#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.

[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.”

[hyukalyptus]

txt reaction when they’re making love to you for the first time, you’re shy and want the lights off, but they urge you to keep them on and end up finding your healed body scars. Is that angsty?

HELL YEAH THIS IS ANGSTY i love it. lets do some hcs,hmm?? im kinda nervous for this one lmao. i feel like my answers may be a bit cringe but i don't care lmfao. maybe a tad self indulgent MWAHAHA

cw. lots of talk of scars and of self harm (nothing graphic, just talking about scars, not the actual harming), kinda cheesy i think?, i tried really hard to not make it cheesy though, sex implied but nothing graphic there, kissing, swearing.

hcs under cut. again, this talks about self harm.

yeonjun is quiet at first. you can feel the moment he sees them. it happens every time. and you still don't really know how to prepare or react. should you act like they don't exist? address the elephant in the room? cover them up with the blankets? your internal argument is interrupted, though. "i see them," he says. no sugarcoating things. which might be your favorite approach so far. you let out a quiet laugh. he says, "honestly, i was already impressed by you." then he grazes his fingertips over them. "now I’m just kinda intimidated." u raise a brow, unsure if he's joking. "you went through all that, and you're still here like it's nothing." you take a deep breath. then he looks into ur eyes and says, "you're even more of a badass than I thought." and you can tell that it's not a stupid line he pulled out of his ass. he's dead serious. and when he leans in to kiss you again, he shows you just how much he wants you.

soobin i think would be very quiet about it. like not really making many comments for a while. but not out of shock or confusion or pity. just an acceptance of who you are. like he's undressing you gently and finally sees your bare body in the light and starts noticing them slowly, his eager hands slowing down. he looks at it for a second while u carefully watch his reaction and then he leans down to press the softest kiss to one. again, not a performative pity party, not feeling sorry for you, and definitely not wanting to "save" you like some have wanted in the past. it's almost in admiration or reverence. and he kisses more of them, saying i see you without speaking.

beomgyu notices them when he lifts your shirt off, eyes slowly trailing down before catching on the thin lines as a flicker of awareness flits across his eyes. you've done this before, though, and with worse lighting. it's not so scary anymore. "yeah," you start. "they’re what you think they are." and he just nods, "okay." and there's this beat of silence before you finally ask, "you good?" he nods with a chuckle and says, "just trying not to say something stupid." a small smile tugs at the corners of ur lips. then he gently rests his palm on ur stomach and says, "it's just..." he takes a deep breath. "ur still here. and you let me be here too." he smiles. "that’s…a lot, you know?" and honestly? you finally feel seen. not as someone with weird scars or some pathetic thing that's minutes away from breaking down. and he's obsessed with you.

taehyun is kinda caught up in the moment already. ur splayed over the bed, fully bare and visible in the light. and he's just noticing them, touching them to acknowledge their existence. "they're not new," you say. "i'm okay now." and the way he looks in ur eyes, a deep admiration and respect ur not sure u've ever felt, just sort of hits. he holds ur face in his hand and says, "thank you for letting me see this part of you." and it's not dramatic. just truth. and you finally feel like he's not looking at something broken. "i didn’t mean to make it a big deal," you murmur. "you didn’t," he whispers. "but it is. you could’ve kept the lights off or covered up. but you didn’t." and the kiss is so beautiful and blissful—not because he sees your scars—but because you trusted him to.

hueningkai sees them when he's kissing down your stomach. he takes them in, slowly, silently. you go still, bracing for something, but ur not quite sure for what. you just hope it isn't disgust or worse: pity. he doesn't speak. just sits back on his knees and really looks at you. "damn," he starts. "you've been through it, huh?" then his eyes flick back up to yours, something different in them now—heavier than they were before. "and i’m just really fucking honored you chose me." you blink. and it hits. you don’t say anything. just reach for him, hand wrapping around the back of his neck to rest gently. when he leans in to kiss you again, it's not careful. it's intentional. he knows what this means. and he's not afraid. and this weight lifts off your shoulders. because he saw them. and he stayed.

-

suicide hotlines:

usa national suicide hotline: 988

Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860

Blackline (centers Black, Indigenous, & People of Color): (800) 604-5841

Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line: (888) 407-4515

For text based support, THRIVE Lifeline offers 24/7 crisis support at 1 (313) 662-8209

[riddle-me-ri]

a/n: honestly only got this idea from struggling to actually draw the characters and am getting no where but wanted to be productive today damnit 😤 such a neat style but so intimidating hng no worries though the reader has a wondrous time with it and is rewarded for their efforts rip for

Context: this is pre-relationship but may lead to more after this discovery

Content Warning: mostly fluff, some spicy flirting on joseph's part cause it is indeed joseph.

Jojos React to Artist!Reader Having Drawn a Picture of Them

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan is without a doubt your biggest supporter.

Definitely one of the few people that respect the “don't touch the sketchbook without expressed permission” rule.

He treats it as the highest privilege he's ever received~

If you ever needed a little pick me up about your work, he had praises in spades, he may even offer some suggestions if you're in a creative rut.

He was giving your latest filled sketchbook a glance when he noticed a familiar face-

Jonathan is speechless, his cheeks tinted pink…

There was no doubt this visage was his but…

Is this how he looked to you? This...this handsome?

The smile you've drawn on paper is instantly replicated on his face.

“I'm honored to have been an inspiration.” He hands your sketchbook back.

“You've captured my likeness well, please let me know if you ever need me to properly pose for you.”

Joseph Joestar

Joseph DOES NOT respect the don't touch sketchbook unless allowed rule.

You know he just does it to get under your skin and you wished it didn’t work-

His genuine comments on your art however make up for his antics.

You also couldn't deny that Joseph was quite the muse…

His larger than life personality that is shown through his rugged expressions and dynamic poses…

Your skills were always tested but you were always inspired.

When he snatched your sketchbook once again, you were more adamant than usual to get it back.

“Oh come on! Just a little peek~”

Sure enough, that little peek turned into a staring match between him and his portrait.

“So you do stare at me?! I'm impressed you've managed to capture my dashing visage…for the most part-”

As he got lost in coming up with a faux constructive critique you snatched your sketchbook back from his grip.

You tried to make a beeline for an exit but not without Joseph calling out behind you; “If you'd like to do a full body portrait just let me know love, nudity is optional!”

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro secretly enjoyed watching you draw-

To see someone he cares about at peace as he works alongside them with his own projects brought serenity to him…

He never pushed you to show him what you're working on.

You were always rather coy to show him, worried you may be bothering the stoic

Yet if you ever drew something pertaining to marine life you felt more inclined to show him-

And he appreciated your thoughtfulness and talent to capture some of his favorite creatures…

You completely forgot the sketchy portrait you did of Jotaro as he previewed some of your other drawings.

Jotaro’s eyebrows rose slightly as he took in his own image.

You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die~

“Hm…looks good, you've got talent no doubt, thanks for letting me look.”

Obviously he dodges the giant elephant in the room, but best believe when he leaves you to regret your life choices- he lowered his hat brim to cover his heated cheeks.

Good grief~

Josuke Higashikata

It took some time for Josuke to warm up to you being an artist…

Not that he minded the hobby he just doesn't have the best memory of artists.. cough cough Rohan cough

Though you change his mind quickly and now he's always excited to see what you've been working on.

Definitely the best hype man of your art, literally brags about your work to anyone that's willing to listen~

“Yeah, yeah, Rohan whatever, but have you seen their work?!”

Josuke will definitely offer up his good looks for any sort of inspiration you may need~

You take him up on that offer, a few times just without his knowledge.

Okayasu is to thank for ratting out your sketches of Josuke…

Josuke’s eyes widened as he took in the whole page of just him…

He's taken aback by the accuracy (especially to his hair which he very much appreciates)

Josuke knew you were amazing and these just proved it tenfold.

The usually so cool and confident Josuke stumbles a bit with his words for once.

“Wow…um…these…I…”

You snatched your sketchbook back and apologized.

Josuke scratched the back of his head. “Nah, don't apologize, I like them. Don't forget you can always ask me to pose for ya too, you know?”

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno has always been an admirer of the arts.

Growing up in gorgeous Italy, how could one not appreciate art (and be disappointed in the crime that continued to tarnish it)

To befriend an artist was bound to happen and he took every opportunity he could to appreciate your work….at your discretion of course.

Giorno enjoys seeing you scribbling away in the same room as him, pondering what your subject could possibly be…

He had no reason to ever think you could possibly be drawing him.

You have drawn the other members of the gang but not nearly as much as Giorno…

You ran to chase one of Mista's bullets that took a chunk of your lunch and left your sketchbook open-

Open to an almost complete page spread of Giorno…

When he sees it, at first he thinks he's mistaken but there's no denying his hair and face…or his signature outfit.

A soft smile stretched across his face as he took in the vision of himself that you saw…

He always wondered how he looked in your eyes and this is likely the closest he would get…

A contented warmth filled his chest as he stared at the pencil strokes..trying to recount when and/or where you two were for you to capture him in paper.

He graciously closes the book for you, you were never none the wiser that he saw your drawings of him…

Now he aims to be the man you envisioned in your art.

Jolyne Cujoh

(I haven't finished Stone Ocean but couldn't leave my girl out so sorry if anything’s off)

Art was honestly one of the main things that kept you sane at your time in Green Dolphin Street Prison.

Even behind bars there was still plenty going on and plenty of characters to get inspiration from…

You didn't draw too many people, so as to not provoke another's ire but the little group you found yourself in didn't seem to mind.

You've drawn the group, with F.F. being an enthusiastic model always interested to see what faces she can do for you to replicate.

Jolyne couldn't deny that she did get curious to what you were scribbling on your paper-

She's seen some of the portraits and caricatures you've done of other inmates, a few of them getting her to giggle-

I don't doubt she's used Stone Ocean a couple times to get you some art supplies

Whether if you couldn't afford it or if someone stole your supplies when you weren't looking, she somehow always managed to get them.

You drew her a highly detailed butterfly with her name in the wing pattern as a thank you…

She's speechless and hangs it up on her cell wall, promising to keep it close to her.

You have found yourself drawing a lot of butterflies lately…and a lot of Jolyne.

You're not sure what it was…she just gave you a lot of hope…for what exactly you couldn't pin down.

Jolyne finds out about these drawings by pure accident-

She unknowingly snuck up on you to talk to you and got surprised to see what was on the pages.

“Is…is that…me?”

The need to crawl into a hole and die 2.0

“Wow…Y-You make me look badass! T-thanks…”

Your heart is beating so fast that it's difficult to respond…

But you fumbled through a thanks and something about how she makes it easy to draw her badass looking~

[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

[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

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Twelve

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Spanking and smutty behaviour. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.4k

A/N : I take no responsibility for this😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN

Master List

Chapter Twelve

True to his word, nothing changed between you. In fact, it was as if nothing had happened at all. The next morning you might have chalked it all up to a strange dream if it hadn’t been for the lingering ache across your backside, and the serene and rested look on Billy’s face as you joined him for breakfast.

He made all the usual conversation, asking if you’d slept okay, what you wanted to do for dinner that night, and you had to wonder if he was deliberately ignoring the elephant in the room because he wanted you to be the one to bring it up.

You didn’t.

It was easier not to, you decide. It was easier to keep compartmentalising everything. The spanking could go on the shelf at the back of your mind along with the way he’d kissed you on the VKD balcony.

Days passed and you felt a strange sort of anticipation, waiting for the next time. Hoping for it. Every time he asked you to do something, your heart beat a little faster, and you found yourself fantasising, imagining Billy bending you over his desk and -

No. Nope. That sort of thinking was not going to help you get through the week.

He gave no indication that he was thinking about it as much as you were, and you weren’t sure if that made things better or worse. But you were both having the week from hell, so you couldn’t exactly blame him for being preoccupied. And you were preoccupied too - every day that passed without hearing from VDK made you feel worse, like you’d ruined things by confronting Catherine Van Der Koy.

