#Jack’s looking a little pale isn’t he?

[atomi-cat]

Neopets Paintbrush Challenge- Jack Skellington

Brushes used:

Ghost brush

[machveil]

I’ve been cursed by visions of König so I'll write them for you🎀✨

CW: fleshlight (it’s not specifically said in the fic, but you know the ones that are, like, basically a torso and the upper thighs? that’s the vision), masturbation, heavy pinning, size difference, fingering and oral (toy!receiving), overstimulation, nasty man /affectionate

König presents himself as someone who demands respect, a Colonel, a man who gets his hands dirty and towers over others. it’s his job, his height and build doing nothing to ease fellow soldiers - intimidating, he could snap someone in half like a toothpick if he really wanted to. cold, pale eyes that strike fear into others. maybe that’s why you make him freeze up, unperturbed by his stature and rank. you wave when you see him, smile when you talk to him. he knows you respect him, but outwardly you treat him like an old friend. Horangi’s no better, but he doesn’t fully relax around König til they’re off duty, unlike you

it eats at him, he doesn’t look into ‘why’ for months, how you freely touch him absentmindedly, how you make his chest tighten up. he doesn’t understand why his heart sinks when you talk to others, he doesn’t understand why his stomach twists when you talk to him. you’re a teammate, a colleague he trusts, it’s natural for his mind to wander to you. he thinks about Horangi when he passes bars, thinks about how he’d wage bets on whatever game is playing on the dingy screen tucked between liquor shelves. he thinks about Nikto when a stray cat dips into an alley, scruffy and tough like his friend. he thinks about you while thrusting into a stupid fleshlight, gripping it a little too hard as a mixture of his pre and lube drools out of the toy

legs jerking a little when he sinks his cock fully into it, stilling as he breathes heavily. it’s comically small in his hands, eyes glued to where it envelopes him. would you look small like this? he knows you’d be better, bites his lip as he rolls his hips. you’d be warm, searing him from the inside out, comfortable in his hold. eyes fluttering shut, he can barely keep himself together, embarrassment creeping up his throat when he cums after a couple thrusts. he barely has to imagine you before spilling into the toy, moaning through the overestimation as he keeps bucking his hips. he barely got to make you feel good, so he tries again, a lewd mixture of thick white slick making a ring around his cock. he wouldn’t want to leave you unsatisfied, he knows he can do it

the whine that escapes him when he slips out the toy is pitiful, a sob leaving him as he slips two fingers into the fleshlight. he can do it, he promises he can make you cum— brain turning to mush as pumps them, quick movements that coat his hand. you’d make pretty nosies for him, for now he’ll settle for the squelching of lube and cum, frantically working the little hole. would you squeeze around him? he wishes this damn thing could, mind hazy as he sobs out a choked groan. would his fingers not be enough? the thought makes him anxious, suddenly pulling his fingers out. he can eat you out, readjusting himself to lay down, one hand working himself to another orgasm while his other holds the toy. he doesn’t care about his chin and nose getting wet, dumbly mouthing at the fleshlight

he doesn’t mind the mix of lube, cum, and spit, he figures it wouldn’t be different than how he’d treat you. soft murmured praise leaving him for being so good, crooked nose bumping against the toy. you’d tug at his hair, wouldn’t you? watch him lick and suck and worship your body? he can imagine it, feel the phantom touch of your legs over his shoulders, hand sloppily jacking himself off. would you keep up with him? let him manhandle you in bed, toy with you and make you cry out? suddenly he’s tensing up, hips jerking helplessly as he ruins his bedsheets, feet digging into the mattress as he gasps against his toy— against you. it’s normal to think about you, isn’t it? how he imagines you shushing him, petting his hair as buries his face between your thighs, soft little breaths leaving him

he was good, wasn’t he?

[saquesha13]

!!Tattoo artist Eddie!!

Steve never imagined himself as a tattoo kind of guy. But back in ‘85 after the mall fire, he ended up getting a small matching tattoo with Robin. Just a simple little ice cream cone on his inner wrist - Robin’s idea really. Something about almost burning to death together in a fire really seemed fitting for matching permeant ink on their skin.

It opened Steve’s eyes, changed his perspective, widened his horizons if you will on the whole idea of a tattoo.

Even just a dumb ass ice cream cone that bystanders see on his wrist, that they probably assume means jack shit but in reality it means the whole world to Steve - is pretty fucking cool.

So, Steve hears about this really talented tattoo artist in Chicago and knew he wanted this guy to do his next piece.

The shop is smaller than Steve expected, smack dead in the center of the city and Steve arrived 30 minuets early to his appointment because he was pretty damn nervous.

This tattoo is not as… innocent as his matching ice cream cone with Robbie’s. It isn’t as meaningful either…

Well, okay, it still has meaning, but only to Steve. He isn’t the kind of guy to get a tattoo just because. Tattoos are expensive first of all, and he doesn’t want his entire body covered in ink. That just isn’t his style. But a peek of a tattoo here and there? Yeah, that’s not bad, that what El would call bitchin’.

“Steve? Eddie is ready for you.” The petite blonde at the front desk smiled, her warm bubbly aurora feeling so oddly displaced in a shop like this, so far from what Steve was expecting.

“Ah, okay, thanks uh…”

“Chrissy.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes before pushing back the black beaded curtain leading to the back room.

“Thank you, Chrissy.” Steve hoped this girl couldn’t see just now nervous he was as he ducked between the beads. He was just starting to let his eyes roam around the gothic decor of the room when the hottest fucking man Steve has ever seen walks in, taking thick chunky rings off his pale fingers and putting them in the pocket of his skin tight black jeans.

Once his rings are safely put away, he tugs the thick dark curls off of his shoulders and tied it up on his head in a knot, some strands poke out framing his face.

“Steve, right?” The sexy man speaks, apparently. His deep voice sounded like honey and pure bliss to Steve’s hears. A smile stretches across his lips making the dimples - of fucking course he has dimples - poke out on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve apparently broke at the sight of this man, because seriously who the hell does this guy think he is coming in looking like THAT?! His voice cracked when he tried to speak making his cheeks turn rosey shade of pink and he had to clear his throat before properly speaking.

“U-Uh, yeah, me is Steve. I-I mean, I am Steve.” He would smack his own forehead with his hand if Eddie wasn’t busy holding it, giving him a nice firm handshake. Steve’s face was burning.

Scratch smacking face, Steve wishes he could just bash his head in on the brick decorative wall in the corner. Put him out of his misery. He’s doing a mighty fine job at humiliating himself already.

“This your first time?” Eddie smirked, his voice somehow dropping lower than it was before.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, clearly confused, no lights on in his brain as his eyes darted between Eddie’s huge brown eyes to the tattoo peaking out under the v-neck of his black long sleeve shirt. God he wished he could see what that tattoo actually was, maybe lick it.

“Your first time getting a tattoo.” Eddie clarified, the smirk never leaving his face as he finally let go of Steve’s sweaty palm.

“Oh, no actually. I’ve had - “ Steve cleared his throat again, trying his dammed hardest to chill the fuck down. “Had got another tattoo before this one.”

“So, you’re not a virgin then?” Eddie winked as he slid on his rubber gloves, covering up the black inked tattoos on his broad hands that Steve suddenly wished he looked at before they were gone from his sight. Then he realized what Eddie just said and his head snapped up to the playful look on Eddie’s face.

Shit. Is Eddie actually flirting with him? Is this how Eddie speaks to all of his clients? Or has Steve finally lost his marbles?

“Nope, defiantly not a virgin.” Steve watched Eddie’s movements closely as he finalized setting up his supplies, grabbing the stencil of Steve’s tattoo. “Not a virgin with tattoos either.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, something gleaming in his dark eyes that makes Steve’s levi’s suddenly feel a little too tight. The grin on Eddie’s face is down right sinful. “Well, Steve, as long as the sketch looks good to you and you are still good with the placement, we can get started.”

Steve leans over and looks down at Eddie’s sketch of what he had requested sitting in Eddie’s gloved hands. Just looking at the two words, at the way Eddie wrote the font knowing it was his work that will be forever on Steve’s body has Steve’s blush refusing to go away.

“Uh, cool. Okay. Yeah it looks good, really good.” Steve had to lean over Eddie’s shoulder to fully see the entire page, not that it was really necessary.

“Lay down on the bed, on your stomach.” Eddie gestured with his chin to the left, where the tattooing bed was. “Make sure you get those jeans off first,” Eddie huffed out a laugh as Steve was about to settle down on his belly, his face turning beat red in embarrassment feeling idiotic.

“You do want your ass tattooed still, right?” Eddie asked, his voice smug at the flustered look on Steve’s face.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. That is why I am here.” Steve scoffed, wondering why the hell he is blushing like a teenage girl in this sexy ass man’s presence. Usually Steve is the one making people blush, not the other way around.

“I don’t usually undress my clients… but I would for you.” Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip, making damn sure that Steve’s face stayed tomato red as Steve swore he saw Eddie look at him from head to toe.

He had to take a deep breath to get his damn body to cooperate downstairs before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging down his fly so he can scoot the denim and his grey briefs down over the curve of his ass leaving them just barley covering his junk in the front and staying on his legs.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he climbed on the bed on his stomach, not trusting his voice whatsoever as his eyes said more than enough, keeping them planted on Eddie’s.

“This good?” He rested his chin on his hands, his entire bare ass out in the open, wondering why the hell Jonathan Byers failed to mention how damn hot his favorite tattoo artist was.

Eddie for once seemed a little lost for words. He doesn’t stay in the room when his clients undress, it’s unprofessional. He never ever offers to take their clothes off for them either. But for some reason his feet stopped working the second Steve’s fingers went to unbutton his jeans.

“Absolutely perfect, pretty boy.” Eddie damn near purred, wondering how he lucked out, to be the one to tattoo this angels ass. Getting fucking payed to touch his ass. To tattoo the words Bite Me on his juicy round cheeks.

It isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo tattooing someone’s butt cheeks. He’s done almost every body part at this point in his tattooing career. But fuck, no client has ever affected him, not like this.

“Skins sensitive here.” Eddie licked his lips as he stepped close to the bed, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could really feel Steve as he ran his fingers over the exposed skin before putting the shaving cream along his ass, shaving the light colored peach fuzz right off his literal peach. “Need numbing cream, sweetheart?”

“No. Don’t need numbing cream. Wanna feel it.” Steve hummed, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. Steve’s red face has faded to pink, finally calming down a bit trying to sit still so he isn’t wiggling his ass in Eddie’s face - not that he thinks Eddie would really mind too much if he did.

Eddie muttered something under his breath, his hands stilling over his ass from where he was wiping the shaving cream away with surprisingly soft hands.

It’s funny, Steve came in set on only getting one tattoo. But as he laid here on the bed, the tattoo gun buzzing as the needles push against his ass, all he can think about is coming back, getting more ink on his body, all over his tan skin as an excuse to come back and see Eddie.

To come back and get Eddie’s hands on him.

But when his appointment was over - much sooner than Steve would have liked - turns out he didn’t need to come back here.

Because Eddie invited him to go home with him.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Helllooo to one of the most amazing writer I know. I was wondering if you could write some hcs on everyone .Them going to the beach and how they would act :D

Seaswept Sands (All x MC/Reader - Beach HCs)

P A P S I C U M. >:}

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Seaswept: seaswept (not comparable) Located on the sea quotations.

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This motherfucker hates the beach with a vehemence. He also hates sunscreen, but will still apply it to remain sexily pale.

It’s canon that Sol dislikes the ocean, so the only reason he’d be even remotely close to the beach is because of you.

He probably doesn’t even like sand. He’d rather simply just walk around the beach area. 

If you’re more of a beach lover, he’ll be reluctant to join you in the sand, and beg you to not make him go into the water.

Will wear all black and tie his hair up into a messy bun.

If you’re more of a rock investigator (irl me needs a medal for that tbh), he’s gonna avoid rock pools, mostly due to the fact he resents crabs.

Anything that can crawl on him gives him an ick (except if it’s you).

Probably will just find a cafe and order coffees for both of you, especially if you’re gonna swim. You’ll need something to help warm you up, after all.

Most likely just going to serve as a photographer, totally will not use said photos to jack off to you later so he can paint you later <3.

Will be tempted to murder the seagulls. Probably will wring at least one if it tries harassing him tbh- (you won’t find out dw).

Will supervise the bags and all of your belongings.

Also will drive you there and back. Will also prep the car with tons of towels so A. the car won’t get wet (only you’re allowed to be teehee) and B. so you’re not gonna freeze to death.

Hyugo would probably wear shark fins on his sides just to fuck with people.

He’s got extremely white teeth and (I headcanon) a very creepy grin for when he’s murdering intimidating people. So he’d 110% just very slowly emerge from the depths of the water (Pennywise-style) and scare off all the little kids in the vicinity.

His hair is everywhere around his face, and when he’s underwater it looks like a blue halo. One that you yank on when he’s unaware (and above water for fucks’ sake) to try and get him to yelp. (he may or may not accidentally moan but that’s a whole other story). Don’t worry he bites your ankle underwater in revenge.

He probably doesn’t care at all about what swimmers he wears, hell even Baby Shark merch will work for him. He will proudly display it as well. (balls of steel much??)

This guy hooves ice cream like it’s his last day alive. Maybe even iced coffee. He must consume sugar or he will implode.

Is gonna splash you. You both are gonna have water fights the entire time you’re there, until both of you are sopping wet and dripping with ocean water (and fish piss).

Mans will probably ask you to get piggybacked in the water, which tbf you attempt to, then he drags you both underwater.

Will forget to take photos. You’re gonna have to be responsible for that I’m afraid.

