#just felt that this was sort of the elephant in the room

[minweber]

Musings on Custodes: Automatons vs Poets

So the first thing to talk about is the tension at the core of how Custodes are currently written: conformity vs individuality, loyalty vs independence.

I'd say that, in storytelling sense, Custodes as a faction are supposed to have three defining characteristics:

One - "superhumanity". A big deal is made throughout all the sources on Custodes lore of how in their skillset they are not just warriors, but also administrators, diplomats, philosophers and so on. Much like one of the proto-iterations of Superman, their fighting ability is not so much a result of mega-uber training and weaponry, but rather a prominent aspect of their overall advanced evolutionary state. "Being superhuman allows you to punch good, but also elevates all other aspects of your being" kind of deal. Everything about them is supposedly heightened - bodies, minds and souls.

But by itself this is nothing unique for a setting somewhat preoccupied with various forms of trans- and post-humanism. A sentence "They have advanced so far beyond humanity that could they even be called humans anymore?" applies to, like, a half a dozen factions throughout the setting. To make them distinct from the rest, Custodes' lore focuses heavily on individual achievement, going to great lengths to hype up the faction as a whole through the descriptions of how cool and accomplished individual custodians are, and it plays up their non-combat skills and abilities as something integral to their identity.

This does succeed in helping them carve out their own unique corner in 40k universe, I believe. It shapes them into not an army, but a lodge of mythic heroes and unique champions, who would each be a protagonist of their own story in a universe of a less epic scale - the Argonauts, the Knights of the Round Table, the Avengers. Such a focus on individuality naturally invites us to imagine them as not just supersoldiers and bodyguards, but indeed as these hyper-personalities, risen and evolved beings, who share all the core human qualities with us, but have them heightened to an incredible degree. Not just warriors, but poets also.

Two - loyalty. An even bigger deal is made of how unflinchingly loyal and wholly devoted to the Emperor custodians are. And, well, no shit - this literally is their purpose as a faction, the very first association that comes to mind once you hear the basic pitch of "emperor's personal guard". And the lore commits fully to this, going on and on about how tireless and focused custodians are in pursuit of their once-failed duty. They are the very epitome of the royal guard, loyal and devoted to such an extent as to become practically an extension of a monarch's own body, an integral symbol of their power over their subjects - the Immortals, the Varangian Guard, the Janissaries.

And Three is the obvious contradiction between the first two: a unique and complex individual, whose entire personality and purpose are built around someone else, a hero with no ambition but service, a philosopher forever beholden to a passed-down ideology. The tension between superhuman individuality and dehumanizing aspects of servitude lies at the very core of the idea of Custodian Guard.

(On a sidenote - the origin of this contradiction seems very interesting to me, because, while all the information that sets it up is present in the modern codexes, it feels to me like it owes a lot of its existence to pre-codex and pre-HH novels versions of the faction. I may recall something incorrectly, but as far as I remember, ever since the black-helmet-and-tits-out rogue trader version the main thing that was known about them was that custodians are so devoted to the Emperor, that they act essentially like automatons in their single minded devotion to him. For example - standing guard completely motionless for literal hundreds of years - clearly the basis for the vigil of Companions of the modern version. I wonder in what part the conception of their current dichotomy came from writers' desire to not retcon the old lore entirely? After all, retcons in 40k do usually aim for a degree of softness, trying to keep the "old" lore as true at least "from a certain point of view")

This brings us to the fun part - how is this contradiction resolved? How does being this particular brand of "more and less than human" actually work? Well, I'd say that in current lore it is mostly just sidestepped, leaving the one true arbiter of 40k lore - you, reading this - to figure it out for yourself.

There is, of course, the satiric version, one that would be most in line with the roots of 40k - that the "poet" aspect of the custodians is just propaganda, tales woven up by impressionable pilgrims and what not. That custodians are essentially just (even more) roided' up space marines, soldiers and bodyguards first and foremost, their higher aspirations beginning and ending with regurgitation of things that the Emperor had once said.

There is the version, perhaps, most true to real life - one that points out that there is no real contradiction between being intellectually hyper-developed and being a loyal and unquestioning servant of a tyrant. Its tempting to believe that things we so appreciate about human nature - wisdom, creativity, capacity for critical thinking - are tools that will always lead those who bear them to some sort of state of universal goodness, but this just isn't so. One can be an example of both the best and the worst that humanity can offer. Human nature contains multitudes, and not all of it is good. When dialed up to 11... well, that's one of the central themes of the whole setting, isn't it?

But, personally, I am a sentimental person, all too easily drawn in by the high drama that 40k offers, and so I tend to latch on explanations of its kind. I really like the idea of custodians being neither unquestioning, nor blindly loyal to the Emperor - and yet still ending up eternally devoted to him. While the nature and the extent of custodes' connection to the Emperor remains murky in the lore, the idea that it is something akin to that of primarchs and their legions is not an uncommon one. And it means that in some way they inherit his personality, that, whether they want it or not they become like him. And thus their loyalty comes not from a place of devotion to a person, but from a place of agreement with his ideals. They are fully capable of what we would call independent thought, fully capable of questioning the Emperor and his designs... It's just that in a bout of tragic determinism they will always arrive to the same conclusions that he once did, make the same decisions if given a chance. Custodians are, in fact, individuals and larger-than-life heroic personalities... It's just that they are mostly the same one.

Anyway, I mostly want to talk about various specific worldbuilding details of AC lore and the storytelling potential that they have, but this somewhat more abstract dichotomy is too central for pretty much all their stuff to be left unacknowledged.

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.

[dee-the-red-witch]

How to ACTUALLY date a trans girl

(This column was originally submitted to Autostraddle as a reply to their "A Trans Guy’s Guide to Picking Up a Trans Girl" but since they've apparently passed on it, it gets to be posted up free everywhere else instead.) Picture this- you’re a trans woman who’s been in transition for three years now. Your dating life has gone from abysmal to amazing in alternate fits and spurts and you’ve found not just one, but three awesome partners despite the many, MANY pitfalls you’ve experienced along the way. And then one day, your social media feeds ping up with screencaps of a guide to picking up girls like yourself. Needing a good laugh, you click through. And read. And proceed to smack your forehead with your own palm in frustration a few times and giggle and some other lines on the first readthrough. But things feel off, so you read again. And begin to seethe. And then start opening up the Word document and start typing frenziedly into it. Because honestly? At the end of the day, as a trans lesbian who dates all sorts of people on non-male parts of the amorphous spectral mass that is Gender, I feel like I’m obligated to. I wanted to go into that first reading and find a column that actually got things right, and this was so far off the mark in the worst ways, so I feel like I have to set some things down on paper. Because this guide reads, in so many ways, like everything my cisfem friends have complained about in the straight dating scene for years. Reading through it that second time, I felt almost the exact same sense of of sheer grease and sleaze that I’ve felt reading incel pickup guides. I felt like I was being seen as a pretty object at best and a disposable sex toy at worst. I wasn’t treated as human. At best it was a bunch of stereotypes, none of which applied to me. But under it all, I saw other bits- the tricks an abuser used to lure me in. The lies my rapist fed me. The excuses made by folks online for why I should be treated like a monster or thing because of my identity. You know, the specific blend of misogyny that singles out transfem identities in general- transmisogyny. And since we’re addressing the elephant in the room, I want to address a few particular points from Gabe’s article before I give you some real idea of how to go about this. And I want to emphasize here- this is after editing out a page of swearing, going over Gabe’s own past history of transmisogynistic writing, and just cutting it down to the actual points where the original article really went wrong, and also pick up a few points at the end that’ll actually work well for trans guys or anyone else who might be interested in a relationship with a trans girl. First off, if you’re trans as well? Stop playing the ‘we’re both trans’ card. ESPECIALLY if you’re coming at it from a ‘Why yes, I used to be a woman’ angle. For one, you’re telling us at the same time that you see us as former men, which is usually very much not the transfem experience (Personally, I always felt like I was putting on a ‘man’ act. All the time. Badly.) and for another, you’re being transphobic to yourself and your own identity. If we’re there to date you, it’s as the man you are- be that guy.

Secondly, just because the trans woman experience shares similarities with the experience you had trying to be a woman up until you came out and transitioned, it also has staggering fundamental differences, and your attempts to relate are going to highlight those differences in ways that aren’t going to work in your favor. We didn’t get to go shopping in public, or if we did, it was fraught with fear at being caught out in the early stages of transition, followed by massive frustrations with both trying to figure out where we fit into women’s sizing. And then discovering that absolutely nothing available in local stores, including thrift shops, would fit right, especially not that cute choker we’d always been drooling over. That nothing smelled right for lotion or perfume because we were dealing with a body chemistry that was going through a slow shift on HRT. And we don’t need or want to be reminded of just how much we stand out from the other girls in those kind of regards.

Also, maybe, just maybe, don’t do things that would get seen as completely misogynistic and creepy if you pulled them on a cisgender woman. Don’t go digging into her socials- stalkers and chasers pull that crap and it’s beyond tiresome. Don’t try to deduce what her pretransition life was like, that’s for her to share, if she chooses to. Don’t see her as a stereotype- some of us never played New Vegas, owned cat ears, or like thigh-highs. On that first date if you ever get there, don’t bring her flowers, lovebomb her like mad, constantly find little ways to touch her, any of that- if she has any experience, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop in response, because she’s had this treatment before and it ended oh so badly. Just be yourself. And get it through your head that the bear is still definitely a choice regardless of everything- after all, we have examples like Gabe to prove that transmisogyny certainly isn’t limited to cis folks.

What should you do? Treat her like any other woman. Treat her like a human being, because we get so little of that, even from the rest of the LGBTQIA+ community. Yes, you’ll more than likely have to take initiative, because we’re used to seeing our attractions, needs, and desires as being perceived as aggressive or predatory by others. When you touch her, do it with assertion and intent- none of the little brushes and stalker moves- ask if you can hold her hand, or put an arm around her, so she knows you actually want to be here and want contact with her. Listen to her, and pay attention- let her be open and honest about her experiences and interests, and remember what she tells you, because she’s going to need to know that she’s wanted and valued for who she is and what she’s into, and it will be part of how she connects to you. And finally? Common sense and communication- every last one of us is different in a lot of ways, and asking or making room to talk about things from physical contact and sex to social activity or group outings or anything else can save a lot of blunders from ever happening. All in all you can and should date trans women! Please! A lot of the best relationships I’ve ever had were with other trans girls and I don’t regret any of those. But you have to put down the pickup guides, stop seeing us as fetish dispensers and sexy lampshades, and actually deal with us as people, first.

[ilovejoostklein]

Bad Journalism

You’re an annoying journalist trying to get a story out of Joost, but he knows that’s not what you really want // joost x fem!reader

nsfw: smut, one shot

-

The news that Joost was disqualified had sent shock waves through the entirety of the Eurovision. You heard the news first through whispers, not believing it at first until it was in every headline, plastered over every local news channel, and blowing up all your group chat messages. 

You felt bad for him more than anything. Your heart sunk for him, especially when some of your colleagues had not one bit of empathy for him, and were itching to corner him for a story. You’d passed him a few times in the hallway, smiling at him or waving, he was like a beam of sunshine in every room and captivated the audience with infectious excitement and charisma. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him incredibly attractive. You found yourself scrolling through his socials late at night and never missed any of his rehearsals. It was clear he was the favorite, and it was all ruined for him now. 

It was the heat of the moment, tensions were at an all-time high. Everyone at Eurovision, both behind closed doors and in hushed voices out in the lounge areas, and everyone on social media who followed the competition talked about Joost. It was all in whispers, yet completely in your face at the same time. No one could avoid it, it was more than an elephant in the room at this point. 

As a journalist, it was like a mosquito constantly looming at your shoulder, irritating you that you could do nothing about it in good conscience. Your boss was hounding you and your colleagues for someone to get a word out of him, incentivizing you all to no end with bonuses, paid vacation time, or even a promotion. It didn’t help that journalists from other papers and countries all shared the same ambition, and some were far more aggressive and weren’t afraid to make it known. You wondered if those shared smiles meant anything at all, and if there was a chance he’d be more receptive to give you a statement rather than the other journalists who didn’t have the best intentions. 

You tried to formulate a plan to gently approach him and try to get even a sentence out of him. Your conscience wrestled with each other. Your boss zeroed in on all of you specifically soon. He complained that you and a few other colleagues in particular weren’t performing up to par, and he was threatening termination. 

“A lot of you are proving yourselves to be dead weight, you especially. You can show you deserve to be on this team by getting a story.”

You fell into a panicked state of anxiety for the next few days. You could barely sleep or eat knowing that your livelihood was now on the line. You’d been so excited that you secured a job at a top company, and now it was all in jeopardy over this nightmare of a situation. The journalists were now in their competition, and that alongside your boss’s threats gave you a new sense of determination.

You waited for the evening when you learned that Joost would be down for a mandatory meeting with members of the EBU. You gave false tips to other journalists who heard about the meeting as well, who believed you hesitantly, but you’d made yourself seem non-threatening and docile since the very beginning. In a way, it still held. It took everything inside of you to keep the shakiness of your voice hidden, and you concealed your nervous body language as harmless fidgeting. 

You noticed him come out, and it was as if it was a different person. The room filled with anxiety and anger, from the both of you. His face was concerning stern, he dressed in basic, dark colors instead of his usual fun, unique outfits that always drew attention. He was alone, and like the fox you were, you cornered him. 

“Hi, Joost.” You greeted him, immediately approaching him. “Did you just leave a meeting with the EBU?” 

You glanced over at you, his eyebrows knitting together as if there was some sort of betrayal. He vaguely recognized you from the fleeting glances in the hallway, a bit disappointed knowing that you were just like all the others. 

“I’m in a bit of a rush.” He mumbled, hoping that it would be enough to shut you down. “I’m sorry.”

You were so overcome with adrenaline you didn’t hear him, doubling down you continued to pester him. “Can you say anything about your disqualification?” You asked, seeing a blush immediately appear on the apples of his cheeks. “Is it true you assaulted someone?”

It was like a switch was flipped. You felt yourself grow cold immediately at the way he looked at you with deep offense. You’d jumped your questions prematurely, not giving him time to warm up to you, or even intelligently posing them. You’d made a complete mess of things and your failure plunged you into mania. There was no going back now, you’d either get a story out of him or make one. 

Joost ignored you, he had to unless he wanted to make matters worse for himself. If you were a man, and not a woman looming at his side, staring up at him with big doe eyes and a blush that rivaled his own he would’ve pushed you away. He desperately wanted to take your stupid phone and throw it across the room before telling you to fuck off, but he tried to keep himself level-headed. He repeated like a mantra that all he needed to do was get into the elevator and go to his room, then it would be over. If you followed him then he’d have good reason to call security to haul you away. 

He didn’t anticipate that you would use the fact he couldn’t hurt you to your advantage. You weren’t sure what came over you either, shocking yourself as much as you shocked Joost you yanked off his headphones from his neck and ran towards the elevator.

He chased after you without thinking, rushing past the closing silver doors as you desperately pushed the button to try to shut him out but your efforts were in vain. Your eyes shot open and you felt yourself move to the corner of the elevator, clutching the heavy, expensive headphones to your chest. Your breathing was erratic, you rendered yourself speechless as the man stood mere inches away from you. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He questioned in a low tone that bubbled with anger. “Give it back.”

“Answer my questions.” The calmness of your voice shocked you, and you looked up at him like it was an implicit dare. You knew as well as he did that he had no intention to hurt you.

“Don’t do this.” He pleaded, his head falling to the side. Yet still, his tone was angry and his body language rigid. He held out his hand, “Just give it back, and we have no problems. Ok?”

“No.” You stood your ground, hearing the elevator ding open to his vacant floor. 

“No?” He laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You didn’t say anything, feeling yourself on the verge of tears from the intensity of the situation you left the elevator and walked down the hall aimlessly as he called after you in a hushed tone.  You knew it wasn’t out of gentleness, but because he didn’t want to cause a scene like you had. You felt like you completely lost sight of yourself, you’d played dirty and this was exactly the kind of journalism you abhorred. 

“Come here.” Joost began to approach you as if you were a wounded animal, “Just give it back, and I’ll answer three of your questions.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised by the easy defeat. He nodded, his face so genuine that you completely believed him. 

You handed the headphones back and he practically ripped them from you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Now go away before I call the police on you.” He spat. “Verdomde eikel.” He mumbled under his breath as he turned to walk back to his room.

You were overcome by the same adrenaline that you felt when he walked out of the conference room. You followed him to his room, no matter how many times he told you to fuck off and slammed the door in your face you weren’t going away until he gave you what you wanted. 

You knocked on the door until your knuckles were raw and aching. Almost an hour went by, some people peering out of their rooms but ultimately paying you no mind. Joost finally opened the door, just enough to peer out with one of the locks to keep you two separated in case you tried another one of your stupid tricks. 

“I don’t want to call the police on you.” He seemed to have calmed down, the cigarettes and alcohol in his breath further indicating it. “Go away, you’re too pretty to be acting like this.”

You huffed in frustration, “I’m trying to help you.” you tried to make something up as you went, “The other journalists tried to wait for you, I told them a lie to get them to go away. If you give me a story you won’t have to worry about them as much.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, “I’ll take my chances. Goodnight now.”

You put your arm in the door, a last effort to prevent him from shutting you out again. “Please, Joost.” You said shamelessly, now feeling like you’d just had a dopamine crash and all that was left was shame. 

He looked at you for a moment, head coming to the side his head eyes narrowed almost inquisitively before he busted out in laughter. “Oh fuck, I hope you’re not who I think you are.” He said amid his mockery, burning tears immediately forming in your eyes, “What’s your name?” 

You mumbled your name pathetically, your head somewhat bowed to avoid eye contact before he howled in laughter, “No fucking way.” He repeated over and over, the mockery hitting you like nails and making you bleed with miserable shame all over him. “You’re the journalist, my friend told me about you.”

You realized why his reaction was so over the top, and if anything it was warranted. 

You recall when it was only the second day of the competition, everything was still in the very early and most exciting stages. You shared the elevator with a man from the Netherlands, tall, curly hair and dark skin. He complimented your shoes, you complimented his back and you two made small talk. He said that he was just an enthusiastic fan, something that you now knew was a white lie, and asked you about your job and what you thought of the performers. 

“I like your guy from the Netherlands.” You said, smiling at him. “I’d fuck him.”

His eyes widened, and he looked at you in disbelief for a second before smiling back. “Yeah.” He finally said. “Me too.” 

You didn’t know how you could be so clueless, and how you didn’t connect the dots that it was him in that costume performing alongside Joost all this time. He had captivated you so much, that you hardly paid any mind to the other performers, as talented as they were, much less his two friends at the side of the stage. 

“You just wanna fuck me, huh?” He questioned in a sarcastic, degrading tone. “Are you even a journalist?”

You stayed silent, knowing that whatever you said would just make everything a million times worse, or even make you completely break down. It was again, like everything you were doing at this point an empty effort. The tears fell on your face like pieces of hot coal, burning your skin in sorrow and embarrassment. Your chest constricted in quiet sobs, you didn’t understand why your feet felt sewn to the carpeted floors and your arms bound to the doorknob of his room. 

Joost expected this, he could tell from the way your once vibrantly pretty face lost all its color and your eyes became low and glossy that you had lost your strength. He knew someone like you was weak, hardly cut out of this type of journalism. He felt bad almost, knowing you would do much better tucked away in an office, away from people like himself whose personalities completely overpowered yours. He was a performer, after all, so he couldn’t blame you. Joost knew he was soft underneath this hard exterior, and no matter how badly you offended him he couldn’t bear to see you so upset at his expense. 

“Alright.” He relented, sighing and unlocking the door completely as a form of surrender. “I will make a deal with you.”

Your face was buried in your hands, trying to stop and wipe away the tears to the best of your ability, but you still managed to nod. 

“Either you come in here, I answer the three questions you asked about.” He offered, “Or, you come in here and I fuck you, and I don’t answer anything.”

If you couldn’t stand to look him in the eye before, you certainly couldn’t do it now. “The second one.” Your voice was strained, weighed down by your sobs it was nothing less than humiliating. 

You heard Joost’s chest jerk in laughter, and he didn’t have to verbalize how pathetic he thought you were. You were fully worn down now, accepting defeat and realizing that you were so deeply depraved to choose physical pleasure over your literal job. He let you in, shutting the door behind you heard nothing but the turning of bolts and his soft footsteps. There was no turning back now, even if you came to your senses, there was no way your body would allow it. 

“Wait for me in my bedroom.” He said all too casually, “I’m going to have a cigarette.”

The white hotel sheets were cold and uninviting under your warm skin. You began to undress down to your underwear, it was unassuming, the fact that it was black and matching was your only saving grace at sexiness. You found yourself waiting for several minutes, but as you clutched your knees to your chest and shivered from the notoriously harsh hotel air conditioning it felt like hours.

Joost seemed to be stringing you along, and enjoying every bit of it. He came back inside from the porch, walked into the bedroom, and paid you not even a glance before walking into the bathroom. You felt your humiliation plummet to new depths, especially when you heard him turn on the shower. The least he could do was say something, instead of walking past your almost naked body as if it was the least interesting thing in his room.

The excruciating wait ended once he left the bathroom, steaming and smelling of the freshest, most intoxicating body wash you’d ever smelled. It was perfectly masculine, eucalyptus and citruses you wanted to wrap yourself in it. 

Joost approached you, watching as you crawled to the edge of the bed, looking up at him with your raw, puffy eyes it was almost erotic. You’d put yourself through so many emotions just to get a word out of him for your pathetic little job, and now you were on his bed, desperate for his touch. 

He was always a man of his word, so naturally, he was a little ashamed that he tricked you earlier and wanted to make it up to you by not forcing you to beg for him. He unwrapped the towel, his cock springing loose in front of your face. Your face gave away your reaction, showing him that you weren’t used to his size and stroking his ego a little more. 

“Go ahead.” He encouraged, “I hope you’re better at this than you are at interviewing.”

You took him into your mouth eagerly. It was almost like a wish being fulfilled, or being in a dream your depraved mind had conjured up. He felt incredible in your mouth, the way your lips stretched over him and how the tip nudged at the back of your throat did nothing but excite you. You hummed and moaned against him in contentment, the vibrations on his cock driving him wild. Your mouth was perfect, and you had something to prove. This was exactly what you wanted, you weren’t sure who the winner here was. 

Joost couldn’t let you have the upper hand, not yet at least. He grabbed your head and held it into place before he began to fuck your mouth. He wasn’t relentless, even if he wished he could be as the reminder of how you pestered him sat at the back of his mind. His thrusts were deep but mostly gentle. You gagged against him but breathed carefully through your nose and braced yourself with the rhythm he’d set. Saliva dribbled down your chin, your mouth so wet and warm he couldn’t imagine how it would feel like to fuck you. 

The desire was too overwhelming, he was impatient and desperate now, withdrawing his cock from your mouth. Your eyes were watery again, this time for good reason. You coughed a bit, regaining a bit of composure before Joost grabbed a handful of your hair and brought you into a kiss. 

It was the sloppiest, least romantic kiss you ever had. He shoved his tongue into your mouth and held you in place like you were an animal threatening to escape. Your body was aching almost unbearably now, you straddled him and pressed your pussy against his bare thigh and began grinding down on him with such desperation it made him chuckle into the kiss. 

“Slut.” He muttered against your neck, you shuttered against him before you felt his teeth sink into your skin, just enough to make you gasp. “You like that?”

“Mhm.” You groaned, your hips still moving against him hardly getting what you needed. “Please fuck me, Joost.”

His hand returned to your hair, this time pulling it so that you’d face him. He smiled almost drunkenly, his eyes low and dazed, “Can I eat your pussy first?” He asked the smug look on his face anticipating your reaction.

He laid you down on your back. You were a bit glad he wanted to pay attention to you. You fully expected him to fuck you from behind and kick you out, it would’ve been understandable, especially from the way you were acting and the fact he probably had dozens of girls who would kill to be in your place.

You felt the power balance restored as he buried his face between your thighs. He was as eager as you had been, licking and sucking on your pussy as if you had made the deal with him. His thick mustache burned the tender skin between your thighs in the best way possible, a reminder of what he’d done for you that would last at least till the next day. You felt nothing but the warm, blanketing pleasure. It felt like you’d just had a drink, your nerves had settled and all that was on your mind was finishing all over his pretty mouth. 

Your hands tangled in his hair, your back arched as you felt yourself grow closer. A part of you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your thighs closing against the side of his face and moans pouring from your lips, but it happened regardless. Your body almost convulsed from the intensity, the pleasure making your body surrender and melt into his hands so much that you began apologizing. 

“I’m sorry.” You muttered continuously, your orgasm coming at its peak and then rolling over you, “I’m sorry Joost.” 

