#be brave fuck the triangle

[invader-reggie]

Since we're all gonna die, there's one more secret I feel I have to share with you.

I do not care for human bill cipher.

I'm sorry but i could not care less for twink bill or ugly canon bill or any human version of bill.

They're all lovely but I could not care less about human bill.

Me with any human version of Bill:

Like I just see the human versions as random people cosplaying Bill.

[beeftony]

I knew that Bang Brave Bang Bravern switched genres like 3 times in its premiere, but I wasn’t expecting the mid-season twist that it was also a time-travel romance the whole time.

[bleepblopbloop56]

Saw someone on tiktok saying self shipping wasnt popular in the 2010s and i feel like ive lived my whole life in an alternate dimension

[thursdayg1rl]

why did they have to make the summer I turned pretty into a show. it’s ruined my life and I have no plans of even watching

[peachesofteal]

Cool girl

ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two

Two (three) can play at that game.

"When you're done being a brat, call us."

You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.

And you're very much done with them.

Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.

The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.

Fuck them.

You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.

And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.

Of course, he's happy to teach you.

You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.

He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.

But not tonight.

"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.

You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."

"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.

"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.

"Sure thing."

You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.

The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.

You don't need to look, to know.

You can feel them.

Apparently, so can your date.

"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.

"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.

After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.

"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.

With blood. Broken bones. And tears.

"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.

After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...

they deserve it. They deserve worse.

"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.

The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.

"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.

"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.

"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"

"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.

"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."

"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."

"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."

"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.

"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"

"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.

"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.

Fear strikes, and turns you cold.

"D-don't." You try to implore.

"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.

"Leave him alone." You plead.

"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."

"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.

"Simon, please. He's not-"

"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."

"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.

He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."

When they both turn back...

you burst into tears.

[urfavleo777]

joost klein x fem!oc smut

warnings: fingering, language.

The club near the beach seemed to be a favorite attraction for tourists.

After midnight, every corner was bustling with life, people were constantly smiling and exchanging long discussions at the tables. There was no room for lack of alcohol; every table was decorated with at least one bottle of wine or, in crazy cases, vodka. The music playing in the background pushed guests towards the dance floor, where they danced to the rhythm of fast songs.

“It's only our third day and we have already made this place our tradition.” My friend Lena exclaimed, accidentally spilling her glass of vodka. “Fuck! I knew everything was going too well!”

Amber and I burst into laughter as we watched our friend make sloppy movements to wash away the stinking liquid. Amber was really beautiful. She had large, almost black eyes. Quite strong makeup emphasized her delicate facial features and full lips.

We met her on the first day of our trip in the Netherlands. We bumped into each other while looking for a hotel in Noordwijk; or rather, we were saved by her. The taxi dropped me and Lena off at a remote location, both of our phones were dead, so we didn't know how to get to the hotel. The fact that it was only a few minutes after midnight didn't help at all. I remember thinking we would be stuck there forever.

Fortunately, we found Amber on a dark street where she was returning from work. She calmed us down and helped us find our way. We thanked her, she wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and the next day she took us here; to a lively beachside pub. We've been coming here every night since then.

“Come on, I'll help you wash it off. It's a waste of such a pretty dress.” She said calmly, standing up and leading Lena towards the door marked with a triangle symbol. Lena's crimson lips curved into a slight smile and she looked at me, her look instantly revealing her shock and nervousness. Oh, I knew exactly how Lena felt about Amber. She told me that the day after we met, they exchanged messages. I often caught her smiling at the phone, but out of respect for them, I chose to act as if I knew nothing.

“We'll be right back, Y/n. Maybe you'll find yourself a nice gentleman who will make your evening even more pleasant!” A smirk appeared on Lena's face. I rolled my eyes, hiding my amusement.

“Have fun and don’t get lost this time!” Amber called after me and giggled.

“Maybe you'd better not come back!” I stuck my tongue out at them in a mocking way.The girls gave me the middle finger before the door finally closed.

I sighed, taking a sip of vodka, washing it down with Pepsi. I felt the vibrations on my body, despite my fatigue I felt the call of the music. There was a smell of alcohol in the air and the smell of smoke released from time to time from under the DJ console. 

After one glass of alcohol in a row, I stopped feeling tired. A dance floor full of dancing people seemed damn tempting. The thumping bass and catchy beats effectively encouraged me to devote myself to the music. 

Seconds and minutes passed and the girls didn't come back. White light flashed from the ceiling from time to time, blinding for a second. I squinted a bit and checked the time on my phone. 01:01 AM.

Suddenly I felt someone's eyes on me. This may sound funny because, hey, I was just in a crowded club, it's normal for people to look at each other. But this was different, I felt frustrated when someone was staring at me and I didn't even know who.

I looked up from my phone and then I saw him.  A few tables in front of me, a man sat alone, sipping a drink. His blond hair was messy and disheveled, and he was wearing thick-rimmed glasses. Something moved strangely inside me when our eyes met. He gave me a brave smirk that it sent shivers down my spine.

When he realized that I had exposed him, he took off his glasses and put them on the table. However, he was too far away for me to get a good look at his facial features. I noticed that he was holding a cigarette in the fingers of his right hand. He took a drag of it, watching me in concentration. Is smoking even allowed in clubs?

Girl, you're in the Netherlands. I reminded myself.

“Y/n!” I heard someone shouting my name as I turned back and saw Amber and Lena running towards me. When they both took their seats, I had a perfect view of their rosy cheeks, uneven breathing and the abashed glances they were sending to each other. I suppressed a smile with a clear throat. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Lena got her dress so dirty that we had to take it all off to clean it.”

Why is everybody having sex except me?

“Oh, I can certainly imagine that. Actually, I’m tired of sitting in one place all the time. How about hitting the dance floor?”

“Finally! I thought you'd never ask!” Lena squealed, grabbing both of our hands.

About half a minute later we were in a different state of consciousness. The colorful spotlights seemed brighter and the music seemed louder. We were jumping to the rhythm of some electronic song, shouting its lyrics to each other. The song was in a foreign language and it was the first time I heard it, so Amber was probably the only one in our group who sang the lyrics correctly. My legs were burning with fire. It's been a long time since I spent such a long time on the dance floor dancing non-stop, but I enjoyed it. 

Now I was much closer to the table of the man who was staring at me with incredible passion.

I looked at him again, and when we made eye contact, he winked at me. The stranger, dressed in black jeans and a gray hoodie, stared at me with an unreadable expression, blonde hair falling across his forehead. I didn't even know his name, but everything about him was suddenly stirring something inside me. His blonde hair. High cheek bones. His mustache. The tattoos on his hands. His smile too. It was something I couldn't look away from. As if I'd seen him somewhere before, but couldn’t recall where.

When “Careless whisper” started playing and Amber and Lena started to get closer to each other, I decided to leave them alone.

I gave a thumbs up to give Lena courage. She smiled shyly and placed her hands on Amber's waist. I apologized to the people around me and left the dance floor, heading outside. I needed to get some fresh air, and more specifically, listen to the sound of the sea waves.

The night was cold and the wind bit at my bare arms, chills running through my body. I sat down on the sand and scolded myself for not bringing anything to cover my head and shoulders. 

I inhaled sharply and then listened to my heartbeat because I was alone. I didn't worry about getting my dress dirty. It was worth it for this view. 

I started to feel dizzy. I felt like I was about to fall asleep. I shouldn’t have drank too much.

"Enjoyed dancing to one of my songs, huh?" I suddenly heard a raspy voice from behind me. I turned around to experience the biggest shock of my life. It was the same man who had ogled me in the club. I looked at him with wide eyes. The moonlight fell on him, making his honey skin shine, while the wind blew, making his hair move gently. Even the moon wasn't as beautiful as him.

I scrunched my nose. I tried to recreate all the songs I danced to in my head. I didn't have to wait long until he finally sat down next to me.

“You're a musician?”

He let out a small chuckle and, oh my God, his laugh was so hot. 

“Yeah, something like that. But lately people have gotten used to calling me Europapa. I guess, I don't have a name anymore.” I laughed at his words. After his hint, I was finally able to figure out what song he was the author of.

“Ah, it's you. I knew you reminded me of someone. In my country, people already made you a global superstar.”  He raised an eyebrow at me and smirked.

“Oh, really? Where are you from?”

I nodded. “Poland, straight from the capital. How about you, Joost?”

I used his name for the first time since I could finally remember it. Judging by the expression on his face, I had to amuse him with my pronunciation because he started laughing. The smile disappeared from my face.

“No, no, no. Mh, I live in Leeuwarden, but currently I’m on tour. Came here in order to relieve my stress a bit. And you can call me whatever you want.”

I almost offered him another way to relieve his stress. It took all my might to hold back my laughter.

“Oh, I feel flattered.”

For a moment I looked at his shapely lips. Of course, he noticed that.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” I mumbled in a quiet voice, not knowing what to say.

“Can I get your name?” He asked finally.

“It's Y/n.” I said honestly, looking straight into his blue eyes. “Do you have anything to explain how you were devouring me with your eyes earlier?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, mentally scolding myself. I really should learn to keep my mouth shut.

I looked up, immediately seeing a wide smile on Joost's face.

“Sorry. You're just so fucking pretty, I couldn't help myself.”

I bit my lip, suppressing a loud moan. I hated myself for how much he affected me.

“Can I?” He asked before placing his hand on my bare thigh. I nodded excitedly, waiting for him to move, which made him laugh a little.

“Mh- yes. Please.” I added with a pleading look on my face.

He dragged his hand slowly to my inner thigh, tossing my leg over his thigh, and made a low humming noise that vibrated from his chest.

Before I knew it, Joost's lips were smushed against mine in a passionate kiss. I gasped into his mouth as I melted against his lips, my hands resting comfortably on his muscled arms as his laid against my warm neck. Joost grasped the underside of my thighs and pulled me off the ground, wrapping my legs around his hips. 

“Joost..” I moaned breathily as his puffy lips attacked my neck, “I need you.”

“Of course you do, who wouldn't?” He teased, leading me towards his car. It was so dark that even if someone had been on that beach with us, wouldn’t have noticed us.

“Such a narcissist.”

Joost chuckled, “You know, if you shut that slutty mouth for once, you'd be so pretty.”

He opened the car door and put me in the back seat. After a while, he closed the door and sat down next to me.

“Oh, Y/n. I will give your body exactly what it deserves.” He said, a wide grin on his face as he leaned down to kiss me once more.

I bit my bottom lip and answered with one simple word.

“Yes.”

Joost wasted no time. He placed me on his lap and rolled up my tight dress. He moved his hands all over my body, making me go crazy.

“Your body is art.” He murmured.

His eyes pierced through mine, his gaze so intense that I almost melted on top of him. My hand shyly reached for his, playing around with his fingers and I moved my eyes down to look at what we were doing. “Is that what you want?” His voice was soft as if to not scare me away. “You want my fingers?” I looked in his eyes again and nodded my head quickly, feeling a tingling sensation on my stomach from the excitement. His other hand came up to caress my cheek and a little smirk could be seen on his lips. 

I moved on his lap when I was ready and one of his hands grabbed my hip while the other one ran up and down my thigh.

“Please.” I moaned, grasping his forearm tightly as I scrunched my face up in pleasure.

His fingertips brushed through my folds, coating them in my juices and I whined when I felt him rub slowly at my clit. “You're a soaking mess, baby.” His voice was so calm, a contrast to how shaky my breath was.

I gasped and he started applying more pressure to my clit. He eased one of his fingers inside me and a soft moan left my lips, my hips moving to ride his finger, his eyes intensely staring at me. “More.” I whined quietly.

“More?” He smirked and inserted another finger, feeling how my walls clenched around his digits, his hand moving to match the movements of my hips, thrusting his finger in and out of my pussy and I could ear the wet sounds it did.

“I'm so c-close, Joost. Just like that.” I moaned louder, locking his fingers between my legs. 

“Cum on my fingers, baby.”

“Oh God,” I cried out as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through my body.

When I was done, he slowly removed his fingers from my pussy, moving them to his mouth, sucking my juices from them, grunting at the taste of me which made me sigh heavily at the sight in front of me.

“Take off your pants, Joost.”

“Of course, baby.” He chuckled, politely following my order.

[cricket-of-the-hill]

So what's the deal with Fiddleford McGucket? Why's he like that?

Fiddleford as a character is so FUN because he's so complicated and tragic and honestly a little pathetic. On one hand you have this absolutely brilliant scientist with the potential to have been the in universe Steve Jobs who figured out that the universe is a hologram and built an honest to betsy transdimensional portal (with Ford's help, yes, but let's be honest: as mathematically brilliant as Ford was, I think his intelligence laid more in the theoretical side of things, really doubt he could have actually built the portal himself).

On the other hand, we have this man who up and leves his FAMILY to chase after a college friend who calls him one day saying "hey, I'm out in Oregon building a portal to another dimension. Little help?" and he doesn't even think twice before being like "bet" and getting his ass to Oregon. And even if you take in the context clues that things weren't going well with his marriage before he left (as pieced together by the brilliant @divorcedfiddleford in this post), he still had his son and McGucket Computermajigs and he just sets all that aside for this guy, which... 😶

I am gonna write this whole post on the assumption that Fiddleford was in love with Ford, but look, even if that's the case it doesn't make any of his actions less unhinged. Break here, because the post gets kinda long 😶‍🌫️

So here's the thing: in the fandom, it's fun to think that Fidds knew about Bill and they had some sort of taunting rivalry/love triangle thing going on and that's really fun to mess with, but FIDDLEFORD HAD NO IDEA ABOUT BILL. Ford never told him! So even if Fidds leaves California thinking he's gonna have his hot girl summer/queer arthouse romcom where he reconnects with the love of his youth and they spend the summer working in this secluded house in the woods where they can finally live out their romance, what he actually gets is a fucking psychological horror thriller where the guy he loves and is kinda trapped with is either slowly going insane or straight up getting possessed.

Now, all that is 😵‍💫 enough, but it gets worse because instead of doing the normal person thing and getting the hell out of Dodge, Fiddleford stays. He continues to help Ford to build the portal despite how weird the other man is getting, he continues to go cryptid hunting even after the nightmare goblin almost eats him, even if Ford clearly doesn't appreciate the work he does (research assistant? Not even partner? Come on), and never reciprocates the kind of gestures Fidds has towards him (like the infamous double Christmas gift bonanza).

Here's where the duality of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket kicks in: the thing is that he is incredibly brave in some ways and obviously really smart but also kind of a coward and an idiot when it comes to his relationships with others. He'll hit Thee Krampus upside the head with his banjo one day to save his friend and run away to Oregon instead of discussing divorce with this wife the next. He will leave everything he knows to pursue this one guy, but he will never ever ever confess to feeling anything other than friendship towards him. He'll put up with Stanford's creepy as all hell behavior but will never confront him about it even as Ford loses more and more of himself into his project (so no little intervention not even to help this man he's giving so much up for). Like, what was he expecting to get out of all this? If he was never planning to confess to Ford or leave his wife, what was he going to do once the portal was completed? Just keep on bouncing between wherever Ford went next and his family? Did he really think his wife and son wouldn't mind him leaving them behind without so much as a thought?

Operating under the assumption that Fiddleford is a closeted queer guy from rural Deep Down South Hillbilly County Tennessee (said with love, I'm also from the south, but we all know what homophobia looks like here) during the '80s (height of the aids pandemic which would have made everything worse) one can maybe understand why Fiddleford is like that. Why he is so so so afraid and why he ultimately chooses to erase his memories rather than just go back to his family.