Will drive y’all there and back, blaring J-Pop on the radio and grinning maniacally. Be concerned.

This girl is going to be strutting into any beach, or any public place, looking the most glamorous of all.

Will wear a two-piece pink skort and bikini set 110%, will wear a translucent blouse over the top.

This girl will judge everyone else’s bikinis and swimmers more than actually doing something.

Although she isn’t opposed to going in the water, unless it’s cold – I headcanon Brittney hates the cold – you better not get her hair sopping wet, she will murder you and dump your body in a rock pool. <3

Will buy ice cream, she doesn’t seem the type to like salty foods tbh.

Will stalk up to you and ask what you want then vanishes.

She’s got herself a tanning bed btw.

Will read fashion magazines, maybe even do her beach aesthetic makeup. After all, she’s gotta be the hottest chick there. not that she isn’t already

Will eventually stick to building things out of sand, then getting annoyed and breaking them.

Is also going to shower before you, making sure she’s extremely clean before going to the car.

She drives btw.

Jess is the type to build sandcastles. I will fucking smite anyone who says otherwise.

If you both went to the beach, she’d be unwilling to enter the water, mostly due to the fact she def can't swim for shit, and also doesn't want her glasses to get wet (she hates goggles). Wears swimmers underneath a fucking oversized translucent blouse or something.

Would be the type to just plan ahead what exactly she’ll require to make the greatest sandcastle ever, and if that plan fails, she will be extremely sad for the next 2 hours.

Will be one of those people to bury their best friend/partner under the sand. Will put a lot of effort into making your mermaid tail look majestic.

You both will be eating ice cream under an umbrella, taking turns to take selfies (mostly you, she’d be very shy about having her face, she worries whether she’ll look dumb or not)

You both are gonna just watch over the belongings, and take turns showering at the beach so that (Jess’s) car is clean by the time you both get ready to leave.

You’d have had to win about 2000 bets with Geo to get him anywhere near a beach.

Would wear extremely dark gear, you’d not see any part of his body except his very wonderful head.

Will evade sand like it's the Black Plague.

Oh, just a warning, Geo is part fish.

He swims way too far for any sane human being. Hell, he doesn’t even swim, he just glides through the water. Deadpan. On his back. His hair is in a swimming cap btw, he’s not fucking risking damaging it. Also an avid sunscreen user, this man does not want to fucking tan, ew.

Will not eat anything there. He’s got standards. You’ll have to wine and dine him to get him to even sit down amongst all the other citizens of the city. Will reluctantly get you coffee though. He’ll probably only drink coffee if he craves it.

Will contemplate becoming a serial birdkiller; he hates birds. Their squawking makes him want to tear his eardrums out.

Will be extremely happy to walk along rocks, even boardwalking is better than actually being on the beach.

Will take aesthetic photos of the beach, especially if it's during the sunset. May or may not sneakily take some of you to store in his private stash.

Will also drive you both. He is never going to not drive, unless something drastic happens, like his arms getting cut off.

Crowe will have his hair down and is going to wear a stupidly wide-brimmed sun hat.

Is very careful about applying sunscreen, will check the UV rating multiple times.

Is going to watch over your shit and take really beautiful beach photos, will probably read a book silently under an umbrella. You mistook him for a woman one too many times.

Would make sure you don’t go too deep in the water, makes sure you swim between the flags as well.

Literally a walking, talking safety manual.

It’s okay you can shut him up later, with ball gags and a blindfold. <33

Will probs wear a Hawaiian shirt ngl (someone draw that). He’s a lot more relaxed at the beach. Will also be eating fancy af ice cream while lovingly watching you from afar. <3

Would be happy to search rock pools with you as well, in fact, any walking would do him well. He seems the type to love nature a lot.

Is going to be responsible for wrapping you in towels and ensuring you’re comfortable and your temperature is stable.

Will be the one to drive you both home. He can’t have you doing all the work, now can he?

Deryl will be fucking everywhere; this man loves the beach almost as much as he loves you.

Is going to buy as much food as humanly possible. You will have to remind him he cannot eat like a horse then expect to exercise, his stomach won’t be able to tolerate it. Will be disappointed after.

Tries to talk to the seagulls.

Will throw you into the ocean. Lovingly, of course.

Is also the type to get competitive with a bunch of teens over who can dig the deepest hole in the sand.

Will be looking for crabs, starts squealing from joy if he does see one.

Is probs gonna run across the sand with you (he wins every race you two have) shirtless. He’s gonna take ab pics.

You will not have a single normal looking photo with him, I'm sorry.

Although he does get you both a fuckton of food, so you’re not complaining.

You will have to drive both of your asses home though, he’s too excited to drive carefully enough.

[macfrog]

soaked

started replaying tlou1. can't get qz joel out of my head. inspired by this work of art by the insanely talented @thefriendlypigeon !!!

summary: boston qz. the days are slow, the nights are long. joel wakes up alone with a problem that needs fixing. enter: his shower (literally)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) joel jacks off in the shower. that's p much it

word count: 1.5k

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His fist locks tight around it; gives one long, slow jerk. The sensitive skin moves with his fingers. His hips shift forward, body asking him for more – and he obliges. He glides through his curved hand, halting when his fingers reach the dark hair at his hilt, slowly soaking under the messy spray from overhead.

He hasn’t slept all night. Not a wink.

It isn’t anything new. He rarely sleeps anymore; prefers to let himself drift in and out, teetering against the edge of slumber and then pulling himself back again. Staying in this life, instead of being dragged into a past one. Stops the nightmares. Stops the memories.

Usually, he can let himself rest, though. Let his eyes close over, let his ears deafen to the sounds of the world around him. Heavy footsteps fade into a numb knocking on the walls, the steady heartbeat sound of the QZ. Roars and yells from the street below are the blood twisting violently through the veins of the place.

But tonight – fucking hell, tonight. Tonight, he lies and stares at the distorted rectangle of amber light on the wall opposite his bed. When he closes his eyes, it’s still there. He can still see the peels of torn wallpaper, the way the harsh glow from the streetlight outside licks at the faded pattern like a flame, dousing his apartment in some ugly shade of nauseating orange. Like he’s living inside a fucking pill bottle.

Tonight, he teeters nowhere. He looks up at the pale ceiling – rotten paint slowly succumbing to the claim of the brown stain of damp. He looks at the apartment door – considers how easy it would be to kick down, how little effort it’d take against the rusted lock and molded wood. And he looks out of the window – to the inky black sky canvasing a jungle of buildings and power lines, lit by the moonlight of watchtowers.

Eventually, morning comes. The first break of day replaces that harsh, dirty glow with something softer, fresher. He runs his palms down his face, digs the heels into his eye sockets until he sees stars. His fingers swipe through his beard. His lashes flutter open.

It can’t be later than six. The sun’s only just clawing herself over the horizon. Peering over the ledge of his window, shooting like a bullet through the bottle he left on the table last night, rays refracting all over his kitchen.

When he pulls the mottled white sheets from his body and shifts to the side of the bed, there’s a tightness between his legs. A stiffness. It beckons his chin lower, draws his puffy eyes to the swelling in his boxers. The outline of himself, rock solid through the worn cotton. He curses under his breath and pushes from the mattress, groaning at the ache of his back and the throb of his cock.

The water only runs warm when no one in the surrounding apartments is using it. His only neighbor spends every night on the streets – Joel doesn’t bother to question why. He would’ve heard, though, if the guy had already hammered back into his own apartment; if he’d slammed the door shut, hinges rattling; if he’d sank into squealing bed springs. Joel would know.

So he hauls the curtain back, cranks the metal knob in a white-knuckle fist. The shower coughs up some pathetic spatter of freezing cold water, soaking the ends of his graying hair; and then, right before he yanks if off again with a sigh of contempt, it surrenders a burst of stronger, warmer water.

He holds an open palm under it for a few seconds. Turns his hand over, lets the water break across his wide knuckles. He feels a strain beneath his underwear. He tugs the fabric down and steps beneath the stream.

His cock slaps against the trail of rough, dark hair dappling his groin as he moves. He growls as the water cascades down his chest, running over the curve of his stomach and teasing tiny, pattering kisses along the wide base.

He glances down at himself. Spits into the palm of his hand, then uses it to cup his heavy shaft, running the pad of his thumb up the vein pulling at the surface of his skin. He shivers when he reaches the head, red and raw and angry, and swipes at the precome beaded there. He drags it back down, spreading it gently around, the skin glistening with saliva and sweat and arousal.

His fist locks tight around it; gives one long, slow jerk. The sensitive skin moves with his fingers. His hips shift forward, body asking him for more – and he obliges. He glides through his curved hand, halting when his fingers reach the dark hair at his hilt, slowly soaking under the messy spray from overhead.

The direct stream of water is broken by the arch of his shoulders, splashing against the nape of his neck. The droplets of water race down his spine, sinking between the valleys on his back where his body slopes and swells with muscle. As he tightens his grip with his right hand, his left jumps up, palm smacking heavily against the grimy tiled wall.

His head dips, eyes full with the sight of his cock fucking his hand. At fifty, living in a wasteland with little companions outside of those he nudges past in the hallway on his way to the ration line, he forgot how it felt to fucking do this. He feels like a damn teenager – all hormones and chasing. Chasing a high, chasing a release. He doesn’t even remember the last time he felt himself this hard in his own hand.

It feels fucking good. Feels sweet. He smirks, letting his eyes slowly close, and imagines it isn’t his own hand wrapped around himself. Imagines the gentler, nimbler grip of someone else. The touch of another person, the warmth. The intimate feel of them around him, giving him what he needs, listening to the sounds he lets fall from his lips, responding to them. Doing what he asks for. Doing what he begs for.

He thinks of the last woman he had wrapped around him. Her pussy – warm, wet, velvet soft – squeezing him until he came. He was careful then – pulled out in time to coat her belly and the inside of her thigh with his come.

Right now, in the shower, with his eyes closed and his fist beating furiously up and down his length – he doesn’t pull out. He fills her deep with his seed. Fucks her so good until she draws in around him, pulling the orgasm from his body, taking everything he gives her. Every last fucking drop.

His wrist jacks. He whimpers, breathless and weak. It’s drowned by the time it hits the flow of water. She’s such a good girl. Takin’ it so good. Lettin’ me fill her up so nice. Prettiest pussy I ever felt, sweetest sounds I ever heard.

He’s close. His hips start to falter. Belly sucks in, tightening around the coil he’s desperate to let snap. Harder, faster, tighter. His finger curls around the top of his shaft, squeezing with his thumb to tug just below his tip. Harder. Faster. Fuckin’ – tighter.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, and he realizes his entire body weight is being held up by his one hand, splayed out on the slippery wall in front of him. “Fuck, darlin’…”

His left hand drops to cup his balls, kneading slowly as his right focuses hard on nailing the arrow in the center of the target. The bullseye. He thrusts into his fist. His head falls back as it approaches. Mouth agape, filthy moans scratching from the bottom of his throat to the ceiling. The shower pours onto his chest, water trickles down his hairy torso. It’s following the rush, fleeing southward. Thundering through his body as his lungs start to freeze up, breath solidifies in his throat. His back begins to arch. Knees bend a little. And then –

His head snaps back down with a grunt to watch his release; thick, white ropes spurting from the tip of his cock and coating the tile, running down the wall towards the drain. The moans and curses which slip from his tongue follow at its heels, the water rushing them off to the shower floor and ushering them down the steel pipe. He groans, the noise reverberating against the shower walls, the echo of his own depraved sounds relaying in his ears only spurring him on more.

He's panting, hand slowing as he works his way through his climax. White heat floods over his body, crashing like tidal waves on his shoulders. His breath slowly returns, chest rising and falling again as his lungs restart, regain function. He feels dizzy. He feels shaky. His hand pulls up to the tile again, and his arm tenses as he leans forward, cock still dripping with come.

When he feels empty, satisfied, his hand stops. Holds his soft dick steady at the base, fingers gently massaging his balls. He’s still regaining composure, breath still finding a rhythm again. His entire body feels alive, thrumming and pulsating with energy and blood and the aftermath of his orgasm.

The water chokes in the shower head. The flow disappears, and then returns a second later, weaker and colder. The neighbor.

When he can feel his knees again, when his head feels like it’s back on his neck, body whole again – his weak fist twists the valve off.

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[kisseobie]

Could you do like what size you think the members are I saw someone else request this and now I’m also curious

a/n: yes omg!! @stephenyoonkeeholdup mentioned me in a request like this .. this was so fun to figure out lmfaoooo i even looked up references like it was notttt that serious 😭 but here you go!

𓂃✧ ୭ keeho

not too girthy, not too long… basically he’s the goldilocks of cocks hehe i can see kyo being around 5.5”-6” long and having a pretty brownish shade to his girth. very very sensitive to touch, that’s for sure! his dick would most likely be circumcised, and his pubic hair either fully shaved or very neatly trimmed. can see keeho having some big balls too lmaoooo, definitely just sensitive all over. gets hard way too easy, if you wanted to know

𓂃✧ ୭ theo

probably the longest of all the members, but the least in girth. what he lacks for in girth is made up with just how long it is though, so never fear! has a pretty pale-ish pink color adorning the tip, neatly trimmed and circumcised. i would imagine he’s about 7 and 1/2 inches when hard, around an inch less when flacid. no significant curve or vein, just a pretty dick tbh, the type that you’d stare at in admiration lol

𓂃✧ ୭ jiung

definitely another member of the packing squad. like theo, he’s not incredibly thick, but the length is enough to have you squirming. 7” when fully hard for sure, no doubt about it. he probably has a dick piercing too (but maybe that’s my own fantasy that i’m projecting onto him lol). has a prominent curve when erect that curls into your insides so nicely. very very well shaven. a few thin veins along the shaft, but they aren’t super noticeable. definitely circumcised :3

𓂃✧ ୭ intak

so thick, it’s the type of dick that doesn’t even need much length for you to feel it. despite that, his size isn’t small, i would say it’s about 5.5” when he’s soft and 6” or so when fully erect. has a singular bulging vein that goes along the entire length. trims his bush every now and then but it isn’t his main priority .. leaks a lot of precum no matter the hour. his cock has a more brownish color to it! uncircumcised, and it makes him super sensitive.

