#jake is enticed from the first smell

[nixie-deangel]

@tothepayne who asked for: 🐺😈🦇

�� shifter au - hangster

“I’m sorry,” Bradley murmurs wetly into the crock of Jake’s neck. “I know-”his voice breaks around a sob-“know I’m too much. I’m sorry.” “Honey, you ain’t never been too much for me,” Jake promises. “Ain't ever going to be either.”

😈 Kinktober - Virgin Jake

It’s a thought that wiggles in his brain shortly after a failed attempt at role playing an admiral using his personal aide to relieve stress—not that they had really gotten to play it out due to an unfortunate call from Mav who had needed to be picked up from the local jail for riding his bike without a helmet—but it had sprung there, from that.  And well, Jake would be the first to admit his first time hadn’t been… pleasant to say the least. While not outright assault, he’s more knowledgeable now, and secure in himself, to know his boyfriend at the time had certainly been bordering on that line. Pushing Jake before he’d really been ready to even go that far. It was enough to make Jake uncomfortable to really spend time thinking about that night.  To what had happened, versus what he’d really wished would have happened instead.

🦇 vampire jake/human bradley - hangster

The smell hits him first. So sweet. So intoxicating and enticing that Jake can feel his fangs begin sliding down before he wrestles control of himself again. Slowly turning his head from side to side, he scans the ground floor till his eyes zero in on the human—and young, far too young to be in a blood club. Even one as lax and disregarding of the rules as this one.

Make Nixie Write!

[chouxsardine]

Coming back to me---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: You miss him terribly, you wish he were here. Unexpectedly, there he is---Jake walking on you masturbating and you spill some more.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 4082

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, female masturbation, unprotected penetrative p in v sex, explicit use of derogatory terms, sexual fantasy, allusion of exhibitionism, implict soft dom!Jake, guitar worship(??) (you can already tell it's a lot and I'm going to hell for this...let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: smut, slight angst with agonizingly sweet fluff, slight hurt/comfort, agonizingly romantic Jake

Author's note: This is my second try on writing smut. I tried to be a lot bolder this time. I want this to be sweet and spicy and damn it is enjoyable and torturing for me to write. What an experience. I intend to dig further into this, so let's consider this as Part 1 of improper guitar use fantasy (more on it's way) I really really hope you enjoy this. If you want a visual for the short film mentioned, （which is also 18+!! you don't need it to enjoy the story but it's a very interesting piece) here's the link to that scene: Amante Menguante (or watch its full version in Talk to Her (2002), 1:1:01-1:1:06); That's all--Dig in :))

🎧: Baby’s Coming Back to Me by Jarvis Cocker; Homesick by Sleeping At Last

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It wasn’t the film that turns you on; it’s him—it’s always him. The film only provides you with the idea.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you are mostly certain that you are going to spend the weekend alone again. Jake is out of town for a photoshoot and an interview for some magazine afterward. The time is too tight for a roundtrip back home. You clicked on a random movie to put on as background noise. It’s Talk to Her, which you have seen a long time ago and only have a vague memory of. You do remember there’s a nice song in it.

What you didn’t remember is the mise en abyme in its latter half, and you also certainly didn’t expect you to start touching yourself during it. The black and white silent film is titled Amante Mengunte, translated as The Shrinking Lover—the hero, Alfredo, drank a potion invented by his scientist girlfriend, which caused him shrinking to the size of a thumb. He is small enough to wander around on his girlfriend’s body while she is asleep. One day, he goes for a walk on her breasts, gives her a sweet orgasm in her dreams by climbing inside her vagina, and becomes part of her forever.

You catch your hand midway as it inches towards your mound. You felt embarrassed at first, getting all hot and bothered from just seeing almost any sex scenes like some horny teenager, but you know there’s something more to it. The gush of desperate longing wells in the pit of your stomach. You miss Jake so much that the idea of keeping him in you so that you never have to be apart seems enticing. The thought scares and arouses you at the same time. You press your knees together, the familiar swelling in between your legs throbs and spreads. You know exactly what you need.

Being led by your desire, you scamper downstairs to Jake’s studio—the place that feel most like him in the whole house. Simply putting your hand on the door handle sends a buzzing current through your body. The whole action has an excitement of forbidden secrecy. It is not that you are not allowed here, quite the opposite—Jake loves having you in his studio, calling you his muse, asking you just to be there doing random stuff like going through his vinyls or reading while he strums the guitar, like you are some model posing for his artwork. However, being here alone without him makes you feel like an intruder.

Upon pushing open the door, the musky, masculine scent whirls towards you. Given the time that Jake has spent down here, the room still smells awfully like him even after the many days that he was gone. The dampness of the basement reminds you of Jake’s hair freshly washed after a shower. The fresh bergamot cushions the hidden spiciness of black pepper that tingles the upper palate of your mouth like a sensual tongue during a teasing kiss. You inhale greedily before closing the door behind you, not wanting the smell to dissipate.

You turn on your laptop and connect it to the projector in the back corner of the room. With trembling fingers you plug in a silver flash drive and click on the folder labeled with a guitar emoji.

This is probably one of your biggest secrets. You have been collecting clips of Jake’s performance that are circling on social media, some shot by professionals and some by fans. (You prefer the ones by fans though; they always have the best angles and manage to capture the hottest moments. After all, you are just one of them before you start dating Jake.) And you have been editing the videos together, making a personal documentary of Jake’s performance. So far, the length of the film has reached 17 minutes, and you still have more clips patiently lying in the footage library.

You waste no more time clicking the play button. As the bright light shines through the small transparent lens on the projector, the video comes to life on the wall in front of you. You drop down to your knees.

It starts with the clip of Norwegian Wood. You like to ease yourself into it, despite already being slithery between your fold. Watching Jake play the acoustic guitar tenderizes and relaxes you. Each note, crisp and mellifluous, drips from the strings; the misty and ethereal background sound resonates in the stadium, adding to the ambience. As if the descent of a deity, Jake walks into the light as the cheering and applauding grows louder. You let out a soft sigh. Although much sweeter and mellower than its electric counterpart, the acoustic guitar dallies with your nerves. Thanks to the inadvertent little things that let Jake’s domination shine through—the way he moves the cable out of his way with a single flick of his wrist, the way his hand moves away from the strings to quickly rub the sweat off on his pants and adjust the waistline, the way he sticks out one foot to tap the pedal—every single move is a stimuli that rouses a response from your body, reminding you of how he slaps the outside of your thigh when you are squirming a bit too much under his tongue, how he spreads your release on your lower belly when he pulls out his fingers, how he nudges your knees apart and the cool air makes your clit quiver…

The music changes, and you’ve watched the video enough times to know that the next clip is the solo to The Weight of Dreams. You chose that particular video because of how unrelenting it is. For almost seven minutes, the ruthless grip of the music washes your mind empty. You stroke your hood up and down, feeling the flesh pushing down on your clit. You try, albeit futilely, to match your speed with the beat of the music. You lift up your head and gawk at Jake’s fingers tapping and plucking the strings, the muscles of his forearm flexing and the veins pulsing. The rhythm he wrings out of the instrument drips down your throat, gliding through your fold. You scuffs closer to the wall. You miss his fingers, the callouses; the ridge that separates the hardened skin from the soft slightly scrapes your walls and occasionally grazes your clit. In slight frustration, you slam one hand against the wall for leverage, leaning forward for more friction.

The overwhelming desire, plus the whining of the guitar, must have muffled your other senses. You are completely oblivious when the door opens behind you.

Jake throws the car in the driveway and almost trips as he kicks his shoes off at the doorway. A delightful change of plans allows him to come back home for the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face lights up when he surprises you. To his dismay, the house is eerily quiet. Your coat and bag are both hanging by the door. He walks into the living room—the film is still playing on TV, now with the credit rolling; you blanket is bunched up into a messy pile, obviously being yanked aside; the bedroom and the washroom doors are wide open, showing no signs of you. He was about to pull out his phone when he hears the muffled melody coming from downstairs.

He could never mistake the sound of his own riff. The thought of you listening to his music when he’s away strokes his ego in the best way. He smiles to himself as he pushes open the door. The sight in front of him makes him gulp. Blood rushes to the lower half of his body.

The projector’s bright light and the video on the wall are the only light sources in the room. He could only see the right side of your face from where he is standing. But that is enough to make his dick harden. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly agape, with your jaw slack. Your hand is buried in your underwear, the bulge created by your fingers trembling with the circular movements. The blue light illuminates your face, softens your features, and bathes you in a holy glow. With your chin tilted up and your knees pressed, it looks as if you are kneeling in front of an altar, waiting to receive some religious blessing. And there it is, the image of him in front of you, playing on stage, shredding the guitar.

Making as little noise as possible, he closes the door and makes a bee line to your laptop. He presses on the volume button until the sound is completely muted. Sensing the change, you open your eyes and almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Jake standing behind you.

“Jake, I—” Before your hand spring out of your panties, you feel a warm and firm weight on your shoulder, holding you right in place.

“Keep going.”

His hand stays there for two more heartbeats, silently restating the command, as if he knows you intend to get up. You have half a heart to protest, but you quickly yield. Seeing him shatters your judgement and your sense of shame. Rarely do dreams come true, and when they do, it’s stupid to shut the door in its face. Your fingers dig deeper, picking up the speed.

“Eyes on me, love.”

The nickname muttered in his raspy voice has your head shoot up. You watch as he walks to his guitar stand, picks up his Gibson, and plugs it into the amp.

“I say there’s no need for a mirage now that yours truly is right here,” he turns off the projector and flicks on the backlit panel lights. The room is now shrouded in a puny indigo glow. “Am I right, my dear?”

You swallow thickly. Usually, this is when Jake expects an audible answer from you. But he is particularly lenient towards your reticence today.

“Now, where did we left off?” he speaks in a low mumble. He glances at your laptop screen before shutting it off. “Ah, Meeting the Masters. Very well.”

The throbbing between your legs now matches the thumping of your heart. Each contraction directly pumps blood to your clit, ballooning up the inflamed fervidity. You feel the bundle of nerves getting softer and spongier as you get wetter. Your insides ripple as you watch Jake pushes up the neck of the guitar as the trill of notes spills. Even in your murky state of mind, you recognizes that he is improvising by adding twist and turns spontaneously.

“I can hear the gears in your mind turning,” Jake tilts his head as he studies you through hooded eyes. “And it’s interfering with the music.”

He speaks to your pussy the same way he speaks to his guitar.

“Now, tell me what you are thinking. Entertain me with some of your thoughts, baby doll,” the music halts as he stands in front of you. Lifting up your chin, his thumb brushes across your bottom lip. “I’ve missed your voice, y/n. Talk to me.”

It sounded more like a plea instead of a command. Hearing that he misses you too warms up your heart. The pent-up grievance wells up to your throat, pressing a whine out of you: “I miss you so much…I-I imagine you are here.”

Jake hums encouragingly: “Be more specific, love. How, exactly?”

Dirty talk was never your metier. Jake is the talker in bed. He is fully conversant with your body as well as the effect that each of his moves has on you; you’ve always assumed he knows exactly what you want, and he’s always been correct. However, he is determined to push you further today. Seeing your hesitation, he decides to help you out.

“Am I there? Are you watching me?”

“Y-yes,” You take a deep breathe. “I am in the stadium. You..you are playing on stage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just you, only you. You are playing, and I am in the pit, by the barricade. And I get wet. I kneel down, just like—like I am doing now.” Your fingers flinch away from your clit, the feeling a bit too intense for you to continue the words.

“I am touching myself as I watch you play so perfectly, but you…you are not looking at me.”

Jake lets out a pitiful coo: “awww, I’m being mean, am I? Ignoring my sweet girl?”

“N-no!!” You quickly deny, shaking your head frantically. If you are in your normal mindset, what you are about to say would make you burst, but the fluttering sensation down there is burning a trail of wildfire straight up to your brain; the stiff string in your mind uncoils around the pole of shame as the next sentence fall from your lips hurriedly: “It’s me, I’m seeking emotional validation because I’m such an attention whore.”

Upon hearing that, Jake’s heart clenches. He knows that you are deep in your head and whatever you say now are probably some of the most cathartic and earnest words he will ever hear from you. The words revealing your deepest desire, your long-repressed yearning for him. While flattered by the love and devotion, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt hearing your utter self-degradation. His grip on the guitar tightens, and the base of his thumbnail pales. He almost relents, wanting to scoop you up in his arms, carry you to bed, and adore you with kisses. But you are not finished.

“The gravel is grazing my knees and there will be scratches and bruises after. I finger myself. I close my eyes and imagine it is you doing it…you fucking me with your music. I imagine your fingers fucking my pussy the same way they move across the fret board and strum the strings,” now you find yourself unable to stop—the words plummeting out of you, one after another. Your fingers still dance around your throbbing clit, rubbing your labia up and down faster, drawing breathy moans.

“Haah.. Aaah…Wh-when I look up, I saw myself being projected onto those giant screens on both sides of the stage, the camera zooms in on my face…so, ah, fuck, I am watching you…and me fucking myself at the same time. Oh, please, Jake—” Your hips fall back down to your heels and you drop your head in defeat. Your movements lost its rhythm.

“Keep talking.” Jake paces towards you. You can only see the tip of his sock-clad toes and the way they slightly dig into the carpet. Your hand involuntarily reaches for him, holding onto his ankles first and then slowly creeping upwards. He bends at the waist, the guitar hanging from his shoulder, its neck knocking at your collarbone. His lips graze your ear, a mere whisper reverberates like thunder: “Go on, what else?”

You bite back more moans. “Uh…hum…The people, the people around me. They t-take out their phones and start recording and taking pictures of me.”

“Really, do they? How do you feel about that?”

“Oh God. There’s…I can hear so much…so many clicks and clacks of the shutters. And your guitar. And they talk…” Your hand on his calf fraps, a futile attempt to draw him closer. Your forearm feels sore, your neglected clit screaming for more love and contact.

“Please, Jake. I want to cum…I…” You open your mouth only to chock on a whimper as you feel Jake’s middle finger gently pressing on your clit. He is not moving; his finger merely stays there like bee on a flower's anther, pulling more sticky nectar out of you. Your arm gives out, smacking down on your thigh as you hurl forward.

“Tsk tsk, patience, love. You haven’t finished yet,” Jake leaves sloppy, wet kisses along your jawline. You pander to his lips, head lolling to the side. Every kiss feels like a searing cigarette burn.

“What do they say, y/n? Do they call you a slut?”

“Hell, yes. Yes, they post them online, the videos. They hashtag it…Mmm.. ‘Jake Kiszka’s slut,’ ‘the guitarist’s hoe’…”

With those last two words, Jake’s finger start circling your clit, a silent reward for your honesty and a bait to egg you on further. The agonizing buildup leaves you drenched at this point. The wet gushy sound is your pussy’s content purring, now that she was finally granted some attention.

“And in the end I finished. I finished along with your solo. I—I was so spent that I couldn’t even stand. Then, you finally look at me. You look at me straight in the eyes, and y-you…you said…”

“Good girl.”

“Good girl.”

Reality overlaps your imagination as you both mutter the two exact same words.

Your eyes widen. You lips brush passed Jake’s cheekbone and your forehead drops to the part where the body of the guitar meets the neck. The material cooling your skin like cooling pads for a feverish patient, breathing a sense of clarity into your mind. You are in a complete state of submission to the guitar, almost prostrating and bowing to it—a pagan, blindly asking for blessing and begging its approval.

Holy guitar spirit, please do not take up all of his time; share this man with me as well. God, I ache for him like no one else.

You will probably realize how stupid and abject the plea sounds later, that is, if you still care to recall; but right now, you couldn’t care less. You are hovering perilously on the edge of the precipice.

Lowering his gaze, Jake takes notice of your fingernails digging into the flesh above your knees and how your iron grip around his ankles strengthens even more. He knows it’s about time.

“So fucking pretty, my sweet baby.” The tip of his finger latches down on that exact spot, moving infinitesimally but effective enough to summon all your sensory nerve endings to orchestrate a collective hymn.

“Let go for me, love.”

That’s all you need to hear. Your shoulder hunches, ribcage pulls inward, stomach hollows, the muscles of your thigh contract as the walls of your pussy press together, dragging and sucking Jake’s fingers into you. Immense pleasure, like rock candy, bursts and bounces hither and thither all over your body. A part of you wish time could stop right there, so that you are preserved in the moment of forever bliss with a part of him slotted inside you, like an ignorant beetle being caught in a dollop of tree sap.

Jake makes sure you ride out your high before he straightens up. The soreness of his back only feeds more to the hardness of his cock. He slings the guitar off of his shoulder and sets it flat on the floor using only one arm, not even bothering putting it back on the stand; his other arm already wraps around your shoulder. He kneels down in front of you, his hands closed on each side of your face and his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths mingle as your heartbeats align. Jake gently pulls on your nape as you bury your nose in his chest, feeling his fingers scratching your back.

“Did so well, my love. My good, good girl.”

You catches your breath and musters your strength to look up to him with a tired smile. Your hands trail toward the bulbous erection restricted by his corduroy pants. Your mouth follows.

Jake hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back at the much-needed contact. With impressive willpower, he reaches down and cuddles your chin, pulling you up. “As much as I would love that, I also misses my girl terribly. I want to make love to her. Is that okay? Do I have her permission to love on her properly?”

The echoing tingles from your last orgasm hurtle back, making your head swoon. “Oh God, yes. Please. Jake, please.”

Jake scrambles to his feet and lifts you into his arms. Your legs feel like putty from kneeling so long. You stagger and fall back onto the leather couch. The couch is clearly too small for two grown adults, but neither of you mind or care; if anything, the limited space amplifies every sense. He guides your hands down his length and pumps it a few times. The closeness of your bodies makes his swollen tip pointed directly at your clit. You let out a needy moan, threading your finger through his curls and tugs gently until his eyes are level with yours.

Jake will forever revel in the way you look at him with your doe eyes, your pupil dilated, like you couldn’t believe he is real, like you’re intoxicated by a case of him.

“Hi, beautiful.” he grins.

“Hey you.”

You cup his face and go in for another kiss. He spits in his hand and reaches between you, positioning his length at your entrance and nudging his head in tentatively. You are too caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize your body is so taut, not out of nerves and rejection, but out of a desperate urge to hold him close. The hollowing eagerness that has been compiling for the past few months return with a vengeance. The weight and warmth of Jake’s body on top of you is all you could’ve asked for and more.

Jake can feel the confliction between the welcoming pulsation of your pussy and the hindrance clamping down. “Easy, dear,” he says as his hand on your breast traces down to your hips, rubbing soothing circles on your pelvis.

You tilt your head backwards. Your belly falls as your ribs flare out to the sides. He presses in slowly as you opens for him, until he is fully sheathed inside you. The final piece of the puzzle is being put into place. He moans a silent “fuck” into your sternum. The shiver of air travels right to your heart, through the flesh and bones.

Jake is right, no words other than “make love” can better describe what he is doing to you. Every single one of his movements murmurs “love”—his hand grabs yours and places it against his chest, right where his heart is. His cock repeatedly thrusts and retreats like crashing waves, brushing that particularly sensitive spot. His lips entwine with yours, nibbling and licking.

Pleasure, accumulating rapidly, like an empty bottle under the running tap. The surface tension jiggles, threatening to spill.

“Jake…fuck! I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” Jake’s voice is unsteady too. “I’m right behind you.”

In fact, he didn’t even mange to hold out that long. The pressure sprints down his spine and blasts right to his cock. It spasms inside you, pinching and squirting. You climax together. For a moment, your hearts banging crazily against your ribcage, swearing to break out so they can be pressed together even closer.

You lie in the afterglow, two shells washed ashore, scoured back and forth by the slews of post-orgasmic endorphins.

“I love you, y/n,” Jake sighs into your hair.

“I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea,” your hands roam on his back.

“I could only imagine,” he sounds compunctious. Jake sneaks his hand behind your head, dipping down for another kiss. “I’m sorry for being away. Thank you for letting me love on you, baby. Your body feels like home to me, you know that?”

You are knocked out of words by the vulnerability and the weight enveloped in that statement. You can only nod, blinking fast to dispel the stinging tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, love,” he smiles at you. There’s also something glistening in his warm caramel eyes. “I am here now, will always be here,” his finger laces with yours, traveling in turn, tapping on your temple, your eyes, and finally resting on the left of your chest, “so, Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem…”

“Carpe Omnia.”

If home is where the heart is, he has finally settled down. No matter how far, no matter where, once and once again, Jake will always come home to you in the end, where together your soul will dance, entangled in an inseparable embrace—day, night, and for a lifetime.

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Yay you made it!!! Thank you SO MUCH for reading!! Let me know what do you think or if we want a taglist. Any comments, thoughts, and feedbacks are GREATLY welcomed and appreciated.