So picture this: you are in love with your best friend but you can't tell him 'cause best case scenario he leaves you out to dry and worst case scenario maybe someone finds your boots down by the river and lets your parents know (and we know Ford is sweet and fruity himself and with a thing for outcasts and would never. Fiddleford probably knows that himself, but let me tell you that when you grow up with that fear it goes deep. Because you've most likely seen people who are kind get absolutely bent out of shape when confronted with the mere idea of someone like you existing in their near vicinity). Eventually, you get married and have a son because that is what you were supposed to do all along and even though you love your son and maybe even love your wife everything feels wrong. They expect you to be something you are not, you can never let your guard down, never be yourself, not even in your own home. So then that call comes and it's like a golden thicket: you can leave, give it a rest for a little while, go see your friend, stretch out those inventing muscles.

As much as the fandom clowns him for it, I honestly don't even think he went out there with the intention of cheating (emotionally or otherwise). BUT I do think he was hoping something would happen. It's just that it all depended on Ford taking that first step because Fidds sure as hell wouldn't. And then Ford didn't because he was too busy doing the sin cos tan with his trigonometry homework, but if he had, we could have had a brokenback mountain situation on our hands, lads. Then Fiddleford could have just gone along with it, and done all sorts of mind parkour to convince himself that that's somehow less bad than "outright" cheating on his wife.

So he gets to the cabin, right? And maybe things are good for a little while, like when they were in college. Fiddleford lets loose a little, Ford is happy with the company, they're friends! And I get the sense that they're the kind of friends that mesh really well, like their energies really match. As much as the fandom paints Fiddleford like a sweet cinnamon roll, that man is also a freak. He's out here building psychotic post divorce revenge pterodactyl robots and drinking abducted cow milk just to see what it's like. He's a bit unhinged! He and Ford are the two people in the world that can be like "I think the universe is a hologram." "Cool! Let's prove it mathematically, bro" and "I want to build a portal to another dimension. Just cause." "Catching a ride to your place with my toolbox as we speak, buddy." (My own personal head cannon is that Fiddleford didn't really become such a shaky jelly until the nightmare goblin got him. Like, he was never as adventurous as Ford, but I think before that particular traumatizing event he was all right for it).

Anyways, things are good for a bit, but the real world is still out there. Fiddleford has to make trips home every now and then, and every time he comes back it seems like something is different. A little off. At first it's nothing big, just a smile a little sharper than usual, a coldness in a look, Ford calling him "Specs" where before he was always a variation of his name. Then it's pointed comments that Fidds chalks up to a lack of sleep (is Ford even sleeping at all? Because he could have sworn for the past three nights he he has appeared in the same place Fidds left him when he went to sleep). Then it's a flash of yellow eyes, a maniacal laugh that Ford never used to make before, spells where he seemingly forgets how to use his body (bumps into things, tries to drink soda with his eyes?). As time goes on it starts to become more and more obvious that something is seriously wrong with this friend. And things back home are just getting worse and worse, Emma May isn't happy about Fiddleford skipping town so often, Tate wont stop asking for him, and look, was Fiddleford even making money while he was with Ford? He gettin' paid? Is Emma May back home trying to bring home the bacon while virtually single parenting? (How was Ford even supporting himself while studying anomalies? I can't imagine there's a lot of grants for that.)

But Fiddleford can't leave his friend and he can't really own up to how much messier things are at home because of this whole thing. So he keeps coming back to Gravity Falls, where he also can't really face up to Ford and either demand a clear answer as to what is going on or try to get him some help (an exorcist, maybe). Because if he does say something and Ford decides that he doesn't want Fiddleford around asking questions he's gonna have to go back home where after the Christmas thing he's honestly not sure he's really wanted anymore, not really sure he deserves it if he still was. So he keeps on doing his thing, telling himself "this is fine 🙂," while he sits in a room on fire with a bill-possessed Ford hanging from the ceiling like a spider and an disapproving Emma May looking in through a window.

I think the portal incident was what finally opened his eyes to the reality of his situation, in an ironic way. He destroyed his relationship with his wife and left his son for nothing. Left his own dreams and aspirations aside just to find out that when push comes to shove his opinion and well-being matter so little to this man he was ready to break the laws of physics for. He can't stay with Ford, and he sure as hell can't go back home, because that would mean having to face that he's done burned down all his bridges. So where do you go from there? Let me tell you, if I had the chance to forget the lowest, most selfish, stupid thing I did for a person who didn't even notice it, I'd do it in a second.

[the-paris-of-people]

I feel like we, as a fandom have never collectively discussed how fucking awesome Rachel Elizabeth Dare is. I honestly think she's the most underappreciated character in the entire fandom. Like demigods, she's incredibly creative, thinks and behaves outside of what's expected of her in the mortal world, and has this incredible power of sight that no one else has. She hates her father for being a developer, she volunteers in her free time to help raise money for art programs for kids, she's a great friend to Percy, she's incredibly brave (i.e. going into the labyrinth because 'she had no summer plans' , flying into a war zone, hitting Kronos with a blue hairbrush), she's really funny, but all everyone talks about is how much they hate her because she's a rival for Percy's affections but when you think about it... hello!!! Of course Percy has a crush on her she's "just as brave as Annabeth", incredibly creative, has complex feelings towards her family and her own identity... are you sensing a pattern!! Percy has a type!! All of this is made funnier when you realize Rick Riordan describes Becky (his wife) as a creative who he trusts with everything like he basically wrote two incarnations of his wife in a love triangle LOL

[jackwhiteprophetic]

Rewatching 7x04 because I'm very brave and I think what's so so interesting is how Eddie just keeps Turning Up.

So Buck already had arranged to go for a tour of the 217, and he had invited Tommy out, and Eddie Turns Up and he stumbles.

Suddenly Buck can't think about Tommy without thinking about Eddie and that scares him and he doesn't know why these two feelings (his newly discovered interest in men (represented by Tommy) and his platonic love for Eddie) can't coexist with each other. And he has this weird compulsive urge to separate them.

Buck is apparently, according to the universe, not allowed to explore his attraction to me without being forced to confront Eddie at every turn (and thus us, as the audience, also are subjected to this).

It is an entire episode of Buck, and the audience by extension, being perpetually confused by the way in which Eddie somehow haunts every aspect of his bisexual narrative.

And for the audience, this further tangles Eddie up within this love triangle. EVERYONE is now confused. EVERYONE must consider what Buck actually wants and needs in a relationship. And Eddie is there at every corner. Literally the last thing Tommy says before he leaves.

Eddie is in every crevice of Buck's life and feelings and conversations and this is SO FUCKING DELIBERATE and yes the episode could have been written better, but I would argue some level of confusion is purposeful to FORCE the GA to think about this.

I'll leave us with a fitting quote from Eddie in this same episode:

"you ain't getting past me"

[adverbally]

A Shot Right Through Into a Bolt of Blue

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Temporary Character Death” | wc: 605 | rated: T | cw: temporary character death, vomiting | tags: AU, canon-divergent, what if Steve took Eddie’s place, pre-relationship, canon-typical violence and gore, hopeful ending | title from “Bizarre Love Triangle” by New Order

Keeping this one short and sweet so I can post it while it’s still the 11th in my time zone 😬

———

It’s not a surprise to anyone when Steve insists on staying with Dustin for their mission back to the Upside Down. The kid is like a little brother to him, and Steve’s mile-wide protective streak isn’t about to let him out of his sight. They’ll balance each other out, he argues. The brains and the brawn. It just makes sense.

So Eddie goes with the girls and tries to throw Molotov cocktails like he’s done this before. He stands there and watches Vecna burn and feels something like pride, like a promise fulfilled. This is for Chrissy.

But then Dustin comes on the radio, hysterical and incomprehensible, and any thoughts of victory are erased.

By the time they get there and find Dustin kneeling in the dirt with Steve propped up in his lap, Eddie’s stomach is in his throat and he’s shaking from running all the way here and he just knows they’re too late. It’s like reliving the horror of Chrissy being broken apart right before his eyes.

Unlike before, Eddie doesn’t run. He does something even worse.

He freezes.

He stands there uselessly as Robin tries to comfort Dustin while he wails on the ground. Her eyes are dry but there’s no light behind them, her spirit snuffed out with her platonic soulmate’s death.

He watches Nancy take stock of Steve’s injuries with her typical no-nonsense attitude, finding the spots where he’s bleeding the most, using her belt as a tourniquet, trying to figure out some way to fix this.

Eddie should offer to do CPR or apply pressure to Steve’s wounds or even just pull Dustin into a hug and make sure the kid can’t see any more of the horrors surrounding him. He just can’t make himself move.

His eyes are glued to Steve— the demobat bites covering him with blood, the way his body is limp under Nancy’s efficient hands, the lack of tension in his perpetually furrowed brow, the beloved nail bat that has rolled just out of his reach.

At least his eyes are closed. He must’ve known at the end that it was coming, shut his eyes to save Dustin the memory of his vacant stare—

Suddenly, Eddie is spinning around and lurching to his knees as he retches into the gravel.

He knew Steve, is the thing.

As horrible as everything was with Chrissy, they had only spoken for the first time that day. But Steve… He had time to get to know Steve, saw how kind and brave and real he could be, talked with him about the kids and how utterly fucked up this whole situation was. He wasn’t just Harrington anymore, complete with a derogatory snarl. He was Steve.

Maybe it was stupid to start falling for the first cute straight boy who was nice to him for a couple of days. It wouldn’t be the stupidest crush Eddie ever had. Sure, the chances of it going anywhere were practically zero, but Eddie Munson is nothing if not stubborn. He thinks he would’ve seen it through, at least became a friend to Steve and soaked up his sunshine from a distance.

But as Eddie empties his guts onto the ground, he is suddenly aware that now Steve will just be Steve forever. Not “sweetheart” or “Dad” or “Coach Harrington” or any of the things Steve might have dreamed of. Not Eddie’s friend. Definitely not something more.

Eddie’s not sure if the tears that sting his eyes are from throwing up or from grieving those possibilities.

Then suddenly Nancy is yelling, “I think I feel a pulse!” and they become tears of relief.

[fiendforbyler]

wait y’all i just realised something that is probably niche as fuck but anyway! if you know/have read the Keeper of the Lost Cities series in it’s entirety you will understand the relationship/love triangle between sophie, fitz and keefe. from the beginning fitz is set up at sophie’s love interest, even as young kids (i believe she is 12 in the first book? and he is maybe a year older? not 100% it’s been a while). she crushed on him for majority of the series and finally in book 7/8 they get together with a seemingly very romantic gesture from fitz, with many hints during the series that fitz liked her back. point is: we were all rooting for them. it is imprtant to note that it’s also always been hinted at but later in the series confirmed that keefe has major feelings for sophie as well. for me, this is representative of mike/el/will love triangle, with sophie being mike, keefe being will, and fitz being el. now, i don’t really like fitz but i LOVE el so yeah this isn’t a flawless comparison but ANYWAY back to my main point!! keefe (will) is so likeable with a tragic backstory, troubling plot line, has a lot of trauma AND a sorry crush on a girl (boy) who (supposedly) has eyes only for one person since the beginning- something that has been clearly set up and formed into a seemingly sweet relationship readers have been rooting for from the beginning. yeah this is sounding familiar? here’s the problem (or solution for sophkeefe/byler shippers like i): ITS NOT WHAT SOPHIE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE. fitz pressures her into trying to find her bio parents so they could be matched, he is aggressive and possessive over her (not in a good way) and she breaks up with him. during this, i’m pretty sure she begins to crush on keefe as well- keefe in permanent denial she could ever like him back of course- and feels terribly guilty about it, because she still has feeling for fitz. (yeah i told you, not the perfect comparison but you understand what i’m getting at right?) while things with fitz get worse, sophie starts genuinely discovering how she really feels about keefe, with lines like “if she was really really honest- and really really brave- she had to admit that the idea of being with keefe sounded… kind of amazing. Yes, it was scary. and yes there were risks. but wouldn’t it be worth trying?” wouldn’t it be worth trying? ladies and gents, we just discovered mikes inner monologue!!! scary, risky, but worth it? its what will is to him! mike has always been “too insecure to let (him)self see what’s right in front of (him)” (a line taken from the book!!!!!!) will is in front of him. he is being so distracted by his internalised homophobia that he has NOOO idea what he is missing!! “‘SERIOUSLY, STOP!’ she told herself again…/ adding those kind of feelings to a friendship pretty much ruined everything. ( talking about fitz)”

and it’s all oh so familiar…

BUT WAIT! THERES MORE! finally, FINALLY, during our long awaited kiss scene, she says this:

“some tiny part of her head had always wondered if kissing keefe could really be as great as everyone claimed. but kissing keefe was so. much. better.”

yeah. and then blah blah they get interrupted by who? of yes of course fitzy the ex boyfriend is here. and he says what when he finds out? OH YEAH. “you kissed him? you didn’t even kiss me!”

THAT SOUNDS A LOT LIKE “you never say it/i say it” AND “i didn’t say it/you didn’t have to” or pretty much the same way mike acts around will vs el.

you know what else? mikes inability to say i love you to el (hasn’t kissed fitz) but so clearly communicate it to will (kissing keefe)

if you haven’t read all this (and i don’t blame you!!) just read this next paragraph!

but back to my main MAIN point. sophitz was the ship EVERYONE (except maybe a select few) wanted right up until they got together!! it was perfect on paper, cute, with history and seemingly ‘connected’ character (as per the plot), and as soon as they got together, everything fell apart, as well as sophie closing herself off and beginning to lose fitz even before the downfall of their relationship due to her suppressed feelings about keefe. (cough cough MIKE) they need to break up for her to realise keefe was the better match all along. keefe, who never thought he as a chance. keefe, who loved her from the start. KEEFE, WHO LET HIS BEST FRIEND HAVE HER IF IT MEANT HAPPINESS TO THEM.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? please tell me i’m not crazy!! thank you for reading this it took me a long time to write but it also felt great to write this out even if no one reads this. hail to byler and a reminder we are one day closer to seeing them on screen. have a great day/night!

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

rough art tips to learn and then break at your leisure.

the distance between your eyes is roughly one eye. the corners of your mouth dont extend past the middle of each eye. ears are roughly in the middle of the tip of the nose and the eyebrow. the eyes are in the very centre of the head. the neck is just a Little slimmer than the width of the head (varies with fat distribution, but fat tends to build up under the chin). hair is easier to draw when you plot out the hairline and then where it parts. leaving appropriate distance on the side of the face (cheekbone area and back to ear) contributes to making characters look more realistic/hot as hell. i dont know specific tips for that so use reference. an amazing reference/study site is lineofaction.com . if you think of the face in planes it makes it easier to construct (look up tutorials). if you draw a spiral like a tornado it can help you figure out awkward perspective for extended limbs (look up foreshortening coil technique). tangent lines are when two lines intersect and cause visual confusion (when it looks like a line that defines an arm is part of the line that defines a building, for example) and avoiding them makes your art way easier to comprehend. quick trick to good composition: choose a focal point (where you want your viewer to focus), detail that area the most, and make sure various elements of the piece are pointing to that focal point. you can use colours to contrast hue, saturation, and brightness and make certain elements of your drawing stand out. drawing in greyscale can help you figure out values. using black in a piece isn't illegal but you should know what you're doing when you do use it- it desaturates a piece and if used as a shading colour can desaturate and dull whatever youre shading too. if you use almost-black lineart and then add black to darken the very darkest areas it will do a lot to add some nice depth. the tip of your thumb ends just above the start of your index finger- your thumb also has two knuckles and all your other fingers have three. if you see an artist doing something you like (the way they draw noses or eyes or hair or anything else) you can try to copy that and see if you want to incorporate it in your style <- this is ENCOURAGED and how a lot of us learned and developed our styles. there are ways to add wrinkles to faces and bodies without making the character look a million years old, you just have to keep experimenting with it. The smile wrinkles around your muzzle dont connect to your mouth or to your nose; there should be a small space in between smile or nose and the wrinkle line. eyes when viewed in profile are like < aka a little triangle shape. think of the pupil like a disk and apply foreshortening to it (it looks like a line when seen from the side instead of a full round dot). subtle gradients can add a LOT to a piece. texture can also add a LOT. look up Tommy Arnold's work (his murderbot pieces are some of my FAVOURITE) and zoom in. find those random little circles he added and try to figure out why he added them there. light bounces. there's lots of way light bounces. sometimes it even spreads through the skin. i do not know these light tricks yet but i want you to know that they exist. draw a circle to indicate hand placement, draw a straight line between that circle and the shoulder, and then (normally at a right angle) draw a straight line on top of that line to find the placement of the elbow. elbows are normally placed Just above the hip when standing and your arm is at rest. there are no bad colour combos if you're brave enough about it, just fuck with the saturation and brightness until it works. keep playing. try new things. add your own tips to this post if you want or even expand on some ive mentioned here. good luck go ham etc

[bvtbxtch]

You Don't Scare Me | Eddie Munson

Day Fourteen of Kinktober

Summary: Eddie is used to scaring most of the people who walk through the Haunted House in the old Starcourt Mall. He's determined to make you squirm after you walk through and show no signs of being scared by him.