𓂃✧ ୭ soul

sooo girthy—-even more girthy than intak. his cock is the palest one of all of the boys, and has a flushed pink shade to it that matches the flush of his cheeks when you jack him off. a little curved, and not super long in size. i’d say shota is probably about 5”-5.5” long, but his dick is so fat it doesn’t even matter. doesn’t really bother to shave much, but if you prefer it, he’ll trim it for you. uncircumcised. also wanted to mention that he most likely cums a lottt

𓂃✧ ୭ jongseob

another girthy one, apparently i imagine maknae line to be very similar in the area of study .. anyways, i would probably say that jongseob would be around 6”, so his length is no joke either. probably another circumcised boy, also very tidy down there and shaves very regularly. fat mushroom tip that’s almost an angry red shade. probably another precum leaker too! i can also see seob having some prominent veins along his shaft :DD

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @fayeloveseverything @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

𓂃✧ ୭ .•

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Twenty-Four

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Four: Parleying with Beckett

Summary: The pirates name a king, and they meet their enemy face-to-face.

            Bang!

            All of the brawling pirates froze and looked up at (Y/N), who glared at them all with pistol in hand. “Would you all get your heads out of your bloody arses and focus?” The pirates just blinked.

            (Y/N) hopped down from the table and gestured to the crowd. “All yours, Barbossa.”

            Barbossa nodded approvingly and cleared his throat. “It was the First Court what imprisoned Calypso. We should be the ones to set her free. And in her gratitude, she will see fit to grant us boons.”

            (Y/N) seriously doubted that, but they believed she deserved freedom, so they weren’t going to point that out.

            “What boons? Your boons? Utterly deceptive twaddle-speak, says I,” said Jack.

            He obviously had a history with Tia Dalma, so his own safety was on the line when it came to Calypso, so (Y/N) couldn’t blame him for speaking out.

            “If you have a better alternative, please share,” said Barbossa.

            “Cuttlefish,” said Jack.

            Everyone looked at Jack like he was crazy (a definite possibility at this point).

            “Aye,” said Jack. “Let us not, dear friends, forget out dear friends, the cuttlefish. Flipping glorious little sausages. Pen them up together, they’ll devour each other without a second thought. Human nature, isn’t it? Or…or fish nature. So, yes, we could hole up here well-provisioned and well-armed. Half of us would be dead within the month.”

            He had a rough start, but this is the smartest thing Jack’s ever said, thought (Y/N).

            “Which seems quite grim to me, any way you slice it,” said Jack. “Or, as my learned colleague so naively suggests, we can release Calypso, and we can pray she will be merciful. I rather doubt it. Can we pretend she’s anything other than a woman scorned like which fury hell hath not? We cannot.”

            I’m still up for freeing Calypso, but our survival is important, I guess, considered (Y/N). Still, though…they could risk it. Maybe that was the sea pulling at them.

            “Res ipsa loquitur, tabula in naufragio,” said Jack. “We are left with but one option. I agree with, and I cannot believe the words coming out of me mouth, Captain Swann. We must fight.”

            “You’ve always run away from a fight!” said Barbossa.

            “Have not,” said Jack, frowning.

            “Have so.”

            “Have not.”

            “Have so.”

            “Have not!”

            “You have so, and you know it.”

            “Have not. Slander and calumny.” Jack raised his chin. “I have only ever embraced the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions. I submit here now that is what we all must do: we must fight to run away.”

            Are we back to nonsense?

            “Aye!” said all the pirates as if it made sense.

            “As per the code, an act of war, and this be exactly that, can only be decided by the pirate king,” said Barbossa.

            “You made that up,” said Jack.

            “Did I, now?” said Barbossa. “I call on Cap’n Teague, keeper of the code.”

            Jack paled at the suggestion.

            The Arabian pirate nudged his companion, who cleared his throat and spoke for him. “Sri Sumbhajee proclaims this all to be folly. Hang the code. Who cares a—”

            Bang!

            The speaker fell back with a bullet through his skull.

            Everyone looked down the table to find a captain in a red coat blowing smoke from his pistol. Captain Teague had made himself known.

            “Code is the law,” said Teague.

            Everyone sat down in their seats, not wanting his ire. He walked towards the table and came up behind Jack.

            “You’re in my way, boy,” said Teague.

            Jack quickly moved out of the way, and Teague waved with his hand. Two elderly pirates brought a large, thick book to the table.

            The code, identified (Y/N).

            Teague whistled, and a dog that felt familiar walked forward with a keyring in its mouth. Teague took the key and unlocked the book.

            “The dog, how did he—” Pintel and Ragetti stared.

            “Sea turtles, mate,” said Teague, opening the book.

            “Sea turtles,” repeated Ragetti in awe.

            I’ve heard that story before, thought (Y/N).

            “Barbossa is right,” confirmed Teague, consulting the code.

            “Hang on a minute,” said Jack, reading over his shoulder. “ ‘It shall be the duties, as the king, to declare war, parley with shared adversaries…’ Fancy that.”

            “There has not been a king since the First Court,” said the French lord. “And that’s not likely to change.”

            “Not likely,” said Teague, walking back to a chair and picking up a guitar while keeping an eye on the proceedings.

            “Why not?” said Elizabeth.

            “See, the pirate king is elected by popular vote,” said Gibbs.

            “And each pirate only ever votes for himself,” said Barbossa.

            “I call for a vote!” said Jack, not caring for all the pessimism.

            Everyone groaned.

            “I vote for Ammand the Corsair,” said one pirate lord.

            “Captain Chevaille, the penniless Frenchman,” said the French lord.

            I guess they really do vote for themselves, thought (Y/N).

            “Sri Sumbhajee votes for Sri Sumbhajee,” said his speaker.

            “Mistress Ching,” said the Chinese lord.

            “Gentlemen Jocard,” said the African lord.

            “Elizabeth Swann,” said Elizabeth.

            “Barbossa,” said Barbossa.

            “Vallenueva!” said the Spanish lord.

            The last one to speak was Jack, and everyone sat back as they waited for him to vote for himself.

            Jack grinned. “Elizabeth Swann.”

            “What?” said Elizabeth, and Barbossa’s face fell in shock that repeated around the room.

            “I know. Curious, isn’t it?” said Jack.

            He grinned at (Y/N), who smiled back. Whatever stupid deals he was involved in and would double-cross and then remake and then mess up again, at least he’d done this right. He had his moments, and that’s why (Y/N) was still fond of him and didn’t want to run him through themself.

            A clamor rose in the rest of the pirates. Several shouted at Jack to change his vote to be for them now that it was established one of them wouldn’t vote for themselves. Others were saying this was foolish and that the vote should be thrown out—mostly just outrage at not being the one picked to be Pirate King.

            (Y/N) crossed their arms in annoyance at the squabble. Were no pirates capable of shutting up and getting business done? “Are you all ignoring the code now?” Their eyes flicked to Teague, knowing that would get his attention.

            Sure enough, his head snapped up, and the guitar music broke off. Everyone stared at him, glanced at the pistol at his hip, and smartly decided to sit back down and shut up.

            “Oh, good, you’re listening,” said (Y/N), smiling with only the barest amount of pleasantry.

            “Very well,” said Ching. She looked at Elizabeth. “What say you, Captain Swann, King of the Brethren Court?”

            Elizabeth squared her shoulders, and a slightly smug glint appeared in her eyes. “Prepare every vessel that floats. At dawn…we’re at war.”

            Sri Subhajee rose and nodded. “And so we shall go to war.”

            (Y/N) smothered a laugh. Apparently, he only had someone speak for him because he had a ridiculous high-pitched voice. Everyone shouted in agreement and cheered.

            Jack faced Teague, who just stared at him evenly. “What? You’ve seen it all, done at all. You survived. That’s the trick, isn’t it? To survive?”

            “It’s not just about living forever, Jackie,” said Teague. “The trick is living with yourself forever.”

            Jack considered and nodded. “How’s Mum?”

            Teague held up a shrunken head.

            Jack coughed. “She looks great.” He offered a smile.

            “Jack, are you coming?” said (Y/N) as the pirates began to leave the courtroom.

            “Yes, onward to our possible deaths!” said Jack, smiling at them as they approached.

            “You. You’re the one who respected the code,” said Teague.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I suppose.”

            Teague nodded. “A proper pirate should.”

            Jack groaned. Great. Now his own father would like (Y/N) more than him. “Let’s go, Pearl.”

            “Alright,” said (Y/N), rolling with the name. It was clearly a compliment, so although they didn’t understand it, they wouldn’t question it.

l

            The fleet of pirate ships stared out at the fleet of British ships. All were silent. The scrappy ships of pirates seemed broken down compared to the pristine, efficiently crafted British ships, but the wildness of the pirates felt more at home on the sea. The British sought to control; the pirates went with the wild waves.

            “The enemy is here! Let’s take them!” shouted Marty, drawing his sword.

            Raucous cheers went up in the crowd of pirates, but the cheers died down as ship after ship appeared from the fog. They were clearly outnumbered by a lot.

            Jack cleared his throat. “Parley?”

l

            (Y/N), Jack, Elizabeth, and Barbossa stood on a small strip of sand across from Will, Beckett, and Jones (who stood in a bucket of seawater). (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They were so disappointed in Will for going and making a deal with a man like Beckett, but it seemed everyone except for Elizabeth had no sense or intelligence, so (Y/N) had just thrown their hands up and accepted the shitshow.

            “You be the cur that led these wolves to our door,” said Barbossa.

            “Don’t blame Turner. He was merely the tool of your betrayal,” said Beckett smugly. “If you wish to see its grand architect, look to your left.”

            Elizabeth, Barbossa, and (Y/N) looked at Jack. (Y/N) furrowed their brow, unsure if Jack had sold them in particular out or not.

            “My hands are clean in this,” said Jack. Yes, he had been fine with the Dutchman getting close so he had a chance to kill Jones’s heart and gain immortality, but he wasn’t going to just hand (Y/N) over to Beckett. There were lines he wasn’t crossing. “

            “My actions were my own and to my own purpose,” said Will. “Jack had nothing to do with it.”

            Jack nodded. “Well spoke. Listen to the tool.” He had more planned, and Will was going along well.

            “Will, I’ve been aboard the Dutchman,” said Elizabeth. “I understand the burden you bear, but I fear the cause is lost.”

            “No cause is lost if there is but one fool left to fight for it,” said Will stubbornly.

            “If Turner wasn’t acting on your behalf, then how did he come to give me this?” remarked Beckett, holding up Jack’s compass. “You made a deal with me, Jack, to deliver the pirates. And here they are.”

            “He said ‘no’ to your deal, remember?” said (Y/N), crossing their arms. “Whatever mischief he’s up to, I doubt it has much to do with your bargain.”

            They expected him to double-cross Beckett, then Will, stab Jones’s heart, and sail off into the sunset before he was at risk of dying, but they also knew he had refused to hand them over to Beckett. He wanted (Y/N), and Jack had refused that as part of any deal. They may not have high expectations of Jack’s general loyalty, but they trusted him to not sell them out for whatever reason.

            Beckett sneered and threw the compass into the sand. Jack knelt and picked it up. “Yes, yes, he for some reason grew a conscious when it came to a silly creature like you.”

            “Someone has to make up for your lack of one,” said (Y/N), raising a brow.

            “His debt to me still must be satisfied,” snapped Jones, glaring at Jack. “One hundred years in servitude aboard the Dutchman. As a start."

            “That debt was paid, mate. With some help,” said Jack.

            “You escaped,” said Jones.

            “Technically,” shrugged Jack.

            “I propose an exchange,” said Elizabeth. “Will leaves with us, and you can take Jack.”

            “Done,” said Will.

            “I want the nereid,” said Beckett.

            “Go to hell,” said (Y/N).

            “They’re not part of the deal. Do you want Jack or not?” said Elizabeth, narrowing her eyes.

            Beckett was frustrated with the lack of control he had over that particular aspect of the situation. “Done,” he snapped.

            “Undone,” said Jack.

            “Done,” said Elizabeth again.

            “Jack’s one of the nine pirate lords. You have no right,” said Barbossa. He usually wanted Jack dead, but this felt like it went against the pirate code.

            “King,” said Elizabeth smugly.

            “Lizzie…” said (Y/N).

            “Jack can take care of himself if he wants to go around causing problems,” said Elizabeth.

            Jack made a playful, impertinent bow. “As you command, your nibs.”

            The insult was clear, and (Y/N) sighed and stepped back as Barbossa drew his sword. Jack was bringing trouble on himself.

            “You blackguard!” Barbossa sliced off the bead and silver coin in Jack’s hair. Jack the Monkey grabbed it while Barbossa walked up to Jack. “If ye have something to say, I might be saying something as well.”

            “First to the finish, eh?” said Jack.

            He walked towards Will, who walked towards him. They stared each other down as they switched places. (Y/N) gazed at Jack, and they nodded curtly at him before anyone could notice. Jack furrowed his brow. He wasn’t sure quite what that meant, but some part of him hope that it meant what he thought it did—that (Y/N) wasn’t going to abandon him with Beckett.

