#b u t i knew he had a good face. i knew. and now i get to watch it !!!!! i will live off this for a loooong time

[handgiven]

so i caught up with d-om patrol and i have no other options beside assuming it was made for me because l-rry trainor finding understanding and love and appreciation at the hands of a redeemed villain s-ndhil ramamurthy who just kind of watches him like a lovesick puppy any time he speaks a single word or just exists in general?? well that was essentially all i wanted but never dared ask ffs

[peanutpinet]

Soft for You - Sylus x Fem Reader

Prompt: “Let me kiss it better”

A/N: yes, I’ve fallen into this rabbit hole and all because of Sylus. There’s just something about white haired men with red eyes that’s 190cm. Hates everyone but you T^T I’m such a sucker for these characters and it doesn’t help that I’m on my period so I decided to make a lil one shot of how Sylus would react if you’re on your period and wanting to cuddle but he was in an important meeting

Warning: None, just fluff (not proofread, sorry, was so into writing this)

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

“Miss, I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb the boss right now” Luke mentioned, trying to stop you from walking further down the hall

“Yeah, he’s in a meeting right now. And the meeting, well, it’s not really going that well” Kieran added on. “Some of the low workers were trying to steal his weapons and sell them off to a higher bidding at Linkon because we heard that Linkon is currently trying to find ways to get more intel regarding the boss”

You knew that Linkon was constantly trying to uncover the mysterious Onychinus’ leader. Though they knew his name, they couldn’t find anything regarding what he looked like or any other information about him. That’s why Linkon is willing to pay a hefty amount to those who have been associated with him to gather any sort of intel. But you could care less about what political issue was going on between Linkon and Onychinus. What you cared about was that you were in pain because of your period and you wanted to cuddle with Sylus because somehow, he always helped ease your pain.

Not caring about the twins’ warning, you managed to drag yourself all the way in front of Sylus’ meeting room where you could clearly hear his deep voice echoing along with several other voices. It sounded like the meeting had just begun and you suddenly contemplated on going in and disturbing Sylus just to tend to your pain.

However, on the other side of the door, Sylus already knew that you were in front of the door along with Luke and Kieran since he could see through Mephisto’s eyes with his aether core. Though Sylus wouldn’t mind you coming in, he wanted you to come to him first instead of jumping to conclusion that you were actually looking for him.

He learnt that from past incidents where you were actually looking for Luke and Kieran but Sylus jumped into conclusions and thought you were looking for him.

Right as Sylus was about to start the meeting, he could hear both Luke and Kieran’s frantic voices calling out to you. Without uttering a word, Sylus got up but not before making sure the men in the room stay put in their designated chairs. “None of you get up from the chair or I’ll rip your legs apart from your whole body”

After his calm threat, Sylus went to the door and opened it to find you on the ground with both Luke and Kieran holding onto you. When the twins looked up at their boss, the colour from their faces were slowly drained. “B-boss” the twins managed to utter out as Sylus looked at your weak state, basically trying to hold yourself up with the help of the twins.

Without saying anything, Sylus crouched down and lifted you up in his arms and practically carried you into the meeting room where all the other men in the room were staring.

“U-uh boss? We can bring her back to her room and…” the twins didn’t get to finish their sentences as Sylus used his evol to close and lock the door

To say the men in the room were shock was an understatement because who would have thought that the Onychinus leader could be so gentle towards anyone yet here he was sitting in his chair, further away from the others with you on his lap.

“S-sylus?” you uttered, looking up to see your boyfriend looking at you with soft eyes

“You alright, sweetie? I heard you from in here. You looked like you were going to pass out in the twins’ arms. What happened, sweetie? Did someone hurt you?” Sylus asked, his eyes were searching through your entire body for any wounds but you shook your head and leaned on his chest, wrapping your small arms around his waist

“No. It’s that time of the month. It’s the first day and I don’t know why but it’s painful this time” you whined and Sylus couldn’t help but coo at your vulnerable state that he brought you closer to his chest (if that was even possible with how close the two of you were).

“Shhh, it’s alright sweetie. I’m here” Sylus kissed the top of your head as you hummed in satisfaction. “Sleep sweetie, I’ll be here when you wake up, hmm? I’ll try to keep the meeting short and quick for you” Sylus mentioned as he lulled you to sleep

As he stroked your head like a kitten, Sylus the softie was gone as his eyes looked through the entire room with a cold, sharp gaze that if looks could kill, everyone in the room would be dead by now. “Now, where were we? Ah, right. Where’s my share in the sales, gentlemen? Or did you think that you could fool me that easily by selling my weapons at a higher price by giving away some information about me?”

***

By the end of the meeting, there was practically no one in the room as Sylus dismissed them all into thin air since he needed to be quick.

Sylus almost cursed at himself for almost going too far with the lowlife men in the room until he remembered that you were practically sleeping in his arms.

Taking a deep breath, Sylus went back to look at your sleeping figure, stroking your head as he kissed your forehead before teleporting both you and him back to the master bedroom where Sylus laid you on the bed.

Leaving you to sleep, Sylus decided to shower and cook up something quick and easy for dinner which was steak and creamy mushroom soup to help ease your pain.

In the midst of finishing his cooking, he heard soft footsteps and a yawn slowly getting louder which he knew that it had to be you. Turning around, Sylus saw your now awaken figure sitting by the counter where Sylus was just behind of.

“Here you go, sweetie” Sylus mentioned, placing down a plate of steak with the mushroom soup he made in front of your sleeping figure

“Thank you, Sy. Am sorry I interrupted your meeting” you yawned, drinking some of the soup that he made while Sylus decided to eat across from you

“It was nothing, sweetie. I’ve mentioned it before. If you ever need me, just come to me. No matter where I am, who am I with, or what time of the day it is. I’ll always be here for you” Sylus mentioned, caressing your cheek whilst wiping the excess soup at the corner of your lips

“But what would those men do now they’ve seen your soft side?” you asked, holding his hand that was on your cheek

“They’re none of your concern. Besides, they won’t be able to spread anymore information anymore” Sylus smirked, making you roll your eyes. “You and your evol”

Chuckling at your behaviour, Sylus decided to feed you the dinner he made. “Are you still in pain?” he asked

Thinking about it for a second, you decided to tease him. “A bit. Mainly because you only kissed my head when the pain I’m feeling is at my stomach”

Shaking his head, Sylus went around the counter and cupped your jaw, making you look at his tall figure. “Is that so? Then let me kiss it better”

[reidrum]

I can't stop thinking munch!spencer x reader who's insecure about having thick thighs (it's me, I'm reader)

take a seat | s.r

hi thank u for requesting!! i tried to be ambiguous about reader’s size but if it doesn’t come across that way lemme know and ill fix it!!!

wc: 1.7k

cw: 18+ smut minors dni, afab reader, face sitting, munch!spencer my beloved, insecure!reader who i took to be a little self indulgent sorry, fluff, hurt comfort but no hurt lol

this is also not proofread sorry

_______________________________________________

the thing about spencer is if you have any fear or qualm about anything, his main verbal form of comfort is information. and it’s not a bad thing, not at all. finding comfort in the facts is what spencer hopes to achieve when he spews his tidbits. it’s just, sometimes it’ll do more harm than good, or even worse, do nothing at all.

that’s where you’re at right now, sitting in spencer’s room with your legs tucked under you while he sits up at the head of the bed. the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, tie strewn somewhere in the room. you’re still fully clothed albeit in a loose t shirt and some panties. the want in his eyes is undeniable, his question still lingering in the air.

you weren’t exactly the most confident person, but was anyone really? did people really wake up in the morning, look at themselves in the mirror and say, ‘wow, i look beautiful today.”? tell themselves they’re going to have a good day because they said so?

so when you’d spent your whole life living in the shadows trying to blend in and just do your job, one day an ever observant spencer reid saw you struggling to carry your coffee and your bag into the bullpen and came to your rescue before it could spill all over you. you were a mumbling mess, uttering thank you’s and i’m so sorrys and i’ll be more careful next time. but his gaze on you was unwavering, even in the face of your uneasiness, and firmly but softly told you nothing was wrong, and suggested that maybe you and him should get coffee before work to avoid this rush next time.

falling in love with him was too easy after that.

spencer never failed to make you feel cherished, loved, safe, always going above and beyond to care for your needs and wants. the trust you had in him was immense and you knew he would never steer you astray.

so sitting in front of him on his bed while he adorns a small smirk asking, no telling, you to sit on his face, made you falter a bit.

“you want me, to sit on your face?”

he nods, “yeah.”

any thought you’ve ever had vanishes from your brain, “b—but, won’t it be uncomfortable? for you?”

“not at all.”

seeing spencer be surprisingly calm about this is having the opposite effect on you, creating the unsettlement in your gut. like he’s been thinking about this for while, has wanted you at his mercy in a way you haven’t experienced before, has thought through all the facts and possibilities and ruled with absolute certainty that this was what he wanted, needed. and right now your body is betraying your mind as the heat pools between your legs.

but that brain of yours, a blessing with its vast knowledge but a curse at how easily a single thought can send you into a deep spiral, is working overtime to convince you that this isn’t really what he wants.

he can see the cogs working overtime and scoots closer to you and places a comforting hand on your thigh to rub soothing shapes with his thumb, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“nothing i-“ you stop before you can get too deep.

his eyes look at you expectantly, luring you to continue.

“what if i hurt you?”

“that is literally impossible.”

“what if i suffocate you?”

“then that would be a great way to go out.” he chuckles.

you lightly slap his leg, “stop that.”

he gestures you closer to sit curled into his side, a comforting arm smoothing you up and down. “if you really don’t want to do it that’s okay i don’t want to push you, just want you to feel good s’all.”

you ponder for a minute, “…you would tell me if it’s too much right?”

“i would,” he nods, “but i won’t need to.”

he squeezes your hand in reassurance, and you remember that spencer reid would never lie to you.

which is why you say, “okay.”

his eyes light up like a carnival, “yeah?”

you take a deep breath, “yeah.”

“come here,” cupping your cheek to bring in and kiss you.

it starts off slow, deliberate. like he wants you to know how much he appreciates you placing your trust in his possession, and how gently and carefully he’s going to take care of it.

you hike a leg over his lap to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his lips mark you like a road map. he moves down your jaw and uses his nose to nudge your neck away, giving him better access to litter the skin with love bites.

the moans spilling from your mouth spur him on, he starts subconsciously bucking his hips up causing you to grow restless for more.

he senses this and motions for you to lift up on your knees above him so he can slide his body down flat between your legs. the warm palms of his hands rest where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.

you look down at the sight of him laid out for you, and catch his shit eating grin staring back. the dichotomy this position gives you with a sense of power to be over him like this but the vulnerability at feeling so exposed caused a swirl of emotions for you.

“hey,” he squeezes his palms laid on your ass, “if this is a lot, that’s okay.”

“no, no.i think i want this. i’m just scared.” you softly admit.

“nothing to be scared of, angel. it’s not like i haven’t eaten you out before, it’s just a different position,” his hands move closer to your core, “let me make you feel good, please.”

you stare into his eyes once more, being met with nothing but trust and lust for you. with a deep breath, you nod your head.

he smirks again, “alright sweetheart, take a seat.”

you slowly inch your body up his own, hearing him outwardly groan as your cunt came into his line of sight.

“jesus fuck, you have the prettiest pussy.”

you preen at his words once you’ve reached the position, and you hover in hesitation. he wraps his arms under and around your legs and gently pulls you down.

and he attacks you like a man starved. his tongue licking a full stripe up your cunt, letting it swirl around your clit. the feeling is so intense in this position you have to lean forward and brace yourself on the headboard.

with a gasp you whine out his name, “oh my god, fuck.” he continues to use his tongue to barrel you towards your peak, knowing exactly where to touch and lick to rile you up.

he can tell you’re still holding back, feeling the tense muscles in your upper thighs harden under his touch. with a sharp tug he pulls you to be seated fully on his face, and he lets out a deep groan that vibrates through your whole body.

you’re fully at his mercy now, held down by his large hands and his mouth working so hard to make you see stars. the pleasure is overtaking all of your senses, when you look down to meet his eyes they’re staring right back at you, reveling in your ecstasy. a languished moan leaves you as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull.

he laps up your arousal with urgency, tongue moving in such a delicate and intricate way you would think he’s writing a love letter with it.

the coil in your gut starts to tighten and you can feel your peak coming fast, “spence…” you whine.

he hums in response, silently acknowledging what you mean. one more slow lick up and down your slit was all it took to push you overboard. the endorphins rush over you like a tsunami as you try to ride out the wave of your orgasm.

spencer doesn’t stop his motions and continues to work your overly sensitive clit, gripping your legs tighter to him as he prevents you from escaping.

“shit, oh god baby, you need to st—stop.” you brokenly moan out. you tug on his hair hard as you try to release his grip on you, and after a few minutes he takes pity and lets you go.

you let out a big and tired sigh as you flop to the side of him, one leg still draped over him as you’re both panting heavily, attempting to come down from the heat of the moment.

he smoothes out the leg over him with his hand and turns to face you, face plastered with a stupid grin and glistening with you.

“see? that wasn’t so bad.”

you scoff breathlessly, “i think maybe you’re trying to kill me.”

“maybe,” he laughs, “ but you liked it right?”

you nod bashfully, “did you…like it?”

his eyes widen, “are you kidding? you looked so hot it drove me insane. you’re always so beautiful but having you like that…i like making you feel good, it makes me feel really good, and that is a win-win.”

you smile at him and move closer to fit under his arm and into his side, your hand resting on his chest. he tightens his arm around you and whisper, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you say through hooded eyes. your hand starts trailing lower, “must have been really good for you seeing how painful this looks.” you softly say, gesturing to the aching bulge in his boxers, the dark patch stained by precum.

his breath hitches as you inch closer, “baby, no it’s okay. you don’t have to do th—“ the sentence gets cut off when your hand gives him a tentative squeeze.

“i don’t have to, but i want to. i should thank you somehow for making me feel so good,” your voice dropping an octave in lust, “will you let me show my thanks, honey?”

you stare at him with the sultriest doe eyes he’s ever seen, and he’s thoroughly convinced in that moment that you are, in fact, trying to kill him.

still a great way to go out, he thinks.

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[2018-01-20]

if you still have your 1k words of kissing satoru pls bestow it to me 🧎🏽‍♀️i’m grabbing him by the back of his blindfold and making out with him fr

pairing. high schooler!gojo satoru × gn!reader

content. fluff + one kiss, implied that reader is shorter than gojo, somewhat proofread (i hate everything) read slowly!!

sticky-note. IM CRYING the way u worded this ask made me want to write an entirely new thing of making out w gojo 😭 ty for sending this in leeee 🫶

it is no secret that gojo satoru looks like a good kisser.

he’s attentive; one large hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while the other rests on your hip, eyes on you to see if you’ll make the first move. to both his and your dismay, you don’t move a single inch.

“i can’t do it,” you finally say, exasperated, pulling away to quickly hide your face in your hands. you awkwardly twist away from his figure, unable to stand the way that you’re able to see his stupidly pretty eyes through his sunglasses. it infuriates you to no end. “i give up. this is too embarrassing.”

“that’s so mean of you to say,” gojo whines not unsimilar to a toddler, but there is only amusement in his tone as he lightly tugs on the waistband of your pants, trying to get you to turn back around. “shouldn’t you be honored to kiss the one and only gojo satoru?”

“shutupshutupshutup,” you chant, mostly to yourself than to the obnoxious boy behind you. you swat weakly at his hand while trying to ignore the demonic voices in your head.

it is no secret that you’ve liked your classmate for a long while now. as cute and funny (and hot) as gojo is, he is twice as annoying and unpleasant. you swear he makes it his daily goal to get your blood boiling every chance he gets. that is the sole reason why you don’t plan on professing your love anytime soon: due to the fact that shoko will forever be disappointed in you and will never let you live it down if she knew. you don’t even want to think about what utahime would ultimately think of you.

he continues to bug you, “c’mo-on...” you can practically hear him sporting his signature smug grin. “do you really wanna go back to jujutsu high like that and kiss suguru instead?”

at that, you spin around in an instant—a mortified look on your face that further urges you to stab an accusatory finger at his chest. “y-you’re a damn liar! there is no way that there is an actual curse who’s goddamn antidote requires you to kiss someone when you get hit.”

sneakily, he wraps a palm around your wrist but makes no move to push your hand away. “but you just got touched by that cursed spirit, right? doesn’t your skin feel all sticky and itchy, like i mentioned?”

as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he’s right. before the two of you had gotten into the fight in the first place, he warned you not to get hit and the symptoms you would have to face if you did. your skin does feel like you just took a swim in poison ivy, and your head feels dizzy with a sudden migraine that should not be there, since gojo had instantly caught you the moment you faced a hit from the cursed spirit.

“b-but it doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter out, a weak last-minute resort. you really do not want to kiss gojo satoru—at least, not because of a measly curse—and have to hear him blab about it later on to your friends. you rant on, “if such a technique exists, then why didn’t you just kill the thing right away? aren’t you the strongest? why am i even on this mission with you?”

