed. 

A slow smile overtakes him. “Next loser buys the drinks.” 

Another series of wins follow in quick succession. You take turns at a variety of shooter games which, lucky for you, requires slightly less skill. Jake may still get first place, but it’s you who shouts in triumph when you don’t come dead last in a water gun race. 

The classic ring toss is the only obstacle that gives him a challenge. A few dollars spent gets a large bucket of little discs that have technically been made to fit around the mouth of a liter sized bottle, but they never quite stick the landing. Jake insists the strategy is all in how it’s thrown, and though he has his own handful of misfires, eventually he smoothly tosses the rings like he would skipping rocks and lands several back to back. 

It’s impressive enough to warrant some cheers from onlookers; other players who are about as successful as you in their attempts. All the while, Jake’s gloating is a quiet kind; he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, and frankly you’re too astonished to mind.

“You’re like, amazing,” you tell him. 

He straightens immediately like he’s been pinched, and the rosy blemish that suddenly warms his cheeks is all the smug victory you need.

What started simply with just a teddy bear turns into a giraffe with cartoonishly wide plastic eyes. Then a big blue shark with felt teeth, and finally largest of all, a neon green snake with a frilly pink tongue. It's so long, it curls over Jake’s shoulders and still almost brushes the ground while he waits for you to return from the bathroom. 

It’s a sight you have to pause and photograph to memory; notoriously moody, scowling Jake wrangling cute stuffed animals in a chokehold while he smokes a cigarette. You try to keep from laughing but the alcohol in your system does nothing to help. You’re not completely toasted, no, but the buzz in your veins keeps your face flushed, and you cannot stop smiling as you make your way back to him.

The pair of you had lost complete track of time while the afternoon lost itself to twilight, and the Sound now reflects the glowing blues and purples of the sky. Nearby, the school buses are still on their rotation. Families climb on board with their children to depart for things like dinner. Most of the food vendors have closed out for the day, save for the typical carnival fare - soft pretzels, popcorn, corn dogs and such - but the Bay stays thrumming as the crowd shifts into the rowdiness of nightlife activities. 

Jake rolls his eyes when he catches you staring. “Having fun?” 

“Oh, yes,” you emphasize. “Not as much as you, though, huh?” The next bout of laughter becomes an oof! in a gust of air as he thrusts the stuffed animals at you so fast you have to keep from dropping them. Lastly is the snake, even though it suits him. He thoughtfully pulls your hair aside before tucking it around your neck. “S’that some sort’a Cape boy persona you keep locked up in hiding?” Hands full, you pucker your lips at him expectantly. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he admits. He holds the lit cigarette to your mouth and you gratefully pull a drag or two off of it. The tips of his fingers graze your lips, and his eyes flit toward the light touch. “I was.. Kind of a shithead kid back then. In a pack of other shitheads. We’d steal beer, get drunk off a forty. There was the county fair, or the harbor. Turns out I liked throwing things.” 

It’s a rare detail of his adolescence you’ve never heard before, and you’re cradling a stack of stuffed animals. 

“What about you?”

“I sucked.”

“Wasn’t gonna hold that against you. Makes me look better.”

“I, uh, I would try to find out how much funnel cake I could eat before riding the Zipper without throwing up.”

Jake hums with delight, brows almost disappearing into his hairline. “We could go try that right now.” 

“I did actually. Get thrown up on. By my friend. People could see it from the outside, it was - we don’t have to.” 

For the first time today, Jake laughs. It’s boisterous and at a higher pitch than one could expect, and you love it even if it’s caused by the image of you covered in vomit. It makes a small part of you not want the day to end; this pocket of time where it’s just you, and not the stifled air and bull shit drama of the restaurant. But there’s still the trek back to the city, a bus and a train to catch, and at the thought of it small ounce of dread fills your stomach because fuck -

The LIRR is packed. 

You should’ve predicted as much; it’s not only the Long Island residents that need to get home,  but it’s been a minute since you made such a commute, after an event no less, to have considered its capacity. The train has already left the station, streaks through the county with a steady rock and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights, by the time you manage to find a seat after an off-balance weave through train cars - a lone three seater among a sea of loud passengers.

There’s a large group of rowdy boys, college kids from the looks of it, clearly drunk and a fraction of whom are dressed in matching football jerseys. They shout back and forth at each other across the aisles and over the heads of the girls who sit among them. They make a show of snapping at them to quiet down to no avail; ultimately as uninhibited and shrill as the boys are. And music plays from an unknown source, overpowering the volume of the overhead speakers. There’s only one other quiet pair; two women who share a set of earbuds to watch a cellphone streaming from their laps.

Jake props his boot atop the armrest in front of him the moment you both sit down, a force of habit to prevent anyone else from sitting with you. He receives the odd dirty look from stragglers passing by looking for a seat, only to slouch and nestle into your side in petty retaliation. It’s oddly satisfying, like you can hold onto the illusion of being alone with him just a little longer. 

But they keep shuffling through, and a dirty look evolves into an ahem and an eyeroll, and someone even pauses a second too long, and Jake takes it a step further. You were content to feign ignorance, staring out the window while the exchanges played out, but suddenly he’s dragging your arm over his shoulders. He angles toward you, a warm hand slipping around the curve of your thigh, and then his mouth finds the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches as it tucks itself there, trailing feather light kisses along your skin. 

There’s an audible “Oh, whatever,” and receding footsteps and you can feel him smile into your pulse point.  