            He was right. (Y/N) needed to have a good long conversation about trying to play 3D chess while being unable to play checkers, but they weren’t going to leave Jack at Jones’s disposal. They’d release him.

            …When they had a free moment (Jack had to stew in the consequences of his actions for a bit).

            Jones leaned towards Jack. “Do you fear death?”

            Jack cleared his throat. “You’ve no idea.”

            Beckett stepped forward. “Advise your Brethren, you can fight, and all of you will die. Or you can not fight, in which case only most of you will die.”

            “You murdered my father,” said Elizabeth, stepped towards Beckett. If (Y/N) had to choose, they’d say Elizabeth was scarier.

            “He chose his own fate,” said Beckett.

            “And you have chosen yours,” said Elizabeth. “We will fight. And you will die.” She turned away and stalked back towards their lifeboat. Will and Barbossa turned back with her.

            (Y/N) looked at Beckett evenly and smiled. “You’ve tried to control the sea. You’ll pay for it with your life.”

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

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[bitchinbarzal]

i know this isn’t on the prompt list and totally out of the blue but can you please write a blurb where luke has like this stuffed animal that’s like his security blanket that he’s had since he was a baby and it’s like a teddy bear or dino or something and he walks into his room and sees his girlfriend cuddling it while asleep on his bed at the lake house or something

After spending the entire day out on the lake, you were exhausted from the sun so you told Luke you’d be using his bed to take a nap.

“I’ll be back down for dinner, if I’m not up by five come wake me. okay?” You mumbled kissing his cheek and taking off up the stairs.

He nodded and continued on with his conversation with Alex.

A little while after, his mom came into the room holding a cardboard box “Look what I found!”

The boys started raking through the box, finding old hockey jerseys and all sorts of childhood memorabilia.

“Oh my god remember this? Jack you used to cry if you couldn’t have this thing! What did you call him, Mr Snuggles?” Jack rips the teddy bear from his little brothers hand and growls “It’s Mr Cuddle Wuddle and shut up! You had that dinosaur-“

Ellen smiles “Oh I found that too, I put it up on your bed earlier Lu”

His face pales “What? y/n is up there that’s so embarrassing!”

He takes off up the stairs to his room, expecting the teddy to have been discarded for you to mock him about later. When he shoves the door open he sees you, cuddled up on the bed holding his childhood toy to your chest while you sleep.

He physically softens, watching your chest rise and fall as you slept. The sun was evident across your sun kissed face.

He was so in love with you.

[livesincerely]

“Dave!”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Davey, wait, jus’ let me—“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I can explain—“

Davey finally whirls around, his eyes blazing.

“Which part of fuck off,” he enunciates clearly, in a voice like a knife’s edge, “was too difficult for you to understand?”

Jack swallows hard, faltering back a step.

“It’s not what’cha think,” he begs. “I swear it’s not what’cha—“

“And what the fuck would you know about what I think?” Davey asks with a derisive scoff. “I’ll tell you what I think: I think you’re a coward and a traitor and I can’t believe I was stupid enough to trust you when you’ve been lying to me from the moment we met. Tell me, Jack,” he says, his eyes glittering like shattered glass. “Were you playing both sides from the start? Or was Pulitzer’s offer just too good to refuse?”

“It ain’t like that,” Jack pleads. “I didn’t want to, Dave, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Davey says sharply. “You always have a choice.”

“You don’t always have a good one,” Jack says grimly. “An’ a bad choice ain’t no choice at all.”

Davey’s eyes narrow.

“…You get two minutes,” he says finally. “Talk fast.”

“I went to talk’ta Pulitzer, jus’ like I said,” Jack says. “But he was expectin’ me. He started making all these threats about roundin’ everyone up an’ tossin’ ‘em in the refuge like they did Crutchie and— And he said he’d back off, but only if I called off the strike and got the rest of ya to fall in line—“

“And you believed him?” Davey asks, incredulous. “Jack, we were in his sights from the very beginning, he was never actually going to leave us alone—“

“I know that now!” Jack exclaims. “But I thought… I had to try. I had to at least try.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Davey says.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jack asks pointedly. “I’m the leader. I’m the one callin’ the shots. And when somethin’ goes wrong, I’m the one ‘ta blame. After what happened to Crutchie—“

Jack has to stop for a moment, the thought of what happened—what’s happening—to Crutchie almost too much to bear.

“What happened to Crutchie could’ve happened to any of us,” Jack shakily continues, once he thinks his voice won’t crumble to pieces. “They weren’t targetin’ anyone in particular, they could’ve nabbed any of us. So, maybe that’s on me, maybe it ain’t. Maybe Crutch would even tell me it was worth it. But this time…”

Jack scrubs a hand over his face. “Pulitzer’s closing in, Dave, he’s circlin’ us like a fuckin’ vulture, makin’ threats—“

“We knew what we were getting into, we agreed that it was worth the risk—“ Davey interrupts with that same righteous fury.

“No, Dave,” Jack interrupts, and Davey must read something in his expression because he actually stops arguing, his brow furrowed. “Not jus’ we. You. He looked at me, looked me right in the eye, and said your name. He knew your fuckin’ name,” Jack spits out, “an’ said it’d be such a shame if you ended up in the refuge because I didn’t know when’ta quit a lost ‘cause. Said it would be my fault.”

Jack stares at his hands—helpless, useless, idiotic, defeated. Then he rolls his shoulders back, and meets Davey’s gaze head on.

“I can’t let that happen,” he says solemnly. “I can’t be the one that ruins your life. An’ I’m sorry how it all went down, Dave, really, I am. But I’m not sorry for doin’ what little I can to try an’ protect you.”

Davey’s face has gone pale, his mouth pressed in a thin, harsh line.

“Pulitzer threatened me,” he says, his voice strange. “And you caved.”

Jack lets out a heavy breath, low and exhausted. “Yeah.”

“Me.”

“Yes, David. You.”

Davey stares at him. “You’ve known me for three days,” he says, like this is supposed to mean something to him.

Jack throws his hands up in exasperation. “So?”

And Davey starts laughing.

It bubbles out of him, loud and a little hysterical, and he hunches over with the strength of it, clutching his stomach. He laughs and laughs, then laughs some more, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

Then suddenly he’s crying, pressing his palms to his eyes as if to physically halt the flow, his shoulders shaking, his lip quivering.

Jack’s heart fractures in his chest.

“Dave,” he says softly, stepping forward. “Davey, I’m— I’m sorry—“

Davey’s head whips up, and his eyes are wild, enraged, behind the tears. He grabs Jack by the collar of his shirt, hard enough to drag him off his feet a little, and starts forcing him backwards, step by furious step.

Jack’s back hits the brick of the alley behind him, and he’s certain that Davey’s gonna haul his arm back and clock him one good.

Instead, he kisses him.

It’s frenzied and frantic, teeth and noses bumping as they clash together. Davey’s hands cradle his jaw, holding him, no, pinning him in place as he ravages his mouth, a force of nature trapped beneath soft skin, breakable bones, and big blue eyes.

It’s overwhelming, it’s dizzying, and Jack can do nothing except give into it, give into him. He fumbles for purchase, cupping a hand around the back of Davey’s head and dragging him closer, kissing back just as desperately, caught in the storm.

But eventually, things start to slow, gentling into something softer, steadier. They’re both panting hard, chasing after each others’ mouths for a few final kisses, chests heaving in tandem.

Davey’s hands find his wrists, pushing him back but not away, and their hands tangle together, their foreheads just barely touching.

“This is bigger than us, Jackie,” Davey says quietly, and Jack sags against him, the first beginnings of hope blooming fresh in his chest. “It’s bigger than any one of us. You can’t sacrifice everything we’ve worked for, not for me. I won’t let you.”

“Dave,” Jack whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Davey murmurs. “I get it. I’m still absolutely pissed at you for the way you went about it, but I get it.”

“The others,” he starts hesitantly. “Do you think… Will they forgive me?”

Davey’s hand curls around his hip, steady and grounding.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think they will. They love you too much not to. But you’re probably gonna have to grovel.”

The smallest of smiles pulls at Jack’s mouth, refusing to be stifled.

“Fair enough,” he concedes.

“We can do this,” Davey tells him, and it’s hard not to believe him when he gets that glint in his eyes, steely determination shaping every syllable. “But we have to do it together.”

“Okay,” Jack agrees. “Together.”

00000

Inspired by this and this

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Part 12

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss — thank you! so so very much as always!!!!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

His fingers reach for the edges of his mask

He swallows thickly, saliva filling his mouth like venom before a snake strikes

You look so peaceful, so calm and relaxed in his arms, like you trust him completely

You could be all his

He could finally claim you—once and for all

He pushes his mask up past his nose, tongue tracing over his teeth

He feels the distinct points of his canines; he feels every bump, every edge and groove of the sharp enamel protruding from his gums

Then, gently so as to not wake you from your light sleep, he shifts, bringing his mouth inches from your neck

His warm breath fans over your skin, but it doesn’t seem enough to stir you awake

He notices the smallest details of your body; everything from the steady rhythm of your pulse to the divine aroma of your blood

He craves you

Even after finally getting what he's wanted for so long now, he still wants more

He‘s as insatiable as ever

The touch of his lips to your throat is slow and soft as he kisses you

He presses his lips once, then twice against your neck before scraping his teeth on the thin flesh over your pulse

He’s on the verge of doing it, on the verge of sinking his mark into your throat—permanently

But then you mumble his name, and he isn’t sure if you’re sleeping or awake, or somewhere between the two, but it’s like it’s enough to snap him out of it

That’s not what you want and he knows it

He recoils away, guilt and shame twisting in his gut

He has to leave, he realizes

Staying will only make it harder to resist

He readjusts his mask over his face, then carefully slips out from underneath you

He throws his clothes back on, opens the door, then offers one last fleeting look at your peaceful form on the bed

His heart clenches, heartache throbbing in his chest like an old friend

And then he turns away, closing your door behind him with a final resounding click

It’s hard for him to think about anything else for the rest of the night

He imagines giving in to the temptation of claiming you, and just the thought has him salivating

His instincts keep urging him to go back and do it—but he knows he shouldn’t

And so, after mindlessly wandering the halls, searching for a distraction with little to no success, he ends up returning to his room

He wants to go out for a hunt, but it’s still raining, so he loses himself to his medical books in the meantime

The rain only really lets up around 2 in the morning, but as he steps out into the darkness of the night, the drop in temperature and humidity feels pleasant against his skin

The earth is still damp, and as he wanders the city, he finds puddles reflecting the street lamps on the asphalt

It’s a pretty sight, and if he wasn’t so lost in his thoughts, he might even be able to appreciate it

Even as he’s cutting through bodies, all he can focus on is the thought of you

You’re too perfect for your own good

He stays out until the sun begins to rise, lightening the sky to a pale blue with faint hints of pink and orange

Morning fog hangs in the air, but all things considered, it looks like it’s going to be a sunny day

When he hears the birds starting to wake, chirping in the crisp morning air, he takes it as his cue to head back to the mansion

He wants to return to see you, wants to find the warmth of your bed and lay down next to you, but he's worried it'd scare you off

Casual fuck buddies don’t usually stick around like that

He decides not to push things, and instead, he spends most of the morning pouring over his books

It’s only when Hoodie texts him, asking to train, that he leaves his room again to make his way through the forest

He sees you on the way out, talking to Natalie in the living room, and when he makes eye contact with Nat, she smiles a big, wide grin at him

"I assume it's been a good morning, Jack?"

He usually wouldn’t care about anyone making stupid comments to get a rise out of him

But you’re right there, and you look absolutely mortified when she says it

It makes him pause halfway to the door, and he watches, admittedly in amusement, as you hiss her name out under your breath

You're cute when you're upset

But then again, you’re always fucking cute

“What makes you assume that?” he asks, feigning ignorance

Your eyes widen, face flushing, and you look off to the side, like you’re dreading every second of this

“Oh, you know,” Nat carries on, waving her hand dismissively, but that broad, mischievous grin never once leaves her face

For once, Jack appreciates her usually-obnoxious teasing humor

“You just seem much looser,” she continues, “You don’t look as tense, like you don’t have that stick up your ass anymore. It almost looks like you finally got laid or something”

"Nat!” you snap at her, "Don’t you have some peanut butter to clean out of your shower?!"

She snickers, and Jack can’t tell if that’s just some code word, or if it’s an actual thing

Why would she have peanut butter in the shower?

"Yeah, yeah," Nat rolls her one good eye, "I'll leave you two lovebirds at it"

She makes her way out, squeezing past Jack standing at the entryway, but not before turning to give you one last wink

You look like you either want to kill her or yourself

Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about hiding the truth from Nat

"Sorry about that," you sheepishly apologize, "I wasn't, like... it's not that I was trying to gossip or anything, I just, you know, it kind of just—"

"Easy, easy," Jack chuckles, because my god, you're way too adorable for your own good when you're all flustered like that, "it's fine," he reassures, "trust me, I know how nosy they can get sometimes"

You nod, smiling with relief

"Yeah, she's... she's definitely excitable when it comes to... well, you know..."

You trail off, then shake your head

"I mean, anyways, I uhm..." you trail off again, and there’s suddenly a thickness in the air between the two of you

You shift your weight from one foot to the next

“I… I really enjoyed last night,” you admit

He nods, a familiar warmth starting to bloom in his chest

"I did too"

It’s faint, but he can’t stop himself from noticing the shift in your hormones at the memory of last night’s events

He takes in a deep breath, and somehow, just that simple act has more of your perfume infusing into the room

You want him again

He forgets about Hoodie, forgets about Nat, forgets about everything else except what he wants to do to you

Would you let him bend you over right here and now?