“hey!” he feigns an offended gasp, “are you saying that you don’t like hanging out with me?” he groans and dramatically lays an arm on his forehead, reminding you of a mistress in distress. you stare blankly. “how cruel of you. and besides, just because i’m the strongest doesn’t mean i can kill a first-grade so quickly.”

you keep staring at him with a disapproving look, but he only looks back at you with a joyous glint in his eyes. “...you’re insufferable,” you finally huff out, your hand still in his. but the both of you can hear the undertone of surrounder in your voice.

you stand awkwardly still in front of him for a few solid seconds, narrowing your eyes as he returns your defeated glare with a sheepish smile. you can’t help but sigh to yourself—you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a mouthful from shoko when you both head back.

you let him pull you closer when he tugs at your hand, your other palm moving to rest on his chest to steady yourself. but even then, you don’t get to kiss him until he leans down from that freakishly tall height of his— gently meeting his lips with yours.

it isn’t a quick peck. in fact, it’s a sweet and slow kind of kiss that makes your heart skip a concerningly amount of beats. a free hand of satoru’s moves up to softly cup the back of your head to deepen the kiss. nothing about his movements show that he’s in a rush to get the whole ordeal over with—and as much as you would like to lie and say that you hate it, you can’t help but step forwards to reach him better too.

your mind is in so much of a daze that you don’t even realize that satoru turned his limitless infinity just for you.

when you finally step back into reality and—reluctantly—pull away, gojo is grinning brightly with his sunglasses tucked into his hair. you didn’t even notice that he pushed them up to make the kiss more comfortable for you. however, you do notice that your skin still very much feels uncomfortable on your body and your head is pounding (whether it be from the symptoms or the kiss, you don’t really wanna know).

“you’re so cute,” gojo chuckles unabashedly, laughing again when you avert your gaze with another huff and a warm face. you are more than used to his flirty remarks and his more-than-platonic habits, but somehow it feels more... genuine this time around.

“and gullible,” he suddenly adds, the out of blue comment making you turn back towards him with a raised eyebrow. you squeak out a sound of surprise when he unexpectedly, but gently, pushes your head downwards, his other hand now in your line of sight. you feel more confusion swirling in your head when you see him holding a small vial with some clear, greenish liquid inside of it.

“here’s the real antidote,” gojo casually cheers, and he does not have a single shame in the world. a whole minute seems to pass by until you connect the dots, and when you do, the first thing that pops up in your mind is the thought of absolute murder.

“are you serious?” you practically screech. “you made that whole kiss thing up?”

[4ranghaes]

hii!! idk if ur taking reqs but if not feel free to ignore this 🫡

can u do another song fic for sungho? i love how u write for him 😵‍💫😵‍💫 ty and take care!!

song fic!💋

now playing… starburster by fontaines d.c.

park sungho x reader [smut, fem!reader, mdni!!]

warnings: fingering, overstimulation

a/n - this song is actually about having a panic attack but i didnt want a repeat of taesan’s one so i’m applying it to orgasming😁 enjoy!

18:16 - “s-sungho, o-oh my god!” you groaned, voice deep, eyes rolling back in your head as you gripped the sheets beside you.

a cocky smile was plastered on sungho’s face as he sat behind you. his head was resting on your shoulder, his finger knuckle-deep in your pussy as they worked in and out, feeling the spongy spot as well as massaging your clit.

just 20 minutes ago, you’d told sungho you had been able to make yourself squirt a couple times before, when you were both really horny and multiple orgasms down. now, he’d made it his personal mission to see the skill for real.

you were out of breath, your body slumped against your boyfriends. you could hear his wild breathing in your ear, he himself grunting at the effort he was putting in. you began whining again, approaching your second orgasm.

“s-su-sungho! i’m gonna– god! i-it’s coming!”

“do it, baby,” he commanded, “is this it? do you feel it?”

you shook your head tightly, not feeling the usually build up, then needing to piss sensation. “n-not yet… b-but i can’t—”

you cut yourself off with a loud whine, your body slinging forward before sungho reached out to you with a harsh grip, dragging you back to his body as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers.

he tutted in disappointment, as you were left panting against his chest, your heart rate slowing as you came down from bliss.

“again.”

“sungho, please,” you begged, as he started kissing along the side of your neck, down on your shoulders. his fingers started circling your clit again, your hips bucking up into his hand, your hole clenching around nothing.

“please what, baby?” he muttered, “you know your safe word?”

you nodded quickly, not feeling unsafe, just overstimulated beyond belief, as though your heart could burst at any time from the differences in pace it was being put through.

“good girl,” he murmured, his fingers once again entering your hole, two fingers going in immediately now he knew how loose you were.

his hair was flopping onto your chest, rising and falling rapidly as you - quicker than ever - felt your orgasm already approaching.

“sung-sungho!” you gasped, your voice high as you grabbed ahold of his wrist with one of your hands, the other gripping onto his hair, “t-th– ah! this is it!”

“this is it?” he repeated, a perverted smile spreading across his face as he sped up his thumb on your clit, his fingers inside you pressing hard against your walls.

your nails dug into his wrist, feeling the build up just beyond your walls as your heart sped up to a momentarily-concerning pace, your body hurtling towards orgasm.

“my good girl,” sungho smirked, nibbling on your shoulder, his figure a picture of calm as yours thrashed around, trying to run towards pleasure but yank away from the overstimulation that went with your third orgasm in a row.

you finally came with a high-pitched moan, whimpers leaving your mouth as you felt a gush of liquid cover sungho’s hand and the bed below you. sungho moaned, his cock grinding into you from below. he lifted up your lifeless body, throwing you on the bed so he was staring at your soaked, swollen pussy.

his mouth dropped open at the state of the bedsheets below you. he left soft kisses on your lips, hovering over your body.

“you with me, baby?” he whispered between kisses.

you blinked heavily, nodding slowly.

“good girl,” he hummed, lifting you into his arms to hold you to his chest.

[itsmealaiahh]

bill smut. please im begging u. the tag has been so dry idc what it is js PLEASE

I GOT YOU

"m-mama, please, let me cum, it hurts so bad" Bill whines, trying to buck his hips up against nothing, desperate for some kind of friction. His poor cock was nearly purple from the strain you had put on it, pre-come dripping down in copious amounts from the endless teasing and edging in the past fifteen or so minutes.

Tears fell down his pretty face, his black makeup getting smudged and leaving lines all over his cheeks. He was so upset you were treating him like this, denying his release. He had been a very good boy over the past few days, so he thought he deserved a reward, but nonetheless, it didn't appear he was getting one tonight, which only made him even more upset. "b-bitte mama" he begged, biting his lip, tugging his hands against the cuffs you had put them in. You shook your head, denying his orgasm yet again. "Not yet baby, soon." You promised, gently touching the slit of his member again, which made him cry out in pleasure and in pain.

"So needy for your orgasm, huh baby?" You cooed teasingly, leaning down to kiss his lips which were covered in tears, along with some black makeup. He nodded vigorously, letting out many desperate moans into the kiss. He mewled in pain, attempting to grind his erection against your thigh, his head only filled with the white noise of sex.

"Why are you being such a bad boy tonight? You know there's no orgasms without my permission." You chastised, pulling away from the kiss. "I'm sorr-sorry m-mama, but it hu-hurts" He whimpered, biting his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. "It's meant to hurt, baby. It'll feel better when you do come." You reminded him with a sigh. He knew it would, but it just was so painful! He couldn't take the edging much longer, he was already a mess on the bed within the fifteen minutes you had kept him here.

You gently stroked his cock again, this time from root to tip, and he nearly screamed. Maybe you would let him come this time! He thought to himself hopefully, his eyes shutting in pain and pleasure, just needing the sensation at this point. He focused on getting there, to his high, letting everything else around him fade away, when you stopped again. "M-mama? Why'd you stop?" He whimpers, his eyes filling with tears once more. "Can't have you coming too soon, can I now?" You spoke, then you returned to his achy groin once more, planning on letting him actually come this time. He yelped, his hips bucking into your hand, fucking himself within the grip of your palm. "So needy today, wonder why." You sigh playfully, watching as the pleasure from your actions on his dick make his face contort, totally blissed out.

"So close" He whispered, about ready to just spill into your hand. You sped up, and soon enough, he came, the white-hot pleasure coursing through his body, leaving him almost breathless. You let him come! He felt like he was on cloud nine, and he was so happy. "t-thank you mama" he said happily, a tired smile on his fucked out face. "You're welcome. But next time, just trust mama, okay? She knows what's good for you" You kissed him lightly. "Okay mama" he agreed, snuggling into your embrace.

[vinelark]

Do you have any more outtakes you'd be willing to share? I love seeing what did and didn't make the cut on fics

i do!! i remember doing a little roundup of some outtakes for chapters 1 - 3 (found it! here) and i have some similar snippets from chapters 4 & 5 ☺️

chapter 4

a bit of cut dialogue from the zoo rescue:

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nightwing says. “Atlanta, remember?”

“What happened in Atlanta?” Tim demands, ducking away from another bird.

Nightwing waves a hand. “Classified superhero business.”

“Superboy, what happened in Atlanta?”

In Atlanta, Kon yelled at Superman about Tim’s misinterpreted fear toxin hallucinations right in front of Batman and Nightwing, which still makes Kon cringe a bit to think about. “Uhh,” Kon says. “Yeah, classified.”

two cut texting exchanges after the date:

Text message: Clark & Kon

[Saturday, 10:21pm ET]

Clark

Hey Kon—is everything all right?

I can have someone cover the rest of my watch if need be.

Kon

no, all good

apparently mr. wayne’s lawyers are On It

whatever that means in rich people speak

sorry if you like. get asked about this by the press lol

like we weren’t trying for a photo op but i should’ve heard the drone earlier

Clark

This isn’t your fault.

And I’m sure Bruce’s lawyers will have it sorted out by morning

Kon

yeah that’s basically what tim said

Text message: Jon & Conner

[Saturday, 10:23pm ET]

Jon

Ok the live is gone now

Also pa’s asking where u are what do i tell him

I think i have to tell him the truth he sounds worried because earlier i said u went to rescue someone n you haven’t come back

I can’t lie about this i feel bad :(

oh i just heard your window open nvm !!

Conner

all good kiddo, thanks for looking out

in tim & bruce’s conversation, there was a longer section about tim leaning into the “socialite” civilian role, which included the following exchange:

“Like…Paris Fashion Week?” Tim says. That’s always a big one for Bruce Wayne to be caught ducking into dressing rooms with various models.

Bruce gives him a flat look. “You are welcome to attend Paris Fashion Week. Chaperoned.”

tim’s instagram post originally had comments:

briancollinsss i KNEW i saw superboy at car’s party!!!

jerseygirlsteph 👅👅👅

itsanickname_grayson Hope you stayed safe up there!

chapter 5

this exchange in the flashback at the top of chapter 5 was cut/altered for flow, but i still like it:

“Okay,” Tim had said. “And, um, if you can’t come get me, is there a plan B?”

“I will come for you,” Bruce repeated, at the same time Dick called: “Superman.”

extra banter (co-brainstormed by @tigerjpg) that got cut because it didn’t quite keep with the tone, but i still adore it:

“I’m not perfect, anyway,” Kon says. “I snore. Maybe next time make a specimen who doesn’t snore.”

“Sometimes his sneezes register on the Richter Scale,” Tim says.

“And I have a crooked tooth, though honestly that might be from the time I slammed face-first into a volcano.”

“He also thinks wearing sunglasses at night is cool.”

and a bit later, also cut for tone/flow:

“[…] Hey, how unhinged about eugenics do you have to be for Cadmus to send you packing as an intern?”

Cadmus. Did Kon—did he tell Tim the name Cadmus, earlier? He can’t remember—he doesn’t think he did—but it doesn’t matter, because his thoughts scatter as the guy whirls on Tim. The rod comes up, jams under Tim’s jaw, pressing into the side of his neck. Not on yet, but it could be. Kon freezes; Tim doesn’t react except to go rigid, still tracking the guy with his eyes.

“Tell me honestly,” Cadmus guy says, lip curling as he looks sideways to address Kon. “Do you even like this one, or was kissing him the only way you could get him to shut up?”

Kon’s heart pounds in his throat. “You’re so…obsessed with my dating life, dude,” he says. Every moment the guy is looking at him feels like one less moment the rod might switch on. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old for me.”

and i have some extra core four shenanigans that probably won’t fit into chapter 6 at this point, but i’ll wait til i’m done to share that 💪

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

NSFW Grind On Me

18+ content - Minors DNI

Bayverse Raph One-Shot

Listen to buy u a drank by t-pain to set the mood haha

all turts are in their 30s, mentions alcohol

It was game night at the lair, which had turned into having a few drinks and some fun, clumsy dancing with your four mutant turtle friends. You loved how easy it was to let go and have a good time with them, enjoying the slow buzz of the alcohol thrumming through your body as you twirled around to Mikey's favorite playlist.

The guys were feeling the buzz too, and as each new song would come on a different turtle would grab you by the hand and steal you for a dance. The smile plastered on your face was permanent as you swayed and laughed with Leo and Donnie, who were both more interested in singing along to the tracks than dancing.

Mikey was thoroughly enjoying your squeals when it was his turn, flipping you around and twirling you like he was on Dancing With The Stars to a chorus of "oohs" and "ahhs" from his brothers. Mike was such a great dancer, you were almost sad when his song had ended, but you were also sweating like crazy and needed a break. He let you up from the dip over his knee, and you patted him on the shoulder with a smile.

As you sauntered back to the game table and took another drink of your tequila pineapple, you grinned to yourself as Mikey bragged to Leo and Donnie about your moves. You were a great dancer, and you knew it.

As the next track came on, a familiar sound came over the stereo. You loved this song.

"Hey."

You turned around and were face to face with an oh-so familiar wall of green muscle and red accents. Raph smirked down at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Wanna dance?"

You smiled and nodded slowly back at him, and let him lead you back to where he had been standing near the impromptu "dance floor". The song had kicked into full gear now, and as the lyrics played over the speakers he twirled you into his chest, his leg coming to rest in-between yours and his hand resting low on your hips.

I know the club close at three What's the chances of you rollin' with me? Back to the crib, show you how I live Let's get drunk, forget what we did

Your skin was buzzing with excitement as you danced together, deliciously close. Raph was surprisingly light on his feet, moving you around the dance floor swiftly but keeping you close to him all the while. As the song went on he spun you out with a flick of his wrist, but brought you back in so your back was to his plastron, his hands catching you at your hips.

Let's get gone, walk it out Just like that, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout We gon' have fun, you gon' see On that Patrón you should get like me

You could feel his hips gently grind against you in time to the beat, sending shivers up your spine. You ground back against him, leaning back into his plastron and rubbing your ass into him. His breath hitched at the contact.

We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, ooh We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, ooh

You reached a hand up as the music enraptured the two of you, grazing over the skin of his neck and twisting your fingers in his mask tails. Raph released his grip of your hips and let his hands roam over your body as if burning it to his memory.

As he continued his sinful grind to the beat, he lifted your other arm up to his neck and lightly scrubbed his lips over the skin of your bicep as he huskily sang along.

I'm checking your body language, I love the conversation And when you lick your lips I get a tingling sensation Now were both 'bout tipsy, you say you in the mood All I need is 'bout a hour, better yet maybe two

You could feel the heat settling in your core as you felt his breath on your skin, the way his luscious lips grazed the delicate spot on your arm had a breathy whine escaping your lungs before you could think twice about it. He smiled into your arm, and turned his head to graze the shell of your ear with his pout as he continued singing quietly along, just for you.

We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, ooh We in the bed like, ooh, ooh, whoa

You bit your lip to keep from mewling in front of his brothers. You couldn't believe this was finally happening, after years of pining for Raphael he was finally making a move. And holy shit, was this a move.

As you kept swaying your hips together, trying to not melt into a complete puddle on the dance floor, Raph let his canine scrape over your ear and you lost all semblance of composure.

A sudden, needy moan tumbled from your lips, and Raphael tensed behind you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment, sure that his brothers had heard you. But before you could think about anything else, Raph stepped in front of you, taking your face in his hands.

He leaned in, hesitant now, and gently kissed you, placing the sweetest of kisses on your rosy pout. His lips were softer than you had imagined, but still firm enough to be addictive. As he pulled away you licked your lips, eyes pleading him for more. He watched your tongue swipe over your bottom lip, and you saw your own hunger reflected back at you. He cleared his throat nervously.

"My room?"

"Yes please."

With a smirk, he nodded at you and lifted you up into his arms, your legs straddling his core and his hands under your ass as he carried you off.

The turtles looked at each other as Raph's bedroom door closed shut.

"Well it's about time, am I right guys?!" Mikey joked, putting his hand up for a high-three from his brothers. A chorus of groans were covered by the next song coming over the speakers.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); unprotected sex (p in v); vivid recollection of forgotten childhood trauma; feelings of betrayal; jealousy; anxiety; panic attacks; mentions of therapy; mentions of an absent parent; sam is an idiot; abandonment issues; light mention of being under the influence of weed (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.6k+

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: much to my disdain, this chapter has to be chopped in half. :((( ugh. the last part of this chapter has been a mf monster to write, and since i already finished up this entire first half today (a little more than half, actually), i figured i might as well post it. so, without further ado, here is the first part of chapter 8. . .

thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w my ass. you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼��🌼-

Two Weeks Later

Friday, August 26, 2022

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose. 

His thrusts were getting desperate, his heavy breaths were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your drug-induced haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him. 

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine. 

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully.

You wanted it. Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It was worth it to feel him in that way. 

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of your life. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Present Day

Saturday, August 13, 2022 

“Yeah. Not too bad,” you shook your head, as if it were nothing. But you knew your expression was still sunken and weird.

He studied your face for a bit after you’d spoken, his expression said he wanted you to say more. 

But you weren’t going to, and he knew it.

“What if I make you dinner, then we watch a movie or something?” He requested, his brow raising at the prospect. 

He’d do what now? Your tummy did somersaults at the idea of him taking care of you. . .and especially like that. Cooking for you?

Surely he had an ulterior motive. 

