#the rose and cherry scene

[jpriest85-blog]

Some more fanart of @barbwritesstuff Bloodmoon depecting Lawerence Blackwell meeting my MC, Hala at The Rose and Cherry Cafe.

It's interesting to see the similarities and comparisions of Blackwells dynamic with Carrie, and Hala to Charles Perrault's "Little Red Ridding Hood." With Carrie, Blackwell is clearly the "wolf" in their relatonship dynamic. Disguising himself as Carrie's guardian and family, feeding her blood, and offering her a place to rest beside's him so she's easily acessiable and docile prey. Then when Carrie goes missing the werewolf that comes to speak with him is just this little slip of a girl wearing hand me down clothes, and homemade jewlery who's barly into her mid 20s. She's even wearing a red headscarf! Compaired to someone like Blackwell who's been around a few centuries Hala seems like another child he can cow into obedience with a flash of fangs and promise of reward.

Yet if you pay attention to the shadows you can tell who the real Apex predator is. Sure Hala doesn't look as intimidating as Blackwell in her human form, but it took tremendous will power for someone as amiable as her to not pop Blackwall's head off like a Champage cork. Espically after having to deal with his creepy stepford smile, terrible smell of rot, and even more odious personality. How much poision has Carrie had to swallow over the years because of him? Not just the blood cocktails but the horrible insults and derrogitory remarks about werewolves that Carrie internalized from him while growing up?! The only reasion Hala was able to keep a polite smile during her talk with Blackwell was because she was imagining the painful ways she wanted to murder this entitled and abusive POS parasite!

[slightlyobsessedwithstories]

5 Times They Had A Nightmare and 1 Time Lia Had a Nightmare

Summary: Yeah, title says it all.

Notes: Around 2900 words. Warnings here: death, gore, body horror.

The weeks after seeing their family die were full of nightmares. It got so bad that they tried staying awake as much as possible just so they wouldn't have to relive that moment.

It didn't work. Obviously, it wouldn't. Amalia even said it was a bad idea.

...

It was such a perfect day. They could hear the joyous laughs as Annie and their cousins play around the trees. Close by, they can hear their dad joking around with their aunt. They also finally manage to convince their mom to put down her work and for a moment she's laying down on the picnic blanket watching the clouds pass by with them at her side.

It was such a perfect day.

Why did it have to end?

They're overwhelmed with the mix of screams and the smell of iron.

They close their eyes shut. No matter how many times they see this it won't go away. It won't stop. They want it to stop. Please.

Their hands are still shaking as they try to keep themselves quiet. Keep themselves safe. Hope that the monsters don't get them.

Then they hear her.

Annie, their sweet little sister, begging for help.

They try to save Annie. They tried so many times to save her. They want to be able to save her at least once. At least give them the chance to make up for failing her in the real world.

This time they're carrying her in their arms. Holding her tightly like the day their parents let them hold her for the first time.

They try to outrun the monsters chasing them.

It doesn't work.

It never works.

It takes her.

They wake up, surrounded by empty cans of energy drinks, tears running down their face and... a blanket on them?

They wake up, surrounded by empty cans of energy drinks, tears running down their face and... a blanket on them?

Slowly, they got their head up and right there close to the table is Amalia, who they're pretty sure is going to tell them that she was right and they should've listened to her, but she didn't.

Not right now.

She takes a moment to help calm them. They really needed that, their heart's still racing. After checking that they're fine, she helps them get to bed.

...

It's almost a year since they lost their family. The nightmares didn't stop and at this point they've accepted that it would haunt them for the rest of their life.

They've stopped forcing themselves to stay up.

Can't really stop sleeping. It's not like they can stop their body from falling asleep.

They're only human after all.

...

It's the same scene. The laughter, the jokes, but something's different this time.

Their mother isn't watching the clouds, she's watching them.

Her eyes staring into their soul.

They want to speak, but they can't.

She speaks instead.

"Why do you torture yourself, my child?"

They don't–they don't know what she meant by that.

Her haunting voice continues, "You're stuck here, in this moment of time. You have a purpose much greater than this that you cannot fulfill until you remember why you're here."

What? What does she mean by that?

Her features shift, she's now someone else...someone that should be familiar to them, but they can't remember who.

She's bleeding from her chest.

"I'm sorry, you have to wake up now."

Wait wha–

The person stabs them in the chest with the knife from her bleeding heart.

The last thing they see are her sad eyes staring at them.

They wake up with a jolt. Their hand goes to their chest, almost expecting blood, but they only find their rapidly beating heart.

They're not in the woods.

They're in Amalia's room.

They look around and spot her studying, she has her earphones on. She's tapping her foot to the beat of the song she's listening to.

It's cute.

Amalia's here. They're here. They're home.

Their heart slows down to a reasonable speed.

She notices them. She stops what she's doing and takes her earphones off.

Her focus is only on them.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

"Yeah, this one's...different though."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

They don't exactly want to tell their best friend that they dreamt about their own mother killing them.

"Not... really. Not right now."

"Okay, that's alright. You can tell me when you want to okay? You don't have to keep it all to yourself."

"Okay, thanks Lia."

She goes back to studying.

Her words keep repeating in their head.

They're gonna tell her.

They're gonna tell her the truth.

She wouldn't believe them, but they have to tell someone.

They don't have to deal with this alone.

...

So it's been a few months since they told her the truth about what happened that day. It was nice to have someone believe them and it for a moment they even had nice dreams.

But it didn't last.

...

They're in the woods again.

They walk around, hearing the occasional bird chirp.

It's calm...too calm.

The stench of rot hits their nose.

They're staring at a trail made with the dead bodies of their family.

Reluctantly, they follow it.

They see everyone. Their body parts strewn around, path splattered with blood, guts, and bones.

Someone is missing though.

At the end of the path, they find her.

In the middle of a circle of trees is their little sister, laying on the ground.

They run towards her and scoop her into their arms.

They can feel her heart beating. She's breathing. She's alive. Annie's alive. She's alive.

They have to leave.

They aren't safe here.

Oh good, Annie's waking up. She can hold on to them while they–

Why are her eyes blue?

She starts crying and shaking in their arms.

"...help..."

"Shh, I don't know what happened, but you're safe now, okay?"

She gives them a small smile.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them rumbles.

"Hold on tight, Annie."

Carrying her, they run as ground glows in cyan light.

Before they can get out of the circle of trees, something stops them.

They keep...hitting...something...

Why can't they go through?!

Annie screams.

Something's pulling her away from them.

No! They're not gonna let it take her! They just need to leave! They can finally be together!

They keep pushing and pushing, meanwhile there's something coming out of the ground behind them.

At the corner of their vision, they see a cyan blur.

Cyan tendrils wrap around them. Forcing their sister out of their arms.

It takes her.

Drags her back towards the center.

The light glows brighter.

She screams for their help.

They need to help her, but they can't!

It won't let them go. No matter how much they fight it.

It should be them. Not her.

Cyan light engulfs her.

They can't–

They can't close their eyes. They don't want to see this. They can't move. Can't turn away. They're forced to look at their suffering sister.

The light is inside her. It ripples and crawls under her skin. Mushrooms burst from her chest feeding off her decaying heart. Mycelium spreads and stretches around her torso, draining every bit of blood from her little body. Her limbs sprout dark leaves, wrapping around her arms and legs, whatever's left of her skin turns to bark. Her hair falls off in clumps, replaced by thick thorny vines.

She stops screaming.

The ground stops glowing.

They want to catch her as she falls.

But they can't.

She drops with a sickening crack.

She stands up as if nothing happened.

Her glowing cyan eyes stare at them.

"...Annie?"

"..."

The tendrils let them go.

They try to take a step towards her.

"Get away from me."

"I don't want to leave you!"

"I can't stop it."

That's not her voice.

"Run!"

They're so sorry.

They turn and run.

"Why are you running away from me?"

That's not Annie.

"Come back! Save me please!"

Don't listen to it.

"Don't leave!"

No matter how much it sounds like her, it's not her.

"I don't wanna be alone!"

Not anymore.

They're almost out of the forest and then–

They wake up. Her screams are still fresh. Still echo in their mind.

Their heart beats as if they've been running for ages.

They're not in the woods. They're crashing on the sofa at Amalia's apartment. They still got their monster hunting gear on and they really regret their sleeping position.

They wipe their face. There's tears and snot all over their arm.

It's a good thing Lia's roommates aren't here.

They hear a door handle turning.

They do not want to explain this to other people right now.

They close their eyes and pretend to sleep.

Lia's the one that enters. They know her footsteps anywhere.

"I know you're awake. You're really bad at pretending to sleep."

They stop pretending and got up to sit on the couch properly.

"Aw, I thought I did better this time."

"You sleep like a corpse when you don't get nightmares. Really freaks me out sometimes."

"I'll try to sleep less then."

She is glaring at them, "Don't."

"I know, I know. I still remember what happened the first time I tried it."

She sits next to them on the couch.

"Another nightmare?"

"...yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Are you prepared to hear what this one was about?"

"If it helps you, then yeah."

They tell her everything. The whole bloody scene, the possession, the transformation, her screams.

She holds them as they cry.  At least someone else knows about it.

They stay like that for a while, one holding the other like a lifeline.

After some time passes. They let her go. She still needs to go back to sleep.

Amalia goes back to her room.

Oh, they got an email.

Westchester... something about that place keeps calling to them.

Maybe, it's all the supernatural stuff.

Maybe... it's because of the incident.

Either way they're going to have to go there anyway.

Westchester Community College is the only one that's accepting their college application.

...

It's been a week since they've been staying at Connor's cabin and it has been exhausting. Between finding out that they have powers, Annie being a ghost, a weird voice in their dreams, and to add on that college... is actually the least of their worries, but still, trying to do schoolwork while their brain's thinking about everything else is just ughhhh.

So getting to bed and falling asleep? Easy.

...

They're...in the library?

Wait... No!

They have to get out of there!

So they ran.

They try to find the doors.

They run through so many halls.

They've seen bookshelf after bookshelf.

But the library's a labyrinth.

They just have to avoid her then.

What section of the library are they in anyway?

... It's the dreams section.

...Of course.

They see cyan in the corner of their eye.

There's a book that's glowing.

"Things That Live In The Woods"

Against their will, they walk towards the book.

They touch it.

...

They're in the woods.

It's dark.

They stumble around, hearing the snaps of twigs as they do.

Then they hear her.

She's screaming.

They run towards her.

Their path becomes clearer with the moon lighting parts of the woods.

They can make it this time. They can save her. They won't fail her.

Not again.

They hear her shrieks.

They get weaker as they get closer.

They're at the spot.

They just fall to their knees.

They failed her again.

Her glossy eyes are staring at them.

The knife still stabs her heart.

Why can't they do it?

Why do the people they care for always die?

Maybe there's just something about them that's unlucky.

Maybe they're cursed.

The world around them shakes.

Why are they shaking?

"–up. Wake up."

...Is that Lia?

They open their eyes.

Her worried face is the first thing they see.

"Sorry for shaking you awake, but you were shouting."

They pull her into a tight hug. She lets them hold her while they cry right into her shoulder. She comforts them as they hold each other.

They... they have to ask her...

"Lia...do you think I'm cursed?"

"No. Why would you–"

"I mean if you think about it. It explains a lot. My family's dead, I have powers that could kill people, and mostly everyone I've ever been close to is either dead or they're as far away from me as possible."

Amalia is just silent. Is she shocked? Thinking about the right words to say? Or is she also agreeing?

They continued, "I'm just lucky you haven't–"

"Don't even say it."

Lia starts going into Lawyer Mode basically debunking practically everything that they said complete with evidence.

Of course it's her last point that ends up summarizing her whole argument.

"It wasn't your fault she died."

They know that. They know that they're not the one that killed her.

But she wouldn't be dead if she didn't help them.

She wouldn't be dead if–

"Hey," she squeezes their hand, "you're getting lost in your thoughts again."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

Still they have to ask.

"...we'll always be together, right?"

"Hey, we've been friends for a long time. Nothing could keep us apart." 

...

It's hard to believe that Lia's right there, right beside them. She didn't have to come back. She didn't have to sleep next to them, but here she is, their best friend and the love of their life, sharing a bed together.

After confessing how they feel about each other.

As much as they would like to explore these feelings while in private, Connor hasn't stopped screaming and really the only reason why Amalia's asleep is because she managed to block some of the screams with her headphones. They took it off after a while; she's surprisingly a deep sleeper. 

Sleep eventually comes for them. 

...

It's a nice spring day in the woods.

Perfect for a picnic for two.

There's nobody here to disturb them.

They have something special planned for today.

They've set a spot for them in the middle of some Birch trees.

They get there and sit on the picnic blanket.

Amalia keeps sneezing, but that's fine.

What's a little pollen going to do?

So they look inside the basket and find...

A strawberry cake?

Wait, no. That's not right.

A cherry pie?

Yeah, maybe that can work.

So, they grab her a slice of pie.

While they're eating, Lia keeps scratching her throat.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. My mouth's itchy for some reason."

There's something that's familiar about what's happening to her.

Wait... is it the food?

Oh no.

Her allergies.

How could they forget that?

Okay, calm down.

Did they bring an Epipen?

They did! They saw it in the basket somewhere.

They can hear her struggle to breathe.

They have to find it.

...

Where did the basket go?

It was right there!

There's a thud.

They turn and see...

Lia, her body stiff and her face swollen.

She's dead.

She's dead and it's their fault.

Lia's dead because they don't remember anything.

They're not them. They're just a copy of them. Some spirit that decided to possess a dead body.

And now...

They hold on to her, their tears dropping down at her cold corpse.

They wake up, they're in Connor's cabin.

Lia...

She's next to them.

She's not dead. 

She's still asleep.

Still alive.

Still breathing.

They hold her close.

Her heart beats with theirs.

She's so warm.

She turns and now she's facing them.

Still asleep, she has a little smile on her face.

She's...beautiful? Cute? A mix of both and so much more?

They're so lucky.

They're so fucking lucky that this amazing, wonderful woman is right at their side.

You know what, when all of this is over they're going to have a nice day at the beach with her. They'll prepare the most romantic beach date ever.

And after that? 

They both deserve a break. At least before Lia's semester starts.

Maybe in the future, they'll have a nice domestic life far away from all of this.

Maybe they'll visit some of Lia's family.

They don't care what they'll do as long as she's with them.

They'll spend the rest of their life with her. 

They're dying.

Matthias stabbed them.

What can she even do?

There's a vortex of power swirling around him.

He's cackling as he celebrates the success of his plan.

But her focus is only on them.

On the body on the altar.

She doesn't care what happens to her if she gets close.

She just wants...

She has to be with them.

She tries to ignore how cold their cheek feels.

Or how the light in their eyes is gone.

"Hey, honey. It'll be okay. All right? It'll be okay, I promise. I love you."

She presses a gentle kiss to their forehead.

Hoping. Praying.

That by some miracle that there's actually some magic in true love's kiss.

But that's a lie she's telling herself.

Her sobs echo in the cold cavern. 

...

Amalia wakes up, her face stained with tears. 

Some days, it's hard to believe that they're right there next to her.

She presses herself against their back.

Their soft snores and beating heart being the most calming sounds in the world.

And when they wake up.

Brown eyes staring back at her.

They'll kiss her gently on the forehead.

Remind her how much they love her.

The thought may be silly at times but maybe...

They did get their happy ending together in the end.

[writing-chats]

COLOURS in DESCRIPTION

colour is the lifeblood of a scene. here are ways not to over-use it.

Red: cardinal, coral, crimson, flaming, maroon, rose, wine, brick red, burgundy, carmine, cerise, cherry, chestnut, claret, copper, dahlia, fuschia, garnet, geranium, infrared, magenta, puce, ruby, russet, rust, salmon, sanguine, scarlet, tition, vermilion, roseate, rubicund, ruddy, rubescent, florid

Orange: apricot, tangerine, merigold, cider, ginger, bronze, cantaloupe orange, clay, honey, marmalade orange, amber

Yellow: blond, chrome, cream, gold, ivory, lemon, saffron, tawny, xanthous, sandy

Green: grassy, leafy, verdant, emerald, aquamarine, chartreuse, fir, forest green, jade, lime, malachite, mossy, pea green, pine, sage, sea green, verdigris, willow, spinach green, viridian

Blue: azure, beryl, cerulean, cobalt, indigo, navy, royal blue, sapphire, teal, turquoise, ultramarine

Purple: violet, indigo, lavender, lilac, mauve, periwinkle, plum, violet, amethyst, heliotrope, mulberry, orchid, pomegranate purple, wine, amaranthine, perse, violaceous, reddish-blue

[writers-potion]

Could I ask for tips on how to write kisses?

Writing The Perfect Kiss Scene

#1 Find the RIGHT moment

We all know what I mean! The "zing" when the character's faces are get close enough must come unexpected (but) when both of them are looking for romance/comfort.

For example:

Tripping over each other in the hallway

Person A covering their face with their hands and Person B prying them off, their eyes meeting...

Sitting next to each other in the library, elbows touching, and they happen to turn around to face each other...

Find a natural way to bring your characters the romantic atmosphere!

#2 Noticing the Other Person

It's natural to to see someone in a different way when there's romantic vibe pulsating in the air. Maybe your character notices that their crush has a speck of green in their eyes they didn't notice before.

#3 Build Ups

Describe how the characters feel moments before their lips touch. This includes things like racing hearts, sweaty palms, unsteady breathing. etc.

#4 Feeling all Self-Conscious

If you're writing a first-person POV or want to portray the nervous excitement of kissing a love interest for the first time, you can afford to have your character be distracted by how they feel inside, or worrying about how they smell/look, etc.

Maybe they feel like it's too early in the relationship to kiss

They're still thinking about that annoying math problem

Did I apply my new cherry-flavored chapstick? etc.

This should come in the same beat as the "notice the other person", heightening the romance tension between the characters.

Once they get closer and the kiss actually happens, these worries will melt away!

#4 Describing the Details

In most cases, it's best to keep things understated (especially in regards to tongues)

tongues cannot "tangle" or "battle" or "swish around"...please, no.

Focus on the lips and how the characters move (like hugging, pushing the other against a wall, breathing, etc.), adding the tongue as an afterthought.

Don't get too exicted about taste.

No, her tongue didn't taste like fresh roses and peaches, unless she was eating peach candy right before the kiss.

Focus on other sensations other than taste: especially touch, heat. the tickle of his breath on her cheekc, etc. Or even the smell of shampoo.

#5 The Pullaway + Reaction

Does the kiss end naturally, or does something else interrupt them?

How do the characters react: do they blush, say something, hug he other person, or run away with a deep blush? For couples, they can even tease the other.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[sincerelyrki]

but i love the taste of you

Heeseung never did enjoy lollipops, their overrated taste never interesting him. But perhaps tasting it from your lips could change everything. As for the laptop? It just happened to be in the perfect place, at the perfect time.

pairing : bf!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings + genre : smut. profanity. licking. biting. heeseung is lowkey obsessed. unprotected sex (pls don’t!). oral (both ways). kissing over a lollipop (trust 🙏). recording. switch!heeseung. switch!reader. little bit of degrading (just a bit, promise). spit it mentioned a few times. 18+. mdni.

wc : 3.9k

a/n : you can probably see my addiction to secondhand tasting [ cherry lips, a cherry for my cherry, and now this one… (the lollipop was def cherry flavoured in my head)] anyways, this is only my second time writing full smut so please lmk how i did! fb + rbs are always appreciated <3

Heeseung sat with his jaw clenched; hands fisting by his side as he watched your lollipop glide down your tongue, satisfying pops sounding out whenever you pulled it from your mouth. 

He felt like he was losing his mind, his patience wearing thin the longer he listened to your soft hums of delight. 

The sounds were identical to the ones he had you making just hours ago, your body still clad in nothing but his t-shirt and your cute little panties. 

You were daunting him, you had to be. There was no other explanation as to why you were making all these erotic sounds, why you were licking your lollipop in the same way you had done to him that same morning. 

Heeseung rose to a stand, feet bringing him towards you without hesitation. He stood tall in front of you, his body blocking your vision from your computer’s screen. 

“I can’t see, baby. Can you please move over?” You looked up at him over your lashes, wide eyes matching your perfectly pouted lips.

Heeseung swore under his breath, his pants tightening as he laid a firm hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lean back against the couch. 

You sat back with a smirk, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop stick. At first, you didn’t mean to make the whole scene suggestive, but you’d never pass up the opportunity to tease your boyfriend. 

You knew how easily he got turned on, how easy it was for you to turn him to putty in your hands. It wasn’t that you always took advantage of it, but there’s no harm in doing it every once in a while. 

Especially when he looked as good as he did now, his messy hair - courtesy to you- stirring your arousal as the reminder of your long morning came rolling back.

You sat still under him, your eyes never leaving his heated ones, basking in the way he glared down at you. You had been fantasizing about his reaction, about how rough he would take you.

There’s nothing that irritated Heeseung more than when his good girl teased him, but there’s also nothing that turned him on more. 

There was something about your innocent facade, your delicate eyes staring at him with the warmth of the morning sun. Something about the way you conceived everyone into thinking you were some perfect, flawless, princess. 

The way you convinced everyone that you were nothing like how you actually were, you’re just a brat wearing a pretty face. But you were only Heeseungs brat, something he proved to you whenever he could.

Heeseung turned his back towards you, bending at the waist to pick up your computer. He rolled his eyes at the rotting footage playing across from him, some random romance sitcom with no specific plot.

It was the same genre you always chose to indulge in, sitting pretty while your brain worked on autopilot to create its own interpretations of how these soulless actors would portray these tedious scenes. 

That’s when an idea hit Heeseung, one that he’d been fantasizing about since the day he first touched you. What better movie is there to watch, than the one you create with the person you love?

It was perfect, everything about it. 

And so Heeseung turned back around, putting his weight on one knee and he moved the other on your other side. He sat down on your plush thighs, straddling you as you sunk deeper into the couch. 

You had long lost eye contact your the man before you, the computer blocking your sight. You ignored the way your show suddenly turned quiet, rolling your eyes at what you thought was Heeseung being over dramatic.

But what he had done next, was something that you’d be thinking about the next time you needed some sort of relief, your hands down your parties as you pleasured yourself to the thought of your boyfriend. 

Heeseung placed the computer on the side table, the two of you fitting perfectly in frame. He barely glanced at the screen before he grabbed your jaw, one hand holding it as the other pressed down on your bottom lip.

Two sides of Heeseung’s fingers touched against the lollipop in your mouth, sandwiching it between his fingers as he pried your mouth open. 

You looked up at Heeseung in shock, the lollipop sitting loose in your mouth as you allowed him to control your body in the ways he wanted. 

“You know, I’m not a huge fan of lollipops…” Heeseung trailed off, his fingers crawling from your mouth and onto your tongue. He swiped two fingers across the sugary surface of the lollipop, trailing it in a line across one side of the candy.

He then dragged his fingers from the lollipop, across your tongue, and to your lips. He used his fingers to rub the sweetness across your mouth, a sweet coat of sugar replacing your long smudged lipgloss.

“But I love the taste of you.” He used the same two fingers to pull the candy from your mouth, leaning it to vertically press against your lips. He leaned down to your face, pressing his lips to the other side of the lollipop.

He then angled the stick in a way that allowed the lollipop to stick in the middle of both of your lips, the taste transferring to the both of you. 

He closed his eyes, uncaring of the fact that yours were wide open and staring directly at him. He gently stuck out his tongue, removing his lips enough to run his tongue across the side of the lollipop.

He turned his head as his tongue slowly moved across it, eventually meeting the end and ending on the corner of your lips.

Heeseung stayed in that position, his lips barely touching yours as he let out a quiet hum, licking the sugar off his lips as he reopened his eyes. “Delicious” He pressed a small peck to the side of your lips, pulling back to sit up straight.

Heeseung was still holding the lollipop to your lips, only this time he turned the stick so the end was facing towards his chest, the candy facing towards your mouth.

He made a show of opening his mouth, sticking out his tongue as he let a hushed “a” sound leave his lips.

He gave you a small smirk as you followed his command, lips opening wide as you stuck your tongue out the same way. “Good girl” Heeseung cooed at you in a tone that was anything but proud. 

He pushed the candy back in your mouth, using his other hand to close your jaw around it. “You’re so pretty like this, with your dirty lips wrapped around something.” Heeseung quirked an amused eyebrow as you responded to his degrading words with a whine, furrowed eyebrows staring up at him.

“Oh? You don’t look pretty with something in your mouth?” You whined again, eyebrows furrowing even more. Heeseung tilted his head to the side, face pulling up in an unfamiliar way.

 “Lips aren’t dirty” You tried speaking through your closed mouth, words barely recognizable. Heeseung humorlessly chucked at your words, a proud grin settling on his face.

“M’sorry baby, you have the prettiest lips.” Your forehead smoothed as you sunk back down, satisfied with his answer. “Should we show the camera?”

Heeseung leaned over to grab the laptop, his teeth on display as he replayed your reaction in his head. The way your body tensed at his words, eyes widening a fraction and legs jolting. 

“You must think I'm dumb, don’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” You were filled with the same desires as Heeseung, your fantasy of recording each other haunting you every time you have sex. 

“I know my dumb baby too well, there isn’t anything I haven’t already seen.” Heeseung was now watching their reflection on the screen, his desire growing as he watched the way you began pushing against him. 

“Is my baby getting needy?” Through the screen he watched as you rapidly nodded, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop. “Good, let’s show the camera how pretty your lips are first.”

Heeseung brought the laptop up between the two of you, holding it near your chest as he stared down at you, “hold it.” 

With the laptop held securely in your hands, Heeseung turned his attention back to your candy. This time, he opened your mouth in a different way. 

He pushed down on the lollipop, forcing your mouth to open due to the pressure. He slowly slid it out from your mouth, his mouth salivating as the sweet scent reached his nose. 

The camera got a close-up of the way a small string of saliva connected from your mouth to the candy, caught the way it disappeared as Heeseung’s head swooped in from over the laptop as pressed against yours.

Filthy sounds filled the room, your messy kiss being caught from a lowered angle. Though many might now think the angle would be ideal, it was nothing less than perfect.

It perfectly captured the way Heeseung’s tongue wrapped around yours, the way your head chased after his as he pulled back to change angles. 

It caught everything, including your pretty moans. 

Heeseung carelessly tossed the lollipop behind him, the table close enough for it to land on without having to look. He moved both of his hands to wrap around your waist, his hands pressing down on your curves.

“Wait, let me fix the camera” You stuttered mid-sentence, mouth refusing to leave his as you placed the laptop on the couch beside the two of you, everything above your knees visible. 

Heeseung slid his hands under your shift, sliding it up and over your head in a vast movement, disconnecting your lips for no more than five seconds before pressing against you again.

His hands squeezed at your skin, his hands coming up to grope at you.

Your head tilted back with a loud moan as he disconnected your lips to kiss the exposed skin at the top of your bra, his hands pushing your tits up as he sucked dark marks onto your skin.

He acted like a man who’d never seen a pair of breasts before, ravaging them like a starved man. He moved lower down your legs as he undid your bra, kissing and sucking spots along his path until he reached your pants. 

Heeseung slid off the couch, slotting himself between your open legs as he bit along your lower stomach, kissing your stretch marks as he appreciated your entire body. 

“My girl is so pretty, the prettiest girl in the world.” He mumbled out, sounding drunk off your skin. “So so pretty” He repeated over and over as he placed more and more kisses.

He slid his hands back down towards your legs, fingers wrapping around your waistline before he looked up at you, eyes hooded as he waited for your consent. 

At your nod, Heeseung quickly undid your pants, pulling them down and off your legs. Your panties quickly followed, getting tossed across the room in a random pile that would soon be joined by his clothes. 

Due to the shift of weight, the laptop toppled over to the side, landing in the perfect view of Heeseung between your legs. It was a sight worth millions, the sight of a man who was actually willing to sacrifice anything to get a taste of pussy. 

Heeseung pulled your legs over his shoulder, using his hands to pull your body closer to his face. His eyes closed with a loud hum, the familiar smell enveloping his senses in the most pleasurable way possible.

“You smell so good, I love you so much” Heeseung spoke once before placing a small kiss against your folds, one of his hands coming up to spread you for him.

He gave your inner thigh one last kiss before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your clit as his vibrations caused mass pleasure to wring out across your body. 

Your back arched as his tongue circled you, your sensitive nerves reacting to his loving movements. Heeseung always started slow, paying attention to your most pleasurable parts as he submerged himself into you.

His tongue was now replaced with his thumb, fast circled getting rubbed against you as he stuck his tongue flat against your opening, slowly curling it as he collected whatever juices he could. 

A mixture of his spit and your arousal was nothing more than his wettest dreams, the taste automatically beating the one of the sugary lollipops. He could happily drown within you, the only way he’d ever want to go. 

After a few minutes of prolonging your orgasm, he finally decided to finish it off, bringing you to your most craved high. 

He pushed his fingers into you, his tongue replacing the spot his thumb was moments prior. As good as Heeseung’s fingers felt, nothing compared to his tongue.

It felt like magic, the way he was able to make you feel so much in such a short amount of time. Your back arched as your legs quivered around his head, thighs tightening around his head as your heels dug into his clothes back. 

Broken moans left your lips, the sound rising the more you felt the waves coming up. Heeseung felt it too, the way you clenched around his fingers while your hips began rocking against your face.

He used the hand that was wrapped around one of your tights to go up and press against your lower stomach, pushing on it as your high washed over you. 

Loud slurps and moans filled the room, your breath caught in your throat as your back arched as far as it could. Heeseung felt you through it, both his fingers and to continue moving unrelentingly.

“Too much.” You gently shinned, legs still shaking as Heeseung licked you clean. He hummed against you, removing his fingers as he finished off, “I know baby, I know.”

Heeseung sat back up, one of his hands grabbing at the bottom of his shit to pull it off his head. You watched through tired eyes as your boyfriend palmed himself through his pants, head tilting forwards as his eyes stayed glued to your face.

It was a habit that Heeseung couldn’t seem to shake, the action starting when your relationship first started. You used to get shy after Heeseung ate you out, cheeks heating up as you tried hiding yourself.

Obviously, you weren’t shy anymore, the hundreds of minutes he’d spent between your legs long swishing that shyness. 

While you were calming down and preparing yourself again, Heeseung busied himself with getting undressed. He removed each article of clothing, throwing them roughly in the same direction as yours. 

The sight of your boyfriend bare before your eyes caused your body to light up with electricity once again, legs tingling as you obsessed with the way his cock twitched at your watchful eyes.

Heeseung leaned down to grab the laptop, placing it on the table that it was on, to begin with, one that gave it the sight of the entire couch. 

You changed positions, turning your back towards the roof as you crawled towards one side of the couch, arching your back for your boyfriend as you playfully looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I’m not going to fuck myself.” You fluttered your eyelashes, arousal growing as Heeseung playfully snickered at you in disbelief. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you so good.”

He kneels on the couch behind you, hands spreading your ass as he pushes himself to glide between your lips. He coated himself with your wetness before sinking into you, bottoming out as you pushed yourself back into him. 

His nails dug into your love handles, grabbing them for stability as he pushed himself into you. His head fell back as he felt himself continuously bottom out.

It was rare that you went without a condom, and there was no better feeling than the friction of your bare skin rubbing together. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” A loud pitch moan left your lips in response, a little more dramatic due to the camera recording you. 

Heeseung could feel himself losing control, the warm feeling of being inside of you chasing his hips to push into you harder. 

Quiet swears left his lips as he found his constant pace, hips hitting against yours as he leaned over your back, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your hands. 

He pushed your hands down against the couch, his new angle allowing him to get more depth. 

“Please, I want to cum whilst riding you.” Heeseung swore one last time before pulling out, flipping your position as he leaned his back against the back of the couch. 

Your feet pressed against his legs, hips raised as you used your hand to place his dick against you. You circled his tip around your entrance one time before you sunk onto him, hand moving down to play with his balls as you bounced up and down. 

Heeseung threw his head back, eyes narrowing to slits as his pleasure weighed down his body. One of his hands rubbed up your body, grabbing your chest as the other squeezed the soft skin of your waist. 

He turned his attention toward the area where the two of you were connected, his mouth drying as he watched a ring of white froth form at his base. 

His abdominal muscles contracted as he trusted his hips forward, louder clapping filling the room as he changed the tempo. 

There was a moment where both of your eyes met, the primal desire mirroring back through your own reflections. Heeseung gave you a small smirk, one side of his mouth quirking up.

He winked at you once before he grabbed your hand, his fingers wrapping around the entirety of yours as he brought it to grab his neck.

“Use me” You tightened your hand around his neck at his suddenly sultry whisper, knees burning as you dropped against him harder. 

You bent forward, chest bumping against him as you used your hands to tilt his head back, his hair falling back to reveal his damp forehead. 

You pressed your tongue against the top of his sternum, licking a strip up until your nose touched his earlobe, teeth replacing its spot as you bit down on him.

His back arched beneath you, small sounds leaving his lips as you marked him. You treated his neck the same way you had the lollipop, using him the way he liked. 

“You feel so good.” Heeseung breathlessly praised you, his voice coming out higher than usual. It was easy to tell when Heeseung was getting close, the way he started touching your body more. 

Even with Heeseung under you, he always made sure you came undone first. The way your pleasure contoured your body caused his own long-awaited high to multiply tens fold. 

Though the feeling of his skin against yours caused a euphoric sensation to ring out across your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him a little more.

You halted your body, palms pushing down on your boyfriend's hips to stop his constant buckling.

“I want to make you feel good before.” You rose higher on your knees, only his tip remaining in as you shot him your best attempt of an innocent smile.

Heeseung tried not to let your words affect him, the pleasure that faded with the lack of stimulation returning at the thought of your lips wrapping around him.

“I much prefer you over the lollipop, nothing compares to the way you fill me.” 

Heeseung let out a shaky breath as his left leg began to shake, arms flexing as he fisted the cushions under him. “Fuck, do whatever you’d like, I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me.”

You removed him from you completely, your palm reaching up towards his lips as you looked at him with an expected gaze. Heeseung puckered his lips out, a sizable drop of spit landing between the crevices of your fingers. 

“That’s not enough.” You clicked your tongue at him, faux disapproval seeping out through your lips as you pulled your hand away from him. “You’re lucky I'm still wet, I'll just have to do it myself.”

You reached down, fingers collecting your wetness before you wrapped your hand back around him. Heeseung’s mouth fell open as you placed a small kiss against the base of his shaft, a trail of kisses following your hand as you slowly moved it up.

A sudden whimper left his mouth as you hollowed your cheeks around him, the suction perfectly squeezing around him. 

His sounds only rose as you added your tongue, the soft muscle tracing along his prominent vein. He almost forgot about the laptop, a small red light reminding him of the almost hour-long video. 

He stared directly into the camera, maximizing his expressions knowing that sooner or later, you’d be watching this back. He knew what got you off, what he could do to make you feel as good as possible. 

It was completely mutual, your knowledge of his body aiding in drawing out a loud, genuine, sound from his pretty lips. 

His back lifted from the couch, body flinching as your finger pressed against his perineum, sharp shocks of pleasure shooting across his body.

His breath caught in his chest as his hand shot out to grab your head, your hair fisting in his hands as he pushed you down further.

He didn’t stop, not even after hearing your choking sounds. As said before, he knew exactly what you liked.

 He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed being choked, you just experienced it differently. 

You continued stimulating his prostate through his perineum, spit dribbling down from the corners of your lips as you drew him closer to his orgasm.

He barely warned you before letting go in your mouth, the only telltale being the trembling of his legs. 

You tried your best to swallow everything he gave you, his familiar salty taste replacing the coating of sweetness in your throat. 

You pulled back, tongue peaking out to lap at the drops you had missed before, cleaning him from your shared mess. 

Heeseung panted from above you, his eyes closed as his heart pounded loudly in his chest. He felt the way you raised from your knees, your hand wrapping around his jaw as you pulled him in for a messy kiss.

The taste of himself no longer caused any reaction, he’d long gotten used to tasting himself on your tongue after you’d gone down on him.

“You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” Heeseung said completely seriously, masking the truth behind his words with a joking tone. 

“That’s just the way I like it.” You replied back, scooting back to rest your head against the arm of the couch, legs spreading for your boyfriend to get a good view of what you were going to do next. 

“I’m ready when you are, show me how good you can treat me.” You never looked away from his eyes as you pressed your finger down against your clit, basking in the way his cock twitched at you.

“Or are you too tired?” Heeseung rolled his eyes at you, his body moving to hover over yours as he pushed himself between your legs.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You returned his wolfish grin, hand leaving your body to grab his waist, pulling his hips against yours. 

“Show me.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

fixation

words: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, reader has an oral fixation

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @dream-pink

“baby i’m running out to the store real quick, do you want anything?” rafe asks, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he walks through the living room where you’ve been for the past hour, book splayed open in your lap.

“a sucker please? cherry or strawberry preferably.” you answer, only half paying attention to your boyfriend as your eyes continue to skim over the text.

“sure thing baby.” rafe says, tucking his wallet into his back pocket before heading out.

time flies as you get engrossed in your book, barely feeling like you’re reading and more that you’re inside of the book, part of the story.

“i didn’t know which kind, so i kinda got a bunch.” rafes voice makes you jump, not even realizing that he had returned from the store as he dumps a bag of suckers on the couch cushion next to you. your eyes widen at the 10 different kinds he brought back for you. you eye the group and then pick out your favorite, but really you didn’t dislike any of them.

“thank you rafey.” you hum, accepting his kiss when he leans down and presses one to your lips.

“i’m gonna head to the gym out back, since you’re still reading. you need anything else?” rafe asks, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek. you’re so unlike any other girl he has gone for in the past, but it’s why he loves you so much. you are smart, but so innocent when it comes to certain things and he loves to teach you and bring out your wilder side.

“i’m good, thank you.” you say again, pressing another kiss to his lips before rafe is out the back door. you’re surprised how quiet tanneyhill is today, but you’ve learned for the most part that all the members of the cameron family spend their days elsewhere, with eloise and sarah still in school, and ward and rose working most of the day away.

you unwrap your sucker before returning your attention to the book, feeling so much calmer now that you have something in your mouth. you reach the climax of the book, fingers rapidly turning the page until you get to the resolution, and then ultimately the end of the book.

you take a deep breath, letting in all that air you were holding from when the dramatic scenes were unfolding before setting the book onto the coffee table. you turn to pick up another sucker before realizing that you had subconsciously kept getting more, and you now only had one left, the rest reduced to white sticks.

you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment even though no one is around, cleaning up your mess quickly but still unwrapping the sucker and sticking it in your mouth. you are just about to head out the gym, converted with weight machines and mirrors from a shed in the backyard, when rafe reenters.

“finished your book?” rafe asks, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, hair sticking to his forehead.

“mhm.” you nod. “it was really good, i’m gonna rate it 4 stars on storygraph later.” 

“glad you liked it baby.” rafe comes up and kisses your cheek, considering your mouth is still occupied by the cherry sucker. “if you want to put the rest of the suckers in the candy cabinet, you can.” rafe says, referring to the one cabinet in the cameron home stocked full with junk food, from chocolate to greasy chips.

“i- um…” you trail off before pressing your lips together.

“what?” rafe asks, a slight smile on his lips, loving when you get flustered like this.

“i kinda ate them all. i didn’t even realize i just kept sucking.” you shrug, averting your gaze from rafe, so you miss the smirk that comes to his face.

--

“does anyone want any gum?” kelce asks, opening up the package and taking a piece for himself.

“oh my god, me!” you say, reaching out when kelce offers one to you, a slight look of confusion on the desperation in your voice as you stick the minty gum into your mouth and begin to chew. 

“i’ve been going crazy not having something in my mouth.” you say, turning your attention to rafe as kelce refocuses on the game. you’re not the biggest basketball fan, you find it entertaining enough to always agree when rafes asks you if you want to come with him and the boys, but you don’t understand most of the calls the refs make and the loud screaming from the crowd hurts your ears.

“you’re so precious, baby.” rafe says, pressing a few kisses to your cheek, leaving you to scrunch your eyebrows together, not sure what you did to gain that reaction but certainly not complaining.

you crunch the gum between your teeth, much happier now that you can focus on that and drown out some of the noise as you lean into rafe, his arm moving to be placed securely around your shoulders, up until the game comes down to a final shot, whipped from halfcourt towards the basket as the timer counts down, the ball ultimately swishing through the rim, making the entire crowd jump to their feet as the team gets the buzzer beater.

“that was exciting!” you tell rafe as you head out of the building, your hand encapsulated in his. “thanks for letting me along on boys night.” you call to topper and kelce.

“happy to have you.” topper says with a friendly smile, making rafe tighten his grip on your hand slightly.

--

“do we have any popsicles?” you ask, fanning your face with your hand, the bright sun beating down on the boat.

“yeah, should be in the cooler in back.” rafe says, gesturing towards the back of the yacht as he continues to steer the boat to the place he wants to anchor for the day to fish.

“mmkay thanks.” you say, getting up off the captains bench, where you always sat with rafe so he could keep a close eye on you while he also paid attention to the water in front of him. “you want one?” “nah, thanks though baby.” rafe glances away for a moment to look at you, his eyes soft. “hurry back though.” you smile, knowing he’s only being so strict with you because he loves you. you rush to the back of the boat, digging into the cooler for a red popsicle before returning to take your place next to rafe.

“are you too hot? you should drink water too.” rafe says, placing one hand on your thigh while he steers the boat with the other.

“nah, just wanted something cool in my mouth.” you say, too focused on the sun glimmering off the water in front of you to notice that rafe has to readjust himself in his shorts.

“gonna try this spot first.” rafe says, slowing the boat to a stop. you get up and move to where you know he’s going to fish from. you used to offer to help anchor, but you know rafe would never let you get your hands dirty.

“are you good princess?” rafe asks once everything is done, fishing pole and tackle box in hand.

“all good.” you nod, already having gotten a second popsicle from the cooler.

--

“what is it?” rafe asks.

“huh?” you question, taking your thumb out of your mouth that you didn’t even realize you were sucking on until rafe spoke up.

“you keep sucking on your fingers and you’ve got that look in your eyes. are you nervous for something, doll?” rafe asks, his voice soft and genuine.

“midsummers.” you pout, making rafe tilt his head to the side. he’s such a confident man, especially in social situations. he’s charming and outgoing, meanwhile you prefer to keep to yourself and watch things from afar, but it’s impossible with rafe, he’s always the center of attention in any room, like all the lights shine on him.

“i’m gonna be with you the whole time.” rafe says, not even having to ask why you’d be nervous for the big party.

“i know, i still hate the idea of all those eyes on me.” you shudder, sticking your thumb back into your mouth to provide some comfort.

“if you need to leave, we can leave after making an appearance.” rafe says, knowing he’d get shit for not sticking around longer, but he doesn’t care, you come first, always.

“thanks rafey.” you say, slightly muffled by your thumb in your mouth.

“i love you, baby.” rafe leans in, pressing a kiss to your jaw before pulling you onto his lap, letting you relax against him, eyes fluttering close as the sucking on your thumb eventually slows as you fall to sleep curled up in his arms.

--

“can we stop and get some gum? or a sucker?” you ask rafe, hands nervously twitching in your lap.

“baby, we are on a tight schedule we can’t be making stops for candy.” rafe says with a sigh, wishing he could accommodate you, but he knew he’d be in a rush ever since he stayed in bed this morning for an extra fifteen minutes to cuddle and kiss you.

“barry is late all the time, i don’t even know why you have to be on time to meet him.” you complain.

“don’t be a brat.” rafe says, already stressed out. sure, barry is often late, but rafe has different expectations of himself, and if he says he’s going to meet barry at a certain time, you can be damn sure that he will be there on time, if not five minutes early.

you cross your arms over your chest, not bothering to hide your annoyance from your boyfriend.

“here, you just wanna suck on something, go ahead and suck on my finger.” rafe says, gripping the steering wheel with one hand while he shoves his finger towards your mouth.

you would say no, but that really is all you want, so you pull your knees up to your chest and rest rafes wrist against your knees, sticking his finger into your mouth, moaning slightly around it at the pure relief of having something to focus on while rafe speeds down the backroads.

you suck on his finger, swirl your tongue around it, even gently press your teeth down on it, all while rafe sits there, cock swelling in his jeans while he wishes it to stay down, not needing to greet barry with a hard on, especially when you’re so blissfully unaware of the effect your mouth is having on him.

“alright we are almost there.” rafe says, making you whine when he takes his hand away, again reaching down to adjust his crotch, not sure how much longer he can put up with this.

--

“can we go to the store and buy a sucker? or maybe get some ice cream?” you ask, hands pawing at rafes chest as you lay in bed.

“come on, i just wanna stay here all day.” rafe says with a yawn. you were both up late partying, but you were getting bored of just sitting in bed all day, even if you do like being pressed up against your boyfriend.

“give me your fingers again then.” you reach out for his hand, but rafe snatches it away.

“i have something else you can suck on.” rafe says, making your head quirk to the side, inquisitive.

“you trust me, right?” rafe says, which you of course eagerly nod to. you trust rafe more than anyone else, so when he raises his hips and lowers his sweatpants down his legs before kicking them off to the floor, you don’t feel the same nervousness that you usually do.

“you want me to… give you head?” you swallow thickly. “i told you i’ve never done it before.” you’ve had sex with rafe before, but the focus was always on you, how he could bring your body to pleasure, how he fit inside of you.

“i know, but you’re always wanting to suck on something.” rafe shrugs. “might as well suck on my dick. besides, i’ll teach you.”

“o-okay.” you nod, eyes flicking between meeting rafes gaze and his length, clearly obvious and straining against the fabric of his underwear.

“now, i’m already hard just because i always am being around you, but why don’t you explore a bit with your mouth over my underwear, hm?” rafe says. you nod, figuring the best thing to do if you felt nervous was following his directions, afterall, he hasn’t led you astray in the past.

you slide down the bed until you’re laid on your stomach between his legs. you start with kisses around his underwear, before planting one on his length, kissing down the shaft until you reach where you presume his head is. you flick your tongue out, giving an experimental lick that makes rafe moan, so you double down on your effort, pushing your tongue against the fabric, creating a wet spot.

“that-that feels really good.” rafe says, his voice so breathless, causing you to look up at him, his eyes glazed over with lust.

you take matters into your own hand upon seeing how turned on you’re making him. you always let him finger you, or eat you out, or fuck you to orgasm, but you’ve never done the same to him in return, mostly because you are inexperienced. so, you pull his underwear down suddenly, allowing his cock to spring up.

you don’t give yourself any time to feel insecure as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, making rafe curse and bring a hand down to grip your hair, but he doesn’t shove you down, knowing you’re not ready for that and will move at your own pace.

you rub your tongue against him, surprised by how much you like the taste as you try to move your mouth down some, to take more of him. you succeed for the most part until you have to pull off to take a breath.

“baby, when i cum you can pull off that way it doesn’t go all in your mouth.” rafe says, wanting to warn you now before he gets too wrapped up in the feeling of your warm tongue to forget his words.

“and what if i want you all in my mouth?” you question, sinking your lips around him again, trying to go deeper again before you start to suck, having had lots of practice with your suckers and popsicles. you may have never given head before, but you know to keep your teeth away from his sensitive skin, so you hope that means you’re doing a good job.

“breathe thr-fuck. breathe through your nose, baby, it’ll help.” rafe says, reminding you. you give a hum around his length in acknowledgement, making rafe let out another curse.

you try it again, sucking and then humming, sucking and then humming, and clearly from the look on rafes face, he likes the vibrations on his cock. 

you pull off after a minutes, licking around the base of his cock and slowly moving up, wanting to taste every inch of him. you get back to the head and notice he’s leaking slightly out of his tip, which you quickly dart up with your tongue, making rafes hips raise up, pushing his cock against your tongue.

“you’re so fucking good at this.” rafe moans, one hand still gripping your hair while the other is fisted in the bedsheets, trying his best to hold back from shoving your head down onto his cock and fucking your mouth.

“i’ve got lots of practice with sucking things.” you giggle before taking him into your mouth again, bobbing your head as you suck, flicking your tongue over his head every time you pull back.

you decide again to try to take more of him into his mouth now that you’ve gotten more comfortable, but you swear rafe has swelled as you can’t take nearly as much as before.

“baby-i-close-i-” rafe stutters out, pushing your lips further, causing his cock to push into your throat as he releases to your tongue softly licking his length even you gag.

you feel rafe release, thick ropes of cum lining your insides as you swallow down repeatedly until he’s dry, completely milked free of cum. you pull off with a cough, rafes hands dropping limply to his sides.

“god, your mouth is amazing.” rafe moans.

you smile at the praise, glowing under his words. you look to the cock in front of you, now softening against his thigh.

“can we do that again?” you ask, quirking your head to the side.

“absolutely.” rafe nods. “once i recover. why don’t we get you a sucker until i can get hard again?”