“Is that totally necessary?” 

“Mhm.” He withdraws but doesn’t go far. Merely tilts his head back, shifting within the circle of your arm until you’re perfectly level with each other. It’s intoxicatingly close; the tip of his straight nose a hair’s breadth away, his eyelashes a dark blur over his cheeks. You can smell him this close. The smokiness of cologne or body wash, and a hint perhaps of something sweet like shampoo. “I don’t wanna share. And your furry little friends weren’t doing the trick.”

“And kissing me was your call to action, huh?” 

He shrugs noncommittally. “Proved effective. Unless they happened to be into watching random strangers fool around. Not that I mind, but -”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” you ask dryly.

“I could be. Open to that.” He licks his lips and you gaze steadily back, trying (with futile effort) not to fluster as he smirks. Acutely aware of the hand on your thigh, how his thumb strokes absentmindedly along the inseam of your jeans, stoking something inside that’s growing harder to ignore. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You scoff, momentarily relieved with the urge to laugh. “If this is about the damn disco again -”

“Actually I was thinking of that time in the walk-in.” 

“.. Ah, yeah. That.” As it turns out, mishaps of the past don’t exclusively refer to isolated incidents. You just refuse to dwell on those moments, knowing they’ll never amount to more than just having fun for Jake. Not that there’s anything wrong with that - your heart skips a beat from simply recalling the memory. But feelings.. Complicate things. 

You’re not going to dwell on that now, either, though. Not when there is little subtlety in the way you both inch closer together. Not when you can feel his breath on your lips. Jake’s head tilts, the bridge of his nose brushes along yours. Attraction thuds in your veins to the point that it’s a chore to find your own voice. “So, what you’re saying is, you’ve become one of my bad habits.”

He makes a noise of amusement, closing what minute space is left between you. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” 

“I said - tickets, please.” 

The conductor’s voice jolts you like being snapped out of a trance. It’s a rude awakening - both the intrusion itself, and the jarring transition back into reality. It’s no wonder neither of you heard the first request. Now an actual football is being lobbed around the train car. A chorus of voices sing along to the music blasting, competing with the echoes of multiple conversations occurring at once. Has it been this loud the whole time?

You disentangle from Jake who appears mostly unbothered but for the slightest of sulks as he reorients himself. He pats around his pockets until fishing out two train tickets from his jacket, then hands them over to the conductor. You watch the scene unfold, baffled. It’s quite possibly the most mundane fucking thing that could be happening right now. 

Once the conductor moves on to the next row, you coo sweetly at Jake. “Aw, hon, thanks again for the ticket.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, then reassumes the position as if the moment had been merely paused. He reaches for you, slipping a hand around the back of your neck, his thumb teasing along your earlobe, and even if it weren’t for the way his mouth seals seamlessly over yours, you’d still be melting instantly. 

You release a trembling sigh, eyelids fluttering closed at the feel of him yielding as the kiss deepens. Jake’s lips part over yours and you open for him immediately, groaning helplessly when he licks into your mouth. The remnants of cheap beer and cigarettes evaporate into something entirely, pleasantly him. The headiness of his spit, the furl of his tongue. It’s dizzying, and arousing. Your surroundings fade back into white noise yet adrenaline surges through your limbs, leaving you to clutch at him desperately. Seeking purchase in the fabric of his shirt, a sleeve of his jacket, anything you can reach, and one can only assume he warms to the notion from the way his body gives.

He surges even further into you, pressing you as far back as you can go without meeting resistance, and just as you worry the twist of your spine to accommodate might grow tiresome, a series of long dragged out squeaks wheezes from the nondescript pile at your backside.

“Not quite the response I was looking for,” Jake murmurs between kisses.  “Gonna make me regret winning those for you, huh?”

“Not on your life,” you retort, voice a breathless thing. You gaze up at him, swallowing hard at the sight of him like this; pupils dilated, darkening the shade of his eyes with dramatic effect when the lights flicker again. You graze your fingertips over his lips, spit-slick and swollen, then smile and try to tease with - “Think I might just name one after you-”

The thought is abruptly cut short when his mouth descends upon yours once more. His thumb presses into the hinge of your jaw, tongue slipping greedily along yours the moment you part for him. Hungrier this time, as if each interruption only makes him more impatient. His hands quickly trade places; one cups the back of your head, keeping you stubbornly in place as he steals the air from your lungs. While the other threads down the scope of your torso, breezes over your hip and maneuvers beneath your legs and - the comfort is an instant relief when he pulls them over his lap. 

It gives him freer reign this way. You arch into his touch as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and he breaks the kiss with gasping breaths. Seeks reprieve in the curve of your jaw. Not remotely dwelling on the wanton display that anyone could simply look over the edge of their seat only to witness him finding the sensitive spot of your throat where his lips pucker and suck, the noises he makes shooting sparks of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“Jake,” you warn through clenched teeth. It’s not so much that you want him to stop - quite the opposite while you try to resist writhing over his lap. It just might make for a small problem while you’re on a fucking train. 

But he makes a disapproving sound, something like a huff in your ear, then sharply nips something fierce around your skin. You lurch despite your efforts, let slip a strangled moan. Then he soothes the mark with the heated drag of his tongue, and you’re melting all over again, whimpering as his breath raises goosebumps along the trail of saliva.

“Just like that.” His voice is breathy, muffled as he kisses his way back up the line of your jaw. “Is that what you like?” 