“What do you want in return?” You asked suspiciously, your tears evaporating as you squinted at him. 

“What do you mean?”

“You want sex after you cook me dinner or something? An even trade?”

He blanched at that, drawing his head back a bit to observe you. “Even trade?” He scoffed, scratching his chin. “What the fuck even happens inside that brain of yours, y/n?”

Going into defense mode, you placed your hands on your hips to square up. “I’m still learning you, Jake. I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“The worst, per usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and flicking at the tip of his nose with his index. “Your favorite thing to assume about me is the worst. Always.”

“Not true,” you scoffed, flushing. He wasn’t wrong. . .you were regularly unfair towards him. But. . . “You haven’t exactly been trustworthy the entire time I’ve known you. Think back.”

“I don’t have to. I know I was an asshole and I wish like hell that I could take it back,” he revealed, sending earnest eyes your way, swiping a sweet thumb across your cheek, taking time to appreciate your left cheekbone. Then, he moved to bashfully tuck his hair behind his ears, taking a moment to untie the hair tie from his finger to pull his hair into a bun. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

You got momentarily sidetracked by watching the action of him pulling his hair up, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it, just as you liked to do.

Then you noticed him, waiting for a response as you drew your eyes from him. 

Clearing your throat, you refocused your thoughts. “Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, not wanting to harp on it for too long, for fear of putting your foot in your mouth. “It’s whatever. Really.”

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t kind to you at the beginning, and I’m sorry,” he continued, looking you directly in the eye, showing sincerity in his deep brown irises. “I was going through a lot and took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

Nodding, you took the bait. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. But,” you walked a couple steps forward, closer to him. Then, reaching a hand out, you held the side of his face. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what an ass he’d been before. He’d proven that he wasn’t truly like that. And you understood hurt feelings making a person act irrationally. “I get it. I’ve been through some shit, too, and I reacted in ways I shouldn’t have.” Smirking, you looked past him and thought back to your therapy sessions from years ago, reciting a few of your counselor’s words that’d stuck with you. “‘All that matters is that you see it, own it, and then grow from it.’ That’s what my therapist always told me when I was a kid, anyway.”

Swiveling your eyes back up to see his expression, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes had softened significantly at your vulnerability, seeming to take your words in. His eyebrows dipped and lips tilted in concentration. 

It always took you by surprise just how much his eyes showed his emotions. And how interested he always seemed in the things you would say.

“Very wise words,” was his response before he reached out to grip your bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he was moving towards the kitchen, calling back to you. “I’m gonna go make some stir fry. Chicken?”

You watched him leave, wanting to follow him wherever he went. 

But you didn’t. 

After responding in agreement to his suggestion, you made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wind down before dinner.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you woke up, curled in a fluffy pallet of blankets on the floor. 

Both of you, still in sweats. You, in a t-shirt, him, wearing no shirt (fuck yeah). 

No sex had happened the night before. Jake’d thought it would be a good idea to do dinner and a movie, but you’d had the bright idea to make a pile of blankets to lay on to watch the movies. And, of course, you’d let yourself fall asleep next to him. 

And. . . As much as you knew you shouldn’t admit it, it was fucking wonderful just falling asleep next to him. The act was so domestic that it should scare you. . . But all it did was make you want more. 

More you couldn’t have. 

But for now, you’d pretend you could.

Your head was resting on the same pillow as Jake’s, abandoning yours in your sleep for the sake of being closer to him. 

Though, rather than pulling yourself away, you did the complete opposite. You rolled onto your belly and wrapped yourself around him, one arm over his abdomen, a hand splayed on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to let yourself feel so tied to him in the midst of your sadness. It completely abandoned the idea of not being emotionally dependent on him. . .

But you also weren’t so oblivious to not see that you’d broken a few rules already. 

And, after your anxiety attack (because that’s exactly what it had been) last night, you decided it was better to just let yourself have this time with him now and not worry too much about the rules.

Rather than stressing about making sure you were following every fucking rule, you figured it would be worth it to appreciate the time you still did have with him. Because this wasn’t going to last forever, you felt it was a good idea to make the most of it while you could. 

It was going to be gone soon (too soon), and you weren’t going to take for granted the time you had left.

So, when you woke up, instead of immediately initiating sex, you took time to admire him. 

You propped your chin on the hand you’d put on his chest. Trying to memorize every freckle on his handsome face, tilted to the side, perfect for your line of sight. You studied him . . .his features, sharp, yet delicate. His tanned skin was perfectly sunkissed from spending the day in the sun at Sam’s AirBnb. His pretty lips, partially open like always. . . 

You’d learned that he didn’t snore a bunch. But, every now and then, like this morning, he’d let out the occasional, slight snore in his sleep. 

Usually, snoring of any kind annoyed you. Elsie was the worst snorer in the history of all mankind, and it always aggravated you. And any man you’d ever slept with who did it was always immediately woken up and kicked out of your bed.

But when Jake did it, it was nothing but endearing to you. It was something that he did that just made him him. 

You pressed your body closer to his- he was so warm. It felt so overwhelmingly natural to be so close to him.

You watched the way his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids as he slept, wondering what he dreamt about. Did he dream? And were they vivid like yours? 

Then, you absentmindedly ran a thumb lightly against his cheek, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt beneath your fingertips. 

Just as your pointer finger went to trace the cupid’s bow on his upper lip, he started stirring, showing telling signs of waking up. You stopped yourself before he could possibly wake up with your damn finger on his lip. 

Don’t want him to think I’m a fucking weirdo, you thought, resting your hand, again, on his chest. And I definitely don’t want him to know I was watching him sleep either. That would be embarrassing as hell.

This time, you laid your cheek on top of it, deciding to feign sleep for the duration of time it would take for him to wake up.

Not too long after, you felt a big breath lift your hand, then you heard his voice. 

“I know when you’re watching me,” he commented, his voice deep from just having woken up. 

You didn’t say anything, just lifted your head, an apologetic look on your face as you opened one eye at him in defeat. 

He had a soft smile resting on his lips.

“It’s cute,” he said, reassuring you, sitting up a bit underneath you to lean his head against the couch, balancing on an elbow. He reached a hand up to come gently through your hair with his fingers. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

He shook his head, his face thoughtful as he continued to look at you. “Not at all,” he replied. Then, a smirk grew on his lips. “The morning after we fell asleep in your bed—.”

“What?”

He raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ “When you fell asleep on the couch, I got you to lay down and try to sleep. Then, you yelled at me from your room—effectively freaking me out, by the way—and then asked me to sleep with you?”

You blushed, feeling stupid that you momentarily forgot. “Oh. Yeah.”

He raised his brows with a hum, the same grin appearing on his lips again. “I watched you the morning after. You slept later than me that morning, and I was so glad you did,” he watched his movements as he tucked a lock of bed-head hair behind your ear. 

“Why?” 

“Because you look so fucking ethereal when you sleep,” he said. “Not that you don’t all the time. . .but when you sleep? Dammit, you just look so peaceful. And I love that you feel that peace in those moments. Not all of the stress.”

It was your turn to hum in response, completely caught off guard by his kind words. You didn’t know why it still did surprise you to hear him say such things. It wasn’t out of character to hear sweet things leave his mouth, but it still felt like a gentle surprise anytime he did say something like that.

Then, something in your heart told you to open up. Let him in. 

And so, without considering anything else, you did. 

“You know, I don’t always sleep peacefully,” you commented, your hand now tracing circles on his chest. “That’s a sort of new thing. Good dreams. Peaceful sleep.”

His brow raised, questioning your words. 

“I haven’t always been able to sleep so well,” you started, apprehensively. But when his hand kept combing through your hair, and his eyes opened up to learn more, you decided it was safe. He was safe. You could share this. “There are things that happened in my past that caused a hell of a lot of pain, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried those painful things into my sleep with me. They’ve haunted me. Another thing my childhood therapist confirmed. The trauma caused me to have restless, terrible sleep.” You paused, remembering some of the nights you were too scared to be alone, sobbing and screaming in your bed, crying for help. Your eyes naturally watered at the memories, your voice wet with your next words. “Some fucking terrifying nightmares.”

You sniffled, trying to alleviate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him two days in a row. But, here you were. Jake brushed more hair behind your ear, then put that arm behind his head to lean up. The other strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He massaged shapes with his thumb, into the hip he held. 

Your eyes closed on their own, relishing the feeling of him reacting so gently to you. 

They reopened when you heard him clear his throat. His deep chocolate irises were shadowed with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he pointed out, continuing to rub your waist. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that may hurt you.”

You considered his words for a few seconds, but ultimately decided what you wanted to do.

“I want to tell you.”

“Okay. I want to listen.”

You’d only ever opened up about all of this to Elsie (because she was there), and then Josh when you became his friend. But the urge to tell Jake about all of it was far too overwhelming to ignore. It felt as though you had to tell him. 

“Where do I even begin?” You pondered aloud. “What do you want to know?”

He hummed, smooshing his lips together in thought for a few seconds, squinting his eyes in thought as he peered up to the ceiling. You tapped your fingers against his chest, waiting for his input. 

“When did the bad dreams start? Can you pinpoint an age or anything?”

“After my mom left,” you replied, curling further into his body. 

He accepted your motion, encompassing you, keeping you close. 

“How old were you?” 

“I was ten. Left me sitting on the front porch as she left in a string of curse words. . . Blaming Els and me for all of it,” you stared into the space just past his head, thinking back on it. You felt brave revisiting it at this moment, for whatever reason. “I can’t recall everything she said that day or before, but what I do remember both from that day and before that day. . .,” you stopped, your face flinching a bit at the dark thoughts. “. . . It’s not good.”

Your skin crawled, and you weren’t liking the feeling. Needing to center yourself, you decided to look at him again to gauge his reaction. 

His face was rather relaxed, keeping a consistent air of calm to support you through your responses. “You doing okay?” He questioned, checking in. His brows dipped in concern for a moment, waiting for you.

Your lips lifted, back in the moment with him. 

This is the present time. He is what’s happening. The past is the past and I’m bigger than it, you recited. 

Some of the words were those advised by your childhood therapist. Truthfully, the lady had had some wise words. Jake’d been right when he’d come to that conclusion the night before.

A quiet, content smile was on your face when you responded. “Yeah. I promise. I want to tell you this.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice quiet like your smile. “Who did you live with after?”

“My grandparents,” you said. “And Elsie.”

“Stayed with them until. . .?”

“Until I moved out to go to school at Pratt. When I moved here.”

“And you’re going to school for. . .?”

You grinned, appreciating his variation of questions. “Majoring in writing,” you groaned as the last word fell from your mouth. “And minoring in music.”

“Don’t like writing anymore?”

You sat on that for a second, then answered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. . . It’s that it’s not my passion,” you paused your motion on his chest and reached down to grab his hand that held your body. You lifted it up from under the fluffy blanket that covered you both. Holding his hand, you traced his calloused fingertips. “I admire how you went after your passion when you had the chance. I wish I’d gone after my own.”

He watched you, seeming to measure your words. “And yours is music, too.”

“Mhm. . . But not playing it,” you added. “Just listening to it– studying it. Learning more about it. I love writing, but I breathe those melodies.”

He smiled in response to that. “Me too. And I like that you feel that way, too,” he commented, letting your fingers play with his. “But who’s to say you couldn’t combine the two? Become a music journalist? A lyricist?”

For some reason, you’d never considered the latter. But it felt as though a fresh breath of air had been breathed into you. “I’ve never thought of being a lyricist, but that sounds. . .”

“Incredible?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I wonder how you get a job like that, though.”

You let go of his hand to fold both of yours on his chest, your chin on top of them. He moved his hand to encircle your waist again. “I’ll help you find something,” he assured. Your belly buzzed. The idea of him helping you with something so personal to you . . . it made you feel everything all at once. “Somewhere. You live in New York City. . .I’m sure the possibilities are endless.”

“I’m sure you’re correct,” you agreed, admiring the way his breaths would lift your chin, the way his bicep flexed as he moved the bent arm behind his head. 

A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, him so obviously watching you– admiring you. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. 

His next words confirmed it. 

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

Not sure what to even begin to say to that, all you could utter was, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, was a surprise, though. 

“Has no one ever told you?”

“Well, Josh says sweet things like that. And Elsie is great at encouraging me, too. . . But hearing you say something like that. . . those words. It just feels good. I don’t know,” you shook your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he cleared his throat. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you sniffed, for the second time that morning. More tears fell onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they left your mouth. 

“I want to tell you those things,” he said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

“Thank you,” again, was all you could say. 

“But the sex is pretty good,” he smirked as he said the words, his eyes glinting mischievously as he skirted a hand up the back of your shirt, skating fingers along your bare back. His eyes found yours when he got closer to your shoulders. “No bra?”

“You know I don’t wear one when I sleep.”

“So I’m assuming you knew we were gonna fall asleep out here?” 

“Mhm.”

“And you still let it happen?”

I did. . . And even though I shouldn’t, I keep breaking all of my own stupid rules, you thought in defeat.

“Wanted it to,” you remarked.

He hummed, watching you with a curious look in his beautiful eyes. You knew he was most probably thinking the same thing as you. 

But, all he said next was, “Can I ask you more questions?”

“Yeah,” you whispered in the quietness of the morning. The rumbling of thunder outside, followed by the pitter-patter of rain droplets against the living room window made goosebumps grow on your skin. “Nothing better than a quiet, rainy morning.”

“You are correct,” he replied in an approving tone. “So. . .your mother. . . Is it okay if I ask about her?”

“Yes,” your lips quirked. “I’ve already told you as much, silly.”

“I know, I know. . . It’s just a lot, I’m sure.”

You nodded to confirm. “It is. But I want to share this with you.”

“Thank you.”

“For trauma dumping?” You giggled. 

“For trusting me,” he said, serious in his reply. His eyes flicked to every inch of your face, taking you in. His hand, now massaging the tension from your neck. 

Miraculous that he just seemed to know the place where your tension settled. 

Not that it wasn’t a common place for tension to reside. But you wondered if he’d noticed you favoring the bottom of your neck during tense situations, over time.

Your heart hammered at the intimacy of the moment. You were so close to just leaning up and kissing him, but you didn’t want to cut conversation short. It was too enjoyable for you. 

It felt so freeing.

Trying to bring you both back to the topic at hand, you inquired. “What was your question about my mom?”

“Oh, yes,” he refocused, his hand now moving up to massage the roots at the base of your head. More goosebumps grew at the sensation. “Do you still talk to her?”

“Uh, no. Haven’t even seen the woman since she left. She hurt me so bad back then. . .I’ve kind of closed off the fact that she even exists,” you said. “She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s true. I’m just glad for the family I do still have,” you paused, deciding if you wanted to tack on the other words you were thinking. There was no reason not to, you’d already bared so much to him in a span of minutes. “Glad I have those people who want me.”

“I want you,” he wrapped a hand at the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head as one thumb rubbed over your pulse point. His eyes bore into yours, begging you to understand the words.

The next few moments were quiet and filled with everything left unsaid. What it was that remained unsaid, you didn’t know. Or maybe you did know.

He eventually let go, clearing his throat to show he was moving on. “Does Elsie feel the same? Closed off and all that?”

You blinked a couple times before responding. 

“Y-yeah. Pretty much. She and I are on the same wavelength about 98 percent of the time.”

“Imagine 100 percent of the time,” he blew out a breath, his eyes getting big as he stared off. 

“Twin life?”

He looked back at you, a grin on his pretty lips. “Twin life,” he confirmed. Pensiveness painted his features, then he spoke again. “Speaking of . . . Did you meet Josh at the record store?”

“Yes,” you responded. “Almost 4 years ago.”

“I’m jealous.”

“That I had that time with Josh while you missed him so bad?”

“Psh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No. I’ve spent enough time with that fucker through the years,” he snickered, winking at you. “I’m jealous that he got all that time with you. Getting to know you while I was in Illinois, wasting away.”

Your tummy lit up with butterflies again. But you treaded carefully with this topic. You didn’t need him making any assumptions about Josh again.

There was no reason for him to be jealous. And honestly, you wanted to show him as much.  

“Well, you shouldn’t get too jealous,” you said, moving from laying down. You positioned your legs on either side of his hips, then sat your ass on the tops of his thighs, opening yourself up to him. 

He took in a sharp breath, and smoothed his hands over the tops of your thighs, then slipped his hands past the waistband of your sweats, giving your ass a generous squeeze.

“Why’s that?” He asked, his brow lifting in question. He brought himself up a little more, leaning against the couch. As he moved to sit up, he used his hands on your ass to push your crotch against his hardening cock. 

The wet arousal in your panties pressed against you. You gasped at the feeling. 

His lip curled to show his top row of perfectly straight, white teeth. 

So fucking handsome.

“Well,” you ground your hips against him, his head lolling back momentarily. He got back by bucking up into you, just the slightest bit. It caused a breathy moan to leave your lips. “He will never have me like this, for one,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to your chest. “I only want you like this, Jake.”

Fuck. That felt so genuine slipping from your lips. And you wouldn’t tell him this (you could barely admit it to yourself), but you really did only want him. Like, in general. Out of all other men, he was the only one you craved. 

When did that even happen?! Your incredulous thoughts could have taken over had he not effectively distracted you.

He moved his hands up under your shirt, abandoning your ass. His eyes were glued to your hardening nipples as his thumbs pressed into your tummy, massaging your hot skin. 

It was getting harder and harder to believe there’d been a time that you would have stopped this—out of fear and a bunch of shit. Leaving him on his own, and you sulking, feeling conflicted as hell.

Though, these days, you couldn’t leave him. 

There was nothing that could pull you away from him in moments like these.

(And that was a scary thought you could consider later.)