[pascals-doll]

candy

ellie williams x reader

🫧 happy valentines day to all my beautiful followers | enjoy this vday special 🩷 am i uploading this ar midnight because a bitch had classes and work yes but its valentines (was technically) IM GGONNA WRITE AN ELLIE FIC 🧘‍♀️

🫧 inspired by the song candy by doja cat | bed of roses PT2

🫧 description: fluffy, cute surprises, reader knows how to know paint a bit, just fluff, cute fluff,ellie sings to you (i took the scene from the game because i cherish it sm) smut, SLUT SMUT💋, power dynamic, dom!ellie, sub!reader, you and ellie live together, reader is PUSSYHUNGRY (mmm im so- i would do anything for that tsunami), reader eats out ellie on stairs (you’re welcome), fingering, praises, no use of y/n, use of petnames like doll, mama, and good girl, very little degradation, hair pulling, clit sucking, face grinding, cum eating, just ellie getting eaten so good! enjoy

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

but you know that it ain't real cherry

know that it ain't real cherry

🫧

it was valetines day today which meant ellie got to spoil you rotten; it is very well- deserved.

you would always be very thoughtful with your gifts.

this valentines day, you sneakily woke up around 1 AM and worked until dawn on customizing a wooden workstation that you got her for her artwork.

you knew you had work in the morning but you would do anything for the woman who’s protected you, provided for you, and pleased you.

you painted the workstation very carefully a dark earth-green. you let each coat of paint dry before beginning to carefully paint details on it.

you were going to paint symbols for each of her favorite memories onto it. you took references from her own beautiful drawings.

one of the details you painted were the beginning of Joel’s; now her guitar, painting even the moth.

one of the guitar strings then ran around the whole work-station, dragging the brush till the end.

you began to draw small moths and different flowers with herbs carefully placing them along the string line.

lastly, finishing it up by drawing a silhouette of the both of your bodies intertwined, then painting an outline of ellie’s knife and joel’s gun side by side on the side of her workbench.

once you were done, you carved both of your initials into the side of the workbench.

you transfered all of her essentials from the small broken down drawers; that could barely hold up to her made with so much love customized workstation.

you made your way back into your shared warm bed, careful not to wake up ellie.

sunrise made its way into the sky, ellie waking up now as you now slept.

ellie noticed you got up in the middle of the night, searching for your warmth but she shrugged it off before knocking into slumber again.

ellie got up very quietly, planting a kiss on your head before heading into her work room to get her guitar.

she walked into her art room, stepping as she scans the room. she immediately stopped in her steps, her eyes falling onto your beautiful workstation.

ellie’s heart pounds outside of her chest, tears wanting to form in her hazel eyes as a rush of emotions take over her.

she walks around the small wooden dark-green station, her handing brushing it softly as she takes in your designs.

she couldnt help but think about although you had work sadly on valetines day, you still did this for her.

this was bigger than the world to ellie.

you were the most perfect girl and if one thing was for certain, ellie would be spending an eternity of valetine’s day with you.

🫧

I can be your sugar when you're fiendin' for that sweet spot

Put me in your mouth, baby, and eat it 'til your teeth rot

I can be your cherry, apple, pecan,

or your key lime

Baby, I got everything and so much more than she's got

you were now currently at work, you hated how you got called in today.

you asked ellie if she was going to be good with you going to work today, in which she responded by pulling down your panties.

lets just say, you had a very pleasant morning before going into work.

while you were away at work, ellie got to work on her surprise because eating your cum for breakfast wasn’t enough.

she went to almost all the floral shops she could, selling them out of their pink and red roses.

ellie covered the entryway with petals, even the staircase that leads upstairs, and leading all the way up into your room.

the living room, she had a fairy lights hung along with pink lit candles on the ground.

ellie had a huge case of flowers waiting for you, wrapped in the arrangement of your inital.

that was only the downstairs, your room was filled with more surprises.

your shared bed was covered in rose petals, a couple small gifts waiting for you while your surprise gift was tucked away by ellie.

ellie finished up any last miniute preparations before you came home from work.

she changed from her pj shirt and boyshorts from this morning to a flannel with a black-tee and some baggy shorts that exposed her Calvin Klein lining.

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet (She's so sweet)

But you know that it ain't real, know that it ain't real

🫧

you came home a bit exhausted but excited because you picked up a teddy bear that held a heart with the writing “i love u” on it from a street vendor, leaving your job.

once you made it home, beginning to turn the keys to step through your front door.

you open the door to see your beautiful auburn-hair girlfriend.

she was sitting there on your shared loveseat, her beautiful fingers strumming her guitar.

the melodious tone from the strums of her guitar strumming the song your love for each other shares.

she began to sing softly “talking away” your hand cant help but go ovee your mouth as you felt tears begin to form.

the sound of her silky voice singing through your ears, making your heart pound and face hot.

“today’s another day to find you”

you could listen to ellie sing for the rest of your life, tears were already streaming down your face. ellie couldn’t look you in the eyes while she sang because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to finish.

you made her heart go a million miles per minute like a schoolgirl crush.

you made her stomach flutter like she was born with a butterfly nest inside her.

you made her soul shine like the sun after never-ending rain.

ellie finished serenating you, putting her guitar down

she finally looked up at you, clutching a teddy bear with tears streaming down your face.

before ellie could say anything, you ran into her arms; immediately taking you in to her embrace.

this was a feeling words couldn’t express, but only actions.

your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest with the clash of ellie’s lips onto yours.

you weren’t alone with ellie barely being able to catch her breath but so desperate for you.

the way your lips moved with such hasty movement but yet still passionately and amorously.

you began to walk towards the staircase, lips not leaving a moment. your eyes slightly opening time to time to make sure you were guiding you and ellie correctly.

“all i wanted-“ you began but were interrupted by her lips again.

“all day was to” ellie pulled away momentarily to let you continue.

“come home to this” you whined out against her lips, your tongue slightly licking over them.

🫧

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

you were fillied with arousal and need to please as you dropped to your knees…on the staircase. you could careless at this given moment.

your hands ran through her back, feeling each crevess of each toned muscle, then coming back around to her arms.

you gave her strong-toned arms a soft squeeze before having them go up to her chest. you needed to have her.

“doll i got a surprise in the room, lets-” ellie begins but you didn’t care.

“no” you said, looking her in the eyes as you unzip and unbutton her shorts “right here, right now” you whine out, pulling down ellie shorts completely.

ellie would be lying if she said you dying to eat her out on each other’s staircase wasn’t the hottest thing, especially on fucking valentine’s day.

it was you, how could she deny you.

“that desperate, mama?” she teases you as you peck her toned abdomen. you gave her a slight whimper as you nod.

she brings herself down to sit on the stairs, grabbing you by your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

your lips meet again, your hand traveling down into her boxers immediately feeling seeping slick cunt “you drive me insane” you moan out, your mind was so drunk by her.

she had you high on her scent, taste, look, and touch. anything ellie did could have you on your knees, just like this.

your fingers begin to rub her clit in circular motion causing her breathing to hitch and soft moans of content escape her mouth as your lips travel down to her neck.

you begin to suck on the skin as your fingers massaged her clit, slightly putting pressure here and there causing ellie to let out gentle-yet-loud groan.

ellie’s hips began to rise to meet your hand “my beautiful doll-s’good f’me” she mumbled under her breathy moans.

you were sure you left her a purpletrail from her neck leading into her shoulder before going down a couple more steps.

you waste no time in pulling off her boxers, meeting with her wet pussy “s’pretty els, i love you.” you were just completely dazed by ellie at this point, wanting to please her and have her taste on you for days.

“you gonna drool or eat up, doll?” ellie smirks, she knew the effect she had on you and it made you fiend to please her even more.

your hands go to spread her thighs open a bit more before diving your head in between her legs. you met face to face with her juiced pussy, her slick coating your tongue as you lick a stripe.

“ah fuck, doll!” ellie moans out, her hips slightly bucking against your face as her hand had a grip on your hair.

the way you were on your knees on these steps buried into ellie’s pussy, your tongue collects her juices as you begin to swirl your tongue around her clit sucking softly.

she tasted just like candy, you grab her one of her thighs, hooking it up to balance on your shoulder.

the wider angle made her throw her head back “s’fuck doll! just like that. eat it just like that.” her vile voice praising the way you took the way she slopped her pussy against your tongue.

ellie began to work herself towards her orgasm on your tongue, her hand following the movement of your head.

you ate her out like this was your last meal, not wanting to let a single drop “god fuck-y-you’re insane!” she whined out as you worked you fucked her with yout tongue.

ellies stomach stomach flexes, her toned abdomen becoming more prominent as her breathy moans turn into pants and loud gutteral moans as you took your free hand; licking her asshole all the way up to her clit.

“fuck fuck fuck, doll! s’such a good girl” ellie’s hand swore she could’ve pulled your hair our by now but you could careless, the only thing on your mind was making this woman cum.

she deserved the way you ate her with delight, completely letting her use your face for her orgasm.

your nails dig into her thigh as you feel yourself slowly loosing your breath; but you were not leaving till she had came all over your face.

“s’close god! youre such a fuckin’ slut f’me.” her orgasm finally riding out.

“atta girl, lick it all up again.” she praises, pulling you back up from her pussy to her lips, tasting herself momentarily before her hand finds the back of your head guiding you to the white cum-beed that seaped out of her now fucked-out hole.

you licked her from asshole up, completely picking up her cum onto the tip on tongue causing you moan out as your lips were wrapped around her.

once you pulled away meeting her eyes, her cum covering your lips causing your face to glisten lightly.

“you’re a demon” ellie brings you into her embrace on the stairs.

“its not my fault you’re my favorite candy”

🫧

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

a/n > part 2 ??? 😇

[bamboospirit]

Finally caught up with all the anime I wanted to watch the last two years, and this scene screamed secretly dating JiuYuan to me.

When SJ starts interrupting SY and Binghe more and more, as well as scolding Binghe for taking up so much of SY's time, Binge finally figures out the reason why! (Narrator voice: He does not.)

Also big thanks to ohshc for giving me the perfect rose background

(This scene is from the anime cherry magic)

[androgynealienfemme]

"Yes, it's true: I was the type of young femme who managed the girls basketball team in high school, just to be able to take in the sight of all those butches parading their muscles up and down the court. I found Girl Scout camp to be femme heaven and reveled in being able to explore my athletic self and still maintain my femmeness. And, to my horror, I have to admit pushing Tina away from my breasts in the back seat of a Buick while attending Mount Saint Mary Seminary. And then there was feminism... Although I came out as a "gay" woman before reading The Feminine Mystique, the seventies brand of white feminism had me trimming my nails and cutting off my hair. Soon I was outfitted in farmer jeans and high tops. And still I was told by my "sisters" that I didn't "look like a dyke" (read: I didn't look butch). I began to lead two lives- one as an outrageous, skirted, lipsticked femme while I worked in and traveled with carnivals, and another as an imitation butch back home in the women's community. Eventually, I pulled the pieces of my being back together and proclaimed boldly, "I am a working-class lesbian femme." So I had maybe six years reveling in unleashing my seductive femme self when, as lives go, mine changed: slowly at first and then more dramatically. Recurring back pain and limited range of mobility were finally diagnosed. Soon after came decreased mobility. No more mountain climbing. No long mall walks in search of the perfect piece of sleaze. No more standing against kitchen walls being gloriously fucked by some handsome butch. I stopped using alcohol and drugs, became ill with what is now known as CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), and began to use a three-wheeled power chair. The more disabled I became, the more I mourned the ways my sexual femme self had manifested through the nondisabled me: cruising at the local lezzie bar, picking up a dyke whose eyes refuse to stray from mine, dancing seductively, moving all of me for all of her. Cooking: love and suggestion neatly tucked into the folds of a broccoli quiche. Serving my date in varying, sleazy clothing, removing layers as the meal and our passion progressed. And making love... feeling only pleasure as my hips rose and fell under the weight of her. Accomplishment and pride smirked across my face as her wrists finally submitted to the pressure of strong persistent hands. There are the ways I knew to be femme, to be the essence of me.

It's been five years now since I began using my wheelchair. I am just awakening to a new reclamation of femme. Yes. I still grieve the way I was, am still often unsure how this femme with disabilities will act out her seduction scenes. I still marvel when women find passion amidst the chrome and rubber that is now a part of me.

There have been numerous dates, lovers, relationships, sexual partners, and fliterations along the way. Cindy, Jenny, Ellie, Emma, Diane, Dorothy, Gail, June, Clove, Lenny, Cherry, Diana, Sarah I, and Sarah II. You have all reminded me in your own subtle or overt, quit or wild ways that I am desirable, passionate, exciting, wanted.

Yes I am an incredibly sexual being. An outrageous, loud mouthed femme who's learning to dress, dance, cook, and seduce on wheels; finding new ways to be gloriously fucked by handsome butches and aggressive femmes. I hang out with more sexual outlaws now- you know, the motorcycle lesbians who see wheels and chrome between your legs as something exciting, the leather women whose vision of passion and sexuality doesn't exclude fat, disabled me.

Ableism tells us that lesbians with disability are asexual. (When was the last time you dated a dyke who uses a wheelchair?) Fat oppression insists that thin is in and round is repulsive. At times, these voices become very loud, and my femme, she hid quietly amidts the lists.

Now my femme is rising again. The time of doubt, fear, and retreat has passed. I have found my way out of the lies and oppression and have moved into a space of loving and honoring the new femme who has emerged. This lesbian femme with disabilities is wise, wild, wet, and wanting. Watch out.

-"Reclaiming femme... Yet again" Mary Francis Platt, The Persistent Desire (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

[fillinforlater]

Just Testing

Male Reader x Wonyoung, Eunbi, Sakura, Yena, Yuri, Chaewon, Nako, Hitomi, Mina, Nayeon, Gaeul, Rei, Sua, Yoohyeon, Jinsoul, Yeojin, Tiffany, Sooyoung, Winter, Sullyoon, Xiaoting, Miyeon, Yiren, Arin, Seungyeon, Hwasa, IU, Chaeryeong, Somi, Rose (31some)

Length: 31,577 words

FIC STARTS AFTER THE #

FIC IS SPLIT INTO MULTIPLE POSTS

Tags: SQUATTING FACE FUCK + ANAL PRONE BONE, PORN, stupid satire, self-aware smut, seductive, flirting, charming, perfect!you, GAME SHOW, testing mouths, blowjob, sweat, sweat kink, messy sex, sub/dom dynamics, sex in water, double anal (@kaedespicelatte), female orgasms, rough sex, overstimulation, stocking and high heels kink, gaping, terrible jokes, teasing, gagging, breath play, banter, fuck buddies, weird relationship, sex on the ground, temperature play, petite body, hard anal, sex toys, vibrator for overstimulation, elegance, keeping warm, huge tits, tit play, TW: golden shower, water sports, piss kink, couch sex, size kink, dom!idol, edging, threatening, heavy jerking off, blue balled, TW: brat, brat taming, forced deepthroat, cursing, undressing, name calling, degradation, dub-con?, GAME-SHOW-CEPTION, outside sex, public sex, getting caught, rent is due, sex sells, scent kink, slow sex, caring anal, rough face fucking, slut, runny mascara kink, choking, fingering, porn tropes, sex while watching porn, screams, fucking into submission, suddenly missionary, bimbofication, blonde bimbo kink, are you on drugs?, cumshot, cum on tits, cockwarming, sex doll, lube, lube play, fighting, brat breaking, a lot of lube fr, first time, teaching, slow bj, hot and steamy, body worship, abs kink, almost loving, suddenly painting, male overstimulation, death by orgasm?, self-degradation, very loud, break everything, food play, cherries, whipped cream, biting sheets, why did you read all of that???

TW: a lack of editing, cringiness lol and this has all the kinks, SPOILER! Scene 7 has watersports, Scene 29 has foodplay, Scene 11 has heavy degradation, Scene 20 bimbofication, but tbh, read at your own risk lol

Inspiration: my hate relationship with porn and the industry behind it. This has a lot of satirical themes, terrible jokes and allusions to other things/media, especially K-Pop lyrics and song titles. This is also kind of a flex and a tribute to the insane amount of hot people we get to see as fans of this music genre.

Also, I'm a bit insane and like the squatting and prone-position a bit too much.

(A/N: Kaede is already tagged, also @worldsover for Arin and Yena, @writerpeach add Xiaoting and Kkura to the list, @sinswithpleasure Winter, @midnightdancingsol for Jinsoul, @iznsfw for Eunbi, Hitomi and Nako, @capslocked for Miyeon, @praeluxius for Sullyoon and Chaewon, @firagaarmor for Gaeul, @authorsquidward for Wonyoung and Yeojin, @craycr4y, @co-reborn for Mina, @nsfwmaemi for Xiaoting. Sorry, not sorry.)

#

“So, this is going to be the first take, right? How many do you usually need?”

The stylist combs your hair with her delicate fingers a final time before deeming it perfect. It literally is, clean, black and utterly unleashed. Whatever the producers think fits best for your personality. The show must go on—something like that, as long as you have any hair, you don’t mind what it looks like. Okay, to be fair, even if they would ask you to go bald, you would. This job is just too precious to pass on.

“Oh, I only need one take, darling,” you say and look at the stylist through the crystalline backlit mirror into her crystalline brown eyes. Something tells you that they are usually not this wide open and shocked, call it an instinct if you will, something to pair with one of your three divine strengths:

Irresistible charme.

“Well… if you say so,” she stutters and tugs a strand of her blonde hair behind her cute little ear. She directs her gaze towards the door, but you know she isn’t thinking about leaving, not with the way her hand rests on your shoulder or her tummy cushions the back of your head when you lean backwards to look at her from a different angle. 

She is quite pretty, with the tiny moles on her bright skin. One could’ve easily mistaken her with one of the many women you’re about to work with, but apparently she has chosen a different career path. Too bad for you, or her, or the camera. Nothing a couple of perfectly placed words couldn’t change.

“I only say it, because it’s true,” you say with a defensive hand gesture and stand up from the confines of your chair, the same, favorite chair that is following you around the world. “Looks like you’re the same, Miss—”

“Sharon, just Sharon,” she finishes your sentence, the pitch of her voice higher than before as she looks up at you. “B-but what do you mean by, ‘the same’?”

“Oh, it’s because your styling is literally perfect. You don’t have to go for a second take either.” Gently take Sharon’s hand into yours and rub the back of it with your thumb. “Just like me.”

“Y-you’re too kind.”

“Now tell me, Sharon: that’s not your real name, right?”

Sharon shyly looks to the ground. The tip of her feet move closer together and you feel a bit of sweat build up on the tip of her fingers. Oh, the professionalism, it’s slipping away.

“You got me there,” she giggles. “My real name is Mina, I’m from—”

“Japan. I can tell. Your accent is giving it away.”

Now she is melting, either in embarrassment or because of the compliments. Judging from the new color on her cheeks, red like fresh strawberries, and the small smile below her beauty spot, it’s the latter. 

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Mina, your English is fantastic and your accent is, let’s call it as cute as your face.”

Mina looks up, dreamy, her hands automatically move up to your chest, but if she wants to go further she has to really stretch. Thank the Gods for the other divine feature they have given you:

Incredible height.

195 cm, 6’4’’, wow so big; you better know all the ways to measure you. All of it rolls off your tongue so easily although you don’t have to announce it. It’s obvious, imposing even, yet not impractical. At least it wasn’t, until your Asia Tour started. Most things are a bit too small now, but you won’t complain, no, you’re literally not allowed to. Your contract says so.

“Thank you, Mister,” Mina hums and her nails reach your nape when sudden steps behind the door make her back off with lightning speed. Who dares to block such a nice development?

“Okay, change of plans,” shouts JJ, your manager, agent and favorite pest as he bursts into the dressing room. He is drenched in sweat and about as stressed as usual before any one of your shoots. Time to give him your favorite punishment for coming in so rudely.

“Ah, JJ, good to see you. This is Mina, a wonderful, talented japanese stylist,” you say with a bright grin, knowing how much he hates it when you interrupt him with something so casual, yeah, how dare you be nice when he is literally an impetuous bull. 

“Oh, uhm, hello Mrs. Mina,” he stutters, shakes his head, bows, then groans. It’s worth cherishing if you’re honest. “Anyways, we have more important things right now. There have been communication issues and uhm, all of them are here already, so we’ll shoot the scenes ping-pong wise.”

“Hold on, hold on, JJ. You’re saying, all thirty of them are? How could that happen?”

“Well, th-the Koreans thought the second time I sent them was meant as an alternative date, you know, if there are problems or something. Oh, and it’s not thirty. One woman quit at the last minute, she had doubts and a lot of fear.”

“Which is absolutely okay,” you say calmly and look at Mina for a second. She tries to seem occupied, but you know she is staring and listening intently. “If she doesn’t want to, I don’t blame her. We can shoot with twenty-nine and we can shoot them all in one go if we have enough rooms.”

“Yeah,” JJ says with a sigh of relief at your non-violent reaction, which is the norm. “We were able to get some extra rooms. The company really wants this episode and they are willing to make it a two-part special, I was just worried that you couldn’t—”

“What? Handle thirty?” You laugh with a wide charismatic smile, which leaves JJ cold—such a shame that he is completely resistant to you, but it makes him the perfect manager to control if need be—but does a lot of things to Mina. The japanese woman gawks, drools at you from the side. She does not notice that you can see it from the corner of your eye through the backlit mirror. 

“Whatever you say,” JJ groans and rolls his eyes. “It’s still only twenty-nine.”

“Unlees,” you say and turn towards Mina, bowing down to be on eye-level with her. “Someone new joins us right now. Would that be possible, JJ?”

“I mean, s-sure. We have some lawyers, contracts, money—oh, wait, you’re not serious, are you?”

“Mina,” you say with a low voice and guide her hand to your chest. “I won’t lie, I saw the way you were looking at me. You have a great face and from what I can see a fantastic body. Allow me to be so incredibly rude and ask you:

“Do you want to join me in this shoot?”

Mina bites her lips and blushes again. From the touch of her fingers you can tell a lot of things. She is not rejecting the idea completely, so there is no spouse or partner in her life, at least none she is loyal to. Mina also works as a stylist for porn artists, so maybe her social circle won’t be too harsh on her. It’s still a difficult step, one she shouldn’t take lightly.

Then again, you’d really like to fuck her today.

“Can I think about it for a bit longer?” she whispers and you immediately nod, much to the dismay of JJ behind you. However, he remains silent. he ha too many fuck-ups today.

“Sure. Go with JJ and talk with the lawyers. They will make sure you’re properly informed, but in the end it’s up to you. The shoot will take quite long, so you can either join in last or—”

Gently knead her hand on your chest and smile at her adorable, unsure, yet needy expression.

“—live a life outside of this crazy industry. Both things will be worth it, my beautiful penguin.”

“Wha—how did you kn—”

“I can tell,” you whisper with a wink and make way for the door, where JJ gives you a bombastic side eye. You ignore him, which is worth a thousand words, but it’s better to keep them down now. Only a couple of minutes, then it’s showtime.

"Director, is everyone in position?" you ask nonchalantly, as if you didn't just open your shirt and stepped out of your white dress pants. As per usual, you can feel them all stare, staff, cameraman, hosts. It makes for an even better feeling when you peel off your briefs to reveal your manhood, the perfect indicator for your final supernatural power of the Gods:

Undrainable stamina.

You present yourself, fully nude, while your co-host walks onto the set. Unlike you, he is dressed in his marine blue suit with a bow tie and dress pants in the same color. He looks expensive, serious, a true professional, which makes you shake your head.

"Come on, man, you're always so stiff and stuck up! Let's give the people a fun show," you say and kindly grin at him. Works like a magic spell. He drops his shoulders and cocks his head back.

"You're right. It's hard to say some of these lines with a straight face anyways. I just worry…"

He pauses and looks at you, down your pecs, chiseled abs, phallus hanging in between your strong legs, then back up again with a blush.

"Don't worry, man," you calmly respond and point towards a door where JJ discusses something with some important looking people. "My manager fucked up today, yet the company still wants the video. In their eyes, it's all a good product, as long as we just do it. The show must go on, so relax, will ya?"

"I-I guess, b-but thirty is so many," he says in fear and looks at the director signaling the last thirty seconds before shooting starts.

"Thirty is not that much. Count them down like seconds, and I promise you, they'll pass by so quickly, you wish we had another thirty."

"Take one, everyone on set!" someone shouts and you feel the adrenaline reach a new peak. The slate falls, the cameras start. Almost perfect silence, but you swear you can hear the neediness in this building. The company really booked the entire floor of a luxurious hotel, combined with the outdoor area. Don't lie, you've seen crazier, but their efforts are still impressive.

"Hello, dear viewers!" your co-host greets the main camera with an eye smile. "Welcome back to Season 3 of our show. Actually, we are already at the second to last episode of this season."

He pouts. It's kinda cute, so you play along and mouth a little 'aww' at the oh-so sad statement. 

"I'm your co-host and right next to me is the one and only; the one you are watching for and the only one you need to know."

"Hello World! Hello Asia!" you shout enthusiastically, to the main camera, then to the one that is only focussing on you and your most prized possession. Speaking of which, it's slowly getting hard with increased excitement.

"Good to have you here." Your co-host turns to you and peeks at his cue card for longer than usual. This is where the old script is probably falling apart.

"Thank you for having me," you say and do a couple of silly bowes to the staff. The microphone catches all their gasps and laughs. "I'm really excited for today. I heard it's going to be some sort of special."

"You're right about that one. Today is a double special, combo special about, uhm—"

He stutters, panically shuffling through his cue cards without knowing how he even started his sentence. Poor guy, having a blackout right at the start. In an effort to save him, you improvise and reach for his first card.

"Here, it says 'combo special for Just Testing'. Maaaan, just read it," you say in faked annoyance. Part charisma, part professionalism that can save a take and make the viewer smile��if they haven't skipped to their preferred part yet. Your co-host looks at you gratefully, before slapping his forehead and groaning.

“You’re right, of course! ‘Just Testing’ is going for double today, Twice the testing, twice the fun.”

“And twice the work,” you add, much to the bemusement of the director, who constantly gives you thumb ups. “I’m so ready for it. Can you tell me what I am going to test?”

“So,” he points at the large, black loosely hanging curtain behind you. “There is a long hallway with a lot of rooms behind this curtain. With the help of some beautiful support, you will test all kinds of loungers. We have different kinds of beds, couches, but also more unusual things to lay down on.”

“Oh, nice, I’m going to sleep on them? This will be a relaxing episode then.”

You stretch your arms upwards and fake a yawn, before he slaps them away.

“No, you’re here to work. On each lounger there is one woman lying prone. Your job is to test if having sex with them in this position is comfortable. Give your thoughts while making sure to thoroughly test them.”

“The women or the loungers?”

“The loungers, silly!”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. How many loungers are there?”

The co-host hesitates. He nervously looks to your agent, who shrugs, then to the director who shrugs as well but with more urgency. After a brief pause, the co-host acts like he is counting on his fingers. 

“Let’s just say there are a lot,” he finally says. “More than two for sure.”

“More than two?” you respond, cock twitching again, everyone’s pervy eyes notice it. “So why is it called a double-combo-special-episode?”

“Well, we have a different thing you need to test today. On your right, you can find an example. Say hello to Arin!”

Cheers and applause from a parting crowd of staff members. A woman emerges from them. The first thing you notice are her soft-looking, reddish-pinkish lips. They are a bit plumb, perfect for what is to come. Other than that, she is gorgeous. Pale skin and a yellow-beige crop-top contrast the long, wavy hair flowing down her back and shoulders. 

“Wow, you look wonderful,” you say with a delighted smile and stretch out your hand for the taking. “Nice to meet you, Arin.”

“Hello, it’s a pleasure,” she says and squeezes your hand. She is sweaty all over, from her pretty face to her arms and hands. The nerves of being the first today, hell, maybe it’s her first adult video shooting ever. You’d surely remember such a pretty face.

“Okay, Arin,” the co-host says. “You know what to do? If you’d please squat down in front of the curtain, thank you.”

Arin gets in between the two of you, her eyes scanning you top to bottom, but then fixating on your cock when she squats down.

“I think I know what’s about to happen,” you whisper and wink at the camera.

“It’s a bit more complex than that. While testing their throats, you need to use your creativity. Find out what they like, what they are best at and what you can teach the viewers while you’re going to town on their mouths. Give comments on everything, sort of like a teacher.”

“Y’all are insane!” you laugh, then nod eagerly. “Alright, I’m down for it. Is there any timer, some goal I need to achieve like in the last episode?”

“Only one rule:” the co-host says as he inches out of the frame. “Enjoy yourself.”

Everything changes with the blink of an eye. From the introduction and stupid banter to the main reason why people spend money on this. No one pays for a fucking box with the title ‘Around the World Season 3 Episode 4 Combo Special Just Testing’ to see you standing there naked. They want to see you do what they can’t: fuck more than a dozen of beautiful women without breaking a sweat and giving perfect remarks. Do your job and give them the addicting rush of awe, envy and lust.

“Arin, are you nervous?” you ask the young woman squatting before you.

“No, not at all,” she responds with a smile that can break every boy’s heart. “I’m very excited though!” 

“I’m just asking because your face is quite—let’s call it wet.”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I know I can sweat a lot, it’s…” Arin’s self-aware stutter ends in her averting your gaze. You reach for her head and give her a few pats, while giving your dick a few strokes. 

“You’re perfect, no need to be embarrassed.” Put your cock to her lips and Arin sighs. She forms a perfect O and you slowly glide into her. At this point, with you still only half-erect, it’s easy for her to take you. The feeling of getting harder inside such a pretty mouth is only surpassed by really fucking it. You’ll get there eventually, until you’re sick and tired of it.

“Here is the thing,” you casually say, making sure the main camera captures Arin’s face and the small bulge in her cheek. “Some people sweat more than others. In the case of our beautiful Arin, I’d use this as an easy way to make her messy. Look, she has so much hair, so many long strands, and they can easily stick to her face.”

You ruffle Arin’s hair with both of your hands as you slowly pump into the soft cheek. The wavy nutella-colored hair fans out, sticks to Arin’s sweaty shoulders, then her arms and lastly her forehead. You brush aside the rest for now and tell the second camera man to come closer.

“Take a look from my angle. Look at how wonderful this is. To all the guys who think their girl looks beautiful while you’re out with family or in public—try bringing her home afterwards and then do this. That orderly girl, a complete mess. It's awesome.”

Arin’s eyes have locked onto the camera. If this really is her first time, she is a star already, perfect for all kinds of blowjob and face fucking videos. Maybe she is already a pro, then you surely have to try out if she can take you fully. She is still able to handle your growing erection inside her, but now you have to go all out.

“To all the ladies,” you say and position Arin’s head towards the main camera again. “Take a look at how Arin forms her lips. Literally, look at the perfect O when I pull out. That’s the way to get a good grip, to make your man go weak.”

You slowly back off, your cock pops free and Arin gets it. She keeps the shape of her mouth the same way as before. The lipstick makes it look like a circle, mathematical pure, but otherwise very lewd. Trail your fingers along them as some of the staff members give their well-timed ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’. It’s all for the show. 

Suddenly, you roughly grab the sides of Arin’s bewildered face and shove your cock hilt deep into her mouth. The O was too tempting, the tension inside your loins too strong, and the gags are too perfect to stop. Arin reaches for your thighs to keep herself steady, while her hair bops and sways, the mess coming more and more to fruition.

“Entering is easy,” you say with your unbroken teaching-voice. “Your boyfriend or husband can penetrate you effortlessly when you keep the O. Arin is a pro at it, but you can learn it too.”

Again, the secondary cameraman scoots closer, films from the level of your hips into Arin’s face. She gags and coughs, drool pools on the underside of your relentlessly pounding dick, which sadly can’t fully enter her, despite your best efforts. At least Arin tears up and makes her face even messier. Her hair is now blocking most of her view as it clings to her forehead and makes for quite the barrier.

Groan when you pull out your long hard-on, let Arin cough and breathe freely. She slobbered up a lot of saliva, most of it spread on your cock, the rest running down her chin. Something about her beady, needy eyes makes you want to fuck her until she is the ultimate mess, chaotically whimpering because she wants it so much, but you will have to pass on that today.

“Good girl, Arin, well down,” you praise her and point to the camera. “Keep looking at the camera and spread your knees a bit apart.”

Arin does as told, though she struggles to stay in her squatting position without falling backwards. You kneel behind her and hold her in place. Just a tap on her knees, and she spreads them until you’re satisfied.

“You’re not wearing anything under those jeans,” you state and put a finger on her crotch. “It’s kind of disappointing, I thought you were a mess down there already. 

“Do you want me to make you a mess down there too?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then use your suction-cup-lips, baby,” you whisper and get back into position. This time, you give Arin time to prepare. No surprise attack, let her relish in the feeling of your large phallus blocking off her airflow and disheveling the remaining fragment of her innocence. 

Arin licks and sucks, all while humming everytime you don’t force a gag out of her. She is determined in her want for your cock, as much as she can handle, which still isn’t every last inch, but to be fair, she makes up for it. This undeniable passion, even the highest quality camera and best directing cannot capture it. 

Most impressive of all however is that Arin remains in her squatting position. She has balance and posture, sure, but maybe it’s her want for you that keeps her stable like this, through potential back pain. Admire her for it by making the last thrusts violently hard, until her jeans are ruined.

“I think we’re done, fuck,” you curse enthusiastically and the camera immediately goes in between Arin’s legs. “What a beautiful mess. You did very well, Arin.”

Circle the denim with your fingers and bite her sore lips. The lipstick has mostly transferred to your cock, an indicator on how much she was missing for the ultimate triumph. But Arin is no deepthroat pro, she excels in other areas.

“This is definitely a way, a way to make things work, to ruin or be ruined,” you croak out, realizing your throat is too dry to continue babbling. Someone hands you a water bottle, you down it quickly. “Sorry for this interruption, Arin, let me tell you that you would pass any test with ease.”

“Th-thank you,” Arin squeaks, her throat not dry, but surely sore. “Glad you li-liked it.”

Kiss her on the cheek.

“A pleasure to meet you, but I have to go now. My bed is calling.”

Cheers from behind you when you pass through the curtain, two cameramen following you, the director and co-host right behind them. A wide, well-lit hallway opens to you. Every door looks open and you can sense the nudity, the lewdness, the sex that emanates from them like a seductive odor. With a gleeful smile you turn to the co-host, who quietly points at the first door to your right.

“Guess we’ll start here—although I cannot see any beds in here. Is this a pool, or what?” 

To your surprise, you find the room mostly tiled and flooded with a few centimeters of warm water, perfect to wash your feet and maybe doze for a couple of minutes—which is exactly what a young lady pretends to do in the middle of it all. She lays prone in front of a large bouquet, only wearing a skimpy bikini to hide the private parts of her slender body with surprising curves. 

“Hello there, beautiful,” you say cheerfully and kneel next to the dozing woman. “Are you comfortable?”

“Hello,” she responds, a sleepiness and hunger evident in her eyes. “It is amazing. I could stay here all day.”

“Begs the question:” you interject and closely inspect her short, black hair with those meticulously styled bangs. “Is it fun to have sex in here?”

“Should we find out?” she asks and moves her fingers to the string holding her bikini in place. You quickly grab her wrist and guide it back up and at a snail's pace. 

“Now, now, young misses. I don’t even know your name, and you already want me to fuck you on these hard tiles? Where are your manners? Maybe you’re still in dreamland. What’s two plus two?”

“Four, I’m not stupid—”

“Six plus six?”

“Twelve. Look I—”

“Eight plus ten?”

“Eighteen—”

“Your plus name?”

“Huh?”

Someone snickers behind the camera set up. Other staff members try to find a spot in the narrow door to watch the spectacle unfold, but no matter how distracting they may be, your professionalism will not falter.

“Oh, uhm sorry,” the girl says, still more puzzled than surprised. “I’m Chaewon, the wannabe mermaid. Sorry for being rude, I got here early and now I’m so relaxed, God, I can’t think straight.”

“Good for you, Chaewon.” You inspect her face, small, sharp jaw, impeccable shape with an adorable nose and the already mentioned bangs that just make it look a bit more perfect. “Stay relaxed then, because I believe it is one of the many perks—

“—of having sex in this water instead of a bed.” Increase the volume of your speech so the viewer knows that they should pay attention if they want to learn something. I mean, who doesn’t watch to learn how to have sex with a doll for a woman in perfect shallow water? That’s what you’re all about.

“Chaewon, should we get started?”

“Sure.”

This time, Chaewon is allowed to undress. She does so lazily, flaunting her body almost accidentally, yet with all the purpose of the world. Firm, mid-sized tits and an even firmer, even bigger butt make for excellent curves on this gorgeous, small woman. After discarding the bikini in the tiny waves of the tiny pool, if you dare call it that, Chaewon lets herself fall back into the prone position, chin barely above the water.

What is not barely above the water is her ass, which she pulls open a bit for you to catch a glance yet not see her glorious hole in all its beauty. She is really on her lowest level, no effort and fucks given. 

“Guys,” you sigh and whine. “Only do this with your girl if you are okay with her being not only absolutely passive, but also a little hindrance. Don’t expect her to do anything. You’re the workhorse for today. Ladies, I’d urge you to do exactly what Chaewon does. Add nice smelling flowers and candles, relax and just exist. Don’t even spread your ass for him.”

Chaewon giggles and releases a long, barely audible moan when your fingers dig into the flesh of her butt cheeks and pull them apart. 

“Get a camera on there,” you say with dramatic shock. “Quick! Film this perfect, perfect hole. Holy shit, Chaewon, why did I not know of you? You must be such a butt slut.”

“All training~” she chicly says and lazily looks over her shoulder. “But it’s rarely this relaxed.”

Don’t even waste time grinding on the smooth skin of her butt or in between her big cheeks. You immediately insert your tip into the puckered hole and slam down half way. Chaewon moans, satisfied and rests on her crossed arms as if she is getting a massage.

“Hold on, you all see that? I mean, you can’t feel it like I do, but,” you pause and start to slowly fuck Chaewon’s ass, giving her more and more of your length the longer it goes on. “I have never felt something like this. You must be training every day, all day, huh?

“Chaewon, I’m talking to you. You’re also on cam, so please don’t sleep.” 

“There is always something inside me,” Chaewon babbles in a cute, dreamy voice. You decide to wake her up by pushing your tip as deep as possible, and it actually works. Chaewon jumps, stretches herself and you lean to her ear. Tug away the straight, black strands so she can hear your most quiet whisper.

“Yes, but it never reaches this deep. Your hole is so loose around me, but my tip feels great. But this won’t do.”

You turn to the camera with a dumbfounded expression, which bemuses the ever chattering and peeking staff members, especially when your cock slips from the not-so-tight confines of Chaewon’s ass.

“We need to change it up,” you say and point to your co-host. “Give me one of our products, I think this bubble-butt-bitch needs more than one thing inside her.”

Chaewon laughs at the joke, innocent at first, but her laughter turns lewd when she eyes the massive dildo the cameraman hands you. With piqued interest, she watches over her shoulders as you align both your shaft and the fake shaft with her loose entrance. 

“I think I don’t need to elaborate that this is not the norm. Please only use one of these on your bottom, okay? I’m not liable for damages.”

Finding the right angle is a lot more difficult with this added width, but you’re able to get inside Chaewon. Her ring puts up some resistance at first, yet when she takes a longer breath, you get inside and immediately begin to thrust.

“Ah, fuck,” Chaewon groans happily and lets her upperbody sink into the water again. “This is, this is better than I thought.”

“Yeah, let’s just pretend that this happened from the start,” you giggle. “Chaewon feels pretty tight now. Her ass is warm, just like the water and her backside is almost as pleasing to the eye as her face.”

“Can you tell us more about the ground, what’s it like to have sex here?” the co-host asks from behind the camera, eyes glued to where you double-penetrate Chaewon’s ass. 

“Right, that’s why I’m here. Let me be honest, this was not my first thought and I was a bit skeptical. There are a lot of factors that have to be right, otherwise, fuck, otherwise it might not be that pleaseant. Colder water would make her tense up, that’s a no-no. If the tiles below are too coarse, it won’t feel great either; they could also be too slippery, which might sound fun but actually—”

Suddenly a loud, deep groan by Chaewon, followed by quick breaths. You must have found some special spot inside her ass. She starts to tremble, her entire body shaking with pleasure when you continue.

“Sorry about that distraction. All the worries aside, if you set it up perfectly, like here, and have someone who can take it up the ass like Chaewon, it might actually be the best way to fuck someone prone, period. The water makes you feel so clean too, although you are literally—

“—literally cumming from your ass. Isn’t that right, Chaewon~?”

The entire crew stops breathing for a moment. Chaewon starts to whine at your precise, hard thrusts. For the first time, the young woman tenses up. Inaudible screams leave her lips and she cums violently. Her ring has a tight grip on your base, both you and the dildo are stuck in the bottomless pit for the time being. 

“Yes, oh God, yes!” Chaewon shouts out, still high on the pleasure. “So good!”

“Solo double-anal; ever had that before?” you ask and brush her wet hair with your wet hand. 

“No, but I definitely need it again.”

Chaewon begins to relax and you are able to free yourself. With a bit of regret, you leave the warm water. Would have been nice to stay for longer, especially with such a fascinating specimen, but you need to take your leave. After all, there are still dozens of girls waiting for you.

“Sure. Hit me up. My number is on screen right now.”

“Wha—” the director gasps and quickly proceeds to cover his own mouth.

“Hey, it was just a joke. Anyways, see you later, Chaewon.

“Now, can someone hand me a towel, please? And some water as well, all this water left me thirsty.”

Turn to the camera as people rush to bring you the requested items.

“That’s another tip from me: drink a lot of water. Helps with everything and is literally vital for your survival. I recommend non-carbonated water, the way God intended it to be.

“Now, where is the next room?”

“Right across the hallway,” the co-host says. “We’ll move on in a zig-zag motion from room to room for most of the testing. However, there is a special part which we will film somewhere else.”

“Sounds exciting!”

You dart to the next room, the filming crew barely able to keep up. Shaky footage will either be used for jokes or transitions, so there is value in seeing nothing but a blur of your backside and other surroundings. This time the door is only slightly ajar, yet you still burst in with no care in the world. A woman in front of a mirror jumps, her brush with white polish hitting the floor.

“Jesus, who the—you fucking asshole!” she shouts, anger in her face from being pranked like this. You smirk when you recognize the woman's face. No need to apologize to this long time partner in crime.

“How did you know I was just fucking an asshole, Tiffy?” you ask her with a playful, stupid voice while wrapping your arm around her small waist.

“No, that is literally not what I meant, I said—”

Tiffany shuts up as soon as the first cameraman is in the room and up in her face. 

“What did you say, hm? C’mon~ tell the world how you just insulted a friend of yours.”

“We’re not friends, just fuck buddies,” she snarks back and looks down at the floor, stained with polish from the brush she dropped. “Look, you made a mess. These stains won’t ever go away, idiot.”

“Everyone,” you say to the camera, cheerfully ignoring everything Tiffany just talked about. “I think you should know Tiffany. She was on this show already and we had quite a good time with her. She did too, by the way.”

“No,” she whines and pouts. Lift her onto the dresser in front of the mirror. “What are you doing now?”

“I know that you’re here for the face-fucking-testing and I already know what we will do, but first, I really wanna see your pussy again. Is it still so pink and pretty?”

Tiffany blushes hard, it’s one of the things you love most about her features. In photo and porn shooting, she looks fierce, like an impenetrable Domme, a wall of confidence you can’t overcome, but with you around, she’s almost like a virgin. 

“D-don’t call it pre-pretty! I-I haven’t shaved,” she stutters, face hidden behind a hand with freshly painted nails.

“But it is so pretty. Let them have a look.”

Spread her legs with both your arms. If Tiffany really wanted her cunt to remain unseen, she could’ve just jumped from the dresser, but instead she plays timid—which seems like a ridiculous farce, because she is not wearing panties beneath her short, tight dress.

“Tiffy, why are you embarrassed? It’s such a cute pussy, and the hair just makes it better.”

“Stop using that name,” Tiffany growls behind gritted teeth. The lens of the camera is now on level with her crotch, while you drag your fingers up her massive thigh to her labia. A quick rub, and Tiffany tenses up, fearing you would notice her arousal—futile. You know her too well, her sweet spots, how mad she is for your cock. Sadly…

“I don’t get to fuck your pussy today, but I think you guys watching are excited to know more about her throat, more precisely hear more about it.”

“You’re such a tease, you could have a-at least given it a lick.”

Tiffany crosses her arms as she gets off of the dresser. The black dress really fits her figure, the color even more so, especially because it’s accompanied by black high-heels and a black overcoat. They all synergies so well, there is no question which color fits Tiffany the best.

“But if I had started eating you, I would not have stopped for at least a couple of hours, and this crew clearly does not have the time for that,” you say with a bit of sas before changing your expression back to something more serious. “Enough with the chit-chat, you know why we’re here?”

“Yes,” Tiffany says, flushed wiped off her face in an instant. “I hope I can hold this position for long enough. Squatting is tense.”

“If I were you, I’d worry more about if you’re able to hold your breath for long enough. We both know your gags are loud, violent and one of the most arousing sounds in the world, so—

“How about I shut up and you show them how deepthroating is done, Tiffany.”

“Bring it on,” she says and opens her mouth. You lay your cockhead on her idle tongue, knowing that it will not be idle later, when it does its deadly dance. It must be said that Tiffany is a pro at almost everything, yet her ability to suck cock is quite underrated amongst your peers. You told them back then that it would make for a great show and today, you’re about to show them.

Adjust your footing, while Tiffany adjusts her posture and tilts her head slightly back. Her lips open up more, letting your length glide into her already watering hole. Tiffany is great at knowing the perfect pace of your first entry, how to go above her limits, how to take you whole. 

You look down at her, but she is focused, not interested in any more shenanigans, only interested in showing off her skills. A first gag, loud and imposing, then her jaw opens fully. Nothing is holding you back, and when Tiffany’s tongue starts to tease the underside of your cock, you know she is ready to be fucking loud.

With both hands you begin to fuck her head onto your rod. Bursts of saliva shoot out on the sides of Tiffany’s mouth, but no one can pick up their slooches. Chokes and gags fill the hotel room, fill the microphones and soon the homes of many adults wondering: Is she going to be fine?

Probably.

In tandem with your hands, which start to entangle with the brunette's hair, you add the occasional hard hip thrust, which forces Tiffany’s nose to meet your crotch and your balls to be drenched in drool which she chokes up and slobbers through puckered lips. The gags inside her throat start to sound like rapid gunfire, and in your own delirious state of mind, you need to check if Tiffany can still handle it.

Probably?

Her eyes roll back to her head from time to time, but everytime they return, she looks more and more dazed. The rest of her body is starting to reject you, but you can’t pull out yet. There is something so satisfying about not having to explain things. The people can just watch and hear and then judge if they like it or not. Maybe you should add a disclaimer that not everyone is so in control of their gag reflex.

“This—this is gold, heaven really,” you groan and reluctantly give Tiffany time to breathe while your cock remains at her lips. She sucks cool air into her mouth, probably purposefully. You hiss at the difference in temperature. Tiffany chuckles in between her final chokes and squeezes your cock in torturous strokes.

“Tell them, big boy, tell them how special I am.”

“Shit, let go of my dick first. You can’t tear it off and expect us to stay friends.” 

Tiffany grins triumphantly. She kneads you with both her hands now and has the audacity to lean back a little. Your cock is misused as a rope to hold onto, and your mind goes haywire at the double pain, which somehow makes it feel great.

“Less whining, more praising~” Tiffany says and you speak your mind quickly and freely. Get those words out fast, or she’ll really make you a couple of inches shorter.

“Hng, okay, okay. Reminder for everyone: Tiffany, fuck, Tiffany is very fucking good at this. If you ever intend to try this at home, remember, you ain’t no Tiffany. Things could get really messy.”

“Thank. You.” 

Tiffany lets go of your manhood and falls backwards on the carpet. Her chest heaves, otherwise she remains motionless, a cocky grin on her face. It makes you raise your eyebrows and curse a bit. Why didn’t you continue? If she’s this calm already, you could have fucked her throat a bit longer. Make it sore, until she can only communicate with sign language for a couple of days.

“Next time, I’ll do it harder.” 

You return the cocky grin and leave the room, everyone but the two of you confused and speechless. Finally, the co-host steps up and shouts his question behind you.

“What is your business with her? Did something happen in the past?”

“Ah, you know, it’s just our dynamic. Your behavior depends on whoever you meet, where you meet them, what your mood is, what the occasion is—it’s the same for me too. The last time I had a shoot with Tiffany was months ago, and afterwards I kinda ignored her. Then we met at a random party, had a good chat, a couple drinks and next thing I know, she pins me to the wall and sucks me off. 

“I swear to God, I thought she was going to kill me, suck my soul out, stuff like that. She was pretty pissed I ignored her, which I didn’t really get so you know—fight and stuff; people have conflicts, it happens.”

As you tell the story, even the last stylist and technician flock around you. They form a cage to watch naked-you spill the tea, like it was any of their business. Not that you care, it’s all fabricated anyways, but they surely believe it. The editor will have a great time blurring them all out, especially those smart enough to get behind you, right in its focus.

“Uhm, what is happening?” you ask dumbfounded and watch the director from the corner of your eye. He is furious, pointing out to staff members to get out of your way. Swear to God, there is never a shoot where things go smoothly. Luckily, you can just smile, smile, smile it away and disappear behind the door with nothing but a single cameraman. 

“Hi, nice to see you again,” a girl greets you with her arms wide open to hug you. You need a second to remember the face. It’s been a while since you’ve worked with her.

“Rose, how pleasant to find you in this—okay, what the hell is this room?”

Black stained glass tiles on the floor and white stained ones on the ceiling, that’s it. No furniture, no carpet, no lamp, no nothing. Large windows let in enough light to make filming possible, but you doubt that this room is meant to be filmed in. 

“I was confused too at first,” Rose says, pulling down the straps of her thin dress and revealing to you her small breasts. “Apparently they want you to test me on the ground.”

“Oh, I see. So everything on the ground?” you ask the cameraman and he makes a nodding motion with the large device. “Whose idea was this? I’m sorry, Rose, I think you deserve better than this.”

“Ah, it’s fine,” she says with a kind smile while stepping out of her dress. Hands on her hips she reassures you: “Really, trust me. I think it will be an interesting experience.”

“Hm,” you hum and reach for one of her nipples, small and stiff and apparently very sensitive, because Rose mewls at the simplest touch on them. “Do you like this?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then how about we make good use of the coldness of the glass,” you lean down to Rose’s chest and lick all over Rose’s tiny tits. “and let your cute tits rub all over them?”

“Ha, yes, anything you like,” Rose moans, delighted, her thin legs shivering. 

“Perfect. Get on the ground, please.”

While lying prone, Rose’s very slender frame shines even more than when she stands upright. The only outlier are her hips, which have surprising width and are the first thing you get a hold of. Rose adjusts herself on the cold, sleek surface, lifting up her butt so you can enter her easily. In an agonizingly slow push, you start to fill her cute little ass with your way-too-big cock. Rose shimmies underneath you, nipples gliding over the tiles and making her breathless.

“Pl-please, b-be careful. F-feels bi-bi—g—ood.”

Rose’s cute plea halts your inner desire to ravish her tight hole. Only gently, you start to move in and out, never enough to get you closer to orgasm, but the way she squeezes down on you makes up for it.

“You are very, very tight Rose. Is the ground too cold?”