Last minute tax returns and a slew of new and renewed contracts had you both working overtime all week. And, after work, he would take you out to dinner, claiming it was so you could both relax and have a few drinks without having to worry about tidying up after yourselves. He didn’t give you the chance to see if anything would happen between you again.

But that wasn’t to say you didn’t see his need for control presenting itself in other ways. In fact once you knew what to look for, it was hard to miss.

“Come on, we’re going for lunch,” he said, appearing from his office on Friday afternoon.

“I just need to finish this spreadsheet,” you answered, barely looking up from your laptop.

“You look exhausted, come on.”

He was probably right - if you looked even half as bad as you felt, then you looked terrible.

“Five more minutes,” you said, blinking as your eyes struggled to focus, “it’s got to get done.”

“I wasn’t asking, little dove.”

Before you could answer or start to complain, he reached over your shoulder and closed your laptop. A lump caught in your throat as you looked up at him, protests dying on your lips as your gaze met his, his eyes betraying the storm that was raging inside of him. 

It was a strange reminder of the first time he’d taken you for lunch, and how you hadn’t seen the gesture for what it truly was, but now it made you feel almost giddy.

His hand was offered and you took it, letting him help you to your feet before he slipped your coat onto your arms. When you turned to face him, you watched in silent surprise as he started to button it shut for you.

“It’s cold out,” he said.

It should have made you baulk - you could take care of yourself, you could do up your own damned coat - but, instead it made you feel something else. Your racing mind fell silent for a few seconds and you just allowed him to take care of you.

It was just a coat, just a silly gesture; you could give him that much without fighting.

“Don’t forget your gloves,” he added.

Without hesitation, you reached into your pockets for your gloves and pulled them on, and let him lead you towards the elevator.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, letting on a group of six men. Anvil operators. They each smiled and greeted Billy, and he did the same. As the elevator became crowded, Billy stepped behind you, his arm slipping around your waist and urging you back against him. It felt almost like a display of defensiveness, of dominance and ownership.

Again, it should’ve bothered you. And, in a way, it did. You weren’t some possession. You weren’t his. But, again, you felt a strange sort of calm come over you. With him holding you, you felt no need to force a smile or try to make friendly conversation with the men, no need to laugh at their dirty jokes or crude attempts at flirting.

Admittedly, it didn’t happen often, but you’d had more uncomfortable moments in the elevator than you cared to remember.

But not with Billy. 

With Billy you were safe.

His hand found yours as you stepped off the elevator, falling into step with him as you headed outside. Cold wind whipped around you and you pressed yourself into his side - he’d been right, it was cold out. And, you knew that if it hadn’t been for him, you probably wouldn’t have bothered buttoning your coat, and your gloves would have been left forgotten in your pockets.

It only took a minute to get across the busy street and into The Bean Grinder, but you were shivering by the time you got there. Billy turned to you and pressed a hand to your cheek, concern etched on his face, no doubt expecting you to have a coughing fit at any moment. When you didn’t he told you to go sit down while he got lunch.

You were too tired to protest and, thankfully, he knew what you liked. So you trusted him while you went and sat at your usual table by the window and shrugged off your coat. Resting your elbow on the table, you propped your head up with the palm of your hand.

At some point, you let your eyes close, resting them after hours of staring at your laptop. You didn’t open them again until the table was jostled by Billy putting the tray down. He was frowning when you looked at him and, without warning, he reached across the table to press his palm to your cheek again.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long week.”

He drew back his hand, let out a sigh, and started to move the drinks and food from the tray.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he put your panini in front of you. “I should’ve noticed you’ve been -”

“No, that’s not -” you interrupted. “- I’m not complaining, Billy. I don’t need you to notice that I’ve been doing my job.”

It was one thing to let him button your coat for you but you didn’t need him acting like you were struggling to do your job or that you couldn’t cope. Yes, it’d been a busy week and you were tired, but you’d handled busy weeks before and you would no doubt have to do so again.

There was a visible flicker of... something on his face, like he realised he was overstepping and quickly reeled it back in.

“I just don’t want you getting too stressed out,” he said.

It felt like a white flag and you were willing to let it go.

“It’s fine. As long as I get through everything today, next week we’ll be able to go back to normal,” you told him before taking a bite of your panini and letting out a soft little groan at how good it tasted. “I didn’t even realise how hungry I was.”

He gave you a look, his jaw ticking, but he held back whatever it was he wanted to say. Though, ultimately, he didn’t have to say anything. Clearly he’d known how hungry you were because the moment you’d finished your panini, he placed a slice of red velvet cake down in front of you. 

Your favourite.

But you’d never told him that, never eaten it in front of him.

“How did you -” you started to ask.

“I asked the barista.”

Finally, you actually looked at the table in front of you, realising that, not only had he brought you a slice of cake, he’d also gotten you a glass of water as well as your usual latte.

“You don’t have to look after me,” you said, but there was no malice or upset in your tone. It was just a simple statement of fact.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Something somewhere inside you told you to fight it, to rage against it, as you had done every other time in the past that he’d tried it. But this wasn’t like those times, it didn’t feel like a push. No, it was more like a gentle nudge, an offer. And, now that you knew you could trust him, the idea of him taking care of you wasn’t quite so distasteful.

And it was just a piece of cake...

So you ate it. And you drank the glass of water once you’d finished your coffee.

(And, honestly, you felt so much better for it. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he was good at taking care of you.)

When you stood to leave, he reminded you to button your coat and put your gloves on, and you supposed you should have been grateful that he didn’t just do it for you himself in front of the whole coffee shop. Then, you steeled yourself to return to the endless spreadsheets, invoices, and emails you’d need to get through before the day was over.

Heading back into the Anvil building, Carl handed Billy an envelope that had been delivered while you’d both been out. An envelope bearing both of your names.

He didn’t open it until you were in the elevator but the moment he did, his mood changed drastically.

“What is it?” You asked when you noticed the grin on his lips.

Instead of answering, he handed you the letter - no, not a letter, an invitation - inviting you to a black tie charity auction being held by VDK.

You let out a sigh of relief, a breath you felt like you’d been holding onto for the last two weeks, your body sagging into his side.

Billy looked at you, confused. “I thought you’d be happy?”

“I am, I just -” your cheeks warmed and you felt ridiculous, “- I thought I’d fucked everything up and we wouldn’t hear from VDK again.”

The elevator doors slid open and you both stepped out but, before you could move to your desk, his hand caught your wrist pulling you back to face him.

“Have you been worrying about that all this time?” There was concern in his voice and a hint of irritation. You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know...” you said, your gaze dropping. “I thought I’d ruined it and, I guess, I wanted to keep it from you as long as possible because I didn’t want you to be disappointed. Or... I don’t know... I thought that you’d blame me, and I didn’t want it to be all my fault just because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut in front of -”

You fell silent as his hands framed your face, forcing you to look back up. He pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead. Your cheeks started to grow even hotter at the realisation that you’d been babbling, finally letting go of all the worry you’d been holding onto over the last two weeks.

“I never would’ve blamed you for that,” he said so firmly that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I could never be upset because of what you said to her, and you should never -”

He stopped the second someone cleared their throat behind you.

“I can come back if you’re busy.”

Frank Castle.

You slowly extracted yourself from Billy’s arms and went to go and hang your coat up, your cheeks burning hotter when you felt Frank’s gaze on you.

“What d’you need, Frankie?” Billy asked, stepping towards his friend.

“Just need to run some last minute numbers by you if you’ve got time,” Frank said.

“Sure thing, I’ll be through in a second.”

Frank nodded and disappeared back into Billy’s office to wait.

Billy caught your wrist again as you crossed the room towards your desk.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he told you softly, “we’re going to finish talking about it later, before we celebrate.”

Celebrate? Oh, right, the invitation.

You nodded, then asked; “do you want me to RSVP to the invitation?”

He pulled the invitation from his pocket and looked at it before shaking his head. “No, we’ll do that on Monday. I don’t want Catherine Van Der Koy to think she can upset you and you’ll just come running when she calls for you again.”

He didn’t bother to explain what he meant by that before disappearing into his office.

Then you were left to return to your work - though you found it infinitely harder to focus on your spreadsheet now that you also had to worry about attending another big event on Billy’s arm. 

Black tie meant you’d need a new dress, and you already knew that Billy would probably want to pay, which would definitely lead to an argument. And then you found yourself worrying about what you would say to Catherine when you saw her again. And Leah - fuck, did the whole Van Der Koy family know about the surveillance video?

After about half an hour, Frank left Billy’s office. Instead of heading to the elevator he stopped by your desk, offering you a friendly smile.

“Sorry for interrupting earlier,” he said.

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” you quickly answered, managing a smile of your own.

“You coming out with us tonight? I meant it when I said Karen’s really been wanting to see you again.”

Tonight?

Billy had said something about celebrating, but he hadn’t said anything about Frank and Karen. And it was a Friday - you usually went back to your own apartment on Fridays for the weekend.

(Not to mention that Billy already knew how uncomfortable you found lying to his friends and constantly feeling like you might accidentally say the wrong thing.)

“I don’t know,” you answered, giving a non-committal sort of shrug, “I don’t think so. It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he said with a shrug of his own. “Well, if you change your mind, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

You thanked him and watched him go, and found yourself with yet another distracting thought to contend with as you struggled through the rest of the day. But, somehow, you managed to get through what you needed to do.

It hit five but Billy was still in his office. Rather than disturbing him, you folded your arms on your desk and rested your head, trying to work through all of the new problems the day had thrown at you. 

You’d go and look for a new dress tomorrow - hopefully before Billy even thought about trying to buy one for you. (And you already knew that was going to be awful. You hated dress shopping.)

When you were confronted by the Van Der Koys at the auction, you’d stay strong. If they wanted to say anything about what they thought they knew about you and Billy, they’d have to bring it up, because you weren’t going to act meek and apologetic.

As for tonight -

Billy’s office door opened before you had the chance to think about it. He shot you a questioning look as you got to your feet and started to grab your things. When you turned back, he was already holding your coat ready for you to slip into.

Once it was on, you turned towards him, now wanting him to fasten the buttons for you, wanting just one little moment where you didn’t have to deal with every little thing. The corner of his lips ticked upwards at the gesture, but he said nothing as he buttoned your coat for you.

“Gloves,” he said as he ushered you towards the elevator with that familiar hand on your back.

You slipped your gloves on and leaned against his side as the elevator started to move. Billy let out a slow exhale, clearly as glad as you were that the working week was over.

Neither of you said much of anything on the way home and, again, you let your tired eyes close for a few sweet minutes on the car ride. Then, again, you found yourself pressed to Billy’s side, his arm around you as you took the elevator up to the penthouse.

He waved you over to the sofa once you were inside and had removed your coat and shoes, and you went gladly, getting yourself comfortable while he made coffee.

A few minutes later, he was sitting beside you, both of you nursing your mugs.

“I wouldn’t’ve blamed you,” he said, before clarifying. “If we hadn’t heard from Catherine Van Der Koy again, I wouldn’t’ve blamed you. You know that, right?”

Right?

“But it would have been my fault for walking out of dinner with her and speaking to her like -”

“No. You did nothing wrong,” he said firmly.

“But, I -”

“No,” he said again, this time with more force.

“Then why do you sound so upset?” 

You weren’t sure what possessed you to ask the question, but there was no ignoring his clipped tone, the way he seemed almost annoyed by the situation.

“Because you should have told me that you’ve been worrying about it for two weeks. I could never be angry about what you said to Catherine Van Der Koy to protect me,” he said. “I’m pissed off because you shouldn’t have been making yourself feel bad because of it.”

You took an uncomfortable breath, suddenly aware that your heart was pounding awkwardly in your chest.