Your body was drawn to him, putty under his touch. Bending down the slightest bit, you curled your hands comfortably in his ever-growing locks. Your nose nestled into the part of his hair right behind his ear. One of your favorite parts of his body was that little crook behind his ear. You didn’t know why. . . 

But dammit— he always smelled so delicious. His cologne held hints of sandalwood and amber. . . And something so delectably Jake.

And God, you loved his hair. The citrusy smell of his shampoo. The softness of the locks. The length.

Fuck, the length.

Silly as it may’ve been, you were so glad he was growing it out. The longer it got, the more his heat scale increased. And at this point, he was getting dangerously hot.

His cock nudged against you, leaving nothing to the imagination underneath the layers of clothing. Anytime you’d move your hips to entice him, his cock throbbed beneath you, making your panties more and more uncomfortable with how wet they were. 

You felt his hands flatten, traveling up your tummy slowly. But just as he was about to touch your breasts, he switched directions, running his calloused fingertips down your back instead. 

“Asshole,” you whispered in his ear. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. 

The little raspy laugh beneath you gave him away.

Your skin grew goosebumps at the sensation of his rough fingertips making soft shapes on your back. 

But you wanted his hands headed back in the direction they were before. 

Your nipples were blatantly expanding the fabric of your t-shirt, begging for him. 

And, when you pulled away to observe his face, he was already waiting for you, his eyes burning into yours, all the way down to your heart. 

Though. . .he didn’t stay there for long. He let his gaze travel back down to your breasts, his pupils dilated, filling his iris almost completely black. 

He looked hungry and your hips were moving of their own accord at that point. Every bit of him you got was making you need more, more, more. 

“I love your fucking tits,” he growled, wrapping one strong arm behind your back and effectively placing you beneath him. 

Your breath momentarily left your lungs, making you release a huge sigh as he arranged you so your back laid nicely against the soft blankets and pillows. 

“What do you like about them?”

He groaned, smoothing his hand up your stomach again. His hand cupped the underside of one breast. You sighed at finally feeling his hands where you wanted them.

“I love that they’re yours,” he started, reaching his thumb to rub and pinch at your left nipple. “I love that the color of your nipples is the same color as your pretty lips,” he lifted your shirt the slightest bit, sucking one bud into his mouth, kissing it like he would your mouth. Then, he replaced his mouth with his hand, squeezing your breast as you arched into his touch. 

Finally, he connected his mouth with yours, his bottom lip slipping between your lips to deepen it just a bit. You moaned into his mouth as he did yours. Then, he pulled away, leaning on his forearm. Switching between tits with one hand, he cupped the bottom of each, moving his hand under them enough to watch them jiggle. “And I love watching them bounce as I’m fucking you.”

“Shit, Jake,” you moaned, pushing yourself further into his hand. You were aching for him to be inside of you. “Fuck me so you can see what you like, baby.”

He sat up, slipped his sweats (there having been no underwear underneath, apparently) down his thighs, thick cock springing free. The sight made your belly swirl and your center wet with need. 

Once he was completely naked, he repositioned above you. 

But your skin was itching with the feeling of still being clothed. You needed to feel his warm skin against your own.

“Move,” you motioned for him to back up. You sat up as he took the hint, sitting back on his knees beside you.

His eyebrows wrinkled and his eyes grew worried. “Where are you go—?”

But he went silent as the t-shirt left your body and your bare chest flashed at him. And as you stripped yourself of the shirt, your boobs bounced a little, just as he liked. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching for himself. You watched, your throat tightening, as he looked down at his shaft, his mouth falling open, just slightly, as he gave himself a couple of short, quick pumps. 

Dear God.

But he seemed dissatisfied.

And when you’d normally stop him and tell him to let you do it instead, you didn’t this time. 

But it seemed he still wanted your help.

You just sat in awe as he stretched his hand out to you. You were still as a statue as he gripped your chin, pulling it down the slightest bit. You followed his lead and opened your mouth more with his gesture. Then, you watched as he moved the hand, palm open, in front of your mouth. 

“Spit for me, baby,” he nodded at the hand in front of you. 

You didn’t argue, doing as you were told, heart racing as you spit in his hand. 

After you’d done what he wanted, he wrapped the hand around the base of his thick cock, giving himself a few long strokes from his skilled hand.

Though, as soon as he threw his head back with one particularly generous, tight-fisted move, you decided that it was officially past time to get naked.

You made quick work of your sweats, his eyes flicking up to watch you pull them off in a flurry. Then you hooked your fingers into your soaked underwear, getting them off as fast as possible.

You wanted to be the one to please, rather than his hand. 

You were growing jealous of the fist, as it held his pretty dick the way your pussy was aching to. 

When you were finally just as bare as he was, you laid on your back again. You spread one leg wide to open up for him, keeping the other flat, against your heap of blankets. In this position, he’d be able to see the bottom curve of your ass, your full breasts, and your slick pussy.

He didn’t see you, though, as he’d gone to focus on pleasuring himself, eyebrows drawn and whimpering a bit as he continued to watch his hand work at a steady pace. 

“Jake,” you called quietly, urging him to look at you and come to you. 

As soon as his name left your mouth, he looked up from where he was watching himself work his cock. After one hungry once-over from his dark eyes, he bit his lip.

“You ready?” You asked, slowly spreading both legs a little more for him, reaching two fingers to slide through your wet folds, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched. 

“Want me to eat your sweet pussy, baby?” He questioned, his voice a velvety rasp. 

Ready to please, his hand left his thick cock in order to move the short distance it took to be closer to you. 

“I want that pretty dick inside of me,” you responded, your voice exuding all of the need you felt running through your veins. “Now.”

And in a flash, he was on top of you again. His tip, damp from your saliva, nudged its way to the place it knew so well. 

Before any more words could be spoken, he pushed inside of you in one swift take. The two of you sighed in unison, relief flashing over his face, as you were sure it did yours, too.

He leaned both forearms on either side of your head, keeping his handsome face close to yours as he fucked you, thick cock stretching you well with each deliberate, hard thrust. 

His eyes were trained on your heaving tits, doing just what he wanted them to.

“I was starting to get jealous—,” you paused, whining with one particular snap of his hips, his dick hitting your secret spot. “Of-of that hand,” you said, your voice shaking on the words. 

His forehead was beaded with sweat already, ever-energetic in his pursuits—whether it be playing music or in the bedroom. 

“Don’t be,” he responded, pinning you with a stern look from his eyes, tone firm. “Your pussy feels better than anything else.”

The telling sounds of your bodies connecting only added to the ecstasy of the moment.

“Took-took y-you too long to get the hint,” you panted. 

“It was a few seconds,” he said, rocking his hips extra hard with the last word. 

Your toes curled with a moan. 

“Still too long.”

“Impatient.”

“No, I just know what I want,” you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting to lick further into the other’s open mouth. 

With one final swipe of his tongue against your teeth, he pulled away. “You’re high maintenance.”

You were suddenly self-conscious, overcome with a feeling that you weren’t good enough for him. That you annoyed him.

You covered it up with a defensive, haughty tone. “So?”

“I fucking love it.”

Oh.

Your body opened up at that, seemingly on its own. You bent your knees, spreading your thighs even more, letting him sink deeper. 

You grabbed at his biceps, gripping them to give yourself some sort of grounding as he started giving all he had, each thrust of his harder than the one before it. 

It was painful and delicious all at once. 

Fuck he felt so good.

The way he filled you was unlike any man before him. He fit so fucking well, and your center never failed to grip him just right.

“I also love the way your pussy feels,” he said, breathing heavily. “You like how I feel?”

You grinned, feeling drunk on him. Your belly clenched, simultaneous to your center with each rock of his hips. Sighing, you let your hands move to hold onto his strong shoulders. 

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you sighed, looking down to where your bodies met. It was almost too much. When you went to look up, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You squeezed his shoulder. “Jake.”

A concerned look painting his features, he stopped, checking you. “What? What’s wrong?”

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek, rolling your hips once, needing the pressure of him moving inside of you. “Nothing at all,” you went to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, reassuring. “Just got an idea.”

He picked up his movements: languid strokes, this time, making you forget about everything besides him momentarily. “And what is that?”

You kept on when you could find the words. “I—uhhh,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as he moved to lay his belly against yours, knowing the friction would be perfect for your swollen, throbbing clit. “I want to pl—oh!,” you sucked in a breath, seeing stars for a moment. Once you were able, you continued. “Wanna play a record.”

“Right now?” He grunted, making one hard rock of his hips into yours. 

Your toes curled, still feeling the softness of his tummy on your tender bundle of nerves as his tip repeatedly hit your secret spot. “Yeah.”

He came to a slow stop, eyes trained on yours. He stayed there, watching you with an unspoken question in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought deeply. 

“Is that okay?” You asked, trying to break him from his reverie, nervous you’d freaked him out with the odd request. 

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, hair effectively falling from where you’d tucked it. “That sounds incredible, actually.”

Butterflies let loose in the pit of your stomach. Of course he’d like the idea. He loved music just the same as you did. 

He pulled out, and you instantly missed him. But you watched him lazily, dreamily as he stood up smoothly, and walked to the shelf of records (now a mixture of his and yours, of course). “Which one?” He wondered aloud.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

As he searched through the albums, you let your mind wander with your eyes.

His body was a work of art. 

His thighs, muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage. 

The perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods. 

And those broad shoulders that were strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he turned a bit towards you, his eyes quickly scanning the back of a vinyl, your eyes instantly found his straining dick. His tip, still swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched, seeing how it now glistened from your dripping pussy. Dammit you needed him to hurry. 

But most of all, damn this idea for taking him away from you.

Once he turned to you fully, an Aretha Franklin vinyl in hand, you found his eyes. They were questioning, but you looked away from them to admire your most favorite parts of his body. 

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle. 

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature. 

His aura was compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks, and sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in. 

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. . . And in moments like these, you wished more than anything that he was yours. 

But he wasn’t. 

And that bitter thought helped to snap you out of your trance, finally looking at him to answer. 

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

You flushed, rolling your eyes to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Glancing briefly at the record, squinting to truly recognize it, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew you’d made the right choice. 

The sound added to the bliss you were already feeling on this quiet, rainy morning.

The combination of watching him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit.

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you. 

You smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.” 

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

When he went to lean over you to pick up where you left off, you scooted over, motioning for him to lay down instead. 

Without question, he did as you wanted, and as Aretha sang of a man making her feel like a natural woman, you sank onto him, letting him stretch you so well. 

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . . 

But, in moments like this one, when one hand would be holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like this made a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation. 

And, as you listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

This song perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had been the bane of your existence so recently was now a light on your darkest days.

And, as you watched him, his hips beginning to move on their own, making you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

And not just because of the sex. It was him. Having him around made you feel . . . whole.

Without evening knowing or trying, he’d been helping you find missing pieces to your puzzle. 

Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good. Some bad. But all you. 

Pieces you’d forgotten even existed. 

And by just being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man. 

As you rode him, leaning down on your forearms to get close to his face, you gave him a long kiss. A kiss that you hoped said thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him. 

But as you separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you looked into the deep pools of his eyes that held so much. And you knew you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand as you felt new tears cloud your vision. Your hips were moving on their own, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You were holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the song as you had this moment.

He held your gaze, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match your own. Both of you stayed there for a minute, taking the other in. 

You kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you focused on finding a release for you both. 

Just as another favorite of yours came on. 

The opening chorus resonated with you just like every time you’d heard it before, but this time it was different—better—as he laid underneath you, holding you. . . Staring at you with eyes that held the motherfucking world.

Like the sweet morning dew, 

I took one look at you,

And it was plain to see you were my destiny.

With my arms open wide, I threw away my pride.

Feeling everything all at once, you spread your legs wide, thighs stretching out on top of his to get as close as you could to him. Then you bent your legs at the knees, and leaned toward him, laying on top of him and nuzzling into that sweet spot behind his ear. You made yourself comfortable as you knew this would be your undoing. 

It always was from this position. 

And this song was just feeding into the emotions coursing through your heart, intensifying all of it at once.

Your favorite way to finish was in this exact position, and you knew at that moment, that it would take you no time. 

Fucking him at that moment felt extremely dissimilar to all of your times before. The damned music was untying every string you’d used to close up your fragile heart. 

While lost in your sudden wave of thought, he took over, knowing all the moves. He’d grown familiar with this position, just as you had. He knew your body. What you liked. 

He grabbed a hip and a handful of your ass, and moved your body down forcefully to meet him while also thrusting his hips up. 

The contrast of motion and the tugging at your heart helped every piece of you to get the much needed stimulation. And fuck if it didn’t make your thighs shake.

You whined, your toes curling as, simultaneously, his tip hit your g-spot and your clit nudged against the lower part of his tummy. 

“Jakey,” you moaned. 

“I know,” he breathed hotly, not letting up on his motions in the slightest. “I can fucking feel you pulse around me, baby.”

“You like it?” You sighed, still next to his ear, needing to hear the affirmation from him.

“Best fucking feeling in the whole world.”

Your tummy lurched at that, butterflies fluttered their wings. 

That’s how you feel for me, too, you thought.

And with one more strategic move of his hips, you saw stars. You felt every nerve ending light up. Your skin felt like static.

“Oooohhh,” you moaned, your body shaking. 

He groaned, whining a bit. “Y/n—I’m—.”

You felt far away as he tapped your hip, sinking into all things Jake, Jake, Jake.

You jostled back to reality right as he lifted you off of him, depositing you as carefully and quickly as he could on the covers next to you both in no time.

Just as you laid down, he was instantly on his knees, warm seed spilling onto your tummy, right where he’d placed you. 

You blinked and shook your head, registering what’d almost happened. Your thoughts were flying— going crazy. 

“Fuck,” he said, flopping down next to you as he slid a hand down his face. “That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” was all you could mutter, your heart beating hard against your chest.

Before much more could be said, he sealed the interaction with a slow, sure kiss and got up to fix you both breakfast.

Now that you’d had his cooking the night prior, you were really looking forward to the breakfast. You’d learned the man was extremely gifted in culinary— just as he was in music. 

But, even as the bacon crackled and the vanilla-laced smell of fresh waffles wafted in through the open layout of the apartment, you weren’t really thinking about his cooking. 

No; inside your mind, you were swirling back and forth with how close you’d felt to him. How sex was starting to feel so effortless and all-encompassing with him. . . And that coupled with how much you’d been feeling in the moment?

It was obvious he’d carved a place in your heart.

A big one.

But you’d worry about that later. 

Because. . .what was clawing at you more was one particular thought. 

You now had a nagging curiosity of what it might feel like to have him actually finish inside of you. 

How in the hell had you let it come to this?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Every year, it was tradition to have a family dinner at your grandparents’ house to celebrate a new year of school. 

But this year, on a whim, you decided to make it a little different. . . You acted on impulse and invited Jake to it. 

To your surprise (and excitement), he’d agreed with no hesitation.

And before the annoying voice in your head could say anything, you reassured it that him coming with you wasn’t a couple-y thing. 

Not at all.

You’d had time to think back on the way you’d started cracking during sex the other morning. 

And you had already started the process of tying your heart back up, protecting yourself from a whirlwind of unnecessary, surely unreciprocated emotion.

He liked having sex with you, that was it. And it could be that way for you, too. It had to be.

The flash of feelings you’d felt during sex a few mornings back honestly meant nothing— you chalked it up to just being caught up in the moment. You had simply gotten far too ahead of yourself.

As you got ready that night, you thought back on the few times your grandma and grandpa had asked about your roommate. You were sure you’d only thought to invite him, because you’d been subconsciously thinking it would appease your wondering grandparents. 

You also just really enjoyed spending time with him. That much you could come to terms with. And, admittedly, you really wanted him to meet your grandparents.

Of course, you were a little nervous at the prospect of him meeting your them (more your judgmental grandfather than your grandma). But, nonetheless, you were really looking forward to having him there with you. 

And, the cherry on top: Elsie would be there to alleviate any weird tension your grandparents may add. . . So, truly, it was the ideal time to have him come meet them. 

At 5:00, thirty minutes before it was time to leave, he still wasn’t home. You knew he had a few lessons today, but he’d assured you that he would be home on time. 

Though, you couldn’t help feeling nervous that maybe he’d regretted saying yes, and he was going to run late on purpose just to get out of going to dinner. 

Before your thoughts could get too crazy, you got a text from him. 

Jake, 5:10 p.m.: so I’m still working with this fuckin client :( 

But at the sight of the text, your stomach sank. 

I knew it, you thought, downhearted. He’s gonna try to get out of it.

Then, another text came through.

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: and I think it’s the time of day

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: but I’ve had like 3 Ubers in a row cancel on me for my scheduled time

He’s really pulling out all the stops, you thought, feeling your chest tighten, anger coming into play. Just say you don’t want to go.

While you were sulking, you noticed one more text pop up in its gray bubble. 

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: I hate to ask you to do this 

Here it comes.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: but can you pick me up on your way to your grandparents house? I really don’t wanna miss it

You could’ve sighed with relief. In fact, you did. Watching the screen for a few more seconds, you contemplated waiting a bit to respond. Play the classic ‘hard-to-get’ and ‘make-sure-he-knows-I-don’t-take-this-too-seriously-game’ and keep him on the line. . .

But you couldn’t wait. And probably too quickly, you texted back. 

You, 5:13 p.m.: I’d be happy to. I’ll be there soon. Just send me the address.

And within five minutes, the address was sent as you were scooping Stevie some fresh food in her dish. And as soon as you saw it, you were making your way out the door, hurriedly making your way to the car. 