He didn’t say anything at first as his mind was foggy, and he was lapping up your pussy, avoiding your clit now to give you a moment of calmness and for his pleasure. You tasted good, and it was intoxicating for him. 

“It’s ok, baby.” His tone had now sweetened with you, even if you knew it was mostly from the intimacy of the moment. “I know what you need.”

Joost was overtaken by how turned on you made him feel. He loved how he was putting you in your place, how he had softened the stone-like scowl on your face, the sharpness in your voice and movements to something so perfect. He kissed you again, this time just a few pecks before you felt him press the head of his cock against your pussy. 

He rubbed up and down, every time he passed over your sensitive clit you jerked up in overstimulation. He had condoms in the dresser, but you hadn’t brought up the matter so he decided to disregard it. If anything he’d give you some money for the morning-after pill, but that was the last thing he wanted to worry about. 

Joost groaned loudly, almost overly dramatic as he began to push himself inside of you. You trembled beneath him, letting out sounds of discomfort from how big he was, the sensation new to your body that you instinctively began to push him away with one hand and attempt to cover yourself with the other. 

“Move your hand, please.” He told you, “I promise I’ll stop if it hurts.” 

It was a bit of a struggle, he had to stop a few times to allow you to adjust yourself to his size before he was able to bottom you out. It was all worth it, the pestering and the headache to have you beneath him.  He fucked you slowly at first, pulling out until only the tip of him was inside of you before plunging himself back inside of you. Your pussy squelched and squeezed around him, your eyes screwed shut as you brought him into an embrace. 

Joost kissed you on the cheek, resting his face against you he picked up his pace until it was something almost punishing. The thoughts of what you had done before were now at the forefront of his mind, that horrible feeling intertwined with his passion for you. The sound of slapping skin filled the room, his grunts against your soft gasps. He hit the sweetest spot inside of you with every movement, the feeling so overwhelming you felt your orgasm building again. You tried to tell him, feeling as if hearing it would feel like a reward to him, but your body and mind were no longer one. The only thing that left your mouth was his name and desperate sounds of pleasure. 

Joost felt you come all over his cock, your pussy clenching around him as you cried out into his shoulder. He knew now he wasn’t going to last any longer, his movements becoming sloppy and the feeling of no friction, just how wet you were for him sending him over the edge. He would’ve loved to last longer, but he soon found himself pulling out and pumping himself over your body before coming undone all over your stomach. 

He marked your body, warm cum falling against your stomach and breasts as you were cooling down from the nearly out-of-body experience. Joost looked down at you, breathing heavily it was almost like he was admiring his work. He’d left bruises against your neck, your hair was disheveled, your face wet with tears, and the prettiest sight of all was that he’d finished all over you. 

He wiped down your body softly, kissing you when he was done before climbing under the sheets. He brought you into his arms this time, cuddling with you for a while before he spoke, 

“Are you hungry?” He asked in a whisper, you giggled in response and nodded. 

“Alright.” He nodded, “Maybe I’ll answer some of your questions after.”

-

hope you guys enjoyed :) this is a cross post from my ao3 if you wanted to check it out there

[builtbybrokenbells]

Heartbreak Hot Seat | JTK

After seeking refuge at her best friends house, Y/N can’t seem to open up enough to let Josh help her with her troubles. In a twisted turn of events, it appears that his twin brother Jake has the perfect remedy for a broken heart.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 20k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), body worshipping, sir kink, impact play, praise, degradation, biting, nipple play, lots (and I mean lots) of dirty talk, lots (can’t stress that enough) of foreplay, body shots, softer sex (compared to what I usually write), overstimulation, multiple orgasm, (sort of) forced orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, begging, very brief and inadvertent mentions of free use kink, slight dom/sub, name calling, touch of angst, mentions of cheating/bad past relationships, breakups, sadness/depression (due to breakups), crying, long emotional talks, drinking, parting, Jake being too sweet for his own good, soft Jake, fluff, swearing, sorry if i miss any!!

hi guys ☺️ i miss writing Jake so much I had to hit you with back to back fics. this is literally porn w plot (over 2/3 of this is just smut I think), so I hope you enjoy this as much as I liked writing it! As always, enjoy, be kind, don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 (I’m so, so happy to be back) (lightly edited 🥰)

“Here, you want to try this?” Josh asked, nudging your arm in hopes of breaking you from your solemn state. You blinked a few times, feeling his elbow on your skin, but his words were far away. They seemed like an echo in an empty room, like you had walked into the place only after he stopped speaking. Breathing seemed like a treacherous task, your bones aching every time your lungs inflated. You stared blankly at his hand, holding a fork in his grasp as he kindly offered you a taste of whatever he was eating. “Jake made it, it’s good.”

Jake made it.

You were sure whatever he made would be good, but the thought of food was worse than sickening to you. You wanted to be kind, to try the meal your friend (even if by extension) had made, especially after he offered you the hospitality for an afternoon hangout his home, but you couldn’t seem to accept the gracious offer. The crowd in the living room was overwhelming, despite only a few bodies being present. The chatter was loud and pulsing against your already busy brain, and Josh’s leg resting against yours was nice, but much more than you could handle in the moment.

Josh knew there was something wrong, but unlike usual, he could not seem to pry it from you. Over the last three nights you had spent crashing in his spare room, he used every ounce of energy to comfort you despite being unaware of what exactly your troubles were. You knew you could reach out to him anytime, talk to him about anything, but right now, it seemed impossible to speak the words aloud.

You had been friends with the boy for what seemed like a lifetime, surviving off his constant company and thriving off his eccentric personality. He stuck by your side through college graduations, career changes, and every challenge life seemed to throw your way. You were a busy woman, and he a busy man, and neither of you had much time for social lives outside of your demanding work schedules. Even so, that fact made your friendship all the stronger, because despite your lack of free time, you always made time for each other.

So when you showed up at his doorstep, 3am and crying while spewing absolute nonsense, he guided you to his spare bedroom and told you that it was yours for as long as you needed. The next morning, he came to check on you only to find you hadn’t slept at all. Hours spent sitting beside you attempting to cheer you up only resulted in further confusion and frustration. Despite his busy life, he cleared his schedule and made it a priority to be with you until you felt better. That afternoon, you managed some small talk, but avoided the elephant in the room. The next day, things felt a little more normal between the two of you. A few jokes were shared, and you even had a movie night in the living room with him and his partner. By then, Josh had vowed to let you speak on your own terms, but was doing everything he could to brighten your mood.

Today, when you woke from a broken and nightmare filled sleep, Josh knocked at your door to ask if you would like to get out of the house. After some internal debate, you decided it might be good for you, it might help you forget the only thing you could seem to think about, even if it was temporary. You showered (with Josh talking through the door and stressing the importance of self-care, of course), changed into some clothes you stuffed into a duffel bag during your quick escape, and the three of you hit the road.

After a short drive, you landed at the door of his twin brother’s house, where you would spend your afternoon. Jake, who you had heard loads of things about, was still a mystery to you. Between conflicting schedules and trying (and failing, sometimes) to find time to hang out with Josh, you never got much of an opportunity to get to know Jake, or even Sam for that matter. You knew he was quieter, a little more reserved than Josh, but was funny and had a heart of gold. You chalked up his praise to being his brother, but you never knew Josh to be a liar about anything. You trusted all he had to say about his brothers, and despite your sadness, you were excited to finally meet them properly, rather than just in passing.

You said a brief hello to Jake at times, mostly when you were leaving Josh’s house and he was heading in. You remembered him to be on the shorter side, but with a breathtaking smile and long, brown hair. When you stepped foot into the house and finally had time to appreciate the man standing in front of you, you understood Jake was a lot more than a pretty smile and long hair. He was stunning, and despite your broken heart, you couldn’t help but stare.

Not long after your brief introduction, the rest of the crowd begin to filter in. Sam and his girlfriend both seemed lovely, and Daniel and the friend he brought with him were just as nice. Jake had made lunch, and whatever it was smelled heavenly even if the thought of food sickened you. After a few hours of laughing and talking, the boys went back for seconds, clearing out the last of the food in the kitchen. The day was dwindling into evening, and you still hadn’t managed to break from your solemn state. You sat, listening to all of the conversations and laughing along to jokes, but didn’t find yourself with enough energy to contribute much.

Josh, clearly picking up on your lack of involvement, was doing all he could to help. Offering food was just another failed attempt of many.

“I’m okay, Josh. Thank you though.” You forced a smile, feeling guilty for your constant rejection. You wanted to tell him so badly, but every time you worked up enough courage to explain it, your words failed you and you thought you might be sick. His sad eyes seemed to be staring into your soul, and it was becoming too much to bear. “I’m, uh, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” You cleared your throat, asking for permission in hopes of changing the subject.

“F’course it is, mama.” He assured you. “You want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay.” You assured him, sliding forward and rising to your feet.

“Grab anything in the fridge. I know Jake won’t care.” He said, making sure you didn’t feel bad about taking anything.

“Okay.” You smiled, small but genuine. You didn’t feel deserving of Josh’s kindness, but you were still grateful he cared for you so much. If not for him, you would have nobody to lean on.

Quietly, you walked out of the living room and in the direction of the kitchen Jake had lead you to earlier in the day. When you were alone, you let out a long sigh. The kitchen was decorated nicely, simple but tasteful, and the sweet smell of whatever Jake had cooked was still lingering in the air. Instead of walking to the refrigerator, you took a seat at one of the kitchen chairs pulled out from the table, deciding a minute alone was more important than a glass of water.

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back on your shoulders. The chatter floating in from the next room was much less overwhelming, and you finally felt like you could breathe without the constant ache in your chest. Just when you felt like you were getting your bearings back, you heard soft footsteps puttering through the hallway. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the same one that was constantly bothering you since you showed up at Josh’s house, and prepared for another round of questions from your best friend. You didn’t turn to face him, figuring he would make himself known in due time.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” The voice was not as familiar to you, and definitely not the voice you thought it would be. You looked over your shoulder, curious as to who was talking. Your eyes landed on Jake, a sheepish smile on his face as he stood by the door.

“Hey, yeah.” You nodded, trying to make yourself friendlier than you felt. It was not Jake making you miserable, or anyone for that matter. You wanted to be having fun, to be getting to know the people most important to your best friend, but the weight on your shoulders made it so hard to enjoy the moment.

“I saw you sneak out, thought I’d come and check in on you.” He explained, careful with his words. “Mind if I sit?” You gave a chuckle, and genuine smile as you listened to his words.

“It’s your kitchen, Jake, f’course you can sit.”

“Right,” he nodded, stepping towards you. “Guess I was wondering if you were up for company, or if you just needed a minute alone. I know it can be a lot to handle when we’re all together.”

“No! You guys are great, guess I’m just not in it today.” You said, knowing he hit the nail straight on the head but you were too nice to admit it. “Come sit, please.” He did as you said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. He was in perfect view and facing you, giving you ample opportunity to soak in his features as he thought about how to continue the conversation.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. Josh mentioned you were going through a tough time when I called him this morning. We were kinda hoping it would take your mind off whatever’s going on.” You wanted to recoil at the idea of Josh sharing your sorrows with a man you did not know, but the intent was sweet, and you knew Josh would never do anything to harm you. He was just a concerned friend looking for a way to cheer you up. Jake, despite being a near stranger, had enough kindness in his heart to want to help too.

And sweetheart.

You didn’t know the man, nor much about him, but you definitely wouldn’t mind if he called you that again.

“Thank you,” your lips twitched into another smile as you looked down at your hands on the table. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“Josh?” Jake asked for clarification that he heard right, raising his eyebrow at you. You gave a small nod, almost wanting to laugh at his incredulous tone. “Yeah, I mean I guess. I kind of have to agree, cause he’s my brother and all.” At that, a genuine laugh filled the air, the first one that left your lips in days. Jake was hung on your laugh the minute it left your lips, finding the sound addicting despite just having heard it for the first time. The smile on his face made it apparent he only came to cheer you up, and he was happy he could do it even for a moment. “No, he is pretty great, even if I do hate him by times.”

“It’s a sibling thing, I think.” You said, looking back up at his face. “Love them, even when you hate them.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “He’s my best friend, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill him sometimes. Has a great heart, but he can be a bit… annoying.”

“Josh? No.” You scoffed, playing into the bit as clear sarcasm dripped from your tone. At that, Jake let out a laugh of his own. You watched, in amazement at how beautiful such a simple sound could be. “Seriously though, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Yeah, you guys have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?” He asked, leaning forward and into the conversation. It was your turn to nod, finding years of memories flash before your eyes when you thought of it for too long.

“Yeah, I met him as I was finishing up my graduate program in university. He’d just moved here, and I guess he was looking for some friends. Right place right time, I suppose.”

“Funny how things like that work out.” He said, listening intently to every word.

“For sure.” You hummed, pursing your lips slightly at the memory of how you met. “Ran into him at a bar, drunk off tequila and singing a terrible rendition of… oh, fuck, what was it?” You racked your brain, trying so hard to find the name of the song in the mess of your mind. “It was Neil Young, I remember that much.” You sighed, shaking your head at your spotty memory.

“Don’t Let It Bring You Down.” He finished for you, a sparkle shining in his eye as he saw your expression light up.

“Yes! How did you know?” You asked, shocked he knew before you did.

“I was there that night, and I definitely made fun of him just as much as you did.” He explained, chuckling at the thought.

“You were there?” You asked, even more surprised at that fact.

“Yeah, think I was playing pool with Sam. Josh sucks at pool, so he was trying to find a thrill elsewhere. He told us he met someone, he really liked their ‘energy’. Guess he was talking about you.” He continued, nodding at himself as he recollected the night from so long ago. “That, and he sings that damn song every time he drinks tequila.”

“Huh,” you huffed, wondering how you managed to miss him that night. “I guess I was out the door pretty fast. I don’t even think I talked to Josh for very long. Got his number and we were off to the next bar. We loved to party back then.”

“Shame, cause he’s been keeping you an awful secret for the last few years.” Jake let out a disapproving tsk at the end of his statement.

“No, it’s not him.” You promised, shutting down the notion. “Life’s crazy. I’m either always stuck at work, or at home—“ you cut yourself off, hearing the sound of the word fall from your lips. It was wrong, and so much so that it twisted your stomach with nausea. “Stuck at work.” You doubled back, feeling a frown start to form again. The word home felt like a sour taste in your mouth that you couldn’t swallow back.

Jake watched you for a moment, curious about your sudden change of heart, but understanding it might not be the best time to venture into it.

“Did you want a drink, sweetheart?” Jake asked, his eyes flickering to the fridge. “Maybe something to take your mind off it?” You debated, wondering if it would better or worsen your mental state. Before you could decline, he spoke again. “I was gonna have one anyway, so it’s no trouble at all. Be nice to have someone to drink with, anyway.”

“Fuck it, why not?” You breathed, watching as another breathtaking smile blossomed on his lips. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great.” He stood, taking two steps past you as he approached a cabinet by the refrigerator. “Want to come have a look?” He offered, looking back over his shoulder at you. You shrugged, nodding as you stood to join him. He opened the doors, revealing a plethora of bottles that all looked a little more expensive than you were used to. “Whatever you want.”

You noticed how close he was standing, how sweet his cologne smelled as it wafted in your direction. It was musky, ambery even, with sandalwood standing strong against the undertones. He had his finger resting against his chin as his eyes scanned the labels, clearly unsure of what he wanted, too. You couldn’t help but study the intricacies of his face, the bridge of his nose and how it casted a shadow over his soft cheeks, the unintentional pout of his bottom lip, and the enchanting colour of his irises. He was stunning, and it was hard not to notice it.

‘Stop it, Y/N. You’re in no position to think anyone is attractive, let alone your best friends brother.’ Your thoughts were right, full of warnings you knew you should listen to, yet there was something so enchanting about Jake that made it difficult to listen. ‘Thinking he’s attractive is only bad if I plan to act on it, which I’m definitely not. It’s okay to admire him, as long as that’s all it is.’ You felt the devil weigh in on the matter, and for some reason, that train of thought was much easier to go along with.

So you did. Simple as that, you decided to allow yourself the pleasure. It was almost as simple as acknowledging how beautiful Jake was.

“Anything catching your eye?” He asked, looking over at you. You knew he was aware of your staring, and when your eyes caught his, your cheeks tinged red. He gave you a smile, silently telling you all was well.

“There’s so much to choose from.” You said, forcing yourself to look back at the liquor cabinet.

“Do you like it straight, or do you prefer something sweet?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you once again. Although the question was innocent and clearly pertaining to the topic at hand, you couldn’t help but feel your heart speed. Your body was encased in goosebumps at the simple thought of him meaning it in any other way.

“Usually sweet, but I think today I could handle it straight.” You replied, having to tear your eyes away from him again. Had you looked for a moment longer, you might have noticed the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“This is my favourite.” He said, reaching out and grabbing an expensive looking bottle. He brought it down to your level, leaning into you slightly as he let you read the label for yourself. As his arm brushed against yours, you felt the same pull of your heart as you did when he first sat across from you.

“I’ll try it out.” You mumbled, a little breathless as he looked over your face.

“Good taste,” he hummed. “You’ll like it, I promise.” He assured you, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip ever so slightly.

“I trust you.” You said, feeling like you were coercing your tongue to speak the words.

“You should.” He responded, waiting for you to step away first. It felt like an eternity before you stepped backwards towards the table, but when you did, you missed the closeness of him almost immediately. The warmth of his body against yours was memorable, and definitely something you wanted to feel again.

You returned to your seat at the table, followed closely behind by Jake. Before he sat, he grabbed two glasses and the ice tray from the freezer. Carefully, he poured yours first before adding a few ice cubes to the cup. Then, he nudged it in your direction before fixing his own drink.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” He asked, swirling his ice around his cup before bringing it to his lips. As he sipped at the amber liquid, his eyes never left your face.

“Oh, nothing important.” You shook your head, averting your gaze to the glass in your hand. You did the same, raising the crystal to your lips and drinking down the alcohol like it was water.

“You’re drinking that awfully fast for someone who’s got ‘nothing important’ going on.” He noted, cocking his head to the side for a moment, as if he was trying to figure you out. “I’ve got an ear to lend, if you want to talk.” He offered, but opted not to press any further. He didn’t want to force you if you weren’t willing, but he did want you to know that the floor was yours if you needed.

“I wouldn’t want to bore you.” You chuckled, watching the condensation of the glass drip onto your fingers. The chill of the liquid distracted you from the severity of the topic. “You’ve been kind enough already, Jake. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for inviting me.”

“No thanks needed, y/n. Seriously, Josh talks about you enough that I feel like I already know you, and trust me when I say, I like you just as much as he does.” He promised, taking another small sip of his drink. “And I offered, sweetheart. I want to listen, even if you don’t think I do.”

“What is with you two?” You chuckled, shaking your head at his staggering kindness. “Too nice for your own good, both of you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” He grinned, finding your exasperation amusing.

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head, feeling your heart warm with gratitude for the two brothers. You barely knew Jake, but you agreed with what he said. Josh spoke about him enough that you felt like you were friends already, and by all of the nice things Josh had to say, you definitely liked him. Since stepping foot into the kitchen, you had come to greatly appreciate him for other reasons, too.

“That’s the heartbreak chair.” He explained, running a hand through his hair as he pushed it away from his face. “Something about it draws people in.” Your eyes flickered up to his face, shocked that he made such an assumption, and even more surprised that it was right. He barely knew you, but he could tell without you having to say a word.

“It’s that obvious?” You asked. He shook his head, rubbing his chin in his hand for a moment before he spoke again.

“No,” he cleared his throat, taking in a long breath before he continued. “Like I said, there’s something about that fuckin’ chair.”

“How so?”

“Two years ago, Sam sat there when his girlfriend broke up with him. Must’ve spent the whole night sitting there, drinking away the pain.” He said, thinking back on the event. “And Daniel, a few months back when him and his girlfriend went separate ways. Even Josh, a long time ago when we first moved here.” He explained. “Whatever it is, when people get their heart broken, they sit there. I usually sit here, but it’s not always me they’re talking to. Sometimes it’s Josh, or another friend, or anyone really.” You thought about his words, carefully considering your next question before asking it.

“Have you sat here?” Your eyes were showing the sadness you tried so hard to hide. You didn’t know why, but you were comfortable with Jake. You wanted to talk, to tell him all about the sadness plaguing you. Something about him made you believe that your sorrows were safe with him, and that he was the key to feeling better.

It was an invasive question, something personal and maybe too complicated for him to answer. You regretted asking, but hearing about his brother's sorrows didn’t sit right with you. If you were giving him a piece of you, you wanted a piece of him. He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between your face and the whiskey in his cup. Eventually, he gave a slow nod.

“More than anyone else, I think.” His honesty was sobering, and it was admirable. Because of his willingness to share his sadness with you, you felt even better about opening up to him. “I’ve never been lucky in love. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” He shrugged, the joke rolling off his tongue effortlessly despite the hidden pain in his eyes. “About six months ago, I was doing the same as you. Came home, she was gone without a trace. I stayed a few nights at Josh’s house, just ‘till I was strong enough to come back here, and I drank it all away. I’ve sat in that chair, sweetheart. You’re not the only broken heart this house has seen. Trust me.”

“It’s hard to open up to Josh about it.” You said, forcing your hand to hold the glass to the table. The burn of the alcohol in your chest was much preferred to the ache in your heart, but you persevered. “‘Specially when I watch how happy and in love he is. He’s got everything, you know? Nice house, kind heart, beautiful face, and a wonderful boyfriend. It’s intimidating talking about my mess of a life to someone who always seems to have their shit together.”

“I can see what you mean.” He nodded along, agreeing to an extent. “You know, he’d never think differently of you. He loves you a whole hell of a lot.”

“I know that, but I think when you’re this miserable, it’s hard to believe anyone cares that much.”

“For sure.” He said, swallowing down another mouthful of whiskey.

Just as he placed his cup down on the table, the distant chatter in the living room began to move closer. Both of you turned to the entryway to the kitchen, wondering what the disturbance was. Soon enough, the crowd filled the doorway, but only Sam and Josh were visible.

“Think we’re gonna head to the bar, you two in?” Sam asked, oblivious to the situation in front of him.

“I’m good.” Jake said, his tone firm and certain of his answer. Josh looked at you, curiosity in his eyes as he waited for a response.

“Y/N?” Josh asked, wondering if you were joining them. You looked between the twins, your eyes lingering a bit too long over Jake. When you looked back at Josh, you shook your head slightly.

“Think I might hang out here a bit longer, if that’s okay?”

“F’course it is.” Jake chimed in. “You go, I’ll get her back to your place safe and sound.” Josh looked to you once more, making sure you were alright. You gave him a smile, nodding your head in agreement with Jake.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. Love you, mama.”

“Love you too, Josh.” You smiled again, wider and with more warmth than ever.

With that, the group moved towards the door, and they were out in the yard within seconds. The silence hung heavy between you and Jake, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. So far, despite you being a stranger, your talk with Jake had been nothing but comfortable.

“So, does that mean you don’t think I have my life together?” Jake continued where you left off, clearly teasing. The smile on his face gave him away as he pulled his chair a little closer to you.

“‘Spose I don’t know you well enough to know, yet. From what I see, looks like you do, if that counts?” He let out a laugh, finding your humor despite the pain beautiful.

“You hungry?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Noticed you didn’t eat earlier.”

“Think I missed the draw on that one.” You said, looking at the empty dish on the stove. He stood, wordless as he walked to the refrigerator. He searched for a few seconds before pulling out a plate, flashing it in your direction.

“Put some away for you, just in case. I knew they would eat it all, so I just wanted to make sure there was some left.” He explained. The sound of his words made your heart ache, but it wasn’t in a bad way; the simple action, especially coming from someone who barely knew you, made the whole world seem a little bit brighter. You understood Josh’s constant talk of how big of a heart Jake had now that you had the chance to see it for yourself.

“Thank you, Jake.” You mustered the strength to speak, in awe of his attention to detail. He stuck it in the microwave, waiting for it to beep before placing it in front of you with a fork. Without mentioning it again, he sat back in the same spot, as if the last few minutes had never happened at all.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked again, more direct this time now that he felt he had some kind of leverage. Clearly he made a good enough impression on you, considering you hadn’t run out the door when the opportunity arose. Before responding, you took a few bites of the meal he’d made in preparation for his company. Your eyes fluttered closed in bliss, the taste something you had never experienced before. You weren’t sure if it was just because he was a good cook, or if it was because it had been days since you had a proper meal. Maybe, it was a combination of both.

For such a simple looking pasta dish, it was beyond anything you had ever eaten before.

“This is so fucking good, Jake.” You commended him for his efforts. He let out another laugh, happy that you were enjoying it.

“Good to know,” he nodded. “I’ll have to make it for you again sometime.”

“You’ll never get rid of me.” You joked, placing the fork down for a moment, wanting to make the meal last.

