#I hope I can keep this energy up for the day and get some work done đ€đŒ
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AGAPE - JINX X READER
contains: fluff, g/n reader, really short, no proofread
warnings: none
summary: you help jinx fall asleep.
A/N: This is my first time ever writing one of these!! I hope you enjoy. Sorry if she seems a little out of character, Iâll write a better one soon lolz.
âJinx..?â You called softly from the couch in her.. âroom.â She had been sitting at her desk for hours now, and all you could hear was mumbled curses and what sounded like power tools every so often. And the occasional spray paint can, of course.
When you didnât get an answer, you huffed and rolled your eyes. She had said sheâd be done a while ago. You trot closer to her, rubbing your sleepy eyes. But as soon as you see her hunched over form, you know somethingâs wrong.
Her shoulders are tense, and the way her hair is frizzy around her braids shows sheâs been tugging at it. She fiddles around with some odd thing sheâs creating, her nimble fingers making it look effortless.
âGod dammit..â She mumbled, a small groan leaving her lips. You step closer slowly, tapping her shoulder. She slowly glanced up, a tired look on her face.
âYou know, you said youâd be done a while ago.â You say, crossing your arms over your chest. She rolls her eyes and smirks a little. âGot carried away. Sorry, toots.â
She goes to look back down at her.. well, whatever the hell she was making, and you quickly stop her.
âCâmon, Jinx. Itâs late.â You give her a bit of a look, which earns a small groan from her. âYou always are bothering me..â She huffs out as she stands up from her chair. You know it came from a place of love.
You were really one of the only people she trusted these days. Where everyone else failed, you seemed to not. It was almost fascinating to her. Jinx had gone so long keeping everyone at a distance, safe for the few she was close with.
But something about you.. just made her love you. She did kinda hate it. Sheâd say it was because you turned her into a lame sap, but deep down itâs because sheâs scared.
Loving something meant you now have something to lose. And that was never a good thing.
She stretched, a few bones cracking. You smiled a little at how sleepy she seemed. âThose energy drinks ainât working anymore, huh?â You teased, tugging lightly on her arm towards the couch. âI need to inject it into my veins.â She whined and you chuckled lightly.
You plopped down against the couch and she followed, flopping down right on top of you. A small sigh left her lips, and you could feel the tension leave her body. As if on cue, you rested a hand in her hair, running it over the blue braids.
âYou ever gonna cut all this hair?â You spoke softly, watching as she cuddled into you. She shrugged. âI dunno. I think itâs part of my whole.. persona now.â She grinned and you rolled your eyes playfully.
âIf you ever want to, iâll help. Make it look all nice and not choppy.â You suggested. Her chin was resting on your chest. She gazed into your eyes for a moment, and it was a bit intimidating.
The way her eyes gleamed pink, almost blowing. Youâd seen those eyes hold all different kinds of emotions, and still the intensity of them never failed to make you shiver.
Jinx then suddenly pressed a bunch of kisses to your face, and you squeaked before giggling. âW-what are you doing?â You spoke through giggles. She pulled away, a smug look on her face before she settled back down onto you. You could only imagine how dazed you look, all goofy and smitten with a bunch of dark kiss marks on your face.
âJust wanted to kiss you.â She hummed out, closing her eyes as she buried her face in her arms. Something she always did when she slept. Youâd know. You spent so many nights just watching her as she slept peacefully.
You snorted. âGod, youâre such a sap.â You spoke, continuing to play with her blue locks. âYour fault.â She retorted. A small smile remained on your lips as you sighed and cuddled close to her.
âGoodnight, Jinx.â You whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She didnât say anything, but you did hear her huff softly, and she cuddled closer into you.
Actions always speak louder than words.
#arcane#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#fluff#fanfic#league of legends#gender neutral reader#arcane fanfic
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He's Not So Bad (18+) - Mattheo x Reader
A/N: I bring you the awaited follow up to He's So Annoying đ
I hope this ain't too bad. I finished writing it this morning before work. And just finished revising, so forgive me if there is any spelling/grammer mistakes.
Also, today wasn't such a good day at work, would appreciate some love đ
Warnings: spelling/grammer mistakes, public sex, p in v
Prompt/s: âCan you feel how much I want you?â and âYouâre mine"
Tag list: @moorningvoice @legobookstore @revesephemeres
After Potionâs class, you found Mattheo flirting and annoying you more with every shared class for the last few days. And every time you do your best to ignore him or put him in his place, he continued to drag up that night. You began to think he enjoyed remembering it, and like if he mentioned it, youâd jump back into bed with him. And you wanted too. But your better judgement told you no, he just wanted you physically.
Unfortunately this day was the day heâd followed you out of your last class â Divination â and was adamant on giving lost puppy energy. And that was even with people around.
âHonestly, why do you keep chasing me, when there are so many willing females that would gladly be your bed buddy?â You sighed turning down a hallway that looked to be deserted.
Mattheo shrugged. âI like the chase with you. Itâs a challenge, loveâ.
âDonât called me love!â You shot back, sending him a glare. Which made him smile.
Mattheo thought it was funny how you hadnât clued on. How he was infatuated with you. His constant presence, annoyance and the nickname â love â were tell-tale signs of his affection for you. Hell, heâd even gotten detention the other day for hexing a Hufflepuff guy who Mattheo overheard planning to ask you out. You were his. And that meant you were off limits.
Mattheo chuckled. âDeny all you like, love, but I know you enjoy it".
Rolling your eyes while you picked up the pace, wanting to put distance between you too, as well as get back to the Ravenclaw house. The only place you could be free of the menace on your heels. If only you know what was about to come.
You felt a hand wrap around your wrist, then being pulled down a dead end of the hallway. Your body being pressed against the wall, hidden behind a statue and pillar. Another hand was pressed against you mouth before you could even make a noise. Before you was Mattheo, the person who had dragged you down here and pressed you against the wall.
Your shock expression turned to that of a glare. Which told him that you werenât going to scream, probably tell him off, but he could handle that. So with a small, sweet smile on his lips, Mattheo removed his hand. Instantly you let him have it.
âWhat the hell! What are you thinking!?â You voiced, tone sharp and annoyed.
Mattheo remained quiet, admiring the fire in you. He moved the hand that had been over your mouth, to push back your hair so it was over your shoulder. Before running it along your jaw and down your neck. You shuddered. You told yourself you had to be mad, and not show how his simple actions affected you. Because they did. His touch was electric, the pads of his fingers running slowly over your skin, sending your heart a flutter.
Mattheo of course noticed the shudder, and the slight change in you. Heâd been studying for so long, he knew the signs. The hand holding your wrist moved to rest against the wall next to your head, almost completely caging you in. His warm chocolate brown orbs had darkened with the thought of what was to come. So long as you let him, of course. Mattheo wouldnât do anything you didnât beg for. And heâd have you beginning.
Leaning in, Mattheo ran his nose along your jaw, taking in the faint smell of your perfume. Which he noted he needed to find out what it was, so he could buy you more, for it was his new favourite scent when mixed with your own smell. You stiffened at his action. You didnât expect Mattheo to be this forward. Sure, he liked to flirt and bring up that night, maybe even tell you what else heâd like to do to you. But actually do it? This surprised you.
âYou smell so good" Mattheo softly groaned before nipping your jaw, making you jump. âJumpy, love?â He chuckled.
You shot him a dirty look, which he enjoyed oh so much. âN-no" you retorted.
Once more Mattheo chuckled, before kissing your jaw and then nipping once more. Again you jumped, but not as much as the first time. âHmmm, you are jumpy" he commented teasingly.
You placed your hands against Mattheo's chest and push, hoping heâd get the hint and back up. But no. He only moved closer, your strength nothing for him. Before your hands could be trapped, you moved them to his shoulder. Bad move. It not only allowed Mattheo to press his body completely against yours, against the wall. But also gave him the idea you wanted him. Which you did, but tried to fight the spark between you both.
His lips moved to your neck. Kissing and nipping. You fought the rising moan that so badly wanted to be freed from your lips. No, you couldnât let Mattheo win. Yet the moment his free hand skimmed up your side, coming to rest under your breast, you wanted to whine, wanting him to touch you there. And you know he wanted to, the way his hand slightly shaked against you, his restraint impressive. But he wouldnât just do it, not without permission, your submission and begging.
The hands on his shoulders grasped at his white button up shirt, your nails would have dug into his flesh if not for that item of clothing. The memory of how your nails felt on and digging into his flesh flooding both of your memories. Recalling how Mattheo moan and groaned from the scrapping down his back, and the reminder he had for a few days. He wanted your mark on him always. But that would be another time.
Yet you were holding back, and he couldnât have that. He needed you to give in to him. Mattheo pressed his lower half closer to you, his arousal pressing into your hip.
âCan you feel how much I want you?â He groaned lips having moved to your ear, his hot breath tickling. âSo badly I need you, loveâ.
Your breath caught in your throat from the feel of him and his admission. Which hit straight in the pit of your stomach, adding to your arousal. You pressed your legs together trying to will it away, but the embers were lit. From here it would just grow to an all-consuming fire. Against your better judgement, and senses, you moved a hand to the back of Mattheo's head. You grasped his brown curls, before pulling his head back so you could look at his gorgeous face. Expecting a knowing smirk upon his lips, you would have been surprised by the dark look on his face, if you werenât lost by desire. Which mirrored in his eyes.
You pulled him in so that your lips collided in a hard, messy kiss. Giving all in. Which Mattheo accepted. The hand resting under your breast moved to cup your mound, that you sighed at. Taking his opportunity, Mattheo slipped his tongue into your mouth, claiming it and your tongue for himself. Feverishly his tongue moved with your own, a frantic dance.
While you lost yourselves in the kiss, Mattheo moved both hands down your sides. Moving over your hips and down your thighs. He moved down and you continued to move with him in the kiss. Mattheo then moved his hands back up your thighs, under your skirt, to the back of your thighs. Before you knew it, he had lifted you, bringing your legs up around his waist. His hands groping your behind, while he pushes you further against the wall. His arousal pressed against your aching core, both clothing separating those intimate places. With a hard, slow grind against your body from Mattheo, you pulled back from the kiss and moaned. Instantly he moved to sloppily kiss your neck.
âW-we shouldnât b-be doing this h-here" you managed to choke out, as he kept grinding against you.
Mattheo groaned against your neck. âBut I need you now, love. I canât wait" he retorted. âNo one will know, as long as youâre quiet".
The way his voice lowered and had this desperate tone to it, it just added to the fire. With those words and tone your last shred of sense left you. Too far gone now to back out. You bucked your core against his arousal, solidifying you heard and understood him. And that pleased Mattheo so much.
One of his hands moved to your clothed sex, fingers finding your bundle of nerves and pressing it over your panties. You groaned softly, before you mewed when he moved those fingers in circles over the nub. You rested your head against the wall, eyes closed while your hand gripped Mattheoâs hair. He moved his head back, drinking in the sight of your face and his hand pleasuring you.
When he abruptly stopped his ministrations, you shot him a dirty look. He chuckled. âPatience, love. Itâs just beginning".
He placed a long, chaste kiss to your lips. While his hand moved to his slacks, he pulled down his zipped and managed to free himself. It was a moment of relief for Mattheo, for his hard member had been in torture being confined. Using his hand he pumped himself a few times before feeling the over whelming need to be inside you. So, letting himself go, Mattheo moved his hand to your panties. Pushing the clothing a side, he jostled you up the wall a little move, hand firm on your behind.
Moving himself to your entrance, Mattheo ran the tip along your folds, gathering your slick. When the tip nudged your bundle of nerves, you groaned, feeling a jolt in the pit of your stomach. He did that a few more times, enjoying the noises and how your face looked from his actions.
âFuck, I canât wait to be in you" he sighed, lining himself up at your entrance.
You didnât say anything, or get the chance too. For Mattheo began to push into you. Slowly the tip entered you, followed by inch after inch. He growled at how tight you were around him. But eventually he pushed all the way in, bottoming out, fully inside you. He waited a few minutes, letting you adjust to him and relax.
After a few minutes Mattheo started to pull out till the tip was just inside you, and with a snap of his hips, he pushed back inside. Over and over he did this at a slow pace. Your hands gripped his hair and shoulder, back arching, clothed breasts pushing up against him. You felt so good, like heaven, just like he remembered but better.
There you were, in a dead end of a deserted hall, with Mattheo fucking you up against a wall that was just concealed from sight. You should have protested the public setting, but when he felt so good, and made you feel so good, you couldnât do anything but take it.
With a harsh snap of his hips, you bit back a loud moan, for heâd reached that spot with in you. And with every second or third thrust, Mattheo was hitting it repeatedly. You buried your face in his shoulder, holding onto him tighter, a small whimper leaving your lips. Knowing how good he was making you feel, Mattheo picked up his pace, chasing your releases.
You felt that coil in your pit tightening with each thrust, your sex tightening around him every time after hitting that spot deep within you. You both were a panting and sweating mess, lost in this moment and the other.
âYou're mine" Mattheo groaned, thrust harsher into you. âTell me youâre mine!â
You moaned against his shoulder, from his thrust and words. Being so sex drunk, your better judgement was out the window. âI-I'm yours" you moaned.
âI canât hear you" he groaned, gripping your ass with both hands as he thrust deeply and moaning.
You let out a small cry when he did that. âI-I'm yours!â
Hearing you better, Mattheo grinned. Pleased with your answer. Without saying anything else, he focused on getting you both over the edge. He focused on his thrusts, long and hard, and trying to hit that spot over and over. That coil in your pit tightened with every thrust. You found yourself tell him you were close. So he worked harder. Soon his thrusts got sloppy, but he kept at it.
When you finally came, you told him just before that coil in your snapped. You tightened around him, moaning Mattheo's name and riding out your release. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Mattheo finally hit his own release, a groan leaving his throat. He thrusted a few more times as he coats your insides with his release. Mattheo buried himself inside you, body leaning against you as you both tried to catch your breathes.
It was silence, except for your soft panting. Mattheo rest his forehead against your shoulder, while the hand in his locks ran through them. He was savouring this moment. While you wondered what this meant. You were confused by his want for you to say you were his. Was it something to help him get off? Yet you were unsure of voicing that question.
After a while Mattheo pulled back, and he removed himself from you, covering you back up with your panties. He helped lower you to your feet, which were a bit shaky. But once he was sure you were standing, he put himself back in his pants and zipped them back up. It was silent between you both, for you, you were unsure while Mattheo was satisfied and content.
Feeling self-conscious, you picked up your bag and were about to leave. âUm, a-alright" you stuttered. Unsure of what to say after a quickie in the hall.
You had just moved past Mattheo, when he grabbed your wrist. âWhere are you running off to love?â
You sighed. âI told you, Iâm not your loveâ.
Not hearing a retort or him releasing your wrist, you turned to see a knowing smirk on Mattheo's face. He moved closer to you, hand moving to lock with yours, as he pulled you closer.
âOh, but you are loveâ he said in that overly sweet tone. âYou said it yourself, youâre mineâ.
Your face flushed. While all words left you. That was the moment you realised you had unknowingly given yourself to Mattheo Riddle. You were his. And he was completely yours. Slowly a smile crossed your lips. You decided to accept your fate. Heâs not so bad.
#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x fem!reader#mattheo x y/n
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I usually stay up late (right now is 3 am and I still have things to do) programming and doing stuff.
I thought about this fic idea and you popped into my mind.
How about we mostly work in IT for SHIELD/the avengers so we mostly stay with computers or we are in workshops. The thing is we are with yelena and in general we get along with everyone. Lately yelena has noticed that we are more tired than usual, because us being a workaholic person canât just stop working. One night yelena finds us sleeping on our computer while we were programming/hacking, she tries to gets us to sleep and we try to deny it. Next day yelena has some words with nick fury.
This is probably bad written but right now my brain is not braining sorry
Workaholic
Pairing:Â Yelena Belova x GN! Reader
Summary:Â Youâre a workaholic that doesnât realise how drained you can get.Â
Fluff & Tiny Angst
Warnings: None, if there is any, please let me know. | 1.7K
Translations:Â Detka (baby)
AC:Â Thank you for sending this! I know it has taken me FOREVER & I do apologise for that. I hope you enjoy this! x
She watched in silence every morning when you would drag yourself out of bed to the kitchen for breakfast before leaving for work and she would watch again when you would finally come home late at night, hair slightly a mess before youâd take a shower and crash almost instantly the minute you sat down on the bed. She didnât know what was going on at work, but she knew it was draining any energy you had left.Â
Anytime she would meet you for lunch or when she would see you for the short period of time before and after work, you were just tired. Conversations were flat and short; you began to work later than usual which led to you going to work earlier than normal.
At first, Yelena just assumed it was something really important that Nick Fury, your boss, needed you to get done but when she found you one night, asleep at your desk, it raised more concern and worry for you.
Yelena sighed lightly to herself as she leant against the doorframe of your office, her brows frowning with concern at the sight of you slumped over your desk, the blue light from the monitors didnât seem to wake you, your fingers still lightly pressed on the last letters you had pressed before resting your head. Lines of coding ran across the multiple screen system surrounding you, these were things she knew she would never truly understand how they worked.Â
âDetkaâ she said softly, attempting to wake you. You stirred slightly, giving her a light groan but no real signs of opening your tired eyes. âLet me take you home so you can get some real sleepâ you heard her Russian accent ever so softly speak. Unintentionally, you groaned once more, this time your eyes flickering open, the brightness of your screen making them sting.Â
âI..Iâm fineâ you mumbled, sitting up straight, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.
âDetka, you canât keep doing this. What is so important to Fury that has you falling asleep at your desk?â Yelena asked, her brows frowned with worry.Â
âI just need like 5 more minutes, I promiseâ you replied in your groggy state.
âMore like another 5 hoursâ Your girlfriend muttered before she reached for your computer mouse before you could even string together where things were. âIâm not letting you make yourself sick for whatever this isâ Yelena added, her voice low but firm, âyou need sleep. No more hacking for tonightâ she said as you watched the little arrow on your screen close down your opened tabs.Â
âYelena!â You spat, âI canât! I have too much do to and you just shut it down?!â You added, annoyed by your girlfriends actions as you looked up at her. Yelena shook her head, âif you write another line of coding, youâre going to become the damn coding!âÂ
âYou donât get it, I need to get this done!â You frowned.Â
âAnd you get do it tomorrowâ Your girlfriend said, crossing her arms over her chest. Your eyes dropped slightly, there was no fighting her one this, not even you felt your eyes grow heavy once more.Â
âFineâ you sighed, tiredly, âjust let me close everything down properly before we go homeâ you added.Â
----
The next morning, you woke up in a panic. The sun light creeping in through the crack of the curtains, you reached for your phone to find out your alarm had been switched off. You sighed before throwing your head back down on the pillow before covering your face with both of your hands.Â
Yelena was giving her daggers a sharpen when you asked her why she had turned your alarm off.Â
âBecause, detka, you needed a real sleepâ she said, not batting and eye at you.Â
âYelena, you made me late for work! I donât even know what to tell Nick when I get thereâ you argued.Â
âI already told him youâd be running late todayâ Your loving girlfriend replied, looking up at you, âIâm worried about youâ she added. One look into her green eyes and you were reminded of the worried look she had on her face late last night when she found you at your desk, asleep.Â
âYouâre working yourself too hard, you come home and have a re-heated meal then shower and go to bed for a few short hours. Natasha and Wanda both said that you donât even leave the compound for lunch, not even to get some fresh air. You are consistently at that desk working until early hours of the morningâ Yelena said in a soft but firm tone.Â
âBaby, itâs my jobâ you said, leaning against the doorframe.Â
âYes, it is but your job isnât 16 hours a dayâÂ
Your eyes dropped to your feet, âI know, I justâŠ.i just want to make sure Iâm doing the best I can for Fury. All the coding and hacking I do, itâs not easy. Itâs time consuming and I need ot be on top of my game all the timeâ you explained in hopes it would help Yelena understand.Â
âYouâre not going to be on top of your game if youâre falling asleep at your desk and barely function outside of work. Detka, I hate to say it, but youâre a workaholicâ Yelena replied. You cocked a brow at the blonde, âI am notâ you said, making Yelena chuckle.Â
âYou are detka, a hard, smart working workaholicâ she teased, causing you to playful roll your eyes. âThink whatever you want Lena, Iâm going to go get ready for workâ
âIâm taking you todayâ Yelena said just before you pushed yourself off the doorframe, âand Iâm picking you up at 5pmâ she added.Â
âLena, you can trust me to come home at the end of my shift todayâÂ
âI know, but Nat is dragging me in to help her with some training thing so why not carpool?â She replied with a rather proud grin on her lips. You playfully shook your head at her before making your way to the bathroom to get ready for work.Â
----
You and Yelena walked into the compound, hand in hand before Yelena placed a soft kiss on your cheek and wished you a good day as you both parted ways, she waited until you were inside the elevator before she turned on her heels and headed towards Nickâs office.Â
Nick, busy as usual was sitting at his desk with a stack of paperwork beside him. His focus so deep on the document in front of him he didnât even hear the knock on his door.Â
âFuryâ Yelena said lightly, her accent coming in thick.Â
Nick looked up before leaning back in his chair, âBelovaâ he acknowledged with a raised eyebrow.Â
âI need to talk to you, itâs importantâ Yelena began, âitâs about Y/nâ she added. Fury nodded, âcome on, take a seatâ he replied. Yelena closed the large wooden door behind her before she took a head on the typical office style chair. âWhat can I help you with?â The head of S.H.I.E.L.D asked.Â
âTheyâre pushing themselves too hard for whatever it is you have them working on. This is shield, right? Not some tech startup company. They need a breakâ Yelena said firmly.Â
âRightâ Nick nodded, âand you think that Iâve been keeping them prisoner to their desk?â He added as he stood up from behind his desk and wandered over to Yelena, taking a the empty chair next to her, âY/n is one of my hardest working IT employees, they are dedicated to their job, I admire it, I will all my IT employees would put in half the effort Y/n does. This job isnât easy, there isnât a real shift time start or end. We may need them at 4am if a mission goes south and they know thatâ he explains.Â
âBut they are here early every day, and they leave later than anybody else. You canât tell me that every mission over the last month has gone to shitâ Yelena argued.
âNo, but, like I said they are dedicated to their job. Look, Iâll have a look at the clock ins and outs. If Y/n is doing too much unneeded overtime, I will have a word to them but if they arenât, Iâm not going to get in the way of somebody who has a drive to workâÂ
Yelena sighed lightly, âhave you even seen them lately? They are exhausted, last night when they didnât come home, I came here and found them asleep! At their desk! Iâm not asking you to check their clock ins and outs, I am asking you to give them the break they deserve and needâ Yelena said firmly, not backing down. âYou can go a few days without them here. A few days is worth it then not having them at allâ she added.Â
Fury remained silent for a moment, contemplating Yelenaâs request. He knew Yelena was right; losing a little of something is better than not having it at all. âOkayâ he said, finally breaking the silence, âI will speak to them on their lunch breakâ he added.Â
âThank youâ Yelena said, giving him a polite nod.Â
âYouâre just like your sister, stubbornâ Nick muttered with a cocked brow.Â
âI am when I need to beâ Yelena teasingly grinned.Â
----
When 5pm came, you didnât want to keep Yelena waiting, you shut down your computer and made sure your desk was tidy for tomorrow morning before you wandered the main hall of the compound. You smiled softly when you locked eyes on her leaning against her blue pick-up truck talking to Natasha, Bucky and Sam.Â
âWhatâs the gossip today guys?â You asked with a light chuckle.Â
Natasha was the first to turn and smile at you, âhold on a moment, are you unwell?â She asked, jokingly.Â
âHa, Ha, very funnyâ you replied, playfully rolling your eyes as you stood next to Yelena, leaning your head on her shoulder. âSomebody couldnât help themselves and spoke to Fury todayâ you added.Â
âOhhh! Yelena went to the big dogs!â Sam laughed.Â
âShe did and honestly, thank youâ you said, looking up at Yelena.Â
âYouâre welcomeâ she smiled softly.
Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | @axolotllover225 | @koinsss | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | @marvelnatasha12346 | @mrromanoff | @umadirectioner | @starryskiesandboys | @ddreader04 |Â
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#yelenasdiary asks#living my marvel fantasy#fanfiction#yelena belova#marvel#Yelena Belova x reader#Yelena Belova x you
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Is this blog is still alive? ;w;
yes itâs still alive.. just not very active like it used to. i donât have the inspiration to draw for this blog and i get nervous to post again :[
#oof-#i've been rather inactive on this side blog partially since my love for the yandere fandom stopped working for a bit#but i remembered how fun it is#and now itâs just#i get too busy at work (8 am - 6 pm) during these days so i can't keep up with posting for two blogs..#i don't really go out of my way to seek followers so i do not mind the nonexistent activity here#as for now i prefer being on my main blog so i can focus on drawing other new characters and fandom instead of drawing the same blorbo ykno#and the only time im available to draw is sunday#hope this kind of cleared some stuff up or explained things a little better?#slow artist#tired#low energy#blog update#ask
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Getting off my ass and downloading my favorite fics to put on a jump drive I bought with a fuck tonne more storage than the two I already had from when I was in school and, wow, this is actually so much easier than the rest of the stuff Iâve been downloading for various reasons (articles on stuff I want to have around but worry might be impacted by this new presidency). You just pick pdf (or whatever you like) and bam! Itâs right there in your downloads ready to be stashed away, no annoying nitpicking where I have to delete stuff I donât need in the document or huge blank spaces, itâs just ready! Like, listen. I love âprint friendly and pdfâ Firefox extension, but I always have to end up deleting some stuff that is just taking up space. It does its job! Itâs just not going to be neat and tidy when the website doesnât intend for you to do this. Archive of our own does that whole thing of making a pdf themselves! This is going to go so much faster than the other stuff Iâve been downloading as pdfs
Anyway, I love you as well Smithsonian magazine website for not only being free, but also just having that extension on all your articles! Thatâs actually how I found it in the first place. Before that I was copy pasting every paragraph into a pages document and it was way more tedious.
#emma posts#I feel like an old woman who figured out how to use her email#more and more every day#I am not bad at computers while also being bad at computers#Iâm getting sidetracked here though#I really just keep developing tricks to solve my computer problems but then thereâs an easy solution that I just donât know about#like that Firefox extension#am I good or bad with computers? I think a secret third thing#Iâll think Iâm bad with them and then Iâll see someone who is just straight up terrible with them and Iâm like#âwell. im not great. but im also not thatâ#I wonât ever be able to download every fic I want to read#Iâm sorting through my bookmarks to take what I think I should grab. but I have so much in the âwant to readâ thing#I donât know if my jump drive could pull that and all my non fanfiction off#I really havenât purchased a jump drive in awhile though#I saw the storage on one of the first to come up and was like âholy shit!â#girlie has not purchased one since 2015 okay#I really hope I just end up doing this and then it turns out I didnât need to#but if I didnât do it and it turns out I needed itâŠ#no. wouldnât want that#I need sleep. I just started laughing at the thought of having illicit Wikipedia articles on a jump drive like some heinous shit#but itâs literally just an article about the history behind Yule or something#forbidden out of Africa Wikipedia article PDF#I donât know what kind of stuff falls under the stuff in that project 2025#they have brains that work in ways I donât understand#you know some of them would be like âyou have to take down your article about ice age humans because creationism real I guessâ#âhow dare you have information on the history of religion?!â scandalous#and I know I can never afford to buy books on every single one of those things#but science magazines and Wikipedia articles? sure#Iâm getting really sidetracked but this is making me feel like I can do something#itâs giving me some sense of control and distraction and if I donât have those things to channel this energy Iâll just get worse
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Bb girls who just wanna write in your area đ«
#â§ïœ„ïŸ:*đđđŸđđ đ¶đđđđ*:ïŸâ§ - ooc#|| lowkey vent but#|| gd I'm just... eh...#|| I have zero energy. and I wake up everyday since this work project hoping for it to be a day where I can just recharge & get writing done#|| only for something else to pop up & drain what itty bitty speck of energy that I have left#|| the most ridiculous part tbh is that I have the replies done - I just for some reason can't build up the energy to actually post them????#|| like that's the least energy extensive part w a t#|| I'll keep trying lovelies đ« đ#tbd
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#ok so like this is fine bc im not in a horrible mood rn. this is more i feel like complaining bc what im doing is kinda ridiculous#but my memory is so bad that ill probably forget if i dont write it out. but basically 4 days a week i have to come in starting at 7.30 to#water and prep for measurements. then from 9am to 6.15pm i have to nonstop take the measurements. and theyre timed so that means#i get abt 4 min to do anything before i have to take another measurement. which is abt enough time to start to focus and then have to stop#which is very fucking frustrating. and i have to manage data. coordinate for this fucking paper. and keep track of like 10 other things for#work stuff. which means that it takes me like and hour to send easy emails and they come out all fucked uo bc my brain is so shot#but on top of that i also have to fucking do the steps to get set up for my new school in the fall. and like ive officially accepted the#offer but havent talked to my new advisor since then so now theres this weird gap where im like. uh fuck do i ask for wtf im supposed to#do? bc ive been able to do things for like 2 or 3 weeks but then my life started collapsing in around me. and like there r probably#instructions somewhere but i cant fucking read lol. whatever. hes nice i just need to find the energy and words to email him and b like lol#srry everythings been insane. but bc ive waited so long i have to compulsively keep going back to check that ive been accepted like somehow#that would change while im not looking. ugh. and ive also fucked myself over housing wise bc theres a housing shortage in the city and huge#demand of housing on camus so theres a wait list for everything but i cant fucking apply bc i cant get my id to work. and fucking idk who#to call or email abt that. but idk i might have to have roomates for a semester. or my parents offered to give me some extra money for an#apartment until i can get one that doesnt put me in the red on a grad student budget. ugh. i dont wanna do either of those things#but christ do i not want roommates. ill figure something out. its just annoying and difficult from so far away#and it makes me kinda sad bc ppl r like: r u excited?! and im like. i cant really think abt that. partly bc im constanly putting out fires#in the present so theres not really space for it. partly bc i dont allow myself to b excited abt things so as not to get my hopes up.#but just after i accepted i was excited. and now it feels like im reaching my hand out toward a floating light just out of reach. like#its a nice idea but i wont believe until it happens. but that just bc ive become distorted about things#and i dont even get a weekend bc the 4 days of measurement r friday to Monday and i cant fucking relax on weekdays bc ppl r like hey can u#do this??? and there r things i can only do on weekdays so its like ok i guess ill just suffer forever thrn. and my boss texts me like: hey#did u do X? and am like: uuuuuh i fucking dont kno what day it is anymore. i dont understand y we have to meet. lets just not talk bc im#afraid ill say something worrying. so yea its pretty fucked up rn. but this stuff ends on the 24th#then ill probably not take a break and fucking finish the measurements for another project bc i just really need it to b done. i need it#all to b done so i can fucking wash my hands of this and fucking quit and move away at the start of july... or August if i decide i hate#myself that much. ugh. at least the lab has been pretty empty so no ones seen me crying lol#also thr fucking rutgers guy emailed me yesterday like: hey u want this position? and im like bitch u r like a month too late also im in#my cringe fail era. i would not survive at ur school. ugh everything is terrible. 2 or 3 more months then i csn leave this place forever#unrelated
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đThereâs a quiet strength in just existing. Itâs easy to overlook, especially when everything feels awful, but simply getting through each day is a huge accomplishment. You might not always see it, but just by being here, youâre adding something uniquely important to the world. Itâs not about doing something extraordinary or being the best; itâs about continuing on, even when things are tough. Your presence matters, and it has a positive impact in ways you might not notice, but others do. Give yourself credit for the small victories, the moments when you keep going despite it all. Those moments show just how strong you are, even if it doesnât feel that way. Hang on to that thought, because itâs a truth worth holding onto as you face whatever comes your way.đ
I donât even have words, but thank you so much anon, I kind of needed this right now (a lot) and itâs a really nice message :) <3
#wow this is really lovely#whoever you are thank you so much for taking time out of your own day to send this to me it means a lot#youâre already going above and beyond the simple strength of just existing by making someone elseâs day better and Iâm very thankful#lovely anon đ#love the leaf too and itâll be fall soon which is my favorite so hell yeah good things are coming#I hope I can keep this energy up for the day and get some work done đ€đŒ#I really hope youâre having a good time too anon and people who appreciate you and tell you how much they love you straight up cause you#deserve it#thank you for being so kind đ#itâs a blue heart cause I love blue :D#danny talks#anon ask#<3333#I love anons nothing better than a stranger dropping some thoughts and being kind#I should read and draw more that makes me happy#I hope you like cookies anon cause I got some for you and anyone else who would like some đȘđȘđȘ#I donât even like cookies myself that much but I love making food for others
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#delete later#im so exhausted and stressed. theres such a lack of stability and its freaking me out SO much. im just constantly tense and waiting#for something terrible to happen. im starting to think that im not gonna get to go to the entomology thing ive been hoping#how i can't do things independently and i must have been forced into this abd rhen it'll get cruel towards my friends abd i cant#and my aunt is getting worse abd my parents are waiting for me to fail abd have to move bsck with them which i can't do bc#to go to for months bc ill probably need to use that time off for preparing to move. which sucks. ive been looking forward to it#i was letting myself get my hopes up and that was a mistake bc now im rly disappointed. im hoping i can go but honestly#idk if it'd be financially responsible. same with comic con. its in october so i can probably go but it might not be a financially#good idea. it just. the things i was counting on to be stable sources of joy are not stable anymore and that's making everything worse#and im tryinh to be positive but im so anxious. theres just so much. i need to think about packing and try to figure out#how im going to move 1-2 hours away. how am i going to coordinate with movers whilst having to get the train to meet them#im disabled and cabt help move things so only getting one person ro deliver worries me. movers arent insured to take ppl with them#theres just SO MUCH. And i can't view properties easily bc of work so im missing out on multiple places that ive been contacting#ppl about abd i couldnt line up enough for last week when i was off bc it was too short notice and i just. its TOO MUCH TOO MUCH#im overwhelmed. im trying to think of the food im gonna cook when im there ahd the armchair im gonna buy#im gonna eat so much fucking lamb and fish oh ny god im excited for THAT#i wany to just go for the shittiest place to at least have some stability and bc i still have yhat kernel of thought that i dont#deserve comfort but im trying to fight it bc i do. i deserve somewhere nice and its unfair on myself not to find somewhere nice#especially as ill be living alone. i cant go for places that have no natural light or are four stories up or are a mile away from the train#station bc that will wreck my mental health and i wont have ready access to socialising that can stabilise me. gotta be fair#to myself. but THATS PROVING REAL DIFFICULT#im doing good saving though so thats nice i guess. fuck me moving is expensive. moving when you've got zero kitchen supplies is#even more so. gonna be an Interesting first couple days in the new place.#it will be. very bad. they keep texting me asking about it and i have to be positive bc otherwise itll become a conversation about#field all that shit when im like this. i just cant. that requires so much fucking energy i dont have. and i wont move back#id frankly rather die. and trying to not say that and decline politely sucks. bc they get the look of#oh we're not good enough huh#and i can't field their fucking feelings. i either need a pause button or a fast forward. id take either one#so many of these tags ended up out of order whoops. but these arent meant to be read anyway#i just need to scream bc idk what else to do
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hi, you there who are or are thinking about spending all day in bed, itâs okay, Iâm not telling you to get up. Iâd just like to do a quick check in to make sure youâve got everything you need to be comfortable and safe.