Why am I so anxious to see him when I literally just saw him this morning? You thought, as you started the car, hearing your soul music playlist take over the car’s stereo. Calm the fuck down, y/n.

But you couldn’t help it as you pulled quickly out of the parking lot, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

When you pulled up to his client’s house, you suddenly saw the appeal of the private lessons. You were sure he got paid good fucking bucks to give lessons to whoever it was that lived in this mansion of a place. 

You were busy admiring the giant home, when you felt your stomach flutter at the sight of him, carrying his acoustic guitar case. 

Though, your gaze didn’t stay on him for long as you caught sight of the beautiful woman with flowing, jet-black locks, walking out of the door behind him, her pristine black dress. Her full ass, big tits, and small waist accentuated perfectly in the outfit. You saw her blatantly checking him out and saying something as she followed behind him. 

Whatever it was she was saying, it made him laugh. Truly laugh. His dimples were showing and his mouth was open wide, then he said something back. 

But he was seemingly oblivious to her glances at his ass as he continued walking ahead of her. The perfectly straight, gleaming white smile on her glowing caramel skin was wide with whatever he said and whatever it was that she was saying in return. 

Your blood was boiling. And it just got worse as you watched her come up behind him and lightly grab his bicep, turning him gently to face her. 

For a few brief seconds, you watched in terror, afraid that you were about to witness a kiss between him and this woman. 

Thankfully, you didn’t. 

But what you did see still made tears climb up your throat. 

You watched him sit his case down, and then saw an extremely genuine, heartfelt hug take place between the two. It wasn’t a quick, friendly side hug, it was a full-on hug. She was grasping him tightly, holding the back of his head as she clung to him. Her eyes closed as she continued speaking over his shoulder.

At one moment, her mouth closed and you saw just how beautifully shaped and plush her soft lips were. She was strikingly gorgeous. Everything about her. 

Was this her house? Was he giving her lessons? Or did she have a kid that he was giving lessons to? 

Whatever the case may have been, you had to swallow back every tear that was threatening to escape as he started walking toward you, case in hand again. 

She stayed on the sidewalk, watching him walk down the steps to the curb where you’d pulled up. 

Right as he got to your car, he turned around to wave at her once more. 

And then, what you heard him say through the closed door made your heart fall to the very pit of your stomach.

“It’s my favorite part of the day!” He laughed heartily, before finally opening the door to the backseat. 

His favorite part of the day? Was it being with her? Fuck.

You turned to face the front of the car, gathering yourself as you stared out the windshield. You were so embarrassed. For a variety of reasons. 

Your hands shook as you held tightly to the steering wheel. 

The back door shut, and you prepared yourself for him being close to you by clearing your throat and reminding yourself of a few important things.

We are not together. I don’t love him. God no I don’t, you shook your head at the idea of that. And he can be with whomever he pleases. It’s none of my business. 

But when he opened the door to the car, all thoughts from before vanished. The musings from your self-mantra and your worries of the girl had dissipated as soon as he spoke in his ever-raspy, sweet tone. 

“Hi, beautiful.”

You glanced over at him, a tight smile on your lips working to mask any worry that there may have been. Working to convince him and yourself that things were okay. 

You couldn’t help but ask. “Is she a client or does she have a child taking lessons?”

He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his nose. “Oh, she’s the client,” he said, his smile matching his tone as he spoke of her. “She’s doing really well. I’m proud of her progress.”

The next question slipped from your lips out of pure curiosity, nothing more. “Does she live in that giant house all by herself?”

“Yep. Single. No kids,” he affirmed. “Crazy, huh? Oh! I almost forgot,” he reached over the armrest and into the backseat to click open his case and get something from it. 

His proximity to you was overwhelming, the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and amber infiltrating your senses.

Please want me more than you might want her, you pleaded silently. 

When he was sitting in his seat again, he lifted to reach into his back pocket, getting his wallet out.

“What did you almost forget?” You inquired, trying to mask your ridiculous thoughts with a plain tone.

“This,” he held up a guitar pick, before opening his wallet to put it inside. “My lucky pick. I always use it at my lessons. Forgot to put it back in my wallet today. Got carried away talking to her.”

Fuck. 

Then, without meaning to, you caught his gaze. The a/c blowing against your hair and face, cooling you off from your distressing thoughts.

But your bearings were almost lost again with the sincerity you found in his eyes, and with the hand that fell to squeeze your thigh as he leaned over the console to kiss your cheek. 

Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned your attention back to the road right before you put the car in drive.

We are not together. Everything is fine. Whatever we are— it’s fine. Stop worrying, you chanted all of this internally as you increased the volume on Victoria Monet, gearing up for your playlist to serenade you for the duration of the drive. Drown out your ridiculous train of thought.

“I actually like this,” Jake commented, his hand still on your thigh. His thumb sweeped wide circles on your inner thigh, burning through your jeans. “What’s it called?”

Coming to the stop sign at the end of the street, you waited for the car on your right to go as you responded. 

“We Might Even Be Falling In Love,” was your simple response, right before you took your turn at the four way stop.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The car ride to your grandparents’ was slightly tense at first, but eventually you got over it as Jake started making his regular small talk. He was the same as always. Anytime you talked with him, he reminded you of his brother with how intent and caring he was about every word that left your mouth. 

But, for you, it meant more coming from him than it did Josh.

Jake was just. . .special to you. And you wanted to be special to him.

It was a relief. And by the time you pulled up to the quaint, familiar house, everything felt the same as it always did. You were feeling better. . he was him and things felt normal. Felt okay. 

As you walked up to the front door, him following you closely behind, you felt comfortable. And when you entered the house, it felt so good to have Jake in tow, the never-changing atmosphere of the home combining perfectly with having him near. 

You were giddy with the fact that he was there.

And it just continued to get better as the night wore on. 

Both of your grandparents greeted Jake with open arms, real welcoming smiles adorned their wrinkling faces. Your chest, warm with contentment as you watched the three of them interact. Jake, continuing the theme of coming out of his shell, as he made smooth conversation with your people. 

As you’d been standing in the entryway chatting, Elsie’d rounded the corner from the kitchen. And to your delighted surprise, Josh had been in tow behind her. 

You knew they’d decided to take it to the next level after the night at the bowling alley. They were becoming the power couple. So it made sense that he’d be here tonight, too.

Everything was absolutely perfect. Elsie and Josh being there made the ideal mix of people for Jake’s first time meeting your family. 

Then dinner came.

“Joshua, I will never get over how sweet it was for you to make the drive to us with Elsie a few weeks ago,” your grandmother commented as she poked some salad with her fork. “Didn’t leave her alone on that late night drive.”

“She is in good hands with you,” your grandfather agreed, making sure to catch Josh’s eyes to emphasize his words. 

“I’m lucky to have her,” Josh smiled in response, kissing Elsie’s cheek. 

Everything was going great, conversation flowing until your grandmother spoke next.

“Y/n, honey, how long have you been seeing Jake?” 

Your eyes stayed trained on your plate, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. You heard Jake clear his throat from where he sat next to you. Fuck. Of course she’d ask this. Assume that you two were dating.

To your relief, Elsie started speaking for you. 

“Grandma, they aren’t together,” she said, covering smoothly with a giggle to top it off, trying to alleviate any tension.

You took that as your cue to look up, monitoring the situation. 

“Oh,” your Grandma responded, a little smile on her face as she put an aged, perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. “Silly old me. I guess I just assumed because you were here together tonight, sis,” she looked at you, her eyes apologetic. 

“You sure act like it,” your Grandpa chimed in, motioning with his fork at you two sitting next to each other. 

“Howard, quit,” your Grandmother defended. 

At your Grandpa’s comment, you finally found your voice. 

“Elsie’s right. We are not together,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “He’s just my roommate.”

“Harsh, kid,” your Grandfather interjected. “Not even a friend?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, looking over at Jake who seemed to be trying his best to stay focused on his plate, dodging any involvement in the conversation. “But mostly just my roommate.”

For some reason, the awkward air persisted, hanging in the air around you. 

Your words felt wrong. You knew you were friends (and more than that), but you didn’t want to get too mushy, for fear of being questioned further. You were trying your best to diffuse the tension, fixing it so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

You were so fearful of somehow exposing your current predicament—especially to those in the room. You hadn’t even told Elsie of your whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation. Shockingly. 

She’d known about you two having sex that first time. . . But you had never told her anything further than that.

Honestly, you’d been too focused on Jake the past few weeks to even think to inform her. It was something that only you and Jake shared and you mostly liked it that way. 

You also didn’t want to tell her because you were positive she’d question the situation. Make you admit things you didn’t want to. Things you couldn’t admit. Push you to say too much. You didn’t need her to make it anything more than what it was. 

It was your little secret. And you intended on keeping it that way. 

Josh swooped in seamlessly, taking over the conversation with talks of all things music and film. 

Eventually, Jake tuned in to the music talk. He’d stayed quiet for longer than you’d anticipated . . . surely feeling the awkwardness of the initial question with you. But he’d played it off well. 

And as you watched him interact with your grandparents, the version of him that you witnessed made your heart flutter. Your senses were filled with all kinds of happiness. 

Eventually, you, the twins, and your Grandpa had migrated to the living room as Elsie and your Grandma went to prepare dessert.

You sat there, across the room from him. You, on the couch, him on the ottoman next to your Grandpa’s chair. Why he’d sat so far away from you, you didn’t know – but you didn’t care. You just enjoyed watching him talk. 

The way he got along with your Grandpa made you light up with joy considerably. 

Your Grandfather was a hard nut to crack. Not to compare the two, but you wouldn’t ever put it past Josh to get through to your Grandpa (because Josh was, quite possibly, the easiest person in the world to talk to). So seeing his easy talk with your Grandpa was expected. 

But Jake? Jake was just a quieter person by nature. Not in a bad way, by any means. . . He just was. You liked him that way. He was thoughtful and kept parts of himself hidden. . . revealed more of himself the more he trusted someone. You really liked him for all of his ways. 

But the way he was bonding with your Grandpa? It was just astonishing. 

By just being himself, Jake was making your Grandpa open up more than ever.

You’d never seen your Grandpa this way.

As you watched the three of them, Jake’s efforts to connect with your Grandfather honestly seemed to flow more smoothly than the other twin’s. 

Josh had even ended up leaving the conversation, going to join your Grandma and Elsie in the kitchen, as the other two seemed to be venturing into their own conversation. Neither Jake nor your Grandpa needed a buffer. But you’d stayed anyhow, too intrigued by them to want to leave. 

And, you just really liked being where Jake was. He made you feel so calm and happy.

You also just couldn’t miss out on the moment in front of you. . .you’d never seen your Grandpa talk so animatedly.

The way he talked about music with Jake was shocking to you, as you didn’t know he loved music to the depths that you did. 

But apparently, Jake knew how to bring out that side of him. The smiles exchanged with the topic of conversation were exhilarating— so joy-filled.

Then, to your complete shock, your Grandpa brought up how he’d played guitar for years before your mother had been born. 

“You played guitar, Grandpa?!” You couldn’t help but ask, as you quite literally sat on the edge of the crisp, floral sofa. “How come you never told us?!”

“Well, I never really felt the need to revisit that part of my life,” he said, sighing. “You two girls didn’t need to be privy to that. It’s all in the past.”

You shook your head. “I love that about you, Grandpa. . . I wish you would’ve told me.”

He just looked at you with his eyes, so much behind them, left unsaid and filled to the brim with an unnamed emotion. A sad smile came to sit on his face.

“Did you have a favorite to play?” Jake asked, looking at him. 

“I did. I feel like all of us do.”

“Yeah. That’s the truth,” Jake grinned, nodding. “Do you still have your favorite one?”

“I sure do,” he looked at your roommate, a big grin spanning his usually-sunken cheeks. “I’ll show ya.”

Jake offered to go get it for him as he watched the old man try to stand. But when he was finally on his feet, he waved him off. 

“Nah, son. It’ll be good for me to get up and around to get her.”  

As he left to grab it, you waited for Jake to turn to you. But, he didn’t. 

Instead, he just looked at all of the photos on the walls rather than anywhere in your direction. The living room was so quiet, you literally heard every breath he took as he looked at the pictures of you and Elsie as children. 

You cleared your throat, trying to get a reaction from him.

He kept looking around the living room, not paying you any mind.

It was awkward.

Why was he avoiding looking at you? You weren’t used to him acting in such a way anymore. 

Unable to take it any longer, you cleared your throat again, harsher this time. 

But he still ignored it.

“Jake,” you sharply stated his name, irritation seeping through your tone at his behavior.

When he finally looked at you and you met his eyes, he looked distant. But after watching you for a long minute, his eyes started lightening a bit, seeming to come back to himself just a little. 

You tentatively grinned at him and shook your head. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, your eyes searching his face. 

“Nothing,” he stated, his voice sounding far away, jaw clenching.

“Jake.”

He just ran a quick, stiff hand through his hair, looking ahead of him for a few seconds and then back at you. 

You didn’t tear your focus from him, trailing your eyes past his face and watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. 

When you looked back into his eyes, your heart beat rapidly as his eyes seemed to sink into your own. He was observing you so intently, your nerves sparking to life under his attention. You shivered a little under his stare. His gaze was dark, something hiding behind his amber-brown irises. 

You felt vulnerable and stark naked.

Instead of shying away, you kept your eyes on him. And the more you studied him—challenged him—an urge started creeping from below the surface. You watched him swivel further to face you.

You let your eyes drift again. Down his body, where his legs were spread. 

And just as you were about to take him somewhere private to talk, maybe even offer him a tour of your childhood bedroom. . .

Your Grandpa reappeared. Jake’s eyes quickly averted from yours, growing huge at the gorgeous white guitar your Grandfather had in tow. 

“A White Falcon?!” Jake asked in astonishment, his eyes growing bigger the closer it came. “Holy sh— wow.”

Your grandpa gave a belly laugh, handing this hidden, prized possession over to the long haired man. “You can say it, son. Holy shit is right. She’s a beauty.”

“A 1960. . .?”

“She’s a ‘67,” your Grandpa replied, admiring the nearly spotless guitar. The gold accents practically sparkled under the yellow glow of your Grandmother’s lamps. “A rare one.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jake said, inspecting the relic. “These are worth thousands these days. Especially in a condition like this,” he commented. “But I’m glad you kept it. I would have, too.”

Your Grandpa made his go-to clicking sound with his cheek. He seemed to be agreeing and disagreeing. (Normal behavior for the aging man.) “I debated getting rid of her a few times here and there. . .but ultimately, I decided she was far too precious to me for me to ever give her up.”

You couldn’t help but feel every single emotion you’d been (uselessly) working to bury, rise to the surface. He had you completely enraptured. . . he was driving you crazy.

Back to observing him and your Grandfather, you lost yourself in thought at the man in front of you. He’d done the impossible. Not only had he started cracking your hard shell, he’d brought out something you’d never seen in your Grandpa. He had helped you to discover this bright side of your Grandpa that you’d doubted for years even existed.

An easygoing, free-minded person that had apparently been lurking below the surface your entire life. 

But it made sense that Jake had been able to do it.

He really had done it for you, too. You’d trusted him with countless things. Your emotions. Your body. Your home. Your TV shows. Your cat.

Jake held the guitar so delicately. But his hands were simultaneously strong and purposeful, making sure to protect the guitar. It was so similar to how he handled you. 

The thought made your blood feel hot in your veins and your legs weak. You crossed your legs, watching his hands hold the keepsake just right. 

The rest of the words exchanged were technical terms about the original price, what it’s currently worth, how it played. . . 

But you weren’t really focused on all of the technicalities as you observed Jake’s fingers on the body of the guitar. How intensely he stared at the instrument as he kept steady conversation, his voice, deep and raspy. . .

You didn’t want to expose yourself with how entranced you were by him at that moment. 

So, you decided you needed to escape as soon as possible. 

“I’m going to search my room for something,” you said, glancing at Jake— who, yet again, wasn’t acknowledging you speaking. What the fuck? “I’ll be back shortly.”

Your Grandpa acknowledged you, giving a little wink before going back to his discussion with Jake.  

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d walked the couple of short hallways to get to your childhood bedroom, you sort of regretted using your bedroom as the excuse to get away.

You hesitated to open the door for a few long moments. 

You hadn’t been back to this room since that day in the car where Elsie had brought up the parts of your childhood that you’d forgotten. 

If you were being honest with yourself, it was intimidating to stand before the door as memories flooded back. 

There was the unnecessary screaming at your sister, coming back to you first. And as you thought back on that, you outwardly cringed at the words you now remembered saying to her. Terrible, hateful, completely untrue things. 

Then, you saw yourself throwing objects. Only ever at Elsie. With her being the person you felt safest with, naturally she was also the person punished most. In particular, a dent in the wall, adjacent to the door, reminded you of this. It was something that your grandparents and Elsie had always dismissed, saying it had ‘always been there.’ 

How in the hell had you blocked these things so intensely? Looking back on it now, it seemed as if those things had happened almost as soon as you’d moved in with your grandparents. 

To be fair, you had been very young and very recently grieved by the things which had occurred at your mother’s house.

Had it been a bad case of disassociation which had made you lose these fragments of time? 

Trauma-induced memory loss? 

Your childhood counselor had used the terms. You remembered that. 

Based on what you could vaguely rehash from those sessions, you probably had disassociated to protect yourself from the dark things. 

Disregarding what happened after moving to your grandparents’, there were several other things you literally couldn’t remember from your time with your mom. Distant flickers of barely-there echoes from a much darker, secret life. 

You were apparently an extreme pro at blocking out anything that may hurt you, and times with your mom and the things you’d done as a child were just that. 