Fuck, you want him. Little thought is spared on anything but him as his hands never quite stop moving, from grazing your bare rib cage to grabbing your ass. Your needy fingertips card through the black mess of his hair, tearing him back to your mouth, and Jake fulfills. Kissing you hard and slow. Growing bolder as he feels you squirm for any semblance of relief. His touch slips down your belly, curls along the zipper of your jeans. And when his hand sinks between your thighs, the last fleeting, coherent thought you do have is that at least no one will be able to hear a single sound you make. 

~

A transfer at Jamaica and a subway ride later finally sees you back to familiar streets. It's well into the evening now, the cityscape lit up with its typical bright neon glow. It floods the sidewalks while you walk, milling through an altogether different type of crowd as you make way for the restaurant. 

It’s almost inevitable, winding up there every night. Regardless of the complaining, the more-often-than-not haughty guests, Howard managing with his quirks, the restaurant remains a single constant for most of the staff, and even on a rare day off, you still come crawling back to its doorstep. 

The sight of its stoop on the street corner, well lit beneath its overpriced lanterns, makes it almost seem like a typical Sunday. The main difference being that your arrival isn’t usually accompanied by an armful of stuffed animals. Nor do you make a habit of reporting to work while painfully horny. The walk has done you some good in that respect; it feels like you’ve been properly, thoroughly edged. 

The ride on the train took a turn you.. weren’t expecting - though it certainly made for a way to pass the time. It’s as if you can still feel Jake’s lips on yours, still taste a remnant of him. Like the very scent of him has buried itself somewhere deep inside your lungs. The aforementioned makeout sessions do not hold a candle to what has just occurred, as mostly over the clothes as it was. Voyeurism isn’t really your thing, and though you wouldn’t hold it past Jake to be up to task, it was the closest you’ve toed a line in that territory, and you feel - you feel. That cliche spark, that flutter in your chest as powerful as the ache of arousal in your belly.

It wasn’t just the kissing, either. It was the heavy petting, it was the talking in between. Telling Jake about your first broken bone, learning how he split his chin open skateboarding when he was a teenager - still has the scar that’s hidden by the usual scruff of his facial hair. You wonder if he feels it, too. Felt anything at all or if it was just having fun, which, to reaffirm to your current overthinking state of mind, is still okay. 

You chance a glance at him walking beside you, his own expression unreadable as ever as he smokes another cigarette. Just moments ago, his lips were kissed swollen. His pale skin heated with a flush that ran low beneath the collar of his shirt. And now, the only remnant left behind is the muss of his hair.

But the restaurant inches closer. Service is over by now. The both of you could walk inside, join those partaking in shift drinks, wind up at a bar later, then go your separate ways. Or you could.. ask for more. See if there is an ounce of weight to what he brought up earlier. His pace slows short of making it to the entrance, intent to finish his cigarette, and now is as good a time as any. 

“Hey, so -” you suddenly remember the stuffed animals cradled in your arm, and for the second time tonight feel a little foolish. But there’s still some liquid courage left in you yet. Some bolstered confidence from the days’ events. 

“So, I know we’ll probably go for drinks and whatnot, but later…” You’re stood between him and the building and Jake steps closer; whether to shield you both from passerby or impose with his body some more is unclear as his gazes sharpens, pinned on you while a plume of smoke cascades from his nostrils, and he raises a questioning brow. God, you are so fucking fucked but you’re smiling and shaking your head as you finish your thought. “Later, maybe you’d wanna come back to my place?” 

There’s the slightest lift to the corner of his lips. His head tilts back in appraisal.

“Okay.” 

You blink rapidly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he enunciates with a little more gumption, appearing amused. Definitely imposing now as he moves even closer until you are nose to chest. “I’d like that. But, uh.. You should know.” He dips his head as if to kiss you again, and quite honestly, you’re not sure if you can remain standing if he does. “I’m unavailable.” 

A snort of laughter erupts from your throat, and even as he leans in, you can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they flutter closed and -

The front door of the restaurant bursts open and the moment is quickly lost to a series of recognizable voices: Ari, Sasha, Heather and Will. Scott with a few guys from the kitchen. All talking a mile a minute as they file down the stairs and swarm over the sidewalk. 

It’s Scott that notices you first. “Hey, look who finally decided to show up. Lookin’ like a bunch’a fuckin’ dorks.” He purposely knocks his shoulder into Jake’s as he strides past, tossing a vague gesture behind him. “C’mon, shitheads, I’m fuckin’ hungry!” 

“Ooh, what’s this?” Sasha tugs at the snake and drapes it around himself like a feathered boa before striking a pose. “I’m keeping this one.”

“No fuckin’ way!” you snap, just as Ari plucks the shark from your grasp.

“I thought you were going to an oyster festival,” she drawls, inspecting the toy. “Didn’t think that meant a carnival, too. I’m working my ass off all day..”

“Okay, just don’t drop them please? Jake won them for me.” You immediately regret your choice of words as they come to a complete halt. 

“Jake did what now?” Ari asks, her eyes - along with Sasha’s and Heather’s - flicker up at him in genuine shock. Will merely chuckles as he passes, trailing after Scott and the crew. 

Jake’s face stretches with a dry smile. “Fuck off, Ari.”

“Y’know for someone who doesn’t date, you’re awfully fucking good at it.” 

“Jake? Good at dating? Now that’s one I’ve never heard before.”