“What would you have done if VDK wanted nothing to do with you again because of me?” You asked.

Billy sighed. “It wouldn’t have been because of you. I was the one they recorded going into a sex club, not you.”

“But what would you have done? If there was no chance of a contract with VDK then you wouldn’t need me anymore, and -”

“I wouldn’t need you anymore?” He repeated and shook his head. “I’ve told you; you’re in my life now. I like having you in my life. I wouldn’t just kick you to the curb. We’re - we’re friends, right?”

“Right...”

You felt a strange sort of relief at the thought even though you’d never had a friendship quite as strange as the one you had with Billy. But it settled something inside of you to know that, even though you had your arrangement and some aspects of what you were doing were fake, he’d still want you around if it all fell apart.

“Do you feel better now you’ve got that off your chest?” He asked. You nodded and Billy smiled. “We could’ve had this conversation two weeks ago and saved you from all this worry.”

He was right, though you felt far too embarrassed to admit it. You were just used to dealing with things on your own, and it was one thing to let Billy take care of you physically but it was quite another to trust him to care for you emotionally.

Sinking back on the sofa, you focused on your coffee and, now that the air between you had been cleared, Billy could relax too. And he did, for all of ten minutes before his phone buzzed.

“Did you tell Frank you weren’t coming out with us tonight?” He asked.

“Yeah?” You answered, feeling as confused as he looked. “It’s Friday night...”

“... so?”

“So, I thought we were going to have dinner and then I was going to go back to my place for the weekend.”

“I said we were going to celebrate tonight,” he said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“I thought you meant just the two of us and -”

“Why does it matter if Frank and Karen are with us?” He asked.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, not even sure where to start, but the moment you started to talk, it all just seemed to come out.

“Because Mr Castle is my boss too, and he’s your best friend. If I say the wrong thing I could fuck everything up, and I don’t want to ruin your relationship with him,” you said, barely stopping to take a breath, letting out all the silly neurotic thoughts that had been festering inside you for weeks. “And Karen’s a journalist - a journalist, Billy - she knows how to spot lies and she’s... she’s...”

“What?” He prompted as the words lodged in your throat.

“She’s talented and smart and... she’s so pretty. And I... I’m just a PA. I don’t fit in in your world, Billy. I don’t belong. I’ll just be in the way.”

You remembered the balcony as you repeated the sentiment to him again; you didn’t belong in his world and it felt like everyone but Billy could see that. You were a background character at best, never meant for the spotlight, and you were scared that if people looked too closely at you, they’d see through the lies and find nothing but broken pieces.

Billy took a slow breath, trying to calm himself before responding, but his dark eyes flickered with every emotion he was trying to suppress. He reached for you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tightly, possessively.

“You’re never in the way,” he said firmly, his gaze burning into yours. “And you do belong in my world. You belong with me, and I want you with me tonight.”

His voice took on that commanding tone again and, that alone, was almost enough to make you back down and agree to anything he wanted. But it wasn’t that simple, the mess of thoughts in your head weren’t so easily pushed away.

“I - I don’t want to make things awkward...” you said. 

The fight drained from your voice as you stared into his eyes and suddenly saw nothing but calm control, and the part of you that was panicking and overthinking started to grow still and quiet.

Billy got to his feet and, before you knew it, you were standing too. He kept a tight hold of your hand, making sure you understood that he was there, that he had you. His other hand cupped your cheek.

“What -” you started to ask but stopped because you already knew the answer.

“You’re overthinking it. Let me help you switch off for a little while.”

Switch off - yes, those were the words you’d used, what you’d told him you wanted. And, now, after a week from hell, you wanted it more than ever.

A slight nod was all he needed before he started to lead you to his bedroom. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you followed after him, not stopping until you were at the foot of his bed and his attention was on you again.

“Take off your skirt,” he asked, and you obeyed without hesitation. Reaching behind you, you lowered the zip and let it fall down your legs. Billy smiled, pride on his face. “From now on, I expect you to do that without being asked.”

You nodded as his eyes travelled down your body to your exposed thighs and legs.

“Do you want to leave your blouse on?” He asked, his voice soft - not a command, a choice. You bit your lip and he immediately sensed your nervousness. “It’s okay, you can leave it on.”

He tugged on your hand, moving you closer to the bed.

“I want you to get on the bed on your hands and knees, facing away from me,” he ordered, voice instantly shifting back to that dominant tone, switching seamlessly between the Billy who gave you choices and comfort, and the Billy who wanted to exert his control over you.

Your heart continued to race as you clumsily climbed onto the bed in what felt like the least sexy display of all time. It took every ounce of effort you could muster to keep your arms and legs from shaking beneath you.

“Do you remember how this works? What you need to say if you want to stop?” He asked, and you told him that you did. “Good, because this time is going to be a little... different.”

“Different?”

You weren’t sure if the thrill that ran through you was worry or anticipation.

“Yes. This time I’m going to punish you,” he answered.

That did nothing to help you figure out all of your conflicting emotions. 

“You’re going to... punish me?”

“Yes. You should have told me how you were feeling about the VDK situation, and you should have talked to me before assuming that I wouldn’t want you to come out with us tonight,” he explained, keeping his voice commanding but measured. “From now on, I expect you to talk to me before you make decisions or upset yourself over things that affect us both. And if I find out that you haven’t, that you’ve been keeping things like this to yourself again, then I’ll punish you. Understand?”

Despite what he was saying and the rules he was imposing, you knew he was still giving you a choice. You could say no. But, really, was he asking for anything that you wouldn’t ask for in return? He just wanted you to talk to him, to be honest with him, and that shouldn’t have been difficult.

“I-I understand,” you said, consenting to what was about to happen.

“Good,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “Now, you’re going to count out loud as I spank you and, if you’re good, I’ll reward you when we’re done.”

The mention of a reward was enough to have a strange, static-like buzz slowly filling your mind as you remembered the peace and calm you’d felt in his arms the last time he rewarded you. 

(Yes, you were definitely willing to take a little punishment if it meant getting to feel like that again.)

The first spank landed suddenly, the sharp sound filling the room and drawing a gasp from you. It wasn’t hard, just enough to cause a momentary sting of discomfort that quickly faded to a bearable ache.

“Count,” he reminded you.

“One,” you said, voice trembling. You bit down on your lip and waited for the next.

Number two came a couple of seconds later, managing to land exactly where the first had. Another gasp spilled from you but you quickly counted the smack.

Three hit the same spot again, causing a warm throb to develop beneath your skin, remaining even as the initial sting faded.

“Three,” you whined, then a second later, “f-four.”

Five didn’t come, instead Billy asked; “what colour?”

“Green,” you answered without hesitation, wanting him to continue so you could be rewarded. A moan carelessly spilled from your lips when he spanked you again. “Five.”

Six, seven, eight and nine followed in a daze, each punctuated by a gasped moan before you called out their number. You didn’t understand how or why, but each strike of his hand on your backside left you craving more, slipping further and further into the static in your mind, unable to focus on anything but Billy and what he was doing to your body.

While spanks one through nine had been measured, each enough to sting for a few seconds before subsiding, ten was different. Ten landed hard enough to cause an ache that spread up your back and down your thighs. Your whole body trembled with the intensity of it.

“Ten!” You cried out as your head drooped forwards.

The ache lingered, the throbbing heat beneath your skin almost burning now. But, once the initial shock was gone, you sank back into the static.

“We’re done now,” he said softly. “You did so well for me.”

You continued to tremble, each second feeling more like an hour the longer he kept his hands off you. It wasn’t long before you were squirming, desperate for his touch. And that was exactly what Billy was waiting for.

“Stay like that,” he ordered. “Keep your head down and don’t move.”

You stilled as much as you could, your arms and legs still trembling uncontrollably. 

The mattress dipped a little as Billy leaned on it and you felt hot breath ghost over the back of one thigh while his fingers trailed up the other. He reached the hem of your panties and hooked them with his fingers.

“What colour?” He asked, his breath still caressing your thigh.

“Green,” you answered, not knowing what he was planning but wanting to find out.

“Good.” There was relief in his voice again, like he didn’t know what he’d do if you asked him to stop.

A soft breath escaped you as he slowly started to tug your panties - your incredibly wet panties - down your thighs. He gave you ample chance to change your mind, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Couldn’t. A molten heat was already pooling in your belly, filling you with a desire you didn’t dare name.

The cool air of the room against your arousal slicked skin had you tingling, sensitive before he’d even laid a finger on you. And when he did touch you a whine tore from your lips, his finger slipping between your folds, running though your arousal. The suddenness of the whine was enough to make Billy still.

“Green,” you said - you begged - without needing to be asked.

His finger started to move again, pressing against your slit with a teasing pressure before slowly sinking inside you. It was only one finger but it was enough to have you moaning.

“Don’t come until I say you can, okay?” He said in that strong, commanding voice - which, on its own, was almost enough to push you over the edge. “This is still part of your punishment.”

“O-okay.” You barely got the word out before his finger started to move.

You bit your lip again, trying to stifle the needy sounds that wanted to escape you, but it was impossible. Soon enough you were moaning with every measured thrust of his finger. And judging from the sounds of heavy breathing behind you, Billy had no complaints.

When he slid a second finger inside you, you completely gave up on any and all notions of keeping your eager moans to yourself.

“You’re so wet for me,” he muttered as his fingers continued to pump into you, his wrist twisting every now and then as he learned you from the inside out. “You like this don’t you?”

“Yes!” 

Alarm bells should have been ringing in your head but, instead, there was nothing but static. You should have been worried that your boss was fingering you and muttering about how wet you were and how much you wanted his touch, but your head was empty and the only things you cared about were the pleasure he was stoking inside of you and the throbbing ache on your backside.

Your breathing turned shallow, and you felt yourself tense and clench around his fingers, getting closer and closer to a sweet oblivion. 

Then his fingers pulled out, leaving you unfulfilled and desperate.

“No -” you whined, finding the sudden emptiness unbearable.

“Stop squirming,” he ordered. “Trust me.”

You hadn’t even realised that you’d started to squirm, but you stilled the moment he told you, trusting him to make it better. Trusting him to take good care of you.

Again, you felt his warm breath on the back of your thigh and then, without warning -

“Oh my god,” you gasped as he pressed his lips to you, his tongue brazenly parting your folds and running through your arousal.

He began to devour you, every greedy swipe of his tongue making you keen and tremble. His hand pressed against your ass, gripping the tender flesh with his still-wet fingers and causing the ache to intensify and for the pain to become indistinguishable from the pleasure.

You didn’t even realise that breathless pleas were spilling from your lips, begging him not to stop, pleading for more, telling him how good it felt.

His hot, wet mouth drove you towards the brink of insanity, alternating between focusing his attention on your clit, circling and sucking the throbbing nub, and dipping the tip of his tongue into your dripping slit. You tensed and trembled, clenching around nothing as you tried to fight against the inevitable tidal wave.

It was overwhelming; you’d never felt so wet, so desperate. No one had ever made you feel this way before. It was all you needed, all you wanted. It was the only thought left in your mind, and there was nothing but surrender to Billy and his tongue. 

You were so lost in the haze of pleasure that you barely remembered his order - you weren’t supposed to come until he said you could. But you couldn’t hold it back much longer.

“Billy -” you gasped, “- I can’t... I need to -”

You were silenced by a moan stealing from your lips. And if Billy heard your pleas, he didn’t show it. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, his eager tongue wiping away the last of your sanity as the shaking of your legs grew more intense. 

“Please, Billy!” You cried out again.

“Come for me,” he groaned against your pussy, barely even pulling his tongue back as he did. And they were just about the hottest three words you’d ever heard.

Your body reacted almost instantly, like a spring coiled too tight finally being released. 

You spilled forwards, the force of your orgasm causing your arms to buckle beneath you. Billy’s mouth followed you, his lips not leaving your trembling flesh until you started to whine and beg for him to stop, too sensitive to take anymore. 