Your eyes tracked the old wooden door, contemplating opening it when you saw the hole at the bottom of it. 

Another thing that had ‘always been there.’ But, right then and there, you could recollect the moment it happened. Clear as day. 

You’d been home alone with Elsie. Something had happened that had you screaming at her. Throwing things at her. Chasing her. If you were seeing the memory correctly, you had even managed to hit her with something. She’d gotten scared and the place she’d thought to run and hide had been your room. She’d been so stricken by the incident, sobbing for you to ‘stop, please!’ But you hadn’t listened. When she’d escaped behind the door, she shut it and locked you out. It had angered you more, making you release every last bit of bottled emotion with several hard kicks to the bottom of the door, resulting in the obscurity that now faced you, taunting you.

Then your grandparents had returned home, observed the incident, and decided that you both needed to immediately start counseling.

Without even realizing it, you were beginning to choke on dry sobs. Your breaths were becoming short and hard to catch. You couldn’t breathe. 

Your vision was fuzzy as you held to the door frame to balance yourself. But seeing it as pointless, your body going limp, your arms shaking, you slid down the wall to the floor. Putting a hand to your chest, you focused on taking deeper breaths, working to count each one you released. 

You pinched your eyes shut and tried to think of something to calm you down. 

Long hair that smelled like citrus. Smooth, tanned skin, glowing in the sun. A kiss underwater. A hand smoothing over your cheek, catching your tears. Soul-filled eyes, like dark whiskey, watching you closely and carefully. A body around yours, protecting you in the most quiet and intimate moments. The smell of sandalwood and amber.

But, right now, that smell was more present than it just being a figment of your imaginings. 

You slowly opened your eyes, still focusing on breathing, to find him right there, next to you. 

He was crouched down, a hand on the wall next to you, using his body as a shield around you. 

Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. It was like he knew you needed him.

“You were gone for a bit longer than what seemed normal,” he said, worry evident in his words. “What’s going on?”

Tears were escaping down your cheeks steadily. He took his flannel off, clad in a black t-shirt underneath, collar torn (on purpose?). Then, started dabbing at your cheeks for a few moments with his flannel. Once finished, he handed it to you, for you to wipe at your face with it. 

“Nothing's going on,” you gasped on a breath, almost bringing the flannel to your face when you stopped. “I don’t want to get it dirty with my makeup, Jake,” you gasped, still trying to calm yourself. But the relentless crying was making it near impossible. 

“I don’t care,” he went from crouching, to sitting against the wall, right beside you. His shoulder was a couple inches from touching your own. You caught yourself naturally leaning into it. “I want to help you. Let me.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that, letting the heartfelt words hang in the air around you two, laying your head on his shoulder. Bringing his flannel up to your face, you closed your eyes at the wonderful smell of him that lingered on the shirt and wiped your face with the plaid material.

Keeping your eyes closed, you used his steady breathing as an aid, trying to breathe in time with him. Anytime his shoulder would lift your cheek with a breath, you took one, too. It worked well, your chest feeling less tight, the tears subsiding. 

After a bit, you heard him speak again. His voice, causing a comforting rumble against your cheek. “What happened, honey?”

Honey. Your heart lurched in your chest at the name.

You slowly pried your eyes open again, focusing on the light beige of the walls and the way the textured paint on the wall made a sort of pattern.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. You feared bringing up the details of the way you used to behave. The idea of saying anything was embarrassing. It was daunting to think of exposing yourself like that. “Stuff from the past that’s embarrassing and awful.”

“Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

“Wrong.”

He snickered, placing a hand on your thigh. His trusty black hair-tie, wrapped around his middle finger. You traced the long digit, his knuckle, and then picked at the hair tie, pulling at it to see the skin beneath the band. 

Before you could do any more to his hand, he removed it from your leg. You watched, your head still leaning on his shoulder as he took the black rubber band off. Suddenly, you were moving from his shoulder as his body shifted. Peering up curiously, he motioned for you to turn your head. You did so, and within seconds, your hair was pulled up and away from your hot face. 

You looked over your shoulder at him, growing goosebumps as his fingers lingered on the skin of your neck. “Thank you.”

Situating yourself in your position from before, you decided on a whim to wrap your hand underneath his arm. You continued until you were lacing your fingers through his, his calloused fingertips wrapping around to rest on the top of your hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” he started, voice low, as if keeping a secret. “But I’m here. I need you to know that. Whatever the case may be, I am here for you.”

“Thanks,” you hummed, squeezing his hand. “Jake?”

“Hm?”

“How did things change between us?”

He chuckled. “Well, it started when you walked into my bedroom the night of—.”

You shushed him, not able to hide your light giggle as you used your other palm to hit his hard chest. How was he able to turn things around so quickly for you? Your body felt so light and airy now, calm and at peace. The foggy memories weren’t so scary when he was with you.

“I mean. . .how are we like this now? Cordial?”

“We started trusting each other, I guess,” he said, all joking gone from his tone. 

“Yeah. . .,” you agreed. “And as silly as it is, I think you were onto something with mentioning the first night we. . .”

“I don’t think it’s silly, honestly. . . If we are being honest with ourselves, sex changes everything,” he stated, his thumb tapping a light beat against your hand. He was right. It truly did change things. For good or for bad, you didn’t know. 

“And those Aretha Franklin songs the other morning. . .,” he pushed a breath from his lips to follow his words.

You gasped. “You felt it too?” Finally looking up from his shoulder, you ignored the voice that was telling you to not give into the moment as you turned to him. Because when you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes were familiar, honest, and real. You couldn’t help but let them be your safe place. That was what they’d become. 

It can’t be this way forever. Stop while you’re ahead, the voice warned. Stop giving in.

But you kindly told it to fuck off as you swam in his irises.

“It was impossible not to. The music and the moment. . . ,” he grinned, a dimple presenting itself in his cheek. Then he raised a brow, turning his head a bit, keeping his eye on you. “But, don't forget. We’re just roommates.”

You flushed. “I had to say that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hearing them from his mouth, you realized that your Grandpa had been right about your words being harsh. “Didn’t want anyone catching onto anything? I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes, but still there. His eyes traveled the walls around you. You could tell his mind was still looming on how he’d found you in the hallway, only minutes ago. 

The column of his neck hypnotized you, the muscles that flexed beneath the flesh so strong and sure. You were aching to put your lips on the skin, then his eyes found yours, caught you watching him, yet again. He lifted a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, staring at your mouth as you licked to wet them. 

When he bit his lip, it was over.

You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart was racing. . .

Without even worrying about getting caught, you angled yourself towards him until your lips met his in a kiss. You had to be near him. Needed to be closer, closer, closer. 

He gave it back, matching the force behind your kisses.

It continued like that for a few short moments, but right before you could slip your tongue between his lips, he placed a hand to your cheek, gentle as he held your face steady, pulling back to study your features.

He waited for you to speak. You both knew why he’d put a stop to it. 

And as if to drive the point home, Josh’s laugh echoed through the entire house— a blatant reminder of why you couldn’t do this here.

You looked down to see where he was situating himself in his black skinny jeans, your skin heating all the more. 

As much as you wanted to leave at that instant, you didn’t want to seem abrupt or strange by doing that. You knew it would be best to eat dessert and then leave. 

You tucked a couple of loose strands, having fallen from your makeshift ponytail, behind your ears. Then, you asked. “Wanna eat some pie and then get out of here?” 

“Sounds perfect.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Laying in his bed later that night, sweaty limbs pressed together and chests heaving, your head resting on his chest as he twirled fingers in your hair, now loose around your shoulders. . . You decided to tell him.

“Earlier tonight, when you found me,” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words. “I was trying to recover from a panic attack.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you said, pausing. As much as you wanted to look at him when you told him the next part, you decided it would be easier to keep your eyes on his SG, sitting on its stand across his bedroom. “I get them sometimes.”

“Why?” He asked, voice light and calm. 

“Different things. . . tonight, it was because I started having these extremely vivid flashbacks from my childhood.”

“About your mom?”

“Not necessarily— not this time,” you cleared your throat as tears pricked at your eyes. It hurt to think about the nasty, younger version of yourself. “This time, it was more about what I used to do when I was younger.” Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beating of his heart. 

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

This time, you were crying from his words and the way his skin felt against your own. He was your safety. He was here. He was real.

He was here to help. Let him.

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to settle your breaths, focusing on the way his heart beat rhythmically under your hand. 

So, you opened up. You told him about everything that Elsie had reminded you of that day in the car; told him what seeing the door had done to you – and everything that had reared its ugly head all at once tonight.

“Wow,” he let out a deep breath in response. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I was such a fucking demon,” you muttered sadly, your heart breaking as the images and sounds were once again coming back. “And I can’t escape it.”

“Why can’t you?”

You wrinkled your brows, resituating to lean on your arm beside him. His eyes followed you, open and honest and Jake. “I caused severe trauma for others– just like my mom did. I made mistakes that I can never take back.”

“You said you were ten?” He asked. You nodded. “You were a child.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But you need to give yourself some grace.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re human.”

“But so were the people I hurt.”

“Who would you say you hurt most?”

“Els.”

“And has she forgiven you?”

“I think so,” you muttered, remembering Elsie that day in the car.

“I’ve moved on. Anytime you did any of that stuff, I moved on as soon as you’d done it.”

“You were in pain and somehow, I just knew it. . . I knew then it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold something against you that you probably didn’t mean. I knew the only reason you were acting that way was because someone else had hurt you. It wasn’t all your fault. It was mostly mom’s. You just didn’t know how to react to it.” 

“Then you need to forgive yourself,” he said, moving some tresses of hair behind your shoulders to be able to put an open palm to your chest, right where your heart laid beneath the flesh. “Your heart is beautiful. That’s what matters. Always has been, always will be,” he gave you one kiss, deep enough to emphasize the words. It left you dizzy as he went back to his spot, never letting his hand leave your chest. “I just want you to understand that people make mistakes,” he smiled, reassuring. “I’ve made a shit ton.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, both of you sharing a knowing laugh. 

“But," you started, feeling the need to encourage him as well. "That wasn’t you. You were hurting.”

“So were you, back then,” he reasoned, his voice soft. 

“I guess,” you relented slightly. “Elsie told me a lot of this, too, but I just couldn’t believe her. It’s hard to see the good in myself from back then, though, knowing all of the horrific things I did,” you stated simply. You held his hand to your chest as you laid on your back, not wanting him to move it. “I just can’t shake how I let myself forget it so easily. I’ve gone all these years not truly knowing who I was– who I am.”

“Have you ever considered going to therapy again?”

“No,” your heart beat faster at the prospect.

He could feel it, and reacted as such. He came closer to you, his chest and stomach pressing into you, more skin-to-skin to help calm you. “Would you consider it?”

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hand and his, still over your heart. “Depends, I guess.”

He hummed. “Okay,” he answered, relenting from the hard questions. “How about you work on forgiving yourself and I’ll look into different types of therapy? Let you know what I come across?”

Your heart slowed down, the tiniest smile lifting your lips. Your hand gripped his. Your anchor. Your safety. “Alright.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

A couple days later, you sat on your couch, mesmerized by Jake, who was sitting next to you. 

Well, kind of. He was on the cushion at the opposite end of the sofa as you. 

All you wanted was to be closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself.

These days, if he was close enough for you to touch him, you were going to be touching him. Whether it be rubbing his shoulders, playing with his continuously growing hair, or laying on top of him (sometimes naked, sometimes not).

But you were appreciating your vantage point tonight. Watching closely as he played through some new songs with Josh. Josh would sing, and Jake would play the same thing. Jake would play, then Josh would sing it verbatim. 

It was interesting to watch them, bouncing off of each other creatively like that. 

Twin telepathy at its finest.

You were stuck in a trance, trying your damnedest to give equal attention to Josh, so as not to raise any suspicion. But it was getting harder and harder to resist watching Jake– being near him, day by day. 

Trying to find other things to focus on, your eyes floated across the room, observing all of the men around you. They’d all been growing their hair out as well. And, normally, a guy growing his hair out was not a huge deal. 

But with these guys? It seemed to you, it was a visual for their changing life. The longer their hair got, the more it was obvious that they were moving onto a new stage of life.

They were becoming rockstars. Truly.

Not only were they making music day in and day out, playing it live every week, preparing for a humongous music festival that would feature many huge bands. . . they were looking more and more like it, too. 

But they were still your boys. 

Never changing.

Sam’s ever-nasally voice interrupted your rambling thoughts, as if on cue. You smiled in his direction, pointing your attention to him. 

“Jake,” he started, excited as he looked intently at his phone screen.

“What, Sam?” He responded with a slight growl to say his younger brother’s name. “Can’t you tell I’m creatively processing?”

Danny let out one loud laugh, his eyes sparkling with a laugh. Josh joined in momentarily, then went back to humming

“Oh, fuck off, Jake,” he rolled his eyes, a smile still adorning his baby face. He trotted his lanky legs over to the couch, sitting between you and your roommate. “Look at this picture of Maya,” he angled the phone so it was right in front of Jake, but turned just right so you couldn’t see it. 

You giggled at Jake having to pull away from the bright screen to get a better look. “God, Sam,” he said, annoyed, grabbing the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Turn your fucking brightness down.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Jacob,” he responded, flipping his hair and rolling his eyes. He turned in your direction for support, throwing a thumb behind him at Jake. “He’s annoying.”

You were still laughing as you asked your question. “Who’s Maya?”

“Jake hasn’t told you about Maya?!” He wondered aloud, his voice raising a decibel or two. 

“No, I haven’t, Sam,” Jake said, his tone clipped, holding the phone tighter in his firm grip, long fingers flexing around the device. “Shut the fuck up.”

Your brows drew in at his behavior. Now you were dying to know who Maya was and why he was suddenly acting so weird about her.

“I ask again, who is Maya?”

“She’s asking Jake,” Sam stated, as if he’d won. “I’m telling her.”

“Sam–.”

“Maya is Jake’s super hot client that he used to fuck. When he first moved here,” Sam clarified. “Still does, I think. I mean, who wouldn’t?!” Then he laughed, hitting Jake’s stiff arm with the back of his hand.

He was doing what, now? 

Chancing a look at the man in question, you noticed he was angry.

Seething was a better term. 

You could tell as he gripped the neck of his guitar, his chest rising with constricted breaths, nose flaring, staring at Josh, who was simply shaking his head in return. 

Sam took his phone from Jake’s hand, gaining it with some effort. But getting it in his grasp anyway. Right as he’d done so, the hand Jake’d been holding it in clenched to a fist, his jaw tightening. The hand on the neck became dangerously tight.

“Sammy. . .,” Josh tried intervening. His eyes jumped back and forth between each brother, desperate for there to be peace. 

Social cues apparently off, Sam was still smiling wide. 

“This is Maya,” he said, flashing the phone in front of your face, holding it there for you to get a good, long look. 

No. Couldn’t be.

The air left your chest, your vision zeroing in on the bright screen of the phone, everything else blurry around you as your head suddenly felt extremely light, body heavy. 

Surely not. . .

You squinted, taking a closer look at the phone before you jumped to any sort of conclusion. 

But the house behind her, as well as her long, dark black hair. . . 

You knew you were correct in your assumption of who it was. 

The joy that the youngest brother exuded was the exact opposite of how you were feeling. The giant stone that had fallen to sit at the bottom of your stomach was suddenly weighing you to the couch. 

You nodded at the screen, pushing the device away from you, hands shaking slightly. “You really do need to turn your brightness down, Sam,” you said, clearing your throat as it got painfully tight.

Play it cool, play it cool.

You were working so hard to hide your emotions. A small smile twitched at your lips. The tears in your throat made them wobble a tiny bit. 

Stop it, y/n.

Jake’s voice cut through, directly to your ears.  “It meant nothing—.” 

You didn’t look at him, only focusing back on Sam as he spoke. You tried hard to keep your eyes wide and clear of anything concerning.

“He still sees her for lessons,” he said, wiggling his brows. “What happens at guitar lessons, stays at guitar lessons,” he elbowed Jake’s arm, tense as the muscle in his bicep flexed, fist still bunched. “Am I right, brother?!”

Sam was the only one smiling in the room. 

The room was tense, Sam tucking his phone back into the pocket of his silky, vibrant button down. He pushed his sunglasses further into his hair.

You were frozen, not even daring to look up at Jake’s face. You studied your hands, then grabbed your phone off of the coffee table to pretend you were checking it. The frenzied emotions in your gut were not trustworthy. If you looked at him, you were sure you’d fall apart.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they’re still fucking, you tried to reassure yourself. Right?!

But then, you thought about him taking a while at her house. All of his excuses were adding up. 

Had three Ubers really canceled? Or had he just been too busy fucking her and lost track of time?

It made sense, considering the way she’d watched him leave. The hug. 

And what he’d said to her right before he got in the car. Talking about his ‘favorite part of his day’ . . . Fuck. Your chest hurt, the words making so much more sense now. . .

His favorite part of the day. . . 

Your vision got cloudy. What were you? Sad? Angry? Both? You couldn’t fucking tell.

You just needed to get out of the room. 

As you stood up from your spot, your legs wobbled a bit, your mind scrambling for the first excuse that could come to it. “I’ve gotta pee.”

Still not looking at Jake, you walked as fast as you could to the bathroom. 

The last thing you heard before shutting the door to the bathroom was Danny’s voice, trying to break the air-right atmosphere.

“How about dinner?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: uh oh. . .

alsoooo, you'll notice that we haven't even gotten to the scene from the sneak peek yet. . . all of that will come to you in part 2. . . see you again soon, loves ;)

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[hearted-anon]

lee seungmin ler changbin i begggg

maybe smth like skz preparing for ATE and seungmin is js being an ass during dance practice so changbin gets him good for it😞

feel free to change the whole prompt if u want!!