Have you gotten up to take any meds you need?
Do you need to open or close your windows or curtains/blinds to make your environment nicer? (Fresh air, keep the cold out, sunlight/darkness)
Do you have a water bottle or a glass of water easily accessible? (Can also be juice, cordial, a meal replacement drink or anything else)
Do you have any over the counter or prescription as required meds you might need, like painkillers or anti nausea meds?
Is your phone or laptop charged?
Are you wearing comfortable clothing?
Do you have enough blankets/pillows to be warm and comfortable?
Do you have any snacks like fruit or chips or muesli bars in case you canât get up to make a meal?
Are you able to change positions in bed (or sit up if youâre able)?
Do you have any regulation tools like fidgets, ear plugs, or journaling/art books or low energy hobbies you might want?
Are you being gentle and patient with yourself and your body today?
Thanks for doing this check in with me. I like to have some of these things prepared on my nightstand, or all together in the same space in my room so I donât have to do as much work on low energy days. It can also help to have someone else prepare or get these things for you if youâre unable. Hope you have an uncomplicated day.
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Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)
â± Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair â° || NSFW Alphabet (A-Z) Headcanons
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Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/æććć, Separate) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No Sex-Specific Genitalia is Mentioned but it was Written with an AFAB Reader in Mind) Warning(s): 18+ Content, Virgin Asexual Author, Cum Eating, Facials, Minor Objectification, Cuckoldry, Mutual Masturbation, Face-fucking, Sexual Fantasies, Tickling, Praise/Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink/Creampies, BDSM, Overstimulation, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Hair-pulling, Light Impact Play, Light Breathplay, Implied Cunnilingus/Blowjobs, Cock Warming, Mention/Discussion of Sex Toys⊠If I missed anything, please let me know! Genre: Headcanons, Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), Fluff Word Count: 7,200 words Request: âHi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)â Authorâs Note: Iâm still very much working on getting better at writing spicier content, and I had no clue how to start writing these kinds of headcanons from scratch, so I went ahead and just filled out the NSFW Alphabet for both Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair as a jumping off point! Itâs definitely interesting to think about how both of these characters would be in a sexually intimate setting, especially since â at least in my mind â theyâd be quite different from each other in a variety of aspects even if they did have some overlap on a few of the points. I did my best to keep each of their headcanons at a similar word length (which was kind of hard to do with my Mr. Crawling bias, but I think I accomplished it haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcanons! ( ͥ° ÍÊ ÍĄÂ°)
â If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! âĄ
â°âââââââââââââââŻ
A: Aftercare (What theyâre like after sex)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling is immensely clingy after having sex, holding onto you and pretty much refusing to let go as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. While he doesnât want to get up from the bed or leave after the two of you have been intimate, if youâre hungry or thirsty or if you want to go take a bath, heâs happy to go fetch you something to restore your energy or help you to the bathroom to clean up. Heâs quite good at aftercare, even if he doesnât realize what heâs doing counts as it. Mr. Crawling just likes making you feel good, and he wants to keep you safe and happy! His favorite thing to do is help you bathe; he enjoys the way the warm water feels on his skin while he washes your back for you.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair isnât too affectionate after the two of you are intimate, but heâll check up on you and ask if you need him to get you anything. If your wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints he had placed on you, he would make sure to carefully wrap gauze around your irritated skin. If you were thirsty or hungry, he would locate something safe for you to consume to get your strength back up. If you feel sticky or gross afterward, heâll carefully wipe your body with a wet cloth to make sure you are clean and comfortable. He lets you sleep and typically goes about his own business. Sometimes, though, Mr. Silvair finds himself watching over you to make sure youâre breathing steadily, carefully combing his fingers through your hair.Â
B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partnerâs)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling doesnât have a favorite part of your body since he honestly enjoys every aspect of you but, if he had to choose, he loves your hands. He knows that they can hurt people and cause a lot of pain, but he loves the way they feel when you cup his face to softly caress it or whenever you thread your fingers through his hair. For himself, Mr. Crawling loves his hair the most (I know itâs not technically a body part, but I think it makes the most sense for him); he pretty much melts whenever you play with it, and his head is quite sensitive, so he blue screens whenever you pull at his hair or rake your nails across his scalp. I also feel like Mr. Crawling would be proud of his arms since theyâre fairly toned considering theyâre his primary means of getting around. Because of his impressive strength, despite what his thinner frame may portray, heâs able to hold you up and move you around with relative ease (he 100% can manhandle you, but only will if youâre cool with it).Â
đ: Mr. Silvair finds every aspect of your body fascinating, and he could probably explain why each part of you was interesting from a medical perspective or that everything was pleasant to look at in one way or another. If he had to pick a favorite part of your body, though, he would have to say itâs your head (I know, kind of weird, but he does appreciate your intelligence and, well⊠Ending 06 is my other piece of reasoning haha). Specifically, though, he likes your mouth. He enjoys being able to hold your head in place while your jaw hangs open, all while he just goes to town while you drool and choke around his cock. Donât worry, though â heâll find some remedy to lessen the soreness you feel in your throat afterward. For himself, heâs quite proud of his hands. Mr. Silvair is skilled at many things, and being able to make you come undone with his fingers alone makes him feel a sense of power (plus, you called them pretty once, and it made him feel good).Â
C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling gets extremely flustered whenever he sees his cum on any part of your body, from your hair to your face to your stomach. The sight of it alone on your skin makes his brain short-circuit and body flare up â it only makes him want to touch you even more. He likes being able to clean you up, too, leaning forward before he runs his tongue along your body or face, making sure there wasnât a single drop of his cum left on you (even if now it meant you were covered in salivaâŠ). He doesnât mind tasting himself, but it most certainly doesnât compare to your flavor.Â
đ: I probably need to ask you to stay with me on this one, but I think Mr. Silvair would probably keep your cum stored away in a sample tube or something along those lines, having a desire to run tests on it to see what he could create. Views your cum as a valuable resource in his research...yay? Maybe he could even use your release to invent some kind of lubricant since thatâs not easily accessible in the other world and make having sex much more streamlined⊠or he just keeps it around to show you later and see your reaction to the fact he keeps your cum stored away in his laboratory to tease you.Â
D: Dirty Secret
đŁ: The thought of taking you in public, in a space where no one but you could see him, makes his mind race and his body feel like it was on fire â this man can act like a feral dog sometimes. I mean, even you sometimes forgot he was there, unable to see his form unless you concentrated hard enough, so imagine if the two of you went out somewhere in public and he (with your consent, of course), just started touching you? Groping your ass, his face between your legs as he runs his hands along your inner thighs⊠no one can see that itâs him making your face flush and not the excuse of a fever you told the concerned stranger in the hopes they would leave you alone. When you half-heartedly glare at him to try and get him to lay off for a bit, he just laughs at your expression⊠how rude!
đ: Mr. Silvar wouldnât be opposed to having a threesome with another resident of the other world. After all, he would be curious to see how differently you acted when another person was there with the two of you, or if your body reacted in an unlikely way if another were to touch you. While I will not write NSFW for Mr. Chopped (the power dynamic there isnât my favorite thing in the world), he would be the one Mr. Silvair would feel most at ease sharing you with; Mr. Crawling or Mr. Hood would be his second and third choices respectively since he knows how deeply you trust them. He might not even partake in sex either, just sitting off to the side while he lets another use you like a toy. As long as you know your his, though, he doesnât mind watching you enjoy yourself with another (he has to be there, though).Â
E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what theyâre doing?)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling has absolutely zero experience with this kind of stuff, so he would need someone willing to walk him through the whole process, show him what you like, and teach him what and what not to do. What he lacks in experience, though, he makes up for in pure enthusiasm. Itâs quite flattering how determined he is when it comes to making you feel good, even if itâs a bit sloppy and unpracticed. His thrusts are extremely unpredictable, never quite finding their rhythm⊠Itâs alright, though; heâll definitely get better with more time and the more he gets to understand what your body likes. You just have to give him the time to improve, and heâll be certain to leave you breathless.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair also has no experience when it comes to sex, or at least not any while heâs resided in the other world. He is a life-long learner through and through, though, and thereâs nothing in the universe heâs not willing to learn about, especially if it has to do with humans and their anatomy. His thrusts are frighteningly accurate, being able to hit your most sensitive inner spots with ease to have you begging him to give you a moment to breathe. Heâs an almost terrifyingly fast learner, too, being able to apply whatever new information heâs observed and gathered within moments. He can do it perfectly, too, and he does it in a way that has you questioning whether he was telling the truth when he said this was his first time doing anything like this.Â
F: Favorite Position
đŁ: When it comes to favorite positions, Mr. Crawling loves being able to hold you close to him while also being able to see your face (he has to kiss you during sex â sorry, I donât make the rules). He enjoys the rocking horse position since it allows him to be able to hold you close while still being able to maintain eye contact with you and easily have access to cover your face in kisses. While he prefers being the one making you feel good, Mr. Crawling would also enjoy the cowgirl position. Heâs happy to let you use him to your heart's content while being able to look up and soak in the pleased look thatâs plastered across your features while you slam your hips up and down on his cock.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair personally enjoys the butterfly position, having you lay on your back atop his operation table all while he can watch and take mental notes on every single facial expression you make and every single twitch of your muscles while he drives you absolutely insane. He would also enjoy missionary, but he would spice it up a little bit by having your hands or wrists tied to something. After all, he doesnât want you to touch him unless he says you can â just lay there quietly while he completely wrecks you with that annoyingly calm expression on his face. Itâs not that he doesnât enjoy when you touch him, though. Mr. Silvair simply prefers being the one in charge and determining when and where youâre able to feel his skin beneath your hands.Â
G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)Â Â
đŁ: Acts goofy most of the time during sex, even if he doesnât mean to. He likes being able to make you happy, and he finds your laughter to be music to his ears. Sometimes you two will be having sex, and heâll suddenly start giggling completely unprovoked, just finding the experience with you so joyful. Being with you in any capacity makes his chest feel light and fluttery as a sense of giddiness flows through his veins. Heâll wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck, causing your body to spasm and tighten around him while his long hair drapes over you and tickles your skin. Overall, Mr. Crawling enjoys being more playful when the two of you are intimate since it adds to the overall experience for him.Â
đ: Prefers to be serious while having sex. He treats the whole process of intercourse like one would treat a research project which, honestly, can make you feel a bit annoyed in some instances (Mr. Silvair still doesnât quite understand why, though). Heâs methodical in everything he does, and being light-hearted or purposefully humorous isnât high on his list of things to do. He has no problem if you want to be silly, however. He finds it cute when you try to see if you can make him chuckle. It endears you to him more, and it makes him want to keep you around for even longer. The only goofy thing he does is gently run his fingers up and down your sides while thrusting into you, finding the way your body wriggles and writhes away from his touch to be adorable.Â
H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
đŁ: I think Mr. Crawling would have fairly long hair beneath the metaphorical belt. His pubic hair would be thick, curly, and a very dark shade of black. He doesnât really keep himself groomed (kind of hard to do in his world, plus it was never a priority for him), but if you would prefer him to keep it trimmed, heâd be happy to! He doesnât care one way or another.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair comes off to me as someone who would enjoy keeping themselves groomed and their appearance well-maintained, and I mean every inch of his body. I think he would have either no pubic hair or pubic hair that was trimmed to be the perfect length. If he did have any hair below the belt, it would be a gray color, one that was a shade darker than his regular hair and wavy in texture.Â
I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)
đŁ: One of the more human-like members of the cast when it comes to his affections; heâs as romantic as a non-human being can be. Mr. Crawling loves holding you close as he ruts into you like a wild dog, whispering praises against your skin. He even tries his best to learn phrases in your language so he can tell you how much you mean to him without you having to try and decipher it. Heâs always so, so soft with you when you two are having sex. Heâs honored that youâd let him have you in such a way, and finds your trust in him heartwarming â he trusts you, too, with his entire heart and soul.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair canonically doesnât comprehend the concept of âlikingâ or loving someone, so that also translates into sex with him. All he knows is that he finds you entertaining to be around and that heâs somewhat endeared to you at this point. Heâs not romantic but, in between teasing you and making you cry (whether it be in frustration or overstimulation), heâs checking in on you to make sure that youâre still comfortable. He knows sex can be invasive, and heâs aware of how much regard the act is held in by some people in your world, so he does his best to respect that... Even if he does need to check himself every now and again.Â
J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
đŁ and đ: Neither of them masturbates much because they simply donât have a desire or time to do so. Mr. Crawling would rather wait for you to be there so you two can enjoy yourselves together, and Mr. Silvair simply has more important matters to attend to. Thatâs not to say they never masturbate, though, itâs just typically a rare occurrence.Â
đŁ: Mr. Crawling typically masturbates by rutting up against something, like a pillow, rather than taking himself in his hand. His thoughts before meeting you were just focusing on the physical sensation of his cock sliding against the fabric of his clothing, but now he finds himself thinking of you â the way your voice sounds when you coo sweet words in his ear, the warmth of your body. Imagining your hands gently touching his chest and hips makes him cum right then and there, almost embarrassingly quickly⊠Yeah, heâs down bad.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair treats masturbating as a chore. Heâd much rather be doing something else than leaning against the wall of his operation room while his hand goes absolutely ham on his dick. He knows which areas on his body get the most reaction, so he purposefully presses all of his buttons just so he can be done with it quicker. This doesnât change after meeting and getting to be intimate with you, though, he still sees it as a chore⊠Just now he imagines cumming on your face or inside you whenever he finally reaches his climax.Â
K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)
đŁ:Â
Mutual Masturbation: He likes spending time with you and doing things together, so why not spend some time watching each other explore yourselves? He likes observing you as you touch yourself, making mental notes of every spot on your body that have you biting your lip and furrowing your brows. While I wouldnât say heâs into voyeurism since he does like being with you while you touch yourself instead of tucked away in the shadows just watching, he focuses more on the way your hands touch and caress your skin instead of focusing on the way he moves his hands across his body. Doesnât last very long doing this, though, eventually pouncing on you and touching you himself.
Overstimulation (Giving): Mr. Crawling loves overstimulating you, even if he doesnât realize heâs doing it half of the time. He just enjoys seeing you become a blabbering mess all because of him; he takes great pride in being able to make you feel good. However, the first time you started crying because he was simply giving you too much, he felt so guilty â the poor man was on the verge of tears thinking he made you feel bad.Â
Praise Kink: While praising you is a bit more difficult considering the language barrier and the limited amount of words and phrases he has to choose from, he still loves doing it. Muttering against your skin how youâre doing such a good job, how he loves you so much, how you make him so happy. Mr. Crawling definitely makes sure to reassure you both inside and outside of the bedroom.Â
Hair Pulling (Receiving): He loves, loves, loves it whenever you take his hair in your hand and give it a firm tug. Mr. Crawling enjoys it whenever heâs going down on you and you take his hair into your hands and push him even closer, making him become fully immersed in your scent and taste.Â
Sensation Play: While Mr. Crawling may not enjoy more painful experiences, he does like general sensation play quite a bit. He likes the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin while you pepper his flesh with gentle kisses and nips. He enjoys tickling you while his hips sensually thrust in and out, feeling the way you squeeze around him as breathless and airy giggles escape past your lips. He loves whispering into your ear while running his tongue along it before taking your lobe between his teeth and lightly tugging. Â
đ:Â
Breeding Kink/Creampie: Mr. Silvair, after learning more about human reproduction, has a deep-seated curiosity regarding whether or not the two of you would be able to have offspring. Thatâs kind of what starts this particular kink for him â he wants to know if you both are sexually compatible in that aspect, and he is curious what the resulting child would look and act like if they were born in the other world. If youâre unable to give birth or get pregnant, even if his initial interest in breeding is certainly from a more scientific aspect, he still finds the image of you full of his seed while it drips down the curve of your ass to be quite arousing.Â
Bondage/Shibari (Giving): He enjoys tying you up and pinning you down, being able to have full control over you in the bedroom. Heâs perfectly content if you agree to light bondage, like having your hands restrained, and would never ask you to do anything more than that. However, if you trust him enough and feel comfortable doing some more intense bondage, heâs not going to complain. Would definitely be interested in the art of shibari, finding the way the rope looks pressing into your skin tantalizing.Â
Orgasm Control/Denial (Giving): Another kink that feeds into his desire for control. Mr. Silvair enjoys being the one in charge of your release, and he likes seeing how far he can push you until you finally break and plead for him to let you cum. He loves seeing how stupid and desperate he can make you, sometimes with just his fingers alone.Â
Overstimulation (Giving): Much like orgasm control/denial, he likes pushing you to your breaking point. However, unlike the previous bullet, he likes seeing how much stimulation you can take until youâre crying for him to stop. He thinks itâs fascinating, seeing how quickly your desire for his touch can change â one moment youâre begging for him to touch you, and the next youâre weakly pushing his hand away. He does eventually relent, of course, but only after letting you cry for a bit.Â
Dacryphilia: Thereâs something about seeing your tear-streaked face that makes it feel like heâs just been hit with an arrow in his chest. Itâs endearing and oh-so cute the way you look while you sob all because heâs making you feel that good. It makes him feel proud, in a way, seeing you in such a pathetic state all because of him.Â
L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)
đŁ: He enjoys having sex with you on a bed (boring, I know), but he likes the softness of the mattress and the many pillows and blankets that can be used to bring even more comfort by keeping the heat from your bodies trapped. He also likes taking you in small, enclosed spaces, like an empty locker or cabinet (sorry folks with claustrophobia). Much like the reasoning with the bed, he likes how the smaller space forces you both to be immensely close to each other. Plus, these spaces bring him comfort, so why not mix the two things that make him feel safe together?Â
đ: Either in his laboratory/operation room or in one of the many different cages or prison cells that he has access to (bonus points if you allow him to chain you up hehe). Mr. Silvair doesnât need a soft mattress or pillows to enjoy sex with you. Heâs fine taking you on his operation table or the cold concrete floor of the small prison cell, even if your back moving up and down across the ground rubs your skin raw. Heâll patch you up after, no worries, but he doesnât need a lot of bells and whistles to have an enjoyable time.Â
M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
đŁ: Sweet words and gentle touches. The other world is one full of violence and death, one where survival trumps all else. While there are entities like him who only resort to violence when either their safety or the safety of someone theyâre fond of is in danger, itâs still not a happy or bright place to exist. Mr. Crawling does what he can to enjoy life, laughing in situations that probably arenât even that funny just to try and make existing more enjoyable. Then you come along and make him feel cared for â loved â and safe, and heâs never been happier. Being able to lay with you, to feel you clench around his cock with your warmth while you pepper kisses across his face and let him know how good he is⊠Yeah, this is the life.Â
đ: Power and control. He enjoys being able to restrict your movement, being able to dictate when and where youâre allowed to cum and, if you disobey him, heâll punish you with a sadistic smile on his face. However, he would be lying if he said that was all. Mr. Silvair thinks the fact you trust him with your safety â your life, your heart, your existence â gets him going, whether he realizes it or not. Trusting another in the other world showcases how much two people believe in the fact the other would not do anything to purposefully harm them, and you feel that way toward him (and he feels the same toward you). Whenever you call out his âname,â the one you had given him, he finds his hips unconsciously moving even faster at the sound...
N: No (Something they wouldnât do, turn offs)
đŁ: Anything involving pain would be a hard no for Mr. Crawling, both giving and receiving. Even though his senses are dull and what would be extremely painful for a human wouldnât be for him, he still doesnât particularly enjoy being harmed. When it comes to hurting you in any way, thatâs pretty much something he will never concede on. He doesnât want to do a single thing to hurt you, even if itâs an enjoyable kind of pain.Â
đ: Pretty much nothing is off the table for him â Mr. Silvair enjoys experimenting, and thatâs no different for him in the bedroom. The only extremely hard no would be coprophilia since he just doesnât see the appeal nor does he want to test to see if he would like it or not. I also feel like he wouldnât necessarily want a bratty partner or a partner who is constantly trying to take control back in the bedroom.Â
O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
đŁ: Loves giving oral 101%, and he will give it to you anywhere â in public, in private, while youâre sleeping (with your consent, of course). Mr. Crawling adores having his mouth on you, being able to taste every single part of you while his tongue forces its way inside you, feeling your release dripping past his lips or dribbling down his chin⊠You taste good, too, better than anything heâs ever had before; he might get addicted to it, to be honest. He eats you out/blows you like a man starving, wanting a chance to have a taste and make you cry out his name while you pull harshly on his black locks and encourage him to keep going. Heâs very enthusiastic about it, too, putting in so much effort and energy to get you cumming on his face or in his mouth.Â
đ: Prefers giving oral over receiving it, but itâs not his favorite thing to do either way. Itâs nothing personal, he just prefers using his hands, his cock, or a toy to get you off rather than his mouth. If he does allow you to give him a blowjob, heâll place a collar around your neck and pull on the chain if you get cheeky â after all, heâs the one in charge here. Mr. Silvair enjoys making you kneel in front of him, watching you with a small smile as you take him into your hands and pump once or twice before taking him into your mouth. If the rare occurrence happens when he gives you head, you better thank the universe. He looks so hot, holding your thighs apart while he slowly runs his tongue along your length/slit and teases you until youâre asking him to touch you more.Â
P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)Â Â
đŁ: Enjoys the slower and sensual side of things, but he typically canât control himself as soon as heâs inside of you, so he ends up being somewhat fast and rough (not all the time, though... his thrusts remain immensely unpredictable no matter what, and he never seems to find a good rhythm to follow). Mr. Crawling enjoys the intimacy of sex, and he finds comfort in the closeness of your bodies while you two are connected at the hips. He loves being able to hold your hands and place kisses across your cheeks. Sometimes, heâs so caught up in the act of showering you with words of praise and sweet displays of affection that he forgets the fact heâs currently inside you and is supposed to be moving. He does see the appeal of rougher sex, though â it makes him feel almost animalistic whenever you two decide to set the pace for the night.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair can quickly switch between the two, sometimes almost at a break-neck speed, to the point it feels like you got whiplash from the sudden change of deep and slow thrusts to fast and somehow even deeper ones (heâs very precise when it comes to hitting those sweet spots inside of you â itâs actually kind of terrifying how quickly he can locate them). He pretty much does whatever he thinks will get the most reaction out of your body and acts accordingly â nothing more, nothing less. He tends to prefer rougher and faster sex, enjoying the noises the quick snap of his hips can draw out of your mouth. However, sometimes, he finds himself preferring a slower and softer pace. This way, heâs able to focus on and truly soak in the expression on your face and appreciate the way your body feels under his palms (this sometimes just leads to you cock warming him).Â
Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)Â Â
đŁ: Mr. Crawling is down for anything at any time. Pretty much, if you ask him to have sex, heâll happily do it for you. Need him to eat you out or give you a blowjob, heâll gladly oblige! After all, he is always pretty much kneeling, so heâs not being made to go out of his way to do it (even if he would go out of his way to please you). Want something more than just his tongue? Thatâs perfectly fine, too! Thereâs a private room over there heâll gladly take you in, or maybe youâd want to try doing it in the empty locker? Heâll try not to take too long, but itâs hard since he loves being able to enjoy you to the fullest. So, Mr. Crawling can do quickies for sure, but he likes being able to take his time with you. Â
đ: While heâs not opposed to quickies, he prefers being able to have proper sex with you to get the most out of it. After all, he canât exactly see how long it takes for you to break or how much time it takes for you to start crying and babbling if you only have a few minutes to enjoy one another. However, he does make it a little challenge for himself to see how quickly he can get you to climax. Mr. Silvair will even make educated guesses on how fast youâll finish just by making note of your current expression, body language, etc. He likes seeing how flustered you get if you think someone is going to enter the room the two of you are in, begging him to go faster which only makes him want to slow down â how mean!Â
R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)Â Â
đŁ: Mr. Crawling is down to experiment but, as stated before, he doesnât want to try anything that causes him or you harm, even if pain is something you enjoy. He just has no desire to hurt you in any way, something which is quite different from other members of the cast who are definitely more sadistic (cough, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Machete, cough). I feel like he would be down to partake in certain aspects of BDSM, specifically B/D (bondage and discipline) and D/S (dominance and submission). He just wants to have a good time and be close to you, both physically and emotionally.Â
đ: 100% down to experiment with anything (except the previously mentioned coprophilia). If you wanted to try some breathplay or impact play or even blood play, heâd be down for it. I honestly think he would enjoy breathplay since it adds more to the differential in power that he enjoys so much (thereâs also a stirring in his chest when he sees how much you trust him with your life, but shhhâŠ). Mr. Silvair is a man hungry for information and new experiences, so yes, heâs willing to try a variety of different things even if they could potentially be dangerous â heâll always make sure you return to your original form.Â
S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they lastâŠ)
đŁ and đ: Both of them are inhuman, which means that neither of them need any food, water, or rest to survive. Honestly, the two of them have unlimited amounts of stamina, and they can go for as long as you need them to (which could be two rounds or even eight â nothing is holding them back in the stamina department).Â
T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
đŁ and đ: Neither of them owns any toys because, well⊠you canât access them easily in the other world. If they do end up there, though, theyâre probably dirty or damaged beyond repair (please do not use nasty sex toys, people â infections and diseases are no joke).Â
đŁ: Mr. Crawling would be down to use toys on you! After all, why not? Itâll just make the experience more fun, right? Youâll probably have to explain what heâs supposed to do with them, though, since heâs not quite sure what some of them are for. If you want to use toys on him, heâs completely fine with that! Want to wear a strap and give him backshots? Go right ahead! Want to tape vibrators to him until heâs whining and writhing? Heâd be happy to oblige! Overall, heâs pretty chill about it and is somewhat enthusiastic about adding toys into your sex life.Â
đ: Mr. Silvair enjoys using sex toys on you, some of his favorites being cock rings/chastity belts, strangely-shaped dildos, and vibrators. He loves being able to secure the variety of different vibrators he owns to your body, making sure to cover every erogenous zone heâs noted. He doesnât typically want toys used on him (but heâd probably try out a variety of different sex toys on himself after a while, though, curious about how each of them felt or what they did), however, and the only one heâd be willing to use consistently would be fleshlights. Heâd make you watch him use it, never once allowing you to use them on him.Â
U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling is very fair, and he always makes sure to give you exactly what you want in the bedroom. However, thatâs not to say he never teases you, he just doesnât do it very frequently. Sometimes when heâs going down on you, heâll pause his minstrations to nip at or kiss the fat of your thighs, keeping your hips held down so you canât buck up against his mouth. When you start getting antsy, he just giggles at your expression before returning his attention to that oh-so-needy part of you.Â
đ: If the word unfair was personified, it would be Mr. Silvair. Iâd argue teasing you and making you cry â either because you canât cum or have cum ten times in a row â are the aspects of sex that he enjoys the most. Edging you is one of his favorite things, though, watching you whine and try to move your hips on your own when he stops moving⊠bad move, though, because now heâs just going to make you wait even longer for release.Â
V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
đŁ: Heâs not loud, per se, but he does make quite a variety of different noises whenever the two of you are intimate. He whimpers and whines frequently while youâre having sex â theyâre barely audible, high-pitched, and come out sounding as though heâs completely out of breath. Sometimes you wonder if heâs in pain with the noises he makes, but heâs not. He just really enjoys being able to feel you like this as he pants like a dog in heat.Â
đ: Completely quiet most of the time. Really, the only noises youâll probably get out of him are barely audible sighs or the sound of his breathing hitching when he feels you stretch/tighten around him. Itâs not that Mr. Silvair doesnât enjoy having sex with you, he just doesnât express that feeling verbally. You can tell in the way his hand squeezes the fat of your thigh or the way his hips stutter when he moves in and out that heâs having a good time.Â
W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling loves taking showers or baths with you, though he leans more towards baths since itâs less painful on his joints (I headcanon that Mr. Crawling can stand, but walking for extended periods of time is painful for him â ambulatory wheelchair user Mr. Crawling when?). While yes, he can technically sit in the shower, having water spray his face isnât exactly pleasant⊠He doesnât view bathing with you as sexual, he just finds it relaxing as he helps you wash your back or you help him make sure all the soap is out of his hair. His favorite scent would have to be lavender â itâs very calming for him.Â
đ: He keeps a journal tucked away full of terms and gestures from your world. Mr. Silvair has a deep desire to understand humans and everything they have to offer, even if he believes it's from a stance of craving knowledge (really, he wants to be able to express his endearment of you in a manner you can understand). He has a page on kissing and different kinds of kisses, a page on gestures of endearment, another on hugging and cuddling⊠The fact that humansâ bodies release a hormone whenever they simply spend time to bond with another socially, a hormone that turns the dial on their brain for whatever emotion theyâre currently experiencing, is fascinating to him.ïżœïżœ
X: X-Ray (Letâs see whatâs going on in those pants)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling is tall â and I mean extremely tall whenever he stands up (my man has got to at least be seven feet), so I can assume that heâs probably relatively proportionate under the belt. I feel like he would be big, almost concerningly so, clocking in at around 8 inches in length. Even though his size is impressive, his dick doesnât have much girth to it and is on the thinner side, but it is thicker towards the base compared to the head (not that you can take all of him â you can certainly give it a try, though). Itâs on the veinier side, too, with a very distinct and present one on the underside of his cock.Â
đ: Much like pretty much the entire cast, Mr. Silvair is also on the taller half of the height spectrum. However, I feel as though he would have a more modest, yet of course still impressive dick size. I imagine him to be 6 Âœ inches in length and relatively thick from the base to the head with very little change in girth. Whenever you see his cock, youâre kind of awestruck for a moment because how can a man have such a nice-looking dick?? It doesnât make sense! Thereâs barely any hair, thereâs no visible veins or bumps, and itâs long and thick enough to drive you wild⊠Plus, itâs just really nice to look at, honestly.Â
Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
đŁ and đ: Okay, so I know others probably will not agree with me here⊠but I honestly donât think anyone in the cast has much of a sex drive, let alone a high one. I mean, theyâre not human, so their cultural/social norms are different than ours, and I wouldnât hold them to âtypicalâ human desires on a biological/psychological level either. As I said before, I doubt any of them have been laid because sex just isnât something the residents in the other world partake in â theyâre too busy killing/fighting others, eating humans who find themselves lost in the other world, etc. Is this my asexual and world-building brain working? Probably haha.Â
đŁ: Mr. Crawling really only wants sex whenever you want it, but heâs always enthusiastic and does get aroused whenever you ask if he wants to be intimate. While he does love feeling the warmth around his dick whenever youâre clamping down on him, almost like you were hugging him and not wanting to let him go, he enjoys the emotional connection during the moment more than anything else. I headcanon him (and all of the cast, to some degree) as existing somewhere on the aroace-spectrum. For Mr. Crawling, I see him as being reciproromantic/sexual with an average libido â he gets riled up whenever youâre riled up, though there are times he does get horny without you needing to do or say anything. Â
đ: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair will have sex if you ask him to â heâll make you beg for it, though, so heâs not as nice as the former. He prefers the control/power he gets from having sex rather than the sole act of intercourse (not to say he doesnât enjoy the feeling, though). Plus, he finds the activity interesting since he knows itâs something most humans partake in with one another for a variety of reasons, from procreation to recreation. If you ask him to have sex and he isnât in the mood, heâll just use his hands or some toys and play around with you until youâre satisfied. I headcanon Mr. Silvair as being quoiromantic and eegosexual with a low libido.Â
Z: ZZZ (⊠how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
đŁ: Mr. Crawling doesnât need to sleep (you know⊠being non-human and all), but heâll curl up next to you on the bed and hold your body close to his while pretending to sleep alongside you. Itâs kind of adorable, the way his head is nuzzled under your neck while his legs and arms are wrapped around your body, holding you close to him like you were a bodypillow or large stuffed animal. While you sleep, though, heâll eventually place his head against your chest, listening intently to the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Moments like this, laying there with you in silence, make his mind wander to scenarios with you heâll never be able to fully experience.Â
đ: Does not rest often, finding it a waste of time that could be spent doing something else. He understands you need your sleep, though, so he lets you do it in peace after you both have had sex. Mr. Silvair always manages to somehow make sure you have enough pillows to keep you comfortable or blankets to keep you from getting cold (you canât help but wonder where he finds clean linens in such a grimy placeâŠ). Occasionally, however, he finds himself sitting next to you on the bed, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair before he pulls his hand back as though you had burnt him â he doesnât understand it, and heâs desperate to figure out an answer.Â
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EL COQUETO | FC43
an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request
summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.