My other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

[mundivagantsoul]

✩ Bookshopist Moonboys✩

Part 1: Nerds, Dead Trees and Dust

Moon Knight System x Reader

A/N: Hi all! This is my first time posting my writing. I apologies for poor grammar and spelling, my only excuse is daydreaming throughout school when I was was supposed to be learning this stuff. If you have any feedback or comments please let me know, I'd love to hear from you! Hope you enjoy ♡

Warnings: mentions of violence (nature documentaries), coarse language, British lingo?

Word Count: 1K

Masterlist | Next ->

-------------------- ⋆｡ﾟ��︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ---------------------

Seated in the dim living room light with tea-steamed glasses, a certain chocolate-curled Brit scrolls aimlessly through job adverts until a particular post catches his attention

Full-time bookseller- The Old Town Bookshop

Taking a sip of his Earl Grey, Steven opens the listing, greeted with the classic rhetorical questions and enthusiasm only found in job adverts.

Love books? Are you a passionate reader who wishes to share your enthusiasm for literature with others? Come work at “The Old Town Bookshop”, where you can expand your literary knowledge and create a meaningful career with fellow book lovers!

“Living amongst books isn’t enough for you?” Marc quips from a small mirror placed deliberately on the desk's corner.

“I thought you cared about animals and the environment, and yet here you are, further supporting an industry that indoctrinates the destruction of their homes?” Jake nonchalantly adds from an adjacent mirror, oblivious to the surprised faces of his headmates.

Marc raises a brow, “Since when did you become an animal rights advocate?”

Jake shrugs, gaze subconsciously finding Viejita lazing on the lounge before returning back to Marc. “Dunno. Guess I actually pay attention when Steven puts on his nature documentaries”.

Marc mocks being insulted. “Oh I’m sorry, I just don’t find watching baby antelopes getting mauled to death entertaining”.

“Of course, you much rather maul people to death yourself”, Jake's voice mimics Marc’s, enticing a scoff from the latter.

“You’re one to talk Mr. I abuse wheelchairs and kidnap patients from psych wards and then murder them in the back of my fancy car”. 

Steven interrupts the dispute before it can get out of hand. 

“Bloody hell, Lads’ shut it! Look, if I’m being honest, I’m not gonna take animal ethics from either of you carnivores”, then adding, “And need I remind you two, you’re the reason we’re in this dire situation”.

It’s true, between Marc, Jake and Khonshu’s shenanigans, they’d managed to lose their only legal job, and unfortunately, being an ancient Egyptian deity’s ‘fist of vengeance’ doesn’t pay well.

Marc begins to grasp at any logic that means they don’t have to work amongst nerds, dead trees and dust. “Well… Jake and I aren’t avid readers, and the job description says we must be ‘passionate readers’”. 

“Well… I’d say with the number of ‘adult’ novels you read, you’d be classified as a passionate reader”. Steven states matter-of-factly, earning a snort from Jake and a finger from Marc.

“Look, capitalism exists, fish need feeding, and it’s either this, working at the laundromat on 6th, or grovelling for my old job back. You pick”.

Sharing a glance, they sigh, “Fine, we’ll work at your nerd hub”.

Triumphantly, Steven opens the application form.

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A weathered sign inscribed with “The Old Town Bookshop” hangs atop the quaint corner store. Parallel white arches and a broad window decorate its petite structure with morning sunlight reflecting off the seemingly fresh coat of indigo, enriching the buildings' otherwise aged aesthetic.

Breathing out a puff of warm air, Steven adjusts the strap of his shoulder bag, a nervous habit he’d picked up over the years. Peering at the lit window, he opens the door. Greeted by the homely smell of paper and ink, Steven gazes around at the array of books and colours, marvelling at the unexpectedly large floor plan. 

"Like the Tardis". Marc hums from the window reflection whilst Jake observes their surroundings, habitually checking for threats.

Strolling further into the store, a warm pressure rubs itself along his calf. Peering down, Steven’s met with honey eyes and golden fur.

“¿Gatito?” Jake chirps, seemingly forgetting about surveying the area.

The cat meows in return as if replying to Jake’s comment. 

“Great, now we’ll be covered in dust and cat hair”. Marc comments, trying to remain apathetic about their adorable feline coworker.

Kneeing down, Steven scratches the tabby’s head, earning a delightful purr from their new acquaintance. Checking the collar, ‘Dorian’ is engraved on a fish-shaped name tag. 

Dorian huh? Makes sense, you’re a pretty lookin’ fella. Steven observes before returning to the task at hand. 

Following the familiar monotonous sound of a sticker gun, the Brit finds himself walking towards the counter where, surrounded by a pile of new releases, you are busy at work. The boys take in your features, entranced as the morning light caresses your face, highlighting the soft beauty that adorns your profile. Eyes roaming over your features, they notice your slight frown of concentration and inaudible movements of your mouth. 

As Steven approaches the counter, your words become interpretable.

“How are we already getting Christmas and holiday content when it hasn’t even been Halloween yet?” you grumble, condemning whoever decided it was a suitable practice. “I swear if I start hearing Mariah Carey, I’m gonna…”.

Someone clearing their throat interrupts your malicious thoughts. As your head shoots up, you notice the fidgeting man in front of the counter. Shit. How long has he been standing there?  You think, face heating up at the possibility of him witnessing your moral decadence.

“So sorry to bother you love. I’m here for my shift? I was supposed to start today… I’m Steven, by the way”.

The realisation smacks you in the face like a flying stop sign. Crap, it is already 8 o'clock? Internally criticising yourself for losing track of time, you scramble for an apology. “Right- yes, Steven, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise the time”. Sticking out your hand, you introduce yourself. 

God, your name sounds as beautiful as you look, They simultaneously think.

A warm, calloused hand engulfs your own as Steven rolls your name over his tongue. “All good love happens to the best of us”.

You smile warmly, and suddenly, the prospect of spending 9 hours a day surrounded by nerds, dead trees and dust doesn't seem too bad.

Thank you for reading ♡

Also please go check out the fabulous @viejita-n-co who created Viejita! You’ll find a bunch of fanart and pictures of the boys too ♡

[thedroneranger]

Blood

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Jake is enthralled with you. A treat he wants to keep all to himself.

Note: Had this kicking around. Figured I would finish and post it. It's creepy and contains blood—you've been warned.

Warnings: 18+ only, horror, gore, death, blood, violence, domestic violence, language, bad guy Bradley.

Word count: 1.6k

Moonlight seeped through the clouds and streamed between the trees. The sky was a bright gray and the fresh snow glittered. The breeze was just enough to make the pine boughs shiver.

Tonight was the perfect night for a hunt. However, tonight, Jake wasn’t stalking his usual prey in the clubs. His bright eyes, chiseled cheekbones and alluring smile weren't luring naive club-goers into the darkness. Instead, he already had his sights set—he just needed to pull the trigger.

Scenarios raced through Jake’s mind while he stood in the quiet forest. His eyes closed and head tilted back as snowflakes kissed his face and the frozen air singed his nostrils. Jake hardly noticed as he waited patiently to catch your scent.

You were unlike anyone, or anything, he had ever smelled. A prize he wanted for himself.

He thought about the first time you crossed paths.

In the nightclub, his hunting ground, Jake wound through bodies and waded to the bar for another drink. He stopped dead in his tracks. Through all the sweat and alcohol, your scent filled his nostrils. His gaze turned to the dance floor, and there you were, rhythmically moving among your fellow mortals.

Every movement fanned the savage thoughts running rampant in his brain. It was taking all his willpower not to charge over and drain you right there on the dance floor. But he abstained, because what would be the fun in that? Instead, he held himself together and enticed you to dance with him. Each glance you shared, every touch you exchanged, was part of his trap.

Your back against Jake’s chest, you swayed your hips and looped your arms around his neck. His hands rested on your hips, while his nose nuzzled the patch of skin right below your ear. The only audible sounds to Jake were your heartbeat and the blood pulsing through your veins.

While Jake again weighed the consequences of biting you right then and there, you turned so you were face-to-face. Your gazes smoldered. A devious smile upturned your lips as your hands skimmed along Jake’s shoulders and down his chest. Then two fingers slipped into the waistband of his jeans. Jake watched as you tugged the band, threatening to pop the button.

Jake’s reminiscence was shattered as your scent again flooded his nostrils. You were close—and you were bleeding.

His nostrils flared and mind raced. Why were you bleeding? Who damaged you?

Your pace was too slow to be in a moving vehicle. Why weren't you in a rideshare? Why were you walking?

Questions continued to pour into Jake’s mind as he headed in your direction. He knew you were struggling. Stumbling with each step. Breathing heavily. Bleeding.

There! Only the tree line between you, Jake watched in the shadows of the trees as you trudged along the road. Soon, you would turn down a dirt two-track toward your secluded house.

Then, the hair on the back of Jake’s neck bristled. Headlights bathed you in yellow light, and a vintage Ford Bronco slowed to keep pace with you. The window retracted to reveal Bradley.

If blood were flowing through Jake’s veins, it’d be boiling. Bradley had hurt you. Forced you to do things against your wishes. 

Jake wanted nothing more than to run up to his truck and snap his neck. A mental image of Bradley’s limp body slumped out the open window thrilled Jake. However, the succeeding look of horror on your face as his monstrous tendencies were revealed kept him from following his impulse.

But did it really matter? 

After all, he was going to kill you too.

Jake decided it did. 

He wanted your death to be more intimate. 

Selfishly, he also did not want to deal with disposing of a vehicle. Bodies were one thing, an electric blue first generation Ford Bronco was another.

Bradley smooth-talked you into the Bronco. Then, Jake watched as it zoomed into the night, tail lights fading to black. Coast clear, Jake emerged from the trees and surveyed the area. Blemishing the fresh snow, along with your footprints were blood droplets. Yours, of course. He arched a brow and thought of your blood staining the leather seat of Bradley’s Bronco. Jake smiled.

The idea of Bradley touching you had Jake seeing red. But it was a necessary evil. For months, Jake watched your interdependent relationship. You didn't want to be alone, and Bradley wanted to control someone. A perfect match. 

You didn’t know that Jake knew about Bradley, but Jake knew that Bradley didn’t know about him.

As planned, the night you and Jake met resulted in the two of you tangled in the bed sheets of the only hotel in town. Jake pulled your hair, called you gorgeous and left souvenirs in private places. Of course, you wanted more of him. And Jake wanted more of you. So, the two of you kept bumping into each other at the club and kept falling between the sheets at the hotel.

When you weren’t wrapped in Jake, you were wrapped in Bradley. Jake knew why you were infatuated with him. He was a predator built to lure his prey. He built for you to want him. What Jake could not understand was your draw to Bradley. Mortal attraction was foreign to him—he hadn’t been mortal in almost 300 years.

Your time with Jake was passionate. 

Your time with Bradley was rough. Sometimes too rough for Jake’s liking. Always aware of where you were and who you were with, Jake had been close several times to stepping in and ending it. Ending Bradley. 

Every time Jake saw you, you were always covering up something: a black eye, a bruised wrist, a wax burn, a skin-breaking bite. Luckily, you were durable. You could withstand Bradley’s abuse.

The wind blew and tousled Jake’s hair. Your scent carried on the wind. He closed his eyes and enjoyed your aroma. It put a little pep in his step as he continued through the moonlit forest to your house.

The trees began to thin, and Jake could see the house silhouetted against the soft gray sky. The moon lit it as if it were on a stage. Bradley’s truck sat in the driveway beside your vehicle. As he approached, Jake could see footprints that led from the Bronco to the front porch. Sprinkled among the prints were blood droplets. Your blood droplets. They continued into the house. 

Jake’s eyes landed on the front door. From his vantage point, he could see the door was ajar. Traversing up the driveway, he silently padded up the stairs and crossed the threshold. 

Your moans, some pleasure, some pain, radiated from your bedroom. The kitchen was quiet, illuminated by the moon. In the living room, coats and shoes were strewn across floor. Jake moved to the bottom of the stairwell and cocked his head to listen. You were still in the throes of sex.

Fingers ghosting the railing, Jake closed his eyes. Through your vision, he could see Bradley pawing at you as you tried not to trip on the stairs. Of course, it was all in the name of passion, so you exchanged kisses and laughter the entire journey to the bedroom.

Now at the top of the stairs, a creak drew Jake’s attention. A figure spilled out of the bedroom as Jake stowed away in the shadows. Bradley shuffled to the bathroom and left the door open. Jake listened as he finished his business and shuffled back toward the door. Positioned right outside, as Bradley exited, Jake grabbed his head and jerked his chin upward. An audible crack rendered Bradley’s body limp. Gently, Jake laid him down before making his way to the bedroom.

You called for Bradley. Jake let his footballs answer you. En route to the bed, Jake dropped his clothing and slid in to spoon you. Still unaware, you arched your back into him and moaned as he sucked on your earlobe. Jake’s free hand tucked some loose hairs behind your ear, and then slid along your jaw and wrapped around your neck.

"Hey, gorgeous.” Jake murmured into your ear. Your body tense as you realized it was Jake in your bed instead of Bradley. Before you could react, Jake sank his fangs into your jugular.

Instead of a scream, you coughed until you gurgled and blood filled your mouth. Jake continued to drink from you as he rolled you onto your back. Finally, Jake pulled away. Your blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, dribbled down his chin. 

You looked at him desperately as you pressed your hand to your wounds to slow the bleeding. Jake just watched as life slowly drained from you. You raised a hand to reach for him. Jake curled his fingers around your wrist and learned forward to kiss your supple skin. He held your gaze and as he punctured you again. You winced, unable to scream.

"Why?" Your brows knitted together in pain. You sputtered blood. 

"If I bring you to the brink of death, you can live forever," Jake explained. He watched you as you processed his response. Your heart rate slowed and the blood flow stemmed. The light in your eyes dimmed and your eyelids fluttered closed.

Satisfied, Jake hopped off the bed and redressed. Your blood still smeared across his face. Carefully, Jake wrapped you in the bed sheet and shouldered your body. On the way out, Jake made a last-minute decision to bring Bradley. Your first meal when you awoke. Jake drug him by the ankle. Bradley’s head thudded against each stair on the way to the door.

Jake stopped in the doorway. The only sound was the soft pat pat of blood droplets jumping off your fingertips. He adjusted the sheet so it caught the droplets and the three of you disappeared into the brisk night.

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[niki-phoria]

hi!! could I request a Jake x male reader 8th!member fic where Jake is caught staring at the reader? the whole puppy love kinda thing and he snaps out of it when the reader hugs him.

brunette jake my beloved <333

pairing: jake x male!8th member! reader (he/him pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 800

includes: blushy jake, based on the enha puppy interview, mild teasing from the enha members, reader doesn't hug him but jake does stare, not super romantic i'm sorry

a/n: thank you for requesting !! the puppy love idea is so cute, i love it sm <33 i hope you like it :))

requests open !! read my rules first

you find your place on the floor in between jake and jungwon, facing the cameras in front of the stark white set. jake gently squeezes your hand as a staff member steps forwards to readjust the camera before a nod signals the beginning of the interview. 

“hello, we are-” jungwon begins. 

“enhypen!” 

“hello, i’m niki,” he begins as you start introducing yourselves down the chain. jay goes next, followed by jungwon, and then you. 

“hi everyone,” you wave. “i’m y/n.” 

jake smiles at you before waving to the cameras himself. “hi, i’m jake.” he’s followed by heeseung, sunghoon, and sunoo before he takes the lead once again. “and we’re here with buzzfeed to answer some questions while playing with puppies.” 

you join the others in a short applause before a staff member leaves to retrieve the puppies. niki and jungwon drum their hands against the floor as you patiently await their arrival, excited to play with the small dogs. 

“wow, so cute,” heeseung mumbles as a staff member reaches out to hand you a few toys to entice them closer. a curious puppy sniffs at sunoo’s knee before moving over to smell sunghoon. niki shakes a donut plush toy at another one as two more cautiously approach him and jungwon. 

you hold your hand out as a small black dog approaches you. it sniffs your hand for a few seconds, giving you the opportunity to reach out and gently pet it’s back. jake follows you as he pats the dog’s head, chuckling when it’s tail starts wagging faster. 

what is your personal favourite song from your discography?

your smile grows as the puppies begin jumping around and playing together. your attention strays from sunoo’s answer to the dogs in front of you until jake silently reminds you to answer with a small nudge against your knee. 

“are you here for an interview or to play with the dogs?” niki teases. 

“i’m paying attention,” you defend. “but i’m also playing with the puppies in front of me!” 

“he’s here to play with the dogs,” jake chuckles. you bite back a small smile as you finally answer the question. 

a small black dog with patches of light brown on it’s paws and ears walks over to you, sniffing your knee before gently weaseling it’s way into your lap. it curls up against your thighs as it makes itself comfortable in your hold. jake smiles, attention suddenly fully on you and the small pup laying against you. he reaches over, lightly brushing a hand against it’s back. 

“ah, i’m jealous,” sunoo sighs. 

“i guess y/n has that effect on people,” jay chuckles. 

when you first started living together, what surprised you the most?

“jake is really affectionate with me,” you say. “i wasn’t expecting him to be so clingy after training with him during i-land.” 

“jake and y/n are always together,” sunghoon teases. 

“it’s like they’re merged together.” 

you chuckle at jungwon’s comment as the puppy in your lap rolls to lay on it’s back, stretching out before jumping over into jake’s lap. he smiles, reaching over to hold your hand as he pets the squirming dog in his hold. 

if you could talk to your 10-year-old self, what would you say?

“stop messing around,” jungwon chuckles. 

“study hard.” jay answers. 

“me too, me too,” sunghoon agrees. 

jungwon taps his fingers against the floor, a silent ask for one of the dogs to come over to him. you do the same, gently picking up one with spots on it’s legs and coaxing it into his lap. “don’t give up,” you say, momentarily looking up at the camera to answer before turning your attention back to the dog in jungwon’s lap. 

when you turn back to face jake you find him staring at you with love-filled eyes and a soft smile. his face flushes in realization that he’s been staring at you in front of so many cameras. you chuckle at his reaction, turning back to the dogs in an attempt to hide how flustered he’s making you. 

“jake,” heeseung laughs as he reaches over, gently leaning over to pat his knee and break him out of his trance. “are you gonna answer the question?” 

“ah,” he looks down at the dogs once again. “be nice to your parents.” jake finally answers. 

“are you even paying attention?” niki laughs. 

“a puppy with puppies,” jay teases. you pretend not to notice the way his cheeks immediately light up from a deep blush across his ears and cheeks. jake looks back down at the dog wriggling around in his lap before you reach over to gently pat his thigh - a silent comfort from all of the teasing. he takes your hand into his, squeezing it when you shift a little closer to him. 

[crazyk-imagine]

Wolf-Verse Headcanon

A/N: This was a thought that came to mind a while ago and then I finished it. Mainly about when the three first met and first heat. This is very random and more could come to it or not.

Reader can seen as Mickey's cousin or long time best friend (this came out of left field for me)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bob and Natasha are alphas and you’re an omega, but everyone thinks he’s a beta with how quiet he is

The two knew each other for a while, of course, seeing as they work together and hangout all the time

Naturally they got closer and found themselves drawn to one another even if no ones heard of two alphas being together (for as long as they have)

Then low and behold, they smelled a sweet and enticing scent, and their duo slowly became a trio

You were at Mickey’s birthday party, invited by his fiancée and were one of the first few people to arrive and help with setting it up

Leaving the dagger squad to bring him home

Not many people had met you, mainly due to the fact of your status which makes Mickey so so protective

Another reason why so few members of the squad had heard little about you

You’re the only unclaimed omega in the house, making Mickey slightly worry but can’t focus on that when everyone’s pulling him into conversation and fun activities

You were in the kitchen while everyone else was outside playing games and drinking, enjoying their day off

The birthday boy's fiancée knows how much of a sweet tooth you have and leaves a special plate off to the side for you

Your wolf was purring at, what you thought was due to you satisfying your craving but was actually because the two walked in the house

They turn into the kitchen, following your scent

You open your eyes sensing a shift in the room

You finish your last bite, covering your mouth

“What’s a little omega like you doing in here?” The female asks, fixing herself and, who you assumed to be, her boyfriend a drink.

He steps closer to you and she copies, leaving you cornered by two

You don’t respond, instantly amusing the two.

“Looks like someone has a sweet tooth.”

Mickey shouts over his shoulder with his girl beside him. They stop and stare.

He shakes his head at the two and tell his fiancée to grab you and leave the kitchen

You grab another cupcake and follow her

“You’re not going anywhere near her.”

The change in their eyes earns a groan of annoyance from him. “For fucks sake.” He sighs, “at least take care of her and treat her right.”

“Who do you think we are?” Bob asks, pulling out a bag of chips from the pantry.

Mickey grabs the two and forces them into the living room with him

They scan the room for you and spot you instantly

You’ve never been as warm as you were that day (and it wasn’t a cold day)

Everyone made sure to steer clear of interacting too much with you and even as most of them left, you had one or both following you

The only time you were alone was when you were in the kitchen, helping Mickey clean up while Bob and Natasha are outside, chatting with Bradley and Javy as they wait for Jake

“What do you think?”

“About what,” you ask. You have a feeling he’s talking about.