You stiffen, like you notice the change in his demeanor

Like you know he’s aware of your arousal

He hears your heart rate pick up, hears the way your breathing changes

You're divine

He walks forward, closing the gap between you, and all he can suddenly think about is how fucking good you felt wrapped around his cock

Like no other feeling could ever compare

"J-Jack—" you shakily say his name, and he wonders if you’d whimper like that too if he sank his teeth into your neck

He captures your jaw between his fingers, tilting your head up so that your lips are inches apart

And he’s about to kiss you—he’s about to kiss you hard and fast until you’re dizzy, but a voice from behind snaps him out of the moment

“Oh—oh, am I interrupting something?”

Jack turns, finding none other than that new proxy standing in the doorway, eyeing the both of you with a shit-eating grin on his face

“Yes,” Jack hisses

“N-no,” you stutter at the same time

The proxy’s grin widens

“Hey, listen, if you’re about to fuck, you can’t be doing that shit out in the open. Get a room or something. And anyways, blue guy, they want you down at the shack”

Jack huffs, trying to hold back a snarl

He wants to wrap his hands around your waist, pull you up close and kiss you long and hard to send the guy a message—you’re his

But instead, he swallows back his urges and steps away from you

It’s childish and petty, but he can’t resist shoulder-checking the proxy as he makes his way past him

He hears him make some insignificant comment as he walks away, and he almost can’t resist turning back and scaring some sense into that kid

The walk through the woods helps calm him down

It seems like the rain did some good to the forest; the foliage is bright green, and he can hear the insects and woodland creatures buzzing and scurrying around him

He reaches the training grounds by the shack, and he realizes something’s up when he sees Slender there with the proxies

The entity almost exclusively shows up when he needs something

He walks up to them, offers a nod, and Slender’s unpleasant static numbness fills his mind

“You are required for a job,” the entity speaks, its telepathic voice a gravelly murmur, “you will be going with Tobias”

The demon looks at the proxy in question, and Toby grins, flashing up a peace sign at Jack

"You are to leave in three days' time. I will provide more information as required. Is your cooperation a certainty?"

When Jack nods, Slender expresses his approval, and just like that, he disappears in a blink, leaving Jack alone with the three main proxies

"Training, huh?" Jack asks, looking at Hoodie, who shrugs

"Hey man, I didn't know the boss was planning anything, promise," he holds his hands up in a claim of innocence

"He gathered us-us up here just a few—just a few minutes ago," Toby defends with a crack of his neck

"It seems-seems like it's going to be a big one," he continues, "f-fucking getting two teams on it and everything"

"Two teams?" Jack asks

"Masky's leg is better," Hoodie gives a nod at his best friend, who grunts, and Jack notes that he looks fully recovered, though part of him still wants to check it out later, "so we're going in as well, but at separate locations. We still don't even know what the plan is," he admits

"And why isn't that new guy helping out instead?"

Masky huffs, and Jack gets the sense that he's also not too fond of him

"Hell if we know," he snorts

"There's no point in worrying about it now," Hoodie shrugs, then nods his head to the field, "C'mon, I was serious when I said I wanted to train, y'know. It wasn't just a ploy to get you down here; we all know you're Slender's little Discord mod, anyways"

Toby snickers, but it seems like Masky also doesn't understand the reference

"Slender's little what? What does that even mean?" Jack asks

"Don't worry about it. C'mon, let's do this, already"

Training goes well for the rest of the afternoon

Jack isn't the most pleased about having to leave for a mission, but he figures it's not the end of the world

The worst part of it will be having to stay away from you for god knows how long

He's about to return to the mansion after sparring, when Hoodie suddenly pulls him to the side

"Hey, actually, there was something else I meant to bring up," he admits

"Yeah, what's up?"

"About that favor you owe me..."

Jack’s first instinct is to deny that he owes him any favors, but then he remembers that day with the campfire

"What about it?" Jack asks hesitantly, warily

Hoodie cocks his head to the side, humming

"You and (y/n)—things been working out?" he answers Jack's question with his own, and Jack suddenly does not trust whatever he's planning

"I guess you could say so"

Another hum from Hoodie

"That’s good. You know, the two of you are cute together, I think you’re good for each other"

"What're you getting at?" Jack's thinning patience becomes evident in his tone, but it only makes Hoodie chuckle

"I'm calling it in," Hoodie finally claims, "I wanna watch"

At first, it doesn't fully click with Jack

"Watch what?" he asks, now fully annoyed that the other's being so coy about the whole thing

But then it does click, and he's one uneaten organ away from snapping the guy's neck in half

As if sensing the demon's sudden change in demeanor, the proxy raises his hands and backs away a few steps

"Hey, listen, listen, I'm just asking to watch. That's it. Nothing more, relax"

"Relax?" Jack takes a menacing step forwards, "You want me to fucking relax? You're a sick fucking perv, you know that?"

"Hey, a deal's a deal—you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to it"

Rightful indignation floods Jack's system

Without thinking, he yanks Hoodie up by the collar and raises his fist threateningly

Hoodie doesn't even raise his hands to defend himself, which somehow only pisses Jack off even more

"That's not fucking happening," he snarls, and even though he really, really wants to hit him, it's not like Jack to throw the first punch

Hoodie laughs—the fucker actually has the audacity to laugh—and before Jack loses his temper and actually wrings his neck, he shoves him away

The proxy grunts, stumbling backward, catching himself last minute before he falls

"Why are you laughing?" the demon demands

"I'm laughing cause you don't got a choice," he says, readjusting his collar, "we made a deal"

"Yeah? And? (Y/n) was never involved in making the deal, you can't just drag her into this like that”

Hoodie eyes Jack for a moment, the tension between the two growing palatable

"Alright, fine," he eventually says, "How about this, then; you ask if she's alright with it, and if she is, we go through with it. If she isn't, I'll either figure something else out, or you'll still owe me one later"

Jack huffs

There's no way you'd agree to something like that... right?

He almost can't believe how dogshit his luck is; the very next day he has the self-control to take things further with you, this happens

How is he even supposed to ask for something like that?

Another huff from Jack, and he shakes his head

"Not a fucking chance, man"

Hoodie snorts

"If you don't ask her, I will"

Jack's fists clench at his sides

This guy's fucking dead

[zorosdimples]

pairing ⛧ creepy medical student! law x gn! reader

warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. while there’s no smut, this is suggestive, and everything that happens is nonconsensual (law is gross). mentions of masturbation, fucking inanimate objects, bruises, and death. additionally: cum sighting, cursing, knife play, a little blood, some spit, manhandling, and general grimetown weirdness.

word count ⛧ 1132

notes ⛧ this is another installment of the garden of earthly delights series, as well as a contribution to @bastardblvd’s house of slimy horrors collab—my prompt was “pumpkin patch”! the plot is nonexistent… just go with it <3

something isn’t right.

the early evening sky is hazy, the sun obscured by a leaden film that shrouds grimetown’s pumpkin patch in a deathly hue. the barren field before you is more of a squash graveyard than anything else—the vast expanse of dirt is littered with a few dozen orange carcasses.

this is certainly not what you were expecting when your date suggested a fun autumnal outing.

“this has to be the world’s most depressing pumpkin patch,” you grouse, craning your neck to look up at law’s stony expression; as usual, his face doesn’t betray his thoughts. you can never get a good read on him. you don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s simply awkward or if he genuinely doesn’t emote. “we should go somewhere else.”

the jet-haired man places a firm palm on the small of your back, urging you forward. “c’mon, we’re already here. we can’t make jack-o-lanterns without pumpkins. toji joe’s is out of ‘em.”

there’s a peculiar lilt to his words—a faux positivity that makes you hesitate for a split second. but you move forward anyway.

the blustery air ruffles your clothes as you drift across the dark earth with law, searching for a pumpkin that isn’t in some state of decomposition. this is exactly the sort of scenario you hear about on your favorite podcasts and documentaries: a careless person accompanied by a man they barely know in a remote area, not so much as a whisper of nearby life on the wind.

all you really know about law is that he’s a handsome medical student who shares similar interests, namely in true crime and literature. that, and he had been unusually pushy about this outing.

“hey, that looks like a good one.” law points to a suitable carving prospect. crouching down to get a closer look, a gasp leaves your lips when you find a hole a few inches in diameter bored into the side of the pumpkin. what appears to have once been a pale cream fluid is now a flaky crust, caking the opening. “is that—”

“probably,” law cuts in, resting a cold, tattooed hand on your shoulder. startled, you nearly topple over, but his strong arms catch you and pull you to his chest. now standing, you jerk in his embrace; he releases his hold and you take a few steps back. “it’s one of kappa upsilon mu’s fall festival activities.”

it’s impossible to hide the disgust that furrows your brow and creeps into your voice. “they mutilate pumpkins and fuck them like fleshlights as a frat tradition?”

law shrugs. you swear you see a glimmer of humor flit through his amber irises. “it’s not even close to the weirdest thing they do. ever heard of a ‘cum fountain’?”

you hold up a hand to stop him. “i don’t even wanna know.”

but something isn’t adding up you think with a frown. “if you knew all the pumpkins were going to be cut up and…violated, why did you bring me here, law?” you tried to measure your words carefully, but now that they hang in the open, your accusation is evident.

your date’s lips curl into an ominous smirk. the familiar chill of dread nips at your heels and paws at your chest. “well,” law starts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade. your eyes rivet on the tool—the weapon—as he fiddles with it, nimble fingers gliding along the handle before flicking it open with ease. his bored, yellow gaze unnerves you; his words ooze calculated confidence. “i’m gonna practice my carving skills with you.”

his statement rips the breath from your lungs. unsure of what to do, you chuckle uncomfortably, praying that he’s still talking about the goddamn pumpkins.

law edges closer to you, a hunter testing his prey. you don’t move—you don’t think you could if you tried. your mind is racing in countless directions, but you can’t settle on an action, a plan. and this freak—your date—is one small thrust of the blade from you, crowding your space. so you stare down the predator’s maw.

“you’re beautiful,” law states, though it doesn’t sound complimentary; it’s an observation. there’s a clinical coldness to his words that makes you feel like you’re trapped in a microscope slide. he gestures to you with the knife, the unspoken threat palpable.

“oh. um, th-thank you,” you stammer, eyes darting wildly, cornered prey.

you force yourself to think: how do you escape this fucker? you had to take a shitty taxi to get to the pumpkin patch, but the driver could barely keep the car in its lane and tried to proposition you for sex. is everyone in grimetown a slimeball? you don’t realize your nails are biting so deeply into the skin of your palms that blood is dripping onto the dirt.

as though he can read your thoughts, law says coolly, “i wouldn’t run if i were you.”

options dwindling, you remember your lifeline. slowly, you inch a hand toward your back pocket where your phone sits. but your opponent is perceptive; law cracks a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, running his tongue across his sharp teeth. he raises the knife and presses the flat side of the blade against your neck.

it’s an effective warning.

“there’s no signal out here—the only cell provider that services grimetown is slime mobile. you can check, though, if it makes you feel better,” law taunts.

to your horror, your phone reads “no service” at the top of the screen. your skin itches, nerves buzzing with adrenaline. your hands shake, fear and rage coalescing into an unshakeable tremor that has sweat beading at your temples. hot tears of frustration singe your cheeks. but the cold steel of the blade against your throat saps the fight from your body.

your final resort?

“fuck you,” you hiss with all the venom you can muster. and, before you can stop yourself: ptui. you launch a glob of spit that lands squarely on law’s cheek, punctuating your insult.

law doesn’t flinch. rather, he swipes two calloused fingertips through your precious gift. he holds his wet digits up, admiring the glistening pads of his fingers, then pops them into his mouth. the groan he emits while enjoying your taste makes you lightheaded. he pivots his blade so that the honed tip scrapes an angry line up the column of your throat. the pressure isn’t enough to slice your flesh—yet.

you shriek when law forcefully grabs your jaw and pulls you to him. bruises in the shape of his fingers will bloom on your face tomorrow—if you live that long, anyway. for the first time, his wide grin crinkles his hawkish eyes.

his voice is thick with desire as he murmurs, “i’d like to fuck you first.”

[whumpcereal]

behavior modification, a valentine special

hi! long time, no see. i was home sick from work today and marathoning valentine movies, so here's some sentimental jack and joe for you. part of behavior modification (masterlist here), takes place sometime in the first year after jack's rescue, during his lawsuit against WRU for his freedom.

content warnings for: trauma responses, references to past noncon, tooth-rotting fluff

future snippet, sealed with a kiss

“Is this for your special someone?” 

The clerk’s smile is impossibly large; if she smiles any wider, Joe is convinced her face will crack. He understands. She’s probably asked this question at least seventy-five million times in the last week, and it’s a pointless one. Valentine cards are a perfunctory part of being in a relationship. Even if you don’t think your someone is all that special, you still buy them a card because that’s what the day demands. It’s part of the reason Joe never really cared about Valentine’s Day before. The forced displays of affection, the candy pink sheen of it all–it never seemed to reflect the kind of love Joe knew to be true. 

But this year, it’s different. This year, the clerk’s question isn’t so pointless. Joe looks down at the red envelope in his hand, and he cannot hide his own smile. “Yes, it is. Someone very special.” 

“Well, I’m sure she’ll love it!” the clerk sing-songs back. With a pop of her gum, she grabs the card and scans it. 

Joe doesn’t correct her. At least, not overtly. “I hope he does,” he says softly, but the clerk doesn’t look up. 

They never really celebrated Valentine’s Day before. Sure, Joe liked to rage against the consumer machine, but it was really Jack’s doing. Jack was indifferent, or, at least, he pretended to be. The truth was gift-giving occasions always made him a little uncomfortable. In Jack’s mind, gifts were offered only as part of a fucked-up trade; something he might want for something he certainly didn’t want to give. Joe had learned that the hard way. 

