#and it was going non contact that showed me how insane they were

[firefighter-diazbuckley]

me and my sister spent an hour on the phone ranting and psychoanalysing our absolutely insane dad & his family because they’re the absolute fucking worst and such a unique brand of awful and crazy

[ghouljams]

Alone on Valentine's Day? Mad at your ex?

Rating: E Words: 17.5k Tags: Gaz x f!reader, insecure!reader, bad breakups, past cheating(but not by Gaz or reader), shitty exes, fluff, manipulation, subtle interrogation techniques, non-consensual filming, non-consensual photography, minor dollification kink, minor intox kink, touch starved!reader, oral (m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex, piv sex, dick piercings, non-con (off screen) creampie, non-consensual photo sharing Summary: In a fit of pettiness and self loathing you respond to a personal ad online. You get a lot more than you bargained for out of it.

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

<- Alone on Valentine’s Day? Mad at your ex?

[casual encounters]

“Did your partner recently break up with you? Want to look like you’re doing better without them?

I’m a recently turned 30 former special services operative (currently in private security) and, at risk of sounding like a complete ass, a fairly good looking man.

What I can provide to you:

-A full day of “dates” that you can photograph and post on social media for your ex to see.

-The full boyfriend experience for videos and even an “accidental” live

-Outfit changes

-Princess treatment so you remember what an asshole they were

The only payment I want is to hear about the fallout afterwards, I live for the drama and my life has been boring lately.

Face card provided upon request.

Serious inquiries only”

-do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers-

*

It takes a few emails back and forth, an enlistment photo you didn’t believe, a requested picture of the most beautiful man you’d ever seen with a frying pan on his head, and an assurance that you weren’t going to get murder-napped, before you realize maybe you’re a little (incredibly) insane. By then you’re already walking into the cafe you’d agreed to meet Kyle at, so it’s a little too late to back out. Not that you don’t consider it when you lay eyes on him.

Pictures don’t do the man justice, and the pictures were really fucking good. His dark skin is rich and beautifully smooth where it shines in the cafe lights, his lips pout slightly as his eyes scan the menu, and by the set of his shoulders you can tell that under that camel colored peacoat he’s got a body that’d make you drool. He seems to spot you out of the corner of his eye because he turns to smile at you before you can turn tail and run, and God even his teeth are pretty.

Which only makes it too bad that the only reason you’re meeting him is because you’re a pathetic mess that can’t get over your ex. Maybe under better circumstances this could’ve been an actual date. 

He raises a hand in greeting and you try not to look like you’re rushing over to him, plastering on a smile and holding out your hand to properly introduce yourself. Kyle’s hand is warm and pleasantly worn when it slides against yours. His ad said he was in private security, do they work with their hands enough to have calluses? He says your name like he was made to, lets the syllables shape his lips in a way that feels purposeful.

“Buy you a cuppa?” He asks, nodding towards the board over the counter.

“Oh,” You glance towards the menu, “that’s really kind, but you don’t have to.” If you expected your response to dull his smile it doesn’t, in fact he seems to glow just a bit brighter, his eyes sparking with something you can’t name.

“Course I do, it’s our first date.” You feel a pop of heat on your cheeks and quickly push it down. Kyle bumps against your side. “Besides, I thought you wanted the princess treatment.”

The heat pops again and you laugh nervously to cover it. “Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?” Kyle nods with a pleased hum.

“Let me spoil you,” He presses, “Show you how your man should act.”

You can’t say it isn’t tempting, and you figure he wouldn’t offer if he couldn’t put his money where his mouth is.

“Alright.” You relent and he wraps an arm around your shoulders to squeeze you into a side hug. You don’t entirely hate it.

“That’s my girl.” You don’t entirely hate that either.

“So,” Kyle starts, dropping his arm back to his side, you almost miss it, “I brought a couple changes of clothes, I figure maybe four or five dates and we’ll be solid?”

“Sounds good to me,” You have about eight different outfits shoved in the back of your car. The idea had felt a little silly when Kyle first brought it up, but you were starting to see the thought behind it.

“And you brought something pretty like I asked?” Kyle taps his fingers against his thigh and for a second you feel a pang of anxiety shoot through you. “I made a reservation for dinner, figured we cap off the slide show with a proper Valentine’s day celebration.” Your anxiety dissipates as quickly as it had appeared and you let out a breath.

“Yeah, wasn’t quite sure what we would be doing so I grabbed a couple dresses.”

“Oh good,” Kyle grins at you, “my pick then.” You laugh off the joke just in time to make it to the front of the line.

You’re strangely nervous by the time you actually sit down with Kyle to drink your tea. You’d made smalltalk while waiting for your drink, but now it felt almost like a date. You had some prerequisite questions you’d asked him just to make sure you weren’t going to be meeting some creep, but you don’t really know Kyle. You’re going to be spending the day with him, but he’s still a stranger to you.

“So,” You start, trying to think of something to talk about. Kyle cuts your thoughts short.

“Let’s get a picture.” He tugs his phone from his coat pocket and you fumble to do the same, scooting your chair closer for a picture together. Kyle laughs. It sounds rich and genuine, the sort of laugh that always sounds good humored, that makes your cheeks warm just a little in embarrassment. He shakes his head as it leaves him. “Cups together, doll.” He tells you, “Try to keep my face out of the pictures, keeps an air of mystery you know?”

“A soft launch.” You nod, pressing your cup against his and pulling your phone close to your face to get a picture of your hands. Kyle has nice hands, a thick ring on his middle finger that catches the attention of the photo in a distinctly masculine fashion. “Oh!” You set your cup down and twist to rummage through your purse, tugging a lipgloss free and flipping the camera. 

You’re careful to apply it as precisely as you can manage with Kyle bumping against your side to peek in your camera. You laugh and shove at him when he wiggles his brows at you through his reflection.

You press your lips to the opening of your cup’s lid to leave a nice crisp stain and hold the cup out for Kyle to press his against as well. You turn your cup so the name is visible and snap another picture. Looks good, definitely couple-y. Let’s see Brad say that’s fake.

“Looks good.” Kyle echoes your thoughts, looking over your shoulder at your screen. You lock your phone and smile up at him, only to lean back. You hadn’t realized how close he was. You’d really scooted your chair right up next to him.

You try to scoot back to your original position and Kyle pulls your chair back with a hand under your seat. The motion is so unexpected and sudden that you let out a nervous laugh and try to move away again. Only to find your movement stopped by the hand that still grips your seat.

“Wait,” He insists, changing his ring for a watch from his pocket, “one more.” You hold your cup up and he shakes his head. “Got a mate that takes pictures of his girl, pass me your phone.” You hesitate. You’re not sure you’re comfortable giving a stranger your phone. Even if it’s only briefly.

“I’ll give it right back,” He promises with a sympathetic look.

Which only makes you feel worse, like you’re so clearly attached to your phone that you need pity. You’re not- You stuff down your discomfort and unlock your phone, to hand to Kyle. He twists in his chair to face you and holds the phone up. You smile on reflex and Kyle reaches out to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, squishing your face in a way that makes you wrinkle your nose to keep from making an even worse face. You see Kyle’s thumb tap to take a few pics before he releases you and hands you your phone back. 

They’re cute pictures, exactly the sort that you can imagine a doting boyfriend would take. You look like you’re being a good sport tolerating the treatment, but there’s a note of enjoyment that shows through in the sparkle of your eyes.

And despite the fact this picture and the one of your to-go cups were taken in the same place the backgrounds are different enough that you could believe that they were taken on separate dates. This might work.

“These are nice.” You give Kyle his applause, and he nods his head.

“Thank you, thank you, the boys gotta be good for something, yeah?”

“So your friend takes a lot of girlfriend pictures?” You ask, latching onto the single piece of information Kyle’s given you. He makes a sort of non-commital head nodding motion and sips his tea.

“Fiance, not sure she likes all the candid shots, but-” He shrugs.

“I’m sure she loves them, makes you feel wanted when your partner takes pictures of you.” You force a smile. Kyle snorts.

“Speaking from experience?” You feel your smile falter and Kyle’s eyes soften. “I’ll take plenty, don’t worry.” He squeezes your hand, “You could milk me for months.” You laugh and he groans, smacking his forehead to drag a hand down his face. “Fuck me, not like tha’.”

“I appreciate it,” You manage through your lingering giggles, “My ex-” You stop yourself, it’s bad manners to talk about exes on a first date. Kyle gives you a look like he’s waiting for you to finish. You suppose this isn’t a real date, even if you sort of wish it was. “I don’t have any pictures of us.” You say lamely. It feels pathetic to admit. Your ex always told you he didn’t like pictures, but he’s fine taking them with his new girl. Guess he just didn’t like taking pictures with you.

Another squeeze to your hand. You hadn’t realized he was still holding it. You’re not sure how you feel about that. Grateful maybe. You stare at your joined hands and try to categorize the feelings in your chest. Bitter and a little wistful. You’ve realized that you miss being a girlfriend more than you miss Brad, not that he was ever a great boyfriend, but it’s nice being loved.

If he ever loved you.

“That’s good,” Kyle ducks his head to catch your eye and you give him a smile just so you don’t look as pathetic as you feel, “means more camera space for us.” You huff a laugh and he knocks his fingers against your chin. You swat his hand away and Kyle’s hand cups your cheek, reassuringly brief before he grabs his tea.

“So what happened?”

The question catches you off guard, though you should have expected it. He did say in his ad that he liked drama, you must be a veritable buffet in his eyes. You toy with the lid of your cup while you think through how to answer, if you even want to. You have no reason to lie to Kyle, but you also have no reason to tell the truth. Lies will be harder to keep track of, so truth it is.

“We broke up before Christmas.” You tell him. “I’d love to say it was mutual, but I caught him cheating and when he started defending himself I just thought-” You shake your head, “-God he’s not even going to pretend he cares about me, so why do I care about him?” Another shake of your head that turns into a self pitying sigh. “And then he broke up with me. Me! I mean, can you believe it?”

Kyle clicks his tongue. “All that and you didn’t even get to pull the trigger yourself.”

“Yeah.” You let out another breath, shove this one out like a huff, “Yeah it sucked. Still sucks.” You hiss when your nail catches on the to-go lid wrong. You raise your hand to check that you didn’t hurt yourself, and to avoid looking at Kyle. You wish you could say it feels good to get it out, but it doesn’t. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“Not at all.” Kyle hums. He sips his tea and you glance his way just to be sure he’s not making fun of you. If he’s so fond of drama he should look pleased, right? But he doesn’t, he just looks at you. He raises a brow over his cup and you blink. Caught. No sense looking away now. "Not your fault the guy was an ass."

You open your mouth but Kyle beats you to the punch.

"You're better off without him."

"I am." You agree, though that knowledge doesn't dull the hurt you still feel over the whole situation. You’ve told yourself you’re better off without him a thousand times, and it’s never helped. Knowing it’s true doesn’t mean you feel it, or believe it. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, and you rarely are, you’re more hurt by how well Brad seems to be treating his new girl than you ever were by the realization he was cheating on you. What was wrong with you that he couldn’t treat you like that?

"We're still gonna piss the fucker off." Kyle says before setting his drink down and leaning close. Too close. "Show me his Instagram."

He even holds his hand out, beckons with his fingers to give him your phone a second time. It’s easier this time, there’s already a shred of trust, enough for you to shrug and fiddle with your phone to pull up his profile before handing it over to Kyle.

He spends a few moments scrolling through the profile, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed in distaste, before he nods.

"What a prick."

"I know right?" You give a small smile, feeling more yourself with Kyle insulting your ex. He turns your phone to show you a reel of your ex at the gym. You expect him to make some comment about him posing like a douche or not lifting enough, but instead Kyle shrugs off his coat and holds his arm up to flex for you.

The fitted long sleeve tee positively strains against his bicep and you hope your eyes don't bulge as much as his muscles do. Kyle hums with satisfaction and your gaze darts to his face. The pleased smile he's wearing is somewhere between indulgent and victorious. He drops his arm to grab his cup again and you, God, you don't think you've ever seen a man go from super to unassuming in one small motion. He could pass for any boy-next-door heartthrob from a summer blockbuster.

You sort of want him to lose the shirt. Too bad it's February.

"Brad is going to be so pissed." You manage to mumble, finding the glimmer of rage to pull you back to reality. Kyle's smile splits into a grin. It's really too bad he said to keep his face out of the pictures. He’s got a great smile.

"You got an upgrade," he could say that again, "it's every man's worst nightmare."

"Don't know if I could do much better than you." You joke. Kyle's eyes narrow so slightly that you almost think you imagined it, something distant flickering across his eyes that you can't discern or hold onto. Even his smile seems different, a flash of darkness that you can't find when his grin flashes you.

"How about a second date then," He suggests, "I was thinking ice skating, or the zoo-" You feel a flash of excitement at the prospect of the zoo, you haven't been in ages, but your brain seems to hit the same low note Kyle's does as he frowns, "-might be too cold for the animals though."

"Ice skating is fun." You pick, though it feels like the only option.

*

Kyle offers you a ride to the rink, and you politely decline. You still don't really know the guy, and who knows what sort of murder shit he has installed in his car. Besides, it's not like you can leave your car at the cafe with all your nice clothes in it. He seems disappointed but doesn't push. You don’t know why that tugs at your heartstrings the way it does. You resolve to take him up on his offer next time, as long as he’s alright with you bringing your suitcase. Mostly because the place is crowded and you’re forced to park at the edge of the car park. The wind whips through your coat like a knife as you walk to the rink, and you feel bad keeping him waiting.

It's clear he didn't mind when you finally walk up to the rink. He holds up two skate rental tickets with a triumphant smile that makes you laugh.

The ice is outdoors, but they’ve set up heating lamps that make it feel cozy enough you don't mind the chill as you stand in line for your skates. Kyle tugs his scarf off and wraps it around your neck carefully, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and rubbing your arm. He's so warm pressed close like this. A barrier against the lingering chill that you struggle not to cuddle up to.

"Sorry love, should've thought of someplace warmer." He apologizes. You barely feel the cold anymore through the rising heat on your cheeks at the pet name, and don't even hear yourself give the skate girl your shoe size. Had Brad ever called you anything but your name? You don’t think so.

Kyle grabs both pairs of skates before you can hold your hand out, and leads you over to a clear bench. You go to take your skates and he holds them up out of the way.

"Sit," He tells you, so you sit and hold your hands out again. He shakes his head and drops to his knees. "Nope,” he sets the skates to one side and lifts one of your feet to rest on his thigh, “princess treatment you want, princess treatment you're gonna get."

You laugh when he starts undoing the laces on your trainers, then again when he starts trying to shove your foot into the skate. At least Kyle seems to be having fun with it, shaking his head and muttering about being "bloody awful at this."

"You're doing great," You tell him, and he gives you a look.

He pats your skates when he's finished lacing them up and you hang around on the bench waiting for him to finish so you can put your shoes away together.

With how much trouble he had getting your skates on, you expect him to trip as soon as you're out on the ice. He doesn't even flinch stepping onto it, just holds onto your hand and lets you struggle through the first second of adjustment. You push off with your skates and start getting used to the shift of weight that skating requires.

You don’t remember it being difficult, but Kyle hasn’t let go of your hand and you’re not used to compensating for another person’s movement. Not that you entirely mind. His hand is warm around yours and he’s solid when you bump him with your shoulder accidentally. 

"This is fun." You smile up at Kyle and someone slams into your side, knocking you to the ice.

Or they would knock you to the ice, but you're quickly caught by your date. 

Strong arms tighten around you, Kyle's grip is iron where he grabs you and pulls you against his chest. He’s broad, warm, heat creeps over your body and rises through your cheeks. You blink as you work to get your bearings and guilt starts to eat at you. 

You feel the angry expansion of Kyle's breath as he yells after the retreating figure that knocked you over. His chest rising and falling under your hands where your fingers grip his shirt. God, is that muscle you’re feeling? 

His hand covers the back of your head and presses you closer when you try to turn. Kyle’s arm blocks your view so you can't get a clear look at the retreating figure, but he looks massive. Too big to be on skates without looking a little silly. He probably didn’t even notice you, might not have even noticed Kyle. 

“Fucking dick,” Kyle swears, and for a moment you’re almost scared he’ll chase after the guy, do some macho shit that’ll just get his pretty ass beat trying to “defend” you. Leaving you to defend his own masculinity. Replacing actual affection with meaningless undirected rage in the name of “doing right by you.” Just like your ex. 

You physically feel all of his attention shift to you as you tense with anticipation, and his grip softens. “Are you alright, love?” 

The air rushes out of you. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d gotten, poised right at the edge of begging not to make a scene. But Kyle’s not like that, and when you look at him it’s clear he doesn’t have anything to prove, he’s worried about you. It makes something forgotten and tiny clench in your chest. Hope.

“I’m fine, just caught me off guard.” You shake your head, enjoying Kyle’s hold of you for a moment longer before moving to stand again. He lets you go reluctantly, his hands sliding over you as if he’s checking to be sure you haven’t been injured somehow. Instead of taking your hand again, he keeps his palm pressed to the small of your back. You're nestled close against his side, and if you’re honest the angle is a little awkward. You don’t mind. You sort of like it. But If Kyle thought this would make skating any easier it definitely doesn’t, and you think he’s struggling too with the way he shifts on his skates.

You wrap your arm around Kyle’s middle to hug him tight in an attempt to make this easier before you can fully think it through. He laughs, and immediately stumbles, sending both of you tumbling to the ice as he overcorrects his counterbalance and falls backwards. 

You laugh from the ground and feel Kyle’s body shaking with laughter under you. You’re still giggling as you dust the ice off your hands and fumble through trying to help Kyle to his feet as he does the same for you. Two people tugging at each other and stumbling through the entire process, you feel bright and bubbly and you’ve completely forgotten about being bumped into by the time you and Kyle both get up.

You almost feel bad for the goof given the way Kyle rubs his back, but the smile he gives you tells you he doesn’t mind. You’re breathless from the chill and your own attempts to suppress your laughter during the effort of standing, but you still turn to start skating again. Kyle’s quick to grab your arm and pull you back. 

“Wait,” He says, his own smile breathless as well, “picture.”

“Oh, yeah, um,” You glance around for something couple-y to take a photo of and Kyle spins you to face him. His hands stay on your hips, holding you in place. You try to ignore them.

“The skates.” He suggests. 

You glance down at where the tip of your skates are bumping against his, they look different enough that you could probably tell which were yours just from a picture. You pull your phone out of your coat pocket and try to avoid headbutting Kyle’s chest while you snap a few pictures. His skates play with yours as Kyle wiggles his feet in and out of a triangle shape. You smile and glance up at him to tell him to hold still.

Again he’s close, his face inches from yours where he’s leaned over to look at your phones. His head tips ever so slightly to look at you better and you feel his breath ghosting over your cheek. You’ve never felt so… caught, like a rabbit that’s just stumbled into a trap, your eyes fixed on him like a lifeline you’ll never reach. But if you look anywhere else- 

his eyes dart to your lips and you feel your cheeks flash with heat. He looks away quickly and straightens up, clearing his throat. Maybe you’re not the only one enjoying yourself.

It gives you an idea.

“Let’s get another one.” You offer, tugging him over to the wall that surrounds the rink.

“Alright.” He sounds suspicious, but he doesn’t resist. His skates glide over the ice without resistance and you manage to put him against the wall without issue. 

“Ok just right here,” You nod. You hold up your fingers in a square as if you’re lining up the shot and then cozy up next to him, raising your phone for a selfie. Kyle raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything. “Just for us.” You tell him, trying to assure him you’re not breaking his faceless rule.