“I-it’s fine,” she whimpers. “It feels good on my chest.”

“That’s something,” you sigh and stare at the camera in annoyance. Where the hell is the director? Whose idea was this? Back when you read the script, ‘Rose - On The Ground’ sounded a lot better in theory. You expected a carpet or at least a warmer surface, but now Rose is grinding on the floor and—actually tightening? 

“Oh fuck, Rose, I don’t remember you being this tight. Looks like the glass has some benefits.”

“Ha, hng,” Rose moans and interrupts her own sentence. “Ju-just my boobs, ni-nipples feel so good. Please, don’t stop!”

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself, I guess I can live with you being a cocksleeve,” you laugh, then hiss at Rose starting to move on her own, her butt creeping up and swallowing your entire dick. “Fellas, I think in some rare cases, fucking on the cold, hard ground isn’t too bad, shit.”

It’s too early, you can’t cum yet. Put a hand in between Rose’s legs, feel her smooth thighs, warm and wet unlike the floor, until you reach the source of her heat. In circles, you rub over her labia and Rose begins to fidget and gasp. In a lucky swoop, you find her clit and place it in between two of your fingers. You can only play with it for so long, Rose is already close and without warning, she cums on your hand. Luckily, you were able to pull out in time, or else her ass would have sucked out your life-sparking liquid like a hungry vampire. 

“That was,” you turn to the camera, out of breath from your last second escape. “better than I want to admit. I’m angry and satisfied at the same time. Everyone, I’m sorry, but I can’t really rate this. Try it if you feel frisky, but maybe, you should just fuck in bed.

“You on the other hand were amazing, Rose. High five?”

But Rosie is already dozy and has fallen into a deep slumber. Right, you remember her being like this after strong orgasms. One moment she is screaming in bliss, the next she snores like a married spouse of twenty years. At least she fell to the side, so you take the chance to look at her breasts again. So small, yet so sensitive and overwhelming. Put a mental reminder up that you will have to suck on them one day.

“Okay, so why did no one come with me in this room?” you irritatedly ask both the director and co-host. They look at each other and shrug, a scripter writer beside them points at one of the many scripts, but from this far out it’s impossible to recognize any letters. You stretch your back and sigh.

“Ah, fuck it. Let’s just move onto the next. Maybe you can give me an intro this time?”

“S-sure,” your co-host responds, shuffling cards while trotting at the edge of the screen. “Next up we have Miss Xiaoting from China. If you like the squatting pose, she will probably be your favorite today. Make sure to awe at the way she—”

There she is—and he is damn right. Xiaoting squats in front of a light pink wall, her short dress in wrinkles, large gloves the same. She watches you enter with a small smile, then starts to pose as if hundreds of cameras were clicking to capture every quantum of her beauty. 

“Hello,” you slowly say to the woman down before you.

“Hello,” she gently responds, peeking up at you.

“You look very elegant, Xiaoting.”

“I know.”

She drags a finger along her thigh and over her knees which not only sit neatly side by side, but also fold in such a gorgeous way that you would want to drag your tongue all over them and feel the stretched, spotless skin. 

“Do you also know what I like to do with elegant women?” you ask, expecting her to either play dumb or be dumb.

“I do, actually,” she responds with wit, her small smile now a smirk. “If you would take my hands, kind Sir?”

Intrigued by the Chinese girl, you offer her your hands. Xiaoting takes them with her cotton gloves to remain steady while her angled legs start to part and reveal what’s beneath the short dress. Panties, of course, but they are not the normal kind. Very skimpy, already wet with what can only be her pussy juice. Then you take a closer look.

“Is that a vibrator?”

“You are right, Sir. It’s the biggest that I have. One push on the button on the top of it, and it will steadily increase its speed.”

Xiaoting looks up and whispers in what can only be described as the lewdest kind of mind control known to man.

“Time to make this elegant woman become a needy bitch, hm?”

Reach down to where the sun does not shine and find the plastic device embedded in soaked panties. In the meantime, Xiaoting reaches for your cock, to keep herself upright on those thin, fragile heels of hers. Unlike Tiffany, she grabs it with care and awe, but you would prefer her bare hands to the

fluffy, dry cotton. Luckily, you don’t have to ask: Xiaoting wraps her lips around your tip with grace and gratitude as the vibrator in her cunt begins to purr.

“Ha, thank you,” she moans and kisses all over your dick with excellent elegance, fitting for her. “Keep pace with it, pretty please?”

“I’d love to,” you husk and stroke her straight hair, which smells fresh and would make for a great masturbation aid—but who needs hair when you can go straight for her pretty mouth?

A slow thrust into Xiaoting’s slobbering mess of a mouth. She has yet to react to the vibrator in her cunt, even the first audible increase in its intensity gets ignored. Give her a harder thrust this time, to the point she has to gag. Xiaoting tenses up and looks up at you, making your heart rate go up with a single glance.

“Fuck, something about your expression is just perfect. Always flaunting your beauty, always waiting for someone to stuff your holes. I can’t wait for the vibrator to make you tremble.”

Xiaoting releases your cock with a pop and gives it a couple of quick pumps.

“Me neither. Damn, I wish there were two of you.”

“This, ladies, tell your partner this, and he will give you twice the effort. He might not have two dicks, but he will fuck you like he has. And don’t feel shy, ask him about bringing toys to your playtime. You will see why in a second.”

Xiaoting puts you back to her lips and opens wide, greedy yet gracious, a paradox fateful to her character. She will do great in the adult video scene. She could shoot the same porno over and over again and people would still be attracted to her, and would still indulge in what she brings to the table.

Especially when she starts to twitch.

At first, it’s just her pussy. The third level of speed from the vibrator finally makes her cunt milk it, desperate for more movement along her slick walls. From there, the twitching creeps up her torso and down her legs, making her wide hips tremble ever so slightly and removing the first bits of stability from her beautiful, confident feet.

“See? Focus on her legs,” you tell the cameraman. “It has begun. God, to see your thighs tremble while getting your pussy pounded is probably worthy of a painting. Sadly, I’m a terrible painter, so the only thing I can provide is a couple of videos.”

“Yesh, pleash,” Xiaoting bubbles through the blockade in her mouth and you take this as an indirect call to fuck her face harder. She appreciates it by whimpering and showing the increasing giddiness in her head through glassy eyes. 

“I think you all know—,” you speak up like the professor in one of his many lectures. “—that if she speaks while you go down her throat, you need to go harder or faster or both. Make her shut up. Obvious lesson, but here is how you can still communicate. Girls, pay attention.

“Xiaoting, please pinch my thigh if I go too rough, okay?”

Xiaoting nods, but could never have expected the onslaught of pumps and the reckless depth your manhood finds in her throat. Her eyes jump wide in shock, then fear of suffocation. Violent gags and she immediately pinches your thigh. You halt and pull out.

“Sorry about that. Are you okay?” you murmur with slight concern.

“I-I’m fi—oh, fu—y-yeah, I’m fine.”

Xiaoting can barely get words out. She might not be suffocated anymore, however another stuffed hole starts to get violated and it resonates throughout her entire frame, no body part is safe from the trembling, especially not her vocal cords.

“Oh, sounds like we are up to level four. Just listen to her moan, everyone.”

Both camera and microphone move closer to the action. They capture Xiaoting’s eyes flooded with tears, shaking, her lips covered in drool, shaking and then her hand still on your leg, shaking, of course. Her moans will be played on repeat for so many people and they’ll imagine her huffing on your balls, licking on your shaft and lapping up your pre-cum. Oh fuck, it’s a bit early for that.

“Damn, you are so good at that,” you whisper below the volume of Xiaoting’s moans and the vibrator in her pussy. You’d love to see it go crazy, maybe wiggle it a bit side to side, up and down to get her over the edge. No, you cannot get distracted, she will get to her orgasm soon enough. You should experience it while plugged into her mouth.

“Come on, Xiaoting. Let yourself fall, lose all this fake, nonsense elegance. Let yourself fall, on the ground and cum, cum on the fake cock in your pussy and I promise…

“One day, I’ll stuff it myself.”

Push past her lips, drown out her response in gags. The sides of her head in the palm of your hands feel so natural, the gratification of smearing your precum to the back of her throat so deserved. Yes, you work your butt off for this shit, you deal with dumb managers and even dumber directors, who give orders like they have either never seen a porno or too many. There is never a session where things go without a mistake.

All the bullshit is forgotten when you take a step back, watch your cock spring from Xiaoting’s tender lips and she begins to squirt. Level five, the strongest setting, has her spasming, droplets flying everywhere, streams running down her thighs. You predicted she would fall over, but somehow Xiaoting remains in her position, even as the orgasm rocks her body.

“Fuck, too much, too much, ah~!”

The Chinese woman throws her head back and reaches in between her legs. She jerks the vibrator a couple of times, extending her orgasm and leaving you hard as a rock in the air, dangerously close to your own arrival. But you cannot go out like this, it would be a stain on your legacy and the freshly cleaned carpet. 

“You are amazing, Xiao,” you cheer for her as she gets down from her high and pulls out the vibrator. “Oh my, it’s bigger than I thought.”

“Th-thanks, i-it’s the biggest I’ve ever taken.”

“I know what I would rate this experience, easily the highest grades, so I’m interested in how you liked it.”

Xiaoting pouts and thinks. There is a hidden cute side to her, something you’d like to show to your parents when you invite her over for the first time. They would be thrilled and don’t have to know that she can look so desperately slutty. 

“I’d give it a nine out of ten, but only because—,” she smirks and stares at your rigid erection. “—next time, I need to squat on you.”

“I think we can arrange that.” You wink. “See you later, Xiao!”

Xiaoting blushes at her new nickname and waves you goodbye. Everyone waddles out of her room, you on the forefront, heart rate decreasing at a much slower pace. Some of these girls try to get in there, but you can’t let yourself get fooled. Be the actor and act, don’t think too much of it has basically become your mantra ever since the girls you worked with have gotten prettier, clingier, more loving. 

Nothing is gained by falling for them, so you reach for another bottle of water and take a large sip. You need to cool off a little bit, which is a huge badge of honor for Xiaoting and her visuals, but she will never hear it. One of the staff brings you a coat, and for a second you are utterly lost to why in the hell she would do that. Then you remember the next scene and that you are still on cam. 

“Oh, thank you. Dammit, they know what you need. I can feel the cold from the room coming already. Are you going to put me into a freezer or something?”

Put the large coat over your shoulders and loosely close it at the front. This is where your impressive size comes in handy. Your entire body might be wrapped into it, but the coat can’t cover the last couple of inches of your cock. 

You dramatically over act the cold when you enter the next room. It has neither a bed nor a couch, so the woman is once again laying on the ground.

“Guys, not again! Look at her, she must be freezing.”

“Quick!” the woman says with urgency as she turns her head towards you. “You should wrap yourself in something warm and I have just the right place.”

The woman spreads the cheeks of her denim-covered butt to show you a small opening placed right where you assume her asshole is. Her short black hair reminds you of Chaewon, but unlike Chaewon, she is putting in the effort to take you. She is even unbuttoning her shirt in this quite chilly room. 

“Stop that,” you try to reason, yet can’t help but walk closer and look at her cleavage. “You, you might catch a cold.”

“We will both catch a cold if you don’t act quickly,” she whines and presents her ass again. “Put it in and we’ll both be warm.”

You can’t say no to that, she sounds very reasonable after all. Pull your coat open and lay down on top of her, your cockhead feeling the denim of her jeans, the cotton of her shirt, you have to adjust yourself some more until you find the hole. You poke one of her voluptuous cheeks, which makes her hiss in excitement.

“Can I lay down on top of you?” you whisper into her ear. “I think we’ll be even warmer then, Mrs—”

“Eunbi,” she responds, a bit annoyed that you’re keeping her waiting. “Do whatever you want, just put it in already.”

“I’d be my pleasure.”

Quite literally, it is. Eunbi’s puckered hole puts more resistance than you would have imagined, certainly more than Chaewon’s did. The reward however astonishes you. Her insides are hot and soft, wrapping around your rod like a cozy blanket on a cold winter night. 

“Show them your face, Eunbi,” you groan and get a hold of her chin. Guide her face towards the lens of the camera, which hovers right in front of Eunbi’s stunning features. The tiny string of drool hanging from the tip of her luscious lower lip flips her visual from adorable and kind to lewd and needy. Eunbi is not satisfied with your slow half-pumps into her ass. Time to change that.

“Oh, fu—y-you feel so warm,” she moans, her hole stretched by your twitching phallus gliding in and out. A second camera behind you films the action between your legs. At this point in your career, you are able to ignore it, to just go to town on her while feeling more of Eunbi’s hot body. 

“You too, Eunbi. I think there is something we can show them to make them feel warmer as well.”

Eunbi smirks and pushes herself up with both arms while you still cling to her back and keep yourself deep inside her rectum. With a hand creeping up her stomach—damn, you can feel her amazing muscles—you finally find and open the last couple of buttons of her shirt to free what would warm any straight man’s heart. 

Eunbi’s massive, perky, bare tits. 

“Take a look at them,” you say with awe and Eunbi giggles. “So big, so soft and so warm. If you have breasts like this, you can both give and get the warmth you need to make this session fun.”

You begin to massage one of Eunbi’s breasts and she throws her head back to the point where you can see her face. She smiles at you, rosy cheeks, tired eyes and a bone structure to die for. Her hair, the color of dark chocolate, hangs down and bops with every new thrust you give her warm ass.

“How is that? Do you like it?” you ask and smile back.

“I just wanted to ask the same thing,” she giggles, but then you force a drawn out moan from her when you roll her nipples in between your fingers. “It-it feels good, fuck.”

“That’s nice to hear, because I feel the same. You are literal heat, Eunbi. I’d have not problem fucking you outside, even at night.”

Press your lips on her cheek and before she can return the peck you rail her harder, onto the cold floor, both her melons in eager hands. Attack her sensitive spots, watch and feel how the heat from inside her radiates, making even the director sweat. Eunbi herself tries to wring something out of you, so you have to stop her ass from slamming backwards by pinning it to the floor. 

The added stretch to her cheeks combined with a pinch to her nipples makes Eunbi lose it. In a deep groan, her entire body tenses up one final time, before she cums rather quietly, only whimpering at your final set of thrusts. Her upper body sinks back to the floor and you make sure to tug her tits behind the shirt again. 

“Don’t catch a cold, okay?” you whisper into her ear and pat her head.

“I won’t,” she reassures. “Why didn’t you fill me with your warm cum? It would have made so much sense!”

“Sorry, darling, the script says otherwise.”

Hopefully the sound crew did not pick that up. You have to sell the illusion at least, the illusion that this is all happening at random, off script, as if no one gave you the list of women beforehand, as if no one told you what to do with them and how they like it, as if none of this is completely fake. Well, even if you fail to be illusive at times, the editors can just cut it out. No need to worry. 

You and Eunbi get up from the floor simultaneously, bodies still close to each other. Suddenly, she wraps an arm around her nape and pulls you down into a kiss. That one is off script, not planned, but with her following reasoning it might stay in the final cut.

“I think this will keep us both warm~”

“You are right about that. I’ll hopefully see you again?”

“Whenever you like, big boy. Have fun, bye~”

On your way across the hallway, you suddenly stop and curl your finger towards your co-host. 

“I think it’s time that you say the line,” you tell him with a serious expression as he steps over the wires into the frame.

“Oh, I see you have something planned. Well, everyone, I’d like to remind you that not everything on this show will be to everyone’s liking. Feel free to skip forward, thank you.”

‘But what about their suspension of disbelief’ you once argued with the show runners, but they blocked you off. 

‘It has to be this way, what once started cannot be undone. We also need him to be in the frame at least a couple of times,’ all bullshit reasons in your opinion. It’s the way it is, can’t really do anything about it.

The camera is right behind you again, it films you opening the door and finding a familiar woman leaning against a black wall, phone in her delicately manicured hand, skirt too short for public, but just right for filming. Her silver high-heels clack when she wordlessly approaches you and pins her straight, blonde hair behind an ear. 

“If I knew I’d be filming with you, I would have worn something nicer,” she husks with lust, her hands pressed flat on your chest.

“What are you talking about, Miyeon, you look fucking amazing!” you counter her words and put an arm around her small waist. “Turn to the camera, sweetheart. I think everyone would agree.”

Like the superstar model she could have been, Miyeon poses, gaze arrogant, as if to say that no one is worthy of being in the same room or breathing the same molecules as her. With these looks she could have made millions by just wearing clothes. You’re glad she chose a different career path, one that she calls ‘a lot more exciting.’

“What are we going to do today?” Miyeon asks. “I hope you don’t bore me.”

“Has Just Testing ever been boring?” you laugh out loud, but Miyeon looks unimpressed.

“Yeah, but I have had my face fucked countless times. On my knees, in heels, while upside down—go a bit crazy for me, boy!”

“Oh, so you’re down for anything new?”

“Yes, please!”

Miyeon gets into position, hands resting on her thighs expectantly. You brush her hair back to get an uninterrupted path to her mouth. Not your first time she has you on her lips, but back then it was just for a quick cumshot. The rest of the time you railed her against the wall. She also wore heels and the wall was black as well. The set-designers went with some nostalgia it seems. 

“Open up, my pretty little bitch, and rub across my stomach. I promise I’ll give you something you never had.”

Miyeon does as told. It has the effect you had hoped for. The soft phalanxes of her fingers slowly moving across your skin put more pressure to your filled bladder. The hunt for an orgasm gets pushed back by the impending feeling of having to release yourself. It has been there for a while now, but it has not been this overwhelming.

“Good job, such a pro at it,” you praise Miyeon, then turn to the camera. “For those of you who want to try it, man, woman, whatever, you have to follow a simple rule: Drink lots of water. It’s healthy, filling and won’t stay inside of you as long as calories do.”

“Why are you talking about this?” Miyeon groans in annoyance, lazily licking your cockhead, not attempting to put it past her lips. 

“You will find out soon enough. Keep your mouth open though.”

“You just want me to shut up, don’t you?”

“I don’t want you to miss what’s coming, Miyeon.”

“We already filmed a cumshot scene, idiot.”

The script could not have timed it more perfectly. The moment you wanted to release coincides with the moment you can’t hold it in anymore. With a roaring gasp, you reach for your cock to point it perfectly at Miyeon’s perfect face and unleash a strong stream of clear piss. 

Miyeon almost falls backwards from her squatting posture, but after her initial shock she keeps herself steady. Like a good girl, she keeps her mouth open and catches most of your gushing piss in it. The rest covers her face fully, streams down her neck or drips directly onto her slightly bloated white crop-top. 

Miyeon throws her head back when she swallows, letting you shower her in the gradually fading stream of clear liquid. Piss splashes on her thighs, feet, her skirt gets drenched when she parts her legs. You swing your cock around at the end to get rid of the last droplets, which rain onto her golden hair and for some reason make her moan in ecstasy.

“Oh God, what was that? I knew you would not disappoint me.”

“Everything for you, Miyeon.”

“I think I can throw these away now.”

Miyeon smirks when she gets up. A pull at her button and her skirt falls to the floor on its own. God, how you’d love to fuck her shaven slit right here, right now, with her covered in your release, marked as yours. Like so many things, it has to wait.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask and raise an eyebrow at the blonde girl starting to finger herself. “I have places to be.”

“I just want to get you ready again. Look, you can’t fuck someone being this soft!”

Fingers, covered in Miyeon’s pussy juice, wrap around you. Her full strokes have always been top level, barely outmatched by anyone. She is so good at jerking men off, there are videos of her doing just that and setting speed records. They are called Awesome Cum Done Quick and should be an embarrassment for all the record holders. Then again, they had Miyeon fucking the winner, so he certainly had the happiest twenty-three seconds of his life.

Keep your act together and squeeze her wrist when you are fully hard again. No need to get on any spot of that leaderboard. Miyeon sighs in disappointment but lets you go. 

“Thank you. Fuck me again, will ya?”

“Sure,” you groan in fake annoyance and leave with a smile. This should be about the time that the people skipping your last scene will join back in. You neither want to keep them nor your cock waiting. Jump into the next scene without warning and the small woman lying atop an old, worn out couch shrieks.

“Ah, what the—you scared me!”

“Sorry, I just wanted to test you—I mean the couch—I mean… I’m just testing.”

That one was unintentional, an off script joke that the actress has to deal with now. She seems to be unfazed, watching back to you over her shoulder, her forehead in many wrinkles of doubt.

“Oh, you better do it thoroughly then. I can’t fucking stand being scared like that,” she responds and wiggles her cute butt up in the air. 

“Sure, but can I get your name first?” 

“Jieun,” she sternly replies.

“Nice to meet you Jieun. How tall are you?”

“How dare you—”

Muffle Jieun’s rage with your lips on hers. A spell that simply works, at least in porn. The woman calms down, her defense falls until she is yearning for more, dragging out the make-out session. Now is the perfect time to pull down her thin, tight shorts to where her socks start and knead one of her buttocks.

“You are such an asshole,” Jieun murmurs into the kiss and you look at her wide open eyes full of need. Suddenly, you push your middle finger into her butthole and feel her clench around it. Her eyes fall shut as she hisses and you quickly bite her lower lip.

“Say that again?” you tease while getting in position behind her. Jieun remains silent, her mouth pressed to the side of the small couch to keep herself silent when you enter, but it’s no use. She screams manically at your first push. And at your second. At the third she falters, trembles and surrenders herself into the cushions of the couch.

“Some of you might think that I hate fucking on these couches,” you say to the camera. “But I really don't. Some of them get thrown away too early. You can still have sex on them. Stains don’t need to bother you, their bagginess is great and even if they seem a bit small, you can still make it work.

“Just watch.”

Jieun has this tendency to push her ass up. Call it defiance, maybe it’s the way she likes it, but either way you have to deal with it. If you want to feel the couch below you and want to rank it properly, you will have to slam down hard into Jieun—and with glee, you do.

Hammer your cock into her, crash into the leather surface, yet she still bounces her ass up like a bouncy ball. It’s kinda like dribbling a basketball, just a lot more fun. Jieun is your cheerleader, her ‘hmph’s’ and ‘ah’s’ a motivating chant with how she repeats them on every single dribble of yours. 

“You got such a nice little ass,” you groan into Jieun’s ear while the camera is focused on filming the penetration from behind. “I bet you were envious of girls with bigger asses, so you started to flaunt yours. But then some guys asked if they could fuck it. You were hesitant at first, but after the first thrust, you already loved it. That’s why you keep pushing your butt up.

“Isn’t that right, Jieun. I bet you cum hard from just anal.”

“Ah, I—I, hng!”

Jieun starts to gush. Her knees give out and you finally feel her stay flat on the cushions. Time to give this couch a proper review while Jieun is still weak and shaking from her orgasm. You intentionally dig your legs and fingers into the smooth leather curves, partially stained by sweat and Jieun’s arousal.

“This couch in particular might not be premium,” you elaborate, interrupted by Jieun’s hard panting. “But even though it’s small and slippery, you can still use it to your full advantage. Bend her over the back, make her sit on you, hell, Doggystyle will be great no matter how big you are. I’d recommend not going for 69 or missionary, unless she is as small as our Jieun here.”

You end your review with a chuckle, expecting Jieun to snark back or at least flip you off. From what you’ve heard she reacts pretty harshly to being called small, so it’s surprising to see no reaction apart from her butt still swaying side to side. 

Get down to her face again, a gentle hand on her red buttocks. Jieun’s gorgeous, gorgeous face is mixed with emotions. Shock, bliss, anger, desperation, the list goes on with each scrunch of her tiny nose and flicker of her eyelashes. For some reason, it makes you feel bad.

“Hey, sorry if I went too far.”

“I’d call you good, because you are, but really—”

Jieun flicks your forehead, her middle finger leaving a red mark as you hiss.

“—fuck off. Don’t call me little!”

Fuck off you do. The door to the second to last room opens automatically. Inside you find the color of love and passion spread across the floor and up the walls. On shelfs and beds spread across the room you find toys usually used in BDSM sessions, everything from whips to gags to large dildos. You’re glad they spiced up the layout. Only red would have been boring.

“To the wall,” a voice suddenly commands from behind you. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” you exclaim, voice oozing with joy, but the other person is not having it.

“To the wall, and hands above your head,” she repeats, this time pinching your side with rather pointy nails.

“Ouch, okay, okay, no need to get aggressive, young-lady-who-tries-to-sound- hard-with-a-soft-voice,” you babble, leaning back to the nearest wall and stretching your arms when suddenly, two hands stroke your cock.

“Shut it,” a tiny woman—really, even compared to Jieun she is tiny—in an extravagant dress snarks. She starts to twist both her hands in a corkscrew motion, one clockwise, the other counter-clockwise. Your cock feels grinded, violated and so you shout a quick apology.

“Ah, fuck, okay, I’m so-sorry. Please, s-stop.”

“No. You will suffer.

“And if you cum, I’ll kill you.”

She squats before you, her miniscule frame elevated lightly by the tall heels she wears. Otherwise, her mouth might not reach your dick properly. Speaking of which, she still has it twisted and you whimpering. To make matters worse, her hands are nothing compared to your size, so your swollen tip is still exposed, wide open to attacks from her wide open mouth. 

Okay, maybe matters aren’t worse, she is quite talented at swirling her tongue over your sensitive slit while bathing you in her hot breath. She is a dragon, strangulating its victim to death and giving it a first feeling of what hell feels like.

“Pl-please, have mercy,” you wail, then side-eye the camera filming down from your shoulder. “I-If your man says this, ladies, your d-doing a good job.”

Suddenly, the twisting stops. Your tortured cock longs for something cold to ease the pain of its contorted skin. The mercy is short lived however. Her thumb and middle-finger form a seal around your base, like a cockring. Warm drool runs down from your tip in what feels like cruel streams of lava. It burns, you wince.

“Wh-what’s your—”

“Shut it, no words.”

Stubborn, unapproachable, she is a wall you cannot climb. You can only gawk in awe when she begins to jerk up and down in the same rhythm her mouth bops up and down. The pistons to a machine, well-oiled with her own saliva, it’s purpose: to make you cum. It’s a loud machine too, moaning, whimpering, stuttering.

Grit your teeth. Try not to think about the sweet release, your cum shooting right into her mouth. God, she would hate you for this sudden defiance, an insult and betrayal of the highest order. But she is too good and knows when to quicken the pace of her hands or press her lips down just below your cockhead. You are so close to losing it, and as you slowly glide down the wall, you have to announce it.

“N-no, fuck, I’m so clo—”

“Don’t,” she shouts and stops all her movement. The ring of her fingers squeezes down and you watch your cock stand swollen and throbbing, ready to do it—she does not allow it. You feel your orgasm vanish before it can properly hit you. 

She looks pleased with your expression, with the tears in your eyes, with the fact that she has you blue-balled. Her job here is done, she lets go of your cock and with another stinging pinch, this time to your thigh, she kills your resolve. ‘Get out, you piece of shit,’ her eyes tell and you flee to someone who can salvage what's left of your lust. 

“Th-this was insane,” you scream and run to the next door, through the next door. “What in the hell are you doing to me? This show is crazy. Girls, don’t do this to your husband without his agreement, he might just have a heart attack. This shit hurts, oh my God!”

“Now, now,” your co-host says calmly. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Well… uh…

“It was, let’s say, something new. But now I really need something to get me going again.”

Scan the room side to side. It looks like a furniture store, the olive green and dark oak brown giving off cozy vibes. Amidst all the decorative furniture, you find something, rather someone, who clearly doesn’t fit the color scheme. She is wearing an oversized, yellow sleeveless top, which even covers her butt, and her bright, white-blonde hair sticks out like a candle in the dark night. With her lying prone on a brand new, excessively large couch, one might assume that she is sleeping. It’s all an act of course.

Scoot over to her and tap her cheek. You have to tap it a couple of times, like an old button to make her brown orbs appear. They are so perfectly round, perfectly big, you could get lost in them.

“Hello, how was your sleep, beautiful?”

“I didn’t sleep,” she responds, her voice deep and sexy. 

“Well, this definitely sounds like your morning voice.”

“Actually,” she responds and pulls up the sleeveless top to just above her wide hips and firm butt. “I’ve been waiting for you. I bet you don’t care about the couch and just want to test me out.”

“Actually,” you whisper, mimicking her deep voice with your own husky tone. “I’m only here for business reasons. It’s just testing the couch, nothing more.”

“Such a tease,” she complains when you press down your shaft on her back entrance. “You—ah, fuck—you can just tell me that I am hot.”

“All I know is that your ass is hot, damn,” you groan up into the air. There is happiness over yet another tight hole to fuck, but also a considerable amount of leftover pain from your cock getting treated like the prey of an anaconda. This mixture of feelings makes for a surreal experience where you find yourself holding back from pouding this young woman senseless because you couldn’t handle it. 

“Ts,” she hisses. “You s-s-slide into me, not ask-ing for my name, and then you don’t even do your jo-job, ah!”

“I’d call this couch an inferior bed,” you suddenly say to the camera, making sure the slut below you is stimulated enough to not interrupt you. “It does not have the charme as the old ones and it lacks character. You would need to fuck on it a couple of times to give the right vibe, you know? Other than that, it’s comfy and big, so if you need space, while fucking each other—I’d still recommend a bed, to be honest.

“I also recommend you telling me your name, so I can deliberately not moan it.”

Bunch the blonde waves up and pull them back, not to hurt her, but to let her know that she was the one you were talking about. With tears in her eyes and a pained smile between her pink cheeks, she turns to look at you.

“Y-you’re so mean. What if I ju-just want to be loved?”

“Then you came to the wrong place, whore. I’m all about couches, really.”

“D-damn, that sucks. I’m Jinsoul by the way.”

“That was the weirdest time for you to tell me your name, you know that?”

Jinsoul murmurs and tries to avoid your eyes, but you force her head to stay close to yours. Something about her acted stupidity, paired with that illegally hot voice makes you want to ravish her more. There is nothing to be said about this couch, it’s mid and that’s it, but Jinsoul is quite intriguing. Unfortunately, the scene is not supposed to play out in a way that would reveal more about her. 

You can change that however. Who would stop you? The director with his raging boner, too occupied to look at the footage that you've already filmed? Certainly not. Thus you take matters into your own hands.

"So you want to be loved, Jinsoul? Appreciated, admired, cared for? Why should I? I've had sex with countless porn stars; you'd have to make a pretty good case for yourself."

Stop your thrusts to let Jinsoul think, adapt to the changed style of the scene, to not make things awkward for the viewers or you. With an elegant flip, she sends her hair flying and presents to you her side profile.

"Have you ever seen a jaw this sharp?" she asks expectantly. "I'm sure it can cut itself into your heart."

You can't hide your amusement at Jinsoul's shenanigans and give her slow, deep thrusts that press her abdomen deep into the fabric. She moans happily when you nuzzle close to her, cheek to cheek. It'd be somewhat romantic if it weren't for the large 4k cam right in your face.

"You're a whole package, I'll give you that," you praise the woman below you. "Don't compare yourself all the time though. It can really harm your self-worth."

"Oh, now you're saying sweet words. I don't have to compare myself, I'm just that good, thank you very much."

"I think you love yourself enough, no need to inflate your ego more."

Hanging out with Jinsoul must be a fun time, she is very chill, can take a joke and has her own kind of humor. It just gets better when you have skinship with her. Let the viewers’ imagination play out the fuck buddies to lovers story with her, you’re just an insert.

Jinsoul clenches her butthole with excellent timing. The jolts of your pelvis onto her buttocks are met with firm resistance which urges you to go a tad bit faster until she clenches less and just lets her normal tightness do the job of giving you both pleasure.

For her this pleasure ends in a loud climax, not because she is a screamer, but because her pussy squirts hot liquid like a geyser. She has marked the couch, it's hers now. The smell won't go away, which you would definitely appreciate as her boyfriend. Jinsoul smells of sex, of playfulness, of want, always willing to go for another round.

You'd gladly go again with her, but you have to pull out. That's the only thing that consistently happens, apart from the annoying switching of rooms which appears to have ended. Jinsoul's room was the last one on this floor. 

Next to it is a wall with a mirror which spans from the marble tiles to the ceiling and across the entire length of the floor. You curiously inspect it.

“I have to be honest, but I haven’t even noticed this until now. Putting this mirror here is a brilliant idea, it tricks you into thinking the corridor is twice the actual length. Anyways, I’m not here to test mirrors now, am I?”

“No,” someone responds in a frisky, feisty voice and you turn your head to look at her. “You’re here to film with me.”

The director, the staff members, basically everyone but the one cameraman who has been filming you this entire time stayed in Jinsoul’s room, so it’s obvious who said it. You would have noticed her anyways, even among a crowd of hundreds she sticks out. Long, slim legs that seem to never end have her high above most women you’ve met during your Asia Tour. Add to those legs a body wrapped in a luxurious black suit and an equally luxurious face plus the most expensive MiuMiu handbag on the market, and you got yourself a princess. 

“Nice to meet you, Wonyoung,” you grin down at her. “It’s a pleasure to finally film something with you.”

“Likewise,” she reciprocates with a disinterested, skeptical smile, before looking down to your crotch. “Though I have to admit… I thought you would wear, well, something different—anything!”

“Now, now, no time for drama. I thought you knew about Just Testing.” 

“Yeah,” she taps the tip of her white high-boots on the floor in slight annoyance. “but I also thought that you’d make an exception, because, you know, I’m here today.”

The implicitness in her tone leaves you stunned. She is demanding of people she has never met before, and it’s a natural thing for her. For her, the concept of rudeness seems to only apply to others—she is Wonyoung after all, she deserves everything. This attitude must have been in the making for quite some time, otherwise she wouldn’t have killed with it in her three debut videos, all high quality, all with guys whimpering and cumming all over themselves. 

Begs the question if her manager told her that you are different from them.

“Oh,” you say surprised and scratch your chin in exaggerated wonder. “So you think that I would dress up right after shooting with, let’s see, ten different women, who couldn’t care less about clothing while we—”

“Are you done?” Wonyoung interrupts, her voice firm and more than slightly annoyed now. She crosses her arms and the handbag slides from her shoulder down to the crook of her elbow. Something about this posture empowers not only her bitchy attitude, but also your desire to, let’s say change it. 

“Why should I be done?” you ask and mimic her posture, though you could never do it with such confident indignation. 

“You think too much, you talk too much. I’d rather have my male colleagues be quiet.”

Like the arrows fired by a skilled archer, your arms find Wonyoung’s slender frame, more accurately, her pits, and you lift her up easily. Enough with her looking down at you when she is literally twenty centimeters smaller. Enough with her inflated ego when she is literally the skinniest woman you’ve seen today. Enough with her spoiled-princess attitude when she is literally begging for your ruining rod—well, she isn’t yet, but you can change that.

“What the fuck are you—hey!”

Turn to the mirror and press her against it. Wonyoung flails and kicks around with her high boots, but she is too high up to reach the ground. Make sure to keep her on exactly this level—below your eyes and above the ground. She is hovering in an uncomfortable limbo and by being so splendidly light, you can keep her there all day long.

“Should I answer your question?” you snark at her livid face. “Or would that be ‘talking too much’?”

“You pathetic, pathetic little creature!” Wonyoung barks back and slams her fists onto your biceps repeatedly. “You have nothing on me—”

“Oh, Wony, you have no idea. This is not school or college where you can bully the smaller girls and get away with it because of your looks. This is also not your debut video, where you get what you want. No. This time, I am the bully.

“Now strip.”

Silence, except for the cameraman scooting around you, filming the enthralling scene with his keen eye for detail. Getting Wonyoung’s face on tape while she scrunches is an easy task, but showing your erect cock poking her abdomen in the same frame is true craftsmanship. 

“How dare yo—”

“Strip, Wony.”

“Don’t call me tha—”

“Then beg. Beg me to put you down again and I’ll call you by your full name, bitchy-princess.”

Wonyoung fights back, harder than before, but her punches are still laughable and her kicks don’t land where she wants them to land. To make her situation even more desperate, you press yourself against her, putting an end to her efforts. The only thing that can free her are those dreadful words that would poison her prideful character.

“Fuck you,” she mouths. “How the hell am I supposed to strip like this?”

“What? You think just because you’re suspended in the air you can’t open the buttons on your suit? I never thought you were this stupid, Wony.”

Though totally unwilling, Wonyoung starts to get the tips of her long fingers to her buttons and pop them open to reveal a plain shirt underneath. After short hesitation and an exasperated eye roll, she goes for the second rows of buttons, opening them slower and slower until she almost stops. 

“Go on,” you say and pin her harder to the mirror. “Or do you need help?”

“Ts, you would ne—”

Wonyoung doesn’t blink in the time it takes you to drop her down and tear open the rest of her shirt. A black lace bra hides her small tits, and it’s your turn to roll your eyes. There was no need to wear this many layers for a fucking porno shoot. Oh well, at least you can show Wonyoung and the viewers, who might have skipped the rest to just watch this scene that you’re still the protagonist of this show.

Pull at the bra and somewhere the fabric is unable to resist you. Wonyoung stumbles forward and you let her drop to the floor, straight into the crouching position intended for her. The opened suit and the tatters of her shirt slide down her shoulders, her hands fail to pull them back together to hide her pale collarbone. 

"Why are you so timid now?" you ask and let your fingers run through her hair. "Was all this bitchy attitude fake?"

Up to this point, Wonyoung has been consistent and predictable in her character, as you'd expect from a talented yet experienced rising star. So it really takes you by surprise when she suddenly switches things up and goes off script. She rids herself off the remaining clothes and uses her sudden nudity as a flashbang: too busy gawking at her stunning, slim and slutty frame, you can't stop her from wrapping her lips around your dick.

"What do you think you're doing?" 

"Making you beg. Consider it a deserved punishment."

First your butt, then your entire back firmly falls against the cold surface of the mirror. Wonyoung's tongue not only twirls around your tip, it also makes your head twirl. Your mind shortly spins, spins towards losing control, until you regain control with a rough pull at Wonyoung’s hair. Entangle it more while she cries in pain and has to back off.

“Ouch, fuck, fuck! It hurts, stop!” she screams and fights back the tears in her eyes.

“I said that this is not your debut,” you growl in anger and hit her shivering lips with your rod. “You don’t control anything, and if you don’t start acting like it, I’ll force you to.”

Force her, you do. In a single push you break past her puckered lips, into the depths of her mouth and against the barrier in her throat. Wonyoung flails as she panics, but you just pull her hair harder and begin to rhythmically fuck her face. Her small chin takes slaps from your full balls; after all, you need to make sure that she adjusts to every last inch of your cock. It also feels great to know that this young slut finally gets pulled off of her high horse, and what better way to do it then drag your nuts over her messy face.

“N-no, my-my mascara!” Wonyoung whimpers, but you only need to pull her jaw down a bit to see her tongue flop out and drool on the floor. Fuck her face again for a couple thrusts more so that the camera can catch her throat bulging and gags escaping. 

“You want to fix it?” you ask sarcastically and yank her head to the mirror. “Good thing that we have a mirror right here.”

Wonyoung cries more, the way you’ve ruined her make-up unbearable for her to look at. Instead of looking away however, she continues to stare at herself. She becomes passive, an observer to what you do to her body. The slaps of your cock on her increasingly glossy lips and puffy face don’t affect her, the hair pulling is nothing but a hot visual and the way she deepthroats you makes her pussy twitch. 

“I don’t think you need fixing,” you groan while you poke the inside of her cheek with more gentle thrusts. You join her and the camera by inspecting her top to bottom, from dazed orbs across a small chest to her white boots. Wonyoung has started to spread her legs, hence the incredible view of her prominent abs and tight-looking pussy. 

“Ah, fuck it.”

Smash Wonyoung’s head down on your phallus. The unexpected vigor makes her lose her footing. She falls to her knees, but you continue to slam her down, make her gawk on you. Wonyoung has resigned herself to your heartless, reckless use of her throat and gags mindlessly. Like a fleshlight you jerk her onto you with one thing in mind: a quick climax. 

You have already filmed so much content, had many asses or faces to fuck and maybe fill, but it is only now that you want to finish quickly. The bickering with Wonyoung has been long enough. She has somewhat learned her place, and you want to make sure it sticks in her mind, so you got to give her something sticky. 

The edging session by the nameless girl from before has you hesitant for long enough that you don’t cum deep in Wonyoung’s throat, but in her mouth. Sperm shoots out of you, fills her feisty cheeks and then oozes through the tiny gaps on each side of your cock. Wonyoung is crazy enough to suck some of it in, so you pull out to make her an absolute mess. An avalanche of pearly white runs down her chin and chest, down to her navel. It doesn’t happen in one go, but two, three, four spurts while Wonyoung struggles to swallow and instead gurgles it up.

“You disgusting whore.”

“I-I did not—fuck, there’s s-so much of it.”

“Welcome to being a cum slut, Wony. Next time, I’ll make sure that your cunt looks just like your mouth right now. Fits you better than the bitchy-princess-thing you’re trying to pull.”

You clean your cock by rubbing it over her forehead. Wonyoung’s entire being is frozen, no response, no emotions, no attempts to clean up. Is it still acting at this point? Who knows, it fits what you were going for in this scene. Although you’d really like to hear her thoughts (and maybe get her number), you don’t have time right now. The other cameraman is already filming you walking down the marble hallway, while the co-host walks up to you with applause.

"Bravo! This must be a new record. In such little time you have tested one, two three, four, five, six, seven—"

"Eleven," you interrupt him. "Eleven sessions of testing."

"Which is amazing, but are you up for the challenge and ready to continue right now?" He looks at you expectantly, but you just walk past him with determination.

"It seems that you don’t know me. Of course I’m ready.”

“Splendid. Please follow me outside and listen closely because we will spice things up a bit.” You follow him closely through the familiar dressing room and then an inconspicuous door you haven’t noticed during your preparations. “Are you familiar with our Role Playing Game?”

“The game where you give a prompt and I have to adapt my behavior to it?”

“Exactly. I need you to be focused, because we will play four rapid fire rounds,” he says, the last doorknob firmly in his hand. “Right behind this metal door, is the outside. Don’t worry, we have guaranteed privacy—”

“Dammit—I mean…”

That one was for the show, though you have to admit that public sex with the possibility of someone catching you and either getting extremely flustered, angry or aroused is a huge turn-on for you. But these companies always make sure to rent private property, hidden gardens or those fake buses for the shootings. No one will even sniff a hint of the juices your going to fuck out of the women on the next view sets.

“Well then, too bad for you,” the co-host brings you back from your dreams and starts to read from his cue card. “Here is the first prompt: Never having played golf before.

“And action!”

Push through the door and get greeted by the bright, warm rays of sunlight beaming from above. Beneath your bare toes, the cold marble from before pales in comparison to the soft grass you now walk on. It’s not any kind of grass either; it’s the light green grass of a tiny golf course, complete with starting spot, sand bunker and putting green. On said putting green lies a woman in a green and white golfing outfit, surrounded by a colorful palette of golf balls. She holds a golfing club upside down in one hand, the other suddenly points at you.

“You there!” she shouts. “Come here, I need your help.”

“How can I help you, Miss…”

“I’m Sooyoung and I have a confession to make: I have no idea how to play golf, but I’d really like to try.”

“Well,” you say awkwardly and scratch the back of your head. “I only know the basics of golf, so I might not be a big help, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sooyoung cheerfully smiles, fitting for her pretty features. “We’ll find out together. I believe you are a big help already. Tell me what you know.”

“I think golf is about putting something into a hole,” you claim and then claim the position behind Sooyoung.

“Hm, there is a hole right here,” Sooyoung notes as she gathers the balls around her in sweeping motions of her arm and then hastily rolls them into the deep golfing hole. “But it’s already stuffed.”

“Well, here is a hole that is not yet stuffed.” Pull up the hem of Sooyoung’s skirt and spread her cheeks to reveal a puckered, clenching entrance. “Maybe this is the correct one.”

“You should go first. You’re the sexper—I mean expert on gol-f-ing.”

Sooyoung has a special place in your heart already. Her lines on paper were underwhelming, but the way she casually rolls them off of her tongue has you enjoying things until now. Her initial moans only increase the respect you have for her, as they sound more like someone being in awe because they're seeing their favorite sport for the first time than someone getting her ass penetrated. Her experience in acting shows.

“Oh damn,” she giggles. “So this is golfing. I-I think I have to get used to it first.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised too. I did not know the hole would actually keep it inside. I thought you could just pull out and play again.”

“Maybe noobs have to live with only playing one round~”

What a perfect tease, you can’t deny that. Not bitchy and demanding, more a challenge to spur you on and get the best out of you. Sooyoung is somewhat like a coach that fires you up—what fires you up further is her tight asshole relaxing, getting ready for a couple more rounds.

“Well, I think I have to repeatedly train to go from noob to a respectable amateur,” you groan and start to move your hips up and down in a pistoning motion. 

“Yes, yes! L-let’s train together to have more fun at golfing.”

Sooyoung gradually sways her ass thus you poke all over her insides. She finds a spot that she likes your cock to violate and pulls her cheeks apart to announce it. Something about ‘a bigger hole makes playing easier’ was in the script, but the two of you are too caught up in pleasure to add it here. That does not mean that Sooyoung has given up on playing her role yet.

“Oh yes! I-I think you just got a hole-in-one!”

“That do-does… is… not on par with my golf knowledge.”

Sooyoung digs her teeth into her lip to not laugh, not cum at exactly this moment. Unfortunately for her, you have different plans and drill your cock a faster than she was able to handle before. The woman below you rocks back and forth on the grass, both sets of lips leaking. It’s a last second orgasm for her because—

“Round 1 is over” the co-host mouths barely in your field of view. You pull your cock out of Sooyoung’s ass and don’t fight the urge to give her cheeks tiny slaps with your cock. After that, the crew is already urging you to move away from the golfing course. Your co-host points to a spot behind what is supposed to look like the hidden corner of a school yard with hedge-like bushes, construction fences and trash baskets. 

“The second prompt,” the co-host shouts from behind the cameras. “A sexual agreement, gone wrong!”

Get into character. Hide behind the bushes and look for anyone who might pass by. Every movement, may it be just a gust of wind, makes you jump. You’re on your toes, ready to run away if one of the professors passes by. Luckily, you don’t have to wait any longer. 

“Sorry,” a girl dressed in tight, rebellious attire, a short red skirt and a cropped varsity jacket whimpers in between huffs and puffs. Her take on the local school uniform must leave every professor speechless and enraged. “I got scolded by the math prof and she just didn’t stop.”

“Jeez, at least try to sneak here,” you scold here while putting a construction fence next to the wall as an extra barrier. “What if someone saw you. Gaeul, I swear to God, these bitches have a bad influence on you,”

“Oh, and you don’t, huh?” Gaeul crosses her arms. “And don’t call them bitches, okay? Yujin and Liz are my friends!”

“They are tyrants and only see you as a minion to do their stuff. How many times have you gotten in trouble for them?” Gaeul stays silent, looking at you angrily, though there is a hint of longing in her eyes. “See, I told you they were no good.”

“You’re no good either. Look what we’re about to do.”

“But it was your idea, Gaeul. I didn’t ask you to eat your pussy after classes.”

Gaeul rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue at your words. A faint blush on her cheeks however betrays her. You have no doubt that she is greedy to get your tongue inside her. You love her for this confidence and you despise that she always gets away with it.

“So? Will you finally eat me, pretty please?” Gaeul tries to imitate the shy virgin she surely isn’t and you’ve had it with her antics. Watch her put a finger into her short hair, it’s color the same as the hazelnuts underneath your toes, and curl the hair playfully. You want to do the same.

“Nah, I’m actually pretty pissed,” you tell her and step closer. “So how about we play rock, paper, scissors. One round, whoever loses has to pleasure the other first.”

“You mean to tell me that I have to suck you off?”

“Can’t be that weird to you, considering what we do so often—or are you scared to get caught with cock in your pretty little mouth?”

“N-no, of course not,” Gauel stutters and pulls the finger out of her messy hair. “I’ll win anyways.”

A tense face off, both contestants have their fists stretched from their body. As the rhythmic saying starts, they both swing their arms side to side rapidly until the final word reaches its final syllable and the two hands explode into their respective symbols—that’s probably how a commentator would describe the match.

Gaeul has two of her fingers spread apart to show scissors. You on the other hand kept your fist compacted in a solid block. Your rock smashes Gaeul’s unstable scissors, though she tries to stab you with them by going to town on your chest.

“You. Fucking. Bastard.”

“Calm down, I’ll eat you out afterwards. Now stop being a sore loser and get down.”

Make sure she can only keep eye contact while starring skywards. The height difference is incredible, Gaeul can’t help but gulp. But maybe that gulp was because she puts her hand under your cock and cannot imagine it fitting inside her mouth. 

“F-fine.”

Gaeul hesitantly squats down, gives you a glance that speaks volumes to how much she just wants to get licked and tongue fucked. She puts a lot on the line for your wet muscles entering her cunty-cave and wiggling inside it. She might not look forward to a big career after college life is over, but she still has a strong sense of honor and cares for her public perception. Getting caught like this is a substantial risk.

Gaeul slowly opens her mouth, your cock resting on her lower lip. Deep breaths widen and narrow her nostrils, her hands don’t know what to hold onto. In your bedroom, she is not this cautious and her pace is far from that of a fucking snail, so you get a hold of her head and push her onto your rod.

“My God, Gaeul,” you groan, finally not the dry air, but gentle wetness around your tip. “You’re getting on my nerves. Do it on your own, or you can forget about the agreement.”

Your hands get swatted away and in rage, Gaeul bops her head up and down over the first third of your cock. This is much more to your liking, similar to how fast she does it while you’re sitting on your bed. If she continues and you get a sweet release, she certainly qualifies for passionate nibbles around her clit, while you do everything in your power to make her drown you in sweet girl-cum.

God, Gaeul tastes so damn sweet, you could talk about it all day every day, but at this moment, your mind is too occupied with focusing on her taking more inches with slower bops. Gaeul gurgles and spits, a sudden gust of wind forces goosebumps all over your skin. Coldness on your cock, then the warm mouth, is she planning this?

“Fuck, this is good,” you coo and try to pat Gaeul’s beautiful short hair, but she stares you down, her gaze a great threat, although you don’t know what she could actually do to you. You’re a lot taller, stronger, calculated—but she has her teeth very close to your cock. Makes you think.