They had been seeing each other maybe a month at the time, but Jack was already spending most of his nights at Joe’s place, even if they hadn’t quite consummated their relationship yet. Joe didn’t know at the time that Jack had basically been squatting in the library study carrels and showering at the fitness center, but even if he had, he was more than happy to have Jack with him as much as possible. 

It had been a hard week. Jack was marking exams as well as taking his own, and Joe had been preparing for a conference; neither of them had come up for air in days. But when the grades were submitted and the presentation finalized, Joe thought they should celebrate. He thought he’d surprise Jack, and he brought home an expensive bottle of champagne and flowers. 

Jack had paled when Joe handed him the roses. “What are these for?” he’d asked. 

“For you, silly. For getting through this bear of a week.” Because I love you, Joe had thought but not said. It was too early. But he kissed Jack’s cheek, because that was something he was allowed to do. It made his body feel electric.

But when he pulled away, Jack was still staring at the roses. “Thank you.” He didn’t sound particularly thankful. 

“Are you okay?” 

A vacant nod. “Yeah. They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Jack set the roses down and turned toward the pantry. “Let me just get dinner started, and then–” 

“You don’t have to make dinner tonight, Jack.” It was before Jack was his Jackie. Before Joe knew what he knows now. “I thought we could kick back and relax. Celebrate.” 

“Of course,” Jack said softly, his chin dipping into the hollow of his throat. “Of course we’ll celebrate. I’ll take care of you.” 

Joe knows that tone of voice now. The faraway note that lets him know Jack is falling back into old habits, a tone that, these days, precipitates a whispered sir. But he didn’t know then.

He didn’t see the way that Jack gnawed on his lip for a split second before he launched himself bodily at Joe, their hips crashing together, Jack’s hands in Joe’s hair. Joe fumbled to set the champagne on the counter behind him, to wrap his hands around Jack’s waist, but Jack’s fingers were already plucking open Joe’s shirt buttons, his mouth close behind. Jack was on his knees so quickly that Joe wasn’t sure what was happening. 

“Jack–ohmygod, Jack.” 

It was everything Joe wanted, but he didn’t know yet that it wasn’t what Jack wanted. Not until he’d looked down and seen tears squeezing from Jack’s pruned eyelids. 

“Jack?” 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I can’t, I just–I know you deserve it. I know what you want. I’ll try again. I’m sorry.” 

It was then that Joe realized. The flowers. The champagne. Jack assumed they were all part of a transaction. 

Jack told him everything that night. About Bill and the others. And Joe learned. He never surprised Jack that way again. Even after Jack came home from WRU–no, especially then–Joe tried to avoid surprises. For Jack, tokens of affection were part and parcel of an economy where he was the commodity. Joe doesn’t want him to feel that way, not ever again. 

But a card. A card is different. 

Joe knows about WRU’s training protocol now. Jack is lucky. Those bastards may have burrowed their poison into his brain, but he still has his words; he can still read. It was one of the only things that gave him comfort when he came home. Books were some of the only things he didn’t ask to touch. Joe understands. Words matter more than things. 

The clerk pops her gum again. “You want a bag and a gold seal?” 

“No, that’s all right.” Joe manages to stop short of telling her that he’s going to seal this one with a kiss. 

“Well, have a happy Valentine’s day, sir.” 

“I will. Thank you.” 

The card is in its envelope when Joe lets himself into the apartment, and Jack is in the kitchen. The apartment is fragrant with a warm, red wine smell. Joe tiptoes to stand in the cheap stucco archway. He watches the way Jack’s basketball short-clad hips move softly to the old fashioned jazz that’s coming from the speaker on the counter. His body is shyer somehow, more tentative in its movements, but still lithe and beautiful. Jack is still Jack, even after everything he’s been through. 

Joe lets out a low whistle, and Jack turns, a pasta server in his hand and a shy smile on his lips. Joe’s knees practically buckle. 

“You’re home,” Jack says. 

“I’m home, baby.” Joe moves into the kitchen, and when Jack offers his lips, Joe takes them, resting a soft hand on Jack’s hip. “What are you making?” 

“Red wine pasta with toasted walnuts and arugula,” Jack says easily. He kisses Joe’s jawline. 

“I know what one of those things is.” 

Jack laughs. “My gourmand.” 

“Or something!” 

“How was your day, Joey?” Jack disengages slowly and goes to pour Joe a glass of wine. 

It’s a difficult question some days. Jack’s days are so different from Joe’s. He isn’t allowed to leave the apartment without supervision until the litigation with WRU is over. Until it’s done, Jack is still technically Joe’s property. But only technically. Joe reminds himself of that every day. 

“It was alright. I missed you.” But it’s easier now. Now, Joe has far fewer opportunities to miss his Jackie. 

Jack smiles, sneaking a sip from the glass before he hands it to Joe. “I missed you too.” 

Joe raises his glass and leans back against the cheap countertop. “I would’ve been home earlier, but I had to make a special stop.” 

Jack is back at the stove. He upends the wine bottle into a sauce pan, and a cloud of rich steam rises in its wake. “Why’s that?” 

“I wanted to get you a card for Valentine’s Day.” Joe says it gently, so that it will not be a surprise. 

Jack freezes, his hand hovering over the sauce pan for just a second, but then his shoulders relax. He peeks at Joe. “You? Mr. ‘Conversation-Hearts-Are-Nuggets-of-Corporate-Greed’?” 

Joe smothers his own smile. Jack remembers. “Yes, me.” He pulls the card from his pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jackie.” 

Jack puts a lid over the pan and turns around. “I didn’t get you anything.” 

“You’re all the gift I need,” Joe whispers, because it is true. Every one of the days he spends with Jack is a gift. He knew that even before, but every nerve in his body is certain of it now. 

Jack tries to roll his eyes, but Joe can see that his words have landed. “Well, thank you,” Jack says softly. His fingertips whisper against Joe’s when he reaches for the card. 

“Open it up, baby.” 

Jack complies, carefully opening the red envelope that Joe absolutely kissed without a hint of irony after he licked the seal and pressed it closed. The card itself isn’t so special; just the standard hearts and flowers schlock that all the stores sell this time of year. But Joe’s written his own message inside. He watches Jack’s eyes move like a typewriter carriage over his uneven scrawl. 

Jackie, 

I know we don’t usually do this, but I feel like I haven’t told you enough how grateful I am that you are home. Nothing felt right without you, and I know now that it never could. You are my home. You are stronger than any foundation, and I will never stop thanking God that you choose to be with me, even after everything you’ve been through. And it is your choice. You have every choice. You deserve that. 

I choose you, every day. I always will. 

Love, 

Joe 

When Jack looks up again, his blue eyes are glassy with tears. “Joey–” 

“I didn’t mean to–” 

Jack shakes his head. He folds the card carefully and stares down at it. “You didn’t. Joe?” 

Joe takes a hesitant step forward. “What is it, baby?” 

“I choose this. I do.” 

Jack reaches for him then, and Joe pulls Jack into his chest. “I know you do. And even if you didn’t or if–if someday, you don’t, I’ll always be grateful for this. Right now.” 

Jack lets Joe hold him, and Joe knows exactly what this moment is worth. He wraps his arms so tightly around Jack that, if he didn’t know exactly how strong Jack is, he might crush him. But no one can crush Jack, and Joe knows how to hold him. Joe knows how to give him room and keep him close all at once. Joe knows how to let him choose. 

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy1, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @termsnconditions-apply, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keeper-of-all-the-random-things, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @whumpyblogthing, @sowhumpful, @considerablecolors, @ramadiiiisme, @sunnie, @sadboysanonymous, @panic-whump

[numberonejeanshipper]

because i love you

a/n: hi! I wasn’t feeling the best the past few weeks so I wrote a little something from it! I haven’t wrote in a while so I apologize if this isn’t super great and there’s mistakes. this also takes place before saw & breaking bad, they’re in their early 20s and are “close friends”. (I added some references too hehe) edit: I wrote this also before everything that’s been happening so I hope in someway this makes others feel maybe a bit better <3

warnings: some mentioning of gender dysphoria (it’s nothing too in depth), two guys are naked in a tub but nothing sexual happens, there’s also a small mention about religion but nothing too heavy, some depression themes too.

adam isn’t feeling the best about his body as he tries to take a bath, jesse comforts him.

It was the evening as the sky darkened, everything outside seemed to be the same. The same cars going in and out of homes, the same neighbors partying or sleeping, the same dogs barking, it was all the same. The world seemed to continue as if nothing wrong was happening. It was cruel that way, but it’s always been that way Adam thought.

Adam sat in the bathtub in the apartment complex he and Jesse had rented, it wasn’t much but it was all they could afford. They, meaning Jesse and Adam, who moved out from their crappy homes and lived together. Paycheck to paycheck.

It was on the third floor, it was always so busy and occupied, it had the cheapest rooms. The floor always reeked of weed and other stenches, alongside the strange stains on the walls. They both did what they could, that’s what was Jesse’s view on things.

The dark brunette sat in the now cold water, he was originally supposed to just shower but even that was a chore for him. He looked down at the soapy water, the coldness always made him uncomfortable. He already had a naturally cold body, according to Jesse at least. Even with the soapy water he could see his skinny body, he immediately felt a wave of discomfort.

‘Why did he have to look the way he did?’

‘Why was he born into this body?’

‘Is he forever stuck this way?’

He felt those thoughts take over his mind and he didn't even realize he was having a panic attack. Small drops of water from his eyes dropped into the tub making a soft ‘plop’ noise. He was breathing so heavily, he had to cover his mouth. With his shaky pale hand, he stifled his soft sobs hoping Jesse didn’t hear.

He did.

Jesse turned the volume down on the alternative radio station Adam loved so much. He wore a thrifted shirt he’s been stuck with all day, it was orange and had a jack o’ lantern face on it. He was just about to make dinner, mac n’ cheese. He heard faint sniffles from the bathroom and felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. He walked towards the bathroom door, his footsteps quiet from his dirty socks. The brunette’s eyebrows knitted into a nervous expression as he gently knocked.

“Yo, Ads you okay?” He said softly, his eyes lowered seeing the bathroom light hoping to see some movement from the shadows.

Adam froze.

He didn’t know what to do or say, either way Jesse knew something was wrong or was going to find out one way or another. He bites his lip hard, and swallows.

“I-I’m fine.”

Shit, his voice cracked.

“Dude no you’re not, can I come in?” He says, gripping his hair anxiously.

Adam let out a soft hum, Jesse immediately turned the knob and went in.

“What…”

His voice trailed when he saw the man in the bathtub sniffling, his hair had dried from how long he’s been in there, however his face was damp from his salty tears. The ends of his hair were slightly wet, his hair had recently been cut by Jesse after Adam’s friend, Scott Tibbs, fucked it up last time.

Jesse’s cut wasn’t any better but he tried.

Anything involving Adam he gave it his all, he’d put more effort into him than his classes.

“What happened?” He cautiously approached him, he wasn’t scared of him but he hoped it didn’t make the other man nervous. Jesse just didn’t want to just jump out and hold him, as bad as he wanted to.

Adam looked up with his dark wet eyes that resembled an innocent lamb.

“Nothing I... I got shampoo in my eyes- I’m such a idiot-”

“Yo, I know you’re lying, and you are not an idiot.”

He says softly, his blue eyes looking at him. He crouched down to the tub placing his hand on the sides. Adam looked at him and saw the gears in his head turning, he was planning something.

“Alright, that’s it- I’m going in.”

“Wait-!”

Jesse was about to reach for his shirt and stopped. He immediately cursed at himself for potentially making Adam uncomfortable. He panics as he quickly speaks.

“I don’t have to.. I just-”

“No no, don’t worry man I wanted to make space. Can’t let you just dive in with me hogging up the space with my lanky legs.” Adam quipped, even if he wasn’t completely himself he would crack jokes. He scoots a little towards the bathroom wall in the tub, making some space.

“You can, uh, go in now.”

Jesse grinned and started taking off his clothes and stepping in the tub. He flinched from the coolness of the water when he dipped his toe in. He settled down next to the man and smiled softly. It wasn’t rare for them to do this, they often bathed together and did things friends don’t normally do. They've seen each other naked before and like to explore one another’s bodies. It was comforting for the both of them, especially since they both shared similar body types. Neither of them really saw it inherently sexual either, they saw one another as people.

“Damn, it’s cold in here you must be freezing! You’re gonna die Adam.”

Adam licked his lips nervously as Jesse leaned to turn the faucet on draining the cold water. Adam wasn’t uncomfortable at all, he was with Jesse, someone he loved…

A lot.

He glances up at him, the light brown haired man smiled like he was a golden retriever puppy.

“Alright, so what’s going on my man?”

Jesse was about to scoot before he stopped.

“Uh, you want me to come closer by the way? I just wanna… make sure you’re okay.”

“Y-Yeah… I’m cold anyways heh.” Adam says shakily as Jesse scooted next to him in the small cramped tub, their legs touched. If they were dry, Adam would have commented on Jesse’s leg hair tickling him as if he didn’t do the same to him.

Jesse gazed at Adam as if he was the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes on.

He looked at him more than a friend. He saw him as the wonderful person he truly was. Jesse never thought too much of it when he would admire Adam, he just adored him so much.

“What’s up yo? C’monnn, you can tell me, we share everything.” Jesse said with a smile, Adam couldn’t lie to him.

He sucked at lying.

“I just… okay. I’ve been just thinking about… ugh this is gonna sound so stupid and girly-”

“Hey, nothin’ wrong with that.” Jesse says with a soft voice, noticing how Adam’s body curled inward, his back slouched and he brought his legs to his chest. It was almost as if he was hiding himself from Jesse, or maybe society, maybe the world.