Before he pulled away completely, you felt his teeth scrape over your backside, over the aching, throbbing mark he’d left. For a moment you thought he was going to sink his teeth in and bite you, and you were almost disappointed when he didn’t.

He crawled up the bed and pulled your boneless body against his chest, holding you as you continued to shake with aftershocks.

You didn’t even notice that there were tears rolling down your cheeks until Billy gently wiped them away. He’d left you completely overwhelmed and overstimulated, your body still sparking with pleasure while your head was blissfully empty.

He shushed you and tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead. All you could think to do was press closer to him, resting your head on his chest, wrapping your arm around his waist and clinging to him like he was the only stable thing in the world.

“That’s it, little dove. Just let me take care of you,” he muttered, still so commanding, so dominant. “You needed that, didn’t you?”

You managed to nod as Billy continued to wipe away your tears, and the hazy static overcame you. You couldn’t remember your mind ever feeling so silent, so utterly at peace. Your eyes closed and you found yourself listening to the steady thump of his heart.

“You took your punishment so well,” he told you softly, his warm breath on your ear lulling you deeper into the haze. “I know you won’t let me down like that again.”

No, you wouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Just giving in to me, letting me take control of everything?” He continued to mutter, telling you how good you were and how you didn’t have to worry about anything anymore; he was there, he had you, he wouldn’t let you go, he’d take care of everything.

Your eyes stayed shut and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but it felt like hours before you slowly started to come back to yourself.

Lifting your head, bleary eyes struggled to focus on him, on his face, on his smile. You wanted to say... something, but the words weren’t there. You were still feeling too dazed and empty-headed to think about what you’d even wanted to say to him.

But you didn’t have to say anything because Billy was still in control.

“In a minute you’re going to go have a shower, and then you’re going to get ready to come out with me, okay?”

It was framed as a question but he’d already made it pretty clear that you didn’t have a reason to say no.

You nodded without hesitation.

“And you’re going to try to have fun tonight and unwind, aren’t you?”

Again there was only one correct answer and the words spilled from your lips automatically; “yes, Billy.”

As if to reward you, he pressed his lips to your forehead. 

“We’re going to celebrate, and you’re going to behave for me, aren’t you?”

You weren’t sure what behaving entailed, and the way he said it caused your heart to stutter. But if behaving meant getting to feel a fraction of what he’d just made you feel, then you wanted to.

(And if misbehaving meant more punishment... well, you weren’t entirely opposed to that, either.)

“Yes, Billy.”

His smile widened, genuinely happy that you weren’t fighting him anymore.

“Okay, go have your shower.”

He loosened his hold on you, and you climbed off the bed and onto shaking legs. But before you could take the first step away from him, his hand caught yours, pulling you back to face him again.

“One more rule, little dove,” he said, voice demanding again. “No touching yourself. Only I get to make you come from now on.”

Not a question.

A demand.

An order. 

The rational part of you that was starting to wake up again wanted to say that he was being ridiculous but, now that you’d experienced how he could make you feel, the thought of touching yourself just seemed pointless.

Again, you nodded and offered your agreement.

He let go of your hand and you didn’t even think about stopping to collect your skirt and panties before staggering out of the room. You didn’t know it then, but you’d never see those panties again.

A/N : I'm definitely having too much fun with this now. (Also please don't ask why most versions of Billy that I write like to steal readers panties... I don't have an answer for you 😂 Anyway, hope you all enjoy the cute mental image of Billy fastening readers coat for her to make sure she stays warm, there will be a lot more of that cuteness to come... and a lot more of the smut too, if I'm being honest 😂

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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[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.

[m1lkywaywritey]

Forgive me

Relationship: Priest Gerard way x afab reader

Tags: smut, priest kink, first time, making out, moaning, dirty talk, hand jobs, semi-public sex, love bites, Catholic guilt, fingering if you squint, SHAMEEE, using the Lords name in vain, a little bit of angst?, calling him father (sexually), unprotected sex, corruption kink?, nipple stuff

Summary: Y/n has been having some unholy thoughts since befriending and crushing on her priest, so she decides to go confess and uuhhh things don't exactly go as planned...

A/N: HELLO I FINALLY FINISHED IT! i just wanna preface this with the fact that i dont know JACK SHIT about churches or priests or anything of the sort. Therefore if i fuck something up or its super inaccurate THEN IM SORRY!!!!! also this isnt proofread lol sorry

Word count: 3344

Fic under cut - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You weren’t too sure whether you bought religion all too much but there was one thing that kept you going back to church (no, not the catholic guilt.) The super hot priest leading all the services of course.

You knew that practically and realistically nothing would ever happen, but what was the harm in a little eye candy for you on a Sunday. Aside from his great looks, he was genuinely a great guy - you had spoken to him after mass once and from then on the two of you got to know each other, becoming good friends. He was younger than most priests so he was easy to talk to and his name was Gerard.

To you he was perfect: funny, kind and totally sexy - if you were ignoring the elephant in the room. You knew priests didn’t have relationships - you knew they didn’t have sex, but that wasn’t enough to discourage the little crush on him you could feel forming. Maybe you were being deluded but you could’ve sworn he felt something too. You felt it in the eye contact he held for just a few moments too long every time and in his unprompted invitations for coffee together and how he blushed slightly when he asked you. Of course you had to wake yourself up from all that - he’s just being kind and welcoming, that’s basically half his job.

Lately however, you had been struggling to repress these thoughts about him - in fact they had been getting worse (and far more sexual) by the day. It was getting out of hand so you decided you needed to confess. To Gerard or to God? You hadn’t quite figured that out yet.

It was late on a Friday night when you pulled up outside the church, you knew Gerard would be there - he always was around this time. You didn’t exactly know what he did in his alone time but you assumed it consisted of sitting in the pews, contemplating and admiring the grand stained glass windows. You were surprised, however, to find him up on the sanctuary leaning on the altar. He was facing the cross but he had his head hung low, hair cascading over his face. He didn’t notice you come in, so when you walked over and said his name it startled him slightly as he whipped around to face you.

“Oh hey y/n! I- uh- I didn’t expect you here, whats the matter?” He exclaimed - still a little shaken from your mini jump-scare. You noticed he was acting a little off - he was avoiding eye contact, nervously pushing back his hair and you could’ve sworn he was blushing (but in the dim light of the church it was hard to tell.) It felt like you had caught him doing something he didn’t want you to know about.

“Are you okay?” You asked, ignoring his question due to your concerns.

“Yeah,yeah I’m fine, you just caught me in the middle of my confession that’s all. Uhh what are you here for?”

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m here to confess something too actually”

“Cool, do you wanna go into the-“ He lifted his hand to gesture towards the confessional before you cut him off.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” You blurted out without even thinking. Gerard stopped dead in his tracks. He began stuttering and stumbling over his words (if you could even class it as words they were so broken). Naturally, you did the only thing you could think of to shut him up…

You stepped towards him and kissed him on the lips. You weren’t expecting that kind of confession from yourself and judging by his wide eyes and slack jaw, neither was he. Despite the shock of what you did, you both stayed deathly still, searching for answers in eachothers eyes. Nothing but the sound of your breaths filled the church but with the shame you felt, you could’ve screamed.

“Im so sorry, I should just go-“ you were actively turning to leave when Gerard cut you off.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either” he whispered, putting his hands on your waist to stop you from leaving - his grip was light and hesitant but firm enough to keep you in place. He couldn’t quite believe what he was doing, he knew the rules and he’d never even thought about going against them until you. You were worth it to him. “What do you think I was confessing hm? Every time I see you I just wanna give up my chastity right there and then. You don’t know what you fucking do to me.” By the end of his sentence his whispers had morphed into a low growl, you’d never heard him curse like that and god was it hot. He had broken eye contact and hung his head in shame of his dirty confession. You lifted his chin with your index finger so you could stare deeply into his eyes once more.

“Please Father...” You spoke in a hushed whisper, gazing up at him through your lashes. His eyes widened slightly, and only momentarily, but just enough for you to catch the look in his eyes. Contained in that one subconscious movement, you saw the sinful cocktail of horror and lust that filled him. You could tell he’d had some sort of realisation but you couldn’t place what it could be.

Oh-

Calling him father turned him on.

Time stood still, seconds felt like years, both of you too scared to move and lose this tension. Deep down, you knew it was wrong - and so did he - but in this moment you didn’t want to accidentally come to your senses. As more and more of these weighted seconds passed, your faces drew closer and closer as if there was a cosmic pull between you. Breathing gradually becoming faster and heavier with silence growing louder, you could hardly contain your unholy thoughts. One in particular making your breath hitch at the mere idea - finally breaking the ever-growing tension.

Suddenly, Gerard’s hands flew from your sides up to your face - lips crashing into yours with unbearable desperation. It was like he had never touched anyone like this before in his life - because he hadn’t. His grip on your face was strong like he was trying to drink every inch of you before he died of thirst. The kiss was messy and untamed, inexperienced too but far more passionate than you’d had before. He wasn’t shy to let his tongue roam around your mouth, his eyes scrunched tightly shut as if trying not to wake up from this dream he was living. Trying not to remember where and who he was. In that moment all he knew was you.

Gerard was clearly not holding back - letting out any moans, whimpers and groans that threatened to emerge from his throat like a horny teenage boy. He had gotten a taste of you and he wasn’t going to stop there. From a priest, you had expected a soft, gentle, caring touch much like his regular demeanour. This was far from that. He was filled with pure, pent up, desperation. The fact he was doing it with you - the girl he had not long ago repented for all his unholy thoughts about - only fuelled his loving lust further.

Gerard’s hands slid back down towards your waist - this time with no reminiscence of his former hesitance - digging his fingers into your flesh and pulling you impossibly close. The force making you hum a moan into his lips, only causing him to groan louder and grip you tighter. You were sure it would leave a mark. With your new proximity you could feel the outline of his erection against your pelvis. You started to grind against him, subtly trying to gauge his size.

Fuck.

You let out a whimpering moan. You weren’t sure if you could even take him but you knew you needed it. Now. You broke the kiss to speak “Please- “ drunk on your lips Gerard pulled you back into the kiss almost immediately and you chuckled at his impatience. “Please- “ you broke out again but Gerard insisted on kissing you between every word.

“Touch- Me- Father- “ you managed to get out between kisses - using his title again because you loved what it did to him. He spun you both around so you were leaning slightly on the altar for support. He didn’t seem to notice as he was so occupied on you, but to you being on the altar felt so wrong it was perfect. Just like every corruption fantasy you’d ever had about Gerard - practically defiling the altar felt so erotic and leaving your mark on his swollen lips turned you on more than you could tell. He began to move his kisses to your jaw, pecking all the way up to your ear, inhaling sharply through his nose, taking in your scent.

“God I’ve been thinking about you like the for so long” Despite everything he had already gone against this evening, his blasphemy still caught you off guard. Things had changed so quickly and you were scared he was acting off of impulse rather than true desire.

“Gerard- Ah- Are you sure?” His only response to your question was a series of hums of agreement and arousal, sucking a spot below your ear that made your whole body tingle. “Gerard-“ you continued, trying to be considerate but being cut off by your own moans. Gerard didn’t seem to share your concern, muffled an against your skin he began to speak.

He placed a sloppy kiss in between your collarbones and you felt a shift in his demeanour. He brought his head up to rest his forehead on yours. There was a quiet moment, both of you allowing your breathing to slow, occasionally syncing up and breathing rhythmically together. “Can I… Can I take this off you?” He somewhat nervously tugged at the hem of your shirt. His words were cautious - nervous even - you remembered that this wasn’t just his first time, he was going against the thing he built his life around for you.