So occupied by the current company, you had taken no notice of Simone’s approach. She’s out of her stripes, donned in her well maintained image of class. An expensive knit sweater, pressed pants. Her signature red lipstick is freshly applied, and her long blond locks are left to cascade softly across her shoulders.

She looks you up and down as she draws near, taking in your appearance but not quite meeting your eye before looking coolly at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a date.” 

Her tone is coy enough, but not a single one of you is under the false impression that there isn’t more underlying to what she says. Sasha makes a comment under his breath and Heather quickly jabs an elbow into his side to quiet him.

“They’re just teasing, Simone.” You snatch the shark back from Ari, feeling annoyed. Like you’re being scolded by a school teacher when you haven’t done anything wrong. “It wasn’t a date, we just had -”

“I’m glad you two had a good time,” she finishes for you, and when her gaze finally meets yours, it’s like this conversation has somehow escalated into a standoff, and each bystander lights up a cigarette during the tense pause. 

Eventually, Simone flicks her hair. “Impeccable timing, Jake... Walk me home?”

Fuck. You hate the way your stomach plummets at that.

You look up at him, clinging to some notion that he’ll deny her just this once, that he has felt something, that he wants to see the rest of the night through. That he wants - you.

But at the very moment you see his face, you know that’s not happening. For a second, he looks back at you, mouth hanging open around unspoken words. And when Simone calls his name again, you watch him shut down completely. 

“Sure,” he intones.

“Alright, c’mon babygirl.” Sasha grasps you by the arm in effort to tug you away. Follow after Will and Scott who’ve likely made it a couple of blocks down the road by now. 

You falter on the first step as if you’d been glued to the spot, stubbornly staring at Jake, trying desperately to swallow around the sting of disappointment and rejection so it’s not plain for him - or anyone else - to see.

You think you manage to tell Jake ‘goodnight’, but then your back is turned on him and you let Sasha steer you away with the girls.

The three of them link arms with you tucked somewhere in between. It’s apparent you’ve done well steeling yourself; there’s a bounce to their steps as they carry on as before, talking one over the other with no regard to whatever the fuck it was that just occurred. Onward to what you can only hope is a repeat of last night, with little left over to remember come morning.

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Thunder Cracks, Mental Snaps

Summary: A thunderstorm has gradually rolled in. What you weren't prepared for to find your boyfriend huddled in his room on the floor. 

Contains: Angst, Fear of thunderstorms (due to PTSD mention), Too much rain, Comfort. 

Clouds had been lazily rolling in throughout the day. The once clear horizon now transformed into a slate grey as evening settled in. Miles away you heard rumbling and with it the scent of rain. Every so often the trees swayed with the wind, growing stronger with the approaching storm. 

By the time you arrived to your destination a sheet of rain was relentlessly pouring down. Barely hesitating, you opted to leave the umbrella on the passenger side and make a mad dash to the porch. 

Wind howled past your ears and around the building as you bolted up the steps to the front door. You fumble and curse as you fish the spare key from your pocket, wincing as a particularly strong gust makes you miss the keyhole a second time. 

Before more water could blind you, you shove the door open and stagger in before snapping it shut. You lean your back against it and let out a deep sigh. By some miracle your clothes hadn't been nearly as soaked as you expected. 

As you compose yourself, brushing the remnants of water from your eyes, you squint in an attempt to discern your surroundings. 

Aside from the pounding of rain against the roof, there was an eerie stillness to the house. 

"Peppino?" You call out. 

No response. 

Lightning cracked like a whip as white light flooded through the blinds. You jump as thunder immediately followed, rattling the house and battering your ears. 

Even if Peppino wasn't home you would just wait for him to get back. There was no way you were in any hurry to return outside. 

As if on cue, another flash of light snaps through the room with another round of deafening thunder pursuing immediately after.

Yeah no, fuck that. You grumble, making your way into the kitchen. Hopefully Peppino wouldn't be too upset with you for showing up without warning. On the other hand, he did give you the house key because you came by so often.  

A chill goes up your spine as you see a dark liquid on the kitchen counter. You swallow dryly as you flick the light switch on.

Oh. It's just some kind of juice. 

You take note of a cup and various utensils strewn haphazardly across the counter. You quirk an eyebrow. That wasn't like Peppino to leave that kind of mess.

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. Where was he? You tilt your head to the side, noting the hallway on the far end of the room.

Maybe Peppino had a long day and already went to sleep? You think, using your hands to guide yourself along the wall to his bedroom. 

You frown to yourself, no, that was wrong. You couldn't imagine Peppino to be sleeping through this weather. He was anxious enough as it is. Though you had noticed -throughout these few months of dating - that loud noises set Peppino off particularly bad. Typically when he got startled he'd disappear somewhere. If it was at work Gustavo usually followed after him close behind. 

When you would question Peppino what happened, he told you he was ok and just needed to step out for a bit. Asking Gustavo didn't give you much more of an answer either. The smaller man would shift uncomfortably in place before giving you a roundabout answer.

That is, until you confronted Gustavo a couple weeks ago. Peppino bolted into the kitchen almost instantaneously after a metal tray clattered to the floor. 

You watched the scene unfold and were about to go after him before Gustavo stopped you short. 

You grumble as you blindly pat the wall. That was a picture frame, not a doorknob.

After pressing Gustavo further he at least admitted to you Peppino didn't like loud noises. 