“I just… I…”

His lips trembled, his eyes watered.

“I hate this body I was born into, I hate it so much… What happened to me?”

Jesse softened, he’s had his fair share of dysphoric moments himself. He questioned himself multiple times, wondering if this is what he wanted.

To be a man.

Could he even live to be like one?

To pass as one?

Jesse and Adam knew one another more than the back of their own hands. Jesse was right, they shared so much together, sometimes too much. Either it’s their smoke sessions late at night, or times where it’s the two of them at some abandoned parking lot, often they were emotionally vulnerable moments like these.

Adam remembers when they first came out together, how scared he was to tell his best friend the truth. Jesse was masking his own anxiety, afraid Adam would leave him.

They both couldn’t bear the thought.

Once they revealed it to each other, they were shocked… it’s not every day in the late 90s you meet a man who’s like you.

Not just bodily, but personality wise too.

It was almost like they were soulmates or something like that.

“Nothing happened, I mean- you realized the person you want to be… Adam. You realized who you want to be that’s… that’s what happened. You’re like reborn or somethin’… we-we both know it… we both know we’re something more…”

Jesse says softly, almost whispering even though it was just them, Adam looks up into his eyes then down at their hips that were pressed together. Quite literally attached to the hip.

Adam shook his head, sinking down.

“I feel so trapped I know we don’t have the money, it’s not your fault-”

“It ain’t yours either, we’re doing what we can, I mean look at us. We’re finally away from our crappy parents, this is what we worked for.”

Jesse says with a hopeful smile, he had so much innocence and optimism.

“Jesse.”

Adam squishes away the water moving slowly back and forth, he turns off the faucet and clogs the drain. The air conditioner was still softly humming.

“Adam.”

Jesse replied with a smile, Adam bit back a smile.

The pale man turned around, the warm water surrounding them squished. The light brunette reaches over towards the side of the tub and grabs the shampoo bottle. Not too long ago when they moved they went shopping, attempting to better take care of themselves. He squeezed some shampoo into his hands and gently placed it on Adam’s hair, he felt him flinch a bit. Jesse scooted a little, hesitant to press himself against his back. Adam leaned against him, their warm bodies reunite and mold together perfectly.

“You okay dude?”

“Mhm.”

Jesse nods and lightly massages the other’s head with his fingers making his hair soapy. Adam’s eyes fluttered closed, as his throat softly let out a low hum. Jesse smiled wider, admiring how handsome his friend was once again. He adds a bit of conditioner from the bottle and starts untangling his hair, brushing it out. It smelled like pine, it smelled like a man.

“I’ll make some food afterwards, okay? We can watch that show you love… with the baking? O-Or a movie.” He says softly, he didn’t mean to stutter or sounded like he was desperate for some sort of approval. He just hoped this comforted Adam in some way, hoping that if he showed how much he cared and loved him, he would feel better.

“Thanks, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Jesse quickly responds, continuing brushing out his dark hair. It was always so soft, it felt so comforting against his fingers. He reaches towards a nearby cup filling it with warm water.

“I’m gonna pour it okay?”

Adam nods and he shuts his eyes as Jesse slowly pours the water onto his hair. The water ran down his hair, his bangs clung onto his forehead. Jesse giggled at how much he resembles a cat in a way, or maybe a puppy. He reaches for a cloth and the bar of soap and starts washing his body gently.

Adam was quiet. After he washes him off he speaks up, turning around.

“Y’know… Jess, I’m… I’m serious I… I’m just… I see so much shit on the news about just…”

He reached to grip his hair that was starting to dry a bit, Jesse knew what he was referencing.

He didn’t have to say anything, he knew.

He shakily inhaled.

“I know it’s scary, fuck I wish we could just… go to like a magical place that we can just be like, ourselves y’know? We won’t have to worry about being born the way we are, the way we want to be, and the people we love. Like maybe we can live in some.. desert or mountains or something…”

Jesse rambled and didn’t notice Adam was softly crying. Jesse immediately shuts up and freaks out, his whole face softened trying to hide his anxiety.

“Adam- shit-shit…” He whispered, he slowly got closer to him, yearning to hug him- to hold him.

Adam lifts his head.

“Jesse… am I… a mistake?”

The air conditioner stopped blowing cool air, it was quiet.

Jesse’s blue hopeful eyes contrasted with Adam’s dark-green pessimistic eyes. Jesse loved it when his orbs would light up the room or when it squinted when he laughed.

He loves his laugh.

He gazed at his watery dark eyes, it made his heart ache.

“A mis… w-where’d you hear that from?”

He was stunned, but wasn’t angry at him, he could never be angry.

Who told him that?

Why would Adam think of such a concept?

Adam stayed silent, looking down and ashamed for even speaking up.

“Shit, I didn’t.. mean it like that I…”

Their legs brush, he never took his eyes off of him.

“Adam, you are not a mistake, not at all.”

“Am I God’s mistake?”

Adam asked, his voice and hands trembled.

Jesse immediately holds the back of his head with one hand the other cupping his cheek.

Their eyes locked.

“Why did God make me this way…?”

He sniffled as his salty tears streaked down his face, his nose red, his eyes puffy.

The two grew up in a somewhat religious household, nothing extreme, but they’d go to church. It was expected of them to believe certain things. They knew how people and their own parents felt about people like them.

Jesse swallowed, his own eyes, tearing up.

“Adam you’re… you’re not God’s mistake.”

“Why did this have to happen to me…?”

His eyes closed as he pleaded.

“There’s a reason, there’s a reason why we are born into these lives, a reason why we met and-and we’re together… right? No- no, no I know, I know this is like some destiny shit, I know it- I know it Adam.”

He says shakily, his fingers curl around the other’s dark brown hair. The bathroom’s crappy lighting made it look black. Adam’s eyes opened as he spoke, he slowly extended his hand into Jesse’s light brown hair, he gripped onto it.

“We… this… is this some destiny shit?”

He says shaking, their mouths were inches away. They were breathing the same air into one another, like it was life support, as if they were dying.

If they were dying, this was their rebirth.

“Yeah- yeah like, I know it. I know that… like how I know that I love you.”

He says with a little smile, he looked at Adam whose lips slowly curled into a small smile as well.

The two often said how much they loved one another, as if it was second nature.

They would say it like how friends did, at least that’s what they convinced themselves.

But they weren’t just friends though, they both knew that it was different this time.

“I love you too, I hope you’re right.”

“Fuck yeah I know I’m right.”

Jesse smiled wider, relaxing, he pulled the hand away from his cheek and slowly down his arm. Adam watched as his eyes followed, then softly spoke up again.

“Lemme wash you next okay?”

Jesse’s cheeks were hurting (and blushing) by how much he was smiling because of this man.

“Wh- Really?! Thank you Addy!”

He exclaimed and gripped on his body, silently begging to hold him.

“You can hug me, you don’t have to ask Jess.”

Adam says with a grin.

“God- thank you I mean- I just wanted you to feel comfortable and stuff…”

He lets out a faint chuckle before closing the gaps in their flushed bodies. Adam melted in seconds, immediately pulling him close and unexpectedly, making Jesse stumble backwards.

The water softly moved back and forth before settling back and then it was still.

The brunette felt the other’s heart race fast, their chests pressed against one another but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… grounding in a way.

As if it was a reminder that they were both there, alive. Their heart beats a reminder.

The two held one another like a lifeline.

The water was almost drained as Adam was now getting dried off by Jesse (who insisted on taking care of him), making the darker haired man blush a bit. Jesse was always so kind, it’s one of the traits Adam admired so much about him.

He always viewed himself as angry and bitter at times, Jesse never saw him in such a way… he saw the funny and soft side of Adam.

The side where he would care for the stray cats on the streets, the side where he would make meals for Jesse (and unfortunately at times forgetting himself), the side where he'd lend his clothes for Jesse when he felt insecure, the side where he’d hold him close and his lips brush against his…

“…Jess?”

“Yeah?”

Jesse perked up giving him his full attention, he had those puppy dog eyes.

Adam chuckled, ruffling his soft hair that was mostly dry.

“I was talking about Deftones and Korn possibly touring soon.”

“Ah- sorry I blanked out man. I didn’t mean it, honest.” Jesse sheepishly smiled, Adam smiled back showing nothing but love for him.

“I know, silly.”

He unwrapped the towel that was on his body, and draped it around the two of them. He leaned down pressing his forehead against his.

“You’re cold.” Adam says in a quiet voice, noticing the goosebumps on his arm.

His eyes trailing to his hand tattoo he recently got, then back to his eyes. Jesse looked back in awe and smiled, scooting more and his arms wrapped around him. Adam grinned and spoke up.

“So about that movie…”

“Dude of course, not even a question my guy.” Jesse grinned back and brought the towel to his hair ruffling it. Adam laughed and quickly did the same causing their hair to get all fuzzy and tangled.

Jesse slipped into a, hopefully clean, shirt of Adam’s that had the album cover of “Siamese Dream” from Smashing Pumpkins. He finished putting on some boxers, looking down at Adam who immediately plopped on the bed sighing softly.

He was wearing Jesse’s shirt, at least he thinks it is, they can’t tell at times. It was black and had a skull graphic with patterns on it.

The two were the same height so they just wore one another’s clothes often, and also to save money. It also felt comforting, like they were always with one another…

Adam stretched like a cat before yawning, scratching his stomach as Jesse giggled.

The brunette dims the light on their lamp a bit before sliding next to Adam. He wrapped his arms around him, spooning him. The two men cuddled always, they were both quite the touch starved pair. Adam absolutely loved it, it helped calm him down and made him feel loved, he didn’t care if Scott thought it was gay. He has a hunch he’s just jealous.

Jesse’s friends never seemed to notice or cared too much, not in a bad way, but they’re just chill like that and it helped that they all liked Adam. He could recall the time Badger walked in on them cuddling once, not realizing how close they were. He didn’t even comment on it and just claimed he was looking for a snack, it was a funny memory looking back on it.

Jesse leaned his cheek against Adam, brushing against his skin softly exhaling. His hand on his waist, the other on his stomach. Adam reached for his hand, their fingers intertwined.

“Adam?”

Adam’s eyes looked over and smiled, he shifted to wrap his arms around him, nuzzling his face into his neck. Their limbs were all tangled now and were just pressed against together.

“Jesse.”

The two giggle, Adam pulls away and Jesse cups his cheek rubbing small circles on it.

“I love you so much, I love you, I know how weird it sounds-”

“No- no it’s not weird man, it’s not weird at all, I love you too.”

Jesse holds him close, Adam returns the embrace.

“You’ll… always love me, no matter what, right? Even if I’m not a real man?”

“You are a real man. You’ll always be my man, okay?” Jesse kisses his forehead softly, Adam blushes lightly.

”You’ll always be my man too.”

They both grinned, as their lips met once again.

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : COACH HARLOW

A/N : Thanks to my bby @harlowsbby for this beautiful idea. I hope I did it justice 💜 & to @harlowcomehome for always reassuring me about my writing because I was doubting this one bad.

Today was an exciting day, it was the 4th annual kickball tournament of The Homies, and your husband was going to join in on the fun.

The kids were also excited about it, it’s all they’ve been talking about non stop since they found out, even asking if they could be on the team and play.

You were finishing up getting EZ dressed so you can meet Jack at the stadium. “Momma, is daddy wearing shirt like me?”

You nod, tying his New Balance shoes “Yess baby, even the same shoes.”

“Yay, we gonna be twinsies.”

“Cheesy, you need to get a hat because daddy is wearing that too.” Mia announces as she’s making her way inside the bedroom. “Oh and some shades.”

“Momma, I don’t have hats or shades.” He gasps.

You smile at him, “Don’t worry baby, daddy called me saying he’s got you covered with that. Now let’s head out.”

**********

“Mommy.” Mia giggles. “Look at nino Urby, he’s all tanned and his shorts are really, really short.”

You look ahead and find Urban standing next to Cole and Jack, and Mia was indeed correct. “He’s just like your father, being out in the sun too much will get them all burned quickly.”

“But daddy is really pale, like his shirt, momma.”

“EZEQUIEL.” You laugh. “You’re correct but still don’t say that to him.”

Mia nods “Come on Cheesy, let’s go annoy uncle Ace and Shloob.” She takes a hold of her brothers hand and they run off.

Jack spots you and smiles at you and starts jogging your way.

“Well you look hot.” You tell him as soon as he’s in front of you. “My kids are somewhere around bothering their uncles. Do you want to sneak off somewhere before my husband notices??”

Jack rolls his eyes, pulling you in. “Role play only in bed.” He gives you a quick kiss. “Those were your words if I recall correctly.”

You shrug and tug at his KY necklace. “You know I’m a mess when you wear this chain.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wore it.”

“Mhmm.” You look at him up and down. “I love that the jerseys have your foundation logo.”

“You did good by suggesting it.”

“I know, you should listen to your wife more.” You smirk.

“Don’t I always?” He raises his eyebrows but before you could answer him, your two children were tackling their father to the ground.

You can’t help but smile and admire them, Jack really is a great father and you couldn’t be more thankful for him.

“Daddy, I need hat and shades like yours so we can be twinems.”

“Neelam has that for you little man.” Jack stands up from the ground, the kids attached to him like some koalas. “You guys want to learn how to play?”

EZ nods excitedly, while Mia pulls away and stands in front of her father, raising her eyebrows at him. “Isn’t it just kicking the ball and running around?”

You can’t help but let out a little chuckle at Jack’s offended look on his face. “Not exactly.” He signals Urban to throw him the ball.