“You know what? How do you feel? Anything I need to take care of?”

You shake your head, “no. No. Everything’s fine. I just- is this normal?”

“Is what normal?”

“Everything.”

His head bobs from side to side. “It's better than everything that went on with Rooster and Hangman. God, they were annoying.”

“That’s not helping me.”

“Okay, fine.” He sets down the container. “I think this is good for you.”

“Huh?”

“You’re finally going to have people who can help take care of you and I’m talking about when I’m not here.”

“Mick-”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “You know I’m always worried about you when I’m gone and that’s why we have that guest room for you. This is good. You know Bob.”

“I don’t know Bob.”

“Correction, you’ve heard about Bob and Nat but now, you can learn more about them from them. You see where I’m going with this.”

You roll your eyes, “I do.”

“You sure?”

You shove his shoulder.

You get their number after they drop you off at home

Thus, the start of an odd friendship

And then came the moment you weren’t ready for… your heat with two powerful alphas nearby

They didn’t know you were close or even having it until they showed up to your place after coming back from their recent deployment

They slammed the door shut as soon as your scent hit their noses

Bob was the first to make his way to your room while Natasha locked the door and made sure everything else was too (her arms full of water and snacks as she entered)

He stood at the foot of your bed, waiting for you to give a sign of consent

“Are you just going to stand there all day?”

Your eyes widen at the sight of them, the lain in your belly getting worse and worse. “What are- what are you two doing here?”

“Helping you, if you’ll let us.” She stands by you, leaning over.

“It hurts,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“Please.”

After that day, you three were together all the time

Your nest has never been more comforting and they can’t bring themselves to be upset because you look adorable

They buy more sweaters and hoodies just for you to steal (you pretend not to notice)

Mickey shakes his head every time he sees you three together, pretending to be upset about you three

-

Taglist

@blueoorchid

[withinthebrain]

Buzzed

The buzz of the bar wraps around me like a blanket— the clinking of glasses, the low hum of conversations, and the tune of the jukebox mingling together. Our group has taken over a high-top table near the dartboards, a box of half-eaten pizza and crumpled napkins scattered across the wood. I sit with one leg crossed over the other, a beer in my hand, trying to appear relaxed, but my body is buzzing, restless beneath the surface.

Jake is across the table, and I can feel his eyes on me even when I’m not looking. His voice breaks through the laughter around us, soft yet purposeful, carrying that familiar hint of calm. I catch his gaze, and it’s there— unmistakable. A glisten that called me closer.

The first time our eyes meet tonight as I turn away from the dartboard, it is almost shocking as I recall his request to take me on a date. The shock lingers as he shifts his weight to stand. I wonder if he can feel it too— the pull between us. He turns for the dartboard, and puts out his hands waiting for me to place the darts in his palm; One. Two. Three. His fingers wrap slightly around mine, a soft smile on his face, his eyes meeting mine momentarily before he pulls his hands away.

I step back, taking a swig from my drink as a distraction. Leaning against the table, I watch as his jack lolls open at the side, his shirt pulling tight across his stomach. My gaze wanders. I swallow down more beer, willing my attention to drift somewhere, anywhere else, but it snaps back to him as he turns back to the table. His eyes again catch mine, his fingers soft as he purposely places the darts back in my hand.

I don’t look away. Instead, I smile, my hand lingering against his. He chuckles softly looking around to see if anyone noticed. A flutter starts in my chest as he moves to stand next to me. I can’t help but move into him slightly, my shoulder brushing against his arm as he pulls his drink toward him.

"You have to help me with this drink," he chimes, his voice low.

“Only because you are a lightweight,” I tease, leaning closer, close enough to catch his subtle scent—even his smell is calming and enticing.

“You’re up,” he states, turning his attention back to the dart game.

I toss the darts with a casual flick of my wrist, watching them sail through the air before they hit the board. Turning back, I methodically place the remaining darts in his hands, feeling the slight tremor in his grip. He almost drops the darts as his eyes are locked on mine. He takes his turn, making it look too easy. He yanks the darts from the board like swords stuck in stone.

As he hands the darts back to me, I can’t resist hooking my finger into his belt loop, tugging him just a little closer, a breathless silence stretching between us. He comes easily, his body warm against my back. He lets out a nervous laugh, then his hand grazes the small of my back and for a moment I want him to pull me closer, but he steps around me toward the pizza box. My pulse quickens, but I drop my hand, letting my fingers brush over the curve of his hip before I step back and lean once again on the table.

The game goes on around us, but the moments between turns stretch with a tautness that feels close to snapping. Every time he’s near, his hand finds me—just the lightest touch. A palm on the small of my back during conversation, his fingers grazing mine when he reaches for his drink. It’s subtle. Too subtle for anyone to notice, I think.

I’m reaching for a slice of pizza when his hand lands on mine. For a heartbeat, we don’t move. My eyes flick up to meet his, and the look in them is unreadable. I pull my hand back slowly, cold pizza acquired. The loss of his touch hits me harder than it should as he again reaches for his drink, and I imagine him holding on just a moment longer.

The door swings open, and I feel a shift in the air before I even see him: Ryan. My husband’s familiar silhouette appears with a smile on his face as he approaches. He kisses me as I slide off my stool to greet him. He wraps me in a hug, and I let myself melt into it. But over his shoulder, I catch Jake’s eyes, and there’s something in his expression—something unspoken glinting in his gaze.

The night goes on, and Jake’s touches don’t stop. They only change. Now, every brush of Jake’s hand against mine is hidden under the table, his knee against mine as we lean against the table in conversation. I’m aware of every shift of his body, every flicker of his eyes in my direction. It’s a dance, one we’ve never had to learn but somehow have always known all the steps to.

As we all plod to our cars, I don’t know who reaches first, but suddenly my arms are around Jake, our bodies pulled close together, the hug a bit too long. His hands wrap around my shoulders, and I shiver at the contact, his fingers curling slightly, like he’s trying to pull me closer even when we’re already smashed together.

"Who’s taking me home?" he questions, slowly stepping back.

“I am,” the call wafts from the next parking space. He spins, unsteady and wanders to the waiting car. Turning to where Ryan is waiting by our car, I head the opposite direction toward the truck. I glance back and chuckle as he waves.

Ryan squeezes my hand as he drives away. He glances over at my smile, an understanding smirk on his face. “You looked like you were having fun tonight,” he says, and I can only guess what he noticed.

[crimsonmoonlite]

Twin Flame - 2. Beach Day with the Doggies

Photo Made using Mage.Space AN: I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter. Please enjoy it! September 4th, 2006, Saturday 1:08 PM

First Beach, La Push, Washington

   The girls and Mike moved closer to the wolves. Bella wanted a day away from the pining guys after her, but she was doomed to be fawned over. She was the last thing Jacob was thinking about. He was a couple of feet away on the beach, watching Mike, freaking himself out at how amazing he smelled.

   Mike was laughing and playing around with Seth and Paul as the other wolves were freaking out just as much as Jacob that they had found an Omega. It was getting worse for them to control themselves as the scent doubled.

   "Hey," Beau ran up to them.

   "Beau?" Bella asked, "What are you doing here?"

   "I just thought I would come to hang out," Beau gulped, looking around. He was just about give it to his sister's boyfriend in the public library. "I rode Mom's old bike here. I need help putting it in the bed of your truck."

   "You rode a bike all the way here?" Angela asked. You should have called. I'm sure Bella would have picked you up," she offered, but Beau knew that wouldn't have been the case.

   "You can't even swim. I thought you didn't want to come this morning." Bella asked, and Beau rubbed his forehead, annoyed because he was embarrassed by that.

   "You don't know how to swim?" Lauren laughed with Jessica, and Beau sighed.

   "Why aren't you wearing a swimsuit?" Bella asked, and Beau looked around. "Beaufort, no." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as he stripped down to his panties. If the werewolves hadn't looked at him, they would have been now. Bella rolled her eyes.

   "Just make sure you put on some sunscreen. I don't want you to complain about it all week." She said, and Beau sighed, beginning to regret coming. He just felt like he should come to hang out with Bella after he almost kissed her boyfriend... It didn't sound as wild as he first thought it.

   Jessica handed him the sun lotion, and he rubbed it in. His pale, nearly hairless body enticed the wolves. Beau had only moved here a month ago, so he didn't know the pack as well as Bella. He remembered Jacob as they would hang out when they were little, and his older sisters would babysit him and Bella.

   However, he didn't remember how affectionate Jacob was. he felt someone approaching him from behind, and it was a little too late as he felt Jake's large hand curving around his waist.

   Jacob had been on the brink of losing self-control. He needed to get his hands on an Omega. After catching Mike's scent, he felt a closer bond with him, but Beau had Edward's scent on his hands... and he was just as intoxicating as Mike. Some goosebumps lined Beau's spine as Jake leaned down, and his lips hovered less than an inch from his ear.

   Bella scoffed at how obvious Jacob was with this move on her brother, but jealousy had sparked seeing it. Angela held in a coo as smoke came from Bella's ears.

   "Hand me the lotion..." Jacob said as Beau froze being touched. He leaned down to whisper in Beau's ear. "I don't want you to get sunburnt. Your skin is so beautiful," Jacob said as he squeezed some of the sunblock and began to massage it into Beau's back.

   Beau relaxed as Jacob rubbed him. he had been so stressed lately from the moving, the mysteries, and the tension between him and his sister. "Mike, dry off so I can reapply sun lotion on you," Jacob said, half caring about Mike burning up the other half for nefarious reasons.

   "That feels amazing, Jake," Beau's eyes rolled back. Jake was rubbing out the knotted muscles in his body. Bella muttered to herself, wishing that they would get a room. Only the werewolves laughed at that since they had better hearing.

   Beau lulled his head back, resting his head just below Jake's sternum, looking up to make eye contact with a cocky Jacob Black. The wolf was massive and dwarfed the Swan boy. The older guy's hands could fit around Beau's waist, with just a few fingers overlapping. Jake's bicep was about the size of his head, and the wolves could palm his head like a football.

   "Oh, hey, Beau. When did you get here?" Mike smiled, happy to see someone he knew wouldn't be a bore. He and Beau got along nicely at school, and he wanted to see him this morning when they were coming here.

   "Hey Mike," He nearly moaned. Mike understood since the pack had already put sunscreen on him like this five times today. "How has it been?"

   "Well, it was boring at first, but then Jacob found us, and I hit him with a wet sandball, and now it's fun," Mike smiled. "The waves are bigger now, so Seth and I have been trying to surf and skimboard." Mike said excited, "I think they might have another body board for you to use,"

   "Oh... I'm okay," Beau blushed, and Mike raised an eyebrow. He wasn't usually such a stick in the mud.

   "He can't swim," Bella smirked, and Beau glared at her.

   "Oh uh... that's okay," Mike said while Jake kneeled to massage the lotion on Beau's legs. He blushed, and my when the guy's giant hands massaged up to his inner thighs. "You still come in the water with us. I'll protect you. I was the water polo captain in summer and came five times in a row." Mike stood on Beau's side to cover him.

   Jacob's touch excited him. Beau was glad for Mike and that there were no other beachgoers in the direction he was going. He managed to calm down when Jacob was through putting sunscreen on him.

   "Hey Jacob, I need some sunscreen," Jessica giggled, but Jacob didn't hear her. She looked around to see all eyes on Beau and Mike. "Hello?" She said, frustrated as they might as well have been at a gay club.

   "Wait! Wait-wait-wait!" Beau felt another guy approaching behind him at a fast pace. He felt himself being scooped up and pulled into the water. "Ahh!" Beau yelped, freaking out, trying to climb up on the man's head as he heard the girls laughing.

   "Relax, relax," Sam calmed him down and put his hand down his back.

   "Who are you?" Beau tried to snap, but he was still terrified

   "Im Sam, it's okay. I'll teach you how to swim," he said calmly. He had always gotten on the Swan's bad side, but like all other werewolves, he tried to get on his good side after they found out he was an Omega.

———- 5:49 PM    The time was coming to pack up and head home. Despite Beau's inability to swim, he had a really good time. He was tired of being laughed at for not knowing how to swim, and Sam taught him some basics.

   Several people were around to help him if the water got too deep or he lost his ability to stand. Seth had some dry clothes to change into when they were heading home, so he gave them to Beau to wear.

   "Hey... where did the girls go?" Beau asked as they were walking up to the chairs. He had been so preoccupied with surviving and staying in shallow waters he hadn't noticed they had left.

   "They went home like hours ago," Jerard said, walking in sync behind Beau. It was like he was glued to Beau's back.

   Beau thought it was weird all of these guys were so close to him, but that is only because he has only known mostly homophobic men. He didn't know they were wolves and were walking so close to him and Mike as they were guarding their 'entrances.' It was an unspoken game between the wolves while keeping the humans safe from being claimed

   "Well, shit..." Beau said, and every single wolf looked away, concerned.

   "What?" Jake rushed up to him. Jared's lips snarled up before Sam shot him a look to calm down.

   "How the hell are we going to get home," Beau muttered, mad at Bella. She should have told him she was leaving. "Maybe she left the bike behind," he muttered, drying off and dressing in the clothes Seth gave him.

   "She had to have. She is nice and thoughtful," Mike said. I can definitely hike back home, but I would be worried about you. You're probably not used to hiking," Mike said with a worried look.

   "Nonsense," Seth said to both of them, "Some of us came in Jake's Van. I am sure he will take you home."

   "Oh, I don't want to-"

   "You won't be a burden," Jake said with a smile. "Do you boys want to come back to the house? We are gonna grill some of the fish Embry and Quil caught."

   "Oh, um... thank you, but I need to talk to my sister," Beau said. He had been worrying all day about the almost kiss between Edward and him. He knew that he needed to tell Bella before she found out. Their relationship was already strained, and he didnt want a boy to come between them... but boy, he didnt know that would be inevitable.

   "Alright, let's go, but on one condition," Jacob said, and the boys looked up into his eyes, a bit worried, "You guys come to boys' night this coming Friday,"

   "Oh, um..." Beau blushed as he hadn't had many male friends, "You... You know I am gay, right?"

   "Wait, you are?" Mike squeaked.

   "Yeah, so?" Jacob raised an eyebrow.

   Usually, Beau wasn't so bashful. As soon as he got to the beach, he stripped to his panties. It was after he and Mike had been treated like the hot new chew toy all day. He remembered Jake being rambunctious and silly, but this Jacob was criminally good-looking and cheeky. "Er. Yes... okay, I will see what Bells is doing,"

   "Don't bring her," Embry scoffed, crossing his arms, annoyed.

   "He is right," Sam started, leaning against Jacob while looking down into Beau's eyes. Sam and Jacob agreed on a few things, but this was one: He wanted these omegas to be there. "It's a boys' night. Last time I checked, Bella wasn't a guy, was she?"

"O-Okay," Beau looked down and saw Jerad's grip getting lower to his hips. Sam snapped his fingers, and Jared froze before patting Beau on the back.

   "See ya, Beau and Mike," Jerad smiled before tackling Quil and trying to force him back into the water.

   "Bye, guys," Seth smiled while combing his hands through his long jet-black hair. Don't tell the girls about the Boys Night. We don't want them crashing," he winked at the two.

   "Oh... are you guys not leaving? I wouldn't want to rush you all," Beau said, and Mike nodded, backing him up.

   "It's okay, guys. You two look beat. Come on," Jacob snuggled between them, placing hands on the small of their backs. He guided them to the stairs up to where Jake parked. Jacob knew when to talk and not to, though he mostly ignored that. He would drop Beau off first and then Mike, but before he got out of his van, he would ensure that he had both numbers.

   "Mike," Beau turned to look at the boy after a few moments of silence. He wasn't aware that he would be coming out to Mike. He thought it was fairly obvious. Can you meet me in the cafeteria on Monday? I still don't know how to get around," Beau asked to check if they were okay. By the way, Mike smiled from ear to ear, and he knew it was okay.

   "Sure, Beau-Beau," Mike beamed, and Beau smiled back.

   A couple of moments later, when the car pulled to a stop, Beau realized he was home now, "Oh wow, I guess it just seemed like forever on a bike,"

   "Yeah, you are pretty tiny, so it probably seemed like that," Jake said, pulling his phone out of the glove box and handing it to Beau to put in his phone number. He looked at Bella's window and saw her glaring down at them. 

   Jacob has been trying to get her to pay attention to him, to see if he was better than any other man for her, yet he has yet to get that reaction... until today. Jacob cupped Beau's face and whispered into his ear, making eye contact with Bella loving how pissed off she looked. "I'll text you when I want to meet up with you guys. Pack for overnight. We will be camping,"

   "Hey Jake," Beau said with gritted teeth as he had enough of guys getting up in his personal space. Jacob's hand was about to slip under the waistband of his shorts.

   "Yeah, B?"

   "If you and your buddies want to keep your balls, I suggest you keep your hands above my fun zone," Beau said with gritted teeth. Jacob got the hint and quickly took his hands to himself.

   "Er... sorry,"

   "Bye Mike," Beau got out of the van, "Thanks for the ride," Beau offered a wave, and Jacob gave home a nod.

   He hoped Bella would keep the door unlocked because he had left his keys and important things at the library. The librarian was good at keeping lost and found items separate from the rest when she knew who it was and who was more recognizable than the Sheriff's son, who had just moved back to town. 

   As he reached out to open the door, he saw it jiggle. Hearing it unlocked, he assumed it was Bella. The door opened, and he planned to spit out what he wanted to tell her, but then he smelled his father's pine scent.

   "Hey Bubba, have fun at the beach?" Charlie smiled, and Beau calmed down when he saw his father's peaceful smile and disarming aroma, "Them boys didnt give you too much trouble, eh?"

   "No, Daddy," Beau smiled, diving into his father's arms for a hug. He heard a hardy chuckle as he was constricted into his father's embrace. "Well, they did, but I can take care of myself."

   "Well, just be patient with Bells,"

   "What?" Beau widened his eyes, "She is mad at me?"

   "I don't know why, but maybe it is... Aunt Flo is visiting or something." Charlie turned red, trying to make Beau feel better. "Look, it will be fine, whatever it is. Just give her some space,"

   "N-No... I have to explain my side..." Beau said, trying to remain brave, he had done nothing wrong. He was never going to kiss Edward... he just was shocked. Yep, that is definitely why he didnt pull away or beat Edward's ass.

   "Goodluck," Charlie said, patting him on the back, "Imma clean out the grill,"

   "Traitor..." Beau muttered to himself before walking upstairs. Only half wanted back up from his dear ole daddy. "Bells?" Beau asked, knocking on her door before opening it, though it was locked. "Please... Bella, I need to talk to you," Beau said before flinching. The wind didnt even hit him. He didnt even see the tall man's shadow grabbing him by the collar.

   "Please, Please don't tell her. She means everything to me," Edward was so mortified. He didnt know how Bella had found out. He had been trying to get into her room for hours now, but she threatened him with her little cross necklace to get out.

   "She is my sister," Beau snarled at him, "Bella, he tried to kiss me! I didnt let him!" Beau said, and Edward gulped. He grabbed Edward's shirt before he zoomed away. Luckily, Bella shoved open her door.

   "You fucking tried to kiss Jacob?!" Bella snapped before it registered that Edward was in front of her. "Edward? What are you doing here?"

   "Bella, did you fucking hear what I said?" Beau snapped, "Your vampire boyfriend tried to kiss me," Beau snapped. This isn't how he wanted to break it to her, he intended to warn Bella about Edward's wandering eye. Beau didnt really know the fate and magnetic pull Edward felt between them yet.

   "What?!" Bella snarled.

   "Hold on, youre telling me that you were fucking mad at me for Jacob flirting with me when you are dating Edward?" Beau said, now earning the right to be pissed off.

   "Get out of my sight, both of you," Bella said, getting ready to slam the door, but Beau stepped in front.

   "Bella, I didnt do anything wrong! Will you let two boys you have been talking to for a few months come between us? We haven't been apart since the womb up until a couple of months ago!"

   "Yeah, well, maybe that needs to change," Bella shoved at Beau before slamming her door and locking it,

   "Shit..." Edward pinched the bridge of his nose after saving Beau from stumbling down the stairs. Chief Swan came running up the stairs. "This is all my fault, I am so sorry," Edward said. He widened his eyes as Beau started crying, he could also tell that Bella was crying.

   "I think you should leave, Edward," Charlie quickly hugged Beau to comfort him, "Bella, come out here right now and tell me what the hell is going on!" Charlie rubbed on Beau's arm before he stormed off to his room... which was the former nursery. "What the hell is going on!" Charlie said,

   He couldn't open the door, it didn't have a lock on it, so instead, Beau propped a chair up against the knob as a makeshift lock. Edward was a gentleman... or at least, that's what he thought he used to be. So he told him what had gone down, officially being banned from the Swan house for 'the rest of eternity.'

------- 11:10 PM

Swan Home, Forks, Washington

   Luckily for Edward, being uninvited from entering a house or asking permission to get access was an old vampire myth. He told himself he was being an idiot and that he needed to beg for his life and apologize to Bella, yet he was in the room directly under hers.