“Not the worst idea in the world.” He shrugged. You felt your cheeks dust with redness, his words almost too sweet for you to handle. You washed down the pleasant feeling of his compliments with another sip of whiskey, settling back in your seat as you prepared to confess.

“I think I’ve always been too blind to see the bad side of people,” you started, simple and easy to kick off the topic. “I like to see the best in everyone, ‘till the very end.”

“Admirable.” He responded quickly, shocking you with his interest in your sorrows.

“I dated this guy for a while, a few years at least. Guess it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but I loved him, or the idea of him, more so. He moved in with me not long after we met, and it was nice. Things seemed real good for a long time, but a couple months ago, he kinda pulled back a bit. I didn’t think much of it, ‘cause I was working all the time anyway, but I probably should have.” You sighed. “I started noticing he was gone when I came home at night, or when he went out, he stayed out far too late for a couple drinks with friends. Found some… suspicious things around the house, but chalked it up to a bad memory.” You laughed, shaking your head at your own stupidity. “I went home after work on Friday, and he was in bed with another girl. Mutual friend, real pretty, sweet on the surface… everything that I’m not.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart.” He shook his head, stopping that thought before it could go any further.

“Think we were long overdue for a breakup, but I thought it would be more decent than that.” You shuddered, recalling the moment that had been plaguing you for days. “I’m less heartbroken over him than I am for the whole thing. It’s just… dehumanizing, I guess. How many times did we… you know, after they started? And in my bed? Where I sleep at night?” You continued, watching the ice circle the bottom of your cup as the liquid neared the end. Jake reached out for the bottle, popping the cork and refilling your glass for you. You smiled, a silent thank you for everything he was doing.

“There wasn’t really a fight, or anything. I mean, I yelled for a little while, but it wasn’t worth my time. I told him to pack his shit and get out, and I assume he did. I haven’t been back, but I haven’t heard from him, either. Guess I just… don’t want to be in that place right now, alone, with that memory.”

“Don’t know the guy, but I can tell you he’s a fucking idiot.” He said, throwing back the last of his drink and refilling his own cup. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be home. Like I said, I stayed at Josh’s for a while too. Sometimes it’s nice to get out of the place full of stuff that reminds you of them.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You gave a somber nod, blinking away tears threatening your eyes. “Think it always circles back to the same thing at the end of the day… hard not to think it’s me, that I wasn’t enough, or if I could have done more. That’s the hardest part of it, really. Not like he was the boyfriend of the year or anything, but I never would have done that to him.” You took another long swig of whiskey, feeling your head begin to swirl with intoxication.

“It’s not you, Y/N. You know better than that.” He said, furrowing his brow as he thought over your story. “So what is it? What do you need?”

“What?” You asked, unsure of what he meant.

“He got what he wanted, so what do you need, sweetheart? To scream? Cry? To get so drunk that you don’t know where you are?” He listed the offers, as if they were all completely reasonable and understandable. He didn’t want to speak empty words, or give you reassurances that would wash right off your shoulders once he was done speaking. He wanted to help you feel better, however he could. “We could even key his car, if you know where to find it.”

You let out a laugh, one that shook your shoulders and made your stomach ache. While you laughed, tears slipped on to your cheeks, but they did not phase you. Jake’s company was so fantastic that the hurt didn’t even seem to bother you anymore.

“You’re too beautiful to be crying over someone like that, sweetheart.” He leaned over, using his thumb to brush away the teardrops staining your cheeks. Once he finished, he cupped your cheek in his palm, ensuring you knew he was being truthful.

“No idea how you’ve never been the bride, Jacob.” You said, exhaling a long breath as you melted into his touch. It felt nice to be touched at all, and even better to be touched by someone who cared. It felt like it had been an eternity since you had experienced that in particular.

“My day will come, just like yours will.” He promised. “I know it hurts, but with time, you’ll thank him for it, because a girl like you shouldn’t end up with a guy like that.”

“Thank you, Jake.” You said, the utmost sincerity in your voice.

“Don’t mention it.” He brushed off the thanks, smiling over at you. “Now what is it? What will make you feel better, right now? ‘Cause I’ll be damned if I send you out the door before you feel better.”

“I just want to stop.” You sighed, rubbing your face in your hands. “I want to stop hurting, to stop thinking about him, to stop feeling like a different person. I want to feel like me. I want to feel good, instead of being miserable.” Jake leaned back in his chair, watching your face carefully as he thought about your request. You looked over at him, chuckling at yourself. “I know, steep request. Probably not much in the world we can do about that. Yet, anyway.”

“No, there is.” He cleared his throat, pursing his lips together slightly. You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his response.

“Go on.” You urged him, curious about his idea.

“I don’t know if I can help you feel exactly like yourself again,” he started, looking up at the ceiling while he tried to word his response. “But I definitely have a quick solution for some of those problems.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” He smirked at your eagerness to feel better. Before he continued, he threw back the last of his drink for a second time. You could tell he was feeling it now, too. His cheeks were tinged pink and his eyes grew heavier the longer he sipped away.

“You’re open to any suggestions?”

“Well, most.” You huffed, almost annoyed by how long he was dragging this out. “Maybe not murder or armed robbery.” He laughed at your exuberance, shaking his head slightly.

“Well, sweetheart…” he sighed. “You want to stop thinking about him, and you want to feel good.” He listed, waiting to see if he was correct. You nodded in response, still not seeming to piece the two together. “If you’re open to trying it, I’m sure I could solve both of those problems at once.”

“Okay, Jake, this is not helping. Can you just—“ you cut yourself off, your eyes widening in shock as the puzzle finally clicked in place. You swallowed hard, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. As you looked at his expression, your cheeks burned red and your throat went dry. “Just to clarify, are you offering what I think you are?”

“Depends, beautiful.” He said, his tone soft and his eyes trained to your face. “What do you think I’m saying?”

“Are you offering to fuck me?” You wanted to be repulsed by the idea, but you were far from it. If anything, the feeling burning in the pit of your stomach told you the exact opposite, imploring you to fall into his arms and let him do as he pleased with you.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that would get your mind off him.” He argued his point, playful and calm so you knew rejection was more than allowed. “And if you’ll let me, I know I could help with that other part, too.” He let out a small huff of breath, as if he was excited just by the prospect of the opportunity.

“You offer that to every heartbroken girl who sits in this chair?” You asked, ensuring he knew you weren’t denying the offer.

“No,” he shook his head. “You’d be the first, and the only one, I think.”

“You think?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Never know what the future brings.” He shrugged, trying to keep his composure. As soon as he saw your bewildered face, he doubled over in laughter. It took him a few moments to regain his composure, but when he did, he did not seem to retract his statement. When he realized you took his words seriously, he stood from his chair, stepping towards you as he spoke.

“Yes, sweetheart. The only one. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He asked, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Yes, maybe? I don’t know.” You said, your eyes darting around the kitchen to avoid his heavy stare. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this situation, so I’m not sure how to react.”

“Only if you want to, of course, but the offer is on the table.” He said, retracting his hand so as not to pressure you into it. You took a drink from your cup, finding your chest burning as you did so. Difference was, you knew it was not because of the liquor. As you sat the cup back on the table, you looked up at him, inspecting him closely.

He was attractive, and that was undeniable. You had been thinking about it since the minute you saw him, and you couldn’t seem to get the thought out of your head. Just half an hour ago, you were shivering from the closeness of his body when you were standing by the liquor cabinet, and now you were quivering just from the thought of his hands on your body. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but in the moment, what he was saying made sense to you.

He was hot, you were desperate to forget, and he was offering a quick solution.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Why not?” He watched you for another moment, standing still while you decided for certain that’s what you wanted to do. “Uhm, we won’t tell Josh about this, right?” You asked, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over you.

“Definitely not.” He laughed.

“And it’s just that? Just sex?”

“Just sex, just tonight, if that’s what you want.” He assured you.

“Okay.” You nodded again, more confident this time around. “Just sex, just tonight, with a guy I just met, who happens to be my best friend's twin brother?”

“It sounds better my way.” He said, taking a step towards you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Sex with someone who is happy to make you feel better.” He spoke quietly, kneeling down so he was eye level with you. His face was closer than it had been all night, and if it were even possible, he was even more stunning up close.

“Yeah, that does sound better.” You agreed, smiling slightly as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Jake seemed to prompt more of a physical reaction in you just by looking at you than your ex did in the entire time you’d been with him.

You weren’t sure if it was the whiskey combining with the heartbreak forcing you to make a deadly decision, or if it was just the fact you were attracted to him. Either way, you knew you couldn’t leave his house without a taste of what he was offering, because he had excited you just by mentioning it. You felt like leaving him without knowing what he could do for you would cause more grief than your breakup had in the last few days.

“So what do you say, sweetheart?” He asked, reaching forward and brushing his knuckle over your burning cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, but you tried not to let it phase you too much. “You want me to help you forget about him?”

“Think you already have.” You mustered the strength to speak, but not the strength to look him in the eyes. You were sure if you did, you would turn to putty in his hands.

“So you’re saying you don’t need anything else?” He pried, finding the teasing amusing now that he knew you were okay with his actions.

“No, I definitely do.” You corrected him, finally opening your eyes to look over his face. “I really do.”

“Tell me what you need, angel.” He said, flattening his palm against your cheek again. His fingers were tangled in the loose strands of hair hanging over your neck, the action more telling than the last time he touched you. It was firm, more reassuring, and meant to solidify his feelings about the situation.

“You,” you bit the inside of your lip, almost embarrassed about your need for him.

“Don’t be shy, beautiful. Think we’re long past that.” He said, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Although he had full intent to follow through with his earlier promise, he wanted you to be in charge of the matter.

“Kiss me, please.” With that, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours as he held your face in his hand.

His lips still tasted like the alcohol he was sipping on, and his skin was still cold from the ice in his cup. Even so, the chill of his skin was quickly offset by the warmth of his tongue as it glided past your lips. The feeling was addicting, much more intense than you thought it might be. Your hands reached out for him, desperate for more. His fingers seemed to be burning into your skin, the touch electric and the sensation ten times more powerful than anything you had ever felt before. The emotion flowing through you from such a simple action was immeasurable, and you already needed more.

“Like that, sweetheart?” He asked, his lips still ghosting over yours as he presented the question. You were breathless, your head spinning and your mind completely free of the painful thoughts that previously seemed permanently attached to you.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your voice quiet. You could feel him smiling, cocky enough to know his plan was already working. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Come with me.” He said, moving away from you and rising back to his feet. Although you were sad he pulled away at all, you knew it was for a better reason. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and his own cup, waiting for you as you tried to bring yourself back to earth. You took your own from the table, waiting for him to make the next move.

He outstretched his arm, still holding the bottle tightly in his hand as he loosely wrapped the appendage around you. Carefully, he guided you to the hallway. Without any further words shared, he led the way to his bedroom with intent to finish what he started. As soon as you stepped inside, you were surrounded by him. His cologne lingered in the air, and his clothes littered the floor. His bed was messy, but in the most inviting way possible. Patch cords and guitar picks littered the surface of his dresser, and an acoustic guitar took post in the corner of the room.

Although the stipulations of your entanglement did not extend beyond a single night, curiousity got the best of you. With your heart singing a song curated specifically for him, it was hard not to want to know more about him. Seeing his life so intimately made you crave more substance from him, even if it was ridiculous for you to think.

“What’s on your mind now?” He asked, placing the liquor down on his bedside table.

“Nothing bad,” you assured him, still trying to soak in all the room had to offer. “Guess I’m just curious about you now, is all.”

“All you have to do is ask.” He said, taking a few steps towards you. “Later, though, because talking isn’t my top priority right now.” You watched him as he closed in on you, your stomach twisting with excitement at his words. Before he could place his lips on yours again, you swallowed back the last of your drink and placed the empty cup on the top of his dresser, freeing your hands so you only had to focus on him.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you as your hand landed on his bicep. Now, with the opportune position, he had the luxury to touch you as he pleased with nothing standing in his way. One of his hands fell to your hip, his grip firm as he pulled your body into his own. He leaned down, placing his other hand on the back of your neck as he guided your head towards his. He started slow, fearful he might have come on too strong, but you weren’t willing to take your time with him.

It had been a long time since you had been excited by the prospect of sex, and despite knowing you should not be feeling such a way about anyone, let alone Jake in particular, he had elicited that response from you easier than anyone who came before. Even though his kindness was the most abundant of all his traits, you caught a few glimpses of what lie beneath, and if you were being completely honest, that was what held your attention.

The way his arm felt resting against yours at the liquor cabinet, the sly smile after his ambiguous questions, his heavy stare when he thought you weren’t looking, and the sparkle in his eye when you laughed. That was what drew you in, and everything else was just a cherry on top.

When you first sat with Jake, you almost felt guilty that you were so willing to tell him about your troubles, especially after shutting Josh out. Now, with his lips on yours and his hands exploring your body, it made sense that you felt such a way. Jake was offering much more than Josh could, and he could help in ways that Josh could not begin to imagine. He gave you an easy pass to forgetting, a quick solution to feeling good, and a simple way to move on, even if it were only for a short time. Jake was the perfect fit for what you needed, and you were happy that he was so eager to help.

Time was the only true healer, but Jake was a catalyst to speed the process up, and a very pleasurable one at that.

As the kiss continued, the two of you grew much more comfortable with each other. Your body had relaxed and your hands were more courageous as they travelled over the parts of him you were desperate to know. Your entire body was ablaze with excitement, and your mind was completely free of all the previous fears and feelings you were plagued with. His hand on your hip had drifted to your ass, pulling your hips forward into his as he became familiar with the taste of you on his lips.

If you had any fear about his willingness to sleep with you, it was destroyed within seconds of stepping into his bedroom. You could feel his own excitement, through his actions and other, more obvious signs. As he continued to kiss you, you could feel his erection against your leg, straining against the zipper of his jeans. As much as he wanted to take your mind off of things, you were just as happy to relieve him of the problem you had so easily caused.

When he parted from the kiss, his lips were pink and swollen, glistening with spit under the low light flowing in through his window. His hair was messy from your fingers running through it, and his eyes were darker than they were in the kitchen.

If you thought he was beautiful before, it had nothing on how he looked now.

His hands drifted under the hem of your shirt as he looked over your face, ensuring you were comfortable with continuing. When he was met with pleading eyes and a hopeful expression, his lips quirked up into a smile as he lifted your shirt over your head. As he tossed it to the floor, his gaze traveled downward, allowing himself to admire the parts of you that were usually kept hidden. He sucked in a sharp breath, as if the sight knocked the air from him completely and he was trying to recover from the shock.

“So fucking beautiful, angel.” He hummed, his hands finding you again as he spoke. The feeling of his calloused fingertips against the smooth skin was exhilarating, and even more enticing than anything he’d done before. He dropped his head to the crook of your neck, bringing his lips back to your skin as if he was already missing the feeling of kissing you.

He focused on your neck for a moment, curiously exploring as he tried to find the sweet spots. When his tongue settled below your ear, a whine fell from your lips, so quiet he nearly missed it. The sound reached his ears, sending his skin tingling as it wrapped around his spine and made home there. He kept his attention in the same spot, desperate to hear more. Your hand raised to his arm, holding yourself steady as your stomach swirled with emotion. His mouth continued lower, and courage flooded him as his hands continued to familiarize themselves with you.

He unhooked your bra, brushing the straps from your shoulders as his mouth landed on your collarbone. You felt his teeth graze the skin, the action gentle but purposeful as your bra fell to the ground with your shirt. Now, without anything standing between the two of you, his hand landed on your breast. His thumb drifted over your nipple, moving in a slow circular motion as he felt it harden under his touch. The small sensation only furthered the ache between your legs, and you could feel the wetness begin to soak through the fabric of your underwear.

As he continued his work, you felt your thighs squeeze together in a shameless attempt to ease the discomfort. You didn’t want to rush him, because everything he was doing was phenomenal, but it was growing increasingly difficult to bite your tongue when you so badly needed more from him.

Eventually, his head dropped low enough for his tongue to graze your already sensitive nipple. The warmth of his mouth paired with the precision of his tongue was deadly. You felt a shaky breath rattle your chest as you tried to keep yourself calm, but it was growing increasingly difficult to do so. You needed him more than you needed anything in your entire life; your body craved him in a way you never knew to be possible, and he had promoted more pleasures than anyone before without even needing to take all of your clothes off.

Something about Jake was otherworldly, and his promises to help you forget were not empty. He was doing exactly as he intended, better than you ever thought he could.

He seemed to be enjoying the moment just as much as you were, completely content with pleasing you and never worrying about his own needs. You had never, in your entire life, met someone who was concerned with your needs first.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his eyes fluttering up to your face as he took a few seconds to sort out his thoughts. His eyes were blackened, his pupils completely consuming his irises as he thought about all of the possibilities the night could have.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he muttered, hooking his fingers through the back belt loop on your jeans.

He pulled the fabric away from your skin, letting it snap back to form as he pulled his hand away. The thud of the material against your skin sent another rush of arousal through you, and you found yourself complying to the request without a second thought. He brought one hand to the button, undoing it with ease as he dropped to his knees once again. He pulled down the zipper, tugging on the fabric so they fell down past your hips. As soon as the denim was out of his way, he brought his lips to your stomach, focusing his attention there for a moment before going any further.

You were aching for relief as his tongue drifted over the exposed skin, and you were nearly brought to your knees as he took the time to leave a trail of pink marks where his lips landed. It would be a reminder of the night for days to come, darkening further with time, and you were thrilled at the idea of having a physical memory of his touch when not in his company. He pulled your jeans further down your legs, his lips now ghosting over your hips as he tapped your leg. You lifted one foot from the ground, allowing him to free you from the jeans entirely. You repeated the process with the other leg, and eventually, the jeans were strewn across the floor and gone from your memory completely.

“Jake, I need you.” You huffed, looking down at him, watching carefully where his lips met your skin. He did not respond right away, seemingly wanting to finish what he started before moving on to something new.

Then, his lips pulled away from you, but did not stray too far from their original position. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense as he comprehended the raw emotion behind your words.

“You need me?” He repeated, his voice husky and his eyes heavy as he bargained with the fact.

“Please,” you whispered, breathless as you tried to recover from the constant stimulation he was providing. “So bad, baby.” He drew in a long breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he heard the pet name fall from your lips.

“How could I say no to you when you sound so pretty?” He asked, the question without need of an answer. With that, he used his arm to push you towards the foot of the bed, only stopping when the backs of your knees collided with the mattress.

Then, he rose to his feet, finding himself at eye level with you once again. “What do you want me to do, angel?”

“Anything; just touch me, please.” Your voice was weak, his effect still strong over you even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Anything I want?” He asked, stepping closer and bringing his hand to your side again. He let his fingers trail down until they met the hug of the elastic band of your underwear on your hip. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.” You gave a single nod, showcasing your certainty on the matter. He chuckled at your eager nature, looking you over once while he thought of what to do next.

“Lay down for me, sweetheart.” He said, nodding his head towards the bed behind you. “Don’t be shy, get comfortable.” He continued, watching as you turned towards the mattress, unsure if it was possible to climb in and be uncomfortable. The blankets looked soft, and warm, even if they were strewn messily across the surface. The pillows looked like clouds, and there definitely wasn’t a lack of them. More than that, it smelled like him, even from afar. Although you’d only known him for a short time, it had already become a comforting scent for you.

You did as he asked, climbing into the bed and rearranging a few of the pillows. Once you were satisfied, you laid on your back, looking up for him as you awaited further instructions. He gave you a small smile, unable to refute how much he liked the sight of you in his bed, even if it was under strange circumstances.

It was never like Jake to dislike the sight of any girl in his bed, but you seemed to tug on his heart just a little more than others that came before.

“This is a sight I could get used to.” He hummed, adjusting himself in his jeans as he let his eyes trail every bit of exposed skin you had to offer.

“Thought this was a one time thing, Jacob?” He chuckled at your question, unbuttoning the few buttons holding his shirt together. As he slid the fabric from his shoulders, he responded to your inquiries.

“I said if that’s what you want,” he reminded you, dropping the shirt to the floor. Your eyes drifted to his body, drinking in every inch of him. The way the columns of his neck blended perfectly into his collarbones. You studied the structure of his shoulders, focusing intently on his biceps as your eyes trailed down his arms. Then, your gaze moved to his chest, the tan skin decorated with necklaces hanging from his neck. Your admiration ended when your eyes met the buckle of his belt, and you realized he was watching you watch him. “For some reason, I don’t think you’ll be able to stay away.” He sent a wink in your direction to follow his words.

His ego was taking up every spare inch of space in the room, and he was completely different than he was when you were sitting with him in the kitchen. The sweetness still lingered underneath the surface, but his desire had turned him wicked and he was doing everything he could to keep you on his hook. You couldn’t find a single complaint about it, because you loved this version of him even more than the kind hearted man who opened his home and his liquor cabinet to you.

“I think I want another drink,” he started, looking at the bottle decorating his nightstand. His gaze flickered back to you, wanting to ensure you were still watching him. “How about you?” You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach, wishing that he would just go back to touching you. The banter was fun, and you loved talking to him, but you had needs far more pressing than conversing with him. “Don’t look so disappointed, Angel.” He hummed, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “I promised to make you feel good, and I’m going to…” he trailed off, popping the cork from the bottle as he kneeled on the bed beside you. “But I have to have my fun, too.”

With that, he brought the spout of the bottle to your navel, carefully letting the trickle of cool liquid fall to your skin. A few droplets trickled down the side of you, landing on the mattress below, but he didn’t care. With great gentleness, he reached out and placed the bottle back on the stand. Without breaking your stare, he settled himself between your legs, his head hovering over your belly as he leaned down a little closer.

With his eyes still settled on your face, he let his tongue glide over your stomach just above your panty line. The skin was already dampened from the spill of liquid from the bottle, cold from the air hitting the wet surface. His tongue warmed the skin, but did much more than just that. The gentleness of his touch cause a plethora of emotions to course through you all at once, and you couldn’t seem to keep your mind straight. The disarray only seemed to worsen as he trailed upwards, drinking up the whiskey like he was a professional on the matter.

When the alcohol was consumed, he did not stop his tyrant. Instead, he continued all the way up until his tongue met your breast once again, circling around your nipple before suctioning his lips to you completely. The warmth and wetness of his mouth was otherworldly, and the new position allowed for his hips to meet yours while he continued teasing you. You shifted down on the mattress, not enough to break his focus, but just enough for your aching core to meet with his cock, strained against his jeans. The contact was minuscule, but enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath from him.

He used his free hand to hold your hips in place, grinding himself down on you ever so slight to give you a bit of relief. The friction was good, even if it wasn’t enough. Paired with the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive nipple, it was enough to pry a moan from your lips.

“Jake, please touch me. Need it so bad.” You whined, feeling your hips raise from the mattress despite his hand holding you down. He pulled his mouth away from you, a small popping sound ringing through the air as he lost the suction of his cheeks.

“You want me to touch you, beautiful?” He asked, shimmying to the side so he could do as you asked. He brought one hand between your legs, resting beside you on his knees as he held himself up with his other arm. His fingers ghosted over the thin fabric covering your aching core, noticing the wetness before he even pushed the fabric to the side. “Fuck,” he hissed, looking down at his hand. “All of this for me, angel?”

“Just for you, baby.” You whimpered, feeling his finger drift over your covered clit. Although you wished that the barrier did not exist, you would settle for what you could get.

“And what’s got you so worked up? It can’t be me, I’m just getting started.” He teased, pushing the fabric to the side. Before he continued, he waited for you to respond.

“It’s you, Jake.” You assured him, almost sheepish of the fact. He was right, he was just getting started, and you were far too worked up for just a few minutes of foreplay. You couldn’t help it, though; between his sinful touches and your own lack of sexual pleasure over the previous few years, you were ready to come undone before he even touched you.

“Don’t tell me he was that bad of a guy.” Jake let out a murmur of discontent at the thought. “Couldn’t think about anything other than himself, even with a girl as pretty as you in his bed?” Your cheeks burned red at his words, embarrassed at the thought of him being correct. “You know I won’t do that to you, angel.” He promised, finally letting his fingers get a feel for the wetness pooling between your legs. “From here on out, it’s all about you. I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding in agreement with his idea. To you, it sounded more than good. It sounded fantastic.

With that, he gathered your arousal on his fingers, slowly trailing it up to your clit. He traced slow circles into the already sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your face so he did not miss a single second of your reaction. Your gaze flickered to his face, taking in all of the details while he did the same for you. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and his lips were still slightly swollen from earlier. The muscles in his jaw were tense, and his eyes told you just how happy he was to be pleasing you.

“You know, I was hoping to get you in my bed, even before you sat in that chair.” He confessed, his voice quiet as a sheepish smile crossed his face.