Pairings: Scare Actor!Eddie x Grumpy!Fem!Reader

wc: ~2.8k

Warnings: This is porn with some fluff so as always 18+!!! MDNI!! Sexual themes, fooling around with a stranger, fingering, oral (f receiving), public sex acts, choking and domination (if you squint)

Thank you all for sticking with me, it is literally almost the end of November, so I am thankful that y'all are still around to read! And to my lovely friend @darknesseddiem for inspiring me!

You hated Halloween more than anything. You couldn’t understand your peers' desperation to get black out drunk in someone’s basement, dressed up in the smallest garments of clothing they could find (and excuse it as some sort of costume). But, you were new to town, so when the girl you met through the Hawkin’s high journalism club, Nancy, you remembered her name to be, invited you to the haunted house that went up on the edge of town, you hesitantly agreed to join her and her group of friends. This might be your way to meet some new people. If opportunity knocks, you suppose you better answer. 

-

A nervous shiver trickled down your spine as you and Nancy leaned against the Wheeler station wagon, engaging in small talk about your move from Nevada, and about the new friends you were about to meet. You were told of a girl your age with short strawberry blonde hair, and a personality almost as eclectic as her fashion sense. And of a boy that people called the hair, a charmer in all ways women, but that he had been warned not to pursue you. You flashed Nancy a devilish smile.

“What if I want him to pursue me, Nance?”

“He’s a serial dater, Y/N. And I can say from experience, a much better friend than a conquest.” If Nancy’s response wasn’t enough to deter you, her history with Steve Harrington was. You presumed fucking around with your only friend’s ex isn’t a great way to stay friends. 

You formed your group with warm smiles and welcomes; you absorbed the three of your new friends’ banter. You felt out of the loop, but not unwelcome. The addition to Robin and Steve made you feel hopeful for the future of your friendships.

The four of you made your way through the painted asphalt of the abandoned Starcourt mall that hosted the Halloween festivities. The once shiny new sliding doors were pried open and painted black to welcome the bravest teens into the makeshift haunted house in the west wing of the mall. Robin and Nancy had already jumped at the few scare actors positioned around the entrance, Steve flinching every so often. You stood stone cold, unphased by the kids that were paid far too little money and wore far too much fake blood for their own good.

You bravely volunteered to go through the foggy entrance first; Steve followed behind you with Robin and Nancy hiding into each other’s shoulders. The fog opened up to a desolate looking carnival with old rusted rides festooned around the large room. You sauntered around the space, taking awestruck gazes at the crumpled metal and grim lights looming over you. You found the narrow corridor that led you to the next room. 

Suddenly, a tall figure popped out in front of you, eliciting shrill shrieks from your party behind you. You felt your heart jump into your chest, but not out of fear.

The figure that stood in front of you donned a ripped striped shirt and tight black jeans. You had a perfect view of his long arms and the tattoos that danced across them. You looked up to the figure’s face and were met with beautiful brown eyes glinting with an unreadable shine. His pale skin had been made even paler with white face paint, and his eyes were bracketed around black smudged triangles. You could tell how plump the boy’s lips were even when camouflaged under a black painted frown. His visage was framed with dark curls. He looked more majestic than frightening. But as much as your heart thumped, you weren’t scared, so you pretended not to be impressed with the person blocking your path. He put his muscular arm up on the wall, further blocking you in. As your friends panicked behind you, you simply flashed your bright eyes up at him and you slipped under his outstretched arm. You continued on without giving so much as a slight glance back, encouraging Steve to do the same to pass the stranger. The man dropped his hand from the wall and pressed himself back into the hallway, his eyes never leaving your figure. 

You were going to be the death of him, he could tell already.

“Holy fuck, Y/N! That was kind of badass!” Robin exclaimed, her and Nancy trotting back to rejoin you and Steve. “That fucking freaked me out.”

“What is so scary about a guy in clown makeup?” You shrugged. Little did you know the very person that you were talking about, the guy that had made your heart jump to your throat, was following closely behind you, separated only by the prop walls he had helped build days earlier. 

-

“Eddie, you can’t abandon your spot!” His skeevy boss yelled to him when he caught him trawling through the small walkways. “You gotta be the first scare, man! There’s nothing else in that corridor!” Eddie didn’t look back at the pudgy man with the combover shaking his fist. 

“Fuck off, Brad. I gotta do something” Eddie murmured. He needed to find you. He was willing to give up this shitty side gig and go back to solely dealing again. 

Eddie was overwhelmed with confusion. He was enchanted by you, but your lack of reaction in a haunted house of all things… But the way you looked at him. There was something different in your eyes. You were bored. But you looked at him with an invitation to cause trouble. You terrified the hell out of Eddie Munson, but he couldn’t get enough. 

-

You wandered aimlessly through the shabby makeshift walls. Eddie watched as you stood stoic scare after scare that normally made anyone jump. His eyes trained on your figure. Eddie needed to see more of you. The boy tapped a small boy dressed up like a gremlin waiting to pop out of the corridor you were walking through. 

“What are you doing, Eddie?” the boy hissed. 

“Just move, man. I need your spot” Eddie used his hidden strength to move the boy. His eyes stayed peeled, waiting to see your curly hair to come into his vision. 

-

You strolled through the crowded corridor, giggling quietly at Steve and Robin’s third argument of the night.

“I’m telling you, Buckley. You couldn’t be a scare actor because you would literally scare yourself.”

“Umm, says the guy who literally jumped into my arms when that demon animatronic went off back there. And like, aren’t you scared of clowns? You were made for beauty pageants, Steve.”

“Let me tell you someth-”

Steve’s words were stolen from his mouth as Eddie dashed out of his hiding spot. His sleek form lunged towards you, pushing you back towards the back wall. His hands caged your head, leaving you nowhere to look but his hypnotizing eyes. They looked aflame with passion and frustration. For the first time of the night, your breath hitched. Your chest heaved softly, waiting, wondering, hoping for what the boy was going to do (to you) next.

A small smile flashed across the curly haired boy’s painted face. He slammed his hands against the wall beside you, eliciting a short gasp from your plump lips. You didn’t ignore the glance that Eddie took at your lips before he pushed himself away from you, and onto the wall across from you. He bowed and gestured your friends foreward, leaving you to the back. You could barely peel your eyes away from the figure in front of you, but you pulled yourself from the wall and his punishing stare. You shook him out of your thoughts as you strode towards your friends, now far down the hallway. You felt a hand on your wrist and you were pulled away and into the darkness. 

Suddenly, you were met face to face with the mystery that had been following you, crammed into a small corridor. His body loomed over yours, too close, but somehow not close enough. His breath fanned over you and you couldn’t help but feel faint. He was even more beautiful now that you had all the time in the world to examine him. He licked his lips and you couldn’t help but mirror him with a gulp.

“Why aren’t you scared of me, doll?” his low voice rasped. You couldn’t speak, your throat closing. You tried your best to open your mouth, but Eddie’s thumb running across your lower lip shut it. You mustered up all of your energy.

“I’m not one to scare easily,” you sighed. You felt small underneath him, like he could devour you whole.

“You seem scared now, sweetheart. Do I scare you?” Eddie stepped closer to you, his hand finding his way to your hip. His eyes were dark, but there was a tenderness there. He silently told you that you could leave at any point and he would still thank you. “Or, do you feel exactly what I’m feeling?” Eddie didn’t need to wait for a response, your eyes were glowing with want-need. 

Eddie pressed his painted lips to yours, pressing his chest against yours. His hand ran up your side, and to your neck. His skin burned against yours and you wished you could wear his hand like a locket for the rest of time. You kissed him back feverishly, hoping that with every move of your lips, Eddie fell more enchanted with you, like you had with him. Lucky for you, Eddie had jumped off the deep end and was ready to drown in everything that is you.

Eddie pulled away and let out a small giggle. A sound that made your heart stop. 

“You have paint all over your face now.”

“I don’t give a fuck” you breathed as you pulled Eddie’s face to yours. The kisses grew from explorative to heated. Your hands snaked up to wrap around the nape of the beautiful boy’s neck. His tongue traced your bottom lip in a desperate plea to explore your mouth further. You opened your mouth in permission and his tongue met yours with a moan. Eddie slotted his jean clad thigh between your legs and pushed into you further. You felt the heat radiating off of your core between both of your jean clad bodies. You huffed into Eddie’s mouth, begging for more. 

“You want more, darling? You don’t even know me.” Eddie teased. “Plus… I’m at work! What would my boss think?” you wouldn’t let the boy’s words get to you. You couldn’t think about your situation too much. 

“Well, seeing as you’re the one that pulled me in here, it sounds like this whole ‘stranger’ and ‘at your job’ are your problems not mine… plus, I could go, if you want me to?” You attempted to push Eddie off you, but his grip on your neck and hip became desperate. You smirked at his reaction.

Eddie let go of you in favor of fiddling with your jeans. He let out a low chuckle that rumbled through your whole body. 

“So, you’re a brat, hey? I should have fucking known. Too bad for you, I’m too curious to see what you sound like when you fall apart under me.” You moaned at his words and you pulled him back into a searing kiss. His hands found their way through your jeans and panties. You let out another breathy moan into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s hands and mouth paused and he detached his lips from yours.

“But, you gotta be quiet doll. Can’t have anyone find us, and someone’s gonna be back here in like 5 minutes to kick my ass so…”

His slender fingers slipped through your folds, you can’t help but shudder. Eddie bit his lip to suppress his baritone moans. “So wet already… and just for me?” he praised, making your pussy flutter.  He pushed one finger into your waiting entrance, leaving you no time to adjust. Your knees buckled in sheer pleasure. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress any moans threatening to spill out. Your hands moved up from Eddie’s neck to his luscious locks and you pulled on them to bring his mouth back to yours. He braced against you with a small ‘tsk’.

“I wanna watch you, doll. I wanna see how good you look when I finger fuck you.” His hand flew to your mouth to prevent the groan that was paired with your eyes rolling back. 

Eddie was talented. His pace was unrelenting and he knew the right angle to bully your quivering cunt at. He spread you open further by adding another finger. You shook, feeling so satisfied, so full. You could barely keep your cool that you had been desperately clinging to. The waves of heat flooding your system.

“P-please-”

“Eddie”

“Eddie.please.” You cried.

“Hmmm, I love it when you say my name.” The boy cooed. His words hurled you closer and closer to your climax. Your legs began to shake around Eddie’s hand. A frustrated gasp wracked your body as Eddie removed his fingers from your desperate pussy. 

“Eddie-” You were hushed by the tall boy’s frame dipping down so his head was at your waist. You looked into his beautiful brown eyes quizzically, and he returned your look with a mischievous smile. He pulled your jeans and soaked panties to your knees and pulled his face into you. 

“I need to taste you, please?” You were on the edge, overstimulated and desperate to cum. You shook your head violently and without a second to lose, Eddie’s mouth was on your sensitive core. You yelped at the sensation of his perfect lips sucking against your clit. A large hand snaked from your wait to your mouth. The lack of air sent lightning bolts through your body. Eddie hummed into you and you collapsed over him. 

“Taste so good-”

“Y/N” You answered for him. He hummed into you again, sending shock waves through your legs. Your breath hitched and Eddie could feel you tense around where his fingers once were. He stared up at you as he gave one last suck onto your sensitive bud. 

You saw white, your head felt like it was full of cotton. The waves of pleasure were too much for you to comprehend. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you cried into Eddie’s hand. You could feel the vibrations of him moaning as he licked up your essence. He expertly worked you through your climax, to the point where you were deliciously overstimulated. He waited for you to pull him off of you, licking you clean in the process.

You couldn’t help but giggle when his presence loomed over you again, a large spot around his mouth and chin bare of face paint. He wiped his mouth and you could finally see the plump pink lips grinning back at you. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”  You couldn’t help the blush that grew across your cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie.” 

Eddie picked up the bottom hem of his shirt and wiped your mouth clean of the black smudges of paint. He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. 

“Can I maybe get your number, so I can eat- I mean take you out on a proper date?”

You smiled up at the gorgeous boy. He had rooted through his back pocket and held a sharpie in his hand triumphantly. You took it from him, and wrote your phone number on your arm in your neat writing. You blew on his arm, sending goosebumps straight through his heart. 

“You better call me after that, Eddie. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you didn’t” 

“Well, lucky for you, I have no intention of leaving you alone.”

With a smile, Eddie grabbed your hand and led you through the back corridors and gave you a sweet peck. He pushed you through a small entrance so you were back by Robin’s side. 

-

With a scream,  you reunited with Robin.

“Holy fuck! Where the hell did you go?!”

“I got lost. I took some wrong turns and ended up in the back corridors somehow.” You were thankful that the room was dark so you were able to hide your red hot cheeks. Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad… and you might just have a change of heart about Hawkins after all.

-

Eddie sauntered back through the narrow maze of staff hallways, a shit eating grin plastered on his smudged face. It faltered slightly as he entered the male dressing rooms. Brad stood to greet the teen. His sweaty brow furrowed and his fatty chin wobbled in anger.

“Munson you’re-”

“Fired.. Yeah, I got it.” the metalhead chuckled. 

Eddie grabbed his bag with a smile and a bow to the chubby man, who was now furiously flattening his greasy comb over. He wiped his face with an old bandana tucked into his back pocket. He slammed out the shabby doors that lead to the abandoned mall, blowing carefully on his newest tattoo that you had given him. If it were up to him, he would drive himself to his friend’s tattoo parlor and get it inked permanently on his arm, like you had been tattooed on his heart.

taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @ali-r3n @brinleighsstuff @@filth-fiction-archive @vintagehellfire @kirstinjayjay @poofyloofy @sluggzillaa @aol19 @dark-angel-is-back @keikoraven @emxxblog @adrenalineeerevolver @crybabyddl @lovemegood @cherry-pop3547 @cherry-pop3547 @cozmiccass If you would like to be on my taglist, please consider following and fill out this form!

[tsibeyantiger]

I had the inconvenience to read a post where it said that percabeth was a bad ship because they don't seem to LIKE each other and I'm like??????????? How can anybody not get THAT? Like seriously, think about it for just a minute.