“Excuse me, hello? What are you doing there?”

Oh fuck, someone found you. You peek over the hedge and see a professor of almost equal height look right back at you. He approaches the hedge from the other side with this cliche look of an angry, unstable teacher approaching what they assume is students breaking rules—and you’re not only breaking petty rules, but also damn laws.

Gaeul has a natural reaction and hopes to quickly get you out of her mouth and try to look as innocent as possible, which is absolutely futile because you're fully naked and you actually reach for the back of her head. ‘What are you fucking doing?’ her eyes scream when you shove her back down until the professor reaches the construction fence.

“You kids these days think you’re allowed to do anything, huh?” 

He frantically shakes the metal beams as your legs copy their motions, but before you can cream into Gaeul’s still sloppily licking mouth, you have to abort everything. Get out of Gaeul, out of the unveiled hideout, out of the scene. 

“The third prompt,” the co-host announces in something resembling euphoria as he pulls your arm to a camping van. “Trying to sell a van in only one minute!”

There is no time to breathe, it all has to happen fast. To switch from one character to the other might be well-prepared, but you can never underestimate how hard it actually is. Turn to the camera, treat it like a person you’re trying to convince, like you’re selling them a motorized vehicle, not the illusion that is this video. 

“This van is our flagship product. It comes in two colors: black and silver, but I’m sure you do not care about the exterior. Height, width and weight are all in the manual that you will get later on. The real gem of this model is inside it. Please follow me.”

Step up a tiny ladder into the van’s cozy interior, with a tiny kitchen area in the back, an even smaller toilet room in the back and a mattress that basically fills out the rest. No one would be convinced that this design is sensical or practical at all, if it wasn’t for the naked woman lying on top of the mattress.

“This van has got everything, but I’m sure you have heard this phrase everywhere, so I will tell you why exactly our product is superior. If you travel the world as two or three or maybe even four, you have enough space to sleep on and do other activities, like this.”

You climb up on the bed and give Hwasa’s fat ass a couple of rubs before you find her familiar hole and drill yourself inside. You know from previous sessions with her that anal makes her hum for some reason and that these hums suddenly turn to deep, deadly groans, which could either scare the customer off or attract them even more. Anyways, you don’t have time, so speed up.

“No matter how hard you like to do it, no matter—oh fuck—how loud you are, no one will hear you. Imagine being alone in the woods, loving the sun, nature, life itself—and then fucking your brains out like rabbits. You get what I mean? Isn’t this feeling worth so much?”

For the camera, you’re begging the customer for money. In your head, you’re begging for Hwasa’s butthole to not squeeze you too tightly. She wrings out so many men, has them cum all over her smooth, sun-kissed skin, but for you she is extra tight. At this point you might be stuck, and you’re not talking about what’s next in the script.

Your hands move to Hwasa’s shoulder, pin her down while you jackhammer her hole deep, widen it with the entire circumference of your dick to the point the van starts to vibrate throughout. Suddenly, the camera slowly backs off. You should give the customer a final catchphrase to make sure they’ll call back soon to get the van and all its features. Hwasa fights the script and wraps one of her strong arms around your neck to keep you right there, motionless inside her for a few seconds longer.

“F-fuck, I need to—”

“Fuck the director, really,” Hwasa groans back, but you can’t stay. No, no, no, you really can’t, yet it’s quite scary to tell her that. Given that she is small, you can just run away—again. Storm out of the van under the angry roar of Hwasa, right to the awaiting co-host.

“Prompt four?” you ask, pretending to be joking and out of breath.

“Well, yeah, there is a fourth prompt. Right at this wall.”

He points to one of the outside walls of the hotel, which has been painted to resemble… something. You actually care too little about this detail, the hard cobblestones below you are a much bigger issue to you. They feel uncomfortable to stand on. At least you can rely on your fellow actress to deliver. She’s already leaning on the colorful stripes painted on the wall’s paneling, immersed in her role. 

“The fourth prompt: the rent is due and she has no money. Go!”

“Hey, Ms. Wang!” You jump into character without warning, making Yiren’s shocked reaction a genuine one. “You’re late on your payment, again. This is the third time already this year, for fucks sake, it’s not even June yet!”

“Please calm down, y-you will get it soon,” Yiren tries to bargain for more time. She tends to get out of trouble with her charms, her cute, small face for example, but she has crossed all of your red lines already. She will pay up now or suffer the consequences, legal or illegal ones.

“No, I wanted it a week ago. You know I give everyone an extra week all the time, but you’re the only one who needs it regularly, and today I’ve had it. I woke up, checked the bank, and you still haven’t paid! This is the last straw, Ms. Wang.”

“I-I’m sorry, okay? It’s been rough, I couldn’t get the mon—”

“We had an agreement! Fuck it, either you leave until Friday or I’ll kick you out myself.”

“No, please!” Yiren drops to her knees and lowers her head. “Please don’t kick me out, I-I can only stay here!”

“I don’t want to hear any weak excuses, I just want my money,” you groan and turn away from her. 

“I don’t have any money. Y-you can check, it’s all gone.”

“Then you should leave, Ms. Wang, no need to make this ugly.”

“I-is there no way…”

Yiren looks up to you with perfect timing to catch your gaze at her mesmerizingly marvelous features.

“...I can pay you differently this time?”

“What do you mean?” 

Raise an eyebrow when Yiren begins to squat before you and grins lewdly. 

“I can make you want me forever. All I need is this.”

Her fingers go for your base, they glide alongside it, then down to your balls. Wordlessly, she then adds her lips to them, only for a moment, until she wanders to your thigh and places kisses all over it. To show approval, you rake her slightly damp hair with your sweaty hand. An odor of strawberry and salt faintly stimulates your senses. Yiren was in the shower not too long ago, she is a lot cleaner than you are. Go figure, after fourteen scenes a couple of scents are bound to stick on you like a layer of lustful perfume. 

“This is indeed good,” you whisper and nod in the pattern Yiren strokes your base. “But it’s not yet worth the rent of your flat.”

“I haven’t even started yet, Sir.”

A final kiss on your now lipstick-covered thigh, then Yiren jumps to your tip to proceed with the much smaller, much more sensitive surface. Her delicate strawberry lips part a little for the smooches she so tenderly uses to get your blood out of your head into your head. It’s very effective.

“Wow, I did not know you could suck cock like a hungry whore.”

“How did you think I make my money?”

“Honest work?”

Yiren chuckles. It’s adorable, her outer appearance as a whole is, but apparently the rumors about her were true. As her landlord, it could cost you a lot of money if you keep falling for her skills after this one session. Maybe it’s her strategy to get new customers, and you have fallen for it like a fool.

“Wait a second,” you hiss just when Yiren is about to suck you in deeper. “Why didn’t you just make money then? Who would reject such a woman if she was offering herself.”

Yiren simply shrugs.

“I was just lazy, I guess. This cock right here will save me so much money.”

“And what if you’re all talk and I say you haven’t deserved it yet.”

“That’s not going to happen, Sir.”

Is Yiren really up to the challenge? To say that the answer is a doubtless ‘yes’ is still an understatement to how fucking good she actually is. Millions of people have rolled their tongue along and around a swollen glans, yet none have mastered it the way this chinese beauty has. Everywhere her tongue touches, it doesn’t matter if it’s the underside or the topside, bursts of pleasure electrify your nervous system. 

“Oh, shit.”

Take a step back, search for the wall with your hand to find stability during Yiren’s knee-shaking, mind-melting blowjob. There is not much to see for everyone watching this, thus you have to go all out with your reactions. You know Yiren is not the best at taking it deep down, you have to work around it; luckily, she knows how to.

“I see you like it?” Yiren laughs with casual confidence, slapping you against her lips before finding your balls with them. Your cock rests upon her forehead, yet her eyes still try to stare at it. She crosses them while slobbering all over your perineum area. “Isn’t this so much better than rent?”

“You fucking hooker, fuck,” you groan with no need to exaggerate your volume for the cameras which capture both your and Yiren’s point of view perfectly. It’s going to end up in a wild porno, however you can’t deny the craftsmanship that goes into getting the pictures. Ah, don’t kid yourself: if it weren’t for all these girls being so hot and your dick being this long, no one would spend their hard earned money on this.

“Our customer service can also finish the job,” Yiren says with the voice of a skilled saleswoman, her skilled hands giving you a sample of what she can provide.

“I-I think I’ll have to come back then.”

“Does this mean you’re satisfied with the new way of collecting rent?”

“Ah, fuck, yes. Fuck you, you fucking hooker.”

A cheerful eye-smile and a pop to free your sack ends the scene with Yiren. Your stint of acting while acting was a short, stamina-draining one, though the self-immersion in these dumb characters has helped you keep the second load for later. These four vixen might have been great, but ‘cumming without control’ was never part of any of the prompts. Those viewers who like to see an orgasm to finish themselves off still have to wait and edge. Good boys and girls. 

“Are we going back in?” you ask the co-host who skips towards an emergency door on the far end of the hotel.

“Yes, yes! We, no, you have so much left to test. Please go to the booth on the right.”

He is filled with a sense of hype, maybe it’s all the sex clouding his mind in horniness. As long as he does his job, there should be no problem. You do as he says, finding a booth about the size of the rooms from before. There is a huge lamp on the ceiling for proper lighting and a cozy carpet on the floor for proper testing. It has the color and smell of lavender—or is it the girl under the lamp that smells like the famous flower? 

“Nice to meet you,” you greet the girl with her lavender colored lips and skirt, though the tightly wrapped piece of clothing is a stronger shade of purple. It resembles lavender the best, now that you think about it.

“H-hi,” she stutters and waves her hand in tiny. “My n-name is Rei, I’m from Ja-Japan.”

“You are a very attractive woman, Rei, the make-up looks great on you, just like the buns.” You flood her with compliments, your charm does the rest. Rei’s tense shoulders relax a bit, and they stay relaxed when you step closer to her, 

“Th-thank you, that’s very nice of you.”

“Are you nervous?”

Rei’s trembling hands move to the hem of her skirt and she loosens it to show her hairy pussy. Her thighs are too big, they keep the skirt from falling all the way down. 

“A bit, yes, but I really want this.”

Rei points to your cock which starts to poke her tummy, a few centimeters above her hidden clit. You place your hands on her sides and delicately spin her around. To your surprise, Rei not only has monumental breasts, which sadly are not your focus today, her buttocks are also round and firm, definitely well-trained. 

“You’re excited?” you ask her, fingers running circles on her ass. “I know I am, your body is very ruinable, perfect for testing.”

“Y-yes. Pl-please be gentle with m-my a-ass.”

“I will, trust me. Just relax and lay down.”

Rei’s curvaceous body sinks into the thick, fluffy carpet, which, to your surprise, might actually work very well as a surface to fuck on. Align yourself with Rei’s booty, which could also be described as thick and fluffy, and before penetrating her tight ring, you lean close to her ear.

“You’re still not fully relaxed, Rei,” you coo, your thumb drawing circles on her painted cheek. 

“I-I’m trying—”

“Don’t try. Take deep breaths. Tell me what you like, and we can make it work, hm?”

Rei takes deep breaths under your touch, her bountiful bosom heaves for what could be an amazing visual. The camera only catches her cleavage and her tongue starting to protrude from her lips.

“I la-la-la-like my tongue being played with,” Rei hums timidly, but you show no hesitation and move your fingers inside her mouth. Wiggle her tongue in between them and feel her hot breath graze them while you graze the immaculate ass crack. 

With a reminder to be gentle, you insert yourself into Rei. About half of your cock fits inside of her, then she starts to bite down on your fingers. You hiss, but try not to make too much of a show out of it. With slow thrusts you let her asshole get used to the new sensation that is your length and width. 

Rei’s expression must be one for the ages, as the cameraman filming her face seems absolutely thrilled about the footage he is getting. It might just be Rei’s charm or make-up, who knows what these crazy guys like. They have seen it all, over and over again, to the point where they can only feel something when you hit them with a baseball bat.

“How does it feel, Rei?” you ask her without stopping your rhythm-less short thrusts.

“V-very big, very good, ah! I-I can feel all of you.”

“But… I’m not even all the way in.”

“What?”

You feel Rei’s jaw drop and take the opportunity to explore her mouth more. Your fingers roam and fiddle everything they can find, making Rei fall into a haze. 

“Should I put it all the way in?” 

You hold yourself back from slamming down, waiting for Rei to groan her response past your fingers. It’s to your liking.

“Yesh, pleash. I can tak it.”

Can’t deny a lady her request, especially not one so urgent and easy to fulfill. With pleasure your tip searches for your pleasure, her pleasure, in an apparently endless cavern of pressure—it’s not the first you’ve explored today. They are all unique, special in their own way, narrow goodness that engrains onto the skin of your thoroughly used cock.

“You’re doing so good, Rei, I’m so proud of you. Having sex on a carpet is great, but you made it unforgettable.”

“Th—ha, oh my~” 

Swear to God you slipped. No, really, you wanted to retreat from the darkest part of the cavern, but then your knee was unstable on the carpet and you gave Rei a hard jolt. It luckily ended in her moaning stupidly and not flailing and crying. 

“I think I’ll have to pull out, sorry about that.”

“I-I love it, th-thank you!”

Another girl you made addicted to anal; it’s a great feeling to convey to an unsuspecting, silly audience who at this point has surely lost their mind at the insane length and scope of this episode. You will treat them to so much more, which is why you hurry to find the next actress. 

You begin to recognize her from afar, the long, slender frame, covered in torn fishnets and overall skimpy clothing. Her lips are crimson red, her tied-up hair black and blonde—

—the massive choker around her throat is the final detail, absolutely crucial to your kinky plan.

“There will never be a day where I am not ready to fuck you, Yoohyeon.”

“Wow,” she replies in shock. “I have never been greeted this rudely. Have these girls made you stupid?”

“Get down and pray that these shoes will keep you from falling, because I won’t.”

You reach for the back of her choker and roughly yank it. In short bursts Yoohyeon loses her connection to the fresh air surrounding her. Things get worse for her oxygen flow when you shove your cock into her mouth without interrupting the strangulation. 

Instantaneously, Yoohyeon is a crying, gagging mess, her humanity turned off in favor of the primal instinct to survive. However, she is not strong enough to break free, your cock is like a constant pendulum swinging deep into her throat. From the outside, the ring of her choker helps you with stimulation. It presses right on your slit, milking some of your clear and salty precum out. 

“If your girl is a freak like Yoohyeon,” you address the camera, still lost in Yoohyeon’s empty, glassy gaze. “Make sure to switch, switch, switch things up. Become unhinged, unpredictable, unstoppable. Do stuff like this!”

Grab Yoohyeon’s ponytail and rapidly move her head in circles, creating a wet tornado of saliva when you pull out. The constant forced motion makes it fly everywhere. Yoohyeon voices her dizziness with shrieks, which will not become words.

“Or this.”

Smack her right cheek with the back of your hand, it slips right off due to all the tears and runny make-up. This time, you not only shove your cock all the way in, you also move forward. Yoohyeon has to lean backwards further then she ever has during her face fucks. Her many scenes did not prepare her for this, her large boots start to lose her grip.

“Show her your new side and why you’re special,” you end your demonstration and the camera catches how Yoohyeon falls over, free from your filling cock, searching for air. Before she can complain or ask for more, you must flee.

Sneak away, around the corner, it’s just a couple of steps into what appears to be a dark alley. Three beds are placed on one side, different sizes, different styles, and opposite of them are three very different doors. One looks like it leads to the room of a young, single woman still living with her parents. She is too lazy to change the pink door with the Hello Kitty stickers from her childhood, so it stays. The second door has a hostel vibe to it. Brown color has been painted on it and now flakes off along with the century old mold below it. The last door looks like it has been stolen out of a world famous hotel. It’s the color of marble, has gold ornaments neatly spread around and the number ‘30’ is in the center of it. 

“What the fuck is this?” you think out loud, hearing the footsteps of multiple people behind you.

“Hey, y-you’re too quick,” the co-host complains from behind. “Let me explain what’s about to happen here.”

“I’m all ears. Seriously though, why can’t we just go back to the real hotel rooms? Did you really have to steal a door from the hostel across the street? And what about the—”

“A-nyways!” the co-host interjects with an awkward laugh and swipes his hands like windshield wipers. “We need your expert opinion on these three models. Their sheets are the same, the differences not as obvious—”

“What are you talking about?” you complain. “You don’t need an expert for this. We have a big bed, then a small bed and then a bigger bed, end of story.”

“J-just lay down on the first one, you’ll get it very soon.”

You cut some corners in the dialogue, which is mostly because you didn’t want to torture the dear viewers with terrible jokes—something with bet, bad and bed, makes you want to throw your career away. Without further instructions you climb into the first bed, wrap yourself in a blanket and pretend to sleep. Yup, this is a bed alright. Literally your everyday bed, nothing too fancy, nothing that could annoy you. 

“Okay what do you want me to say about this?” The camera catches your annoyed eye-roll. “Am I test-sleeping now?”

“Far from it. Yena, it’s your turn.”

The pink door opens, a girl in a white hoodie and short, plaid skirt walks into the scene and before you can blink twice, she is in the bed with you, pretending to use it like it’s hers. For a minute you watch her, as she plays on her phone, rolls around a bit and then suddenly decides to fiddle her panties out from underneath the skirt. 

You see erotic videos pop up on her phone screen. Yena starts to caress her thighs, rub the shaven area near her clit, never daring to go all in. She bites her lips as overacted moans screech from the old speakers on her phone. This is not doing it for her—even the overstimulated consumer who is still watching your video knows. Luckily, she has what she needs right behind her.

Wordlessly, you bunch up her skirt and search for her puckered hole. Yena instinctively lifts up one of her legs. She winks at you before her mouth opens wide in a moan that echoes through the hallway. Finally she has what the women on the screen have: a large cock in her ass. In the video she basically sees what’s happening to her rectum. You stretch it apart, widen her hole, a new entrance for pleasure.

“What are you waiting for?” you devilishly growl into Yena’s ear. “Use your fingers, and I’ll promise that you’ll cum harder than her.”

It is with ridiculously perfect timing (like there was a script) that the porn star on Yena’s screen loses control of her body, it rocks and jerks in all directions as the cock stops fucking into it. You know that Yena takes a close look at the actress's face, covered in sweat and happiness when her fingers dive to her clit.

“Yes, please, make me cum,” she begs, out of breath from her own touch, your pelvis hitting her butt and your cock stuffing her hole. 

Reach for the leg Yena struggles to keep up in the air and use it as a lever to slam faster into her. Meanwhile Yena’s fingers are eager to quickly send her over the edge in what can only be described as the best of two worlds. Her small, cute thumb is slow and soft, treating her clit with utmost care, while the rest plunges and curls inside her wetness recklessly, harsher than you would allow yourself to treat her. You can even feel her rub you from the other side and figure that you’re just a prop now, a dildo for Yena to masturbate with. 

“Ah, I’m so close, God, I’m cuuuuummmmmiiiiing!”

Okay, she definitely watched too much porn and read the wrong kind of fanfiction to have such a ludicrous, forced reaction. You’re not here to judge her, so you hold her slutty waist steady and thrust up until Yena’s body mimics that of her idols. She trembles uncontrollably, moans, screams, her eyes roll back—the entire porno-package—basically your life in a nutshell. 

“Finger yourself stupid,” you command. Yena does not notice that you're suddenly absent from her gaping hole, she is too engaged in what she can do to herself without anyone’s assistance. The crew films glimpses of Yena still going at it, cunt pierced open, clit hard and clearly protruding. 

“No, I’m cuuuummming agaainnnnnnnn, ahhhhhh!”

That’s enough for you. Jump onto the next bed without much care, it creaks and squeaks, the springs feel old and used. This won’t be the first time someone fucks on this mattress. At least they changed the sheets before letting you test it. You also can’t deny their attention to detail: this bed clearly fits the vibe and feel of an old, suspicious hostel.

“This is not comfortable, ouch,” you whine to the camera, half acted, half serious. “No one intended that two people would use this bed at the same time, but at the same time I really think that no one ever slept here alone. If they did, poor soul.”

“What if we let you sleep in there alone?” the co-host asks and wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m just kidding—”

“And I’m just testing!” 

Kill me. Not now, but after this shoot, make sure to shoot me.

“Sua, it’s your turn!”

The ancient door opens, a woman in a yellow crop top and a skirt with teddy bears and blueberry muffins printed on it walks into the scene and before you can blink twice, she is in the bed with you, pretending to use it like she’s owning it for the night. For a minute you watch her, the toned muscles on her back, her biceps, her spotless legs, until she pulls dark glasses out of her even darker hair. 

“You know what beds like this and nights like these are for,” she suddenly sighs, putting the glasses on her pointy nose. “Don’t keep me waiting, boy, or I’ll make you see stars.”

The contortion of disgust on Sua’s features make her already attractive face an illegal amount hotter. The glasses add a surprising touch, the pictures really do not do her justice. Move your hands underneath the shorts and they are no more, discarded in the room like Yena, who still masturbates. 

“This is better,” Sua hums, nodding in approval at the alignment of your erection. “Come, give me a kiss.”

Natural is the way your lips go down to get hers. Sua has the tone of a demanding teacher, who uses strictness and rewards to get the best out of her disciples. The notion of being above her because you have a greater pool of experience fades when she takes the lead. Your thrusts, their strength and their speed are under Sua’s full control. 

“Lower. Lower. No, not there.”

She smacks your collarbone, threatens to pull you down by the throat if you don’t get your act together. The bed is long forgotten, Sua’s pleasure comes first. To hear her moan is a completely different feeling, the gratification not connected to the tightness around your rod, but the knowledge that you’re doing it right.

“That’s the spot, yes.”

“Should I go faster?”

“A little bit. Be careful not to slip out.”

“I won’t.”

Things are a lot calmer, quieter, not the kind of content you usually produce. Being approved by the producers, you trust that this is what at least someone likes to see: slow sex, low moans, hands respectfully resting on the other's body—and of course Yena’s sounds of blissful self-love in the background.

“I won’t say a positive thing about this shitty bed,” you speak towards one of the microphones, noticing that the cameramen are occupied with getting Sua’s ass and her face on tape. “I can only say positive things about this woman though, she—”

“Shhh, I don’t want to hear it. Keep on fucking, that’s a lot better.”

She is goddamn right, it is better. Sometimes even a talking head like you has to shut up and do the part of your job you’re actually good at. Your muscles start to feel the wear and tear of the intense session you’ve powered through to get here. Sua’s wish for you to keep the same pattern does not help, you need some way to let loose, or else your stamina will run out before you’ve reached the end.

“Fuck it, I’m going in!” a voice suddenly shouts from another room. Though it may be subdued, you can hear the neediness in it. 

The luxurious door opens, a woman in a thin, way too short emerald dress and beige high-heels walks into the scene and before you can blink twice, she is in the bed next to you, combing her blonde strands with her hands. For a second you watch her and the bratty look of defiance on her face. 

‘Somi, get the fuck back here’ one of the crew members mouths, you see him flailing his arms angrily in the corner of your eye. Also in the corner of your eye is Somi sticking out her tongue to the guy, whose face turns every shade of red and blue until he gives up and leaves the set. Finally there is some chaos here, time to use your impromptu acting charm to save this mess.

“Excuse me for a second,” you whisper to Sua, stroking along her raven hair. “I have to do something asap. I’ll be back.”

“Sure,” she groans quietly.

“Hey, you!” you address Somi and walk along the massive bed. “Who are you and what are you doing on this bed?”

“I’m Somi.” A bitchy smirk. “And I have claimed this bed, sorry. First come first serve.”

“Unfortunately I have to test this, so do you mind getting off of it?”

Somi clicks her tongue and tries to look past you, but her eyes are drawn to the massive size of your glistening cock.

“I do mind, I’m not going to move and if you don’t get this fucking thing out of my face, I’ll call security.”

“You’re getting closer to it, Somi, I bet you can’t wait to have it inside of you.

“Let’s make a deal: I test the bed, while I fuck you prone.”

“Tempting,” Somi murmurs, nails tapping the side of your phallus. “I doubt that it will be fun though. Can you even satisfy me~?”

“Bitch, everyone can satisfy a bimbo like you.”

As soon as you get on top of the sheets, Somi takes a defensive position. She is on her back, the pointy end of her heels pointed dangerously close to your eyeball. The director, unable to influence the scene at this point, has his nervous, sweaty hands up in his hair. He knew all too well that Somi does what she wants and that her persona has to be tamed by another force on screen—you. After this, you’re going to ask for a fucking raise each time you’re forced to work overtime to control these fucking brats..

“Yes, keep looking at my pussy,” Somi purrs and pulls up her dress up to her waist. “But you can’t touch it. Touching is for men only~”

“Unimpressive, really.”

You form fists around Somi’s ankles. In a single powerful motion, you fold her in half, feet hovering next to her head. Somi yelps when her sizable ass is presented to you and she yelps again when you pull the laughable piece of clothing over her head. Through the messy strands of her disheveled hair, she can muster up no bratty reaction, not until you penetrate her asshole.

“Oh, you thought!” you shout out the moment Somi’s wrong hole becomes the definition of tightness. “You thought I’d fuck your pussy, but your oh-so pristine cunt has literally been fucked by a thousand guys—it’s loose!”

Smack Somi’s buttocks faster than you plunge in and out of her, make her ass turn redder than Yena’s and Sua’s faces as they watch from their respective beds. When you don’t spank Somi, your hands are too occupied with keeping her thin legs folded to do anything enjoyable, like grabbing her small waist or those massagable jugs. At first glance these perky tits look fake to you; it might just be the blur of pleasure though.

“Bimbo slut! Nice fake tits!”

“Y-you’re, ah, so, fuck, mean! Th-they are real!”

You lean forward, as far down as your flexibility allows, and spit and nibble all over Somi’s apparently real melons. Stare up at her, but the blonde has her chin up high, head thrown back. 

“Oh my God!” Somi grunts. “I’m so-so close, hng!”

“Is that so?” You completely stop every movement, balls deep inside. “Then admit it, say it out loud, ‘I’m a blonde bimbo slut’!”

“N-no—”

“Or you won’t cum.”

Somi twitches, the little fight left in her curvy frame gone like vapor in the wind in light of her approaching orgasm. She gleefully reaches for her own legs, holds them steady and gives you ample opportunity to finish the job. All you need is the code word.

“I’m a blonde bimbo slut, I’m a blonde bimbo slut, I’m a—oh shit, ah!”

Right on cue, you put some of your reserve energy into your lower body and do what you have done all day with insane power that makes your own mind spin aimlessly: fuck ass, rough and deep. Somi screams and squirts, both come out stupidly violent and then abate with time. She numbs your ears and drenches your crotch, the clear fluid shoots from her well-used cunt like a broken fountain and washes away the smells of all the other women. 

Somi is gorgeous and filthy, mixing both parts of what sex can be in one person who happens to fully focus on delivering on her bimbo image. It’s too late for her to rebrand, sadly, you’d totally try to feel her tits in a loving way, but who are you to complain?

A better question is: Where are you? 

Somi had you on the verge of cumming, which would go against your pride. To cum in a bimbo after only a few minutes is unacceptable. You had to edge yourself, take labored breaths, think of… unsexy things, otherwise the script writers would be disappointed. Ever since then, only flashes remain. Your co-host guiding you away, a familiar room, two, maybe three girls. One of them wears a cap—

You’re in her mouth. This is bad. She is already sucking, lazily, but it’s very good, holy fuck! Your efforts of holding back are ultimately too late. An earthquake hits your entire body, head to toes, to announce your eruption. Instead of rapid spurts it’s one uninterrupted beam of cum, vacuumed out of your balls. 

The girl is overstrained with your orgasm. She gags up the baby batter and it tumbles down her chin right onto her exposed nipples. The rest either makes its way down her throat or all over your dick, where it creates a sticky situation, slowly cascading downward.

“Ha, f-f—” the victim of your unwanted, overwhelming attack tries to catch her breath. “Wh-at the hell? Are you fucking stupid? Do you always cum in other people's mouths the second they touch your useless snake?”

“S-sorry, Seungyeon!”

Seungyeon makes you shout your apology, because her ruthless hands get a hold of your dirty dick and jerk you off without thinking about the painful overstimulation they are causing. Okay, no, she is definitely thinking about that, just in a rather heartless manner. You have to grit your teeth to not wince as she grinds your blood-filled, hyper sensitive cockhead in between her dry fingers. 

“Too late for any apologies, you can drop dead for all I care.”

“Please, Seungyeon-unnie, don’t kill him, I ne—I mean, that would be sad,” an angelic voice complains.

“Minjeong, you would understand if he did the same to you. Look at this fucking mess!” 

Seungyeon points at the white globs trailing down her body. Some of it pools in the gap between her massive honkers, creating a lake of fertility or some other unholy creation. Minjeong kindly smiles at the sight.

“Isn’t it fun, Unnie? The feeling of all the warm cum, avalanches of tasty semen on your toned skin and milky boobs.” 

Minjeong takes one of Seungyeon’s breasts into her mouth. In hunger she cleans them of any residue of your mishap, gleefully she swallows all of it, but only after showing it to you in her slutty mouth. The things you would do to her if you could.

“Fine, you can have his useless cock,” Seungyeon groans and hands Minjeong your semi-hard and burning manhood, like someone would pass their mic on stage. Instead of hitting fabulous high notes, the girl in her messy dark oak colored bun and fishnet stockings devours you like a treat. She nibbles off the remainders of white from you and in consequence forces you to loudly show your resignation.

"Stop, stop, please!" you wail. "I can't handle this, please, let me… let me rest."

To your surprise and delight, Minjeong not only has an angelic voice; her character at least somewhat mirrors the kind, heavenly being. She stops her movements completely, letting you rest inside her warm mouth. There is literally nothing you can do without the pain of overstimulation resurfacing again. Good thing that you don’t need to do anything to feel pleasure. 

This kind of kink is probably frustrating to watch, but frankly, for these few minutes you don’t give a damn. Should these horny fucks edge themselves while Minjeong’s adorable yet cock-hungry face fills the screen. You won’t budge, except for a hand that caresses the girl's bangs.

“This hair looks great on you, Minjeong.” 

If she could move her lips, they’d form a smile.

“You are quite the pretty girl.”

If she could talk, she’d say ‘thank you’.

“Also, thanks for cooperating. This was quite… unforeseen.”

“Keep your compliments to yourself,” Seungyeon snarks from the side and punches your hips with her balled fist. “You're such an idiot, you haven’t even greeted her yet.”

“Oh, no no!” another girl tenderly says, your eyes only now catching her. “It’s not my turn yet. I will wait.”

“What’s your name?” you ask, scanning her tiny frame. A denim two piece covers her private parts, her milky skin a perfect contrast, especially to her tight up black hair which seems to shimmer in blue. The most noticeable thing about her are her slender arms, tied up behind her back with the straps of handbags. 

“Yeojin.”

“Why are you tied up, Yeojin?”

“Because I want you to use my mouth as the teeny-teen fleshlight it is meant to be.”

A sentence like an aphrodisiac. The desire to plunge into something with your slightly sore dick returns. It overrides even the concerns for your stamina. Give credit where it’s due, Minjeong has done a fantastic job in keeping you warm until now, but Yeojin is what sends you over the edge again. 

“Okay, fuck. Thank you Minjeong, I will treat you to something nice later—”

“But now you want her?” Minjeong giggles. “Understandable. Make it a show. Test her fucking mouth.”

Yeojin might look small, in your large hands however she is even smaller. No reason for her to back off, she does not look like she regrets her words, in fact, the opposite seems to be true. With the look of a stupidly stupid sex doll, she slightly opens her full lips and you part them wide, their softness on you at all times. Grab the tied-up strands to handle her like a proper fleshlight. Mercilessly thrust her face onto your cock once, and gasp in surprise when all of you easily fits inside her—gagless. 

“What the hell, are you a professional or something?”

Yeojin doesn’t respond, her face shows minimal reactions, eerily similar to a sex doll. Her posture remains unchanged, even when you go harder there is no strong reaction. Your mind can’t wrap around this yet, the script writers did a terrible job at explaining how insanely good yet awfully confusing she is. Yeojin, real-life sex doll with pouty mouth—this description does not do her justice. 

“Seungyeon, Minjeong,” you call out to the girls behind you. “I need your help.”

“What for?” Seungyeon groans, while Minjeong already crawls to you.

“I want you, Minjeong, to undress this petite sex toy. Seungyeon, grab that ponytail and smash her face onto my crotch, I want to feel this nose on my abs.

“Help me destroy her.”

The two get to work immediately. Seungyeon swats your hands away before you have time to remove them and she starts slamming. Your cock disappears and reappears at an insane pace, the outline of Yeojin’s throat changing from thin to massively bulged. Minjeong kneels behind Yeojin, digs her fingers into the denim top and yanks it down to the rest. Leaving out unnecessary teasing, she removes all of it by finding the zippers. Hands rubbing over Yeojin’s exposed skin, Minjeong presents it to you.

“She has a petite body, small waist and shoulders, her hips are a bit bigger but look: her tits are even smaller than mine, basically nonexistent.”

Minjeong cups Yeojin’s chest playfully, and she is right there isn’t much to show. For those that love this type of body, Yeojin is the perfect sex doll. You step to the side for a moment to let the camera film the perfect view. Right on cue, Minjeong spreads Yeojin’s legs.

“Her pussy looks very tight~ I bet you don’t fit in there. Those thighs are the only thing with at least some meat. Round and firm!”

Minjeong smacks them. Watching them wiggle was a mistake, as Seungyeon angrily shoves Yeojin’s face back onto your cock. Fuck, if she continues at this pace, you might cum too early again. Maybe it’s time to abort this room and flee. You don’t gotta catch them all, there is still so much to do. Luckily, a familiar voice saves you from Yeojin’s wet throat, which might literally suck someone’s soul out.

“Magnificent, truly magnificent!” your co-host raves. “There is still so much to do, please follow me!”

JUST TESTING CONTINUES HERE

(A/N2: Sorry, Tumblr is a little bitch and I had to cut it here cuz the fic is too long. Seriously, I hate this site)

[vanilladove]

Helllooo, can i request Tecchou with someone hes known all his life, and that are kinda Childhood-friends to lovers? Just some fluff and maybe the Hunting dogs being like, „And how long have you been friends and together for?“ “Just 18 years, why?“ bc i think that would be so funny (also extra, can you make their dynamic kinda like black cat thats secretly a golden retriever(reader) x golden retriever(tecchou), if not, that okay [[: )

I hope you have a good day ♡

.ೃ｡+˚❝ just 18 years ❞

divider creds plum98

ೀ⋆｡˚pairing: tecchou x fem!reader

ೀ⋆｡˚genre: fluff, slightly suggestive oops

ೀ⋆｡˚content warnings: none! other than tecchou's horrendous food combos .__.

ೀ⋆｡˚word count: 1.6k

"A-Ah, Tecchou, don't dip your hamburger into your milkshake���!"

You pouted, stopping your boyfriend's hand from ruining his strawberry milkshake. The two of you had decided to go on a date at a vintage diner for his day off. Being a Hunting Dog was demanding, and he was often exhausted at the end of the day, so you tried to cherish every moment you could spend together. However, you could never truly relax with him.

The brunette frowned, his bangs shifting as he turned his head to peer up at you, "Why not? Sweet and salty go together, right? And it's good to combine foods that are the same colors. Ketchup and strawberry are bo—

You sighed, shoving a french fry dipped in your vanilla milkshake into Tecchou's mouth, cutting off his senseless rambling.

He looked surprised, but his eyes quickly lit up upon tasting the new, delicious food combination. "Oh, this is actually really good...Can I have another one?"

"Sure!" You nodded happily as you fed him another french fry, this time dipping it into his drink. At least it was more socially acceptable now. You watched as he ate the fries, quiet but focused on absorbing the flavor. Getting to treasure these sweet and wholesome moments with the strongest soldier in the Hunting Dogs was what made you fall for Tecchou in the first place, your love for him only growing stronger as you two grew up. "Seriously, though, Tecchou—sometimes I feel like your food taste is just pregnancy cravings..."

You continued to shovel dipped fries in his mouth as you recalled your past memories together, "Remember that one time that you tried to eat a slice of my birthday cake with dirt just because it was chocolate, and they were both brown?" You giggled as you pictured the scene again: you running over to find Tecchou after he'd gone off to your garden, him proudly showing you the "dirt sprinkles" and "moving gummy worms" he'd dug up from the ground to eat with his cake, your shock, and the equally shocked and amused looks on his parents' and the neighbors' faces when you told them the story. You titled your head, staring at your reflection on the bar table's metal countertop. "I don't even know how old we were when that happened. Just that it was when we were still neighbors."

Tecchou grinned, "It was your tenth birthday. I remember you were wearing that cream frilly dress with roses and got it dirty when you came to talk to me in the garden." He looked up and down your figure, noticing your cream and cherry-patterned halter midi dress, "'Kinda looks like what you have on right now. By the way, did I tell you how beautiful you look today?"

Rose dusted your cheeks as you pulled away, flustered and trying to keep your cool. "T-thanks." You looked back towards Tecchou and took in his outfit. Since it was his day off, he'd ditched the maroon uniform for an off-white, short-sleeve linen button-up and tan pants. His shirt was partially unbuttoned at the top, exposing his toned chest and arms and accentuating his layered, dark hair. "You look nice, too." You looked away, embarrassed for momentarily staring so hard, but you were sure the blush was still visible on your cheeks. You couldn't help it—even though you'd known Tecchou for so long and had already been dating for a few years, you felt like you'd never get over the butterflies and puppy love phase. It was probably due to his honest yet silly nature and the disastrous but endearing moments you always spent together. You still went on cute dates all the time—hiking (Tecchou would get you two lost in the woods sometimes...), picnics, and aquariums, so your relationship always felt wholesome and tender even through the hardships of Tecchou's work, just like a plum blossom.

Tecchou whined lowly, missing your touch by his face already. You were too lost in thought to notice the drops of milkshake flowing down your fingers, and Tecchou smiled cheekily. “Your hands are dripping.” He pointed at the one you were feeding him fries with.

You looked down, “Huh? Oh—“ you were about to grab a napkin from the dispenser until you felt your boyfriend firmly pull your hand back to his mouth and lick the sugary drink off your fingers. You yelped and tried to move back, startled by the sudden action. "T-Techhou, i-it's fine—"

"No," He said firmly, keeping his grip on you—there was no way you could break out of the toughest Hunting Dog's hold—"Just stay still." Complying, you blushed as he slowly ran his wet tongue over your sticky fingers, golden eyes intensely staring into your own.

"Mmm...you taste so sweet..." he grumbled into your skin—you secretly prayed he would stop before you started drawing attention as your heartbeat got faster.

"Tecchou—seriously, you're acting strange—!"

He pouted suddenly, lifting his head a bit, "You should be happy, y'know...When I get you pregnant, I'll eat all your weird pregnancy cravings with you."

You shivered at his words as he dipped back down to get the last bits of vanilla milkshake off your fingers, entire body now feeling hot. You were sure he didn't intend for it to come off so suggestive and probably thought it was a cute and innocent thing to say, but you were going crazy inside. Wait, doesn't that also mean he loves me enough to start a family togethe—

The door to the diner slammed open abruptly as three other customers came in, all in matching maroon attire.

"Hey! Tecchou's eating a human!" You recognized the high-pitched voice of Teruko, who was quickly followed by Jouno and Tachihara. The two ran in to see your questionable pose; Tachihara gaped in shock and Jouno looked disgusted, and the intrusion made you almost explode in embarrassment.

Tecchou, however, was completely unbothered, only muttering a "hello" as he looked at his unit who'd cut off his precious time with you.

You pulled your hand away, trying to introduce yourself "H-hi. You must be Tecchou's coworkers...I'm—"

Tachihara gasped, "Right, sorry, we must be interrupting your first date. Let's leave them in peace, guys!" He tried to leave before Teruko stopped him.

"No, Tachihara, we can't leave yet. This poor girl doesn't even know what she's gotten herself into...I mean, Tecchou's got some weird quirks and stuff, right?" Jouno sighed, already sick of the two and wanting to get away from the noisy diner. He could hear Tecchou's heartbeat get faster anxiously as the Hunting Dogs started to taunt you, suggesting that the brunette had strong feelings for you.

Tecchou's grip on you loosened like a sad puppy as Teruko's words hit him, making you notice, "N-no! You're both wrong!" You stammered, catching all four's attention. Tecchou's eyes were gazing into you again, curious as to what you'd say and how you felt about him since by nature you weren't a very expressive person. "This isn't our first date, and Tecchou's not weird!"

His eyes widened, and Teruko fell silent—slightly pissed off that you were challenging her but also shocked at how you were defending the same man who ate boiled eggs with the shells still on.

"He's kind and always makes me laugh, he's strong and protects me from danger, offers to carry and take care of me when I'm tired and sick, and he spends his free days with me even though he feels guilty about not being able to save others! I love him! I love him, and I always have ever since we were neighbors!" You pulled his arm close into your chest and tried to avert your eyes away from the patrons who had all started staring at you. Now, you and your boyfriend were both blushing. And he knew how you felt about him.

Teruko looked at you suspiciously; the Hunting Dogs were all close with each other and didn't disclose much about their pasts, so she wondered what your intentions were with Tecchou, since she didn't recall him ever mentioning you. "Neighbors, you say? And how long have you been friends together for?"

You and Tecchou looked at each other, both equally confused and dumbfounded by the fact that the Hunting Dogs didn't know you'd been dating. "Just 18 years, why?" You both said in unison, smiling and giggling at the coincidence.

Teruko recoiled in surprise, now feeling bad for being so intrusive. Trying to brush off her actions and be nonchalant, she turned her back to the two of you and grabbed the other two men, "Oh, sorry. Sorry for barging in then. We'll see you tomorrow, Tecchou." Jouno sighed again, unimpressed by his superior as Tachihara followed before turning around and smiling,

"Have fun, lovebirds!" You hugged Tecchou, feeling sheepish from the whole encounter and by your loud love confession, and he only hugged you back, strong arms enveloping you into his firm chest.

"Love you..." You mumbled weakly, feeling defeated but also relived to finally be alone together again. He laughed huskily as he planted a kiss on top of your head.

"I love you, too." You poked your head up from his chest to peck his soft lips, tasting a mixture of vanilla and strawberry. He closed his eyes, guiding the back of your head into the kiss more before pulling away and hugging you once more. "Hey, do you think you could feed me more fries? I'm hungry again."

You snickered cutely, nodding as you stayed in his arms a bit longer, thankful to have fallen in love with your childhood best friend.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

cherry pt. 1 🍒

gif by @taiturner

touch-starved!fem!reader x touch-starved, shy daryl dixon. this is pure tooth-rotting fluff with protective daryl, set somewhere in alexandria. the reader is a medic, this is a sweet build-up to smut which is going to be in part 2.

3.5k words, suitable for everyone. reader is referred to as "she", written in 3rd person, mostly daryl's pov, all lowercase. title from the lana song cherry because lana + norman = *author barks incoherently and descends into insanity*

her knee landed between his legs with a soft thud. the meat of his thigh surrounded by her legs as he sat under the yellow overhead lamp, daryl's chest rose and fell steadily, caramel skin marred by a deep red welt.

he stunk like bloody sweat, moist soil and gunpowder and lead.

"I'll inject a local," she mumbled, tapping on the glass vial before inserting the syringe and filling it up with a clear liquid, "you gonna need some twenty stitches, boyo."

"you dun' hafta," he, nonetheless, winced; the welt went across his chest, over his pectoral and almost to his collarbone. all and all, far from the worst he's had.

painkillers were a luxury, better spent on someone else, someone not like him. but he knew better than to argue with a medic (or someone filling the position of one, for that matter).

the woman's scent enveloped his senses in an opaque fog of sweet summer sweat over sharp, cheap laundry powder. something bitter, like rosemary and thyme, something sweet, like cherries and wine.

daryl's eyelashes fluttered as the needle pierced his skin: once, twice, five times, all around the jagged edges of the torn wound. the breath he was holding in left his mouth in a humid huff.

her hands, so gentle, prodded at the edges of his hurt until he could answer her question of 'feel anything?' negative, honestly. briefly, the acrid stench of rubbing alcohol overshadowed everything else as she sterilized everything, the tools and him, to the best of her ability.

he opened his eyes.

"now," she lifted her clever eyes, surveying the scene, "I'm gonna perch myself here," she moved that much closer, one knee between his legs, the other on the side of his leg; hovering over the same leg, facing his reclined torso, "you tell me if you're uncomfortable. that's the only light here, I don't mean to invade your personal space like that."

he could have laughed, if not for the risk of disrupting her careful stitching of his flesh.

"don'tcha worry 'bout it, pretty girl," his voice gravelly low, daryl did his best to stay still.

she chuckled softly, "bet you say that to anyone who can stitch you up in an even line."

"no," he scoffed, surprising himself, "jus' you. rick's hardly a pretty girl."

her hands stilled, eyes momentarily darting to his. the yellow light reflected in them, giving her pupils a red-hot gleam, as if devil himself had taken a sharp turn and went to seek refuge inside her instead of coming down to georgia.

he studied it, studied his own blurry, open-mouthed, panting reflection in the pupils of the woman currently perched atop his lap. then the realisation hit him, like a derailed runaway train, and he immediately withdrew to count the cracks in the ceiling.

she cleared her throat, resuming the rhythmical push and pull of the needle.

"didn't know rick could do that."

daryl attempted to shrug - stopping it before the motion reached his shoulders - and grunted instead.

she continued to stitch, the suddenly pregnant silence punctuated by the crinkling of a wrapper. an extra large, sterile bandaid was placed over the wound after she applied something green and foul-smelling atop the now-closed gash; his grunted query was met with a curt,

"antiseptic."

and he was let go with instructions to return the next day for a dressing change.

he lied to himself. he waited until it was dark to show up the next day, well into the summer night, just to be placed in the same position - under the lone hanging lamp, under her.

cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme, complimented by a trail of herbal tea. she smelled like peaches, too, this time. or, perhaps, it were the blooming trees outside her window that snuck their sweet aroma indoors.

"healing nicely," she remarked off-handedly, seemingly oblivious to the rising level of his tension and his inner turmoil. "the pain not too bad? you seem grumpy. grumpier than usual."

this time, he waited until she removed herself from his form to bark a terse laugh.

"no, pretty girl," he eyed her in the dusky, dusty room and received a crooked smile for his troubles, "long day 'is all."

"tell me about it," she huffed, shoulders sagging a bit more than he would have liked.

"who's the prick bothering ya?" he couldn't help it, his mind immediately went... places. surely, he wasn't the only one who noticed her pretty.

"no-one but my own damn brain," she scoffed, seemingly at herself, "and maybe the dick from number 17. it's like he's doing it on purpose."

"doin' what now?" daryl's voice dropped, his eyes squinted. his palm migrated to the handle of his knife, a gesture utterly subconscious.

"gettin' injured," she grumbled, no real heat behind her words, "got shot with a dart last week, sprained his ankle on a routine perimeter check today. how did that man serve 6 years in the army is beyond me."

daryl's head tilted as his chest tensed, heart thudded uncomfortably against his ribs.

"isn't carol taking care of all the broken bones?" he asked, tone laced with suspicion.

she turned to face him; he felt, more than saw, the annoyed roll of her eyes.

"he demands a real doctor," the woman shook off the wrapper before leaning back into him and placing it over his wound in one swift, irritated gesture, "how come nobody's told him I'm just a good faker? everyone knows by this point. all he does is waste resources-"

"woah, woah," daryl's voice rose briefly as he attempted to halt the incoming ramble. not that he didn't want to hear what she had to say, it was just unusual to see the quiet woman so... not herself.

"sorry," she shot immediately, looking away, "he just gives me the creeps. I know it's mean but-"

"no," daryl shook his head immediately, "if he's botherin' you, he's botherin' you and he needa back off."

she chuckled as she leaned back to observe the results of her work. her eyes were tired and a little ashamed. "say whatchu want but you southern fellas are real gentlemen," her smile was soft.

nobody has ever spoken to him like that, much less referred to him as a gentleman. through the momentary awe, daryl let the corners of his lips tilt up in a closed-lipped, shy smile.

he didn't return the next day, and the day after, having been deemed healthy enough by rick to be sent off to hunt some game - all activities classified as "takin' it easy" by the community leader. people needed food, growing kids needed the protein.

the gash on his chest bled a little, not much, and the scab that formed afterwards looked proper, thick and healthy.

as he reached the gates upon his return, he could make out some shouting just on the border of the little gated town. a few voices did their best to be heard, one right over the other.

"whazzat?" he quizzed the guard.

"lil doctor lady," the guard responded, frowning, squinting into the distance, "and big john, arguin' over something. dunno what. rick's there too."

daryl did not like the sound of that. he didn't like that at all. he dumped the three deer right there on the muddy ground as soon as he crossed the threshold of the safe zone, powerwalking towards the arguing trio.

"... 'm tellin' ya, rick, she's makin' shit up! I risk my life every day goin' out and patrollin', getting the damn supplies so she could patch me up like she's s'posed to!" big john, red in the face and fists clenched, stood looming over rick as he defended himself to the unimpressed sheriff, "'s'not like I broke my damn arm on purpose!"

immediately, daryl's bullshit meter went off as alarms blared in his head at full volume. big john's words were a little too loud, a little too passionate.

rick's eyes darted towards daryl's rapidly approaching form; that was all he needed to know about the situation.

"if that were true, you'd have no problem with carol attending to you, man," for the time being, rick successfully played the good cop.

"she's not even a real doctor!"

"neither am I!" the woman finally spoke up, shooting a glance at daryl, too, as her shoulders dropped slightly.

"hey, what's your fuckin' problem?" daryl finally stomped close enough for big john to jump at his words.

"none of your damn business," he shot back immediately, switching to stare down at the woman. it wasn't hard for him to make her shrink: his name was big john for a reason.

"don't bother tha nice lady," daryl scoffed, straightening up, "least you want a fuckin' knuckle sandwich. first and final warning."