You set a short timer on your camera and hold your arm out to get the best frame, before you lean up and kiss Kyle’s cheek as the camera clicks. You pull back and grin at Kyle.

“Bet.” He grins, Your phone is slipped from your hand almost as quickly as Kyle pulls you in to kiss you properly.

His lips fix over yours, warm and soft and insistent they part ever so slightly only to pull you in again. Like the gentle lap of waves against a cliffside, the push and pull of a current, he kisses you again and again. The gentle affection of it drips through you like honey, something sweet and indulgent that you want to taste again and again. You should push him away, you barely know him, he’s just some stranger you met online, he could do anything to you. 

Yet, your hands find their way to his shoulders as his tongue swipes against the seam of your lips and you part for the warm wet muscle. Your head tips to the side, your nose brushing his, comfortable, fit together like puzzle pieces. You’re pressed close against his chest, your hands curling in his shirt with the intention of pushing him away --one of the many lies you tell yourself-- but-

But he twists his tongue against yours and you feel something breathless bubble up in your chest. Your head is fuzzy and your skin prickles with desire. It’s been so long since you were kissed like this, like you’re worth kissing. Kyle’s tongue traces a gentle path over yours, before his lips are taking over that gentle push-pull again. His teeth dig into your bottom lip curiously, his mouth slipping against your own over and over again in a leading dance. 

You can’t help wondering if he’s this good with his mouth in other circumstances. One of your friends once told you that the best way to see how someone’s head was, was to make out with them, and you hadn’t understood what they meant but now? Now you’re starting to think maybe your ex was just bad enough at both that you hadn’t made the correlation. Or hadn’t wanted to…

He pulls back and you push into the kiss, unwilling to let it end when it feels so good. You can feel the curve of Kyle’s lips, the part of them as you press your lips to his teeth and he drags his tongue over your lips. It makes your head spin. 

At least Kyle seems to have kept his common sense, pulling away with a searching almost apologetic look. You blink slowly, your eyes heavy as your brain works to piece together what the hell just happened. 

“I-” Kyle clears his throat, “usually I wait for the third date before trying anything.” The joke is weak but your head is spinning too much to do anything but nod like an idiot. Kyle glances at your phone, now clutched in his hand. Recording. You feel another flush of heat pass over your face and he hurriedly fumbles to stop the camera.

You press your hands to your face in embarrassment and listen to Kyle mutter quite swears. You glance back at him and find his eyes glued to your phone. You glance at your phone to see the video of him kissing you playing back. You gasp.

“Delete that!” You insist. Kyle holds the phone up out of your reach, his eyes never leaving the screen. A slurry of swears and insults crowd your mind, perv seems to be the frontrunner on your tongue in the brief second it takes him to tap the screen and hand your phone back. 

The video is stopped, or maybe it’s a screenshot? Either way it’s just you and Kyle standing there. Kyle’s face is entirely hidden but you recognize your own hair and the curve of your face immediately, even if it’s almost hidden by the way Kyle’s head is tilted to kiss you. It looks like a still from a movie, spontaneous but choreographed. Romantic.

The sort of picture that you’ve always wanted to feature you, somewhere deep in your lonely heart. The main character in your own love story.

You can’t post something like that.

“Not good?” Kyle asks when you’ve been quiet too long.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, locking your phone and stuffing it in your pocket. 

“I shouldn’t’ve kissed you.” He winces.

“No that’s not-”

“I’m sorry, it was an impulsive decision. I won’t do it again.” He nods so seriously that it makes panic rise in your throat.

“No!” You’re quick to correct, maybe too quick, “No, it’s-” You take a breath to catch yourself, “-it was nice-” his face falls a little and you correct again, “-good, it was really good I don’t, um- you could do it again, maybe.”

You try to avoid looking at the dazzling grin that seems to bloom over Kyle’s face. He laces his fingers with yours and tugs you back to skating. You think that might’ve been the right answer, because he’s skating just a little faster than before, pulling you along at a pace that makes you breathless. You’re pulled around the rink, weaving between other couples on much more leisurely loops, once and then twice. 

It’s a lot of coordination but you’re almost giddy from the rush of it. You feel like a kid racing with your friends to see who can skate faster, playing games with made up rules and finish lines. Kyle never lets go of your hand, his grip so steady and unwavering you wonder how you were having so much trouble earlier. He only slows to swing you around and crowd you close to another section of the barrier. Pinning you, boxing you in with his hands on either side of you to hold onto the wall.

“When?” He asks eagerly.

“When what?” You laugh. He keeps crowding you, like the man’s allergic to personal space. Somehow you don’t entirely mind, you like having his full attention even if that means he’s a little closer than is comfortable. Besides, Kyle’s warm and smells like something sweet but earthy that you can’t put a name to. It makes you want to press your nose against his neck and breathe until you can figure it out. 

He might let you given how he’s been acting.

“When can I kiss you again?” His response shakes you from your daydreaming. 

“I don’t know,” You try to stifle the laugh this time, though you’re sure it reads clear as day on your face, “buy me dinner first.” You joke.

“How about lunch?” He offers.

“Has to be dinner,” You stand firm, if only because it makes him sigh like you’re asking him to marry you.

“Not open to negotiations then,” You shake your head, “Alright, have it your way.” 

“But we should get lunch too.” You’ll give him that, “All I’ve had today is tea and I’m starved.”

“They’ve got changing rooms here.” Kyle bobs his head like he’s thinking, and tugs at the hem of your sweater, “think we’ve run the course on this jumper.”

You must look confused, before you remember you’re supposed to be changing between dates, because Kyle has to turn his head away from you. He covers up his laugh with a cough that you aren’t buying. It’s cute, sort of makes you want to grab his face just to make him smile at you, to hear him laugh properly. Why the hell is this guy advertising a fake dating service on craigslist?

“I’ll grab some clothes from my car.” You nod.

“No rush,” Kyle says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

*

You suppose it’s because he walked with you to get clothes from your car that he doesn’t offer you a ride this time. He does make a face when he sees your suitcase in the back seat, but aside from offering to help you move it to the trunk, he doesn’t say anything. It's polite, but you feel the distance of it as you walk back to the changing rooms at the rink. You wish he would have offered. It would be annoying having to pick up your car from the park later, but you’d get to spend the extra time with Kyle, and maybe you wouldn't feel this gnawing like you've done something wrong.

Since Kyle gave you options for your "second" date, you give him options for lunch. You know there aren't any wrong answers, especially when you're just pulling nearby restaurants from off your phone's map, but you're a little disappointed when he picks-

"Let's do the other then," He rescinds his choice.

"What?" You look up at him from your phone.

"Let's go to," He leans close to glance at your phone, "Kategna? I'm probably butchering that." He pulls away and you blink at him, "You seem more excited for it."

"Oh, no, I don't-" You wave a hand, "don't think about me, just pick what seems good to you."

"Kategna sounds good," He reaches a hand to tap his fingers under your chin, it's affectionate and patronizing in equal measure, and it makes your face burn like a wildfire, "besides, I don't want to disappoint my best girl."

You glance at your phone and worry your lip.

"Are you sure?" You ask, "It's- we're going to be eating with our hands, if that's not your style-"

"I'm good with my hands love, don't worry about me." He smiles, "Pick somewhere you like, my treat."

He says it like he hadn't assured you the day was on him just a few hours ago. That doesn't stop it from feeling like a treat. It bubbles in your stomach somewhere between guilty and grateful. You should pay if you're forcing him to go somewhere he doesn't want to. You open your mouth and he presses his finger against your lips.

"Ah ah, I told you, it's on me." He moves his finger to tap your forehead, "Don't want to make me a liar, do you doll?"

"If you want to go somewhere else." You couch.

"I want to go to Kategna." He assures you, "Don't think I've had ethiopian since-" He hums thinking, "-probably second to last deployment? That sounds right."

A million questions pop into your head and are just as quickly squashed by Kyle pulling out his phone. You watch him type in the restaurant's name with a spark of disappointment. The feeling of a good date being over creeps up on you before you can remind yourself that you're heading to the next one. Still, you sort of... miss Kyle already.

"I'll see you there," You mumble, turning to power walk to your car before you can say anything stupid. Best not to examine that feeling too closely.

You thank your lucky stars on being able to park near the restaurant and somehow beat Kyle there. You grab a table and wait.

And wait.

You feel your heart starting to sink. You check your phone and realize you don't have Kyle's number. The server swings by to ask about drinks and you assure both of you that you need a few minutes for Kyle to get there. You're not sure you convince yourself, but the server doesn't say anything so you pretend you've convinced them.

You shouldn't be disappointed. You don't really know Kyle, and this wasn't a real date. You had a good time skating, got a decent kiss out of it, and now he's realized you're not worth the trouble of a full day. It hurts, how quickly the feeling of inadequacy seems to creep in. Familiar as an old wound.

You check your phone, reasoning that you'll give him another five minutes when you've already given him ten.

Fifteen minutes.

You resolve to try and enjoy the food by yourself when Kyle finally shows up. He's a little out of breath, and his arm is bent behind his back. It's enough to make you pause, your finger pointing at a tomato salad on the menu and your eyes wide. The server even seems surprised. You're not sure you appreciate that, but your bruised pride swells with relief seeing Kyle hurry to pull out the chair across from you.

"Sorry, love." He huffs. You give him a weak smile, trying not to show the hurt you'd been inflicting on yourself, and he holds out a bouquet. "Saw a shop on my way here," He explains, "thought I'd be quicker."

"Oh." You blink at the flowers. They're beautiful, blue and white with boxwood's soft green breaking up the petals. Little dots of pink peak through the baby blue of the hydrangeas, and you take the paper wrapped bundle from Kyle with a full breath, trying not to look like you're smelling the fragrant bouquet. You can't even remember Brad buying you flowers, he always said it was too expensive for something that was just going to die.

Kyle isn't even dating you and he bought them on a whim.

"Are you ordering?" He asks, settling in his chair and picking up the menu to glance over.

"I'll give you a moment to look over the menu," the server tells him and Kyle waves him off.

"We'll have an order of the tibs wat, the miser alecha, tikil gomen, and-"

"Sambosas?" You cut in and Kyle gives a short huff of laughter. He folds his menu and hands it to the server.

"And two sambosas."

The server nods and you hand over your menu as well. You've never understood the appeal of having someone order for you, but Kyle was so fluid with it. No stuttering or stopping, barely a glance at the menu, and, well, you're willing to forgive a lot given the bouquet. You have to admit though, his choices are smart. A meat and two vegetarian options. Just in case, your brain tells you, because he hasn’t asked if you eat meat and he’s trying to be considerate. 

“Thank you,” You start because you aren’t quite sure what to say, but you can’t stand sitting in silence, “The flowers are really nice.”

“My mum always told me if you’re going to be late you better have something to make up for it.” Kyle smiles, “but I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

He plucks the emotion right from your chest. Scared isn’t the first option you’d have chosen if you were him. Angry maybe, you can understand being angry that he’s late, but scared? Were you that easy to read? Or maybe it’s just that clear from your… everything… how used to being cast aside you are. Maybe it’s written on you in big black letters right where everyone can see.

Your teeth find your bottom lip to pick at the chapped skin there. Uncomfortable.

“So what do you do for work?” Kyle asks, picking at a stray thread on his jumper. You shake yourself from your thoughts.

“Nothing special,” You don’t dislike the question, but you hate talking about work, “I do some graphic design work.”

“That must run you into the city a lot, know a couple advertising firms that-”

“I work from home,” You stop him, “mostly. It’s easier, I like the quiet.” Kyle nods like he understands. You wonder if he does, or if he’s just being polite. “What about you, you said you served. What got you into security?”

Kyle’s face falls, something different taking over. There’s a coldness to his expression, a wall being thrown up. It leaves you feeling off balance, guaranteeing a misstep.

“My mate, I uh,” He clears his throat and leans his elbows on the table, hunching his shoulders forward, “watched him get shot in the head, sort of a reality check.”

“Oh my God.” You press a hand to your mouth, “Oh my God Kyle, I’m-”

“You didn’t know,” He waves it off, “Happier in private security-” he reassures you with a smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “-safer than falling out of helos, and I get to take pretty things like you out on the weekend.”

Your body feels like it short circuits, unsure how to take the compliment in the wake of something as tragic as Kyle losing a friend. A memory that you brought up with your poking. God you’re so fucking bad at this. Dating is better left to the people that don’t accidentally bring up the guy’s dead best friend during the getting to know you phase.

“Hobbies?” Kyle asks, reaching for his water. You jump at the chance to talk about yourself. Anything to get the spotlight off Kyle.

“About a million.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. “I feel like I pick one up and get all the materials just to jump to a different one once I’m ready to start.”

“Roommate must hate that.” Kyle smiles. A wave of relief washes over you seeing a little life return to his eyes.

“Thankfully I don’t have to deal with roommates,” You chat, “my last one was awful, really soured me on living with other people.”

“Don’t tell me that, doll.” Kyle blinks, “pretty thing like you all alone? I’ll worry.”

“Oh no,” You reassure him, “I mean I’m near Tinkham Park, so it’s pretty safe and I lock my door.” Kyle looks relieved and you smile at him to sell your point. “Besides, no one is coming after me.”

You mean it as a joke but Kyle’s brows draw down in confusion.

“Why not? I would.” Something squirms in your stomach, you’re sure he means it as a clumsy compliment especially with the way he winces, so you tamp down the spike of anxiety. “That came out wrong.” He tells you, “You’re beautiful.” 

He says it like it’s a fact, like it’ll make you forget the previous sentence. It does. Your cheeks warm and you smile down at your lap with embarrassed glee. Flowers, compliments, a kiss you’re going to daydream over, so far you’d call this a perfect date.

“Let me get a picture.” Kyle’s excitement reminds you, all too clearly, how much of a date this isn’t. He pulls his phone out and you smile as he raises the camera to snap a quick pic. He turns the phone to face you and-

God, you’re not sure if he just got a weird angle or what but you’re seeing a lot of tits in that picture. You glance down at your chest, is your shirt too low? You thought it was cute. Kyle pulls the phone back to look at it with a puzzled expression before it seems to click.

“Oh. Oh!” He taps a few buttons on his phone and tells you, “deleted, how about another one?”

He snaps a few more and swipes through the options before turning the phone back to you.

You’re… pretty, sitting at the table with a wide smile and an excitement behind your eyes that you never saw in any of the photos you took with Brad. You cock your head to the side to inspect in further and deem it worthy when Kyle prods you for an answer.

“Great,” He taps at his phone, “I’ll send it to you.”

“You don’t have my number,” You remind him and he shoots you a devastating grin.

“Then give it to me.”

The server starts setting down plates as you finish enunciating your number, and the smell that hits you makes your stomach growl. Warm, rich spices fill your nose and settle fragrant on your tongue. Saucey meats and soft vegetables, crisp fresh tomatoes and two perfect fried pyramids. You reach for the injera as soon as the server sets a basket of it on the table, unrolling one of the beautifully sour pancakes to start digging in.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling how quickly your eyes go to Kyle’s hands when he tears off a piece of injera for himself. You’re transfixed watching him pinch a piece of chicken and shove the morsel in his mouth. Or maybe it’s the way he licks his lips that does it, pink tongue darting to drag rich sauce off his full lips before dragging along the pad of his thumb. He sucks the digit into his mouth and your stomach drops. You feel a little shudder of something akin to desire ripple through you, chilly but settling warm in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fix on you as he rips another piece of the sour pancake and you rush to pretend you weren’t staring.

Though you can feel his eyes on you just the same as you scoop some of the miser alecha between your fingers and deposit it into your waiting mouth.

It’s embarrassing to think that you put on a show for Kyle, licking the drip of curried sauce off your fingers with a greedy tongue before ripping off another piece. It feels good to be watched. You feel wanted in a way you haven’t before, and when you suck at the tibs wat that lingers on your finger you smile at Kyle and ask him: “What?”

“Nothing,” He swallows, going back to his own meal, “Just looking.”

Your mouth moves with your smile, trying to settle on an expression that isn’t as excited as you feel. You’re not sure it works, or that he doesn’t see the way your eyes dart back to the food after staring at his mouth.

It was so soft when he’d kissed you.

You pull out your phone and get a quick photo of the spread, Kyle’s fingers dipping the injera into the timatim salad in the top of frame. It’s a necessary distraction from the gnawing hunger that seems to creep into you. One you don’t think will be settled with food, or settled any time soon.

Fake date and all.

*

You and Kyle spend longer than you’d anticipated at the little Ethiopian restaurant, eating and chatting. Firstly because you’d ordered another serving of tibs wat after Kyle had nearly licked the plate clean, and secondly because it had taken so long to decide on another activity. 

You have plenty of time to kill before dinner, and you feel woefully unprepared to plan an afternoon date. 

You settle on a crappy action flick with absolutely abysmal reviews. It takes you as long to actually pick the damn thing as it took to decide to see a movie, so you’re making great time. Mostly you pick it because neither of you seem particularly interested in it, and if it sucks at least it’ll give you something to talk about afterwards. 

You like talking to Kyle. There’s something so easy about it, as natural as breathing. The conversation flows like you’ve known him forever, and you find yourself talking more than you’re used to, answering questions and filling in blanks for him about your life. It’s only when you get in your car a third time that you realize, he hasn’t really told you anything about himself. 

You know he was in the military, that he lost someone close to him, and that he’s in security now. You know that he prefers salty over sweet snacks, and that he prefers to wake up early. You know that he has sisters, and that’s about it. It feels like a lot, but… is it? It’s somewhere above surface level, like answers from a dating questionnaire. Enough to give the impression of a person without actually showing you the full picture.

You resolve to ask him about himself more at dinner. You don’t think you’ll have much room for conversation during the movie.

You pull up to the theater and wave when Kyle pulls up right beside you. He smiles and you smile back. Easy. Things are easy with Kyle and you’re wasting your time overthinking, as usual.

It’s a nice distraction when he takes your hand walking into the theater and you feel your brain hiccup as his thumb sweeps over the back of your knuckles. The casual affection makes you want to press for more from a man you barely know. Kyle barely seems to notice, too busy poking at the little ticket ordering screen to pick your seats. You miss the way his finger hovers over the back row of chairs before picking something closer to the middle as you glance at the screen.

“Oh wow this thing is empty.” You laugh, “must be pretty bad.”

“I hope so,” Kyle jokes, “Need something I can force my mates to watch later.”

You grab onto the opportunity to learn more about him.

“Do you and your friends have movie nights?”

“Only when we find something really bad,” He tells you with a smile, “Popcorn?”

You glance at the concession stand and shake your head. “I’m full from lunch.”

Kyle hums, “Me too, we’ll have to go back some time.”

“For sure.” You agree. You try not to think too hard about how going again implies another date, maybe a real one. Of course there is the very real possibility of Kyle just being polite. He’s a nice guy you doubt he’d say ‘I’ll go back but not with you’ to your face.

That thought takes some of the wind out of your sails as you trail behind Kyle to the theater.

You’re halfway to wondering if he even notices when his hand finds yours and he tugs you to walk with him.

“Wouldn’t want you getting lost,” he whispers, “we’ve got a date later.”

You smile and let him lead you to the empty theater.

You enjoy watching Kyle squint at the ticket stubs to try and determine what number your seats are, and sit down only to realize you’re far too early for this movie. The lights aren’t even half-dimmed yet, and the screen is glowing with some silent ad for the concession stand in the lobby. 

You check your phone to see how much time is left until previews and Kyle leans close to your side. 