“Call me father.” If you weren’t soaking wet already, that sure would’ve done it. The last inkling of hesitation from within you was long gone with his request and you threw your head back finally letting go - calling out his title just as he had requested. With your head back Gerard had access to whole new areas of your neck and collarbones. You were leaning back on one hand so you brought the other up to rake through his hair, encouraging his kisses and pulling him closer - much to his liking. You let out a gasping moan as he sucked a sweet spot - there was no way all these hickeys were going anywhere anytime soon but you were far too aroused to think about what people would think about you here on Sunday.

“Please” you said reassuringly running your hands through his hair and pulling him in for one more kiss before his hands snaked under your top. He pulled his head away from yours for what felt like the first time in years and lifted the top over your head - tossing the garment into the pews of the church. He took a moment ogling at the sheer sight of your body. Admiring it and committing every small detail to memory. He reached out to rake his hands up your sides then over your boobs.

He reached behind you, struggling to unclasp your bra - you let out a small giggle and helped him out, pulling it off and leaving you fully exposed in the cold church air. The chill that caused your nipples to harden was short lived as Gerard took one nipple sloppily into his warm, wet mouth. If you thought he couldn’t moan any more than he already had, you were dead wrong. The way he was getting off on worshipping your body could’ve made you finish right then. He used one hand to grope your other breast, occasionally squeezing and stimulating your nipple. His other hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you steady. Strings of moans escaped your mouth, for someone with absolutely no experience, he caught on very quickly how to please you.

While he was occupied you took the opportunity to remove your trousers and shift to sit fully on the altar. You gently gripped Gerard’s wrist and guided his hand from the small of your back, down towards your pussy. With only your underwear as a barrier, Gerard palmed you through them. He broke his contact with your boob to stare down at the mess you had made of your underwear, soaking was an understatement. Pupils blown wide; whimpering breaths; jaw hanging open - maybe he was a bigger mess than you were.

“Fuck your so wet” He groaned as he continued to feel you through your soaked pants, his middle finger occasionally running right along your slit giving your clit a taste of some much needed friction. Gerards eyes flicked up and down almost rapidly - unsure whether to look down there or up at your face contorting with pleasure as he grazed over your sweet spot. Wherever he was looking, he was taking in and analysing your reactions to quickly learn what made you tick.

“Please father, I need you” You said, getting a little impatient with all Gerard’s teasing. He wanted to give you what you wanted and started to unbutton his shirt. That was before you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No! Keep that on… I like it” You said, giving him a faux-innocent look and hooking your finger over his clerical collar, hoping he’d get the memo.

“Was that your plan all along?” He asked teasingly, reaching down to unbuckle his belt instead. “Did you come here just to fuck your priest hm?” You were absolutely stunned by his questions. Your jaw dropped and you nodded hesitantly. “You’re so fucking dirty” He said huskily, finally letting his cock spring free from his boxers. You were in complete awe of his size and you practically moaned at the sight- you thought about what a waste it was for him to be celibate with a dick like that, well not anymore you supposed.

His dick was so hard it almost looked painful, it was completely flushed with the tip even more so and he already had beads of precum rolling down his length (you also spotted a wet patch on his boxers from it.) You reached out to touch him, going gently at first, and he hissed at the contact. You pumped your hand up and down a few more times, falling into a steady rhythm making Gerard’s head fall back. With his head back like that, you could see his slight stubble and you wanted absolutely nothing more than to mark him up with some pretty lovebites that he’d struggle to hide tomorrow. You decided against it but still planted some lighter kisses on his neck.

Gerards moans were becoming increasingly loud and more frequent and just then he gripped your wrist to stop your rhythm. “Fuck-“ He whimpered trying to catch his breath. “Let me fuck you.”

“Please” you whined in response. Gerard hooked his finger around your underwear, pulling them to the side. “Forgive me” he whispers so quietly you barely caught it, before he lined himself up and plunged into you. Both of you groaned at the new sensation. He was still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size as you clenched around him. Eventually, he drew back for the first time and pushed back in. You could never even describe the pleasure it brought you - even at the achingly slow pace he started at.

With each slow thrust, whimpers escaped his throat - they morphed into whines as he gradually sped up. You couldn’t tell if he was gaining confidence in his movements or just speeding up out of bare desperation. Every time he grazed the sweet spot that made you clench around him, he strived harder to hit it again - the added stimulation driving him crazy. You made an effort to hold eye contact with him, watching his face contort with pleasure he’d never felt before could’ve made you orgasm right then. You felt fucking incredible but you need just a little more.

“Fast- fuck- Faster Father” you moaned out, mouth agape staring into his blown pupils. Gerard obliged, hooking his arms around your thighs - he did it with the intention of keeping you steady, but what it did was create a whole new angle into of you. Each roll of his hips felt about ten times better, he was hitting all the right places at just the right speed. The altar was now creaking loudly beneath you, reminding you of where you were (which honestly only spurred you on.)

With the new angle and speed you could feel your core tightening - climax growing closer. You leaned in, capturing his lips in another messy and untamed kiss. Your walls squeezed tighter around him, practically milking him at this point. You slipped your hand between the two of you to stroke circles on your clit and you noticed every few thrusts Gerard’s hips would falter slightly - he was getting close too.

With your fingers on your clit, his dick deep inside of you and the thought of how wrong this was, your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. Your screams of pleasure funnelled straight into his mouth. Gerard was still pushing into you, chasing his own orgasm. Your pussy spasmed around him and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck somethings happening- I- Oh my god- Where do I-“ Gerards words spilled out. It was such a foreign feeling to him and he had never felt better.

“Cum in me Father” you whined out, still in the aftershocks of your orgasm - overstimulated and almost hazy. Gerard complied moaning and whining, his thrusts had almost no rhythm now as you felt ropes of his white, hot cum spill into you. “Oh, God.” He moaned out as he filled you with the last of his cum. Was he talking to you or god? You couldn’t quite tell.

Both of you were spent, coming down from your peaks and you rested your heads on each other’s shoulders - him still inside of you. The room felt eerily quiet without the sounds of sex - just the same heavy breathing this all started with. After about a minute he pulled out (eliciting one last groan from the both of you), tucked himself back into his boxers and did up his belt. He turned to walk away and you were scared for a second that he was leaving but he went to retrieve your clothes that were carelessly discarded into the pews. He cleaned you up and helped you get dressed, neither of you said a word.

You felt so guilty, sure the thought of corrupting him like that was what turned you on in the moment, but now - even after he had broken his celibacy for you - he was taking the time to make sure you were clean, dressed and okay. It just reminded you why you liked him, he was genuinely a great guy, he never had bad intentions and he was so caring. You were sure you’d never be able to see him again after this and just the thought upset you.

He had an almost sorrowful, clearly pensive, look on his face - probably trying to figure out what’s gonna happen now. Ideally he would just repent and break contact with you, but could he really give you up now? After he got exactly what he’s been dreaming about? He really wasn’t sure.

You decided you needed to break this silence you were sat in, once you were dressed, you got to your feet and looked up into his eyes. “What do we do now?” You asked - almost tearing up a little.

“I- I don’t know”

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A/N: thanks so much for reading! please let me know what you thought + if I made any mistakes :p

[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?"

[asahicore]

hometown - pjs (teaser)

teaser wc: 1.8k don't ask me about the expected word count or release date. that's knowledge only the higher powers of this universe have access to just a little extract from the exes to lovers, small town au Jay fic i'm working on because I feel like I haven't posted in eons... hope you guys like it and are looking forward to it, I was going thrrooooough it writing this for some time but now it's getting better and i'm enjoying the process... let me know if you'd like to be tagged when it comes out!! enjoy!!

You stay behind. Jay doesn’t know if the three women are exceptionally good at reading the room, or if he missed some silent signal of understanding between you and them, but they don’t question your not following them. The sudden quietness makes Jay feel like a giant in a too-small space, a room that can’t possibly contain the two of you.

And yet. You sigh and head back to the living room, going for the couch rather than the cushions on the floor, but Jay can’t bring himself to join you, and so sits back at the same spot from earlier.

“Seriously, Jay?” you say, chuckling, but he detects an actual trace of annoyance in your voice. Unable to hide your thoughts as always, you are. You pat a spot on the couch next to you. “Come here.”

But Jay doesn’t move. Can’t. All he can do when he looks at you is search for traces of grief. He had five years to work out all of his feelings around your breakup, and he thought he had sorted through everything, gone through all the phases. Seeing you again, he feels like he has to start over. The past week hasn’t felt real, he thinks. He thinks it so hard, he says it out loud, only realizing what he did when he sees your expression soften.

“It’s been weird, hasn’t it?”

“Weird is one way to put it, yeah.”

There’s a pause, of which he spends every second worrying about what sort of turn this conversation will take.

“Is this a good time to talk about the elephant in the room, then?” you finally say.

He looks around, eyebrows furrowed with worry. “There’s an elephant in this room?!” he whispers.

You burst into laughter. “I see your humor hasn’t improved over time.”

“Seeing as you’re laughing, I’d say yours hasn’t, either.”

“Touché.”

Silence settles between the two of you again, creeps inside Jay, makes him wait for your next words with bated breath. 

He had a feeling that all the skirting around the subject you’d been doing would come to this. It’s not that you’ve pretending it didn’t happen, that would be impossible, for him, at least—he looks at you and he’s transported back to Seoul five years ago, at school, in one of your apartments, in the streets after dark. But you haven’t been actively tackling it either and with every passing day, the weight of unspoken words grew, making every conversation, every look at you harder and harder to navigate. This is new for the two of you, who in your six months of being together, had mastered your communication skills—you never didn’t speak to each other. You especially were good at saying what was on your mind without ever being hurtful, and you’d helped Jay stop bottling his feelings up when he thought he could get over them himself and not have to trouble you with them.

Nothing you say could ever burden me, baby, you’d told him. I want to know everything that goes through your head. 

And many things have changed since then, but maybe this hasn’t—the look you have in your eyes now is the same one as then, soft and inviting, aware that conversations aren’t always as easy as they are necessary. 

“You’re here,” you say after some time. Jay was so caught up in his own thoughts, entire minutes could’ve passed without his noticing. You spoke so quietly, he wonders if he imagined it until you add, “You’re in Sojuk-ri.”

He smiles, stops himself from replying with something annoying like “What an astute observation, Y/N,” it would only be stalling. So, for lack of a better alternative, and because he assumes you have more to say, he whispers, “I am.”

“We used to date.”

Jay isn’t sure where you’re going with this. He nods, unable to suppress a grin. “We did, yeah,” he replies, louder this time.

“Then we broke up.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “You’re on fire this morning,” he says, because he can’t help himself, and warmth envelops his heart at the sound of your laughter.

“I just want to recontextualise.”

“Wow, big words.”

“Big word, singular. And shut up. I’m trying to be serious, here,” you chide, still smiling.

“Sorry.”

A sudden shadow passes over your face, making your eyebrows furrow, your smile disappear. Jay’s heart drops, his feelings, as always, a mirror of yours. You rise from your seat on the couch and make your way to him. Every step you take echoes inside of him and grows louder as the distance separating you decreases. Then you’re standing in front of him, and he looks up at you, and there’s something like a magnet under his skin, desperately reaching out for yours, that makes his hand wrap around your ankle. His eyes stay trained on your face as you lower yourself to the ground and cross your legs. If you mind his touch, you don’t say or show it. 

“It doesn’t feel real,” you say. Your eyes sweep his face, focus on one part at a time. You simply stare at him for a moment as though trying to convince yourself that it is, indeed, real, that he is really there, not a figment of your imagination but a person whose flesh and bones used to be as familiar as your own. He lets you look to your heart’s content, because it allows him to look at you, too.

His loose grip around your ankle tightens ever so slightly and you look down at his hand as if suddenly noticing its presence there. After a second of what seems to Jay like hesitation, you place your hand atop his. “Would you still have moved here if you knew this was where I lived?”

“I would’ve come here years ago, had I known,” he says with a small smile.

You furrow your eyebrows. “You didn’t even try calling.”