Imagine you are Annabeth. Your family pretty much abandoned you. Your newfound sister died so you could make it out alive. When you were just seven years old. It is hard for you to trust anyone because you keep on losing who matters to you. And you know about the prophecy and that you won't leave camp until the kid from the prophecy shows up (if Chiron hasn't said that, I'm sure Annabeth was able to connect the dots). The kid who's gonna die when he turns 16 to save Olympus OR destroy it. So you're NOT supposed to like him, even though you know your pathes will cross. You expect him to be a son of Zeus, which would be fine. You can be his deputy in battle, just as your mom is Zeus', and when he dies, it's gonna be "Farewell, my lord, it was an honour to fight under your command". Not very delightful, but you are used to worse.

Then Percy shows up. And he is a son of POSEIDON. Not at all what you expected, yet it's your destiny to interact somehow with him. What if he turns out evil? What if you're the one who HELPS him destroy Olympus? Okay, no, no, no, stop. You are NOT SUPPOSED to like him AT ALL. But- he is kinda charming. Not the arrogant, wrath filled rowdy you'd expect. A troublemaker, yes, but he's trying to be nice to everyone, always roots for the underdogs, doesn't care about your parents' rivalry and is incredibly skilled yet totally unaware of it. You go on the quest. You safe the world. And you realise he is kind and brave and just and will never turn evil. This is the hero who will die while defending Olympus. And you're the fool who couldn't avoid falling in love with him.

Fast forward. Percy keeps on doing annoyingly cute and noble stuff you wish you never saw because it makes you like him even more. The photo. Tyson (you don't like him, but it IS wholesome that Percy chose to be his friend when no one else was). The moment he gave Clarisse the fleece. Then you get kidnapped and he travels across the whole country to save you, even lifts the sky for you. And then he says he chooses the prophecy and you give up all hope (you've spend hours and hours thinking whether you'd want Thalia to die or Percy, and you feel so guilty for it). He doesn't even know the full meaning, but you are just sure he'd make the same choice if he knew it means death, all to protect a little boy he hardly knows.

And you're like: Fuck this. Too late to run from your feelings. You're already in love. Your heart's gonna be broken anyways. So, you decide to try your luck. If you're gonna miss him for a lifetime, it shall be worth it. And THEN, suddenly, Rachel shows up. Like, this is no average teenage love triangle drama bullshit. OF COURSE, Annabeth explodes like a volcano. Any of us would.

Meanwhile, Percy doesn't know shit and is just hella confused. He doesn't know the content of the prophecy, doesn't know much about Greek mythology and whenever he does, he doesn't care. He just gets the impression that Annabeth hates him, yet somehow seeks his company. Percy has close to zero confidence, due to him also being often abandoned and ending up as a failure and an outsider, so it's probably the second part that's harder to understand, but he tries to make the best of it. He is kind and patient, offers Annabeth his friendship and ultimately, she accepts. Not for a second he'd imagine she might be in love with him, Because This Is Not How People Behave. From his perspective, Annabeth tends to act like a bitch out of nowhere, sometimes she pushes him away, sometimes she wants him to come closer. He accepts this somehow, but of course he gets frustrated sometimes. Who wouldn't?

But still he never even thinks about going low contact. He never questions their friendship, he always wants Annabeth as close as possible. And people say they don't LIKE each other? Please!

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | vi

Y/n quickly learns how to atone for a mistake that she was not aware she ever made.

Read part five here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 18k (sorry 😭)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (borderline hate fucking 🫣), oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving, face-fucking, fingering, choking, impact play, degradation, praise, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, dom/sub, touch of bratty sub, sex in a semi-public place, possessiveness, jealousy, love triangle themes, swearing, touch of sadness/angst, but this is mostly just porn with a hint of plot. Sorry if I miss any!

hello everyone, it’s so wonderful to be back 😁 thank you for all of your kind words so far 🫶🏻 please enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! this very is lightly edited

Three days. It had been three long, gruelling days since you had heard a word from Jake. Worse than that, it had been three days since you had even heard a faint whisper of his name, or a withering idea that he still existed on the same realm as you. No calls, no texts, not even a glimpse of him in public, hidden away in a corner of his most favourite stores. Not even a wisp of hair blowing as he rounded a street corner. No likes on social media posts; he was not even lurking in the comment section of mutual friends pages. He had ceased to exist, and as much as you liked to pretend that it didn’t bother you, it was excruciating. So much so, that you’d found yourself withdrawn from the normal day to day routine, floating through with no real enjoyment. You were constantly checking your phone or getting excited when you heard a notification, only to be crushed at the realization that it wasn’t him. You found yourself absentmindedly checking for him in every room you entered, every street or store you found yourself in, and every single time you left the house.

The agony of missing him extended far beyond the simple fact of the matter. It leeched into every aspect of your life in the most twisted and rotten ways. Simple pleasures no longer existed; the beauty in song sounded with less comfort, colours in paintings a little less vibrant, sugar a little less sweet. Sure, life would go on indefinitely, but it would be miserable, at least for the foreseeable future. Or, until he decided to grace you with his presence again. You braved the storm the only way you knew how: with a smile on your face, and no hint that anything was wrong in the first place. But, no matter how wide you smiled, or how sore your cheeks were from faking it, it never seemed to diminish the residual ache in your chest.

In truth, Jake was not the only one that disappeared. You had spoken to Danny only a number of times, which was incredibly unusual. He was busy in the studio, refining his drum work for the last touches on their album. When he wasn’t doing that, they were rehearsing for their upcoming tour. If that was finished, they were stuck in interviews and meetings. You knew he was genuinely busy, and in no way would he ever use it as an excuse to ignore you, but it did suck. He was your best friend, your home away from home, and missing him may also have had an effect on the way you missed Jake. You were lonely, and that was one thing you despised more than anything else in the world. Your stubbornness was stronger than your hatred of isolation, only worsening the suffering. Instead of reaching out to anyone, you waited until they had time to come back around. Your nagging fear of being forgotten about was brutal, and the more time that passed, the more you felt like it was crushing you.

At first, you chalked up Jakes absence to work, the same reason Danny hadn’t been able to visit. The first day it worked, but about halfway through, you thought the lack of communication was quite curious. By that evening, it was evident he was ignoring you. By day two, you were sure you’d permanently ruined your relationship with him, and by the third day, you were certain he hated you. You were not sure what the fourth would bring, and you were anything but eager to know. You had faith in him, wanting to ignore your brains incessant speculation on his behalf. You knew Jake to be sincere, and there was no way he would have spent those days with you playing house just to drop you the next day. That’s what you repeated to yourself, hoping that you were correct. Hoping that today would be the day his name graced your phone screen.

Your relationship with Sam hadn’t seemed to progress, either. Sure, you both texted, although dry by times. He’d confessed his utter enjoyment of the night you spent wrapped around each other, and you had too. He was scared of vulnerability, knowing he cared for you far more than he originally thought, and how dangerous that was. You were scared, too, because you felt the same, and his seemingly sudden withdrawal of interest had hurt you. You were both scared of getting hurt, without the realizing that you already were. It was much like anticipating a gunshot after getting stabbed. He had taken you out on a dinner date the day prior, albeit with an air of casualness. It was still nice, filled with laughter and small jokes, but didn’t stem any further than a make out session in his car, similar to the likes of two horny teenagers.

You thought you should take Jakes absence as a sign to pursue Sam. You were falling for him, even more than you were before the weekend full of events. You enjoyed everything you had done together, and knew that it was likely the right choice to make. Perhaps Jake had pulled out of the race, realized that it was foolish and wanted to put it to a civil end. Still, there was a part of you that wasn’t done with him, yet. Still craving him, aching for his touch and his love. Even if you attempted a relationship with Sam so soon, it would end in just as big of a disaster. So you waited, hoping that Jake had just stopped for a breather rather than changed course completely. It was feeble, but it was the only thought that gave you any type of comfort in the three days you’d gone without him.

You went to work Monday and Tuesday with little motivation. You felt bad about your lack of interest in your clients, but they never really seemed to notice. They were there to record music, not get a round of applause every time they completed a solo. Despite that, you still held some guilt over the distant nature you had clung to, realizing that it was very out of your character to be so uninterested in your work. Wednesday was no different. You crawled out of bed feeling like weights were tied to your ankles. You wished you could stay, hide under the protection of the blankets and sleep away the hollow feeling that was residing inside you. You showered and dressed yourself with your eyes half-closed, floating through the morning like a phantom of yourself. Toast was the only thing you could choke down, and you had stopped to get an extra large coffee on your way, just to motivate you to make it to lunch.

Your first two appointments were a daze, nothing memorable and a struggle to sit through. When the bands left, you apologized for your lack of energy and made a promise to have their samples ready by the weekend. Secretly, you were grateful they had only booked short sessions rather than an entire day, just so you could have a moment alone. Before lunch, you locked your office door and chipped away at paperwork you had long forgotten about. Once the stack was much less daunting, you did some work on the audio clips patiently waiting in your queue. By the time noon rolled around, you were all but hungry and more than ready for your inevitable return home. Thankfully, the receptionist had taken it upon herself to grab you a sandwich and a coffee when she stepped out. It gave you something to pick away at while the afternoon dragged on.

You were not dependant on Jake. You knew that if a few more days passed, the debilitating loss would resolve into a residual sadness. Sure, you would miss him, but it would be less catastrophic than it felt in that moment. What shook you to your core was not his disappearance, but the lack of communication beforehand. For him to be so involved, certain that you were what he wanted, and then gone without a trace. It gave you whiplash, falling for him so fast and then having to question if he ever existed at all. You wanted him, and it was obvious, but you were not willing to chase after him if he was showing such a blatant lack of interest in you. He had turned you into a complete fool for him, but you were desperate to cling onto your last shred of self-respect.

A knock on your door sounded, making you fight back an eye roll. Apparently, the busy sign that was glowing outside the room was easy to ignore. You stood, removing your headphones and pausing the clip on your laptop. You unlocked the knob, slowly turning it and revealing the disturbance. Your grumpy expression quickly changed once you registered who was on the other side. You stepped out of the way, inviting him in wordlessly. You closed the door behind him as he moved to take a seat on the couch.

“Rockstar finally had some free time in his schedule?” You smiled.

“Was in the neighbourhood, thought I would stop and say hello.” Danny answered, leaning back into the cushions. “Seems like I’m not the only busy one. Receptionist said you weren’t taking any walk-ins.” He chuckled.

“So you charmed your way up here?” You teased, sitting back down in your chair.

“You know me too well.” Your heart warmed at his soft smile. “She’s kind of automated. Told me that as soon as I said your name, recognized me when she finally looked up.” You nodded along with his explanation, agreeing with the observation.

“Yeah, she kind of has to be. People are pushy, we’re a popular spot. Gets her through the day.” You shrugged. “You guys not working today?” You addressed them all as a group, itching to ask about Jake, but knowing it was better not to. He shook his head.

“No, took a day to just relax.” You could tell he was lying. It was always easy to tell when Danny was lying. He wasn’t looking at you, he was fidgeting with the loose thread decorating the ripped fabric of his jeans. You watched him, wanting to catch his eye so you wouldn’t have to verbally pry the truth from him. After a moment, he looked up through his eyelashes, regretting the decision almost immediately. When he met your knowing stare, he cracked immediately. “We were, this morning.” He admitted. “We decided it would be best to take the day and regroup tomorrow. Didn’t get much done.”

“Why not?” You asked, genuinely curious. Usually they worked really well together. In your time of knowing them, they never seemed to lack in the productivity department. He avoided the question at first, unsure of how to answer it. After a while of uncomfortable silence, he shifted in his seat and fully turned to you.

“Jake has been fucking insufferable.” He sighed. Just from the sound of his tone, you could tell he wasn’t there to question you. He was a friend who needed to rant, and his options were limited due to the relations of his band mates. You let out a laugh, finding his blunt words funny. You knew that if Danny was willing to put it like such, Jake must have been horrific to be around. “Have any insight?” He asked, hoping for an answer.

“I haven’t talked to him since we went to brunch.” You admitted. It seemed like once the words left your mouth, it clicked in his brain.

“Your choice, or his?” You shifted under his gaze.

“Him, I think. I haven’t really reached out, either, I guess.” It was a lie; the separation was for certain Jake’s choice, and you had spent the first day blowing up his phone. You thought maybe that you had driven him even further away with your initial inquires.

“So he misses you!” Danny laughed, teasing you almost instantly. Your cheeks burned red, embarrassed at the idea and wishing he would keep his voice down.

“Shut up!” You scolded, but you couldn’t help but feel relief at the idea Jake was suffering, too. “If he misses me so much, he can come and see me!” But your argument was not heard over the sound of his laughter. He was worried there was a blowout, one that had left you both confused and angry. Instead, you were both playing the immature game of ‘who’s going to text first?’ He had to admit, the knowledge did make him feel better, knowing that one of you was bound to give in, and likely very soon.

“You guys are ridiculous!” He said, taking a long breath to calm himself down. Your childish anger was only adding more humour to an already funny situation, fuelling his hysterics even further. “For the love of god, talk to him before he goes crazy. Before he drives all of us crazy.”

“He started it!” You attempted to justify your lack of reaching out. “I tried at first, and he didn’t answer. He can drive himself crazy all he wants, but I’m not chasing after him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Danny shook his head, a grin eating away at his face.

“What are you, five?” He chided. “Please, for my sake, just invite him over or something. I cannot handle him anymore.”

“Is that the only reason you came to see me?” You questioned, trying to change the subject.

“Obviously not!” He defended. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mhm,” you rolled your eyes. “If you’re here to see me, then I would appreciate no further comments on my love life, please.”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t cheer up soon, I’m going to go insane.” He warned, but there was an evident tone of humour in his words. He fell into a silence, thinking hard about how to word his next question. “How’s your Jake-stinence going?” You raised an eyebrow in inquiry, not quite sure what he meant. “Like abstinence… but from Jake. Get it?” You turned towards your desk, eyes landing on a blank sheet of paper. You grabbed it, crumpling it in your fist, and threw it at him. It bounced off his forehead and tumbled into his lap in a graceful manner, resulting in him shooting you a look of shock. “Not good, I take it. You’re as grumpy as he is.”

“I said no talk about you-know-who.” You pointed a finger at him in warning.

“Okay, okay.” He conceded. “He’s been demoted to Voldemort status.” He promised. You both shared a wordless stare, but eventually dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“I missed you.” You finally cracked, shedding the tough exterior. All of the turmoil you had been feeling from the last few days seemed to melt away. Danny had the ability to make even the worst situations seem bright just with his company.

“I missed you too, bug.”

The two of you chatted away, mostly just mindless and lighthearted conversation, but it seemed to satiate the ache that had been permanent for the past few days. You worked away, happy that you didn’t have any more appointments so you didn’t have to worry about cutting the hangout short. Somewhere along the way, you’d even managed to find your appetite. You finished the sandwich your receptionist had so graciously given you. By the time four o’clock rolled around, you were almost completely finished with your work. With your new spark of energy, you figured a little more time would get you ahead of the pile of procrastination you had accumulated.

“I think I need to get going.” Danny sighed, regretful for having to leave. “I think you-know-who’s brother is on his way to my place.” He said as he checked his phone.

“He’s also you-know-who.” You corrected.

“How are we going to tell the difference between them, then? At least call them Thing 1 and Thing 2, or something.”

“That’s the point. We aren’t going to be talking about them, remember?” You reminded him. He gave a slow nod, knowing that you wouldn’t stick to your word. As much as you hated discussing your problems, he always had a way of getting you to talk.

“You leaving soon, too?” You shook your head, motioning to your desk.

“I think I’m gonna stay late. I have a few things I need to get done before the weekend, and I’m feeling up to it, today.” You explained, receiving a nod in return. “Thanks for coming. I always love your company.” You smiled.