“Picture time?” He asks.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to see what time it was.” You lock your phone and settle it on your lap. You’re with someone, it would be rude to be on your phone.

“I should’ve found a sooner showtime,” Kyle grimaces.

“It’s fine!” You don’t want to seem disagreeable, “Just don’t know what to do with our time.”

“Don’t wanna talk to me?” Kyle hums. When you look at him he’s got this strange smile, an emotion clear but unreadable. It shudders down your spine like cold water.

“I’ve been doing a lot of talking.” You admit, and earn another hum. Kyle leans close, and tips his head.

“Ask me something sweetheart.”

He’s so close, so definite with his command, that you struggle not to comply. Favorite colors and foods. Where did he meet his mates (met them while serving). What branch was he in (Special Air Service). What did they do (classified). His answers are short and definite and when you struggle to come up with another Kyle takes over.

What sort of food do you like? Really, no allergies then? Oh, is that common in your family? That’s interesting. You don’t say. Tell me more.

Again you find yourself talking and talking.

“I’m not really sure what sort of photo to get,” You admit, as another couple files into the theater, “Just a dark theater? The screen?”

“Just focus on me touching you,” Kyle smiles and you’re a little confused by his phrasing until he moves.

Kyle’s hand settles on your thigh, the position of it is polite, but it still feels overly familiar. You snap a few pictures and lock your phone again, expecting him to move his hand as the lights flick off. You turn to him to- you don’t know, say something, and he raises a finger to his mouth. You shut your mouth tight again and face forward to watch the movie. 

You’re barely ten minutes in when his thumb starts to rub at your thigh. Soft circles that make you tense. It’s affectionate. Too affectionate for a veritable stranger, but when you turn to him again to ask him to move he shushes you. You curl your fingers into fists and try not to squirm when he starts rubbing again. His hand is big and warm on your thigh, his fingers resting just slightly too far along the inside of your jeans for you to ignore. 

You shift in your seat in the hopes that’ll make him move and all it does is slide his hand further up your thigh. Just a few centimeters, but it’s enough to move it away from what you’d call polite. The rub of his thumb feels infinitely higher, and your body seems to zero in on the feeling.

Warmth starts to flicker between your legs, your stomach clenching pleasantly as your skin bristles with the movement of Kyle’s thumb. Such a simple touch, and yet it’s sent your body into high-alert. 

You can’t suppress the shiver that tracks down your spine, and again the motion shifts the placement of his hand. You feel the hover of his fingers where they trace the inside of your thigh like a phantom brush against your cunt. He hasn’t even moved them, hasn’t done more than circle his thumb against denim, and yet your pussy pulses with the need to feel him press his fingers against it. You can almost feel it, can almost imagine the bump of his knuckles against your clothed cunt.

He’s been so polite, he’d probably apologize for it, even though you both know you’re the one that can’t stay still. 

You can’t help the slight push of your hips, into the sensation and --as if on cue-- Kyle’s pinky bumps the warmth between your legs. Your body flushes with heat.

He leans close, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he slides his hand back towards your knee, “Sorry love,” He whispers, and you feel his breath like a touch, “can’t see in here.”

He squeezes your thigh as he leans away and again a shiver tumbles through you. It must be freezing in this theater.

His thumb doesn’t rub, but his fingers are closer to the inside seam of your jeans and splayed wide. His pinky draws towards his ring finger in what you’re sure is just him making his grip more comfortable, but your body follows the trail of it like a bloodhound. Your skin lights up at the short movement and you find yourself hoping he’ll do it again.

You stay resolutely still and try to focus on the movie. You- you have no idea what’s happening.

Kyle spreads his fingers wide again, applying the gentlest pressure as he stretches in his seat. The drag of his touch is intoxicating, it sucks your attention back to it with the slightest movement. You ache for more, for his hand to creep higher, to feel the press of his fingers against your cunt. Even through the layers of fabric you’re sure you’d be able to find some relief in them. Selfishly you shift in your seat, scoot down ever so slightly in the hopes it’ll nudge his grip higher. 

You could chart the path of his hand down to the millimeter. 

You’ve never been more happy for a nearly empty theater than when his thumb starts moving again. Except when the rest of his hand follows.

You have to stop from sucking in a breath when he shifts his grip and his fingers start a short devastating path over the inside seam of your jeans. A soft idle motion, back and forth, almost thoughtless. Well, thoughtless for Kyle. It’s all you can think about. 

It’s too far up your thigh, right where the denim is stretched and thin against your skin. The touch almost tickles, feather light and blisteringly hot. Or maybe it’s the goosebumps that it sends over your skin that makes the rest of you feel cold. You can’t say for certain, only that your brain latches onto it and transfers the sensation to the needy thing between your legs. 

All you can think of is the way he’d drag his fingers over your cunt, would it be with this same soft teasing touch or would he be more focused. You can almost transfer the sensation, the short rub against your thigh trailing higher, until he’s rubbing at your clit, teasing you through the fabric of your jeans and leaning close to whisper-

“I’ll be right back.” You jerk from your daydream as Kyle’s breath hits your cheek and try not to look like you’re scrambling away from the poor guy. An explosion on screen lights up the furrow of his brow as you collect yourself. Probably thinks he startled you from watching the movie. “Bathroom.” He explains, and you nod quickly.

He squeezes your thigh before he gets up and you watch him go to make sure he isn’t running from you.

You press your hands against your face when you’re sure he’s out of the theater and let out a little air scream. 

Get a fucking grip, you tell yourself furiously. This is ridiculous. Kyle’s been nothing but sweet to you on these fake --you repeat that part to yourself a few times for good measure-- dates, and- oh my God is that all it takes for you? Being treated well? A little idle affection?

You press your hands harder against your face and take a deep breath, before dropping your hands down to your lap to try and readjust your focus onto the movie.

It takes a few minutes for you to realize it, but this movie sucks.

Luckily by the time you realize that Kyle’s sliding back into his chair.

He leans over the seat and you tip your head for him to stay close. “What did I miss?” He asks.

“A couple really bad one-liners,” You whisper back, turning to catch his ear, “I’m trying to figure out the layout of this hotel.”

“Whatever works for the plot probably.” Kyle’s voice has something warm at the edge of it, a hint of laughter that makes you smile.

“This movie sucks,” You tell him and feel the sharp exhale of laughter against your neck as you see his shoulders shake in the dark.

“Yeah, it does.” He agrees, his voice tight with that suppressed laugh. You think.

*

You decide to grab a drink after the movie. Mostly to kill time before dinner, but also to give you time to change. You’d forgotten that the bathrooms were past the ticket taker at the theater, so once you’d left it was either find another bathroom or attempt to change in your car. You picked drinks. It was near the restaurant anyway.

Except you’re not sure you grabbed the right clothes once you see the restaurant. It looks fancy.

Kyle stands with you to chat as you dig through the suitcase in your trunk. You pull out a dress and make a face. 

“Want some help?”

“No I- maybe?” You wince, “I don’t know if what I have works for dinner.”

Kyle nudges you with his arm and you shuffle to the side to let him dig through your clothes. He’s purposeful about it, his eyes scanning each piece that he touches before finally pulling out one of the dresses at the bottom.

“This one,” He tells you, handing you the dress. You’re reminded suddenly of this morning when he’d told you, your dinner dress was “his pick,” and take the garment with a small smile.

“You want to do my makeup too Mr. Fashion?” You joke. Something flashes in his eyes and your stomach flips.

“If you’re offering.” The rumble of his voice is lower, devastatingly so, and it simmers hot in your stomach. He isn’t joking. “My sisters used to make me do their makeup,” He tells you, stepping closer, “I’m good at it.”

You feel boxed in. The corner of your car just barely catches your hand as you drop it to your side, and hurriedly raise it again to keep your dress from getting dirty. 

“Let me dress you up, doll.” He pleads, his smile warmer, more friendly. There’s something in the flash of his teeth when he offers though that feels… calculating. 

“I’m-” You try to think of a way to deny him, “You don’t want to sit in the bathroom with me for that, do you?”

He sits you at the bar instead, lays out the minimal makeup you’d brought and touches your face with soft hands. He tips your chin up and you close your eyes a little too tightly at the feeling. You’re not used to this, it feels strange and you’re not sure you like it.

“Hold still for me.” Kyle murmurs to you.

“What if I want a drink?” You try to joke.

“Then you ask me for one.” He responds easily, and you hear the squeeze of  your tinted moisturizer. His fingers sweep over your cheeks, over your chin, down your nose and across your forehead. Rubbing in the blurring color before leaving you. You open your eyes enough to see him toying with the concealer you’d brought.

“We’ll need to get better supplies.” He mumbles to himself and you shut your eyes again from him to dot the little wand under your eyes and against your eyelids. Eyeshadow, precise eyeliner. It’s cold and practiced. It makes you think he’s done this before, maybe on more than just his sisters. It’s not until he gets to your lips that you start feeling off. His breathing is even but heavier somehow, his touches linger, and his breath skates across your skin. He’s close to you, and you can feel the heat that radiates from him.

His thumb finds your mouth, and tugs at your lip. You open for him, and wonder why he didn’t just ask. Only to feel the pad of his thumb press down against your tongue.

It’s brief, but it startles you, and you jerk away. Your eyes fly open and he’s holding up your favorite lipstick, looking like you’re getting jumpy for no reason. His hand is settled in his lap and his brows are raised.

“I can do it.” You insist and grab the metal tube from him. Your hands shake as you unlock your phone and try to apply your lipstick in the mirror image on screen.

Kyle watches you like a hawk.

*

You’re shown to your table almost as soon as you walk in the door. The restaurant is beautiful, softly lit by chandeliers with cream colored tablecloths and plates edged with gold. The sort of place you’ve always wanted to visit but never had the chance. Every inch of the place speaks to a level of class and sophistication that was always out of reach when you were with Brad. He never wanted to spend more than was necessary, but Kyle-

Kyle…

Your head is still reeling from Kyle’s makeup application, the firm guiding hand he’d used to turn your head, the gentle touch of the brush as it swept over your eyelids. It should have felt more relaxing, right? But something about it had set you on edge, something flinty and cold in the warm umber of his eyes that had made you think twice about relaxing around him. Then his thumb against your tongue…

You’re starting to think you’d imagined his finger in your mouth. He wouldn’t do that, right? Kyle’s nice; sweet. You like him, and you just got caught up in the moment. You were looking for something wrong, something devious in a man who had been nothing but kind to you, because you were treated so badly by your ex.

Obviously.

He doesn’t act like anything is wrong, or like he did anything wrong. Kyle acts exactly as he has been all day. He’s kind, considerate, he pulls your chair out for you and orders a bottle of wine before the server leaves, he’s exactly the same.

You must have imagined it.

But you can’t get the feeling of pressure off your tongue.

You stare at the menu without really reading it, the crisp heavyweight paper on a leather bound board provides you no aid. You can’t get your brain to focus on the black lettering for long enough to absorb anything it’s telling you. 

If you did imagine it, what does that say about you? That you’re so touch starved it’s almost consumptive? Or maybe that you want Kyle to be pushy with his touching? More pushy, at least. More touchy in a way that feels more provocative than platonic. Anticipatory and intentional. You want him to touch you in a way that says “I want this, I want you, and I’m willing to take a risk to make it happen.”

God help you if you’re developing a public play kink, you really don’t need that right now.

“See anything you like?” Kyle asks, setting his menu down. Your eyes train on the way he laces his fingers together and sets his hands on the menu to lean closer to you. He’s changed the rings he’s wearing again. Gold bands that sit on his middle and ring finger on one hand, pinky and pointer on the other. The warm yellow metal flashes like starlight against his dark skin. You wonder what it would feel like against your tongue, clicking against your teeth…

You rip your eyes from his hands to meet his gaze, your face is warm and you feel a little embarrassed. You can’t say why. You weren’t staring at anything bad, and if this is all in your imagination then Kyle would have no reason to suspect what you were thinking about. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of being caught doing something wrong. So you shake your head.

“I don’t know, it all looks good.” A non-committal answer, you look at the menu to try and see if you can parse any of it on a second try. 

There’s a salad that looks good, one or two mains that you might enjoy. No prices on anything. That stops you, you glance at Kyle. He’s still looking at you, a smile creeping onto his face.

“There’s no wrong answer, love.” He tells you, reaching across the table to press your menu down, “Show me what you’re looking at.”

Your eyes trace his fingers where they settle against the paper before drifting down to what you’d been looking at.

“This maybe,” You point at one of the mains you’d been eyeing, then over to the other, “or this.”

“Anything else?” He prods. You give him a look and watch his teeth catch his lip as he smiles. “I’m happy sharing if you can’t decide.”

Panic slices through you. Share? This is a nice restaurant, you can’t share.

Kyle’s hand covers yours where you’re starting to pick at the edge of the menu.

“We can switch plates if that makes you more comfortable.” He offers, “I’m not picky, if you want to try something I’ll get it.”

“That’s not fair to you, I’m fine with-”

“I want to do it,” Kyle cuts you off. “I get to try two things, and you’re happy no matter what.”

“I-”

You’re interrupted by your server bringing the bottle of wine Kyle ordered. He plunges a needle like device into the top and pops the cork before handing it off to Kyle for inspection. It must pass whatever metric Kyle has because the server sets two glasses on the table and pours you each a healthy serving. 

You take your glass to taste the wine before you realize Kyle is ordering for both of you, again. That yummy sounding salad with strawberries and green apple, and both of the mains you’d shown him.

You hadn’t even asked what he wanted.

You set the wine down as discomfort gnaws at your stomach and Kyle lets the server run off with your order.

“I didn’t even ask what you wanted.” You whisper, leaning over the table to try and grab Kyle’s attention.

“I told you already, love,” He insists, “I’m not picky, and even if I was you have good taste.”

You raise a hand to cover your face and drop it just as fast when Kyle arches a brow at you. No hiding from him, or your shame.

“Well,” You fish for something to assuage your guilt with, “what do you like to eat?” You add on quickly, “For next time.”

Kyle’s eyes flick down to your plate, you hadn’t even noticed your server stealing the menu away, and then back to your face. He schools something behind his eyes before you can parse what it is, and for some reason you desperately want it back. A heat that he’d squashed before it could burst into a fire. Tempering himself.

“Learned to take what I could get when I was serving,” He tells you with a sly smile, “but sweet things like you fill me up just fine.”

You feel yourself burst with heat.

Idle flirting, you tell yourself as you try to subtly fan your face. Kyle laughs and despite any trepidation you may have had around the sound, any fear he was making fun of you keeps its head down.

He grabs your hand and pulls it to hold his over the table.

“I’m teasing, love.” He leans to press his lips against your knuckles, and smooths out the tickle with his thumb, “Wouldn’t do anything like that in a place like this.”

Where would he do it then, you wonder. His house maybe? Maybe your flat? Oh God, do you want him to come back to your flat? Is that even an appropriate thing to want? Would he care?

Kyle’s thumb keeps rubbing at your knuckles, his smile even and kind. Nothing about you seems to fluster or surprise him. You sort of like that. You haven’t had to temper yourself or push yourself down to be someone else with him. And he hasn’t asked you to.

“So, what are we going to talk about now?” Kyle asks.

Sports, it turns out. The first time you’ve gotten Kyle talking all day, the first time he hasn’t directed it back to you, and it’s about sports. Rugby specifically, apparently he and his friends play on a rec team. 

It’s such a masculine thing that you don’t know why it surprises you.

Maybe it’s how gentle Kyle’s been with you all day, the lack of aggression when you’d been knocked over at the park, but seeing him talk so animatedly about his hobby you’re pleasantly surprised. He smiles so wide as he tells you stories about injuries, and his mate “Soap” who can’t go a season without twinging his knee. 

Honestly, you might be more surprised to hear him talking so much, but it’s nice. His voice rumbles at a pleasantly low register as he leans over the table to talk to you. His eyes sparkle and his lips seem to form every syllable with perfect precision, as if his mouth can’t help giving each letter the same courtesy of speech. It’s chatter enough to give you a break from speaking, but still feels like a conversation. You’re allowed to ask questions here, to prod into stories about his life outside of whatever box he’s restricted your answers to, and you do freely.

By the time your server brings your food, Kyle doesn’t feel like a stranger. In fact your brain has squarely put him in the category “boyfriend material.” If he talked about you with the same enthusiasm you might die.

You give the server a quick thank you as they place your food in front of you, and you settle your napkin in your lap. Kyle’s hand drops to his lap as he does the same and knocks his fork to the floor. The huff he lets out is one of good natured annoyance as he ducks under the table to fetch it. He passes the dirty fork to the server and they promise to return with a clean one. 

Kyle pours you another glass of wine as he waits and you sip at it for something to do. It’s only polite to wait for him to be able to eat before you tuck in. Plus a little liquid confidence never hurt anyone. 

You take a longer sip when Kyle looks to take his new fork from the server and feel the warm tingle of alcohol slipping into your veins. You’ve spent all day with this guy and he still makes you nervous, though the reason has shifted from this morning. Your stomach flutters with butterflies instead of rolling with a sense of danger, and though that little voice in the back of your head nags that this guy is still a stranger you’re able to shrug it off easily. 

It's anticipatory nerves. You’re waiting for something to happen, for the other shoe to drop, and now that the day is almost over you’re worried there may not have been any shoes in the first place. Kyle is exactly what he’s presented himself to be, a gentleman who wants to give you a good day. A good date, you amend. It’s been a fantastic date, even if the point of it hasn’t been to get to know each other as much as to get revenge on your ex.

The thought reminds you to snap a picture of dinner, and as you tug your phone from your purse Kyle reaches across the table to refill your wine. It makes for a great shot, your “new man” giving you a generous pour of a nice bottle of wine with a table full of gourmet food. The only thing you’re missing is two dozen roses and a jewelry box and this would scream “upgrade.” 

You wonder if you could get the bouquet Kyle got you from the car.

He sets the wine back in its place and takes your hand as you settle your phone back in your purse. He raises his wine glass with a prompting look for you to do the same.

“To a wonderful date,” Kyle says, tapping his wine glass against yours, “I’ve enjoyed every minute.”

“You’ve been amazing.” You tell him pulling your glass back to take a drink. “I think every woman on earth will be jealous of these pictures.”

Kyle hums and sets his glass down to start cutting into his food. He spears a bite with his fork and holds it out to you.

“Open,” He offers and you lean forward to let him place it on your tongue. It’s delicious, and the look Kyle gives you as you pull away could fuel your wet dreams for months.

You grab your wine and down it, trying to drown the memory of Kyle’s thumb pressing down against your tongue, that same command to open bouncing through your head.

Kyle pours you another helping with a smile, and pretends to sip at his own glass.

*

You’re feeling pleasantly tipsy by the time you finish dinner and Kyle finishes signing the check. Your body buzzes warmly with wine, and your head is just fuzzy enough to notice without making you sleepy. You’re right at that stage of alcohol consumption where your brain is pumping out feel good hormones and you’re itching to be touched.

Kyle’s hand slides across the small of your back as you stand, and you feel your nerves light up at the touch. Then feel the heat of his hand drip down your spine to pool between your legs. You can still remember how his fingers had slid over your thigh earlier, and a shiver slips through you. You want more than just casual touching.

“Cold?” Kyle asks, pulling you closer against his side.

“Not really,” You tell him, though you see no reason why that would stop you from cuddling up against him. Big warm man.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Kyle says, steering you towards your car. You pout. Those are the date wrap up words.

“Me too.” You wish it didn’t have to end.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Kyle offers, though it’s pointless to ask when he’s already doing it. It still makes you smile, makes you nod.