   He perched at the window on the other side of the room. It was a tiny room, but he still had a good view of Beau. He walked over as Beau started to fidget, by reading his mind, he knew the guy was having a nightmare.

   "Calm down... I will protect you," Edward whispered before caressing his hand down Beau's arm, slowly but soon enough. Beau's subconscious moved onto another dream. Beau relaxed his body a bit, a small smile spreading. He nudged his head under his pillow and was completely safe now. "Shit... what have I gotten into..." He muttered. Please Vote, Comment, Add to your lists, and share this story with a friend:). Updates sporadic 

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Twin Flame - Chapter 2 - crimsonmoonlite - Twilight Series - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

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Twin Flame - 2. Beach Day with the Doggies - Wattpad

[d3v0t3dv1rtualch33s3cak3]

Just wrote the first chapter of my Flower shop and tattoo parlor AU for Hangster and Icemav.

Everyone is kind if aged down, just so I find it a bit easier to write for them :)

Here it is if you wanna read it.

It's only 1012 words. It's pretty small

There was something enticing about the smell of flowers for Jake. As soon as he stepped through the door, he felt at home.

“How are you today, Jake?”

Tom was the store manager or Iceman as everyone called him. Despite being a few years older than Jake, he didn't act like it.

I'm fine, Iceman. But you know how much I like the name Hangman."

"Get it tattooed on your body. Like your wrist. That way you can show me every time I mess up.”

"When is my next free day?”

“Friday.”

The store wasn’t going to open until nine, and it was only eight thirty.

“Think we're gonna be busy today?"

"It's Wednesday. It's midweek, so I don't think we'll be getting too many."

Thirty minutes passed very quickly in Jake's mind. Iceman was in the back office, doing paperwork, while Jake was stuck manning the desk.

Jake heard the bell ring at the door, but didn't bother greeting the person. He'd give the customer a few minutes to look around before he'd ask any questions.

Jake heard the footsteps stop and start again regularly, and even pacing back at some points. Once a few minutes had passed, Jake stood out of the counter and found the customer.

"Good morning sir,"

The man looked away from the flowers and turned to Jake.

"Anything particular today?"

The man was shorter than Jake, he had dark brown hair and green eyes.

"Not really. Is there anything that kind of symbolizes "love" and things like that?"

"There are plenty of flowers with a meaning of love. Any particular color?"

"Blue?"

"Forget-me-nots. They are a very pretty blue, and mean true love, And as the name suggests, hope to never be forgotten."

"Any white ones? That I can take with the blue? They like ice."

"White lilacs. Go great with bouquets and represent youth and purity."

"Great. How much?"

"$25. Just come to the counter while I get your flowers. Is a black ribbon okay?"

"Yeah. Are there cards at the front desk?"

"Mhmm!"

Jake got the flowers and wrapped the ribbon around the stems, holding them together.

The man handed over exact cash, and finished writing the card.

"Who's it for? If you don't mind me asking."

"My partner. We've been dating for six months and I'd like to show that I have been paying attention to dates."

Jake chuckles at the statement. He definitely struggles with dates.

"Well, I'm sure they'll love them."

The man smiles and puts the cards in the flowers. Promptly leaving the store, bell jingles being the only thing that followed.

Four o'clock came faster than Jake expected it to. He dealt with fewer customers than he usually does.

But he expects in two weeks time, the store will be getting busier since it will be closer to February.

Jake turns off the open sign and heads down to Ice's office.

"Hey Ice. Just letting you know I'm heading out."

"Cool. See you tomorrow."

Jake nods and exits the store. Heading down the street he has seen so many times in his years here in California.

He passes the Cafe, run by Phoenix and Bob. Halo comes to help sometimes as well. Jake likes going there, not only to hang out with his friends, but because he actually likes their coffees.

He passes the restaurant owned by Fanboy and Payback. He eats there sometimes. But he doesn't get a discount, which is why he doesn't visit often. How much do you think Jake makes in a week?

Coyote and Omaha don't work in California, but they do own a bakery in Utah.

Then he passes the new tattoo shop. Jake's always wanted a tattoo, but his momma said he always had to be sure this is what he wanted.

He decided to walk in, see who works here, and really see if getting a tattoo is really worth it.

A bell rings above his head as enters. The walls are covered in sketches and tattoos. Jake walks up to the counter and a man walks up to him shortly after.

"Good afternoon! Or is it evening?"

"I classify it as afternoon, but it could be evening to you."

"Is there something you need?"

"Yeah, two things. Hey, I'm Jake, but please call me Hangman. I work down the block at the flower shop. I not only came here to introduce myself, but to see if this tattoo shop is actually going to change my mind into getting one."

The man leans on to the counter and chuckles.

"Well, Jake, I'm Bradley, but you can call me Rooster. It's nice to meet you. So you haven't gotten a tattoo before?"

"Nope. My momma says it's better to get something I really want. I actually have a few ideas that I want, but they're probably really basic."

"Hey, you're new to this. A basic generic tattoo is a great start, and it probably won't be something you'll regret."

Jake smiles at him.

"I better get going soon. I have a dog at home."

Jake walks towards the door when he hears Bradley– Rooster speak behind him.

"I hope to see you soon then, Hangman."

Jake smiles to himself and gently waves to Rooster.

Jake walks back to his place, trapped in his head.

You only just met him! You just find him hot. It's not like he feels the same way.

Jake takes out his key and unlocks his door.

Jake's dog is already jumping at him before he even enters the house.

"Bernie! Calm down!"

Bernie was a Bernese mountain dog. Jake got him from the pound two years ago when Bernie was still a puppy, and ever since they've been the bestest buds.

Jake took out his wallet and gently threw it on the kitchen counter top.

Jake took out dog food from the cupboard and poured a healthy amount in Bernies' bowl.

Jake slowly walks over to the couch, not bothering to make something for dinner. He was too busy thinking.

Thinking about Rooster at the tattoo shop.

[dystopian-reverie]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲, 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥 || 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Title: Pretty, Pretty Doll

Rating: 18+ for smut, minors dni!

Warnings: p in v, oral (fem receiving), edging, brat taming, characters arguing a lot, fingers kink, choking, solo play, dom!Marc Spector, reader and Marc referring to the reader as a "fuck doll", not beta read, angst/comfort, fluff ingrained into some place I guess?

Summary: Marc comes back home from a mission and you help him let off some steam. A few days later, an argument breaks out between the two of you that leads to him showing you the weight of your own words.

You didn't know how late in the night it was when you were interrupted from stress working, a thing you've been doing a lot lately. You heard the apartment door unlock as you swiftly closed your laptop, all the unsaved work forgotten.

"Marc?" You hurried to hug the man who returned it back all too eagerly.

He shut the door behind him and wasted no time in collecting you in a warm embrace. Marc has been gone for nearly a week, yet another mission from the wretched old bird. Every single time he came back, it looked like he had lost a piece of him wherever he had gone to.

"God, I missed you so much, baby" He whispered, not showing any sign of letting go of the hug. His voice was flat, didn't have that usual tone of relief whenever you ran into his arms.

"Same here," You sighed, as you smiled into his shirt that smelled so much like- him, his "just got back from a mission" version. "Everything alright?" You asked, concerned at the lack of the usual pattern of him kissing you senseless as soon as he has you in his grasp.

Silence. You could only feel him shake his head. "What are you doing up so late?" He asked, as you both finally stepped away from each other. He carried his bag and threw it on the couch mindlessly, all eyes on you.

"Just working, you know. It's the only way I can take my mind off of, well, you. Whenever you're gone," You paused "I can't seem to stop worrying about you" You admitted, smiling to stop yourself from tearing up.

To say that you've been worried about Marc, Steven, and Jake whenever they were off doing the dirty job for Khonshu was an understatement. You knew that they had their suits, but you've been in this crazy world long enough to know that suits of armor and blind bravery can't save you from everything.

A sad smile spread across his face, as he opened his bag to bring out an entire bottle of whiskey and placed it on the table beside him.

"I suppose the mission, this time, was more draining than usual," He said as you made your way to him. "Couldn't get the asshole the first time I went after him, it was one mistake, but before I could get to him again, he-" He paused, shaking his head. You could clearly see the passive frustration engulfing his entire mind. "He had killed someone else". He looked back at you.

You listened to him, your brows knit together the whole time. He was a man who had seen the most twisted and rotten things in his life, felt them, and fought against them. It still surprised you to think that it was you he decided to let in.

The moment your hands met his cheek, he closed his eyes and leaned against you, pulling you in closer till you had to re-adjust and sit on his lap.

"What can I do to make it better?" You asked, your voice no more than a mere whisper.

Talking about it wasn't really Marc's thing, at least not right after he just reached home. He knew that you knew it by now.

Those eyes. Those damn eyes that enticed you every single time he looked at you that way. By now, you knew what was going to happen. He was going to devour you, greedy and raw. That was Marc's thing. Fuck you into oblivion, draw orgasms after orgasms until you were a sobbing mess beneath him, nothing more than a whimpering doll that can't string a coherent sentence together. He loved to hear you beg for him, to cry out his name as he rammed into you, grunting and panting, sweaty bodies moving against each other. The sound and smell of sex would overwhelm your senses as he would whisper absolute filth into your ears, and tell you how much a pretty, pretty doll you were. He would take care of all your needs and his.

His gaze traveled down to your lips and further down to your breast. You were wearing a white t-shirt of his, with no bra underneath, and though it was loose enough, with the way you were sitting, he could make the outline of your nipple harden at all the sinful thoughts clouding your brain.

"What? No 'Marc go take a shower first' or 'Don't you wanna talk about it'?" He smirked ever so lightly as you rolled your eyes and tried to pull him into a kiss, but to your surprise he pushed you away, his hands cupping your face.

Tucking the loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers, grazing painfully slow and soft on your skin, traveled down to your cheek, and to your chin. He drew your face in closer and locked both of your lips together in a heated yet slow and deep kiss.

You moaned into the kiss as he slid his tongue inside your mouth. Your hands tried to take off his shirt hastily, knowing that you'd have to remove yet another layer of a t-shirt to strip his torso naked. But Marc was having none of it.

He grasped both of your hands and held them behind you, cutting off your access to finally touch him after a long, long week. You protested in silence as he pressed your body towards him with the same hand he was holding you captive, making you straddle his hips, his other arm slowly, yet strongly, wrapping around your throat.

Both of you pulled away, slightly panting, lips parted. His eyes were no more tired or sad, as he contemplated all the ways he could keep you up that night. His trained hands kept your arms locked behind you with ease, and kept a firm handle on your throat. His hold wasn't too hard, but it wasn't just a mere touch either.

Heat pooled on your abdomen as you tried to grind against his hardening cock. You were sure your panties were soaking at this point.

"Oh, we've got time for that, doll" He whispered as he yanked you to give you another kiss before letting go of you. "Kneel" He ordered.

You raised your eyebrows as you slowly got off his lap, making sure to give a final push to his crotch, which didn't go unnoticed. You lowered yourself in front of him, and he grabbed the whiskey bottle and took a swing out of it.

Just as your hands swiftly went to undo his pants, he caught you in the middle and leaned down so he was only inches away from your face. His hot breath was not making it easy for you to control yourself.

"Listen to me carefully, baby. Daddy didn't have a very good week, you know that, don't you?" He asked, and you nodded, looking at him through your lashes. "I didn't get to look at pretty sights while I was working," He continued, "But I'm looking at you now and-" His eyes once again traveled all over your body, his lust left unmasked. "I see that you are all for me to consume, aren't you?" He asked and you nodded yet again, rubbing your thighs impatiently as his words churned your insides.

Today was going to be one of those nights. Marc was going to drag this out, take his time, make you beg as if your entire life depended on it- and you know it would, with the way he can deny you things.

"So, I thought, why get this all done so quickly when I can do this all. night. long?" He kissed right below your jaw, drawing a hitched breath from you as his hand cupped your right breast.

"This is what you are gonna do," He said leaning back, letting you simmer in anticipation. He was giving you order and gods forbid if you were not gonna give your fullest. "You're gonna touch yourself, all over yourself, as daddy watches," He took another swing out of his bottle. "My pretty girl's gonna put up a show so good that I fuck her so hard and good tonight, yeah?" His smile was so sinister that you could've nearly broken down where you were kneeling.

Biting your lips as you crawled back a little farther away from him, so he could have a better view, you felt as if his incredibly intent and growingly wild eyes set on you were more than enough to strip you naked. His own brand of pornstar.

You took off the piece of fabric that provided little protection from the cold in a swift move, an excuse to mess up your hair further. Removing yoir soaking panty didn't take long either. While your one hand started brushing your lips and started sucking on them ever so lightly, you leaned back further, balancing on your other hand, spreading your folded knees wider on the floor. You didn't take much time before sucking on them completely, getting them all nice and wet, looking up to see Marc watching you through hooded eyes, his whiskey bottle held in a tight grasp as if his hold on it is the only thing stopping him for grabbing you back to him again.

Saliva dripping to the floor, you let those same fingers travel down to your chin, the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, and finally to where you needed them the most. You rubbed your aching clit, throwing your head back as the long-needed pleasure coursed through you. Your other hand massaged your breast and circled your fingers around your nipple. You let out a whine, thinking about how good Marc's hot and wet tongue would feel lapping around it, sucking and kissing it just right.

"Faster" His voice was low and commanding, edging so close to a growl, and there was something so dangerously dark about it.

Your fingers obliged all too quickly as it fastened the pace. Heat spread through your thighs and your aching legs. Your other hand was tugging your hair till you felt a low pain on your scalp, but it only added to the pleasure. Everything felt so good and filthy all at once.

All it took to push you over the edge was one look Marc- and you came undone. You let out a loud moan, not caring about anything anymore. You just wanted him to carry you straight to the bedroom and fuck you like the whore you were for him.

And that was exactly what he did that night, praising his doll about how good she was for him while you basked in the glory of making him feel good. His hands were all over you as he fucked you, the bed creaking along with the sinful sounds of the night. It was paradise on Earth yet again.

--

"Every. Damn. Time!" You yelled at your boyfriend who was in no better mood than you.

"You're the one going off on dangerous missions every once in a while, Marc, and you're trying to sell the whole 'I'm doing this protect us' every time I ask you something about it,"

"And what part of it do you not get?" Marc hissed back. "I've got a past that, one way or another, gonna try to drag me back to my bullshit history, and this time I have to worry about you getting dragged into the mess too. As long as I have Khonshu's power, I can protect us from all that,"

"As long as you Khonshu's power, you're going to get dragged into more new mess and have more memories to bury. You think I can't notice the toll it's taking on you?"

Marc scoffed a humorless laugh that showed his disbelief. "So? What do you want me to do? Leave this all behind and run away somewhere with you so we can live out our perfect little life? I fucking owe him my life, goddammit. The last thing we need is a pissed-off ancient diety on our asses because I couldn't hold up my end of a stupid deal!" He slammed the table, not taking his eyes off of you.

They were wide with rage, trying to make you see some sense.

"But that's not what you want, is it? A perfect, happy life, hmm?" He asked, his voice finally calm, moving towards you. "You want in."

"What the hell do you mean, Marc?" You huffed, trying to act like you were done with this, but deep down, you knew he was edging closer to finally figuring it out.

"I knew it," He let out that same humorless, dry laugh again, leaning down and purposefully looking into your eyes. "This is about Tawaret and her offer, isn't it?"

"What? No!"

"Yeah, then what is it?" Marc was inches away from your face now, challenging you to come up with a reason. "And do not bullshit me with the 'I'm worried about you,"

It was true that Tawaret had asked you to be her avatar on the only mission you've accompanied Marc, something that shouldn't have happened in the first place.

You've seen how being an avatar affected Marc, but that was entirely on Khonshu. You had agreed on being Tawaret's temporary avatar because at that time Marc and Steven were in real danger.

Feeling all the power and using it all to defeat real danger and threat to the innocent, gave an electric jolt that nothing ever gave you in your life. You knew you were incredible at it.

Looking at Khonshu and the Boys' toxic relationship, what you and Tawaret had was one of the sweetest and most efficient partnerships. It was true that you wanted to be her avatar permanently because even if you wouldn't seek danger voluntarily, you can defend people whenever they're in immediate danger.

But what Marc said now pierced right through you. "You- you think that's what this is all for? Just that? You don't believe that I do worry about you?" You cursed yourself for how shaky that line came out.

Appearing weak was the last thing you wanted right now. You held your gaze with him, and you could feel him debating over choosing his next words.

"Why would you even want to get into this life, y/n?" He sighed, appearing exhausted already.

"Because I can do some good, Marc, something that I've always wanted to do for since I can remember" You raised your voice, standing your ground.

"Do some good?" He raised his eyebrows. "Do some good. Do you even comprehend the danger that comes along with it,"

"Tawaret would never ask me to do anything Khonshu asks you to do. He asks you to kill, and Tawaret asks me to defend. There's a difference Marc, and- and besides why the fuck would I need your permission to become an avatar, it would be completely my choice,"

"So you do want to be an avatar," he deadpanned.

"I- I just wanna make sure that whatever you do, you don't have to bear it all alone," You had hoped that you saying this might cease the fight, make him see that all this was completely unnecessary.

But Marc seemed to have other plans. "I'm not bearing it all alone. Whenever I come back, you're here for me, aren't you? You think I'll be able to concentrate out there with you on the field, constantly worried-"

"For fuck's sake I'm not a goddamn baby, Marc! What do you think my job is? To be the faithful wife, worrying about her husband who has gone to war and spends every day moping around and scared to death about what is happening to him? Well don't worry, I already am like that. What you don't seem to get is that I hate it," You snapped back.

"Of course," You scoffed when he couldn't seem to find the words as he stood there, his jaws clenched and his eyes set on you. What else could he say? "You only need me to be your own fuck doll whenever you come back home," You spat, making sure every word was laced with venom.

Everything was still. You were nearly panting and shaking with all that adrenaline. You wanted to go off at him, to yell at him till he finally understands what you were trying to say. You wanted him to say something, anything, really.

"You think that's what you are to me?" he finally asked. He wasn't yelling or mocking you. There was just pure rage-filled curiosity in his voice, the one that spent chills down your spine.

He laughed. Dragging his palms down his face, he looked at you like he has just seen you for the first time ever. "My fuck doll?" He came in closer till there was barely any space between the two of you.

You glared down at him, refusing to elaborate on that because, to be sure, you didn't know where that came from either. Was that how you truly felt whenever he came back from a mission?

He brought his hands to caress your cheeks, looking into your eyes, searching deep for something. You thought he was going to say words of affirmation that you were more than that, that he loved you and would always cherish you- what everyone else would've done.

"Well, if that's what you think you are to me," As he cupped your face with both of his palms, you sense nothing but danger all around the room- the kind of danger that made your insides buzz, especially down there. "Shouldn't you be proven right?" His words increasingly became louder as he yanked you by your arm and dragged you to the bedroom.

It all happened way too quickly. You didn't have any time to voice out your protest as he pushed you onto the bed and started taking off his clothes with a wild vigor. You became hyper-aware of everything he was doing. His muscles flexed with every movement of him taking his shirt off in one swift go, throwing his pants away. His dark and messy curls fell in front of his eyes.

And his eyes, oh God, his eyes. You've never seen them this way, filled with so much carnal desire and impatience, so much anger, and desperation all exploding into a messy mixture that ultimately made you fear and anticipate what was about to happen.

It wasn't before long you realized that you messed up. Bad.

"Let me show you how a fuck doll's gotta be fucked," He whispered more to himself as he got himself on top of you. After nearly ripping your top off of you and unclasping your bra in one go, he grabbed your neck tight and brought you close to his face.

"Since you decided that I only treat you as my whore, you're gonna start behaving as one from now. You do only the things that I allow you to do. Do you understand?" His grip on your throat didn't ease as you made your best effort to nod.

"It's a shame, you know, something so pretty as you, looking at me all wide-eyed and scared, is not gonna get any love today," He mused, studying your face, his grip easing a little. You could feel him fisting himself right above your thighs.

Pushing your body entirely down on the mattress, his one hand secured your throat as the other worked on your pants, removing them in a swift swoop.

"Now you listen to me very carefully," He said as his finger traced the lining of your entrance through your panty. "You are not going to make a single sound, and you are not going get your hands anywhere close to me. They're going to stay there by your side the whole time I fuck you."

As his hands left your neck, he wasted no time before getting between your legs, positioning his mouth in front of your still clothed cunt.

You knew what was different. There were no affectionate kisses, no caressing your body up and down, and definitely no loving words presenting a melody to your ears. This was him fucking his fuck doll.

Kissing your pussy once, he removed the panty and spread your legs to reveal a dripping you, your body responding to him without your permission.

"Always a slut for me, huh, no matter how I treat you," He smirked to himself as you felt heat creep up your cheeks. You'd do about anything to cover your embarrassed face.

He dived in, his skillful tongue licking off all your juice in a swift flick. That's where you messed up the second time- when you let out a loud moan, despite him warning you not to. You quickly covered your mouth, in an attempt to try to undo a mistake, but it was too late anyway.