Seeing your curiosity was sated for that moment, you watched as Gustavo hurried his way into the kitchen.

You knew there had to be more to it than that. 

Finally. 

Your fingers curl around the knob and you gently twist the door open.  

"Peppino?" You whisper, in the tiny chance he was actually asleep. 

You strain your eyes but you could distinguish a familiar silhouette huddled at the foot of the bed. 

"Hey." You step softly over to where Peppino was seated and knelt beside him. His breathing was uneven, coming out in rapid bursts. 

You peered over at him, noticing Peppino's eyes were unfocused as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He had his knees brought up to his chest as trembling hands clutched around his legs. It was like he was in a trance, not even aware you were with him. 

The walls were closing in around him. He was trapped. Shadows along the walls twisted into unsettling forms as rain drummed against the window. A deep sense of dread had him sunken in place. 

A blinding flash cut through the darkness. His vision blurred as his breath caught in his throat. As a thunderous roar followed suit an uncharacteristic whimper came from Peppino, forcing him to shrink further into himself. 

Darkness on the horizon, black as coal and ever stretching across the sky. Smoke hung in the air and blotted out the sun. Suffocating. He gasped for air but struggled to find it. Light arched through the air as deafening booms surrounded him. 

The echoing of open fire was ceaseless. Peppino looked on helplessly as a nearby a body slumped forward. He averted his gaze from the ground as something dark soaked into the mud. The constant humming that filled his ears was coming from every direction. No escape, no-

"Hey. It's ok. You're safe. It's me, Y/N". You tell him, words barely above a whisper. You weren't sure if you should put an arm around him and hold him or if that could make this worse. Instead, you opted to rest your hand over his. 

"You're safe Peppino, it's ok". You repeated to him. 

His panicked eyes locked onto yours, in that moment, as he tried to focus on your face. You noticed either side of his face had a thin trail of tears running down his cheeks. 

"Breath with me, ok? Take a breath in." You suck in a deep breath, "Now breath out". You repeat this a few times, watching as he slowly began to mimick you. You gingerly rub his hand with your thumb. 

"You're safe". 

Every breath grounded him a bit more. Gradually his fingers eased their grip from his pants as he stopped trembling. 

"Come on," you nudge him to stand up. You flinch as more light seared your vision and braced yourself as thunder clapped. You yelped as Peppino flinched and clung to you. The uneven weight caused you to lose your balance as you both topple over onto the bed, you gasp as his weight fell on top of you. 

Peppino mumbles an apology before rolling off of you, shuffling to the opposite side of the bed. 

"W-well, maybe you should head-a back home." He stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Th-thanks for s-stopping by." His nervous chuckle and how he inched closer to you betrayed how he truly felt. You paused, taken aback by his suggestion. 

Another rumble of thunder prompted him to shrink into himself.  

You ignore his suggestion and sit up in the bed, tugging him into your arms. Peppino barely gave any resistance, instead he wrapped an arm around you tightly. You rest your chin on his head as you get comfortable.

" 'm not leaving you." You mumble. 

"I'm sorry," he buried his face into the crook of your neck. "You shouldn't have to see me like this".

"You shouldn't be alone right now." You stroke the back of his neck before running a hand down his back to sooth him, "What's wrong"?

There was a long pause as you patiently waited for a response. When there wasn't one, you sat in silence and gently placed a kiss on top of his head. You wouldn't force him to talk if he wasn't comfortable sharing, you decided.

At this point you could assume this happened when ever he'd get startled bad enough. Instead you'd be there for him when this would happen. You hug him tightly, in a silent promise not to let him go. 

"It's not something I talk about." Peppino began, drawing in another breath. "Do you know what... PTSD is"? 

You nod, "Kind of, but I'm not sure I really understand, do you want to talk about it"?

You continue to rub his back and listen as Peppino explains everything he was able to. You nod and ask a question every so often as he opened up and grew more comfortable.

Eventually the rain became the only sound you could discern as the storm moved on and the thunder grew fainter. You laid in silence with Peppino, shifting at one point before he pulled you against his chest. His heart was no longer racing and hadn't been for a while, as it went back into a steady rhythm. You smile softly as you feel his breathing slow down and a soft snore escapes his lips.  

You could feel your own eyes growing heavy.

As you both drift to sleep, all that was heard was the patter of the rain. 

I live! Again! 💜 Stay tuned for more fics coming out soon, I've been working on a couple! 

Also, likes, reposts, comments are all appreciated! I also didn't know spam reblogs/likes aren't usually liked...I'm not one of them! Spam like/repost away if you want! 💜

[dis--parity]

@unladielike sent: Due to her coincidentally being in his general vicinity, Vivian manages to notice a sketchy looking man seizing Theo's wallet right while his dog was in the middle of pooping... and without a moment's hesitation, she'll subsequently whip out the fork from the emptied takeout box she had previously been eating poutine from before pointing it directly at him. By that point, the man pauses, allowing perplexed blinks to roll off his eyelids. "Thank you, lord, for this meal I'm about to have!" Vivian then exclaims, and before he could process what was actually happening, she begins charging at him accompanied by a hungry look in her eyes, which makes the man dash away with a startled yelp muffled by his face mask. Honestly, not even ten minutes had passed before the man finally stumbled over his feet and tripped, causing Theo's wallet to tumble it's way out of his loosened grip. Upon noticing this, Vivian then ceases her chase, drops her fork back into the takeout box, and paying no heed to the poor, non-athletic thief that attempted a robbery in broad daylight, picks up his wallet, only to casually saunter her way back towards it's owner. Not long afterwards, though, she'll sigh. Of all the people she could perform heroic feats for, why did it have to Theo? Then again, considering the man didn't have that much stamina to begin with, she supposes it wasn't all that bad. Still, given the amount of energy she exerted, she was now sweating a great deal, making her more and more irritable by the minute. To that end, Vivian proceeds to hold out his wallet... and the takeout box once she makes her way back to him. "...Just so you know, I expect you to take care of my trash as well," she informs him while praying to dear god their fingers wouldn't briefly touch while he relieves her of the weight her hands were burdened with.