It’s quiet walking back to your car. You feel like you’re dragging your feet, trying to find some way to linger in the moment before you leave and never see Kyle again. This day, this date, has been perfect. It needs a perfect ending.

You stop at your car and turn to face Kyle. He looks… conflicted. His brows drawn with worry and his jaw clenched. You don’t think he wants it to end either.

Emboldened by the alcohol you get your second bad idea of the day.

You grab his shirt and drag him close to kiss him.

And he grabs you like he’s been waiting for this for years.

He's rougher this time when he kisses you. His hands wander to grab at your waist, your hips, your thighs, squeezing and pulling like he could engulf you in the feeling. You can barely breathe, your nose stuffed full of that sweet earthy scent and the slight sour note of sweat as Kyle's tongue pushes into your mouth. Your stomach flips and heat pulses between your legs as he strokes his tongue against yours, teasing you into a lapping dance that you struggle to follow. Your head spins from the alcohol, it has to be the alcohol.

The pulse in your core tightens pleasantly, a rapid contraction that makes your breath puff from you in a short, humiliating, half moan. And Kyle licks it from your lips, drags his tongue against the lipstick you'd applied and pulls it across to your cheek. Your lips part and you stick out your tongue to follow his lead, your tipsy brain only half following the steps, only for him to meet your tongue with a hunger you didn't know men could have. Not for you, at least. 

You arch into his hold, feeling the firmness of his chest against yours, as he pushes his knee between your legs. You’re pinned to the trunk of your car and as your back arches against the lid of your trunk you wonder what Kyle would do if you bent over it. He probably wouldn’t fuck you in this fancy restaurant’s carpark. Right? No. But maybe? No.

You shake your head to clear it and feel Kyle press against your hip. The heat of his rigid cock makes you want to rut against his thigh like an animal. God you want him. 

“Let me take you home,” He murmurs, dragging his lips over your cheek to nip at your earlobe, “Make you forget your ex.”

“Please.” You mumble, twisting your fingers in his shirt. He kisses you again, and you open for him without prompting. You can’t stop yourself from licking into his mouth, chasing the taste of him as excitement thrums through you. Spending the night with Kyle sounds like a dream come true.

Your ass bumps your car against as your cant your hips against his leg.

Spending the night…

You should grab a change of clothes.

“You’re driving?” You ask, your head fuzzy as you pull away.

Kyle hums, “Don’t think I should let you drive like this.”

That’s fair, you may have had a little too much to drink.

And doesn’t that just make you all the warmer?

Kyle’s been such a fucking gentleman, the idea that he’d take advantage of you like this makes you want to pull his cock out right here. He’s so considerate, offering to drive, offering to make you forget your ex, paying for everything all day- God! God, you just want him to be a little scummy, to have that one little thing that’s wrong with him for your benefit. You want him to make a mess of you because you know he’ll put you back together again.

“Let me grab clothes,” You tug at his hips when he tries to pull away, not eager to let him move too far when you’re buzzing like this. Still, you have to be an adult.

You pop the trunk and grab a dress from your suitcase. You’re in a hurry, and you’ll be back for your car later, who cares if you’re a little fancy tomorrow?

Kyle’s hands slip over your ass and you push back into the feeling.

“Fuck me you’ve got a nice ass.”

You giggle at Kyle’s groaned compliment, and straighten up to watch him adjust himself as you slam the trunk shut.

“Your place?” You remind him, and he slides his hand into place against your back to guide you to his car.

Those wonderful fingers stroke over your panties the entire drive, teasing your sopping cunt and dragging down your bare thighs. His body presses you against the elevator wall, his lips trailing  over your neck and his teeth nipping at your pulse as you climb to his flat. His hands barely leave your hips long enough to unlock the door and even once it’s open he all but shoves you toward the bedroom.

You try to get his fly open as soon as you get inside, but-

“Want to fuck you properly,” He insists, “like you deserve.”

You’re not going to argue with that.

Especially not when he strips his shirt off as soon as he flicks the lights on in his bedroom. All that firm muscle you’d felt earlier in the day on full display, with a nice smattering of hair down his chest to the fly of his trouser, it makes your mouth water. You’re all too quick to follow in stripping, the alcohol making you feel bold. Kyle’s eyes rake over you, and the burst of heat that follows their path makes you feel sexy; wanted. When’s the last time a man looked at you like that? Like he’d walk through Hell just for a photo of you.

He’s quick with his trousers, tugs his boxers down with them and kicks them to the side with his shoes.

Your eyes follow his hands, stopping on the flash of metal that peeks out from the dark foreskin at the head of his half-hard cock. Your mouth waters. You’ve never wanted to blow someone so badly in your life. Kyle looks down and smiles.

“Was worried it might scare you off,” He confesses. The knowledge that you could worry him sparks in your chest pleasantly.

“Not scared,” You mumble, watching him settle on the bed and wrap a hand around his cock. He strokes it, watching you, and you feel the air settle on your heated skin.

“Want to taste it?” He asks, and you fall to your knees so quickly it hurts. You must wince because Kyle reaches for you with concerned eyes, and pulls you up from the floor onto the bed.

“Get comfortable baby,” He advises, “you’re not going anywhere.”

As if to demonstrate Kyle scoots to lay back against the pillows, spreading his legs wide enough for you to crawl between them and settle on your stomach. Definitely more comfortable. Your knees will thank you.

You spit on your hand and wrap it around Kyle’s cock, giving him a testing stroke before you lean close to drag your tongue up his length. He’s so warm and thick in your hand, you wonder how he’ll feel stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Kyle hisses when you flick your tongue against the piercing that works it’s way through the head of his gorgeous cock, “ dirty girl.” A flush of heat ripples over you, and you drag your tongue against the metal again, letting those two words work their way through you again and again. 

You open your mouth, hold your tongue out to drag long slow licks over the head of Kyle’s cock, letting him watch the wiggle of your tongue, the twist of the ring and the pump of your hand. It feels like magic watching his pupils dilate in the low light, his teeth gritting before his head drops back and his hand finds its way into your hair. 

“Filthy,” He mutters, “perfect beautiful, filthy girl.” He takes a breath and his fingers tighten in your hair, his head raising as he adjusts the pillows behind his head. “You like it?” He asks and you- God you feel bold, feel like proving him right, you take his cockhead into your mouth and close your lips around it with a pleased hum.

Praise was always what got you, but now you were wondering if that’s just because you heard it so rarely. Kyle had showered you with affection all day, and now to hear even the slightest dirty talk from him you feel like you’ll burst into flames. 

You flick your tongue against the ring, tasting the metal and the salt of his skin, yeah you like it. 

Your eyes cross a little looking at the ring that sits at the base of his cock, the piercing you still haven’t quite figured out, but desperately want to press your nose against. 

“Feels even better inside of you,” Kyle presses, his hand giving the slightest pressure, encouraging more than demanding you to take more of him. 

Your eyes flutter closed and you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock as you bob your head down his length. The skin is soft under your tongue, soft and warm. His cock twitches against your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks to suck, unwilling to hit your gag reflex so soon. You want to be good for him, to make this good for him, and your head is still swimming just enough from the alcohol that you’re unwilling to risk gagging. 

Soft mouth, you think to yourself as Kyle tells you.

“That’s it love, just as much as you can take.” He wraps his hand over yours and pumps it up and down his length as you bob your head to meet his fingers. Your nose bumps his fist and the flutter in your stomach clenches hard enough to force a needy little whine from you. 

Kyle’s grip on your head tightens to an almost painful degree and holds you in place, his hand stroking up to press against your lips as you try to swallow around the cock on your tongue. You mouth fills with saliva and each bump against your lips makes you feel like it’ll leak out, already you can feel drool starting to slick at the corners.

Kyle pulls you off and tells you, “spit” before you can do anything else. The command in his voice is too strong to ignore, and though it feels humiliating you let your spit drip onto the head of his cock. He holds you there, hovering above it, watching the rivulets of it drip down the length only to be caught in the stroke of your layered fingers.

“So good at following orders, aren’t you, doll?” You nod and it pulls at Kyle’s grip, the short bursts of pain doing nothing to dissuade you from attempting to get him in your mouth again.

You hold your tongue out to catch the ring of his Prince Albert with the tip of your tongue, the warm metal so tantalizingly close and yet so far away. The slick pump of your spitty fingers fills the room. The push of his foreskin against the flared head with each stroke makes your mouth water. You wonder, if you ask, will he come on your face? Do you want him to come on your face? To paint you with ropes of warm come only to sweep it off with his fingers and push it into your all too eager mouth? You do. You really do.

Which must show on your face, because Kyle groans and squeezes your fingers tight around his cock.

“Come up here love, let me taste you.”

You pull off his cock with a pop and lap at the pre-come starting to bead around his piercing. The bitter fluid and the metal tang burst on your tongue and you find yourself distracted circling your tongue over his slit. Kyle tugs at you, and you’re forced to crawl up his deliciously toned body.

He helps you settle your knees on either side of your head, and before your brain can lodge a single syllable of worry over being too heavy for him, his hands have clamped onto your thighs and pulled you against his mouth.

The noise that leaves you is absolutely sinful. Half shocked cry, half moan, as his lips close around your clit and suck, pulling the tight bud with a pressure that makes you want to buck. Your hands find the edge of the headboard and grab on, your chin dropping to your chest to watch the way Kyle’s eyes lid with pleasure at the first taste of you.

His tongue cards flat through your folds, a leisurely stroke that feels like it’s prepping your body for the firm roll of his tongue against your clit. Back and forth and around, circling your clit with determined strokes only to lick over it, each roll making heat pulse through your core. Pleasure clenches in your stomach, making you gasp at the focused lap of his tongue. 

Kyle groans, his tongue leaving your clit to lick between your folds and tease at the entrance of your cunt. Gentle pressure that strokes at the soft wet skin, teasing the edge of your pussy until you’re ready to beg for him to push it inside. Your back curls, and you lean your forehead against the edge of the headboard, your traitorous hips rocking into the roll of Kyle’s tongue.

His nose bumps against your clit and a quiet noise escapes your throat. He tips his head back to direct his attention back to the sensitive bud. His tongue traces patterns over your clit, flicking against it until the jolts of pleasure leave you panting, your hips jerking with each move of his tongue. Your cunt feels like it’s melting.

Each touch to your clit zips up your spine and drags back down to pool between your legs, your cunt fluttering and clenching around nothing as your brain attempts to keep up with the stimulation. Kyle’s mouth is like a furnace, stroking wet heat over your core in long luxurious licks that drag slick up and down your slit. The prick of his mustache against sensitive skin as he turns to wipe his lips against your thigh tickles, but all you can focus on is how wet his mouth is.

His teeth tease the soft skin of your inner thigh, and your stomach flips. You try to mentally will him to bite, to mark you with that sharp pain that will slip like water through your veins and make you all the more pliant for him. Instead, those neat white points trail back to your cunt, and scrape over your clit with a pleased hum. You gasp, and shudder against his mouth. 

Kyle kisses your cunt with tongue and gently nipping teeth, bringing heat rushing to your cunt until it’s positively tingling with the need for more; the need to be filled. His thumbs rub against your skin in gentle soothing circles, attempting to make up for the iron grip that the rest of his fingers have on you. His hands are spread wide and greedy, pulling you into place and holding you there. You can offer no resistance, but why would you want to? Kyle’s mouth is wickedly clever and you think of the way his tongue had twisted against yours as it wiggles against your clit, edging you closer and closer to orgasm. 

And you can feel yourself start to give. The attention to your clit makes your legs shake, muscles starting to pulse and pull tight with your need. Your hips jerk and thrust against his mouth, your body desperate for more. Your breath comes quick, your moans grow louder, your vision blurs as your eyes roll. You shudder and shake as your cunt clenches tight and releases. You try to focus on the feeling, to will the orgasm to happen.

Sparks of pleasure that make your stomach flip and your legs shake. Your poor pussy desperately squeezing like a vice as if that will be enough to fill it up. And Kyle’s mouth working over you like he’s never enjoyed anything more. 

His tongue buries itself inside your tight cunt, and he shakes his head to rub his nose against your clit. The low groan that purrs against your heated skin makes your legs clench, and when he drags his tongue back up to wrap his lips around your clit you come.

Your body curls in on itself and your hands shoot from the headboard to grip at his hair. Your legs shake and you let out a pathetic whimpering moan that seems to build louder, higher, with each encouraging lick to your clit. Your pussy clenches hard, tight, tight, tight, and then releases with a flutter as you squeeze your eyes shut and try not to crush Kyle’s head between your thighs.

Kyle’s grip shifts and in a flurry of movement you’re flipped into your back on the mattress. Your knees hook over Kyle’s shoulders and you slip off to bounce against the bed with a shriek before his hands are pressing against the back of your thighs, his eyes trained on your cunt as he slides that perfect cock over your wet folds. Your hands fly to grab his wrists, to slide over his forearms, up his biceps, to claw at his shoulders as he leans his weight onto you and folds you in half.

The head of his cock catches your entrance, and pushes inside.

Your breath stops, held back by the burn of stretch as your cunt is filled. Kyle’s cock works you open centimeter by centimeter, pressing in and in until your chest feels locked too tight to do anything but make your mouth gape like a fish. His hips press flush against your ass, his hands squeeze your thighs. His hips pull back and thrust into you hard, hitting some delicious bundle of nerves that makes you throw your head back as your back arches to try and push him deeper.

The air rushes back into your lungs in time to hear Kyle’s low moan join your own high pitched,

“Fuck!”

You can feel his piercing nudging against your walls, pressing with the head of his cock against that deep throbbing part of you that sparks with a mixture of pain and pleasure that makes your head spin. You can barely get a breath in around the thrust of Kyle’s hips, can’t think of anything but ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ and ‘more, more, more.’ You rake your nails down Kyle’s chest, scrambling to find purchase as your hips start to ache with the strain of being forced into position.

The sound of wet skin against skin fills the room, accenting the fever pitch of your moans, punched out with each slap of Kyle’s hips against you. His cock feels like it’s reaching your stomach, twisting you into knots that spill molten heat into your limbs until they start to shudder from the strain. Your head is fuzzy with pleasure, unthinking and uncaring about anything but the slick slide of cock in and out of your cunt.

He’s so warm, his skin is so fucking warm, and his piercing tugs at the rim of your entrance as he pulls out to slap his thick cock against your still buzzing clit.

“Pretty thing,” He coos, “tell me what you want.”

Your breath shudders, sparks splintering through you with each slap against your clit. The pain is dull, but the humiliation of watching him toy with you makes heat bloom over your cheeks.

“Fuck me,” You whimper. You’re not sure if you mean it as a command, or if you mean it simply as an expletive. It doesn’t matter, your pathetic lips form the syllables and Kyle fills in the rest, sliding his cock back home in your needy little cunt.

“Yeah,” He breathes, “that’s all you need isn’t it?” His cock keeps hitting that perfect throbbing spot, pressing into that tight bundle of nerves that feels so impossibly deep, fucking the air out of you until you’re gasping and writhing and all but begging to feel it again. “You want me to keep you, love?” He offers, “Keep you a pretty little doll, nice tight hole always wet for me, not a thought in that pretty head of yours?”

You nod, maybe it’s the alcohol or the desperation to have someone like Kyle want someone like you but when his hand reaches to wrap around your throat, his thumb pressing up against your jaw, you tip your head and tell him, “Yes God!” 

You want him to fuck you like this every day, to treat you like a princess and take you through orgasm after orgasm until you can’t take it anymore. You want and you want. You want so badly it feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Mine,” Kyle tells you, and you whimper.

“Yes,” You plead, “Yes, yes, yes.”

It shudders through you, arches down your back as you press into his grip. Your legs squeeze together, that aching point pooling through your musculature, working its heated fingers into every corner of you. Kyle works a hand between your thighs and pinches your clit hard; you see stars. Your body jerks and shakes, and you feel a rush of liquid between your legs, hear the wet squelch of it as his cock continues pumping into you as you come.

And come.

*

When you wake up in the morning it’s to soft sunlight streaming in through gauzy curtains and an empty bed. The duvet is nicely weighted and the sheets are so soft you’re almost tempted to fall asleep again, but the noise of movement from outside the room rouses you enough to sit up and take stock of your surroundings. You hadn’t gotten a good look at Kyle’s place when you’d tumbled in last night but it’s nice. He’s organized and has more of a personal style than you can say for most men. 

Worry starts to creep in almost immediately. Had you made the wrong call coming home with him? What if he thought you were easy? Or threw you out now that he’d gotten what he wanted.

Oh my God you don’t have your car. You can’t just leave you’ll have to call an uber back to the restaurant and- Fucking hell, why did you do this? Where’s your common sense? How are you going to get your car? What if it’s been towed, or broken into, or-

Kyle pushes the door open with two mugs of tea clutched in his hands. He looks surprised to see you up, and shoulders the door the rest of the way open with a pleased smile.

“Good morning.” He says, that same gentle, eager, tone he’d used to take you home last night making your brain fuzzy. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” You fumble for the correct response, “I, um- thanks. For letting me sleep over.”

“Of course,” Kyle sets a mug with little cat pawprints on it on the table beside you, and perches himself on the edge of the bed by your feet, “I’m never going to kick a pretty girl out of bed.”

“Oh.” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. You don’t know what to say to that, and make yourself busy with grabbing the mug and blowing on the steaming tea. Kyle hums, watching you over the rim of his mug as he takes a sip.

He makes a noise when he swallows, and lowers the mug with pursed lips.

“So, I was thinking.” He starts and you feel your heart drop.

He was thinking you shouldn’t post the photos, that you should never see each other again, that you should leave soon because he has someone better coming over.

“There’s a great breakfast place down the street, if you’re hungry.” He says, almost shyly, “We could start date two with pancakes?”

You feel your heart lurch in your chest, hopeful.

“Yeah?” You ask and he smiles.

“Yeah,” like it’s the easiest thing in the world, “I’d be stupid lettin’ you get away.” You smile, and sip your tea to cover some of the warmth in your chest. “I think we’ve got a real spark.”

“Me too.” You agree. It feels like an admission, like something you should keep close to your breast where the rest of your silly fancies live, but-

But you want Kyle to know.

You want him to know that you like him, that you want him, that it wasn’t all just some revenge plot that’s gone terribly awry. Most importantly you want this to be real, to give yourself a real chance with an amazing guy.

To forget about what’s-his-name permanently.

“But can I get french toast instead?” You ask, already feeling your stomach rumble. Kyle grins.

“Oh doll, after what you’ve given me, you can have whatever you want.”

*

Gaz scrolls through his security footage while you shower, saving sections of video from the night before to a secure folder. Your ass wiggling in front of the camera as you blow him, your silly little head bobbing while your cunt is on full display. Your lips wrapped around his cock in a different camera’s lens, lashes fluttering and drool dripping from you as you bob your head up and down his length. He skips forward a few minutes and switches the camera to watch your thighs flexing as he holds you down against his face to eat your cunt, your hips grinding down against him and your lips parted as you whimper and moan for him. Another few minutes and your tits are bouncing as he fucks into you, your head tipped back and your lips parted around a perfect ‘o,’ your legs against his chest as you claw at his grip on your throat. More time, another position; Gaz’s hands digging into the dip of your waist as you ride him, groping at your chest, your cunt swallowing his cock with every motion of your hips. God, your ass looks good from this angle, he’ll start easing you into the idea of him fucking it soon. 

You’re such a sweet thing, so easy to get information out of and convince of things. So eager to be good that you’ll go against your own judgement to please him. He’s never seen a rabbit walk directly into a trap, but you? What a silly, stupid girl. You probably don't even remember him coming in you.

You’re perfect.