wc: 7.6k
The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving styleâand, evidently, his unapologetic charm.
He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew heâd be welcome, even if he hadnât been invited.
âHola,â he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. âYou must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist hereâof course, I was told to behave.â
She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. âFranco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?â
His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. âHow am I feeling?â He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. âWell, right now, very lucky. They said Iâd get tough questions, but they didnât say the interviewer would be⊠distracting.â
She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. âSo you feel ready for the pressure, then?â she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.
âFor the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.â He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. âFor the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sĂ?â
She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldnât be the one to crack first.
âIâm sure youâll learn quickly,â she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. âNow, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?â
His grin broadened, but he played along. âGoals for the weekend,â he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. âWin a few hearts, break a few recordsâno particular order.â He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.
âRight. Well, I hope youâre ready for the competition,â she managed.
He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. âWith you here, quĂ© competencia?â
She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. âYou know, charm doesnât score you points on the track.â
âAh, no?â He tilted his head, feigning surprise. âThen I suppose Iâll have to win the hard way.â
Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Francoâs arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Francoâs attention was still locked on her, and he hadnât missed a beat.
âSo,â he said, with that soft smile of his, âdo you think Iâll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?â
She gave him a dry smile. âYou might have your work cut out for you. Itâs not a stroll through Argentina, after all.â
He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. âYouâre tough,â he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. âI can see why youâre the best.â
She raised an eyebrow. âFlattery wonât distract me from the questions, Franco.â
âNo? Not even if I try very, very hard?â he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, reallyâthe way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt⊠unexpectedly genuine.
âNot even then,â she replied, her tone light but steady. âLetâs talk strategy. Whatâs your focus for your first race?â
He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. âFine, Iâll behave,â he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. âMy focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. Iâve been itching to get back on the track.â
It was the most serious answer heâd given yet, and she noted the shift in his voiceâa hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.
âAnd your teammate?â she pressed, sensing sheâd found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. âAre you prepared for the rivalry?â
Francoâs expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. âMy teammateâŠâ He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. âHeâs Williamâs best. Iâll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didnât come here to play second.â
She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.
âGood to hear,â she said, offering a small nod. âWeâll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.â
âI live up to my promises,â he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. âOne of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. Iâll start with that goal.â
Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadnât just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.
One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.
When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Francoâs number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, whoâd barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.
From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didnât charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.
As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.
She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: âDo you think Iâll charm Formula One?â Sheâd laughed it off, but he had something special, didnât he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.
Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his carâa close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehowâsomehowâhe made it stick.
âP12!â The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.
She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadnât realised sheâd been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Francoâs car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.
When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where heâd inevitably cross her path. She didnât want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.
When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. âAh, my toughest questioner returns,â he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. âSo? Impressed?â
She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. âNot bad for a first race,â she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. âThough I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.â
Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. âYou sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didnât I?â His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. âI did better than you expected, maybe?â
âMaybe,â she admitted, leaning in just a bit. âI wouldnât let it go to your head, though.â
He feigned a wince. âAh, so Iâll have to work harder to impress you, then.â
With that, she couldnât hold back the smile any longer. âPerhaps,â she said, voice softer. âBut youâve made a start.â
She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was⊠well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.
She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.
âAh, finally,â he said, his tone playful as she approached. âI was starting to think you were hiding from me.â The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Francoâs obvious interest.
She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. âFranco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.â
âGracias, cariño,â he replied, eyes sparkling. âFor a moment, I thought you didnât think I could do it.â
âWell, you didnât exactly take the most traditional route,â she shot back, raising an eyebrow. âYou had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.â
He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. âI thought about what you said. âCharm doesnât score points.â So I had to give you something else to smile about.â
She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. âDonât flatter yourself, Franco. Iâm just here to report the facts.â
âHmm,â he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. âWell, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still havenât impressed the person who matters most.â
âThe person whoâ?â She trailed off, exasperated. âFranco, you were the story today.â
âWas I?â he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. âBecause if Iâm the story, youâre the reason itâs a good one.â
Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. âWhen can we continue our interview?â
She forced herself to keep her composure. âI think youâve given me more than enough material for one day.â
âA pity.â He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. âThen maybe next time, youâll be a little more impressed.â
She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence heâd shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.
âWow.â The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. âYou okay there? He has that effect, doesnât he?â
She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. âIâyeah, I donât know whatâs going on,â she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. âThe person who matters most.â
âOh, I think I do.â The other journalist smirked, nodding in Francoâs direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. âIt seems Franco over here has a slight crush.â
She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than sheâd intended. âFranco has a crush on every woman he talks to. Itâs his⊠thing since he got here.â
The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. âMaybe so, but Iâve watched him all day and that was different.â
Her colleagueâs words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadnât even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Francoâs charm wasnât just some casual game to him; it felt more⊠intense. And heâd directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.
The journalist chuckled. âDonât overthink it. Enjoy the attentionâitâs not every day a rookie looks at you like youâre the finish line.â
She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didnât want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way heâd looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.
âWell, letâs hope he stays focused on the real finish line,â she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didnât quite land. But she couldnât deny itâFranco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.
Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Francoâhis effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way heâd singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. Sheâd covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than sheâd care to admit.
With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.
Francolpainto has sent you a message.
She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casualâlike he hadnât already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.
Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.
Her: Yes, I am.
The response came almost immediately.
Franco: Perfect! Iâm downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?
She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was temptingâsheâd be lying to herself if she said it wasnât. But she knew his type all too well, didnât she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.
No, she couldnât let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.
Her: Thanks, but I think Iâll pass. Long day.
She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.
Franco: Too bad. I was hoping Iâd finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.
She rolled her eyes, though she couldnât deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.
Her: Youâre very determined, Franco. But I have to askâdo you make this invitation to all the journalists?
A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.
Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.
Her: Pity, this one isnât intrested.
She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Francoâs charm was undeniably effective, but she wasnât about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. Heâd have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.
Franco: Really? Youâre going to turn me down just like that?
She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasnât used to hearing âno.â
Her: Really. Iâve seen you in action today, Franco. Iâm sure youâll find someone else to keep you company.
A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.
Franco: Thatâs not what I meant. Today was⊠different. I donât want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.
Her: Nice try. But Iâve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. Youâre going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.
A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe heâd let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.
Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.
She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.
Her: Why should I believe this isnât just a game to you?
His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.
Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. Iâm not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and Iâll do it.
She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldnât help but enjoy it.
Her: Weâll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.
Franco: Gracias. And just so you know⊠Iâm not giving up that easily.
The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Francoâs car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, heâd stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messagesâthough his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadnât exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.
She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.
âBack to cheer me on, sĂ?â he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.
She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. âIâm here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.â She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.
He laughed, the sound warm and rich. âTheyâre great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me Iâd have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.â
She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. âOh, you remember that, do you?â
âEvery word,â he said, his gaze steady. âI thought about it all week.â
A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. âWell, if youâre serious, youâll have to do better than last weekâs P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.â
His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. âIf itâs a higher position you want,â he said, leaning in just slightly, âthen Iâll get it. Just keep watching.â
She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. âIâll be watching, Colapinto. Donât disappoint me.â
He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. âI donât plan to,â he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.
As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.
She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Francoâs car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadnât expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think heâd break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.
âImpressive for a rookie,â she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.
Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasnât just hanging onâhe was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadnât seen before.
Heâd promised her heâd finish higher than last week, and sheâd thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.
By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position heâd fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.
She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. Sheâd known he was talented, of courseâhe wouldnât have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than sheâd expected.
As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasnât sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.
She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mindâhis nerve, his timing, the way heâd handled himself on the track. It wasnât just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldnât ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that heâd done it, in part, for her.
Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.
She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. âFranco Colapinto, P8âyour second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?â
He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. âWell, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,â he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. âSo I did it for them. Great motivation.â
Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.
âImpressive,â she said, keeping her voice level. âAnd this âmotivationââI assume itâs the same one whoâs kept you on your toes all week?â
Francoâs grin grew wider, unabashed. âAbsolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.â He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. âAnd if they ask, Iâll do it again.â
A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasnât the usual post-race banter, and he didnât seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.
âWell, whatever youâre doing,â she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, âit seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.â
He tilted his head, as if studying her. âThen maybe next week, youâll set the bar even higher for me?â His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.
She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. âWeâll see, Colapinto. For now, letâs just focus on how you plan to keep this up.â
He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. âOh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.â With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview sheâd ever conducted.
Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Francoâs performanceâand his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldnât believe how heâd shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that heâd push harder just because sheâd challenged him.
Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the Williamâs Instagram Account.
Team Rep: Hey, whatâs your room number?
She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Francoâs. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.
Her: Room 914.
Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.
Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowersâvibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.
Her pulse quickened. She didnât have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.
Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.
âTo my motivation: thank you for the push. Letâs raise the stakes again soon. â F.
A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpectedâand, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.
She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldnât help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasnât giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didnât want him to.
She couldnât resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.
Her: Cute.
It didnât take long for his response to pop up.
Franco: Oh? You find me cute?
She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.
Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.
A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.
Franco: Well, then⊠would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?
She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked likeâa line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie whoâd just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldnât afford. It wasnât just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.
Her: I donât know, Franco. Thereâs too much on the line.
A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe heâd let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.
Franco: Okay.
She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling⊠unbalanced.
Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, sheâd made the wrong choice.
Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeksâwell, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadnât followed up on his dinner invitation, hadnât tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldnât shake the feeling that sheâd been too cautious.
Just then, she spotted him near the teamâs garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.
âHola, stranger,â he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. âMiss me?â
She rolled her eyes, but she couldnât help the smile tugging at her lips. âYou were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Donât flatter yourself.â
He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. âFour weeks is a long time, donât you think?â
She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadnât let her brush-off change himâhe was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.
âHave you been behaving?â she asked, arching an eyebrow. âOr should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?â
Francoâs grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. âDepends. You miss them?â
She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. âIâd hardly admit that if I did.â
He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. âGood thing Iâm a patient man, then. Because Iâm not done yet.â There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.
Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadnât crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.
As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. âYou know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. Iâll be around.â
And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.
She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Francoâs car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination sheâd come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.
By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasnât just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.
Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfectâhis words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: âIf they ask, Iâll do it again.â
The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that heâd been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldnât wait to see him walk in.
When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than sheâd ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.
âFranco Colapinto,â she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. âP10 from P17âcongratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?â
He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. âWell, you know me. I like a good challenge,â he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. âAnd I couldnât let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.â
The implication wasnât lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. âSeems like youâre making a habit of climbing positions to impress,â she replied, keeping her tone light.
Francoâs smile softened, turning almost genuine. âFor some things,â he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, âitâs worth the effort.â
She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. âWell, youâve certainly earned that P10. Whatâs the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?â
âOh, definitely,â he replied, flashing her a grin. âBut letâs say Iâll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, Iâll be ready.â His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.
She couldnât hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybeâjust maybeâshe was ready to see where this challenge would lead.
As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that sheâd tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasnât entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his lookâthere was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as heâd promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.
She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driverâs room.
She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.
The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.
âWell,â he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, âI didnât expect my motivation to show up in person.â
She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. âI figured Iâd come to make sure youâre planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasnât exactly a small feat.â
His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave herâwarm, unguarded, and almost vulnerableâmade her heart skip a beat.
Sheâd broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldnât bring herself to regret a single one.
Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.
She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.
âDidnât think Iâd see you here,â he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.
She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. âFigured Iâd make sure youâre holding up after all that hard work.â
He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. âOh, Iâm holding up just fine.â He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. âIn fact, I think Iâm doing better than fine.â
Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balanceâat least not completely. âYou know,â she said, trying to match his tone, âyou donât have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.â
Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. âOnly with you, cariño.â
She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.
âNot used to being flirted with, cariño?â he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.
She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. âNo⊠not like this.â
âShame,â he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. âBecause Iâm just getting started.â
She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall sheâd put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.
For a moment, she couldnât take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.
Francoâs gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.
She didnât realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, Iâm here.
When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.
âYou know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, âI thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smileâŠâ He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. âI was convinced youâd never actually let me get this close.â
She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didnât want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.
Francoâs surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.
Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted this,â he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadnât seen before.
âGood,â she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. âBecause I donât plan on making it easy for you.â
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.
Maybe he was worth the wait.
the end.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#williams#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto x yn#williams f1#williams racing#williams formula 1#f1 social media au#franco colapinto smau#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#ann speaks#formula 1#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto fanfic
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Zayne
Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader
Summary: The rain ruining his plans might have been the best possible luck.
Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
âItâs raining.â You point out, face nearly pressing on the window as you stare outside. It was going to happen sooner or later, the dark clouds had been adorning the sky the entire day, yet the day went dry.
âRaining?â Zayne sounds surprised, as if he hadnât been staring at the same dark sky a couple of hours earlier. He stands up, walking over to look out the window as if he didnât trust your word. You swear you hear him sigh when he confirms that itâs indeed raining.
âIs everything okay? Is our date still on?â You look at him, worried about his reaction. He wants to say that the rain will be over in ten minutes and the plans are still on⊠But it doesnât look like itâll stop any time soon.Â
âThe rain is going to make things more⊠Difficult.â Zayne answers, not wanting to give up on the date idea just yet. There is no hope though, you canât go stargazing when itâs storming out. You stare at him, trying to study the look on his faceâ A task thatâs difficult since the man does a great job at suppressing any trace of emotion. âMaybe we have to change a couple of things.â
From now on he will leave the dates to you and only you, because the one time he plans something itâs ruined before it even begins. Itâs what he gets for trying to be romantic, thereâs a reason youâre the one that usually takes on the role.Â
âLike?â You ask, and he isnât sure how to answer. He already had everything planned out, and he put his all to the specific date so now his brain is empty. The lack of answer makes you chuckle. âSo weâre staying in?â
âUnless I get a reservation in time.â Zayne reaches for his phone to look up restaurants nearby, trying to salvage the night but you snatch the device from his hands. He raises his brows, wondering what you have in mind.
âLetâs stay in. We can cook something, play a couple of games⊠Other stuff.â You respond, and Zayne fights back a smile. Itâs great to have someone pick up his slack. âI found this new recipe that Iâve been dying to try.â
âTell me what you need, and Iâm on it.â He says, and you canât help but smile. Heâs willing to do anything when you have his attention.Â
âI think we have everything, I just need you to chop up some stuff.â You tell him, and he nods in response. Heâs not a great cook since he barely has the time or energy to make his own meals, but at the very least heâs great at chopping up stuff. âYou can be my sous chef.â
âYes, maâam.â Thereâs a subtle smile on his lips, and it overflows your heart with joy when you notice it. You wonder why he smiles but itâs never unwelcome. Especially from him.
You kiss his cheek before telling him, âLetâs get to work.â
After nearly burning the house down trying the new recipe, you surprisingly end up with a delicious meal on your table. Youâre enjoying your meal, too busy stuffing your face to keep up a proper conversation. You donât need to talk either way, each otherâs presence is enough to satisfy any need for interaction. Though Zayne canât help but comment,
âSurprisingly it doesnât taste burnt.â Which makes you roll your eyes. He canât help but bring it up when you told him a million times that you had it under wraps.Â
âI told you I had it handled.â You respond. âOr do you not have faith in me, Dr. Zayne?â
âDr. Zayne?â He raises a brow, and you hum in response. He lets out a low laugh before answering, âI do have faith in you⊠But I am allowed to draw some conclusions when I see a flame coming from the pan.â
âThat wasnât a flame.â You argue, and he slightly shakes his head.
âThen why did the fire alarm go off?â He points out, and you puff out a breath. You cross your arms, your appetite gone because your boyfriend wonât allow you to have the last word. He never does, and it might be his only defect. He couldnât be perfect.Â
âNext time Iâm leaving the cooking to you then.â You pout. He doesnât want you to feel bad for the light fire, it could happen to anyone plus you were cooking a new recipe.
âYouâre a far better cook than I am.â He responds, hoping that itâll make you feel better. Heâs staring at you, trying to decipher what you feel based on the expression on your face. You only stick out your bottom lip, clearly not happy with what heâs said.
What did he say wrong? He said all the right words, you should be gleaming not⊠Looking disappointed.
âOnly because you donât have time to pick up the skill, if you did then you would be saying something far much different.â You end up telling him, and he takes a moment to look at your face. Heâs not sure how to answer. He ends up by telling the truth,
âProbably.â And the moment the word leaves his lips, he realizes he couldnât have picked a worse answer. You look absolutely mortified, and he doesnât know how to deal with it.
âProbably? Youâre not supposed to say that.â You say, and he gives you a subtle nod. Heâs not supposed to tell you the truth then.
âWhat am I supposed to say then?â He sounds ever so serious, and one swift look at his face makes you think that he is, indeed, serious.Â
âNo, I doubt it. Youâre the best cook ever, dear.â You end up answering, almost laughing at your own response. You see a twinge of a smirk on his face, and you feel like youâve accomplished something. He lets himself loose around you, and often laughs at any stupid joke that you make, but it still feels rare when you actually see him smile.
âAlright then, so not the truth. Simple.â He answers, and the smirk that comes to his lips doesnât fill you with pride like it usually does. You puff out a breath and he says, âRepeat the statement.â
âNo.â Your answer is firm, therefore he wonât bug you to do it. Heâll drop the subject.Â
You two continue eating, and for once heâs the one that makes most of the conversation. He should apologize, he shouldâve chosen better words.Â
âIf it makes you feel better, the one time I plan a date⊠It starts to rain.â Zayne hopes that by admitting his own failures, heâll make you feel better. You canât help but chuckle.
âThat doesnât mean that you suck, it just means that the weather isnât on your side.â You reassure him, face turning to look out the window. The rain still falls, much harder than before. âPlus Iâm enjoying the date. Well, I was before youââ
âIn my defense, I was initially complimenting the dish.â He argues, and you canât help but laugh. A petty argument from a compliment. Though youâd argue that it was backhanded, Zayne isnât all that great with wordsâ Unless itâs with him coming up with a witty comeback, or of course, explaining medical terminology.
âHow about you start cleaning up while I look for a game we can play?â You change the topic as you finish up your meal. Zayne immediately nods, more than willing to fulfill the task that youâve assigned. He begins to clear the table, and you stand up to look for the games that are hidden away. Games that youâve gotten to play with him but youâve never had the time to actually sit down together and figure out.
You look for something thatâll make the night more fun, and also something that you have yet to play⊠But you still land on an old game. Something that gets both of you competitive. You end up pulling an old game that youâve played a dozen times with him. A game that makes you want to break up with him, but when you make up itâs a memorable night.
You set up the table with the game, and wait for Zayne to finish up in the kitchen. Youâd offer to help if he was doing any other task, but you arenât going out of your way to clean up, even if it is to help your amazing boyfriend. Maybe you can take a peek at the cards as you wait for him to come back to the table.
âOkay, Iâm ready.â Zayne walks back to the table, grabbing the cards that you definitely didnât take a quick look at, and shuffling them. âWhoâs going first?â
âI am. I donât trust you while playing kitty cards.â You respond, and he hands out two cards. You frown as you look at them, knowing that youâre starting off on a bad foot. Your assist cards can help you make a comeback, so youâre only praying you get lucky with that.
âI should be the one saying that, I saw you look at the cards.â He lets out a low laugh as he gives himself three cards. He takes a seat across from you before commenting, âGiven by the look on your face, you didnât get all that lucky.â
âIâm going to win. Mark my words.â
Though youâre as competitive as you can be, luck simply isnât on your side. Zayne doesnât help your case, using every card that he has, against your favor. You glare at him with every move he takes, and he smirks, proud of his every move.
âCan you leave me alone? I barely have any points, thereâs no point for you to null my card.â You complain, and Zayne shakes his head.Â
âI have to take every possible precaution.â He answers, putting down a card that takes away your turnâ And if that isnât horrible enough, he takes away one of the kitty cards that youâve put down. âLast time you won, I heard about it for weeks.â
âLast time I lost, you also heard about it for weeks. Matter of fact, we almost broke up.â You point out, and you watch as the corner of his lips turn. Heâs trying his best to fight back a smile, and you have to roll your eyes. âAnd if you keep up with your act, we might actually break up.â
âItâs just a game of kitty cards.â Zayne says, which makes you glare at him. You cross your arms, a scoff leaving your lips. Just a game of kitty cards? The game becomes a very serious matter when youâre as competitive as you are.
âIf you donât take it seriously, then you should let me win.â You claim, and Zayne knows that unless he stops playing, your date will completely go sour. He just fixed matters after his unnecessary comment, he canât let himself nearly ruin the date once again. He could try to let you win, but at this point thereâs no way you can make a comeback. Plus, itâs not satisfactory for him.
âHow about we stop.â He suggests, and you know you canât win.
âFine.â You answer, a hint of attitude in your voice just so he notes that youâre not happy with him. Â
âWhat were we going to do today?â You ask him, beginning to clear the table. The sight of the unfair game is keeping you mad, so itâs best to clean up. Zayne joins you.
âStargazing.â He responds, which perks up your eyebrows. Where exactly? âItâs a place not too far from here that gives a perfect view of the city, and I thought itâd be a nice date. I bought a couple of snacks to have a late picnic, but the universe isnât on my side.â
âThat is such a cute date!â You comment, eyes looking out the window to see that the rain has calmed down. âWe can still do it.â
Zayne looks in the same direction. Itâs not what he pictured, but itâs not a bad idea.
âJust for a minute.â He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours before he guides you outside. Your anger is long forgotten when you feel his large hand lightly squeezing your own. Thereâs still some light rain when you exit the place, but you arenât staying outside for too long so itâs not an issue.
âLook, thereâs a full moon.â You immediately point to the sky. The clouds had been hiding the moon all night, and now you finally get a chance to glance at it. âJust look at it, itâs so beautiful.â
âIt really is beautiful.â He answers, though his eyes arenât looking at the moon. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, as he finally looks up at the sky. Stargazing is a dumb date if you arenât going to the countryside. In a way, heâs glad his plans were ruined.Â
You look back at Zayne, a foolish smile coming to your lips. Stargazing wouldâve been nice, even if you donât get a great sight, laying next to him for a whole night is the type of date that you need. You donât even need to talk, each otherâs presence is more than enough for you to be satisfied.
âWhy are you smiling?â He finally looks back at you. Itâs not a complaint, heâs overjoyed to find you smiling. He just wonders whatâs going on in your mind. Two fingers come up to his face, brushing away the hair thatâs on his forehead before you get on your tip-toes to press a kiss on it.
âYou are so cute.â You tell him, and he chuckles. Out of all words that you couldâve picked, cute is the one that he least expected.
âCute?â He responds, and you hum in response. Nevertheless, itâs a compliment so heâll accept it. He smiles back at you, gaze getting lost into your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes heâs ever seen, maybe thatâs the reason heâs so desperately in love with you. âCute. Iâll take it.â
âLetâs go inside before you get sick.â Thereâs a mischievous smile on your lips as you say the words. Heâs the one that usually says the phrase, but the tables have turned. Zayne lets go of your hand, hands falling on your waist before pulling you closer.
âLetâs enjoy the moment a little longer, I donât mind getting sick.â His nose brushes against yours, his eyes looking into yours ever so lovingly. His supple lips land on yours, pulling away within seconds. âItâs barely even raining.â
âJust a minute then.â You tell him, and he nods in response. However, Zayne doesnât care to look at the sky. Apart from the full moon, thereâs nothing thatâs worth noting.
He loves the feeling of the rain on his skin, every droplet is a subtle reminder that this is real. Heâs living in the moment. Whatâs happening right now is not a fragment of his imagination. The way you look at him, the way you laugh, the way your hands wrap behind his neckâ Itâs all real.
âOkay, we should go now. I donât want you to get sick⊠And I also donât want to get sick.â You say, and he smiles. He lets go of you, allowing you to go inside without an issue. Youâre not going inside without him though. You grab Zayneâs hand and drag him inside, knowing that if he gets sick, youâll end up getting sick as well.
âIâm going to get changed.â You tell him, and he mindlessly follows. Heâs seen you naked many times, thereâs no need to be shy⊠Except he is the one that gets shy at the mere thought of seeing you naked. Heâs already flustered at the idea of you getting changed; but he still follows.
âWhat do you want to do now? Watch a movie?â You ask him, getting to the room. Thereâs a sudden increase in temperatureâ Or is it just Zayne? Why does he feel hot?
âA movie⊠Sounds fun.â He swallows thickly, watching as you begin to lift up your shirt. His cheeks turn pink at the sight of some skin, but you never take off your shirt. You notice heâs staring, and you fight back on smirking.Â
âDo you have something else in mind?â You watch him step towards you, ever so slowly. Heâs hesitating. Should he? He doesnât want to turn the sweet night into something⊠More. But he does.
He wants to feel every inch of you, and frankly, the shirt that you have on outlines everything which doesnât really help. Maybe heâs a pervert for the thoughts that creep into his head, but itâs hard to think differently when you look like this right before him.
Before you know it, Zayneâs lips land on yours, tongue exploring your mouth before it finds your own. His tongue presses against yours while his hands desperately try to take off the damp clothes that cover your body. Very skilled hands struggle, nerves overtaking him at the thought of feeling your body. An action heâs done many times before, but he turns into putty each and every time.