“So this is what you do.” Jacks starts, earning a groan from his oldest, but an excited shriek from his youngest.

After thirty minutes of Jack explaining to the kids how kickball works, he’s ready to let them have a little practice game with the guys.

��Remember Mia, you kick the ball from the side of your foot, not the front.”

That has her groaning, “Dad, I thought that was for soccer.”

Everyone chuckles, which causes Mia to glare at all of her uncles and her dad. “It’s not even funny, so I don’t know why you’re all laughing.”

“Damn, she’s a feisty little seven year old huh?” Cole asks Jack

“Oh, you have no idea.” Jack smiles, nodding.

“Daddy, can we play now?” Ezequiel asks.

“Yeah, you’re up first little man.”

Urban rolls the ball towards Ezequiel and to your surprise he ends up kicking it really far and and hard.

“RUN EZ”

“GO GO GO.”

“HELL YEAH LITTLE MAN.”

“HE GETS THAT KICK FROM ME.” Urban yells the last part.

Jack rolls his eyes “Keep thinking that.”

Ezequiel makes it to third base and does a little shake of his body to celebrate his success. “Your turn Mia bug.” He yells to his sister.

“Nino Urb, not too hard okay?”

Urban nods, “I got you princess.” He tosses the ball towards Mia but she misses and doesn’t kick it. “It’s okay, you get three tries.”

“Throw it straight, you’re throwing it to the side and I’m right here.” Mia grumbles out.

“Keep your eyes on the ball Mia.” Jack yells.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

You chuckle but not loud enough that she can hear you. “Mia, está bien mami, tú puedes.”

She turns to look at you, pouting “Pero se están riendo de mí.”

“Guys, can you please not laugh? She’s trying her best.”

“Mia, I’m tossing it slower this time okay?” Urban yells.

Mia nods and waits for the ball to be a foot closer so she can kick it. “YES” she yells as she sees that she ended up kicking it and tries to run to second base but she ends up kicking the ball straight into Urban’s hands.

“MIA YOU’RE OUT.” Nemo yells.

You, Jack and Urban glare at him, while Mia stops mid run and sees Urban drop the ball immediately.

“UGH I DON’T WANNA PLAY ANYMORE.” She stomps her way towards you and hugs your legs. “Nino Urby, why did you catch it? And Nemo, you are annoying.”

Urban smiles sadly at her “I didn’t catch it, you have good aim that you kicked it into my hands bug.” You know he’s lying but you’re not about to make your daughter feel worse.

“Daddy, I hate this game and I don’t want to play.”

“She’s competitive like you, Jackman.” Cole adds.

Jack starts jogging his way towards you and Mia once he notices that she really is frustrated and got her feelings hurt about the game.

Jack kneels in front of her “Mia, baby?”

“Hmm?” Is all she mutters out, scrubbing at her eyes.

“You and I are the same, you know?” He stands up and holds Mia to him. “We both love to win and we hate when the game doesn’t go our way, but we have to realize that at the end of the day, it’s just a game and we should enjoy the time with our loved ones, just running around and laughing.”

“But daddy, what’s the fun in that? I want to win.”

You and Jack share a smile because you’ve heard him say those exact words more than you can count. “The fun is being with family.”

Mia sighs, “I guess. But is it okay if I just watch?” She looks behind Jack, towards the field “Plus, I think Cheesy is the sporty one, he did really well.”

Jack smiles, “You did too, baby.”

She rolls her eyes, “Thank you for being nice.” she taps his shoulder signaling him to let her down. “Now go win, me and mommy will be cheering you on.”

“You got it Mia.” They do their little handshake and Mia watches her dad run off towards the middle of the field where her brother and uncles were.

Mia crosses her arms, looking towards the field, then back at you with raised eyebrows. “Mommy, can we get wings and icey? It’s gonna be a long day seeing these silly boys run around in a triangle.”

You smile, and fix your sunglasses. “Yes let’s go, I’m dying in this heat.”

“How much you wanna bet daddy and uncles are gonna loose?”

You gasp, “Mia, we’re supposed to be cheering them on.”

She shrugs, “We will, but I know and you know that they’ll lose.”

“You are evil, young lady.” You shake your head.

“I get it from my daddy.” She smiles.

************

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[greenfuls-secret-chambers]

Warnings : Minors DNI, shameless smut

Reader is of legal age

1800+ words

Our Little Secret

Tripping over your feet, you successfully made your way past the crowd to the door of the bar.

It was Friday night, being the last few weeks of your third year of college , you and all of your friends decided to go out for a drink. Next thing you knew, one drink led to two, and two some how led to four.

You pushed past the heavy door, finding yourself leaning up against the building fishing in your pockets for your pack of cigarettes. Finding the pack you took one out and put it to your lips. You took out your lighter, tried to light the end but no luck.

“Well fuck, isn’t that just peachy.” You groaned

You looked around, scanning the figures around you, looking for someone who might be able to save you from your predicament. To your left you saw a man blowing smoke out of his nose.

“Hey would you mind? I need a light.” You pointed to your cigarette.

He looked up at your with green eyes and smiled. “Sure, no problem. I’ve been there a couple of times myself.” He stood up and put his hand around your cig to light it.

Holy shit, was this man TALL. Not only was he built like a damn giant, he was hot as fuck.

You stared at him in the pale moonlight, taking in his light brown hair, his bright green eyes, but also a scar that ran across his face. What you wouldn’t give to be under this mystery of a man.

“You know, it’s not polite to stare.” He smirked, as if he knew what you were thinking.

“I’m sorry!” You blushed, “My name is Y/N, thank you for the light.” You smiled, trying to not make things awkward.

“Oh yes Y/N Y/LN, I know of you, I’m Professor Remus Lupin, I teach world history at UCL.”

Your brain short circuited.

Im standing here smoking in front of a professor. NO I’m standing here drunk, smoking in front of a professor.

Worried about your image you moved your arm down by your side trying to hide your cigarette. You couldn’t afford to lose your scholarships.

Seeing you become uncomfortable he spoke,

“No need to be bashful, I’m not going to scold you for smoking. That would be hypocritical of me to do so.” He brought his hand up to his mouth and took a drag.

“Plus we are off of school grounds, so it can be our little secret.” He smirked

There it was again, that smirk was making your knees weak.

You finished your cigarette and flicked it away

“Well professor, the night is still young, I’m going back in and to grab another drink.”

“Mind if I come and join you? It is the weekend and I could use one. Grading all these exams are going to be the death of me.”

Feeling a little brave, you smiled, “Sure, since you helped me out with the light, just put yours on my tab.”

“Well I never say no to a free drink”

With that you walked through the door making your way to the bar taking a seat, Lupin following behind you.

The bartended made his way over to you, “Need another jack and coke?”

“Yes please, and could you put his on my tab?” You looked at Lupin.

“Cinnamon whiskey on the rocks.” He requested.

Within a couple of minutes your drinks were sat in front of you.

Lupin turned to look at you “For someone as sociable as you, I know you couldn’t of come alone.”

Oh shit your friends, you had completely forgotten about them. You looked around the bar, but no dice. “Well I didn’t, I guess they have already left for the night.” You looked down at your phone confirming your suspicions.

*Hey, I hope you’re alright! We waited for you to come back to the table, but Maria started to get sick so we took her back to Uni. Be safe! I’ll see you back at the dorm later*

…

An hour had past, you were now on your 6th drink of the night and you were feeling it. The night was going very well. The both of you were chatting up a storm, everything from what was going on at university to even some hobbies you both shared.

“.. and you know what,” Lupin spoke in between sips, “Professor Snape needs to have the huge stick removed from his ass, he is so insufferable to work with.”

You almost spit out your drink from laughing and lightly slapped him on the arm, “Imagine being one of his students, I have never in my life had a professor who is such a hard ass for no reason, I think that man just needs to get laid.” You giggled.

Lupin looked down at your hand, still on his arm and bit his lip. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

He looked up at you, taking in the sight. He hadn’t noticed early but you truly breathtaking. His eyes began to look you up and down, noticing a couple of your buttons at the top of your shirt had come undone. You skirt had rode up just slightly, giving him a view of your upper thigh.

You but your lip and quipped “You know Professor, it’s not polite to stare.”

“Y/N, no need for formalities, please call me Remus.” He replied, trying to take away from you catching him staring.

You smiled, noticing you still had your hand on his arm, you squeezed it ever so gently. This caused him to shift a little in his chair.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for another smoke.” You said trying to break the tension.

“I think you’re right.” He smiled

You both made your way outside, it had gotten a little colder which caused you to shiver.

Seeing this he asked, “I’m freezing, would you want to smoke in my car?”

Taking the opportunity not to go into hypothermic shock, as well as be alone with him, you happily agreed.

You both made your way to his car, getting into the passenger you could smell chocolate and warm spices. It was a nice change from the mustiness of the bar.

You both took out a cigarette. He lit his, waiting for him to hand you the lighter never came. He leaned over and lit your cig with his. His face only inches away from yours. Between the booze and his action, your cheeks turned red.

You both smoked in silence, stealing small glances while the other one wasn’t looking.

A few minutes went and you had both finished your smokes, flicking them out the window.

You checked your phone seeing it was almost 2am. “Well it’s getting rather late, I need to get back to the dorms soon.” You sighed.

Your hand reached for the door, but before you could open it, Remus grabbed onto your arm and pulled you over to him. Leaving you both inches away from each other’s face.

Staying in that position for what seemed like eternity, you closed the gap putting your lips to his.

He kissed you back immediately, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, begging to be let inside, you happy obliged and parted your lips slightly, allowing him access. You both fought for dominance, but in the end letting him win.

A few seconds later he moved his hand to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling you away to look at him.

This caused you to whimper. Your cheeks where flushed, and your eyes where slightly closed.

“Such a pretty girl, I was just waiting to get my hands on you.” He looked you up and down, taking in the sight before him. You skirt had rode all the way up, giving him a view of your black lace panties.

Wanting more you moaned out, “Professor please ..” Starting to rub your thighs together.

He smirked “Professor? I do recall telling you to call me by my first name.” He brought his other hand to your thighs and pushed them apart.

Taking his finger and rubbing them up your clothed slit, he lowly chuckled feeling the wetness.

“Oh I see. This little slut has a thing for getting fucked by a Professor huh? That’s quite naughty isn’t it Y/N?”

You couldn’t take it, he was turning you into a moaning mess.

“Professor Lupin, please don’t tease me, I need more.” You gasped out, grinding down on his hand.

“Exactly what I would expect from a whore like you, don’t worry my love, I’ll give you more.”

He pulled your panties over to the side and pushed two long fingers into you, immediately curling them.

With his other hand, he let go of your hair, almost causing you to lose your balance, to unbutton his pants. He pulls them down just enough to free his cock.

Your eyes grew wide at the sight. He was definitely larger than average and so thick. You have no idea how it was going to fit inside you.

He brought his hand up to your mouth and commanded, “Spit.”

You did as you were told and watch him bring his hand down to his cock, starting to stroke at the same speed he was thrusting his fingers.

He started to speed up both hands then completely stoped.

“Come here, I want you to get in my lap.”

Without hesitating you climbed over the middle console.

He slid down in his seat to give you more access. He pulled your panties back over to the side and slowly pushed you down on his cock.

“Professor Lupin, you’re stretching me out.” You moaned, bitting your lip.

He grunted as he buried himself completely to the hilt. “Y/N, you have such a tight little pussy.”

Without warning he started to thrust upward into you. Both of his hands ripped open your shirt, sending buttons flying all over his car.

He pulled your breast out of your bra and leaned forward to take a nipple into his mouth.

His thrust started to become more rough causing you to grab on to his shoulders for more stability.

“Professor please, I want you to ruin my pussy, fuck me harder.” You cried out, begging.

He released your nipple from his mouth and grabbed the back of your neck pulling you close to him.

“If you keep squeezing around my cock like that, im going to make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

And with that he sped up, thrusting into you at a speed you couldn’t even fathom , before you knew it your orgasm hit you like a train

“Fuck Remus, fill up my tight pussy.” You pleaded, riding out your orgasm.

With his name leaving your mouth he sped up.

“Y/N I’m so close my darling.” He groaned

Feeling you clench around him caused his movements to become uneven. With a final thrust he emptied inside of you, panting to catch his breath.

You both sat there, slumped in the driver seat. He brought his hand up to your cheek , taking his thumb ever so gently to rake across it.

[gallavichpreg]

Nude Version

Mickey feels like such a jackass, all dressed up for a holiday that he hasn’t celebrated a single year in his life. Halloween was never a day that he looked forward to when he was younger. While the other kids spent the entire month of October deciding what they would be dressing up as, and gushing about the spooky season, he was planning out a big night of trick-or-treater shakedowns and gearing up for minor acts of terror. There were no horror movie marathons, candy hauls, or scary costumes. Halloween wasn’t any different than the other days… but that changed when things started getting serious between him and Ian though.

Every year since they’ve been together, Ian’s begged him to do something fun on Halloween—to dress up in the house, go out to some kind of spooky event, or at least hand candy out to the neighborhood kids—but year after year, Mickey’s told him no. This Halloween though, now that they’re expecting a baby, and Ian’s so dead set on “celebrating their first holiday as a family,” Mickey’s given in to the pressure and agreed to wear a couples costume.

If he would’ve known then what he knows now—that he’d be paraded around the city in an outfit that shows off almost every inch of his pale skin, dressed up as a character that he isn’t the slightest bit familiar with, and have his belly painted up and displayed like some kind of prized pumpkin—he would’ve waited until next year to give Ian what he wanted. That way, the baby would at least be here before they celebrated their first Halloween as a family.

Though he feels like a total jackass, seeing the way that Ian is looking at him makes it all a little easier.