This takes him aback. Was that what you’d wanted? “I texted you, and you blocked me right away.”

The crease between your brows deepens. “I know.”

“You also didn’t try calling.”

“I sent you a letter.”

For some reason, it astonishes Jay that in all of five years, communication between the two of you amounted to one unanswered text and a letter with no return address. “You did. That was nice of you.”

Finally, this gets a smile, albeit subdued, out of you. “I know.”

“If I’d managed to call you somehow, would you have picked up?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. Then, “No. I don’t know.” Then, in a smaller voice, “It hurts too much to think about the other ways it could’ve gone. The better ways.”

Jay sighs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Then let’s not think about them. It won’t do us any good.”

Your eyes meet. The sadness in yours tugs at his heartstrings. “Are you mad at me?” you ask, the tremble in your voice making it sound like you’re on the verge of crying, and it’s all Jay can do not to take you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest.

“No. Not at all,” he says, and he hopes his tone alone is enough to convince you. 

This magnet under his skin is uncontrollable. It raises Jay’s hand from where it was resting on your shoulder to your face, makes it cup your cheek, makes his thumb swipe slowly across your skin, right where tears are threatening to fall, as if preventing them.

“I tried being mad at you,” he says. “I tried a bunch of emotions. Sadness. Indifference. Nostalgia. But anger made things so much worse. It didn’t feel right, because I’d never been angry with you before. And it felt… It felt like admitting things could’ve gone differently. It felt like grieving a version of us that never existed because it never got the chance to. I decided to focus on the actual memories we had, and remember them fondly, instead of wasting my energy on being angry.”

A single tear falls from your right eye, wetting the top of Jay’s thumb. “I understand why you did what you did, baby,” he continues. “You had your reasons. You handled everything the best you could. It hurt like hell, but I can’t be mad at you for that.”

Jay doesn’t have to hold himself back from embracing you; you do it for him. Arms wound tightly around his neck, face in the crook of his neck, you quite literally cry on his shoulder. He hadn’t realized how close he himself was to crying until tears start falling freely from his eyes, mouth trembling as they gather at his jaw before dropping down the back of your t-shirt. Between sobs, you say, “I’m sorry. Even if you aren’t angry, I’m so sorry, Jay.”

He has never expected, and to this day doesn’t expect, anything from you, least of all an apology. Yet hearing those words from you heals some of the fissures in his heart, puts the pieces back together like superglue. He doesn’t need or want a repeat of your break-up conversation, and he doubts you do. He doesn’t want to hear how staying together wouldn’t have been a possibility, how you’d both have too much going on, how you were too young to hold each other back, how the distance between France and South Korea was too substantial to dismiss.

He wraps his arms around your waist and brings you closer to him. Closing his eyes and trying not to let your proximity overwhelm him, he strokes your hair, rubs your back, tells you it’s all okay. “Don’t apologize, baby,” he says, the nickname unwittingly slipping from his lips a second time. “We’re here now, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” He feels you nod against his shoulder, but your sobs don’t relent.

Would it be very wrong if Jay said he missed having you like this? Of course, he hates to see you unhappy, but there’s a part of him that has always been endeared by the sight of you crying. If he could, he’d destroy the thing making you so upset in a heartbeat, but it’s him that you go to for comfort, and he can’t help but selfishly rejoice in that. It’s in his arms that you find what it is you need to get over what’s troubling you; under his touch that you slowly calm down.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stay like this, nor does he care, but at some point, you lean back and take a deep, stabilising breath. Jay feels a page turn when your eyes meet—there might be no way to change the past, but the future is a blank canvas, the blinking line at the start of a computer document, and it’s up to the two of you how you want to write it.

You smile, and so does he. “I missed you,” you say.

“I missed you, too.”

There are more things to be said, but you’re both talked out. You have so much time ahead of you anyway.

[anotheroceanid]

TWO OF THE (MANY) SCENES DELETED FROM CHAPTER 7 OF WTHB

(If something looks weird, it's because I converted markdown to html and THEN to RTF)

SCENE 1

APOLLO

WINTER SOLSTICE OF 2007

OLYMPUS

First thing Hermes says is: ‘No!’

Very loud. Very rude. The poor nymph who was serving the drinks runs the other way.

Apollo had his head turned so he could have a clear sight of the object of his desires, so Hermes grabbed his face with one hand and forced Apollo to look at him. ‘No.’ It was more of a whisper now, almost a prayer.

Twinged by jealousy and disappointment, Apollo addressed the elephant in the room. ‘Are you…’

‘No!’ Why Hermes sounded like a broken record, Apollo had no idea, but the knowledge that his brother possessed no passion for their lovely cousin made Apollo’s—very—stressful day a thousand times better. He beamed and looked at her again, just to be once again interrupted by Hermes, who invaded his line of sight. Before Apollo could protest, his brother was already speaking. ‘I care for her as you do for Artemis.’

Apollo furrowed his brows.

That was… odd.

Hermes wasn’t one to deny himself any sort of beauty, and he got a good eye for precious and forbidden things he could steal. What was more beautiful, precious and forbidden than the daughter their uncle sired in secrecy with a mortal with whom any other god would avoid meddling? 

Apollo stretched his body so he could see beyond his brother. Across the room, stood Persephone—what a poetic name for a girl who bears the choice to save or destroy them all. She was the most glorious vision Apollo had ever had in front of his godly eyes. Confusing as it was, it had little to do with her striking looks—not that Apollo denied in any way the fine traces that designed his cousin’s face, for she had been gracefully constructed by her parents; Uncle Poseidon and her mortal mother made an exceptional work. 

However, there was something even more charming underneath the gold silky skin that covered her nearly unhuman skin, something dangerous behind the porcelain teeth, something delicate than the shade of her indescribably sea-ish eyes. The beauty that puzzled Apollo was something warm and bright, very much like himself. Something kept as a secret, a poetry he hadn't yet read, a melody muffled by louder noises that refused to go quiet so he could delight in it peacefully. 

As the God of Knowledge, the feeling of being in the dark was _unbearable_—for he was also the god of the sun, it was twice as painful.

He had merely met the sea’s Persephone, yet he felt completely drowned by the mystery of her deepnesses. What a wonderful day his sister had asked for his help. Like everyone else, he had been curious about the Forbidden Child, but nothing prepared Apollo for the greenish blue lakes of salt water that would welcome him that day. Then his sister was taken, and Persephone Jackson chose to go on that quest.

He knew she sought for her own friend. But she was there. Now, Artemis was returned to him and all thanks to the non-rule-abiding daughter of the sea, who may be the cause of his death in a few months. By trying to help her quest, Apollo only got more interested.

With Artemis returned, he found himself with nothing else to think about but Percy Jackson. Well, technically the war was happening, but as she was the most important piece of the chessboard, by thinking of her, he thought of the war.

One thing in particular twitched inside of Apollo: did Persephone Jackson know what she was owned?

She just saved his sister. She could ask him anything in exchange. However, nothing so far. What sort of mortal did not demand payment from a god? Apollo would grant her any gift; be it the art of prophecy or an EGOT. Anything.

There she was, laughing at something her father just told her. Apollo sighed dreamily, imagining himself as the reason for her smile.

Once again, Hermes grunted. ‘_No!_’

‘She is bewildering.’ Apollo blinked slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly.

‘She is.’ Hermes, though mourningful, agreed. ‘But she already has too much on her shoulders.’

Playfully, Apollo opened a smile. ‘I can be helpful.’ He sang.

‘She doesn’t need this sort of help.’ Hermes made a face, then softened it when he turned to look at her. ‘Percy wants a quiet life. She never wanted any of it, and yet, because of us, she has so little to live of her own life. It’s not fair.’

Apollo pressed his lips together, the lines of the prophecy dancing on his mind. There were so many ways that could play out, yet he did admit that most of them ended up badly for her.

Apollo studied the expression of his younger brother’s face—so sad it broke Apollo’s hypothetical heart. Sorrow did not go well with Hermes, though lately it was all that existed there. The betrayal of Luke Castellan was a low blow on him, and though the boy still lived, it didn’t change that he was forever lost. Nothing cut deeper than the loss of a child.

Softly, Apollo places his hand on the arm of Hermes, caressing it lightly. There wasn’t much to be said, and there was very little comfort to be offered in these dark times. Only a miracle could save his son, and even the gods were sceptical about miracles.

Then, like one his father’s thunder, it hit him. ‘You think she can do it!’

Hermes' eyes flared for a second. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He shrugged. ‘I know that she can, but I also know how it would be damaging for her to keep trying until she succeeded. I will not insist.’

‘But you asked.’ Apollo didn’t need an answer, and Hermes did not try to give him one. ‘I see it.’

‘See what?’

‘Your affections.’ Apollo closed his eyes, letting the knowledge sink in. ‘You do care for her as I do for Artemis. I can see how pure it is, and the last thing I’d wish is to cause you pain, brother. I shall not pursue her, not without your blessing.’ That was a lament. Just because he intended to keep his word, didn’t mean he liked to say them.

Something roared inside of him. For a second, he looked again at Percy Jackson. A last glimpse of what he would never have—she would be to him like one of those unsolved questions in history that the mortals never stopped to look for answers, even if it was pointless to make such an effort; there was poetry in it. The eternal longing for answers. Had she been born in a different era, she too would be the object of wonder for those who came after her, the muse of artists and the hero of kids, and maybe his own name would collapse with hers, and they’d be tied together, one way or another.

There is something suffocating about her, and gods shouldn’t feel breathless.

His second lasted a little longer. When he makes a move to look away. It’s when his eyes meet with hers. Both turn away immediately. Warmth goes right into Apollo’s cheeks. 

He’s flushed and his eyes flared gold for a second—he hoped no one had seen that. Apollo decided the best thing to do was to stare to the ground until he was swallowed by it.

‘Don’t make promises you cannot keep.’ He heard Hermes exhaling.

‘I can keep promises!’ Apollo retorted.

‘Let me rephrase it then, don’t make promises that’ll hurt you.’ Hermes murmured. ‘If you must, you have my blessing.’

Apollo widened his eyes and stared at his brother in disbelief. ‘Wait, really?’

Closing his eyes, Hermes continued. ‘I don’t know what might happen to us in the future. I mean, you don’t know, so you can imagine how lost I am. I don’t want to make your last moments miserable.’

‘Hm, thanks?’

‘I’ve noticed you have been at home recently.’

‘I live there, in case you don’t remember.’

Hermes took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been there. Daydreaming, singing to the walls, painting…’

‘I do that quite often.’

‘You do.’ Hermes agreed. ‘But there’s always a part of you with someone. Not in the past days. You’ve gathered your essence at home. And I know you.’

‘You’ve been stalking me!?’ Apollo raised a brow, thinking about the exceedingly long time he spent looking for a beach with the exact same shade of green of Percy Jackson’s eyes.

‘No. But our moms talk.’

‘Oh, of course.’

‘What I’m saying is: if that will bring you happiness, you shall have it.’ Hermes declared. ‘Under the condition that you must treat her with the utmost kindness, either Percy comes to want you or not. Her body, her soul, her mind and her heart, they’re far too frail to be handled bluntly, and I would not stand one more scratch on her.’

‘I see…’

‘You can promise me this?’

Apollo smiled thankfully to his brother. ‘Of course I can.’

SCENE 2

AUGUST 18TH, 2010

CAMP HALF-BLOOD

If there was anything more endearing than his girlfriend surrounded by little kids, Apollo was unaware of it. Made his stomach flutter with butterflies and his heart pump on his chest like a hammer—he did not possess a stomach nor a heart, but the metaphor stood.

What a lovely day it was. Couldn’t be any different. He personally made sure Percy had a perfectly sunny day for her birthday, with a pretty sunrise and an even prettier sunset, for Apollo knew she loved those. Beside his own interference, everything settled perfectly in place, creating a picturesque image that contrasted with the dreadful events of the past years. Apollo hoped she could make sweeter memories regarding her birthday, other than the bloodshed she witnessed during the war.