“Y-yeah?” You asked, the word breathy as you felt the pull of pleasure begin to build in the pit of your stomach. You were intrigued by his statement, so much so that it took your mind away from the burning desire for a moment.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, smirking at your obvious curiosity. “Been thinking about it since the first time I saw you at Josh’s house.” He continued, carefully letting himself move closer. He propped himself up on his forearm, moving his body down towards yours. “You walked out, all dolled up in a pretty little dress. Blue, if I remember right. I wasn’t really looking at the dress.”

He was right, and you could remember the scene just as well as him. It was the only blue dress you owned, and you were on your way to lunch with a potential client, which was why you were so eager to get out the door. He was carrying his guitar, in a cutoff t-shirt and jeans that hugged his legs just right. You were both younger, a little more naive and much more childish. You could remember being stunned by his long brown hair, tousled by the wind, and the sunglasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose. He was beautiful then, just the same as he was now, but you were too afraid to introduce yourself. You managed a small greeting as you passed by him, and spent the whole drive to the restaurant with the picture of him stuck in your head.

“Been waiting that long, Jacob?” You asked, finding a bit of strength to tease him back.

“I wouldn’t say waiting,” he chuckled. “But definitely thinking about it. Prettiest girl to ever walk out of his house, and the prettiest girl to ever step foot in mine.” He continued with the flattery, sliding his middle and index finger to your entrance. Before he continued, he slipped his fingers inside of you. As he began to pump his fingers, he let his thumb drift over your clit. The combination of the two sensations was overwhelming in the best possible way. “If I had it my way, I would have fucked you right there on his porch.” The vulgarity of his words may have been off putting in any other context, but as he said it, your walls fluttered around his fingers and another intense wave of arousal washed over you. “And you would have let me, wouldn’t you?”

You were nearly delirious from the pleasure steadily growing in the pit of your stomach. Your skin was ablaze, the sensation growing stronger with every word he spoke and every touch he gave you. You were willing to tell him anything and everything he wanted to hear as long as it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“God, yes. I would have.” You whined, moving your hips down on his hand as his fingers curled upwards, hitting the sweet spot inside of you.

You weren’t lying, either; had you known at that time he could make you feel so good, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. At the sound of your tone filled with need for him, he made it a point to curl his fingers upwards again as he pumped them into you. As his fingertips brushed over the sensitive spot he’d found with ease, a moan filled the air, loud and desperate for him to keep going. “Oh, fuck me.” You groaned, gripping at the sheets below you.

“I intend to, sweetheart.” He replied. Although he knew you did not direct the message to him, he felt the need to interject his own thoughts anyway. As the words left his mouth, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. He couldn’t help himself; he was compelled to kiss you, feeling that he might not be able to survive without the taste of you on his tongue.

His fingers continued to move with intent, eager to pry an orgasm from you. The knot in your belly was tightening further by the second, your skin tingling with pleasure as another moan tore through your chest. He drank in the sound like a man dying of thirst, feeling lucky to be the one experiencing such intimacy with you, even if it was under strange circumstances.

He broke from the kiss as he felt your walls clench around him again, knowing that you were closer to a climax than you would ever admit. He increased the pressure of his thumb, watching you carefully so he did not miss the moment he’d been patiently waiting for.

“That’s it, gorgeous.” He crooned, drunk of the pleasure twisted amongst your features. The praise washed over you like summer rain, settling deep in your stomach and furthering the intensity of the feeling. Your brow was furrowed, your eyes squeezed shut and your lips parted ever so slightly, allowing the most beautiful sounds to cross them. “You’re so fucking hot.” He muttered, propping himself up a bit further for a better view. As much as he wanted to focus on your face, he felt his eyes trail down to his hand, unable to resist the only other sight that could compare to your pretty face.

He sucked his bottom teeth between his lips, biting down on it as he watched his fingers disappear into your cunt.

Your eyes cracked open, desperate to catch a glimpse of him before you descended into the organ that was quickly approaching. When you caught sight of his face, you noticed his eyes were not looking at you like they had been moments before. When you followed his gaze, seeing what he was so fixated on, you felt a whole different type of emotion wash over you. He did not notice your stare, too caught up in the sight to even care about anything else. You were enthralled in him, watching him admire you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

You bit down on your lip, feeling the warmth in your stomach begin to spread to the rest of your body. You were so close, so ready to give in to the temptation of the feeling, but you weren’t ready for the moment to come to an end.

Within a second, that train of thought was completely disregarded, unimportant and needless.

A low groan, resembling more like a growl sounded through the room, coming from deep in his chest. His eyes turned dark, almost animalistic as he was taken by his desire for you. It was a simple thing, so unimportant in comparison to everything else he was doing to you, but it was everything to you. To know you could drive such a beautiful man to such desperate feelings made you weak, and knowing he was just as taken by you as you were with him sent you over the edge.

The orgasm that took hold was stronger than any you had ever had before. Your entire body was immersed in euphoria, from the very tips of your toes to the muscles in your face. Not one part of you was spared from his wicked power, and as your legs trembled, you came to terms with the fact he was right; heartbroken or not, you were hooked on him. Walking away would be ridiculous, and coming back for more was a given. You could not comprehend the idea of never feeling such a way again, and that made it all the harder to equate your solution for heartbreak to a single night.

“That’s it, angel. Doing so good for me.” His words seemed far away, but the sentiment behind them stuck with you indefinitely. He continued pumping his fingers into you, coaxing you through the climax with his hand and his words. You had never felt more important, more cared about than you did with him, like your enjoyment was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He pulled his fingers out of you, his gaze flickering to your face as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched as he slipped his middle finger past his lips, glistening with your release as it landed on his tongue and his mouth closed around it. As the taste filled his senses, his eyes fluttered closed and a low groan rattled his chest. Your face flushed, your stomach pulling with another bout of pleasure as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. He pulled his finger from his mouth, a slight popping sound filling your ears as the digit slid off his lips. Your eyes squeezed shut, the sight nearly pornographic, and hotter than anything you had ever witnessed before.

“Taste so fucking sweet, baby. Just like I thought you would.” His words were soft, gentle as they filled the air around you. You couldn’t look at him, fearful that if you caught his eye, you would descend into another orgasm without him even touching you at all.

Your knuckles ached as you released your iron grip on the sheets, your body relaxing against the mattress as you came down from the high. Your lungs ached for a full breath of air, and your skin was still tingling with the ghost of pleasure. You looked down at Jake, expecting him to be watching you, waiting for your next move, but he was doing none of those things. He was tossing his belt to the floor, sliding out of his jeans and boxers at once and tossing them in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You noticed his frantic nature, taking a second to discard your underwear and toss them to the floor as well. He didn’t say a word, making a move to shift downwards on the mattress. He settled between your legs, his hands on your hips as he pulled you down towards his face.

He guided your legs over his shoulders, settling his palms on the tops of your thighs as his lips dusted light kisses over the inside of them. As you both grew more comfortable with the new position, you felt his confidence grow, too. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin, his tongue following the path to sooth any irritation that might occur. Goosebumps littered your entire body, and every nerve was aflame with desire for the boy who made home between your legs. You watched him, a wondrous sparkle in your eye as you inspected his every move.

Was it normal for someone to be this attentive, to be so concerned with making you feel good? Had you been missing out on such a fantastic experience, wasting your time with someone who was only concerned with himself? Or was Jake just so phenomenal that he made everything a million times more fun?

You did not know, and you did not care; the only important thing to you was him, and he was doing well in making you forget about all of your other worldly troubles. The only thoughts in your mind were pertaining to him and his ability to please you. He was like poison, infiltrating every thought and every emotion, completely taking over without you even thinking twice about it.

His eyes flickered upwards, meeting yours in a silent inquiry. The trail of love bites on your thigh was darkening by the second, and his gaze was burning into you.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He ordered, but it was hard to comply to his wishes when it felt like his fingers were searing into your skin.

“I-I just… sex has never been like this before.” You breathed, wondering how he knew something was wrong despite you not saying a word. He was effortlessly in tune with you, feeling every emotion coursing through you as if it were his own. “It’s never been so good, and I’ve never been so… taken care of.” You squeaked out the last few words, embarrassed to admit it to him.

“Oh, don’t tell me that, angel.” He muttered, almost pained at the thought. “If I had known he wasn’t taking care of you, I would have done it myself, a long time ago.” The sincerity in his tone made your head spin, and you were almost regretful that you had been so caught up on a man who wasn’t worth your time, when you could have been spending your time indulging in someone like Jake. “You mean to tell me he wasn’t doing this?” He asked, obviously referring to the act he was about to commit. Your cheeks burned red as you shook your head, silently answering him. “What a fucking idiot.” He muttered, clearly to himself.

Instead of continuing the conversation, he pulled your hips down a little further, letting his actions speak louder than his words. He lowered his head, and you held your breath as his mouth connected with your core. His tongue slowly ran through your folds, starting at your entrance and ending at your clit. He let his focus remain there for a moment, circling around the sensitive bundle of nerves as your hands snaked down your body, tangling themselves in the long locks of his hair. Your felt his tongue dip down to your entrance again, flattening against you as he repeated the same process from earlier, savouring every drop of arousal you had to offer him.

As his tongue reached your clit again, he let out a long hum of satisfaction, like the moment had curbed every craving he had for you in an instant. He pulled away from you for a moment, looking up as he listened closely to your shallow breathing. “I could stay between your legs for the rest of my life, and I’d be fucking happy to do it.” He said, his tone gruff as some residual anger remained in his mind. “Now that I’ve had a taste, I don’t think you’ll be able to get rid of me.”

A whimper fell from your lips, completely uncontrollable as you tried to sear the memory of him between your legs into your brain for eternity. He returned his mouth to you, using the sound as encouragement while he continued on with his work.

Jake was a force you were not familiar with, yet you feared you may never fully grasp his power. You met him at the perfect time, and he offered his services when you needed them most. It was supposed to be a quick fix, a simple solution to stop the pain from tearing you in two, but it quickly grew into something much more than that. Now that you had a chance to experience pleasure at his hands, you weren’t ready to give it up.

Calling Jake a rebound would be ridiculous, because he was the furthest thing from it; in just an hour, he gave more to you than your ex did in years.

Like you said earlier, you were mourning the situation more than you were mourning the person or the relationship itself. The picture of betrayal had been seared in your mind, the self-doubt and self-hatred was abundant, and maybe there was a hint of sadness over the loss of routine, but most of your ailments were not caused by the man himself. With Jake’s help, that became incredibly apparent, and the rest of the sadness and anger seemed to fade away the longer his hands were on you.

“A-ah, fuck.” You hissed, your fingers tightening in his hair as an intense wave of pleasure took hold. “Feels so good, Jake.” Instead of pulling away to respond, he hummed against you, the vibration of the sound furthering the sensation he was already giving you. He wanted to hear how good you were feeling, how good he was making you feel. His ego hadn’t gone away, and your compliments only fed it further. You would be uncomfortable with his cockiness if it were not warranted, but from everything he’d done so far, you understood that he was the only man you had been with who had a right to be so self-assured.

His hands inched up your legs, his grip loosening as he moved his fingers. The light tickle sent a shiver down your spine, and your head was spinning as his grasp slowly settled on your hips. His tongue continued to circle around your clit as he pulled you a little further down on his face. A moan filled the air, much more desperate than the last and the vulgarity immediately categorizing it as pornography. You weren’t sure if such a sound ever left your lips before, but you did not have time to focus on the fact before another one followed up the last.

Your cheeks were burning to the touch, your skin blotchy with redness and glistening with sweat. Your hands were anchored in the roots of his hair, and his tongue was driving you so crazy that you couldn’t help the automatic roll of your hips against his tongue. You were bordering the edge once again, and he seemed to have no intent to slow. One of his hands remained on your hip as the other began to explore, dusting over your stomach with great gentleness. It was a staggering difference between the hand on your hip, which was holding you tightly, as if he was scared he would lose you if he let go.

You were lost in the movements of his tongue, no other thoughts existing within your mind as he continued with his precise actions. The warmth of his mouth was heavenly, the wetness of his tongue making every move all the more remarkable. His hand raised to your chest, finally finding what he had been blindly searching for as his palm cupped your breast. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting your head fall back onto the pillow as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, his fingers found your nipple, brushing over it and sending jolts of pleasure through you. The sensation combined with the feeling of his tongue was indescribable, addicting, and intoxicating. You felt drunk off of him alone, and you never wanted to sober up.

Just when you thought you were accustom to the multiple sensations all at once, he moved his hand, taking your nipple between his thumb and his forefinger and giving one hard pinch. You let out a gasp, your hips bucking forward into his mouth even further. You could see the shake of his shoulders, showcasing his silent laughter at your reaction.

Even if you wanted to be upset at him, you had no idea how to be. Being angry with Jake seemed like an oxymoron, two things that could not coexist together. If anything, all you wanted to do was praise him for all he had done to help you.

He retracted his hand from your chest, snaking it back down your body. He brought it underneath your leg, bringing his middle and ring finger to your entrance. He pushed them inside of you, with the same curl to his fingers as earlier. The added stimulation was heavenly, and a sure apology for his earlier action. He barely had to pump his fingers at all before your back was arching off the mattress, desperate and shameless for more.

“Jake, baby.” You warned, the words coming out hastily and jumbled together. “M’gonna cum.” You forced the rest of the sentence out, the fire in your belly blazing and threatening to take hold.

He hummed against you again, encouraging you to give in and let go. With one last curl of his fingers paired with the flick of his tongue, your second orgasm took over. Your legs trembled with the intensity of the feeling, your hands holding his hair as if you were afraid of floating away if you let go. The air was filled with obscenities, curses and praise for his work as you descended into the pleasure. If his mouth wasn’t occupied, you knew the praises and encouragement would be the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. He coaxed you through the moment, and your heart rate began to slow and your muscles started to relax from the tension.

Difference was, this time he didn’t slow.

His tongue continued to trace your clit with more intent than before, as if he wanted to see how far he could take it before you gave in. At first, the feeling was uncomfortable, but the idea of stopping was more troublesome than the sting of overstimulation. Instinctively, your body tried to pull away from him, but he used his hand on your hip to hold you in place. Your hands remained in his hair, but did not try and pull his head away from you. You wanted him, and the orgasm he had just given you was inexplicably addictive. You wanted to feel that way again so bad that you could spare the few moments of discomfort in exchange for something so fantastic.

The noises falling from your lips had upped in intensity, and definitely felt more dramatic. You were loud enough that you feared the neighbours might hear you had they stepped outside. He was living in the moment, driven near insane from the desperation in your voice. You looked down, and despite your blurred vision, did the best you could to admire him while you had him like such. His hair was a mess, still knotted around your fingers. The muscles in his back were tight, flexing with every move of his arms. His knuckles were locked in place around your hip, decorating it so nicely that you dreaded the moment he had to let go.

Although beautiful, those were not the things that held your attention. Instead, you were drawn in by the sight of his hips grinding into the mattress below. Pleasing you had worked him up so badly that he himself was aching for relief, unable to control how badly he needed to be touched. The thought was maddening, and the sight drove you over the edge.

Before the overstimulation even began to wear off, your body was forced into another climax that put the previous ones to shame. Your throat was raw from crying his name, your entire body aching from the violence of the feeling. For a moment, you thought you might die at the hands of his sin, but not even that thought could force you away from him. Your lungs burned and your head swam with thoughts of nothing and everything, all at once.

You had never felt such a way in your entire existence, and even when your body began to recover from the effects of his tongue, your mind had fallen far behind. You were barely holding on to reality as he finally withdrew his fingers from you, and your head was completely elsewhere when his head moved away, too.

“Could listen to you scream my name like that every fucking night.” He growled, pressing his wet lips to your thighs so he did not have to give up contact with you entirely. “God you’re a fucking masterpiece. Can’t believe it took so long for me to have you like this.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead wiping away your release from his chin and moving upwards so he could kiss you. As his hips landed on yours, you felt his cock press against your soaking core, the warmth of bare skin against skin nearly driving you into another orgasm. You were floored at his ability to make you feel good, and amazed that nobody else could make you feel such things. As his tongue glided across yours, you could taste yourself on him, only making the moment even more remarkable. It made him even more addicting, and you were certain you could get used to having him in such a way.

“Just a second, sweetheart.” He slurred, drunk off of you. He pulled away from you, sliding out from between your legs and climbing out of bed. You watched him, breathless and stunned at the picture of him completely naked in front of you. It was the first moment thus far that you had the chance to admire him fully, and you never wanted to stop.

He was painfully hard, the tip of his dick red with irritation from the rough threads of the sheets and glistening with wetness from where he was resting against you. The sight sent you mad, your mouth watering and your need for him growing tenfold. He turned to his bedside table, rummaging around in the drawer in search of a condom. When his fingers landed on the box, stuffed way in the back and hidden under a pile of junk. He looked over at you, smiling shyly as he pulled one from the box.

“Don’t really need these all that often.” He chuckled, an inadvertent way of telling you he was being truthful when he said you were the only one he offered his services to.

“Wait,” you uttered, watching as he raised the package to his mouth to tear it with his teeth. He froze in place, worried that you might have changed your mind.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, ready to discard the foil square in his hand and dress himself if you were uncomfortable. “Do you want to stop, or slow down?”

“No!” You shook your head, feeling bad that the thought even crossed his mind. Instead of letting his anxiety get the best of him, you sat up from your laying position. Carefully, ensuring you had your balance, you shifted so you were resting on your knees, facing him. You looked up, giving a small smile as you beckoned him closer. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he stepped towards you anyway.

Only when you reached out for him did he understand your intentions. He sucked in a sharp breath, watching as you grabbed his hand and guided him closer to the edge of the bed.

“Tonight is supposed to be about you, angel.” He muttered, a weak protest against your actions.

“I want to, Jake.” You assured him, unable to refute your desire to please him, too. “Please?” You looked up at him, doe-eyed with faux innocence written over your features.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, unable to resist the temptation. “I had no idea you were such a whore.” Even if his words were venomous, his tone did not match. He had such a way with words that even his insults sounded like praise. “Go ahead then, if you want it so fuckin’ bad.”

You debated thanking him for his kindness, but you opted to do it with your actions, instead. You leaned toward, bringing your mouth to him. You parted your lips slightly, letting your tongue glide over the head of his cock. The saltiness of the pre-cum staining his skin lingered on your lips as you took him in your mouth. You bobbed your head down slowly, allowing spit to accumulate on your tongue as you let it glide over the underside of his cock.

As you moved your head down on him, your eyes fluttered closed in concentration. His size was something you weren’t used to, but you had enough confidence to follow through with your efforts. When you felt his tip hit the back of your throat, your eyes watered as you fought back a gag. Desperate to impress, you relaxed your throat as you took him all the way. You felt him twitch in your mouth, letting you know that he was enjoying the moment just as much as you hoped. A string of curses fell from his lips, followed by a long groan. The sound only worsened the persistent ache between your legs, but you carried on, knowing that he would take care of that once you took care of him.

He raised his hand to your hair, gathering it in his hand and holding it away from your face. His eyes were permanently fixated on you, terrified of missing even a second of the view in front of him. You sat there for a moment, allowing yourself to grow comfortable with the feeling before forcing yourself to swallow, despite the momentary discomfort. As your throat constricted around him, he took in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. Another groan tried to force it’s way from his chest, but he tried to hold it back, resulting in the sound coming out more similar to a whine.

Even if it was unintentional, it drove you fucking crazy.

You pulled back in one swift motion, inhaling a breath of air as his cock fell from your lips. Trails of spit covered your chin, but it did not phase you. Before he could recover from the loss, your mouth was on him again.

“Ah, fuck, sweetheart.” He growled, his grip in your hair tightening. “Full of fucking surprises tonight.” Your eyes flickered upwards, catching his stare as you bobbed your head down on him. You longed to sear the picture in your mind forever. His hair was disheveled, his jaw-hard set and his eyes crazed as he studied your every move. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you were certain of that. You felt lucky to be able to please him in any way, and grateful to have caught his eye all those years ago.

As you drew your head upward, you let his cock leave your mouth completely, deciding to give him a show. You circled your tongue around his tip, pursing your lips as you placed them on the side of his dick. You pushed your tongue flat against him, suctioning your cheeks just a bit to add some pressure. As you moved your mouth down his cock, you made sure to keep eye contact with him the whole time. When you reached the base, you slowly ran your tongue over him as you brought your head back to the tip. Without breaking the momentum, you took him back in your mouth and bobbed your head back down until his tip hit the back of your throat again.

You started a steady pace, listening intently to every sound that passed his lips. It wear encouraging, and it was hot. If you had to say, it was the most attractive thing you had ever heard. As you felt him slide down your throat again, you let out a moan. The vibration amplified the already intense feeling, causing his head to fall back on his shoulders as he hissed out a long string of curses. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, desperate for a release but unwilling to give in to it just yet.

In truth, you would not have minded. He had been beyond generous already, and to do him a kindness was the only way you thought fitting to repay him. Even if you would miss out on fucking him, you were happy to be used by him in any way.

As you continued at the same pace, you could feel him begin to lose himself to the pleasure. As your head came down on him, his hips involuntarily moved too meet with you. The constant pressure in the back of your throat was making it difficult to keep calm, but you persevered until he pulled away first. A particularly sharp thrust of his hips sent you over the edge, and the gag you tried so hard to stop finally forced its way out. Your throat constricted around him again and your eyes welled with tears. Hastily, he pulled away from you, his chest heaving as his concerned eyes looked over your face.

“M’sorry, angel. You okay?” He asked, crouching down so he was eye level with you.

“Yeah, I’m good, it’s okay.” You promised, nodding you head. He raised his hand to your cheek, swiping away tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“We can take a break if you need it,” he assured you, holding your gaze. “Don’t be afraid to tell me if I’m going too fast or if it’s too much.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” You gave him a soft smile, well recovered from the moment of slight tension. He watched you for a moment longer, wanting to be certain. When he realized you weren’t going to change your mind, he leaned forward and pulled you into a kiss. The softness of the action was all you needed to feel better again. “Can you fuck me? Please?” You muttered the words against his lips, unable to wait until he was finished to ask the question.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” He asked, intrigued by your excitement.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, needing it like you needed air. The desire you had for him was nearly debilitating, and since he’d stopped touching you, there was no relief for the grating need.

“Turn around for me, Angel.” He said, rising to his feet. He was in no position to deny you anything, because he wanted it just as bad.

You did as he asked, noticing he was reaching for the foil wrapper on the nightstand again. You couldn’t comprehend the grief that washed over you as you saw it, and the words rushed out faster than you could stop them.

“I’m on the pill,” you said, hearing him freeze in place. “I’m clean, too.” You were telling the truth, because before him, unprotected sex wasn’t even a thought in your mind. Whatever he had done to you that night seemed to permanently alter your mind, and the simple thought of not having him completely was sickening.

“Me too.” He hummed, almost relieved that you told him. He tossed the condom back on the table, the dull clatter of the impact prompted a smile on your face.

You backed up closer to him, your knees resting near the edge of the mattress and your feet dangling off the edge. He stepped towards you, his hands reaching for your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. His touch drifted over your ass, appreciating you while he had you in such a way.

“You have no fucking idea how good you look like this.” He praised your beauty, his voice deep and laced with desire. One of his hand fell from your hip, and seconds later, you felt his cock rest against your cunt. Slowly, he ran the tip through the wetness that was worsening by the second. “You want it, sweetheart?” The husky tone settled deep in your bones as you dropped to your forearms, bringing your top half lower to the mattress. You pushed your hips back towards him, adding a little more pressure to your clit, which he was resting against.

“So bad, Jake.” You pleaded, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“What was that, Angel?” He asked, sliding himself back down to your entrance. “Couldn’t quite hear you.” There was a smirk on his lips, cute enough to help him get away with the teasing, but irritating enough to bother you.

“Please, baby.” You whined, trying again.

“Please what?” He pressed further, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly. The miniscule change was agonizing, but it still made your head spin. “I want to hear how bad you want me, beautiful.”

“Please fuck me, Jake.” You finished your broken sentence, your tone stronger than it had been all night. “I need to feel you, please.” With that, you pushed your hips back again, testing your limits.

Unlucky for you, at the same time, he thrusted forward with force, causing the impact to be so much more intense.

“A-ah, fuck!” You yelped, the size of him something brand new to you. The way he filled you was enough to bring you to your knees, but the painful sensation of his cock hitting your cervix amplified the pleasure even further.

“There you go, baby.” He crooned, completely disregarding your response as he drew his hips back and slammed back into you with the same energy. “How does that feel?” The slight sneer in his tone was aggravating, but you had to admit that it looked really good on him. The sudden change in attitude made you realize that what had come before that moment was not typical for Jake. He was snarky, arrogant, and he liked to be in charge. You could tell by his fingers bruising your hips and his tone talking down to you.

Although you thoroughly enjoyed the time you already spent with Jake, it almost made you sad when you realized what exactly you missed out on.