Youâre not as nervous though, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it without an issue. Your hands go into his boxers, feeling him up which makes the man pathetically whimper into your kiss. He can come undone from a single move. And even when your hands are wrapped around his cock, heâs too nervous to touch under your shirt. Â
You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until you pull far enough that the bond breaks. You take off your shirt, and Zayne is watching you as if he were a teenager all over again. Cheeks burn red at the sight of some skin, itâs truly pathetic. Itâs not just some skin though, youâre getting completely undressed in front of him.
âYouâre the most beautiful woman Iâve ever seen.â Heâs dumbfounded, itâs as if heâs never seen this before. This is nothing new to him, but it always feels like the first time⊠Thatâs a good thing, right?Â
His lips land on yours again, though he takes more risks this time as his hand fondles your breast. His lips donât last long on your mouth, choosing to kiss down your neck, before his lips land on your breasts. His lips kiss every inch of your skin before his tongue circles around your nipple.Â
Itâs nice, but you need more. Your body is begging to feel every inch of him. Luckily for you, itâs as if Zayne can read your mind.
âI need to taste more of you. Please.â Thereâs desperation behind his eyes, itâs as if he needs it. You get on the bed for him, legs spreading without a shame in the world.He stares down at you and he licks his lips. Maybe this is how he shouldâve led the date in the first place.
âYouâre so gorgeous.â He says as he gets on his knees. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up. So gentle and shy, but he doesnât want to get ahead of himself. Doing things slowly is what makes this more exciting.
âSmells so sweet.â He finally gets to your pussy, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit before he kisses it. His lips feel so soft on you. He kisses your clit again before his tongue begins to flick it. Tastes even better than he remembered.Â
Sweeter than he could ever imagine.
Low moans escape your lips as you feel his tongue work on you. The sound of your voice is perfect, all the motivation he needs to do this. Itâs his reward for the night, and he couldnât be happier. Itâs perfect. Youâre perfect.Â
He kisses your clit, two long fingers running through your folds to gather your slick. Once his fingers are lubricated enough, he slowly pushes them in. He begins to suck on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You moan his name, pleasure already consuming you.
He curves his fingers so they hit just the right spot. You bite down your lip, feeling embarrassed at the thought of being too loud. Heâs looking up at you, and the look on your face is something he wants to have ingrained in his memory.
His fingers pick up speed, and your hands grip the bed sheets. Pleasure consumes you, your climax slowly overtaking your body. Youâre moaning his name again, unable to contain yourself as sex clouds your mind.Â
âThatâs it, baby! Thatâs so good.â You canât help yourself as your boyfriend hits all the right spots. Itâs music to his ears. Even when heâs been congratulated for his many achievements, this is the best thing heâs ever heard.
Your breath gets caught up in your chest, your body quivering as you finally reach your climax. Zayne pulls out his fingers, tongue continuing to lap at your cunt until heâs finally satisfied. He presses a kiss on your clit when heâs finished.
âI need you, baby. Please.â You say, and Zayne canât afford to waste another moment. It hurts to even think with the uncomfortable feeling thatâs in his pants. He walks to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube before giving all his attention to you. He gets undressed before getting on top of you.
âAre you sure you want this?â Zayne asks as he pours the lube all over his dick. Maybe he should consider some sort of protection, but he needs to fully feel you. He needs to feel every inch of your body.Â
âI need you, please. Give it to me.â Your voice is enough to drive him wild. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing himself into you. He bites his lip, not wanting the pathetic noise that leaves his throat to be audible. You feel so nice and warm around his cock, so fucking perfect in every single way.
âItâs so good.â He mutters, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he feels you around him. He bottoms out, stopping to give you time to adjust.Â
âMove.â You tell him, and Zayne begins to move with slow thrusts. His eyes focus on your face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. Itâs hard for him to not get nervous when you look like this, so fucking perfect.Â
âYouâre so tight.â He says, hands gripping the bed sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands going to the back of your neck to push him down. Your lips meet his in a messy but passionate kiss.
You drive him insane.
âYouâre doing so good, baby.â You praise him, and you hear a groan come from his throat. His thrusts pick up speed, slowly losing himself inside of you. All composure comes undone when it comes to you.
He watches your hand move down your torso, and before you can even finish your thought, his hand takes over. His fingers play with your clit, doing everything just right. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, moaning his name over and over again.
âFuck.â He curses, a word that rarely leaves his lips. But what else can he say when youâre squeezing around him? He shuts his eyes, too overwhelmed by everything that goes on. Your hands go to his back, nails digging into his soft flesh which makes him moanâ The slight pain heightens the pleasure.
âZayne, Iâm gonnaââ You begin, pleasure overtaking your body as another climax approaches. Zayne hits all the right spots, he simply knows your body too well.Â
âI know, dear. I know.â Heâs out of breath. Heâs close too. Itâs just too much for him to handle. But youâre one step ahead of him. Your nails drag along the skin of his back as pleasure gets the best of you. You see white, finally reaching your high.Â
âGood job.â He praises you, knowing that heâs not going to last much. Youâre just too much for him, which in the context, is a wonderful thing. His thrusts get sloppy, getting more vocal by the second.
âCan I finish inside?â He asks, and you frantically nod your head, not even having the words to say yes. You pull him into a kiss, and he groans into it as he releases his warm cum into you. A dragged out sigh leaves his lips when he pulls away from the kiss.Â
He stays buried inside of you, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet. He stares into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them once again. Thereâs a certain spark in them, one that heâs noticed only appears when you look at him. The same spark that appears in his eyes.
âCan we cuddle?â You ask him as he pulls out of you. He lays down beside you, turning his head to look at your sweaty face.
âClean up first.â He says, though you donât listen and nuzzle up next to him. He rolls his eyes, but he still wraps his arms around you. âI admit, this is much better than stargazing.â
âWe couldâve done that there too.â You respond without missing a beat, and his face gets completely red. He definitely wasnât imagining that. He supposes that you couldâve, but it wouldnât be as specialâ It would be even more special, it just would be indecent.
âI like it better here.â He tells you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. âItâs warm, and thereâs no bugs around.â
âYouâre right.â You chuckle. âCould you imagine if a mosquito bit youââ
âHow about I run you a bath?â Zayne cuts you off, knowing that the question thatâs about to leave your lips is absurd. He doesnât want to hear it.Â
âWill you join me?â You question, getting off him. He takes a moment to look at you before nodding in response.Â
A bath sounds nice.
#zayne lads#lads zayne#lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace zayne#zayne fluff#zayne x reader#zayne fic#zayne love and deepspace#lnds zayne#l&ds zayne#lnds#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#lads zayne x reader#dr zayne#dividers by cafekitsune#lnds smut#zayne smut#zayne x reader smut#lads smut
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celebrity energyâ.àłàż*:đ
đœ
so i got an ask about this a while ago and i wanted to make a post about it but i went on hiatus đ so im making the post now. thank you to the anonie who asked the question that inspired this post and i hope you see this cuz it answers ur ask...đŹđ
THE TRIPLE C'S ;
while making the notes for celebrity energy (the big C) and i was able to umbrella it to three main points. those points being confidence, cuntiness, and charisma.
confidence ; celebrities need to have undeniable confidence in themselves and their abilities. they're famous for a reason and they know that. work on ur self concept and watch ur confidence sky rocket.
cuntiness ; to be cunty is to be feminine and aware of urself. be cunty in the things that u do and the way that u handle urself. to be cunty is to find the perfect balance of inner strength and delicateness. cunt = refined.
charisma ; authenticity is the heart of charisma. be authentic and dont be afraid to take up space.
ALL ABOUT IMAGE ;
to have celebrity you need an image to put forward. this is where the power of social media comes in. your social media is like your brand. in this day and age social media is such a powerful tool not only for networking but also for getting u into places that u wanna get to.
in order to do that though u need to learn how to formulate ur own distinct image and advertise it expertly on social media.
PERSONAL BRAND AND REPUTATION ;
to further touch on those points ur social media IS your brand. this section kind of ties in with the next but im trying to distinguish between the two. so ur personal brand is what u do. so lets say ur rly SUPER smart and ur known for getting A's on like everything.
that is ur personal brand and that comes with a reputation that u may or may not feel obligated to uphold. but its important to uphold a reputation of some sort. with that being said be careful of what u post on ur social media because DIGITAL FOOTPRINT IS REAL. and when people look at ur social media they're seeing a representation of what ur putting out to the world so always be mindful.
WHATS UR SIGNATURE ;
you need something about yourself thatâs gonna set you apart. the way that you walk the way that you dress the way that you do ur makeup etc. decide what kind of energy u wanna serve, and SERVE IT. i choose to serve princess energy and i could write a whole separate post on that but find someone who serves that same energy so that u can learn from them.
remember, dont introduce urself as a vibe that u cannot maintain
but back to what we were talking about what is your SIGNATURE. what makes u or people think "yea thats so (insert ur name)" is the way that u talk or the way that u carry yourself. make sure to refine urself and be ur own distinct individual.
and dont be afraid to play around with signatures, ur allowed to have a few or one singular one, dont limit urself and keep trying until u can create the perfect one for youâŠđŹđ
while on the topic of signatures i wanna touch on STAR QUALITY. learn how to market urself not only as a person but as ur own brand. star quality is the perfect blend of (talent + training + confidence)
POLISH YOURSELF ;
refinement refinement refinement. u need to be studying yourself and you need to be able to see urself from other point of views. seeing urself from other point of views can be so refreshing and useful and it rly helps when ur trying to polish urself.
take impeccable care for urself and constantly show urself that u love urself. polish the way that u talk and the way that u carry yourself so that u can be exuding so much you-energy. its basically taking ur signature and the energy that u exude -> and refining it.
you have to create the energy before fame comes. if u wanna have celebrity energy u have to start getting comfortable with putting urself out there which leads me to my next point...đŹđ
KILL CRINGE ;
when people call u cringe thats like them exposing their fear of being seen and analyzed by the world. they're upset because ur putting urself out there and they're insecure, but thats for them to fix within themselves. so dont take it personally when someone calls u cringe.
furthermore ur fear of being cringe is holding u back because ur always overthinking everything and u won't let urself do anything even if it'll help you because ur worried it might be cringe or ur worried what other people think so nip that in the bud and let urself live! u might have haters but dont let urself be ur own hater.
SOME MORE SOURCES ;
THE IMPORTANCE OF BRANDING
MIRROR WORK + AFFIRMATIONS
#honeytonedhottieâïž#it girl#becoming that girl#self concept#advice#self care#self love#that girl#law of assumption#it girl energy#dream girl tips#dream girl#dream life#manifestation#manifestation tips#manifesting#celebrity energy#energy#hyper femininity#confidence#confidence tips#charisma#vibe#princess energy#princess#kill cringe#self awareness#self development
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hiii đ I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH đđ I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where đ„Č it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping đ€§ TYSMMâ€â€
strain â gojo satoru x f!reader
a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well đ«¶đ𫶠also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (itâs still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)
you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.
however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.
but since itâs pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how youâre finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.
you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you donât have to explain your situation right now.
the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!
so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.
after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, youâre finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.
a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.
not much time passes before satoruâs familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.
your husband has an abundance of energy.
but it seemed like todayâs missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.
his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.
he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.
but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.
he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.
he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.
he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, ây/n?â
you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, ââŠwhat?â
while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, âdid you get hurt on todayâs mission?â
youâre no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.
then you hurriedly utter, âbut I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!â
he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. youâre left to look him in the eyes. satoruâs eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least thatâs how he is with you.
you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.
but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.
he doesnât scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasnât a big deal or that you didnât want to bother shoko with it.
instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of âcan I see it?â
you throw him a confused look, âwhy? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,â then you smile, âitâs not going to permanent if thatâs what youâre worried about.â
he shakes his head, âitâs not that; I justââ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, âjust let me see it.â
perhaps itâs to silence his thoughts and to show him that youâre truly okay, as okay as you can be.
youâre still alive, and thatâs what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.
reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.
he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.
you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you canât help the wincing of your body.
satoruâs frown deepens, and with every move, your husbandâs heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.
you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.
he straightens his back, âthatâs a deep cut, yâknow.â
âI knowâŠâ
âyou also realize that the wound couldâve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?â
you huff, âlisten, if youâre going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you knowââ
âyou couldâve died.â
you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he couldâve lost you.
your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, âbut I didnât, and dwelling on the fact that I mightâve died will only bother you for no reason,â you hold his hand, âI am here and alive, arenât I?â
your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, âyouâre hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.â
a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, âwhatever shall we do.â
âif things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,â he states, and you roll your eyes.
âwell, theyâre going my way tonight, soââ the clock strikes twelve, âhappy birthday, silly boy.â
his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at whatâs in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.
a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husbandâs face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, âI really didnât expect it this time!â
âyou outdid yourself, pretty girl,â he hums, hand caressing your cheek.
âI still have a lot more things for you,â you beam with pride. satoru canât contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.
âI love you so much,â he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.
you pat his back, âI love you too, âtoru,â you laugh, âbut youâre pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.â
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#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x you#gojo imagine#gojo x reader#jjk imagines#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x y/n#jjk gojo x reader#jjk gojo x y/n#jjk gojo x you#gojo fluff#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you
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FRENZY Â ážážáž part one
Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. Heâs so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.Â
ážážáž Â part two here ážážáž you must read both parts to get the full story
 ážážáž sim jake x afab readerÂ
 ážážáž minors dni
 ážážáž wordcount: 33k (part two: 14.2k)
 ážážáž genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut
 ážážáž content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side heâs got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, heâs thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him.Â
 ážážáž !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. Itâs dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you canât handle it, don't read it.
 ážážáž a/n: this was way way way longer than I anticipated it to be but i meanâŠâŠ.itâs slow burn so take it or leave it. anyway, huge shout out to @drunkhazed for not only encouraging me to write this every time I lost steam for it, but even helping me work out some of the details. i hope this fic was worth the wait even tho tumblr is forcing me to post it in two parts.
ážážáž nsfw tags under cut
ážážáž nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press, standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting
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Itâs been days since he left his apartment. The skin around his fingernails have been chewed up, his eyes are red and heavy with sleep, and he still canât bring himself to move from this spot. Disgusting as it may be, he loves it. It wasnât like this before but that doesnât matter too much to him right now.
The spot in front of his window has become his home within the apartment, a place where he can feel weightless and deserving of lifeâs pleasures. The sun is more bearable like this, the moon is prettier, even the rain sounds better now. The windowsill is lined with empty cans and food wrappers, a pile of laundry has been sitting in the corner since he started settling in this chair, and itâs gotten to the point now that nothing else in this apartment is of interest to him. Sleep comes easy in this chair too, so why move if he doesnât have to?
He knows his last load of laundry is slowly molding over from not moving them into the dryer days ago, he knows his food is slowly going expired, and heâs aware now that bothering to wear clothes is pointless, theyâll just make the laundry pile bigger. He needs no distractions from this view, save for a quick bathroom trip and sprint to the front door to pick up his food orders. Each moment spent away from this space after five in the afternoon is a waste to him.Â
How did he get here? How did he get to this point in his life? You. Youâre how he got here. Itâs your fault for moving into the apartment next door, your fault for accepting a space within view of his bedroom window, and itâs your fault he waits all day for you to come home, learning your schedule day by day.Â
It started the day he forced himself out of bed. A Saturday afternoon. It was the first time he had the energy to do it after a month of barely moving, given that his recent breakup rendered him a shell of his former self. Recent to him anyway, it had been a year since she moved out, a year was like a day to him though. Time blurs when youâre shifting between resentment and numbness, and he really would have figured he'd have gotten over that breakup by then but he wasnât. The words she last said to him resonated every minute of the day in his head, âheâs my brother!â, âyou broke my phone?!â, âyouâre fucking insane, Jake!â
It was a surprise to him that the man in her call log actually was her brother, but still a man at that and he didnât like it. She was to be loyal to one man. Him. Only him. And she wasnât, but none of that mattered to him after he got out of bed that Saturday afternoon.Â
When he stood to his feet and began to dig through his closet for a shirt that didnât smell like stale depression, it was much the same as any other day when he had the energy to do this. This time though, he opened his blinds and nearly fell on his ass at the warm sun boring through his window at him. He stood there feeling the warmth for a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to look around at the lively streets below.Â
Even through his displeased huff, he stayed looking. If anyone cared to notice, this would be a good sign coming from him. One that shows that maybe heâs thinking about going out for once. Maybe he wants to call up an old friend that he hasnât spoken to in almost a year and catch up on those lively streets. And you know, maybe that could have happened if it werenât for the fact that something else catches his eye.Â
Directly across the street sits a much nicer apartment building, and in his direct line of sight is a large window with opened blinds. Inside, stood you. He didnât know you at the time, of course he didnât, but at that moment he instantly knew that he had to know you. It was like slow motion, a rush of euphoria streaming in his veins as he looked at you for the first time. After so long in a slump, resenting and vibrating hate toward an ex, seeing you was like a glass of cold water during a drought. Even from so far away he knew you had a pretty face. Even from here, he knew youâd want to meet him too.
An immediate attachment he felt, to a stranger across the street unknowing of his existence.
 And thatâs how he got to this point, growing so fond of watching you through that window day after day. Itâs been weeks now since he started, and only the past two days have rendered him unable to move from the spot. Heâs lucky his parents fund this apartment for him under the guise of him getting a degree that he no longer attends classes for. Because, well, he doesnât want to miss a single moment with you. Heâs growing so planted to this uncomfortable computer chair and barely caring because when you come home at five in the evening every day, this chair becomes much more comfortable to him. Almost as if it doesnât exist, hell, heâs practically floating when he watches you.Â
Itâs your own fault heâs like this. Itâs your fault you leave those blinds open, itâs your fault for walking around in close to nothing within the safety of your own home. If you didnât want him to watch you do it, surely you would have closed the blinds by now.Â
Youâre practically inviting him.
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Itâs a given that within those weeks of watching you his obsession hit peak insanity by the time he ended up planted in place by the window. Now though, heâs making plans in his head, because he knows itâs not healthy to just watch. He knows he deserves more than just feeling himself up as he imagines being in that spacious apartment across the street with you. By now, the relief his hand offers pisses him off. He wonders more and more every day what you smell like, what you feel like, how warm you must be. He deserves to know.Â
Such a pretty girl all alone over there, maybe you need some protecting from the other strange men probably watching you too. Jake isnât strange though, he just likes you. A lot. Enough now to leave this chair in front of the window when he knows youâll be at work. Enough to actually get up and shower, enough to start working out again in front of that window just in case you arrive home early. Enough to know your schedule like the back of his hand. Enough to clean his apartment, to throw out his building piles of trash, to shave and touch up his grown out hair.Â
Enough to follow you to the grocery store and purchase the exact things you purchase, cooking later what he presumed to be your dinner and eating it with you there at the window.Â
Itâs gotten to that point, where his confidence is high and he feels as though itâs time. Itâs time to stop waiting around but he needs to know more about you before meeting you officially. Thatâs the only road block by this time and he can only think of one way to do this. After all, he doesnât even know your name in order to look you up online.Â
So, its early Monday morning and he knows youâve got work for at least eight hours and, well, heâs got a fucking need.Â
He watches you in the window before you leave for work, his room now dramatically different than before. Clean. He looks in the mirror, proud of the way he looks now with his stylishly messy hair and skin moisturized. Youâd like him better like this, right?Â
He doesnât even grab a bag to bring with him, because he knows if he forgets anything he brings, youâd take note of someone being there. You might become hyper aware, you might find out it was him in the future. There are too many risks in that. So, he just brings himself, which should be enough.
Going outside was an experience as it always was for him. He always feels so out of place and so entirely alone when he walks near other people. Always wondering if they see him too much or not at all. Thankfully, your apartment is just across the street and itâs a quick trip to get inside of the building. He knew the security here is trash, after all, heâs watched this building door for so long by now, that even if he were to be stopped, heâd know how to get inside anyway. He sees the side doors, the ladder in the alley way, all of it.Â
When he steps inside, part of him almost wants to turn back and purchase a small camera to hide in your apartment. He slaps himself on the forehead for not thinking of that sooner, but heâs already here so he might just have to take note of that for later.Â
With a polite smile he nods to a single security guard and receives a stern nod back. His insides are crawling with energy at how easy this is, and he feels fucking giddy. As he works his way up, entering wrong floor after wrong floor, he finally lands his feet on your floor. He can tell because he double checks, and then triple checks by looking out of the big hallway windows and finding his own apartment straight across the way.Â
He smiles wide at the apartment doors, noting the lack of code entry locks and finding simple turn-key locks. This is perfect, because he practiced a skill for this specific purpose. Lock-picking. He hopes it comes in handy as he pulls out his miniature tools.Â
That practice did come in handy, and he smiles to himself with a near sob of happiness at the sound of what he presumed to be your apartment door unlocking. Intelligent, thatâs what he is.Â
He steps inside and instantly he is dizzy. He was right, he was fucking spot on. This is your apartment, and he canât help but stand in the doorway frozen at the very thought that he fucking did it. He made it in and now your apartment is his for the next few hours if he so wishes.
The first thing he does is go to your window and gaze across the street. Seeing his own window from here felt surreal, thinking back to all of those nights he came undone to the thought of standing in this exact spot. His body reacts quickly to the space, twitching in his pants at the adrenaline he feels.Â
If there is anywhere in the world he could be right now, this would be the exact spot. He hasnât felt this excited in a long time, even compared to when he first saw you and his heart went from rotting to filling with love. Itâs hard at this moment for him to turn around and look somewhere other than his view of that all-too-familiar window of his, but he manages. Heâs slow to turn around, taking in each breath with intention, every glance burning into his memory. From the open curtains, to the open blinds just behind them, to the dull color of the paint on your walls.Â
He smiles as he notes that your apartment is clean, almost obsessively so. Itâs also much nicer compared to his own even when it was brand new. You seem to like candles, apple and sugar cookie scented candles. He can tell from the amount littered around the open living room and kitchen. The dull scent dragging his senses into euphoria. You also seem to like plants, you like shoes, you like plushies.Â
He nods as he takes note of everything in your apartment before sauntering out of the living space and toward the hallway. There, he enters the bathroom first.
Clean still, save for a pile of dirty clothes thrown carelessly into the corner. Before he focuses too much on that pile of clothing though, he stares at your shower, taking note of the other scents youâre drawn to before trailing his fingers along the shower wall. Still damp from your morning shower, he presumes. He lets himself feel the sensation of the droplets soaking his fingertips, running it along several areas of the wall before pulling his hand back. He looks at his glistening fingers for a few moments, preparing himself for a new sensation as he places his fingers to his lips. Sucking in the remnants of your shower and humming. Then, ecstatic with the taste, itâs easy for him to balance himself against the wall and bring his face close to a few more unbothered droplets, licking them into his mouth and relishing in the feeling of the cold shower wall against his tongue. His cheeks dampen through the act, and even when he pulls back for a moment, he canât bear to wipe away the condensation.Â
It tastes like water, but itâs your water. And as he continues to suckle against the wall, he finally pulls back and places his fingers back into his mouth to suck off any last remaining droplets. His eyes now flick to that pile of laundry. Based on your cleanliness in the rest of the apartment, he assumes youâll probably wash these later, which is a fucking waste. He confirms in his head the loss it would be not to take something, and so, he plans to.Â
Fingers still in his mouth, he fumbles with his other hand to shove each piece of clothing up to his face, inhaling the scent of your sleep because these were clearly the pajamas he saw you wearing last night. The scent is dull but he swears he can smell your skin on this fabric and itâs enough to cause another twitch in his pants. His cock already growing heavy and sensitive in the confines of his pants.Â
Finally, the pair of panties. Worn, crumpled on the floor in a presentation too beautiful to resist. He drops your shorts carelessly to grab at them, his fingers leaving his mouth just to smear across the seat of the garments before instantly heâs sighing out in a soft moan. Nuzzling his lips and nose into them, inhaling for an even longer time compared to the other articles of clothing. Itâs as if heâs inhaling a deep hit from a blunt, the scent making him dizzy and entirely hot in the face. He could cry, honestly, as he dips his tongue out just for a moment to taste. Heightening his sensations of you. It was euphoric feeling them in his hand, against his face, in his mouth. Even more so with the scent of them, worn from the day and clearly needing a wash. It was relieving to him in some way, fondling the panties seems to push him further from the reality heâs in, sending his mind into colorful image after image of what these must have looked like clinging to your pussy.Â
Heâs quick to stuff them into his pocket after he gets his fill, forgetting only for a moment that thereâs more to explore and that he canât just sit here all day and jerk off to a single pair of panties. Heâs sure you have more for him somewhere. And with that, he moves his eyes to your bathroom counter.Â
Gazing at your toothbrush momentarily, he fights off the idea of taking that too. Ultimately deciding that youâd definitely think something was off if that went missing.This doesnât prevent him from touching though, as he reaches forward and runs his fingers along the bristles. Just as suspected, itâs still damp too from your morning routine. The sensation of the bristles along his fingers is somehow more arousing than anything else right now, and itâs hard for him to hold back. His cock is now heavy in his pants, leaking against his zipper and begging to be let out. He holds back still though, even as he brings the toothbrush up to his lips much like your other items. He takes in a deep breath first before licking along the handle up to the bristles. Still tastes like toothpaste, and the taste is far too overpowering to be able to taste you. Still, his hips lunge forward against the counter as he tastes another part of you.Â
He stays like that for a while, hips pressing forward every few seconds in search of the friction his zipper offers, and your toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he rummages around your drawers and cabinets.Â
By the time he has searched every inch of your bathroom, he finally places your toothbrush back into its place and stares at it for a moment longer. If you continue to use it, itâs like youâre kissing him. He hopes you like it as much as he does. And just like that, his interest in the bathroom is gone. Excitement bubbles up yet again, knowing that he still has more of your space to explore for his own pleasure. He adjusts his length in his pants and sighs with a dazed smile and leaves the bathroom almost exactly as you left it.
Quietly, he goes further down the hallway. There's only one other room and he just knows that itâs your bedroom, that much is clear. You always keep these blinds closed but sometimes he can see your shadow when you turn on your light at night. This is where he wants to be right now, and upon opening that door, heâs immediately hit with another new scent. Home.Â
He doesnât waste his time indulging himself here, throwing himself forward onto your bed, face down, and instantly groaning at the feeling of his sore cock hitting your mattress under his own weight. By this point, itâs weeping with pre-cum and staining his jeans with a large dampened spot. The feeling is so much to handle as he lays there trying to breathe through the raw feeling of how badly he wants to fuck something. How badly he wants to fuck you.Â
He laughs to himself in the bliss of your scent as he tears up, gripping your duvet and covering his face with it. He breathes heavily as his gleefully aroused tears begin to soak into the fabric. Then, because of course he would, he gags himself by stuffing that very same duvet past his lips. He closes his eyes now, imagining that you let him in, youâre here with him, youâre here under him. The scent of apples and cookies would be drenching the air, your panties would be wet and begging to be off of you. Fuck, he wants to consume these sheets the same way he wants to consume you.Â
Immediately, he sucks on the fabric with a lift to the corner of his lips, smiling as he tastes the closest thing in this apartment to your body save for the panties in his pocket. He feels like heâs floating right now, and he would be a fool to hold off any longer. He wants to have his way here, hoping that you donât notice the stains he plans to leave behind. Hoping you sleep on them, hoping you sit your bare pussy against the same spot he intends to fuck as hard as he would fuck you.Â
He slides a hand down between his body and the mattress and dips into his pants with a visible shiver, finally offering himself relief. Long and slender fingers making their way around his length and instantly heâs unable to keep quiet. His eyebrows lift in relief at the feeling, rubbing his tongue raw against your duvet with his muffled moans, writhing wildly as he begins to fuck forward. His ears are ringing, his finger tips are burning against his own arousal, and he doesnât think heâs ever been so fucking happy in his life than he is right now.Â
As he continues, his wrist is being rubbed raw much like the head of his cock and his tongue. So many sensations come from the fabric you provide and, god, he loves it. He canât help it when he aggressively shoves his pants down, allowing his pre-cum to spurt out of him, instantly staining your sheets and causing him to pick up the pace. Fucking against his hand and humping with no real rhythm.Â
His moans come out in short, muffled whimpers. Your blanket in his mouth makes the sound more pathetic than it already would have been, but he loves the way the sounds echo off of your walls. Itâs like he was meant to be in this room doing this. Like this is the only room he should be intimate in, whether it be with himself or you. He wants to moan like this not just because of you but, for you. He wants you to play with him, he wants you to fucking destroy him, mocking his overly sensitive cock until heâs crying.Â
His mind is spinning as he fucks forward with these images in his head, the scent of you only drives him further and further from the reality at hand. He sobs only a little when he pushes the duvet out of his mouth, quickly replacing that with your pillow. He buries his face into it so hard that he nearly canât breathe. The lack of oxygen hitting him second by second until heâs gasping for the same warm air thatâs being trapped by the plush pillow, his orgasm bubbles up quickly with each jerk of his body.Â
Faster and faster he fucks into his palm, paying no mind to the burn on the under side of his cock that repeatedly rubs against the sheets. His muffled breath now comes out in short cries of laughter as he feels his release approaching. He chases it aggressively, violently. He wants his cock to fucking ache for you.
And it does, a mixture of searing heat and release hitting him all at once. He canât breathe as his body stutters against your sheets, his pathetic cock continuously releasing a greedy amount just for you to sleep soundly in later.Â
Then he just lays there, feeling every last drop leave him and make a home within your sheets and mattress. All he can do is grin as he tries to catch his breath, rolling over and feeling his already-spent cock pulse at the cold air that hits it. He lifts his head to look down at it, noting how red it is even as it softens up. Again, heâs floating right now. He canât believe he managed to get inside, he canât believe he has your panties, he canât believe heâs even tasted you.Â
Through his blissed out state, his eyes begin to travel around your room as he comes down from his high. Heart pounding still, he realizes he didnât comprehend a single corner of this room the second he saw your bed. It was like he cared about nothing, it was like he died and went to heaven, and he wouldnât have it any other way save for you being on this bed with him.Â
Then, his eyes land on your dresser and heâs careful when he stands up to balance himself, tucking his length half back into his pants and wincing at the sensitivity. Jackpot. Jakeâs attention is solely focused on your dresser now, wobbling over and trying to pretend that his body isnât still shaking from his recent orgasm.
Heâs in a world of euphoria again, immediately after having gotten off so quickly within the sheets of your bed, and now as he rifles through your panty drawer, his sensitive cock is twitching with embarrassing interest. He laughs at himself and the way he could probably fuck you repeatedly for hours at this point. Never has he been so ready to come again a mere minute and a half after already having done it once. He holds off though, pocketing a few more pairs of your panties before turning his attention to your closet.
There, he notes the fashion you like, the shoes you have hidden probably for nights out, andâŠoh.Â
Sex toys.Â
He glares at them for a moment, wondering if you only have these because youâve yet to realize how badly youâd want him to do it for you. This leads him to believe that you must be desperate for touch, for love, and surely he could make you feel better than a piece of soft rubber, surely you wouldnât need these if you have him, right?Â
He grabs one with a huff and inspects it for use. Upon realizing this has been well loved by you, he removes the batteries and pockets those too, solely because he refuses any competition when it comes to you. Another mental note to find any and every battery in this apartment so that this toy becomes useless to you and your pussy. After all, youâre his now and itâs only a matter of time before you realize it.