He grabs a screencap of you riding him and sends it to his groupchat with the rest of the 141.

Gazoline: [sent image] Gazoline: Easy.

A typing bubble pops up immediately. Followed by another.

Ghost: Told ya. Sudz: Yer jokin Gazoline: Lt with the assist. Sudz: YER JOKIN

He locks his phone hearing you shut the shower off and shoves it in his pocket. It buzzes insistently as you poke your head out of the bath. You’re clutching a towel around your chest, as if Gaz hasn’t already seen it all.

“I was just thinking about how lucky it is I have a change of clothes.” You tell him.

“Well, look at that,” Gaz hums, “that is lucky.”

And what is luck if not careful planning?

[suguru-getos]

soft yandere satoru hcs:

a/n: hey, you guys should know i ship myself with him so there's no way i'd tolerate insane yandere satoru without ki!ling myself :P soooo- here's me making him a soft yan ^^

warnings: yandere behavior, mentions of arranged marriage troupe, stalkingtroupe, angry!sato ofc but he is still normal about it. mentions of fluff because it's satoru duh <33 also, this is one of the softest yandere hcs i've ever written *giggles*

yandere!satoru who saw you the first time in a jujutsu clan party hosted by your parents and how insignificant you truly were. to yourself, you had the best parents ever, they didn't push you into becoming a sorcerer, but to the kamo, zenin, and gojo clan members it was pure bullshit. wastage of proper sorcerer blood.

until yandere satoru met you for the first time and you hung out, the way he conversed was so different from someone who should be the strongest, someone who wields the highest powers in the whole world. someone who's birth shook the shackles of this world alone. he was kind, he sat next to you, non-judgemental even so he was weirdly wearing that damned blindfold.

he talked to you about your life, and about his own. pointing out the subtle and the not so subtle differences between the both of you. asking if you had a boyfriend. it was so subtle how could you think he had any other intention but to be your friend? naive and stupid.

things escalated real quickly when your mother told you that you were supposed to marry satoru gojo, oh my god- the clan head of the gojo clan, the ever so spoiled, esteemed entitled brat. you really couldn't say anything about this, but to hold your guns you decided to contact him. "you knew that this was happening?" you mumbled, watching him stir the coffee in front of you lazily. "of course, gosh you are so lucky little one!" he snickered, though the way he looks at you, it's hard to process what he's truly feeling inside. you are unaware of his stalking, how he knows your colleagues, how they are what they do, what they eat, how they breathe, to whom you are closer to, who likes you- what time do you get up, eat, what snack do you like, ghana roasted coffees over normal ones. though he would not admit to it.

there are a few times he has watched you sleep like a creep, just sitting next to you, just feeling the innate feeling of sharing the same bed as you. how cute you are, he often mumbles to himself. "i could crush you without even trying" as a musing criteria for how naive you are, how cute you are and how absolutely adorable you are. creepy-

to pretend that he is more than willing to let you take things your own way, he lets you plan dates. cute, adorable dates. one of the days you would be doing pottery with him, the other time it's an aquarium date where satoru doesn't know why you're so mesmerised when the real awe is you, the other time it was a planeterium and that's when satoru shows you his abilities for the first time, holding you closer to him like the princess you are and walking on sky, as if it's nothing, amid the full moon night. the other time it's you and him making tiaras in a garden, sometimes he would just randomly pull you closer, kissing your cheek while languishing in a movie together. so cute, so astonishingly cute! maybe marrying him is not a bad idea???

things show you their true form when you were on a date in a high-end restaurant, roof-top and fully booked. he's always been so cute with you, you had opened up and been comfortable enough. until a waiter decided to hit on you, before long- you found him choking on his own blood, despicable sight of him oozing out blood from his eyes, coughing and dying in front of you. "wh- what was that?" when you glance at satoru, he is emphasising the same lazy grin, smirking. "what. go on? smile back!" he muses, and when you're a teary-eyed mess, he presents himself with a carefully painted visage of guilt. "oh no no- baby i'm so sorry- i lost it, you make me lose it! i love you so much please no!"

would not let you have personal space after, forcing your parents to hasten the whole marriage thingy, he thinks you would leave him and that has him acting out of character. though he now knows fear is a powerful tool, even though he does not want to use it on his darling. sometimes he can't help it, especially when you act so fucking adamant and so fucking stubborn!!

"listen, princess, here's what's going to happen. daddy's going to be really cooperative if you come here and give him a hug, daddy does not want to be a meanie to his little girl. you know that right?" by being a 'meanie' he just means getting angry, manhandling you against the wall, seething in rage and bubbling hot with the insecurity of your behavior being the slightest of different.

the thing is satoru really, really loves you. the prospect of being a yandere is more 'dere' in him. however when the yandere shows? that's when you should truly fear the capabilities of this man. satoru hates this but he can sometimes use your triggers against you. don't like being tied up, maybe an empty threat would get you in line, after all, you refuse to listen when he wants to love you!

he's going to make sure your engagement ring has a location curse imbued into it, he wants to know 24x7 where his baby is. one time you lied to him that you are at work when you were actually in a colleague's party, you were greeted by the whole party avenue being destroyed to shreds, people bruised and only you knew it was your now husband, because he texted. 'infinity protects you princess, not others. next time think twice about lying to daddy.'

his behavior can get hot and cold instantly, one moment he is the most adorable man-child, loving you, playing with you... until he's ticked off and the real, no-nonsense monster comes out to meet you. a scathing frown with glowy eyes as he reminds you that you belong to the 'strongest'.

there are times he does use sex as a weapon, a weapon to make you give in. he is just so good at it, he is going to spoil you senseless, kissing every square inch of your body, worshipping you, crying with you when he mumbles apologies for being angry and mean at you, for scaring you, you don't deserve it, such a pretty baby, oh you take him so well. he was made for you, you are the strongest because you have him wrapped around your pinkie... only to show you the rage and insecurity and all of it when you come home late.

the only positivity you have, is he would rather kill himself than hurt you. that brings you peace, that brings a sense of stability and sensibility into you to hang onto the rope of your relationship a bit longer, clutching onto the fleeting hope of him changing...

[kifkay]

Winx & Specialists Dynamics that are so Precious to me

it makes sense that in the show, winx and their non-boyfriend specialists don’t interact much. but!! i’m very insane about codependent found families, and I want them all to love each other. so here’s my take on some tet-a-tet dynamics:

rare pairings:

Musa & Timmy: childhood frenemies. they used to go to the same middle school on Melody, and as type-A tweens do, had an intense, “you’re the only person I match myself to” kind of rivalry. they lost contact after Timmy moved away, chilled out considerably, reconnected in Alfea and had a wonderful banter-filled friendship since. because of how fast they slotted back into a friendship, some of their classmates genuinely thought they were siblings.

Tecna & Riven: got up from a rough patch. from “I dislike you but we both love Musa, so we have to be civil” to “you have more depths to you than I expected” to “now that I understand you, I can’t help but admire certain things about you” to “bitch, you are the only person who is as weird and clueless as I am, ARE YOU READY TO GO TO THE ARCADE AND ANNIHILATE KIDS FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES”

Flora & Brandon: little sister, older brother vibes. of similar temperaments and views, they enjoy spending time over a cup of tea — talking about everything and nothing. it’s therapeutic, almost.

(no one in the group knew that Brandon and Flo were good friends. once, when the two had to team up during a mission, Bloom couldn’t even finish saying: “it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know each ot-“, before the specialist-fairy duo were re-creating the most complicated and choreographed hand shake ever. jaws were on the floor.)

Aisha & Brandon: they are sporties, and they like doing sport things together! they don’t talk aside from exchanging brief encouragements and advice while out, preferring to spend their time in companionable silence. sorta like those dads who never talk to their buddies, but somehow have the strongest and longest bonds ever?

Helia & Bloom: artist besties. Bloom drags Helia out on picnics, where they practice observational drawing (and tiktok trends that Bloom desperately wants to reenact but none of the winx are good at arts); Helia responds by taking her out to see art museums in Magix. it’s a fun dynamic of Bloom being the bubbly gold retriever, and Helia being her black cat.

Tecna & Sky: they didn’t have much of a relationship until year 4. somehow, they both got really, intensely into weaponsmithing and built a joint workshop. they found that they enjoy working alongside each other and value each other’s insights. sky goes to tecna when he needs frank, un-sugarcoated advice, and tecna accompanies sky on hikes and other spirited adventures, for “bonding activities” (because he told her she doesn’t get out of her comfort zone enough). it’s a relationship of deep mutual respect.

Sky & Stella: childhood friends. they knew each other as children and enjoyed playing together (which is how Stella also knew Brandon pre-Red Fountaine). at least, until Stella was unofficially banned from Eraklyon because shenanigans, and they lost contact. they still jokingly call each other “My Lady” and “My Lord”.

Stella & Nabu. Both are flirty and extroverted people, who enjoy the spirit of showmanship. They have a friendly rivalry going of who can fluster the villain of the week the fastest.

canon bf-gf dynamics (dating in canon, open to interpretation otherwise):

Bloom x Sky: liked each other since the first meeting; bonded over being the friend group moms. (on unrelated note: bloom gentle parents her friends, while sky goes all exasperated cig mom on his team and repeats things like: “you better go to sleep right now, or so help me Dragon I will take away your Owl pilot privileges-“)

they are not the most outwardly affectionate couple of the winx, yet they are so wordlessly devoted to each other. sky will follow bloom to the ends of all dimensions, when she gets a calling from powers as mystical as she. bloom will always believe in him and see him as his own man, unlike the many who see him only as his father’s son. they were entwined by fate, long before one had met the other; yet, there’s the trust, the respect, the faith so strong — that could have only come from friendship forged and tested by fire.

Stella and Brandon: the hottest power couple; sole reason behind 60% of all student fairies/specialists/witches queer awakening.

they banter all. the. goddamn. time. these dorks are speaking a whole different language.

they are also most comfortable in each other’s company, being able to be their genuine, less polished selves. stella and brandon are both performers bred and born, playing the roles of a noble princess and a knight. it’s nice, to have a safe reprieve from all that acting.

Aisha and Nabu. their love was one that sneaked up on them. their distance, set by a discomfort at the idea of an arranged marriage, bridged as they transitioned from being reluctant comrades to friendly rivals to unwilling friends to best friends to “if someday the moon calls you by your name, don’t be surprised — because every night I tell her about you”

Tecna and Timmy: partners in crime, ride or die, sunny faith in each other — even when the other person doesn’t believe in themself. I have a whole post about them, go read that ;)

Flora and Helia: they are so. they are. they-

icons. the most romantic couple, the one that sets the standards, the one that gives their friends advice. they are extremely attentive to each other’s needs and tender with each other’s feelings.

flora can recite helia’s poems in her sleep, and trace his drawings with her eyes closed. helia brings mielle presents every time he stops by. flora has tea with helia’s dad every other tuesday; she keeps note of every time helia and saladin are supposed to meet up, to be able to whisk helia away after and distract him from his troubles. helia knows how to care of flora’s plants, and sends her lovingly assorted gift baskets semi-regularly.

Musa and Riven. their relationship is push and pull, is joy then sorrow.

it’s all in a drag of a cigarette, in the vortex of a starless night, in the hoarse laughter. “of all the people in the world, why did it have to be you?” she’ll say and smile.

“ I’m afraid we’re doomed, lover,” he’ll reply, faux-casually, and smile back. both of them will know it’s the truth.

their relationship was not built to last, not for the lack of love or try. maybe they were too similar — both headstrong, unbending, bleeding hearts. maybe they were just different enough not to understand their hurts. nevertheless, it was not built to last — but neither of them would ever bring to regret it. love prevails, no matter in what form in comes, or something like that.

[beybaldes]

It hits different cause it's you

summer sleepover masterlist

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary : “passionate kissing, pressed up against a wall.” Requested by anon.

contebt warning: one use of yn, throw up, Jamie being insanely jealous, Roy being a big brother figure, angst In the form of Jamie being self deprecating to fluff, allusions to smut but non written.

There was not a square inch of the Crown and Anchor that wasn't buzzing with life; the whole Richmond team, players and otherwise, were crammed into the tiny, town centre pub.

"Hey, who's that?" Jamie didn't recognise the tall blonde that had his arm around your shoulders, prompting him to sharply nudge Sam in his side, attempting to gain some insight as to who he was. Obviously, he wasn't a member of the team or the staff, he knew that much, but if someone had brought him as their plus one, it was rude of him to try and make moves on his friends friend. Jamie nearly spat his drink out at Sam's words. "They have a boyfriend?"

"Well, boyfriend is a strong word really, they've just seen each other a few times." Roy added, now suddenly beside Jamie and Sam with a frown firmly on his face. Even though it was a familiar sight, it had an even darker twinge to it then usual.

"And how would you know that?" Jamie scoffed, arms folding tighter across his chest as he watched the guy pull you over to the bar, his arm wrapped around you, guiding you through the crowd.

"They told me." Roy answered shortly with a shrug of his shoulders. "Though they also told me the guys a fucking prick." Now that had caught Jamie's attention. With each word that slipped past Roy's lips, Jamie could recognise the look of disproval more and more. "Forgot to show up for one of their dates and they had to run home in the fucking rain."

"Fucking prick." Jamie half expected some comment from Roy about how he, himself, was a prick, but it never came, him so focused on burning a hole into the head of the blonde who had his best friend - though Roy would never admit to you being his best friend - entranced.

"You should go and save them Jamie." Sam suggested, a smile pulling at his lips as he nudged Jamie's side teasingly. "They deserve better than him."

"What? And they deserve me? Right." Jamie scoffed, taking a swig of his drink as he continued to stare at the scene before him, unease filling his stomach as he dwelled on the way your smile filled your face and the way your shirt defined everything perfectly.

"Cut that shit out." Surprisingly, that came from Roy. "You're...well...you're a fucking half decent guy, Tartt. Y/n would be lucky to have you."

"Aw, Roy." Jamie cooed, reaching up to pinch at Roy's cheeks like you would a cute baby. Though before he could make contact, Roy had slapped his hand away, a scowl settling on his lips "You're so kind."

"Fuck off." Roy left at that, walking across the room to meet you and your date for the night at the bar.

"Hey, Angel." Roy saddled up next to you at the bar, slipping a hand around your waist and pulling you into a side hug. When you pulled him into a proper one, he took the opportunity to glare daggers at your date, who, in great shock to Roy, just glared right back. There was no way he was letting you date this guy.

"Roy, you know Jake." When you pulled away from the hug, Jake was quick to put his arm around your waist in a way that screamed controlling to Roy.

Jake. Jamie. Jamie. Jake. There was no way you'd picked the blonde on coincidence; and though Roy would rather bubble wrap you up and put you in a cupboard so no one and nothing could ever get to you, if you were going to be with anyone, he'd rather you be with Jamie. The thought knocked him sick. "Yeah. I do."

"I can't fucking believe this shit man." Jamie couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him. Roy seemed to be being more amicable with this random guy you were seeing then he'd ever been with him, and he'd just quite loudly proclaimed how much of a dickhead he thought he was. He just couldn't wrap his head around it.

What was there to this guy that Jamie didn't have? Why couldn’t you like Jamie the way he liked you? Why did you have to look so good in that shirt? Why hadn’t you told him but had seemed to tell Sam and Roy? Too many unanswered questions were swarming around his head. Roy clearly approved more of this stranger then he did of Jamie - and even though he'd blatantly told him otherwise seconds ago, the fact he was even entertaining a conversation with him made Jamie quickly forget it. Never once did it cross his mind that maybe Roy was entertaining the conversation because he cared about you.

Jamie felt like he couldn't breath more and more with each second that passed that he watched the three of you converse. It was all too much for one night. Roy liked him less then the dick who didn't show up for your date and made you walk home in the rain, he'd confirmed you didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about you, Mae had put up some disco lights that were stopping him from seeing straight, and the vanilla vodka he'd consumed was making his stomach churn. "I'm gonna be sick."

Jamie didn't hear Sam call after him when he sprinted from his side in the direction of the pubs door, he didn't hear Roy call after him when he barged past the three of you to get out of the pub, and he didn't see your concerned gaze that followed him until he'd disappeared from your vision.

Roy made a promise to be right back, taking a step away from you and Jake after calling down Mae for a glass of water. When you pieced together where he was going, you took the glass from his hand, appreciating the way the condensation cooled the palm of your hand. "No, it's okay Roy. I'll go check on him."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, course. Be right back Jake." You didn't wait for his response, turning for the door almost instantly. Thankfully, Jamie's actions and your want to see him had given Roy the opportunity that he'd been waiting for.

"Let's have a chat Jake, yeah?"

"Jamie!" You called out when you stepped outside of the pub. When you didn't immediately see him, you went to call out his name again, only stopping at a loud wrenching sound that was coming from the side of the building. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

Jamie pulled his shirt sleeve over his hand, wiping at his mouth then retuning it to his side. His other arm rested above his head, allowing him to balance himself against the wall as he hunched over. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine babe, go back inside."

Taking steps closer to Jamie's side, you made sure to avoid the mess he'd made on the floor, rubbing one hand in circles against his back. When his heaving had finally stopped, you wrapped an arm around him, slowly guiding him to sit on the step of the door that led into the kitchens. "C'mon."

Silently, you handed him the glass of water, letting him drink it before speaking. “What's wrong Jamie?"

"What do you meant what's wrong I'm-" Jamie's words fell short as he looked at you. Clearly, you didn't plan on taking any bullshit from him tonight. At his failure to provide a response fast enough, you nudged your knee against his, keeping the side of your leg pressed tightly against his after. Jamie let out a sigh, running a hand down his face. "I just got in my own head. That's all. And then with the vanilla vodka, and the lights, and so many people talking, it went to shit."

Jamie's heart nearly stopped as you threaded your fingers into his hair, pushing it back for him and readjusting his headband. Even when you'd fixed his hair for him, your hand remained in it, resting against the back of his neck and scratching at the hair there. "What did you get in your head about Jay?"

This wasn't real. The vodka had clearly got to him and he was experiencing some kind of deluded, fever ridden, dream. A too hard tug on his hair ground him back in the moment; this was definitely real and you were definitely playing with his hair. He was so fucking in love with you. "Nothing important, don't worry about it, go have a good night with your boyfriend."

"It's important to you, so it's important to me." Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How you had no idea what you were doing to him, he was clueless. Jamie could've sworn up and down that right then his heart was beating a metre out of his chest - how could you not see it too? "And, also, he's not my boyfriend."

"He's not?"

"No." A weight had been lifted from Jamie's shoulders that he hadn't realised was there. For the first time since he'd noticed you under the arm of whoever it had been, he felt like he could breathe. "We've been out a few times but, honestly, I'm not really feeling it, he's a bit of a dick."

"I know. Roy told me."

"Oh did he?” You asked, your head titling in a way that made the dim street light accentuate all your features. It made your eyes glimmer and Jamie had to resist the urge to kiss you. “Fucker doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut."

A laugh rumbled through Jamie’s chest and he was certain your presence alone had made everything better. God, if you’d let him, he’d never leave your side. "I’m all good now, if you want to go back in, I think im just gonna head home."

"Let's go." Your hand moved down from his hair and slotted into his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing. Jamie took your action as a sign, allowing you to lead him to your car without a thought spared as to how your date would get home, what Roy was doing to him right now, or what anyone would think of your shared absence. All he cared about was the fact his hand was in yours and that it remained that way the whole ride to his house.