"oh, fuck you man," big john turned to daryl, taking a step towards the archer, chest puffing out with the force of his rage. his left hand was in a makeshift cast; the right one rose, rapidly flying, aimed at daryl's face.

it didn't take the archer much effort to side-step the large man. he was immediately responding with a punch of his own.

big john staggered, taking a couple of unsteady steps back; within the next second, another punch connected with his face, sending blood and snot flying as he fell on the ground noisily.

"that's enough!" rick yelled, pulling on daryl's shoulder.

for the time being, the archer was content to let himself be steered away from the fight.

somewhere behind him, a feminine voice mumbled something less-than-polite, sighing, as she joined rick in pulling him away from big john.

"you stay away from her, dipshit!" daryl added hotly, "fuckin' weirdo."

"c'mon big guy," she cooed softly, nodding to rick as she steered him towards her house, "let's get you cleaned up."

he let her drag him indoors, towards the kitchen sink where the smell of herbs was the most potent. throughout the dirt and grime that always followed his hunts, it was a welcome respite. earthy and natural in the best, the most tender of ways.

the woman checked his knuckles, tugging on his big, meaty hand to place it under a stream of cold tap water; his skin was clear, once the grime and blood and dirt was washed off. a coupla punches was nothing, his knuckles too seasoned to sustain an injury from something as simple as a fistfight.

in broad daylight, there was no need for her to perch atop him to check the wound on his chest.

daryl swallowed, following her hands with his eyes. in her pristine, clean kitchen, he'd never felt more out of place as she moved aside the neck of his sweat-stained shirt and touched the soft skin of her fingertips to the scab, checking for infection.

the corners of her mouth finally, finally tilted up. an angry, upset expression had no place on her face; daryl could feel himself deflate as the cloud over the head of the little doctor lady finally, finally dissipated.

"you didn't even tear the stitches, I'm impressed," she complimented him softly, brushing the shirt collar back in place and smoothing it out with her palm, "they're dissolvable, luckily. go wash up and come back, I'll put some antibiotic ointment on it just in case. okay?"

her touch burned, but it was a sweet sort of fire. the kind that remained in his mouth after a particularly delicious batch of spicy wings, blooming as he took a deep breath.

he wanted to chase it with his tongue.

his nostrils flared as he exhaled.

"okay, dar?"

she had a nickname for him. she stared at him with those round, trusting eyes, not knowing that in truth, he was no better than big john.

daryl's cheeks flamed.

"okay," he mumbled, unable to refuse her anything when her eyes.., "dun look at me like dat."

"like what?" she frowned again and oh no, this was so much worse than the earnest concern written plain as day on her face just seconds ago.

his heart hammered in his chest. his fingers twitched. he swallowed the lump in his throat, shuffled his feet.

"cya," finally, his legs cooperated! he ran out of the house like the coward that he was.

he didn't come back as she'd requested. he couldn't. instead, he stubbornly stood under an ice cold stream of water, as long as could manage - and it did exactly nada for his racing thoughts or his traitorous body.

the soap carol had made smelled like herbs.

it smelled like the kitchen where tender fingers prodded at his skin, where soft hair briefly brushed his cheek, where the overhead lamp illuminated a halo around the head of the woman that found a home inside his head on most nights.

dusk fell over the settlement as a knock disturbed the miniscule amount of peace he'd managed to find for himself in the darkness of the basement.

"daryl?" rick's voice yelled, "I gotta favour to ask!"

he was there in an instant. "whassup?"

"the doctor lady. big john's bin runnin' his mouth since dinner, ion like it. I think he's gonna be up to no good."

what daryl liked about rick was his straightforwardness and common sense. such concern had place to be. daryl nodded, walking inside to put on a clean shirt and pick up his crossbow.

"I appreciate it," rick clapped him on the shoulder, "I'd stick around myself but judy is teething and michonne has been up for three nights already, m'afraid she's gonna..."

"no probl'm, rick, ah get it," daryl cut off the rambling man, "you go take care of your baby girl."

as daryl made way to the woman's house, his mind switched to defense mode effortlessly. he knew just the perfect spot to perch himself in, away from prying eyes and well within the observation range of the entries to her house. it wasn't the most comfortable of spots but summer nights were warm and the birdsong from the trees provided a childhood sort of comfort under the clear, dark skies.

as he prepared to settle in, the main door to her house cracked open.

she wore short, thin cotton shorts and a worn out t-shirt and nothing else, a steaming cup of tea clutched securely between her palms. her eyes immediately landed on his dark figure attempting to blend into the dusky underbrush.

"I thought you'd be a no-show," she remarked, a playful tone colouring her voice.

daryl had enough conscience to look sheepish. "uhh," he replied, eloquently, taking a hesitant step towards her house. the light breeze blew the hot fumes of her tea right into his nose, momentarily clouding his judgement. he barely could tear his eyes away from the soft, unblemished skin of her legs.

"c'mon," she waved him in, and he followed, obedient, quiet, like a puppy. she made a brief stop at the stove before pushing a cup into his hands, "I made some tea. not terribly sweet for you, I hope. you seem like a black coffee kinda guy."

the upbeat, companionable chatter sent daryl's head reeling. it's like she was completely oblivious to his clumsiness, to his bluntness, to the awkwardness that seemed to take deep root in his bones whenever he was in her presence.

he took a sip, a courtesy, as she made him sit in that recliner chair again, her body warm and comfortable above him. isn't that what you wanted, moron? his head screamed at him, the annoying voice eerily similar to his late brother's.

"it's okay to let me know you're uncomfortable," she spoke quietly as she moved aside the collar of his shirt once more.

he shivered, it's not like he could help himself. "wha?"

"not everyone likes to be... touched," she briefly looked up, then back again as she rubbed the salve around his scabs, sharp chemicals and plastic disturbing the peaceful aroma of her herbal tea, "my ma used to yell at me to, like... stop hugging random people. sometimes I forget that not everyone is perfectly fine with jus' bein' groped."

"hmm," he managed, struggling not to sound like all of his christmases just had arrived at once. she wanted to touch him. well, not just him-

"these days, I'm not particularly keen on that either, but eventually, the touch starvation catches up to me. I'm just glad that, like, carol and rosita don't freak out or anything, when I play octopus with 'em."

"it's... okay," he had to drink to clear his throat, inhale to clear his mind. "ion mind, pretty girl," daryl tried for a smile and was sure it came more like a grimace. he desperately needed practice in that department.

she chuckled, a dulcet little noise, before her eyes shot up to his. whatever she was looking for, she found it; her hands, done with healing his external wounds, stroked slowly over his shoulders, mapping the broad, muscular expanse of them in one fluid motion. the tips of his hair tickled the tops of her palms.

with only a thin cotton barrier separating daryl's skin from hers, it was as close to heaven as he will ever allowed to be. the cup in his hand scalded his rough palms, hot ceramic burning through the callouses: it was like an afterthought of pain and nothing more.

her fingers connected behind his neck, the pads rubbing over the tense muscle there. the groan left his mouth unnoticed by him, until he could feel the smile on her face bloom just like the flowers outside her window.

"you like that?"

"mmm," he managed, weakly. something inside of him was crumbling. maybe it was the tea that had filled his veins with melted sugar and liquified the strong resolve to not let someone like her be tainted by someone like him.

she kept on kneading his neck and shoulders, like a damn cat working graveyard shift at the biscuit cookie factory.

daryl's deep inhale moved his whole body.

she staggered, brief and sweet, tilting heavily into him to keep up her balance and stop herself from falling over. graceful, she was not.

he was met with a parted mouth, so sweet and red and plump, like ripe cherries; right over his nose, just out of reach, sinful and tantalising in it's own right. the pink, moist meat of her tongue was tucked into the corner of it as her eyes narrowed, something between relief and concentration.

seeing him look, the mouth stretched into a smile, making it that much sweeter. she was looking at him, again, like- like that.

her hands faltered, she swayed in place; daryl's instincts got the better of him and he secured her, one hand holding her body by the hip to steady the sudden bout of clumsiness.

"m'sorry, imma klutz," she looked away sheepishly.

he squeezed her hip on response, letting her know it was okay. and it really was more than that: much to his wide-eyed wonder. he felt like he was the one who should be doing the apologizing. but not only did she not shake off his hand, oh no, she leaned further into him, her belly almost touching his bent forearm.

it took a gargantuan amount of effort just to not pull her in all the way. she was most inviting to touch, all soft curves courtesy of semi-regular meals and tender skin despite the blazing summer sun.

daryl's thumb moved up and down the cotton of her shorts absent-mindedly. the sweet little sighs falling from her lips were hard to miss. almost as if it was someone else pushing her into his arms, a well-meaning ghost perhaps; she tilted in on herself to soak up the warmth of his large, hot body.

a trail of goosebumps ran across his scalp, starting from the place she was rubbing gentle circles into it - at the back of his head, where his hairline met his nape. if he was capable of purring, he would.

instead, he groaned again, eyelashes fluttering, casting a moving shadow on his sharp cheeks. his reward was an equally-content sounding sigh as it drafted into his nose, warm and earthy.

the empty cup thudded against the table where he placed it.

her fingers parted his hair gingerly, taking great care to avoid potential tangles. some finer, smaller hairs still pulled, taking some of his self-deprecation and resolve with 'em as the motion traversed his body in a jolt and settled somewhere deep inside the pit of his belly.

this was getting dangerous.

daryl opened his eyes and stared up.

[bitethedevil]

Am i delulu or does raphael admire tav/durge? I know its him performing, but as gale says "inviting to dine with devil is devils equivilant of serenade and roses" and first scene where we meet him he does eye tav/durge througly from bottom to top. Also he says "im fan of your work" to durge. So idk?? It lowey feels like raphael is fond of us in game but i need proof/ professional analysis. [Ahem you are the professional mouse afterall heehee~]

He Loves Us, He Loves Us Not: What is Raphael’s Relationship with Tav/Durge?

*Puts on my little mouse glasses* I’m glad you asked. I’m summing up a few points that I have also written about in another analysis called ‘Raphael and weaponized mortality’, so if that sounds interesting, you can find it in my reading list.

Everything about Raphael screams wolf in sheep’s clothing (or a cambion in man’s clothing if you will). Here are a few points illustrating this:

Cambions naturally have a really predatory kind of stench to them because they are entirely carnivorous. Yet, he is described as a perfumed trickster who smells of cherries and sulphur, most likely because he is trying to cover up that smell.

Poetry, an art that is very dependent on nasty mortal concepts such as ‘feelings’, is something we know he uses a lot. He’s not really good at it and he even says it’s not his ‘main interest’ to Karlach in the second act. His theatrical nature and use of poetry humanizes him, and I think he is well-aware of this.

When you call him out as a devil in front of Mol, he says something about how she wouldn’t believe them anyway, ‘not with his angelic complexion’. We also know that Gortash’s parents sold him to a ‘warlock’ and that’s how he ended up with Raphael. I’ve seen multiple places that that warlock is supposed to be Raphael himself.

Now this all makes me believe that he usually does not reveal his true nature to his clients unless: 1) they’ve already signed, or 2) they are so utterly fucked that they have already reached the point of no return with him and are forced to take his deal no matter what.

Yet, he reveals his true nature to us from the get-go. Yes, one could argue that the tadpole-gang does fulfill option 2) according to him and that’s why he does it, but I think it could also be something else. I think he knows from early on that we are his best bet, so he chooses to lay out all his cards on the table and tries to build as much trust as he can from the beginning.

This is also the function of helping us with Astarion’s scars. Dealing with a devil when you’ve never dealt with one before? Scary. Dealing with a devil when he has proven once before to keep his word? Much less scary. He’s ‘grooming’ us for trusting him to keep his word with THE deal (and he gets to fuck over Daddy Meph by potentially robbing him of a lot of souls. Win-win.)

I think Gale is right on the money when he says that it’s ‘a devil’s equivalent to serenades and roses’. Raphael is like a bird or something. He’s showing off, charming us, but also reminding us that he is big and scary. Although despite the fact that he is big and scary ‘he simply wants to help us’.

He’s done his research and already knows everything about us, so he knows exactly how to play us. This is demonstrated in the comment to Durge in the beginning and the thing he says in Last Light if you tell him he knows nothing about you: “Don’t I indeed?.

I really think that we turn into an obsession for him at some point and that the lines between the obsession about the Crown and his obsession about us blurs. This seems definitely to be the case in his journals. I mean the poor guy has nightmares about us…

I also am so sure that he is not even trying to trick us into anything with the Orphic Hammer. He truly does believe that the Emperor is a threat to us. See this:

I DO think he admires us or at the very least is heavily rooting for us. I don’t remember the exact quotes, but Korrilla tells us in Sharess’s that her and Raphael made a bet about if we would make it to the Gate, and Raphael won that bet because we had. He really believes in our merry little band of idiots.

His reaction if we betray him is also very telling I feel like. Notice how his eyes widen for a moment before they narrow and say the ‘You’ line. He seems surprised. In that whole sequence he is obviously pissed, but most of all I also just get the feeling of a man that has been humiliated and who is angry that he had put so much time, work, and trust into us.

He says that ‘he is fond of us, in his way’ and that I completely believe. It might not be out of love or affection or anything like that, but he is as fond of us as a cambion can be of someone. We’ve grown on him, and he sees potential and use in us. We fascinate him and I’d even go as far to say that he respects us. I feel like even if you give him the Crown of Karsus and he gets to rule the Hells, he will not forget the people who brought him there. He would not flaunt the fact that he had mortals help him get the Crown, but I think that when he goes on his spree to fuck up the realms outside the Hells, Tav and gang would at the very least be spared or even given privileges in that new world order. Is that a bit fucked up? Yeah…But we have to remember what he is: a devil.

(Thank you so much for the ask <3 That became a long answer. I love to yap lol)

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 6 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

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Word Count: 41.1k+ (deepest apologies)

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

Warnings: please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY. I do want to preface by saying there is a potentially very triggering moment of shame over eating, including thoughts/trying to v*mit. PLEASE, as I stated before, proceed with caution. struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, anxiety/stress/depression, a few sexual *feelings*, recollections of sexual encounters, sensual scenes shown on film, brief tornado encounter

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a/n: as i said in my warnings, there are some very heavy depictions of what it means to have an ED. i don't want to ignore these moments, as they are so very real. i felt it was only right to include an incredibly vulnerable moment. please, if you're struggling, don't be afraid to seek help. you are always worth it. i love you guys, & i hope you enjoy this chapter. (so far🤭)

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Cherry Tree, Oklahoma: A year and a half ago.  

You felt it the moment you woke up. 

The air was different – thick. Thick and melancholy. You didn’t know what it was that had you feeling that way. Intuition? A bad dream that you didn’t remember anything from, only the feelings it left behind? It worsened as you left your room – walking to the kitchen left you breathless. Though, you still didn’t know why.

When you peered out of the living room window, the sky was dark gray, nearly black. You then chalked up the strange feeling to the weather. A change in the barometric pressure, an incoming storm – a big storm, one that would cause destruction everywhere it hovered over. That had to be it. It was Oklahoma, afterall. The most unpredictable, catastrophic weather is born there. It always left you anxiety ridden, sure. But, it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

She was sitting in the recliner next to the front door. A blank, distant look about her eyes. She didn’t tell you good morning, she didn’t even look at you. Though she’s never been the one to offer you a cheerful good morning, you could tell there was something more behind her silence. 

You wondered if her mind was just preoccupied with the skies' indication of bad weather. You began asking her if she’d gotten everything prepared yet – the generator, flashlights, candles, a pair of shoes for everyone. But as you were speaking to her, her distant look morphed into one of distress. She didn’t answer a single question, only choking back the sobs that overcame her, tears falling down her pale face. “Mom? Are you oka–,” 

You were cut off by her pointing a single, trembling finger towards the kitchen. That was when it finally hit you. 

He was usually the first one up. He’d start breakfast each morning before the sun rose. The smell would always infiltrate your room, always waking you earlier than you’d like. But on this particular day, you slept in a little later than usual. You slept in because there was no smell of maple syrup and eggs to wake you. 

That thick, dark feeling that you woke up with quickly turned to pure concern. Where was he? 

As though an invisible string were tugging at your legs, they slowly yet reluctantly carried you to the kitchen. Upon the first glance, everything looked normal. Everything, except…

It only took you a moment to notice the note on the fridge. The bright, yellow sticky note stood out like a sore thumb adhered to the flat-white freezer door.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl- Daddy”

The words didn’t register right away. You had to read them over and over again before it finally dawned on you; you didn’t see his truck in the driveway when you looked through the window. Only the oil stains it left on the concrete. He was gone. And you knew he wasn’t just gone for the morning, or for the day. He was gone for good. There wasn’t a single thing you could do about it. He made the choice to live his life without you. Given the fact that you, his only daughter, wasn’t enough to convince him to stay, you knew you couldn’t do anything.

A clap of thunder roared around your house, shaking the very foundation it stood on. The bones of the home creaked and screamed with the pressure of the wind while plates and cups in the cabinets rattled. A few photos hanging on the walls fell to the floor, their glass shattering. Then the lights flickered for a moment before they went out completely, leaving the house as dark as it was outside. The sirens began their cry. The rain blowing sideways pushed its way through every window sill in the kitchen, tiny droplets splattering your face. But you kept still. You let it happen; in fact, you welcomed it. You just stood in the kitchen while your mom ran to shelter, keeping your feet planted where they were. You didn’t want to run, didn’t see the point. 

The storm came at the perfect moment; it was the physical one that mimicked the one inside of your head. The emotions that couldn’t be released from your body were blowing all around you and your old home.  After only a few minutes, (though it truly felt like an eternity) the skies calmed. The rain let up, the wind held still.  And it was quiet. Eerily. 

The sudden quiet meant you then had to confront the storm in your mind. The relentless destruction of your thoughts created a cyclone of torment within you. Your whole world changed in that single moment. The sole provider of your home left, leaving you, the full time college student working a full time job, to take his place. You could already feel the weight of your new responsibilities, of the new heaviness placed on your tense shoulders. 

And you felt grief. Grief over losing someone who chose to leave. 

How do you grieve someone who’s still alive? Someone who decided it was best to live the rest of their days without you? Your dad?

Cherry Tree faced an EF-2 that day. They said the winds exceeded one hundred miles per hour, leaving damage and destruction to most of the tiny town. Your home sustained minor damage – a few missing shingles, ripped up siding, the typical wreckage Oklahoma storms leave behind. 

Your dad was always there to fix those things. But after that storm, it was up to you to fix them. And that’s exactly how you spent the two weeks that followed – fixing the things that needed fixing. The things you could fix, at least. The physical ones.

All on your own, you fixed the broken seals of the windows, replaced the missing shutters, cleaned up the yard the best you could. That storm forced you to face your new reality head on. You were now working two full time jobs; one during the day at the only restaurant in town, and one at Cherry Tree Grocery for the late shift. And then, there was your mom. 

She’d only gotten sick a few months before he left. You hadn’t even fully come to terms with her prognosis yet, and you were thrown into being her caregiver basically overnight. All the things he had been doing for her, you had to learn to do. You essentially had to take a crash course in at-home-nursing. You learned far more about healthcare than you ever thought you’d have to, but you knew you had to do it. You managed all of that while taking classes online, and busting your ass to keep your grades up so you could move away. What had once been a dream to move away on your own, had quickly become getting you and your mom out of there as soon as you could.

You fought hard against the urge to reach out to him in the first weeks after he left. All you wanted was an answer to your one and only question – why? Why would he leave you with so much to worry about, knowing how badly you wanted to get the hell away from Oklahoma? During that time, you became more and more resentful towards him, more angry over the decision he made. So, the urge dwindled over time. It was after the one month mark of him being gone that you tossed your necklace in the trash can, ridding yourself of it – and him – once and for all. 

But the letter he gave you along with the necklace…you just couldn’t let it go. You decided to let it be the last remaining piece of your relationship with him. It was painful as fuck to keep it, but you knew it’d be even more painful to not have it. (And yet, you somehow managed to lose it during the move. And, the necklace magically reappeared in your jewelry box, not long after you knew you tossed it. Still makes no sense. But you’re glad you have it, even if how you have doesn’t quite add up.)

There is a part of you that is grateful he left, and it’s the part of you that couldn’t stand living in Cherry Tree any longer. His departure only made the desire of realizing your dream of attending the U of M that much stronger. A new beginning was the best option for you and your mom. In fact, she pretty much insisted on it. She didn’t want to be there any more than you did once he left. The acceptance letter symbolized the beginning you desperately needed. The only loose end that needed tying was the house, and once the burden of that was out from under your feet, you left. 

Your Firebird was your only means of getting the two of you there, so any money that you could spare from your savings was spent making sure the clunker would make the journey. Before then, you dad took care of your car troubles. Even promised you he’d help you get a new one before you left home. When he wasn’t there to make that happen, you had to make the best of what you had. The day you packed up the last of your things, the air felt different again – lighter, but still heavy with memories. You drove out of Cherry Tree with a mix of relief and sorrow clinging to you, the dusty Oklahoma roads fading in the rearview mirror as you headed north to your new home.

The storm that ripped through the town that day certainly left its mark; it transformed the tiny community, it transformed you. But it wasn’t just the physical destruction that changed the course of your life. The storm only made you realize that there was nothing left for you in Cherry Tree. 

The storm was your dad, creating an unexpected upheaval in your life. It all happened so quickly, so unpredictably. There was no siren to warn you, no safe place in which you could take shelter until things went back to normal. He left his mark that day, much like the storm. Only, for you, it left a scar far deeper than any natural disaster could ever reach. 

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Present Day

His desperate attempts at explaining – over explaining – are useless. Every word that leaves his lips feels like a distant echo to you, as though he’s already miles away. It’s like you’re standing in a vacant tunnel, hearing the whispers of those on the outside. You can hear that he’s speaking, but your mind can’t make out the words. 

But you’re not in a tunnel; you’re in Jake's room. And he’s standing before you, pleading with you to hear his words. 

He’s already a memory to you. A memory – just like your father. 

How do you grieve someone who’s still alive? 

You hear his every footstep against the carpeted floor behind you as you’re walking around to gather your things, hastily putting on your sweatpants and hoodie that you packed with you last night. You hesitate as you reach for the satin dress he bought you, the one you wore last night, the beautiful gift he wanted you to have for your date…

The hesitation wanes, and you quickly shove it in your canvas bag so as to not have to think about it any longer. 

“I need you to listen to me.” You feel his hands grip at your shoulders, stopping you before you can begin your final walk out of his bedroom. His touch forces you to make out his words this time, when before they were mere mumbles in your head while you placed your focus on getting the fuck out of here.  

“I need to go home, Jake.” The words are monotone as you say them, void of the storm whirling inside your mind. You keep your back to him, eyes fixed on your bare feet. You forgot to bring another pair of shoes, and you’ll be goddamned if you walk out of here with your heels on from last night. 

Nope. Barefoot it is. 

“Can I please take yo –,” Before he can finish his question, you quickly turn on your heel, shrugging his hands off your body as you face him. The now dried tears on your cheeks are met with fresh ones falling from your eyes, tears that refuse to be held back, no matter how badly you don’t want to show your hurt. 

“NO, Jake!” His eyes widen, his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom jaw becomes slack. You didn’t mean to yell. You didn’t want to yell, at least not as loudly as you did. It just…happened. It was pent up rage, derived from pain and a moment that feels all too familiar, triggering emotions you’ve not allowed yourself to feel. 

“I’m sorry, I just–” The tears are now a flood crashing in waves against your red cheeks. You bring your hands, covered by the sleeves of your oversized hoodie, up to your face, concealing and muffling the pain that’s surfaced. 

No. You’re not sorry. You shouldn’t be sorry for feeling and expressing what you’re feeling. You’ve done that all your fucking life. He knows that. And he knows how fucking hard this is for you. He doesn’t say anything more, only pulling you in and holding you close, letting you sob into his chest. His scent instantly works to calm you, the scent of last night mixed with leftover hints of his cologne. But feeling his comfort only makes the pain hurt worse. It quickly dawns on you that you won’t have this for much longer, and you pull yourself away from him, wiping your face with your now tear-soaked sleeves. “I don’t want you to take me home,” you snap, your voice cracked and wet from your tears. You can’t avoid eye contact, though it’s not for lack of trying. You just can’t keep yourself from looking into his eyes, those sweet, honey whiskey eyes that drew you in the moment you saw them hiding behind his black frames. 

And you’ve seen these eyes before. They’re angry, but they’re a sad angry. Despondent, heavy with heated sorrow. The last time you saw these eyes was in this very room, practically in the very same spot you’re in right now. 

The last time you saw them like this served as the beginning for what you have–had–with Jake. Now, they represent the ending. 

Those sad, fuming eyes hold yours only a moment longer, then flick downward as he takes a long breath to speak “How do you suppose you’ll be getting home if you don’t want me to take you?” His tone is both quiet and sharp, monotone. And he knows what you’re thinking before you even fully know. 

There’s only one person you should turn to right now. And it’s going to piss Jake off. But you don’t care. Not right now. 

You choose to not answer his question, knowing that there’s no real point in doing so. The silence laying between you two is broken by the squeaky hinges of his bedroom door when you turn around and open it. You step one foot through the threshold, but there’s one thing stopping you. “I want my book, Jake,” you mutter, your back turned to him as you’re staring down the long hallway. The words almost hurt coming out. They hurt from the tightness in your throat at uttering them, and they hurt because that book that once represented the beginning of so much, feels like it now represents the end all at once. 

Poetic. Fucking. Irony. Your entire goddamned life is full of it. 

“What book, y/n?” 

“Le Morte d’Arthur. I need it back.” 

He breathes an elongated sigh when you hear his feet padding towards the bed where the book still sits. You peer over your shoulder, using your peripheral to watch him pick up the book, turning a few of the yellowed pages for a moment before quickly slamming the cover shut. His feet shuffle toward you once more, carefully nudging your elbow with the physical emblem of the last few months of your life. “Here,” he spits, his touch  far gentler than his tone that sends a jolt through your spine. “Guess I forgot about it.”

Clearly not, considering that’s where I found everything. 

Without a word, you reach your other hand over your body, taking the book from him and letting your feet guide you the fuck out of his room. And where they’re taking you next is what you’re sure will set Jake off indefinitely. Keeping your composure right now is fucking hard. But you have to do it as you’re quickly trudging down the hallway, eyeing the stairs that lead to his room. It’s not until you’re halfway up the steps that you notice Jake at the end of the hall, watching you with hard eyes as you take the last few steps to the loft. You reach Josh’s door first, and for a brief moment, you contemplate knocking on it instead, knowing this choice would avoid upsetting Jake any further. 

But you only think about it for a second before you decide to keep walking a few steps further, placing yourself in front of Sam’s closed door. You lift your hand to knock, but you’re hesitant as you remember the conversation you had with Jake about Sam. The one where you promised him nothing had happened with Sam, when he promised you that nothing happened between him and Stacy. The familiar sense of guilt over everything crashes over you. But when you look at the book held tight in your hands, and when you peek over your shoulder to the balcony, seeing that Jake’s body slumped and leaning against the wall, watching your every move, your decision is made. 

“S-Sam?” You stutter with a light tap of your fist to the wood, timid and nerves billowing to the surface. A moment passes, and he hasn’t answered the door just yet. Before you choose to knock once more, you look over your shoulder to where Jake was, noticing that he’s no longer there. And it’s then that you hear a loud slam coming from the downstairs hallway. 

Sadness weighs in the pit of your tummy at his absence, an absence that you’ll have to start getting used to. You then turn your focus back to Sam’s door, and just as you’re about to knock, the knob begins turning from the other side. He opens it only a little, peeking through the small crack he’s made. His tired eyes widen when they realize it’s you beyond the door. 

“Y/n? Hey, what are–” 

The look about your face must say more than any words you could utter, because he stops himself from speaking any further, opening the door all the way and inviting you inside. “I just–,” You don’t step in through the open door all the way, only about an inch or so, keeping your bare feet planted on the spot where the hallway meets the carpeted floor of his room. “Do you think you can take me home?” Your voice is shaking far more than you like, and it’s all you can do to keep from crying. His eyebrows scrunch in the middle, so very annoyingly similar to the way Jake’s do, before he reaches over to grab his coat and keys hanging from the hook screwed into the wall. He silently throws his coat over his shoulders, his eyes scanning over your body, trailing down to your exposed feet. His tongue peeks from the corner of his slightly parted lips, though he’s deep in contemplation. Brushing the messy hairs away from his face, his features soften, as though he’s come to the conclusion of whatever he’s thinking. He quickly turns around to go deeper into his room, rummaging through his closet until he finds a pair of white fluffy slippers, donned with a single yellow smiley face on the tops of them. 

He walks back toward you, holding the slippers between your bodies as he gets closer. “Too cold to be barefoot,” he says, keeping still until you take the warm footwear from his hands. Setting them on the floor, you slide into them, one foot at a time. They’re much too big for your feet, but they’ll certainly do the job of keeping them warm. “Wanna tell me about it?” He asks as he leads you down the stairs, cupping your elbow should your feet slip out from the oversized slippers. You’re a bit too full of shame to talk about it, though you’re sure he already knows. How could he not be aware of Jake leaving? Certainly he can put two and two together. He notes your silence, opting to keep silent himself as your feet leave the last step. He walks ahead of you to the front door, unlocking it and holding it open for you as you make your way through the living room. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you walk through the front door, not bothering to look back when you take a final step out of the apartment. The air is bitter this morning, biting at the little bits of uncovered skin the moment you’re exposed to it. Your body instantly begins trembling with cold shivers from the elements. The tears that are begging to fall from your eyes will certainly turn to ice sickles the moment they do. 

“C’mon,” Sam says, quickly locking the door before coming up behind you and placing his warm hands on your shoulders as you walk to his car. This all feels wrong. It feels so wrong. You’re grateful to Sam, but you’d be kidding yourself if you tried to say you’re glad he’s with you instead of Jake. 

In one wrong move, you turn your head back to the apartment, your eyes instantly finding the window to Jake’s room. The blinds are drawn, so you can’t see him. But you know he’s watching.  Part of you is glad he is. But the other part of you, the much bigger part, feels like pure shit over it. 

Just as you reach Sam’s bright orange VW Bug, his arm extended towards the passenger door, you turn around to face him, stopping him with a grip on his forearm. Those tears that have threatened to fall since you walked outside are now leaking from your ducts as you face Jake’s window. 

What you truly want to do is forego this whole thing and run back inside, find Jake’s embrace once more. But, you know better than to act on your impulse. And when you look into Sam’s eyes, you’re reminded of a time when he was the one who showed you the genuinity you were lacking from his brother when you first moved here. 

There’s another impulse that’s weighing on you, and this is one you feel is the better option given the circumstances. And as though Sam can read the thoughts running through your mind, he wraps his arms around you, holding you as close to his body as he can. Your sobs are let out into his chest while his lips find the top of your head, a sweet gesture to remind you that you’re safe in doing this. Not that you had any reason to not believe that, but you’ve been worried Sam may never view you the same ever again after everything. So, needless to say, the reassurance is nice, and very much needed. “Let’s get you home,” he mumbles into your hair, thumbs tracing gentle circles at your sides. 

Just as you start to pull away, his hand lingers on your back, warm and steady against you. You look up at him, catching a soft, understanding smile that speaks of adoration for you, despite everything.  “Thank you, Sam,” you whisper, your tear-soaked voice hardly audible over the morning breeze. 

He nods, brushing a few loose hairs that have fallen from his ponytail out of his face as he opens the door for you. As you settle into the passenger's seat, there’s a strange feeling weighing on you – a mix of nostalgia, a sense of relief. Perhaps this is truly where you’re meant to be. At least this morning. 

But with a final glance at Jake’s window as the old Bugs engine begins humming, that mixture of complicated feelings turns into one single, heavy emotion; regret. 

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Jake’s point of view;

I waited far too long. 

I had every intention of telling her—the plan was already in place. 

All I needed was to wait for the perfect moment to ask her to come with me. I knew she wouldn’t say yes right away, so I had to take the time to craft the right words, to convey the way her very essence softened my hardened heart. 

Goddammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of what has transpired with her over the last few months was meant to happen. 

But fate would have it otherwise. And I knew mine was sealed when she chose the seat next to mine on the first day of class. I thought I’d never have to see her bewitching face again after I so callously bumped into her in the hallway. But when that very same, beautiful stranger walked in late through the doors of Movack’s lecture hall, I knew I had to take every measure possible to fend off any infatuations that I felt could arise. 

But, as though it were predestined, we were paired on a project she was just as passionate about—if not more—than I was. 

I suppose I thought the film would be the best way to keep my distance from her while also keeping true to our commitments to the project. I surmised the addition of my family would keep us from having to be alone, having any real conversations to get to know one another. 

I didn’t want to get to know her. Not because of her, because of me. I gathered immediately that she was far too wonderful for the likes of me, far too easy to fall for. Her beauty and complexity, the most exquisite and intrusive storm to my hardened heart. 

She truly was too good for me… still is; utter perfection encompassed in the ethos of her femininity. 

That fact was all but confirmed on that first day of class. When she checked my ego over a question I should’ve known the answer to, I knew I was utterly fucked. Intelligent, full of the wit necessary to challenge me. I was a fucking dick to her from the outset. But I had to keep my own feelings in balance. 

Jesus — who the fuck am I kidding? 

I didn’t ask her to help with the film to keep her away—I wanted her to play opposite me. I wanted her to play my fucking wife. I wanted the chance to act on the feelings that were already amassed, without the risk of her thinking they were anything more than for the sake of the film.

But Josh fucked it all up for me. The script wasn’t what we agreed on, no matter how much he’s fought me on that fact. His idea to shift the focus on infidelity, specifically her infidelity with fucking Lancelot was unadulterated bullshit. And when I had to watch her share so many scenes with Sam, scenes that should’ve been with me, the fire it ignited under my crawling skin told me that my attempts at keeping my composure about her were failing. Miserably failing. 

Stacy was my escape. She had wanted me for years, and I knew she would be the perfect distraction from my growing feelings for Y/n — and from the agony of watching my brother touch her in ways I could only dream of.

But, fate wouldn’t hear of it. It didn’t fucking work. Stacy doesn’t hold a candle to Y/n; she’s nothing more than a flicker next to Y/n’s radiance. Wasting my energy with someone as dull-witted and mindless as Stacy only made me yearn for Y/n all the more. 

Y/n’s mystique, her grace, the very aura she strides with…she’s the most captivating woman I’ve ever set my eyes upon. It took only a few weeks to memorize every minute detail of her face. Her sweet nose that crinkles when she laughs, her glittering eyes that hold the weight of a thousand beautiful lifetimes, her eyelashes that are as dark and full as a ravens wings, her crooked smile, succulent lips…she’s more elegant than any painting the most adept artist could ever render. As though her outward beauty wasn’t enough to lure me in, her endearing southern accent, the one that instantly told me she was miles away from her birthplace, charmed me even further. 

I hadn’t found a single reason to stay here, a reason that made London feel like a poor decision until she infiltrated my existence, when her earthy, vanilla aroma inundated me with lust and desire. 

And though she tried to hide it, I could tell she was looking at me with the very same eyes I saw her through. 

The only thing I could do at that point was push her away, and keep pushing her until she despised her every thought of me. I couldn’t risk what I was afraid it could turn into. 

It felt like knives tore through the inside of my throat when I said some of the most revolting words I could think of to her in class. I felt like the biggest piece of shit when her incredible eyes became glassed over with tears, when her round, rose lips downturned at what I had said…and I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single word of it. She didn’t deserve to hear such horrid things. 

I fucking hurt her. And that was what my thoughtless self wanted. 

I wanted it so I wouldn’t get attached, so she wouldn’t get attached. I’ve needed to get out of this fucking city–this goddamn country–since nearly every person I’ve ever loved died in the places I’ve called home. Other than my brothers, there’s been nothing to keep me here after my time at the U of M is up. And I swore there’d be no way in fucking hell I’d let some girl change that. 

But what my imprudent ass couldn’t accept was that Y/n has never been just some girl. I’ve always known it, and I’ve been utterly terrified by it since I let myself watch her—observe her. All it took was one class period for the horror to sink in that she is different from any other woman I’ve ever beheld. She even surmounts every woman in fucking literature. 

She’s magic.

And she’s broken me. She’s torn down every wall I’ve built since the death of my parents, then proceeded to destroy the ones that came up after I lost my grandparents. No one that isn’t my own twin brother has been able to see me the way she does. 

I mean, Christ, I played guitar for her. Only her. I practically gave her my vulnerability, placed it in the palm of her open hand and closed her delicate fingers over it. I’ve shown her parts of myself, piece by tiny fucking piece, that a mere handful of people have borne witness to. 

I assumed she’d be like every other girl I’d known, but the moment I held her for the first time, I realized just how profoundly wrong I was. From the first touch, the first taste, the first time I fucked her... 

I can’t explain what she does to me, or how she does it. But she brings forth an animalistic side of myself, engulfed with pure desire for everything that she is. 

I knew she was beautiful from the moment I laid my eyes on her, but when I discovered what she was hiding beneath her oversized attire, I felt longing anew. It was a cruel irony for Josh to make my room her dressing quarters. If I knew my brother at all — which I do, better than anyone — the little shit did that on purpose. 

He knew of the risks. I knew them — what might happen if I were to open my bedroom door. And it did happen — the day she was trying on her costumes, and though I knew what I’d possibly be walking in on… I wasn’t the least bit prepared for the sight my eyes would behold. 

As if Josh hadn’t fucked me over enough with the entire ordeal, he added to my misery by choosing costumes for her that only served to enhance her allure that already held me captive. 

That black lace number she was in when I opened my door left my knees weak — my face, numb. I could see every outline of her form, every beautiful part of herself that she’d hidden in my short time of knowing her. The buds of her perfectly shaped breasts were peeking through the embroidered netting, the curve of her exquisite ass was just visible beyond the exaggerated slit of the gown. And her skin, glowing in the dim light, freckled and pristine. 

I stood completely still — in awe of her. I wanted to fall to her feet at that very moment, and I suppose I would’ve if it wasn’t for Natalia. I knew it was wrong to stare at her, but no living mortal would’ve been able to avert their eyes from such an ethereal vision. 

How fitting that she wore that very gown when I at last got to feel her, glide my tongue over every goddamn inch of her sweet skin, mark her so my brother knew who she really wanted…

I’ll surely never forget the way she melted under my touch that night, the way her skin became littered with goosebumps in the wake of my fingers. And when I discovered her little secret, the sexy scarlet colored ink beneath her breast, it left me stunned at first. Yet somehow, it didn't entirely surprise me. It suits her enchantment, her mystery. And it’s enormously tantalizing. 

I simply became intoxicated by her. I needed more, and my futile attempts at withholding my true desires, of delving headfirst into something I knew I’d never be capable of coming back from, would inevitably fail. 

Fuck. She made it so difficult. And it didn’t help when I realized how badly she needed it as well. How could I continue to deny her any further when I myself could no longer resist what we both wanted? 

I chose to tread slowly, to take the time to learn her body and the ways in which she longs to be pleasured. I knew she was losing patience with me, but I had to wait until the perfect occasion. 

I nearly gave in the night she wrapped her gorgeous, velvet mouth around my cock as I drove. I discovered the limitless desires she had been harboring, giving me all she had, keeping her promise of taking care of herself to the thought of me. 

The birthday party felt like the opportune time to at last allow ourselves a true taste of one another, but when I discovered her little lie about the tattoo, my adoration for her burst out of my body like ten foot waves slamming against the oceanside. 

I was angry. But more than that, more than anything, I just wanted her. And I didn’t want to give her a single reason more that she should find herself choosing the affections of Sam over me. 

Fucking her for the first time… nothing in the world could come remotely close to the feeling. And when she’d told me she wished I’d do it — wished I’d fuck her — my heart had catapulted to a place it had never ventured before. Knowing she wanted it so badly… there had been no stopping that shit.

The feeling of her body… No other woman could ever compare — will ever compare. No matter where I venture in the world, there will never be another like her. She's the everlasting dream. My dream. 

Every curve of her body — each time her gorgeous cunt would clench around my dick, her falling apart so gloriously at my touch… I found myself transcending space and time as I knew it.

That night was the one of the most glorious experiences I’ve yet to share with another living being, second only to last night. 

And when I had her in the library…

Jesus Christ. I just need her. In every way that I possibly can. 

And I hate how much I fucking need her. This is a new realm for me. I’ve always been my own unit, seeking the company of others only when it felt necessary. I’ve never known someone who could turn my lonely world upside down and inside out in the ways she has. 

But it wasn’t until Natalia confirmed my fears that Y/n hadn’t been taking proper care of herself that I truly realized the possible breadth of my care for her. Something wholly new to me.

I felt the longing threads of my heart rip to tattered shreds. How could a woman of her magnitudinous beauty be so blind to it? How could she ever doubt the effect she has on unsuspecting souls by simply gracing a room with her charm? It shattered me inexplicably when I learned of the way she views herself. And that—that  was when I truly realized the depths of my affections for her. 

God, the depths… like that of the ocean. 

I then sought out ways in which to help her, and the one thing I was certain would bring her peace was having her lend me a hand in preparing a home cooked meal. I had to suppress the rising flood of tears when I watched her eat it, seeming to have no more doubts in her mind as she did so. I saw the very same thing at The Whitney; Not a single burden behind her eyes as she nurtured her beautiful body. 

God. She’s evoked feelings from me that I never thought could be mine to feel.

But I just can’t stay here. I can’t bear it any longer, and she has to understand that. It’s what she did herself when she chose to move here, to say a final farewell to the town that bore her own pain. 

It isn’t her damn job to have to carry my pain, though. By every measure, I’m a failure. In the truest sense of the word. 

I fell for her when I swore to myself I wouldn’t allow for it. I’ve hurt her repeatedly with my pure bullshit. The worthless tries at denying my heart.

And I’ve hurt her yet again by dragging my feet, letting her find out in the most careless of ways by leaving the evidence in her fucking book. And in turn, I’ve hurt my own goddamn self. 

God knows how hard I tried to talk to her this morning, but she had already decided to hell with me. I can’t reproach her for it. I just wish she’d listen to me, I need her to hear me. There’s no reason she wouldn’t be accepted to Oxford. Fuck — her mind, so wondrous and brilliant. I want her there with me. I’ve suddenly found myself unable to take this trek across the sea without her. But I fear my time to present that to her is nearly up. 

And it’s all my fault. Every bit of it. 

But this morning… she had wanted to twist the metaphoric dagger in my already bleeding chest.

She’d gone to Sam. Immediately. As soon as I’d betrayed her trust, she’d gone to Sam. She could’ve at least asked Josh to take her home, though her and I both knew that Sam was the more obvious choice. The choice she knew would hurt me as much as I had hurt her. 

But what she doesn’t know is how much I’m already fucking hurting. By my own hand, no less. I never intended for this, and yet, here I am, feeling things I’ve yet to allow myself to feel over a woman, a woman that walked into my life only months ago. 

And now, thanks to me, she’s being held in the arms of my younger brother, shedding her tears into his chest right outside of my bedroom window. 

Is she wearing his fucking slippers? Jesus Christ. 

I could wring his goddamn neck for this. It’s not his fucking place. His bed wasn’t where she laid last night. His body wasn’t the one taking care of hers. 

Though, I suppose I can’t fault him–I wouldn’t be able to gather the strength to turn her away, either. Not ever again, if the truth should be told. 

I just…I’ve wanted so much more with her than this. So much more. But I must now accept the chance that I’ve fucked it all up. Perhaps I fucked it up from the very start; The fact that she ever wanted anything to do with me after the way I treated her is a remarkable wonder. 

My nerves are engulfed in flames as I have to witness her getting into Sam’s car now. Him, shutting the door behind her, racing around to the driver's side so she’s not alone for too long, wiping the last of her tears with the cuff of her sleeve. 

Tears that I fucking caused.

I’ve been through immense pain in my life, the kind of pain that feels like shards of glass slicing at my skin at the reminder. But this kind of pain, watching him drive her away because she couldn’t bear the thought of me doing it, it’s brand new to me.

I’m crossing over into untouched realms of misery, of torment. 

I can’t let things with her end in this way. I won’t stand for it. As much as I wasn’t prepared for this to begin with her in the way it did, I’m not equipped to accept it ending like this. 

I cannot leave for London knowing I was never given the chance to properly fight for her.  

But if she won’t listen to me, I fear the choice will no longer be mine to make. 

End of Jake’s point of view. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” you say, glancing around the car’s interior, charmed by its retro vibe. “What year is this Bug?”

He chuckles, giving the dashboard a little pat. “’66,” he replies proudly. “Picked her up a few years ago and been keeping her going ever since.”

“Of course you did,” you say with a grin. “Somehow it’s just… so you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “One thing about me: I’ll always pick the quirkiest option.” And quirkiest or not, you have to admit, there’s something reassuring about the old car – a little bubble of nostalgia that somehow makes the morning feel a bit lighter.

“Wanna make a coffee run before you go home?” Sam questions, turning his face slightly toward you, his mustache curled at both ends, his lips tucked into a graceful grin as his fingers tap at the steering wheel. His voice, soft and tender, is enough to make your heart swell amidst the chaos that has been this morning.

One thing about Sam, he definitely knows coffee is the way to your heart, and while it can’t fix the broken pieces, it can certainly make it feel a little better. 

“That sounds delightful, actually,” you say with a breath of relief over the promise of a little caffeine. 

“Ah, good. Been to Hyperion yet?” 

His attempts at making sure this morning feels as normal and not tense as possible are actually doing you some good, though you can’t help but feel a bit…weird about it. 

It feels almost wrong to be doing this. Going to Sam when Jake’s upset you, getting coffee with him when you should be doing that with Jake. (When you want to be doing that with Jake.)

But, you must admit that Sam is raising your spirits, at least a little bit. And who are you to turn down a coffee in any case? 

“Sure haven’t,” you say, bringing your legs up to the seat and criss-crossing them for a bit more comfort. “Any good?” 

“Oh, yes. It’ll change your life,” he says as he flips his blinker to turn left at the stoplight in front of the U of M. Looking ahead, just down the street a ways, you see an old brick building with the Hyperion Coffee Co printed in black on a white background. 

“I can’t believe I’ve never come here with how close it is to school and work,” you comment, trying to keep conversation, and just genuinely in shock that you’ve never even heard of this place. If it’s as life changing as Sam claims, this may become a new spot for you. Something different, a change of scenery. (And something in this town that doesn’t make you think of Jake. Even better.) 

It looks nice enough from the outside. Quaint and charming. Enough to get your mind off of things, at least for a moment. 

“You can stay out here if you’d like. I’ll keep the heat on for ya.” He turns the knob to crank up the temperature just a few more degrees when he notices your body shiver. “The usual?” He asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt and begins opening the door.

The usual. You seemed to have forgotten that Sam cared enough to memorize your coffee order. Though it’s not the most complicated, it’s still so sweet that he thinks enough of you to remember that. Something seemingly so insignificant means an awful lot to you.  

Does Jake even know that? Does he care enough to know? Of course he does…right? It doesn’t matter, truly. He did so much for you last night, more than anyone ever has. But, if he’s leaving, does he really care? You shake your head, as if you physically rid yourself of the thought. 

Coming back to your senses, you notice Sam patiently awaiting a response from you, his generous charisma as strong as ever. 

Coffee, y/n. Tell him what coffee you want.

“I – I think I’ll do something warm this time,” you stutter, realizing he’s probably wondering why it’s taking you so long to answer. “A steamed latte with vanilla sounds perfect.” 

He then steps all the way out of the car, winking at you with a kind smile and a nod. “You got it.” He shuts the car door behind him and scurries his way inside, looking back once more before he walks through the door. 

A long, exhausted sigh leaves your lips as you relax your body against the cool leather. You let your eyelids shut for just a moment, resting your eyes and your head. But, the moment is cut even shorter than you planned when you feel your phone vibrating in the front pocket of your crossbody. 

There’s no need in seeing who it is. You already know. And you’re not going to answer it. After the fourth ring, it stops altogether and you close your eyes once more, awaiting the heated comfort that Sam will bring you soon. 

But then, it begins vibrating again, forcing your eyes to jolt open. 

No. Just let it ring. 

Just the same, it ends on the fourth ring. And you hope that by now he’s gotten the hint that you’re in no place to speak with him. Not right now. Not yet. 

Before you can rest your eyes just a little more, you notice Sam using his ass to open the glass door of the coffee shop, a drink in each hand and his shoulder pressed against his ear, holding his phone. He’s basically putting on a juggling act trying to get the car door open with his hands full, so you lean over the center console to open it for him. 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” you hear him say to whomever he’s speaking to on the phone, and you sense a bit of annoyance in his tone. But you don’t even think twice about that or his words as he hands you your coffee, too ready to indulge in the warm liquid that you know will take away some of the hurt laying on your soul. 

But as you take your first sip, and as Sam positions himself in the driver's seat, his next words certainly grab your attention. “Well, that’s not what she wanted to do, Jake. She asked me to take her, why the fuck would I say no?”

You nearly spit the coffee out of your mouth when it hits you; he’s talking to Jake. And they aren’t just talking, they’re arguing. Over you.

Sam’s desperately trying to speak, but the yelling on the other end of the phone is relentless. You can’t even tell what he’s saying, but you know he isn’t happy. His sheer volume of speech confirms that. And you’re not surprised, given the way you left his room, going to Sam when he’s been a touchy topic with you and Jake. 

Yeah, you feel a little bad. Only because you know he’s hurt by your actions this morning. But you’re fucking hurt, too. And the choice to separate yourself from him was made the moment you discovered he’s leaving the goddamn country and didn’t think to tell you. 

“I – Jake, it’s not –,” Sam attempts, though his voice is drowned out by the yelling on the other end that you’re still unable to make sense of. “Would you please let me —,” he continues, uselessly. His palm meets his forehead, rubbing away the irritation as he holds his phone away from his ear, letting Jake’s words hang in thin air. And with his phone held away from his ear, you’re able to hear Jake a bit more clear. 

“I know what you’re fucking doing, and I’m not okay with it. She’s not yours to take care of! I’m gonna make you regret this, Sam. I know what your intentions are with y/n – “

Sam’s eyes nervously flick to you when he realizes you can hear everything Jake’s saying, and before you can hear anything else, he quickly brings the phone back up to his ear, quickly clicking the volume button down with his index finger. 