He shakes his head in disappointment at his findings before tossing the toy back into the space he found it and turning his attention to your desk. After all, heâs lost all interest in this closet simply for containing items that offer you pleasure. At least at your desk, he might find some deeper information about you.
And God, itâs like you knew he was going to be here. He smiles, his heart swelling at your kindness of leaving your journal right here in the open for him. Inside is a page bookmarked with what he assumes to be junk mail.Â
Thereâs your full name though, glistening in the dark space of his brain that was dying to be filled with information about you. He whispers it to himself, loving the way the tip of his tongue tingles at the act of saying it out loud for the first time. His heart flutters as he runs his fingers along the plastic window of the envelope, repeating your name several times, as if to conjure your spirit up right here, right now, to bask in his post-orgasm glory of love for you.
Heâs almost got all of the information he needs with this simple envelope. He knows exactly where you live obviously, your full name, what you like, your favorite scents, and now all he needs isâÂ
He pauses as his eyes fall to the page marked in your journal, damn. It seems to be your most recent entry, and you really let it all out in these pages. His own ex-therapist suggested he start keeping journals too, but fuck no. Thatâs too much work for him. He doesnât like giving himself that type of attention either, but thank god you keep one.
Your self written bible, with all the information in the world about you coming from your own hand, your own brain, is right here in the palm of his hand and itâs not hard for him to decide what to do with it.Â
Just like that, an hour passes as he starts from the beginning and works through your thoughts starting from early last year. Right around the time his ex-girlfriend left him, the bitch.Â
The deeper into this journal he goes, the more he learns. Intimate things, fucked up things. He almost laughs at your pain, how silly of you to love someone when he was here all along. You had your heart broken, met someone who fixed you, then he destroyed you even more than the first man. Silly you, choosing the wrong people and letting yourself be hurt enough to write about it.Â
Itâs not until he reads what your recent ex did to you that he starts to really feel something. Anger. So much fucking anger that a man touched you like that. He hurt you like that, then left you feeling torn apart and, as you wrote, âdead insideâ. The anger is so strong as he grips your journal and nearly crumples the page. He wants to rip it out, to erase it from your life so you forget it ever even happened. You wouldnât need to remember all of this if youâd let him in.
But he canât just rip this page from your life, because youâd notice. These are your deepest secrets, surely youâd be on high alert if something like this were to go missing. So, he opts to read it again, and again, and again, searing it into his memory like a mantra of you and your life. A mantra of why you need him, and why the universe is putting you in front of him.Â
Now, the further and further he reads, the pages are filled by this man who hurt you. He can practically smell the tears you shed when writing these shaky words. Detailing each painful touch, each emotion and moment of dissociation that happened to you during that time. Thereâs something about the way you write your pain that arouses him just as much as everything else you do.Â
Perhaps it's the anger of you being taken advantage of in that way, or perhaps itâs because heâs reading each fine detail and wishing he was you, and you were the ex. He wants you to hurt him the way youâve been hurt, the thought alone is enough to make him fall deeper, and harder in love with you. He wants to feel everything youâve felt.
In his mind, youâre doing this to him. He wants you to hurt him that way so badly. He wants you to have him broken and crying, with all the power in the world because itâs what you deserve. Because of him, you will forget what happened to you. He will fix you, and you will break him.Â
The more he reads, the more he fantasizes. Itâs not your pain, itâs his now, except he would never tell you to stop. Heâd be begging for more, more, more. In his head, yes, youâre on top of him and gagging him with your fingers so he canât cry out. Youâre the one hitting him and taking him for all heâs worth. Youâre the one calling him dirty names and forcing a painful orgasm through his body.
The image in his head right now is so beautiful, and itâs all you. The man no longer exists in his thoughts as he stares down at your words, another flash of a smile crossing his lips as he snakes his hand down his pants for the second time, because this time he canât resist it. The words appear more like an erotic novel rather than your own painful trauma. He finds it easy when he checks out of reality, each drag of his palm up his cock sending waves of warmth through his body with each new word he reads.Â
He likes the way you write âfuckâ, he loves the way you write, âI deserved better.â He adores you so much, he wants you to say those things to him. Even if he would never hurt you, he would be more than willing to let you hurt him, to let you be the aggressor, to ruin him and make him bleed.Â
His fingers squeeze around his length harder as he feels his legs attempt to buckle. He allows himself to fall to his knees on your floor, gripping the journal like itâs his last life line in this world.Â
His eyes shoot across the paper and heâs biting against his bottom lip so hard that he can taste the metallic flavor of blood as he takes in every pen stroke. That taste of blood only becomes more obvious to him when he begins to whine at his own grip against his cock. Itâs not enough, and it will never be enough until youâre the one ruining him. He grips tighter, bouncing up on his knees to chase the feeling as he works himself up, only briefly losing the ability to read when he rolls his eyes back at the desperate feeling of needing you here with him to hold onto. His entire body is burning up, pulsing aggressively, and yet, still shivering at the cold and lonely air within your apartment.Â
Then his eyes are right back down on your journal, his hips continuing to chase. Heâs not alone, youâre here with him, you are surrounding him entirely right now. This is the air you breathe into, and the gasps he takes with the realization are deep and intentional as he swallows up the air in this room until it feels suffocating.Â
âPart of me wishes I wanted it, It would have hurt less, I think.â You had written one day last week.
He groans at your boldness, poking his tongue to his cheek with a frustrated moan.Â
âAt least I left the city. Mom told me to change my number too, but I haven't done that yet. I hope he can never find me again.âÂ
Jake smiles with a clenched jaw, because that man wonât ever find you again. Not with him by your side. He will protect you, he will make damn sure that any man who wants you canât have you.Â
He edges himself for a bit this time, after having gotten off so quickly before. He wants this one to be drawn out, he wants it to fucking hurt, and it does already. His sensitive length is twitching against the pre-dampened denim itâs being restricted by, his knuckles are red and raw from hitting the zipper of his pants, and the inside of his lip is still bleeding. Finally, he skews his pants down just enough to let his length spring free.Â
The suffocating air of your apartment wraps around him so beautifully, and once again heâs shivering and letting out a chuckle. It feels so good. It feels so much better when heâs here and not stuck in his apartment. It feels amazing reading your words of pain, putting himself in your position and wishing so much for you to take this frustration out on him.Â
He edges, and edges. Fucking up, then strangling the base of his cock to prevent orgasm. God, it feels so hot, so good that it becomes harder each time he does it. Again and again, until the shadows of your curtains shift in position, until he feels like his head might explode, and thatâs when he realizes he has been reading, sometimes the same page over and over again, for hours and at least an hour more fucking himself.
Surely youâll be getting off from work soon, but heâs so close. Heâs so, so, fucking close to you right now and he canât bare to end it just yet. The images of your past burns in his gut, and despite being in your space, he truly is so far away. He cannot imagine your face up close, and only imagines the silhouette of you, the shape of you that heâs seen so many times before. Every image is from a street away, and still itâs so unfathomably arousing to think you could use him as your diary. You could whisper your painful little thoughts into his mouth and let him swallow them up, let him erase them from your life.Â
Take this rage out on him. Hit him. Make him suffer the way you did, he would love that. Giving you such an outlet, and loving it more and more each time.Â
He fucks up once, hard, and for the last time he squeezes against his weeping cock so tightly as if to prevent himself from releasing. His body canât take it anymore though, he loses all control even through his tightened grip at the base of his cock. Still, he manages to focus his eyes down at your journal, placing it directly against the underside of his cock, and there, he lets go. Strings of white shooting out past the journal and onto your carpet, seeping in almost instantly as he lets out a long and choked out moan. Raspy and raw, he can barely recognize his own voice.Â
The sweat on his brow drips down as he shakes through the most intense orgasm he thinks heâs ever had, vibrating moans coming out as pained whimpers as he continues to pump himself empty against the pages of your trauma. Then, he pulls your journal up to his lips in a last attempt to show how desperate he is at this moment. He closes it, licking up the spine of the book before dropping it to the floor in exhaustion.
His mind and body has never been so stimulated by another person. Despite you not even being in this room to physically do it for him, he feels as though heâs just professed a profound love for you and you accepted it. Heâs left himself all over your space, marking you, marking his territory, swearing to his shaking soul that he will never let another person touch you.Â
The only pain you should ever feel again is when your palms sting from swelling his skin before kissing it better.Â
As he sits, coming back to himself, still trembling from pleasure and overwhelming adoration, his eyes scan further around your room and note all of the little trinkets of personality you like to show to yourself.Â
A list of movies youâve watched dangles, pinned on a cork board by your tv, and next to that is a list of movies you havenât gotten to watch yet. On the other side of him is a bookshelf, containing a variety of novels, manga, magazines, cds, and even a few little figurines of characters that must bring you comfort.Â
All of these things, the scents you like, the colors you like, the books, movies, shows, music. It burns into his memory the same way you did when he first saw you.Â
It doesnât matter that his body feels weak at this moment, his mind will never be calm when heâs thinking of you. These forms of entertainment are now his favorite things. His fingers struggle to pull out his phone, and struggle more to find his notes app.Â
There, he stays for an hour more. Typing and retyping everything he can see, smell, and touch. Every single movie, every single music disk, every single manga, magazine, and book. He will love them as much as he loves you, and he will be the person you seem to need so badly in your life.Â
And then, as he glances up to the tiny, bastard of a digital block on his phone, reality sets in. He needs to leave now.
Thankfully enough, youâre right on schedule as usual. Heâs crossing the street to his own apartment when he catches the scent of you carried by the wind, and right there, he glances. For the first time seeing you a little closer than usual.Â
He doesnât know if you look happy, sad, or exhausted, all he knows is that youâre truly a feast for his eyes as he stares a few moments too long and you make eye contact with him.
ThenâŠ.you smile.Â
You smile at him, with a small wave as you walk through the buildingâs doors with not a clue in the world that the kind faced, handsome, stranger you just made eye contact with was worshiping the very air you breathe.
For him, that smile managed to ignite something else in him that he didnât even know he had. Perhaps a feeling of confirmation? No, maybe it was validation? Either way, the pep in his step is at least an inch higher than itâs ever been as he makes his way up to his home, and finds himself right back at the window.Â
He feels satisfied, happy, and maybe even a bit sleepy as he watches you from across the street. Standing where he just stood, disappearing to what he now knows is the bathroom.Â
With all the new information, surely it wonât be the last or only time heâll be in that room with or without you. Now, he can meet you as the best version of himself. The best version of the person you would love.Â
Perhaps now, he can accidentally run into you enough times that youâll have no choice but to face an introduction, and right then and there, he will be the perfect man for you. Youâll invite him in, youâll share all of those secrets with him, and you will love him.Â
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Buying a camera was easy, and setting it up against his window so that he never had to risk missing a single second with you was even easier. Especially because now he had studying to do.Â
Movies, shows, music, books, all of it. He delved in for days, living the lives of other people through the media you seemed to love so much. Through all of it, he paid most attention to the romantic aspect of each bit of entertainment you seem to enjoy the most in your free time.Â
He learns how these men kiss their significant others, he studies how they look at each other and express their emotions. In the music, he listens and anticipates that he can make you feel better than these songs do. In the books, even the horror related ones, he focuses on the emotional aspect and forces himself to learn these expressions.Â
Love and hate arenât the only two emotions he should be feeling, but they are for the most part. Save for things like jealousy, arousal, and entitlement. He needs to learn sympathy. Empathy, passion, contentedness, melancholy. There is a vast array of emotions he needs to master, and he canât help but feel like thatâll just take far too long.Â
As he is, he loves you. As you are, he loves you. You should love him the same, and you will love him the same. After all, he already loves the same movies, books, and music. What else could you possibly ask for from him, outside of a burning loyalty driven by passion? Outside of never laying a hand on you, nor letting another person within ten feet of you if you so much as blink at him lovingly?
Itâs as if weeks passed when he started watching you through the recorded footage. Really though, itâs only been a week because he can still smell the scent of you on those dainty little panties each time he wraps them around his sore cock. They satisfy him plenty when he uses your other, cleaner garments that he took from your dresser against his lips.Â
Each night since he was in your apartment, heâs fucked into these panties, remembering the taste of your shower water and toothpaste, and each night he grows more and more weary of when he can have more.
Still, these panties are getting him through this difficult period of down time, the anticipation that soon enough, youâll smile at him again is enough to not jump for the opportunity to get back into your apartment just yet. Because soon, youâll probably invite him in next time too, maybe even let him taste you rather than a simple remnant of you.Â
Even your social media drives him to learn quicker. Itâs private, of course, and all he has to go off of is that pixelated image of you, your interests, the burning images of your trauma, your name, age, address, and used panties. Sure, heâs satisfied for the time being but he knows for a fact that this âcontentâ feeling will only continue to fade away and be replaced with the intense need to just fucking meet you.Â
He knows youâre hiding from someone, and that someone just so happens to not be him. So, heâs the one man in the world you could ever hope to meet anyway. A protector, a lover, a fierce defender and an outlet for all of your pain.Â
And oh, what great news is it that just a mere two days later that content feeling does, indeed, run out! Not only does he feel well equipped to be your forever soulmate, but when he looks at himself in the mirror, still fond of now trimming and taking care of himself, heâs gotta say that he plays the part well on both fronts.Â
Itâs another Saturday afternoon, this time he takes the time to sit by the window and watch the shadow of you through that closed bedroom curtain. He wonders how often you wash your sheets, or clean your carpet, or lose your batteries to your stupid fucking sex toys.Â
Surely the remnants of him are still there, surely youâre used to his scent by now. You wonât be afraid when he steps out around the same time you do. You definitely wonât think itâs strange that he just so happens to be grocery shopping too, or that heâs needing the same ingredients you are needing. Maybe youâll like it when he brushes his hand against yours when going for the same tomato.Â
Heâs confident, and heâs ready. Thatâs for sure.Â
What he wasnât ready for though, is how outgoing you are.Â
Naturally, he smells you before he sees you. Hyper aware that every person on the street that isnât you just ends up invisible to him anyway. He doesnât intentionally walk into you, acting as if heâs going the opposite way. Except he does.Â
The first touch of your body to his is nothing but a mere âaccidentâ. The soft padding of your jacket collides with his hoodie, and still he swears he could feel the blood pumping through your veins at that moment. His entire body erupts in goosebumps at the first touch, he sighs out at the intentional mishap, not yet making eye contact with you.Â
He falls back only slightly, raising his hands in defense and mock apology. Right there on the street, not even a block from the two buildings both of you call home.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry, I didnât evenââ He goes to say, mind blanking the moment he does look at you, and you look back at him.
Youâre right there. He can feel your energy hit him in the chest, as if that little collision was nothing less than a car hitting him at full speed. His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your image up close for the first time.Â
You lookâŠ.frail. Not like a sickly-frail, but the kind of frail that only comes with emotional baggage. You look sleepy, with your cold cheeks and watering eyes from the icy wind hitting them. So badly does he want to grip you and pull you into his chest. He wants to hold you, he wants to keep you warm, he wants to kiss those shivering lips and hold those shaking hands.Â
Youâre a mere foot away from him and his heart is already exploding. Standing in awe, oblivious to the fact that he has lost his ability to control the situation upon looking at you, because now all he can think about is giving you everything in the world.
Then, you glance away from him and speak.Â
âNo, no.â You look to the ground after that brief eye contact and seem to shy away from the interaction. âI shouldnât have been looking at my phone.â You continue to stare at the ground, gripping your bag close to you out of instinct rather than fear or anxiety.Â
âLikewise.â Jake smiles, trying to refrain composure and softening his voice. Still, he burns the image of you into his corneas and memorizes the pitch of your voice. âHeyâŠâ He adds, trailing off a bit and dipping his head to draw your eyes up to him in a friendly way.Â
âI think Iâve seen you before, do you live around here?âÂ
You pause. Heâs just a friendly stranger with a tender voice but the brief glimpse you had of him did seem familiar.Â
âYou seem kind of familiar too?â You question, easing your tense body and looking up at him with another smile, this time more awkward. Mostly because you definitely avoided his question.Â
âHuh, small world.â He shrugs, offering little to no context to that statement before shifting the balance on his feet and stiffening at the harsh wind that picks up.
This is the moment in which any normal person would say their goodbyes, last apologies, and be on their way. Jake is too in love to comprehend what normal people would do though.Â
âWell, if it makes you feel any better, I forgot my wallet at home and was running back to grab it before the market gets packed with college kids trying to buy all of their weekend alcohol. I really didnât mean to run into you like that.âÂ
God, he feels like a robot saying it. He did mean to run into you, and he didnât forget his wallet.Â
âOh! Iâm actually on my way to the store.â You admit, trying to appreciate his explanation and press the idea of forgiving and forgetting. âSo you live close by then?â You add, feeling better asking him where he lives rather than stating your own place of residence.Â
âYeah, I live over there.â He points at the building across from yours, silently taking a step closer.Â
The chill in the air is harsh, but the way you donât move back from him is much softer and easier to swallow as a man on a mission.Â
When you perk up at recognizing his apartment building, itâs very telling. Well, to him it is, but to anyone else he could assume they wouldnât have picked up on that slight blink of surprise he caught.Â
âHuh,â You state casually. âWell, Iâm going to go pick up some groceries too. I walk this same way back, do you want me to spot you on your groceries as my own apology for not paying attention?â
Partially, you do this because you want to be alone, and upon meeting this man who is running the same errand as you, you think you may feel too awkward to go through your daily plan running into him again. Plus, he lives right across from you, and you find yourself not wanting him to know where you live.Â
To him though, outgoing may be an understatement. Youâre offering to not only shop for him, but to drop it off at the desk? Youâre inviting yourself into his space?!Â
âDonât be silly, Iâll just run and grab my wallet and Iâll be right back out. I can help you carry your things. Itâs not safe for a lady to be walking alone on a Saturday anyway.â He assures you, stiffening up his shoulders in the wind and smiling at you.
You donât know how to reject his offer, as awkward as it is, and somehow as comforting as it is. Solely because he just confirmed your silent anxieties about being in this city alone. You do this walk to the market every weekend, and despite you slowly becoming accustomed to the area, you never truly feel safe doing it alone.Â
Should you reject the offer and go back home? You have enough snacks to last you the night and you can just go to the market tomorrow. And even with those thoughts in your head, you wonder why you nod to him, and you wonder why you step back toward the building behind you and lean against it as if youâll wait for him.Â
You shiver at the wind as he nods to you and jogs to the very same building he pointed out before disappearing inside of it, and all you can do is internally panic at how pathetic you are. You should not be inviting this random man to walk with you, or to carry your things for you. Heâs going to know where you live. What if your ex set this up? You wouldnât put it past him for a second.
Then you think a little deeperâŠperhaps youâre comforted by this manâs calm and somewhat genuine kindness. Youâre not amazing at reading people, clearly, but he seems to be kind. Still, youâre too afraid to tell another person ânoâ these days out of fear that they will be angry.
 Youâre now hyper aware of your surroundings, wondering if the threat looms elsewhere, or if you just invited the threat to walk you to the supermarket.Â
You have no choice but to take the chance though, with the way he mentioned that you shouldnât be walking alone on a weekend. Youâd be paranoid with or without a stranger escorting you, especially after returning home from work last week and swearing your apartment felt different. Your anxiety regarding your ex is at an all time high.Â
Should you even want to reject this small situation of possible safety? Itâs still known, to you at least, that your ex hasnât been able to find you, nor has he texted or called you since your first week of living in this city.Â
Finally, you decide to just try and relax. If you show your fear, perhaps this man will turn on a dime and take advantage like everyone tends to do with you. Even if you donât remember leaving your apartment door unlocked last week, even if you donât remember misplacing your batteries for a particular item in your closet.
You canât just assume every new, kind, and handsome face is working with your ex. You canât just let your fear continue to control your life.Â
At least with this new face, and the security in your building being well aware of your safety concerns, you nor your personal space could be violated inside of your own home at the very least.Â
Outside though? On the streets with dozens of others? The risk is high, and you arenât even sure if you have the capability to run fast enough or react fast enough with the little safety keychain you keep in your hand, buried in your puffy jacket pocket.Â
By this point, youâre more afraid to walk alone than you are to walk with this nameless man. Saying no to him would only result in another evening walk full of paranoia, then again, walking with him still brings a whole different type of paranoia. That is, until he comes running back up to you with that same warm smile, hands tucked into his hoodie, and the promise of some sort of protection at least for this grocery run.Â
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âSo,â Jake starts after several long minutes of walking with you in silence. âDo you always walk alone at night?â
You nod to him quietly, about to say something before he sighs and shakes his head.
âThatâs brave. You must be new to this side of town because itâs not exactly the safest for you to just be wandering around by yourself.âÂ
Itâs obvious to Jake that this is only a half truth, but he knows what youâre running from by being here and he canât help but ensure future endeavors with you, even if just to have you need him each time you leave your apartment. He would gladly walk you to the moon and back if you so much as considered it an option.Â
âOh, really?â You respond with slight distress. âI moved here because of the safety ratings. I wasnât aware that it was an actual concern outside of me just worrying too much.âÂ
He picks up on it.Â
âEvery city is dangerous if you think about it. You know where my building is if you need it though. Just let me know if you ever need someone to usher you back and forth.â
You scoff almost, laughing at the implication that youâd consider that an option.Â
âPlease, that would be so inconvenient and inconsiderate for me to do. Besides, I have this nifty little keychain!â You smile, trying to make light of the situation and the anxiety his words of your bravery are bringing to you.Â
âThat is pretty nifty,â He laughs, eyeing your keychain and watching you put it back into your pocket. âCanât imagine that keychain would stop anyone though.â He adds with a light and casual tone, only because he knows that the keychain couldnât stop him. âPlus, itâs not inconsiderate. Iâm much more effective than that keychain of yours.â
There is a deep fear instilled in you at his words, ones that make you curl in on yourself internally. Maybe you really couldnât protect yourself without someone next to you. You slow your pace for a moment and consider his words. Pepper spray, a seatbelt cutter, taser, and a pair of pointy claws wonât do a damn thing for you if you end up frozen on the spot at a threat. Which is something you know yourself to do when danger rises. Perhaps this stranger is right about that, and if heâs offering, maybe it wonât be so embarrassing to actually follow up on that, especially if he proves to simply be a kind and concerned neighbor.Â
Then again, maybe heâs just being nice and doesnât want you to genuinely expect that from him.Â
âCan I know the name of the person willing to escort me to and fro?â You try to play it off as a joke with a sweet and calm tone to your voice, thankful that youâve become an expert at hiding your fear by now, but he stutters in response. Stopping in his tracks and deadpan staring at you.
âOh my god, how rude of me.â The same smile, the same soft voice, and nowâ and extended hand to you. âIâm Jake, and I fully expect you to require my assistance at any time, any day, when you feel it may not be safe for you to be out here alone.âÂ
âWhat the fuck?â You comment without full intent, reaching for his hand and gripping it in yours.Â
ItâsâŠdelightfully warm.Â
âHm?â He perks up a brow. âWhat was that?â
âItâs like you can read my mind or something.â You laugh, now releasing his hand and feeling far more comfortable walking with him, and possibly accepting his offer.Â
âIâve been told that before, you know.âÂ
Good fucking lord, the feeling of you gripping his hand was something that could have sent him straight to an asylum. Cold hands, warm smile, a reluctant tone in your voiceâ he sees you size him up, and god, fuck, did he see you just accept him for all that he is at this moment. He broke past your first wall, he could see it in your eyes when they flickered for just a moment.Â
âI bet you have.â You confirm for him, now giving him your name and looking up at him. The dim streetlights and remnants of the setting sun sure do put this moment on a pedestal in your head for some reason.Â
Your first friend in this city. Surprisingly itâs a man, and even more surprisingly, he seems to be entirely in tune with every single anxiety you have about life right now without even fucking knowing it.Â
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The immediate night after you willingly led a kind stranger to the front of your apartment building, seemingly right across the street from his own, was the moment you realized that for the first time in years, you really did feel safe.Â
Jake, this new person who appeared out of thin air walking right into you and somehow, into your life as well, is safe. With the well-bleached hair peeking from his hoodie, tired eyes, and the blushed cold air on his face doing nothing more than highlighting his features, you didnât want to admit the immediate attraction to him.
In fact, those feelings of instant attraction are what got you into that mess with your ex. Itâs what youâre running from now, and what you were intending to avoid. Itâs in your nature to want to be around an attractive person, sure, but is it so strange to lean in so quickly when said attractive person lives across the street and offers you convenient means to feel even safer? Youâre not jumping into an immediate relationship or anything by feeling safe around him. You donât know him well enough, but for some reason, all you need to know to satisfy you is that heâs not out to take from you. He didnât seem to need or want more, even in those long moments of silence standing beside him in the supermarket.
If anything, Jake, himself, is a new safety measure you intend to use for yourself, even as a last resort. Not because his smile is charming, or his voice is soft. Definitely not because his fashion sense seems to be well thought out, and his clothes hang against his body as if he had a real life filter consistently maintaining that every angle of his face and body remains perfect.Â
Itâs because he offered it. Point. Blank. Period. You, unfortunately, are not in any position to deny that itâs what you need either. You know for a fact that your ex is still asking around for you and trying to figure out where you live. Not to get back together, but just to let you know that heâs around, and he always will be for as long as you live.Â
So, Naturally, the days leading up to running into this man was a whirlwind of paranoia for you. Nothing that even your heavy doses of medication could calm, yet, he managed to do it on that simple fifteen minute walk to the grocery store, and that somehow quicker fifteen minute walk back home.
That happy shocked sigh he let out at learning you live right across from him, was weirdly comforting too. As if he was just as relieved as you were that he knew he could at least keep an eye on you if you needed him to. Like he would be willing to call you at three in the morning if he so much as saw suspicious activity outside of your building. Plus, you were debating at the time lying to him about where you live just to comfort yourself, and youâre glad you didnât.
It caught your attention, and you find yourself longingly looking out of your window today, scanning the building across from you and wondering which one of those rooms would be the most safe for you. Your motherâs voice muffled through your phone as your eyes wander, and a smile forms at her words.
âDonât you think itâs too soon to be putting your trust into a complete stranger? Honey, I donât want to watchââ
âI know, Mom. Really, itâs not like that. I barely know the guy but donât you think itâs a good thing that I have a neighbor now? One thatâs willing to walk with me so Iâm not alone out here?â
Thereâs silence on your motherâs end for a few moments before she sighs.Â
âIt does make me feel at ease, I admit,â She starts, sounding as if sheâs going to cry. âI just want you to be careful. Andâ I want you to tell me things if anything were to happen. I donât want you to keep anything from me anymore.âÂ
You sigh now, more in a defeated and sad way as your eyes trail down to the door of Jakeâs building and notice him stepping out and heading down the street.Â
âI wonât hide anything anymore. The last thing I want is to go through that again, but Iâm healing. Really, every day feels a little better, a little safer.â You back up from your window and smile again, grabbing your coat and slipping on your shoes. âI gotta go though. I love you, Mom.âÂ
You donât hang up until you hear her say it back, and then youâre out the door to catch up to him. Unsure of why youâre doing it, and ultimately choosing to ignore the fact that you were staring at his building.Â
Jake, on the other hand, has been reeling for days. Though, more careful now when he watches you. He even moved his camera slightly, hiding it better since heâs caught you staring out the window at his building multiple times.
Itâs confirmation that, at the very least, you think about him.Â
âHey!âÂ
At first, he thought that voice was his imagination like always. He ignores it, relishing in how well he managed to remember that little rasp you have sometimes when the wind blows like this. Given, heâs only walked with you once to and from the grocery store, the weather was much the same, and your voice cracked a few times in your words to him.Â
âJake, Wait up!âÂ
He hears it closer now, followed by the sound of foot steps andâŠ.fuck. Itâs you. Youâre really running after him as he makes his way to the local mall, all to buy the next book on his list from your bedroom.Â
âHey?!â He turns to you, unable to control his glee at the turn of events.Â
For once, after all this time of him watching you, youâre approaching him without prompting and it only took one official meeting.Â
So naive. You do need protection.Â
âWhatâre you doing here looking so warm?â Jake adds, outstretching his arms and watching you pause at the invitation for a hug. âToo soon?â He lets his arms fall before stuffing his hands back in his pocket.Â
You panic only for a moment, realizing you definitely need an excuse to be chasing him down like this solely because you crave that short instance of safety he offered you once before. Sadly, you have no excuse. You had nowhere to be today, nor any plans to leave your apartment at all and yet, here you are, avoiding his hug and yet still wanting to stand in front of him.
âOh,â You instantly come up with a lie. âI was running out to the market again because I forgot to buy something.âÂ
Jake perks up even more at the idea that he could walk you to and from the market, and possibly even offer that you come with him to the mall. Maybe this is the perfect time to bring up the book youâve already read, that he, apparently, so desperately wants to read too.
âWhat did you forget?â He asks playfully, noting in his head that maybe youâre a forgetful person. Which is kind of cute.Â
âUhââ You pause, breaking eye contact and blurting out a random item. âMilk.â
Well, that was a lie and he definitely knows it. He carried that jug of milk that was not forgotten back to your apartment for you. In fact, he hadnât worked out his arms in a while due to his focus on his abs and stomach that he even felt a little sore due to how long he was carrying it, all while the wind was freezing his fingers to ice for you.Â
âAh, should we go grab you some milk then?â
You donât think twice before you nod, sighing in relief that the lie was taken at face value and not realizing for a moment that you just impeded on whatever plan he had prior to you interrupting him.Â
âOkay, can we stop somewhere else first? If you want?â He eases into the question, studying your expression and loving every moment of it. Craving to be close to you, even just to stare. âItâs okay if you donât want to, I can always just grab milk on my way home and drop it.â
Oh, you were being rude. Only now realizing how you eagerly transformed his errand into your errand.Â
âMy god, Iâm sorry. Youâre clearly busy today, itâs okay. I can grab milk later!â You say in a rushed huff, already backing away and trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment.Â
You really do cling. Your ex was right about that, and it makes you uncomfortable.
âWait, no!â He panics, fumbling in a step toward you to close the distance again, feeling far too uncomfortable with how you step away from him. âIâm just headed to the mall real quick to grab a book Iâve been wanting to read. Just a quick in and out, then we can grab your milk. Iâve been wanting to see you again anyway!âÂ
Jake thinks that may have been too forward for any normal person to say outright, but itâs true. He so desperately wanted to see you again. Up close. He needed to see you again.Â
You pause your step, turning back to face him and unintentionally scanning his outfit that day. Heâs somehow even more handsome than he was the night you met him, nose slightly red from the cold weather and shoulders stiffened as if heâs trying to hide from the open wind.Â
He takes intense note of the way your eyes scan him, and there is an unintentional twitch in his pants at the way you donât grimace at him. He knew you wouldnât, after all, he does all of this for you. Heâs clean shaved and dressing better because of you.Â
âBook? What book?â You ask delightfully, being an avid reader yourself. Of course youâre interested in connecting on a level that isnât just safety with him.Â
âWell, Iâm not sure if youâve heard of it but itâs called â[redacted]â.â He side eyes only slightly at the anticipated response from you. It wasâŠa bit different than he expected.