『🍬』 "HEY! Hey, what the fuck-?!"

He barely even had time to react; his hands preoccupied with holding the leash of Burn's harness, and retrieving a bag to clean up after him, he was left completely vulnerable to the theft. He was just about ready to drop the leash and let both him and Burn take off after the thief without cleaning up - only, as he turned around, who else should he be met with, but none other than that... weirdo Alex called a friend.

Before he can even raise his voice, tell her to leave it, that he's got this, she just... takes off after him, leaving him in the dust with far more time to share the burglar's once-perplexed look.

"... what the fuck? What's her fuckin' deal? Ugh- c'mon, Burn, let's get after 'em."

Honestly, he would have been half-tempted to keep the bag with Burn's refuse with him, for the burglar's sake. Instead, he graciously tosses it into a nearby bin, starting to run, and regretting with every step that he'd decided against taking his rollerskates with him today. Something in his mind repressed his appreciation for Vivian's heroism as they finally began to slow down, his mind instead flooding with excuses about how if he'd brought his skates, he'd have caught up to them by himself.

He's only vindicated more when she returns - returning his property to him in such an unapologetically backhanded manner that he can't help but roll his good eye. "Of course you fuckin' do. Well, you can forget about me buying you another portion as thanks. Not like you need to eat any more today, anyway."

For a moment, he just stands there pacing, grumbling to himself in... this wasn't humiliation he felt, was it? He only leaves her hanging for just long enough for her arm to start to get tireed, before he walks back over to her. "Just because my therapist is gonna get pissed at me if I don't say this," he growls - and before she can protest, he takes back his wallet, and plants his hand firmly on the takeout box, looking aside as he lets his fingers gently press to her own.

"Thank you, Vivian," he sarcastically spits, yanking the box away, "That was very kind of you."

[novankenn]

Things Best left ... ALONE (7)

--== Table of Contents ==--

It was about twenty minutes later, when Pyrrha opened the door to her dorm, letting Yang enter with an armload of books. Yang looked at the unused second bed, and Pyrrha nodded. Once they were deposited on the bed, Yang acted as if she was dusting off her hands, before shooting Pyrrha a mischievous smile.

“Room all to yourself, eh?” Yang’s grin deepened, “One could get up to…”

“Thank you for the books, Yang. I’ll take them…”

“Nah, when you’re done with them, just give me a shout. Blake and I checked them out, we’ll take them back.”

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha already knew that the catch would be Yang trying to get her to spar.

“It’s no issue P-m… I mean Pyrrha.” Yang leaned to the side, her brows knitted in confusion, as she tried to look around Pyrrha. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That?”

“Oh, it’s just an old jar, I found in the basement of the library…”

“It looks old.” Yang commented as she moved around Pyrrha and picked up the jar. “It’s heavy. You know what’s in it?”

“No it’s sealed, and would you mind not just picking stuff…”

“What’s the issue, it’s just an old jar…” Yang suddenly stiffened, her eyes wide in fear, and then she screamed.

Pyrrha rushed forward, scooping the jar from her hands, before she could drop it. She stepped back as Yang stumbled backwards and then staggered away from her and the jar. Pyrrha was very confused, by Yang’s actions. Even more so when she tripped over her own feet on her way to the door. 

“Yang?” Pyrrha asked as she watched Yang scuttle across the laminate wood floor towards the door. “Yang?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Yang rapidly muttered as she fumbled with the door handle. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Yang!” Pyrrha shouted, trying to get her acquaintance’s attention. “What has gotten…”

Yang finally was able to get the door open and dashed out through it. Pyrrha stood there in her room, once again alone. Pyrrha sighed and turned about, replacing the jar in its designated resting place. Sighing again, she moved over to the armload of book Yang had dropped off.

“What the hell got into her?” Pyrrha asked the jar as she sorted through the available reading material. “She acted like she was terrified.”

Locating a couple of the books she had planned to check out, she moved towards her bed, in order to get comfortable while she scanned through the relevant sections of each.

“Did you do it? Did you scare her?” Pyrrha giggled as she climbed into bed. 

While Pyrrha was getting comfortable, Yang was trying to make herself as small as possible in the corner furthest from the door, and by association the jar.

“What the fuck?” she gasped as her mind replayed the image that had flooded her thoughts not two minutes ago. 

(Image generated by perchance ai text-to-image)

“She’s mine, bitch!” the voice was as musical and light as it was sinister and disturbing.

Yang’s breathing came in rapid gasps. Her body was shaking, as she continued to relive the image that had flashed through her mind, and hear that voice over and over. 

Blake found her unconscious two hours later when Yang hadn’t met her at the bullheads for a trip into Vale.

[reverend-dog]

The Tower

Was this death? Stone wondered.