He longed for better memories. For her and for himself, too. Hopefully, together. Apollo can't help the warm flush on his cheeks, nor the smirk that stretches across his face. The baby in his arms—well, she is technically a toddler, but to him his kids were babies forever—laughs and touches his cheeks, accusing her daddy of looking silly. Thankfully, no one else notices. Kayla, Austin and Will, the eldest of his demigod kids, are laughing about something. In fact, it looks like Kayla and Austin are laughing about something that shifts Will’s face from rosy to scarlet. Apollo can imagine what it is. His son is not exactly subtle.  

Apollo let himself be blinded for a second by the smiles on their faces. That was a good memory. It was, perhaps, maybe endearing enough to compete with Percy playing with little kids. As petty as it sounded, Apollo took pride in the fact that his kids did feel comfortable enough around him—most of his peers couldn’t say the same. He twirled the younger ones in the air, created sparkles around them just to see the glitter in their eyes, joked with the older ones and sang with them a song every now and then. He tried not to think about how his cabin numbers shrunk during the war.

Apollo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew better than anyone else the consequences of dwelling on the past. Instead, he reminded himself the kids were in Elysium and nothing could hurt them anymore. They would want Apollo to take care of their siblings, and that was under his power. Now, not from the shadows and under his father’s rules. Thanks to Percy.

From now on, good memories only, he thought, smelling the sweet scents of flowers and sunshine from his children.

He wished Percy could join him. Apollo knew for a fact she was particularly close to Will, but as far as everyone knew, Percy wasn't really close to Apollo. To Hermes? Yes, a lot of talk about that. To Artemis? Of course, it was secret to no one that Percy was the very kind of person her sister enjoyed having around. When it came to Percy and Apollo, it was always ironically in the dark. That didn't bother him… Not as much as it would've, back in the ancient times. He could keep his cool, and if there was one thing he learned about romance, is that what nobody knows, nobody ruins—which was actually a joke about Odysseus being seriously unlucky, but the meaning changed overtime.

His _Ocean Belle_… So close and so far. For now, if having Percy in secrecy was synonymous to having Percy, then let it be it. He could watch her during the day and be with her during the night, where her smiles and laughter and the glitter in her eyes would belong entirely to him. When she would tell him and no one else about her day and confine to him her secrets, making of the curve of his neck a nest where she could lay her head and rest, warmed by the heat of his body as they talked through the night. Their secrecy was something he appreciated, however, to be in her presence and not being near her was torture; all that Apollo wished was to have her and his kids all together in one place, and to have his fingers intertwined with hers in public.

Well, one thing at a time. He wouldn't want Uncle Poseidon—or worse, cousin Triton—getting in their way, much less Apollo's own father. So close to the end of the war, all eyes were set on her and Apollo wasn't deaf to the whispers about his beloved. If what they had was known, all the vultures would come to spoil their happiness. They'd see it as an invitation, a challenge to overturn, a nuisance—not to say obstacle—that could be solved through trickery.    

It happened before. It happened all the time. Happened with his stepmother, when she was a maiden and refused to take a suitor. Apollo's father tricked her in order to have her as his wife. Then the same with Aphrodite, who was forced into marriage to avoid a war amongst gods. Even with the first Persephone, whose fate had been decided spitefully behind her mother's back. Apollo knew his family. He knew no one would dare to cross Poseidon and chase after his youngest, most beloved, and first-ever demigod daughter. Problem was: Poseidon had already been crossed, and by Apollo, the nephew he loved the most and trusted the most. Other suitors wouldn't have to worry as much about his rage, if such rage was already directed into someone else.

Apollo was no fool to think that his uncle would endorse any god’s relationship with Percy. Not so soon after the war, and if Apollo knew a thing or other about his uncle, not ever. Apollo did know Poseidon. They had a relationship as solid as the walls of Troy that together they raised from the rubble of their—unfortunately failed—rebellion. His uncle was not the forgiving type. He would have to be gently introduced to the concept of having a son-in-law before being introduced to the son-in-law.

That's alright, Apollo thought, brushing away the pessimism from his mind, all it takes is a little patience and a few years.

He watched Percy through the corner of his eyes a little longer. She was dutifully followed by Hades’ son, who carried a plate full of cookies in his hands like a lion guarding its prey. Percy said something that got Nico di Angelo seriously troubled while she stormed into laughter. Adorable, Apollo thought, letting the sound of her laughs get into his ears, so he could appreciate the cadence of her voice.

Apollo took another deep breath and rested his chin on the top of his daughter’s head. ‘Dad is silly.’ Said the three-year-old girl, the youngest of his living children. 

Apollo chuckled. ‘Sillier than you think, Amy.’ He said, kissing her cheek.

As the hours flew by and kids got tired, Apollo sneaked the essence of his body, making most of it invisible. He saw as Percy walked away from the crowd, following with Hades' son toward the beach—probably to watch the sunset, and Apollo hoped she’d enjoy the show made just for her. In the meanwhile, he used the opportunity to walk around and make sure everything was safe for the next hours—he didn't want anyone sticking their noses on his business.

Surprisingly, considering the place was crowded with gods and demigods who were fighting each other to death just a year ago, it was all peaceful. Well, except for a reasonably tipsy Persephone in a corner, because she tended to brag in detail about her excessively happy married life, and no one wanted to listen to her talking about Uncle Hades when she was like that. Especially considering it was summer, and she was probably missing him. Thankfully, Hecate was near Persephone, avoiding her from traumatising this generation.

Apollo passed through Rhode and Triton, his sibling-in-law. If he had to pick one to open his heart about his secret relationship with their sister, it would be Rhode. She was the calmer in her family, and Apollo once was the pupil to her late husband, meaning he would spend a lot of time in their household. Few gods had that lovely personality. But not at that moment. The former Sun Bride had a deadly expression on her face, and her brother Triton had a hand on her arm, just in case he needed to restrain her.

He couldn't help but feel sympathy for her obvious irritation. Apollo too hated her brother.

Not Triton. The other one, from her mother's side. Eros. He was a hateful feathery creature that no one deserved to endure—except, perhaps, the other hateful feathery creature that usually followed him around, Zephyrus. Of course, as much as Apollo hated Eros, he doubted anyone despised him more than his older sister, Rhode. In fact, his sister-in-law avoided anyone from her mother's brood, having herself an aversion for the Goddess of Love. Curiously, Aphrodite kept trying to retrieve her daughter's love and forgiveness, even after years and years of estrangement.

The little group, formed by Eros, Aphrodite and poor Rhode and Triton, tried to keep a talk. At least, Aphrodite tried. Every time Eros spoke, Rhode's eyes glazed with fury and Triton had to tighten his hold on her arm.

Well, they won't be interrupting, Apollo cheered.

A few metres away, Poseidon and Zeus… Laughed? Screamed at each other? Apollo wasn't quite sure. It was always a mystery between them, but they were loud. Poor Uncle Hades closed his eyes and inhaled deeply between every other word, moving his head in an attempt to avoid the sounds. Even Apollo thought he might go deaf if he walked too close.

They talked about something they did about the French Revolution. Uncle Hades had a nasty expression, making a remark about how much he hated how people died of stupid causes back then. As if it was the funniest joke they've ever heard, Zeus and Poseidon threw their heads back while Hades rolled his eyes.

Apollo didn't remember the last time he’d seen the Big Three _talking_—without the war threats or the comments about the time living (or not) in Kronos’ stomach. Before they started to talk about the most unsavoury parts of the 18th century and their adventures then, Apollo walked away.

The demigods were dancing and singing to the same ABBA song they've been obsessing with ever since last year. Apollo smiled, thinking of how Percy would hum that song whenever she was distracted. He walked past her bestest friend, Annabeth Chase; smiling like that, leaning on a boy and cracking jokes, she looked like a completely different person from how she behaved when she was working as architect in Olympus—always so uptight and serious. 

Nearing his brother Hermes, Apollo chuckled when he saw his face. Poor Hermes didn't have a thought behind his eyes, he just glanced away while Demeter and Ares kept talking to him furiously, while Dionysus stood right beside them with a serious expression.

‘My Katie is a good girl.’ Demeter boasted. ‘I don't want that Trant boy anywhere near her!’

Hermes sighed. ‘Travis, you mean.’

‘And I don't approve of Clarisse's relationship with your other son, whatever his name is!’ Ares pronounced.

‘Isn’t Clarisse like, nineteen?’ Hermes frowned, sipping his nectar mindlessly.

Ares crossed his arms in front of his arms. ‘So?’

‘Isn't that a little late to worry about who she dates?’

‘Well,’ Ares started, voice a pitch higher, ‘I never had to care about that before that good-for-nothing son of yours stepped in!’

Apollo made his better efforts not to laugh. That was funny when it didn’t include him being beaten out of existence by Uncle Poseidon. Yet, he should feel sympathy for his fellow… His fellow dating-a-Olympian’s-daughter friend? Maybe they should start a club, maybe Uncle Hades would enjoy having someone to talk with beside his brothers, and Apollo wouldn't complain about having a Big Three ally.

‘Ares, I don't think this is the way to approach 21st century parenting, you know?’ Hermes rolled his eyes. ‘The whole “not letting my daughter date"’ went out of fashion after World War II.’

‘I still don't trust that brat of yours, he's up to something!’

Demeter then was quick to add: ‘The other one too!’ She pointed out. ‘He also has a terrible diet. I cannot imagine what his intestines look like with that amount of sugar he eats.’

Like the words had been carried by the wind, Hermes simply nodded and then turned to their younger brother. ‘What about you? Are any of my kids dating your son?’

Dionysus smiled and shook his head. ‘Oh, no. Thankfully not!’ Dionysus raised his Diet Coke to the sky. ‘I believe he's seeing one of my maenads. I just love seeing someone who's not me getting a lecture.’

Hermes sneered, and this time Apollo laughed and made sure Hermes would hear.

‘Shouldn't you be with your kids?’ Mentally, Hermes inquired.

‘I am.’ Apollo answered, picturing in Hermes mind an image of another version of him playing with the kids.

‘If you three would excuse me, I'll go talk to Apollo.’ Naturally as breathing, Hermes dismissed everyone and walked away. ‘Whatever it is, don't do it.’

‘C'mon, where is my free spirited brother who'd help me in the craziest quests?’

‘My limit is whatever the distance between my pretty face and uncle's Trident.’ Hermes grunted. ‘Where is Percy?’

‘Don't worry, she's with Nico di Angelo.’

‘Your son's crush?’

‘Isn't it lovely that her little, uh, shadow is my Will's crush?’

Even if there was a glitter of endearment in his eyes, Hermes pretended to be annoyed. ‘It's almost as if they're hormonal teenagers.’

‘It’s romantic!’ Apollo sighed.

‘If you say so.’ Hermes retorted. ‘What do you want?’

‘Oh, I did not come here with demands.’ Apollo hummed. ‘I just assumed that my little brother would help me give my beautiful maiden a nice birthday night, you know? Just making sure her dad doesn't notice if she goes missing for an hour or two.’ 

‘Are you crazy!?’ Hermes exhaled. ‘Everyone is here, and they'll notice if the hero of Olympus simply vanishes.*’

‘I know you could buy me thirty minutes. Then thirty minutes more. And then a little longer, I promise we'll be back before 10A.M.’

‘You said the same last time.’ Hermes groaned.

‘You know I can't lie. Just one hour.’

‘You can if you believe in your lie. Thirty-five minutes.’

‘Forty-five.’

‘Forty. Last offer.’

‘Deal. You're the best, brother.’

‘That someday will get me fucked up.’

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day fifteen: old wound

ᰔ pairing: agent whiskey x reader

ᰔ summary: first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes jack daniels unsure if the two of you are making the right choice.