You laugh at him. Genuinely, youâre laughing at him, with a snort and all. A laugh that he would argue is cute if it werenât for the fact that he feels like this could be the first time he fucks up with you. He doesnât want you to laugh at him for reading this book. He wants you to love that he wants to read it. Its one you wrote on your list, why are you laughing?
âWait, youâre serious?â You deadpan, standing stiff and shocked. âEven I wouldnât admit to having already read that very bookâŠâ Your eyes trail off before you smile.Â
You sense that heâs gone rigid not from the weather, but from your mocking and you lighten up instantly.Â
âI just didnât expect to meet such a handsome guy who reads about a woman whoâŠwell, you know.âÂ
Itâs like you could do no wrong as Jakeâs eyes tune into yours and you see a sense of sparkle in them. Youâd never understand how that simple, off-hand compliment to him is making his heart spiral up, down, and all over behind his ribcage.Â
Physically, he can feel his body react to you addressing him as handsome. As if he doesnât react the same way any time you look at him, or speak to him, or come near him at all. You think heâs handsome. You just admitted it, and he canât help but already feel high, like heâs on top of the world over it. You must like to look at him, much like how he loves to watch you.
Still, he knows he needs to play it cool despite how in love with you he is right now. Youâre the one who seems eager, which means heâs done his part for now, and your chase for him is just beginning. If he comments on your compliment, youâd think of him as too eager. Too ready. As if he had some underlying reason to continue speaking with you.Â
Plus, Jake actually has no idea what the book is about, but he was very willing to find out today when he got home. You, however, seem to be keen on discussing it.
âKnow what? I only want to read it because it was recommended to me by someone.â He lies.
Your face falters.Â
âOh, was this someone a girl?â You donât look up, nor do you realize that the two of you have started walking toward the mall regardless of the insecure conversation at hand.Â
âAh, well, maybe.â Jake chuckles.Â
Heâs in love with you, heâs so in love with that disappointed sound in your voice when you asked him that. He could even, perhaps, sense a bit of jealousy. So soon too? Already? He knew he was right, he was made for you and he couldnât be happier knowing that youâre picking up on it.Â
âA girlfriend?â You pry unintentionally, noting how that book is generally geared toward a female audience who would only ever read a few passages to a man if they were, well, into that sort of dynamic.Â
âWhy do you ask?â Jake encourages you to boost his ego even more, unable to stop himself from smiling.Â
âThe book is about a woman who kind of, kills men and eats them, amongâŠother things.â
Oh, wow. He loves you so much right now, even if you spoiled the story for him.Â
âInteresting. What makes you think my girlfriend would ask me to read that?âÂ
âIt certainly wouldnât be a brother or best dude friend recommending it to you, letâs be real.âÂ
Jake raises his hands in mock defense, ready to see if this makes you like him even more.
âAlright, Iâll admit. I knew what it was aboutââ Heâs lying. âNo one actually recommended it to me, I just didnât expect you to have already read the book, nor did I expect to have to explain myself why I want to read it.âÂ
âExplain away, Jakey, we got a bit of a walk ahead.â
A nickname?! Already? You're entirely naive and in need of him being beside you. God, what would have happened if some other cunning liar appeared to walk into you and offer to escort you back and forth? You would have swooned the same fucking way! Anyone with eyes can see that youâre flirting, and anyone with a dick can see that heâs eating it up faster than youâre able to put it out for him.Â
Regardless of if you seem too quick to trust, heâs proud that itâs him who got to you first, because now no one else will ever get the chance to even consider it.Â
âOh, Iâve got a nickname now? That must mean you like me.â He offers you a sort of drunken dopey smile, only because he feels drunk. Like a lost puppy just invited into a warm and caring pair of arms, really.Â
âLetâs not get ahead of ourselves. Youâre the one going to fulfill your fantasies aboutââ You try to joke as if heâs one of your best friends from highschool. You remember when you were able to freely have a sense of humor, but before you can finish your joke, you pause, realizing that despite mocking the book and his interest in it, you still donât know him on a level to do this. Nor should you have given him a nickname so soon. God, how stupid could you be? âNevermind, I actually have the book if you want to borrow it.âÂ
You have issues getting too close, too fast. Youâre already clinging, watching his building without full intention, and chasing after him down the street simply to speak to him. You donât know where this feeling inside of you comes from but you can argue that itâs solely due to the comfort he brings to you. You donât know anyone else in this fucking city save for a few co-workers. When you moved here, you promised that youâd keep to yourself until you heal and feel safe on your own again.
Yet, here you are. Clinging to the handsome man who lives across the street. Clinging to a fucking man. Again.
And you know, even though the two of you are already halfway to the mall by now, he doesnât mind that you didnât bring up borrowing the book until now. He was prepared to buy it, and even more prepared to see where your eye wandered just to learn about more of your interests within the rows of books.
âReally?â He smiles and tilts his head at you, turning both of you around with a gentle touch to your arm, very nearly wanting to snake his hand into your pocket and hold your fingers against his. âThatâs great, letâs go get you some milk then!âÂ
And you know, when he waited in the lobby of your apartment, you almost invited him upstairs to your actual space. You didnât though. And when you handed him the book, and he handed you that milk, only then did you realize that one of the jugs of milk in your possession will have to spoilâŠand it sure as fuck wonât be the one he just handed to you.
Why? Because you create silly little attachments to the rare moments in your life when youâre happy. This jug of milk is a representation of a lie he accepted, as well as him accepting you and your silly ways of making it through the day.Â
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The panties.Â
The scent is dull as he reads and rereads passages of a book that many would consider improper for anyone to even write, let alone publish. Every victim is him, and everyone, everything else is you.Â
Itâs hard not to be aroused when you so readily invited yourself to be around him that day. Even now having your number, the self control he needs to not frantically text you that heâs in love with you is eating him from the inside out.Â
The panties. Still offering the most private part of you but no longer being enough. The camera, offering glimpses of your alone time within a space you donât quite realize has been shared with him. The taste of your shower wall, your toothbrush, the smell of your clothes, the softness of your sheets, and the trauma within your written wordsâ none of it is enough anymore.
And now, the book, offering plenty to the imagination, turning the pages as if he were playing with your skin, still not enough to satiate him any longer. Nothing could ever satiate the need within him to love you to his full extent or to have you love him back. Especially after having already met you, after feeling your hand against his in that brief handshake, after hearing your sweet voice say words for him to hear and him alone.Â
Has he not waited long enough for more? Heâs seen you up close and personal, he knows all of your interests that you display, he knows your voice, knows your footstepsâ still, he canât get the feeling out of his mind. What it felt like to stand in the spot within your apartment that ultimately led to his even deeper love for you. His confirmation that he loves you, even.
And now? Texting is easy when he feels this desperate to get to you again. He doesnât care to be overwhelming to you because he is overwhelmed. Youâre the one who approached him last time too, so if anything, the universe is on his side and he fucking knows it. He can feel it in the air with each little breeze that flows past that little crack in his window. He can smell your shampoo with each cold gust of wintery air, and see your reflection in each little snowflake that falls.Â
He wants you to chase him again, so bad. Only so that he knows he can chase you harder now.
Jake: hey so i read the book, are you free today?
The way you immediately respond is telling.
You: what did you think? insane story, right?
Jake: not sure if you wanna have this conversation over textâŠ
You: itâs ok, i figured you had some freaky fantasies if you wanted to read that, im not gonna blackmail you or anything
Jake smiles, heâd let you blackmail him any day of the week.
Jake: hmmm what does that say about you then?
You: anyway, im a bit busy today but maybe we can catch up tomorrow?Â
No, no no. Tomorrow is centuries away. He knows youâre home, he can fucking see you over there, he can smell you, he can sense you. Not to mention, heâs not an idiot, he can see the way you avoid certain conversations and steer the direction despite making the same joke yourself.Â
Silly, silly girl, thinking he canât read you. If anything, heâd think by now that if youâre really so afraid of the world, or him, or anyone else, youâd have closed those fucking blinds by now. You havenât though, have you?Â
Maybe you know people watch you. Maybe you love it, hoping that heâs the one doing it. Maybe youâre some sort of exhibitionist. Maybe thatâs the reason you read that fucking book. Maybe thatâs why you were trapped in your relationship before.
There has to be a reason for it at the end of the day, and he hopes that itâs him. You love his jokes, and your avoidance is only further proof that heâs breaking past your little sad and pathetically thin walls. Youâd probably love to know he watches you, that he protects you even when you donât think heâs around.Â
And yet, youâre busy today?Â
Guess he will be busy too, then, as he stands to his feet and begins to dress himself while texting you.
Jake: Oh, youâre busy? That sucks, i guess iâll find somethin else to do today then
You: I know :( ill make it up to you soon, promise!Â
The buzzing in his brain and need for you is too strong to stay away. That little promise means the world to him, especially because youâll be making it up to him sooner than you anticipate. You can be busy all you want, but thatâs not to say he canât accidentally end up at the same place as you, right?
Besides, what if your ex comes around? What if some guy gives you unwanted attention and thereâs no one there to defend you? After all, his body reacts with euphoria each time he has gotten the chance to be with you, and he craves that feeling once again. Youâre going to give it to him, not anyone else.
Jake: alright, be safe today...
You: always am!Â
Jake: text me when you make it home safe
You freeze as you read his words, feeling something in your stomach flip. You canât tell if itâs butterflies or anxiety. Still, you find yourself smiling and your face feeling a bit fuzzy.
He wants you to be safe. Thatâs more than you could ever ask from someone, because god knows youâve always managed to find yourself in the most unsafe situations with very little effort.Â
You: ok!!! ill text you when i get home so you know I didnât get run over or something
Jake: itâs more just to make sure someone doesnt kidnap and take advantage of you lol
You freeze again, this time fully aware of the anxiety in your belly.Â
Jake: pretty girls like you gotta be more careful, so donât stay out too late or ill worry
For a second, you almost wanted to cancel your plans. For just a second, you felt good today. You felt safer than usual.Â
You: iâll come home before sundownâŠ.thanks
Jake smiles, hoping you recognize the risk you put yourself in each time you leave your apartment without him beside you. Thankfully though, you will never be without him again if he can stand it.Â
Besides, you suck at safety. Following you around is far too easy, and popping up when you least expect it is even easier.Â
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Spotted you.Â
There you are, with that same puffy jacket heâs grown used to seeing you in considering he only ever really gets to see you outside and on a cold day. In that puffy jacket, youâre walking into a local coffee shop and his eyes sharpen at the image of you through the window.Â
The barista takes your order with too much interest, in his opinion. He can see you not take notice on how everyone in this city wants to take you from him. He wants you to notice so bad, he wants you to only want his eyes on you, and to only want his voice in your ear.Â
He breathes in the icy air, bottom lip shivering only a little bit at the idea that other people look at you the same way he does, even more so the fact that you might be here to meet someone that isnât him. You might have friends, and he knows better than anyone that you do not need friends. Theyâre always out to get you anyway, you should be here with him, not someone else.Â
He breathes a sigh of relief followed by a heavy shiver when he sees you take a seat alone, and he dips away slightly when you glance out of the window as if youâre trying to be aware of your surroundings.Â
With him around, you donât need to pay attention to the things around you, heâs hyper aware for you. He could tell your coffee was finished before your name was even called to alert you.Â
Honestly, heâs so hyper aware of each person who walks into that coffee shop after you. He sets themself up for failure in his head. Each person gets a stare of daggers, because what if theyâre here to meet you? What if youâre trying to make friends? What if youâre trying to date? After all, this little errand must be important to you considering you told him you were too busy to see him.
His eyes continue to fall back on the barista though, staring at the line of sight this man offers to you every few moments. As if he wants to catch you looking at him too, as if he wants you to give him a reason to talk to you, as if he is a better option than Jake himself could be.Â
There is a hate within him at this moment as he seethes outside of the cafe window, staring down his competition. He almost completely forgot to look at you until he felt a rush of air push past him and he notes two people walking into the cafe now.Â
As he comes back to reality and leaves his little realm of hate for the handsome barista at the counter, his worst nightmares are confirmed. Not only a woman walks in and takes a seat at your table, but a man too. You hug them. You hug him.
Why is everyone all over his girl today? His heart drops. His quivering bottom lip intensifies with the wind, the temperature mimicking the feeling in his heart as he watches you touch other people, and spend time with them. He really, really, needs to know who these people are and why theyâre close enough to hug you like that.Â
He pats his chest through his hoodie with a breath in an attempt to rid himself of the stress weighing on him, and then straightens out his back before taking one last deep breath and making his way inside of the cafe, straight up to the counter.
There, he tries to balance his breathing as he makes eye contact with the very same barista that keeps pushing dangerously close to a boundary line. His name tag states the name âJayâ, and Jake canât help but grimace and roll his eyes at how similar their names are.Â
He grimaces more at hearing the man speak to him, as if he has all the right in the world to exist on the other side of that counter after staring at you the way he did.Â
âSir? Can Iââ The barista repeats himself for a third time, feeling small under the gaze of the customer in front of him.Â
âJust a shot of espresso.â Jake dead-pans, still glaring at the man.Â
The barista nods awkwardly, shifting his eyes to you on instinct now that heâs done it probably a million times since youâve walked in. Heâs noticed you for weeks, he canât help it.Â
Jake, on the other hand lets out a deep and angry sigh from his nose as he tosses his card onto the counter, clearing his throat at the barista.Â
âYou seem to have an eye for girls.â Jake lightens up, holding up the short line of one person behind him.Â
âOhââ The barista laughs shyly, âam I that obvious?â he adds, dipping his head down as he slides the card through the machine and turns the screen back to his customer.Â
âUnfortunately.â Jake narrows his eyes at him, intentionally and violently clicking the number 0 for this assholeâs tip. âand Iâd suggest you contain yourself, because thatâs my girlfriend youâre drooling over.âÂ
And then he walks away, ignoring the way the presumed âJayâ looks at him in embarrassment. He can tell he wants to apologize, and rightfully so. Jake does deserve an apology for how shameless this idiot was, but he doesnât let him as he makes his way down the counter leans against it with his palms, facing away from you and pretending he canât sense your warmth from here.Â
And then he starts counting in his head.Â
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. SevenâŠ..ThirteenâŠ.Twenty si-
âJake?âÂ
His heart immediately swells at the way youâd recognize him anywhere, even if heâs facing away from you and he makes sure to make eye contact with the barista when they both perk up at your voice calling out a name. He watches the confirmation in Jayâs eyes click, the confirmation that he is never to look at you again.Â
And still, Jakeâs heart swells even more in this instance because he could recognize you too, even if youâre faced away from him. Still, he has to keep his cool. One, to make sure he doesnât appear too eager to see you, as if he definitely followed you here. Two, so the barista doesnât see his lie. And three, so he doesnât snap right here, right now over the fact that you hugged someone that isnât him. Two someones that arenât him.
 He doesnât want to interrogate you so immediately, he wants you to give him the answers yourself as to who these people are.Â
He pretends to not hear you as he stands facing away from you and grabbing his espresso from the barista who avoids eye contact.
Jake gives a small and fake nod to the barista, as if to show you that he didnât say anything out of pocket to him. As if to show you that he definitely didnât just claim you as his girlfriend so the freak behind the counter doesnât try anything with you.
Then he turns to eye the room, looking for an empty seat, avoiding the corner where youâre blatantly staring at him.
âJake!â You wave your hands to get his attention, standing up half way as if to stand out from the crowd of puffy jackets and warmed cheeks.Â
His eyes land on you, where they rightfully belong and he notes the smile on your face upon seeing him.
Oh, so you did want to see him today. You didnât smile like that at the barista, or to the people in front of you. Thereâs another confirmation within him in reaction to this, that soon enough, what he said to the barista wonât be a lie. In fact, it gives him the confidence to push for it now more than ever.Â
He raises a brow in mock-surprise to see you before shooting you a half wave, moving his eyes to other areas as if to imply he doesnât want to intrude. As if to say he isnât here with you intentionally.Â
And then you wave again, raising your voice a bit and saying his name yet again. His eyes land back on you, and the way you pat the seat next to you.
Perfect. Yes, invite him. Prove to everyone who you belong to. Prove who it is you want to see right now, who you want to sit by, who you want to look at. And then, tell him who the fuck these people are. Explain why you hugged them, and why theyâre somehow more important than he is.
As he heads over, bowing politely to the man and woman sitting across from you, he seats himself next you to closely. So close that he can feel the friction of your jacket against his hoodie, and immediately his skin is raised in goosebumps as he looks at you and your bright eyes.Â
He wants to lay claim to you so badly. He wants everyone to know that you are his, and he is yours.Â
âSuch a huge city and still we manage to run into each otherââ Jake chuckles playfully, looking at you with a soft and gentle smile before glancing at these strangers across from him. âIf we keep meeting like this I might just have to ask you on a date.âÂ
He says it like itâs final, like heâs laying that claim he wants so badly. As he says it, he looks the man that youâre with dead in the eye with exuding charm and confidence. Still, the way you shift awkwardly next to him doesnât go unnoticed as he turns back to you and takes a sip of his drink.Â
âWould that be something youâd be interested in?â He whispers gleefully to you, saying it as if itâs a joke because the people across from him lend you both a smile and a laugh at his blatant and forward words.Â
âJake, this is my mom.â You finally speak out to avoid his question, watching him attach his lips to the hot cup of espresso he ordered, as if to only breathe in the warmth of it. âAnd this is my uncle.â
Jake immediately stands and bows politely. He appears panicked, embarrassed, to everyone else in the room. Heâs not though. Not at all. He is relieved to know that now is his chance to make some sort of impression, now is when he should show his best side. All worry of who these people in front of you are is thrown out the window for the time being, actually. He feels like heâs on top of the world, killing two birds with one stone almost. Or three, if you count Jay.Â
If he can get your family to like him the same way he got you to like him, maybe youâd be more inclined to circle back around to his half-joke of taking you on a date.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry.â He stutters, not looking the two in the eyes. âI must have sounded so rude just now, I didnât mean to intrudeââ He continued, only to be cut off by your mother.Â
âDonât mind us, Jake, is it?â She says kindly, glancing to you and then back at Jake. âYou must be the boy with the pretty smile who she mentioned the other day.â
Jake does take note of your motherâs reluctance to accept him immediately, and given your past, he guesses that would make sense. Her kind words and smile does not match her eyes when she speaks to him initially, but heâs going to change that now.
Besides, his heart just grew four sizes bigger at your mother outing you to him. You said you like his smile? You said itâs pretty? Fuck, heâll show you pretty.Â
âI can only hope so.â He responds, turning to you and smiling even bigger, noting the way you curl in on yourself in discomfort at the awkward situation. âAlways so shy, donât worry, I think your smile is even prettier.âÂ
And then Jake trails his eyes to your uncle, proud of the way he felt you shiver at his words.
The man simply judges him, then looks at you with a raised brow.Â
âJake helped me carry my groceries, he lives across the street from me.â You say, feeling stupid and small in the way your mother just fucking embarrassed you in front of the only person you like being around in this city. Still, that judgment from your uncle is called for, you think, and youâve got to calm his worry for you somehow.Â
âCouldnât just let her carry all that back herself, afterall.â Jake shrugs. âI was raised to know better.âÂ
Both your mother and uncle nod, going silent for a few moments.Â
Then, as if Jake isnât even here, your mother prompts the conversation that the three of you must have been having before Jake came over.Â
âSo, have you decided yet?â Your mother asks with no context for Jake to pick up on.Â
âYeah, actuallyââ You look down, then slightly press your leg against him from under the table.Â
As much as youâd prefer this rather telling conversation not to happen in front of Jake, you reluctantly speak in a way that gives little to no context.Â
His heart explodes at that simple touch though, ears going deaf from any words youâre saying anyway, and he very nearly shoves his hand under the table to place upon that very same leg.Â
Somehow, he holds back, his hand shaking inches above your leg before forcing it back into his own hoodie pocket.Â
âIâd like to stay here.â You say confidently now, looking at both your mother and uncle.Â
Your mother nods with a smile, your uncle following her reaction.Â
âI think I feel safe enough for now.âÂ
Jake wants so bad to confirm that youâre safe with him, despite knowing exactly what youâre talking about within an instant when he definitely shouldnât know.Â
âWell, you know thereâs always a room at home for you if you need to come backââ Your mother seems reluctant to say too much, looking over to Jake with a smile that becomes more genuine. âKeep an eye on her, Iâm sure sheâd appreciate it.â
He knows youâd appreciate it and he has gone above and beyond in terms of keeping an eye on you. Itâs like, heâs fucking perfect for you.Â
Jake nods to her.Â
âIâll do my best.â Jake smiles, now shifting his body up and standing back to his feet. âWell, Iâll leave you guys alone.â He continues, now looking at you. âText me when you get home safe.âÂ
And as he walks away with a triumphant and hidden smile, your mother immediately smiles at you in the same way. Seemingly lightening up about Jake as a whole, briefly anyway.Â
âText him when you get home safe, huh?â Your mother pries, kicking you gently under the table and watching you squirm and release the blushing mess that youâve tried to hold within you for the past few minutes.Â
âAh, yeah, umââ You try to speak, unable to explain the safe feeling you feel around Jake. Youâre not sure if itâs a crush, or if itâs just you taking advantage of someone who is being kind. ïżœïżœïżœHeâs kind of already been watching out for me, so that's partially why Iâm choosing to stay here.â
Your mother nods.
âI can admit that heâs cuteââÂ
You nod to yourself at those words before your uncle interrupts.
âAnd polite.â he adds, sipping his strong coffee and offering a look of possible approval.
You dead-pan stare at both of them, knowing exactly where this conversation is going.Â
âHe likes you.â Your mother continues shortly, looking away from you and not allowing you to hush her of the motherly-instinct. âIâm just saying, honey, please be careful. I know heâs cute, and polite, and seemingly safe. But I just want to make sure youâre safe.â
You look down with internal confirmation.Â
âItâs okay to live a little, go on that date with him, but go somewhere public first.â She continues. âDonât move too fast, youâre stillââÂ
Everything is overwhelming in this moment. Especially when the truth is put into words and offered to you by the two people you trust most.Â
âHealing.â You look down at the table as you finish her sentence for her, thinking of how close Jake was sitting next to you. Wishing he was still next to you because somehow, you felt more safe with him than you do your own family right now.
âDonât sit there and act like I donât know how you act when youâre being shy about a boyâŠâ Your mom adds to the silence, quirking a brow and looking to her brother. âYouâve still got your pepper spray if you need to use it.â
âItâs not that Iâm worried he would like, be like him.â You interject. â I just donât know if Iâm ready to act on a stupid crush so quickly.âÂ
âThatâs good, and Iâm glad he makes you feel safe. Just please hold onto that feeling, donât rush just because a cute boy is carrying your groceries.â Your mother starts again, only to be cut off.Â
âOkay, okay. Can we talk about something else now?â You roll your eyes.
Your mother keeps to herself after this, and all you have in your head is wondering how and why your mother seems to partially advocate for this man after a mere ten minutes of meeting him. You can see her try to keep you safe despite her distance from this city, yet she seems to be hoping that Jake is a legitimate defense system for you too. Itâs as if sheâs looking for comfort in him as well.Â
Sheâs never been one to approve of your crushes either, but somehow, this time is different. And these days? You trust her intuition better than your own.
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You: i made it home safe
Jake: good, im really glad. sorry for accidentally ruining your plans today
God, if thereâs anything Jake should be sorry for, itâs not that.Â
You: itâs ok, i was happy to see you.Â
You: my mom seemed to like you
Jakeâs cheeks burn reading that as he goes from staring out his window to looking at the screen of his phone. He can tell that as soon as you got home, you headed for your bathroom and you must be in there right now readying yourself for your evening routine, possibly even naked before a shower to text him.
Itâs not strange at all that he knows youâre over there all alone, texting him. His body reacts like it always does, and heâs already snaking a hand down his pants just to rub against himself to satiate his body and keep it under control for a bit longer.Â
Jake: woah really? how so?Â
You type to him almost immediately after each of his responses.
You: idk, they commented on how you asked me on a date or whatever, thinking it was serious.Â
Jake: i was serious
You pause, standing at your bathroom sink with your toothbrush in your mouth when a smile creeps across your face. It feels like the first time you ever got asked on a date in highschool, and that little dance of happiness would have been fucking embarrassing if he were to see it.Â
Even worse than your reaction to that, your mother would be terrified to know how you shift entirely when youâre alone and talking to Jake. She would faint knowing that you intend to immediately go on a date with him, and she would immediately wake up and faint again knowing that you find yourself letting your guard down entirely around him as well.Â
Itâs safe to say that, maybe you definitely have a crush on him. Why else would you react this way to how forward he is? Why else are you somehow so willing to go on a date with him despite wanting to stay as far away from relationships as possible?
Why is he so fucking irresistible? Why is he making you feel this way?
You: you were?
Jake: yea, what are you doing rn?Â
Heâs typing with one hand, legs spread wide while he slouches in his chair and skews his head to stare through your empty window. He thinks back to the day he stood in your living room looking down at his own window. You could come into your living room now and watch his body jerk with each movement of his palm against himself, phone in hand as he texts you and know exactly what you do to him.Â
Each passing moment between his last text to now doesnât bother him as he works himself up, chewing on his bottom lip and focusing even more on that lit up room across the street, feeling the familiar arousal bubble in his belly as he rips his hand away to grab that same pair of panties he stole from you. There, he shoves them down his pants along with his hand, groaning at the fabric stretching around him like they always do.Â
So soft, so gentle.
As for you though, youâre feeling the panic flow through you as you stare in the mirror at your reflection. Right now? He wants to go right now? You just washed your face, and you were about to take a shower.Â
You: bout to take a shower, why?Â
He groans more at your typed words, remembering the taste of that shower wall, imagining your pretty face with little droplets of water running down it. Imagining droplets of other things running down it. God, his confidence is so high, heâs so fucking horny right now, and he still manages to text you with that one shaking hand.Â
Jake: ill come get you right now, i want to go on a date with you
Jake: can i?
His persistence shows his interest in you and itâs so attractive to you right now. Immediately you find yourself spitting, rinsing your toothbrush, and wiping your mouth clean before opening your makeup box again.Â
You: right now?Â
Jake: right now.Â
You: can you give me like twenty minutes?Â
There are explosions surrounding him right now, or rather, a very intense orgasm. He scored a date with you and he feels the confirmation run straight through his body and out the head of his cock, all over your panties, his hand, and his pants. And god, heâs a little frustrated that he spent so long trying not to get his own cum on your panties, solely to keep more of that scent of you, but he fucking got a date.
Who cares? He can surely just snatch another pair, possibly right off your legs.
After all, you asked for twenty minutes surely to try and look nice for him. Fuck, that means you want him to look at you the way he always has been. He wonders if youâll do something different with your makeup, or if youâll put on a different kind of outfit. All for him.
Finally for him. For him. For him.Â
Jake: of course, text me when youâre ready
And then, he just watches as his body makes an attempt to relax. The way you wisp back and forth like a ghost through your apartment, rushing to find something to put on. Even from here he can see you smiling. Running around in a bra and panties, he moans slightly, almost considering fucking his cum into your panties again but ultimately choosing to stand and change him. Mostly because he sees you think hard about your outfit. The way you throw on a shirt only to take it off and slip on a dress instead, despite the cold weather.Â
Heâs going to give you that same effort, eyes glued to his window as he blindly searches his closet by touch alone.Â
He wants to text you again after you run your hands down your stomach in that dress you put on, he wants to tell you to keep it on. He wants to tell you how pretty your matching pair of bra and panties look under it. He wants to say so much, do so much, and containing it is so fucking hard.Â
Yet, still, he manages.Â
When you stand in your living room, that same dress still on, he watches you throw a jacket over it, he canât help but wonder if you could sense his hope that youâd wear that. He wants to have a reason to keep you warm, a reason to put his palms on your legs to warm them up, a reason to be close to you. After all, this is a date, youâre inviting him to be close to you, right?
And then his phone buzzes and he struggles to tear his eyes from the image of you standing there with your phone in your hand.Â
You: okay, im ready!Â
Jake immediately sighs, staring up at the ceiling to get his body to calm down. His dick is twitching wildly in his pants again, his hands are sweating, his entire body is vibrating. Itâs finally happening.Â
Youâre going on a date with him, and heâs had the perfect place planned and in his mind since the first day he met you from your window.Â
Heâs quick to throw on an outfit, slip on his shoes, and run out his door.Â
Jake: on my way outside now, meet me in your lobby in 5
Youâre fucking beaming. For the first time in a long time feeling like you may be the luckiest person in the world. There is no pain within you as your butterflies overtake every amount of angst you had about meeting someone under circumstances of dating.Â
Youâre here to get away from your ex, not to fucking ban yourself from having a good time. You want to have fun. You want to stop being afraid.Â
And god, Jake is like, the perfect guy for it.Â
You enter the lobby to find him standing proudly against the wall, propped up in a lazy way and already looking at you with a dopey grin. He looks flushed, proud, and happy. Arguably, heâs even more attractive now than you ever thought he was before and instantly, youâre ten times more shy than youâve ever been.Â
âThere she is,â He smiles, spreading his arms out to invite you into a hug like he tried to do before, and heâs shocked that you step into his grasp. âwas starting to worry I was too forward.â He adds, immediately burying his face against your neck.Â
You smile against his chest in the hug, feeling so warm for the first time in your life. A warmth that comes from something other than rage or tears. Already, you can feel your body shiver at the way his arms wrap tightly around you in a hug that doesnât feel condemning.Â
You donât feel trapped against another person, and itâs a welcome change.Â
âYou definitely were a bit too forward butââ You pause, stepping out of his grasp and feeling the empty air replace his arms. âIt made me feel better about liking it.â
Jake gives a reassuring smile before lending his hand to you and instantly intertwining his fingers with yours, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, and dragging you close to him before leading you out of the building. Heâs reeling from the hug, feeling the way your breasts pressed up against him, the way you sighed against him, and the way you smelled while you did it.Â
God damn.Â
In his head, that hug from you felt better than any sex heâs ever had to date. His entire body reacted as to be expected, to the point he was thankful that you werenât as close in the hug from the waist down as he wished you would have been. You would have felt that reaction, you would know how you wake his entire body up.Â
Thankfully, the cold air outside lends him a hand in taming his lower half, and also lends your hand to him to keep warm.Â
âWhere are we going?â You ask out, voice gentle in the night air, unaware of how the man next to you is buzzing from his feet to the top of his ears.Â
Heâs struggling not to lose his mind.Â
He can see your breath, and wants to swallow it. Each huff and puff, each word, he can visually see it in this icy night, and he knows it has to be warm despite the minty toothpaste he can smell on you.