Enough is enough!

Words: 1136

Note: seungbin

T/w: rough tickles

Lee: Seungmin

Ler: Changbin

Changbin groaned dramatically as he felt a certain puppy lay himself on the rapper, choking out a gasp when the weight shifted as if someone had jumped onto him. Seungmin was in quite the happy mood, much to Changbin’s dismay. He wondered where the younger got all that energy from, seeing how their schedules were as tight as a rope on their neck with upcoming songs to film, most of the members having already run out of energy and snoring themselves away.

“Seungmin…not now…” Changbin whined, muttering curses under his breath tiredly before resting his head on his hands; he could not deal with the puppy’s shenanigans right now. Almost oblivious to the growing frustrations of the rapper, Seungmin continued to toy around with his dear hyung, poking around at his cheeks or flinging around his limbs in random positions, you name it, he’s probably already done it way before you even thought of the idea.

“Do you not love me hyung~?” Seungmin wailed, tugging on the sleeve of Changbin’s shirt, and that was just about the last straw he had for the day. Not wanting to scare his dongsaeng away, his mind racked of thoughts to put the vocalist in his place, mind coming up with all sorts of evil ideas that will ensure that he could finally get a goodnight’s rest without being disturbed constantly.

Tackling the younger, it was more than evident that he wasn’t expecting the rapper to even have thought of a retaliation to his annoying actions; going down with a war cry as they tumbled around on the carpeted floor. Sounds of wood creaking and floors squeaking ran throughout the empty room, the chase of a real life reenactment of Tom and Jerry happening right at the scenes. Eventually, Changbin came out victorious, a fight with the strongest member of Stray Kids would never be fair, lest you were called Bangchan.

“You are so going to pay for interrupting my sleep.” The older threatened lowly, pressing his arm down onto the squirming puppy’s back to ensure he was going to stay, even if he didn’t want it. Seungmin whimpered under him, before deflating like a popped balloon and laying on the ground in defeat; he’d rather suffer whatever Changbin had in store than get any of the other members involved, knowing that their dear Binnie had a soft spot for not hurting others.

“B-But I- Hehehey!” Seungmin’s pleas were cut off by a loud shriek when fingers squeezed around his sides, turning into bubbly, and low giggles instead. No matter how much he tried to tear off the producer’s fingers that were glued onto the sensitive skin, his vulnerable position of laying on his stomach prevented that; Binnie didn’t even have to use much strength to keep his fingers going in a steady rhythm.

“What? I said I’d get my revenge, did I not?” Changbin hummed, it wasn’t often he was this sadistic, it made his heart twist in terms of principles whenever he did so, but when it came to Seungmin? Morals had never mattered to him in the first place. Wiggling his soft but steadfast fingers over the vocalist’s sides, he continued to hum a familiar tune, wondering where else he could go next to prolong his ‘punishment’. Going to bad spots would make it end too fast, he wanted- needed his time to enjoy this.

“Stahahahp it- NOHO! Y-Yohohou idiohohot!” Seungmin barked out when the rapper’s fingers hit his ribs, squeezing his fingers in between to scratch at the flesh in the bones. It earned quite a loud protest, Changbin’s eyebrows furrowing at the puppy calling him an ‘idiot’. How did he still have the guts to insult him whilst being punished?! He knew that he was known to be softest but was he that soft? Frowning, he decided to up his game, flipping Seungmin over to face him at last.

“Excuse me? What did you call me?” Binnie raised an eyebrow, sending a fearful shiver down Minnie’s spine. He squirmed under his gaze, not used to the stern glare that he was being given right here, right now. It only heightened when his shirt was teasingly lifted up, exposing his pale and taut tummy to the cold air. Seeing the frightened look in the younger’s eyes, he couldn’t help but soften like a melted marshmallow, his gaze once stern now a smile.

“Um…an idiot?” Seungmin whimpered, hesitating even more when he saw that look in Changbin’s eyes, which looked more mischievous than anything he would ever call friendly.

Without warning, Changbin dove his head down with a deep breath before blowing the longest, and probably noisiest raspberry he could right on top of the vocalist’s belly button, earning an even louder scream in return. Cackles erupted from the younger, low but high pitched whenever he would hiccup between his hysterics.

“HYUHUHUNG! I-I’M SOHOHOHORRY!” It wasn’t often that the puppy would even beg, or apologise for that matter, which sent a wave of happiness through Changbin. Unfortunately for him, it just egged the rapper on more, shrieking when another raspberry was blown onto his stomach. His pleas were met with silence, the producer simply basking in the mess he was making of Seungmin, maybe he shouldn’t be so soft anymore.

“P-PLEAHAHA- NOHOHO!” Seungmin cried out when fingers found their way to the sides of his belly, grabbing the thin strips of flesh before kneading harshly. He could’ve sworn he never felt so ticklish from one singular person, his neck and ears taking on a beautiful shade of red. His head tossed back in ticklish agony, stamping his feet onto the ground to attempt to relieve the sensations while his hands pushed hard at Changbin’s head; it didn’t work.

“NOHOHO MORE!!” The vocalist pleaded after another bout of silence and another messy raspberry hit his navel, fingers refusing to let up on the sensitive strip of skin. Tears of mirth began to well up in his eyes, losing any sort of strength he had to continue fighting against the shorter. Noticing how desperate he seemed to be, Changbin gave him the relief of stopping, wiping the tears gently compared to his ruthless attack mere seconds beforehand.

“Learnt your lesson?” The rapper snickered, earning a squeak of agreement from below him when he ghosted his fingers over the younger’s waist again as a warning. Grabbing him up, he tossed Seungmin right into his arms, snuggling up to his free puppy plushie as he inhaled the mint scent of his shampoo; he’d have to borrow it sometime. Their eyes slowly began to lid, snores quickly filling the room as they succumbed to their sleepy fate.

The next morning it was heard that the dwaekki walked out with a red face, Seungmin having the same smug smile plastered on his face.

[anisespice]

“ that electric toothbrush sounds crazy right now ” || hq! 

synopsis: on the phone with them, & the buzzing coming from your end sounded a little suspect.  pairing: various x fem!reader [ bokuto, oikawa, mattsun ] warnings: mature language, mentions of phone sex, crack note: based on a real life event i had where i thought my friend’s electric shaver was a vibrator lol p.s changed it to a toothbrush since i figured it was a more common tool compared to shavers. p.p.s i don’t know what this is either. but hope you enjoy! ♡

bokuto ッ 

Flabbergasted. This man would be caught SO off guard, immediately turning red as fucking stop sign thinking that he was being a pervert or sum. While on the phone with Big B, you were in separate time zones due to volleyball—He was getting up, you were getting ready for bed. It was a regular phone call since FaceTime wanted to act up due to his poor connection, and he refused to break tradition of you falling asleep next to him…distance be damned.

It’s only been a week, and he’s already homesick. You could hear his teammates teasing him in the background, amused at the fact Bokuto held no shame in expressing his undying love for you so openly, but expected nothing less. However, it wasn’t long until the atmosphere changed when you started brushing your teeth. Your boyfriend had no idea you recently bought a new toothbrush, let alone an electric one. So when the buzzing started and you went silent for a while…

You heard shuffling, concerned but you figured he was just moving around so you continued brushing your teeth. It wasn’t until you heard the sound of a door slam did you decide to spit in worry. “Ko? You alright?”

He’s quiet; alarmingly quiet. Then, with strain, he squeaked.

“U-Uhm…babe? Can I get a warning next time, t-the guys were still around—Unless, y-you’re into that! Which is totally fine, b-but I wished you brought it up beforehand so that I was prepared…”

You had no clue what he was going on about, and he kept rambling until you eventually asked him what the issue was. When he did, you barely held it together; you were never going to let him live this down. Now before you brushed your teeth over the phone, you’d tease by warning him ahead of time. 

Bokuto turned red every single time.

oikawa ッ 

Obnoxious. This BITCH would be eating it up! Despite the fact that he freaked himself out jumping to this conclusion, not knowing how to handle it at first, he couldn’t help but to scandalize it immediately.  

He, like Bokuto, would be out of town due to volleyball, so phone calls were a must. At any point in time Oikawa had a free moment, he’d be on the phone with you. If it wasn’t already apparent, this man was needy for you, craving your presence like oxygen. You’d call him dramatic, and with good reason, but wouldn’t want it any other way—You missed him just as much. 

So, when you went outta frame while he was reminiscing about his day, he thought nothing of it; he knew you liked to keep busy while on the phone. But, as soon as his ears caught on to the faint sound of buzzing from your end, that conversation flew right out the window. Like a meerkat, Oikawa sat straight up as he pulled the phone closer to his face, angling it around as if that would help him see further into the room. This man would put the speaker up to his ear and STRETCH it to see if he could hear any…other sounds. 

“Goodness, [_____], how very lewd of you. If you missed me that much all you had to do was say so, sweetheart!~” 

When you came back into frame, foam in your mouth and toothbrush in hand with a confused expression, Oikawa’s entire demeanor just deflated. 

“Oh. Nevermind.” 

mattsun ッ 

Smug. Thinks he’s hot shit AKSJSKS and he is  but that’s not to say he wouldn’t be caught off guard. Whenever y’all called one another, you’d be doing your own things on the phone as if you were in the same room. He’d either be playing video games or watching tv while you’d be on social media, or doing chores around your apartment, just to keep each other company without needing to waste gas (especially in this economy whew). 

At some point during your regularly scheduled phone call, you decided to brush your teeth to keep from eating anymore junk before bed (as if that would really stop anyone, but it helps sometimes lol). Mattsun had been so engrossed in whatever he was doing, didn’t even notice you getting up and taking your phone to the bathroom. It wasn’t until you turned the water on and your toothbrush did his mind instantly go in the wrong direction in terms of identifying the sound; he knew it was a toothbrush, but just couldn’t help himself. 

“Whoa, if you wanted privacy, you could’ve just hung up. But, can’t say I don’t like where this is headed.” He’d tease. You’d come into frame with your toothbrush in your mouth, confused as hell. Mattsun wiggled his eyebrows as he leaned closer to the phone. “You gonna swallow for me, princess?” 

“WHAT?” 

© 2022-2023 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

My Sunshine

Author's notes: Alpharius in Living Water AU. T hank you to @egrets-not-regrets for letting me borrow Mara the Harpy Elder. :)

Past =-= Next

Warnings: None that I can think of. Let me know if you need me to add anything.

Summary: Zariel and his brothers enjoy time with their and pestering the Scout-lings. One in particular is their favorite to harass.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Zariel decides to uncurl from around his lovely Lana as he goes stalking after Claude. Of all the Scout-lings, when he or the others in his squad stalk after him. The little Raven spots them first and has the most displeased scowl on his face and zoom off to find his battle buddy to have help getting the mean old Alpha legionary to back off.

“Why don't you spar with me yourself, Claude?” Zariel asks, pitching his voice in a taunting tone.

“I don't want you to touch me,” Claude retorts.

“We don't have cooties or a touch born Plague for you to worry about,” Zariel says half amused.

“I don't want you to steal my face,” Claude says, still scowling at him and moving swiftly through the water 

“Now that's silly,” Zariel says amused,”Why do you think I need to touch you in order to do that?”

Claude scowls at him again, “I want as little to do with you and your squad as possible. Leave me alone.”

“I’ll back off for now,” Zariel says raising his hands, a smirk on his stupid teal scaled face as the older Space Marine swims off.

Claude doesn’t relax until after Zariel has fully swum into the air and started to flirt with Lana again. Good that will distract the First Born Marine for hours and he can finish helping the Gannet Harpies with their chores, easily lifting heavy weights and carefully, delicately setting them down where they asked him to put them.

Mara calls him over after a few more hours of work, noticing how twitchy and upset he’s been getting lately, “What’s the matter Claude?”

She isn’t the only to notice that Claude seems to be particularly upset by the Alpha Legionaries and how those same older mers tend to harass the poor fledgling. He takes in a couple of deep breaths as he tries to figure out what to say.

“The… Zariel and his squad keep bugging me,” Claude says as he rubs his face, “I… think for my own peace of mind, I’m going to have to tap out of helping you all for a while… until they decide they are bored with me.”

“If you think that’s best,” Mara says, peering up at him. “I could talk to Lana to see if she can get them to back off?”

“That will only partially work,” Claude says, “but I’d appreciate it if you would. I’ve fold them before that I don’t want to have anything to do with them, but they b-... they won’t listen much. They back off, only to try again later.”

He knows from his fellow Primaris Marines, those who also were cursed with teal in their scales, unless they focused to become different. That physical touch, even if both of them are in armor, a mental link is formed between both. Telepathic communication and other benefits and drawbacks can arise with such a thing.

Claude knows that Zariel is the highest ranking, and strongest personality of the squad of Alpha legion Space Marines in this squad. He knows that Zariel will realize as soon as he touches Claude, or one of his squad does, what Claude has.

The trainers warnings ring in his ears, of what the Chaos or Renegade First Born Alpha legion troopers would do, could do, to them if it’s ever found out that the Mechanicum, in all their infinite wisdom decided to mix Holy, Loyal, Primarch Geneseed, with despicable, Treacherous and Deamon Primarch gene-seed. Not that most knew what it was they had. 

The voices giggle and cackle in his ear, crooning that change is inevitable, and unless he wants to avoid the Gannet Harpies until Lana either decides she’s sick of the Alpha Legion First Born, or she dies and that same squad leaves for another potential bond that something must give. 

He’s glad that at least Cedric knows and still cares for him. Even the unsightly parts that have him wishing he was something, someone else. Cedric has said that he should talk to the others, and should show them that Jophiel of all of them would understand as he has similar self image and body issues. 

But he… can’t. The fear of Rejection, the way that they reacted to the First Born Alpha Legion Troopers had… been eye opening. He’s been… hiding what he truly is for decades. They are likely to react, understandably, poorly for this deception of his. 

He snaps out of his spiral as he hears Lana’s voice, as she’s firmly talking to Zariel and focuses on her words as she continues to speak, a stern look on her face. Mara beside her, the elder Harpy also looks disappointed in the first born Alpha legion space marine.

“-ow many times do I need to tell you this?” Lana continues, “Claude doesn’t want  to interact with you! He’s stated it in multiple different ways and methods. If he decides to change his mind, then he will approach on in his own time. Leave. Him. Be.”

“But Lana,” Zariel whines at her, his teal eyes wide and pleading, “I just want to get to know the little brother, I mean cousin better.”

“Brother?” Mara says with a light trill cocking her head to the side as she says that.

“All younger space marines are either brother’s or cousins,” Zariel says by way of explanation with a shrug and a gesture with one of his tentacles. “I don’t know why I said brother, when he’s a little cousin from the Raven Guard.”

“Must of been a slip of the tongue, then,” Mara muses.

Meanwhile, Claude just barely able to contain himself as he almost felt like both of his hearts were about to burst from his chest after they stopped for a moment or two when Zariel had referred to him accidentally as a little brother, not cousin.

From what Zariel continues to say, he hadn’t… he and the other First Born Alpha Legion Space Marines don’t know what he is. At least not consciously. Fuck. He needs to get away from rock and stay away for a while. Likely months, if not years, if he can speak with Cedric and see what they can do to coordinate things so that when he does visit the Rock, that they aren’t nearby.

“I… have to go,” Claude tells one of the other Gannet Harpy cousins.

“Are you sure?” Leo says, frowning up at him, “You look like you just saw an Orca.”

“Ah- no, I could fight and win against that,” Claude says confidently, “It’s just…”

“The Alpha Legion Space marines are bothering you again?” Leto finishes, they had landed nearby, having heard the pair of them talking. “You know, running from them won’t help in the long run, no matter how tempting it is.”

“... I just don’t want to confront them right now,” Claude says, “And it’s up to five on one, and they are… older and can be very dangerous if provoked. Besides, they have a bond with Lana. They can be very territorial.”

[hp-hcs]

I just binged read, probably all of your works and omg I love them so much😭

I need new chapters for "Pansy's brother", "splinched", and "Phoenix tears" (if you have the time ofc)

These are my favorite works, and you wrote them so well. I love them so much, and I'm desperate for a new read🤕

you are so fuckin sweet. you got me smiling like a damn fool over here, man. i’ve already got a new chapter for pansy’s brother in my drafts, but i’ll for sure add phoenix tears to the list!

also we’re gonna pretend like i didn’t totally forget about splinched’s existence, okay? okay.

requests open

beef stew (Chapter Three of Splinched) — death eater! theodore nott x splinched! male! muggleborn! reader

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was a lie. 

Theodore had told you that his reason for helping you was merely because ���the Dark Lord doesn’t like his things damaged’.

What utter bullshit. 

This was the Dark Lord. The guy who didn’t hesitate to try to murder a baby based on a half-heard prophecy foretold by a washed-up flake. He didn’t give two shits if his things were damaged. 

Theo shivered as a particularly cold gust of wind blew past the entrance of the tent. It’d been maybe an hour, at the most, since you both went silent, but your illness had steadily been getting worse. 

The biting snow swept inside the tent, making you sneeze immediately as soon as it touched you. You shivered violently, your teeth chattering. 

Theo grunted resolutely and tugged off the blanket from around his shoulders, turning around halfway to wrap it around you, despite your frame already being dwarfed by three other blankets. 

He stepped out of the tent, the thick drifts of snow crunching underfoot as he returned to the campfire. 

“Now what?”

You sniffled once, your eyes red with exhaustion and illness. One trembling hand emerged from the blankets to point at the pile of wood and sticks that Theo had collected, already nearly covered with snow. 