As you were stuck on the thought, you felt a sharp sting across your ass. The sensation on your skin combined with the pleasure of him inside of you, making you quiver under the touch. “Answer me when I fucking speak.” He barked, letting his fingers gently caressed the reddening skin where his hand made contact. You weren’t sure if it was purposeful or absentminded, but the sweet touch after the harsh words felt good, reassuring that he was only putting on an act.

Then, you decided if he wanted to push you, you could do the same to him. The worst that could happen was a punishment, and the idea of punishment at Jake’s hands was nothing but thrilling.

“Feels so good, sir.” You exaggerated your tone in hopes of getting under his skin, but the term of endearment seemed to short circuit his brain. His hips stuttered and his hands tightened their grip.

“Such a fucking whore,” he spat, his words quiet as he regained his composure. Even if his words were harsh, you could tell by his voice alone how much he enjoyed your attitude. “I love it.” He muttered the words to himself, but you heard it despite his efforts to keep it to himself. He felt your walls flutter around him, drawing him in further and deeper, encouraging his antics even further.

One of his hands raised to your hair, gathering it in his fist and knotting it around his hand. He tightened his hold, pulling your head back ever so slightly as his hips continued at the same, bruising pace. You arched your back even further, your chest nearly brushing against the mattress now as your ass raised to meet his hips.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed, holding your hips as he upped the strength in which he was thrusting into you. “Take it so fucking good.”

The knot in your belly was tightening further by the second, threatening to snap with every move. You were crying his name, praising him for his hard work as he pushed you closer to a climax. You were sure his bedroom would never recover from the pornographic display the two of you found yourselves in, and the thought served as a comfort. You wanted him to think about you every time his bedroom door closed, remembering how you looked in his bed as he fucked you from behind. You wanted him to picture the way your ass met his hips every time he closed his eyes, and you never wanted him to forget the feeling of you wrapped around him.

Although he intended to solve your problems, you wanted to create a new, constant one for him; one that plagued him every night and haunting him during the day. You wanted Jake to succumb to the need of you, and you wanted your number to be a constant call in his phone, begging you to come over so he could curb the urge for a little while. You wanted to infiltrate every thought that crossed his mind, because you could not stand the idea of him giving this to anyone else.

“You want to cum already?” He asked, recognizing the tremble of your legs and the desperation of your high-pitched moans. “So fucking needy you can’t even enjoy it for a while?” He chastised you, but both of you knew there was zero malice behind his behavior. He was living for the way you moved against him, surviving off the sound of your pleasure. He was thrilled to drive you to such a state so easily, and he would give you whatever you wanted, so long as you asked nicely.

“Please, sir. I want it so bad. I need it.” You stressed the importance of the topic, feeling the burn begin to overtake your entire body. The urge was impossible to stave off, and you knew there was no use in trying. After all he’d done to you so far, you were long past self-control.

“Fine, but you better not hold back. I want to hear every one of those filthy fucking noises.” He growled, pulling your head back with a little bit of force. “Put on a good show, sweetheart, or I might not be so nice next time.” He warned, holding your head in place with one hand and your hip with his other. He pulled you back on him, making the impact even more powerful. The painful pleasure pulsed through your entire body, so intense that you could feel it behind your eyes. With every thrust of his hips, you grew closer to the release you so desperately needed.

In exchange for him giving you what you needed, you gave him exactly what he asked for.

“Oh, god, Jake.” You whined, upping the dramatics for the sake of his request. “You feel so good, baby. Please don’t stop.” You pleaded, feeling your head spin with the threat of your climax. You could hear his shaky breaths, the sound of your words hitting him harder than he anticipated. His hips remained steady, though, never faltering as he continued on exactly as you asked him to.

“Come on, angel.” He huffed, looking down at the curve of your ass, watching himself as he fucked into you. The permissive statement sent you spiralling, pushing you over the edge with little thought.

“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, feeling your stomach burn with pleasure. Your hands were balled into fists, knuckles white as you gripped the sheets. Your arms and legs felt like they would give out from under you as they trembled. Jake seemed to notice the same thing, and the hand holding your hip slipped under you, holding you up so you did not have to worry about anything other than feeling good.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.” He crooned, never letting up on his pace as he continued to fuck you through the climax. Even as you came down, your body did not relax. Your skin was ablaze and your forehead was glistening with sweat. You were tired, and the feeling of him inside of you became less pleasant and more intense as he continued to thrust into you. Your noises became less angelic and more desperate, as if they served as a warning for him to slow down. Overstimulation was threatening your exhausted mind, driving you closer to insanity by the second as the burn of irritation began to spread.

“Jake,” You wheezed his name out, trying to bargain with him as he increased the speed of his hips. “Jake, please.” You pleaded, now for an entirely different reason.

“What, you wanted it so bad and now you can’t take it?” He growled, his hips still moving at a relentless pace. “You can take it sweetheart, I know you can. Be good for me, baby. Just a little longer.”

“I don’t know if I can.” You cried, your throat raw from the desperation of your moans. Both of you knew he would stop if you really needed it, but he would be damned if he gave up before you truly needed him to.

“You can, beautiful. Being so good for me.” He rushed out, clearly growing close to his own climax. “Don’t you love being a good girl for me?” He asked, easing up on you ever so slightly.

“I do,” you whimpered, feeling his hand in your hair push your head towards the mattress. The strength of his thrusts had lessened, and the overwhelming sensation started to become pleasurable again. “I love it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He whispered, desperation beginning to set in for him, too. He loosened his hold around your hips, knowing you were much steadier, now. He moved his hand between your legs, his middle finger finding your clit with ease. “Just a little while longer, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh, fuck.” You groaned, his words giving you the strength to keep going. You clenched around him, amplifying the sensation for both of you as his finger continued to trace around your clit.

“So fucking tight.” He praised, saying it mostly to himself. “Give me one more angel. I know you have it in you.” He was right, the orgasm was already building at a rapid pace. You could feel the tingle of euphoria in the tips of your fingers and toes. You were too strung out on him to answer, but he knew that you would give him what he wanted.

Nobody in their right mind would ever deny Jake anything he asked for, anyway.

“Jake, fuck, m’gonna cum.” You rushed out, the urgency something you had never experienced before in your life. He let out a low chuckle at your state despite feeling the same desperation.

“That’s my girl.” He said again, the statement still hitting as hard as it did the first time he said it. With one last thrust of his hips, you came undone, all of the pleasure from the night coming to one final climax.

Your mind was blank, no thoughts or worries left to bother you. You wanted to scream his name, but nothing was coming out. Your chest ached and your lungs were in dire need of air, but you could not even seem to do something as simple as breathing. Jakes hand pushed your head further into the mattress, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of the sheets as he started to lose his composure, too. His movements were sloppy, his hips stuttering every time he fucked into you. The finger that was once tracing perfect circles on your clit seemed to forget how to do so, and he had his turn to utter profanities that only solidified the moment in your minds forever.

His grip on your hair loosened as he reached his peak, spilling his release inside you as his hips began to slow. He used his arm to pull you back on him one last time, holding you there while he recovered from the intensity of the moment. He let out a long breath, looking down once more where his hips rested against yours. He drew back, slowly thrusting forward a few more times as he fucked his release back into you. A low growl sounded from his chest, the sight alone nearly working him up all over again.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked, his loving and catering tone returning as he withdrew from you completely.

“Yeah, m’okay.” You nodded, feeling the pressure in your skull lessen as he loosened his hold on your hair. “Fantastic, actually.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, excited at the idea. “You feel better?”

“Jake, you have no idea.” You breathed, slowly moving from your position. You were sore, tired, but you felt better than you ever had. “I don’t think I’ve ever… no, I’ve never had sex like that.” You confessed, rolling on to your back to let your body rest for a moment.

“I’m glad I could help, beautiful.” He said, laying down beside you. “Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll clean it up later.” He said, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, his skin warm and soothing as the sound of his heartbeat thudded in your ears.

“I should probably call a cab, get back to Josh’s place before the bar rush starts.” You sighed, saddened by the thought alone. You wished to stay wrapped up in Jake’s arms for the rest of the night, even if you knew you shouldn’t. You were going through a breakup, and dating was not on the table (or shouldn’t be, at least), but there was something special about Jake, something so different that it made it impossible to want to walk away from him.

“Are you crazy?” He scoffed, his tone light as he looked down at you.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head up as you awaited an answer.

“Like I’d ever make you take a cab.” He rolled his eyes. “But, you’re not going back to Josh’s place, sweetheart.”

“What if I want to?” You shot back.

“Do you?” He asked, seemingly staring into your soul. You bit the inside of your lip, fighting back a smile as you gave a small shake of your head. “Didn’t think so. I’ll just tell him we drank a little too much and you crashed in the spare room.” Your stomach sank at the thought of a spare room, but he could see it in your eyes before you had the chance to address it. “You’re not actually staying in the spare room, gorgeous.”

“Okay, good.” You breathed, chuckling at your own stupidity. “‘Cause I’d much rather stay here, with you.”

“That was never even a question.” He assured you, letting his fingers gently trail over your back. The light tickle was addicting, comforting and soft. It was exactly what you needed after such a high energy evening. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.” He said the second part, quieter this time, but you could still sense the truth behind his words.

“No?” You giggled, smiling up at his pretty face.

“Mmm,” he hummed to himself, the sound vibrating his chest. He seemed like he was thinking about all of the possibilities the night held, everything he could do with you (or to you, for that matter), and more importantly, what positions he could put you in. “No, definitely not.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You let out a sigh of content, already dreaming of the same things. A silence fell between you for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. With Jake, it never was. After a while, you felt the urge to speak again, to show your gratitude for his kindness. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.” You whispered. “It really helped.” His lips quirked into a smile as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m glad I could help, sweetheart.” He muttered, his lips still pressed against your hair. “And please, if you ever need help forgetting about anything at all, just give me a call. I’d love to help you out.”

[sleepyangelkami]

pls do more of carl grimes😭🙏🙏 (can be smut or fluff idrc🤭)

TROUBLE ADJUSTING c.grimes

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.1K

CARL GIMES X FEM!READER

 𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - there was a heavy difference between travelling the roads filled with dead people walking and alexandria, a place that you fear is too much like the old world. you have some trouble adjusting, luckily your boyfriend carl doesn't mind you using him as a human shield.

 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - anxiety, social anxiety, obvious attachment issues, aged up characters, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

the roads were unlike anything you'd ever experienced in your entire life.

the prison wasn't exactly the best option but it was safe and it was secure. it kept the dead out and the living in. when you were at the prison, you were never told to leave the grounds. perhaps that was why the road had been such a shock to you and not the others.

you thought when you and the others got off the roads and found a new place to settle down, things would mellow out.

and by things, i mean the elephant in the room between you and carl.

you and carl had been dating for quite some time now. you'd always been close, you supposed. but on the roads? he was your safe haven. you slowly began isolating yourself into just you and him.

though he never minded, of course.

if anything, it put carl a little at ease, knowing you were always so close to him. during the prison, he worried tremendously about you, where you were during the night, what you were doing. you two weren't permitted to sleep in a cell together, at that stage.

but rick's rules began to disappear when death began to slap him in the face over and over. if anything were to happen to any of you, he'd like to think you lived doing what you wanted, what made you happy.

besides, you didn't really have anyone other than the grimes' family.

michonne and you had moved into the large grimes' house in alexandria. rick and michonne were at one end of the hall, judith's room somewhere in between and then it was carl's room. you didn't like to call it your room seeing as it wasn't your house. but the grimes' let you know that it was as much your house as it was theres.

"you wanna go for a walk or something?" carl questioned causing your head to move from his shoulder.

you and carl had this sort of ritual of reading comic books together since the beginning of the breakout. you were thankful that at least that didn't change now that you were in alexandria. "do you want to?"

carl shrugged, debating. sure, he wanted to. at the same time, he worried for you. it was evident that the change hadn't been good for you. once so bubbly and outgoing, you'd sort of shrunk into yourself. now, you didn't even feel all that comfortable talking to rick. "why not? the place is huge."

that much was true.

you'd never seen a place as huge as this, even before the breakout. you only worried that you may run into someone on the way.

"what's going on up there, baby?" his finger tapped against your head, bringing you back.

with a bitten lip, you tried your best to conceal the obvious anxiety bubbling in your chest. "i don' know... i jus' don't wanna see anyone."

"we don't have to." he shrugged his shoulders. "we'll just keep reading the comic." before relaxing back into the pillows of his bed.

but you couldn't leave it at that. "but you want to. you should go without me." feeling bad that you were restricting him from doing the things he wanted.

he could only chuckle lowly. "don't be silly, angel. wouldn't go nowhere without you." he didn't realise it, but truthfully, it had been the most comforting thing you'd heard all week.

you'd had so much worry caught in your throat about going out and meeting people that you began to think you were weighing the others down, too. "but i feel bad." you mumbled, voicing your feelings to the only person you felt like you could.

carl was quick to shush you. "i was just suggesting, maybe another day. y'know, now that i think about it, i'm kind of in the mood for hot coco and a movie, what d'you say?" though he was already getting up from the bed.

you sat criss-cross legged on the bed, practically pouting at him. "you don't like hot coco." you informed him, knowing what he was getting at.

"why can't you just let me do something nice for my pretty girl, hm?" lifting out his hand to you and letting you take it.

carl would never force you to talk to anyone.

a couple more days in the new community passed and rick was beginning to get worried. of course, he knew you and carl weren't normal teenagers, you never would be after the things you'd experienced in your lives. but he wanted you to be as normal as could be, and that included at least trying to make friends.

obviously, the man hadn't picked up on the obvious anxiety that followed you like a dark cloud over your head. so, he made arrangements with the blonde woman who lived down the street who had a son about your guy's age. who had a girlfriend and another guy friend. rick thought there would be no harm in at least meeting them. and if you came back to the house, not liking them, then he wouldn't force you guys to go back.

simple.

or at least it should have been.

you were sure you were shaking like a leaf by the time you made your way to the white door from across the street. worried you'd be looked at oddly, you didn't hold carl's hand, though you stayed silent, behind him.

the woman, jessie anderson, let you in with a smile on her face.

then you met her son, ron. "so mikey and enid are upstairs waiting for us, got some cool games if you play."

"uh, sure." as much as carl wasn't the awkward type, he still felt sort of odd in someone else's house. perhaps that was because he never experienced the whole 'teenager sleepover' thing.

you followed carl up the stairs, staying eerily close to him. you heard ron talk, even crack a joke. carl laughed and made a joke back. but truthfully, their words fell on deaf ears for you. your eyes travelled around the house, glancing to the family portraits hanging and so on.

you didn't look back until ron opened his bedroom door, allowing you both in and shutting it again. "hey guys." a boy with black hair whipped around and the girl who was sat on the bed, comic in hand, didn't bother looking up.

"oh, hey." the boy didn't exactly say hi to ron, more so to carl and you.

"hi." the girl spoke, not so much as looking away from the pretty coloured pages.

"so, this is mikey." pointing to the black haired boy who nodded swiftly before turning back to the gaming console he'd been playing on. "and enid." the girl who finally glanced up, eyeing the two of you before nodding. "and guys, this is carl and... sorry, what was your name again?"

three pairs of oggling eyes on you. you felt your own eyes widen and your mouth part, a little dry. suddenly, your own name was caught in your throat.

"y/n." carl responded for you, loud and proud as if he'd wanted to boast about you. "her name's y/n." instinctively, you found yourself shuffling closer to the boy, trying to make yourself as unseen as possible.

you swore you didn't leave his side the entire time you spent there. he got comfortable on the ground, back against the bed while ron sat above you two, at the edge, mikey on the desktop chair and enid, now on her second comic.

"so, how long you two been together?" you glanced up at the sound of mikey's voice. he was a well put together boy, expensive sweater and a collared shirt beneath. you were suddenly thankful for carl's dirty boots, cowboy hat and loose flannels. "been third wheeling these two for like forever. i know a couple when i see one."

carl and ron both huffed out a laugh, you did not. "yeah, we've been together for like forever too." carl's head turned to give you a graceful smile, one that had your cheeks turning a light pink before smiling back ever so softly. "hey, where's the, uh, where's the bathroom?"

you were almost tempted to grasp his arm and tell him you were coming with.

"just out the hall, first door to the right." ron answered, without taking his eyes off the screen.

"thanks, man." carl's baby blue's turned back to your nervous face. "i'll be back in a second, okay?"

you nodded, though you could feel the colour drain from your face without even looking in a mirror. carl left as quickly as he could, deciding that the quicker he left, the quicker he would be back. "so..." ron voiced again. you suddenly wondered how much he liked the sound of his voice, seeing as he wouldn't stay quiet for longer than a full minute. "not much of a talker?" you nodded your head softly before hearing the loud crash on the video game, jumping a little. "jumpy too huh?" you breathed out a sigh, shying in on yourself.

"don't worry." enid voiced, only now choosing to speak. "you get used to the noise again."

this caused your head to spin, what was she talking about. and without even having to ask, ron answered your question. "enid was on the roads too. i heard your group was on the road for a while, how was it?"

how was it?

"scary." you answered shortly, turning backwards and feeling your hands become clammy.

if there was one thing you wanted to forget, it was the roads. every day, it seemed as though you were loosing someone else. every day, you faced death and it stared you back right in the eyes. panic would come over you, wheeze it's way through your lungs.

carl would always hold you back, close to him as he stabbed his way through walkers with the others. but even that was a comfort to none.

every day, you were living, wondering if it'd be your last.

"i'll bet. i couldn't imagine living without my xbox." he snorted before pressing the shooting button again and letting bullets fly. it was now that you wished carl was next to you again, at least then you could squeeze his hand 'til it turned purple.

you wondered if everyone here was that shallow. if everyone only worried about their xbox or their stupid assets that in the long run, meant nothing.

"so, what do you think about alexandria?" this time it was mikey who'd asked the question.

"scary." you huffed out again. "but a different kind of scary."

"intimidating." enid answered for you. "it'll be like that for a while but you get used to it, just like the noise." you could tell that she was one of the good ones. the ones who don't care about silly things like objects. you could tell she'd seen the horrors you had, too.

"thanks." you mumbled, sheepishly glancing down to your fingers.

soon enough, carl returned from the bathroom, catching onto your face full of anxiety. he excused you both, stating that his dad needed help rearranging furniture or something or other. stupidly enough, the others believed you and soon bid a goodbye.

when you left, it felt like you could finally breathe again. you let out a breath of relief, fluttering your eyes shut and opening them again. carl was careful to peer at your face. "what'd you think?"

"the girl's nice." you mumbled.

"yeah? think so?" you could only nod in response. "well that's good, maybe you guys'll become friends. and the guys?"

you shrugged. "ron talks a lot." this caused carl to grin, a laugh puffing out from his cheeks causing you to do the same. it was much easier to laugh when it was just you and carl, even after everything you two had been through. "did you like 'em?"

"i guess." he gently nudged his nose against your cheek. "nothing compared to you, though." you couldn't help but roll your eyes, pretty smile dancing on your cheeks.

you huffed out again, noticing the way your chest suddenly felt clear of knots. "that was scary." you spoke honestly.

carl nodded his head, understanding that it wasn't exactly your thing. "it'll get better, though. just takes some getting used to." you couldn't agree more. "you're just having a little trouble adjusting, that's all. but you got me, right?"

the boy's elbow nudged you causing you to giggle softly and lean against his shoulder. "yeah, i got you."

he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your hair. "c'mon, let's go pick out another comic."

now that sounded like fun.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[predestinatos]

cinnamon taste ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙ — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader

summary: your best friend showing up at your apartment isn't the only surprise you had that day

tags: best friends to lovers, giddy and shy charles, sooo much fluff, christmas vibes, improvised and creative mistletoe confession

words: 2.6k

note: someone requested something along these lines and i had sooo much fun writing it!! my heart is full and warm... rlly hope u guys like it too and happy holidays for those who celebrate

The scent of cinnamon and apple filled your lungs as you entered your apartment door. You congratulated yourself on the good choice of incense, apparently, but also punished yourself for seemingly leaving the music on while you were out. Jazz-y Christmas songs were playing softly, your living room feeling like a daydream of warmth and coziness.

But that dream was soon shattered upon the realization that you had brought your phone with you – there was no way it was still connected to Bluetooth. Someone was in your house.

Before you had time to panic as you removed your gloves and jacket, a figure appears before you and spins you in the air, embracing you tightly. At first, you screamed, terrified. But then the figure placed you on the floor, continuously repeating “it’s me it’s me I’m sorry” while giggling.

You immediately recognized the voice – your best friend was wrapped in an apron, glasses on and remnants of flour on his messy brown locks. Immediately, your heart went from racing to galloping, fear replaced by happiness. However, before you could show the good part, you punched him slightly in the chest, the hit clearly not producing any sort of damage. “You are such an idiot, Charles! You almost killed me” you said, although a smile was creeping in your lips and eyes as he pulled you for a hug.

Despite how long you’ve known each other, the hugs always felt the same: earnest, meaningful, his heart beating next to your ear, hands wrapped around you like a warm caress. It felt like this when you were 10 and played together, when you were 15 and snuck out together, and now this. You weren’t expecting to see him, especially not this close to Christmas day.

“I thought I’d do something with the spare key you gave me when I crashed here for a few weeks,” he said, as if reading your thoughts, already jumping between wondering how he got in and when he did it. His eyes, filled with affection, seemed simultaneously nervous, registering your face as if in analyzing it carefully.

Before you had time to ask, he pulled your arm and guided you to the kitchen – your own kitchen – warmly telling you “I have a surprise.” You followed him and as you entered the small marble kitchen, the scent hit you even harder. It smelt of comfort, of a cozy campfire feeling, of sweet bakeries opened and filled with decorations, all inside your house. The kitchen itself was slightly messy, hinting at its use, and Charles stood in it proudly, grabbing some mittens to remove the delicious smelling content from the oven.

They were cookies, made in all possible shapes and sizes – some unidentifiable, as he clearly did them by hand. The image of them filled your heart, your best friend placing them on the counter as he checked if they were ready to be eaten, almost like a postcard waiting to be stilled in time. “For how long are you staying?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

That fear proved itself right as you saw his expression change suddenly, the smile leaving his eyes and remaining only on his lips, an attempt at feigning comfort where there could possibly be none. “The day after tomorrow” he said, after a small cough, acting as if it was nothing, trying to lessen the pain of not knowing when you’d see him again.

Just for that moment, you decided to shrug it off as well, to ignore the elephant in the room that were the less than 48 hours you had to enjoy each other’s company, the knowledge that the old times of friendship won’t come back. “Better eat all of those until then!” you said, in your best effort to showcase as little sadness as possible.

You opened one of your cabinets and removed two mugs from it, one of them farther away than expected. On your tiptoes, you reached for the red mug with a big C on it, with “clumsy” written underneath in small letters. It was reserved especially for Charles, a small part of him that remained untouched from the moment he left and would only be touched again when he came back – which wasn’t often. Upon seeing it, his smile lit up once again, dimples showing on his slightly flushed cheeks, his upper arm reaching to fix the glasses he was wearing as his hands were busy sprinkling cinnamon all over the biscuits.

Placing the just made hot chocolate on the small glass coffee table in your living room, you waited for Charles, who showed up holding a plate decorated with all of his creations, which he placed next to your mugs.

You wrapped around blankets as you sat on the floor, mimicking simpler times, nostalgia running through your veins as the liquid you drank ran through your throats. Charles’ eyes scanned your living room again, “did you decorate this all by yourself?” he asked, as he analyzed the matching patterns in your white Christmas tree and how well they fit with the honey tones of the decorations scattered carefully around the room.

“Depends,” you replied, smiling, “Do you like it?” He looked at you then, the same nervousness returning to his cheeks, red from something that couldn’t be the cold, given the warmth inside your apartment. For the first time since you knew him, his eyes studied your face in a way that made you look away timidly. “Yes it’s amazing” he replied, answering the question as a way to break the sudden tension, but creating an opposite effect.

“A friend helped me” you confessed to him, shrugging. “I don’t think you know him, he-” you were about to begin, but Charles’ eyes shot to you and then quickly to the content inside his mug, fidgeting as he did so. “He and his girlfriend, love decorations and had some extra stuff from their last year so they added a lot to this” you explained, emphasizing the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it needed to be, as if you owed your best friend an explanation or seal of approval that you weren’t aware of until now. You knew it was necessary, however, when you saw his shoulders relax at your words, chest rising and falling softly underneath his sweater.

You rested your head against his shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wouldn’t miss any detail of your life, that you’d always make sure to update him on everything. You weren’t sure that’s what he wanted but you hoped he would understand the sentiment behind it, and you were sure he did when he laid a soft kiss on the top of your head.