“It was my pleasure, bug.” You stood to give him a hug, unable to resist the temptation. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as a silent apology for not seeing you sooner. You rested your head on his chest, eyes closed in bliss. The comfort you were surrounded in was impenetrable, more than you’d felt since you had your brunch date with him. “Call me if you’re bored later, I’m sure we can find something to do.”

“Sounds good to me.” You said, reluctant to let go. Eventually, you parted with him and bid a small goodbye. Once he disappeared through the door, you collapsed back in your chair.

You took a moment to decompress from the company before turning back to your laptop screen. You knew the rest of the staff would be heading out around four-thirty, so you called down to the front desk to let them know not to wait up for you. You took your phone out, checking to see if Jake had messaged, just in case. When you were met with a blank screen and a sinking feeling in your stomach, you turned on some music to fill the stale air. You worked away, finding your productivity lessen without Danny around. Still, you persevered in hopes that it would distract you from the creeping loneliness that was catching back up to you. The thought of returning home to an empty house was gut-wrenching, and you didn’t want to bother Danny and Sam in fear of intruding. Work seemed like the best option for you, and work you did. It distracted you enough that you almost missed the second disturbance of the day.

A gentle knock sounded on the door, which you thought was quite peculiar. You looked at your clock, noting that it was around the time everyone was headed home. You figured it was either the receptionist stopping by to bid a goodnight, or Danny coming back because he forgot something. You turned to the couch, eyes scouring the cushions to see if there was a forgotten phone or wallet, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. You thought it must be a coworker, as Danny likely would have noticed something was missing long before now. Another knock sounded, a bit more imminent than the last, breaking you out of your internal brooding indefinitely. You weren’t sure why you were stalling; maybe because you had no energy for another social interaction, or perhaps because you were determined to get the work finished. You figured you shouldn’t let whoever it was wait any longer in case it was something important.

You stood, making your way towards the door. Before you could open it, another knock came through. You had to admit, the persistence did strike you as annoying, but you tried not to let it bother you. When the door swung open, revealing the source of the disturbance, you were certain your heart stopped beating for a moment. With wide eyes, you took in the sight, drinking in every detail and finding yourself speechless. Three days was not a long time, but it seemed like an eternity to you. Somehow, in the lesser half of a week, he only seemed to present even more beautifully than he did in the days before. The desire to be with him was unfathomable when he wasn’t accessible, but now that he was within an arms reach, it was tormenting you worse than it ever had.

Jake stood, wordless with a shadow of indignation dancing in his eyes. Simple clothes, just a t-shirt and jeans, with his hair loosely hanging over his shoulders and his sunglasses decorating the neck of the shirt. His simplicity was astounding; it didn’t matter what he was wearing, he was always gorgeous. His cologne was like a punch to the stomach, something you didn’t realize you even missed until it was shoved in your face. It felt like an addiction. You bargained for days that you could go without him, live life without the comfort of his company. The minute he showed up, as soon as he became available, you knew you were lying to yourself. A lifetime without Jake could be enjoyable, sure, but never completely fulfilling. All of the contempt for his actions, the anger you had felt over his disappearance was gone in an instant, replaced with the undying urge to reach out and touch him, for him to touch you.

“Long time no see, Gold Dust Woman.” His tone was flat, the nickname that usually held an air of adoration was cold, now. He was angry, and Danny was correct about that, but he was mad at you. If the reunion went well, you made sure to note that you would never ignore him again, intentional or not. More so than anger him, it seemed to hurt him, and that was something you never wanted to do.

“Jake,” you breathed, still finding yourself unable to move from your position. You wanted to reach out to him, to invite him in, but you couldn’t seem to conjure the strength to do it. That feeling was partially reliant on the idea that he did not want you to. You were caught in a standoff, neither of you wanting to be the first to move, but both of you needing each other more than words could express. Your gaze drifted over his face, features so alluring and inviting. For a split second, his eyes caught yours. It shook you to your core, making you want to fall to your knees and grovel at his feet. In that moment, you would do anything to feel even a fraction of the love in his touch that you had experienced before. Even if it was angry, a shell of what it was the few days prior, it would be worth the world and more.

As if the eye contact sparked the same realization in him, he stepped forward without warning. His hands landed on your hips and he pulled you into a kiss. Your arms shot up, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. With one kiss, he managed to silence every worry before it even had a chance to surface. Without breaking apart, you both stepped into the room a bit further. He kicked the door shut behind him, not willing to take the chance of someone interrupting. It was a messy show of desperation, his hands wandering to any available part of you, making up for lost time. When you finally parted, your lips were swollen and you were fighting for air.

“You disappeared,” you stated, chest heaving in attempt to catch up on the lack of oxygen.

“Good observation.” He muttered, not having the heart to ignore you any longer, but it was evident that he wasn’t interested in talking. His hands were already wandering under the hem of your shirt, begging for you to let him slip it over your head. As much as you wanted to deny it, to stop him for a moment to resolve the problem before jumping straight to sex, you couldn’t. The feeling of his hands on your skin was exhilarating, satiating the craving that could only ever be solved by him. You lifted your arms, complying to his request with no hesitation. Once your shirt was discarded, he turned and locked the door, just as a precaution. “Got here just in time. Receptionist was leaving, told me you were still up here.”

“Surprised she let you in.” You responded, feeling the sting of cool air attack your bare skin.

“Didn’t want to. Calling you my girlfriend really persuaded her.” His gruff explanation was paired with the action of him pushing you towards the couch. He said it with such simplicity, like it was a completely normal title and he had no problem announcing it. It made your stomach churn, the knowledge that it was a lie stinging a little more than it should have. You didn’t have time to dwell, because once you reached the sofa, he made quick work at sitting down and pulling you into his lap.

You adjusted easily, straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers snaked around to your back, unclasping your bra and throwing it to the floor alongside your shirt.

“Why the hell were you ignoring me?” You question was followed by a sharp gasp; he’d already buried his face in your chest and pulled one of your nipples into his mouth. The sensation caused an involuntary grind of your hips against him. His actions were only gentle for a moment, the tender care he showed you initially was quickly replaced with his annoyance. Cautiously, he sunk his teeth into the sensitive bud, eliciting a hiss from you. Your grip on his bicep tightened, shocked at the suddenness of his action. You could already tell that his intent was not to cater to you. He was pissed off, so much so that it had taken three days for him to recover enough to punish you for it.

You had no idea that his unanswered calls would get under his skin so badly, and if anything, you thought it was quite childish. Three days of complete silence over a bruised ego seemed a little extreme. Perhaps his frustration was bleeding in to you as well, causing a spark of anger towards him. “Answer me.” You snapped, unable to find a sympathetic bone in your body. The harsh words hit him the same as if you punched him in the face. He broke from you, eyes immediately shooting up to your face. There was a fire blazing behind his pupils, the muscle in his jaw tense with annoyance at your demand.

“Shut up.” He spat, no willingness to answer questions about why he withdrew. His eyes lingered for only a moment before pulling you into another kiss. You could feel the rage radiating from his skin; it was laced within his kiss, bleeding into your mouth and knotting around your throat. The sensation was electrifying, so good that you didn’t even notice that it was killing you. In that moment, you hated him, furious that he refused to tell you why he left, but you were so in love with the feeling of his hands that you couldn’t stop him. You were aching for relief, but it was far beyond sexual gratification. His absence hurt you for reasons much bigger than sex, even if you thought it impossible to communicate it. As much as you wanted to ignore it, to give in to his demands and burning touch, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you pulled back, breaking free from his spell. Even as the words came out of your mouth, you wanted to take them back. The temptation of Jake was greater than any other force you’d ever felt before. “I can’t have sex with you unless we talk.” The first wise decision you had made since the beginning had finally surfaced. The lack of malice in your statement struck him differently than your previous comments. For a brief moment, he paused. You had hurt him, undoubtedly, but he finally realized that he had hurt you, too. The defensive nature you had both previously adorned was beginning to crumble away. When he looked into your eyes, his heart ached at the harshness he had greeted you with.

The crack in the wall slowly spread, branching into all directions. The sound was deafening.

Instantaneously, the truth seeped through the weakened defence, settling in your bones and taking over; the game you were playing with each other evolved into something much greater than casual sex. You cared about each other, enough so that whatever happened had caused genuine pain. You were invested enough to be hurt, and now you weren’t sure how to slow down. “We can talk while we fuck.” He bargained, less aggressive than his initial stance. He was still angry, but it had dissipated the moment he saw you. Now that he was touching you, aching to be with you the same way you were, it was residual rather than overwhelming. He didn’t want to admit that his request was due to his need for you, still unable to jump over the barrier limiting him from being vulnerable. He wanted to talk, to work out the situation and go back to the way things were in the first few days, but his need for communication was minimal compared to his need for you.

You couldn’t find a good argument to counter his proposal, so you agreed. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, but at the time it seemed right. When you didn’t contest, he shifted below you, keeping one hand on your back for support, and easily laid you down on the couch. You knew that sex in your office was likely not the best place, but you also knew you couldn’t withstand a drive back to your house. You could only hope that the janitors started on the first floor, knowing that you were in for one hell of a ride. He fumbled with the buttons on your jeans, barely warning you before those were on the floor, too. You were left in just your underwear, skin tingling with the frigid air. When he finally took a moment to look over you, exposed underneath him once more, he felt the crushing weight of his adoration for you wash over him, overshadowing any other emotion he was feeling in the moment. His expression almost looked pained, striking a worry within you. In truth, the pain was due to the knowledge in his brain that he could lose you, and he knew just how easy it would be. Missing you had become so difficult that he couldn’t even play into his own game anymore. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime without you if he lost the race.

“You want to talk?” He hummed, breaking out of his internal brooding almost immediately. His voice was low, dangerous almost, like the question in itself was a trap. He leaned down over you, his lips ghosting over your stomach. The light tickle of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, so unsettling yet still so beautiful all at the same time. “To keep pretending that you don’t know what you did?” A fizzle of panic struck, unsure what he meant by the question. Soon after, regret formed at the memory of his missed calls, the ones that sounded when you were too busy buried in his brother. “I warned you, angel. Being a tease is not how you get what you want. Ignoring me, talking back, not listening…” he trailed off, mouth still barely hovering over you. He’d made it to your navel, his breath tickling the skin just above your panty line. You would be lying if you said you didn’t wish for him to continue. He wasn’t even touching you and you were a mess for him. He brought his mouth to you, a placing gentle kiss to you. It was barely noticeable, but it was the greatest gift he ever could have given you. You had no shame in the shaky breath that escaped your lips, no longer shy about the effect he had on you.

“I’m going to do the talking, and you’re going to listen.” He said, finally looking up at you. At the sight of his face, all of your morals faded away. Any idea of argument was long forgotten, and any need to contest his authority ceased to exist. You were at his disposal, completely under his command and just grateful to have the opportunity. Your pleasure was second to his; you were willing to make up for whatever you had done to hurt him, and if that meant allowing him to do whatever he pleased with you, that was more than alright. Despite his disappearance and his angry exterior, he was still the same Jake you had been lucky enough to experience before. You knew that no matter how upset he was with you, he would take care of you and your comfort. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered. His hand slowly connected with your cunt, the thin material of your underwear barely diminishing the euphoric feeling of his fingers on you.

“You only speak when I give you permission.” He added, making sure the rule was clear. “Unless you want me to stop or slow down.” He was quick to ensure that was understood. He looked to you, both of you knowing he wanted verbal clarification before he continued.

“Okay, baby.” You promised. The pet name seemed to cause a short-circuit in his brain, almost making him forget what his intentions were. At the sound of such a sweet word he’d been craving to hear for so many days, he considered throwing the act to the side and coddling you, admitting that he was in the wrong for letting his jealousy get in the way. The continual battle of fighting back vulnerability was exhausting, and every time he looked it you it grew harder to withstand.

“That’s my girl.” He broke from your stare, muttering the praise in attempt to distract himself from the internal struggle of wanting to love you and being afraid. His fingers were barely touching you, the pressure against you minimal, but the touch so inviting. “Need to show me that you can behave, angel. So far, you haven’t done a very good job at it.” He explained, eager to get the last piece of clothing off of you, but opting to tease you instead. He found it too easy to give in to you, to give you whatever you wanted, and he was trying to resist it. His anger was still strong, pulsing through his veins, but now it was less so to do with you, and more so due to him allowing himself to wind up in this situation all over again. He swore the last time that he would never allow Sam the chance to steal someone away from him. This time, he was certain that his head start would allow him the upper hand, but somehow his brother had bested him once more. The stakes were too high, the idea of Sam touching you was excruciating, and he feared that his own bruised feelings had given his brother the opportunity he had been so desperate to avoid.

In complete transparency, in the three days he spent away from you, the thought of letting go did surface, but not because he was willing to give you up. It was mostly because he knew the loss of you would be devastating. It was in protection of his own feelings, and ignoring your messages was admittedly one of the hardest things he had ever done. Now that he was with you, touching you, seeing you in the beautiful light that you were always surrounded with, the thought was blasphemous. Jake was in the race until the very end, until you ultimately made the decision yourself. He may have started the game with the belief he was in control, but he now he knew he wasn’t. For a moment, he believed Sam was the master, but that wasn’t true, either. You held the power, even if you didn’t believe it. The choice was yours, and all they could do was pray that it was them who would come out on top. Much like his brother, he adorned the same attitude, knowing that a brief time with you was better than never having you at all, even knowing that it might not be him you chose.

In some sense, you felt like your decision was already made. With his hands on you, his eyes burning into you, and his cologne surrounding you, the choice seemed easy. Your undeniable feelings for him were growing more by the day; his disappearance only solidified that. When Jake was around you, the decision to love him was simple. You wanted to be with him, to be loved by him, and you weren’t sure if it would ever go away. Then again, when he was gone, replaced by the company of Sam, the right thing seemed to be different, to follow your initial path in pursuing Sam. You had no idea what to do, or when to do it. You didn’t want to stay in limbo forever, always bouncing back and fourth and never able to make a decision, but the idea of losing either of them was indescribably painful.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” His words shot through you like a bullet, shattering any doubt. You wanted to be with Jake, and until you had the courage to say it aloud for certain with no fear of doubling back, you would enjoy having him for the time being. You hadn’t been with him for long enough to know for sure, and that’s what you repeated in your head to bargain with your indecision.

“You,” You whispered, and it was the truth. He was all you could think about, all of the time. It was unbearable, but fantastic all the same. His fingers were still dancing over the thin fabric concealing you, giving you a taste of relief but not even close to enough to satisfy. You knew that he was going to push you until you couldn’t think straight, make you forget anything other than his name, and you were okay with it. You missed him so much that you would take anything, even if it were him telling you he hated you. Being hated by Jake was better than being nothing to him.

“Are you telling me the truth?” He asked.

“Of course I am.” You breathed, squirming beneath his heavy stare. You were throbbing, aching for him to stop teasing you and get to the point, but you bit your tongue. If you were to talk back to him, you feared he would get up and leave. You were certain he could tell how turned on you were; he was dragging it out as punishment. He noticed your discomfort, knowing immediately the cause. He could see how badly you wanted him just from your expression, and it was exactly what he was hoping for. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, the closest thing to a smile he had given you since he showed up.

“Let’s talk, angel.” He said, slowing his movements to a stop. “If you keep telling me the truth, I’ll give you what you want. If you lie to me…” he trailed off, eyes drifting over you as he pondered the best choice of words. “You probably don’t want to find out what will happen.” He said, his smirk growing into a sadistic little smile. You didn’t like the look in his eye, but the temptation of the reward was too large to resist.

“Okay, let’s talk.” You agreed. He settled himself on his knees between your legs, leaning in close to you. He turned his head to the side, placing a few kisses to the inside of your thigh before beginning his tirade.