Marc looked up at you, clearly not very happy. "Do that one more time and see where that gets you," He slapped your thigh as you shut your eyes. That was going to leave an angry mark.

He went back to his work, licking and sucking you in all the right way while you squirmed under him, not being able to move your arms in any way, your lips pursed. You couldn't help but let out the tiniest of whimpers from time to time, but he didn't seem to mind, too busy devouring you as if you were his final meal.

There it was, all that heat that churned inside was concentrating and intensifying in a delightful way, threatening to spill right out of you. You were so close to reaching what you knew was a mind-shattering orgasm.

His moans and all the sinful sounds of him eating you out, his strong grip holding your thighs in place was just enough to push you off the cliff, and there it was, right at your fingertips- right when he pulled away.

You nearly screamed out loud. No, no, no. You wanted to yell out his name and ask him to finish what he started. You could feel the burning hot orgasm flickering away as you tried to catch your breath.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he didn't seem to give a flying fuck about it, as he crawled on top of you with a satisfied look on his face.

He chuckled at your silent whimpers. "What was that?" He mocked you, getting in closer. "Oh right, forgot dolls couldn't speak," He said as he covered your mouth with his palm.

You could feel him positioning his cock in front of your hole. "Can't really trust you with the rules," He mumbled as he secured both of your hands over your head with his killer grip.

He didn't touch you anywhere, didn't say anymore as he fucked you. His grunts and the sound of sex and your silent whimpers were the only sounds in the room, so unlike you and Marc.

As you felt a low orgasm building up inside you, you felt more scared than ever. This was going to be ruined too. Marc was never gonna let you have it. He knows all the tell-tale signs of your body when you were so close to coming.

He fastened the pace, his grunts becoming louder and raspier. Marc was usually the one to continuously string together filthy words that made your insides twist and pussy flutter, but now, not a single word.

You could feel both of you reaching your climax, that sweet, sweet ending, but of course, as expected, he pulled away, knowing damn well that was going to get a cry from you.

He slapped your tit roughly when you made the slightest cry and that made you bite your lips hard enough to make yourself shut up.

"Look what you're making me do," he shook his head, looking down at you. He pushed back a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead, admiring what he's made of you- a panting and unsatisfied mess.

"Do you think this is how I wanna fuck you? Hmm?" He asked his palms stroking your cheeks and neck.

He looked so beautiful from where you were to the point it didn't feel fair. His sculpted face and body, his raspy breaths, his eyes that spoke many unspeakable emotions all at once, it was all too much, to the point where you could feel tears stinging your eye.

"Marc," You called to him weakly, and nothing followed that, but he knew- he understood.

He got down to kiss you. It was so passionate. Your lips moved together, conveying about a dozen different emotions. Anger, disappointment, forgiveness, love, lust, worry, love, love, love.

He cradled your head as his lips moved to your cheeks, your jawline, down to your neck, crafting art of his own, a beautiful canvas for him to paint with his teeth and tongue. Surely something he would admire in a few more minutes.

You didn't know if all the rules were still effective. That was when he took your aching arms and brought them up to his hair, letting your fingers comb through it. You let out a loud moan of relief as he kept on kissing you everywhere his mouth could find your skin.

"This," He breathed "is how I want to make love to you," His hands soothed your thighs, stroking up and down. "Because I love you," He kissed your forehead. "I need to feel you with me, everywhere on me," He left a trail of kisses. "Because you're my girl, do you get it?" He broke the kisses to look down at you, his eyes wide and pleading, begging you to understand how much you meant to him.

You nodded slowly, a slow smile dawning on your face. Marc couldn't help but smile along with you.

"And now," His sudden movement caught you off guard. He grabbed your legs to swing them over his shoulders. "We'll get down to some actual fucking, shall we?"

"Oh GOD Yes, Marc,"

"That's my girl," He smirked. Off he went, thrusting deeper and deeper inside you till all you could feel was his hands roaming all over you and how good it felt when he stretched you open.

"Does my cock make you feel good, baby?" Marc grunted and you nodded frantically. Whatever self-control you had over your body had left you, leaving you entirely in Marc's mercy.

"Open your mouth," He commanded. As soon as you obliged, Marc slipped two of his fingers into it. "Suck on them"

And you did, all nice and slow as you coated them with slick, your eyes nearly rolling back to your skull.

A sliver of saliva still connecting his fingers and your lips for a little while, he brought those fingers down to your clit and rubbed them in circles.

At this point, you weren't even sure you were saying anything coherent, just chanting his name over and over again like that's the only thing you knew how to do.

It was just the two of you. The evening slowly gave way to night to rule the sky as you and Marc made love, sweeter and hotter than anything you've felt. Both of you were pressing on to each other in a hundred different ways, burning skins asking for more and more.

The warm and familiar signs of orgasm filled your abdomen again, tightening your insides. Your toes curled as your nails dug into Marc's shoulders.

"Come along with me, baby. That's the way, come with me. With me," He said, holding your head in one hand and working miracle down on your clit with the other one.

Your release was unlike anything you've ever experienced. Everything became merged into one, and time didn't make sense. Your back arched as you and Marc came together. You could feel him releasing inside you, giving you everything that he has.

His hips ground to a halt as he at last rode out both of your orgasms. He slid out of you and fell down on the bed, right beside you, both of you panting, sweating mess.

He gathered you into his arms, cradling you near to his body. Placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he lifted up your face to face him.

"I love you," He said every word like his entire life depended on them, and at that moment, for him, it truly did. "And no amount of fighting is going to change that fact,"

"I know," You whispered back. "I love you so much too," You smiled back at him, snuggling closer to him.

"Ready to talk about this whole thing like adults in the morning?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and you nodded, giggling a little.

"Now let's get you cleaned up," he said, reluctantly getting out of bed, earning a groan from you.

Rest assured, that night went ahead with no bumps, with both of you feeling more complete and loved than ever. He was yours, you were his, and no amount of deities and their powers can change that.

A/N: This is it!! My first ever fic after 3 long years of terrible writer's block, I hope this wasn't very hard to read, I'm still a lot rusty. I'd absolutely love to hear your opinions on it, and reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

Also, this is my first ever smut fic ever, I hope it wasn't too bad, alright I'll leave y'all to it.

Also, shoutout to @jakelcckley @laters-gators @budcooper @astroboots @stormkobra-5 these amazing writers who predominantly write for Oscar and his characters for unintentionally giving me enough motivation and pulling me out of my block with their amazing works. Please do go check them out, they're all absolutely amazing.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Love On The Brain: Part 4

A/N: Smut from start to end

“She’s made her decision.” Frank closed the door behind himself, his attention moving from one alpha to the next, taking little comfort in being one of the smallest among them. “We don’t have a right to question her on why she chose-“

“I can’t go in there.” Bucky cut Frank off, the tension in his shoulders and chest putting him more on edge than he was before the rapid, sudden and powerful heat had nearly driven them all into ruts. “I can’t-“

“Bucky, she chose you. She trusts you enough to help her through her heat.”

“It was his scent that pushed her over the edge.” Frank sounded dismayed to admit that, to confess that it wasn’t his scent that had the final driving force to send you into heat. He was trying not to be envious, not to stew in his jealousy, but it was thick and heady.

“Frank, Bucky and Jake.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest and pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. “They’re completing the first cycle, and we’ll take the next.”

“Three months.” Frank cleared his throat and averted his eyes, feeling his jealousy gnawing at his core. “Her next cycle will be in three months.”

“You good, Adler? This will only work if we’re all in agreement-“

“I’m fine.” He growled through a lie, barely holding onto that part of him that was teetering on the edge of possessiveness. “A little privacy would be nice.”

“We’re leaving—the three of us. Steve’s headed back to New York for a while, Andy’s got to take care of her assault charges, and I’m visiting a friend. You have the place to himself.” Ari ignored Frank’s sour mood and the innate ill-tempered nature of the man who had placed himself between you and the rest of them.

“Let us know when she’s better, and we’ll come back.” Ari took another look at Frank before he turned away from the door and walked down the hall toward the staircase that would take him from the second floor to the main floor.

“Keep your eye on him,” Steve muttered to both Jake and Bucky, knowing that Frank’s dour mood would potentially lead to a heightened state of animosity.

“I’ll be fine,” Frank growled and turned away from the remaining alpha’s and threw the door open before he stalked in. He slammed it shut behind him and flicked the lock, keeping the others out and himself in.

As he pressed his back to the door, he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes to focus on your thickening scent that was coating every inch of the room. You had been holed in here since you collapsed in the entranceway when you first arrived, taking comfort in building a temporary nest while the six alphas in the house tried to ease you in any way they could.

“Grumpy.” When you spoke, Frank had opened his eyes and had become catatonic at the sight of your laying on the bed surrounded by a mass of pillows and blankets. “Why so grumpy?”

You were lying bare on the bed, your entire body exposed. He could smell and see the thick sheen of slick between your legs, the enticing juices soaking your fingers as you toyed with yourself while watching him stand there.

He couldn’t move, and he could barely breathe, not when he was watching your fingers deep within your needy and dripping cunt. You were finger fucking yourself and making the most enticing little whimpers and whines, the noises stirring his cock and driving home the need for him to completely cover you with his body and fuck the heat out of yourself.

“You’re beautiful.” His blue eyes narrowed in your direction, his chest tightening at the sight of you, of his omega laying there waiting for him. “Fuck…”

“Don’t stand there all day.” You pout and spread your legs wider, giving him an unrestricted look at your swollen and puffy pussy lips that were coated and soaked in your slick. “Come closer, alpha.”

Frank moved slowly, stalking toward you like you were his prey. He moved toward the bed in calculated steps that brought him to the edge of the bed frame. He reached with his left arm and wrapped his hand around your ankle, and yanked, bringing you toward him, eliciting a few desired moans from you.

“You need me?” Frank knew the answer, yet he asked anyway. “You need my knot, omega?”

Your response came as a sharp trill; the sound was an animalistic plea that paired with the sound of your fingers fucking your pussy.

“I’ll make you feel good.” Frank stepped back and grabbed the bottom edge of his plain shirt and yanked it over his head, exposing his toned yet slight frame and the trail of dark hair leading to his cock. “I know what you need.”

“Please.” You whined and arched your back; your desperation to feel him was nearly driving you crazy. “Frank, please-“

He rid himself of his jeans and his boxers and crawled onto the bed to hover above you. He had trapped you in his arms, with his hands on either side of you and the head of his cock brushing against your swollen and needy pussy lips. He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours in a passionate and eager kiss; the pressure of his lips against your own had opened a floodgate of mutual wanting and need.

“I can’t,” Frank pulled his lips off of yours and exhaled sharply again, resting his forehead against your own, “wait.”

“Don’t.” You slid your hands up his bare chest to his shoulders. “Then don’t wait.”

Frank kissed you again; his lips collided with yours as he angled his cock at your entrance and slowly pushed the seeping head into your aching heat. You had hissed at the contact, hissed from the feeling of getting some decent relief when he was pushing his thick length into you. Frank was gentle; he was tender as he impaled you with his cock, letting you get used to the size of him before he started rocking against you.

He dropped one hand to your hips, squeezing your flesh before it lowered again to your thigh. Frank had dug his fingers into your flesh and raised your leg, allowing him to fuck you deeper and harder, his cock stretching your dripping cunt in the most erotic way imaginable.

“Frank…” You whined his name and arched your back, pushing your bare chest into his own. “God, it feels so good.”

“Your cunt is squeezing me.” He grunts into your ear, parting his lips to graze his teeth against the side of your neck. “I’m going to mark you here.”

He could feel it. He could feel your cunt squeezing his cock, your pretty soaked pussy urging him to fuck you good. You were so desperate for it, so needy. Your hands slid down over his shoulders and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh as he pulled out and slammed back into you, the whiny and pleasured cries bringing him closer to his end.

“Your knot-“ Frank kissed your neck in a tender contradiction that was immediately followed by him digging his teeth into your neck to mark you.

“Frank!” You gasped and cried his name when your orgasms met each other, and his cock started to swell within you. “Oh fuck!”

He grunts into your neck, his teeth still imbedded in your flesh as his seed spurt from the head of his cock and had to coat your inner walls. He kept rocking against you, jutting into you as your rode out your orgasm. When he had pulled his teeth out of your neck, he lapped his tongue against the mark and immediately set upon praising you over and over again.

“I love you.” He kissed his care into your lips. “I love you so much. I love you, omega.”

The door opened and closed, and you were stirred from a deep yet short sleep by the invigorating smell of spices and the scent of another alpha who wasn’t Frank. The rest had temporarily eased your body you had gotten between Frank fucking you and now, enjoying the little rest you could have before your heat demanded you to be fucked again.

“You need to eat.” Bucky now was in your space, and he had brought with him some food and water on a silver tray. “You need your energy.”

“Where’s Frank?” You questioned, begrudgingly sitting up in bed while your whole body was screaming at you to lay back down and let the alphas come to you.

“He was here for a while, watching you until you slept, and when he returned to his room.” Bucky inched forward and set the tray down on the nightstand before he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, his intimidating gaze penetrating you to the depths of your soul. “The others left to give you space.”

“Right.” You winced and edged yourself to the bed, reaching out to grab the glass of water that was sitting on the silver tray and then briefly met Bucky’s stare before you averted your gaze.

You rested the rim of the glass between your lips and downed the cool freshwater inside before you leaned forward once more and set it back down. Once the water was consumed, you grabbed the bowl of steamed greens and rested in your lap.

You may have been entirely bare before his eyes, still naked and exposed, but noting about Bucky’s gaze had made you anxious or uncomfortable. He was watching you with this burning intensity behind his crystalline blue eyes, and you could sense that once you were done eating, he would completely devour you. Yet, he still wasn’t making you uncomfortable.

“This is good.” You complimented the food with your hunger slowly being sated. “You’re a good cook.”

“How do you know I made it?” Bucky may have sounded gruff. However, you knew there was tenderness somewhere beneath.

“Frank can’t cook worth shit, and I don’t know…Jake doesn’t seem like the type.” Bucky didn’t answer your statement. He had continued to stare at you, continue to watch you eat all he had brought you, and then when you were almost done eating the steamed greens and the two bananas he had brought you, he had taken the glass to the attached bathroom to refill it.

“You need more?” He had only questioned you when you had set the bowl down and taken another sip of water.

You shook your head and slid your hands back on the bed, your arms stretched behind you and your back arched. Your nipples have become hardened little nubs again as the rise of heat you were waiting for had settled back in. It was heavy and dense and, in moments, had transformed you back into a needy and wanting omega who was begging for an alpha cock.

In moments, your pussy was dripping slick, and you were whining while spreading your legs to display the sheen of your neediness. You had angled your head back, exposing your neck to him in response to Bucky’s scent growing thicker and more potent. He was as ready for you as you were for him.

“Present.” He grunted his desire for you to be on your stomach with your ass in the air, and the demand had sent an electric pulse of pleasure through you. “Present for your alpha.”

Your whine turned to a whimper, and you were immediately rolling over onto your stomach. Your hands gripped the sheets before you angled your hips and raised your ass as he had wanted.

Your whole body burned with heat when you heard that intake of breath and the sharp spike of his pheromones that were pushing the primal need to fuck and be fucked, forward.

“Good girl.” You preened at his praise, your slick dripping from your cunt to the bed below you. “You’re a good omega, aren’t you?”

Your ability to speak verbally was gone. All you could do was whine and whimper, moan and groan for him. You were speechless, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Look at your pretty, needy pussy.” You jerked and shrieked when you felt his fingers rubbing your puffy pussy lips, gathering your slick to spread it against your thighs and your desperate clit. “So hot, isn’t it?”

Your whines were coming from a place of desperation. You were desperate and needed to feel him stretching you. You needed to feel him fucking you.

“I know, omega.” You felt his breath against the back of your thighs and had turned your head to see him standing behind you, his tongue mere millimetres away from your core. “I know how badly you need to feel me.”

“Bucky-“ You spoke his name, and then his name became a pleasured scream when he attached his mouth to your dripping and seeping cunt. He shoved his tongue into your centre without warning, flicking the muscle inside your pussy, eating you out from behind.

You tried jerking away only once, that form of rebellion ceasing when he looped his arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He growled a warning into your pussy, and you were helpless to stop him as he devoured your cunt, as he drowned himself in your slick. He wasn’t just tasting you; he was feasting on you; he was tongue fucking you as you cried his name over and over again.

“Cum!” You moaned the warning, thrusting your hips against his face. “I need to cum!”

It was a warning. It was a short warning, and as you rode the pleasurable wave, as you were busy coming down from that high, Bucky had shifted on the bed.

You felt him grab your hips as he lined his thick, throbbing cock up with your dripping cunt. You were already a mess from the feel of his hands on you, and he hadn’t even speared his cock into you yet. Your breath is bated; it was stuck in your throat as you count down the moments before you felt his swollen head against your pussy lips.

When you thought of him starting to push his cock into your needy cunt, your silent gasp was met by his sharp hiss. Your pussy was squeezing him, your heated walls becoming a tight crevice for him to sink his dick into.

“Fuck!” Bucky growled and leaned forward, his chest pressed tight against your back. “You’re fucking squeezing the life out of me, omega.”

Again, you preened under the attention. You preened under his dirty yet ethereal words that made you feel as though you were single-handedly the luckiest omega in the world. Those dirty words made you feel warm.

“Bucky,” you whined his name and pushed your hips back, impaling yourself to the absolute brim on his throbbing dick, “please-“

“Fuck.” Bucky grunted against your neck, the few seconds passing between your pleading and the first thrust of his hips was short. “Fucking hell…”

He thrust his hips against you, fucking your cunt with long and powerful strokes. He had snaked his right hand away from your hip and up your side to your chest and then your neck.

He rested his palm against your throat and pulled you back gently, putting just enough pressure on your neck to let you know he had a hold of you, yet not enough to choke you.

“Frank marked you little omega,” Bucky growled in your ear, holding your back to his chest as he fucked you near senselessly, “I’m going to mark you too. I’m going to leave my mark on your shoulder.”

You reached back with your hands and rested them against his bare thighs, your nails digging into his flesh to help stabilize yourself as he fucked into you. Every motion of his hips, every thrust had sent you careening toward a potent end that seemed to come far too quickly.

“Your heat is making you delirious.” Bucky trailed his lips along your neck, his teeth nipping at your flesh. “Your heat is making you reach orgasms faster. This is going to be the first of many that I give you.”

You couldn’t speak. You could only make minor trills and pleasured whimpers as he fucked you, as he pushed you toward that final cliff.

“Cum for me.” He growled in your ear, pulling out to slam back inside of you, and like Frank, when you started to cum around him, he sank his teeth into you.

Bucky bit down on your shoulder as his cock began to swell within you, stretching your walls around his throbbing cock, his hot seed coating your walls and marking you as his. “Mine.”

You were his. And you were Frank’s.

Jake was trying to be quiet when he entered the room, attempting to keep himself in check when he was hit full force with the smell of your heat and sex, the lingering effects of both Frank and Bucky coming before him, adding to the overall feel of the room.

It was later than he anticipated when he had finally come around to you, and he wasn’t sure if you would physically be able to handle another alpha in a rut. Yet, when Bucky left you alone, Jake had gotten confirmation that you needed some rest.

“Give her a few hours.” Bucky didn’t say much, yet when he passed by Jake on the way to his room, the scent that trailed behind him was telling.

You were still thick in your heat, yet every knot you’d gotten was lessening it. Jake would be the last, and his knot would be the last you needed to break this cycle and return you to a place of normalcy. Well, after you had been given the proper time to recover.

“Hi.” Your voice startled him, and the alpha who was not trying to scare you had been frightened himself.

“Shit!” Jake cursed and dropped the box he was carrying, the lid nearly sliding off the top. “Fuck, I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“Sorry.” You apologized and shuffled from the edge of the bathroom toward him. “I was cleaning myself up. I felt…”

“I know.” Jake smiled small. “Not that you were…not that you are dirty…I didn’t mean….”

“Uno.” You studied the box and tilted your head. “You brought a card game?”

“Yeah, uhh…if you wanted to play before….” Jake rubbed the back of his neck and blushed; the colour dusting his cheeks was cute and rather endearing. He was a significant alpha, just a little smaller than Ari yet bigger than Andy, and seeing him blush and act nervously was cute. It made you feel a lot less anxious about him being here and him being the last alpha you would have on this cycle.

“I love that.” Your smile grew, and you reached for his hand and tugged him behind you to the mess of your nest and had all but jumped on the bed before you stretched out and yanked a blanket over your bare legs. “I’ll kick your ass.”

“You can try,” Jake smirked and crawled onto the bed opposite of you before he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m pretty adept at uno.”

“You and your hand, right?” You snorted and opened the top of the box and dumped the cards out, sorting them into two stacks before you grabbed one and shuffled them.

“You’re vicious for a little omega.” Jake reached out and pushed his finger into the thickness of your thigh, his blue eyes studying you and the way your borrowed shirt had kept your nakedness from view yet exposed enough of your thigh to allude to the sweet honey between your legs.