He opened the door for you and then made a bee line for the bathroom with you hot on his heels. As he brushed his teeth several times over, forcing the taste of vomit out of his mouth, you took a seat on his counter. When Jamie spat out his final lot of toothpaste, he turned to you with a minty fresh smile. “So, your ‘not boyfriend,’ that’s definitely not going anywhere?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely not.” You answered honestly, jumping down from the counter and walking in step with Jamie down his hallway. “Besides, I kind of have a thing for someone else. He was the BTEC version, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” Jamie asked casually, as though his heart hadn’t been crushed for a second time tonight, this time in what should’ve been the safety of his own home. “So, what was he like? Aside from being a huge dick, obviously.”

“Obviously.” You confirmed, a laugh slipping past your lips as your lingered in Jamie’s doorway, not quite ready to go home yourself yet. “Oh, well, you know. He plays a lot of football, not too bad at it too, he’s from somewhere up north so he’s got this sexy twinge of an accent.” If Jamie didn’t know better, he’d think you were describing him. “And get this. His name? Jake Heart.”

Jamie had never been sure if heaven was real, but if must’ve been, because he knew if it was, this would be his idea of it. When you said you were going out with the worse version of who you really liked, he never in a million years would’ve thought you really wanted to be with him - even as much as he hoped it. It was like all of his dreams were coming true and his life was finally, fully, piecing together.

“Me.” Jamie gasped, taking a step closer to you. “You like me. I’m the one you like.”

“Yeah, doofus.” You took a step closer to him, sliding your arms up his chest and over his shoulder, placing your hands in his hair like they had been on the doorstep of the pub. He was still fully convinced this was one of those good dreams that make you regret setting an alarm the night before. “Was kind of hoping you’d have caught on by now, but, it is what it is.”

Jamie slipped his arms around your waist, connecting his hands over the small of your back. “So, if you like me, does that mean we can, like, be a couple and stuff?”

“Depends what you have in mind when you say ‘and stuff.’” The coy smile on your lips had a smirk pulling on Jamie’s. God, he couldn’t fucking contain himself around you, and he hoped he would never have to again after today.

Jamie pulled you flush against him, pressing his lips firmly to yours, and squeezing your hips, slipping his tongue into your mouth at the gasp that he pulled out of you. Carefully, he manoeuvred you away from his doorway, kicking it closed behind you, and pushing you against his hallway wall. One of his hands quickly moved to cup the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair to keep you from knocking against the cold plaster and to kiss you even more firmly. He didn’t hold back on his actions, squeezing and rubbing and nipping and sucking on every bit of skin he could reach as he pulled himself away from your lips and made his way down your neck.

As he pulled away for air, his forehead resting against your own and his chest heaving, he suddenly became nervous again. “Something like that, I don’t know, only if you’d like it.”

You pressed a fervent kiss to his lips, knocking the air from his lungs before he’d even had the chance to regain it. “I’d like that very much, Jay.” Jamie stared at you dreamily, so in love with you and you didn’t even know it yet. He couldn’t wait for the day that’d come when he’d finally, fully, tell you. “Couldn’t help but notice you closed the door though Jay, you wanting to figure out what more of that ‘stuff’ looks like, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that very much.” Jamie used your position against the wall to his benefit, moving his hands to hold your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ready to sing praises between your legs. “Think you’ll like it very much too.”

While the walls of Jamie’s hallway were permanently scarred by the whimpers from your lips and the scratches of your nails against the wall, Roy and Jake sat in the crown and anchor.

“- and you’re not fucking good enough for them. So, you’re going to disappear from their phone, and from the face of the fucking earth for all I care, and not be a fucking duck about it either, yeah.”

Jake was shaking in his seat, and even though Sam had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to butt in the conversation for the past 30 minutes, he never got the chance to. Jake had stood from his seat and left the pub without so much as a goodbye or a sip from his drink taken.

“Roy, do you really think all that was necessary?” Sam asked, sliding into Jakes now empty seat and sliding his untouched beer over to Roy.

“Abso-fucking-lutley.”

Hope you enjoyed this Jamie fic!!! Let me know what you think <33 more to come as I get up to date on the summer sleepover prompts x

[recklesssturniolo]

Bet - C.S

As per request for a no nut November bet Chris and reader make (: but I also tied in another request for public sex w Chris in it too!

*FYI MATT FIC IS BEING POSTED LATER*

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

“Y/N you know what November is?” Chris asks.

“What are you on about now?” You retort.

“November is no nut November, therefore no sex for the entire month” He explains.

“You can barely go a day without sex, never mind a month” You laugh.

“Oh yeah? Want to bet on it” He smirks.

You roll your eyes knowing this is the easiest bet ever, Chris was horny 24/7, he’s out of his mind if he thinks he’d last a month.

“Sure, first person to give in loses” You say sticking out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal” He replies shaking your hand. “Be prepared to lose”

It’s been a week. Quite possibly the longest week of your life. Chris’ non-stop teasing was driving you insane. Constantly having his hand on your thigh rubbing it up and down, whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear, grabbing your ass, going as far to grinding on you while you two make out which made you ache for him. You’d decided you were going to tease him back, but worse.

You were getting read to out to dinner with his brothers, Nate and Madi. Chris and you both in his room as you finish your makeup. Standing up you go to figure out an outfit but knowing you purposely but on a lingerie set that you knew made Chris go insane, you take off your shirt and sweatpants. You feel Chris’ eyes on you as you search through the closet, making sure to take your time.

“What about this dress?” You ask showing it to him.

“That one’s nice” He replies, barely even looking at the dress and instead looking at your body.

Knowing your plan was working you walk closer to him.

“Are you sure? You think the colour is okay?” You knew the dress was fine, you just knew getting closer to him would only turn him on more.

“I know what you’re doing Y/N” Chris says to you, ignoring your questions.

You bend over so your face is hovering above him as he lays on the bed, pushing your chest closer to his face, “Yeah? Is that why I can see your hard on and I haven’t even touched you?”

“Put the dress on before I fuck you so hard you can’t walk to dinner tonight” Chris replies.

“But then you’d lose the bet, wouldn’t want that would we?” You smirk at him, going further and straddling him. There wasn’t any denying that the feeling of his hard on was turning you on, but you focused your attention back to just him.

Chris groaned at the contact from you sitting on him, placing his hands on your hips and slightly pushing you down harder on himself.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself now, I’m not losing the bet sweetheart. I might like what I see but I’ll have you begging for it” He smirks.

Not sure of what to respond, you connect your lips and begin grinding yourself on him, causing both of you to moan. You knew even by just doing this you could get him close, and that was exactly your plan. You continued grinding on him, honestly enjoying it just as much as he was but when you could tell he was close, you got up.

“Now I should probably put this dress on so we can go!” You smile.

“Fucking hell, there’s no fucking way you just did that to me” Chris says.

“Did what?” You reply innocently. “Can you zip this dress for me?”

Chris stands up and walks towards you, “Don’t act all innocent, I could feel how wet you were. You want me just as badly as I want you”

You shrug in response, kissing his cheek before leaving the room to leave for dinner.

Now at dinner, Chris is on some tangent about god knows what, and you decide to place your hand on his thigh. Instantly causing his body to tense up, and his eyes to flicker over to you.

“No Chris continue I get what you’re saying” You say, wanting to see just how much you could get away with.

Chris continued talking, and you began palming his dick through is pants.

“Well yeah b-but” Chris stumbles on his words, not being able to fully focus on what’s he’s saying from what you’re doing.

Nick takes over the conversation. You now put your hand under Chris’ jeans on top of his boxers, continuing to palm him.

“Fuck sakes” He mumbles.

“You okay baby?” You smirk up at him as you put your hand under his boxers, grabbing his dick and swiping the tip with your thumb noticing the pre cum that’s there.

Chris let out a moan, immediately covering it up with a cough. No one else really paying any mind to it.

“You know, I took off my parties before we left” You whisper in his ear.

That was Chris’ final straw, he didn’t give a fuck about the bet any more. He needed you.

Cutting Nate off Chris tells the table that you aren’t feeling well and that you’re both going to get an Uber home. You apologize for ‘not feeling well’ and you both say your goodbyes. You knew what this meant - you won. You started walking towards to exit before Chris grabbed your hand.

“Not a fucking chance, bathroom, now. I’m not waiting any longer. Fuck the stupid bet” He demands.

You were surprised by this, Chris had never been so needy that you did it in a public space. Getting into the washroom he pushes your back against the door and immediately starts making out with you.

“God you’re a fucking whore, doing that to me in front of everyone” He says with his hand wrapped around your throat. You moaned back in response.

You were getting exactly what you wanted, you loved seeing Chris like this. He’s wasting no time, he bends you over the counter and pulls his pants down and pulling up your dress.

“Chris” You whine out as he rubbed his dick against your entrance, teasing you.

“Oh what? You don’t like being teased?” He replies.

“Please just fuck me” You reply.

“Oh I’m going to, and you’re going to watch yourself in the mirror while I fuck you like the whore you are, got it?” He says while lining himself up.

“Yes yes just please” You moan out.

With that Chris slammed into you his pace already fast.

“God I’ve missed your pussy, so fucking tight” He groans out. Continuing to slam himself into you, each thrust hitting you in the perfect place.

“Chris you make me feel so good” You whine out, feeling your legs starting to tremble.

Unaware that you had even closed your eyes, Chris grabs your hair and lifts your head back up, “I told you to watch yourself get fucked by me, keep your eyes open”

“Yes yes I’m sorry, please keep going” You slur out, now watching in the mirror as Chris picks up his pace even more.

“You miss this baby? My dick deep inside you?” He asks, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it.

“God fuck yes Chris I’ve missed it so much” You whimper, “I’m close”

“Good, come for me like the whore you are” He replies and moves his hand around you and starts rubbing your clit.

Any sentence you tried to get out from that point on was incomprehensible, the pleasure not allowing you to focus on anything else.

“Oh my god, I’m coming Chris don’t stop” You moan out. Not caring how badly your legs were shaking or how loud you were being, letting yourself ride out your high.

Chris too was about to come, meaning he was going as hard as he possibly could now, well aware there’d be bruises on your hips from how tight his grasp was.

“Such a pretty girl, you gonna let me come in you baby?” Chris asks.

“Yes” You whisper through slight pants.

You feel Chris’ dick twitch inside of you and him release himself. His pace slowing down as he moans out in pleasure.

After helping you clean yourself up, Chris stops you momentarily, “we are never doing a bet like that again, I’m never going that long without you, I’ll go insane”

“Agreed” You laugh.

You walk out ahead of Chris, him waiting a couple moments before leaving himself. What you both weren’t expecting was for the group you told you were leaving due to you ‘not feeling well’ to be standing at the exit.

“What the hell you guys are still here?” Nick asks.

You and Chris both look at each other, your cheeks heating up as you both tried to come up with an excuse.

[somnolent-scout]

To clear up a few things mentioned in this awareness post, I wanted to go into slightly more detail about it here:

The day we posted the original call-out post, multiple of us received an ask from a recently created user with a jumbled up username basically telling us that he was on a call with Cheavy and that he had run into traffic. We were extremely concerned by this message and one of us began talking to this guy. We discovered that apparently his name was Dylan and he was just a very close friend of Cheavy who was very worried for his well-being. It seemed weird, but we took it seriously. Eventually, I called the non-emergency number for a wellness check for Cheavy. They sent a team out there and then the rest of those events were played out pretty publicly on his blog.

But then we started receiving aggressive messages from this Dylan guy. At first, it was criticisms of how we acted and what we said about Cheavy. Then it was actual insults, then it was threats of blackmail. This is when I, admittedly not very appropriately, posted the "getting blackmailed xoxo" post to Tumblr containing two screenshots of the first few messages from Dylan. There was.. so.. SO much more after that. All of that is available to view in this Google photos album.

I continued to screenshot what I was being sent and once I realized something was seriously off about this guy, I stopped responding. I did not respond, regardless of whatever threats he threw at me. He seemed to be upset by this.

But then the big bombshell arrived from a mutual: Cheavy was pretending to Dylan to get our attention. We have irrefutable evidence of this claim as well, coming in the form of a screenshot from that user where Cheavy showed he was logged into this Dylan account.

Dylan was just Cheavy in a different hat.

Watching him edit a post about Dylan on his main tf2heritageposts blog three different times, only adding the "edit:" section on the third time, as he continued to unblock and reblock me while sending me various demands through the Dylan account.. it was almost hysterical. I couldn't tell if I wanted to cry or laugh or scream. It was just.. insane. The definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Just wow..

Another thing I would like to clear up is that we unfortunately faced an extreme amount of backlash for our detrimental error on censoring the names of those not involved with the making of the post. This was mostly my fault, and I cannot apologize enough for the harm it caused. I understand that the Internet, especially Tumblr, is full of rotten vile people who will do anything to attack someone over miniscule shit. I apologize to those were affected by this, and I sincerely hope that our revised version will be better.

No one should have to face shit like that online. I should know, as I've been there and done that a dozen times.

Also, an additional thing that happened the night of the post, around 10:30pm I received a voicemail from Cheavy's phone number. I have had his contact and phone number BLOCKED for months. But somehow he was able to leave a very weird voicemail.

This was sent to my phone between the first few messages from Dylan and the posts about going to the hospital on tf2heritageposts.

[Transcript: Visual Voicemail format, censored name labeled as "Cheavy", plays a brief moment of silence before the words "Hi Sol!" are said in a sing-song tone. Sent on December 8th, at 10:40pm.]

Anyways, these are just some additional things I wanted to add but didn't want to clog up the awareness post with it.

[allidoistrytrytryy]

a moment's silence when my baby puts her mouth on me (cove holden x reader)

ao3 version here

summary: Cove Holden and the black underwear (from Patreon moment 2, if you know you know), except it's his own surprise on a random Friday (smut with feelings)

word count: 3,116 words

tags: smut, porn with feelings, porn without plot, light dom/sub, switching, sexual intimacy, they're in love your honour, author has been feeling insane about cove for years and lately about the black underwear so here we are (female reader implied but i tried to be as non-descriptive as possible, can be a male trans reader too)

You were exhausted, your fingers rubbed at your eyelids and at your forehead, trying to take the headache away.

You had had a large project at your job, long hours, and planning that took too much of your time. You came home late, too late, so late sometimes Cove would already be in bed or asleep on the couch, always waiting for you (even though you had told him to sleep, not to wait up for you if you were too late, but he insisted every time).

You sighed at the thought of your fiancee. You missed him too much, missed being able to have time with him, going out on weekends or lazing around after work to watch a show you would fall asleep through anyway, snuggled in his warmth.

You hadn’t been able to do that in more than two weeks, always working, always in contact with your coworkers to continue the project even deep into the night. You were glad today was the presentation, and then you were taking a few days off, away from everything.

You felt the fear in your gut at the presentation. You were nerves on legs, as you always were when you had to talk in front of an audience. You knew that would never change, the way you spaced out, waiting and waiting, at your desk.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, which took you out of your thoughts and the ball in your stomach. A smile crept up on your face before you even had the time to read what the text said, at the name appearing on your screen.

Cove.

Romeo: You have this, show them what you’re made of. Love you. <3

You smiled hard, your finger rubbing at the heart emoji with the text, at the picture you had set as his picture on your phone. A picture of him asleep on your couch, snuggled under a blanket, his long hair freed from its usual low bun.

You hadn’t been able to resist the urge to take a picture, and your fingers had gone through his hair.

You sent him a heart back, now fired back up. You could do this, go home and kiss your fiancee senselessly until you fell asleep snuggled into his warmth.

And the presentation happened. It went well, and you shared smiles and compliments with your colleagues. Sighs of relief. You could all go home peacefully tonight.

Which you did. You sprinted to your car when the hour came, your colleagues’ laughter following you down the elevator. They all knew you were eager to be home again, to be with the fiancee you talked about too much. (You couldn’t help it. You loved Cove Holden too much, loved him since you were eight. What could you do?)

The drive went quickly and you arrived at your little place a bit further from the city in record time. When you parked in your spot, next to Cove’s car who was already there and home, you realized you had forgotten to send him a text. You bit your lip, hoping he hadn’t waited for it.

Five unread texts with Cove inquiring about the presentation, worried. Shit.

You climbed the stairs of the apartment complex quickly, your keys already in hand. You entered.

”I’m home! Sorry, I completely forgot to answer your texts, I’m so so...” You interrupted yourself by the sight of your living room, your coffee table with a range of plates and food, and even a cake.

Hands sneaked around your waist, a kiss on your hair, a chest against your back. Your fiancee enveloped you, mint, citrus and this particular ocean smell in your nose and you finally relaxed. “Hi sweetheart, how was it?” he asked gently.

You turned around in his arms and, as always, you had to crane your neck to look up into his eyes. You hadn't been fortunate with height while Cove had had too much of it over the years. His arms circled your waist. “Went smoothly, we can finally breathe now,” you answered and got on your tiptoes to kiss him quickly, which he answered with that giddy smile he never lost around you. “Now, what’s all of this, Covie?”

”Well, I knew it would go perfectly since it’s you,” you rolled your eyes at the remark but the smile betrayed you, the blush even more. “and wanted to celebrate it. I got your favorite things from your favorite places and got a cake.”

Cove looked like it wasn’t even an effort, and it wasn’t in your relationship. You both made so much effort, so much again and again for each other that it was just normal. But, it didn't change the fact that you were always touched by every gesture.

You still couldn’t phantom how dear you were to this man sometimes. You still couldn’t understand how your heart never seemed to stop expanding for him, taking in every piece, every detail, every word and action from him.

Your hands dragged his face to you, to kiss him deeply, like you had wanted to since you had finished the project. He sighed against your lips, that content sigh, his lips and tongue entangled with yours. An intimacy you could never get enough of.

”I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips and his eyes misted over, your crybaby, always yours.

”I love you too,” he whispered as if he didn’t want to break the calm of the moment, wanted to stay in this moment suspended in time.

Until you dragged him to the couch to drape yourself over him, eating and barely paying attention to whatever was on the TV as background noise. You talked about the project. He talked about his day and his own job.

When you finished, he pushed you to the bathroom. “Go take a bath, relax, I got the dishes,” Cove reassured and you pouted.

”But, I can help, I didn’t get dinner so it should be me,” you whined in his shoulder and he laughed while pushing in the bathroom while you couldn’t do anything.

”No way. Go, now,” he kissed your cheek and you still pouted as you got into the bathroom.

You did well on what he had told you to do, spending too much time in a hot bath until it got cold, your body wrapped in your comfortable fuzzy robe. You finally stepped out to get to the bedroom, itching to put your pajamas on, and fall asleep next to Cove.

The too-large shirt was in your hands, actually just one of Cove’s shirts you had stolen and never returned, as you did since you were teenagers, even before you were officially truly together. You hadn’t realized why the light was so dim, hadn't realized Cove was on the bed.

You turned your head slowly and you felt your knees wobble, felt your eyes widen until they almost popped out of your skull.

You had seen Cove in all types of clothes and nakedness over the years. You knew him and his body by heart, the moles, the sleeve on his right arm that you loved to kiss all over, the dips, and where the redness would creep. But right now? You were speechless.

Cove fucking Holden was sat against the headboard, half-lidded eyes on you, but you could see the blush high on his face and ears and down his neck. He was naked, well, except for the underwear but it was the underwear that made you want to scream.

It was black but it barely hid anything, the green happy trail visible from that delicious V-shape you liked to bite, down a dangerous low dip. Straps followed his hips and they showed his hipbones. You almost wanted to ask him to get up and show the back, to see how it looked over that ass you loved too much.

”Surprise,” he simply said, wanting to sound sultry but ending up at excited, embarrassed, waiting.