God, he knows what your mouth tastes like, the smell sending shivers down his spine at the reminder of how he sucked your essence off of the bristles you must have used just minutes before now. He wants to kiss you, he wants to kiss your breath, he wants to devour the air and aura that surrounds you when youâre next to him.Â
Honestly, the cold weather does not freeze his bones. He feels entirely hot, leading you to his favorite place in the city.Â
âNothing big, I assume you ate with your family so I figured we could skip the regular date stuff. I want to take you somewhere quiet and pretty.â He looks over at you, hoping you see how much he adores you.Â
Somehow, you do notice something in his eye. A shine, a glint. Itâs something youâve never seen in any pair of eyes that looked at you. His pupils seem to be dilated and his eyes almost look black, still, that smile reaches those same dark eyes, indicating to you that he is happy.Â
He looks happy to be with you right now.Â
And on any other day, a man you barely know saying heâs taking you somewhere âquietâ would scare you. ButâŠ.youâre not scared. Youâre looking forward to it, actually.Â
He gives your fingers a squeeze as he waits for you to speak back to him, leading you easily through the city streets.Â
âQuiet and pretty?â You say, looking up at him. âDoes this place happen to have a heater?â
It doesnât. But thatâs what heâs for.Â
âUnfortunately, no, butââ He goes to say, and you stop walking for a second. âI was going to say I could keep you warm, I mean, if you want. If not, I can take you somewhere else.â
You look down, weighing the options on whether you want to be that close to him so immediately, or if youâd rather follow the general rule of dates. Dinner, movie, goodnight kiss. You already hugged him, and you can admit to liking the way his arms hugged you. Maybe youâre not entirely against the idea, despite feeling alarm bells deep in your brain go off, telling you that youâre moving too fast.Â
And then you wonder why you start walking again, and why youâre imagining him holding you close, huddling your body against his to keep you from shaking. Intimacy. Youâre thinking of intimacy.Â
Why does it feel good? Why does the thought excite you?Â
âYouâll keep me warm?â You reluctantly ask, your fingers twitching in his within that hoodie pocket.Â
âYeah, I mean, if youâre comfortable with that. I donât want to seem too forwardââ His fingers squeeze yours tighter, as if to comfort you.Â
You sigh, chuckling.Â
âLike I said, I like that youâre forwardâ just, no funny business okay? This is a date, not a hookup.â
Jake pauses, glancing away.
As much as heâd love to lay you down against cold, moon-lit grass and taste the entirety of your body. As much as he wants to hear you call out to him, feel you react to him, he knows whatâs inside of your head better than you do, he knows he needs to tame that need for now. The fact alone that you even imagined it for a second, just to find out if you want that now, just to tell him that you donât want it yet, is enough to satisfy him.Â
It won't be long until youâre asking for it anyway.Â
Plus, he would never do anything to you without your consent. If heâs allowed to keep you warm tonight, that alone is better than anything he could ask to experience.Â
âNo funny business.â He uses his other hand to hold out a pinky to you. âJesus, what kind of guy do you think I am?â
Suddenly, you feel guilty as you take his pinky into your own and seal those words into a promise. Jake picks up on the way your face falls.
âI havenât been on a date in over a year. Been avoiding it if Iâm being honest,â He starts to explain as a way to soothe you, guiding you gently through a large gate. As if to connect with you on your level of discomfort. âMy last relationship ended pretty badly, I didnât think Iâd ever want to date again.â
You perk up at his words, looking at him as he guides the two of you through a dark and grassy area. You can still tell his eyes are shining as he shares this with you, making you feel special andâŠ.not alone in your anxieties about this.Â
âI donât know what it is about you, or why I immediately want to skip all of the casual shit when it comes to dates but, this is where I wanted to bring you.â He smiles when he stops you, standing in front of you and grabbing your other hand, holding it, and shoving it into his hoodie pocket alongside the other. âNot because I was trying to come onto you. If I was going to do that, I would've asked you to come home with me.âÂ
You feel his icy knuckles and squeeze his hand hard to try and warm it up. Maybe to comfort him, or to thank him?Â
âI didnât even bring my ex here. I actually came here to get away from her sometimes.â
You look away when the blood rushes to your cheeks at the way heâs talking to you. Heâs acting like the two of you have been on at least ten dates by now, but itâs only been one.
Somehow, some way, you lean into it. Into him.Â
âMy last relationship wasnât very good either. Was so bad that I actually find it hard to believe that Iâm on a date with someone right now, I still donât even know if Iâd know how to love again.â
You pause, closing your lips tightly and feeling awkward for saying the L word so fast like that. Implying that you donât know if you could love Jake.
âWould you feel better knowing that Iâm not asking you to think of the future?â He offers, slowly lowering himself and pulling you to the bare ground with him.Â
The dirt is cold, but Jake is warm.Â
âJust worry about how you feel today, when youâre with me. If youâre enjoying it, thereâs no reason to worry about what you might feelââ He reaches for you to turn you around and drag you onto his lap before quickly enveloping you into his arms. âOr what you might not feel.â He pauses with a squeeze against you. âIs this okay?â
You donât understand why itâs okay that heâs being so touchy, but he is warm, and any shiver that threatened to hit you now only comes in the form of butterflies seeping out of every pore on your body. Heâs pulled you into his lap as if to keep you from having to sit on a blanket-less ground, and his arms are around you as if to remind you that blankets only exist for people who donât have him.
It takes so much self control not to pull away when you feel his chest breathing against your back, but it takes even more self control to not turn around and cling onto him in the same way. Youâve wanted to feel safe so badly, for so long. You wanted to feel this way on your own though, without the need to lean on someone else.Â
Youâve never wanted to be a damsel in distress, but goddamn are you fucking distressed. Your trust issues run deep, so fucking deep. Anyone can see that you are a broken person, but not everyone would accept you for it.Â
Jake, right behind you, right under you, holding you so close like this the moment youâd let him? He accepts you entirely, and itâs so enticing to you. You canât turn away from it, youâd only fail yourself.Â
Youâre so fucking drawn to him, no matter how forward or blatant he is.Â
âThis is a bit overwhelming,â You start, pulling away from him slightly and turning to look at him. But then you see his face, and how sincere he looks. âBut Iâll try to appreciate how I feel right now.â
âDoes that mean youâre okay with this?â Jake whispers, pulling you back against him and pressing his face against your shoulder, breathing in deep to get that scent of you into his lungs.Â
You donât notice the way he does it when you nod in response, and the way heâs entirely enamored with you at this moment. He wouldnât be able to let you go if you asked him to, not when your body is relaxing against him and youâre letting out a small hum of cautious approval.Â
âAre you warm?â He continues, shifting his legs only slightly from under you, mostly to make sure youâre coat is offering enough padding under you to keep from feeling the blood pumping in his pants right now. And then, his hands move from his hug down to your legs, big warm palms not moving from the expanse just above your knees, instantly warming you.
He can feel your shivers calm, and your regret for wearing this dress die.Â
You nod again, still cautious but also wanting to fight the fear within you so that you can really just enjoy this moment of closeness with someone else. Even if you just met him. Even if youâre afraid. His hands feel like they belong there, as you stare at the way he doesnât move them higher or lower. Theyâre really just there to keep you warm, and surprisingly, you donât know if you could ever feel cold around him at this point.Â
âI'm scared of this, you know?â You comment into the night after a few moments of silence, reluctantly holding onto his wrist, pushing them down your leg a bit as if to imply he should rub them.Â
He follows your movement, wincing from behind you in a hidden attempt to contain the fact that he very much wanted to moan at that. Feeling your legs against his palm feels soâŠ.igniting to him.Â
âI know.â Jake says in a matter of fact tone, confident in his words as he bores holes into the revealed skin of your leg when he moves his hands back and forth.Â
âYou do?â You lift to turn and look at him, but his hands instantly move to your shoulders as he turns you away from him, forcing you back against him in a tight hug.Â
Mostly because you do not need to see his face right now, he knows he looks fucking gone.Â
âAnyone can see that youâre terrified.â He comments seriously now, placing his head on your shoulder and pressing his cheek against yours. âItâs no wonder I feel the need to protect you.â
Youâre shocked that you donât flinch at feeling his cheek against yours, noting that his lips are just inches from yours. You try to erase the images of kissing him so soon, youâre too weak right now. He makes you feel so weak.Â
Instead, you try to think hard about his words. Trying to ignore the way you felt his jaw move against you. Trying to ignore your immense attraction to the closeness heâs giving you. Are you really that obvious? Are you really this desperate to be close to someone? Anyone?Â
âHoping that someday youâll tell me what it is that makes you so afraid, but for now? Just know that Iâd never do anything to make you feel like that.âÂ
You think harder.Â
Much, much harder.
An uncanny feeling in your gut wonders how he finds words that are so meaningful to you. Itâs like he can read your mind. Itâs like your life is a book that heâs read a thousand times.Â
But thatâs impossible. You havenât known him for long, maybe heâs justâŠ.a really good person. Maybe youâre just lucky to have bumped into him that day. Maybe itâs lucky that your ex instilled a fear into you so deep that you found yourself living next door to the man holding you right now.Â
âHow do you do that?â You comment quietly, feeling warmer than you ever could have expected to on a night like this.Â
âDo what?â He smiles, now loosening his grip on you, pulling his face back, and spreading his legs so that youâre now sitting between them, rather than on him.Â
After all, if he had kept you there, you would have felt what was happening in his pants by now. The way you donât run away from him, the way you let him touch you has him reacting for more than he ever knew he could. Even after releasing his arousal just before the date, he can already feel the ache. The need to crawl into you, the need to make you fucking love him.Â
âItâs like you tell me exactly what I need to hear. Itâs fucking weird.â You continue through his movement, scooting back as if to huddle yourself against his warm chest, in turn bumping his pathetically hard cock against your back.Â
You try to hide that youâre a little disappointed that youâre no longer on his lap, and the back of your thighs are now freezing against the grass. He, on the other hand, is so fucking thankful that you still manage to not feel what his body is trying to show you right now. His arms immediately wrap back around you, holding you against him much like before.
You really donât know why you wore this fucking dress, without tights no less.Â
âItâs weird?â He questions. âItâs weird that I wouldnât do anything bad to you if you gave me a chance?â
You look down, feeling those words hit you in the gut. It is weird, but then again, youâve never really had a relationship with a person who wouldnât bring harm to you.Â
âIââ You pause, thinking as hard as you can without oversharing, hands reaching up to grip his forearms, pressing them tighter against you as if you want him to save you fromâŠwell, him. âI have my reasons. Iâm not trying to call you weird. Itâs just weird how you show up in my life at a time where I think I needed this the most.â
He smiles.Â
âWell, youâre going to have a hell of a time trying to get rid of me at this point.â
You smile back.
âLikewise.â
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Three more dates have taken place since that first night in the empty park. Each date that followed took place in the same spot, with the same weather, and the same offered warmth.Â
By now, you find yourself unable to avoid thoughts of him. Thoughts of how badly you like him after learning of his interests, after seeing how he carries himself, and how he treats you over all. The way he seems so in tune with everything you could ever want or need, filling you with only safe care rather than horrifying uncertainty.
Jake likes the same books, tv shows, music, movies. All of them line up near perfect to your own favorites and suddenly you believe that the red string of fate exists. Jake is careful when he touches you, never pushing and only offering, suddenly, that red string of fate is attached firmly to your pinky. Jake looks at you like he sees one of the world's wonders, which was uncomfortable at first for you, but you think that maybe the other end of this little invisible red string is tied to his other pinky.Â
Your entire life of fucking horror led to this point, where the universe finally gave you the person youâd want to be with for real. Any other man would make you feel cautious, Jake though? Jake does nothing but make you feel like, for the first time, you donât need to have a guard up. The fact that he managed to do this so fast is a bit telling on your end, that perhaps you put too much faith in people, but goddamn, it looks like he works so hard to show you that youâre not wrong about him.
On your last date, he even tried to kiss you. You panicked, backed away, and felt so fucking embarrased, until he texted you a mere fifteen minutes after parting ways and apologizing, stating that he didnât know what came over him.Â
He apologized to you. He didnât take what he wanted despite your fear, he didnât push or pull, he simply allowed you to exist beside him, in front of him, even behind him if itâs what you wanted at the time.
God, you should have kissed him. You should have kissed him hard enough for him to realize that youâre trying.Â
Youâre trying to be a person again, for yourself, for Jake, for your mom and uncle. Still though, he doesnât know the shit youâve gone through, or the shit youâre running from. You feel so dissociated at times, wondering how strange or odd you must react towards him during the dates he takes you on. Yet, he doesnât falter. He doesnât question. He doesnât force you to feel like you need to apologize at all.
And this is all you can think about now. About Jake. About what heâs doing, about how he must be feeling today, about how he wears his hair, and how his alternating hoodies always offer warmth on a cold night when the two of you are sitting closely together on the ground justâŠtalking.
The thoughts of him donât stop and itâs kind of nice. Having your fears so loud in your ears every day, anxieties of your ex eating you alive, and fear of being alone in a big city can get quite loud and exhausting after so long of not being able to escape. Thoughts of him are the only thing that calms your mind lately, so you probably wouldnât stop thinking of him even if you had the choice.
Unfortunately, that choice is made for you today, once again, just two days after that third date with Jake.Â
A single text from an unknown number that shifts your brain into a fuzzy focus of terror. Your mother told you to change your number, and you really should have done it by now. You have no excuse as to why you havenât, but you have the reason as to why you should have done it shining brightly in your notifications center.Â
The unknown number is just that, unknown, but you know who it is already.Â
Your fingers shake when you tap the screen and your eyes go dead upon the message. This confirms that your body will always know when he is around, you will always have to feel this way for as long as heâs thinking about you.Â
Unknown Number: heard you got a job over at [redacted company name], mind if we have lunch?
You donât know who told him, you donât know how he found out where you are, or where you work. All you know is that now, the buzzing thoughts of Jake fizzle out and are quickly replaced with that of searing reminders of what happened, and what will likely happen if your ex is really trying to get to you already.
Itâs the fact that the police did nothing. Itâs the reality that they wouldnât let you procure a restraining order. Itâs the fact that he got away with everything he did to you, and wants to get away with more. Youâre just a girl, alone in a city who thought this was the best course of action.Â
You canât even bring yourself to tell anyone that he texted you. Your mother would scold you for not changing your number fast enough, despite already knowing you havenât done it yet. It would somehow be your fault that he found you despite his insistent attempts to keep you as his, as if you belong on a chain tied to a tree in his backyard.Â
You call out of work, explaining the situation. Your managers are already aware of your safety concerns and the situation at hand, and youâre lucky that they really do live up to the promises they made when you took the job.Â
All three sick days can be used right now if you need them but after those three days, you have to either work from home and be willing to come into the office if you are needed, or you need to put in your notice and leave.Â
Naturally, you take the sick days, and you intend to work from home.Â
Despite not feeling safe here, considering the few items in your apartment that went missing not too long ago, itâs safer than walking to and from work. Itâs safer with Jake just next door. Itâs safer with the security guard in your buildingâs lobby.Â
Youâll be okay. This will pass.
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Jake is at a loss, nearly ripping his hair out day by day when you donât text him back.Â
When he looks to your window, the lights stay off consistently, the curains are fucking closed. You havenât left your apartment for work, you havenât texted nor have you called.Â
Itâs been six days, nine hours, thirty eight minutes, and nine seconds since he last saw you and the only thing he can think of is that he fucked up.Â
He tried to kiss you, and you eased him into a rejection by pretending everything was fine until you felt comfortable enough to stop talking to him. For three days now, you havenât responded to him.
Three days without any hint of you, and six days without feeling you in his arms.Â
Heâs going insane and not even jerking off helps calm him down like it normally would. He feels like he could lose it at any moment as he paces his apartment with a buzzing non-stop energy within him, stopping at his bedroom window to stare for hours only to see no movement in your apartment. Only to still see the lights remaining off. Only to see the blinds locking him away from you.
Sure, heâs got the grainy footage of you from weeks past, the footage from the day you got dressed for your first date with him, and the footage from each date after that but he doesnât have you. The last two days contain footage of blinds swaying, thatâs it.
He was so close, he really thought he was. He thought he had you, he thought you were almost ready to let him move to the next level. He thought you would accept if he were to ask you to be his girlfriend, he thought you would let him kiss you, and let him into your apartment, and let him exist within the air you breathe.Â
But you left.Â
So, naturally, he works up the courage to grab his camera and hook it into his pc. Obsessively searching for any sign of you within the footage from last night. He tries not to think about missing a glimpse of you as he is away from his window, seeing as how you must not be home. You must have left days ago just to get away from him.
UntilâŠas he fast forwards all of the footage, he sees a light flicker on.Â
The timestamp reads four in the morning, and the light stays on for a mere minute and a half before turning off again.Â
One thought floods his mind.Â
Did you find out that he watches you?Â
Then another thought.
Are you hiding from him?Â
And one last thought.Â
How can he explain and still get you back?
And as he continuously paces his apartment, unable to focus on anything other than knowing youâre in your bedroom hiding, nothing on this earth could calm his frantic brain.
Should he go over? Should he come see you? Should he text you again? Should heâ
Pacing the same path in his apartment for far too long, nearly ripping his own hair out, he stops in his tracks at the sound of his phone. He knows that vibration like his own mother tongue by now. Thatâs you. Youâre finally texting him back.
You: are you mad at me?
The relief is instant and near orgasmic. The first contact in what felt like an eternity for him in his head, he takes a deep and calming breath. His eyes flick back to your window, where your apartment still appears to be hidden from his view.Â
Jake: never, i was just worried since you stopped talking to me.Â
You stare at your phone, scrolling up the some fifty text messages Jake sent you over the last several days and feel awful for not once checking your phone. To be fair, youâre afraid that every message is from your ex and you eventually just ended up turning your phone off.Â
After all, you remember what happened the last time you blocked him. That wasnât even an option for you at this point if he really knows where you are.Â
The fear inside of you is so strong by this point that you canât help but want Jake to be with you. Even inside of your apartment, where youâve yet to invite anyone aside from family. You just want one single day of calm, one single moment of feeling okay. The past three days have been nothing but a paranoid delusion for you.Â
Each sway of your curtains in front of your blinds is a person who isnât meant to be inside of your space. Each footstep in the hallway outside of your apartment isnât other residents, itâs someone trying to get inside. Those missing batteries from weeks ago? It was him. Your missing panties? He has them.Â
Just like Jake, though unknowing to you, you have been pacing much like he has. Youâve been on the verge of ripping your hair out too.
You: i think we need to talk
Jakeâs relief turns to curiosity, to confusion, to horror, to excitement.
Jake: of course, love
Jake: do you want to go to the park again tonight?Â
You shake your head as you text back with a firm ânoâ, wanting so badly to explain to him why youâre acting the way you are, and why youâve always acted so defensively. You need him to understand so that he doesnât leave. You need him solely because he is all youâve got right now.Â
You: no
You: ill explain everything but can you likeâŠ
Jakeâs ears twitch as if he can hear your words, with your pretty voice, and that cute pitch it has when you talk to him.Â
You: i donât like to invite people to my apartment but I'd really just rather you come over.Â
In less than a second Jakeâs heart threatens his health. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. After days of festering in love rot for you, months actually, youâre finally inviting him. All forms of negativity towards your lack of speaking to him lately is laid to rest instantly as he jumps to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom to clean up.Â
Jake: just tell me when, you know Iâm here when you need me.Â
Itâs a shame that he said that, really, because you take it to heart. You need him now and will probably need him far past his ability to give to you. He will grow so tired so fast, surely, but you canât deny nor can you avoid that you need him.Â
You need his comfort, his safety, his smile, his dilated pupils each time he looks at you, and his careful hands reluctant to hurt you.Â
You: can you come now?
Jake is already out the door, following the same path he took the first time he went to your apartment. Honestly, itâs quick enough to remind you that heâs just next door.Â
Jake: im in the lobby, where do I go?
You pause, briefly realizing that youâre inviting a man into your apartment just so you can feel safe from another man you once invited into your life the same way. You were so enamored with your ex, never thought he could have done what he did to you, but he did. He shattered you from the inside out through years of meticulous work, and heâs still doing it now, all because you trusted him.
Itâs driving you to act as recklessly as you once did, and itâs like youâre compelled to do it. You feel forced to trust Jake, despite none of the force coming from him. Itâs coming from deep within yourself. Your brain is repeating whispers of âdo it, do it, do it.â when it comes to him.Â
You canât resist it.Â
You donât want to resist it.Â
Youâre fast when you text him your floor and room number, and somehow still find yourself shocked at how quickly there is a knock on your door.Â
Jake didnât need your informational text though, he knew exactly where to go. He knows where he belongs, and the excitement within him to have an explanation from you is one thing. The excitement of standing inside of your apartment with you is another.Â
His thoughts remain on that camera he placed back into his window, knowing that he will finally see himself in the footage with you, in the very spot he thinks about the most. Heâs worked so hard for this, so hard.Â
And his hands are shaking when you open the door, his heart is shaking when he takes in the scent he remembered from before, his legs shake as he takes a step in with a face of somewhat genuine concern for you, simply to hide the way his entire body is fluttering in euphoria.Â
âHey,â You start, trying to be nonchalant, trying to ignore that you look like shit. âSorry for the mess.â You add, gesturing to not only your apartment, but at yourself as well.
âAw,â Jake coos, poking out his bottom lip before opening his arms wide as he hears the door fall closed behind him. âCome here.â
Instantly you do, and instantly your face is hot.Â
Searing. On fire.
Jake freezes, feeling the warmth against his chest paired with the death grip your arms instantly lock him into. This grip on him is painfully heavy and seeped with emotion, he can feel your hot tears soaking into his hoodie and it raises goosebumps across his skin.Â
This is where he belongs.Â
âIâm sorryââ You hiccup, feeling stupid for instantly crying at the touch of another person. âThis must seem so annoying to you.âÂ
âSorry for what?â He asks gently, finally managing to come back to your reality to hug you and hold you there, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. âIs everything okay?â
He canât bear to let you pull away, so he holds you tighter against him, willing those salty sweet tears to seep through both layers of his clothing to his skin. Somehow, you still manage to make him fall harder for you. Heâs so fucking in love with you. The way you cling to him like this? Youâre everything heâs ever wanted and more.Â
You try to pull back though. Once, twice, and by the third time he finally relents and lets you back away.Â
You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze for just a moment and seeing the concern in his eyes. Pupils still dilated like they always are, but brows knitted together, with a small tilt to his head to offer a silent question.
You turn away from him to hide your face. You feel so seen, so vulnerable, and so stupid for involving him in this.Â
âItâsââ You pause, catching your breath and wiping your cheek as you try to make your way back to your safe space. Your bedroom. âItâs a long story.â You finally mutter out.Â
Jake notes where youâre headed and doesnât want that. He needs his camera to get this, he needs to look back on this moment later, he needs to remember the smell of your tears, the feeling of your pain, the suffocating atmosphere within this apartment.Â
So, he takes a seat on your couch, blatantly ignoring how your voice fades before getting closer again.Â
You look at him when you go back to the living room, confused as to why he doesnât follow you.Â
âYou mentioned not inviting people into your apartment, donât you think it would be best if I stay here for now?â He offers, giving you instant comfort in the way he doesnât try to invade your space. âCome over here.â He continues, patting the couch cushion next to him and glancing to your window for a moment.Â
You watch him continue his own train of thought, shifting to reach for the blinds and open them. âItâs so dark in here, let me see you, love.â He offers again, going back to patting the couch after letting the sun in and making it seem, somehow, more enticing. âPlease?âÂ
You listen, quietly making your way to him and sitting closely against him.Â
âI thought I scared you away because Iâum,â He gazes at you as he speaks, seemingly studying the emotional baggage under your eyes. âtried to kiss you.â He trails off, very much wanting to kiss you again.Â
âThat didnât scare me.â You shake your head, still trying to avoid his eye now that you know the sun is allowing him a true view at how destroyed you must look. âItâs just, weâve been on a few dates now and I like youâ alot.â You say more to yourself than to him, as if youâre confirming internally that you need to explain some things to him before giving him the option to run away. âI feel like Iââ
âI like you.â He interrupts you. âAlot.â He continues, becoming hyper-aware of everything in the universe. He can feel the hairs on his head grow, he can hear the birds a country away, he can taste the sunlight spilling against your watery eyes.Â
You like him, and he likes you.Â
And he takes intense note of the way you dip your head, a small smile curling up on the permanent frown you previously had.Â
âBut Jake,â You say, letting your face fall again. âI think we need to talk about some things before, like, you decide if you really like me.â
Thatâs silly. He knows everything about you already. Heâs in love with you, nothing you could say or do will ever change that. He wishes you could see it, he wishes you knew that he was made for you.Â
âThere is nothing you could say to change my mind,â He says sternly, turning towards you and attempting to make you look at him by grabbing your chin gently between his pointer finger and thumb, âHey, look at me.â He urges you, pleased in the way you do turn to look at him.Â
Heâs stunned. The whites of your eyes are red, your eyelids are puffy, you appear to be so tired, and still you are so beautiful to him.
For a moment, you take note of the way he looks at you and wonder how he could genuinely think that way and show it so blatantly. Are you the one who is acting recklessly here, or is it him? Somehow, it brings you comfort, even if you feel the need to force your eyes away from him.Â
He doesnât let you, and you let him not let you.Â
Your eyes stay on his.Â
âI donât think you realize how much I want to be with you.â He admits blatantly, forcing you to forget your train of thought for a total of three seconds before your eyes really lock onto his. âI donât think youâll ever realize that.â He continues.Â
âJake,â You mutter out, feeling so full of emotion that you werenât quite prepared to accept yet. âPlease,â You mutter again, continuously losing your thoughts, only to gain them back moments later, and then lose them again when his eyes stare through you. âPlease, let me explain something before you say that.âÂ
He pulls his eyes away now, closing them and pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration before breathing out and adjusting his eyes to you again.Â
He nods reluctantly, relaxing against your couch and throwing his arm around the back of you, pulling you to lean against him, where you can instantly hear the way his heart is beating.Â
Itâs beating fast. So fast that itâs almost distracting to you if you think too hard about it. So, you donât. You try to ignore the way it beats against the top of your head just so you can finally give him some insight on why you havenât texted him, on why you didnât let him kiss you, on why youâre so reluctant.Â
âRemember how we were talking about our last relationships?â You finally say, feeling his hand on your shoulder rub little shapes against your shirt in a comforting way.
He hums, continuing to trace his own name against your sleeve as he confirms your words. Because of fucking course he does. He remembers everything about you.Â
âMine was bad.â You pause, willing the emotion to say in your throat. âReally bad.â
âHow bad?â Jake encourages you instantly, already knowing the answer.Â
To be fair though, heâs been waiting to hear the words from your own mouth. Heâs been pretending to not know this entire time, holding in his rage when heâs in front of you, seeing how it affected you, feeling what he did to you through your lack of trust and affection.Â
âI think you could probably guess, considering I didnât let you kiss me.â You try to say without going too deep into it. âConsidering Iâm afraid to let you touch me.â
âBut you did.â He says calmly, running the hand on your shoulder down to your waist to pull you in closer. âYou did let me touch you.âÂ
You recoil internally.Â
âI let you hug me, and I let you keep me warm.â You admit. âI donât know why I let you though. I wasnât afraid when it was with you.âÂ
Jake knows exactly what youâre trying to say to him, and loves that you admit that heâs different. He is different because of you and for you. His stomach flutters at the fact that you know that, and you accept it.
âBecause I wouldnât hurt you.â He continues to echo his words to you, seemingly giving you a final answer to a question in your head that you have yet to find an answer to. âBecause I wouldnât let anyone else hurt you.â
God, the warmth that floods your body is what youâve been wanting. This is why you wanted him to come over. This is why you need him. You canât do this alone, you want him here with you.
âI think, deep down, you know that I wouldnât let anything like that happen to you again.â He continues, talking for you, talking as if he is inside of your head.Â
âI can make an assumption on what he did to you and I donât need to know how far it went, but itâs not going to keep me away from you.â He takes in a sigh, releasing his next words with a breathy chuckle. âI have always wanted to be with you, and I still do.âÂ
He feels the way your breathing evens out as you listen to him.Â
âDid you stop talking to me because of this?â He finally asks, letting the question hang in the air before his hand grips your waist tightly, holding you so close against him that youâre nearly on top of him. âDid you think I wouldnât fight to have you?âÂ
The words are brash and hard to swallow, but thatâs not why.
If you could, you would have gone the rest of your life without telling another person what happened to you. You donât want it to define you, and you donât want Jake to ever feel like he needs to fight for you.Â
You shake your head.
âNo.â You say sternly, now wrapping your own arm around his middle and hugging him as tightly as he does to you. Your head dips below his chest, up against his ribs as you curl yourself into him entirely, preparing to tell him. âI moved here to get away from himââ You start, feeling your body shiver in each spot your ex hurt you from before. âAnd I think he found me.â
You feel it before Jake realizes it himself, but itâs like all of the warmth left his body within seconds. He stiffens, his grip on you loosens, and he trembles for just long enough for it to be noticeable.Â
âWhat?â He says, breathing in through his nose and staring straight ahead, seemingly out of it.Â
âHe texted me a few days ago, mentioning he knows where I work, asking if I want to have lunch with him.â You try to explain. âI freaked out, I called in, and I havenât left my apartment since.â
âHe what?â Jake repeats, now slowly turning to you.
For the first time when you meet his eye, you see his pupils constrict. Theyâre not dilated, in fact, theyâre tiny. Horrifically tiny. And if you look hard enough, itâs almost like theyâre vibrating against the pretty brown color of his iris. The simple act of watching them change like that felt uncanny. You pull back from him, shocked at the expression and not quite recognizing him compared to moments before.Â
And then, he realizes your reaction to him and is immediately pulling himself back to you. He pushes that shocked rage back for now. Just for now. His pupils fall back into their permanent dilated state. His face softens, his body relaxes, and then heâs holding you again.Â
âNo one can hurt you when Iâm here.â He finally whispers out, trying to keep his voice even and warm to calm you down. âSo, he found you? So what?â He continues, letting his confidence take over. âI already told you, he canât touch you.â
For some reason, his initial reaction sinks into the back of your mind as he holds you like this and says things like that. Why? Because you believe him.Â
Somehow, you believe him.Â
âCan you promise me that?â You ask reluctantly, taking everything you can get from Jake at this moment in an attempt to feel safe, to feel better.Â
He nods instantly, and keeps nodding as he shifts his head to look down at you. This prompts you to look up at him, making direct eye contact and holy fuck. It hurts him not to dip down and make you forget that anyone else in this world exists aside from him.Â
From this angle, as you look up to him with a promise swirling around the two of you, he knows heâs got you. Youâve never looked at him like this. There is no hint of doubt, curiosity, confusion, or fear in your eyes as you wait for him to answer.Â
All he can do is stare at you, breath caught in his throat at the constant realization that heâs here. Youâre against him, youâre talking to him, youâre looking at him, youâreâfuck, youâre everything heâs ever wanted or needed in life.Â
âI can promise you that, and more.â He finally whispers out to you, knowing you can feel his words spread across your forehead. âI think Iâd do just about anything for you.âÂ
You nod, keeping eye contact with him for a moment more before lying your head back against him and breathing a big sigh of relief.Â
âI guess Iâm yours then.â You sigh out, feeling comfortable saying the words.Â
And oh.Â
Oh, the fucking joy that rattles every bone in his body. The immense amount of love, adoration, and wonderstruck devotion he feels for you fills his body from the core, he can feel it seep out of him with each breath, each tear that reaches his eye, each goosebump, all of it.Â
Youâre his. You said it. With your own voice, your own words, your own thoughts, right up by his heartbeat, you fucking said it.