“You know, I’m an omega of many talents.” You dealt him out seven cards and kept your own, studying the array in your hands before Jake made his first move, adding a matching colour to the starter card.

“How’re you feeling?” He was kind and gentle, like a big teddy bear with frosted tips, and of the six of them, Jake would probably be the easiest to be around. “Other than…you know…horny..?”

“Horny.” You laughed under your breath. “Horny and hot. Like liquid fire is flowing through my veins. I’m a little sore, but I’m okay.”

“It’s a lot at once.” He played another card, and you cursed when you had to pick up four.

“Do you have a lot of experience with omegas?” You questioned, knowing what he did for a job, yet unsure if he had ever been with one.

“Ari and I…we’ve seen a lot of shit done to omegas by alphas who are supposed to take care of them. We’ve…found a lot of omegas in terrible shape.” Jake cleared his throat; his eyes fixated on the pile of cards played as the tension rose. “We knew you; of you. You were on our radar for a potentially trafficked omega. Ari and I, our team, was prepared to intervene with your transport, but-“

“-I disappeared. Frank and I disappeared.” You finished for him, something a slight sombre falling between you two, as the realization that if you had stayed, you might have been worse off than you imagined.

You may have eventually been saved and intercepted, but at what cost?

“I graduated high school with honours, not that it mattered because I couldn’t go to college, but…there was a girl in my year. She was 18, and a week after she was 18, she got assigned a pack. She was gone before she even graduated.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, playing after you spoke. “Her name was Marie Coffield. She was a tiny petite blonde-“

“I know her.” Jake cut you off as he raised his head and played his last card. “Ari and I know her. She was being trafficked and sent somewhere in Europe, but she was caught at the airport. She lives in New Mexico now.”

“She’s okay?” You studied the winning card and then the cards remaining in your hand. “She survived..?”

“She’s in a pack with three alphas, and she’s got two kids, a boy and a girl.” Jake grabbed the cards that were stacked between you two, folding them together to shuffle them.

“Oh, thank God.” You exhaled and rolled onto your back, your legs falling open naturally as you stretched your arms above your head. “I thought about her a lot. I…couldn’t imagine being shipped off a week after my eighteenth birthday.”

“As much good as the OAD does,” Jake closed the box and set it aside before he shuffled toward you until he hovered above you, “they can’t catch everyone.”

“Packs slip through the cracks.” You placed your palms flat against the front of his graphic shirt, feeling the toned ridges of his chest and abdomen.

“Frank said that the pack I was initially going to be given to had a past of questionable behaviour yet had somehow pushed through the safety measures to keep them out. He said…they aren’t good alphas, and it’s likely I would’ve-“

“You’re okay now.” His hand rested against your bare thigh, your eyes meeting, and the silent communication that followed, kicking the last spike of your heat into high gear. “You’re safe.”

“Because of you.” You turned and rose to your knees and slowly moved closer. “Because of all of you.”

“You’re so pretty,” Jake mumbled and blushed, reaching for your hand to rest against his chest. “You’re so sweet.”

“So are you.” You swung your leg over his waist and straddled him before you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss that was quickly reciprocated.

His free hand fell to the small of your back and then slowly moved down to the bottom of your borrowed shirt, pushing it up past your hips to your abdomen.

As his roughened palm rubbed against the small of your back, slowly moving to the front to rest on your stomach, your hands grabbed his glasses and started pulling them off his face to set them down on the nightstand.

“You smell so good.” Jensen groaned into the right side of your neck, his teeth grazing against the part of your neck he was going to bite, pre-claiming it with small nibbles. “God, you smell so good.”

“Jake,” you leaned back and sat just above his crotch, your hands playing with the end of his shirt, “I appreciate the compliments, but if you’re not-“

You nearly flew off his lap when he sat up quickly, his hands moving down past your hips to cup your ass. His fingers dug into your asscheeks as he ground his erection against your bare core, his lips attached to the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He growled against you, dropping one hand to fiddle with the button of his jeans and his zipper to get them down. “You’re staying- fuck!”

“Jake,” you leaned forward to kiss him and then raised your hips, reaching between your stomach and his to assist him in popping open the button of his jeans, “you need help?”

Jake’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open when your hand pushed down his jeans with as much strength as you could before you grasped his cock and slowly sank onto his length.

His head fell back as a whiny groan fell from his lips, and he bucked his hips, his jeans caught around his thighs. His hands gripped your hips as he thrust into you, steadying you as he fucked you.

A soft trill had been pulled from you when Jake changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting the spot in your seeping, soaking pussy that had you digging your nails into his chest. You were crying your pleasure into his shoulder, your entire body coming to life with blooming and building tension as he fucked you.

“Fuck me,” you whined and bit down on his shoulder; your ability to function was being pulled from you with every back and forth motion of your hips rocking against his cock, “oh fuck me….”

“You’re gonna cum.” Jake wrapped an arm around your waist and held you against him before he rolled the two of you over until he was hovering above you. “You’re gonna cum on my cock.”

“Fuck!” You whined and angled your head, exposing your neck to Jake.

“God, you’re such a good omega.” Jake’s lips met your neck again, his teeth grazing and marking the place where his bite would go in mere moments. “Cum for your alpha.”

“I can’t-“ Your orgasm hit you hard, Jake’s name falling from your lips in an endless mantra as your cunt squeezed his cock, your cum gushing from your pussy soaking your thighs and his cock, which had only been intensified when Jake bit down on your neck, giving your third and final mark for the cycle.

As you started to come down from your high, Jake slowly pulled away from your neck, lapping at the blood before he centred himself over you again.

“You’re so beautiful.” He praised you, trailing his fingers down the side of your face, wiping a small tear away that had been rolling down your cheeks. “You’re so perfect.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled, unable to move much from the swelling of his cock.

“I’ll stay with you.” Jake leaned in to kiss you again; the delicate tracing of his lips against yours was the first of many light touches he had given you until you fell asleep against him.

[cal-a-bungaa]

Breathe In - Sam Kiszka

Title: Breathe In

Synopsis: Seeing him smoke always intrigued you so you wanted to try it for yourself. 

Warnings: Cigarettes and smoking. shotgunning. Swearing. This will be steamy as well. IF NOT 18+ PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

Authors note: Well first Sammy fic... Enjoy!

__________

He was always so mesmerizing in everything he did. The way he played bass, the ability to move his fingers like that. His mouth moved as he played as well. To see him smoke a cigarette was the most enticing concept you’d ever experience. He was beautiful, the way his hands would push the long hair out of his eyes with the smoke framing his face. You had to stop yourself from thinking about it too much. It was wrong to have such thoughts about your best friend. Sam hadn’t invited you here for you to ogle him; he wanted to spend time with you and his brothers. And spending time with his brothers is what he’s doing. Jake is throwing more wood into the pile, Josh is pouring lighter fluid, and they’ve made Sam their stick gatherer. 

The twins had eventually stopped adding to the growing flames, excusing Sam from his duties. He took his spot next to you, lighting up yet another cigarette. The wretched smell of tobacco fills your nose. Though awful smelling, you couldn’t help but be enthralled by the action of breathing in the smoke to blow it out. 

Sam couldn’t help but notice your hooded eyes watching him bring the smoke up to his lips. A smirk is almost unnoticeable on his features, but it is there as he takes a drag.  Your glossed-over eyes watch the smoke sneak out from between his lips. He sees how you lick your lips as you watch his own. 

A breathy laugh comes from the man sitting next to you, “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” he states.

Your flustered state makes him laugh harder, blinking rapidly and cheeks turning pink. You cross your arms and attempt to turn away from him. He couldn’t help but find your pout adorable. Sam's arm slings over your shoulders, pulling you into him so you’re flush against his side. The smoke he’d just inhaled was blown straight into your face making you dizzy. 

“Do you wanna try?” Sam asks, holding his hand out that holds the tobacco stick between his index and middle finger. 

“How do I do it?” You ask him, having never tried smoking a cigarette before.

He brings the smoke closer to your lips. “Pull the smoke into your chest, hold it for a few seconds and then release it,” You try to grasp what he was saying, but you’re too nervous and distracted. 

With the stick finally at your mouth, you wrap your lips around it slowly. You try following Sam’s exact instructions, breathing in the smoke and inhaling it even further, so it gets stuck in the back of your throat. Sam has a slight look of awe along with a tiny smile as he watches you take your first drag. After inhaling all that you can, you clamp your mouth shut. The burning of your throat doesn’t have you holding the smoke in for long. All of the smoke is freed as you cough up a lung. 

Sam rubs your back, patting at times while you cough. He places the cigarette between his lips while he grabs the beer at his feet for you to drink. “Drink this, sweetheart. It’ll help soothe your throat,” he explains to you. 

The beer did help a little bit. Your throat was still raw from the burning but didn’t have you coughing like you were dying anymore. Sam has since then taken a few small drags, blowing the smoke away from you. You wished he didn’t. 

The smoke he blows out surrounds the two of you. “I have an idea since you obviously can’t handle a cigarette,” he teases. 

He watches the way your face contorts into a pout, letting out a chuckle. “I can too handle it,” you fight back. 

“Yeah yeah. Come here, princess,” you scoot closer to him, front-facing him. “When I blow the smoke at you, I want you to breathe it in as best as you can.”

You’re intrigued by the idea but, “Isn’t that a little weird to do?” He cocks his head to the side, oblivious as to why it would be weird. “Whatever, just do it.” 

Sam doesn’t waste time as he leans in closer to you, taking a long drag from the cigarette before slowly blowing the smoke into your open mouth. You inhale the cloud, it’s somewhat easier on your throat, but that could be because you’re more focused on how close Sam’s face is to yours. He slowly gets closer with the less smoke he exhales. You’ve breathed in all that he had to give you, letting it all out in one breath before Sam leans in to press his lips against yours. You were hesitant to kiss him back, not thinking this was real. He squeezed your thigh, letting you know this was very much real, and he wanted you to kiss him back. Your arms wrap around his neck, finally kissing him back. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you lean in further, trying to feel more of him. 

Sam pulls you into his lap, hands moving down to grope your ass. You made small movements, trying to get some sort of friction as his tongue intertwined with yours. Quiet whimpers fall from your lips the harder Sam squeezes. Your head was spinning from the euphoria you felt. The way he felt against you was more than enough. His hands were rough but gentle. His mouth worked against yours like a sin. You were sure your lips would be swollen after kissing Sam. He kept sucking your bottom lip like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Sam’s hands slip under your shirt, moving up towards your breasts.

“Will you two quit sucking each other’s faces off over there!” Josh yells from across the yard, still holding the lighter fluid. The two of you are forced apart by the laughter that erupts from you. 

[boopernatural]

To Make it Last Longer

Amy comes across Jake’s laptop when she’s alone early on in their relationship.

————————————-

Amy Santiago was alone in her boyfriend’s apartment.

It wasn’t that weird, given that he’d made her a copy of his key and told her she was welcome there anytime (though it did make her tummy do stupid little jumping jacks that felt silly) but it was her first time using the key; normally he was there to let her in.

He was still at work, finishing up on a lead that would probably only keep him another hour or so. Then, they were going to make dinner and watch a movie together, he’d told her to head on over whenever she wanted and he’d meet her there.

Jake was surprisingly content to be a domestic little housecat, something Amy had not anticipated when they first started dating, though it was not an unpleasant discovery.

Feeling a little out of place, Amy sauntered around the empty apartment, listening to her own bare feet creaking on the aged floorboards. His place was much smaller than her boho apartment; a studio with stained wallpaper and a dishwasher that squealed on it’s hinges when you touched the door.

Still, there was comfort here. The smell of his aftershave still lingering in the bathroom entryway, the unmade bed with the patterned quilt his mother had made him (that he slept curled under every night) and the dirty dishes piled high in the sink.

Amy figured there was no use just sitting around when there were dishes to be done, so she made her way into the kitchen toward the sink, passing by a few unopened envelopes. She eyed them subtly as she walked past, feeling a little sneaky, though she knew he wouldn’t have given her a key if he had anything to hide.

One of the envelopes was addressed in messy handwriting, with his address in the center and his aunt’s name at the top left corner. Another was an envelope she too had received, an informational flyer to all of the detectives in the 99 about an upcoming community outreach event. She doubted he’d even open that one. And a third was from Brooklyn Water Supply.

It reminded her that she too needed to pay her water bill. She cursed quietly as she realized she was a few days overdue, having spent most of her time here the past week. She quickly pulled out her phone to open up the website, but the mobile version was flawed and didn’t allow for her to login.

She debated just brushing it off and waiting another day, but rampant anxiety coursed through her at the thought of being overdue on a bill. She knew she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

Amy spotted Jake’s laptop precariously placed on the corner of his end table beside the bed, charging. Was it wrong to borrow it without asking? Even for something as mundane and intriguing as paying a utility bill?

What if he had…stuff on there? Like…porn stuff?

She shuddered at the thought. Though she wasn’t blind to the fact that he was a grown man and had more likely than not jerked off to the sight of other people fucking on camera, it didn’t exactly entice her to think about it. In fact, the idea made her wrinkle her nose with distaste and nearly disregard the water bill altogether.

Though, if she didn’t get it paid, it would keep her awake until she did.

She would just use the website, and get right off. No funny business.

Amy crossed the apartment and sat on the edge of his bed, grabbing the laptop and opening it up on her knees. A beam of blue light cast across her face, and she sighed as she was faced with the pop-up screen, demanding a password.

She tried D1e Hard! No luck. She tried a few other things, McClane1234, DieHardRulez, even YippieKayYay. No dice.

She was about to give up when she glanced at his end table and paused, noticing something she hadn’t taken much time to look at over the past week or so. Underneath his lamp, in a brown frame was a photo of Jake and Amy. She remembered the night vividly; it was a few months ago at the state fair. She’d dragged him there to fulfill her surprising adrenaline junkie need to ride spinny death traps. She’d also discovered Jake was actually not a big fan of heights, and didn’t take to the rides as well as she did.

The picture was one a kind stranger had taken of the two of them upon request. Jake had his arm around her waist, tucking her tight against his side. Amy was smiling at the camera, not noticing that his head was turned sideways, looking down at her with so much love and affection in his eyes that it almost made her heart skip a beat even as she sat alone in his apartment. When had he taken the time to print the photo out, let alone frame it and place it on his nightstand like he wanted to wake up to it every morning?

Looking back to the password screen on his laptop, Amy took a shot, typing in: 04-15-16.

The login box blinked out, opening up his home screen. The laptop was unlocked.

Amy couldn’t help but smile at the realization that his laptop password was their anniversary date.

Okay. She was in now. No messing around. She needed to just open up the website, pay her bill, and then put everything back in its proper place. It was bad enough she’d just broken into his laptop, she wouldn’t make this a real offense by prying.

The cursor hovered over his google chrome logo, but something beside it on the taskbar caught her eye. It was a tan file icon, labeled: Pics.

Pics? That was vague.

Amy hesitated, if she clicked it, she was one of those girlfriends. One of those snoopy, untrusting, privacy-invading girlfriends who didn’t know where the line was, and crossed it often.

But, she had to admit, she was curious. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Jake, no fiber in her had any concern that he was cheating, or doing anything untoward. Still, Jake could be…closed off. It wasn’t that he tried to be cold or anything, he was very sweet to her and affectionate. But talking about personal things, his feelings or his past, he tended to get jammed up. Even after several months together, the deep stuff made him uncomfortable.

What could he have in this silly little file with such an unassuming name?

If she had to guess? Probably work stuff. Maybe a file of gruesome crime scene photos. Jake was nothing if not a workaholic.

Or maybe it was photos of Sofia in lingerie. Jake was a bit of a procrastinator. She doubted he’d spend much time deleting old images.

Before she could reel herself in, Amy clicked the file.

Her first instinct was to click out of it before she saw something she didn’t want to see, before she went down a path she couldn’t come back from. But, when the folder opened, she wasn’t met with dead bodies or naked images of an ex-girlfriend.

Instead, Amy’s eyes glossed over a myriad of neatly labeled files. Most of them had dates attached with little names to make their contents clear. Her eyes scanned the surprisingly well organized file folders with intrigue, as she read off the names.

Family

Academy

Birthdays

Holidays

Trips

Ames

Her eye caught with disbelief on the last one. That couldn’t be right, could it? A file with images dedicated to her? She almost couldn’t wrap her head around it. God, was it a compilation of all the sultry, sexual photos she’d texted to him over the course of their relationship? Was that creepy? Yuck.

Instead of opening up that opportunity for horror, Amy decided to click on the academy album. She figured she was already this far, may as well take the train all the way to the station and be a bad person.

Amy began scrolling through images, grinning with realization as she decided that these were a collection of photos from Jake’s police academy days. She clicked one to enlarge it, seeing a few familiar faces.

It was Jake, but about ten years younger. His dark hair was trimmed short, though she knew back then his preference was to let his curly mane grow out, the academy frowned upon that. He was dressed in a pair of cargo pants with a Brooklyn Police Academy sweatshirt on, sitting at a familiar bartop. Beside him, with her black curly hair tied up tight in a bun, wearing the same clothes as Jake, was a younger Rosa. Clearly, they’d just finished a long day of drills, as was made evident by the scuffs on their youthful faces and the dirt patches all over their clothes. They each had a beer in their hand, and they weren’t looking at the camera, but instead at one another, cracking up laughing. The low-hanging orange lights of Shaw’s bar were visible behind them. It was clear whoever had taken the picture was laughing too, because it was a little blurry and not centered.

Amy’s eyes softened as she looked at the photo. Jake looked so handsome; he really did have the most amazing smile. His cheeks and chin dimpled in a boyish, endearing curvature, and that hadn’t changed with age. Despite being barely into his thirties now, he looked so much younger in this image. As exuberant of a person as Jake was, he’d seen things most people didn’t have to; dead bodies, crime scenes, kidnappings and drug deals. This Jake hadn’t seen any of that yet. He was a bright-eyed, bushy tailed kid, who was having a drink with a good friend after what was surely an exhausting day.

She couldn’t help but smile before she clicked onto the next photo. Most of them were similar to this, Jake and random academy buddies at parties, hanging out at Shaws, even some were taken during drills, definitely in secret.

Amy came across another image of Jake at his academy graduation, dressed up neatly in his uniform, though the ceremony was clearly already over. His mom was there beside him, grinning into the camera with watery brown eyes and pride beaming across her face. An older woman stood on his other side, and Amy recognized her from other photos as his late grandma. She too was smiling with such pride and love that it made Amy feel safe to look at her face. She couldn’t help but notice the absence of his father there, on what was probably an important day for him, but with the two women at his side, Jake was smiling like he wasn’t missing anyone.

She finished out the academy folder before she knew it, and ended up clicking on the family file. Her smile grew as she passed through folders of pictures, mostly of Jake and his mom. Every once in a while there was one with his grandma, or a random cousin or uncle, but at the core of the album were the two Peraltas.

One image of a little Jake dressed up for Halloween made her touch her chest with awe. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, still holding on to his mother’s hand as whoever snapped the photo got their attention. His mom was wearing kitty ears and had whiskers drawn on over her nose and cheeks, she was smiling warmly down at her son. Little Jake had the curliest brown hair, just a mess atop his head. His big doe eyes took up most of his face (and still kind of did, if she was being honest) and he grinned back at Karen with a tooth missing from his cheeky smile. He was dressed in a slightly-too-big police officer uniform, complete with a walkie talkie on his hip and a plastic badge around his neck. If Amy had to guess, he’d probably told his mom “this is how John McClane wears it!”

Amy knew it was too early to be thinking about things like this, but the photo conjured up a thought in her brain. The image of Jake now, holding the hand of a little boy who looked similar to the one in the photo. A sweet, curly-haired little boy with love in his eyes and warmth in his heart. Well, another one, that was.

God, she was really in love with this guy, wasn’t she? Who knew Peralta had so many layers?

Amy skimmed over more photos, pictures of Jake with friends from school, pictures from Hanukkah celebrations and road trips, all which painted the picture of the man she was in love with. A silly man, with a big heart and a natural inclination for being a good person.

It was when she’d exhausted all the other albums, that Amy hovered over the one titled Ames. She was a little afraid, she had to admit. Though, all of her scrolling had revealed nothing more than her boyfriend’s sweet, sentimental side. The side of him he didn’t flaunt or want others to know about, but one that she now knew kept his personal photos organized neatly, so he could look at them whenever he wanted to.

She clicked on the album. Up popped dozens of boxes, though thankfully none of them showed exposed skin or nudity like she’d feared.

A lot of them were selfies of her, ones she’d sent him when they spent time apart and he complained that he missed her. Some of them made her groan out loud; she was without makeup or proper hair care in a lot of them. In some he’d caught her stuffing her face with food or making some sort of ridiculous expression, which most likely made him laugh so hard he had to snap a picture. Some were photos of the two of them, quick images captured in the midst of wonderful time they spent together, a mere attempt to express the joy they felt in a small, condensed box.