“You know, it’s not very nice to be a tease,” He pondered aloud, not pointing a question at you, but rather posing the statement in general. “I don’t particularly like it.” The pressure of his thumb increased, giving you small motivation to play into his game. He noticed your sharp intake of breath at the movement, clearly pleased by the sound. “Well, unless I’m the one doing it.”

God, he was insufferable sometimes.

“What were you trying to do that night?” He asked, but spoke again before you could respond. “Calling me dressed like that, ignoring my texts, talking back?” He listed a few of the injustices that you had committed.

“I wanted you to come over.” You let out a gasp as the statement fell from your lips, feeling his fingers finally slip under the fabric. Instead of rewarding you for your answer, he let his thumb hover over the spot you so badly wanted him to touch. The minuscule contact was worse than an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

“No, I don’t think that’s what you wanted.” He shook his head, watching your face. Every detail was driving you crazy, despite how minor some were. He raised an eyebrow, wanting you to try again.

“Attention.” You admitted, which was the whole truth. Your previous answer was not completely wrong, yet purposely omitted partial truth. “I wanted you to pay attention to me.” With that, he let his thumb trace slow circles into your clit. The small action sent a wave of pleasure through you, causing you to involuntarily arch your back in response.

“That’s it, baby.” He said, the words coming out in a slur. He wanted to keep his composure, but it was difficult watching you in such a state. Your reaction had an effect on him that was much greater than he would care to admit. “You wanted attention?” He asked, making sure that your answer was clear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering closed in response to his voice. You were sure you could get off from the sound of it alone.

“Did you want it from me, or did you just want someone to take care of you? Didn’t matter who it was?” He asked, his tone shifting slightly. You could tell that his anger was slowly returning the more he spoke.

“I wanted it from you, Jake.” You said, looking to meet his eyes. You meant it, but you weren’t sure he believed it. “That’s why I called you.” Another gasp sounded from you as his thumb pressed into you even further.

“And you got it,” he confirmed “you got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you?” His eyes never left your face, searching for a hint of a lie, almost like he wanted you to try your luck.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered out, feeling him slowly slip a finger into you. It was just enough for you to lose your train of thought, only able to focus on his hands rather than your conversation.

“But you weren’t satisfied with that, were you?” He questioned, voice quiet but firm. His hands felt so good on you that you almost didn’t hear him, too caught up in the pleasure. A moan fell from your lips, but he wasn’t happy about your lack of an answer. He halted his movements, violently pulling you out of the cloud of euphoria. “That wasn’t enough. You wanted more, didn’t you, angel?”

“Yeah, I did.” Your response was immediate, willing to tell him anything he wanted to hear as long as he promised to keep touching you. “I wanted you to come over and fuck me.” He resumed his pace, adding another finger to you to show his appreciation for your honesty. You let out a choked moan, the feeling more intense now that he had stopped and started again.

“I know you did, sweetheart.” He said, a note of fake sympathy ringing from his tone. Had you not known him so well, you’d almost believe it to be true. “Were you a good girl after I hung up? Did you listen to me and touch yourself, take care of yourself because I couldn’t be there with you?” His words were blunt, powerful in their simplicity, and pushing you closer to an orgasm every time he opened his mouth. You didn’t even care that his tone was thick with disrespect, slowly degrading you more every time he spoke. You had no idea where his words were leading to, but you were certainly content with the ignorance in the meantime.

“N-no,” you admitted, but the answer barely come out. You were too distracted by the knot tightening in your belly, pleading with you to let go.

“Of course you didn’t,” he chuckled, but it was not because he found the situation funny. It was a knowing laugh; he’d known the answer to the question long before he asked it, but he wanted to hear you admit it. “You never listen.” He stated, but the snarky comment meant nothing to you. He could see it in your face, the impending climax that you were so desperate for. He was almost willing to give in, to let you have the moment of pleasure, but he wasn’t feeling up to generosities. “You were supposed to do as I said, be good and play with yourself until I could come over. It was simple, but you couldn’t even do that.” He spat.

“M’sorry, Jake.” You whined, but you were too far gone to say it with sincerity. The lack of understanding on your part infuriated him, that you had no idea what he was hinting at, no idea what you had done.

“No, you’re not.” He shook his head, despite you not looking at him. He continued his movements, driving you as close to the edge as he could get you. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“I am,” you pleaded, now fearful that he thought you were lying.

“What did you do instead?” He asked, ignoring your desperate apologies.

“I-I drank, waited for you to come o-over.” You figured the half truth was better than the alternative. You weren’t lying to him, just withholding the full story in hopes to spare his feelings and keep him from pulling away.

“I told you not to lie to me, sweetheart.” He said, the low tone resonating more with a growl. You failed to realize that you were in stalemate; he knew what you had done, and there was no lie or explanation that would lessen the blow of the truth.

“N-not lying, baby.” You breathed, just seconds away from an orgasm. It was getting harder to speak, harder to think. The conversation was of no interest to you, anymore. The only thing you wanted was for him to keep making you feel good, and you were willing to say anything to get it.

“Strike two.” He warned.

“Jake, please, I promise.” You begged. That was his breaking point, no longer able to prompt you to tell the truth. He was fed up, practically radiating with frustration, and long past willing to bargain with you.

“So that’s your story? You waited for me?” He hissed, but his hands remained steady. When you didn’t answer, he chose to do it for you. “I told you to get yourself off, not to call my brother to do it for you.” He spat. Your eyes snapped open, the shock of his words paired with the threat of climax was overwhelming, sending your body into a rigid state. You were frozen, finally understanding that his disappearance was not because of a bruised ego, or anger that you had been ignoring him. He knew Sam was at your house that night, and was painfully aware of what you had done with him. You really had hurt him, but not for the reasons you previously thought. You couldn’t respond, only feeling a strangled cry of pleasure leave your lips as the burning in your stomach seemed to reach its full capacity. Before you could descend into the orgasm, he ripped his hand away from you with a scowl permanently stuck on his lips. If you’d been in your right mind, complaining would not have been your first reaction, but you were delirious after going so long without him. Finally feeling his hands again was enough to drive you insane, and losing them before you could let go was the worst feeling in the world.

“What the fuck?” You hissed, sitting upright in an instant. Normally, the crazed look in his eye would have served as a warning. Today, it was just the same as throwing gasoline on a burning flame.

“That’s what you do when you don’t get your way?” He matched your intensity, both of you fuming with no sign of backing down. “I didn’t get a call, or even a text, so I thought I’d be nice. Thought I pushed you too far, so I dropped everything to come over and take care of you, just to see that you’d already found someone else to do it? It was that easy?” The condescending attitude was infuriating enough that you thought you could reach out and strangle him without a shred of guilt.

“So that’s why you came here? To argue? To show up after three days just to fight with me?” You spat, ready to grab your clothes and kick him out. “You don’t get to be mad at me for something you started!” He reached out, grabbing your face in his hand with little care, silencing you before you could speak again.

“No, I’m not here to argue.” He said, suddenly seeming calm and rational, though the fire in his eyes did not reflect his stature. “Get up, and shut your fucking mouth.” There was no more room for discussion, and you were not willing to contest him. You stood, obliging to the command almost immediately. He stood, too, eyes scanning the room until they inevitably landed on the recording booth, perfectly soundproof and ready to house the main event. He nodded his head towards it, signalling for you to go inside. You wanted to protest, to shake your head in retaliation, but you couldn’t. His authority in that moment was astounding, something that was not a force to be reckoned with. The power imbalance was clear; he was in charge this time, and was in no way willing to compromise.

You shuffled in the direction of his eyes, walking in the booth with him hot on your trail. The sound of the door shutting behind you settled in your bones with the weight of lead, sending dread through every nerve. You had no reason to be scared; you knew he would never hurt you, but you were certain he would not be gentle. You turned to look at him, finding no comfort in the expression that he adorned. “Turn around, hands against the wall.” Was all he said. You obeyed, quickly spinning and taking a step towards the wall. You assumed the position that he requested without a word. Despite the bubble of anxiety in your chest, you were still incredibly turned on and excited for what was in store for you, even if it was a punishment. You felt him approach you, his body radiating warmth despite being fully clothed. Another rush of arousal ran through you, excited by his proximity alone. That was the thing about Jake; he didn’t have to be touching you to be able to keep his spell on you. It was strong enough just simply knowing he existed.

“I’m not here to argue, or fight, or whatever you think.” He said, voice dangerously low. “If I wanted to do that, I would have gotten it over with long before now.” You knew he didn’t want you to answer, so you didn’t. You were in much too deep to risk pissing him off further. You felt his hand ghost over your lower back, the touch soft and inviting. It felt so good that your eyes even fluttered closed, the tension in your shoulders releasing slightly. “Do you remember what I said, earlier?” You chose not to respond in fear of saying the wrong thing. “How I’m going do the talking, and you’re going to listen?”

“Yes,” you whispered, still in love with the feeling of his hand on you. He was being far too sweet for you to believe it was true.

“Good,” he said, the word short and his tone firm. “You remember your colours?”

“Yes,” you repeated, almost robotically.

“Please don’t be scared to tell me, okay?” He said, dropping the gruffness only for a moment.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking back over your shoulder to catch his eye for a moment. You wished you hadn’t, because the softness beneath the rough exterior was almost enough to make you fall in love with him on the spot. He was tempted to smile, to throw his anger to the side and hold you. As upset as he was about the situation, it did not take away his care for you, and the three days he spent away from you were just as terrible for him as they were for you. He knew if he did that, he would be digging his own grave. Instead, he continued on like the sweet second had never happened at all.

“I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to tell me the truth.” He said, your eyes still locked with his. “Told you that I’d take care of you, you’d get what you want, as long as you didn’t lie to me.” His grip on your hip tightened, fingers staring into your skin and showcasing all of the emotion he was holding within him. “Made it easy, but you don’t know how to listen.” He sighed at the end of the sentence, like he almost pitied you for what you were going to endure. “No more chances, baby. We do this my way, now. Understand?”

“I do.” You squeaked.

“I didn’t think that I was asking a lot of you, sweetheart.” He said once your head turned away from him. “Just to be patient, to do what you were told, and you couldn’t even do that for me.” You felt him remove his hand from you. Soon after, you could hear the metal clanging of his belt being unbuckled. Your stomach sank, knowing what would come next, but you couldn’t help but feel the buzz of excitement again. Jake was so phenomenal that even the thought of being reprimanded by him was exhilarating. “You didn’t care who was giving you the attention, angel. You just wanted someone to take care of that ache between your legs. You knew I’d do it right, and that’s why you called me, hmm?”

“Yes, sir.” You felt the cool leather against your backside, threatening to strike at the first wrong word or action. You took a long breath, waiting for his next move.

“Did you think he could take care of you like I do?” The possessive nature of his statement took you as a shock; there had never been a time where you had discussed boundaries, titles, or anything official. It was messy, hookups with no real promise of more but so many buried feelings that it made it near painful for everyone. From all you knew, the competition between the brothers was fierce, but expected. Jealousy was not something you had thought would surface. You pushed the thought away, understanding that Jake had not said anything extremely offhand. You chalked the comment up to his competitive nature, and left it at that. At the same time, you fought to ignore the feeling of delight that came with the thought of being his.

At your silence, the belt raised and came down on your bare ass. It was not nearly as hard as he could have hit you, but it was enough to send a shock through you. The lasting sting was a reminder to answer him in a timely fashion. “No comment?” He taunted. You could hear the smirk in his tone, almost pushing you to test your limits, but you decided it was best not to. “Did you think he could make you feel as good as I do?”

“No, sir.” Now was not the time to tell him you did not call Sam and invite him over, or that when you answered the door, you expected it to be him. He didn’t want to hear that; his feelings were hurt, and he wanted you to fuel his ego.

“Doesn’t seem like he did a very good job, angel. Not a single mark on you.” He noted. You could feel his eyes scanning you, inspecting for any signs of the betrayal littering your skin. The leather of the belt was gently tickling your backside, threatening you with punishment if you did not adhere to the rules. “Did he make you feel good, baby?” His question seemed like one of self-punishment. He would know if you were lying, but the truth was undesirable.

“Y-yes,” you muttered, feeling guilty for even saying that to his face.

“As good as I do?” He asked, his tone more pressing than before. You had no idea how to answer him, because you didn’t know. It was different, and you were unable to compare it to each other because they were both fantastic for different reasons. So, you opted to test your luck and give him the answer he wanted to hear from you.

“No, baby.” You said, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“No?” He asked, questioning your response. You were frustrated with him, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear. He seemed to pick up on every lie without difficulty, leaving you stuck with truth, even if you thought it would do more harm than good.

“I-i don’t know, Jake.” You said, honesty finally showing.

“Then tell me what you do know.” His condescending attitude was insufferable, making you realize that this game was not for any other reason than to shame you for your actions. He wasn’t catering to his own ego, or mending his own wounds. He wanted you to feel embarrassed, regretful for the stunt you pulled and the scene he witnessed. He wanted you to feel the same embarrassment he felt when he showed up only to find that Sam had beat him to it. “What happened that night, angel?”

“I was waiting for you, Jake.” You told him, more truthful than anything else you could have said. “I heard a knock on the door and I thought it was you. I was excited, thought maybe I won the argument for once. When I opened the door, it wasn’t you. I didn’t call Sam, I didn’t invite him over to spite you. He showed up.” You explained, desperate for him to know that you would never do that to him. “I didn’t even know it was him until the door was open.” Jakes movements stuttered, the belt he was taunting you with coming to a halt for a moment. He had misjudged you, and although knowing that you invited Sam inside was painful, his reaction was based off the conclusion that you called Sam when he refused to give in to you. He was mistaken, but in typical Jake fashion, he couldn’t seem to fess up to his wrongdoing. He was in too deep to backtrack, and his contempt for the situation was still too large to ignore.

“But you invited him in, didn’t you?” His voice was softer; you could tell the explanation satiated at least some of the ache he had been feeling.

“I did.” You admitted. If his goal was to make you feel shame, it was working. Perhaps at the time, your guilt was not large enough to derail your desire for sex, but now it made you never want to look at Sam again.

“And you didn’t think that was a bad idea?” He pressed. You could feel him gravitating closer to you, his hips almost pushing into you now. He was dragging this out even longer than he liked, but he continued on, nonetheless. “Didn’t care about anyone’s feelings other than your own?” He snapped, finally outwardly admitting that it had hurt him, even if it was unintentional.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but it wasn’t enough.

“You’re not sorry, angel. I know you would do it again if I left you here like this.”

“I’m trying to apologize, Jake!” You said, frustrated with his lack of respect for your words. “I know I fucked up, but you didn’t have to disappear like that!” Your attitude was quickly changed when the smack of the belt was felt on your skin again, harder than the last time. Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding together to distract you from the sting.

“Apologize for what?” He hissed. “You keep saying sorry, but you don’t even know what you’re sorry for.” A tear welled up in your eye, still processing the bluntness of the belt. You were frustrated, tired of the back and fourth, and most of all, desperate for him to get off his high horse and fuck you. You were both hurting with no proper way of communicating it. The whole foundation of your relationship was sex; neither of you had a clue how to approach the complex feelings that were beginning to surface. Both of you fell in step with the devil, driven by the premise of each other’s bodies and ignored any thought of emotion. It had only been a week, and the sexual gratification had already grown old, overpowered by the need for something deeper. “Sorry that you were a little whore? That you couldn’t keep your legs closed and wait for me? Or are you just sorry that you didn’t get away with it?” The belt dropped to the floor with a pathetic plop, easily forgotten about in the heat of the moment. You would have turned around on your own accord, faced him with just as much fire had it not been for him doing it for you.