ᰔ author's note: this one is going to be a bit longer and is p angsty. sorrrrryyyyyyy. thank you again to everyone who's been reading there, i've been having a lot of fun writing them 🥹💙

ᰔ content warning: afab!reader, reader is pregnant, conversation around pregnancy, mentions of abortion, bits of canon in an au setting, angsty angst, fighting, mentions of character death, no beta- we die like men

"Baby, can I talk to you?" You peaked your head into Jack's office.

It was late, and you had just finished up your nightly routine of tidying up while he tied up the loose ends of his job for the day. You detested the idea of him working after hours, but that was an uphill battle you had yet to see the other side of. For now, you had bigger fish to fry.

"Of course, darlin'. You okay?" Jack looked up from his computer. He had his glasses on, already showered and in his pajamas. It was a good look on him— hell, everything was a good look on him.

"I wanted to talk to you about something. It's..." Your sentence trailed off. You stepped further into the office, and found your way behind the desk. Jack's chair turned towards you as you leaned your thigh against the sharp edge of the wood.

Jack reached his hand out, placed on your hip to offer some form of comfort. Whatever had plagued you seemed to be written all over your face. Though you two had only been married for a few months, you had known each other for years.

So long, in fact, that you remember the days when you used to hang out with Jack's deceased wife. A beautiful woman ripped away too soon, herself and their unborn son caught in the crossfire of an incident no one could have predicted. The two had become the untouchable subject between you and Jack, and you abided by that without question.

Up until now, that was easy enough to follow. You left it alone, and looked the other way when Jack stared at pictures from high school for too long. He had his better days, and the worse days were spent at the distillery— long evenings of work until he'd trudge back home past midnight, too exhausted to think, let alone face his grief head on.

While it wasn't perfect, it worked. You tried to support Jack in whatever way he needed. He did the same for you, and it had all become apart of the give and take you two had.

Now though, you had to address the elephant in the room. One in the form of a polaroid tucked away in the top drawer in Jack's desk, with a sonogram clipped to it. As badly as you wanted to drag out the entire situation, you were on borrowed time.

"Talk to me," Jack gently urged. "It ain't like I'm gonna bite your head off." His tone was concerned, but a bit amused at his own joke. With his free hand, he removed his glasses and placed them on the keyboard of his computer.

You gave a weak chuckle and tapped your foot. The amusement in Jack's tone seemed to die off as you squirmed in your spot. It was rare that he saw you in such a state.

"I went to the doctor today," you started. "Got some tests done like we had talked about." You didn't meet Jack's eyes, wouldn't even look in his direction. His hand felt like it had burned its imprint through your leggings and into your skin.

"Everything okay, darlin'?" Jack sounded immensely concerned, which you expected.

You weren't going to visit the doctor in the first place, if it had been your choice. Over the last few weeks, you just hadn't been yourself. You had been plagued with debilitating headaches and stomachaches that could lay anyone out. Jack begged you to get them checked out, worried that you were facing some sort of terminal illness.

Thankfully, you were given a clean bill of health. That was, until the doctor came in with a round of congratulations and talks of scheduling an appointment with your obstetrician. In that moment, it felt as if something you had locked away for so long finally popped open.

You hadn't even considered kids with Jack. After the passing of his wife and son, you didn't recognize him. It took a long time for him to shed that version of himself and return to some version of the man he once was.

One drunk night, back at your place after a date early on in your relationship, he went on and on about how it was a terrible idea to have children. Nothing good happens, and even if they live, they were set up to face a cruel world. You didn't disagree, but you knew the voice of grief well enough.

Now, since you had left the doctor's office, you had a different stomachache. How were you going to tell Jack? You were in no mood to fight, but you knew it was going to be a spectacle when you did tell him.

"Yes... and no. Jack, honey, I don't really know how to say what I need to say." You fidgeted with your hands, suddenly aware of the manicure you had gotten last week.

"Well, if it ain't terminal, then that's a good start," Jack tried to reassure you. He had never seen you like this, so unsure and hesitant. You were strong and confident to your very core, so sure of every move you made or whatever came out of your mouth.

"I'm pregnant," you blurted out. There was no other way to put it.

Jack was silent, his hand stilled on your hip. You watched as his expression turned steely and his jaw tensed. It hurt more than you cared to admit when he moved his hand away from you.

You looked to him, then back to your feet. The silence hung in the air ate at you, tense and thick with animosity. What was supposed to be a picture perfect moment– or at least what you had imagined when you were younger– was now anything but.

The silence only made you fidget more. You felt that sour pit in your stomach return as you waited. After a while, you couldn't take it anymore.

"I asked how it was possible, and the doctor said it could happen on some birth control pills. We discussed some options and how to proceed with this." You hoped it would help, but Jack refused to look at you. Instead, his gaze lingered on the top drawer of his desk.

You waited for something, anything from him. All day, you had braced yourself for what was to come. You had even considered removing the fetus without Jack knowing, but that just didn't seem right. The only option you felt you had was to face the problem head on.

"I know we haven't talked about it, but I need you to say something. Anything, really." You reached for his hand, only for him to pull away. It hurt more than you expected, and you moved your hand back to your side.

"You know how I feel about it," Jack finally said. "Just– I need some time to think."

You almost rolled your eyes, but refrained. In the time you had known the man, he said what he wanted when he wanted to. Over time, you had learned what that meant. It was Jack for 'I don't want this kid and I don't know how to do that without upsetting you'.

"Take the time you need," you assured him. Even in your turmoil, you understood he had a lot to process. You knew grief too well, and what it did to a person.

The silence had returned, this time heavier. You watched Jack quietly turn back to his work, a dismissal of you and the conversation all together. Without a word, you left his office.

You went to bed alone that night. Not unexpected, but it still cut deep. Right now, you just needed your husband and the simple act of comfort. All lost because of one little confession. Something you tried to prevent, but failed.

You had barely slept a wink. All night, you tossed and turned in the empty bed. When the sun peaked out from over the horizon, light slow to fill the room, you finally gave up. You decided to take a shower and get yourself ready for the day. Even if you wanted to wallow in bed, there were still tasks that had to be completed.

"Jack?" You called out as you headed downstairs. The house was empty, and a quick glance out the front door confirmed the truck was gone.

Anger bubbled inside of you as you slammed the door. He never did things like this to you. Jack made it a point to kiss you goodbye and love on you until the absolute last minute. Now, he was gone before you made it out of bed.

All day, your anger sat with you. It lingered in everything move you made, every thought you had. If there was anything you hated most of all, it was the feeling of anger. You found it did you no good, but all of your logic had flown out of the window the second the confession came out of your mouth.

Jack wasn't the only one who struggled with this. You were the one that had to create a human— one that you had never intended to have. This whole situation was terrifying, and the one person you needed most was too wrapped up in his own mind to see what stood in front of him.

When it was Jack's usual time to come home, you were surprised to hear the truck pull up. Instead of greeting him at the door as you normally would, you continued to work on dinner. You didn't have it in you to be the sweet, doting wife you liked to be.

"Hi, darlin'." Jack's sweet tone felt like a slap to the face. There was no way he had forgotten last night, no way he thought you had forgotten what happened last night.

It was your turn with the silence. You continued to make meatballs with your back turned to him, the only sound in the kitchen came from the radio you had turned on.

You heard Jack sigh as he placed his keys and wallet on the counter. The sound of his cowboy boots clicked against the tile of the kitchen floor. His hand found the small of your back, and he didn't miss the way you tensed at his touch.

"I thought about what you said," Jack muttered. He was close enough that you heard the way he talked under his breath.

"I hope so," you huffed. "Not like we had much else to talk about between now and then." You didn't look back. If you saw those sweet brown eyes, you'd melt and forgive him in a second. You had to stuck up for yourself, even if that meant focusing on the meatballs instead of your husband.

"That wasn't right, me leavin' you on your own after what we talked about last night." Jack's hand didn't move from your back. His fingers gently pressed into your side as he spoke.

"Came to that conclusion all on your own?" You tried to bite back some of the venom, but it had been stewing inside of you all day.

"Darlin'," Jack sighed. "I- You know why I acted the way I did. I mean, I can't-"

You whipped around to cut him off. Everything that had festered inside of you had come to a head, and if you wanted to stick up for yourself, now was the time.

"I do know, Jack. I'm well aware of what's been lost. You know, she was my friend too. You weren't the only person who lost someone," you began. "I know what loss is. I've lost a lot of people, but I can still acknowledge that life goes on. You ignoring me and the pregnancy doesn't make her come back. Grief is a fickle bitch, but I'm still pregnant and it's still your kid." You poked Jack's chest as you spoke.

"I-"

"No, you're going to let me finish. If you don't want the baby, fine. I'll call my doctor and that will be the end of that. If you want to keep it, that's fine too. Stop comparing me to her. I'm not her. This baby isn't him. You can feel the sadness and grief, but what you won't do is ignore me." You took a long, deep breath before you spoke again.

"If you ever do that again, I'm gone. Don't try me."

Jack waited a beat, but you finally settled and crossed your arms over your chest. You gave him an expectant look. The ball was in his court now. He sighed and rubbed his jaw as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"That was wrong of me, and I'll be the first to admit it," Jack started. "It's also wrong of me to compare the two of you. The truth is I never thought we'd be here, havin' this conversation."

You raised an eyebrow, your hip cocked to the side.

"You never thought that there would be a chance at me getting knocked up? With how often we go at it, that's just delusional." You tried to refrain from the attitude, but once your feathers were ruffled, that was the end of that.

"We've taken the proper steps for precaution," Jack argued. His jaw tensed as you rolled your eyes.

"You ever taken a sex ed class? There's always a chance. Look, that's not what I'm getting at. I've tried to avoid the subject as long as possible, but there's no more waiting. There a fetus in me, and we need to decide how we're gonna handle this before it's too late."

Jack sighed as he leaned back against the island, his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. You were right, as you had always been. How you saw right through him was beyond him, but then again, that's what he admired about you.

"I don't know if I can handle another loss," Jack admitted. "I can't lose you."

You huffed a bit, your hands curled up at your side.

"Stop trying to get me killed! It hurts, Jack. It hurts to think that you're prepared for my death, that I can't make it through and have this baby— to know that you've accepted my death before you could even think of the life we could have." You turned back to the meatballs, and grabbed a hunk of meat. It did not ease your aggravation, but the physical work was cathartic.

Jack was silent. Between the two of you, an old country song wafted through the air. If the circumstances had been different, you'd be drinking wine and laughing with him. You were sure the two of you would be—

Your thoughts halted as a hand wrapped around your waist. The meat was dropped and you wiped your hands, all before Jack tugged you away from the counter. His strong arms wrapped around you as he pulled you to his chest.

Even in the thick of a fight, Jack made you dance with him. The first time it happened, you were so bewildered that you just let it happen. Every time since, you let him apologize in his own way.

Jack held you as the two of you swayed to the music. He was a sucker for Jonny Cash, you had come to learn. Whether it was slow and sweet, or something with a quick pace, he had to hold you close and dance with you.

If I Were a Carpenter played through the speakers, Johnny and June bore witness as you let Jack take lead. The two of you were quiet, but the footwork seemed to say a lot. As angry and hurt as you were, he knew every move you'd make. He knew you as well as you knew him.

"Would you'd love me if I was a carpenter?" Jack's voice was soft. You had one arm around his neck, the other wrapped around his as he led you.

"I'd love you no matter what," you assured him. It was true, you loved him through and through.

"Even now?" Jack asked. "Through it all?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"Through it all, even if I want to strangle you."

Things would be fine, and you knew that. What Jack had to work through was beyond you and the baby. As badly as you wanted an answer right now, that wasn't going to happen. He had to think and piece it all together himself. It got under your skin, but you meant what you said.

You'd love him no matter what.

[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.

[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?”