Amy felt her chest do a little stutter at the collection of photos she was looking at. She felt for a moment, as if she were seeing herself through Jake’s eyes, as silly as that was.

She’d never understood what he saw in her. She was neurotic, a little obsessive, wracked with self doubt and desperate for approval. She wasn’t outgoing or adventurous, she wasn’t confident or sexy. She never felt like she could compete with the wild encounters he’d had before her. She always wondered slightly, why it was that he seemed to be so deeply in love with her.

Looking at the photos he saved, she sort of understood.

These were the pictures he wanted to keep, these were the moments he wanted to remember. Amy with ice cream on her nose at the fair, Jake kissing her cheek on the pier in Jersey on that Sunday they’d taken a long drive, the two of them with their shoelaces tied together as they’d been dared by Gina to try to walk home that way.

She loved the way she looked in these photos. Always smiling brilliantly and unbridled. Clinging to him as if he were her beating heart. Laughing with him when everyone else didn’t get the joke.

This was what he saw in their relationship; silliness, fun, affection, someone else to understand all of the weird things that you could never try to explain about yourself. Someone else who just knew before you even spoke what you were thinking. Someone who made you feel like you belonged, like you were worthwhile.

And Amy felt it too.

She was so engrossed in the images, that she didn’t notice when the front door unlocked and swung open. She didn’t hear the footsteps entering, and she didn’t make the connection that Jake had just walked in until his voice rang through her ears.

“Babe? Whatcha doing?”

Amy startled like a kid with her hand in a cookie jar. The laptop flew off of her knees and crashed to the floor before she could stop it. The force caused the charging cord to rip free and whip back at her, lashing across her face and conveniently hitting her directly in the eyeball.

“Ow! Shit!” She cried out, cradling her face in her hands.

“Ames!”

Jake rushed forward and she felt his hands on her back, then she was being turned around. He pried her hands away from her face, and she blinked through her burning eye to notice him coming into view.

His dark brown eyes were ringed with tired circles from a long shift. His curly hair was matted down across his head, probably in need of a luxurious shower. His face was inches from hers, his eyes studying her face with a concerned crease between his brow, his broad lips pursed thoughtfully as he looked at her. He still smelled of his aftershave, and the collar of his flannel had a coffee stain on it.

“You okay honey?” he asked her gently, taking her chin in his hand to tilt her face so he could look at her more closely, “It hit you right in the damn eye. It’s really red.”

“Jake, I’m so sorry.” Amy began rambling out a pathetic apology, “I wasn’t going through your stuff! I remembered I needed to pay my water bill, but my phone wasn’t letting me and I saw your laptop sitting there and figured you wouldn’t mind if I…but then I saw the photo album and I just got curious and I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to invade your-”

“Whoa, whoa whoa, slow down there killer.” Jake laughed as he pulled away and shrugged out of his leather jacket before sitting back down beside her, “You don’t have to apologize babe, it’s fine.”

“B-but I used it without asking.” Amy replied, “I went through your personal photos…”

Jake shrugged, “I gave you a key, didn’t I? I got nothing to hide.”

Amy eyed him carefully, well, as much as she could through the blinding pain in her retina, “You’re not upset?”

“No Ames, it’s really okay. I know I’m dating like, the nosiest most know-it-all girl on earth.” Jake smirked playfully, “I expected you to go through my stuff when I wasn’t here, honestly.”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, “I mean, I kinda thought about it, but I swear I didn’t! Just the laptop and I didn’t really mean to-”

“Amy.” Jake’s voice took on a bit more of a serious edge, where before he’d been lighthearted. He rested a hand gently on her thigh, and offered her a small smile, “It’s really okay, I promise. I trust you. I want to share stuff with you, including my laptop. Mi casa es su casa, and whatnot.”

“It’s tu casa.” Amy corrected before she could stop herself.

“Oh, right. Tu casa es su casa.” He nodded proudly, as if he’d nailed it.

“No, no it’s-” Amy stopped herself before she could correct him again, smiling with the realization that he wasn’t mad. He really was the most perfect fucking man on the planet.“Nevermind. Thanks for being so understanding, Jake.”

“Nothin’ to understand.” he paused, as if something had just occurred to him, “Hey, how’d you guess my password?”

Amy grinned, “Got lucky.”

Jake’s face turned a little red, and he glanced down at his laptop, scattering on the floor, “That’s embarrassing.”

“No it isn’t!” she insisted, “Jake I think it’s so sweet that our anniversary is your password. I love that.”

Jake glanced at her curiously, “Our anniversary…oh. Right! Yeah, no yeah, it’s our anniversary. Yeah.”

Amy cocked her head sideways, frowning at him, “Isn’t it?”

Jake scratched the back of his neck nervously, letting out a shrill laugh, “It’s also sorta kinda the day Bruce Willis’ PR team liked my tweet about Hans Gruber being the best movie villain of all time. It was a really, really good day.”

“Oh my god!” Amy exclaimed.

“Soooooo,” Jake was quick to change the subject, squatting down to pick up his laptop, looking relieved that it still worked, “You were looking through the Ames album?”

Amy nodded, bringing one hand up to cradle her aching eye, “Yeah. It’s so sweet Jake. You really have some nice pictures in there.”

Jake smiled as he clicked through a few of them, then glanced at her with sympathy, “Let me get you some ice for that.” He set the laptop down and headed for the kitchen.

He returned a moment later, rejoining her on the end of the bed and reaching up to press a bag of ice against her eye. Amy sighed with relief at the feeling, leaning into his touch and looking at him through her good eye as he held the ice against her face.

“I’m in love with you.” Amy found herself saying, though she knew they’d already said this to one another.

Jake smiled at her, “I’m in love with you too, Santiago.”

She reached over with her free hand and kissed him quickly, savoring his soft lips and the familiar warmth of his body against hers. He smiled slightly into the kiss, brown eyes crinkled at the corner as he looked at her with so much affection it made her heart stammer in her chest.

“I really love your photo albums.” She murmured.

Jake offered her a small chuckle, “Well I realized a long time ago that nothing lasts forever. But uh…it’s nice to look back on the memories and be grateful for all the good things you’ve had in life.”

Amy’s heart filled with warmth at his sweet, genuine words. This man wanted everyone to think he was some too-cool-for-school jokester with no substance, but he was by far the most sensitive and kindhearted man she’d ever met. She couldn’t believe he was with her.

“You are just full of surprises.” Amy mused, “I didn’t realize you were so sentimental. And organized.”

Jake’s ears turned the slightest bit red, and he looked down bashfully, “Does the organized thing uh…excite you?”

She smirked, “You bet your perky little ass it does, Peralta. Give me two minutes to toss this ice pack and strip.”

“This is why you get your own album.” He said, leaning in to kiss her again, longer and deeper this time.

When they pulled away, he gave her a wink and began heading toward the bedroom, shedding clothes as he walked.

Normally the disarray of clothes on the floor would bother her, but tonight, Amy just chucked the ice pack and raced after him.

She wanted to show him just how much she appreciated his sensitive side.

[peralta-guaranteed]

lazy day/just a day where jake & amy (maybe the kids too) just relax all day

- lazypants-day(tm) is a time-honored tradition that started about two months into their relationship when they had their first sunday off together and decided to spend it in bed

- the rules of lazypants-day:

1. no normal/outside pants allowed (only sweats, yoga pants, hotpants and, later on, diapers for the kiddos)

2. if you absolutely do have to leave the house (for a bodega run for example) you must not put on more than a hoodie to hide your lounge outfit, and return immediately

3. no restrictions on snacks (yes Amy that includes ice cream no Jake that does not mean Mac gets to eat en entire tub of it though)

4. at least one meal of the day has to be ordered for delivery (bonus points if you order double so you have good leftovers)

5. housework is only allowed if it can happen in the background (i.e. putting a load in the washing machine)

6. NO DOCUMENTARIES

- they manage to get about one lazypants-day per month without completely breaking their housework/work/life-schedule and god do they enjoy it, just watching bad tv, eating junk food, cuddling, taking a long bath, lazing about in bed reading or playing on their phones. Sometimes they get so cut off from the world they don't hear about major news in their friend-group until the next day. (Except for anything Charles-related because his texts don't stop, even on lazypants-days)

- the rules have to be amended a bit when Mac and later Maya come along and become restless if they stay at home too long, so 1 visit to the park or down to the shops is allowed (while Jake still insists on the sweatpants rule though)

- before that, Amy declared the last two weeks of both her pregnancies as lazypants-weeks for herself and Jake heartily agreed and did the housework by himself while feeding her whatever snacks she craved and letting her rest

- Mac especially loves ordering food on lazypants-day because it's the one time he's allowed to basically pick just whatever he wants off the menu, and he keeps track in a little notebook about what they ordered last time so there's no constant repeats

- Maya usually drags her bed-covers with her everywhere on lazypants-days and randomly lies down wherever she wants (and Amy has only tripped over her once)

- it's also a prime day for building blanket forts with all the comfy extras and hiding in them the entire day, only to be enticed out of the fort by the smell of waffles (Jake knows how to get his kids and wife back in the kitchen for sure. And sometimes he knows you need to bring the waffles into the fort. Washing the sheets can wait until tomorrow.)

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: Singer's Blood

Summary: Something wicked might have come to the Burger King. Either that, or someone really needs deodorant

wc: 1.7k

Read on ao3

"And just like that? I'm in your game?"

"Eh, 'just like that' is like not it, Gucci, but basically. Yeah, dude," I watched as sprite mini-me walked all over the map — a pixelated version of East Laddle's last remaining Burger King, complete with a rat king decomposing in the parking lot and Not Kevin's monster of a car covering an old blood stain.

"Call me Gucci again and I'll burn down your secret edibles stash"

"Nah, dude. The invitation for your family's gala was written in gold, and the card was imported from France. I think I'm entitled, yeah?" I rolled my eyes and cursed as the date to Alice's stupid party drew to a close. Two more days before the humans unknowingly walked into a vampire lair.  

It was cliché to say that I just wanted to be a normal kid, and there was a part of me that would be happy to explain everything I felt with the cliché. But I knew that wasn't it — spending a decade in high school made you realize how stifling normal could be. What I truly wanted was to be left alone; I was fed up of Alice treating my like one of her dolls and everyone enabling her. I was tired of having no thought that was truly for myself and Edward violating my privacy on a whim. It hurt to see Rosalie go from a doting mother to a distant figure when I no longer looked like a child, much like it hurt to see Bella see me as an extension of her beloved husband. 

Being able to hear all of them have sex only made everything much worse.

"Whatever. Just show me my final boss form. You said your roommate was hardcore into Junji Ito"

"Alright, but we only have the concept art for it, though. Abby got super pissed at us for smoking her artisanal weed, so she's not like making the sprite until we get her more, 'kay?" Straight Kevin minimized the game and navigated through his discord server. I left him to his search so I could refill my mello yello; it was always a good shift when Gay Kevin and Not Kevin were away from the store. They were objectively entertaining men, but they also got a little too intense about work here. Neither would let us blow off work in favour of our personal projects. 

Not since Wrestlemania Condimentalooza.

I slurped at my drink and absentmindedly wiped at the counter. Straight Kevin had his phone hooked to our sound system and he was blasting his playlist. His taste in music was…was one would call eclectic if one was feeling charitable – and boy, did I feel like I was making a million dollar donation. In the past hour alone, we had listened to swedish rap, some Nancy Sinatra, Blackpink, Tibetan throat singing, quebecois death metal, and Maroon 5. 

Fucking Maroon 5. 

But none of that compared to the song that was currently playing. It was less of an auditory experience, less of a musical treat, and more like being forcefully turned into a robot that was in the middle of short circuiting. Not only could you feel the beat, but you could see it too. It looked like flashing lights, and I was certain in that moment, that if it continued I would soon be able to taste sound.

And it was during that assault of my senses that I smelled it. Something unlike anything I had ever smelled before and an immeasurable sense of dread washed over me. The pit in my stomach felt like a black hole as I stood ramrod straight and saw a man I had never seen before enter the building alongside Jeremiah.

Nothing about him particularly stood out. He looked like any other white guy that just got out of the office. He was tall though, taller than anyone else here. Not unnaturally tall, mind you, but...something about his aura felt dangerous. I was on edge and no longer breathing, was this how it felt to be near il tuo cantante?

I made eye contact with the man and tried to place the smell, the flavour of it. It didn't taste enticing, if anything the rat king out back called to me more than the man did. But if this was what Bella smelled like when she was human, I had many questions for Edward.

"How's it hanging, Carrot top? Still working on that game, I see Shaggy," Jerimiah appeared oblivious of my behavior. Then again, glaring to our customers wasn't uncommon for me.

I looked away from the man and I saw Jerimiah set up a chess game on his table. Oh no.

"My man C.J. here is buying me lunch, so you can tell your anxious manager not to have a panic attack over more 'non-paying customers'"

"Nah, it's all cool, dude. Kev and Not Kev are on a supply run. Another of our suppliers dropped us like a hot potato"

"Cello beach, that's what they say, no?" Jeremiah shrugged and the man tilted his head.

"C'est la vie?" He questioned using a register of voice I had not expected. I hated it.

"Languages were never my thing. Math, now that's my jam," he dropped onto his chair and I decided I needed to clear my airways. I needed to get out of here. 

Now.

"Kev, take their order. I'm going to deal with the raccoons"

I didn't even wait for a response before I hauled ass out of there. Luckily, I had enough self control to not vampire yeet myself. 

Once outside I took a deep breath.

It was a deeply offensive smell, but at least it was a familiar one. Trash, raccoons, and decay, baby. 

Though, on second breath. Way less raccoons than last week. Significantly less. Maybe Gay Kevin had finally bested them, which shame if true. 

I leaned on the dumpster and tried to focus. It was important for me to figure out what the hell was going on, because damn if some paper pusher was the reason we left East Laddle. The Cullens would jump at the opportunity to decrease my autonomy if I ate some guy. 

Which, yeah. Murder shouldn't be taken lightly, but I'd never be able to have as much freedom as I did now.

God, it'd be fucked. They'd make me go back to school and somehow rationalize that decision as a good one. Somehow surrounding me with hundreds of humans after murdering one would make sense because they'd be there to keep an eye on me...

I was getting sidetracked again, back to the matter at hand. 

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, that man stank. Second, there was a part of me – and I didn’t know how potent that part might be – that wanted to murder him in cold blood. And third, I was deeply and irrationally terrified of him.

A trash can fell over with a loud clang and a empty jug of bleach rolled pass my feet. My eyes widened in realization – Jake had once told me that to him, the smell of vampires made his nose burn. It was an unpleasant odor that clung to everything a vampire touched. Similarly, Alice had gone on at length at how much she didn't like how the shifters smelled like.

The man didn't smell like a shifter, which only served to make me more uneasy. He clearly wasn't a vampire, his eyes were bright blue and I heard his heart beat, but my nose felt like burning back there. 

The more I stood in our nearly empty garbage zone, the more questions I had. The last time I felt this level of terror, the freaking Volturi had crossed the Atlantic to personally execute me. It was horrifying.

And exciting. This was something new and unheard of, a break from the monotony of the past 15 years. I needed to solve this mystery and I needed to do it stat. Not only because this was potentially life threatening – and I didn't mean just the vampires, whatever that man was could be a danger to the whole town – but also because the moment the Cullens found out about it, we'd be out the Minnesota, nay, the States, before I could even think to protest. 

I was so not letting the Cullens ruin this for me. This could be my Riverdale moment; Betty who? Resentment Cannibal was on the case. 

...

Ok. That was a bit cringe, but fuck it. I walked back in to the building with a mission in mind. I also washed by hands with our heavy duty soap for at least 20 seconds.

"–that incident he got kicked from kitchen duties. Which sucked, cuz CJ has some wicked knife skills," Jeremiah's voice carried to the back of the kitchen and I mentally prepared myself to go back to ground zero. 

"How didn't you notice the taste? Catfish smell so bad when you rupture their guts"

I walked to our registers just in time to see the man shrug. The chess game was still on going and they had pushed another table besides Jeremiah's to make space for the food. There was only one meal on the tray.

"You should have seen Tammy's face. She wanted to blow up so bad, but she couldn't because Susan was there," Jeremiah pitched his voice up and put on the worst British accent I had heard in my life, "'Oh, it's fine Mr. Singer. No big deal. Not a problem. Honest mistake. Happens to everyone!'" 

He took a bite from his burger before continuing. "That woman is so gone on CJ it makes her look stupid."

The man made a face while Straight Kevin laughed.

"She isn't 'gone' on me"

"'Oh Mr. Singer, is that a new coat? Did you do something new with you hair, it looks spiffing! What a nice strong man you are,'" Straight Kevin dissolved into giggles while Jeremiah kept up his imitation. "You have to tell her your taken, man. For all of our sakes"

I stepped forward to join the conversation, when my phone blew up, vibrating as if its life depended on it. I would have ignore it, but the notifications just kept coming. The three men looked back at me.

Fuck.

I fumbled as I took the phone out from my pocket and I checked the messages, all of the Cullens had send me a text and they all said the same thing.

Family emergency. Alice had a vision. Come home.

Double fuck.

[letsperaltiago]

i love you and i like you

Based on @stars-my-darling's adorable post: 

“When Mac starts talking he will sometimes just randomly tell Amy that he loves her, usually at the end of an unrelated sentence. They later realise that he learnt to do this because Jake is always randomly telling Amy that he loves her and Mac is copying him." aka. 5 times toddler Mac Santiago-Peralta tells his mommy he loves her

Also includes prompt #101 from the 101 fluffy prompts-list: "…They just grow up so fast."

Read on ao3

Every like and reblog is appreciated <3

Amy Santiago has so far had a lifetime’s worth of great jobs, which, she knows, isn’t that hard when you love work and everything it implies. Everything from assisting her middle school’s librarian to that brief job at a small uptown museum her degree got her to being a respected sergeant in the NYPD. She’s loved every single job but, she’s now come to realise, nothing vill ever beat her most recent employment: Motherhood. With a capital M, yes.

Mac throws her and Jake’s worlds over like the tiny miracle of a storm he is and they’ve never looked back since. It’s brand new, it’s exciting, it’s scary, and though they’re not exactly religious, he’s the answer to their prayers. Parenthood turns out to be nothing like what they’d expected, like nothing they’d ever tried before and looking past some of the rough days, which are inevitable, it’s actually even better. They get to shape and watch a human grow; a human of which they’re both the genesis and they couldn’t be any more proud - both of each other but also their son.

Everything Mac does and achieves is a moment to remember, and they take nothing for granted: every new sound, even simple gurgles, every new movement, even the flick of a tiny finger? They beam, look at each other with wide, joyous eyes and celebrate their newborn addition to their little family. They hold on to everything they can, while they can although, they swear, every other day they’ll be lying in bed with him while he sleeps or watch him begin to explore their apartment on his own and they’ll take turns breaking the comfortable silence with what they’re both thinking:

“They just grow up so fast.”

Even if he’s merely grown a tenth of an inch since the last time they brought it up.

This fact aside, before they know it, their before so very tiny and helpless son can sit without assistance, sooner than later starts crawling and before they seem to have the time to catch up with the ladder he suddenly knows how to say “mama” and “dada” - and the day Mac takes his first steps, Amy filming on her phone while Jake is squatting to entice his son? Both parents guiltlessly shed a tiny tear rewatching the video that night after their little one, who suddenly seems so big, is put to bed.

With the walking comes the talking. Mac, like his dad, is an entertainer and seizes every chance he gets to chat with his parents, and anyone else who’ll listen for that matter, and hopefully make them laugh. Amy quickly sees through the fact that her son’s mannerism is definitely inspired by her husband’s, and Amy’s heart swells at every glimt of it: everything from Mac’s tiny ‘big dramatic movements’ to him attempting to crack small jokes (that sometimes are actually super funny but also mostly make people laugh because his delivery is beyond precious). Despite the fact that his personality is absolutely a solid blend of both parents, Jake’s genes definitely conquer everything else, and Amy doesn’t mind one bit. Although she could do without the short, Peralta-inspired attention span, which can be both very cute but also slightly maddening when you’ve told your barely 3-year old toddler 6 times to finish their meal meanwhile he’s to preoccupied by his father cleaning up the water said toddler spilled just seconds ago.

All in all, Mac is a copy of Jake, and in more ways that one Amy is grateful. Especially when the little boy starts getting a grasp of the word ‘love’ and what it actually means though his parents have showered him with it since before he was born. Jake and Amy will tell Mac ‘I love you’ on the daily and, besides this, his parents themselves aren’t exactly shy of telling each other, especially Jake who often tends to do it out of nowhere or any kind of context which the boy must’ve picked up on at some point.

It starts off quite naturally: the first time he says it.