If death were oblivion, no. He still had awareness – the mere fact that he posed the question proved that much.

The pain and stiffness which had been his constant companions no longer plagued him. Was this his reward?

Stone determined to test this new state. He opened his eyes.

A bedroom, grandly furnished. A canopied bed, nightstand, vanity, bath large enough to share, plush rugs and elegant drapes. Only the door made a jarring note, heavy and bound in iron. Somehow, Stone realized he knew the precise weight and sturdiness of the door. He could actually feel how it balanced on its hinges, like the way his arms hung from his shoulders.

That revelation spurred an avalanche of sensory epiphanies. Stone looked down on the room, as if perched between the wall and the ceiling, at the precise angle to view the entire chamber. The curtains on the windows and the bed’s canopy held sensation for him as well, and he knew that he could spread them as easily as he might spread his fingers. Deeper within himself he felt… spaces. With no more effort than turning his eyes, Stone’s vantage changed, and he overlooked another room, this one a dining hall. Another shift, and he saw a kitchen, and felt the presence of every utensil and appliance therein. A third revealed a library, and the scent of the books came clearly to him.

Understanding flooded Stone, and he howled and shook in anguish. A shriek from the bedroom answered him, and he turned his gaze there again. He had not noticed the weight that pressed on the bed, but felt it now as it shifted. With an automatic effort he drew the canopy, and stared at the woman who huddled in the middle of the bed, wide eyes darting to each corner of the room.

Stone knew the woman at once. Not only did she feature in every major celebration and parade, but her likeness appeared in many portraits and statuary throughout Sai Arcona. In this moment, though, she wore a simple but elegant nightgown in place of her usual finery. Stone fathomed the reason for his new state, but that made it no less a purgatory.

The woman sprang from the bed and dashed to one of the curtained windows. Stone drew the curtains aside, and she stopped short with a gasp. “Who’s there?” she demanded, and spun to search the room.

Stone wondered if he could speak, then remembered his cry that had presumably awakened her. “My name is Stone, Your Grace,” he intoned. The timbre of his own voice surprised him. As a man, he had spoken in reedy, nasal tones. Now, he rumbled and resonated. “My apologies for frightening you.”

Her Grace turned in a slow circle, though the arrangement of the furnishings left no cranny to hide. “Where are you?”

“With all due respect, Your Grace,” Stone let his own despair leak into his words, “You are within me. I am the tower.”

“What?” she blurted. “How is this --” She cut herself off, and nodded as she put the puzzle together. “Tillie,” she growled.

“Just so,” Stone confirmed. “My mistress has imprisoned us both.”

“You serve her,” Her Grace charged.

“I was bound to her,” Stone qualified. “In my youth, I sought her aid, and entered into a bargain. Fool that I was, I did not read the terms. The price was service for the remainder of my life.” He growled, and the sound reverberated though him. “It seems she found a way to extend those terms.”

“She can’t keep me here,” Her Grace affirmed. “Once the Crown Regent hears of this --” She interrupted herself again, and sick realization stole over her face. “The Crown Regent,” she whispered. “Of course. And Captain Romund. Both of them would have to be involved.” She stumbled to the extra-wide window sill that served as a bench, and collapsed onto it. “I’m fucked,” she muttered, eyes aimed at the floor.

Stone considered the situation. “Perhaps,” he temporized, “not so much. Tillie’s fatal flaw is her arrogance about her powers. You, I wager, have enjoyed the finest education available. I have years of experience understanding Tillie. Between the two of us, I feel confident we can find a solution to both our predicaments.”

Her Grace lifted her face. “You would help me?” she wondered. “Wouldn’t that violate your contract?”

“My contract,” Stone explained, “ended with the death of my body. Tillie may have trapped my spirit, but my will is still my own. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to foil her in this intrigue, especially after abetting so many for so long.”

Her Grace nodded, her expression brighter. “All right,” she agreed, “where do we start?”

“Two options,” Stone replied. “The kitchen, or the library.”

“Kitchen!” Her Grace exclaimed. “My stomach’s about to collapse in on itself!”

“Then, if Your Grace will follow me,” Stone invited, and opened the bedroom door.

“Yasmin,” Her Grace supplied. “Call me Yasmin.”

As he guided Yasmin downstairs to the kitchen, Stone felt an unfamiliar warmth within his cold stone body: hope.

[meowgician-ness]

Carve Your Name Into My Bedpost

  “You’re up in 1…2…3! Go! Go! Go!”

  “I know you’re on a break but can you come over in the morning? I need you to record something for me,”

  “Faster, you can move faster than that, come on, Evan,”

  “Brighten up, the fans aren’t here to see you looking half-dead. They want pretty boys, not zombies. Come on! Let’s go!”

  “I love you,”

  “If anything can make it all worth it, it’s that. The long days,  endless performances, and concerts, it’s all worth it in the end. Because thanks to this, I have him.”

  “Wake up! Evs! Up! Up! Rosie, Love, Sweetcheeks!” Barty’s smooth voice cut through his thoughts, his painted nails digging into Evan’s shoulder. 

  “I’m up,” Straightening his back, he raised his head up from the messy vanity table, products scattered all over its surface.  Barty’s gorgeous face with the clear skin and hazel eyes comes into view, his hair a mess of curls on his head. His eyes light up when he catches sight of Evan’s face, smiling widely at the boy. 