The shirt slipped through your fingers, forgotten on the floor, and you were still speechless. “What...are you...” you swallowed hard, heat at the back of your neck, on your ears.

Large shoulders were shrugged and he tilted his head, “I… we talked about how I wanted to try some...lingerie out and I thought it would be a good idea for a celebration.”

He was still waiting and you could see how waiting affected him, the redness ever more present on his face and down his neck, the quick jostle of his knee. You approached the bed slowly, eyes laser-focused on him.

You could feel a restraint slowly unfurling in your gut, a wait. You had missed Cove and his hands on you, you had missed the everyday intimacy but you had also missed the sexual intimacy you shared. You both couldn’t have enough of each other sometimes, a pull between your hearts and your bodies.

Your hands settled on the edge of the bed, and you crawled slowly to him, putting up a show for his eyes and his eyes only. The robe dipped down and he gulped, his eyes on your cleavage, on your bare chest visible underneath. You smirked, finding a place between his legs, hands on his thighs, so so close to the dangerous piece of underwear that threatened your composure.

”So, you decided to gift my eyes with this, baby?” you whispered, a finger playing with a strap at his hip. “You’re way too good for me.”

Cove gulped again and you wanted to bite at his Adam’s apple, leaving marks on his pale skin until everybody would know. He shook his head.

”What? You don't agree that you’re too good for me?” you asked, a little pout at the words, your eyes on his face. You were playing the game of how sultry you could be, how much you could push it until his own restraints broke. “Maybe I should show you.”

Your hands traced the straps and the edges of the underwear. Your mouth found a nipple as your hands traced but never touched where you could feel a hardness growing and growing. His moans hit your ears and you smiled, your tongue playing from one nipple to another.

”You don't have to...” he tried to say, his moans high, and god, did you love how vocal he could be. He was always so vocal, so good.

”I want to, so be a good boy, baby,” you whispered, bit at the side of his chest, so muscular, so pretty. He moaned higher, hips bucking against your chest. Your mouth traveled down and down, following the green trail of hair. “Driving me crazy with this, Covie.”

Your hands caressed the hardness over the fabric, but your mouth found the tip already out with how hard he was. The dip was so low that the tip was the only thing visible, so your tongue swirled around it, the saltiness hitting your tastebuds. You moaned, fingers at the straps.

”Oh my god," Cove whined loudly, hips bucking again, the tip making its way deeper into your mouth. “Shit, sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to...”

You shook your head and pulled at the straps downward, until the underwear sat underneath his cock and you pushed more and more into your mouth, desperate for more, to make him feel even better.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck," you heard him repeat and you wanted to smile, to tease him like you always did because he only ever cursed in those moments, so gone, so desperate.

More and more, until you felt tears in your eyes, until you breathed through your nose, hands at what you couldn’t fit down your throat because of how big he was. But you loved it, thighs clenching to relieve the ache that formed in between.

It wasn’t about you, even though you could spend hours between his legs, to look at his head thrown back, his eyes closed and face scrunched up, like now. He looked out of this world, long hair around his head, down his shoulders, redness still at his face, sweat down his neck and on his chest. You couldn’t believe he was yours still.

”Shit, sweetheart, I’m gonna… I’m...” Cove’s voice rang out and you felt how tight his balls were getting, see how his abs tightened. He was close, and a part of you wanted him to cum in your mouth, but you had another plan.

You popped off his hardness with a loud pop, saliva around your mouth, and his head rose up, his eyes opened in question. You crawled back up his body, your hands opening your robe, until you could throw it on the floor beside the large bed. You settled on his lap, hands on his shoulders.

You swatted his hands away before they could fall on your hips, and you saw the small pout on his face that you kissed away with a laugh. “Sorry, no touching baby, be good a bit longer for me,” you kissed along his face, nibbled at his neck, leaving a few hickeys as your hips moved, your wetness rubbing on his cock.

Cove whined still against your shoulder, “But you look so good… And you’re so wet,” he moaned, groaned. “Let me touch you, please,” he begged but you shook your head, your hips rising up to catch the tip at the edge of your wetness, of your warmth.

You slowly sunk down, your own moan unable to stay in your throat at the delicious burn his cock always gave you, that fullness that always took your breath away. You hummed as you sank lower and lower.

His eyes were closed tightly, his body trembled when you finished back on his lap, the length fully inside you. You stayed still, enjoying the moment, and his hands stayed beside his hips, beside the underwear that was still underneath his cock, trapping his legs in place. He was taut, all muscles tight and restrained.

”Please, please, move," Cove begged and you could only answer with your hips moving up and slamming back down.

Your moans intertwined with Cove’s, as you rode him, slowly, building a faster rhythm with every breath, every moan. You rode him, a deep pleasure building in your stomach, pleasure built with his moans in your ear, your teeth at his shoulder.

You rode him until your thighs trembled and his hips, so restrained until now, slammed up in response. You almost screamed his name. It had hit that one spot deep inside and your body had fallen down onto his chest.

All restraint broke in his body, his hands at your hips, so tight you knew you would feel them still tomorrow, “Sorry, I can’t...” he breathed out, before his hips slammed up again and again, his hands guiding your hips down every time.

“Fuck, Cove, Cove,” you repeated his name, your forehead on his shoulder, your eyes on the spot that joined your two bodies together, his cock sliding in and out.

His name on your lips broke him again and you lost all control you had on the situation. His hands manhandled you on your back, almost ripped the underwear that had started it all off his legs, and he had your legs folded against his chest before he slid back in.

The breath was knocked out of your chest, your hands tugged at his hair, and your eyes were on him always. The muscles bulging with every movement, the sweat trickling down, the pure ferocity and desperation on his face.

Cove wasn't always pushed to this side of dominance, if not ever. Not to this degree. You both liked to switch, to play with what were the limits and new things, but falling back into lovemaking most of the time. Here, your gentle sweet Cove was gone, to leave a rougher Cove you loved too, your moans encouraging him.

”Don’t stop, Cove, don’t stop," you begged, hands desperate in his hair, hips moving to answer every thrust deep inside, against the spot. You could barely talk and he could only groan and moan, his own mouth busy on your nipples, back arched.

You were getting closer and closer, and he could feel it, the way you arched more and more, the way you were tighter and tighter around him, the way your moans only got louder. His eyes were on your face, a hand moving down from your hip to the nub of nerves, so wet from everything.

Your head tilted back into the pillow, “Cove, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, warned and he hummed in response, his thumb insistent on your clit, in time with every thrust. Your back arched even more, the pleasure exploding in your stomach, behind your eyes, and in your whole body until you were left a trembling thing underneath Cove.

His thrusts slowed down, but your hips moved and you shook your head. “No, don't stop, need you to cum,” you croaked out, voice spent, hands still tugging at his hair.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” Cove moaned over you, eyes half-lidded on your face, but you shook your head again. You tugged him closer, forehead against his.

”You can’t hurt me. Please Cove, I love you, please,” you begged, his thrusts were erratic and you could tell he was close.

”I love you, fuck, I love you so much, I love you," he repeated against your cheek, and you hummed, answered back, until he moaned louder.

Until the final thrust, until he came deep inside you with your name on his lips and you kissed his face.

Cove detangled himself from you only to bring back a wet washcloth, to wipe you and himself. You only got up to go the toilets, fast and impatient, to find him back in bed, under the covers.

You cuddled in his arms, your cheek on his shoulder, legs entangled to look at him. Content, beautiful. It was magical, as always, to go to sleep with him every night, to have him be the last thing you always saw at night.

”Well, that was a nice surprise," you giggled and he smiled lazily. “I’ll be the one to surprise you next time.”

He groaned lightly but laughed, forehead hitting yours gently. “If you want me to really die, sure,” and you could only laugh, his lips on your eyelids, yours reaching up to kiss his eyebrows. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You hummed, “I love you, Covie.”

His smile grew larger, and his cheeks turned red as always, “I love you too.”

And you fell asleep, safe, happy, home, where you belonged.

[unremarkablehouse]

Scully’s Hot Date

CH1 | Mature | S6 | WC 1639 | AO3

Summary: Mulder happens to run into Scully on her way to a blind date. Inspired by this photo of Gillian.

Tagging: @today-in-fic The FBI parking garage was desolate as Mulder slowly made his way to his car. Friday night before a public holiday, it seemed like everyone one had places they’d rather be. The squeak of tires and flash of light as a car pulled into a space was truly startling, more so the fact that he recognized that car within a fraction of a second from his periphery. It was her, Dana Scully, returning to work after 7pm on a Friday night. A large part of him hoped it was to see him, but as she parked her car near his, he knew logically it didn’t quite add up. Lounging on the trunk of his car, Mulder watched Scully get out of her car, her body stiffening momentarily before making her way towards his direction with a renewed confidence as she clocked the awe struck look on his face. Mulder didn’t mean to ogle but he had never seen her dressed quite like this before. Her hair pinned up displaying her neck, a dress that was soft and showed her curves, and her breasts. Good lord, her tits were out and Mulder’s brain had ceased to function. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her, but Scully’s laugh and the click of her fingers brought him back to earth. She was now standing in front of him, an amused smirk on her face at his reaction. 

“Hi, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here tonight,” Scully said with an edge of awkwardness in her voice unconsciously licking her lips in that way that drove Mulder insane.

“You look very… non-FBI tonight,” Mulder replied, unsure of the exact right words to use to describe how incredible his Partner looked. 

“Thanks, I think. I have a date,” Scully bristled as she started to make her way to the parking lot stair case. 

Mulder caught up with her in a few easy strides. 

“Hold up, who is the guy? He doesn’t work here right?”

There was nothing remotely casual about the tone of Mulder’s voice, the jealous quality was begrudgingly sweet so Scully took pity on him and stopped to talk as they entered the stairwell. 

“It’s a blind date a friend set me up on, I haven’t met him before so I organized to meet in front of the Hoover building so we can get a drink nearby.”

“Do you need a chaperone,” Mulder asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, standing close to Scully, her back almost pressing against the concrete wall. 

“I think I’ll be ok,” Scully said with a laugh, placing her hand on his chest to push him back, but instead slowly rubbing large circles across his pecks. Her heart raced when her palm made contact with one of his erect nipples, but she didn’t remove her hand.

“You look really beautiful tonight Dana,” Mulder said his eyes staring so intensely into hers it was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. 

With an anguished sigh, Mulder dropped his head down, awkwardly resting it on Scully’s shoulder like a child needing comfort. Instinctively, her hand found its way into his hair, rubbing over the nape of his neck and back again. 

“What times your date,” he whispered, doing nothing to hide the melancholy from his voice. 

“Not for another half hour, I’m early.”

“Hmm,” Mulder said with a sad acknowledgement, nuzzling his nose into her neck in a way that made Scully catch her breath. Instinctively, she found herself kissing his temple and inhaling his smell. The warmth of their bodies and their proximity to one another was intoxicating. Mulder pressed both hands onto her hips to anchor her in place as he gently kissed a spot under her ear and whispered “I wish it was me.”

Mulder pushed away from her, ready to go back to his empty apartment, while Scully went on a date with a man who wasn’t him. Feeling a tug on his arm, Mulder turned as Scully grabbed onto his hand. 

“If you want it to be you, then ask me out Mulder,” her voice was breathy but challenging as she stared him down. 

Mulder’s puppy dog eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, filled with angst and a vulnerability which Scully was helpless to resist. 

“Dana Katherine Scully, will you go on a date with me?”

Scully made a show at umming and ahhing, while Mulder dramatically contorted his face in agony. 

“Okay,” Scully finally replied with a large grin, eliciting a delighted laugh from them both as Mulder excitedly bent down to kiss her. 

It was meant to be a quick celebratory peck in the heat of the moment, but Scully’s arms wrapped around Mulder’s neck and before they knew it he had lifted her up and pressed their bodies against the wall. Scully hungrily kissed Mulder, pulling his head closer to hers, unable to get enough. Mulder’s hands wondered ever so slightly up her thigh and back down to her perfect ass, unable to explore more territory as he held her up to his hip height. 

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling Mulder closer and grinding her hips against him hard. And with that, the flood gates were open. All the years of restraint and denial crumbled as they finally admitted the physical need between them. Decency and self awareness had long left the building as Scully’s hand reached for Mulder’s rock hard cock. Stroking it over his pants she moaned and ached to feel him inside her. Mulder enthusiastically nuzzled and kissed at her breasts while Scully attempted to undo his fly. In a surreal out of body experience Scully realized she was about to fuck Mulder for the first time in an FBI stairwell, minutes before she was meant to be going on a date with another man. However, she could not bring herself to care about the impropriety of the situation, conversely it actually made her ridiculously aroused at how primal and insane the whole situation was. Any concern or hesitation she might have had on the subject vanished completely when Mulder found her left nipple and bit down on it in a way that lead to a gasp and a flood of arousal. Moving their heads back up to kiss once more, Mulder’s hand managed to free his cock and slide it against Scully’s wet cunt as he deftly moved her panties to the side.

Mulder stroked himself against Scully’s slit, bumping the head of his cock over her clit as she moaned in approval. Scully squeezed her thighs hard against Mulder’s waist, impatient for more of him. “Mulder, now,” she panted in desperation.

The relative size of his cock and the angle of their bodies, forced him to enter her at an excruciatingly slow rate. Scully felt the stretch as it struggled to accommodate his girth, and her mouth watered at the thought of riding him until she was spent and sore. With a grunt and a thrust Mulder was completely sheathed inside her and Scully felt her pussy flutter and tingle at just the feel of him inside her.

Without much leverage, Mulder rolled his hips in circles, adding a pulsating motion to fuck her without ever leaving Scully’s body. The movement felt delicious, and the feel of Mulder’s stubble against her neck as he moaned “Oh, God Scully” was enough to tip her over the edge. Scully’s back awkwardly arched against the wall, her moan and cries of ecstasy leaving no doubt as to what she was experiencing. 

Mulder was in awe as he felt her convulse around his cock, moisture gathering between them, and the unmistakable quivers driving him wild. 

Mulder wasn’t anywhere near ready to cum himself, but he felt a sense of satiation by proxy as he continued to rock into her body, gently bringing her back from the edge. 

The loud trill of a cell phone brought them both back to reality and Mulder quickly removed himself from Scully and straightened up, their hearts pounding at prospect of getting caught. The ring continued and Scully realized it was coming from her purse, the neurons once again firing in her brain, battling adrenaline and her post orgasmic haze. 

Answering the phone with a professional, “Dana Scully,” her voice did not betray any of the lewd activities that had just taken place, and Mulder marveled at her ability to compartmentalize so quickly.

“Hi Derek, I can’t really hear you I’m in the parking structure. I’ll see you outside in 10.” 

As Scully hung up the phone and was greeted by Mulder’s heart sick face. 

“You’re still going to go out with him?”

“Well I can’t cancel this late, it would be rude.”

Mulder gave a snort of derision as he straightened his pants and licking his lips to remove some of Scully’s lipstick that had made its way onto his lips. He was pouting, and while Scully would normally find it infuriating, he looked adorable all ruffled with feint traces of lipstick still on him. 

“Mulder, would you like to join with us? We’re just getting drinks around the corner.”

“Really?” Mulder asked, excited as a kid on Christmas. 

“Of course, let me just straighten up in the bathroom first and we can go.” 

They quickly walked down  the stairwell to the lobby exit, but Mulder pulled Scully back before she could open the door. 

Looking up at him with a questioning stare, Mulder bashfully smiled at her. 

“I need a hug before we face the outside world,” Mulder admitted with a vulnerability that melted Scully. 

Without hesitation Scully tightly wrapped her arms around Mulder, her body melding perfectly into his.

With a quick kiss to her head Mulder broke the hug, “come on, let’s make ourselves look presentable, we have a date.”

[chickenpizza420]

What if the reader made jonathon jealous on purpose, like they were being affectionate with someone else how would he react to that? also I really like your writing <3

I definitely picture y/n being affectionate to someone else in front of him purposely to get him off their back but it only makes things worse

TW: slight non//con

It drives him insane when he sees you two together but he’ll never confront you guys upfront, he wants to keep his job and not seem even weirder at work.

He will get that guy out of the picture. Guaranteed. He will get them fired and force you two to get out of contact.

He will definitely freak out on you and it will scare you. Lots of yelling from him. “Who is that guy!?” He will yell at you if it seems like you two are alone even if it’s in a public area, like work or he corners you outside. I mean he will be unhinged, wide eyed yelling and gripping your shoulders. He will make you feel tiny under his gaze.

“What about us!?” Especially if there was no “us”.

He will beg for forgiveness afterwards. “I’m- I’m so sorry babe! … I was just angry with you! Please forgive me…” he will hug you against your will until you pat him on the back and tell him you forgive him.

He will mark you in subtle ways. Like he will hold you down and give you hickeys right at collar level just so that it’s peeking out slightly.

He can’t trust you anymore, once he finds out you’re going out somewhere (he always will) he will be there. It’s awkward 90% of the time because he will always he hovering over you making sure no other guys talk to you.

Going somewhere noisy isn’t really his thing so he’s also overstimulated and looks clearly uncomfortable and definitely clinging onto you harder because of it.

He’s gone from feeling you up your limbs to straight up groping you in public to show you the power he has over you, but it’s weird like he’s honking your boob or ass really quick.

He will “misplace” things with his name clearly on it on your desk so people will see. He will also take things that clearly belong to you and display them on his.

If people ask him if you guys are dating he always says yes, even if they ask in front of you. If you protest he will make sure that you can’t get a word in.

Any male colleagues at your job refuse to work with you because inconveniences always happen with you there and you’re “bad luck”.

Now when he kisses you it’s not just a peck on the lips. He always has to stick his tongue in your mouth and make out with you. He’s really bad at making out at first and you have to teach him how to.

You will never be able to be with anyone with him around.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 13

MASTERLIST

word count: 900+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Getting a tattoo? Does that count? Implications of sex but no smut.

“Did I ever tell you that I hate needles?”

“Yep, repeatedly.”

“I thought the deal was to keep each other out of trouble.”

“And we are. You’re here for moral support.” I put on the sweetest smile I could muster before turning my attention back to filling out paperwork.

“And Jake has no idea you’re doing this?”

“Nope,” I answered, putting emphasis on the ‘p.’

The boys were on tour as of one week ago, and I was hating it. Don’t get me wrong, I was so happy for them, knowing they were out there literally living their dream, and I was insanely proud of them, but I missed Jake. He called or texted as much as his busy schedule allowed, and he would excitedly share stories about the shows and send me photos as they went sightseeing in new towns. I missed the physical closeness, though, and I was counting down the days until I saw my love again.

I don’t know what drove me to do it, but once I got the idea in my head, I couldn’t let it go. So here I was, sitting in a tattoo parlor while Finn fidgeted nervously beside me, waiting for the artist to finish preparing everything. The sounds of buzzing tattoo guns seemed to make Finn more anxious, but it only fueled my excitement. And when the artist finally called me back, I practically bounced as I followed him to the chair I would spend the next few hours in, Finn trailing worriedly behind.

I originally thought about having it done on my side, along my ribcage, but ultimately decided on my thigh. The aftercare would be less difficult, and it would be much easier to show it off. Plus, I theorized it would be less painful; the pain was bearable, more of an annoying stinging in most parts.

By the end of it, I was sore from sitting in the same spot, unmoving for so long, and my abused skin was sensitive, causing each contact to become more painful. I was grateful for the last wipe down with the cooling saline solution.

“Okay, I’ll admit, it does look pretty cool.”

“Doesn’t it?” I grinned excitedly as the artist took a photo for his portfolio and covered it with the adhesive aftercare bandage. “It’s perfect. I love it.” Now I just had to hope Jake did, too.