Once you were facing him, fully immersed in his features, you could see that underneath all of his anger, that pain was desperate to be released, begging to be discussed. “It doesn’t matter, angel. I don’t care if you’re sorry.” He looked over your face, noticing the same fire in your eyes. The same pain was there, too. You were both fools to believe that it would magically disappear once you both had an orgasm. He stepped forward, ultimately pushing you back into the wall. You looked up at him, furious but still just as turned on. Sex would not fix the problem, but it certainly would take your mind off of it. “I’m going to fuck that attitude out of you, show you why you should have waited.”

“Do it, then.” You snapped, unable to bite your tongue anymore. “I’m sick of talking. Keep saying you’re going to, but haven’t made a move yet.” His eyes lingered over your face, distaste for your words clearly evident, but he didn’t respond. Instead he freed himself from his pants, in too much of a rush to shut you up to bother fully taking them off. He used his hand to make sure you were firmly against the wall, forgoing caution completely. His hand settled on your thigh, roughly pulling your leg up and around him. He kept his hand there, holding you to him as he bent down slightly, angling himself so he could access you easier.

Once he was lined up, he pushed inside of you without any delay. You let out a sigh of relief, but his face was stony, like he barely noticed the difference. He wasn’t fucking you for pleasure, and he was making that clear. His free hand travelled up to your neck, fingers lightly resting over your throat. “You don’t get to speak to me like that, sweetheart.” He said, hips slowly begging to rock into you. “You don’t get to speak at all, anymore. No more teasing, no more back talk, nothing.” He growled, his fingers tightening further with every word. “If you want to be a whore, you get treated like one. I have no problem with that.” As he finished, you could feel the lack of blood flow begin to wane, your heartbeat strong against the vein he was compressing. The feeling of him inside you was amplified by a million, the airy feeling in your head making it unable to think of anything other than Jake. The only thing you could focus on was the look in his eye, the feral craze of anger peeking through more by the second.

When you thought you couldn’t take any more, the brink of unconsciousness beginning to creep in from the corners of your eyes, his fingers loosened. He awake angry, sure, but never willing to cause you harm. He cared about you far too much to risk hurting you. You drew in a long gasp, feeling the prickle of stars in your vision as you tried to come back to earth. You barely had a moment to recuperate before he began his next series of degradation. “This is what you wanted so badly?” He said, his face growing closer to yours. He rested his forehead on your own, feeling the pressure begin to rise. His irascible front was breaking, slowly melting away the closer he got to you. The gravitational pull you so often felt from him was strong, and he was feeling the same one from you. “You wanted it so bad that you settled for less?” He paused his movements, reaching down for your other leg. With great trust, you allowed him to pick you up and wrap your other leg around him. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He was engulfing you like a cloud of smoke, every angle completely obscured by the weight of his existence. Every time you attempted to break free, he was there. He existed in every part of you, every molecule of your body coated with his name and cracking under the pressure of his touch. Jake was everywhere, in everything and never seeming to truly leave. Every corner you turned, every door opened and even when you closed your eyes, he existed somewhere within the darkness. It was unbearable, feeling like every limb was anchored down by the knowledge of what it felt like to be loved by him, but you believed that if you were free, you would float away into nothing. Every small wish that Jake would break the ties with you, that the situation would come to a civil end, the passing thought of how easy it would have been if he never approached at all seemed null. You knew that even if he walked out, somehow withered away into nothing and left you alone with doubt he ever existed, you would never recover from the loss of something so spectacular. You wondered if you never knew the extent of his touch, how groundbreaking it was, if you would have ever realized what you were missing out on. You thought you would have, eventually, because a feeling so exhilarating is something you yearn for infinitely, and the one he gave you was all that, and more.

“I want to hear you say it, angel.” He snarled, his fingers pressing in to you with the same feeling as a blade. It was phenomenal. He was phenomenal, and you never wanted to go so long without him again. He was pulling you down on him with every thrust of his hips. The position seemed so limiting for many, but complemented him so greatly. Everything he did was fantastic, intricate work with lasting impact. You were certain there was nothing Jake could do that would be less than amazing. You were thankful for his idea to move to the recording booth, because the moans that were escaping you were nothing short of pornographic, something you typically would only hear from an actor desperate to pay rent. But you weren’t acting, and it wasn’t a show of apology, or anything of the sorts. You never sugarcoated anything for him; everything shared between you was raw and anything but fake. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good, Jake.” You cried, hands gripping for something to hold, to ground you and bring you back to sanity. There was nothing that would give you the relief, and that’s exactly what he wanted. He wanted you to crazy for him, delirious on the idea of him alone and disturbed at the thought of being without him. If he could have his way, you would never even have the chance to think of anyone other than him. “You make me feel so good, baby.”

“Do you think anybody else can do a better job?” He asked, only using your praise as motivation to work harder.

“N-no, Jake.” You shook your head, motion limited due to his head resting on your own. You weren’t lying; in the race of feelings, Sam had a head start. There was no doubt in the minds of any of you about that. In turn, Jake had mastered the art of sex. So much so that he had you at his feet without even touching you, without you even realizing it. You would chase after him for the rest of your life for even a shred of what he was giving you then. Sex with Sam was dripping with love, soft and sweet, echoing with words everybody longs to hear. It was good, great, even. You had no regrets about the night you shared with him, but Jake was otherworldly. It was his charm, his wicked wildcard he pulled when he knew he had to compete for you. If he couldn’t make you fall in love with him within a day, he knew he could stalemate you in lust.

His head buried in the crook of your neck, assaulting the skin with the fervour of a madman, locating all of the sensitive spots like an animal searching for prey. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out, his name echoing off the walls in an obscene decoration, permanent memories of his generosity etched into the air and settling into the wood. No matter how you tried to excise his presence, you couldn’t stop him from taking over. It didn’t matter where you were or how brief the encounter; from the moment he arrived, Jake owned the place, and it would always be like so. You could feel the pressure building, his body melting into your own in with strange comfort. He was slowly purging any life from you, leeching any energy and keeping it for his own, but it was too late to stop it. Even if you had the opportunity, you weren’t sure you would. To descend into nothing at the hands of Jake was the most compelling thing you could ever imagine, because you would have the opportunity to be with him until the end.

He could feel you tense, your walls clenching around him in a plea for an orgasm. You were desperate, the separation from him had taken more from you than you cared to admit. Even the thought of an orgasm from Jake was blissful all in itself, and you couldn’t hold on any longer. When the steady stream of moans tapered off into choked cries, he knew you were feeling too good to even think of making a sound. He knew how badly you wanted it and he cared for you enough to give you anything, but he was too angry to allow you the satisfaction, to let you believe you were off the hook. When you gripped at the hair on the base of his neck, holding him in preparation for the climax, he stopped completely. For a moment, you failed to realize what had happened. You were too deep into the pleasure to understand that his hips had stopped, and his body was pulling away from you. Once you did, it washed over you in a wave of agony.

Not once did you believe that you would be so desperate for another person to beg. Not in some minor, sexual gratification way, but in a violent, anguished manner. One where you believed if he didn’t give in, you would never survive. For Jake, for the way only he could make you feel, you would, and quite shamelessly at that. You would go to the ends of the earth to find the relief of the orgasm he was so happy to deny you. You were so distraught at the loss of the feeling that you couldn’t even conjure the proper words to express your distaste. Instead, a whine sounded from deep in your chest, one that wasn’t afraid of showing transparency. When he looked to you, you felt like he could see into your soul, pinpoint the very things that made you, you. You were so desperate for him that you had no shame in showing him exactly how you felt about him, and even if it was a wordless show of adoration, he knew.

His issue did not lie within the lack of knowledge about your feelings for him. He was well aware of that by now. Almost as painfully aware as he was about his own feelings for you. All of the emotions running through you, the forces you felt when you were around him, the suffocating weight of the connection was not one sided. He was suffering from the same debilitating realizations as you were. His issue was not with your heart nor your intentions, and much less about his anger, now. In fact, the motivator for his actions no longer coincided with the reasons he showed up at your door. Now, he was driven by his pure enjoyment of seeing you in such a state.

Perhaps the truth of the sadism accusations the two of you grew so fond of had finally found its proper place. It was hanging over his head in a blinding fashion, a horrific branding, almost as if it was always meant to be there. He was no longer proving a point; that was made long before he even shed an article of clothing. Instead, it was replaced by an undying desire to leave you in such a state where the only coherent thought you could form was his name.

“What’s wrong, angel?” He dared ask the question despite knowing exactly why you were upset. “Why are you upset?” His fake sympathy was nothing short of infuriating. You were well aware of your place, now, knowing that if you refused to play into him, you would never get what you wanted.

“Please, Jake. I need you.” You pleaded, hoping for a shred of compassion. “Need you so bad, baby. I can’t take it anymore.” He slowly let you down to your feet, making sure you were steady before taking a step back from you. The scene was pathetic; you were naked, begging for his attention while he stood carelessly, almost completely clothed. Had anyone else attempted to do the same, it would be laughable. Somehow, Jake made the situation seem completely normal, like it was an everyday occurrence that he had a girl begging for him so desperately while he was so careless. And because it was for him, you didn’t seem to see an issue with it, either.

He grabbed your hand, giving you a gentle pull away from the wall. Even though the action was emotionless on his part, you couldn’t help but hope. “You’re only okay with being a whore if you’re getting something from it?” He let out a disapproving tsk, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t know what to do with you, sweetheart.” He said, almost as if he was defeated. “Can’t ever seem to please you, can I? You always want more.”

“Jake, please.” Your attempt was fruitless. He didn’t care what you had to say, and it was blatantly obvious.

“Today’s about teaching you how to care about somebody other than yourself, angel. Gotta learn how to give if you’re ever going to get.” Your eyes fluttered closed, not wanting to show your frustration with him, but finding it impossible not to. “On your knees.” He ordered. Before you even had time to process his words, he snapped again. “Now.” You did as you were told, sinking to the floor in a hurry. Once you were ready for his next advance, you looked up at his face. He was watching you, expression still cold, but a hint of warmth flickered in his eye. It was the most comforting thing you had seen from him all day, and you wished you could hold on to it forever.

Despite your anger, you couldn’t overlook the sight before you. You wanted an orgasm, but pleasuring him was the next best thing. Sometimes, it was even better. One of his hands brushed over your cheek, a brief moment of love before he grabbed your hair in his fist. He was anything but gentle, but you didn’t mind. If allowing him to air his feelings out would mean things could return back to normal, you were happy to oblige. Your mouth was watering at the sight of him, uncaring about anything other than him being inside you again, no matter which way. You were addicted to him, always needing more but never fully satisfied. He was right in saying so, because you knew you could never get enough of him.

“You’re going to be good for me, and then maybe I’ll consider giving you what you want. And don’t you dare try to get yourself off, either.” He was clear about his rules, and you weren’t willing to contest. “I can’t be the only one putting in the effort, baby.” As he spoke, his grip on your hair only tightened. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You said, barely hearing his words. You were stuck in awe of his beauty, how effortless it was all of the time.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, but it was a twisted one. He wasn’t pleased at your obedience, but more at the thought of using you as he pleased. “Open.” His command shot through you, immediately springing you into action. As soon as your lips parted, he guided your head towards his cock. He didn’t care for caution, but but remained hyper-aware of your every move, ready to stop the second you showed slight discomfort. He thrusted his hips forward, stripping you of any control. There was no grace period, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with little warning. You couldn’t help but feel a gag arise, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome.

The feeling of your throat constricting around him was almost too much for him, a groan sounding from his chest. He was driven by pleasure, the feeling of your mouth was something he could never forget. He started at a steady pace, holding your head while his hips did the work. You were barely starting and already struggling to keep up with him, but you were aching to please him. The feeling of him in your mouth and down your throat was overwhelming, but it was fantastic all the same. As tears welled in your eyes, you were worried you wouldn’t be able to give him what you wanted, but the feeling of making him feel good was too wonderful to deny. Giving Jake the same thing he gave you was more than you could ever ask for and all you ever wanted to do.

“That’s it, angel.” His praise was followed by another breathy moan. The sounds he made were certainly better than any other sound in the world. Far superior to any promise of eternal happiness. You wished you could spend every lifetime hearing him speak his songs of pleasure. You couldn’t help but let out a moan yourself, although muffled, just to show him you were happy to serve him. He began moving your head down on him as he thrusted, crazed by the feeling and wanting even more. You tried to steady your breathing, the lack of air giving you a slight sense of panic. You closed your eyes, focused only on him and the sounds he was making. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” The vulgarity was anything but beautiful, but he had a way of making everything sound gorgeous.

The tears spilled down your cheeks, a mess of mascara littering your skin. You weren’t certain you could keep up with him much longer, but luckily for you, he was getting close to slowing down. He kept his pace for a few moments longer, but the sensation was too much and he willed himself to stop. When he pulled away, you were shocked at the suddenness of his action. A prickle of fear ran through you, worried that you hadn’t done a good enough job. In truth, it was too good. “I should just cum in your mouth and leave you here.” He theorized, his chest heaving a heavy breath as he spoke. “Like you so much better when you can’t fucking talk back.” You blinked away the last few tears that had formed, regaining your composure and catching your breath. You knew it was an act, but you couldn’t help but feel the sting of his words settle all over.

He looked down at you, noticing the state you were in. His eyes softened, always worried about taking it too far. He reached down, thumb swiping away any tears still lingering on your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, appreciating any bit of affection he was willing to give. “I wouldn’t do that to you, sweetheart. You know that.” You nodded, opting to keep your eyes closed for just a moment longer. “Stand up for me, baby.” He coaxed, tone more gentle than it was before. You did as he asked, slowly rising to your feet. Once you were steady, he guided you back towards the wall. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a good look at his face, now. Somehow even amidst the chaos, he radiated comfort. You were certain he could make the worst of feelings dissolve into nothing. “I’m okay.” He let out a sigh of relief, happy that you were still alright. As much as he enjoyed pushing you, your comfortability with it was his main priority.

“You did so good, angel. Exactly what I wanted.” He said, fingers returning to your cheek for a loving caress. “Not so hard to do what you’re told, is it?”

“No,” you replied, still unwilling to contest his dominance. He leaned in, placing a kiss to your lips. It was sweet, only lasting for a moment before he straightened up once more. Without another word, he sunk to his knees below you. You watched in admiration, wondering if he was really going to be so kind. When he guided your leg over his shoulder, relief flooded through you. You rested your back against the wall, eager for him to advance. His lips trailed over the skin of your thigh, almost too gentle for the occasion. You let your fingers settle in his hair, softly holding him for encouragement.

He seemed to draw out the buildup painfully long, making sure you were quivering with anticipation before he even thought to touch you. Slowly but surely, he connected his mouth with your cunt, his tongue exploring every part of you, savouring the taste of his own hard work. He barely had to do a thing to turn you into a mess again, moans slipping past your lips with every slight moment. You were close to an orgasm just at the thought of his tongue, and feeling him in such a way after so much teasing was phenomenal. His tongue settled on your clit, barely stimulating you at all. Even so, you were more than happy that he allowed you anything at all.

“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, fingers tightening in his hair. He hummed against you, letting you know how much he loved hearing you say his name like that. “Feels so fucking good.” The words were shaky, filled with every emotion you had been feeling since he arrived. Even if you were desperate for a climax, you were still just as content to enjoy him in the moment. He picked up his pace, the intensity of his actions sending a wave of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You couldn’t help but grind your hips against his mouth, begging for more. His fingers had a firm grasp on you, sure to decorate your thigh with marks to remember him by.