“I’m hanging up, brother. Need to focus on the road.” 

Sam just spoke over the muffled yelling completely before taking his phone from his ear and using his index finger to end the call, tossing it in the back seat so it’s completely out of sight. 

“Guess we really ruffled his feathers, huh?” He jokes, turning the key to start the ignition. It stalls for a moment, having a hard time turning over. But with one more turn of the key, the engine hums a low vibration. 

You’re silent as he pulls out of the lot, thinking about, well, everything. 

What the fuck has this morning been? First, you wake up next to Jake, thinking that most of your days from here on out will begin the very same way. He makes breakfast and brings it to his room for the two of you to enjoy, something so domestic and charming. 

Then, it all falls apart, seemingly as quickly as it was put together. 

And now, you’re essentially back where you started months ago; with Sam, all for the purpose of making Jake jealous. Only this time, there’s more at stake. A fresh wound festered with the reality of what almost was, what you wanted. What you thought he wanted, too. 

Maybe he does want something with you. But he obviously isn’t that invested in you if he’s not been honest this entire time. 

What he was saying before Sam held the phone back up to his ear and lowered the volume, about knowing his intentions with you that have Jake very upset…

Perhaps Sam wants to be with you in the ways Jake just doesn’t. Maybe you’ve been wasting your time with someone who can’t commit to you while there’s someone very close by who can give you everything you’ve been looking for. Someone who’s been there all along, just waiting for Jake‘s inevitable storm that would make you realize that.

There’s only one fucking problem – you don’t want Sam the way you want Jake. That’s just a simple fact you’ve had to come to terms with. Sam is so undeniably special, but your mantra since you’ve met the two of them is still very relevant right now; Sam isn’t Jake.

But as it stands, you do feel something for Sam that is far beyond friends-only. And the fact that he hasn’t given up on you, even after you hardcore ghosted him and used him to get to his brother just may be the indicator you need. 

He may not be Jake. But he is Sam. And Sam is everything kind and gentle in this world, bottled up in one beautiful person. 

But Jake…

The way Jake makes you feel is completely different. No one has made you feel the way he does. He makes you feel beautiful, desirable. He makes you feel sexy, when that’s something you’ve never once felt about yourself. 

But more importantly, Jake makes you feel safe. And during this upheaved phase of your life, when everything feels different and scary, safety is what you crave. It’s what you need. He gives you hope, he gives you meaning. Healing only feels possible with him. Maybe that’s why you’ve relapsed so hard since moving here. Aside from the trigger of the many life changes, you got so bad because he needed to see your pain to help you move through it. 

Last night felt like the first time in your life that you felt like a whole person. Someone who is worthy of love, of being loved. The worries about eating all but vanished, and as you looked at him sitting across the table from you, you finally saw a future in which you were healed and happy. 

That’s probably why this morning has felt so heavy. It seemed like just as your heart became filled with hope, it was ripped away from you at an unprecedented speed. 

Aside from all of that, you’re also afraid that you’ve destroyed a brotherly bond, simply by needing them both in different ways. You led Sam on, then pursued Jake, and now you’re back to Sam. And Jake hates him now because of it.

The very last thing you want is to get in the way of the relationship between brothers. Brothers who live together, work together, have been through so much loss together. You can’t let yourself be the reason they hate each other, after an entire lifetime of leaning on each other. It’s selfish of you. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. I feel like I’m the reason he’s so upset with you,” you carefully utter, finally finding the courage to say something to him. Because, the truth is, it is your fault that he was screamed at by Jake. This very realization is causing fresh tears to form in your ducts, because who the fuck are you to ruin their relationship? All because you can’t deny your feelings for both of them? As soon as something goes awry with Jake, you’re right back to seeking comfort from Sam. And that is not okay. You know it’s not.

And that’s why you feel like the worst kind of person right now. 

But you don’t want him to see you cry again. And you certainly don’t want to have to explain why you’re crying, because admitting what you’ve done outloud isn’t something you’re ready for. So, with the help of another sip of your coffee, you’re able to keep the tears at bay. 

“Ah, just a quarrel between brothers. Definitely not out of the ordinary for us,” Sam says, entirely unaware of the vast emotions you’re feeling, a sweet grin on his lips as he takes the final turn down the street your apartment rests on. “Nothing you should be sorry for. I promise it happens more often than you’d think.” He chuckles at this, and whips the Bug into the parking lot of your complex. 

He’s obviously ignoring what he knows you heard, but you're okay with that. A conversation about that feels a bit too much right now. 

“Thank you for bringing me home,” you say as he shifts the gear in park, letting the door unlock for you. “I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” he says, his sweet eyes meeting yours, his gaze lingering for a moment. “Need me to walk you up?” He asks with a gentle smile that’s tugging on every string attached to your heart. 

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you respond as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. 

“Just thought I’d offer,” he says, still smiling as he watches you step out of the Bug. “Take care of yourself, and text me if you need me. I’ll see you later, okay?”

With a wave and a confirming nod, you shut the car door and watch him pull away. 

As you head up the steel stairs to the second floor, a memory begins filling your melancholy thoughts. One that was triggered by something Sam had said before you got out of the car. 

It’s a memory from the night your mom ended up in the hospital, and Jake stood by your side through it all. Even stayed in your apartment with you so you wouldn’t be alone, opening up to you about incredibly personal things when you couldn’t sleep. 

“You know, it’s pretty late. And it’s a long drive back to my place,” he had said as he parked his Rover in complete silence, probably sensing your reservations about spending the night alone after what had just happened. “I could stay here, sleep on the couch. That way you’d have someone to take you tomorrow morning.” 

You were utterly shocked by his offer, and you wanted it more than anything else in that moment. You needed him there. And though he tried to play it off by mentioning how far of a drive he had, it was very clear that he proposed the idea because he knew you needed him. 

“Jake I – I can’t ask you to –”

“You’re not asking if I’m offering.” 

He wasn’t going to leave you. No matter what. And he was right; you never asked him, you didn’t have to – he wanted to stay. And he knew how badly you needed his company. 

He just got it. He understood the position you were in, and he understood your need for his presence, even before you understood what you needed yourself. 

He’s made you feel safe from the very beginning. Even when you fought it.

And now, as you’re walking inside the quiet apartment, your mom still fast asleep, you’re wishing you could relive that night all over again. Terrible as it was, you had him to make you feel better. 

The sadness you’re feeling is almost comparable to the heavy emotions of that night, but at least you had him to give you some peace then, even in the rocky beginnings of the two of you. 

You don’t have that now. 

And the reality is, you may never have it again. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The daisies sitting in the vase on your dresser are making a mockery of you as you enter your bedroom. As are the ones sitting on the nightstand next to your bed. One bouquet from Jake, one from Sam. And next to the one from  Sam is the photo of you and Nat that she gifted you for your birthday, the photo Jake took.

Fitting. Disgustingly.

You toss your bag on the floor, not ready to take out its contents just yet. A tiny grin graces your lips as you kick off your footwear, the smiley face slippers Sam insisted you borrow for the journey home. 

The only thing you can think to do, the only thing you want to do, is take a fucking shower. Wash it all away. Let the night before flow down the drain, along with everything else you’re currently feeling. 

But before you can do that, the apartment needs tending to. Conveniently, the living room is a fucking mess. Not at all how you left it last night. Your mom certainly seemed to have no problem making the mess, but she’ll find every excuse possible that would explain why she couldn’t clean it. 

It’s frustrating for several reasons. But the biggest one that’s rattling your already shot nerves is the fact that the apartment was spotless last night. And now, thanks to whatever compelled her to ruin all your hard work, it needs to be cleaned. Again. 

You can’t shower in peace knowing the place looks this way. So, you’ll clean it first. 

At least it’ll be a good distraction from everything. A good way to occupy your mind from the disaster that has been this morning. Everything you’re feeling is far too similar to the things you felt the day your dad left. Eerily similar. Like you’re not worth staying around for, and that’s been proven twice now. 

Walking back to the living room, the first thing that catches your eye is the pile of dirty plates sitting on the floor, and the half-full cups of water on the coffee table. And that very coffee table, covered in crumbs from last night's meal. You brush them all off on the floor before picking up the dishes that have been left there, sitting them in the sink to worry about later. 

Right now, it’s imperative that you vacuum. Those crumbs from the coffee table that are now embedded in the carpet will be the only thing you can think about until they're gone. And the couch – it’s just as covered in food remnants as the coffee table was. You brush them off on the floor, too, so their fate will be at the discretion of the vacuum’s nozzle.

You grab the vacuum from the coat closet, its cord tangled and twisted, much like the contents of your mind at the moment. As you try to unravel it, it only knots further, becoming a mess in your hands. You can only get a small amount of the cord free from the rest, and that’s all the lead you have to work with as you just decide to give up and plug the damn thing in.

The low hum of the vacuum fills your head with white noise, an intrusion you hoped would drown out the thoughts swirling in your head about everything. But, it doesn’t work. They’re still there, tormenting you as you clean up your moms mess for the thousandth time.

You focus on the crumbs disappearing into the nozzle, wishing you could suck away the thoughts, too. The daisies. The photo. Sam. Jake. The weight of it all presses down, heavier than the vacuum in your hands.

The couch cushions are next. You flip one over, finding a stain you hadn’t noticed before – a dark blotch that looks like spilled wine, or maybe coffee. You can’t be sure. It’s just another mark, another imperfection in your life that you’ll be forced to live with. One that you have no answers to the questions you have about it.

When you finish, the living room is as clean as it was last night. But somehow, it’s not making you feel any better. Like the mess was the only thing keeping you from the reality you can’t escape. 

You set the vacuum back in the closet and head for the bathroom to finally rid yourself of any lingering piece from last night. The biggest thing – Jake’s smell is all over you. His sandalwood aroma, covering your body, your hair. You smell just like him, like his room. 

And it really fucking sucks. You can’t stand it any longer, it’s too goddamn painful.

The shower is scalding, but you don’t care. It feels good. You stand under the spray, letting the hot water batter your skin until it’s red. 

The water dripping down your chest reminds you of what still hangs around your neck; the sword necklace Jake gave you last night. The one that matches his. The sword, a symbol for so much. You grab the sword, clutching it tightly as you prepare to yank it off, break the silver chain in a hundred little pieces to flow down the drain with the water. 

But, you don’t. 

You let go of it, leaving it dangling between your breasts as the warm water continues to cascade down your body. 

You close your eyes and imagine it washing everything away – the mess, the memories, the ache. But when you step out, dripping and shivering, you realize it hasn’t.

It never does.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

It’s not like Jake to miss class. For any reason, truthfully. 

So, it certainly caught you by surprise when you arrived at Movack's class and saw an empty seat next to yours. 

Class began over five minutes ago now, and he’s still not here. It’s pretty safe to assume he won’t be coming today. And though that should give you some relief that you won’t have to sit in the inevitable awkwardness for the duration of class, you can’t help but feel a little sad about it. 

Regardless, at least you’ll be able to focus on school today. Not him. Perhaps his absence is a good thing after all. And, it’ll truly make things a bit easier for you in this class in particular. Movack made an announcement online that you’ll be working with your partners today on an in-class assignment. 

It may be for the best that he isn’t here. Of course, it’ll leave you without a partner. But, you’re certain it’s nothing you can’t manage on your own.

“As you all know, today you will work with your respective partners on analysis,” Movack says, finally wrapping up his usual long-winded announcements he makes at the beginning of every class. “I’d like you to analyze the psychological dynamics of characters within the lore.”

Solo it is. And you’re actually okay with that.

“Ms. Y/n,” Movack says, causing you to jolt anxiously in your seat. “Mr. Kiszka informed me before class that he will be a few minutes late and wanted me to make you aware.”

Goddamnit. 

Also, why couldn't he tell you that himself? 

“O-okay,” you stutter, timidly as you notice everyone in the room glaring at you, Dr. Movack patiently awaiting your response. “Um, thanks for letting me know.” 

You’re trying to not take it too personally that he felt the need to have the professor of the damn class tell you he’ll be late. But it isn’t working. In fact, it’s kind of making your blood heat to a near boil at the thought of it. And, him coming to class means you’ll have to interact with him. You’re not ready for that yet. Part of you thought he may avoid class because of that.

But, no. Of course not. This man never skips class. No matter fucking what. He’s also never late, though. And you can’t help but wonder why he’s late today. Not that it’s your business anymore. Or, was it ever really your business?

Just as Dr. Movack is beginning to give you all the details of the assignment, Jake comes through the lecture hall doors. Their squeaking hinges echo throughout the acoustics of the room, the heels of his boots click against the hard surface of the floor as he waltzes in. He’s in no hurry, of course. His walk is a saunter, no sense of urgency in his stride as he makes his way up the steps to his seat. 

You try not to observe him too closely, your heart hammering in your chest. It is stupid how one quick, simple glance of the man has your body temperature increasing. 

“Welcome to class, Mr. Kiszka,” Dr. Movack says, greeting him with a kind smile. (And all you can think about is your first day of class, when you were late and treated the exact opposite of Mr. Kiszka.) 

Jake nods his head in response, taking his final steps until he’s right next to you. And, naturally, ignoring your existence. Not that you expected any less. You aren’t exactly pleased to see him, either. 

He sits down with a deep and heavy sigh, glancing at you briefly before looking away just as quickly as his eyes found you. The scowl on his face is rather prominent, his lips pursed and unmoving. You want so badly to say something. But, what? No words feel appropriate, yet you can’t handle this screaming silence sitting in the tiny space between you two. 

(This really does feel like the beginning of the semester all over a – fucking – gain.)

You’re angry as fuck with him right now. For reasons on a continually growing list. But all you can think about right now is how fucking good he smells. The scent that’s carried you through so much, the one you’ve found yourself covered in after being entangled within his bedsheets. It’s so close, yet feels further away than ever. 

And he looks nice. So very handsome. Salt to the still very much opened and bleeding wound. Your cheeks flush as you eye his chest through the partially open button down.

“As I stated, you will be performing an analysis on characters and their dynamics. This is to bring us back to the root of the lore, while also preparing you for your presentations that are set to begin next week,” Movack continues, his voice now like a distant muttering to you as you’re suddenly finding it hard to focus any further with the addition of the presence to the left of you. “This assignment will be interdisciplinary –  I want you to think about the infamous love triangle and how that affects Arthur’s dedication to the court.”

If it were ever possible for a person's heart to completely stop while they’re still living and breathing, right now would be that instance. You know you had a very physical reaction to the premise of the assignment, your body noticeably tensing and the gasp of air that you couldn’t hold in even if you tried. 

You didn’t know what exactly to expect with this analysis, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

Given Jake’s sudden change in posture that you can see from your peripheral, you’d say he’s feeling roughly the same as you. It’s too ironic. Uncomfortably ironic. 

Movack’s had all semester for this. And he picks now to have the class work on it?

Not the fucking time for this, Movack. 

“With your partners, I’d like you to discuss this in as much depth as our time restrictions of the class will allow,” he proceeds, as your heart simultaneously feels like it’s going to stop beating, yet rattling the bones in your body with its nervous pounding all at once. “Take notes, detailed notes, and turn them into me at the end of class. You may begin.”

You can practically taste the bile forming at the back of your throat. What the fuck kind assignment is this? God, you wish Jake would’ve just skipped the damn class. You wish you would’ve skipped. Hell, you have it in your right mind to hop out of your seat and sprint your way out of here. Take the F for the day. At this point, you couldn’t give a shit about your grade.

As if things weren’t awkward enough, this will certainly hit the nail on the head. 

Neither one of you has said a word – you aren’t even looking at each other. How do you even begin this conversation? How do you pretend that things are normal, just for the sake of this class? 

You hear the evidence that everyone else has begun their analyses, talking in depth with their partners while you and Jake have yet to speak to each other. Movack has definitely noticed that you two have yet to start. That much is clear in the way his eyes are piercing the two of you.

And, to make it worse, here he comes. Walking toward you, his arms crossed tightly over his beige sweater vest. His square frames are placed right on the bridge of his nose, his eyes peering above them in agitation as he positions himself before you and Jake. “Is there a problem?” He demands, his salt and pepper eyebrows raised as he impatiently awaits an answer from either one of you. 

You and Jake look at each other at the same time, the first time you’ve looked into his eyes since you left his room the other morning. When you left him to seek the comfort of Sam. 

And you can see it. Feel it. The very same pain you saw in his orbs that morning. They look the exact same. Only heavier, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than before. You begin to wonder if he’s been sleeping, because it certainly doesn’t appear that way. It can’t be because of you, right? Surely you’ve not hurt him that badly. He’s the one leaving. So, he can only be so hurt by his own doing. 

But, still. He looks defeated. And it’s making your heart ache, even though you know it shouldn’t.

“A-hem!” 

You both snap your heads back to Movack, who looks far more irritated now than he did before. 

“Is there a reason you two aren’t participating? I’d hate to give you two failing grades for today, but that doesn’t mean I won’t –,” 

“No, no,” Jake interjects, finally. “Sorry, we’ll get started right away.” 

Movack hums as he nods his head, pushing his frames up to his eyes before he slowly turns to walk down the steps. He’s still looking, peering at you and Jake over his shoulder before he makes it to his wooden desk at the front of the class.

“Guess we better at least look like we’re doing something,” Jake mutters, begrudgingly turning the upper half of his body so that he’s now facing you. 

You force yourself to do the same, knowing it’ll at least get Movack off your back. But, at the cost, that almost seems like the better option. Now that you’re facing him, looking at him again, it’s almost too much to bear as his downturned eyes are looking into yours once again. 

But after noticing the heaviness in his eyes, the next thing you notice is just as devastating. 

He’s wearing the sword necklace around his neck, dangling beneath his coins against his off-white button up. Hanging beautifully between his exquisite pectoral muscles. It’s odd that he's wearing it, given it’s identical to the one he gave you. 

And what’s even more weird — you’re wearing yours, too. Only, yours is tucked into your sweater, hidden beneath the heavy black knitting. Out of sight, yet still close to you. 

The fact is, you’re both wearing them. But he has the nerve to wear his in plain sight. And you immediately wonder if it’s to elicit something from you, perhaps a reminder of the fact that you’ve chosen to cut things off. 

And that pisses you off. 

“Well, we still need to have something to turn in at the end of class,” you start, your throat constricting at the first words you’ve spoken to him since that morning. Not the words you had envisioned, but here they are. All about fucking class so you don’t say what’s really on your mind. “So, don’t you think we probably need to actually do something instead of just looking like it.” 

That came out much more harsh than you truly intended. But, you are right. His idea of just pretending isn’t going to cut it. He knows that, too. 

His eyes grow wide, his jaw clenching. He brings his hand up to his chin, his finger vigorously rubbing at the skin. 

“Kay,” he snarks, sharply. “Why don’t you get started then, y/n? Tell me the impacts that Guiniverre’s love affair had on the King.” He reaches behind him to his book satchel, rips a piece of paper out of his notebook and grabs the pen sitting in the front pocket of his off white button up. “Tell me how bad it hurt the King to see his beloved with someone else.” 

Beloved?

He begins aggressively clicking his pen over and over, the sound of it overstimulating the fuck out of you. 

Hell no. 

“Let’s first discuss the treatment of the Queen,” you start, feeling every ounce of blood in your body reach your cheeks, your heart palpitating in your chest. “And how Lancelot treated her the way she deserved to be treated from day one, and didn’t lie to her like the selfish King did.”

Oh god. 

You didn’t want to say it. But Jesus, the words just kept coming. Spilling out of you like a soda bottle that had been shaken too much. 

You regret it. Instantly. 

Jake just stares at you for a moment, blankly. You’re waiting for some sort of comeback, but he’s silent. Then, to make it worse, he starts etching everything you’ve just said on the paper. Everything. 

“Jake. Jake, stop.” You try reaching across the table to cup his hand, but he quickly pulls away from you, ripping the paper with the point of his pen as he does so. 

“What else would you like to say, y/n?” His voice is steady, yet charged and heavy. The weight of his glare is keeping you locked in, your body tense and unable to move. He lets the silence linger for a moment before leaning forward towards you, his tone sharpening further as he speaks. “I’m sure you’ve got more to add.”

The room suddenly feels smaller, empty. Like everyone else in the class has suddenly disappeared, leaving only you and Jake. 

He glances at the paper in front of him, staring at the half-written words – your words. “Perhaps,” he says, his voice dipping low before rising with deliberate intensity. “You’d like to elaborate on how the King reminded her she’s a queen – by showing her exactly how indispensable she is to him.”

“Indispensable?” You echo, leaning closer to him, mirroring his body language with defiance. Your voice is sharp, cutting through the thick tension between you. “If that’s so, then perhaps we should discuss how he still wanted to leave her!”

His nostrils flare, his fingers tightening around the pen in his hand until you’re sure it’s about to break in two.

“Perhaps,” he snaps, his voice loud enough to make heads turn. “We should discuss how he bared his heart to her, and it still didn’t stop her from running to fucking Lancelot instead of letting the King explain himse –,”

“Jacob and Y/n!” Dr. Movack’s slices through the room, cutting Jake off from the remainder of his rant about the fictional characters, the rant that you know wasn’t just about them. 

You hadn’t even realized how loud the two of you had gotten. Your heart pounds as the Movack’s words pull you back to reality. All at once, you’re acutely aware of the dozens of eyes on you, of the collective silence in the room. It’s like you’d both forgotten where you were, that this wasn’t some private, messy argument but the middle of class. And yet, none of that had mattered – until now.

“Class is dismissed early. Place your notes on my desk, and I’ll see you on Wednesday.” Your classmates begin unzipping and zipping their bags, closing their notebooks, shutting their laptops. “Jake and y/n, I’d like you to stay after class for a moment.”

Shit. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔

“This is the second time you two have disrupted my class.” Dr. Movack stands from his desk chair, walking around to the front to lean against the old wood bureau where you and Jake are both awkwardly standing. “I’m not blind to the fact that something is going on between you. I’ve noticed it all semester.” 

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, placing the frames on the desk. “You two are the best students in this class. Well, the best students I’ve had in years, actually. I don’t want to see you two fall short in your studies because of something that’s happening outside of this classroom.” 

The both of you are dead silent. You can’t speak for Jake, but you feel like you could come unglued at any given second. 

“Listen, whatever it is – and let me clarify, I don’t need to know, nor do I want to know – keep it out of this classroom. Let it go before you walk through those doors.” He looks to the large doors that lead out to the hallway, pointing to them. “Because if I hear one more display like I heard today, I won’t have a choice but to kick you both out of this class.” 

Here it is. That heartstopping sensation you felt earlier, and that involuntary gasp that apparently comes with it. 

“With as late as we are in the semester, and with as much work that I know you two have put into your project, I don’t want to do that. But, it won’t be up to me. This campus has a very strict code of conduct.” He pauses, his eyes shifting back and forth from you to Jake. “As intelligent as you both are, I hate seeing you break that.”

You’ve never heard Movack’s voice like this before. His normally loud and booming voice has softened, almost unrecognizable from what you’ve come to know.

He’s stern, undoubtedly. But, it’s the kind of stern that you’d hear from a loving dad who is disappointed. You feel his sincerity, his softness hidden behind his professor-persona. 

It’s intimidating, yet it’s comforting all at once. He cares, deep down.

“Jake, I’ve known you long enough to know that this behavior is not in your character. And y/n,” he starts, looking at you with eyes that are soft and altogether hard as rocks. “I’m aware that I’ve only known you for a few months, but I know you’re better than this. I’ve seen it.” 

He then picks his glasses back up, placing them on his face again as he steps away from his desk. “I’ve seen it in both of you,” he continues, placing his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks. “Listen, I’m not just giving you this speech because of today, or because of the last time this happened. I’m telling you both all of this because you’ve both been nominated for the Distinguished Student Award given to English Majors. I am the one that nominated you.” 

Your eyes widen, your mouth parting in surprise. Instinctively, you look to Jake, whose face is emitting nearly the same expression as yours. 

“I don’t know who will be chosen,” Movack goes on. “But I can’t stand the thought of you two being ineligible because of episodes like today, that I’ve now seen twice.” He moves back to his desk, leaning his back up against it as he crosses his arms over his chest, and one loafer-clad foot over the other. “This award looks really good to grad programs. Jake, I know you’re already accepted to Oxford.” 

Fucking Movack knew before you did? Wonderful.

“But this award will guarantee funding through the scholarship only awarded to the student chosen. I can’t give you too many details, but you don’t want to mess up this opportunity.” 

He then focuses his attention back to you, looking at you with a softness that is somehow reminding you of the way your dad used to look at you. “And for you, this would be money in your pocket since your tuition is mostly covered by the fact that you’re employed by the university.” 

Money in your pocket…something you really need. You’d love to get you and your mom out of that shitty apartment someday, someday soon. Aside from that, this would be really helpful when you begin the process of applying for grad programs next semester. 

You didn’t even know anything like this existed, let alone that you would be considered for something like this. You can’t fuck this up. Movack’s lecture is the thing you needed to bring your focus back to why you’re here in the first place; your education. The only thing that’s ever truly mattered to you. The reason you were able to get yourself out of Oklahoma, the thing that will prove to everyone and yourself that you are capable of achieving anything. 

This award could open so many doors for you. And for Jake, whom a part of you wants to win it just as badly as you want to win it. He deserves it. Despite everything, he deserves it. He should be recognized for his talents, his incredible brain. He was accepted to one of the most prestigious schools in the world, after all. Painful as it is to think about, it’s not lost on you how impressive that is. 

“Do me a favor and consider everything at stake here while you’re on Thanksgiving break,” Movack continues. “You two are shining examples of the brilliance of this department. Don’t let yourselves down by letting things get in the way of that.” 

Movack excuses you and Jake, and the walk down the hall is filled with only the sounds of your sneakers and his boots against the carpeted floor. You stop once you make it to the stairwell, letting him continue his walk down the stairs. But when he realizes you’re no longer walking with him, he turns around, looking up at you as you’re standing still on the top step. 

He takes a breath, as though he’s ready to say something. But after a moment of him looking at you, of you looking at him, there isn’t a single word spoken. Instead, the silence lingers until he turns away, continuing his trek down the stairs.

Not even so much as an apology over what happened in class, or a single comment about what Movack had to say. And you’re angry about it. He should’ve said something. 

But then again, you also could’ve said something. And you didn’t. Couldn’t. 

What transpired in class wasn’t all his fault. You’re self-aware enough to recognize that. And you’re aware enough to know that everything he said was rooted much deeper than the Arthurian lore. Maybe he really does care. And maybe you truly have hurt him. Hurt him more than you ever really intended. 

But the damage has already been done. You fear there’s no coming back from this. From any of it. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The smell of charred turkey and singed herbs is rather potent throughout the entire apartment. So strong, in fact, that the freezing temperatures outside didn’t keep you from opening each window to air out the stench.

You had spent hours researching how to properly bake a turkey, what to season it with, how the hell you’re supposed to carve the damn thing. It’s not something you’ve ever had to worry about doing before, and you didn’t want to fuck it all up your first time. 

But, as you make the first cuts into the smoky meat, you realize that you may have done just that. It’s cooked all the way through – that’s certainly not something you need to worry about. Cooked a little too well, in fact. It’s way too dry, that much is evident by the way your knife isn’t slicing easily through the meat. 

Your mom couldn’t help you with the meal. Her coughing has gotten so much worse; she’s been struggling to catch her breath the past few days. You can hear the rattling in her chest when she speaks, when she coughs – she sounds bad. Really bad. Probably the worst you’ve ever heard. 

You can’t be certain, but you’re suspicious that she’s stopped taking her medications again. A thought that simultaneously pisses you off and breaks your heart. You’re doing everything you can to help her, but if she won’t swallow the pills, she won’t be around much longer. And no matter what she’s done, that fact absolutely terrifies you.

So, Thanksgiving was up to you this year. And the sad reality of it is you would’ve been able to enlist Jake for help. He would’ve happily done it in a heartbeat. He’d be here right now, guiding you through the steps of preparing a meal you have zero experience in.

The only thing you managed to not fuck up are the mashed potatoes. And that’s only because they’re the instant kind. A little hot water, and voila. You have perfectly mashed ‘potatoes’ that taste subpar at best. 

Even the stuffing you made from a mix didn’t come out right. Without gravy, (because you couldn’t find any instant gravy at the store) the stuffing and potatoes will just be dry and rather lackluster. But, at least it’s something. 

The chicken noodle soup is a recipe from your late grandmother. Easy enough to follow, though it just doesn’t taste like it should. It’s certainly not the worst thing you’ve ever made, but you’re a little more than disappointed in the fact that the store was out of carrots. Carrot-less chicken noodle soup just doesn’t feel complete to you. And if you know your mom, she won’t be too thrilled about the lack of carrots, either.

A less-than adequate meal for your first Thanksgiving in your crummy apartment in Ann Arbor. There is a small sense of pride, though. Regardless of how the food turned out, you did it. All on your own, too. You know you deserve at least a little pat on the back for all the work you’ve done. And not just with the food, but how you’ve managed to keep you and your mom afloat. Being the sole provider and caregiver for over a year now, surely she’ll cut you a little slack if the food isn’t up to par with what’s typically expected for a Thanksgiving meal. 

For years, you and your parents had gone to your dads side of the family for pretty much every holiday that called for family gatherings. The only family you had left after the passing of your maternal grandparents. And even before that, you didn’t get to see them but once a year for a few days during Summer break. 

With your dad having exited the frame of your life completely, that means his family is also non-existent in your world. Last year was your first Thanksgiving without him, and the holiday was spent in a small diner over an hour away from Cherry Tree. It was the only thing open, and it was all you could manage at the time. It certainly didn’t feel like Thanksgiving, but it was the best you could do given the circumstances. 

It was your goal this year to give your mom (and yourself) a decent holiday. And even if that means a shitty excuse for a meal, it’s still better than last year. A little, at least. Though, current life circumstances are still feeling rather heavy – some in old ways, some in new ways. 

As you're plating each of your dinners, the main thing on your mind right now is your dad. He’s probably in Oklahoma with the rest of the family, enjoying his second Thanksgiving without the burden of you and your mom. You wonder if he’s happier now, if he’s relieved. Maybe he’s found someone else by now, someone that’s worth sticking around for. Maybe this new someone has a daughter that he loves more than you. Maybe…

Enough. 

Those thoughts will do nothing but make this day a thousand times harder than it already is. It’s been difficult enough as it is, having to turn Josh down over and over again when he’s asked you to come over and celebrate with them. You’d told him that you needed to spend the day with your mom, and of course, his next idea was to have her come with you. Told you there was plenty of food, that Jake had spent hours preparing the meal. 

That sounded even worse than dealing with the guilt of leaving her by herself. The situation would be far too awkward, and you haven’t even told your mom of everything that’s happened. It’s just too much to explain, and going tonight, having her go with you amidst everything…

Nope. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Alone with your mom it is. And though it’s not the ideal scenario by any means, it’s the best option. (And the morbid part of you can’t help but wonder if this’ll be the last Thanksgiving you’ll ever celebrate with her.) 

“I think the turkey is a tad bit burnt,” you admit, defeatedly. “But hopefully it’ll still taste okay.” 

She’s found herself in another coughing fit as you set the plate in front of her. The coughs are deep, heavy. They’re coming straight from her chest. “Try and take a deep breath for me,” you say, rubbing her back until she finally catches her breath. “That sounds bad, mom.”

“I’m…fine…,” she tells you through gasps of air. She sits still for a moment, letting air fully fill her lungs again before she reaches for the plate of food you’ve brought her. “No carrots in the chicken and noodles?” 

Of course she noticed. 

“Couldn’t find them at the store,” you tell her as you get settled in your dining chair. “I guess I waited too long to go shopping. Just about everything was sold out.” Pulling apart your piece of turkey, you grimace at just how dry looks. “And most of what I did manage to find was from the cheap brands that no one really likes.” 

The turkey really does taste terrible. As you suspected, dry as fuck. Without a giant swig of your water, you’re not sure you’d be able to get it down. Gravy probably would’ve helped, you silently ponder. 

After a few bites of potatoes, a spoonful of chicken noodles, and a bite of stuffing, you decide you’re mostly done with the meal. 

The food is pretty bad. But that’s not the only thing keeping you from it. Eating was already hard; it’s about a hundred times worse right now. 

The holidays have always been difficult, simply because they always revolve around food. And Thanksgiving, being the holiday for food, has typically been your least favorite one to celebrate. You have so many memories of family members giving you a look when you filled your plate with less food than they deemed appropriate. And you would get even more looks when you never finished everything on your already scarce plate. 

It’s just a lot. Always has been. And this year, it’s just that much harder. 

Your mom, on the other hand, has practically finished everything on her plate. Which, to say the very least, is shocking when considering how much she shit-talks your cooking. 

“Does it taste okay?” You ask her as she smothers her last piece of turkey in mashed potatoes, shoveling it all in her mouth in one go.

“It’s a little dry,” she utters through a full mouth. “But it’s not half bad. Good job, sweetie.”

“Thanks mom.” Standing up from your seat, you take your half full plate to the kitchen and dump the sad remains in the trash. “There’s plenty more if you’re still hungry.”

“Done already?” She asks while you begin rinsing your plate in the kitchen sink.

“Yeah. The food was pretty filling,” you say, rubbing your tummy to indicate that you’re full. “Couldn’t eat another bite if I tried.” 

She hums inquisitively as she sets her fork down on her plate, grabbing her cup and sipping on the store-bought apple cider you poured her. “You’re not starvin’ yourself again, are you?” 

The plate in your hand crashes into the sink, slipping out of your grasp. You never truly know what your mom is going to say, but this…it caught you by surprise, startled you. This isn’t a conversation you want to have with your mom; you’ve never really had it at all. She’s always dismissed this part of you, pretending like it didn’t exist. Your dad was the one that got you help. Not her. 

So, hearing her mention it is…strange, to say the least. Strange and uncomfortable. Though you don’t like discussing this with anyone, she’s the last person you want to talk about it with. 

You’re not sure what to say, or if you should even say anything. Avoiding it feels like the best option – maybe she’ll forget about it, let it go if you change the subject. Just pretend like you didn’t hear it. 

“Um, there’s some pie,” you force out, leaving the plate where it landed and turning off the faucet. “In the freezer, there’s a frozen pie. Pumpkin. If you want it, I can preheat –,” 

“You didn’t break the plate, did you?” 

The plate? She’s only concerned with the fucking plate?

“N-no?” You stammer, confused. Looking in the sink to be sure, you see the plate still in one piece. No cracks beyond the ones that were already there from age and use. “No, the plate’s fine. Do you want pie?” You ask again, finding this entire interaction incredibly odd.

“No, I don’t think so.” She pushes her now cleared off plate to the center of the table, standing and stretching her arms as high as she can. She coughs again, this one even deeper and more rattling than the ones before. “Think I’ll go take a bath and head to bed soon. I’m not feeling too great.” 

Do you ask her about her medications knowing she’ll probably just lie? No, there’s no point. You know that. She’s clearly made the choice to forgo her meds again. And you learned the last time she did this that you can’t force her to take them. She’ll do what she wants, even if it means it’s slowly killing her. 

And that thought, regardless of everything, absolutely breaks you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

After helping your mom through a bath, putting away leftovers, and cleaning the kitchen until the laminate countertops were sparkling, you’re at last snuggled up under your covers. Though it’s only a little after eight, being in your bed this early feels like the best way to spend the rest of the night. Your mom is already fast asleep, snoring away whatever Western film she’s chosen for the night, so there’s no reason you can’t hunker down in your room a little earlier than usual. 

The apartment is freezing, but you don’t mind. It just gives you a reason to turn your heated blanket up as high as it’ll go, break out your prized pair of purple fuzzy socks, and a giant ass Nike hoodie you thrifted years ago.

This kind of weather begs for a Harry Potter night, one of your favorite things to watch during the colder months. But, of course, you can’t just watch them from the beginning. As of tonight, the Christmas season has officially begun. It’s only right that you watch The Sorcerer's Stone first, the one that, in your opinion, is the most Christmasy of the whole franchise.

The only thing you’re missing are your decorations you’ve always put up in your room. Your tiny tree that could only hold maybe five regular sized ornaments, the string of colorful lights with the big, retro bulbs you’d hang from your ceiling, the wreath you made yourself when you were probably eleven or twelve that you’ve hung on the back of your bedroom door every year. 

You moved to Michigan so quickly, and there was only so much room in your Firebird for everything that encompassed your entire life. Decorations just weren’t a priority when you packed up your life in Oklahoma. 

So, you’ll just have to make do with your fairy lights framing your vanity mirror, and your cuddly cactus plant that could probably hold a star on top, if you really wanted to get festive. 

You’re only a few minutes into the movie, but your eyes are slowly becoming heavier, each blink longer than the last. There’s a certain peace with tonight, thinking about Christmas and watching a movie that has always made you happy. It’s all made you feel so comfortable, and the addition of your warm blanket is the cherry on top of the perfect, cozy night to yourself.

Letting your eyes fully close, you begin to doze off to the sound of the movie, letting it lull you to a restful, tranquil slumber. 

Until your phone vibrates. 

Initially, it scared the hell out of you, your eyes shooting open in an instant. Sitting on your nightstand made the vibration much louder than normal – you swear you felt your bed shake along with it. You clutch your chest, the intrusion making your heart race. 

Reaching for it to see who it is, you’re fully expecting a text from Nat, or another plea from Josh to join them for Thanksgiving.

But reading the screen tells you your thoughts over who it could be are very wrong. It’s the last person you expected to hear from tonight, and you’re reluctant to even open it. You were so relaxed, so close to resting. Why did he have to ruin it? 

You let the text remain unopened for a bit, but you know damn well your anxiety won’t let you leave it that way for much longer. 

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you click on the message. 

Jake: Don’t let the food sit out there for too long, it’ll get cold. There should be plenty for both of you.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed, unwrapping yourself from your heated blanket-burrito and using the remote to pause your movie. You read the text again, trying to make some sense of it. 

Did he…drop food off at your front door? 

There’s only one way to find out. The chilly air hits your bare legs the minute you get out of bed. The shivers run up and down your body as you quickly leave your room and head to the front door. Keeping your arms in the sleeves of your hoodie, you open the door to see probably five or so tupperware containers, stacked neatly by size in front of your door. Further inspection tells you they’re full with food. 

Quickly, so as to not let any more cold air in the apartment, you gather the containers, finding a way to cradle them all in your arms so you only need to make one trip. You use your foot to close the door, hurrying to the kitchen before one slips out from your arms. 

Pieces of turkey in one container, mashed potatoes in another, stuffing, the most gorgeous mac and cheese you’ve ever seen, and sweet potato casserole. Each lid you open lets out steam; it’s all so warm and fresh. And it smells absolutely heavenly. 

The first thing you have to do is taste the mac and cheese. Grabbing a spoon, you dig into the gooey side dish. Strings of cheese hang off the spoon as you bring it to your mouth. 

Jesus. This has to be the best thing that’s ever touched your taste buds. It’s perfectly creamy, and you can taste so many different types of cheese blended in with just a hint of garlic. You’ve never had gourmet mac and cheese, but you’re pretty sure this is about as delectable as it gets. 

Next thing to try is the potatoes, which you’re sure were handmashed. Those instant ones you made earlier don’t even deserve to be called mashed potatoes, especially in comparison to Jake’s. 

Before you know it, you’ve tried at least a few bites of everything. And, as you presumed before you did a taste test, everything is incredible. Jake is certainly skilled in the kitchen, and it makes you wonder if he’s missed his calling as a prestigious chef.

Then again, his literary brain is one of the things you love most about him. It would be a shame for him to not pursue something in the written arts. 

You’ve suddenly remembered you haven’t thanked him. Though you’re not exactly on speaking terms, you can’t let him do all of this, driving over twenty minutes just to bring you and your mom something to eat, go without a proper thank you. 

You: Thank you, Jake. That was really nice of you.

You pressed the send button before giving yourself the chance to overthink the tone of your message. (Which, you’ll still do. But, at least you didn’t type the message a hundred times before you sent it.)

After finding a place for everything in the fridge, you walk back to the front door to lock it, remembering you hadn’t earlier. You then go to peek in your moms room to see if she’s awake to offer her some actual good food. She’s still asleep, her snoring now a dull noise as she’s deep in her slumber. 

It’ll be a nice surprise for her in the morning, you think to yourself as you head back to your room. You’ve ignored the fact that your phone has yet to vibrate with a text back. No response from Jake, and it’s been a solid ten minutes. (You know it’s not that long, but your anxiety about texting him makes it feel like ten hours.)

Oh well. It is what it is. He doesn’t have to respond, and there’s a good chance that he won’t. You’ll just have to be okay with that. 

You crawl back into bed, clicking the button on the control to your heated blanket a few times to ensure it’s up all the way before unpausing the movie. Though, it doesn’t feel quite as relaxing now that your mind is a bit preoccupied with the fact that he’s still not responded. You keep glancing at your phone on the bed next to you, waiting for the screen to light up with his name. 

But, it doesn’t.

And that’s okay. Or, at least you’re trying to convince yourself of that. It was, afterall, your choice to cut things off with him. He’s already done more than he probably should’ve done. Though, you still don’t really know why he did it. The fact that he thought of you at all feels good. Really good. 

But, did he do it because he wanted to, or because his twin that’s been texting you all day put him up to it? 

That’s the question running laps around your mind as your eyes are becoming heavy again, the sound of the movie fading as you’re starting to drift to sleep. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I really need your creative mind, y/n,” Josh begs. “I can’t do this without your eye, my dear. You’re the heart and soul of this whole thing.”

You’ve been on the phone with him for nearly fifteen minutes now; he’s been incessantly begging you to come over the entire time. He swears he needs your help with the final edits of the film, making sure everything flows properly, that the story line makes sense. Why a film genius like him needs your help is beyond you. But you’re flattered, nonetheless. 

And while you are flattered, and you do want to help, going over there means risking an interaction with Jake. That’s risky territory at the moment, and you can’t help but be a little offended over the fact that he never responded to you the other night. 

“Can we just go somewhere else?” You ask him, the phone nearly slipping out of your palm from the nervous perspiration. “I just don’t want to see–”

“I can get rid of Jake,” he interrupts, speaking a little quieter than he was before. You’ve got a sinking feeling that means Jake is in the room, or at least nearby. And that possibility has your tummy doing flips. “I’ll just tell him he needs to take Sam’s shift, let him handle the office for a while. I do have that power, you know.” 

He wheezes a chuckle to himself, and it actually makes you smile too. It eases your edginess for a moment, but that quickly fades when you hear another voice on the phone, one that seems to be a bit further away. 

“I can take the fucking hint.” He’s yelling, he’s angry. And you suddenly feel like absolute shit. You then hear a rather loud bang, presumably the front door being slammed as he made the decision to leave.

“Well, that takes care of that little nuisance,” Josh says, still giggling. “So, you’ll come?”

“W-was that Jake?” You ask, though you already know the answer. The very mention of his name makes your heart ache, and hearing that tone from him is like a slice to the skin. 

“Sure was,” he chuckles. “He’ll get over it. The coast is clear until six o’clock when the office closes. I’ll be awaiting your anticipated arrival, my dear.”

“Josh, wai–” You hear a smooching sound from his end before the call ends, cutting you off completely. 

Little shit. He didn’t even give you the chance to turn him down again. It’s only reluctantly that you’ll go. And you may as well go now. Get it over with quicker. 

You couldn’t care less about your appearance today. Comfort takes priority over cute as you pull on your clothes. Sweats today instead of leggings, your trusty Billy Joel crewneck – an old relic from the ‘90s that used to belong to your dad. Not that sentimentality has anything to do with it; it’s simply warmer and sturdier than your other options. Men’s clothing always seems to be made better than women’s, and vintage pieces like this remind you of a time when quality mattered. Heavy, durable, and practical – exactly what you need today. The fact that it was once your dad’s? Pure coincidence. (Mostly.)

A little moisturizer and aquaphor for your lips is the extent of your makeup, and a messy bun on the crown of your head is all you care to do for your unwashed hair. 

You slip your phone in the front pocket of your crossbody before securing it over your shoulder and heading to the coat closet to grab your puffer. You’re trying not to breathe as you walk past your mom, hoping by some chance that she’ll ignore the fact that you’re leaving. She’s been sitting on the couch for hours now, watching every film Clint Eastwood ever made back to back. 

“You know,” she starts, keeping her eyes glued to the forty three inch insignia. “Your grandfather performed a few stunts in his movies. Remember that?”  

Pulling your coat from the closet, you hold it under your arm as you turn your attention to her. “Yeah, I do,” you say, smiling softly at the fond memory of his stories. “I really miss him.” 

She’s not looked at you until now, and she’s smiling at you. Something you’ve not seen in a long time. At least not a genuine one. Her eyes are smiling, so you know she means the one she’s wearing across her lips. “I miss him, too.” 

You’ve not talked about your grandfather in years. Not since he passed. Your mom forbade you to do so, saying it hurt too much to talk about him. 

Her grieving process was much different than yours. She felt her sadness by watching movies he loved, but not talking about him while she did so. You felt yours by asking your dad about any memories he had with him. 

He’d always warned against asking your mom too much about him, or anything about her childhood altogether. There’s so little you know about her life growing up. You only know the things your dad had told you, and you know a little from what your grandparents felt comfortable divulging, which truly wasn’t much. 

Her mother, your grandma, struggled immensely with her mental health. She struggled in a time when the world simply didn’t acknowledge that the brain could be just as sick, at times more, than the body. She never got the help she needed. Though she tried to be the best mother she could be, you’re fairly certain she put your mom through a lot as a kid. From what you’ve gathered from your dad, she would act out and cause quite a bit of disruption at times. She did it purely for the attention it garnered. 

But she never remembered doing it. As your dad described, it was like a switch would flip inside of her mind, turning off the logical side of her brain and closing her eyes to what she was doing. She’d even gone so far as to make herself sick a few times, just to get attention from people. When the switch would turn back on and she’d realize what she’d done, she felt terrible. 

By the time you came around, she had finally gotten some help. She became the mom your mom always needed. 

You loved your grandma. She was as sweet and gentle with you as any grandma should be. Her and your grandpa both were. But they lived in Texas, so you didn’t see them as much as you wished you could’ve. 

His passing happened only a few weeks after hers. You’re certain he died of a broken heart. As much trouble as she gave him throughout the half century they were wed, he still loved her. 

He couldn’t find the strength to attend her funeral service. Said he’d already gotten his closure, and didn’t see the point in letting the wound fester even more. 

He was already gone by that point. A soulless vessel just waiting for the body to give out. 

You weren’t able to go to his service. Money was far too tight to make the drive to Fairview more than once in such a short period of time. Your dad did everything he could to make the trip possible. And if you’re remembering correctly, your mom didn’t exactly fight to go. She kind of just…gave up on the idea. Didn’t even try. If you had to guess, aside from the money issues, she more than likely just couldn’t handle attending both of their funerals so close together. 

This is the first time she’s mentioned him since then, and it’s…odd. But, a bit comforting. While you don’t have too many memories of him, of either of them, the ones you do have are beautifully engraved on your heart forever. 

There’s a longing to stop what you’re doing and sit with her on the couch, take advantage of this rare moment of her wanting to talk about something she’s never talked with you about before. 

But you made a promise to Josh. And that promise is quite dear to you. And, it’s not like you’ll be out late. You’ll get home just in time to make dinner and, hopefully, continue this conversation with her. 

“I-I’m going to help with some things on the film,” you say, timid over the sudden wave of guilt for leaving right now. “But I’ll be back in just a few hours. Is soup okay for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” she responds, deadpanned and monotone, eyes now back on the screen. “See you later.” 

“Okay.” Her sudden tone-shift has you a little nervous, that feeling of disappointing her weighing on your chest. “I’ll be back around six thirty. Love you,” you say as you head out the door, and you wait just a moment to see if she’ll respond.

She doesn’t. She essentially waves you off, and you leave in silence, left in complete confusion as to what the hell just happened. 

Part of you wonders if she’s attempting to rebuild your relationship. Well, could you even call it ‘rebuilding’? Or… more likely, was it possible she continued to work (like always) to cover up everything that’s happened in your life again? The slightly more cynical part of you wonders, like you often have been lately, if she started the conversation to guilt you into staying home.

In truth, you just don’t know with her anymore. And you may never again. Well, at least you thought you understood her. Thought that your entire life. 

But, as you’ve recently discovered, you may have never truly known her. The fact is, you’re coming to the conclusion that she’s manipulated you into believing things that just aren’t true. When Jake played you Stevie Ray Vaughn, reminding you of music that defined your life up until this point… You pondered the music you thought your mom introduced you to. Certain things with him have forced your brain to remember things from your past a bit… differently. 

Your mom didn’t listen to Stevie. Your dad did. He played his music, he talked to you about how much he admired him, and your mom took the credit for it. And, your dad being the man he had always been for her, had let her have that. Let her take credit where it was due him. She ‘took credit’ so often that she had you convinced, for years, that it was the truth. And, when he left, she took advantage of the newfound ‘hatred’ you developed for him, and used that to her advantage. 

Perhaps you’re just easy to manipulate.

Or, she’s just that good at strategically lying. 

Jesus. You just wish Jake wasn’t leaving. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

This is your first time at the Kiszka place since Sam took you home the other morning. And while you know Jake isn’t at home, seeing his Rover outside as you pulled into your parking spot most definitely elicited some strong emotions from you. A bit of a jumpscare to see it, to say the very least. 

A helpful reminder that he is technically here as he’s working the front office of the complex. So, avoiding that specific area is necessary. If you do that, you’ll be just fine.

And though Jake may not be at home, someone else most definitely is. As if your life isn’t enough of a disarrayed puzzle, the closest spot to park your car in was an empty one right between Jake’s Rover and Sam’s Bug. 

Okay, universe. I fucking hear you. 

As you’re getting out of your car, you catch sight of Sam jogging toward his Bug, smiling wide when he sees you. “Hey, beautiful!” He pulls you in for a tight hug once he gets closer to you. His blue Patagonia pullover feels so soft and warm against your cold cheek. And he smells amazing, like eucalyptus mixed with the scent a rain shower leaves behind. “Here to help my brother, are ya?”