One night after getting him washed down and put into his favorite firetruck-print pyjamas (the parents couldn’t deny him it even though they were far from thrilled), Amy’s sitting with Mac in his new so-called ‘big boy-bed’. Feeling her son’s curly-haired head nestled into her chest, one hand grabbing onto the fabric of her shirt while the other holds onto his best buddy Leo the Lion, Amy reads out loud from one of the many books she’s managed to accumulate for her son. Obviously worn out from the day Mac, as being almost 3 is very exhausting, stays silent and listens carefully to the sound of his mother’s voice, dutifully paying attention to the book’s colourful drawings and even sometimes pointing at them whenever Amy reaches a part of the story that’s been illustrated.

“Then the little puppy ran through the big big field and the big big forest to get back home-“

“Shee, Mommy,” Mac interrupts her with a lisp caused by the pacifier hanging from one corner of his mouth and points to the drawing of the running dog with his index finger. “Doggy runth!”

“Yeah, I see, baby,” she smiles before pecking the top of his head. Normally she’d ask him to remove his pacifier when he speaks. Her and Jake slowly trying to make the object something Mac knows he can use to relax rather than constantly needs, but when it’s this late and right before bedtime Amy can’t be bothered to reprimand him. For now she’s just proud of her tiny, smart guy. “Where is he running?” She pulls back to look at him, encouraging him to explain further.

“He’sh going home!” he smiles proudly to a point where his pacifier almost falls out, just barely clinging on for dear life.

“That’s right. He’s running home to his family - good job,” she chuckles sending him one last smile before skimming her wristwatch quickly realising bedtime is just minutes away. It’s not that they’re following a strict schedule that depends on every single minute and second of the day: something she’s actually glad Jake’s and his more laid-back lifestyle has transferred to their parenting-style. Although Mac, his parents have come to find out, will reach a point during the evening where it’ll be too late and he becomes overtired and impossible. Therefor 8 PM is the ultimate limit (on weekdays, that is) and Amy sees it quickly approaching so she quickly finishes up their story and shuts the book closed.

“That’s it for today, Mr. Mac. Time to visit dreamland,” simply not able to resist the feel and smell of her son’s newly washed curls, she places another kiss to the top of his head before climbing out of the small bed and hears him reply with a yawn which tells her that she’s probably timed bedtime perfectly. To the great delight of the now also tired mother (a high rank full-time job and a toddler will do that to you) she’s once more proved right when Mac gets under the covers without a trace of fight.

“Roshie?” he looks up at his mother with worried eyes as he hugs Leo the Lion a bit tighter. Those stupid beautiful brown eyes he’s inherited from Jake.  

“Oh,” Amy kneels down to the bed’s side and starts running her hand all over the duvet, mattress and bed-frame. “Where’s Rosie, bud?”

Rosie aka. the pink unicorn he’d gotten from auntie Roro back when he was still a tiny baby (though he’d always be Amy’s tiny baby) was missing and they both knew very well that there would be no sleeping without it. Suddenly her hand comes across a bump, to her relief revealing the stuffed animal once she lifts up the duvet.

“Yay, mommy!” her son smiles as if she’s cracked the mystery of the century and Amy can’t help but feel just a bit proud - anything she does that makes her boy happy will do that to her.

“There you go,” she smiles and places the unicorn in his arms right next to Leo the Lion. “All good, Mr. Mac?”

He nods profoundly, eyes suddenly clearly tired and droopy, which earns him a warm smile from his mother before she leans in and kisses his forehead tenderly, all at once running her hand fingers his curls as to get her one last fix for the day. Incredible how your child can become somehow addicting.

“Sleep well. I love you,” she pulls back to take him in, the declaration of love hanging in the air for a few seconds before, taking Amy by surprise, her son answers her.

“I wuv you.”

She knows ‘love’ is an abstract feeling that a toddler can’t really comprehend and isolate as an emotion, which is probably also why Mac’s never said it back before, and although she’s told him a million times before and has never awaited or needed an answer, him saying it back definitely throws her off in the most magical, proud, emotional way in a long time. She’s constantly proud of the little things he does on the daily, slowly becoming a tiny actual human with opinions and a personality, but this is a whole new level.

“Thank you for saying that,” she can feel tears forming in her eyes and throat, but doesn’t want to confuse the small child who’s just begun to understand ‘love’, and therefor doesn’t also need to be explained that crying can also be a sign of happiness. That is an oxymoron that will surely just confuse him when, currently, crying is Mac’s way of expressing and understanding sadness and anger.

“That was very sweet of you and I love you so so much too, baby,” she manages to say it one last time, without breaking, before getting up to turn on his tiny night light and leave. “Me and daddy will be just down the hall watching TV, okay?”

A slight movement from beneath the duvet lets her know he’s heard her before she allows herself to half-close the door and walk back to where Jake is cleaning up after dinner. There she is finally able to let out a few soft cries as she lets her husband in on the small, incredible moment she’s just had with their son. Of course, it instantly makes Jake feel like crying with joy too. Their baby is surely the best.

From there on it’s just one big mess of declarations, at the most random moments and Amy is very amused but also even more enamoured.

One night Jake is away on a stakeout which leaves Amy is home alone with Mac, and to the toddlers immense joy this means he’s allowed to sleep with his mom in her and dad’s enormous bed. Jake has told him to keep mommy safe while he’s gone and of course takes this task very seriously. It’s 3 AM, they’re both fast asleep when suddenly Amy is awoken by what seems to be quite some new weight on top of her chest.

“Mommy,” promptly breaks the silence slowly bringing Amy back to consciousness.

It takes her a second to collect herself but she instinctually reaches out to figure out exactly where her son is in the dark. It’s quickly clear that he’s stretched out stomach down across her chest. “Yes, baby?” she mumbles tiredly eyes still closed hoping that her son is just being restless and will go back to sleep.

“I need pee.”

“Oh.”

This, with a power that almost no other request from her son holds, immediately dawns upon and takes over her body pushing her to sit up. Mac is pretty much fully potty trained but only day-wise. During the night he still uses a diaper, and they’ve only just recently started easing him into the night-potty by telling him it’s an option. The boy showing initiative himself is an absolutely great start and even more importantly an opportunity she won’t let slip by.

“You wanna go use the potty?” she looks at him to make sure and he immediately nods. “Okay, lets go then.”

And so they scurry out of bed and make their way across the hall to the bathroom, hand in hand in the darkness, where once the light is turned on Mac’s potty awaits him.

With a bit of help from mommy, he pulls down his pyjamas pants and diaper before getting settled on the potty. There’s no hiding the fact that they’re both very tired, especially Mac whose head hangs a bit, almost asleep while giving in to his body’s need for relief while Amy sits dutifully on the floor besides him.

“Good job telling me, Mac,” she praises, smiling tiredly but the little boy is too tired to even react.

They stay like this for a while, in silence, Amy not wanting to interrupt a probably concentrated Mac, when suddenly he, to her surprise, is the one to break the silence.

“I’m peeing and I love you, mommy,” he mumbles tiredly almost fully asleep right there on the potty, messy curls hanging in whatever which way gravity will allow.

Then, as if she’d never been tired, asleep, woken up and feeling exhausted, Amy’s body rises to a much higher level of awareness. Warmth, one that completely makes her forget about the bathroom floor’s cold tiles, spreads throughout her entire being and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was currently trying to pee, Amy would’ve pulled him into the tightest hug right there. But she doesn’t, of course, and instead settles for a gleaming smile.

“Mommy loves you too, honey,” He’s her very own bedhead, she thinks to herself lovingly running a hand through his hair. “And I’m so proud of you for waking me up to go potty.”

It’s very faint, too tired to put much effort into it but there’s definitely a small smile growing on her son’s face, When he falls asleep on top of her chest a bit later after he’s done and has been put into a clean diaper, just to be safe, the smile is still there, Amy can tell even in the dark.

Another occasion, it’s safe to say, happens when Amy leasts expects it. They’re running on ‘tantrum from hell: hour who-even-knows-anymore’, this time triggered by the banal fact that, no, Mac wasn’t allowed to play with the big knife Jake had been using to cut vegetables for their dinner.

Everyone has their bad days, the parents are well aware, but this one of Mac’s was particularly bad. All day, from the minute he woke up and went straight to the living room instead of joining his parents in their bad, he’d been extra fussy thereby not feeling content with whichever way his parents tried to fix his mood. They’d been understandable and gone easy on him all day, hopelessly trying to please him while also not just giving in to his unreasonable demands. It appeared that this was very a fine line to walk, and so far it sure hadn’t offered them the intended results. Both parents were exhausted and Mac screaming was far, so very far, from their ideal way of spending the evening in.

Both Jake and Amy have tried experimented with different tactics, some that are known to work. Picking him up to soothe him; ask him if he’s hurting somewhere; offering him to choose one of his daily snacks like a glass of milk, yoghurt or a fruit; suggesting that they play a game…  But the little boy wants nothing. Nothing but that huge, sharp kitchen knife.

“Look, you can cry all you want, but daddy is not going to give you the knife. It’s dangerous, Mac,” Amy’s voice is definitely stern but nonetheless still calm well aware of the fact that screaming as well won’t get her anywhere. Besides that she also considers herself a structured, punctual but nonetheless also a cool mom: nevertheless enough is enough. She’s really had it by now, hands resting defensively on her hips  as she feels a head ache creeping up on her meanwhile her 3 year old, who’s now lying face down on the kitchen floor, lets out yet another scream.

“Listen to mom, bud,” Jake intervenes the best he can without interrupting his wife’s operation. “She’s super right, you know? The knife is very very sharp and in your small hands it can easily slip and hurt you. We don’t want that.”

Another scream is how he’s thanked for the explanation and Jake, even though he loves his son unconditionally, has to roll his eyes and sigh. Logic is not relevant when you’re working with a toddler, he has learned but nonetheless gives it a try every time they’re back in the arena - only to be disappointed.

They try not to be the kind of parents that scold or punish their kid unless it’s necessary and they but alas this is not one of them. Amy has had it and shares a look of confirmation with her husband before proceeding - she needs him to back her up on this.

“Okay, McClane Santiago-Peralta,” Amy says strictly. Full name? This is the point of no return, Jake knows.

“If you’re going to continue to behave like this then that’s up to you, but that also means it’s time for time-out, because daddy and I don’t know how to help you, when you keep screaming like that.”

God, she hates this side of parenthood and this shade of herself, though she knows it necessary.

“Knife!” Mac cries out rolling onto his back and hitting the floor with the palms of his tiny hands in protest of now both the knife and the time-out.

“I’m not going to keep discussing this with you,” she makes up her mind, picks up her son which results in him screaming/crying even louder while also putting up a fight by wiggling his entire body in his mother’s hold. “If you’re not going to go by yourself, like the big boy I know you usually are, then I’ll have to carry you there.”

And so Amy, knowing that the most important thing right now is that she sticks to her pledges, starts walking out of the kitchen and down the hall towards her son’s room. The wiggling continues, the crying doesn’t come to quit and he even adds kicking into the air as she carries him to the mess of it all. He really doesn’t want to go, even less have his mommy take him there since it’ll mean that he’s really pushed her to the limit.

Then suddenly the next wail he lets out suddenly sends the situation down a completely different path.

“I just want the knife and I- I wuv you, mommy!” her son screams loudly through his cry, face all red and scrunched up as if he was cursing her which by nature results in Amy freezing on the spot, left to wonder what the hell had prompted that outburst.

That one was new, she thinks, and how the hell do you handle this exact situation right? On one hand his previous acts, and the fact that he’s still hysterical, means that he deserves to be sent to his room; on the other hand he just screamed, bloody murder, that he loves her… Parenthood was indeed so confusing sometimes.

A sigh leaves her body.

“I love you too, Mac,” she figures he deserves, and always will deserve, to hear it back - no matter how frustrating and crazy the situation might be.

“And daddy does too, but it’s really hard for us to help you when you scream and cry like that, baby,” she gives explaining the consequences of his tantrum one last shot, and, to her surprise, the boy actually stills in her arms and buries his face into her chest. The cries die out before transitioning to small sniffles and alas Amy sees the opportunity to, perhaps, talk some sense into her son.

“We’d much rather have you use your words, tell mommy and daddy what’s actually wrong, rather than having you scream and cry like this. Do you understand?”

There’s silence but Amy can feel Mac’s tiny head slide up and down in nod against his chest, and relief, although it might still just be a false sense of safety, floods her entire body.

“So, what is actually wrong? Why are you sad?”

“I-“ Mac sniffles trying to mould his thoughts. “I just wanted help daddy make food.”

Of course, she thinks internally rolling her eyes.

“I see,” she nods. “And you can help daddy cook, but next time you’ll have to say it like that. Use your words, okay?”

He nods again before lovingly grasping onto a strand of his mother’s hair.

“Good,” she pecks the top of his head. “Now,” she cranes her neck to look down at her son’s face where it’s half buried into her tear-stained shirt. “Do you want to be in your room by yourself for a bit to calm down, or do you want to come help me and daddy clean the kitchen and set the table?”

“I wan’ help,” he mumbles obviously lacking energy after spending it all throwing the tantrum, but if he wants to be with them and redeem himself then Amy won’t be the one to stop him. It took a while, but Amy always tries to remember that he’s still very little meaning that it’s inevitable that some social skills aren’t fully developed. So whenever he can come to his senses, with his parents guidance or not, Amy will of course be the first one to endorse it.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she walks back towards the kitchen with Mac resting silently in her arms.

A third memory that pops into Amy’s mind upon trying to remember the many random moment’s where her son has shared his love for her out loud and of the blue (Peralta-stylez), is one time (of the many) they went grocery shopping together. They’d been wandering around the big grocery store, her and Mac, targeting the cereal aisle, hand in hand with a basket in Amy’s free hand.

“Okay, since you and daddy ate the last of the Fruit Loops this morning we need to get some cereal. You think you can help me with that?” she looks down at her son who’s already looking up to meet her eyes. Mac’s enchanting glimmering eyes instantly light up at the thought of responsibility, a trait he’s definitely inherited from her, and prompts an eager nod. Before she can even say or explain further, which he probably doesn’t actually need her to, he’s let go of her hand.

“More Fwuit Loops!” he exclaims happily as his tiny legs take him ahead, down the aisle, to reach the mosaic of colourful cereal-boxes.

“Sure, if that’s what you want, babe, but maybe…” she walks towards him, "we could try something else for once?” she tries to not be too strict about her son’s eating habits, especially when she knows Fruit Loops is usually the only straight up sugary stuff he eats daily, but also, she has to admit, secretly wishes she could perhaps trick him and Jake to eat something just a bit less… candy-like.

“What?” he stops and looks at her with a frown. “Something else?”

“Yeah,” she catches up with him and looks as the many options before him. “Like… bran-flakes, maybe? They look yummy, right?”

Either Amy is a really bad actor or her son simply too smart, but nonetheless Mac looks more than quite unimpressed when his mom pulls a boring, brown box out from the shelf to showcase it

“I donno want brain-flakes ew, mommy” and the face Mac makes, a face of utter disgust, would be way more solid proof than a paternity test if one was needed - he is definitely, without a single doubt, Jake Peralta’s son - and she definitely can’t help but chuckle at the similarity he constantly carries with him.

The tiny human’s hand starts dancing across all the different packages, probably gathering himself a good dose of various germs that in the moment Amy can’t make herself care about, and every now and then he’ll stop to study a cereal that’s caught his child-brain and eyes’ attention.

“There are so many to choose from, huh babe?” she encourages but keeping her distance as to be supportive of him doing something on his own, independent like a big boy.

First he stops in front of the Cheerios, which Amy can totally be content with, but alas he quickly, to Amy’s chagrin, puts them back in their spot. Then come the Frosted Flakes with their blue box and cute tiger cartoon (the perfect child-trap) which, if possible, are even worse than Fruit Loops. Amy unconsciously frowns at the thought of having to rip the box of cereal from her son’s grip when he in a few seconds won’t let go and instead grab the Bran Flakes. But to Amy’s great relief Mac’s finger continue their trip down past the tiger-trap, mindlessly mumbling small nothings to himself that she can’t quite make out. Then, all at once seeming way more determined than with previous ones, Mac throws himself at a bright and colourful box.

“These!” he exclaims jumping up and down on the spot with the held over his head in victory.

As soon as she gets a closer look, having gently grabbed the box from her son, it dawns on Amy that Jake Peralta being the father of her child isn’t exclusively beneficial. Not when their child is asking for Sour Patch Kids morning cereal and Amy knows it’s because he’s inspired by his dad as Jake will gladly share his candy with his son whenever he happens to have some.

“Oh, baby… “ Amy tries to keep up a neutral face as to not reveal how she dreads to get something that’s somehow even worse than the king of artificial ingredients, Fruit Loops, and sultan of sugar, Frosted Flakes, combined. “You sure you don’t just wanna get the Fruit Loops then? I don’t think you’ll like Sour Patch Kids.”

“Yes I do! I eat them with daddy all the time!”

Of course.

Her son is completely oblivious to her dread and shines proudly thinking he’s pleased his mom by finding something new (which it is - Amy can’t deny that) to have for breakfast. And Amy’s mom-heart can’t get herself to contradict her son’s persuasion of the fact that he’s accomplished the mission she set up for him. No way. Not when his face flows with pride like it does now.

“Okay,” she surrenders with a forsaken smile. “We can get these, but they’re very sugary so only for weekend mornings, got it?” she puts her hand forward as to shake on the deal.

Either it’s the handshake that takes his mind off of it, or her 3-year old actually somehow understands nutritional values, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate to meet her hand with his own, agreeing with her proposed deal. Immediately after she hands him back the box, it’s a mystery to Amy how such a simple thing can make her son that happy, he beams with excitement and basically hugs the box of sugary sweetness. Amy has to chuckle and then he’s off again to do his own little thing, prancing down the remains of the aisle chanting a made-up song, Amy guesses, to himself.

“Cereal. Breakfast. I love cereal. I love breakfast. I love mommy and mommy loves cereal and me and daddy and breakfast. Cereal, cereal, cereal!”

And to her, and Jake’s, sheer luck Amy manages to snap a short video of it for them to enjoy and fuss about for years.

That same night, Friday, they’re all lounging on the couch watching a movie. Tangled as per Mr. Mac’s demand because “Flynn Eugene whatever is really cool and the pretty princess hits him with a pan and the horse and green little thing are super fun too.”

So, needing no further arguments, they watch Tangled and snack on Sour Patch Kids (the candy, not the cereal) that Jake had bought on his way home from work after Amy had texted him about their adventure at the grocery store, attaching the video of their son singing.

Although, after a long day, by the time the lanterns in the movie light up the dark sky while Rapunzel and Flynn sing to each other, Mac is half, almost completely, passed out with his head in Amy’s lap and legs stretched across his father’s. Mommy stroking your face and playing with your curls turns out to be very soothing and sleep-inducing. Jake can also, if asked to testify, agree with this fact. Guess there’s something special about Peralta-curls Amy simply can’t resist.

“Ames, I think he’s asleep,” Jake whispers discreetly throwing his wife a knowing smile when he notices his son’s current state.

She, having not noticed being too busy watching the movie, looks down and sees, indeed, a sweet angel face with shut eyes and pouty lips that indicated that her son is, if not entirely, on the verge of being asleep. Nevertheless, every 30 seconds or so, his eyes will flutter just a bit, like tiny butterfly wings, as if he���s fighting to see the end of the movie - a movie he’s seen 134 times already.

“You want to go to bed, Mac?” she coos leaning down to peck his temple.

“Nu-uh,” he fights off the urge to say yes, Amy can tell.

“You sure?” she tries again.

He nods heavily in her lap, shuffling a bit in an attempt to get comfortable enough to, Amy knows, fall asleep. But he can’t seem to find the right spot, is surely overtired too and both parents can tell it’s a matter of minutes before he’ll give in to either fall asleep on the couch or demand to be put to bed.

And they’re right.

“Mommy,” he mumbles in the most exhausted and soft soft voice that makes Amy’s heart flutter time after time. “I love you but I wanna sleep - in my bed.”

Those three words, especially coming from Mac, will never seize to send a tiny jolt of joy and dopamine through her entire being. She chuckles softly stroking his back.

“That’s okay, baby. We’ve had a long day. Let's get you to bed.”

“Okay, I love you mommy. And daddy. Love,” he passes out before he can finish the sentence and won’t even notice his father carrying him to bed while Amy gazes after them with loving eyes.

Even three years in, four if you count the pregnancy, she can’t believe this sweet, beautiful and smart boy is hers. A bundle of love that is half her and half the man she loves the most (next to Mac himself, of course). Parenthood is an irregular graph with ups and down, but they have so much love that it’ll make up for the bad days and hard cases. In the very end the most important thing is that he, Mac Santiago-Peralta with his brown curly hair, tiny nose and deep brown eyes, is here and he’s theirs. Not only is he theirs but he is his own and he loves them, his parents, so much, every day. Plus, he’s so good at actually expressing it that Amy can’t help but feel like they’re definitely doing something right. She’s proud to know her son is surrounded by so much love that it has planted a seed that everyday blooms within him, making him spill over and spread his care and love to other people.

So, yes, Amy Santiago is 100% sure: she is definitely the luckiest, most loved mom in the entire universe. Mac Santiago-Peralta will always make sure of this.