You were already close, the edging from before had ensured you were extremely sensitive. Every stroke of his tongue was like a push closer to the edge. He could tell just by the sound of you, the tremble in your legs, the grasp you had on his hair. It was fuelling his ego, as if it needed to be inflated any further. The muscles in your leg tensed, pulling him in further without even realizing it. Your heartbeat was violent against your ribs, the knot in your belly barely hanging on. Your chest heaved with each breath as you tried to keep up with your need for air. The pleasure was so intense that it was almost hard to breathe. With one particularly whiny moan, he realized he had you right where he wanted you to be. He worked faster, more precise with his movement as he inched you closer to an orgasm. A slur of curses fell from your lips, your forehead glistening with sweat as you prepared for the inevitable peak of pleasure. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet, loudly but wordlessly pleading for him to keep going. Just as you felt your abdomen tense, you were torn out of the clouds and harshly brought back to earth.

He had stopped, pulled away completely and was looking up at you with a smug smile. Between the searing feeling of losing the orgasm and the anger for his attitude, you let out a primal wail through closed teeth, lessening the impact of the sound. You were frustrated, ready to give up and leave to spare yourself from any more disappointment. You couldn’t even bear the thought of looking at him, scared it would shatter the small bit of dignity you had left. Before you had a chance to speak, the crushing feeling was replaced with one of pleasure. He had returned to you, continuing his tirade as if there was never a disturbance in the first place. The suddenness of his actions was giving you whiplash, a false sense of hope for a climax began to bloom once more. A cry of relief sounded as his tongue returned to its previous place, sounding only louder as he brought his hand to you as well. As his mouth made quick work at getting you back to your prior state, he slipped his fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace with a slight curl as he entered.

You were in too much bliss to speak, only focused on the heavenly feeling of him touching you. You hated that he made it so easy to forget any ill feelings, so easy to fall into his trap. He was magnificent, every move perfectly calculated with intent to kill. He wanted you to be so immersed in him that you couldn’t stand the thought of another person doing the same things he did to you. He wanted to be the only thing in your mind forever, and it was working. It was impossible to want anything other than Jake, especially when he was right in front of you. You felt guilty, but not on Sam’s behalf. Usually by now you would be mortified by your own actions, haunted by your choices and your inability to learn from your mistakes. This time, the only guilt you had was for letting three days pass without being touched by Jake. It was so good that not even your constant moral dilemma could interfere, this time. Perhaps there was a smidge of guilt for not even thinking of the other boy, but every time it arose, it was abolished in an instant.

It seemed like the longer your entanglement dragged on, the more blurry the line between right and wrong appeared. The dance continued, and your morals cracked under the weight of your step.

He was no stranger to your body, the small time he spent getting to know it was more than what he needed to memorize your likes and dislikes. Getting you to an orgasm was easier than writing his own name; he only needed to do it once to master the process. You could barely keep your thoughts straight, the feeling so intense that it clouded your mind and numbed anything else. You couldn’t even find the energy to worry if he was going to pull away or not. The only thing you cared about was the utmost effort that he was pouring into you. “J-jake, please don’t stop.” You gasped. Your eyes were squeezed shut, every nerve in your body was on fire, you felt like if he let go of you, you would collapse without the support. “God, please, baby. I need it so bad.” For a brief second, you believed your begging was finally working. He seemed intent, no sign of pulling away. His grip was tight on your thigh and he couldn’t help but let his own noises of pleasure escape him every now and again. He seemed more invested in you than you were in him, and that was almost impossible. If he didn’t think there was a need to punish you, he would have spent all night between your legs without a complaint.

A particularly needy cry left your mouth, one soaked in desperation. He knew how badly you wanted it, and he was almost ready to give in. As your leg trembled over his shoulder, the last warning sign before your desired outcome, he came back to reality pulled away again. This time, the guttural sound that tore from your mouth was almost painful to listen to. Tears of frustration prickled at your eyes, and you had to clench your teeth to stop yourself from another protest. He watched you, revelling in the state you were in. It was so enchanting that he couldn’t even look away. To know that he could bring you to such a state was a wonderful feeling, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever let it go. You couldn’t even will yourself to look at him again, but for a much different reason this time. You were afraid that if you did, the tears you wanted to keep hidden would make even more of an appearance. You were exhausted, at your limit, and unsure if you could continue on with his game. You were beginning to believe he wouldn’t let you cum at all, and that thought was deeply unsettling. Although, you were beginning to understand that you had ultimately done the same thing to him, but in a much more hurtful manner.

He rose from his knees, slowly reaching for your face. He wiped away the tears that had fallen, only half-sympathetic to your anguish. “Turn around for me, baby.” He ordered, but the words were soft. You did as you were told, no argument to give. When you were facing the wall, he took hold of your hips. He pulled you back towards him, then pushed your upper half back towards the wall. “Have you had enough?” You could feel him lining himself up with you as he asked. You couldn’t help but push yourself back on him, unable to control yourself. You needed him in the same way a starving man needed nourishment. You needed him in the same way the sun needed the moon, or how the earth needed water. It was primal, something greater than survival, and you needed it right then and there. He couldn’t even utter a word of complaint, the sensation catching him off guard and sending him in the same down-spiral you were stuck in. You were no longer two individuals who were angry, hurting with no way of expressing it. You were one with each other, finally seeming to see the same things and meet on common ground.

“Do you know how badly I wanted this?” He asked, using the strength in his arms to pull you back on him. “How terrible it was to know that somebody else had you like this?” Another harsh thrust sent your head spinning and the moans tumbling from your lips. “To know somebody else’s name was on your lips?” You were delirious from the moment he began to fuck you, drunk off his presence and willing to do anything to keep him like this. “To know that he couldn’t do it right? That he couldn’t give you what I can?”

A cry of pleasure ran through you as he slammed into you again. He moved one hand to your shoulder, holding you steady as he continued his relentless movements. You were on cloud nine, barely breathing and unable to care about anything he was saying.

“Tell me how good it feels, angel. Tell me how much you love it when I fuck you.” He growled, uncaring about the roughness of his grasp on you and completely unaware of the reality of his words. He was begging you, although it didn’t seem like it. He was desperate to hear how much you wanted him, how he was the only one who could do it right. It was a possessive claim, jealousy seeping through every available crack in his persona. He was in the race until the end, willing to fight for you no matter the outcome, but it did not mean he was immune to the pain of knowing there was another person in the race. The stab of knowing someone else got to touch you, to love you like he so badly wanted to. He may have done it to himself, but it did not mean he was blind to any turmoil he had created.

“Feels so good, Jake.” You groaned, the words surrounding him like a blanket of comfort. “You made me feel so good. I missed you so much.” The final part of your statement was like a punch to the stomach. It hit him so brutally that he thought he might keel over from the force. His hand snaked up to your hair, collecting it in his fist and holding it tightly. He guided your head to the side, just enough for him to lean down and kiss you. The act was beautiful, so peaceful amongst the obscene display. You knew you could spend all day kissing him and never need anything else. When he parted from your lips, he remained close to your face, not quite ready to break from the bubble of comfort that surrounded him.

“Have you learned your lesson, yet?” He asked, distancing himself from you just slightly. “Do you know why you should have waited?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded against the force of his hand holding your head in place. He never broke his momentum, hips still slamming into you relentlessly. It was painfully good, each thrust hitting you with more power every time. You didn’t know if you could hold back your orgasm, this time, especially if he wasn’t willing to stop.

“You know I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, angel. Nobody else can fuck you like this.” Instead of a response, another whine fell from your lips. The pressure in your belly was excruciatingly strong, he could feel it without you even saying anything at all.

“N-nobody else, baby.” You had no guilt in the statement, either, finally crossing the final line between right and wrong. Now, no need seemed more important than the one that was pressing for you to please him. No more guilt for the back and fourth, just enjoyment for the attention you received amidst their fighting. Every moral was blurred, diminishing and lines crossing, melting into each other. You were not a pawn for them to play with, a little piece to their game in which they flaunted for advantage. You were playing, now. Your own strategies and tactics surfacing to throw them off, to make them think before walking blindly. The power was in fact yours, and you were finally able to understand that. The power to hurt, to love, and to end it all in an instant. The sorrow truth was that you weren’t ready for it to be over; you were the only one who could stop it, but you didn’t have the strength to do it. You didn’t know how to do it. The blissful joy of the love they both gave to you was so beautiful that you had no idea how to refuse it.

“You want to cum, angel?” He asked, meaning his words this time. Your mistrust of him was still there, but your hope was that you were wrong in doubting his intentions. He had pushed you far beyond your limits, and you were hoping he could see that, too.

“Y-yes please, sir.” You stuttered, the knot painfully tightening once again. You couldn’t hold back, the need to climax stronger than anything you had ever experienced before. You were tense, vibrating at the thought of him being generous enough to allow it. You knew you were completely at his disposal, but you didn’t seem to care. There was no fight in you, just complete submission to him. The only thing you could do was pray that he had fulfilled his need for punishment, that he believed you were worthy of forgiveness. “Please, Jake. I need it so bad. Please,” you gasped, feeling him reach around your hips. Within an instant, his fingers found your clit and wasted no time tracing small circles into the sensitive area.

The noise that came out of you was inhuman, all of your desperation making a show in the single sound. You could tell it affected his mood; he was practically radiating emotion for you. “You were so good for me, angel." He confessed. You could hear his own internal battle against his own orgasm just through his words. “Come on, baby. Cum for me.” The words were the best thing you could ever hear. Some part of you believed he would never give in, but the permissive statement was too glorious to ignore. Within seconds, you had descended into a mess of words, none really with any significance, but you had no other way to express how good you felt. The slur of curses were decorated with his name, cemented in a few guttural moans to commemorate his excellent performance. You could barely keep yourself standing, your legs were weak, wobbly underneath the weight of you. If not for him holding you up, you were certain the ground below you would be your new home. “That’s it,” he strangled out, affected greatly by your state. “That’s my girl.” The words were like a catalyst for a second orgasm. You weren’t sure if you were stuck in perpetual motion, in limbo with one long, drawn out climax, or if he had sent you into a second before you even had the chance to recover. No matter which it was, you were certain you had never felt like that before in your entire lifetime. If he wasn’t addictive before, you knew you could never escape him, now.

“Did that feel good?” He asked, never slowing his pace. “You feel better now, beautiful?” You managed out a whine that had semblance to an agreement. He wasn’t far behind you, for the first time that evening his movements stuttered, sloppy after a long stretch of tormenting you. As much as you wanted him to feel the same way you had, you didn’t want it to end. You were so crazy for him that you couldn’t stand the thought of stopping.

“So much better.” You assured him, but you had no time to think about your relief. His effect on you was stronger than ever, perhaps because of your withdrawal from him, or just because he was so intoxicating. It only took a moment for another climax to begin creeping up on you. The feeling was intense, almost like it was driving you insane. Partially due to overstimulation, but mostly because of his relentless focus on you. His hand was still working in time with his hips, and he knew exactly what he was doing. The sensation was overwhelming, yes, but he was more so, without a doubt.

“Can you do it again, angel?” He said, a hint of the devil in his eyes. Although you couldn’t see it, you knew him well enough to know it was there.

“I don’t know,” you warned. The feeling was good, no doubt, but it was intense. It felt like it was taking over every nerve, shouting over every thought.

“You can. I know you can.” He encouraged. You knew his encouragement was due to his own inability to hold back any longer. He wanted you to cum with him, and it was not a desire he was willing to debate. Thankfully, as much as you lacked confidence in yourself, you knew with his guidance it would not be difficult to fulfil his wish. You could feel it in your bones, the strength of the orgasm that he was coaxing from you. “Come on, angel.” He pleaded. “Be a good girl for me, I know you can.” He repeated himself, and the consistency was all you needed. If possible, the climax that washed over you was more intense than the one before. Your brain felt as if it was short circuiting, filled only with thoughts about the boy behind your source of pleasure. He was invading every part of your brain, taking over with little effort and making home forever. You held the wall for support, trying to keep yourself steady, but in truth, his hands were the only thing holding you up. Once you surrendered to the pleasure, it didn’t take long for him to follow suit and spill his release into you. The orgasm was extremely overwhelming for both of you, leaving you in a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. The air was filled with moans and swears, both of you echoing each others names like it was a hymn of love for each other. When you both came down, he was reluctant to move. He wanted to live in that moment forever. He leaned forward, pressing a few delicate kisses into your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, wishing you could exist with the softest version of Jake for the rest of your life.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke first, breaking through the silence. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He admitted to his own wrongdoing with no hesitation. “It wasn’t my place to be upset.”

“No,” You shook your head. “You’re allowed to be upset.” His hand drifted over your bare back, the touch electrifying you in a whole new way. He didn’t want to keep talking about the subject. In his mind, he was over it.

“I like you, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, gently pulling you away from the wall. “A lot.” He carefully maneuvered you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you and his hands settling on your stomach. You felt all of the tension melt away as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“I like you, Jake.” You admitted. You could feel his smile as he placed a kiss to your cheek.

“I was hoping you did.” He hummed, showing no sign of letting go. “I think those were the most beautiful sounds this booth has ever heard.” He noted. “I know they’re the most beautiful ones I’ve ever heard.” You felt a blush dust across your cheek, a small giggle sounding from you. “Maybe next time I should hit that record button, take something home with me.”

“You can take me home, Jacob. Isn’t that better?”

“Better for sure, but I can’t always take you home, angel.” His words were light, but the meaning was heavy. Although the air was clear, the situation was certainly not resolved. Unfortunately for him, it would take a final decision before that wound was healed. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to dinner.” That was his final order, his original doting persona beginning to surface and was bound to stay for the rest of the night.

“Looking like this?” the idea was incredulous to you, but he had no worry in the world about it.

“You’ll still be the prettiest one there.” He placed another kiss to your cheek before carefully removing himself from you. You thought that was impossible, because he would be there. “Now come on, I’ve got lost time to make up for.” He reminded, but you hadn’t forgotten. His disappearance was still haunting you, the hole in your chest not fully closed because you were scared he would leave again. When you turned and looked at him, you realized that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You both left the studio with a bit more pep in your step than before, but it was not quite enough to stop the looming threat of the biggest struggle yet. You both had made up for your mistakes, apologized for the lack of communication and bruised feelings, but it was nothing short of a surface conflict, and the apologies were tiny compared to the lasting wound it left in its wake. You hadn’t really discussed it at all, just expressed your distaste and brushed over the biggest aggressor. Still, that was minuscule in comparison to the bigger picture. Your momentary hurt was only a stepping stone to guide you to the window of truth. The real issue lied within something much deeper; you and Jake had surpassed the threshold of simplicity. You both held the power to hurt each other, now, and the imminent threat of that was much larger than anything else you had ever experienced before.

Did she make you cry?

Make you break down?

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce

[gracefireheart]

Couple of lil' not-super-important details I noticed in the background while I'm figuring out whether or not I'm brave enough to draw the background in this drawing I'm working on (probably not)

Stan must've built an extra step into the living room at some point.

I guess Stan had hid the window in the back with a cork board (also, I didn't notice that the copy machine was in his office until now orz) (also also, where did the jackalope head go when Gideon broke in?? Maybe it's on the floor behind the desk somewhere idk)

And then we have this one from the one short where Stan gets blinded by the rainbow, which doesn't make much sense with how Stan's office is. 'Cause we have the (hidden) window in the back, the window on the right (with some stone on the wall and it going oblique at the top by the window), the door where we usually see the room from, and then just wall on the left as it besides the living room.

It doesn't really matter much tho' as it was used for a joke in a short :')

Idk, just small details that I thought was fun to notice while also trying to wrap my head around the layout of the Mystery Shack, and how truly fucking B I G it is. Like D A M N.

Screw the mysteries of how tf Ford fucked a triangle, I wanna know the exact layout of the Mystery Shack as a whole!