“Mhm,” you hum into his chest, reluctant to break the hug as it's freezing outside. As you pull away a bit, you look up at him, his warm smile making the cold air a little less crisp. “Are you helping, too?”

“Well, with Jacob taking up my post in the office, I’m free to head to the animal shelter like I’ve been wanting to.” He shrugs his shoulders, his grin growing even wider. “Kind of been thinking about adopting a puppy. Finally have the chance.”

You’d sort of hoped he was going to stay and help, but the fact that he looks so excited about the possibility of getting a puppy makes up for the fact that he’s leaving. 

He gives you one last hug before walking to his car. “I hope you find the perfect baby to bring home with you,” you say as he opens the squeaky driver's side door.

“Me too! I’ll see you later, beautiful.” With that, he hops in and starts the ignition as you power walk your way to their apartment, desperate to get out of the cold. 

Josh welcomed you with literal open arms when he let you inside, hugging you tight against his soft beige sweatshirt before you could walk all the way in. The display of affection made you breathe a sigh of relief. You’re glad to know that your friendship with him is okay despite everything. In truth, you have been a bit worried about that, given Jake is his literal twin. It would only make sense he’d choose his side over yours.

But what you’ve learned about Josh in the few months you’ve known him, is he’s the most unbiased, loving ray of pure sunshine who doesn’t hold anything against anyone. 

He's the kind of person anyone would be so lucky to have by their side. And you just so happen to be one of those lucky few. 

“Talk to me,” he says as he pulls out a chair for you to sit at the dining room table. He then sits at the chair right next to yours, turning it completely so that his entire body is facing you, his way of letting you know you’ve got his undivided attention. “Are you doing alright?” 

“I’m doing fine! Stressing about finals, but other than that I–” 

“No,” he interrupts, crossing one khaki-clad leg over the other and folding his arms over his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.” He leans his body against the back of the chair, getting himself nice and comfortable as he’s prepared to hear the truth about how you’re actually doing. “You can’t hide from me, y/n.” 

Well. Perhaps he’s correct about that. You’ve almost always been able to hide the way you truly feel from people, but when you moved here to Michigan, you found it much harder to do so with the people you’ve befriended. 

There’s no answer as to why they are able to see you so vastly different than anyone else in your life ever has. They just do. The fact that they see you at all is a wonder entirely unheard of to you. 

In a display of defeat, your body slumps down in your chair, your elbow meeting the table as you move your head to rest against the hand of the same arm. “I’m…a little sad, I guess. I don’t know, I just –,” This new territory of expressing whatever the fuck is happening in your mind is not exactly a comfortable place for you just yet. And you’ve had to do it an awful lot as of late. Jesus. Your emotions could use a fucking rest. “I thought things were going well. Better than they actually were. I can’t – I just don’t really know how to articulate it.” 

“Trouble articulating is certainly not something you need to worry about with me,” Josh giggles, unquestionably referring to his slightly long winded rambles that sometimes take awhile to get to the point he’s trying to make. That characteristic just so happens to be one of your favorite things about him.

But just as he’s about to finish his thought, your whole body stiffens in fear as you hear the front door unlock and begin to open. Glancing at your phone, you note that it’s not even two yet, so surely it can’t be him…right? 

The door opens a little more, and your breath is held tight in your lungs at the possibility of who’s behind the frame, your body frozen in your chair, entirely unable to move a muscle. 

Dear god, please no.

“Well hello, darling!” Josh lovingly boasts as Malachi struggles to walk inside with his hands full of carryout bags from Shake Shack, impressively juggling his keys and phone all at the same time. 

Thank fuck. 

Not that you don’t love to see Malachi all the time, but you’ve never been happier to see him than you are right at this very moment. 

“I know you’re a little busy, babe,” Chi says, struggling to find his footing and a free hand to shut and lock the door with. “But I could really use a little help making sure the food actually makes it to the table.” One of the bags falls from his fumbling hand, but with pure grace and luck, he somehow catches the handle with the tip of his foot, bending his knee so that the bag is suspended from the ground. 

Josh yells a monstrous laugh, clapping as he bolts out of his chair with such speed that the whole thing slams on the ground. “That was talent, baby!,” he shouts, jogging his way over to lend Chi a hand before he loses his balance. 

He grabs the bag still dangling from Chi’s foot, finally giving the poor man back his footing. You smile as you watch Josh lift on the tips of his toes to plant a big smooch on his cheek. “Thanks for picking up lunch, babe.” 

“Mhm,” Malachi hums as they bring the bags over to the table you’re still sitting at. “Wasn’t sure what to get you, y/n,” he says as he and Josh are moving the fast food contents from the bag to the table. “I hope a grilled cheese and some fries are okay!” 

You didn’t know food would be involved today, but you are hungry. Extremely hungry, in fact. Needless to say, meals have been even harder since you discovered Jake’s little secret. Just one more thing to add to the endless triggers as of late. 

And though eating is hard right now, a grilled cheese is actually one of your safe foods, something you’ve never been too anxious to eat. A childhood staple that’s never been too much, yet just enough. “You can never go wrong with melted cheese on toast,” you say to Chi. “You really didn’t need to get me anything, but I appreciate it.” 

“My thoughts precisely. And it was no problem at all,” he remarks as he sets the meal down in front of you, along with a few crumpled up napkins. It smells so wonderful. You’ve suddenly gotten the urge to rip open the foil wrapper around the sandwich and scarf the whole thing down as quickly as you can. Of course, that’s not what you’ll do. One bite at a time like a normal, not ravenous person will do just fine. 

“You two get anything done while I was out?” Chi asks as you take your first bite, letting the warm cheddar sit on your tongue for a moment, relishing in the melted gooeyness. 

He pulls out the chair on the end of the table beside Josh, digging into his own food once he sits down next to his partner who’s nearly finished his burger already. 

“Not quite,” Josh answers, mouth full of food, wiping ketchup globs from the sides of his lips with his napkin. “We’ve been catching up, haven’t we?” He looks to you, smacking his food and winking. “And don’t think we’re done with our conversation just yet, sweetheart.”

Dammit.

“Ah, the Jake drama, I take it?” Chi speculates, examining his burger with a huff of irritation. “They never remember to leave off the damn pickles.” Begrudgingly, he peels them off the patty, one by one, tossing them in one of the bags he brought the food in. 

“Picky picky,” Josh teases, tossing his trash in the same bag with the forsaken pickles. “Anyway, as I was saying,” he begins, dusting the salt from the fries off his hands and turning his chair back to face you. “We’re not done talking about this.” His hands reach for yours, cupping one the one not holding your grilled cheese between his two palms. “I don’t want you to let anything that happened with my brother make you feel like you should keep your distance from us.” 

You know he’s referring to his multiple attempts at reaching out to you, inviting you over, eliciting your help on the film. He’s certainly been trying to keep you around, and while you’ve never really been able to identify your self worth, the fact that he’s gone to all of this trouble just to maintain a friendship with you truly does make you feel good. Really good, actually. 

You’re suddenly feeling incredibly horrible for ignoring his endeavors. Avoiding Jake doesn’t mean you need to avoid Josh, or Malachi, Sam…

They are extensions of Jake, to a degree. But they aren’t Jake. You can have relationships with them without the addition of Jake. If they’re okay with it, then so are you. 

“I won’t,” you confirm with a deep sigh, setting your sandwich with a few small bites out of it down on the foil it was wrapped in, deciding you’ve had enough. “I promise.” 

You’re glad Josh hasn’t decided to cut you out completely, because losing Jake is hard enough as it is. It would be much worse if everyone decided you were no more than an insignificant fling in Jake’s life (which could still be the case… for Jake, at least.) and chose to cut you off when he did.

But you can’t help but wonder why no one thought to mention it to you, or why it was never brought up. Obviously, Jake’s decision wasn’t on a whim, or some spur of the moment choice to move to another country. This had to have been in the works for a long time now. And you know his brothers knew about it. They’re his brothers, for christ sakes. One of whom literally shares his DNA. 

Aside from that, Jake’s job as co-business-runner of this incredible complex is far too important to just leave without warning. There have no doubt been several talks amongst all of the Kiszkas. And surely, they’ve begun the process of hiring someone in his place by now. (The mere thought of all of these loose ends getting tied up sucks, by the way. Makes it all the more real that he’s actually leaving to live in an entirely different fucking country.)

So, a question that’s been sitting in your mind, festering, lingers. 

“Can I ask you something, though, Josh? And I want you to be honest with me.” 

You’ve certainly piqued Josh’s interest. He sets his burger back down on the table just as he’s about to take a bite, choosing you to give you his full attention. “Of course, love,” he says.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me he was leaving? I’m far past done trying to comprehend Jake’s silence about the whole thing. I cannot wrap my mind around that—.” Shifting your weight in your chair, you try shrugging off the tension forming in your body at the thought. Tugging at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, you let out a heavy sigh as you stare at your fidgeting hands. “But I just want to know how come no one warned me. I mean, I know we weren’t exactly public about…,” you pause, thinking of the right word that describes what you and Jake are – were. “...our thing together. But we didn’t really hide it, either. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I feel like someone should’ve told me, you know?” 

You peer at Josh through your lashes, having felt far too nervous to look at him until you said what you needed to say. His hand is rubbing at the back of his neck, his lips curled in a nervous grin. “Well,” he begins, fluffing the curls sitting on his forehead with the back of his hand. “I can’t argue that, my dear. You’re right; someone should’ve told you. It’s not that I didn’t want to – I was obligated by oath.”

“Oath?” You question, finding yourself awfully intrigued by this now-apparent promise to keep quiet.

“He made me – us – vow not to tell you, or to let on to it until his timing felt right.” He shrugs his shoulders, uncrossing his legs and places his hands in his lap. “I trusted that he’d find the right time and the right way to present it to you. He fucked his entire plan up. The whole goddamn thing.” 

Us? Plan?

You’re hearing Josh’s words, but you’re growing increasingly frustrated over the fact that it seems everyone knew before you did. Along with the frustration is the maddening confusion that seems to relentlessly linger. “Who’s us?” You ask, fighting the frustration seeping out through your tone of voice. It’s not Josh’s fault, you know that. He’s not the one you’re upset with, and you don’t want him to think your anger is toward him.

“Well, Malachi and I,” he says as he gestures toward his partner who’s just finished his burger. “And Sam.”

Sam? He talked to Sam about this? Your heart practically skipped a beat at the mention of his name. 

“But he hadn’t told Natalia or Danny yet. He didn’t trust those two to not spill the beans,” he giggles, Chi joining him with an agreeing smile. 

He’s certainly correct about that. Nat wouldn’t have kept something like this from you, wouldn't have let him keep it from you. She would’ve made him tell you. 

So, yeah. He was smart in keeping her out of it. And telling Danny would mean practically the same thing as telling Nat. 

But if he asked Sam to keep it from you, wouldn’t that mean Sam was privy to your situationship? He acted like he had no idea you two were a thing…acted? It certainly makes more sense to you that Sam would’ve known this whole time. How could he not? The times you and Jake snuck off together and weren’t seen for the rest of the night, or the unspoken glances and subtle touches you’ve shared in front of everyone. The fact that you completely ghosted Sam when things with Jake were picking up. 

Surely he knew before he found out about your birthday date with Jake. It’s possible that he really was naive and oblivious to it, but you also can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it than that. Especially considering what Jake said to him on the phone the morning he took you home. 

What if he has known this whole time, but chose to ignore it? What if he was waiting for the moment Jake would fuck up and you’d turn to him once again? 

Jesus. That’s a lot to take in, and you’re in no place emotionally or mentally to consider all of that. Your fingers begin rubbing away the ache present in your temples, and you feel Josh’s hand reach for your knee to offer you some comfort.

“I’m sorry, love. You probably feel like you’ve been lied to by everyone,” Josh goes on, the sympathy in his voice touching your heart. “But no one had any malicious intent. We just wanted Jake to take the reins on this one and, well, he blew it.” 

Yeah, that about sums it up. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Josh. It’s not your fault – or yours,” you add, directing the words toward Malachi, who looks a bit uneasy with the direction this conversation has taken. Definitely not what he bargained for when he showed up with the food, you’re sure. One of the most non confrontational people you’ve ever met. “I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. It makes sense. Really, I get it.”

Josh gives a gentle squeeze to your knee before letting go, offering a sweet, apologetic smile. “I’ll tell you one thing,” he says, chuckling softly through his nose. “I’ve never seen him this…,” he pauses, raising his hands as though he’s reaching for the right word. “...entranced before. And don’t you dare let on that I told you this,” he says, waving his index finger toward you. “But he’s absolutely captivated by you, my dear.”

You cock an eyebrow at Josh’s words, feeling a mix of emotions about it. You know Josh wouldn’t lie to you, but you can’t fight the lingering sense of doubt over what he’s saying. 

The way your stomach tightens and then flutters at his words, though… The idea that you ‘captivate’ him in a way his own twin has never witnessed another woman ‘captivate’ him — it makes your skin tingle in a way that has you reminiscing. Reminiscing on the evening of your birthday…

But, when you think about the night of your birthday, when he played Lenny for you and handed you that part of his heart, it does make you wonder if it could be true, that he is captivated by you. 

You can’t be certain about how he feels, but what you do know is you are undoubtedly captivated by him. In every way, unfortunate as it may be.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“My god,” you mutter as you’re seeing the first clips of the film. The picture is beautiful. The cinematography is beyond what you imagined, like a movie with a billion dollar budget, set to be released on silver screens around the globe.

The fact that your group of people, that Josh was able to produce something of this magnitude…

You knew it would be beautiful. But you didn’t realize it would be this professional. 

“Josh, this is –,” you say, watching only the exterior shots he grabbed to set the scene. “Wait –, “ You press the spacebar on the laptop to pause the video, looking at Josh who’s grinning into the palm of his hand at your reactions. “I didn’t know you had a drone!” 

The footage is of a mountainous landscape, from above it. He’s slowed the video down, letting the powerful cinematic music play over the view of the lush peaks. The camera rounds the mountains, hovering above a crystal lake glittering at their bases. It then turns to the field of trees next to the water, their leaves in full evergreen wonder. He must’ve filmed this at the beginning of August, as the colors of the trees are exactly as they were when you moved here. You remember, because they charmed you instantly. 

“You like it?” He eagerly asks, anxious excitement laced in his voice. “I thought the drone footage added a bit of je ne sais quoi to the piece.” He kisses the tips of his fingers in a chef's kiss of sorts, in regards to his work. 

Awestruck is the only word that appropriately encapsulates how you’re feeling as you watch this masterpiece, and you’re hardly two minutes in. The quality is perfect. The colors are so rich and deep. How a college student managed to create this is absolutely beyond you. Then again, this is the mind of Josh you’re witnessing. After months of working with him, seeing his gorgeous visions come to life, you really shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been utterly impressed by him since day one of working with him. 

“It’s beautiful, Josh. Better than any movie that’s come out in the last few years.” 

He laughs shyly, pausing the film with a tap against the space bar. “I can’t accept that, y/n. But, it most definitely means a great deal coming from you.” 

“Don’t inflate his ego,” Malachi chuckles, gathering all the trash from lunch on the dining table. He leans down to Josh, whose face is contorted in annoyance, offering an apologetic kiss. Josh lifts his hand just as their lips are about to meet, so Chi’s lips land on his flattened palm. “Awe, c’mon, babe. I just was joshin’ ya.” Chi winks in your direction, grinning mischievously from the corner of his mouth.  

You can’t help but giggle, holding your hand up to your mouth to suppress how hard you truly want to laugh. 

“You are done,” Josh says, holding back his desire to laugh by brushing down the slides of his mustache. “I believe the costume picker-outer is no longer needed during the process of editing the film. You know, since the costumes are already picked out and filmed.” 

Malachi winces as he tosses the fast food trash in the trash can, clicking his tongue. “Ouch, babe. Got me there,” he says, sarcastically, strutting back toward the table and leaning down to Josh once again. “This costume picker-outer is going to take a nap and leave his brilliantly callous boyfriend to edit in peace.” They both giggle, and Josh finally gives in and gives Chi the kiss he went for earlier. 

As Malachi heads up the stairs, you notice the blush in Josh’s cheeks as he scrolls through the footage on his laptop. “You guys are sickeningly cute,” you say. 

“We are, aren’t we?” Josh replies, the gap in his front teeth on display with the biggest grin you’re sure you’ve ever seen from him. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been looking through video clips for over two hours now, lending Josh a hand in editing and arranging them wherever you can. It’s certainly a bit weird and almost uncomfortable to see yourself, well, like this. You hadn’t realized just how much of you you’d see on the screen. Both in the amount of scenes you’re in and the amount of skin you’re presenting. 

Especially those scenes with Sam. 

Though it is uncomfortable to see yourself tangled up with him like that on the screen, the way it’s filmed is incredibly sexy and perfectly sensual without it being too much of either of those things.

Josh’s camera skills are unmatched, as you’ve discovered by watching everything back. He filmed all the right things, found all the best angles. The ones of you in bed with Sam, the ones you were most nervous to see, are so beautifully done. You don’t even see yourself in them, you see Guiniverre. And when you see her, you see beauty in yourself that you’ve never known before.

Josh paid extra careful attention to the shots of your body, being sure you’re not in a place to be objectified, but admired. Only very small glimpses of your body are shown, but enough that it’s very clear what is and will be taking place with the queen and her secret lover. It’s simply magnificent, cinematically stunning. You’re proud of it, and you have no doubt it’ll guarantee you and Jake a good grade in Movack’s class for this genius adaptation of the lore. 

You’re mesmerized by each scene you watch, but your favorite scene you’ve seen thus far is the one in which the queen and Lancelot kiss for the very first time, hidden in their secret sanctuary in the forest. 

It was the first scene you’d shot. You were so nervous; you hardly knew everyone at that time. Yet, it’s the most convincing acting you had done in all of the scenes you’ve seen. Not only that, but it’s the most aesthetically beautiful. The place Josh found for it was incredible, and you find yourself thinking about that little hidden gem amongst the trees behind their apartment complex quite often. 

Watching all of this has brought back so many memories of filming. Like that day you filmed the first scene, how Jake was pissed and you got to witness your first twin fight. 

As you watched further, there were little clips interspersed within the captured film that highlighted times like that. ‘Behind the scenes’ footage, if you will. The candid moments made your heart skip a beat and your eyes well with tears. A smile, pulling easily at your lips as you reminisced. It was as you reviewed these clips that you truly realized how this experience had been one of the best in your entire life. Truly. This group of people, having changed your life so inexplicably… It made you wonder if part of your reason for winding up in Michigan was to simply meet and love all of them. 

These small, carefree moments in time you remember witnessing (others you were sure occurred as you busied yourself with costume changes) — they rivaled many cherished family videos of your own. Because, you realized, these times and these people had taught you an authentic appreciation for life like you’d never had before. Every single ‘outtake’ made your chest ache and long for all of it, all over again. A never changing existence with these wonderful individuals you got to call your friends. Chosen family, even.

Giggles and snorts filled the room at the miscellaneous clips, thrown in at the most hilarious times. Extremely serious scenes would end with a ‘cut!’. And Kiszka mischief would immediately follow in the very next break of camera footage.

You snickered watching the clips of Jake and Sam, stealing the cameras and filming each other at the same time. They were flipping the bird at one another and laughing so hard at Josh throwing a fit over them “mistreating the equipment.” 

And then one of your favorite days filtered in. When Jake was practicing his British accent and sounded way too much like Jack Sparrow. His little accent, endearing to you in a way you still can’t describe.

His brothers gave him so much shit for the lilted tone. You grinned as you watched film roll back of them telling him he sounded like the drunken pirate, only serving to fan his flames. Acting like a pirate for the rest of the day, yelling “argh!” at least every five minutes and continuously asking where the rum had gone. (Of course, there was no rum to begin with. Only tequila… a Jake staple.) 

As well, you heard him yell “parlay” in the background of some of the clips. You remembered he’d done it anytime Josh told him to prepare himself for a scene. At which point Josh would remind him that they were, in fact, not on a pirate ship and, consequently, there was no captain to take him to. 

You belly-laughed harder than you ever had that day. Just as you did watching them now. Josh was so frustrated with him and his pirate antics, but after a while he got in on it, too. Jake’s impression, arguably better, probably due to his childhood obsession, (and his adult obsession – his car is named the black pearl for a reason, after all) but Josh’s, heard again in these outtakes… it wasn’t half bad.

Those days were simply the best, and you’re finding yourself reflecting on them with a feeling of pure joy, with that bothersome undertone of sadness. Though those days were only a few months ago, some of them even less than that, you miss them. You always will. You miss the peace they gave you, the new sense of belonging they provided that you’d never known up until that point. 

Things are so different now, and you hate it. You’re afraid you’ll never be able to hangout with all of them again. Things would be too awkward, too tense. Those days are only left in your memory as some of the best days of your life. And your memory, sadly, is probably where they’ll stay. 

But at least you have something to commemorate those memories; the film will forever exist in the ethos of time, a visual representation of the moments — some bad, but most of them wonderful — echoed in your mind for the remainder of your lifetime.

“The red looks so vibrant, Josh,” you say as you watch him edit a scene in which the queen is wearing her red gown, the most stunning costume you’d ever seen when you put it on the first time. And the red lips, the special Guiniverre red you wore that you’ll always identify with your portrayal of her (and you’ll certainly never forget the smear of it, all across Jake’s face. The two of you, hidden behind the door of his room). The lipstick in every scene is so brilliantly bright – you knew it would be a staple for your version of her, and the red lips, along with the red dress and Sam’s red costumes are suddenly inspiring you. 

“I have an idea, and if you hate it, it’s okay. Just don’t tell me you hate it,” you say, still eyeing the suddenly iconic lip color. 

Josh stops what he’s doing as he grins and gives you his attention. He squints his eyes as he looks at you, staring directly into yours and biting his lip. 

“I see a glint of genius in your eyes,” he says, staring at you almost uncomfortably intently. He then bends his torso and places his elbows on his knees, making a fist with his hands for his chin to rest on.“I’m all ears. Let’s hear it.” 

He’s looking up at you with giant, baby cow-like eyes, lashes nearly touching his dark brows. He certainly looks intrigued, and you’re fighting against the nerves to voice your thoughts to someone so talented. But, if anyone isn’t going to judge you for an idea, it’s Josh. 

“The color red is really significant in this film – it symbolizes their lust and the intensity behind their passionate affair,” you begin as he cocks an eyebrow, nodding his head while his lips part a little. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We edit every scene with Guiniverre and Lancelot to be black and white, except for the color red. So, her lips, her dress, the bedsheets, anything red is highlighted as an ode to their passion.” He quickly lifts from his bent over position, bringing his hand up to his mouth as his eyes grow wider.

“Brilliant!” He shouts, so loud that your body jolts. “Your mind is a visionary trove, y/n. What a dazzling testament to your pure genius!” He leans forward and cups your face in both of his hands, planting a wet kiss on your cheek. “How very Spielberg of you, my dear.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Almost two more hours of non-stop editing have gone by, focusing on the colorization of the scenes that’ll be mostly black and white, save for the red details. 

And just as you expected, it looks incredible. Josh has given the scenes an almost noir effect; they’re grainy and contrasted, very low exposure. It’s beautiful, divine, and so sexy. The pops of red are subtle, yet alluringly effective. It looks even better than you imagined, all in thanks to Josh’s eye for filmmaking. 

You both decided on only the intimate ones to look this way, that it shows the significance of their ill-reputed affair and sets them apart from the rest of the film. The only scene of this nature that won’t look this way is the first kiss between the lovers, and that’s simply due to the breathtaking scenery surrounding them. It’d be a shame to take away from that, and Josh believes it makes perfect sense that their first encounter be colorized. 

Everything is turning out even better than you could’ve ever imagined. And while you’ve only tackled a handful of the scenes in this masterpiece, you know the rest of this film is pure magic. 

It’s getting late now, and you promised your mom you’d be home at a good time tonight. (Not to mention, it’s almost time for Jake to get off work, and you don’t want to risk that intrusion.)

“I’m forever in your debt, y/n. Thank you endlessly for your insight today.” Josh helps you put your coat on, handing you your crossbody once you’re situated in your puffer. “You’re the very thing we needed for this film, I hope you know that.”

You thank him with another hug, letting the embrace linger as he sways you back and forth. You then hear the front door open again, and you look over expecting Sam to walk in with his newly adopted baby from the shelter.

As the door opens further, you look down towards the floor in hopes of seeing a dog walking through. But, what you see is no dog. It’s a boot. A black boot. One you recognize rather well.

The way your heart picks up in your chest, your breath catching in your throat… it’s embarrassing. But you can’t help your bodily reaction of his closeness. His proximity, fulfilling secret desires of being with him again. Secret, ridiculous desires.

And as the rest of him walks in, you’re met with the person you tried to avoid tonight. For obvious reasons, but mostly because you can’t trust yourself around him. Jake walks in, seemingly unaware that you’re standing only feet away from the door. He turns around to shut and lock it, kicking off his boots before he finally notices you and Josh.

You don’t say anything, he doesn’t say anything. The two of you stand still for a moment, sharing an awkward glance in complete silence. God, how you wish things were different.

Josh being Josh, can’t handle the quiet tension any longer. He knows the two of you probably won’t say anything unless he breaks the tension himself. “How were things at the office?”

Jake heads toward the kitchen, walking past both of you to get to the fridge. “Fine,” he says as he grabs a Miller Lite from the top shelf. “Pretty slow. Slow enough that I probably could’ve worked from here and just had the phone on me.” Based on his tone, you’d say he’s still a bit angry over having to work tonight. Also, the fact that you’re still here is most likely not helping. 

He cracks open the can, taking a large swig of it before he walks out of the kitchen toward the hallway.

“Oh,” he mutters before as he stops midway to his room. He spins back around to face you, taking a few steps closer. Your heart beats at the prospect of him being nearer to you, even if only a little. “Sorry I didn’t respond the other night,” he says to you. “I had just forgotten to.” His voice is gentle and sincere, yet there’s a touch of sadness encompassed in his words. “So, um, you’re welcome. I hope you and your mom enjoyed it.” His lips form a thin, sweet smile. He nods his head as he takes another sip of beer, disappearing back down the hallway. 

You ignore the way your heart falls at his sudden lack of presence. Him, being the last thing you wanted to see and the only thing, all at once. Foolishly, you long to follow him down the hallway.

But you don’t.

“He insisted on bringing it to you,” Josh tells you as he gently nudges you, capturing your attention from the last spot you’d been able to see Jake. Fuck. You let his nudge sort of guide you to the door. He takes the hint and begins walking you there. “Said he knew your cooking wouldn’t suffice.” He laughs, and you can’t help but chuckle a little, too. Because, well, it’s absolutely correct. 

As you say your goodbyes to Josh, and head out the door and walk to your car, your heart feels like it’s beating in your throat. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a single word. You only gave him a half smile when he apologized for not texting you back. You could’ve at least thanked him again for the food. 

But, you didn’t. And all you can think about now is the way he smiled at you before he went to his room. 

It was a Jake smile, no doubt. But it was missing something. What was missing, you can’t be sure. Whatever it was, it has you ruminating on everything Josh told you today. Everything about Jake… his ‘plan’ for telling you about London. 

You may never know what his plan was, because you’re not allowing yourself to get close enough to him again to find out. One thing you can be certain of is his plan wouldn’t have changed the outcome. He would still be getting ready to leave, and that alone is enough to force you to keep your distance. 

Because if not, you fear you’ll fall for him… Further than you already have. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The coffee tastes bitter this morning. The cold foam on top isn’t as foamy as you normally prefer it, and the vanilla is, well, lacking, to say the least. 

Not even Carmen, the most lively girl with her sweet freckles and stylish glasses, could bring you out of your slump this morning when she handed you your coffee. She already had it made for you before you even walked in the automatic sliding doors, and normally her toothy smile always brightens your day. 

But, not today. Not for the last few days, in truth. 

You told Nat you weren’t coming to the coffee shop this morning. It was a lie, clearly. And you feel bad for lying, but you need a moment of reprieve before the day begins. A moment away from home, from work, from classes. 

Any time you can get to yourself, you’ll take it. Even if it means being dishonest to someone who truly doesn’t deserve it. 

You could’ve just told her the truth, and you know she would’ve understood. But you also know that she would’ve fought you on it. You need to be around people, you can hear her voice telling you in your head. You shouldn’t be alone right now. 

But you want to be alone. Your longing for solitude as your mind wraps around everything is far greater than your need to be with people right now.  

Talking to everyone is just too damn much. Every single conversation you’ve had as of late has absolutely drained every piece of you. There’s no harm in telling a little white lie, if only for the sake of balancing and maintaining your own mental peace. 

But, that peace is disrupted, shattered, replaced with pure guilt when your eyes catch the person currently walking into the coffee shop. Her pace is quick as she bolts through the door, her normally tamed curls are full of frizz and tangled in a messy bun. She’s wearing her giant Aalyiah t-shirt with an even bigger fluffy cardigan over it, and baggy sweats as if she had just gotten out of bed. But she still looks beautiful. Beautiful as ever. And, she looks mad. Her eyes connecting with yours freezes you in your spot.

“Just as I suspected,” she says as she stomps over, joining you at your lonesome table meant for two. “Had a pretty good feeling I’d find you here.” She slams her book bag on the table, yanking the chair out from under it and planting herself in it. 

Dammit. 

“Nat, I’m sorry. I just needed to be –,”

“Alone?” She interjects, giving you the most frustratingly disappointed look you’ve ever seen her give, her voice practically echoing around the coffee shop. “You’re alone all the time, y/n. And no offense,” she insists, yet her tone would suggest that she most definitely means to offend you a bit. “But I don’t exactly trust you to be alone right now.” She pauses, her eyes flitting up and down your body that’s slumped down in your chair. “Are you eating? Because it really doesn’t look like it.” 

One way to irritate you is to take away something you feel you’re entitled to, like having alone time. No matter how much of it you have or need. And another way to irritate you is when someone insinuates that you’re not allowed to do the things you need to do in order to cope. 

Everyone deals with shit in different ways. Some need to be surrounded by people, some need to have time to reflect on their own. You just so happen to be in the latter category. Just because someone doesn’t handle things the same way as you, doesn’t make them wrong in doing so. 

And, to bring up your eating? 

No. That has quite literally nothing to do with what’s going on right now and you do not want to entertain that at the moment. 

You know she cares. She probably cares more than anyone else. But she’s bordering on the line of being downright rude and, with everything else happening in your world, it’s not the time to hear that your best friend doesn’t trust you. That’s the last thing you want to hear right now, and for what? Because you want to be alone? 

“Okay, for one, can you please lower your voice?” You say through gritted teeth, the blood rushing to your cheeks from fear that everyone in this blessed coffee shop heard what she said. “And second, what do you mean you don’t trust me, Natalia?” 

There’s a lingering, rancid vanilla taste from your coffee sitting in your chest, creeping up and burning your throat. You feel like you could throw up. This isn’t what you want right now, it isn’t what you need. 

The palms of your hands slam against the metal table, then reach up to your scalp, fingernails scratching at the roots of your hair. A display of the raging turmoil happening inside, unable to be concealed any longer. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Natalia. I can take care of me, my mom, anything. Don’t treat me like I can’t.” 

Fuck. 

That nauseous feeling is even worse, the very thought of taking another sip of coffee sounds revolting. This fucking sucks. All of it. 

You don’t want this with her. And you don’t want her to leave you because of this, because of who you are. But you’re clearly causing her vast amounts of unneeded stress, burdening her with your shit self-esteem. 

Maybe she’d be wise to leave you, to end this friendship and find someone else to replace you. 

“Got it. I’ll let you be alone.” Her voice is sharp as she stands up from her chair, the metal screeching loudly against the floor as she pushes it underneath the table. She turns from you, beginning to walk away, but something stops her feet from moving further. She then turns on her heel to face you again, taking small steps closer to you. “I know you’re upset with him. And I know you’re going to miss him.” 

Her once angry eyes have turned softer, more understanding as she’s staring into your own, as yours begin to fill with tears. “But don’t let him be the only reason you care about yourself. Because what will you do when he leaves, hm?” 

The tears that were filling your eyes are now streaming down your cheeks, warm and salty to the taste when they reach your lips. She moves even closer, her hand reaching for your shoulder, her touch offering a gentle reassurance. “I love you, okay? Don’t try to push me away.” 

With that, she leans down to kiss the top of your head, then walks away toward the glass doors she entered just moments ago. With blurry eyes, you watch her walk to her car through the window.  

You shouldn’t have lied. You know that. Being honest with her would’ve made this whole situation fair much better. She’s just looking out for you, and her love is a bit tougher than what you’ve been used to. While you wish she’d show you more careful love, perhaps tough love is what you truly need. And perhaps she is aware of that as well. 

Even though it’s something you’re not entirely familiar with, deep, deep down, you are grateful for it. She forces you to question the way you care for yourself, she forces careful self-reflection when it’s not something you’ve ever really done. 

One thing you know, undoubtedly, is that you can’t let yourself lose her. 

Deciding it’s time to swallow your pride, and when you realize she’s still sitting in her car that hasn’t moved, you gather your bags, toss the revolting remains of your coffee in the trash, and speed walk your way outside. 

She’s staring at her phone when you walk up to her driver's side window, lost in a mindless scroll through TikTok, slumped in her seat. She’s aware of your presence, that much you can tell. It’s obvious she’s waiting on you to make the first move. (Though, in your mind, walking out here in the first place was the first move.) 

Alas, you’ll give in to her stubbornness. With your fingernail, you lightly tap it against the glass to get her attention. It’s clear she’s fucking with you when she doesn’t acknowledge you right away. So, you tap the glass again, a little harder this time, and continuously until she has no choice but to humor you. 

She slowly turns her head in your direction, looking up at you through her beige framed Ray-Bans. Keeping her eyes on you, and making an intentionally slow effort, she presses the button to lower the window. 

“Seriously, Nat?” You say in response, giggling at her almost comical pace with lowering the window. “Are you going to let me apologize to you or not?” 

“Oh, so you’d like to apologize, huh?” She mockingly states, at last letting the window roll the rest of the way down. “I’m all ears.”

With a roll of your eyes, a deep breath, a one last gulp of what's left of your ego, you begin your plea for forgiveness. “I know what I did was wrong. I should’ve just been upfront with you instead of lying.” She lowers her glasses a bit more down the bridge of her nose, waiting for what she really wants to hear. “And, you’re right. About everything. I don’t take care of myself the way I should, and it’s definitely been much harder lately.”

With a smirk, she takes off her Ray-Bans, fully revealing her golden irises, like sweet honey in the morning sun. “Yep, I am right,” she says through a snorting chuckle, adjusting herself in the seat to face you better. “And you should also know that you’re a really shitty liar. If you’re gonna do it, at least get a little better at it, geez.” 

Well. When she’s right, she’s right. You are a shitty ass liar, apparently, given she knew the very place you’d be. The one you said you swore you wouldn’t be at. 

“Do you forgive me?” You ask quietly, internally worried that this may have driven a rut in your friendship. And it’s all your fault. 

Without a word, she places her sunglasses back on her face and unlocks the car. “Get in,” she says. 

Confused, but in no place of wanting to argue with her, you walk around to the passenger seat. Once you’re in the car and buckled, she puts the gear in drive and slowly makes her way out of the parking lot. 

“W-where are we going?” You question, far more perplexed than you were before. She takes a left out of the lot, leaving campus altogether. “Nat, we have class, remember? Women in Literature? We need to be there in less than ten minutes!”

She smirks as she continues to drive further away, ignoring your concerns about class. “Hello?” You try waving your hand near her face to get her attention, to which she only turns to you and smiles. 

She stops at the red light, completely tuning you out as she digs into her purse, retrieves her phone, and scrolls through her Spotify playlist. After a moment, she chooses Stay High by Brittany Howard. As the smooth melody fills the car, she bobs her head in time with the beat. The light turns green, and she drives forward, her focus entirely on the music.

You can’t help but laugh at whatever she’s planning, but the potential of missing class is certainly gnawing at you. She, however, appears completely unfazed — dancing to the music, belting out the lyrics, carrying on as if you’re not here at all.

“Natalia Deloris!” You do something you hate other people to do, and you reach for the volume button to turn the music down. “Stop ignoring me! What are you doing?”

She says nothing as she stops in front of the Kerrytown Market & Shops, tossing the gear in park and pressing the button that turns off the ignition. 

“Listen,” she says, taking off her seatbelt and facing you, smiling at your clearly confused expression. “There’s no forgiving you, because what happened doesn’t require forgiving.” She pushes her glasses up to sit on top of her curls, against her messy bun that somehow enhances her striking features even more. “I’m not mad at you, dude. I get it. I just worry about you.” She lets out a soft sigh, her fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry that I’m a little harsh with my love sometimes. I don’t always think about how to say things before they come flying out of my mouth.”

That is certainly true of her, but you love it. Her extroverted nature is something you truly adore, as well her tendency to love so hard that she sometimes can’t hold it back. Every introvert needs their extrovert, and you’re so happy that you are her chosen introvert. 

“I’m sorry if I don’t show you enough how grateful I am for you, Nat,” you say as you stare down at your lap, knowing all too well that you have a hard time accepting when someone truly loves you. Which means, to you, it doesn’t always feel real. So, you don’t show nearly as much appreciation for it as you should. “But, can I ask you a really important question?”

“Don’t, babe. I know you’re grateful. And yes, of course,” she says as she’s putting her phone in her purse and zipping it shut.

“Why the hell are we at Kerrytown and not in class?”

“Told Dr. Lacey we were with each other over the weekend and that we’ve both come down with horrible colds,” she says, sounding as though she really believes herself. 

“What? Why would you do that?” You ask, shocked though, a little relieved to not have to worry about that class today. 

“Decided we could use the morning for a little girl's day.” She gets out of the car and you quickly follow suit. “You’re going shopping with me. It’s the least you can do after your little trick you pulled on me this morning,” she says with a stone face, though her contagious smile is breaking through her facade as she begins walking towards a boutique.

“You are such a hypocrite, Natalia!” 

She stops mid-stride to the store, turning on her heel to look at you. “How the hell am I a hypocrite?” 

“You were so upset with me for lying, and you lied to get us out of class!”

She starts to say something in retaliation, but before she does, she ponders what you’ve said, grinning when she realizes. “You may be right about that,” she says, once again taking steps in the direction of the store. “But my lie was better and benefited both of us.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling at the fact that she will always have the last word. “You got me there, babe.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been laying on the floor in the middle of your room for, what you think, has been well over an hour.

Flat on your back. Leaky eyes staring at the ceiling, tears falling past your ears, wetting the hair behind them. 

Before you found yourself here, you were trapped by your own hand in the bathroom, doing everything you could to bring your dinner back up. Everything. But nothing worked. 

The intense fullness from the salmon bowl you made sent you careening down a massive spiral. You knew you’d feel this way after you took the first bite of the perfectly baked, buttery fish. 

But goddamnit. It tasted so good. So fucking good. And you’d been craving it all day. It was all you could think about. It’s one of the few dishes you’re truly skilled at making, and you certainly proved that tonight. It was the best it's ever tasted.

That’s why you just couldn’t put it down. The first bite turned into a second, then a third, and before you knew it, you’d finished the whole fucking bowl full of rice, steamed broccoli, and the best salmon your hands have ever prepared. 

It made you feel good at the time. Each bite was just as delicious as the last, garlicky and lemon pepper seasoned to near perfection. 

But the stark reality of it all crashed into you the moment you set your empty bowl in the sink to be cleaned. You felt it, felt the thing you despise the most. 

It was the kind of full that made you sleepy, groggy. Your skin felt greasy, your arms felt huge. Your face felt puffy. 

And your stomach was bloated. More bloated than you’ve felt in a very long time. It felt like a rock sitting beneath your skin.

The shame was instant. The guilt came shortly after, but greeted you even stronger than the shame. 

Once you helped your mom into bed, you locked yourself in the bathroom. And you did something you shouldn’t have done — you looked. 

I look fucking pregnant, you thought, your fingers gripping tightly at the protruding flesh. There was no amount you could’ve sucked in to mask it. It was just there, taunting you with the reminder that you did that to yourself.

And then, it began. 

The manic research on your phone of ways to get rid of the bloat, how to digest your food quicker. Every site said the same things – consume less salt, drink hot tea, avoid processed foods, don’t eat too quickly. 

You didn’t have any tea in your kitchen, and the rest of the tips, well…it was just too late to avoid those things. The damage had already been done.

So, when none of those options were possible, your mind took a much darker turn. 

You tried to do it. You did what you knew would trigger your gag reflex, but it just didn’t work. You couldn’t get your finger back far enough, couldn’t keep it there long enough for anything to happen. 

So, you turned to your phone again, typing something in the search bar that you’ve never felt the need to type before. 

How can you make yourself throw up? 

Your thumbs typed as fast as they could. In part because you were shameful over what you were typing, and because you were desperate for reprieve from the far more profound shame over eating so much. 

But the first thing that you saw upon your search inquiry was something you weren’t prepared for, something that forced you into a much different reality than you wanted to face.

It was the website to the National Eating Disorders Association, with the words Get Help attached to the link below it. 

It scared you. You didn’t expect it. And it certainly stopped you, your thumbs held frozen above the link that begged you to click on it.

But you didn’t. Couldn’t. 

You’re not that far gone that you have to seek help in that way…right? 

Defeat overshadowed the shame as you slumped yourself down on the bathroom floor, letting your phone crash against the ceramic tile. 

And you cried. You sobbed. Harder than you’ve ever sobbed before. 

And you let yourself do it. You needed to do it. There wasn’t anything left to do. 

Minutes went by. Several of them. But exactly how many, you don't know. You didn’t keep track. The tears just kept coming, and you were in no place to stop them. They were old tears that you never allowed to be shed, and new tears that needed to join them. 

They were tears from the nine year old you that grew breasts before anyone else in her class and was bullied over it. Tears from the eleven year old you that discovered she could skip the breakfast her dad made in the mornings if she slept in just a few minutes later. Tears from the thirteen year old you that began skipping lunch everyday at school. Tears from the sixteen year old you that was told she was severely anemic from malnutrition and needed the highest dose of iron supplements her doctor was able to prescribe. Tears from the eighteen year old you that refused to take senior pictures because she hated the way she looked. Tears from the nineteen year old you who was told there was a slim chance she’d ever be able to have children. 

And tears from today you. The you that misses her dad, the you that is tired of people leaving and lying to her, the you that wants so badly to love her body the way Jake did.

The you who’s going to fucking miss him.

When your eyes decided to let up, you slowly stood from the floor, grabbing your phone and heading to your room.

And that’s where you’ve been ever since. Laying here, letting a few stray tears fall as they please. You’ve no control over them anymore. They now choose when to cascade down the sides of your face. And you’ll let them. They need to be shed. 

You want to talk to someone, but at the same time, you don’t. 

You can’t bother anyone with this anymore. Especially Nat, who's probably sick of hearing it by now, and whose voice is currently playing on a continuous loop inside your head. 

“But don’t let him be the only reason you care about yourself. Because what will you do when he leaves, hm?”

She said those words only hours ago. She probably doesn’t want to be bothered with all of this again, twice in a single day. 

No, you can’t do that to her. She shouldn’t have to worry about you, or have to hear about your pathetic triggers again. She’s too good for you, too strong of a woman to be burdened with the likes of you. She would deny that if you told her. She’d tell you she loves you and you’re the best friend she could ask for. But you know she’s too good for you. (And, deep down, she probably knows it, too.)

But more than anything, what's haunting you is the one person you truly want to talk to right now: Jake.

And you can’t do that. 

You can’t just call him up, listen to his voice to make yourself feel better. You can’t  get in your car and drive to his apartment so he can hold you. You can’t let him be the one who saves you, because you won't have that option anymore once he leaves. Just like Nat was trying to get you to understand earlier, that you now understand too well.

And she’s right; what the hell will you do when he leaves if you only try to heal because of him?

But, fuck. He’s the source of your safety — was. You don’t know how you’ll ever find that again. And in moments like these, you need that the most. You can’t even talk to him anymore. 

So, instead of following your heart, you’ll continue to lay here. You’ll lay here as long as you need, keeping your eyes off your body and up towards the ceiling. Letting the tears come and go as the deem necessary. 

Relapses happen. You’ve known that for the majority of your life. 

But this one…this one is different. It’s darker than any other time before. Admitting that, even if  only to yourself, is quite difficult.

And you’re scared you may never be able to pull yourself out of it. Because, while you’ve been able to do that every time before, this time is so very different.

You’ve always been able to do it on your own. But what if…

What if you really need someone by your side this time?

And what if that someone is currently packing his things to move across the world from you?

You want to heal. God knows you do. It’s miserable to live this way. But your fear is that you’re too far gone at this point, that the hope of you ever being able to eat food like a normal person is dwindling with each passing day that you struggle, each year. 

You don’t want to live like this anymore. But you also don’t know anything different. 

It’s a sad reality you’ve had to face for as long as you can remember, and it’s one that you’ve had to confront even more so since you moved here. 

Perhaps there’s a reason for it. 

The tiny optimist in you would like to think that, because this season has been so much more difficult than any other, that means you’re closer to healing than you’ve ever been.

But.

The much larger pessimist in you is fearful that the true reason you’re struggling more than ever is because…

…because this may be your final battle. 

The battle you’re destined to fail. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“Why don’t you like this?” Nat asks you, tugging at the green chiffon fabric sitting against your hips. “This looks hot as hell on you.”

“Nat. Are you joking? This looks awful.” The reflection in Nat’s gold framed, full length mirror isn’t one you’re exactly thrilled with. This is the third dress of hers you’ve tried on and nothing is up to your satisfaction. And of all of them, this one is by far the worst. Swamp green, long sleeves made of the most uncomfortable material, and the skirt bunched up at your hips. Not exactly the way you want to look for the premiere tonight.

“I look like Kermit the fucking Frog in this color.” 

She rolls her eyes with an exaggerated groan, waving her arms in defeat. “Well, your highness, I’m just about out of options that meet your royal standards of dress wear for the evening.” She comes behind you to help you unzip the horrid gown she’s put you in. “And Kermit, y/n? You seriously think this makes you like an amphibian with some man's hand stuck up his ass?”

“Uh, yeah. I may as well bring a banjo tonight so I can sing about fucking rainbows.” You pull the dress over your shoulders, instantly scratching your arms once it’s off due to the itchy chiffon that was clinging to your skin. It made you feel suffocated and trapped in its green netting. 

“I’m convinced that you’ll find something wrong with anything that I give you to try on,” she grumbles as you help her put the dress back on its hanger. “I give up! You’re impossible to please.”

“That’s not true! You just have terrible taste in dresses,” you say, laced with sarcasm because it’s certainly not the case. All of these pieces would undoubtedly look amazing on her, just not on you. Though, you’re convinced she could wear just about anything and make it a fashion statement. 

Her outfit for tonight is the epitome of grace and effortless beauty. The soft baby pink of her soft, velvety gown perfectly compliments her glowing caramel complexion. It hugs her body beautifully, and the off-the-shoulder neckline seems designed just for her, highlighting her elegant physique. Her natural curls, sitting just above her collar bone, are lustrous and full of body. It’s rare that she wears her hair down, but you love it when she does. Her gorgeous curls only enhance her striking presence. She truly is one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. 

“I really think you should just wear this one, babe.” She points to the dress you brought to her place with you. The one that’s laying across her bed, the red dress Jake bought you. It’s the nicest thing you own, and you love the way it looks on you. But, wearing it tonight feels weird. It was purchased specifically for your date, and what it now symbolizes for you is deeper than just the gorgeous, satin dress you wore for your birthday. 

“You don’t think it’ll be weird? I mean, considering it’s —,”

“It will not be weird.” She interjects your thoughts as she takes the dress from her bed and holds it out for you. “If anything, seeing you in that sexy number will make him regret ever lying to you in the first place.”

She’s probably right. No, she is right. (You hope, at least.)

And, aside from the fact that this dress makes you feel beautiful, the color is fitting given its significance in the film. 

Deciding to give up on trying on anything else that you know you’ll hate, you slip into the dress and, for the first time tonight, admire your reflection — something you hadn’t done with any of the other gowns you tried.

“Like I said before, babe,” Nat says, fetching her black faux fur shawl she had you try earlier in the evening with something else. You despised it then, but with this dress, it’s altogether different. “This dress was made for you. I mean, look at your ass!” She looks you up and down, biting the knuckle of her index finger, shaking her head in disbelief. 

Your face, completely flushed as you giggle at her remark and contort your body to see what she sees. There is a rather pronounced, rounded curve, the material and fit of the dress accentuating the shape. But, it’s not that impressive. At least not enough to warrant her reaction.

She drapes the shawl over your shoulders, pulling it snuggly around the front. The soft, textured fur frames your neckline in a graceful v-shape, elegantly cascading from your back and delicately covering your upper arms, leaving the tops of your shoulders exposed. It's timeless, and so classy. More than that, it promises to shield you from the biting, Michigan air as this dress wasn’t exactly made for such temperatures. “I love this,” you say, running your fingers over the soft warmth of the faux fur. “It really dresses it up, doesn’t it?” 

The confidence in her I told you so smile says she knew all along that this would look as good as it does. “You should never doubt my stylistic abilities.” She heads to her closet, bringing out a shawl that almost identically matches yours, only hers it white. A gorgeous fit with the baby pink color of her gown. Her beauty is simply impossible to ignore.

“You‘re so beautiful, Nat.” She smiles, her perfect teeth whiter than the shawl she’s draping over her shoulders. 

“So are you, my gorgeous bestie,” she says as she grabs her liquid lipstick to put on one more coat before Danny gets here.

As you watch her paint her lips, you remember the lipstick you brought that you had planned to wear. And, it’s no coincidence that it’s the very same one you wore for your portrayal of Guiniverre. You grab your cross body from her bed and rummage through it to find the lipstick. And as you’re doing that, you’re reminded of one more thing you brought — the sword necklace. You’re considering wearing it, but only for the sake of the film. (Part of you is clinging to the hope that Jake will wear his, too.)