~

By the time Jake returned home for their break from the tour, my tattoo was almost completely healed. I made sure to wear pants to cover it so I could surprise him at the right time. I was unable to contain myself when he came through the door. I latched onto him and peppered him with kisses. I know he had to be exhausted, but he shared my enthusiasm, keeping me pressed as close to him as physically possible, repeatedly reminding me how much he missed me.

“Guess we’ll have to make up for all that lost time before you leave again.”

“Mm. Go get comfortable. I’m gonna take a quick shower first, then I’m all yours.”

I pouted. “Fine but hurry up. I have a surprise for you.”

I think that spurred him on to move a little quicker, despite his tiredness. I slipped off my clothes and settled into bed, covering myself with the blanket. When he emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet and a towel wrapped loosely and resting on his hips, he wasted no time closing the distance between us. He discarded the towel, haphazardly tossing it onto the floor before joining me under the covers. He kept his hands glued to me, exploring every inch, as though he was afraid if he let go, he would forget what I felt like.

“So,” he said between kisses on my flustered skin, “what’s the surprise?” He brushed his lips along the sensitive spots on my neck, causing me to let out a breathy moan.

“’Kay, hang on.” I giggled as I sat up, pushing him into a sitting position as well. “All I can really say is don’t freak out, and that I really hope you like it because it is one hundred percent non-returnable.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, but he held a goofy half-smile on his face. “I guess I promise not to freak out?”

I slowly moved the blanket off my legs, exposing the ink. On the top of my left thigh were clusters of flowers in mixtures of red, pink, and purple. The flowers strategically framed an image of a red Gibson Les Paul guitar, identical to Jake’s go-to, his first love. When his eyes landed on it, his jaw slightly dropped with an audible gasp.

“Woah, when did you do that?”

“About a week after you left. They’re both of our zodiac flowers. Chrysanthemums for Virgo, and poppies for Taurus.”

He traced his fingers along the outline, tickling my skin.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s gorgeous.”

I sighed in relief. “Oh, good, ‘cause I was worried I was gonna have to burn it off,” I joked.

He leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on my thigh before placing another on my lips. “No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

I felt the blush creep up my cheeks, and I crinkled my nose. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me back down and flush against him. I shuddered as he whispered into my ear, “Now, where were we?”

///

TAGLIST

Let me know if you want to be added!

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389

[delectablehallway]

Abby was written well and complexed like any other character in the first season. That hate is irrational. But here are the real reasons~ 1. She's a woman and that's obviously a problem 2. Certain shippers despise any/all LI past and present outside Eddie/Buck regardless 3. The fans infantizied poor baby Buck early on, which leads to 4. People thought they age gap was "weird and gross" 5. They say how she contacted Buck was unethical and she was a "stalker" and a "creep" 6. She didn't prioritize Buck over her sick, dying mother 7. She chose to grieve and find herself AND 8. Connie didn't return (initially) and they fucked her character up! So instead of breaking them up properly offscreen, they wrote that she ghosted/ignored Buck and had him wait "unknowingly" for over a year and their relationship became a running joke that she was "fake" because of her absence... and of course, 3x18 came around, and Abby returned for the train derailment. With a fiance and step kids! 😅 Certain characters' reactions to Abby being there were used out of context to fuel a certain ship... They also didn't like how Buck helped save Sam, the fiance 🙃 and they absolutely hated the "non apology/apology" as it wasn't "good enough" and Abby didn't "deserve" to "make excuses" and Buck didn't get closure because it was "so bad" and they used it to "confirm" how "terrible" she was. They saw it as Buck put in "more effort and cared deeper" than she ever did and Buck had to be "groomed into the relationship" to even date her (sound familiar) And yes, they actively bashed Connie outside of of Abby just like the other (non problematic) actresses/love interest because of their ship.

Yeah this was exactly what I was thinking. Just a whole lot of bullshit.

1) my number one leading theory

2) also my theory

3) and 4) I didn’t think about these, but yeah, I can see that. He’s literally like 26 in the first season gang. Please relax. She was like. In her 30’s. not that bad like. At all.

5) I would say dodgy, probably not a stalker or creep tho. I’d agree that it’s unethical because I’m sure irl you couldn’t get away with that, but sometimes you gotta ignore stuff for the plot. I believe this is one of those times.

6) yeah that’s fucking crazy. Idk what to say here.

7) LIKE BRO. Actually drives me crazy cause this is the one I feel the Abby haters don’t understand about her character. It’s like they see buck as three dimensional and see all his issues, but when it comes to Abby (or any of his (female) love interests) they just see a cardboard cut out and not like. A real person. Who is suffering and needs to start over. Like I think when Abby left, that’s all she could do. She really did need to ‘find herself’ because she’d defined herself by her treatment of others, and not by her actual personality, and she’d spent so long taking care of others she’d neglected to even know who that was.

8) yeah she defs could’ve hit him up when she first knew she wasn’t coming back, but this side of her character is completely off screen. We have no idea what she’s going through or how she’s feeling during this. And like, she hurt Buck and that was not okay, but it’s not inexcusable death penalty justifiable behaviour. Let her be a human being for the love of God.

9) (Sam bit) WHY WOULDNT HE. If you watched any of the show you’d be able to understand that there was no way Buck was leaving that train car without BOTH victims. It’s proven time and time again with him, he will never leave anyone behind. Whether or not Sam was his exes fiancé or a complete stranger, Buck still would’ve fought to save him and put his life on the line for him, because that’s who he is.

10) (apology) I completely disagree. I thought the apology scene was good for both of them. Buck needed to get that off his chest and explain how Abby had hurt him, and Abby needed to explain why she did what she did.

This fandom drives me insane with its treatment of women, particularly love interests of Buck or Eddie. There’s no need to hate someone just because they got in the way of your ship. I love buddie, but I also enjoyed watching Abby and Buck, and I thought they were really cute and good together. I’ve only just gotten to Eddie and Ana’s first date, but they seem cute and I like her, yet the fandom makes her out to be a literal witch. I liked Shannon when she was around and was on her side cause wtf Eddie. But he doesn’t get shit on for the way he treated her?? Hello that’s insane. They hold female characters to a much higher standard than any of the male characters, I hate it sm.

[webanglikethat]

My 2024 Creative Top 10

I was tagged by the lovely (and so talented!!!) @malbontesmrs and the idea behind this is to just show which pieces of art (be it drawings, writing or anything else!) we are most proud of !! now, as everyone knows, I struggle ranking stuff so this is all going to be in no particular order 😭

The dialect of the moon’s love for the sun — a dnf web weave

no thoughts just them

2. On the journey of platonic heartbreak — a web weave

this is my longest web weave (and I had a lot of issues even uploading it cause I had more than 40 sources) and it was really healing. this year was the first I spent without my former best friend and the whole no-contact thing drove me a liiiittle insane (tho, good riddance tbh) and earlier this year my other former best friend betrayed me in a way I didn’t expect. ANYWAY TRAUMA DUMP OVER! making this truly just healed something in me. at the very end I have the five stages of grief, showcased by different pieces of media. if you squint close enough, you can just say this is a my little pony web weave veiled as something else kkkk. overall, I’m truly proud of this.

3. On religious guilt, Nova — a web weave

this was made after I finished playing WTC (a romance club story for my non rc moots) and I related just a liiiittle too much to nova’s struggles!

4. On Lucifer and Vicky — a web weave

this one is hella biased because I love them and miss them a lot okay 😞

5. On C!Tommy and healing — a web weave

cried so much making this, c!tommy getting his happy ending means the WORLD to me. seeing an abused and traumatized character whom I have related to so deeply for YEARS finally getting his soft, peaceful and quiet ending just .. yeah it just undid me

6. On Jaynie and Carter — a web weave

oldest sister of an immigrant household struggling with family members having an addiction and also having imposter syndrome and also growing up poor? Langley when I catch you — (I had to stop reading 7b a lot at the beginning cause I kept crying)

7. Luke castellan edit!

look at my profile. I’m literally THE Luke castellan lawyer of course I was gonna make something for him and as soon as I learned how to make wallpaper edits I knew he was going to be my test subject

8. Luke castellan — a web weave

so proud of this one but also very insane about this one — Luke castellan they don’t deserve you nor do they understand you and —

9. An aftermath of episode 8 — a devram fic

of course I couldn’t forget to include my first fic ever. I don’t even have words to describe how much this means to me. I’ve never written fanfiction before but devi and ram just CONSUME my thoughts EVERY HOUR 😭 so I had to somehow write it all down. while I do struggle with writing and I don’t think it’s that good, it’s my first gateway to a new world which allowed me to make new friends 💙

10. Exsanguination and rebirth.

okay wow, this is a really personal piece of writing and tbh idk if I should even add it. I might delete it later but yeah. started writing it when I was sobbing on the floor, clawing at my shirt cause I thought I was going to die from heartbreak and when I finished it, I was finally healing. it’s definitely Something. if anyone wants to read it, just listen to “So Long, London” and “Loml” by Taylor Swift. and shoutout to blondie for writing songs so ACCURATE that I couldn’t listen to them after this for a LOOOONG while

so yeah !! this is it 🫶🏽 didn’t realize how creative I was this year ngl 🗣️ I also have made a lot of wallpaper edits that I’m really proud of but haven’t posted. I’ve written more RC fics, I’ve written half fics that are just headcanon with a lot of dialogue, I’ve made moodboards and a ton of web weaves (you can find them all in either my bio (just click on the words) or my intro post) and I’ve made video edits and gifs !!

-> okay WOW this just made me feel better about myself hehe <33 still got a lot I need to get better at (working on a fic rn for a friend and it’s simply killing me) and I hope in 2025 my account is a museum of everything I have ever created. I hope I find the courage to share my writing more 🫶🏽

[just-orbiting-you]

Hi.

I'm a Jikooker myself and have been since 2016. I've been through a lot of phases with Jikook, many ups and downs, but something that never changed was the feeling of a special bond between Jimin and Jungkook. After watching the two episodes of AYS, I have to agree with you and @parkminijiminie. Something is missing, something is wrong. I won't call them liars, I won't try to bend myself over to explain their words, I'm just going to believe what they said. And that is that they didn't see each other for months (!), that they didn't even make the effort to call each other during the time they couldn't see each other and that they would have continued to not see each other if Jimin wouldn't have pushed for the travel show.

This is not what a couple looks like. Friends, sure. They can go weeks or months without contact, if the bond is strong, things quickly go back to normal when friends see each other again. But a couple? No even making the effort to try and spend time with each other? Doesn't sound right to me. But that's not the only thing that felt off to me. It's also how they interacted that was different. Of course there was plenty of skinship and definitely some skinship I wouldn't expect of two people who were always just platonic. But the way they spoke to each other? The way they treated each other? It was lacking the softness, the tenderness that we were able to witness between them over the years. Just go back and watch Jimin's birthday vlive from 2021, listen to how Jimin was speaking to Jungkook on the phone, watch how Jungkook cane practically running to be with Jimin, watch how soft they are with each other the entire time. And now compare it to what we saw in the first episodes of AYS. The difference is insane.

In AYS they felt like two people, who don't really know each other anymore, at least not their current selves, trying to somehow reconnect but still failing. Their bodies have their own memory, they just act, hence the skinship. But the mind? The mind doesn't know what to do. It felt incredible weird. And I genuinely think every Jikooker that claims everything is fine, is trying to ignore the obvious.

My personal opinion? I think they once were a couple or they at least had a non-platonic relationship. But for some reason they ended it and both started to live their own lives away from each other. AYS seems like a chance to reconnect in some ways. And it probably worked because in the end they did enlist together. But in my opinion? They're not in a romantic relationship. At least not anymore.

thank for your ask anon because i feel less off base. call me too connected to them parasocially idk, but this revelation we’re having saddens me a little bit. nevermind the romantic aspect, their friendship just seems different. and granted, they’re coworkers. there’s a reality there that we often forget, but they always seemed like they pushed that into true friendship or at least made it seem that way with a camera. and a camera has never been an obstacle before honestly.

you’d wonder what it would take for them to seem so different now. like what truly went on for them to separate so far they don’t even call each other. dude even just hearing jimin say he regretted flying to film this show and spend time with jungkook (before finding out the rollercoaster he would go on across the episode) just broke my heart.

i hope they were able to reconnect over these trips and rebuild their friendship before enlistment together. because there’s another level of sadness if they come back from the military even more distant than what we’re seeing now.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

wow.. it’s kind of funny that harry and louis both describe their post band dynamic as one of “mutual respect”. it was used as a way to mock and harass louis (like every other time he’s had to deny larry), but ive never once seen the quote of harry saying the exact same thing - especially not used in a mocking way.

i guess louis’ was directly in reference to harry when asked about where their relationship was at now while harry’s was broader and could have been about any member, but if niall was the only member that harry could be seen to have any form of interaction with - the assumption is naturally going to be louis, whose name he has uttered twice (?) since the band ended. it could have also been about liam, but either way that would basically also extend to louis given liam & louis’ closeness post band. and according to liam in recent years, harry still kept in contact with him.

i also thought of louis talking about liam in that zach sang interview from 2019 and saying all of the members are “all good guys” and easy to be around before adding “…most of them” at the end. they jumped on that comment to make it about zayn, but it could also easily be interpreted as being about harry. (i didnt interpret this or harry’s mutual respect comment as being about zayn. the way harry talks about zayn in his howard stern and zane lowe interviews is about him as an individual and he doesn’t seem to consider him when talking about the band as a whole. louis’ references to zayn havent been that different until more recent years - more about zayn as an individual. not necessarily out of disrespect towards zayn, but i assume it was harder to look back on the band as five members with everything about the end being so fresh and zayn at the time being pretty clear on how he felt about being associated with 1d.)

it’s actually insane to me that people (OT5s and larries) ignore or misinterpret every instance like that to paint them all out to be best friends that are still very close and constantly in contact, when there is a clear shift in louis’ attitude towards harry from 2017 - where his body language is relaxed and he can easily say that he’s “very excited for him” and “very proud of him” (despite the way larries had been behaving 2015-then)… i think harry was made a gucci ambassador in 2017 and louis was still wearing gucci even into early 2019, but way more frequently in 2017 & 2018. (the zach sang interview was late 2019)

past then? all references to harry are in response to a direct question - and they’re polite, but incredibly distant. the way you would talk about a stranger. and certainly not the way louis talks about someone he cares about and has regular contact with. in harry’s case - his sweet creature stutter and roman kemp interview, both in 2017, weren’t much different. when asked about 1d members supporting him at the dunkirk premiere, he was happy to talk about them until advised not to by someone offscreen. he seemed a little panicky if anything in the first two instances, but not cold or distant. very different than the later references to “someones” and the vague idea of former band members that were merely stepping stones (if not roadblocks) on the path to his success.

this got very long winded… sorry about that lmao. but i feel like all of this is so clear and im just. continuously baffled by the people on twitter i see even now saying “i know they’re all very close and in constant contact no i cant tell you how i know just trust me”. like… why? on the basis of what?? exactly? if louis didn’t care in 2017 that him showing kindness towards harry could be interpreted as “larry proof”, when larries were just as if not more directly unhinged, why would he care now? how many times can non larries excuse their lack of closeness as them being afraid of larries and larries excuse it as closeting? it’s so tiring

It’s obvious to you and me because we look at body language without any preconceptions.

In 2017, any normal person could see reciprocal cordial feeling between Louis and Harry, like you describe. They didn’t approach the topic with any sense of competition or wariness; it was as though the book of the future was still open.

Especially after Louis announced that he was judging for X Factor, the cordiality grew more distant. Louis still wore Gucci into 2020, I believe, but rarely. When Harry started wearing Adidas and Vans in 2022, Louis switched to Nike. You could see Louis mentally brace himself with any questions about Harry, like when he answered that Baby Yoda question on Sirius XM in 2019.

Larries/ OT5 will always gaslight fandom about potential friendships, but don’t trust other people’s words. Trust your own eyes.

[arsene-fixates]

The Informant, Family and his Insecurity Pt 2

I NEED TO GNAW ON WOOD‼️‼️‼️‼️

I have so many thoughts about him oh my god umm I'm not sure where to even start writing this so it might be a bit disorganised

Part 1 here!

seekers notes spoilers under the cut!!

One very very interesting thing I noticed is that throughout Felix and Informant's appearance ever since his face reveal, Felix has refered to Informant as his brother about 4 times up till now, and Informant has only ever done that twice, as if he says it very sparingly

In one of the tasks I'm about to bring up, the context is that Felix wants to step down as mayor because he had previously falsified a photograph of the werewolf (which is informant just to recall) He wants to keep his brother's identity a secret but the townspeople are getting agitated and scared & untrusting of the mayor and the stress was simply getting to him

Informant comes in to tell Felix not to resign because for one, he's a good mayor and for two, if Carl were to take up the role of the mayor, the city might as well go down in flames

Felix insists on it because he doesn't want to lose Informant and Informant turns to me and goes

AND THIS BRINGS AN ENTIRELY NEW PERSPECTIVE ON HIS CHARACTER AND IT'S SO REFLECTIVE OF THEIR CHILDHOOD AND WHERE THEY ARE IN ADULTHOOD IN THE CURRENT TIMELINE.

Felix always taking charge and him becoming the town's mayor and Informant always feeling this inferiority because Felix has never been listening to him his entire life, taking the backseat and is now doing his occupation in the shadows. Oh My God.

SO IT ADDS THIS EXTRA LAYER OF NUANCE TO HIM DOING HIS JOB BECAUSE ON TOP OF HAVING FELT LIKE A MONSTER, HE ALSO TAKES HIS JOB AS THE INFORMANT AS A SORT OF ESCAPISM TO GAIN BACK THE CONTROL IN HIS LIFE THAT HE NEVER HAD AS A CHILD

but despite all that, he still treasures Felix, despite how he has never felt listened, despite how he knows they'll never go back to how they were when they were children, he still cares for felix

(okay the context for this is that he was going to sacrifice himself and turn into the werewolf forever without Felix knowing but the witch stepped in to pretend to be the wolf instead so all is good)

Up to here, I was thinking about how Felix wants to protect Informant just because he was the younger brother since he has been worrying about him non-stop ever since he popped back up

Felix has always been trying to protect Informant when they were young and he's Still doing it now.

IT'S SO WILD BECAUSE IN THIS PART OF THE STORY, HE HAS BEEN REFERING TO HARRY AND INFORMANT AS IF THEY WERE 2 DIFFERENT PEOPLE his refusal to admit that they are the same people

Informant will always be seen as the little brother in his eyes. He will always be underestimating him and absolutely cannot see that Informant has grown and changed as a person

AND IN THIS SECTION, INFORMANT GOES AHEAD AND CUTS CONTACT WITH FELX.

AND OH MY GOD I AM SO INSANE ABOUT THIS SECTION BECAUSE I've been having this feeling, ever since he revealed himself, the reluctance in his words to admit that he was a Smallcat.

This section means so much for his character because it shows how he misses his family, or at least having a sort of solace of people who can support him, But upon reuniting with Felix, he realises that he can't stand being around him because it makes him feel like a child again

being around Felix makes him feel like he's losing that control again back when they were young because Felix just won't see him eye to eye

IT SERVES AS SOME SORT OF REMINDER WHY HE DIDN'T WANT TO REVEAL HIMSELF TO HIS BROTHER ON TOP OF THE FEELING LIKE A MONSTER BIT

HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS FAMILY IS SO AWFULLY COMPLEX TO ME GODDD I AM SO CRUSHED!!!!!!!!!!!!