  “Helen is looking for you,” he smiles as he speaks, brushing his hands through Evan’s hair. The blonde boy just smiles at him, fingers intertwining with Barty’s free hand. His thumb rubs circles into the tattoed rose on his wrist, eyes sparkling.  

  “Let’s go then,” his voice barely a whisper, he pulls himself up, tucking himself into Barty’s side, soaking up his Gucci cologne. He could stay right there forever, he thinks. They walk to Helen like that, Evan tucked into Barty’s side so close they might as well be merged at the hip. He hears Albert chuckle as they walk past, the bodyguard trailing behind the couple. 

  The thing about being in one of the biggest bands in the whole world–the next Beatles if you asked the right people–is that cuddling up to your boyfriend isn’t something you get to do a lot. Not with the late-night recordings, endless performances, rehearsals and paparazzi lurking on every corner on every street. So who can blame them for using every second of fresh air they get to cuddle up together? No one whose opinion Evan gives a fuck about. So yes, he will cuddle up to his boyfriend. 

  “The Queen Sleeping Beauty is now entering, all rise!” Barty declares loudly, putting on some fake accent so bad Evan can’t put a finger on what the inspiration might be. 

  “Yes, yes, all rise for me! Evan Astanine Rosier the first and only,” he does a little curtsy once he is in front of Helen, smiling widely at the woman. “You requested my presence?” He mocks Regulus’ posh accent as he speaks, grinning more when Barty claps a hand around his shoulder. “I will entrust my darling to you, Helen! Doll him up nicely for me, will you?” Barty leaves the room at that, but not before smacking a kiss onto Evan’s cheeks. 

  Their stylist rolls her eyes, guiding Evan to a nearby chair and getting to work while listening to Evan ramble on and on about some “dramatics” for the performance. She stopped sharing her opinions 30 minutes in when Evan got offended when she said “I don’t think you need all that, you provide enough drama for us all already.”

  Eyeliner. Mascara. Lipbalm. Blush. Glitter. So much glitter. She works her magic behind him, using product after product to turn him into the “Most Cutest Boybander Around” as most tabloids have dubbed him. Barty still hasn’t let it go yet, teasing him day after day about how “adorable his little rose is”. It’s only slightly annoying. The sparkle in his hazel eyes is enough to make it endearing for Evan. “Done.” Helen takes a few steps back, turning the chair about to let him check himself out. 

  “Thank you, Helen, you’re a gem!” He kisses her on the cheek quickly before dashing out, in search of Barty (and Regulus) to prepare for their concert. 

   “3…2…1…Go!”

  “Good evening, London!” Evan rushes out on stage, Barty following behind him, electric guitar in tow. The bright lights are blinding, bright and hot as the loud cheering of fans floods the stadium, teenage girls and boys screaming their names at the very top of their lungs. 

  “How are you tonight? Good? Yeah!” Barty’s voice soon joins him, velvety smooth and flowing like silk. Stop staring Evan, they’re gonna post this if you do. Shit am I doing heart eyes? Fuck, look away Rosier. “Today, we’ve got a little surprise for y’all if you’re cooperative so…” Regulus starts, taking position at the mic, face as passive as ever. The fans scream even louder at that, causing a chuckle to escape from Barty. 

  From the corner of his eye, he sees Barty getting ready, the band playing the starting the instrumentals for Dress. 

Our secret moments in your crowded room

They got no idea about me and you

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

Regulus starts them off, his soft voice filling the stadium. Evan takes a few steps back with the mic, angling it such that he could stealthily sneak glances at Barty. Not like some fan wouldn’t notice and post a video on it no matter how conspicous he is. 

 All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ah, ha, ha, ha)

  He sings next, Barty helping out with the “ah”s. He never understood why anyone would think Barty doing that part, while his boyfriend is in attendance was a good idea. Just cause he was asexual doesn’t mean Barty isn’t fucking hot like that.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

He does however, agree that he deserves a duet with his boyfriend, after all the stunts and hiding in the closet. The fans seem to agree too, alway keeping quiet at this bit, letting them have their moment.

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

I'm spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about

  His eyes are trained on Barty’s hands as he strums the guitar, his rings shining in the light while Regulus sings his solo. Barty and his guitar are the only thing he looks at here though, or any part of the song for the matter. 

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ah, ha, ha, ha)

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Barty and Evan join Regulus at this bit, their voices blending nicely with each other and the fans. Evan couldn’t care about how they sound though. Just Barty and his stupid jawline that looks so good in the light, his hazel eyes shining just as brightly as they always do.

Flashback when you met me

Your buzzcut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times

You could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies

You saw the truth in me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this ah, ha, ha, ha

  Evan’s eyes don’t leave Barty even as he sings his solo, his thoughts circling around the boy and only the boy. His stupid buzzcut when they first met, the times they held each other. When he confessed. 

  Say my name and everything just stops.

The lights dim as is routine, the entire stadium quieting. And then.

  “Evan.” 

  A deep british accent says his name, the entire stadium screaming. A pride flag get’s thrown on stage, fans trying to calm down for the last 45 seconds or so of the song while the boys sing, Barty leaving his mic to sing to Evan instead. 

  “I love you, Rosie,” 

  “I love you too, Bartemius,” 

  The fans cheer loudly, Regulus clapping in the corner, the smallest hint of a smile ghosting his lips. He’s out. They’re out. They’re out. No more stunts, no more models. Just Barty and him.