Standing next to Natalia in front of the mirror, you quickly coat your lips in the scarlet shade, using your finger to blot the excess and clean up the sides. “Oh that color is perfect,” Nat says as she’s finishing up her own lips. She makes a kissy face in the mirror once she’s done, leaning over like she’s about to plant one on your cheek until her phone begins ringing. 

“I bet that’s my Prince Charming ready to whisk us away to the royal ball,” she says, tilting her chin upward in a regal pose, waving her hand in as though she were a true Princess. “You ready, babe?”

Mimicking her royal stance, you link arms with her and practice your very own Princess wave, thinking of the way Princess Mia learns to do it in The Princess Diaries. “Thou art ready,” you say, in your best (albeit, horrible) British accent. (Jake would certainly be disappointed.)

As you’re heading out of her room, walking arm in arm to the front door, you’ve suddenly remembered something you forgot. “One sec,” you say as you unlink your arm from hers. “I left something in my bag. You go ahead and go out, I’ll be there in a minute.”

She dances her way out of the door, humming some tune that sounds like something from a Disney movie. “Don’t keep us waiting, darling! The King anticipates our arrival!” 

Walking as fast as your heels will allow, you reach her room and grab your bag sitting on her bed. The sword charm is the first thing you see as you unzip it, and without much of a thought, you pull it out, placing it around your neck. 

The clasp is tricky without someone to help you, but after a few tries, it’s finally secured. 

After one more glance in the mirror, finger combing your bangs and adjusting the necklace so it sits just right against your chest, you decide it’s the perfect final touch. 

And with that, you head out the door to begin what you’re certain will be an unforgettable evening. (For many, many reasons.)

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The neon lights reading ‘FOX’ can be seen blocks away from the building they’re lit against, practically blinding against the stark contrast of the night sky. Glorious reds and blues glow with the sparkling stars, illuminating the city with their gleam. It’s an incredible sight to behold, adding to the seemingly endless reasons you’ve fallen madly in love with this city. 

“Wait, is that where we’re going?” You ask as Danny makes a sharp turn on Woodward avenue, coming closer to the theatre and essentially answering your question as he pulls into the private parking lot across from those neon lights you’d been eyeing for several minutes. 

“I’m so excited to finally see this place,” Nat says, her voice high in pitch as Danny shifts the car into park. 

You knew the viewing of the film would be at least a little more formal than your typical classroom presentation, but you weren’t prepared at all for this.

Formal is indeed the correct word. It’s comparable to a Hollywood premiere – not that you’ve ever been to one, or anything close to one, but this certainly feels like something you’ve seen in the movies a time or two.

Josh wasn’t bullshitting when he told you to go all out with your attire; everyone is dressed to the nines. Gowns and suits, a true black tie affair. You’re suddenly feeling more grateful than ever that Jake bought you this dress. There’s not a thing in your wardrobe that would fit the bill for a night like this. 

There are a few students walking in that you recognize, but for the most part, it feels almost too official for a collegiate event. You didn’t realize anything of this grandeur existed within the realms of the U of M. Apparently, this is an annual thing, just before the end of the Fall semester. 

Keeping strictly in the English department, Natalia’s never been to one as you either have to be exclusively invited or a film student. She’s always wanted to experience it, so Josh made sure she’d get the chance to come, even though she wasn’t part of the film. She’s one of the VIP guests for the night, listed right along with the cast and crew of the film. Her eyes are practically as bright as the neon colors in the theatre’s sign as she steps out of the car, taking it all in as this was her very last chance to attend one of these things. 

Enhancing the Hollywood-esqu aura, a lush green velvet carpet stretches up the stairs to the entrance, illuminated by spotlights that guide your way. You may as well be a beloved film star, gracefully making her way across the grand carpet to the premiere of a highly anticipated movie directed by the industry's biggest names. That's certainly how it feels, at least. And while this event may not have the global scale of a blockbuster premiere, you are, in essence, the star of one of the films being showcased tonight. College film or not, tonight, you truly feel like you might be someone special.

“Holy fuck,” Nat mutters under her breath as the two of you take anxious steps along the carpet together with your arms linked together and clutching your shawls in the wake of the cold air, Daniel towing closely behind. “This is…insane, right? 

She took the words right out of your mouth. “That’s putting it lightly, Nat.” 

“I think I’m a little underdressed,” Danny giggles as you get closer to the two ushers in full tuxedos, coat tails and all, greeting you as you approach the doors. 

“Welcome to The Fox, ladies,” one of them says before noticing the tall man in a black turtleneck and maroon slacks following behind you, awkwardly waving to get their attention. “My apologies,” he continues. “And gentleman.” They each open the doors on their respective sides, and when you catch the first glimpse of what’s behind them, your breath is completely sucked away from your lungs. You’ve never seen anything more magnificent in all of your life. 

East Asian architecture is an art deco lover's dream. The colors are so full, so rich, mimicking the ones glowing on the outside of the building. The intricately designed ceilings, golden and lined with chandeliers, practically reach the height of the stars. 

Another staircase, with statues of lions with jeweled eyes guarding the base of the railings, is in front of you, leading where you can only assume will hold the evening's main event. The only thing you can think to compare it to is the grand staircase depicted in the Titanic, though you’ve got a feeling this may be even more majestic than anything James Cameron could ever hope to produce. 

“Pretty sweet, isn't it?” Danny says, standing behind the two of you with a hand on each of your shoulders as you’re both left awe-struck by the vision before you. “Been to quite a few musicals here with my family. I promise you, it’s just as beautiful every time I see it.” 

Approaching you is yet another usher, dressed in full black tie with a clipboard held in his hands. After greeting the three of you, he glances down at the list attached to the clipboard, taking his pen and making marks. “You’re here as guests of Mr. Kiszka, I presume?” He asks, as though he’d been waiting on the three of you to arrive. He smiles  as you each confirm, making one last mark on his list. “Right this way.”

With that, you’re led up the grand set of stairs. Nat takes your arm once more, giggling as Danny is stuck walking behind you two again. 

There are hundreds of seats with gold crowning, upholstered with red velvet, facing a giant screen that’s framed by a curtain the same shade of red as the seats. 

This is certainly not the kind of theater you had in mind when Josh explained what tonight would entail. You expected a classic AMC or a Regal. Not this. 

The theaters back home are nothing like this one. In the almost six months you’ve lived here, you’d never once driven by the Fox Theatre. It was forty minutes away from your home in Ann Arbor, but still. You’d never even heard of it, which is mind boggling considering the sheer history this place must have. Apparently, this place is quite the home for the prestige around here. This city will never stop surprising you, and you fall in love with it a little more each day. 

The usher has led you all the way to the first row of the orchestra pit that’s blocked off with red ribbon, a sign reading "Reserved” attached to them. Each seat has a name card on it, and once you find yours, you’re appalled when you read the names on the seats yours is between. 

Samuel Kiszka on your left, Jacob Kiszka on your right. 

While you’re not entirely certain, you do have a pretty good feeling you know who’s behind this.

Thank you, Joshua. 

Jake and Sam aren’t here yet, of course. Nor is your director and his partner. The Kiszkas are notorious for showing up at least a little late everywhere they go, but you thought for sure they’d break that late streak for tonight of all nights. But, no. They have yet to make their grand arrival. And that is only serving to heighten your already shot-to-hell nerves. Not knowing when Jake and Sam will be here, if they’ll show up together, what their reactions to this little seating arrangement will be that you will get to witness first hand. 

Aside from all of that, the thing that’s really tying your nerves in knots is what Jake will be wearing tonight. Something regal, you’re sure. He’ll no doubt sport his necklaces, maybe a hat. Perhaps he’ll wear something all black – your ultimate weakness – sleek, irresistibly sexy…

Fuck. Just thinking about it makes your core ache, but also hurts your heart with just as much intensity given the circumstances with him right now. 

And then, there’s Sammy, who will be on the other side of you all evening. He elicits an entirely different set of emotions from you. Emotions that are just as complicated as the ones you feel with Jake, but in ways that are completely unique to Sam. 

Jesus. Though you know it’s an unrealistic wish, you hope that somehow the two of them just decide to not show up tonight, save you some of the agony of sitting right in the middle of them. But, you know them both better than that. They wouldn’t dare miss an opportunity to support their brother. And that’s why you are here, too. To cheer on Josh, to show him the love and admiration he deserves after pouring all of himself into this film.  

You’re just so grateful to be a part of it. The fact that it’s all coming to an end tonight dares to bring a few tears to your eyes. 

“Bitch,” Nat whispers as she takes her seat next to the empty one that will be Sammy’s, throwing you a look after reading the names on either side of you. Her hand flies up to her mulled wine-painted lips, muffling a laugh at the pure irony of the situation and the discomfort you’re sure is evident in your features. 

Danny, already seated in his assigned chair near the end of the row next to Nat, leans over her to see what the fuss is all about. And when he realizes it, he is having a hard time not laughing at the matter as well. “Big yikes,” he giggles. 

“Stop it,” you mumble through gritted teeth, deciding to simply pretend like everything is normal. You want to make things the least awkward they can possibly be when they arrive and discover the situation for themselves. 

“Hi, girlies!” You hear in a familiar, high-pitched voice. One that you should’ve expected to hear given her involvement with the film, though you truly hadn’t thought about that possibility until this very moment. 

And, here she is. Floor length, completely sequined gown of vibrant pink, a slit running all the way up to her bronzed, smooth thigh. The bust is strapless, of course, and her boobs are basically pushed up to her fucking chin. Her platinum locks are curled and feathered to near perfection, her makeup without a single flaw against her already unblemished skin. And a glance behind where she’s standing realizes a fear you didn’t prepare yourself to have tonight – her name is taped to the seat on the other side of where Jake will be sitting. 

So, suffice to say, this little seating arrangement is probably the worst way to have placed everyone. 

Josh on the end next to the aisle, then Malachi, Danny, Nat, Sam, you, Jake, and Stacy. You certainly don’t hate the universe, but you do wish it would align a little more in your favor from time to time. 

“Hi, Stac,” you say as you plop yourself in your seat, feeling the weight of dread over what events the next few hours will bring. “You look beautiful tonight.” 

The words felt like fire against your tongue. But, they’re quite true. And no matter how you feel about her, she deserves to know she looks incredible. Suddenly, you’re feeling like you don’t quite measure up. A familiar feeling, one you wish you weren’t experiencing tonight. 

Stacy’s glossed lips become stretched over her pearly teeth in a huge smile as she takes her seat, smoothing down a few sequins and pushing her boobs up even more as she does so. “Awe, thanks, y/n!” She says, almost as though she was expecting the praise. She wasn’t surprised by your compliment, at least. That much is evident in her I know, don’t I? tone of voice.

You glance over at Natalia to gauge her thoughts on the interaction, and to no surprise, her lips are pursed tightly, as if to force them shut so she won’t say what’s truly on her mind. Which is almost always a good thing. She’s one of the sweetest souls you’ve ever encountered, but she can be quite ruthless when she wants to be – not all of her thoughts should be vocalized. And when they are, someone will end up with sore feelings. But, she means well. Most of the time. 

There’s only ten twenty minutes until this thing is set to begin, and still no sign of a single Kiszka. While you’re not happily anticipating Sam and Jake’s arrivals, you are beginning to worry a bit about whether Josh and Malachi will make it on time. It is his big night, afterall. Showing up late may not be the best look to all of these scholarship funders, with their pockets full of a promising future for only a few of these anxious students presenting tonight. 

Josh always pulls through, you know that. He will be here. It may be nearing the very last second that he makes his grand appearance, but he’ll do it in style. Stylishly late. 

 “Nat,” you quietly mutter, a failed attempt at getting her attention as she’s whispering in Danny’s ear, the two of them giggling like two kids who’ve just said something they really shouldn’t have. 

They’re adorable. And nauseating. 

“Natalia Delores!” Your voice has a bit more umph behind it this time, enough that her and Danny both now have your attention. Her face says she’s definitely annoyed by your interruption, but you can’t be bothered with that at the moment. 

“What, y/n?” She responds, matching your tone almost perfectly.

“Do you think they’d be mad if I switched spots with Sa–,” 

“Here we are, sir.” 

“Ah, thank you, good man!” 

“What’s up, Sammy?” Danny says, lifting from his seat to greet his friend with a full body hug, offering a playful tap to his ass. “Handsome fucker,” he jokes. “You get all dressed up for me?” 

One thing you’ll never deny is just how sexy Sam is. He’s gorgeous. He truly does look handsome as hell tonight. He’s donning a full red suit, tailored flawlessly to his physique. Tight in all the right places. 

And, he’s matching you. The hue of his suit is an almost exact compliment to your dress. There’s no way he would’ve known what you had planned to wear, so it’s most definitely not on purpose. 

But, Jake may not believe that. He just might think it was a deliberate choice for you two to match. And there’s a chance he’ll even be a little angry about that presumption. 

Good. 

You’ve always known Sam to have a rather eccentric sense of style, but he always makes it work. His style is so very much him. Most probably wouldn’t be able to pull off a suit of this shade, but he just does. He can make anything look good. Anything. 

“Only for you,” Sammy winks as he shimmies his way down the row in search of his seat, Nat standing to give him more room down the narrow way. 

“You’re right here,” she says, pointing to his name taped on the back rest. “Right next to y/n.” She looks to you, noting the horror in expression you’re sure your features are screaming. You mouth out the words Thanks, Nat and she chuckles, blowing you a kiss for forgiveness that you can’t help but smile at. Fucking brat. 

“Y/n! Look at you!” Sam nearly shouts, leaning down and taking your hand, forcing you to stand up. He pulls you in for a deep hug, holding you close for a few seconds longer than what most would deem appropriate. “I like that we match,” he whispers in your ear, meant only for you to hear. His lips just barely ghost the skin beneath your earring. Every inch of your skin rises in goosebumps, your heart fluttering. 

“Th-thank you, Sam,” you stutter, keeping your voice as hushed as his. He leans away, breaking the hug and letting you see the smile across his lips. His grin urges one from you, too. His smile is always contagious. 

He pats your arm, then moves to sit down. And just as you’re about to take your seat once more, a well-known cologne overwhelms you, a sexy, captivating scent of musky sandalwood that you recognize all too well as… 

“Jake!” Danny shouts, echoing across the acoustics as he leaps out of his seat yet again to embrace his friend. “Looking snazzy as ever, I see.” He pats his exposed chest, twiddling with the lapel of his suit’s jacket. Even as Danny’s hand slides down the lapel, your eyes stay firmly planted on the tanned skin of his chest and abdomen. “Where the hell’d you find this?” 

Jake’s famous giggle leaves his smiling lips, his teeth sparkling white against the contrast of his all black garb. “Malachi dug through endless trenches to find it for me.” He brushes at each of his shoulders, adjusting the waist of the jacket as he straightens his posture. “Found it a rather fitting piece for the night,” he says, pursing his lips through a smug grin, acting as though he’s the true belle of the ball.

And you are in an even worse predicament than you’d thought you’d be in.

Nat’s eyes almost instantly find yours. Hers are wide and smiling, faux sympathy for you laced in her golden irises. 

You’d already prepared yourself for the chance of him showing up in something that would leave your knees weak and your skin on fire. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’re witnessing right now. 

“Is that hand sewn?” Nat asks, standing from her seat to give Jake some room to head down the row in search of his seat. He nods his head to confirm what she already knows, scooching his way through as you’re practically frozen in your seat, watching him get closer and closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the impeccable way his expensive, straight-leg, black satin slacks hug his round ass. The suit might as well have been made for his beautiful body.

“You know your brother finds only the pinnacle of clothing. He wouldn’t have let me show up in anything less than the absolute best quality.” 

“He doesn’t do that shit for me, damn,” Nat snarls as he passes her, his back just slightly brushing against her, then walking slowly past Sam. You’re certain it’s on purpose, but he’s avoided all eye contact with you thus far. And you’re mentally thanking whoever the hell you need to thank for that, because it would absolutely make things all the more awkward. 

But you can’t seem to move yourself from your chair when he turns around finally, body no longer turned towards the front to get through. No, he’s now facing your row of seats. And your poor legs can’t handle his proximity, feeling numb at the fact that he’s now so close to you. The thick silvery stitching embroidered on this suit jacket, in the image of a sword piercing his chest, dark red stones, the color of blood, dripping from the blade, are blinding against the black satin they’re embedded in. It’s the beginning of December – the temperatures are frigid. Yet, his jacket is completely open, exposing his toned (and unseasonably tanned) chest, his tummy, all the things about his body that make your head spin. 

And, no surprise, he has quite the collection of coins hanging against his bare skin. Some that you’ve seen him wear many times, some that you haven’t. But there’s something noticeably missing. 

He’s not wearing the sword tonight, and you are. And you know he sees it. His eyes confirm that as they’re staring directly at your chest where the necklace rests. 

You’re embarrassed that you’re wearing it, wishing you would’ve just left it in your purse. Or, better yet, left it at home. There’s no way to know what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. But if you had to guess, his thoughts aren’t exactly happy ones at the sight of you wearing the dress he bought and the necklace that matches his own that he deliberately chose not to wear. 

The air becomes trapped in your throat as he approaches you, his eyes flitting to yours for the first time tonight. Damn this theatre for not having enough space in the rows of chairs – he can’t get past you, so you have to stand in order for him to reach his seat. 

But you’re still stuck. Stuck in fear, in hurt feelings, stuck in awe of him. 

How are you supposed to stand when the feeling in your legs has essentially vanished? 

How are you still feeling this way about him after he lied to you?

As his eyes are still fixed on yours, he takes the last step towards you. He reaches his right hand down to yours, holding his palm up and open, ready for you to place yours inside. 

What – ?

Tentatively, hearing nothing but the erratic beating of your heart pounding in your ears, you take his hand. He helps you out of your seat, his dark eyes keeping tight hold of yours. 

You suck in a breath as he begins to walk past you, not speaking a word. With the way he’s now turned, you can’t help but notice… unlike everyone else he’s just walked by, his back isn’t facing you – it’s the front of his body slowly gliding past you. He’s so warm, so sturdy. And you feel all of him. And while you may never get to feel him inside of you ever again, you can certainly feel his cock pressed against your front. It’s taking every ounce of strength you’ve got to not let on to what it’s doing to you. The throbbing in your core is enough to make you want to take him right here. And while you certainly shan’t do that, you can at least play out the scenario safely in your thoughts. 

His right hand still has yours in his grip, while his left gently grabs your hip. His hand slides down as he fully passes you, his thumb just barely skimming the top of your thigh. His fingertips linger for just a moment longer, before finally letting go of your hand. It’s then he discovers where his seat for the night is, and you can see the slight downward curl in his lips as he realizes. 

Now you’re left to wonder – was the indication of disgust over you or Stacy? 

Her squeaking voice pierces your ears as she greets him, having no problem standing to pull him into a hug. Something you couldn’t bring yourself to do. 

There’s a tightening in the pit of your stomach as you sit back down, feeling far too many things all at once right now. He does look irritated as he’s hugging her back. But, he’s still hugging her. You know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t hold the embrace any longer if he didn’t have reason behind it. It could be to make you jealous, (a trick you’re all too familiar with) or, worse, it’s because he wants to keep hugging her.

Either way, you’re mortified by it. And if you didn’t have as much self-discipline as you thankfully do, you would've used that moment to unleash all your true feelings about her, to her. Just as you should’ve done a long ass time ago. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“Are you excited to watch this?” Sam asks, throwing a sly wink and nudging your shoulder with his. “I bet we look pretty hot,” he giggles, his famous laugh that forces one from you. No matter how much you don’t feel like laughing right now. Sam can always make you crack a smile. 

You look to Jake out of your peripheral to gauge whether he’s listening or not. He’s sitting stone cold on the other side of you, completely still, looking only at the stage that is set and ready to proceed with tonight's events. 

He’s still not spoken a word to you. But to be fair, you’ve not said anything to him either. It hurts. It feels like absolute shit. It’s almost like everything wonderful that happened between the two of you never truly happened at all. The slate has been wiped clean, like you’re in the very same place you were with him when you first moved here. 

But, the unfortunate part about that is, there’s a painful history there now… where there wasn’t one before. 

You almost wish you could go back in time, rewrite the story of you and Jake and take out all of the beautiful things you shared. At least then you wouldn’t have this weight settled between you two as you’re sat very close to one another. The problems you two had would have remained unspoken and left as nothing more than a mutual hatred. 

But, nope. That wasn’t what the stars had written for you. 

In truth, he should be your date this evening, your other half as you watch the very thing that brought the two of you together, reminiscing about the last few months spent pouring yourselves into this massive project. Instead, you’re both acting as if the other doesn’t exist to either of you anymore. Heavy silence is all that is left. 

And that feels like shit. 

But, at least you’ve got Sam. And no matter the situation, he’s a bright light and a calming spirit, one that is able to calm yours at this very moment. 

“Oh, yes. I know we look hot,” you respond, speaking loud enough that hopefully Jake heard you. Is it absolutely shitty of you? Yes, yes it is. But at least you can admit that. And at least you know it’s sure to ignite a fire in him, get the wheels in his head turning. Maybe even force him to speak to you. Because god knows you will not be the first one to break the ice tonight. Nope. He can do that if he really wants to. 

You sneakily glance over to him just to see if he’s wearing any sort of reaction on his cold features. 

But, alas, nothing. He’s still staring at the stage, as if his glare will make this whole thing begin that much sooner. 

And that thought makes you realize that Josh and Malachi are still not here. The masterminds behind this whole thing, and they are cutting it way too close for comfort.

Leaning over Sam, you reach for Nat’s arm, tapping her until she looks at you. “Where are they?” You ask, motioning toward the two empty seats at the end of your aisle. 

Nat shrugs her shoulders, lifting her hands up. “Fuck if I know,” she says. “Josh probably spent over an hour figuring out what to wear, my brother probably had to have at least five outfits prepared for him to try on a hundred times before he decided on something.” 

“Fucking diva,” Sam mumbles under his breath, chuckling to himself. 

“He is the definition of diva,” Nat confirms. “Beyonce’s got nothing on that man. And Malachi does nothing but encourage it.” 

“Speak of the diva himself,” Danny chimes in, looking over his shoulder as Josh is practically flying down the green carpet toward you all, Malachi speed walking close behind. 

All of you have now turned your attention toward him, and he stops just before he makes it to the seats to put on a dramatic curtsey, one from each side of his body. 

Now you understand what took them so long. 

He’s dressed in full sparkle. Head to toe. Literally. 

As he approaches his seat, you note the elaborate pattern of rhinestones glued around his black tight-lined eyes. His cheeks are glowing with an iridescent highlight that the bright lights of the theater accentuate gorgeously. 

And his jumpsuit. It’s truly unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Full velvet, with a jacket of the most intricate designs you’ve ever seen sewn with beads and jewels. It almost perfectly mimics the iridescent color on his cheeks. Each time he moves, you see pinks and lavenders in the material. Even some blues as he gets closer. And, as a reminder that he and Jake are in fact twins, the neckline is taking quite the plunge down his chest, hitting just below his sternum. 

These boys must never get cold, you ponder.

He looks absolutely immaculate. Not that you expected anything less, but still. Josh is the best kind of unexpected. This man always keeps you on your toes, never knowing his next extraordinary move. The traits of a true, professional director who creates the most revered and timeless pieces. 

Malachi compliments him beautifully with his black velvet tux. And god, he looks handsome, too. They both pulled out all of the stops. It looks like they both got fresh haircuts, their facial hair cleaned up and shaped. They are absolutely gorgeous, and it makes you so indescribably happy to see them like this on what very well could be the night that lays the foundation for something even bigger for them. Especially for Josh. 

If you know anything about film (and you’re pretty sure you do), you have no doubt that this one will be a crowd favorite. No doubt that it should open every door possible for Josh to have a future in this business. Which he very much deserves. 

The house lights begin dimming just as Josh and Chi are taking their seats, proving that they truly did make it just in time. How on earth they did that is nothing short of a damn miracle. 

A spotlight hits the master of ceremonies, a tall man without a single hair on his head, appears from behind the velvet curtain to thunderous applause from more than a hundred excited film students. Josh whistles through his fingers, and you’re impressed by how loud he is. While you don’t recognize this man, almost everyone else in this room certainly seems to adore him. “Welcome, my dear students and guests, to the annual University of Michigan Film Fest,” he boldly announces through the microphone. “As many of you know, my name is Dr. Steven Turner, and I am the department head for our film studies program on campus.”

After more applause, and more whistling from Josh, Dr. Turner waits for everyone to quiet down before he announces the films that will be presented. There are only three films that will be shown in their entirety tonight, one of them being Les Sombres Intrigues de Guenièvre et Arthur, under the direction of the one and only Josh M. Kiszka. 

You felt the thumping of your heart when Dr. Turner said the (very long) name of your film, and it’s truly beginning to settle in that you'll be watching yourself on the screen tonight. And so will everyone else. A crashing wave of anxiety courses through your veins at the thought, tingling under your skin. Your tummy is twisted in knots, your leg bouncing with nerves. There’s no turning back now.

“At long last, I present to you our first film of the night,” Dr. Turner declares, and you’re silently praying and pleading that Josh’s film isn’t first. You need time to prepare yourself before you watch it like this.  “Written, produced, and directed by senior Josh M. Kiszka,” 

Fuck. 

“Please enjoy the debut of his first short-film, Les Sombres Intrigues de Guenièvre et Arthur.”

As he exits stage left, the spotlight begins dimming until it’s gone. Then, the curtain begins to lift, revealing a huge projection screen. Suddenly, it displays the title card of Josh’s film in an elaborate red font against a stark black background. 

This is it. 

Your whole body begins trembling with unease. The knots in your stomach have turned into pure nausea that you’re trying your hardest to swallow down. But, as the image on the screen shifts to the opening sequence, the beautiful drone footage Josh captured of the mountains, your throat suddenly becomes too dry to swallow. 

At this point, the entire row must be shaking from your bouncing leg. You can’t help it. You’ve seen yourself in this film, but you’ve not seen it like this. On a humongous screen and in front of over a hundred people, no less. You’re fearful of their judgements, what they’ll think of you playing the Queen. 

The opening footage starts to fade out, and the first thing that fades in – The Queen. In full color, she’s dressed in the deep, red gown, the first costume you had tried on. As the angle widens, Lancelot, in his white velvet top and red cape, is seen standing across from her in their secret spot hidden in the middle of the forest. They stare into each other's eyes, longingly. Hopelessly and forbiddenly in love with one another. 

Lancelot, Sam, begins to speak his first lines, the first of the entire film. 

“My love. I accept this token and will wear it as I carry you with me, that with it wrapped around my arm, so as you are wrapped even tighter around my heart.”

And then, the Queen, you.

“With it carries the promise you will return to me, unmarked and whole. Again will you lie with me, again will you hold me as tightly as my token holds you.”

As you’re watching yourself on this screen that is larger than your entire apartment complex, your leg continues to bounce, your teeth biting at your brittle nails. It’s only the beginning; there’s still so much left of this film to witness, and you’re not sure you can find the strength in you to keep watching. If seeing yourself like this has you ready to run out of this theater and never look back, how the hell will you be able to sit through what’s to come?

No. You can’t do it. You’ll ask Josh to forgive you later, but right now, you have to get out of here. As you uncross your legs, readying yourself to make a quick and hopefully unnoticed exit, you feel a warm hand against your trembling thigh. Your right thigh. The side Jake is on. 

With a downward glance to your lap, you see the hand you’ve come to know quite well as his. You’d know those hands anywhere. There’s no doubt you’d be able to recognize them instantly, even without seeing his face. 

Your leg has stopped bouncing, and your body begins to relax as you no longer feel the desire to escape. You feel like you can breathe again, all from the most gentle, grounding touch from someone you’re supposed to hate right now. At least, you think you’re supposed to. 

Without being able to stop yourself, you look at his face as he’s absorbedly studying the screen. His lips are parted just slightly, his brows carefully knit as he’s focusing his attention on his twins project. All at once, as though he really wasn’t paying as close attention as you thought, he looks down at his hand that’s still resting against your thigh. And once he realizes, he removes it. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still peering down where his hand once was. “I didn’t mean to, I just, I knew you were –,” he stammers, his raspy voice hushed and soft so as to not disturb any viewers. He takes a deep breath, the hand that was on your thigh rubbing at his lower chin. “You look beautiful,” he sighs, looking back to the screen. 

Whether he’s referring to you on film, or right now, you can’t be sure. Either way, your anxious wave has settled to a warm calm, wrapping you in a quiet embrace.  

“Thank you,” you whisper, and you’re almost certain you see the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Though his hand isn’t there to offer you comfort any longer, the effects it left are lasting. As the scene in the forest comes to its end, and as the big first kiss is taking place between the lovers, your nerves have significantly calmed down. You’re still not completely comfortable, but knowing Jake could somehow sense that you needed someone, that you needed him, is giving you a sense of peace over it all. He’s still right next to you, and that’s truly enough to help you get through this. 

“We look pretty good, huh?” Sam whispers, nudging your arm with his elbow. If you were to be completely honest, you had almost forgotten Sam was here. You’ve been so focused on watching yourself on the film, letting your nerves get the best of you before Jake intervened. And, while you’re sitting here between both of them, just as close to one as you are to the other, Jake was the one who noticed you were feeling tense.

Not Sam, whose smile is oblivious while eyeing your shared kiss projected on screen. It was a good kiss; it was a great kiss. You’ll never forget the way it made you feel, the way Sam made you feel. The passion is there in this scene; it’s there in all of your scenes with him. 

But if your memory serves you right, (and you know it does) you were only a convincing actress when Jake was nearby, when he was watching. His very presence ignited something within you, and the only person who could fan the flame at that moment was Sam. So, with every kiss, heavy and full of emotion, you envisioned Jake. Every. Single. Time. And because he lingered in the background for nearly every scene you shot, watching you as you acted with his brother, your performance is far more authentic than you realized — as you were in the moment. Watching it back now, fully edited and being viewed the way it was intended, the affair does appear incredibly believable. 

The heaviest scenes, the ones in black and white have finally been reached. You’re taken aback by how magnificent the editing turned out. On the big screen, it’s an entirely different experience compared to watching it on the laptop. The reds are even more vibrant, more eye-catching and captivating. Every intimate moment between the illicit lovers is a beautiful depiction, where the color red emerges as a poignant symbol of their passionate affair.

But, the beautifully filmed and edited work doesn’t change the fact that you are the one portraying the Queen. No matter how many times you tell yourself that it isn’t really you being pictured across the screen, you still see pieces of yourself that serve as a daunting reminder. As someone who’s never been keen on her appearance, it’s certainly difficult to view yourself in such a manner. You’re just thankful that Josh was so careful in the way he filmed you, and even more mindful of your scenes when it came time to edit. 

As this vigorous affair is unfolding on the screen, it’s becoming more intense than it’s been conveyed in the story thus far. The camera pans the expanse of the Queen's body, clothed in black lace. The gown striking within the noir effect. You’ve almost forgotten entirely that it’s your body, feeling as though the camera has truly made you unrecognizable as y/n. And, you’re okay with that. 

The camera stills on her torso, and suddenly a hand appears just below her rib cage. A widening angle then reveals the Queen in a passionate exchange with Lancelot. Their bodies become tangled, fully engrossed within one another as their love is about to consummate. 

You’re beginning to notice a sharp change in Jake’s breathing. Every time the Queen's lips meet the ones of the King's most trusted companion, you see Jake shift in his seat out of your peripheral vision, breathing heavily through his nose.

You know exactly why. Anxiety begins to creep its way back in as you ruminate on how Jake must be feeling. Watching these intimate moments between the Queen and Lancelot transpire on such a massive display, knowing how he feels about the actors beyond the film. The anxiety is quickly morphing into immense guilt, and a bit of shame. Though you know it’s not your fault, it is certainly making you think of other choices you’ve made as of late. 

This moment in the film is one you remember quite well. And it’s not just because of the contents of the film that you have such a vivid recollection, it’s what happened behind the camera that makes your heart flutter. As the scene progresses with the lovers, the King suddenly makes a dramatic entrance through the doors of the boudoir, bearing witness to his wife’s best kept secret with his second in command. 

You’ve practically stopped breathing at the sight of Jake as the king, wearing the cropped chainmail top and black pants, his sword attached to his hip. He despised the top at the beginning, having an almost visceral reaction when he wore it for the first time. Yet, you remember feeling as though he was the most enchanting vision you'd ever seen before your eyes. That very same feeling is overwhelming you at seeing him wear it again.

As the King begins to speak, the black and white slowly fades away to color, a decision Josh made to symbolize the ending of the forbidden affair. 

“I thought I knew better than to heed Mordred's vile words of my first in command. And yet, I find that I needn’t worry of his lies, only those of my beloved and her dearest, both of whom betray their King.” 

The King’s voice, Jake’s voice, is so deep and raw, vibrating the floor beneath your feet from the power behind it. As he speaks his lines, your mind takes you back to the day this was filmed. Jake was the most angry you had ever seen him, and he placed that energy into the King’s reaction to seeing his wife in bed with another. He couldn't even finish the scene at first, as his anger overcame him and he was no longer the king you’re seeing on the screen. 

He lost control and stormed off set, and when you followed him to his room, you witnessed his unraveling for the first time. 

That moment, while you were filming this very scene, serves as the beginning of what has now ended, and seeing a representation of it through the film makes your heart feel as though it could shatter at any second. 

Jake’s leg has now begun to bounce in the seat next to you, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same things you are. Unlike he did for you, you choose not to rest your hand on his leg to offer him comfort. It’s not that you don’t want to, you’re just not sure that you can. You fear it’ll only make things worse for him, given how quickly he chose to remove his hand from you just moments ago. The touch would probably cause him even more discomfort, and you don’t want to be any more responsible for that than you already are. 

In the film, after the King has threatened Lancelot with his life, the scene then shifts to his infidelity with Camillie. This is one you haven’t watched yet, and now you’re understanding what Jake may have been feeling this whole time watching you and Sam. 

As the pair begins to kiss one another, the camera closes in on their faces. Watching Jake lips interlocked with hers in high definition isn’t something you were ready to see. And to make this moment much more difficult than it already is, you hear the infamous giggle that belongs to Stacy from further down the row. As your eyes leave the screen and glance her way, you’re wishing you would’ve just kept your attention on the film. Her hand is on Jake’s thigh, and he is smiling.

The rage you’re suddenly feeling is surpassing every other emotion you’ve experienced in such a short amount of time. What is she doing with her hand on him? Why does she think she has that right? Because of her miniscule little role she played in the film? 

You want so badly to get Nat’s attention, but it would be inappropriate to do so during the film. And, Nat is just as enthralled by it as everyone else. 

And you should be, too. It’s a true work of art, a magnum opus. Why can’t you let everything else rest so you can enjoy what you helped to create? If not for you, for Josh and Malahchi who labored endlessly over this. It’s not fair to either of them to allow your mind to be so preoccupied with other things that you know don’t matter right now.

As Camille and the King's scene comes to an end, it then fades into the final goodbye between Lancelot and Guiniverre. He’s holding her, telling her that he must put an end to this affair, if only to spare his life from the King’s wrath. In a final display of their love, they kiss one another deeply before he sets off. 

The moment is powerful, as it shows the Queen and Lancelot doing what they know is right, while the King has just been shown having his own affair behind the back of his wife. The camera closes in on the Queen’s face, tearfully watching her lover fade into the shadows. You’re enthralled by moment, as you can feel the very emotions you felt as you filmed it all over again. 

You hear a sigh from Sam, who nudges your shoulder once more as you’re the single shot on the screen. And with the nudge of his elbow, your body is shoved into Jake’s. 

You begin to apologize for it, but as you look at him, his eyes piercing yours, you’ve found yourself unable to speak. His face is close – close enough that you needn't hardly move if you decided to kiss him. And the desire is there, no doubt. His warm breath fans your face, eliciting chills all over your body. His eyes begin to move down to your chest, and you feel your nipples begin to perk at breath touching your skin. You know he notices, as you can see the hint of a smile on his lips, even in the dark theatre. 

The longing to lock your lips with his is dire. To feel him again, to taste him again; you’d be damned to say you haven’t wanted that this whole night. His eyes slowly lift back up to yours and his tongue glides over his lips, and before you can say or do anything, he turns his attention back to the film.

Taking a deep breath, mentally brushing away any other thought, you do just as he did and focus your eyes back to the screen, watching the most beautiful film progress before your eyes. Instead of wasting this time worrying about what you can dwell on any other time, you’re choosing to witness the retelling of a King and Queen who loved one another, yet they couldn’t be together for many reasons, most of them beyond the telling of the well-known tales. 

You know you have a bias, but this adaptation of a lore you’ve studied for more years than you can count is truly the best you’ve yet to see. Josh’s careful attention to the details of the classic story, while adding his own magical touch to the insight of each of these characters – these incredibly deep and complex characters – it’s done in a way you’ve never seen. To be part of something like this, it’s the biggest honor of your life. 

As the film is reaching its final scene, you feel tears welling in your ducts as you watch the King prepare his final speech. Jake’s acting is something to be revered, and his portrayal of this timeless character is award-worthy in itself. 

As the King, Jake, holds Excalibur high in the air, the tears begin falling down your face as the King bares his heart to his knights. 

“Guinevere, my queen, my love, has forsaken our sacred bond for the arms of my most trusted knight. The pain of this treachery pierces deeper than any sword.” 

As he proclaims his love and hurt over his dear wife, and his loyalty to Camelot, this magnitudinous film reaches its ending. 

Once the final credits begin to roll, the whole theatre starts rumbling with roaring applause. And as you look over your shoulder, the tears start falling even harder when you see a standing ovation from every person filling the Fox. Josh is nearly beside himself when he notices, a look of pure relief and pride on his tear-stained features. 

“You did it, babe!” Malachi shouts, standing with Josh to embrace one another. The rest of the row stands to join the ovation, as the applause seems to be endless from the crowd. Sam’s arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into a short side hug. You then catch sight of Nat, who seems just as emotional as you are with streaks of black mascara down her cheeks. 

And then, you look to Jake, standing beside you and gazing at his twin with nothing but admiration laced in his smile. To see him so clearly proud of his brother is such a beautiful thing, and it’s certainly distracting you from everything else you’ve felt tonight. 

The film, and everything surrounding it, has reached its final closure. 

It’s done. The hard work has more than paid off, in your opinion. Seeing it like this, played before an eager audience as though it were being premiered in Hollywood, has made everything about it worth more than gold. You’ll still present it in class next week, but this – this was what it was made for. It’s a crowd pleasing masterpiece, and Josh should be nothing but incredibly proud that he is the creator of something so extraordinary. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

After watching the other two films, each of them far beyond anything you expected tonight, the viewings have come to an end. You didn’t realize the sheer talent present at your school, and it enlists a sense of pride within you. These students, Josh included, are so passionate about what they do, and it’s so very clear in every piece you’ve seen tonight. You’re in awe of every one of them, to say the least. But, putting your clear bias to the side, Josh’s film surpasses the other two by a massive landslide. His is as close to perfection as a short film can possibly be, with or without you. 

Dr. Turner, joined by four more faculty members from the Film Studies program, walks back on stage to more applause from the crowd. “Distinguished students and guests, we are pleased to present this year's Hopwood Award for Screenplay and Cinematography,” he announces.. “As you all know, students who earn this award are guaranteed a full ride to The Los Angeles Film school, as well as the opportunity to shadow a world renowned director of their choosing.” 

As you look down the row towards Josh, his nerves are present in his body language, a timid smile across his lips. You are filled with nerves, your chest tightening and your palms becoming damp with perspiration; if you are this jittery, you can’t begin to imagine how Josh is feeling. He’s holding Chi’s arm with one hand, gripping Nat’s hand in the palm of the other. Touch is his comfort, and you’re sure he’d be clinging to every one of you right now if he could.

He looks down the row as he’s chewing on his bottom lip from anticipation, locking eyes with you as. He mouths the words “Thank you,” and you respond with a quiet “Good luck!” He nods his head, blowing a kiss as you offer one in return. 

“After careful consideration, the board has chosen the student whom we believe has directed the most visually stunning and well-written short film. This has been no easy choice, as each film we’ve seen tonight more than qualifies for such a prestigious award,” Dr. Turner says, holding the physical representation of the award in the hand not holding the microphone. “But the student we’ve chosen has displayed time and time again what it means to be a director in a field that requires the kind of talent and discipline that we’ve seen from him over the years.” 

Without even realizing it, your hand is gripping your necklace, something your anxious thoughts decided you needed right now. Your pounding heart can be felt against your hand, beating so quick you’re afraid you’ll faint if the recipient isn’t announced. 

“With that being said, the student we feel is the most deserving is…,” 

Come on, come on.  

“...Josh M. Kiszka, for his impeccable direction of the astounding Les Sombres Intrigues de Guenièvre et Arthur.” 

The mention of his name has each of you shooting up from your seats, cheering and shouting for Josh as you fight back the gleeful tears. As Josh stands, he hugs Malachi tightly before the two of them walk hand in hand up to the stage to accept the award. Everyone in the crowd is clapping, rallying behind him and encouraging him.

He deserves this. More than anyone in this room, Josh deserves this. 

As Dr. Turner hands him the award, he shakes his hand and pulls him into a hug. Everyone from the board walks by to congratulate Josh, shaking hands with him and Malachi, commending the two of them for their work. 

Josh is wiping away a few tears as Dr. Turner hands him the microphone, patting him on the back. “You’ve made a grave mistake in handing me this,” Josh jokes in the mic, cackling to himself. There are quiet agreements from each of you, knowing damn well that Josh will talk forever if given half the chance.

“I promise to keep this short. I would just like to extend my gratitude to a group of people that have been the driving force in seeing this dream of mine come to fruition.” He looks at your row, holding out his hand to you all with heavy emotions present on his smiling face. “My brothers, Jacob and Samuel, my dear friends y/n, Natalia, Daniel, and Stacy –,” Of course she had to be mentioned. 

“ – and, lest I forget, my loving partner, Malachi.” Standing beside him, Malachi wraps his arm around Josh's shoulders. “You all are the beating heart of this production. Without each and every one of you,” he tearfully exclaims, holding up his award. “This wouldn’t have been possible. Know that my love for you is boundless.” 

He takes a bow to the crowd, blowing kisses all across the theatre. As he hands the mic back to Dr. Turner, Josh pulls Malachi close to him for a hug. The two of them, so proud and full of love. It melts your heart in every way a love like theirs should. 

And watching them has you longing for your own hug, specifically from the person to your right. But as you look over, he’s already lost in a hug. With Stacy. 

Before you can give yourself the chance to lament on it, Sam reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. “Can you believe it?” He sways you back and forth, turning you both in a circle, to where you’re now facing Jake, who’s no longer in an embrace with Stacy. 

He’s looking at you, staring into your eyes while you’re wrapped in his brother's arms. At once, you try to pull away from Sam so you can celebrate with the one you really long to be with. 

But, it’s too late. 

With a solemn smile, tearing his eyes away from yours, he walks right past Stacy down the other side of the aisle. She tries to get his attention, but he’s paying her no mind. You watch him continue to walk, until he’s gone, completely lost within the sea of people in the theater. You let go of Sam, beginning to follow after Jake until you feel a tug on the back of your arm.  “Don’t,” Josh whispers in your ear from behind you, his thumb rubbing circles on your arm. “Just let him go.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: i can't lie, i'm a little sad the filming days have ended, too. i know this was a lot, & i am once again offering my sincerest apologies, lol. see you in part 2. 😘

as always, thank you all for your love & support. hearing from you guys makes my heart soar, & it truly keeps me going. my inbox is always open. don't ever be afraid to reach out. 🤍

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or send me an ask/dm & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you!!!) (also, i know tags are being a little weird right now—will you let me know if you did/didn’t receive a notification?) sending all my love!

National Alliance for Eating Disorders. Please reach out if you're struggling. You're worth it. 🤍

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @devilat-thedoor @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @ninas-tearsofrain @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul27

[melancholicstation]

SWF-ISH BOYFRIEND!BOBBY KENNEDY HC'S 🍸

came out of writing hibernation who cheered and clapped

♪ ethel cain covering britney spears — everytime ♪

walks on the street side every time y’all step out of the house

mans constantly has his hands in your hair: in the grocery, at parties with his family, at home… ANYWHERE & EVERYWHERE.

his love language would be weekly gifts from the best nightwear boutiques in massachusetts: cotton singlets, cashmere booty shorts etc etc.

would deliver snacking plates of: french cheeses, maraschino cherries and stripes of smokey turkey bacon if his s/o had been studying for mid-terms and had forgotten to eat. ( i know a 1960s female college student is unrealistic let me YEARN for bobby in a historically-inaccurate way )

is incredibly bumbling when first flirting with you, but begins to get concerningly sauve once he’s been your boyfriend for a while…

deeply insecure of his attractiveness and highkey paranoid of you leaving him for his older brothers ( jfk im sooo drunk )

gets embarrassingly drunk of honeysuckle wheat beer to the point where you have to get his driver to help you get him into the car.

wears his boxers to the point where there are definitive HOLES ( disgusting i’m sorryyy )

loves to have his hair washed & brushed by his lover unresolved mother kink from rose’s questionable parenting of the kennedy boys

has an oral fixation with his cigar and crashes out if he can’t have one when he wants one

likes to get his freak on in his old harvard football uniform

is a gentle man in the boudoir

cannot sit still on a plane and is always pawing at you to entertain him when you just want to sleep and relax in first class 🙏🏻

doesn’t normally drink but when he does BOY does he drink

likes to ( lovingly ) bite you anywhere ( in a challengers art and tashi way from that one scene )

packs the sourdough you make for him each day to take into the attorney general office

always takes the side of his women in her friend squabbles

likes to hand feed his woman ( like actually PLACES food in your mouth )

eats downnn a fry and steak combo at a diner

romantic medieval devotion

buys greek poetry for you guys to read together over a glass bottle of wine

wine drunk s*x with bobby oh okay…

hot take but he is very vocal in the bedroom wait who said that!!

applies gentle domestic dominance to everyday activities

unflinching eye contact

a MUNCH by all definition of the word

rehearses his speeches to you and gets bashful when you give his positive feedback

always the first to apologise

obsessed with you being his wife

huge purity complex for HIMSELF

degradation kink well now who said that

afflicted by a breeding k*nk

aching ambition to achieve a family with you

subtly likes when you stand up for him in front of his father ( or other family members )

would want to nap in your ribcage if he could

will always share food with you whenever you would go out together

[sirenedeslily]

VIDEO OBSESSION〻ᯇ # matthew sturniolo

✦ SEARCHING FOR PROFILES… two results found !

result ONE out of TWO — @FallenAngels

Y/N GREENBLATT, streamer known for her gaming skills and pretty visuals. seven stars cigarette. moon during a snowstorm. mtl › nyc. thé matcha 26. nyx cold brew lip liner. ‘03 stargirl. coy. cinephile. back tattoos. vanilla vodka infused. alluring. chrome heart uggs. silver jewelry. white orchid. dazed. tangled & wired headphones. black cat. sirene gaze. sullen girl by fiona apple. sweet talker. guarded. shows care in subtle ways. handwritten letters. sensitive. classic black eyeliner, smudged like a memory. mushishi. overpriced coffee. blue velvet (1986). her dream collab? a limited-edition hoodie with cibo matto album art, designed by a tumblr artist she once reblogged. midnight ‘silent hill 2’ streams.

VICTORIA WALKER, cheetah print. manicured nails. dean blunt. monchhicci. started off streaming with y/n, now focusing on her music. tumblr girl gone global. fur boots. london › nyc. betty boop. tom ford vanilla sex. pocket-sized camcorder. ‘01 baby. rick owens. reclusive but magnetic. spider lily. ipod nano. minecraft. angels by a$ap rocky. paradise kiss. 11:11. chrome heart grills. dream collabs? yves tumor, peggy gou, and a track with a.g. cook that’s “still in the works.” mismatched tiffany bracelets. unreleased a$ap mob.

AERI UCHINAGA, pink-haired enigma. macbook photobooth. mean lesbian. twitch streamer turned cultural icon. cherry blossom. prettiestproblem on and offline. perfect blue (1997). harajuku streetwear. retired scene kid. björk. self-released ep titled “petal circuit”—a mix of shoegaze and hyperpop with haunting vocals. tokyo › nyc. widowmaker main. paranoia agent soundtrack. byredo’s blanche. ‘00 doll. two weeks by fka twigs. synth lab streams with modular glitches. dating ning yizhuo; model. domo.

HAMZAH SALEH, slush puppie. bone comics. vintage quiksilver tees. duct-taped backpack. messy. tony hawk fingerboards. his youtube history? “how to ollie without looking lame”. polar bears. co-runs slushy noobz; a youtube channel. created a subreddit called r/CherrySlushiesAnonymous. circa ‘02. napoleon dynamite (2004). cherry airheads. sega dreamcast he won’t shut up about. ck one. spider-man pez. xbox 360. unbrushed curls. owns a lego keychain of marah; his girlfriend. scrawny by wallows. steve lacy.

MARAH ADEL, doll eyes. celestial paradox. possession (1981). iced lavender lattes, leaves the last sip untouched “for the spirits”. heaven by marc jacobs. medieval angelology. ethel cain. ‘03 angel. tattoo artist of the hidden soul, her studio, melancholie, drips in velvet, candied amethyst light, and the faint hum of dusty jazz vinyl. etruscan art. dario argento films. night drives to nowhere. secretly hid a chipped rose quartz under hamzah’s bed. antique heart lockets. soft leather boots. faded polaroids. sparse. mtl › nyc. messy bangs. labdanum no. 3. seperpentskirt by cocteau twins.

back to masterlist! - profile two @ChromeHearts

🖥️𓈒ིུ✧꫶᳜᳝͟ᰭ✿⃨ TRENDING NOW ! matt sturniolo was known for many things: his striking looks, his dominance in the gaming world, and his complete inability to keep his cool around beautiful women. so it’s almost poetic—almost—that his fiery temper explodes during an intense fortnite match, broadcasted live to thousands, only to discover later that the player who completely shattered his pride was y/n greenblatt, one of the most beloved streamers in the community—and undeniably beautiful.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ plsplsplspls send asks about these characters !!!

TAGLIST ( open ) ; @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @waitforyrlove @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @ifwdominicfike @emely9274 @maggot3647 @fratbrochrisgf @2augustsago @sturn777