His body smelled of cinnamon itself, sweet and lovely, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by the arm, feeling his warmth which you hadn’t for so long. “I missed you, Charlie” you said, smiling to yourself. “Me too, silly” he replied whilst slowly pushing you away and getting up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You looked up at your best friend, feeling the cold spot from where he previously was, as he ran hurriedly to one of your spare rooms – which could be called his room since that was all the use it had. “Why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll open on Christmas? I don’t want to jinx it!” you yelled from your sitting place, biting one of the tree-shaped biscuits he had prepared, amazed at its taste and softness.

he came back holding a small box in his hands, carefully wrapped and decorated with a red ribbon at the top. Pride was written all over his smile and gaze as he sat down in front of you, handing you the present as he grabbed one of his own biscuits. “Because,” he said, in between bites “this is very important and urgent” he continued, giggling excitedly. You could tell from his tone that his voice was overly excited, almost acting, but you didn’t want to push him, not when he stared at you anxiously, eyes big and expectant like a puppy. His giggles were quickly replaced by sudden seriousness as soon as your hands started unwrapping the present carefully, not even wanting to ruin the package.

You were faced with a box, beautiful and cushioned, its surface gorgeously reminding you of wine nights with the company of the man who seemed not to be able to sit still in front of you. “Open it” he said, swallowing hard and nervously, leaning closer and closer with your every movement. You complied, your own curiosity threatening to jump out of your mouth, hands shaking as Charles’ own breath seemed almost irregular.

Inside it, you saw a delicate crystal, green, red and clear, in the shape of a plant. Not a plant – mistletoe. It glistened beautifully and its fragility fascinated you. It was beautiful, and you remained speechless as you examined it. “Charlie it’s-” you started, though you had no words to describe what you were feeling. Of course, the gift was absolutely mesmerizing, a small token that was impossible to not notice. Yet, you didn’t exactly know what it meant.

Charles gave you no time to think about it before he moved awkwardly, getting closer to you, closer than usual even for you two. “Listen, I… Do you want to hang it somewhere?” he said, the question so sudden, like a window that opened quickly and let all the cold wind inside the room. You looked into his eyes and found yourself still unable to speak, resorting to a simple nod as you got up, the box still resting in your hands, and he followed your movements.

You decided to hang it carefully in one of the tallest branches of your Christmas tree, where the lights hit beautifully and made it the centerpiece, stealing all the attention from the star at the top. “It’s beautiful” you finally managed to say, along with an earnest thank you, and you were about to turn back to the warm blanket when his fingertips stopped you by softly resting on your wrist.

“Wait,” he started, barely moving. All movement you could witness came from his nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his gaze completely focused on you. “I need to tell you something” he continued, looking up at the gift he had just given you. Following his gaze, you realized what he meant. “Oh. Oh this was for someone else- it’s fine Charlie mistakes happen-” you began, rising to your tiptoes in order to remove the ornament, almost laughing at your own silliness.

Once again that night, Charles stopped you, laughing warmly. “God, you’re so silly sometimes,” he told you, and despite the cold toned color of his eyes, they expressed such warmth it took your breath away. “No, this gift is for you. That’s what I mean,” he said, stumbling across his every word, “I gave you this because you’re the one I want to experience this with. The whole mistletoe kissing thing. Maybe this is silly…” his hand flew to his neck awkwardly, reminding you of when he was younger and in high school, trying to impress some girl he had a crush on.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, nor what it could mean for your friendship in general. But you were sure you wanted to experience that moment with him as well, feel him closer to you than you ever did, your every muscle begging you to act. “Do it then” you dared him, your own nervousness coming out. You thought about how silly it was, your nervousness, given how old you two were, how much you had witnessed together, the moment so out of the ordinary yet seemingly so predictable, as if it was destined to happen.

At that, Charles’ eyes widened, but his whole body went into action. His hand went to your cheek as the other pulled you by your waist, eyes falling on your lips as if everything moved in slow motion. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as his lips fell on yours, so soft and familiar despite how unknown it all was. The sudden smell of chestnuts and ginger intensified as the room seemed to transform, how despite the warmth you almost felt snow falling on both of your bodies. Charles couldn’t get enough of you, his hand going from your cheek to the back of your neck, begging you for more, for the moment to last for as long as possible.

Like a magnet, your own hands caressed and pulled his hair incessantly, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere, as his heartbeat stabilized in calmness and comfort in how well your lips fit on his. His closeness was intoxicating, and you felt dizzy from how good you were feeling with his sheer presence, how right everything seemed to feel, how effortlessly he got you in your best mood.

Pulling away, you saw a smile which you had rarely seen in Charles’ face. It happened at his most happiest moments – when he won races, when he beat you at rock paper scissors when you were kids, when he got the best scores in spelling bees – it reached every muscle in his body and yours, so contagious was his cheerfulness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, giddy and red from shyness, looking so innocent all of a sudden, despite his grip still on your waist. “I’ve been so confused, especially since the last time I stayed over. No one can make me feel like you do, and this is so hard to explain, and I don’t know how it got to this point but I have been thinking about it every day, about how good I feel when I am with you, how I just get so incredibly happy and-” you quieted his rambling by giving him a shy peck on his lips, giggling at how he stood motionless after it, eyes widened and eyebrows raised.

“I love you too” you told him, meaning every word, anxiously looking forward for the rest of your life.

[honeygrahambitch]

"You're quiet." Will observed while pretending to be busy with smelling the flavour of the wine in his glass.

"Does that bother you?" Hannibal asked, not lifting his eyes from his Ipad. The answer felt slightly confrontational but overall genuine.

"It's just, unlike you."

"If I started speaking, you wouldn't be fond of what's on my mind. Let's not dwell on this anymore, shall we?"

Will's not-yet-husband senses screamed that he was in danger and that he should walk carefully.

"Avoiding the elephant in the room is even more unlike you. The fact that you are not looking at me as well. You usually look at me, Hannibal." Will said, leaning over the table.

Hannibal put his Ipad on the table and obeyed Will's request. He looked at him.

"Wh- What...have you been crying?"

"I often do when I feel powerless. Even more if I feel powerless and left out at the same time." Hannibal confessed.

"May I know what happened?" Will asked and realized his own voice didn't sound as brave as it did in the beginning. Of course the only reason Hannibal would cry for would be frustration.

He is used to things going his way.

Hannibal turned on the Ipad again, did some scrolling and then pushed the Ipad to Will on the table.

Will grabbed it and started reading but stopped after the first few lines of the news article.

"So this has to do with the case I worked on yesterday?"

"It has to do with the way you started negotiating with someone holding a gun to your head after telling the snipers and SWAT teams to drop their weapons."

"I knew he wouldn't press the trigger, he was just a scared boy. I wanted to avoid his death."

"You wanted to avoid his death by having him cause yours? Very smart, Will." Hannibal remarked. Will wanted to say something but Hannibal went on. "Do you remember what he told you when his gun was pressed against your temple? Many articles cited his exact words."

"That he wouldn't cause any harm if he killed me because the Bureau would replace me in a second."

Hannibal nodded. "See, Will, he was right. Jack has lost ponies before, it would take him only a few months before he would find someone smart enough to do his dirty work."

Will decided to say nothing and keep listening.

"And do you remember what you said yesterday after you survived this incident? You came here, you were really satisfied with how it went. You didn't give me any details and I really believed it was just an ordinary day at work. And the reason you didn't give me any detail is because you don't actually care about how close you were to losing your life."

"I had it under control."

"You did not. It was not even your job to negotiate. You told the official negotiator to let you take care of it. While you had a pipe pressed to your temple."

"I am confused. Are you mad because I didn't tell you about this or because I risked my life?"

"I am mad because you made me worry. I have huge faith in you and your resourcefulness and strength. I have hardly ever been worried about you. However this situation...caused me great distress."

"Did you spend the whole night reading all the articles on that?"

"Not the whole night. Half of it. I was busy during the second half."

Will frowned. Then it made sense.

"The guy who almost blew my brains... he was in the kidney pie." He phrased it as a statement and not as a question because he knew he was right.

Hannibal sighed. "I needed some sort of control. After I killed him I realized that I would have done exactly the same thing if he had killed you. Which made me realize I still had zero control over the outcome."

"If he had killed me, the FBI would have killed him before you got a chance to do so."

The thought made Hannibal spiral even more.

"I can't change what happened. But, I am sorry you were worried." Will said as he was observing the dark bags under Hannibal's eyes. A rare sight. "I take it the the articles didn't cite what I told him while he was deciding whether to shoot or not? I wasn't loud enough for anyone else to hear."

"No." Hannibal replied thoughtfully. "What did you tell him?"

"I said that while the Bureau would indeed replace me in a second, I have someone at home who is waiting for me." Will answered. "I told him I mean so much to you that you wouldn't be able to replace me. I told him that I am stupidly in love. I told him that by killing me, he is ruining us both."

Hannibal remained petrified.

Will was in fact aware of how much he meant to him. His confession did not make what he did less stupid but it changed something.

"Is that so?" Hannibal whispered as he reached for the bottle of Cabernet.

"It obviously is. I'm wondering if what you did was in fact more stupid than what I did."

"How so?"

"You read a few articles, you threw a little tantrum because you could not play God, you cried then you went to murder the guy. Then you didn't feel better so you started crying again."

"Rough night." Hannibal commented, a bit amused by the fact that Will had accurately described his night.

"I'm staying here tonight."

"You don't have to, darling." Hannibal said, still reflecting on the lovely things Will had said about him.

"No, I will stay. You might discover what happened today at work and I'm not letting you spiral again."

"What hap-"

"Were you saying you made Tiramisu?"

[rin-hanarin]

I realized that I've never addressed the elephant in Lucanis's room, also known as his romance plot, as a "Had been delusional about him for months before release" individual, so here's a surprisingly long rant/summary of how I felt about it in the process of playing the game.

As a Rook de Riva player, I obviously loved "Coffee with the Crows": we met Illario, joked about haha three Crows talking about nothing, talked business, Rook and Lucanis had a nice moment getting to know each other better outside of being teammates, Rook de Riva's background was acknowledged again, it really felt like a nice bonding moment, right?

Thennn a whole lot of nothing happens during any of the conversations between them, huh. Lucanis doesn't acknowledge flirting, which is fine, take your time bud, you'll get there; you keep pushing being supportive, he ignores you, you deal with his personal stuff for him one (1) time, and in my case he then proceeds to ignore Rook for 10+ hours of pure game time while busy talking to Neve at every opportunity until I finally get one (1) dialogue option to "express romantic interest in Lucanis".

And let me express my honest innermost feelings on the matter:

Not only did it feel like Lucanis genuinely couldn't care less about Rook even as a friend, it also felt like Rook was forcing Lucanis into something he simply wasn't interested in and that we were just getting in the way of his relationship with Neve. It was genuinely unpleasant to experience in a videogame that is supposed to be wish fulfillment and whatnot, and let me tell you, it was especially jarring because Dragon Age games also have a tendency of occasionally making you feel like the most special little protagonist known to Thedas, at the very least to your companions who you're supposedly building bonds with.

I loved hangout events in this game, too, I was so happy to just have these conversations about whatever with companions, have these little one-on-one moments with them that genuinely felt like walks with friends (especially with my bro my bestie my homie Davrin), and with Lucanis it started and ended with the coffee date. His fears and doubts about Rook later are never addressed, and lol lmao even, yeah, why would they be, when it feels like he barely acknowledges Rook exists outside of accompanying him to deal with his problems, none of which need Rook there? There's no reason outside of gameplay for him to ask Rook and not, say, his favorite Neve he talks about everything to? Somehow a lot of times when I hoped for any sort of dialogue with him, I was met with him talking about something very personal like his current feelings about Illario to Neve, like, isn't Rook supposed to know anything about anything, or are we just his convenient weird coworker he sometimes asks favours from?

We persevere though and keep supporting Lucanis, and can you take a wild guess what was waiting for me after like 40 hours of the game and after the infamous "kabedon assassin style" scene? Yeah bro, Lucanis just happened to talk to Neve. I wish I was making this shit up. My coping strategy was to come up with an entire jealousy subplot for my Rook because if I have to feel like I'm in the shittiest unrequited situationship of a triangular shape, I might as well do it on my own terms, right? It feels petty and stupid because as a player I like Neve, too, she's one of the coolest (no pun intended) characters, but as Rook, and Rook de Riva making an obvious choice especially? Yeah, let's just say this relationship fucking sucked for a while.

So after many trials and tribulations we're finally back with Inner Demons, and yeah, Neve is there again, I couldn't even give a shit at that point, and I'll be real here, the locking in didn't feel like we went through angsty slowburn or that we earned Lucanis' trust. Remember DA2's Fenris situation? Because I suddenly did, and surely one of many, many Neve banters I had to eavesdrop on could be sacrificed to have one or two banters that acknowledged Lucanis's anything towards Rook at all?

Also, Spite? Spite seemingly likes Rook more than Lucanis does. In between "It's so over" and "We're so back" in the Fade Ossuary it feels like somehow Rook gets more bonding time with Spite, which is kinda crazy to me.

We are so back though! As I mentioned, I was a "delusional before release" individual, I am perfectly capable of filling the gaps and extrapolating meaning from implications, and here's where one of the most infuriating things is: the rest of the romance is good, too! I can write whatever the hell I want between the beginning and the end of it, but like, why should I? How should I go about it, when in my game I was under the impression that Lucanis would rather just spend time with anyone other than Rook for seemingly no reason in particular, because there's simply nothing there? The fact that none of my pre-release ideas or comics even necessarily contradict anything about Lucanis or his romance as it is now is more telling than impressive honestly.

So where do I land with this exactly? Well, mostly in the glorious Fanon Land where I've been making my silly comics the whole time anyway. The highs are high, I love what they did at the end and how stable, protective and devoted Lucanis is, but the lows made me salty as shit and I wish I didn't have to feel that way to begin with. I wish I didn't have to connect the dots and joke about how badly Lucanis sucks at this and "Let's go girl give us nothing." And yes, I know about writer lay-offs, rewrites, restarts, etc etc, and it's a miracle that this game came out at all, but it hardly matters when you're just trying to do the good old datesim part of a Dragon Age game and end up feeling like a third wheel while trying very hard to get anything out of the character you're interested in.

[ultraviolet-ink]

what are ur thoughts on phoenix and maya's relationship? saw a post the other day talking about how they're not really sibling coded and it got me thinking. (ie the fandom kinda shoe-horned them into that)

personally i think maya was ride or die for him from the moment he got arrested for her (see her offer to break him out of there) but didn't really see him as a sibling until later (maybe when she gives him the magatama?) whereas i think phoenix felt like he had to look after her for mia, but didn't really see her as a sibling until farewell my turnabout.

Honestly to me, they're just really good friends, legitimately the other person's best friend ever! Kind of like platonic soulmates if that makes sense! I used to also really lie the found family trope, but fandom just basically turned it into the nuclear family with extra steps, and that defeats the point of it to me. I definitely think they consider the other family, but there's not that specific role they'll assign to the other person-- just a sort of nebulous concept of family, like home is where the heart is rather than 'siBLiNgSsSsS!!", hence, platonic soulmates XD I really like your breakdown of the relationship, I think Maya definitely warmed up faster to Phoenix than he did to her, she just kind of seems like that kind of person that can figure out someone's vibes, where Phoenix is definitely a lot more guarded. She's not afraid to be more vulnerable, even as early as 1-4 where she says she wishes she didn't wake up. It definitely shows that Phoenix is still super guarded around her when he absolutely refuses to even talk about Edgeworth's "death". I think 2-4 was sort of a wake up call for him, not only because he had to step up to make sure Pearl was doing okay, but it was when he realized he really did care for Maya a lot, she's not the Chief's little sister, she's HIS friend Maya!! It really makes T&T really special where they kind of have this unique rapport that wasn't seen before, where Phoenix is somewhat more playful/relaxed/open with her (until the ex-girlfriend shaped elephant lingers in the room, which, honestly, fair, who would really want to open up about THAT mess?) So yeah, hope you enjoyed my little ramble!! :D

[okminer07]

A Growing Problem Pt 2

This is a shorter part than I planned to post, but I really wanted to give y'all an update and let you know I'm still working on this. Hopefully 3rd part will come soon.

Lily stepped through the door frame, looking around curiously for him. Clearly, she had been expecting him to be right at the front door to meet her. It didn’t take long however for her eyes to land on Jeremy, the elephant-sized elephant in the room.  

She let out a yelp at the sight of him, her hands immediately dropping the paper bag she had been carrying to fly up and cover her mouth in horror. Her eyes looked ready to pop out of her skull as she looked him over. He looked grimly back at her, panic rising when she backed away a step. 

“Don’t go.” he pleaded, “Please, don’t go.”  

At the sound of his voice, a sort of realization filled Lily’s eyes, “J-Jeremy?”  she looked him over again, still gaping, “Wha- how-”  

“I don’t know.”  

“You're…. You're…” she stepped closer, “You’re huge!”  

“You think I haven’t noticed?!” he bellowed, gesturing down at himself. 

Lily recoiled slightly, “B-but how?” 

“I don’t know! It-it just happened!”  

She held up her hands, “Okay! Could you please try and calm down?” 

“Calm down? Calm down?!” he got off his hands and knees and sat up, “Look at me!”  

Lily’s mouth dropped, backing away. Her raised hands were shaking. 

Jeremy faltered, guilt tugging at his heart at seeing her reaction. He slouched over, “I’m…. I’m sorry.” he looked pleading down at her. God, she looked so diminutive, “I….. I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what’s happening.” 

She lowered her hands, tilting her head, “did you think I would?” 

He waved a hand in exasperation, “I don’t know. Maybe. I just had no idea what to do. Have you ever seen or heard of anything like this?” 

“N-no” she breathed, “I’ve never…..” she stepped closer, scrutinizing him, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”  

As she got closer, Jeremy felt his face heating up. Lily wasn’t tall herself, far from it. It was something people often teased her about. The last time he asked about her height she had told him 4’11, but even that seemed a little generous. Still, it shocked him to see that even sitting he was taller than her. What the hell was this?  

His stomach growled loudly and his whole face went scarlet as Lily jumped back. He clamped a hand over it, looking back at her sheepishly. Why wouldn’t it shut up?!

“I….. I think we should maybe get some food in you.” She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the paper bag on the floor. She snatched it up and dug out a maple bar which she held up to him. He slowly raised his hand and took it, put off by the fact it was the size of a granola bar to him.  

Lily backed away as he ate the whole thing in one bite, “Okay.” she breathed, “Okay, we- we need to get you to a hospital or something.” she began to pace, “The closest one is what? A forty-five-minute drive? Because I really don’t think the clinic is what we need for uh… for this. I saw your Grandma’s truck outside. We could probably fit you in the boot? Yeah, that would work. And then-” 

Jeremy began to tune out her rambling. He licked his fingers clean of any glaze left from the maple bar while he eyed the fridge. 

“But what are they even going to do? Maybe take a look at your pituitary gland? But that would require an MRI and that would-” 

“Hey, Lily?” She paused and looked up at him, “I’m sorry but uh…. Can you grab me something out of the fridge or pantry?”   

She looked to her left and into the kitchen, her eyes landing on the torn-off cabinet door. 

“Did….. did you do that?” 

His cheeks went pink as he nodded. 

“Oh uh…. Sure thing.” 

“Thanks” he murmured as she headed over to the fridge. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. Surely they’d get this all figured out. Hell, there was still even the chance this was all a bad- 

“Ack!” Jeremy flinched. A small bolt of burning pain had shot its way up his spine before it vanished. His hands flew back behind to rub the length of it.

Lily had rounded on him the moment he had shouted, clutching tightly to the carton of milk she had found, “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah. yeah, I think so,” he slapped a hand to his forehead, sighing and shaking his head, “I just thought- AUGHH!” 

That same burning pain erupted within his chest. Jeremy screamed, falling to the floor and clutching his chest as the pain spread. His eyes watered as it made its way to his arms and legs which twisted and convulsed, his hands and heels slamming into the floor as they writhed in agony. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. All he could think about was this abhorred sensation, this familiar sensation of every fiber of his being ripped apart while his ears were filled with the sickening sound of cracking and his own screams.  

It stopped. Just like before, all the pain disappeared within an instant.   

Jeremy’s chest rapidly rose and fell as he gasped for air, his heart was still beating like he had run a marathon. Beads of sweat trickled down his face. He removed his clammy hand from his chest to wipe his face, rolling over onto his back as he did. The floorboards creaked loudly beneath him. Staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but feel like it looked different, closer.   

Lily, Lily was still here.  

“Lily?” he groaned. He pushed himself to sit up, “Lily? Wha- ack!” The top of his head smacked into something before he fully sat up. Oh no.   

He laid back down and stared up in horror at the ceiling that was definitely much closer. It felt like acid was creeping up his throat as it slowly began to dawn on him. When he had first felt that pain, what had happened? He had shot up a good five feet. Which could only mean…  

Jeremy slowly heaved himself up onto his elbows, shaking as his eyes landed on his own body. His heart plummeted into his stomach as his mouth fell open. What had been his shirt and shorts were now nothing but a few ripped-up scraps that clung loosely to his body. The only thing in tack on him now was somehow his boxers, but even those felt and looked pretty snug. His legs stretched across the room and were mere inches away from the front door. The umbrella stand that stood nearby was barely taller than the barefoot up next to it.    

“No, no no no no no,” he began to backpedal away from the door, his limbs trembling and fumbling around, “T-this isn’t- this isn’t-” he let out a panicked yelp when his hand accidentally came down upon one of the chairs around the dinner table. It instantly snapped and when he wrenched his hand up it was nothing but a broken mess of wood, “This isn’t- not again!”  

He whipped his head around the cramped space, finding it harder and harder to breathe the more he saw. This was insane! This wasn’t happening!   

Jeremy suddenly froze, his eyes landing upon a small figure crumpled on the floor, pressed up against the kitchen cupboards. Lily.   

The look on her face made his stomach churn. All the color had drained from her face, so pale she could have been mistaken for a corpse if she weren’t trembling and her eyes weren’t so alert.   

He looked himself over again, grimacing at the sight before hugging his legs up to himself and burying his head between his knees. “W-what’s happening to me?” his eyes began to water. He inhaled sharply, a tear streaking down his cheek that was quickly followed by another and then another.  

Within seconds, his face became a snot and tear-covered mess as he began to sob. He couldn’t stop himself, and it felt like the only thing he really could do.   

“I-I-I-I’m some sort of freak!” he wailed, voice cracking. He began grabbing at chunks of his hair, nails digging into his scalp deeper and deeper as he bailed his eyes out.  

“Jeremy?”  

He peeked between his legs through blurry eyes. Lily was now standing a few feet away, her hands raised as she inched closer. His eyes widened and he scooted away, shaking his head. 

She continued to come closer, “It’s okay. J-just calm down.” He gulped down another wave of sobs as she approached him, growing more and more unnerved at the sight of her standing before him, barely able to peek over his knees and see his face.  

Her hands came up and he suppressed the shiver that ran through him as they made contact with his face. He struggled to remain frozen while gazing into her soft eyes.  

“Breathe, okay? Just breathe” He did as he was told, averting his gaze and focusing in on his breathing. Gradually, his heart began to slow. It never stopped murmuring, but it at least didn’t feel like it was going to burst out of him, “Jeremy?” He forced himself to look Lily in the eye, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, “It's… it’s gonna be okay, okay?” He heaved a sigh, she didn’t say that with much confidence. 

“W-what am I supposed to do?”  

[vibing-lizard-nose]

"You're allergic to that?"

So I have this scenario in mind: TW allergies, a bit of mess.

Character A comes from a family of metalworkers, their whole family has worked on a blacksmith making iron tools for decades. A is the youngest of their family and moves out to study/work on the city, away from home.

Some days later, they meet Character B who, much to their surprise, come from a line of carpenters. A moves in with B because they both go to the same college/workplace and living together is convenient.

There's one catch though: B does their wood related projects on their shared living room. A doesn't particularly mind this as they're used to the noise of electric tools going on and off all the time.

But as time goes by, A realized there's something off about this place. Ever since he moved in with B, they've been feeling weird.

The first sign was the weird pain in their ears, almost as if they were blocked and pulsing. They thought it was a tooth cavity, but upon coming back from a check-up they were sure that was not the reason.

Then the pain migrated to their face, and they found themselves congested beyond explanation. Might be a cold, moving from one place to another makes travelers sick as far as they know. But weeks go by, and there was no fever or another symptom that suggested the presence of a viral infection.

Except… the sneezing. They had never in their life experienced something like this. In a small town with only their family around, they had only ever seen people get like this when they got sick. But they knew there were more hints of a cold than just sneezes and sniffles, specially if they were the ones that made the person lay in bed for weeks.

But this was different.

And only then did they realized something else.

The day that everything stopped. The uncomfortable feeling on their ears and face, the unceasing drippy nose, the congestion. Everything stop almost too quickly. They might've gotten used to it by now.