He couldn’t help but notice how violently your hand shook just from that tiny motion, your arm feebly falling back into your lap and disappearing under the blankets. You already looked worn out just from the tiniest exertion. 

You guys are fucked.

“A-add a log ‘r two,” your voice trembled. You quickly cleared your throat, blinking rapidly, and enunciating your words as if that would un-sicken yourself or something.

Theodore also noticed how you seemed to be trying to hide the extent of your illness and pain from him. 

“That should b-be good. Now try to find two fairly even branches that are ‘Y’ shaped.”

Theo was unnerved by how tired you sounded, how you hadn’t cracked a single joke nor made one witty comeback in the past hour. He silently pawed through the pile of wood, wordlessly holding up two medium-sized branches, about equal, that each ended in a fork. 

You tersely nodded once. “Set them upright in the ground across th’ fire from each other. The split part should face u-upwards.”

He did as you said, embedding the two branches upright into the nearly-frozen ground. “That good?”

“Yeah. T-try to find the longest, s-straightest branch and lay it across th’ uprights.”

Really, the lack of humor from you was unnerving. Theo debated cracking a joke just to see if you’d smile. He toyed with the idea as he searched the pile to find a branch long enough to span across the fire, before throwing caution to the wind and just making his dumb joke. 

“I think this one’ll work. It’s straighter than I am.”

He avoided looking in your direction as he laid the branch across the fire, resting in the fork of each of the uprights. 

Merlin that was so stupid why would you say that out loud you dumb fuck what if he’s not even gay? Did you think about that? No, of course yo-

His anxious doubt and regret are interrupted by your laughter. 

He turns, surprised to see you sitting up straighter, a grin on your face and a sparkle in your eye that he knew wasn’t there before. 

“Y-you and me both, N-Nott.”

He grinned back at you, relieved. He ignored the way his heart fluttered at your confession.

He caught your eyes lingering on him for just a moment too long and a bright flush rushed to his cheeks. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“So. Uh. What next?”

Your smile remained, although it dialed the intensity back a bit, as you nod to the fucking Muggle tea kettle sitting in front of you. 

“Uh, t-this was all I could find in my b-bag that would work. ‘ve already put everything in, you just need’ta hang it over th’ fire on the cross-branch by its handle. Uh… it’ll- when it w-whistles, the water’s b-boiling and dinner’s ready.”

Theo nodded, tromping back over to the tent to collect the tea kettle, then following your instructions, albeit a bit clumsily. 

(He’s doing his best, you conceded.)

It’s not long before the whistling of the kettle can be heard, and Theodore follows your instructions, bringing the kettle over and setting it down in the snow a foot away from the entrance to the tent. The snow around the hot metal immediately turns into thick steam, hissing loudly. 

You instruct Theo on how to put out the fire by burying it, insisting that he triple check for embers, despite his complaints about being cold.

He returns once more to the tent, stepping around the sizzling kettle in the snow, ducking inside, and taking off his laughably impractical, soaked-through shoes. (“Augury-hide boots, Y/N! These are the finest shoes money can buy! Stop laughing!”)

You watch as he takes off his waterlogged cloak (which was decidedly not made for magical mid-September snowstorms in the sticks) and sits down next to you. 

You consider him for a moment before opening up one arm, wordlessly inviting him to share your blankets. He gratefully takes you up on the offer, practically diving underneath them and curling close to you to soak up your body heat. 

He’s absolutely frigid, and you elbow him in the side when his freezing hands make contact with your wrist. He snickers, pulling the tea kettle inside and zipping up the flap of the tent to keep out the wind, then pressing his freezing fingers to the back of your neck. 

You yelp in surprise. “M-motherfucker!”

Theo dissolves into laughter, apologizing. “Sorry, sorry.”

“F-fuck you. You d-don’t get dinner ‘nymore,” you sniff haughtily, the mock-tone in your voice not reaching quite it’s intended effect, what with the way your voice shakes and your words slur together.

“I said I’m sorry!” Theo protests, scooting over to give you more room as you both get situated in the small tent.

You tsk, shaking your head as you open the lid of the tea kettle and pull out the two brown foil packages that bob up and down in the slowly-settling boiling water. 

“The fuck are these?”

“C-civilian MREs,” you say cheerily as you pull them out, handing him the plastic spoon from his kit. “Enjoy your…” you glance at the packaging of yours as you tear it open. “V-vaguely ‘Beef Stew’-adjacent m-meal.”

“What’s an MRE?” He asks, following your lead and opening his package hesitantly.

“‘Meal, Ready to Eat’,” you say around a spoonful of ‘Beef Stew’. “Military rations. Taste like shit, b-but they last a ridiculously long time an’ you don’t even hafta ‘frigerate ‘em.”

“And… why do you own these?”

“T-they’re my brothers’. They go c-camping all the time, an’ there’s this camping s-supply store in my town that sells these dirt cheap.”

Theo watches the way your eyes light up when you speak of your family and hometown. His heart clenches in his chest as he shoves away the thought of what all he’s ripped you away from. 

“These ones ‘re only c-cheap though,” you continue your chatter, much to Theo’s (although he’d never admit it) delight. He notices how your voice gets clearer and stronger and your hands steadier the more you eat. “‘Cause they don’t come with FRHs. They’re like, eight pounds more each just for that. I know how to boil water, I don’t need an eight pound FRH.”

Theo stares at you, amused. 

You flush. “Oh- right. S-sorry. Uh, you don’t c-care ‘bout Muggle stuff.”

“No, no. Please, continue. FRH?”

“Flameless ration heater,” you mumble timidly. “Jus’ add water, an’ it’ll heat up your meal without a fire or nothin’.”

“I’ll admit, you Muggles are certainly quite… innovative.”

“Yeah. Shame we’re being hunted for sport by genocidal wizards with god complexes,” you say in a clipped tone, your demeanor suddenly becoming cool and standoffish.

That shuts Theo up real quick. 

[x-infernhoes-x]

Of Love and Lust: [Various Vento Auro x Reader] Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Genre: smut/romance, ANGST :DDDDDDDDD Notes: Listen, I’m no Abbacchio simp BUT BUT B U T I adore the man to bits and he’s also like this funky lil dude that’s like that one skrunkly you just wanna tear into bits /affectionate anyways! Suggested Song(s) to Listen to: Do I Wanna Know? by The Arctic Monekys (Hozier cover) Take Me to Church by Hozier

Leone Abbacchio was once a man of justice and steel resolve, his determination and dedication to Naples was almost admirable and you can see it in his eyes how he wanted to uphold the principles of being a good and just cop but things seemed to take a turn for the worst the moment he took that dirty crook’s bribe that soon led to the death of his partner.

Actually, the moment he became a cop was the first sign of things going south very quickly, the death of his partner only intensified it. Up until now, Abbacchio still blames himself. Even if it's been at least what?? Four or five years since the death of his partner and only friend in the police force and seeing him like this every time that horrid day would come, it pains you to see Abbacchio drink himself to near-death. Thankfully, you had Bucciarati and the rest of the gang to help you out whenever Leone got out of hand. It’s been years since you’ve last seen him. The last time you heard about Abbacchio was when he joined in with Bruno on betraying the boss and during that time, you were hospitalized after a rather risky mission with your own team. Fugo had filled you in about the details regarding their betrayal and his choice to stay with the organization and almost everything in between. As much as you respected Fugo’s choice to stay, you chose to disappear and leave Passione for a while and you did. Tonight, happened to mark the date of Abbacchio’s partner’s death and you knew that the man was drinking himself to death once more, the rain even seemed to fit the mood too. But what surprised you the most that evening was that he wasn’t intoxicated of the sort, or at least that’s how he sounded like when he called you, asking if he could meet you face to face. Of course, you agreed and found yourself leaving the warm confines of your home before driving towards the address Leone had graciously had given you not so long ago.

You realized that this may be the first time that he’s ever invited you to his place. Unlike his visible reluctance when it came to showing his stand, Abbacchio was never reluctant when it comes to terms to his home address. After all, he did need some help in case he got way too drunk. Stepping out of your car and heading towards his door, you were surprised to see the door was unlocked and that’s when your senses kicked in. What if he called you because he got attacked by an enemy stand user? You knew Leone was the muscle in Buccirati’s squad, but you also knew that Moody Blues wasn’t made for fighting. Pulling out your stand, you were on guard as you made your way upwards to where the silver-haired gangster was, silently hoping that he was safe and uninjured.

All your worries seemed to disappear when you saw him safe from harm but it soon returned when you saw him look up at you, looking so broken and guilty, it seemed to pull at your heartstrings to see him like this and found yourself kneeling right next to where he sat, surrounded by empty bottles of wine and half empty glasses containing the beverage.

When you asked him what was wrong, he seemed to break down from right there and there, his cheeks streaked with his ruined makeup, profusely mumbling apologies to you, explaining what happened to him at Sardinia and how he was briefly reunited with his partner and you in turn took them whole heartedly, after all, he was your boyfriend and the only person that you had in your life.

Silence seemed to rule the space between you and after a few minutes of silence, you decided to do something. For the first time in years, you kissed him, you kissed him until you couldn’t feel your lips anymore, you kissed him until his dark lipstick was smeared on your lips and he did the same too. He kissed you with such desperation and need, almost as if your kiss would take away his sins. He was kissing you like you were his only redemption to this unforgiving world.

Bottles and glasses were pushed aside and wine spilled on the carpet below the two of you, but Leone didn’t seem to give a damn about it anyways.

Hands would eventually tug and grip and caress every inch, nook and cranny your bodies had, and you could feel the utter need and desperation he had for you. Soon the two of you moved to his bedroom where Leone worshiped you like you were his only deity, his savior and redemption, and he was on his knees before you, kissing every inch of you that he craved oh so much before his mouth finally found that one place that made you cry out his name to the heavens and that was enough for him. Enough for him to be cleansed of his past sins and stain on his hands, the memories, everything. Tears seemed to roll down his cheeks as he moved with you, his knuckles white and breath hitched and you felt his emotions roll off of you and found yourself locking lips with Leone once more, your hands gripping his disheveled silver locks, emotional gradient eyes staring right into your very soul and the world seemed to freeze, whispering your final praise and call of his name into the cold night air that was soon followed by his own plea like a distant echo of a chorus, bodies still pressed together, holding you so tight as if you’d disappear right there on the spot and lips whispering words of love, devotion and of forgiveness.

That night, Leone Abbacchio was reborn and he made sure to change his ways for the better.

[giggly-squiggily]

Hello, hello, hello my favourite fluff writer! Have you been good? I absolutely adore all your D o u m a/ K o k u s h i b o tickle fics! Their personalities compliment each other's so well XD. I know you've written one like this, but may I please request a Lee! Koku Ler! Douma fic? I don't have a specific prompt for this, so you can do whatever you want! (If you accept the request of course :))

Ahh YESH!!! Heyo anons! I hope it's alright that I combined these two! Kokudouma is such a delightful ship for me, and since we're in winter; I figured why not make something a bit snowy? Hehehe! I hope you like it!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07, @giggly-toybox

“Hey.”

Douma’s voice held a teasing note as he poked his head in, vibrant eyes dancing as they landed on Kokushibou. He gestured, a single clawed finger curling invitingly to follow. “I wanna show you something.”

The older demon watched him for a long moment, a war of curiosity and weariness dueling it out within. Then he stood, following the grinning blonde.

He didn’t ask where they were going- he knew he wouldn’t get an answer. He did let Douma’s hand find his, cold and solid yet strangely comforting against his calloused palm. When they reached their destination, they stood in one of the castle’s many large empty rooms.

“Here we are!” Douma clapped, sashaying to the middle of the room as he turned his gaze onto Kokushibou. “Ready?”

“For what exactly?” He asked. What was Douma going to do?

The blonde only smiled. And then…

A snowflake landed on his nose.

Kokushibou looked at it cross-eyed, earning a gleeful cackle from the blonde. More snowflakes fell around them, raining slowly down against the wooden floors until the color went from red to white. Douma continued to laugh, spreading his arms out wide and spinning on one foot as he brought down flake after flake. “Isn’t this lovely, Koku?”

“It’s…cold.” Kokushibou mused, knowing it was an underwhelming response but not sure how else to describe it. Holding out his hands, he let the snow gather within, crystalizing his skin and chilling him to the bone. “Very cold.”

“Pfft- of course it is! It’s snow! Surely you’ve grown up with snow before?” Douma grinned cheekily, sticking out his tongue to catch a stray flake. He almost missed the somber look crossing the other’s face in his glee. “Koku…?”

The ground was thick and hard to walk through. His legs hurt from the intense chill, and his breath came out a long puffs of white. Ahead of him, a boy with his face turned back to laugh, waving as he encouraged him to follow.

“Koku?” His name- his new name- being called shook him from his memory. He looked up to find Douma watching him. How’d he get so close without him noticing? “Are you still here?”

“I…yes.” Kokushibou shook his head, scattering away the past. “Forgive me..snow and I- we don’t have a fondness for one another.”

“Oh?” Douma looked sad then. Kokushibou wanted to snatch the words right back. Then the blonde was smiling once more. “Well, we just have to fix that, won’t we?”

“What-” Before Kokushibou could speak, Douma had his hands in his once more, pulling him further into the room with a laugh. Snow danced around them like fairy lights, blurring his vision some as Douma twirled them around. “Come now, frolic with me!”

This room was big, but not that big. The snow had gotten thick around his ankles, and even with his thick robes, he still felt the chill.

And yet…

“That’s it!” Douma laughed as Kokushibou attempted to “frollic”. He tried copying Douma’s footwork, but found himself tripping more than usual. The ground was particularly icy in places, sending them both slipping into one another as they went about the room. It was…fun. A rare feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Hehe, look at us go! Isn’t this lovely-” Douma went to smile at him over his shoulder just as his leg went backwards. Wide eyed, he scrambled for purchase, the closest thing to him being Kokushibou himself.

They hit the ground soon after, cushioned by the fluffy snow.

“Pfft! Pfft, pfft!” Kokushibou sputtered out reddish brown hair, shoving his bangs out of his face with his free hand. The one clutching Douma’s stayed firm, if not a bit tight. “Douma, are you alright?”

A rhetorical question- they were demons that could heal in seconds. Still, the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“Aww, you’re worried about me?” Douma popped up with a smile, half leaning into Kokushibou as he propped himself up. “Oh Koku, you do care!”

“Of course I do.” His lips were loose today. Maybe it was the frollicing- or perhaps something was in the snow. “I always care about you.”

Douma gasped some at that, eyes widening. If demons could blush, Kokushibou imagined he’d be pink in the cheeks right now. The mental image of that did funny things to his stomach.

“Oh, aren’t you a sweet talker!” Douma cooed, climbing further up Kokushibou as he wrapped his arms around him. “And here I thought I was the charismatic one! You should come to one of my follower meetings. We’d be the talk of the town!”

“No thanks. I’d likely drive them away with my presence.” Six eyes was a lot to take in…

“What? No way! You’re so handsome!” Douma cooed. When Kokushibou raised an eyebrow, Douma grinned- curling the hands resting against his sides. “You’re incredibly handsome! Look at that chiseled jaw, those high cheekbones, those eyes!” Douma leaned in so they were nose to nose, drinking in the older demon’s wobbly smile. “I wanna swim in them~”

“Ehe! Ehehehehehehe, Doohoohouma, plehahahahhase!” Kokushibou tried capturing his hands, but Douma was far too quick! His long nails made short work pressing through the thick fabric of his robes, sending little shocks of ticklishness up his core. “Ihiiihihiht’s tohoohohohoo cohohohohold!”

“Is it now? Well, I’ll just have to warm you up!” Douma teased, increasing his efforts as he clawed at the other demon’s ribs, earning a series of deep rich chuckles and snickers. “Can’t let you turn into a Koku-sicle, can I? Hehehe~”

“Thahahaht whahahahhas a thhehehehehrrihiihihhible johohohoohohke!”

“You’re laughing though~”

“Shhuuhuhuhuhuhush!” Realizing he wasn’t getting out of this one easily, he changed tactics. Reaching out, he grasped Douma by the waist, pulling him across him and into the snow beside him. With their limbs tangled temporarily it gave him just the opening he needed.

“Whoa! Aren’t you-EEK!” Douma squealed, arching as fingers attacked his hip, sending snow flying with his flailing limbs. “Nohohooohohoho, Kohohoohohokooohohohoho! Aheahhhahhahahah!

“What’s so funny, Douma? Have another joke?” He asked, a teasing tone entering his voice as he brought his hands up to the blonde’s neck, earning a loud squeal. “Don’t be shy- tell me!”

“AHEHAHHAHAAAHHAHAAA!” Douma thrashed beneath him,hands coming up to squeeze his ribs as he struggled to get away. Kokushibou yelped at the touch, giving Douma his own opening for revenge.

It was like they were children, rolling in the snow with one another as they tickled eachother relentlessly. Kokushibou couldn’t remember the last time he felt so…free. So unburdened by duty, so…relaxed.

All things must come to an end. Douma and him laid side by side in the cold snow, hand in hand as they watched the flakes fall around them. They landed on Douma’s face, his hair- he looked like an angel beneath it all.

“Hey.” He whispered, poking Kokushibou’s shoulder gently. “I love you.”

Those three little words; spoken so easily but carrying such an impact it left Kokushibou  a bit stunned. Then he smiled, leaning in and capturing Douma’s lips within his own. They were icy at the touch, but sent warmth spreading from the back of his neck down to the tips of his toes.

“I love you too.”

Maybe the snow wasn't so bad afterall.

Thanks for reading!