âYeah,â He says in his own shaking breath, blinking away the first tear heâs felt in his eye for years, wanting to squeeze you so tight that you go numb. âYou are.â He continues, swooping down just slightly and prompting you to look at him again.
Those dark eyes are dazed, and once again you feel like he sees you as the only other breathing person on this planet with him. ItâsâŠ.so nice.
Silence hangs in the air as you look at each other, seemingly confirming a relationship that feels more uncertain to you than it does to him, but you know youâll try. You want to be his safety too, you want to give him everything you have.Â
And then he says it.Â
âDoes this mean I can kiss you now?âÂ
It hurts you when you hear the way he says it. So uncertain and reluctant to cross a boundary. Youâre trying to confirm his feelings for you, the feelings that you feel so lucky to receive. Youâre trying to make him understand that heâs the only person youâre comfortable with. Heâs the only one youâd ever let kiss you.Â
Youâve made him hold back so much, you can imagine.Â
You nod to him first, watching him almost immediately close in to do just that, but you pull back on instinct.Â
âJustââ You raise a hand in front of him, putting your fingers to his lips to halt him. âLetâs go slow.â You say, already knowing he will accept it. He will go slow for you.Â
âLove, you really just donât get it.â Jake smiles, averting his lips and landing a kiss to your forehead, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his lips for the first time. âI have enough patience for both of us.â
And if only you knew how true that statement is. For him, heâs already been waiting for this moment since before you knew he existed. Despite his small moments of losing control, needing more, he could have waited even longer for this moment with you. All of it is worth it in the end if he gets to hear you call yourself his again.Â
You are his. You have always been his.Â
And you decide at that moment that he is right. Heâs been nothing but patient with you, and has done nothing to make you feel otherwise.Â
A kiss wouldnât hurt, a few kisses wouldnât hurt.Â
So, you lift your head just a bit more, closing your eyes softly and waiting for him to do it. Waiting for him to kiss you, waiting for him toâ
âLittle more,â He encourages you, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. âJust a little closer.âÂ
And you do. The least you can do is close the distance for him, especially after what he just learned about you. He probably wants you to be the one to approach him, he probably doesnât want to cross a boundary, or scare you.Â
For Jake, the way you listen without a hint of hesitation isâŠwell. It scares him. It scares him how every assumption he had about you was right. Given, he knew he would be, but experiencing it right here, right now, is amazing to him.Â
He keeps his eyes open through all of it, seeing your heavy eyes stay closed as you place your lips on his.Â
Itâs so soft. Your lips are plush when theyâre puckered against his own, soft, so fucking soft. He chokes back a relieved sob at finally getting this from you, hiding it with a thick swallow and his hands rushing up to cup both of your cheeks in his hands as he lets himself feel you like this.
Heâs thought about it so much. Just these few seconds of feeling you kiss him already exceeds his expectations. He can feel your eyelashes flutter on the tips of his fingers, and it only makes him tilt his head just a bit to slot his lips against yours in a more comfortable position.
He doesnât move after that, nor do you. Both of you just feel it.Â
Itâs the first time youâve kissed anyone since your ex and even he didnât hold your face against his like this, despite swearing he loved you more than life itself. You can feel the burn at the corner of your eyes, and you breathe out through your nose to try and keep them in.Â
You donât even notice the tears that escape until Jake is tasting them, relishing in what youâve chosen to give to him. Never realizing how good pain can taste until it comes from you, and then he pulls back just slightly.
It was nothing but a long and drawn out act of lying lips against each other. There was no tongue, there were no frantic movements. It was justâŠa first kiss, that lasted what felt like years to you, and only a split second for Jake.
He blinks down at you, noting the beads of tears bunching up in your bottom lashes and uses his thumb to swipe just under your eye. That view alone of seeing his hand do it was enough to confirm for him that he is no longer chasing. You are his, and never will another person get the chance to look at you as closely as he does.Â
âHave I ever told you how pretty you are?â Jake smiles when he says it, feeling your tears nourish his body.Â
You nod, still blinking up at him.Â
âIn passing, on dates. Never like this though.â You admit in a small voice, feeling a bit shy with the way you feel entirely new when heâs with you.Â
âIâll tell you every day.â He says, leaning down to connect his lips with yours once again solely because he canât choose between staring at you or kissing you now.Â
All of his senses are in overdrive. Kissing you, looking at you, sitting on your couch in your apartment, none of it will ever satiate his need for more, more, fucking more of you. And all of it is happening right there, in front of his camera.Â
He can relive this time and time again for the moments he canât be with you.Â
You stay silent after that, alternating between the same long and simple kisses and staring at each other until you can see the sun shift positions in the sky. Sometimes he will say things during this time, sweet and passionate words that only make you feel safer and safer in your own space.
Up until you feel his body shift and his hands pull back to his own body.
You look at him as if he just interrupted a very important moment in your life, and in a way, he did. You could sit with him like this for three hours more if he allowed it, but unfortunately, nature does tend to call.Â
âIâll be backââ He whispers right up against your lips, knowing that youâre already growing familiar with how they feel against you. Smiling when your lips chase him as he stands up. He lends you one more. A quick kiss, one that reminds you that he isnât leaving you. âJust a second.â He adds in an even smaller voice, heading straight for your bathroom.
Youâre still so in awe at how slow the night feels with him, loving every warm second of it. Youâre not thinking about anything but him and the way his lips feel. Hell, you havenât even gotten a full glimpse of him since that first kiss.Â
So, of course you donât notice how he somehow knew which door held your bathroom behind it, or how long he stayed in there. You werenât paying attention at all as you flop back and do your very best not to kick your legs out of happiness at this moment.Â
You finally feel comfortable, even while a threat looms just outside of these walls. You have a boyfriend now, one that appears to be willing to stay beside you through all of it.Â
Youâre happy.Â
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All good things come to an end but at least this time, itâs temporary.Â
The night with Jake felt much needed on both accounts, but it became one sided when your discomfort kicked in. Itâs not that you didnât want him to stay, above all you almost needed him to.Â
He was so willing to stay, you could tell just by looking at him sitting next to you with kissed lips and dazed eyes, far too late in the night to excuse what you eventually made happen. He had to go back home.
Again, itâs not because you didnât want him to stay, itâs because you felt better. You felt so much better that you didnât think even for a second that Jake wouldnât come running back over if you so much as hinted through a text that you needed him. Not to mention, upon your anxieties calming, your rational thoughts took back over and reminded you that this was enough. You donât need him to coddle you more, or to worry for you.Â
Youâre not entirely ready to let a man sleep in your home, despite very much loving the time you spent with him here.Â
After all, you interrupted his day already by asking for him to cater to you. Cater he did, and you wanted to do the same for him. Kissing him one more time with an apologetic look, stating that itâs best if he goes back home for the night.Â
You still remember the look on his face when you walked him to the lobby. Reluctance, confusion, even a bit of panic. He needed another kiss, and another kiss you gave.Â
His shoulders relaxed at that, and you watched him turn on his heel and head back home to presumably sleep without you.Â
And while you slept well that night, thinking of him and how you somehow found a boyfriend amidst all of your fears, Jake was wide awake and reeling from the conversations he shared with you, the kisses, the cuddling, the smell. Fuck, it was so much to face by the time he made it back into his cold and dreary apartment.Â
He doesnât belong in this space, he belongs just across the street with you. But, for your sakeâŠhe will continue the patience he promised you. After all, he could see in your eyes that briefly, you considered letting him stay.Â
And throughout the night, his calm overtakes him as he rethinks, staring down his camera and trying to decide if he should watch it back until you eventually text him after you wake up.Â
He ultimately decides to watch, checking that your lights are off one last time before moving to his PC and plugging in the camera. The first thing he does is fast forward to your first kiss, and then the second, third, fourthâŠ
He rewinds it to watch again, almost feeling that youâre still against him when he presses play a bit too far back in the footage.Â
You pull away from him in that moment and suddenly he remembers why.
Before the blissful moments he spent with you, there was a moment of intense and uncontrollable rage within him. When you told him the less-than-detailed story of what your ex did to you, he was expecting it. He knew how to act surprised, he knew how to comfort you, he knew how to make you understand that your past wouldnât scare him away.
What he wasnât prepared for was to find out that your fears that he read in your journal were very real. Learning that your ex texted you and that he knew where you were was one thing, but hearing your voice crack upon telling him that he wants to meet with you is another.Â
Jake couldnât have prepared a reaction for that even if he tried. Not one that wouldnât have scared you, at least. And now, this night of reliving the hours in which it took for him to make you his girlfriend once and for all turned into a night of internet sleuthing.Â
Finding the man on social media canât be that hard. All he had to do was search your name to find your family, which he has done probably a thousand times by now. He knew that within the public posts of your family, this guy had to have been associated somewhere.Â
And after three hours of finding nothing, a little hint of who this man is reveals itself.Â
So far into his searches, intense googling, and even yearbook studying, he finds an older facebook account of your mother and he slaps himself in the forehead for not double checking the profiles sooner, he could have saved at least two hours if he had found this earlier.Â
She must have made a new account after the divorce that she clearly had and shared with the world. It only takes a single scroll with his mouse wheel to find an image of her, another woman, you, andâŠthat man.Â
Jake sits and stares at the old image, noting that itâs over four years old. Indicating that you must have been with this guy for a long time. You look happy in the photo, with his arm snaked around your waist and gripping you tight.
Jake, above anyone else, knows that grip heâs got on you. Itâs the same one he had on you just hours ago but he tries not to think too hard, prying his eyes away from a happy you with that piece of shit. If he ruminates on this image of you with another man, he very well may resent you for ever letting another man be with you in the first place.
Instead, he has to force his eyes from the younger college version of you and look at the reactions of the photo.Â
Of course your mother is the type to have hundreds and hundreds of friends, most that she doesnât even know in real life surely. The image has seventy three likes, and he goes through each and every single one until he finally recognizes the account of the very man in that photo, holding you, as if itâs his rightful place beside you.
God, safety concerns be damned. He cannot believe that your mother never deleted this account. Your ex probably looks at this photo all the time, he probably gets off on it too. Like he must think that because he had you once, he could win you over again. No. Â Jake will see blood before he ever lets that happen.Â
Jake rolls his eyes, giving himself a mental note to find a way to tell you that your mother should really watch her online presence if her own daughterâs safety is in danger, and then he continues his snooping on your ex.
One simple google of his name and city and Jakeâs got a workplace address. Come Monday morning, youâll never have to worry about this guy again.
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Every. single. day.Â
Every day you have texted him since the night he left your apartment, and every day he hopes that you force him to be patient with you. Why? Because for the first time, he needs to stay distant for now.Â
He kept his promise. Maybe he even overdid it a little bit.Â
Given, he knows youâd probably be happy in knowing what happened, he just thinks it would be best not to tell you about it. For now, at least, he doesnât want you to see the mark above his eye because if you find out what happened, perhaps youâd stop needing him for comfort. Maybe youâd even break up with him since youâd no longer need him.Â
Heâs going to ensure that you are safe, and heâs going to keep you.Â
Unfortunately, Jake is awful at telling you no, awful at living up to his patience, and fucking horrible at staying away from you. When you text him this morning, just two days after he met with your ex, itâs not your usual greeting.Â
You: they need me to go to the office todayâŠ
God, has he no shame? No. He doesnât. Never in his life could he even imagine being ashamed to instantly come at your beck and call. Though you have nothing to be afraid of anymore.Â
Jake: Iâll walk you there.Â
You smile at his immediate act of protection of you.Â
You: Itâs okay, my manager is already on her way to pick me up. she knows about everything so iâm still safe!
He pauses, trying to look at the bright side of not seeing you. Heâs not in fear of your safety like you are, because he definitely took care of the matter, butâŠunder the guise of you still needing it, he doesnât like that youâre letting someone else protect you on your trip to work.Â
Jake: oh
You stare at your phone, feeling bad that you haven't offered him much since he was last at your apartment. You donât want him to think youâre avoiding him again, or to think that you donât want to see him butâŠyour manager has a car. If you were to let him walk you to work, youâd just be paranoid of being on the street.Â
Youâd just feel bad for him to have to walk back home alone. And youâd feel even worse knowing heâd make the same trip to walk you back home.Â
You: i donât want to have to walk to work, even if I know youâd be there with me. Itâs just a huge inconvenience for you and a big safety concern for meâŠ
He reads your text and scoffs. Do you still not understand that itâs what he lives for? He would walk across the fucking country if you so much as suggested there was a leaf on the ground that you wanted to look at. Itâs not an inconvenience.Â
The inconvenience is you giving someone else the right to what he is supposed to be doing for you.Â
Jake: itâs ok love, just text me when you get there safe
You pause, unable to shake the feeling of guilt thatâs threatening your brain right now. It feels awkward, it feels weird. Youâre more than aware to know that he probably wants to prove something to you, especially with such a new relationship but you canât help but feel like youâre the only person who needs to prove something.Â
You need his protection, but you donât want to exhaust him. That is your biggest fear, even over the idea of your ex finding you. The idea of being wanted by someone you hate hurts far less than the idea of being unwanted by the man who is seemingly upset with you over not getting to walk you to work.
So, youâll prove to him that this isnât because he isnât capable of protecting you. Youâll prove to him that you do want to see him.Â
You: Can I see you after i get home? I miss you.
His reactions are always so immediate as he slams his phone against his chest, sighing out of relief that you want to see him tonight. So what if he has a blatant and obvious bruise on his face? He will proudly present it to you, with a lie of course, solely because he knows itâs proof that he would do anything for you.Â
Jake: I miss you too :) just tell me when sheâs bringing you back to me and iâll be waiting in the lobby for you.Â
For some reason, those little typed words of âbringing you back to meâ hits you hard in the chest. It makes you feel warm, happy even, as you head out of your apartment and straight for your managerâs car.
Sure, you might not be walking to work when they need you to come in for a while, but youâll sure as hell be certain to make it up to Jake every single time. You can practically feel his excitement through his quickly sent texts, and you canât help but thrive off of it.Â
Now, even as youâre worried that youâll be at work, in a place where he can find you, you feel excited. Youâre looking forward to getting to go back home, and looking forward to hugging Jake, and talking to him, and seeing his pretty face.Â
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 You donât recall your work days going by this slowly, as you fiddle around your desk wondering why they called you here today in the first place. âFor a meetingâ Your manager had said. Well thatâs all fine and dandy if it werenât for the fact that the meeting isnât scheduled until four thirty in the afternoon, the end of the fucking day.Â
You could have worked from home and just came in for the meeting if that was the case, but youâre already here and mostly just annoyed that you had to come at all.
You scroll your phone, do some paperwork, scroll some more, more paperwork, and then, just as you open your messages so you can complain to Jake about how stupid this work day is, you pause.
Suddenly, youâre hyper aware of everything and everyone around you, and all you can do is sit at your desk and pretend that you donât see the man across the large room filled with fifty other cubicles, eyes scanning for you.Â
The only thing you know how to do is drop to the floor upon seeing that familiar smile. Youâre not ashamed when you text your manager, telling her who security just led to your floor. Youâre even less ashamed in the way you quickly rush to the back, around a corner, and out the fire escape.
You came to work today to miss not one meeting, but two, apparently. The only reason you even feel safe enough to power-walk back to your apartment is because you know exactly where your stupid handsome ex is, and you know exactly why heâs there.
Heâs not following you right now, youâre sure of it. You told your manager exactly who he was before, and she knows exactly where he is now. Surely theyâre distracting him, because your manager, bless her, already texted you that she would take care of it and that you should get home quickly.
Insane scenario, really. You should have just called the police, but itâs not like he fucking did anything within these city limits outside of take an elevator to your floor.Â
God, how did he even know you were going to be at work today?Â
And as you rush into your apartment building, not even knowing how long or how short it took you to get there, you feel your phone vibrate before you even get in the buildingâs front door.
Jake: why are you home so early, and why did you walk alone?Â
Instantly you call him, not thinking even for a second that itâs strange that he saw you come in. If anything, it was probably just a coincidence. He just happened to look outside and you just happened to be panic-walking inside.Â
âCome over.â You say, out of breath into the speaker.Â
Jake doesnât even respond, he just hangs up and is immediately rushing to your building as quickly as his feet can carry him, for the first time unsure of whatâs going on with you.Â
He thinks this may actually be his record time of getting to you even, considering youâre walking up to your door as soon as he steps out of the elevator and rushing up to you.
âWhatâs wrong!?â You hear his panicked voice from behind you as you unlock your door, stepping inside and grabbing him by the shirt, not even looking at him before pulling him inside.Â
âI missed you.â You say, desperate to feel safe again and running entirely on adrenaline as you lift up and kiss him harder than you ever have before.
Jake freezes, feeling your grip on his shirt and your hardened pucker against his lips. He doesnât relax into it at all, in fact, the way you just grabbed him runs straight between his legs and all he can do is grab your shirt back, pulling you up more, kissing you twice as hard.Â
He knew you could be forceful, and somehow this is the last thing he was expecting. Did you rush home alone and call him with that desperate voice because you needed him? Did you finally give in? Does he mean this much to you already?
There are no words in this breathless moment as you let yourself spiral into a void with Jake. Feeling only safe when heâs with you, on you, holding you, touching you. You really should have let him walk you to work. You should have let him stay with you there, you shouldnât ever let him leave your side.Â
You only feel calm when heâs with you, and god you almost hope your ex followed you here so that he can walk in and find you kissing someone else. Someone better.
âWhat happened?â Jake groans out his words between the harsh kisses that are quickly turning heated. Your grip on his shirt only tightens, and you stumble back to pull him with you.Â
You donât want to talk, you donât want to explain, you just want toâŠdo this. You need him to give you that brain fog that makes you forget about anything else.Â
And itâs the first time heâs ever felt your tongue. So desperate to part his lips, so frantic, so sweet. The new feeling is more than he ever could have imagined, he feels like heâs almost forgotten how to kiss you back at this point. He lets you do all of the work right now, tasting inside of his mouth and fluttering your lashes against his cheek bone when you skew your head just a little bit to kiss him deeper.Â
Heâs feeling everything at once, and the fact that heâs finally back in your apartment only makes this worse for him. Or maybe, better? He isnât sure, but what he does know is that if you keep doing this, he wonât be able to hold back. How could he? Youâre pulling him, nearly tripping over your own feet just to pull him deeper into the roomâ right there in front of that same fucking window.Â
Your tight grip on his shirt warms him along with knowing this is being recorded, right up from the brief amount of cold air that hit him on his run over. It was freezing, and he left without even throwing on his hoodie. Which is nice and detrimental to his health. Itâs like youâre closer than youâve ever been to him without two layers of clothing on, just this shirt keeping you from gripping his skin instead.Â
And he would let you, he would let you grip and claw through his chest to pull him further into your space. If you missed him so much, perhaps he wouldnât need to hold back. Your kisses are bruising, and the little breaths you take with each tilt to your head drives his heart to tremble in his chest, heâs sure you may not want him to hold it in any longer.Â
Heâs tasting you right now and only because youâre tasting him first.Â
Safe to say, heâs in shock and entirely turned on right now with the way you try to overpower him. He lets you. Yes, yes, yes. Why wouldnât he? Youâre not being shy and your defenses are entirely down for him.Â
You continue to stumble back with him, up until your legs hit your couch and he very nearly falls on top of you, but instead he holds steady, watching you fall from the close proximity against his lips with a huff after you hit the soft cushions.
He felt his shirt slip from your fingers in the descent and can do nothing but look at you in pure awe. You look like you want him right now, you look up at him the same way he looks at you.
Your pupils are dilated, your chest is heaving, and youâre just staring up at him with each breath.Â
âJake?â You mutter in a slight whisper and furrow your brows at your findings upon finally looking at him. In your rush to kiss him and to have him as close to you as possible, you nearly missed it.Â
You reach a hand out and see him immediately take it, your gaze still trained on the bruise above his eye. You pull him to you instantly, landing your lips just below his right brow. âWhy is there a bruise?â
He pauses to feel your breath hit his brow, entirely forgetting that he is a human being with flesh that can be marked by another. Forgetting that pain exists, solely because the kiss you just landed against that swollen spot felt good. So good.
âAhââ He chuckles slyly, feeling you repeatedly kiss the area, bruising it more by the force behind your lips. âDropped my phone on my face a few nights ago while texting you.âÂ
You smile against it, finding the image endearing before pulling back and taking note of the way he hovers above you, not letting a single part of his body touch you without you prompting it.Â
âYou should be more careful,â You smile, pulling him down more, until he is forced to use his arms on the back of your couch to steady himself. âStay like this.âÂ
He notes how you look so small under him, and he would want nothing more than to stay like this for you.Â
âOn top of you?â He asks gently, allowing his hungry eyes to fall to a half-lidded stare, he tilts his head and inches back to your lips as he says it, entirely drunk on the image of you against the couch and totally barred from the outside world by his body.
âYeah,â You sigh at how pretty he is close up, dark eyes taking you in with that deep stare. âFeels like nothing could ever get to me if youâre like this.âÂ
He nods confirmation.Â
âYou were scared of being alone today, werenât you?â He asks gently, pulling back from the almost-kiss and now adjusting you to lay down on your couch, all so he can more comfortably fulfill the request you just asked of him. âDonât go anywhere without me again, and I'll stay like this for as long as you need me to.âÂ
You stare up at him and his words as he crawls onto the couch with you, over you. He nudges himself between your legs and only now do you understand what it must feel like to want someone to love. You never imagined youâd let a man be with you like this again, and yet thereâs so much truth in his facial expression after he said those words. You canât help but feel like you were stupid to ever think you could do any of this alone.Â
You never could do it alone to begin with.
âI wonât,â You confirm for him, lifting your hand to move a strand of hair that hangs over that darkened bruise above his eye. âSo, stay like this.â
And he does, eyes lost as they glance at every part of your face, only closing his eyes to feel your fingers in his hair for that short moment. He lets out a long sigh, trying to keep his lower half from losing control, both understanding and not comprehending that heâs on top of you right now.Â
Only now, with his mind racing and skin reacting does he dip back down.
âAlright.â He whispers just before the kiss, intentionally relaxing his lower half and allowing you to feel exactly what youâre doing to him.Â
He feels you shift when you feel it, but he doesnât move. Instead, he presses forward a bit more with his hips, making sure you feel his love for you in its entirety.Â
And when your hands find their way into his hair and you hum against his tongue, thatâs when he pulls back.
âSorry,â He admits, looking away from you. âDidnât know you were going to justâ grab me like that and kiss me.â
All you can do is smile at him, refusing to question why you donât recoil at the idea of a man being turned on. If anything, you give in to the feeling of pleasure yourself. Especially after so long of not only denying it to yourself, but fearing it.
And the two of you just lay there, shifting from time to time to get more comfortable and to ease numb limbs. Just kissing. Just making out.Â
Hot, wet, warm kissing. To the point of being out of breath but not yet pulling back. Never wanting to be the first one to break the contact, but always wanting to be the first to dip back in. You feel his excitement throughout all of it, and you feel his patience as well.
He doesnât even chase when your body arches into his intense kisses, he doesnât ask for more, and ultimately, it doesnât matter that your ex showed up at your workplace today. Because youâve got Jake right here, on you, shielding you, holding you.Â
No one can get to you right now.Â
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Jake holds you as you sleep, as tight as he can manage without waking you up. Thinking in his head over and over again about how pretty you are, how perfect you are, how utterly infatuated with you he is.Â
He wasnât expecting you to fall asleep like that, gentle fingers scratching the back of his neck and holding him just as tightly. Whispering to him that you donât want him to leave this time.
Muttering that you want him to stay.Â
He remembers so well how pretty your half-asleep voice sounded, with your half-asleep eyes, and half-asleep legs tangled in his own.
He didnât sleep.Â
No, no. He couldnât have. He didnât want to miss a single breath or twitch of your brow as you dreamt. And he really didnât miss a single one either.
The sun is long gone in the sky by the time his own heavy eyes force him to blink. Itâs so dark in the room but you brighten it up for him just fine, with that pretty breath and sleeping face. His gaze falls upon the window as he smiles, hugging you even closer to him just to feel you nuzzle your nose up and against his neck.
He has yet to set foot into your bedroom since the first time heâs been here but that doesnât bother him. You both fit perfectly on this couch. Forced proximity really lives up to its name in this city, apparently. You havenât ever been without him, and you never will be.Â
Heâs more than delighted toâ
His thoughts shake the same way your phone does. A vibration sending his mind into a spiral at who could possibly be texting you at this hour if not him.Â
The phone lights up the room and heâs very careful to reach for it, smiling when your sleepy brain tells you that heâs reaching over you to hug you closer again, not to grab at your phone that you left forgotten on the table.
Heâs so quiet, so careful.Â
The screen lights up his face, causing his dry eyes to water until they adjust to the notification.Â
A text message.
From an unknown number.Â
His eyes fall to you as he tries to remember the patterns of numbers youâve typed into your phone, only to fail a total of three times before gently shaking you.Â
âLove,â He whispers, lying his lips against your forehead. âWhatâs your passcode?â
âHmm?â You mumble against him, his shirt bunched up against your own lips.Â
âYour passcode,â He repeats in a more gentle voice, trying to keep from waking you entirely. âI forgot my phone at home, and I want to set an alarm.âÂ
Your sleepy brain barely registers his words, or the fact that heâs lying. You felt his phone in his pocket when he was lying on top of you all night.Â
âAh,â You sigh out, clearing the sleep from your throat as you whisper out the numbers to him, slurring out the last one as you fall right back into your deep slumberÂ
Jake smiles, dumbfounded yet again by how adorable you are for him.Â
Now, with one hand unlocking your phone and the other tracing his name, once again, onto the fabric of your back, he swipes to your messages.
Rage.
Unknown number: so who is the new guy
Unknown number: get me banned from your work then you send him? fought like a bitch
Unknown number: iâll be seeing you soon babe
Empty threats, he knows they have to be. Blatant lies and empty fucking threats. This idiot canât do shit considering how battered he managed to leave him.Â
He thinks hard about the pain against his knuckles and even harder about how you didnât note that theyâre just as bruised as his eye. Thankfully, you were too enveloped in kissing him to take note of his bruised hands, or the lie about dropping his phone.Â
Jake easily deletes the texts and blocks the number, understanding that this little problem of yours is his problem to solve. And the worst part is that he knows exactly why this man wants you back. He hates that he understands the thought process from the root, knowing that if he, himself, couldnât have you, heâd have to take desperate measures too. As if he hasnât already.Â
Heâs similar to your ex, who was far more handsome with blood on his face, and you can never know that. As similar as he is, mirroring the love and abundant weakness he has for you, he would never. fucking. hurt. you. Infact, Jake would set himself aflame before even imagining you crying for him to leave you alone.Â
Why would he set himself up for you to fear him? Your ex is a royally vacuous man, at least Jake has the smarts to treat you well.Â
Still, he gets it.Â
Who wouldnât want you all to themself anyway?Â
Youâre Jakeâs though. You belong to him and only him, you always have, and thatâs the only reason, he thinks, that youâre in this mess. Had you not tried to love someone before him, perhaps you wouldnât have that little journal filled to the brim with night terrors and body shakes.Â
And as he ruminates on whether or not he should pay your ex another visit, this time without holding back, he searches the rest of your messages simply because he is entitled to it.Â
Every text you have is from your family and him. Good.Â
Your photos.Â
Most of you and your family, one specific photo of you. Deep within your camera roll, pressing your tits together, hand grabbing one of them, panties sitting prettily on your hips.Â
Who did you send that to? Itâs old, your hair is different, but heâd like to hope it wasnât to the man whose blood heâs currently craving. Still, he feels discomfort in knowing this photo was taken long before he loved you, and long before you loved him. Meaning, whether it was to your ex or not, it wasnât for him.
His length stirs immediately still, so turned on by the image of you, the feeling of you currently against him, and the internal future promise to feel your exâs teeth break against his fists. All of it is making his dick ache, as he chews the inside of his bottom lip and easily sends the nude to himself before deleting it from your phone forever. Heâd better be the last to see this image of you, and the last to ever feel you hug against him like this. Then, he removes the sent message from your phone to hide the traces of it entirely.
You shift against him at this moment and he pulls back slightly to look at you, quickly closing out your apps, locking your phone, and tossing it to the floor. There, he wraps both arms around you, hugging you so tightly that you do wake up this time.Â
âYouâre so cute,â Jake mumbles against the top of your head. âWake up so I can kiss you.â
You smile against him, shifting your head up and finding his lips within the dark room. Itâs soft at first, and you assume heâs going to pull back, satisfied with it, but he doesnât.Â
Itâs a quick movement, one that causes your sleepy groan to come out as a surprised yelp. He easily moves on top of you again, using his knees to spread your legs so he can lay between them, and his fingers locking into yours, pressing them into the cushion above your head.Â
âSorry,â He pouts, kissing the corner of your mouth. âSorry, sorry.â He continues, kissing down to your jaw, and just below your ear. âIâve been so turned on all day, please.â
You chuckle, feeling the tickle of his plush bottom lip meeting the sensitive pulse point of your neck. Pleased with how much he wants you, and even more pleased that you kind ofâŠwant this too. But, youâre not entirely ready. Even in this perfect atmosphere with the perfect man. Room shielded entirely by night, warm lips kissing you, strong arms holding youâŠ
Youâre still not ready.Â
âMm, Jake.â You hum, catching his attention and feeling him move his head back to look at you. âNot yet.â
And then you hear him let out a nervous chuckle, a sigh, and a whisper.Â
âAlright, baby.â He pouts again.Â
He moves back to your side and hugs you against him, trying not to seem as disappointed as he really is right now before you hear him speak again. You barely hear it, and you barely comprehend it within the comfort of his hug, but you do think youâll remember it.Â
âThen when?âÂ
Even as you fall back to sleep, you think about it. The fact that heâs already been so patient with you and that you knew it would run out eventually. Youâll lose him at this rate, and these soft arms vowing to protect you.
If anything, Jake has given you everything and youâve given him nothing. If he finds out that youâve already spotted your ex at work, he might really run away knowing that no matter what he does, you may never be ready to give him intimacy on a deeper level as long as said ex is around.
You felt how much he wanted you today right up against you. If you were any other woman, you wouldnât have been able to pretend it wasnât there. You would have touched him, you would have given yourself to him.Â
And god, you want him so badly at the same time. The only thing holding you back is the fear of it hurting. The fear of regression, of dissociation.Â
Yet, still, your dream state forces you to promise. Youâll be everything that Jake needs you to be in time, and he will be the only person able to teach you how to love again, the only man that will touch you in a way that feels good.
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part two
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