Up until this point, they wasn't been a word about it with B. When they manage to have a bit of a chat one day during B's day off, B brings up the fact that they had finish working on those wooden crockery. The client had been very specific about the wood kind and shape of the cups. But at least it was over and they could rest. A congratulated B for finishing.

Although, internally, they had the brief thought that maybe this had something to do with the weird ordeal they had been dealing with, but they quickly brushed the idea off.

It wasn't too long until this idea sparked in them again after they woke up one morning, feeling worse than they had ever felt, the electric chainsaw a faint rattle in the living room.

Now this had to be some sort of wicked prank someone has playing on them, they didn't have a single week of freedom for this curse and the bloody thing came back? Unbelievable.

A decides is time to ask B about this. Maybe there was something in the apartment ventilation that was not functioning correctly. Or maybe they had some sort of pest that was going around spreading gems and gross stuff. They weren't sure but they knew B must knew a thing or two about the house.

As soon as they open the door of their room and step out to head into the living room, a scent flooded the air.

Wow. A was not away that carpenters had to use chemicals THIS strong, it was only wood for someone's sake! Unbelievable.

A aproches B and this hints B to turn off their tools, take off their mask and face their housemate for whatever inquiry they had.

A takes a breath, ready to unravel the secret of their mysterious problem to the only person that might give them an answer. It takes just one breath for chaos to break out.

The familiar tickle of a sneeze overwhelmed them, but instead of feeling like a small mouse softly trailing around, It felt like a stampede of elephants running eagerly to escape out of their nose. One sharp hitching breath later and a loud, obnoxious, desperate sneeze rushed out of them like it had been waiting to be let free for ages. It took them their last bit of control to turn their head as to not spray snot all over their companion.

This was ridiculous. THEY were specially ridiculous. And if they weren't, they sure looked like it.

They tries to say something, to apologize for their lack of manners when another sneeze, equally scandalous, came out like trying to catch up with the first one. Then followed another one, and another one. Soon it looked like they had only came to sneeze in front of their housemate who, needless to say, was slightly confused by what was happening.

A was running out of air. Oh shit. But every little breath they took in, it came right off with double the force. This was an unstoppable cycle of gasping and sneezing, and they were growing more worried about it not ending with every passing sneezes.

Finally, after witnessing enough, B takes A by the shoulders and guides them towards the kitchen. They help A by turning on the water on the sink and pressing on their back, a sign for them to bend and rinse their nose and face.

That was instant relief. Not that they hadn't tried this before, showers tended to ease whatever was bugging them. But in this particular moment and very particular situation, it felt like heaven for a second. After a few minutes, they had regained enough strength and air to straighten and grab the towel that B was offering them to dry their face off.

"Well, that was something." B started, arms crossed and a look of their face that was a mix of concern and a bit of a smirk. "I got worried when you reached the 20th one, thought you would faint or worse."

"You were counting?" Said A, baffled. "You're a bit of an ass."

"What? I needed to make sure you were actually dying or something, and not having really bad seasonal allergies." Argued B, rolling their eyes. "Coffins are hard to make and you don't get a free one just for living with me." There's a hint of sarcasm to the way B said that, and this made A stare at him for a moment.

"I don't have allergies-" Said A, sounding very much congested. They winced at the quality of their own voice and sniffled. "At least, not that I can think of."

Unbelievable, thought B. They looked A up and down, and went back up to scan their face. B took a moment to specially take in the red-rimmed, puffy eyes and the flush on their face that seemed to concentrate the most on the tip of their dripping nose.

B raised an eyebrow at A, like pointing out something obvious. "Are you sure about that?" came out in a more condescending way than they had wanted to, but really now. This was all too silly to be true.

"I've lived near forests my whole life and never have I ever felt like this!" A protested. "I never showed any sign of allergies or anything when I was a kid, I can't have any now." They looked too sure of themselves.

"You do realize that you can develop allergies later in life?" Explained B. "And you don't have to live in the forest to know if you have any allergies, you go to the doctor for tests. That's how it works." And B didn't want to brag about knowing basic biology knowledge, but this really felt like teaching a caveman complex calculus.

A remained silent for a moment, processing what had just been giving to them like a slow-running computer.

Eventually they looked up. "But what would I be allergic to? Any kind of metal? Can't be. Worked with those my whole life." They looked more confused now.

B hummed, a naughty idea forming in their head. "Since when have you been like this?" They said, rubbing a hand under their chin.

"Since I moved in." Said A, looking like they probably should've said this earlier. "Oh- but it stopped like a week ago, a bit less probably." They interrupted their own silence. "And I woke up feeling like shit again this morning, that's what- uh... what I wanted to tell you before."

B hummed a bit longer, although they were not thinking anything this time, they were just considering if they could get away with their idea without getting beaten up. "I think I know what it is." They said, smugly, then took out one of their dirty woodwork cloths out of their pocket.

Before A could even ask what were they doing, B shook the cloth right in front of A's face.

The reaction was immediate.

A loud gasp just like before, and a big, rattly sneeze surged out of them. Then followed another one, and another one. It looked like there was a fourth on the way and was getting stuck. Being a bit of a bastard, B delicately swiped the cloth under A's nose. A's nostrils grew wide as their eyes shut and one last powerful sneezes finally came out.

As pathetic as this seemed, B seemed to be enjoying this all too much. They helped A to do the water rinse again, just like the last time. Afterwards, they seemed a bit more relaxed about the whole situation and giggled.

"I think it's the pine sawdust." Said B, handing B a tissue when their nose started to act up again.

"But I've been out when pines bloom and that has never done something nearly as bad as this." Remembered A. "Sure it does tickle a little, but- it's pollen. Everyone feels like that around it."

"Oh I should know, I'm allergic to it." Said B confidently like it was something to brag about. "But not everyone is affected by just the pollen." And with that, B takes a small 10-unit blister pack of allergy medication and hands it to A.

"You're allergic to that?" A scoffed, before lowering their eyes to inspect what they had been handed.

"It's perfectly possible to have little to no reaction to pine pollen, but having a disaster with the sawdust. It comes from the wood, it worked a little different." Said B, kindly. The shift on behavior seemed a little weird to A, but nevertheless sweet. Maybe this was something someone else had told them when they discovered they had allergies.

"well... thanks." A looked at the blister pack, motionless. They stared at it like it was going to bite them. "And thanks for the help. I had no idea about these things, y'know?" A hint of a smile, but they were clearly embarrassed.

"No biggie, it's all cool." Said B, ready to open the kitchen door back again. "I think I'll stop the work on that table for today, that little brat of a customer can wait an extra day." This brought a smile to A's face, and their smile brought an even bigger one to B's face. "Do try to get a mask when you're around the house though, and go get your allergies checked by a doctor when you can." Said B, finally putting their mask back to leave the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

There A sat, on a kitchen chair. Only thinking how could such a messy and unpredictable thing as a weird allergy could bring someone you had barely talked with to form a kind of bond with you. It did felt nice though, now thinking about that too. To feel taken care of an not just another one of the dozen on siblings on a house. It felt special and unique to have this kind of attention.

And to think all it took was a bit of sawdust and a sneeze.

[lecsainz]

PICTURES

parings: harry styles x actress!reader

request: Hey, saw u write for Harry Styles! Can u do a oneshot where y/n's parents r famous actors, she n Harry got somethin' goin' on but ain't makin' it official. He's on the Take Me Home tour when she calls him to sort things out 'cause paparazzi pics with other girls surfaced, but he didn't actually cheat.

authors note: OMG haven't written anything about harry in years, like seriously, this brought back sooo many memories 😭

☆. . . masterlist !

Y/N Aniston was the daughter of a renowned actress, yes, Jennifer Aniston herself. She grew up with the media at her feet, and just like her mother, she chose to follow a career in acting. Little did she know that due to her fame, she would end up meeting a singer from one of the biggest boy bands of 2013, who would bring her a lot of headaches.

Harry and Y/N crossed paths during the VMAs, in line for the bathroom. They don't remember when exactly, but at some point during the night, they found themselves in her limousine, having a quickie. However, that quick encounter became a regular thing whenever they met up.

And Y/N developed feelings for the green-eyed boy. She liked him a lot. Maybe she even loved him.

Harry had embarked on the Take Me Home tour, and some photos of him with other girls had been taken by paparazzi. Even though they weren't officially an item, her heart shattered nonetheless. Those pictures felt like daggers to her heart, and they hurt like hell.

And here she was, sitting on her bed, heart almost racing out of her chest, waiting for Harry to appear on the screen.

"Y/N!" Harry's face popped up on the screen, lying on the tour bus bed with a sleepy yet adoring smile.

She managed a small smile, her nerves getting the best of her. "Hey, Harry."

His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. "Missed you."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Despite everything, the sound of those three simple words from him still had a powerful effect on her.

"Missed you too," she admitted, her voice soft.

They talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as naturally as it always did between them. But as the minutes ticked by, Y/N knew she couldn't avoid the elephant in the room any longer.

"Harry, about those pictures..." she trailed off, her heart racing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I'm so sorry you had to see those."

She looked down, feeling a mix of emotions. "It's just... hard, you know?"

Harry's expression softened. "I know, love. They're not what they seem."

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, they're not real," he confessed, his voice earnest. "It's all a publicity stunt, arranged by Simon."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why?"

"He wants to maintain that image, make me appear as the 'ladies' man' for the fans," Harry explained, frustration evident in his voice. "But it's all a facade. I hate it."

Y/N felt a mix of relief and anger. Relief that the pictures weren't real, and anger that she had been hurt by something so manufactured.

"I had no idea," she admitted, her voice softer now.

Harry's eyes bore into hers. "Y/N, you know I care about you, right?"

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I do."

"I'm not looking for meaningless flings, Y/N," he said, his voice determined. "I want something real."

She felt her heart race, hope stirring within her. "Harry..."

Just then, the atmosphere on the tour bus shifted as the other members of One Direction appeared on the screen, grinning widely.

"Hey, is that Y/N?" Niall's voice chimed in.

"Y/N!" Louis exclaimed, waving enthusiastically.

“Our favorite girl!" Zayn added.

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with fondness for the boys. "Hi, guys! I miss you all."

"We miss you too!" Niall exclaimed.

Y/N's cheeks turned slightly pink as she greeted the rest of the band. She had known them for a while now, having met them through Harry. They had always been incredibly welcoming and friendly towards her.

"Long time no see," Liam said with a warm smile. "How've you been?"

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, you know, just taking over the world."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "As if she hasn't already."

Zayn smirked. "You're in good company, Y/N."

Niall leaned in closer to the camera. "Harry talks about you all the time."

Y/N shot Harry a teasing look. "Oh, really? What kind of things does he say?"

Harry's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Just good things."

Louis wiggled his eyebrows. "We can all tell he's smitten."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the guys. She had seen them at their goofiest and most genuine moments, and she was grateful for the bond they shared.

"Well, Y/N, if Harry doesn't treat you right, you know where to find us," Zayn said with a wink.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Zayn. I'll keep that in mind."

"We saw those pictures, by the way," Louis said, his tone slightly teasing.

Y/N's cheeks flushed, but she managed a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I guess they're making quite a buzz."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Don't take those too seriously. They're just playing with ya."

"Yeah, Simon probably thought it was good for marketing," Liam added.

Zayn nodded. "It's all part of the game."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, feeling their genuine support. "Thanks, guys. It's just been a bit overwhelming."

"We know, love," Louis said, his eyes softening. "But remember, you're stronger than the headlines."

Zayn chimed in. "Harry's been a mess ever since those pictures surfaced."

Louis nodded. "Yeah, he's been moping around like a lost puppy."

Y/N's lips curved into a grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. Your words mean a lot to me."

"Anytime, Y/N," Niall grinned. "Now, you make sure to keep our Harry in line, okay?"

Zayn chuckled. "Yeah, we can't have him causing any more trouble."

Harry pouted playfully. "Hey, I'm a changed man."

"Sure you are," Louis quipped, earning a laugh from everyone.

Harry leaned closer to the camera, his voice soft. "They adore you, you know."

Y/N's smile grew warmer. "I can tell. And I adore them too."

The connection was beginning to falter, the image on the screen slightly pixelated as Harry's voice crackled. "I wish I could hear your laugh properly right now."

Y/N chuckled, the sound distorted by the poor signal. "We'll have to fix that soon."

Harry's expression turned more serious. "Y/N, I've been thinking... I want to talk about this face-to-face. This distance between us, it's not fair."

Her heart skipped a beat, hope and apprehension mingling in her chest. "Harry..."

"I mean it," he said with determination. "I want to have an honest conversation, in person. No screens, no miles between us."

Y/N nodded, her own resolve strengthening. "Okay, Harry. When?"

"I'll be back in a few weeks," he replied. "After this leg of the tour. We can find a place to meet up."

She felt a mixture of emotions, excitement and nerves intermingling. "I look forward to it."

"I do too," Harry said softly. "I want us to have a proper conversation, Y/N. No misunderstandings, no miscommunications."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with anticipation. "I want that too."

As the signal continued to weaken, Harry's voice grew fainter. "I'll see you soon, Y/N."

"Can't wait," she whispered, her voice barely reaching him.

And then, with a final wave and a promise in their eyes, the call disconnected, leaving Y/N with a renewed sense of hope and a countdown to the day when they would bridge the physical and emotional distance that had grown between them.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Broken Chords: The hardest part is who we are.

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: okay, so in my mind, Y/N an actress BUT please feel free to imagine her however you like.

Summary: After his concert in New York and a private moment shared in his dressing room, Y/n and Andrew are confronted with the reality of their situation, and one party isn't willing to go on like that.

Warnings: SMUT/NSFW, Angst

Part 1 Part 2

He’s determined that they can never be anything more than whatever they are right now; two people that exist in each other’s orbit without ever truly meeting, wound up in something that hurts too much to be worth it but feels too good to let go of. It's like a blade in a clenched fist, splicing through flesh and grating bone. It's like a full-bodied port in the dead of winter.

Exes with benefits? He knows that its the best term to describe their state of affairs, but it makes Andrew feel so twenty-something.

They’ve unofficially adopted some sort of arrangement that involves ignoring the elephant in the room and enjoying each other's company just enough to get by; since Y/n left Ireland after the wedding – and their tryst at the hotel – they’ve seen each other exactly three times. First, it was two weeks later, when he was in Manchester for a night while she was, then again in Los Angeles when her meeting with a director coincided with his meeting with another songwriter for a collaboration. And now, tonight, in New York. He’d heard from a mutual friend she's going to be home for a few weeks – because after nearly five years of being mixed up with each other, so many of their friends are shared – asked his manager to run her tickets to his show at The Bowery.

And of course, she came.

He spots her when he’s in the middle of one of the new songs, one he wrote about her. Because even if they’re mostly over, she’s usually at the front of his mind when he puts pen to paper. A stray comment on his part has led to word getting around about how most of the upcoming album is about an ex, and now he feels a little guilty about saying that so freely after he struggled to talk about their relationship when they were still in it.

He wonders if she's heard about his little slip up, if she's as mad at him as he is at himself.

She’s standing at the railing guarding the mezzanine and there’s a plastic cup in her hand, he doesn’t even have to be there to know what’s in it. There are probably gonna be pictures tomorrow, paired with speculations, because people have been speculating for years. But he’ll play them off, and so will she. It used to be a point of contention for them; Y/n was growing tired of hiding, so much so that she said it felt like an insult. Things are different now, though;

Tight lips and dodged questions are encouraged, especially by her. It's almost as if she's ashamed, Andrew thinks, and as much as he tries to not take it personally, he can't help the way his heart does an awkward twist when she says something like; "I just don't think anyone should know what we're doing, you know?"

Would being with him again really be that bad? Andrew avoids asking himself that question, because it reminds him of their tiff in the hotel room;

"Would it really be that bad? Being married to me; would it really be that bad?"

He still isn't the marrying type, the prospect of it sickens him the way looking down the barrel of a gun might.

But he is the being with her type.

Ironically, while Y/n has been doing everything to make sure their entanglement stays hidden, he's just started wondering what it would be like if they’d never hid at all. What if everyone knew that she was there because he wanted her there? What if they knew that he was meeting her eyes when he glances at the area above the main floor?

When the set is over and he’s through with humoring the audience for a bit longer, Andrew returns to the backstage area with the intention of seeking her out. He’d asked her to meet him there, but after a quick look around he can’t seem to find her. Even when he asks his manager, a couple of the assistants and some of his bandmates, they all claim to have not seen her recently. There aren't any recent texts or missed calls from Y/n either, and that’s really all it takes for his mind to jump to the worst.

Has she changed her mind on him?

She can’t do that. Well, she can, but if she’s gonna tear his world apart, a warning would have been nice.

Andrew is so defeated by her absence that he halfheartedly dismisses Alex’s offer to have a drink with the rest of the band, mumbling a lie about having a headache just so he can retreat to his dressing room and be alone. He doesn’t even think about why the lights are on when he pushes the door open.

“Well, that took you long enough.”

Andrew jumps when he hears her voice. Y/n is sitting on the chair at the long, barren dressing table. She carelessly sets her phone down as he enters the room, and Andrew shuts the door before responding. “What the fuck, Y/n. I’ve been looking for you, I thought you left.”

“You asked me to stay,” she knits her brows.

“I asked you to meet me backstage,” he corrects.

“This is backstage,” Y/n determines, “besides,” she shrugs, “I thought it would have been weird if I hung around back there. Its…..that’s not what this is,” her voice drops an octave lower, and a pang of guilt stabs at his chest. He knows she doesn’t mean anything malicious by her words, but it does sting.

Andrew crosses the room to stand beside where she's sitting, leaning against the table. “Right,” he licks his lips, “ehm, did you have a good time?”

Y/n grins, “I did,” she takes his hand in both of her smaller ones, stroking his knuckles with her thumbs before starting to absently massage it. For a moment, Andrew almost forgets that they aren’t actually an item anymore; this is exactly what the first few minutes after a show used to look like. “You were fantastic out there….you always are. They love you.”

“I like it more when you love me,” he elicits, raising his free hand to touch the side of her face.

“Andrew,” Y/n sighs, turning away from his touch, “don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He scoffs, suddenly defensive.

“Act like….” A sound of irritation escapes her throat and she shakes her head, “like we’re something.”

“We are something,” he counters, matching her growing frustration.

Y/n doesn’t let his hand go, but her ministrations slow, “not that kind of something.”

Andrew turns his hand over in hers, holding onto one as the other drops to her lap. Gently, he urges her up, and slips his arm around to the small of her back. His fingers toy with the lace of her black blouse and he bends his head a little to search her gaze. “Can we not do this tonight? Please?” He drops his face lower just as she tips her chin a bit higher, and his forehead is almost touching hers.

Y/n’s eyes soften and she reaches up to settle her palm on his shoulder, the roughness of his jacket – the same one he wore in London the night everything started falling apart – letting it linger there for a few seconds before shifting it up to cup the side of his neck. Ther lips lock in an ardent kiss, that starts slow, only growing more impassioned when his fingers curl against her back as he presses her closer. Extracting his hand from hers, Andrew places it on Y/n’s hip so he can switch their positions, easily trapping her between his body and the table.

His hand on her hip slides downwards, skimming the length of her short skirt before he slips it between her thighs. Her skin is soft and warm, and when he brushes the lace of her underwear, Y/n shivers, the quaking breath falling past Andrew’s lips. Suddenly, he isn’t worrying about optics and nursing the ache of something just past them, he’s in the moment, right there. The lingering adrenaline from being on stage just twenty minutes earlier is being harbored by their proximity and the first traces of moisture pooling just over his fingers. Already, he can feel himself responding; the zipper of his jeans feels restricting and his breathing quickens.

It doesn’t matter if he last had her the night before or a month ago, his yearning for her never wavers. Andrew could spend the rest of his life losing himself in her.

Y/n pushes off his denim jacket, and it hits the door with a soft thud that isn’t acknowledged and then flattens her hands on his chest, gently urging him into the chair she'd been sitting in earlier. Clumsily, he stumbles backwards, pulling her into his lap as he falls into the chair.

Hastily, he reaches for her cheek again, large hand dwarfing her face. Some of her hair is caught under his palm, but Andrew doesn’t spend any effort brushing it away. Instead, he cruises his thumb along her ruby stained lips; he loves that colour on her. “You look so beautiful tonight,” he rasps, “I’m glad you came,” he adds.

Her eyes move quickly as they search his, and Y/n cradles his face in her small hands, the prickle of his beard prodding at the soft skin. She furrowed her brows at his words, not quite knowing what to say; she doesn't want to ruin their night but she doesn't want to make things any more confusing than they already are.

If that's even possible.

“I wouldn't rather be anywhere else,” she finds herself saying it without much effort being expended to hold it back. It's the truth; she wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Andrew looks like he's going to say something else, and she holds her breath for it – but he doesn't. Sliding his hand forward, he threads his fingers through her hair, guiding her face towards his. Under her skirt, Andrew shoves the crotch of her underwear aside and introduces two of his long fingers to her center, curling them slightly.

Stirring her hips, Y/n moans against his lips while gathering fistfuls of his printed t-shirt in a white knuckled grip. His lips are hot on her neck, leaving marks that she’ll have to cover up tomorrow and her head is tilted to the side, allowing him access. When his thumb swirls around her sensitive nub, Y/n gasps and presses her cheek to the top of his head.

“Andy….” She rasps, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt so she can slip her hands under it, cool palm's against the heat of his chest. Eager for more, she grinds against his fingers as he introduces another. “I wanna feel you….” She pleads, nails grazing his skin.

When he finally extracts his fingers in favor of tugging her underwear down her thighs. In a series of clumsy motions, the lacy thing is thrown to the floor and Y/n reaches for the buckle of his belt, hastily undoing it before opening up the button and zipper of his pants. They don’t shove it all the way down, just enough for her to ease herself down on him.

“Fuck sweetheart,” Andrew hisses, fingers digging into her ample hips. With a bruising grip, he guides her into a steady pace. The way she’s wrapped around him is dizzying, and everytime she moans his name, in that breathy way that she does, he swears he inches a little closer to heaven.

She’ll never get over the way he fills her up, they way it feels like they’re two puzzle pieces snapping together. “Andrew….” she croons, half a praise, half a desperate whine. Clutching his t-shirt in one hand and cupping his neck with the other, she tips her forehead against his. Their eyes meet, in the haze of lust blown pupils and tangled lashes and Andrew tips his chin slightly to bring his lips closer to hers, almost touching them but not quite.

“That’s it, honey. You feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this,” he praises through gritted teeth when she quickens the erotic roll of her hips. Every crude compliment is achingly familiar, music that Y/n is so used to hearing that doesn’t think she could ever go without it – the world can have the poet in him, but this is only for her.

His palm journeys up her hip, tracing the contour of her body over the thin lace of her blouse before eventually grabbing her breast, giving the flesh and eager squeeze. There’s something to be said about the way he appreciates her body; as if she were a work of art conjured up just for him.

A loud moan reverberates in the small room when his lips connect with her collar bone, and Y/n’s knees buckle. “Almost there,” Andrew gasps, heady words spilt on her skin, “come on, sweetheart,” he encourages, bucking his hips.

Her breaths are heavy and erratic, and Andrew can feel the pound of her heart against his chest, matching the excited thump of his own. Y/n’s name is like a little prayer on his lips, a mantra, as she finally crashes down. Limbs shaking, words muddled and head thrown back. His lips find her neck again, muffling a strained against her throbbing pulse as he finds his own, euphoric release. His grip on her tightens, holding her as close as possible.

“God,” Y/n heaves, head falling into the crook of his neck. Just then, Andrew’s hold slackens and he envelopes her in a loose embrace. He lolls his cheek against the top of her head and sighs softly as their breathing slowly evens out.

He knows they should probably untangle themselves after a while but holding her like this, it feels like the closest he’s been to home in a damn long time. Even his own house doesn't feel like this anymore – not since she left. And it isn’t just the familiarity of her curves, or the comfort of her voice; its the security of proximity. The way he can feel everything she holds for him coming off her, the way warmth oozes from a fire. She’s safe, she cares.

He doesn’t have to think too hard when they’re together, his mind is empty and quiet – in the best way.

He wants to tell her he misses this, he misses feeling her warmth against him as he falls asleep. Hearing her breathing so close to his ear, the proof that she's real and not just some figment of a weary artist's imagination. He misses the way they'd just lay together after they're spent, her fingers tracing circles over heartbeat, his trailing up and down her back.

The way she'd raise off his chest and use the back of her hand to brush hair away away from his face before leaning down to kiss him.

He's had it with other women – before and after Y/n – but it doesn't come close to the way it feels with her.

Because it's more than the simple pleasure of being with another, it's the great privilege of getting to love her.

“I-”

“Hey, man I – oh, shit,” Alex tugs the door shut faster than he'd pulled it open.

In a series of stumbles and hasty movements, Y/n scampers from his lap, and Andew barely resists the urge to tighten his grip and pull back down onto him.

“Sorry! I didn't know you were…..” Alex trails off, “you said you had a headache and one of the assistants said she saw you go in here.”

Andrew stutters, standing to pull up his jeans while Y/n steals away to the small bathroom to get cleaned up. “Ehm….it's….” He doesn't want to say it's alright, because it would be far from the truth, but its also his fault for not locking the door.

But they shouldn't have been doing that in there anyway. Though, he and Y/n seem to have a knack for doing things they probably shouldn't.

“Gimme fifteen,” Andrew eventually manages. He doesn't catch Alex’s response, he isn't too concerned with it anyway. Andrew is more focused on what Y/n will think, what she'll say. She's been so adamant about keeping things quiet that he isn't sure if the threat of being discovered will be enough to drive her way.

He isn't sure because his Y/n wouldn't have cared; they'd been caught sneaking off way too many times for her to be phased. Hell, if they were still together, Alex wouldn't have even come looking.

But everything's different now – she's different now. She's not his Y/n.

Andrew brings his fist to the door in three short knocks. “I'm sorry,” implores when she doesn't respond, “I didn't mean for that to happen.” He sighs heavily, waiting for her to say something, “I didn't think anyone would come back here.”

And she still doesn't say anything.

Soundlessly, Andrew presses the side of his fist to the door while planting his free hand on the edge of the door frame. “Darlin’,” he breaths, hanging his head, “please come-”

“Don't call me that,” Andrew stumbles forward a little when Y/n unlocks the door and yanks the door open.

Andrew scoffs, pushing his hair out of his face with one sweep of his fingers, when she slips out from under his raised arm, “that's what you open the door for?” Y/n doesn't respond with anything more than a huff and a shake of her head as she collects her phone and purse off the table. “Come on,” he reaches for her arm, “please.”

She sighs, dropping her shoulders. “What?” Y/n turns to face him, lips pressed together and eyes sullen.

“I should've locked the-”

“Its not about that, Andrew,” she glaces away, briefly catching a glimpse of them in the mirror. His long fingers loosely gripping her arm while they stand barely a foot apart. It feels strange seeing herself like that; she's never wanted to put distance between them, ever. Even after she left him, all Y/n ever wanted to do was bridge the oceans between them, wade through whatever had ripped them from each other and find her way back to him.

Its why she opens herself up to him every time they see each other, some of him is better than none at all.

But being caught changes everything; it makes her the girl who keeps going back to a man who won't commit. Pathetic, foolish.

That's what she sees staring back at her.

A silly girl who's lovelorn for a man who keeps telling her - with his own words and his own mouth - that he will never want the same things he does. He will never return the kind of love she has for him.

That girl is staring at her, eyes brimmed with stinging tears, asking her why she's wasting the best years of her life fucking this man in a dressing room. In hotel rooms booked under an alias. In the back of her rental parked near the beach at ten pm.

He is not going to change, and neither is she. But this can end.

“Let's just talk,” Andrew begs, “or, or, come for a drink with us. You're friends with the band –”

“What is this to you?” She glances back at him, watery eyes struggling to keep years worth of heartbreak at bay.

Stunned, Andrew deserts her arm and runs his hand over her hair. “It's…..” the closet thing he has to the best three years of his life. It's the thing that's killing him slowly, whether or not he can admit.

It's a thing so undefined that he isn't sure he has a word for it, but given the alternative, he's willing to trudge on.

Beginning again, Andrew emits a frustrated sigh, “it's….doesn’t it matter. You're the one that doesn't want us to be together – you broke up with me,” his tone hardens. He doesn't want to have the fight against, not when they've finally found some steady footing, no mind it's more of a liferaft than a boat in the middle of a pitch black sea. It's still something, it's all that's keeping him from going under.

“I am not having this conversation again,” she hasn't been shouting, but for some reason her words still sound pained and raw.

“I'm just saying,” Andrew pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was good with the way things were,” he spats, forgoing every thought he'd had on stage earlier, all in the name of self preservation.

“You wouldn't tell people I was your girlfriend–”

“Our friends knew –”

“Just barely,” Y/n scoffs, “you kept telling everyone that we were “seeing where it goes,” it had been three years; what more did you need to see?”

He doesn't have an answer, and, at a loss for words, he just stands there. He wants to say something, slap another bandaid over the still-bleeding bullet hole, but nothing comes. That sort of callousness can't be excused or explained.

Andrew suddenly remembers that his brother once called him a commitment phobe, so maybe those are the words. But a reason still isn't an excuse, it still isn't an apology. It still isn't a hall pass to run someone's heart through a woodchipper.

Y/n stands in front of him, a shell of the woman he'd held in his hungry hands earlier, and Andrew figures he's something of the same. It's all forgotten now; her gentle massaging of his hands – cause she must be the only person he's ever told that they get sore after playing all night. The way her chest melted into his, her breath tickling his collar bone.

It's all gone now, a memory that feels so long past him that he isn't remembering right. Her lips must've been sweeter that he's recalling, she must've felt warmer because there's a chill hanging in the air and he hadn't been cold then.

Those people aren't them – or maybe its the other way around. He can’t get it to make sense in his head, but it doesn’t matter anyway. It doesn’t give him something useful to say; its not going to make her stay.

Surprisingly, Y/n closes the space between them with a couple steps, and she stands on her toes to kiss the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to say anything, Andy,” his heart contracts; why does it feel like the last time she’s calling him that?

Is he going to be Andrew to her from now on; entirely cold and formal? Or is she just never going to say his name?

“But um…..maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” she says, settling on her feet.

“No,” desperately, Andrew takes her hand, “please.”

He isn’t even crawling back this time; this isn’t him crawling back to her. This is him pounding down the door, begging to be let in.

But its closed – locked even.

“Not this time,” already, he misses his name on her tongue. Y/n’s hand slips out of his – centimeter by centimeter – until the barest tips of their fingers are touching. And, more than anything else he’s wanted in a damn long time, he wants to take a step forward and take her hand again.

He wants her to turn around and see the emotion threatening to spill out of his eyes as the world gives out under his feet.

Andrew wants to beg her to stay – but it won’t make a different because the defending sound of the doorknob’s click rattles in his ear as she pulls it shut, and all he’s left with is a cloud of jasmine perfume and a hollowness in his chest as he slumps against the table.

[bitbugbites-re]

𝙿𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔞 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Game nights are fun. Especially so when you mix "Sex Chocolates" and Go Fish.

a03 link

word count: ~2.7k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // aphrodisiacs, kissing, neck kissing, foreplay, vaginal sex, no use of y/n, reader-insert, sex chocolates??? not even finishing a game of go fish smh

a/n: do my author notes boost my aura. be honest guys

p.s. -- if you’re only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

“Is this elephant blue?” the man beside you questioned, his slimy facemask beginning to lift at the edges that covered his stubble-coated jaw. 

Raising a brow, you glanced at the card he was observing, as you began pressing your hand to the wet, papery skincare sheet that rested on his face. The card, indeed, had an image of a baby-blue elephant on it, drawn in a simplified, cutesy manner–not to mention, it was accompanied by an ‘s,’ and the word elephant in all lowercase. You patted his face once more, ensuring the facemask was placed smoothly onto his warm skin, and then answered his question.

“Yeah, it looks pretty blue to me. Why?”

Pressing his lips into a fine line, he shook his head, a loose strand of hair untucking itself from one of the millions of barrettes placed in his hair. They ranged from a million different colors, to a million different decals, to a million different sizes. His favorites, he claimed, were the red chili peppers–because they were, as he claims, “hot and spicy,” like him.

“Have you ever seen a blue elephant?” he asked, his tone sardonic. “I mean, really–what is with this blue elephant propaganda? They’re gray. Or brown–either or.”

Looking over at him, you stifled a laugh and simply smiled. “I didn’t know this was something you were so passionate about, Carlos.”

Chuckling under his breath, he turned to face you, grinning. “Oh yeah, I’m real serious about this stuff. I mean, what are they teaching the children, y’know? That elephants are blue? It’s just not right.”

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his shoulder softly. The card he was holding was part of a children’s Go Fish Alphabet card pack, one which you asked him to pick up on his way home from work–Well, sort of. You hadn’t asked him to get an alphabet set of cards meant for teaching toddlers letters and animals, but cards were cards. You suppose.

“So we’re playing Go Fish tonight?” you asked, switching your sitting position, your legs brushing against the scratchy, beige carpet. 

“Not unless you know how to play poker or blackjack with these things,” he said, his tone lighthearted as he began shuffling the deck. 

“Ha, ha,” you exclaimed, your voice filled with sarcasm. “What would we bet, anyways? I don’t know how I feel forking up my cash to a guy who uses his money on Go Fish Alphabet cards.”

Whipping his head towards you, he feigned a hurt expression. “How could you say that? These are precious cards my wonderful girlfriend asked me to get. It was money well spent.”

Laughing, you reached over for the flimsy bowl of popcorn, aching for a handful–or two, or three–of the hot, buttery snack. You threw a singular popcorn at Carlos, watching him scramble for it unsuccessfully. It fell to the distant floor, to which, he quickly retrieved it and stuffed it in his mouth anyways.

“Eeeeewwww,” you teased, scrunching your face at him. He only scooted closer to you, using his thick arm to close the distance as he lifted his body that lay sideways. 

“Give me a kiss, pretty girl.” 

You faked a scream before getting up and attempting to run. He was quicker than you, though, and before you could make it out of your room, he had his arms wrapped tight around your waist, the scent of his skincare sheet wafting from behind. You felt him shift and interlock his fingers, pressing his hands against your stomach, pulling you into him as his head lowered to your neck, pressing kisses to it softly. 

You flinched from the drastic temperature change of his facemask meeting your skin, and started to wack his arm with haste. “Cold, cold, cold–” you repeated, sucking air in through your teeth.

He quickly pulled back, removing the skincare sheet and balling it up in his fist, before quickly shooting it toward the trashcan. Surprisingly, he didn’t miss.

You felt him untwine his fingers, his dominant hand rising to his face, only to do a singular swipe from his forehead-down to wipe the moisture off, before wiping it on his pants and returning his hand to where it was originally placed. You quietly murmured to him that it ruins the point if he touches his face after the mask, but when you felt his lips pin against your neck again, you lost all resolve to criticize his boyish actions.

“I got something else for us,” he mumbled, his voice low as well as without much focus on his actual speech; he continued working on your neck, and without a doubt, you felt a growth press against your backside. 

Your cheeks felt warm, and it was starting to get difficult to hold your eyes open, his touch feeling like a massage. “Hmm?” you mumbled, feeling him slowly drag a hand from your stomach, to your waist, to his pocket. 

He pulled out what sounded like a wrapper, and when he held it out in front of you, you saw that it was a candy labeled ‘Sex Chocolates,’ with bold, red lipstick stain decals over black packaging.

You blinked a couple of times, rereading the name, mostly unsure why the company would straight up name–what you assumed was a brand of herbal aphrodisiac chocolates–quite literally, ‘Sex Chocolates.’ It would be like if a toilet company named themselves, ‘Toilet.’ 

Just toilet.

You shrugged away the thought upon hearing Carlos speak, which you had no doubt was to clarify just what he was holding. Not that it needed much introduction.

“I was thinking,” he paused, moving his hand to raise your palm and place the candy in it, “we could each have one of these before playing our game. First one who caves, loses.”

Smirking, you began unwrapping the chocolate in your hand. 

This was going to be a piece of cake.

It was not a piece of cake. 

You were now sitting there, your heart feeling like it was about to burst out from your chest, while Carlos was sitting happily surrounded by the millions of barrettes he removed from his hair, analyzing the few cards left in his hand. “Got a lowercase ‘s,’ for squirrel?”

You shook your head, but to be honest, you didn’t give a single damn any longer about this game or his all-lowercase squirrel. You weren’t sure if those chocolates were really what they advertised or if they were just a placebo, but something was happening to you, that was for sure.

Maybe you had tricked yourself into thinking that they really do work, and as a result, they did–but no matter, because you had already caught yourself eyeing up Carlos like he was meat on a stick, multiple times.

At first, it was his arms that stuck out to you. The way his veins protruded, how his muscles flexed as he messed with his cards. You imagined how every single hair on his arm would feel as you ran your hand up it, and how your palm would follow the curves of his firm forearm, to his thick upper arm, to his broad shoulder. 

Next, it was his brows, strangely enough. You liked the way they moved, the way they would crease along with his forehead, how they showed every single emotion or thought that he had–how he had no poker face.

And now, it was his stomach. The way you could see a sliver of it due to his shirt being raised slightly, his untamed happy trail exposed so innocently. How around, only a mere centimeter, the band of his briefs peeked out. And god, not to mention, how you could see a bit of one of his v lines. 

Yup. You were done for.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you’re suddenly snapped out of your thoughts by the growing smirk on Carlos’ face. “Having trouble focusing, Pipsqueak? There’s no shame in calling it quits.”

“I’m good,” you stated, despite the horrible urge to squirm into his lap and beg for him to leave his mark over every single spot on your body.

You wanted his tongue everywhere. In your mouth, fighting for dominance; on your breasts, teasing you along with his teeth; on the palm of your hand, trailing to the veins on your wrist; and on your–

“Shit, it’s really getting to ‘ya, isn’t it?”

Your eyes met Carlos’ once again, and you watched as he inched closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, his voice low and sultry, barely above a whisper. “I’m yours.”

Within seconds, your lips crashed into his. The fact that this meant that you would lose the game was the absolute last thing on your mind right now, while the first thing, was everything you wanted Carlos to do to you–what you wanted to do to him.

As his velvety lips accepted your desperate ones, you pictured the two of you in every and any way imaginable. Missionary, in the bed, with your head trapped between one of his king-sized arms and his domineering head in the crook of your neck, panting with each thrust. On his face, with fistfuls of his black hair between your fingers and your beating clit brushing against the breath from his nose, begging you to cum. Cowgirl, on the floor, with your palms resting on his dense collarbones and his throbbing cock deep within your core.

Just to name a few.

You felt his facial hair rub against your cheeks, before suddenly, Carlos had you pinned by the arms to the floor. He then rose to his knees, hovering over you, looking at you through his bottom lashes with a lustful expression. Taking in a sharp inhale, he tilted his head and smiled smugly.

“I win.”

You simply stared up at him, your breathing quick, unable to contend his statement. You assumed he would gloat a little more, but surprisingly, he ended up helping you up fairly quickly. Once he did, he led you to the nearby bed, pulling you onto his lap–it didn’t take long at all for you to start grinding on one of his thighs, your head buried in between his neck and shoulder. You were so desperate for him, that you felt a little like a pervert as you rubbed yourself off, the musky scent of his skin being the only thing that filled your nostrils. 

“Calm down, Girl,” he said, softly placing his arm on your waist, holding you to him. His voice was light, and it sounded like he was genuinely starting to get concerned. “You are okay, right?”

Nodding your head into his shoulder, you let out a whimper as you found your sweet spot, dragging your hips slowly, back and forth atop his leg. In response, Carlos flexed the muscle within his thigh, pressing it up slightly, so that more pressure was provided. This time, you let out a gasp, and reached your hand up to the collar of Carlos’ shirt, gripping it as if you were holding on for dear life.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad.

“Carlos,” you breathed out, “I need you.”

Within an instant, Carlos had you on the bed, flipped on your back, with his knee pressed to your heat. He kept it there, letting you continue massaging yourself on him, as he pulled his shirt over his head with both arms. Mesmerized, you watched as his abs stiffened and relaxed with each move.

Next, he shuffled his pants and briefs down to his mid-thigh, sighing as his hard cock was released from its confines. After he did that, he removed his knee from between your legs, earning a whine from you, before then pulling your shorts and underwear down for you. Once they were completely off, he returned the two of you to your original positions, where he sat on the edge of the bed, and you sat facing toward him on his lap. His hand moved down south, softly caressing the side of your thigh, before eventually pushing between your folds and inserting a finger slowly. 

“Woah, you’re soaking,” he exclaimed, shocked by how wet you were already. Instead of gawking at this discovery, he simply inserted a second finger and continued trying to help relax the muscles in your core. It didn’t take much longer for the two of you to feel ready for the next step, to which Carlos slid his slick, thickset fingers out of your core. 

You raised your hips as he stroked himself slowly, positioning the head of his cock so that it aligned to the entrance of your heat. And then, you got exactly what you wanted.

He helped you lower yourself down onto him, and with ease, his manhood sunk deep inside you. Surprisingly, he was more vocal than you. With a couple of groans, he threw his head back, one of his hands positioned behind him, while the other held onto you tight. “Fuck, Babygirl, you feel so good.”

You began to move, slowly raising and dropping your hips, taking him in, then out, in, then out, over and over again. As the pattern continued, you deviated by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He reciprocated, and the two of you focused on your interlocked lips for a while, until eventually, he pulled back, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek. With hooded eyes, he moved his thumb over your lips, rubbing them gingerly. 

“Show me your tongue,” he instructed, leaving his thumb to rest on your bottom lip as you opened your mouth, following what he commanded. “That’s a good girl.”

Carlos moved the tip of his thumb to rest on your tongue, letting you suck on it gently as you continued to ride atop him, his eyes greedily watching you use him how you liked. 

You continued like that for a while longer, until soon enough, he moved his wet thumb from your mouth to your clit, and began to rub in constant, circular motions. A warm pit began to grow in your stomach, and within no time, you were tightening around his cock, on the verge of cumming. 

“Cum for me pretty girl,” he said, his voice strained as he was beginning to lose himself as well. “I’m not going to last much longer, and–I want you to cum first,” he groaned, having to slow his pace and flex his lower half. He was holding back an orgasm. 

Listening to his words, you moved your head to the crook of his neck, and shut your eyes as you focused on his thumb circling your clit. You came quickly, and as you did, Carlos filled your ears with plenty of praises and compliments–for being so good, and for being so patient.

Once you had finished, it was his turn. He let you collect yourself for a minute before leaning back, placing his hands on your hips, and thrusting wildly into you, as if he had lost all of the control he had previously.

“Fucking, god,” he groaned, the bed shaking wildly as he continuously ravaged you. You watched him as he got close, the way his throat strained, the way he panted and cussed, the way his entire face was scrunched. Not long after, you heard him let out a loud whine, his cock twitching and throbbing as his thick cum poured out into you in warm loads. 

It took a minute for him to catch his breath and pull out, but when he did, you felt his cum start to slowly drip out of your core, coating all over his cock. He didn’t even seem to notice.

Still trying to catch your breath, you glanced at Carlos, wondering how he was faring. He seemed more exhausted than you despite the chocolate affecting you more, and that resulted in a laugh from you.

Confused, Carlos looked up at you. “What? What’s funny?”

You continued to giggle, laying your head on his chest, and cuddling into his sweat-stricken body.

“Maybe you do have a poker face, after all.”

[dev1lm4n]

winter coat

read pt. 2 offering here!

pairing: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which you gave a blowjob to trade for a winter coat back in the dark days, little do you know, that same guy is now your neighbor.

warnings: explicit (18+), details of blowjob, prostitution, unspecified age gap.

word count: 1.3k

notes: this is my first time writing a proper fic so im so sorry if i fucked things up ^^

The last time you saw that man was from a rather precarious point of view. A sight in which only a selected few could indulge in, perhaps several of his actual lovers from the old world and a line of nameless whores from the new world. You in particular fall in the nameless whores category, which sounds faintly depressing if you were to go into detail, but it's not the worst thing per say. You'd say that it's a fair trade for a winter coat.

An incredibly warm winter coat that's fucking lined with actual padding and not the shitty fraying kind either. To add on to that, it comes in a pretty periwinkle shade. Frigid temperatures, brisk winds, and snow wouldn't be as agonizing with the new addition. It's not a terrible view either, especially if you were to focus more on the little things happening all around you in contrast to the elephant in the room.

Your blown out pupils somehow managed to make out the figure that's standing in front of you, hazily focusing on one thing before searching for another to be interested in. First point of interest being the beads of sweat that's dribbling down his jugular vein, following each and every curves of his clavicle until it dipped all the way down his sun-kissed skin and onto the thick of his flannel. He's always wearing flannels. You're not sure if that's some sort of fashion choice he made or if it's just a consequence to the fucked up new world order.

Either way, your interest made it's way upwards towards the scruff patch right around his jaw. Right underneath the thin line of grimace he wore. How he bit his curved lip, sandwiching it between his canines before letting out what seems to be a deep groan. Was it of blissful pleasure or of annoyance that you weren't enveloping his cock further than he desired? You couldn't decide just yet when your glossy eyes flickered towards his eyes.

His gaze was penetrating the air all around you, if that was even possible to begin with. It's dull and tired as if he hadn't slept for days on end. Crow's feets provided what you felt was a sweet decoration on each corners of his half-lidded eyes. He's furrowing, the small wrinkles between his eyebrows and the broader ones on his forehead scrunched up just the right amount. You'd chalk up that he's a lot older than you. Probably has seen how jolly life was like before humanity went under. You were having the time of your life scrutinizing his every delectable features when you could feel yourself being pushed even further against the thick of his cock.

Enough that your nose is grazing right where his shaft ends. Enough to have you breathless and moaning against his warm tip. He's getting rougher and way more sloppy you think. The sloshing noises grew lewd and deafening. A drop of pre-cum trickled down the ends of your gaping lips, smeared onto the polyester of your lengthy shirt. Arousal steamed your vision and clouded your hearing. He was heavy against the base of your tongue, but you're not in any position to complain. Not when you're willingly kneeling for him, letting him fuck your throat with wild abandon, just for you to trade with a nice pair of winter coat.

That man is now standing in front of you once again and you're about to loose it. This time, he's only showing glimpses of his ruggedness from behind a comically large front door. His glare traveled with unnerving thoroughness. Up and down, left to right, as if deciding whether or not you're a threat to the integrity of his house. Everything in your pretty little mind is telling you to bolt out of his front doorstep. Erase the trail that you've left in the chilly white snow. Trade back the flours, eggs, and chocolate you picked up on the market. Forget you've ever thought of showing some odd version of hospitality by baking soft cookies for the new neighbors. But you stood there, frozen.

A puff of air escaped your lips as you opened it ever so slightly to come up with an excuse, to churn up every last bit of your courage to greet him. To greet Joel Miller who you used to whore yourself up to earn a few more ration cards, a few more jackets and socks, or maybe some moonshine to drown your pathetic life with.

He took a step forward, out of the shadow and into an array of orange emitted from the afternoon sun. You thought that perhaps he's decided that you're either pretty enough to entertain or dumb enough not to be a hassle. You couldn't be certain, but he sure has the same ol' grimace accentuating the bows of his lips. God. He even still had those pretty curly locks that came hand in hand with his eyes, even when it's greying on multiple ends. You could even swear that he still had on the same flannel that he used when you blow him for a winter coat. He's still.. handsome no matter how many years passed by. Your homemade cookies shook in its basket as you staggered backwards, maintaining a healthy distance that your pounding heart could tolerate.

Maybe if you rationalize this, things will start being okay. Maybe this situation isn't as bad as you think it is. Maybe.. maybe he forgot who you were. He's dealt with whores of your kind every day of the week, right? You're almost one hundred percent sure that you're not the first and definitely not the last gal to use their bodies as a currency in this fucked up apocalyptic world. So, logically speaking, he shouldn't have remembered any of their faces. He shouldn't have remembered your face.

Unfortunately for you, Joel Miller doesn't work by the logics and he's here calling you out by your real name. It rolled off his tongue like thick honey. Smoothly, but with just enough caution. He used the version that you've only told a handful of people, even when you're in the safe embrace of Jackson. The version that you don't remember telling him, but apparently you did in the midst of doing unspeakable things with him. You were aghasted. Realization hit you like a truck, but what absolutely demolished your sanity was the fact that he remembered even after all these years. He remembered the name of the whore he's fucked.

"Hi," you squeaked out. "Hello," he parroted out an equally dry greeting, almost as if he's mocking how much tension grew between the two. You swallowed the liquid bile that's piling up in your trachea, only then are you able to bring your hand forward to offer a stupid basket of cookies. Stupid because you've done little to none research on who your new neighbors was and thought that chocolate chip cookies were a good gift to a smuggler. Joel Miller was all things at once, but never a cookie guy. "I see you're still wearin' that coat." Joel reached over for the basket you've presented, craddling the stiff handle with his large calloused fingers. You knew exactly what he's talking about.

You're still wearing that damned periwinkle winter coat you traded for. The same one you've sucked his cock for like years ago. You turned pink at the thought, embarassed and mortified. It's not like you didn't get a chance to earn new winter equipments here in Jackson. It's just that nothing ever came close to how soft the padding on this damned coat is. "Yeah." You nodded. "Still warm." That's all you had to offer to him, before you trudged back hastily into your doorstep. Clumsily shutting the door close, while he continued to watch from a distance.

Curious.